Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Club Royale... Come meet the man, the story and.. the author

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Book Title: Billionaire Revenge
Author: Tabatha Kiss
Pages: 51
Published: 5/20/15
Erotic Romance


Daniel Raymond.

You know him as the city’s most eligible bachelor. The stock market’s brand new billionaire. The most desirable ladies’ man in town. He devotes his time, and money, to philanthropic efforts that benefit the community. Your child may even go to a school he helped build with his bare hands.

I know him as the boy that tormented me. My high school bully. The psychotic phantom that sent me into therapy for years.

He also happens to be my stepbrother.

Believe me when I say that there’s more to Daniel Raymond than you think.

When columnist Patricia Jones is tasked with writing a puff piece about her nemesis, she can’t bare the idea of looking him in the eyes again. Six years ago, she moved across the country to escape his shadow. He emerges once more from the depths of her nightmares and she discovers that everyone else in the world adores him.

Daniel claims that he’s a changed man. But Patricia knows better.

She sees an opportunity to win her revenge once and for all against her evil stepbrother only to find herself entranced in a seductive game of secrets and lies!

Billionaire Revenge is a steamy, standalone novella with an HEA and NO cliffhanger!

Buy Links:
Amazon US : AU : CA : UK   


Chapter 1

“Hey, Fatty!”
I stick my head in my open locker and wonder how quickly I will die if I suddenly closed it on my head. Probably not fast enough.
“It’s Patty,” I say for the millionth time.
“Sure it is.”
I look up from the lousy sanctuary that is my locker. “What do you want, Daniel?”
He’s wearing a tight black shirt underneath his letterman’s jacket with the words “Fuck this place, I’m out,” crudely spelled out with a silver marker. For everyone else, this would have been an offense worthy of being sent home to change. But not Daniel Raymond. The star quarterback. The homecoming king. And yes, even the prom king.
“Tell mom I’m going to the lake after school with the guys,” he says.
He’s also my stepbrother.
“Tell her yourself,” I say. I shove the last of my personal items in my backpack and do one last glance over my empty locker before closing it.
“No way,” he says. “She’s got this thing planned out for us and I’d rather not be there.”
“You mean our graduation party?”
“Yeah, that thing.”
I turn to him. “Your mom has been making decorations for that all week, Daniel. You need to be there.”
“Nah,” he says with a shrug. “Party on the lake sounds more fun.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, as I said before. Tell her yourself.”
He scoffs. “What bug you got up your ass today, Fatty?”
“My name is Patty,” I repeat.
“You’re just jealous because your fat ass wasn’t invited!” He smirks like one of those lawyers on television, like he just cracked my case wide open.
“I’m really not,” I say. “I just think you’re being immature.”
“Calm down,” he says. He reaches out and punches my arm. “Without me there, you get all the cake you want, right, Fatty?”
The bell rings above my head. The final bell. The last one I will ever have to hear within these walls. I find a little bit of comfort in that as I turn on my heels and walk away from Daniel.
“Oh, come on!” he shouts after me. “Remember! Lake party!”
I ignore him and step outside. Everyone around me screams and shouts. It’s the final last day of high school I’ll ever have. My entire life is ahead of me. An entire life without Daniel Raymond tormenting me every day. That’s been my goal since middle school. Most kids dream of becoming rich and famous, becoming doctors or lawyers or astronauts. My dream was ridding myself of Daniel.
That task became extra difficult the day my father married his mother. Then, it wasn’t just dodging him in the halls from 8 A.M. to 3 P.M. every Monday through Friday. It was twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week of him towering above me with his perfect hair and chiseled, athletic physique screaming fat jokes through his flawless teeth.
I look up at the shining sun and take a deep breath as my classmates whiz by me. Right here, I make a promise to myself.
I will have a better life.
I will start exercising more. I will eat healthier and get in great shape. I will go to college, get my journalism degree, and take the world by storm. I will be the best me that ever was and ever will be. I am in control. Patty is dead.
I am Patricia Jones.
And I never have to see Daniel Raymond ever again.
Well, once summer is over.
Then I’m totally free.


