The Billionaire's Heart: The Complete Series (Romance, Contemporary Romance, Billionaire Romance, The Billionaire's Heart Book 7) Read online

  THE

  BILLIONAIRE'S

  BOX SET

  The Complete Series

  The Billionaire's Heart

  The Billionaire's Mind

  The Billionaire's Virtue

  The Billionaire's Wedding

  The Billionaire's Love

  The Billionaire's Family

  Nancy Adams

  www.NancyAdamsRomance.com

  Book I

  Book II

  Book III

  Book IV

  Book V

  Book VI

  Copyright

  The Billionaires Box Set

  Copyright © 2016 by Nancy Adams.

  All right reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Published by: Nancy Adams

  BOOK I

  Chapter 1: A Step In The Right Direction

  Chapter 2: The Adventure Begins!

  Chapter 3: Getting Into The Swing

  Chapter 4: Operation Nate and KK

  Chapter 5: A Night To Remember

  Chapter 6: An Earthly Touch Of Heaven

  Chapter 7: Signs Of Things To Come

  Chapter 8: Monkey Wrenches and Other Disasters

  Chapter 1

  A Step In The Right Direction

  * * * * *

  I never thought of myself as someone who needed a lot of attention. I mean, I was a pretty confident girl— I didn't have too many issues that caused me to want sympathy from others, or a need to be noticed all the time. I had friends like that all through school, and to be honest, I think their neediness always turned me off. Maybe that's why I don't have a lot of friends nowadays.

  I can remember how, in the third grade, Melanie Tabor had come in one day talking about how she'd been forced to help out at her aunt's restaurant one weekend washing dishes, and because of that, her hands were hurting so bad she couldn't even hold a pencil. All the other girls were fawning over her, telling her how sorry they felt for her, but I just said, “Oh, come on, Mel, suck it up and deal with it!”

  Real sympathetic, right? Thing is, it was one of those moments that told me that most people were more about getting attention than doing for themselves. I realized, even as a child, that I wasn't like that; somehow, I always wanted to be the one who could take care of myself, no matter what life might throw at me, and I guess that attitude shaped a lot of who I was as an adult.

  For instance, in college, I was the one who always chose study group partners who weren't the best students. Most people thought I did it because I thought I was so much smarter than anyone else, and I was showing off by helping some slower students get better grades. The truth was a lot less altruistic, however; I did it because I knew they'd be glad let me do most of the work myself, and I didn't want anyone trying to help me out. If they shared the grade, I was okay with that. Goodness, my best friend since high school, Corie Pickering, would have flunked out if I hadn’t let her work with me on every possible group project (and copy a lot of homework, too, but let's not talk about that).

  Of course, being so independent has its drawbacks, too. I wasn't the most popular girl in school, and throughout my entire academic career, including middle and high school and college, I'd been able to count my dates on one hand, and the actual boyfriends I'd had were outnumbered by my thumbs. Guys were the worst when it came to being all about themselves, and that just wasn't for me. I tended to spend more time with the few male friends I had who were not the kind to play football or other sports, because they were more likely to be sincere in their thoughts and feelings. As a result, the guys who might have been interested in me spent their time on girls who would gush over them like rock-star groupies.

  It's not because I'm not attractive, in the physical sense; I'm 5'3”, with a trim figure and black hair that comes down to just below my shoulders. My brown eyes had been described as gorgeous by many of the men who flirted with me before getting to know me, and I've been told (by guys who never spoke to me a second time, unfortunately) that my face was as lovely as a sunrise, or the most beautiful they'd ever seen and other such things. I'd earned some extra money in school by posing for various art classes as a model, and there were paintings of me in existence that had titles like “Beauty In Repose” and “Beloved, Unaware.”

  I guess I could introduce myself; my name is Katelynn Burke, and this is my story. It probably won't be as nice and pretty as some others you've read, but I can assure you it will be honest!

  Where to start, where to start?

  Well, I've already mentioned college, and since not much happened there other than studying for finals and getting a degree in Political Science that was proving to be pretty worthless—I majored in PoliSci because my dad had been a United States senator when I was young, and I thought it sounded exciting; by the time I finished college, I was so disgusted with the rampant corruption in our government and political system that I wanted nothing to do with public office—I guess we can skip over that and move on to more recent and relevant events.

  When I got out of college and admitted to myself that I'd wasted four years, a Pell Grant and some student loans I'd be paying on forever, I decided I needed to find a career that I could live with and get a job in its lower levels. Without a relevant degree, I figured I'd have to start at the bottom and work my way up, so one day, about a week after I got home, found me sitting at my parents' kitchen table, scanning through the help wanted ads that I'd stolen from Dad's newspaper.

