Also by Maria Hoagland
Billionaire Classics
Beauty and the Billionaire Beast
Her App, a Match, and the Billionaire
Falling for Her Billionaire Best Friend
The Matchmaker’s Billionaire
Cobble Creek Series
The Inventive Bride
The Practically Romantic Groom
The Combustible Engagement
Romance Renovations Series
Home for the Holidays
Kayaks & Kisses
Keeping Romance
Love for Keeps
Santa Cam
Family Medical Drama
Still Time
The ReModel Marriage
The Matchmaker’s Billionaire
Billionaire Mountain Cove
Maria Hoagland
Copyright © 2020 by Maria Hoagland
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
The Matchmaker’s Billionaire
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Don’t leave the Mountain Cove just yet!
Untitled
Now Available from Bestselling Author Maria Hoagland
In Case You Missed It in Billionaire Classics Series
About the Author
The Matchmaker’s Billionaire
There's one simple rule in matchmaking...
don't fall in love with the client.
. . . Oops!
Welcome to Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove. Off the grid, exclusive and remote, it's the best place for a spy novelist to disappear.
Grantham Robbins takes on the biggest challenge of his writing career--finding the perfect date for a big event.
Matchmaker Emily Wood comes to the rescue.
Emily remembers Grant before he made it big . . . and they were best friends.
There's not a better man out there, so why can't she find his match?
Because when a matchmaker fails to keep the only rule of matchmaking, there are consequences . . .
♥ Pick up your copy of this sweet contemporary romance today! A second-chance homecoming romance inspired by Jane Austen's Emma. ♥
To My Own Romantic Hero
* * *
Thanks for being my plotting partner, my cheering section, my chef, my confidant, my adventure partner, my other half, my brain twin, my muse. Love you forever.
1
“Cruise!” A woman in front of the crowd screamed and waved her hands. “Cruise Donnelly!”
Standing off to the side, Grant Robbins smiled to himself. The woman she jumped up and down, doing her best to get the attention of the actor who played Cruise Donnelly in all the films. Hearing someone yell Grant’s character’s name as if he were a real person never got old.
Grant soaked every detail around him—the crowd looking to spot celebrities, the camera crews and reporters, and the red carpet. With every movie release, premieres became more of a big deal. Fan support for the Cruise Donnelly franchise skyrocketed unexpectedly with the second film. Now, the fifth film had reached frenzied proportions. Being the creator behind it all felt amazing. Not bad for a nobody kid growing up in Arkansas.
In the melee of humanity, the woman fell forward but steadied herself with the barrier. She tossed her thick curls over her shoulder and waved both arms again as if there hadn’t been an interruption. “Cruise Donnelly!”
In front of him on the red carpet, Gavin Stone’s chest rose and fell in a small sigh before he turned his billion-dollar smile to dazzle her. Exactly what his fan had been gunning for, of course.
While Gavin was the face of Cruise Donnelly, Grant was the mastermind behind him. Grant was the one behind the computer, dreaming up scenarios where the international spy risked everything to rescue the innocent and save the world from terrorists and subversive regimes. But Grant didn’t mind sharing the fame with Gavin. The guy was the perfect actor for the role.
“Can we get a shot of the cast?” a photographer in front of them requested. Flicking his fingers, he positioned the top-billed actors to stand in front of the billboard-sized Trouble Entendre movie poster.
Taking the hint, Grant slowed his step and guided his date—Cami, was it? He couldn’t remember—to the side and out of the picture. She huffed her displeasure and glared toward the cameraman, and Grant almost laughed. He had no idea what color his date’s eyes were, but at the moment, he was willing to bet they were green with envy.
Tossing her head, Candi leaned toward him. “Shouldn’t you be in the picture?” Her earrings swung forward and knocked him in the cheek as she hissed into his ear. “You’re the author, after all!”
“We’ll be next.” He was perfectly happy not being in front of the camera when it came down to it, and he was used to the routine. She, however, had never been on this side of the stanchions for a movie premiere, so he excused her confusion.
“Everyone stay where you are,” the photographer directed, “and let’s add the director, the producers, and the scriptwriter.”
Grant suffered through a few rounds of photos without his date, but as soon as she was invited to join in a few shots, she perked up. Especially when she was sandwiched between Grant and Gavin. She clung to the actor like she was about to fall into a chasm that had suddenly opened up between her and Grant. That was fine. He’d never met—Caitlyn?—before she’d stepped into the limo for tonight’s showing, and other than the photos that would be online forever, he’d never see her again.
A few minutes later, they were in their theater seats. When the house lights dimmed, instead of the audience falling silent, they broke into applause, the sound only dying down when an airplane exploded, starting the opening scene. Grant settled into the cushy velvet seats, ready to see his imaginary world come to life on the big screen.