“I have a new assignment for you, Patricia.”
I look up from my desk to see my boss standing above my cubicle. “Hi, Rosanna,” I say with a smile. “Already?”
Rosanna holds a few rolled up pieces of paper in her hand. “Myself and the other editors just got done reading your latest article…” She taps the rolled paper against her temple. “Good stuff, here, Patricia.”
The smile extends even farther across my face. “Thank you!” I say, breathing a quick sigh. “I was worried you wouldn’t like it.”
“You had no reason to be!” Rosanna says. “The research you did was phenomenal! Anyway… we decided to give you the next person of interest story… and I think you’ll like it!”
“Really?” I ask.
Rosanna gestures with her hand. “Come on. Walk with me to my office.”
I hop out of my chair and nearly lose all balance. I steady myself by placing a hand on my desk and continue on with her. My vision quakes from standing up too quickly, but I manage to keep up with her as Rosanna weaves in and around the busy office space.
“This particular column is the highest read column all year round — so we want it to be good!” Rosanna says over her shoulder at me. “And this year’s subject is particularly stellar!”
“What’s the topic?” I ask.
Rosanna pauses and lets out a laugh. A hand flies to her chest. “Oh, silly me. I forgot to say. It’s the city’s most eligible bachelor!”
My jaw drops. “What? You want me to cover that?! I don’t know what to say…”
“You say yes, Patricia,” Rosanna urges. “You say hell yes.”
“Hell yes!” I repeat.
“I thought you’d like this, attractive and single lady like yourself,” Rosanna says. We resume walking towards her office. “We keep you so busy around here, I doubt you get a chance to meet people much.”
I nod my head. “Unfortunately…”
“Well, here’s your chance,” Rosanna laughs.
“I’m sure I’ll keep it professional,” I say.
We finally reach her office and Rosanna wanders around her workspace, her hands sifting through the piles of papers on her desk. “And that’s why I chose you. Just between you and me —” she lowers her voice, “I don’t think any of the other ladies on staff could handle this one.”
“Who’s the subject?” I ask, my curiosity reach its peak.
Rosanna’s eyes shift back and forth, relishing in making me wait.
“Daniel Raymond!”
And just like that, I’m eighteen again. I’m fifty pounds overweight with acne-wrecked skin. And Daniel stands over me with a pointed finger, laughing at me.
“Did you just say Daniel Raymond?” I ask, my voice squeaking.
“Yes!” Rosanna says. “He’s a young, self-made millionaire — nix that — billionaire and he just opened a new firm here in the city! Oh — here!” She pulls a black envelope from a pile on her desk. “Here’s the invitation we snagged up for the grand opening party tonight. I want you to be there.”
I take the envelope in my shaking fingers. “Rosanna…” I begin to speak, but the words won’t come out.
“I know you’re shocked, but you’ve grown so much over the last several months here. I wanted to reward you!”
“Uh huh…”
“Go to the party, have fun, and try to get in a few questions with Daniel. Set up a one-on-one for this week and get a rough draft on my desk by Monday. Oh— get some quotes about his charities. The ladies love reading about a sexy philanthropist.”
I stumble over the words. “A phil—philanthropist?” I can’t picture it. I refuse to even try.
“I can’t!” The words fall off my tongue so quickly, I feel whiplash strike my taste buds.
“What?” Rosanna pauses with a shocked face.
“I can’t cover Daniel Raymond.” I hold out the envelope and hope she takes it from me.
She laughs. “Oh, what are you talking about?”
“Please,” I beg. “Can you find someone else to cover this?”
“I know, it’s your first big feature and it’s scary, but you’ve gotten your toes wet here long enough. It’s time to cannonball right in there,” Rosanna says.
I shake my head. “Please.”
“No,” Rosanna says with a firm voice. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but you got no choice. The assignment is yours. Rough draft by Monday. Now skedaddle.” Her fingers push the air as if shooing me from her office.
I stare at the envelope as I slowly glide back to my desk. Daniel is in my city. I feel violated. I moved away from home to get away from him. It worked for four years of university, a semester in Paris, plus two internships, a fellowship, and finally moving to the big city. Six years and no Daniel.
But alas, in the end, the universe found a way to force me back underneath his cruel torment anyway.
Charity work? Philanthropy? This can’t be the same Daniel Raymond I grew up with. No way. No how.
I plop down into my chair. My tongue taps on the roof of my mouth. I crave sugar. It’s my ultimate stress breaker. I salivate over the thought of a big, warm chocolate chip cookie.
Ugh. Just the mere mention of his name and I’m back to my old, unhealthy habits.

