Saving the Billionaire


SAVING THE BILLIONAIRE

THE NAME IS TRAINER. JUSTIN TRAINER. AND I’M THE BODYGUARD…

A complete duet with no cliff-hanger and HEA – sort of…

Behind his stoic persona, former US Marine Justin Trainer also hides a wicked sense of humor as he watches the comings and goings and comings of his messed up boss.

On top of that, Trainer still has to balance trying to have a private life, working on his own love life, and also finding time to be a daddy to his daughter with an ex-wife who hates him.

It’s definitely not all black and white…

 

Saving the Billionaire #2

The hilarious concluding episode of black comedy/drama/romcom/thriller GUARDING THE BILLIONAIRE.

He’s a fast-talking, hard-hitting guy who goes to work with a weapon in his holster. He’s also sexy, loyal and damn good at his job, even when he’s guarding a billionaire boss with too many secrets.

He’s Justin Trainer.

You won’t notice me and you won’t hear me, but I’m always there, watching, listening and waiting. I’m armed and dangerous because I’m the bodyguard, and I’m the guy who’ll take a bullet for you.

I’m the man in black, saving my billionaire boss from blackmailers and computer hackers—but mostly from himself.

 

SAVING THE BILLIONAIRE IS AVAILABLE IN KINDLE UNLIMITED!

 

ADD TO GOODREADS


Prologue
SAVING THE BILLIONAIRE

© 2019 Jane Harvey-Berrick
All rights reserved. 

 

Hope.

Small word. Big meaning.

When I started working for reclusive billionaire Devon Miguel Anderson, I had no idea what a screwed up son-of-a-bitch he was, but live and learn.

He has more money than just about anyone on the planet, except maybe Bill Gates and God, and I’m not sure about God. That doesn’t mean he’s happy though. As a matter of fact, Anderson is not a happy guy: just miserable in Armani suits.

I’m not his friend, I’m not his drinking buddy, but I am the guy who knows him better than just about anyone else, and that includes his shrink.

I’m a close protection officer: that’s ‘bodyguard’ to you. And when the shit goes down—which it will—I’m the one who’ll take a bullet for the billionaire. I really hope that doesn’t happen, because I’ve kind of got a thing for living. Who knew?

But Anderson? He has a lot to learn.

So if you want to know why this fucked up dude in Tom Ford shoes gives me hope, well, read on.

 



EXCERPT

 

I’m watching the boss and his maybe girlfriend from the driver’s seat, trying to be an inconspicuous Close Protection officer in a $95,000 car. In Brooklyn.
“What are Mr. Anderson and Maria doing now?” Rachel asks, reminding me that I have my cell phone in my hand.
“Talking. Well, she’s talking; he’s looking kinda whipped … um, I mean … she still looks mad. Wait, she’s kissing him on the cheek.”
“Oh!” Rachel sighs. “That’s so sweet! Oh, I like this girl. What are they doing now?”
“Um … you really want a description? He looks like he’s forgotten they’re outside. Good thing there are no paps around.”
“I’m sorry you have to wait. Have you had something to eat?”
“Yeah, I grabbed a burger.”
“That’s not very healthy!”
I roll my eyes. “Tasted good.”
“Hmm! Are you trying to make me mad?”
“Is it working?”
“Yes!”
“How mad are you, baby?”
“I’ll show you when you get back.”
I groan and she laughs.
“Goodnight, Justin!”
“Wait! What are you wearing?”
“Justin!”
“Come on, I’m curious.”
“I’m wearing that lovely black underwear that you bought me from Victoria’s Secret…” I groan inwardly “…and I’m wearing a white blouse and navy blue pencil skirt.”
“Take off your clothes.”
“Justin!”
“Do it for me, baby.”
I hear the smile in her voice.
“Okay, Justin. I’m unzipping my skirt. I’m sliding it down my hips. It’s on the floor. Now I’m picking it up and folding it and putting it on the chair, like you’re supposed to do with your clothes!”
“Oh, baby, don’t ruin the moment. Undo your shirt: one button at a time.”
“Here’s the first button, now the second, now the third; my bra is showing through. Now I’m undoing the cuffs; I’m sliding my blouse over my shoulders. Now I’m just in my bra and panties. I’m going to put the phone down so I can unhook my bra…”
Oh, fucking yeah! Suddenly there’s a thud.
“Oh, sorry, I dropped the phone. Allison is on the other line. I was supposed to call her when I got in. I’ll have to go.”
“What? No!”
“Bye, Justin!”
Fucking Allison! I knew there was a reason I hated her. And I’ve got a rock solid erection. Sucking in a deep breath, I lean back in my seat and try to think cold thoughts. Oh, for fuck’s sake!
You’re probably wondering why I don’t just jerk some knuckle babies as no one’s looking and I’m parked away from streetlights.
I guess you could say the Marines cured me of that—jerking it on duty is frowned upon. And maybe because I was doing an overnighter in a defensive watch post, alone in my shallow fighting hole, my buddies relying on me to be vigilant. I started getting sleepy, with only hourly radio checks to keep me awake. Rubbing one out seemed like a good way to stay awake. Accidentally leaning on the ‘talk’ button while in the midst of Operation Stay Awake, meant that all other radios heard me slapping and panting. And because you can’t receive transmissions while broadcasting, no one could tell me to stop. The C.O. wasn’t happy, but it kept the other guys entertained and awake.

 

 


 


Buy a signed copy of Saving the Billionaire #2




UK 12.00
EU (Airmail 2-weeks) 15.00
World (Airmail 3-weeks) 19.00