Curvy Delights: Billionaire Romance BBW Boxset Read online

  Curvy Delights

  Tara Brent

  Published by Tara Brent, 2019.

  Copyright 2018 by Tara Brent - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Book 1: Curvy Attraction

  Chapter 1: Moving Day

  Chapter 2: The Man in Black

  Chapter 3: Sports

  Chapter 4: Protesters

  Chapter 5: The Date

  Chapter 6: Devil

  Chapter 7: Migraines and Kitties

  Chapter 8: Colleen

  Chapter 9: Cuddles

  Chapter 10: Honeywell

  Chapter 11: Christmas Festivities

  Chapter 12: A Matter of Trust

  Chapter 13: Fallout

  Chapter 14: Trust

  Chapter 15: The Point of No Return

  Chapter 16: Christmas Eve, One Year Later

  Book 2: Curvy Indulgence

  Chapter 1: Kira Ricci

  Chapter 2: Blake Okoye

  Chapter 3: The Prince of Coronado

  Chapter 4: The Mothers

  Chapter 5: The Brothers

  Chapter 6: The Others

  Chapter 7: The Cheerleaders

  Chapter 8: The Big Push

  Chapter 9: The Strip Joint

  Chapter 10: Push Comes to Shove

  Chapter 11: Wake Up, Little Susie, Wake Up

  Chapter 12: Words of Wisdom

  Chapter 13: Aloha Means Hello

  Chapter 14: Aloha Means Goodbye

  Chapter 15: Aloha Means Peace

  Chapter 16: The Shit and the Fan

  Chapter 17: Finishing Touches

  Chapter 18: The Blessed Day Arrives, Tra-La Tra-La

  Chapter 19: Herding Goats

  Chapter 20: I Do

  Chapter 21: The Roach Coaches

  Epilogue: Three Months Later

  Book 3: Curvy Dilemma

  Chapter 1: Amber

  Chapter 2: Logan

  Chapter 3: Amber

  Chapter 4: Logan

  Chapter 5: Amber

  Chapter 6: Logan

  Chapter 7: Amber

  Chapter 8: Logan

  Chapter 9: Amber

  Chapter 10: Logan

  Chapter 11: Amber

  Chapter 12: Logan

  Chapter 13: Amber

  Chapter 14: Logan

  Chapter 15: Amber

  Chapter 16: Logan

  Chapter 17: Amber

  Chapter 18: Logan

  Chapter 19: Amber

  Chapter 20: Logan

  Chapter 21: Amber

  Chapter 22: Logan

  Chapter 23: Amber

  Chapter 24: Logan

  Chapter 25: Amber

  Chapter 26: Logan

  Chapter 27: Amber

  Chapter 28: Logan

  Chapter 29: Amber

  Chapter 30: Logan

  Chapter 31: Amber

  Chapter 32: Logan

  Chapter 33: Amber

  Chapter 34: Logan

  Chapter 35: Amber

  Chapter 36: Logan

  Chapter 37: Amber

  Chapter 38: Logan

  Chapter 39: Amber

  Other Books by Tara Brent

  Connect with the Author

  Book 1: Curvy Attraction

  Chapter 1: Moving Day

  “Jiminy Crickets; what in the heck am I going to do with a house this size?” murmured Bethany Ballard when she arrived in front of her newly inherited home.

  “The neighbor’s house is even more imposing,” noted her father, Isaiah.

  “Dad clearly that’s a hotel, don’t be a dingus,” she joked.

  “That’s Fairfield County for you,” her dad said. “Here, let’s start getting your bags inside.”

  “We’re a long way from Utah,” sighed Bethany. “It’s a lot to get used to at once. And to think, I was just starting to make headway in my career back home. Not that I mind the change, of course,” she added quickly. “And who am I to refuse Granny’s wishes?”

  “My mom was definitely an oddball in life,” Isaiah said. “It was strange enough that she remarried an east-coast Jew—”

  “Dad!”