Chapter 2

“Did you just say what I think you just said?”
I don’t bother pouring it into a glass. I put the milk carton to my lips and pour a mouthful of it down my throat. “Yes,” I say to my roommate, Quinn.
“You have to interview Daniel Raymond?”
“The prom king stepbrother?”
“That’s him.”
“The one that poured paint on your head and you walked around the rest of the day at school looking like that big purple thing from McDonald’s?”
I belch slightly. “Yes, Quinn, my high school bully. Daniel. And thank you very much for bringing that memory out of repression.” I toss the empty milk carton back into the fridge and slam the door shut. I met Quinn my freshman year of college. We were roommates. She was majoring in Psychology and saw me as her little project. I have to admit, I never would have become the girl I am today without her pushing me. We’ve been best friends ever since.
“Well, first thing we do is get rid of all the chocolate in the apartment.” She hops off the barstool near the counter and slides the trash can across the room until it stands in front of the pantry.
“No, it’s fine,” I say. “I have this under control.”
“Are you sure?” she asks. “I know you, Patricia. If anything is going to send you into a sugar rush spiral meltdown, it’s the idea of facing your evil stepbrother again.”
“Relinquish the garbage can,” I say. I bend over and slide it back into its proper place. “I have this under control,” I repeat. I don’t mention the cookie I bought from a street vendor on the way home. Or cookies. Three of them.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
I take a deep breath. “I’m going to do my job,” I say. “I’m going to go to his party tonight. I’m going to ask him a few questions, get some nice quotes for the article, and then bullshit the rest. Piece of cake.”
“No cake!” Quinn warns.
“No cake,” I repeat.
“Good,” she says. “It’s a good plan. But if things get too stressful, remember to take a soothing breath, find your center, and think about all the progress you’ve made. Follow your head, not your heart. The heart holds no place in decisions of logic.”
I bow my head and look at myself. “You’re right,” I say. “I’m in the best shape of my life!”
“Damn right you are!”
“I’m happy, healthy, and successful!”
“Atta girl!”
“There’s no way anything can destroy me in one night — especially not Daniel Raymond.”
“The power of positivity!”
I pause. “I think I’ll go for a quick run before the party.”
“Good idea!” Quinn says. “Dispel all those nasty feelings. Cardio is your friend.”
I nod quickly, my eyes glancing once more at the black envelope on the counter.
Daniel Raymond.
The ultimate test.
“I got this,” I say, trying very hard to keep my lips from shaking.