  Well, I wasn't qualified to be an over the road truck driver, so that eliminated half the openings in our area; North Platte, Nebraska has less than twenty-five thousand people, but there is a lot of trucking in the area. I kept looking.

  The country club wanted a bar maid, but I didn't drink, so I knew nothing about mixing alcohol; there were three openings for someone to take care of an elderly person, but I couldn't see myself dealing well with whining, and I remembered how my grandfather had whined for the two years he stayed with us after grandma passed away. (Mom won't admit it, but I'm pretty sure that's why my parents got him his own place at the retirement community in Florida.)

  The only other choices seemed to be cooking at a local diner or applying for a night clerk's position at the Kwik Shop. I couldn't cook anything more complicated than microwave dinners, and I just was not a night-owl, so I passed them over, as well.

  Wait, here's something! A new store was about to open, one of those smaller stores that carry just about everything you might need, and they were looking for a complete crew. They
were holding an open house for applications that day, so I gobbled down some cereal and went back upstairs to get dressed.

  The store hadn't even been there when I left for college, and I didn't even remember seeing anything about it during any of my visits home, but I found it right there on the main drag where the ad had said it would be. I parked my car a short distance from the door and checked my hair and makeup one more time before heading inside. Yep, I looked good, and at least reasonably professional.

  The store wasn't open, but they had a woman standing by the door to greet all the applicants.

  “Hi, and welcome to Nate's,” she said as I entered. “Are you here to apply?”

  I put on my best smile. “Yes, I saw your ad and thought this might be something I'd enjoy doing. I understand you've got a lot of openings?”

  Nodding, she said, “Yes, we do! We'll be staffing the whole store from local population, from manager on down. Let me get you an application.”

  She handed me one from a stack on the counter, and pointed over to the left where I saw several tables and chairs. There were six other people sitting there filling out paperwork, and I joined them. A woman sitting across from me smiled, and I returned it, but everyone else was too absorbed in their tasks to notice me.

  Okay, name, address, phone, email address, social security number, position applied for (I wrote “any available”), education—I was fine all the way up until I hit the part about “Previous Employment.” The only job I'd ever held was at the local Dairy Queen, where I'd worked for two years during high school, so I listed it and wished I had gotten some kind of jobs during college, so it wouldn't look so lonely there.

  There was no help for it, though, so I added in references and went back to the lady and handed it to her. I expected her to say something like, “We'll call you if we're interested,” but she glanced over it, smiled, and said, “Great! If you'll have a seat, we'll have an interviewer call you back in just a few minutes.”

  I parked myself back in the chair I'd used before, and sure enough, I heard my name called only five minutes later. A tall man was waiting as I went towards the back of the store; he smiled, shook my hand and motioned for me to follow him through the swinging double doors.

  In the back of the store was a fair sized break room, and when we entered I saw that three others were being interviewed by other people. I sat down in the chair the man pointed out for me, and he began reading through my application.

  “Miss Burke, I'm Charles Norton, assistant personnel manager for Nate's. I'll be conducting your interview today. I see that you majored in Political Science?” I nodded. “I'm curious, then, why you'd want to work at our store?”

  I thought for a moment about how to answer. “Well, the more I learned about politics, the more I realized that I didn't care for it. Unfortunately, by the time I admitted that to myself it was too late to switch majors, so I’ve now got a nice piece of paper hanging on the wall of my closet, and I'm right back where I started after high school, looking for a career that interests me. I've always liked shopping, so working in a place where people shop sounds appealing. If I can get in on the ground floor, like in this brand-new store, then I feel there should be opportunities for advancement, and that's what I'm looking for.”

  Mr. Norton smiled. “That was a very good answer,” he said, “and exactly the kind of response we're hoping to get.” He returned to reading over my application for a moment, then looked up at me again.

  “You only list one previous job. Some employers find that to be a reason to overlook an applicant, but our company thinks differently. In our experience, we spend more time trying to help our employees unlearn things that conflict with our way of doing business than we might spend in simply training someone our way from the beginning.”

  A little light of hope erupted inside my chest; holy cow, I was going to get a job here! Sure, I'd be starting at the bottom, but at least I could start making some money, move out to a place of my own, trade the old family Buick my folks had given me when I went to college for something newer and less like something you'd find in the parking lot of the assisted living center, and actually get something that resembled a life! I forced myself to wait until he finished speaking before I started daydreaming about hitting the thrift shops for decorations for my (as yet nonexistent) new apartment.