  “What? It’s unusual is all! But to think that she’d expect you to essentially uproot to come out here,” he shook his head. “I just don’t know. I suppose it’ll be a new adventure for you though, won’t it?”

  “That’s for sure,” she said. “Probably should have tried to snag a job before the move though,” she added through a grimace. “I’d imagine that the upkeep for this house will be quite the burden.”

  “Bunch of rich suburbanites with too much money and time on their hands sounds like prime clients for you,” her dad pointed out.

  “I don’t know,” she said, shifting awkwardly. “I’d imagine that most of them want therapists who have some kind of doctorate, you know?”

  He shrugged. “Well, there’s always Bridgeport and Norwalk.”

  “Hardy-har,” she said. “I’m updating my CV but I guess I had a private practice back home. No reason I can’t start one up here.” She paused a moment. “Do you think we should introduce ourselves to the neighbor before we start moving things in earnest?”

  "Let them come to you," said Isaiah, "I say we unload your things, and then I'll treat you to dinner somewhere around here. Sound good?"

  She grinned. “I guess you’re right. Let’s get going!”

  * * *

  While sipping a cosmopolitan, Colleen Blackwood peered out her window at who she could only imagine was her new neighbor. She had been friendly with the prior owners, whose lives both ended tragically a couple months prior. Nathan Katz had only remarried (to one Judith Ballard) a few years prior. Before they could even get bored of one another—as Colleen believed all successful couples were wont to do—Nathan was diagnosed with a fairly severe case of cardiovascular disease, which they only discovered after a heart attack. He put on a smile and tried to focus on enjoying his remaining time with Judith, never for a moment expecting to outlive her. But thanks to a careless driver and slick roads, Judith died in an auto wreck. Nathan's heart gave out within a week. Colleen pursed her lips at the memory. The gall to actually die from a broken heart! So disgustingly poetic.

  She knew that Nathan and his first wife never had any children, so it came as no surprise to Colleen that the pair below her looked so reminiscent of Judith with the same big blue eyes and strawberry-blond hair. The granddaughter (or so she assumed) even had Judith’s curvy features. Colleen pursed her lips. Well, she was not going to allow herself to be considered a bad neighbor.

  “Orson,” she called out, swigging the last of her cosmopolitan.

  Her butler made his presence known quickly. “Ma’am?”

  “Another cosmo if you please. I’m going to meet our new neighbors.”

  “I’ll have it at once,” he said, taking her empty glass.

  Five minutes later, she made her way outside, glass in hand.

  “Good evening,” she said aloud.

  The young lady looked up. “Oh! Hi. You live next door?”

  “For quite some time, yes,” she said. Colleen looked her new neighbor up and down. “I can only imagine that you are Judith’s granddaughter? You look
quite alike.”

  “You have a good eye,” said the young lady, smiling. She extended her hand. “Bethany Ballard. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Colleen Blackwood,” she said. “I admit that I did not know your grandmother especially well, but we were friendly enough. I got along with her better than I did her husband, at any rate. No offense meant, of course. Years ago he accused my late precious pooch, Theodora, of digging up his garden!”

  “Well... did she?” asked Bethany awkwardly.

  “That’s neither here nor there,” said Colleen. “One does not simply hurl accusations at Tibetan Mastiffs!”

  “Aren’t those roughly ten grand a puppy?” asked Bethany, wide-eyed.

  “You get what you pay for,” said Colleen simply. “Ah, so this must be your father?”

  Bethany’s dad had just come back outside after carrying her suitcases inside. “Oh!” he said, “Hi there. The name’s Isaiah Ballard.”

  “Isaiah? One does not meet many of those in a lifetime,” said Colleen.

  “Well, it’s pretty common in Utah, believe it or not. But yeah, around here, can’t imagine there are all that many.”

  “I see. Well, I would offer to help, save for my back. It’s more than a bit stiff. However, I do insist that you join me for dinner, if not tonight then soon.”