I squeeze my clutch tightly as I step closer to Daniel’s new office building. My nails dig into the soft fabric. I have to remind myself to pull back, or else I’ll destroy yet another one of Quinn’s fancy accessories. My heart pounds in my chest as I make my way through the crowd of suit jackets and cocktail dresses.
Okay, Patricia… Get in. Find Daniel. Get a few quotes. Go home. In and out in less than an hour.
I hand my black envelope to the doorman, who quickly checks it over. “Welcome, Ms. Jones,” he says. “Here’s your pass.” He hands me a lanyard with a plastic badge attached that says PRESS.
“Thank you,” I say. I throw it over my neck and let it dangle next to my cleavage. The outfit wasn’t my choice. I wanted to wear a simple business suit, but Quinn insisted on something a little more fun.
“Show him how much you’ve grown!” she said. “Show him that he left no mark on you!”
Her solution was my little black dress. The one I reserve for first dates. It feels odd to wear it for this occasion — I’m working, after all — but it’s comfortable and it fits me perfectly.
I offer the doorman a smile and step into the lobby. It’s a brilliant space with a crystal chandelier over the reception desk. I admire the tall walls and tinted windows as other people pass by me. My mind buzzes with words and phrases, so I open my clutch and withdraw a small notebook and write down a few notes.
As I wander through the room, I pass by the reception desk and enter the main office area. Rows and columns of desks line the walls and floor, each one with multiple phones set up. People, I’m guessing the employees, leans against their respective workspaces and chat up the people around them.
Still, no sign of Daniel.
I lean against the wall and watch as others laugh and drink champagne.
At the far end of the room, a door swings open. A young red-headed girl steps out. As she walks, she pushes her tight dress back down to her knees. I smirk as she looks about, her face hoping that no one noticed, but the bright smear of her own lipstick stains her cheek. I begin to look away, but then a man steps out of the office along with her.
There’s no mistaking it.
Daniel Raymond.
His hand pushes against his own mouth, wiping away what appears to be matching bright pink lipstick. My first instinct is to run away and hide in the girl’s bathroom, but this isn’t high school anymore. I stand up tall and scan the area for a reflective surface — anything that will let me get a quick look at myself.
My hand slaps a passing waiter. The sudden shock makes him lose his grip on his tray and it topples to the floor, along with a half dozen glasses of champagne.
“Oh, shit…” I mutter. My face feels red hot. My pulse pumps faster and I feel a hundred eyes on me. “I’m so sorry!” I bend down and attempt to help the man gather the broken pieces of crystal glass.
“It’s okay, ma’am, I got it,” he says.
But I continue to grab the glass shards. “Ow!” I flinch my fingers away. My palm stings and I watch as blood begins to pool on my fingers.
“Excuse me…”
That voice. A cold chill rattles my core as I push myself up to a standing position.
“What’s going on over here?”
I take a breath. I hear Quinn’s voice in my head, the fierce cheerleader crying, “You got this!”
His presence lingers above my shoulder.
“It’s my fault,” I say, turning to him. I cradle my freshly wounded hand in my other palm. “I knocked the tray out of his hand. I’m sorry—”
His eyes bare down on me. “Fa— Patty?” he asks.
A smile jumps to my lips, but quickly bounces off. “It’s Patricia,” I correct him.
He takes a quick step back, his eyes looking me up and down. I can’t pin down his expression, a decent mix of stunned bewilderment and amusement. “You’re bleeding,” he says.
I keep my hand cupped to avoid spilling blood. “Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
He steps closer and takes my hand in his. I try not to flinch as instinct tries to make me pull away, but he keeps a firm grasp on me. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” he says. His eyes turn to the waiter on the floor. “Greg, please get this glass cleaned up,” he says.
“Right away, sir.”
Daniel looks around. “Nothing to see here, people!” he tells the crowd. “Just a little clumsiness — not the first time around here and we only just opened!”
The party-goers laugh as they turn away and shift their attentions back to themselves.
“Come with me,” he says. He bends over and picks my clutch off the floor and tucks it into his belt.