“Do you think you can introduce me to him?” Cali’s whisper was an annoyance off to his right. With the film’s action ramping up, he opted to pretend he hadn’t heard her, but after a moment, she repeated herself, louder. “After the movie, could you introduce me to Gavin Stone—or don’t you know him?”
Grant set his jaw against her taunt. Knowing she was an emerging actress, he’d planned to introduce her to both Gavin and the director, Oliver Nguyen, at the cast party that night, but her entitled attitude soured him on it. He shifted in his seat, leaning away from her, and ended up pulling on the too-fluffy skirt of the woman on his other side. Apologizing as she pulled it out from under him, Grant took in the movie theater full of people dressed in tuxes and ball gowns.
Wanting to celebrate several months’ worth of work made sense, though this was a rather odd practice when he thought about it. This movie and its release were important accomplishments in his life as well as the lives of so many others in the audience, yet it all seemed so . . . fake. So staged. And it was. The grandiose
spectacle of a premiere was part of making the release successful, but in that moment, the urge to leave LA, to escape to his new retreat in Arkansas, struck with such force that he couldn’t push it away.
He pulled his phone from his breast pocket. I need a break, Grant texted to his cousin and personal assistant, Annalise.
The movie screen lit up again with a smattering of bullets and an explosion brighter than his phone, and his pulse beat accelerated with it. The adrenaline coursing through him had little to do with Cruise barely escaping the fireball and everything to do with seeing this book on the big screen for the first time. Even after the huge success he’d become, Grant still worried every time a book launched or a movie released that this would be the one to flop. Not that he shared that insecurity with anyone. No, he was Grantham Robbins, New York Times bestseller, known worldwide for his spy thrillers, and quickly approaching a JK Rowling net worth—not that he judged success by any of those standards. Maybe that was the source of his fear. If money, status, and fame didn’t prove his success, what did?
Please have the plane on standby and alert Mrs. Hodges to prepare Dawnwell. He’d named the house he had yet to see in person, though it was finally move-in ready. At a dirty look from his date, he quickly tapped one last text to Annalise. I’d like to leave as soon as the premiere is over. Thanks. He slipped the phone into the jacket pocket of his tux under Casey’s hardened glare.
Apparently, even the writer-slash-screenwriter didn’t get a pass when it came to movie etiquette. At least not when he barely knew his date, and really, he had no desire to get to know her. She’d been there at his agent’s insistence, and more for looks on the red carpet coming in than anything else. He could see the tabloids now: Grantham Robbins with another beautiful up-and-coming actress on his arm who wouldn’t last the week. It was a good thing the women he was seen with understood that being together provided mutual benefits and romance was off the table. No one seemed to realize how difficult it was to have their first date splashed across the gossip sites. Celebrity dating wasn’t for wimps, and he was ready to give it up completely. It just wasn’t worth it.
Leaving LA for Eureka Springs, though, would be. In the theater lobby after the showing, he gave sincere congratulations and compliments to the cast and crew, but he had no desire to stick around. When he made his excuses to skip the after-party, he accepted every questioning look and shake of the head. The film would be a success, and it pleased him. The good reviews, news stories, and star interviews over the next couple of weeks would be nice, but somehow, this time, all he wanted was a break. He’d pushed so hard for so long, he needed a chance to recover or he wouldn’t have the mental energy to finish the next Cruise Donnelly book. The story percolated in the back of his mind, and the beautiful woods of Arkansas were going to be the perfect retreat to get his writing done.
2
Coming home should have brought with it all the good feels.
But it didn’t.
Grant drove the hilly curves by muscle memory and fought to keep his eyes open. The excitement of the movie premiere and being “on” for the crowd and the cameras had drained him. He’d been too wound up to nap on the plane, but being back on the roads he’d learned to drive on was calming, if a little spooky in the secluded moonlight. Off to one side, he saw movement—deer, probably—and he switched on his bright headlights to see the edges of the road more easily. How was it that he’d forgotten how dark the night could be? He probably hadn’t switched on the high beams in almost a decade.
That wasn’t the only thing he’d left behind when he’d abandoned his hometown of Eureka Springs after high school graduation, but now it was time to conquer the insecurities of the past. Like taking the steering wheel, building his home here was the first step to claiming control and freedom in his life. Here, he was the master of his own destiny. No city traffic. No red lights to slow him down. No hired driver to do the work or take the pleasure from him. It was exhilarating.
“In a quarter of a mile, turn right onto Mountain Cove Road,” the female GPS voice prompted.