  “That’s so nice of you!” said Bethany. “We were going to do a father-daughter thing tonight, but I would love to take you up on your offer soon. And perhaps I can return the favor soon thereafter.”

  “Certainly. Well, enjoy. We should talk soon.” She began walking away.

  “I’m going to bring this inside,” said Isaiah, heaving a cardboard box of electronics onto his shoulder and marching forth.

  “Miss Blackwood?” asked Bethany.

  Colleen stopped and turned. “Yes?”

  “Well, thanks for being so nice. You could have just ignored us so it’s nice to feel welcome. Even if you are a bit cuckoo for cocoa puffs, you’re kind too. Not too shabby.”

  “Kind is a word rarely used to describe me,” said Colleen, deliberately ignoring the implication that she was somehow driven crazy by chocolate breakfast cereal, “but I would be lying if the tragedy that befell your grandparents didn’t shake me to the core. I will make sure you are welcome here. Oh,” she added, wringing her hands slightly. “There is one thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “You may see a man visit my house from time to time. In all likelihood, he will be wearing all black. I would advise you to stay as far away from him as possible.”

  “Is he dangerous?”

  Colleen snorted. “Only if you are comfortable with your heart remaining unbroken. The man is a pestilence upon all the women who know him bar none. You seem sweet and somehow pure and it would be devastating to see a genuinely nice girl be caught up in his web.”

  “If I might ask, Ms. Blackwood, why would he visit if you find him so terrible?”

  “Because he is my...” she glanced to the side uncomfortably. “Well, he’s my younger brother. Much younger, I might add. He’s closer in age to you than to me, in fact.” Colleen took out a cigarette and lit it. Bethany wrinkled her nose. “You are welcome in my home any time and I am determined to help you settle in, but do yourself a favor and steer clear.”

  Bethany laughed. “Right, cuz your lady-killing brother is going to waste time with the chubster next door.” Colleen raised an eyebrow. “What? I don’t care, I like how I look, and there are plenty of guys who would want aaaallllllllll of this,” she said, drizzling her fingers down her torso. “But if he’s a typical player like you’re saying, doesn’t he only go out with skinny model-types?”

  “Au contraire my dear,” said Colleen. “For better or worse, you are exactly his type.” With that, she strode off.

  Bethany stood there, her heart slightly a-flutter. For better or worse, you are exactly his type.

  Back home, Bethany was used to rules and living comfortably within the confines of said rules, whether they came from her family or her school or (most often) from her church. The rules made her feel secure and safe, even if her snarky attitude led most to think that safety wasn’t a prime concern for her.

  But out here? A new home time zones away from where she grew up? All new possibilities, and as much as she liked Ms. Blackwood, being told not to do something made her want to do it all the more.

  So even before meeting this man in black Bethany knew that she had a new mission in life.

  ...Then she remembered that she had no job or any means by which to maintain her new home. “All right,” she murmured, “Operation Defloration can hold off until I’ve resolved Operation Sustainable Income.”

  “You just standing out here now?” asked Isaiah.

  “Oh! Sorry, spaced out,” she said. “Okay yeah, I’ll come help.”

  * * *

  Colleen sat in front of the fire as her butler poured her a third glass of Jules Robin Vintage Cognac. “Thank you Orson,” she said.

  “I see you greeted the new neighbors, ma’am?”

  “Indeed. There is something enchanting about her. But I’m terrified that my... brother... will sink his talons into her eventually. Perhaps I am being selfish by getting close to her.”

  “How do you mean, if I may be so bold?”

  Colleen sighed. “My life has been a cavalcade of blesses and curses, bad choices tempered by remarkable luck and good fortune. I think that taking somebody under my wing could be good for my soul. But even if I treat her well, if I am doing it for my own benefit? Does that poison the well of good intentions?”

  “That’s not for me to say,” said Orson. “But I believe you have a fine heart, and you will make the right decision.”

  “You’d think,” she said, sighing. “He is the wild card though, as I said.”

  “Perhaps things will be different this time,” Orson suggested.