I want to argue. I want to pull away. But the pain radiates through my wrist. I follow him across the room until we enter a small kitchen around the corner. He guides my hands into the sink and turns on the warm water. I watch as my blood runs down my fingers and flows into the drain. It stings for a moment, but soon the water feels soothing against the fresh wound.
“Any glass inside?” he asks.
“No,” I say. “Just a scratch.”
He inspects the wound with both hands. “You’re lucky — I don’t think you’ll need stitches.”
“Cool,” I say.
There’s a moment of silence. I attempt to glance at him, but I can’t stay focused on his face for too long.
“You look good, Patty,” he says, his eyes glued to my hips.
“It’s Patricia,” I repeat.
I watch as he turns around and reaches above the refrigerator. He pulls down a first aid kit. “We should have some bandages in here…”
“Daniel…” I turn off the water.
“Put some pressure on it with this.” He hands me a mound of gauze. I hold it tightly against the wound.
“Daniel, I don’t want to keep you from your party,” I say. “You can go back in there. I’m fine.”
“Oh, believe me. It’s way more interesting in here,” he says. He peels the gauze off the wound and applies a little bit of ointment. “What brings you here, Patricia?”
My skin crawls with each touch he gives me. I don’t particularly like the way he pronounces my name either, like the teacher is right over his shoulder and he has to say it right or else he’ll get in trouble again.
“I’m here for work, actually,” I say.
“I noticed.” His eyes drift towards the PRESS pass hanging around my neck.
“You’re probably not surprised to hear this, but you’ve been chosen as the city’s most eligible bachelor,” I say.
Daniel pauses. “Hmm.” He lays my fingers flat and proceeds to wrap the adhesive bandage around the cut.
“Hmm?” I ask.
“And they sent you to write it?”
I pull my hand away slowly and press on the bandage to make sure it sticks. “Yes,” I say.
He crinkles the bandage’s wrapper in his palm and chucks it at a nearby trashcan. It misses completely, mostly because he wasn’t watching where he was throwing it. His eyes are locked on me. “It’s been a long time,” he says.
I nod. “Yes, it has.”
“You look good,” he says.
“Right, you’ve said that already.”
“I know,” he says. I regard him with confusion as he leans in a little closer. His breath smells of bourbon and I detect a hint of women’s perfume on his jacket. “I just can’t get over it.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“You just seem so… different.”
“And you seem exactly the same,” I add.
“Maybe,” he says with a raised eyebrow.
“Look, I just need to ask you a few questions,” I say. “And then this unpleasantness can be over.”
“No,” he says.
“No?” I repeat.
“I want a full interview,” he says. He pushes his jacket away and takes my clutch from his belt.
“Are you serious?”
“Of course.” He hands me the clutch. “After all, the people want to know all about me. We’d better give the people what they want. Don’t you agree?” he asks.
“Not particularly,” I answer.
“I bet your editor does,” he argues.
I stay silent, anger fuming through my veins.
“Come to my apartment tomorrow evening,” he demands. “I’ll send my driver to pick you up.”
My heart thumps in my chest, an anxiety attack just waiting to take hold. “I don’t…”
“It’ll be a good chance for us to catch up,” he continues. I stand in shock as he pushes a hand through my hair. “Maybe get a little closer.”
What the fuck is he doing?
I try to say the words out loud, but instead, they just repeat in my head, screaming with frustration. His fingers glide down my neck, tracing smooth lines on my skin all the way down to my wrist.
“I have to go,” I stutter. I brush passed him, happy to rid my nose of his drunken stench. My hand grazes his groin, an unfortunate accident, and I feel his swollen member pushing against his zipper.
I twitch at the sound and look at him over my shoulder.
“Tomorrow night…” he says.
I nod in agreement and bolt out of the kitchen as fast as I can.

….Check out the Club Royale Box Set Today….


Amazon Buy Links:
US: http://amzn.to/1I8zOXZ
AU: http://bit.ly/1Oam996
CA: http://amzn.to/1X6WiEI
UK: http://amzn.to/1lCOiue

About the Author:

If you were to meet Tabatha Kiss in real life, you would never suspect the dark fantasies that haunt her mind. Tabatha writes to live out these fantasies and to help her readers do the same! Do you have a forbidden urge? Tabatha Kiss is here to please!

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