He slowed, looking for a break in the trees that might indicate a road. He’d been crazy to look for his new neighborhood in the dark. He’d been out to Beaver Lake only once, when he’d picked out his lot. He’d chosen to build in the Mountain Cove because it was off the beaten path, but in the middle of the night, the bare tree branches clattering overhead and the settling fog around him had his writer’s brain going down all kinds of creepy paths.
While seclusion was part of the charm, it also meant he could miss the turnoff. Good thing his GPS didn’t allow that.
“Turn right on Mountain Cove Road.”
Grant slowed, taking the GPS on faith—newer housing developments were always iffy—but he wasn’t in downtown Eureka Springs where a GPS would mysteriously malfunction, so he should be safe. He made the turn and followed the road deep into the woods, hidden from the rest of the outside world. That was exactly what he’d looked for when he’d bought the lot, and exactly what he’d needed tonight when he’d left LA on a whim.
At the GPS’s direction, he slowed again, almost missing the turn blocked by a heavy iron gate into the Mountain Cove. He pulled up to the security booth, digging for his wallet to show identification to the guard.
“Welcome, Mr. Robbins.” Despite the hour, the security guard was wide-eyed and attentive, as if expecting an ambush of four-legged wildlife or black-clad ninjas to slip in while Grant provided a distraction. “Elton Phillips, head of security. May I be the first to welcome you to your home? Because of the hour, I’ll be monitoring you until you make it onto your property. Your housekeeper—Mrs. Hodges, I believe—” Elton didn’t even pause long enough for Grant to nod. “—notified me of your coming. I am sure she would tell you, but I didn’t want you to think ill of Mr. Lockmore’s not welcoming you to your property as he likes to when a new resident first moves in. If you’ll excuse him, he’ll visit with you in the morning.”
“Of course.” At the moment, he wanted nothing more than a comfortable bed and a soft pillow. If Lockmore had tried to meet with him at 3:32 A.M., he would have blockaded the front door. He dropped the car into drive, signaling the end of the conversation. “Thank you, Elton.”
“Very good, Mr. Robbins. Have a good night.”
By some kind of miracle, Grant found his new home. Bleary-eyed, he stepped out of the BMW and was met by a hunched man in a maroon cardigan and dress shoes on the wrong feet.
“Mrs. Hodges has your room made up, sir.” The man, in his sixties, held his palm out for the keys like a dad waiting on a teenager who’d missed curfew. Grant would have to make sure these types of hours were the exception rather than the rule for his staff. It didn’t look like Mr. Hodges was used to being up before four in the morning.
Grant woke up several hours later in a room he didn’t recognize, sunlight streaming through the curtains. It took him more than the usual minute for his memory—fogged over with late-night travel—to catch up.
By the time Annalise showed up early from her morning flight to join him in Eureka Springs, he’d jogged, showered, dressed, and had a bite to eat, more pleased than ever that he’d made the journey, even if it was sooner than planned.
“Mr. Robbins, you have guests,” Mr. Hodges informed him as Mrs. Hodges cleared away his breakfast plate.
“Thank you.” Grant rubbed a napkin over his lips and walked to the front of the house. Annalise stood there, with two men in suits behind her.
Sometimes Annalise felt like less like his cousin and more like an older sister—smarter, more organized, slightly bossy, and frustratingly right most of the time. She was a miracle worker and made everything look so easy. Take, for example, the fact that she stood there at eleven in the morning—nine o’clock California time—perfectly dressed in a business suit, her brunette hair pulled back in a low ponytail, as if she’d just reported for work, though she’d already squared away the LA household, packed for an indefinit
e stay in Arkansas, and taken an early-morning flight over.
“Good morning, Mr. Robbins,” Annalise said in her super-sweet voice. Her lips twitched as she tried not to smirk at calling him this. “Mr. Asher Lockmore, the Mountain Cove developer, and your builder, Colt Castillo, are here to look over the house with you.”
“Of course.” Grant offered a handshake and a smile to both. “Welcome to Dawnwell, though I’m guessing the two of you know it better than I do.” He wasn’t sure how much of that was true when it came to Asher Lockmore, but Colt ought to know the place inside and out.
“Good to see you again.” Asher had a firm grip and a ready smile.
“Likewise.” Grant said.
“If you have time, I thought we’d do your final walkthrough.” Colt took control of the conversation. He gestured at the suspended staircase to an entire floor Grant had yet to see. “Shall we start upstairs?”
The four of them inspected the upstairs guest quarters with their balconies, media room, and secluded reading nooks. It was nicely decorated in a balance of contemporary and comfortable, and Grant was certain any visitors would be well housed, though he didn’t see spending much time up there himself. Colt led them down a back staircase, through the gourmet kitchen and a butler’s pantry, some offices, and service rooms.
The Matchmaker's Billionaire (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove Book 2) Page 1