  “In looking at your application, what I'm seeing is a highly intelligent, goal-oriented young woman who has already come to realize that the world isn't as simple as most people think it is. You've got enough character to complete your education, even though you obviously were disillusioned with your chosen field, and you're not afraid of starting out small and working your way up. I get the feeling that you’re very independent and capable, and those are all qualities we look for in our management staff.”

  Wait a minute; did he just say management? I'm not the management type—am I?

  I sat there with my mouth hanging open, I'm sure, for at least several seconds, because Mr. Norton had to cover his own to hide the grin that appeared there. I shut it so fast that I heard my teeth snap together.

  “I—management?” was all that came out.

  “Yes,” he said, nodding and getting the grin to fade away. “I'd like you to let me put you in as a candidate for manager of this store. Now, what that means is that you'll go through a second interview, which I can arrange in just a few minutes, and if my colleague agrees with me, then you would start work as a Manager Trainee under an experienced manager we'll bring in from our corporate office, who will show you how we do things. The training lasts about three months, and if you get through it successfully, then you'll become the permanent manager of this location. Does that sound like something you might be interested in?”

  I stammered out an enthusiastic yes, and Mr. Norton smiled. “Great! Hang in here for just a few minutes, and let me get Ms. Newsome to meet with you. She's just finishing up with another applicant now, so it shouldn't be long.” He rose and walked over to one of the other desks, and stood quietly while the woman there said goodbye to the person she was interviewing. When they were alone, he leaned down and whispered to her, pointing over at me, then straightened up and smiled as he motioned for me to take the recently vacated chair in front of Ms. Newsome's desk. She smiled at me as I did so, and I saw that he had given her my application.

  “Hello, Katelynn, I'm Barbara Newsome, senior personnel manager for Nate's Stores. Chuck says he thinks you might be the person we've been hoping to find today.”

  I smiled back and said, “Well,” I said, “he took me by surprise when he mentioned management, but I can say that I'll certainly do my best if I get the chance.”

  She looked me over, and I started to get the feeling that she didn't care for the way I looked, but then she smiled again.

  “You certainly look like someone capable,” she said, “and I appreciate that you dressed professionally for this interview. My only concern is that you might be a bit young for the manager's job; how do you feel about that?”

  I thought fast. “I'd have to say that I don't think twenty-two is too young for anything, other than running for president or being a grandmother. I've always been a person who could tackle any project and get it done, and in the circles I've been in, I was invariably one of those the others looked to for guidance and leadership. I think that, given the chance to take your management training program, I could be a great asset to your company, and I hope that I would advance in the corporate structure as time passed.”

  She stared into my face for a long moment. “Katelynn,” she said, “if I agree with Chuck that you're the one we want to run this store, you'll be reporting tomorrow morning. During your training, you cannot take any time off other than what is scheduled, and you'll be shown how to do every job in the store, so that you could cover for any employee who might come down suddenly ill or have to miss work for any reason. Your trainer will be looking for any weakness in you, any at all, and if he feels for even a moment
that you are not suited to the job, he'll terminate you instantly. If you'd prefer a lesser position, however, I can put you in as a cashier or stock clerk, and you wouldn't be under anywhere near so much scrutiny. Knowing all of that, do you still want to go for manager?”

  I didn't bat an eye. “Yes,” I said simply, and I was startled when she smiled at me.

  “Good! Sorry, it's my job to try to scare you off if I can, but I was really hoping I couldn't. I've worked with Chuck Norton for almost eleven years, and I've found his judgment of character to be impeccable; I'm going to agree with him that you're the right candidate, and you can start tomorrow at six a.m. Now, I need you to understand that you'll be working very long hours for the first three months, because your trainer will want to cram as much into you as possible in the short time he has to teach you the business. You'll be earning fifteen dollars per hour during training, with an incredible amount of it being overtime at time and a half, and when you complete it successfully, as I'm sure you will, you'll go on salary at fifty-nine thousand per year.” She rose to her feet and extended a hand out to me. “Congratulations, Katelynn. You're hired, and I wish you the best of luck in your new position!”

  I shook hands with her, and suddenly Mr. Norton was there with his hand out as well. I shook it, too, and then I was walking out the front door and to my car, and that's when I started to shake like a leaf in a hurricane.

  Manager! Okay, Manager Trainee, if you want to be technical, but still, I’d gone in hoping to get something better than minimum wage, and was getting more than twice that figure even during my probationary training period. Woo-hoo!

  They'd given me the address of a clinic where I had to go and take my drug test, and it was only a few blocks away. I went and did what I had to do, handed the little bottle to the nurse and was back in the car in less than ten minutes.