  Colleen cocked an eyebrow. “Do you actually think that?”

  “Only that it is conceivable,” Orson said evasively.

  Colleen laughed. “Just as it is ‘possible’ that our dear leader in DC is in fact competent.”

  “Well, people once believed that there were no black swans,” said Orson, “until a black swan was discovered. Don’t cast doubt just yet.”

  Colleen smiled sadly. A black swan indeed. “Thank you Orson. That will be all.” He bowed and walked off. Colleen closed her eyes. For thirty-five years my life has been defined by you, Tristan. Can things finally be different?

  Chapter 2: The Man in Black

  Henry Feinstein sat fuming at his desk. These fucking bitches dare accuse me? ME?? They’d be nothing without me!!

  “Mr. Feinstein?” His secretary said, interrupting his train of thought.

  “Hmm? What now.”

  “There’s someone here to see you.”

  “I’m not taking any damn interviews or meetings today.”

  “Well...” she began, but she was interrupted.

  “Oh I’m sure you’ll make an exception,” said the sultry male voice from outside the door. A man stepped into view. Feinstein stiffened. The man before him wore a black Ermenegildo Zegna suit complete with a black shirt and tie and matching House of Testoni black shoes. His hair and facial scruff were jet black as well, along with a black ring he wore on his right middle finger. The only part of his outfit that wasn’t entirely black was his sunglasses. Sure, the frames were a macho black consistent with the rest of his wardrobe, but the lenses themselves were a coral pink. Scowling, Feinstein gestured for his secretary to go away.

  “Fine. Sit.”

  “I intend to,” said the man in black. He put his feet up on the table, angering Feinstein further.

  “Not many people have your balls,” said Feinstein.

  “Hardly,” said the man in black. “It’s just that you’re unaccustomed to dealing with people who have more money and more power than you do. I’m no more or less brave than anyone else who crosse
s your path, I can simply afford to be more brash.” He smirked. “So tell me Henry, how does it feel to have your world crumbling around you?”

  “What do you want?” asked Feinstein through gritted teeth.

  “I want us to both end up happier than we currently are. But I doubt that will happen, sadly. So the better question is: what do I expect? I expect that you will grudgingly give me what I want and I will leave here with another notch on my belt.” He sighed. “It’s actually peculiar that I haven’t bought a movie studio yet. You know, just recently I bought Valkyrie-Cooper Tech. I still let Lucille Cruz run it as the CEO of course—god forbid I do any actual work—but my appetite just wasn’t sated yet.”

  “Look at you,” sneered Feinstein. “You don’t even create. You’re the worst kind of capitalist, and that’s saying a lot coming from me.” Feinstein burst to his feet. “Listen you little shit. Hundreds of the movies I produced have been nominated for Oscars and dozens of them have won. I have my own collection of little gold men behind you on that shelf!” He pointed to four Academy Award trophies behind the man’s head. “What do you do? You don’t create. You just acquire. Over and over and over again you just buy and sell, trade and repackage, that’s all you and others like you are any good for.”

  “Perhaps,” said the man in black, “but as I see it, everything in this world is mine by right.”

  Feinstein blinked, staring slack-jawed at the maniac before him. “You’re insane.”

  “Perhaps,” he repeated, “I can never tell, if you must know the truth. You see, I’ve always gotten what I wanted when I wanted it. You’re right that I’ve never created because I’ve never had to. I never even had to work hard at school.”

  “Oh, I’m sure your tutors wrote lovely college essays for you,” spat Feinstein.

  The man shrugged. “I never had a tutor. Everything was always just obvious to me. I never even studied really. Success just seems to come naturally to me.” He leaned forward, taking his feet off of Feinstein’s desk. “There is seemingly nothing beyond my grasp, be it tangible or otherwise. After graduating from Harvard at seventeen, I breezed my way through Columbia’s business school, and once I went to Wall Street, millions rained down on me. So I left and swallowed other businesses whole, and the millions became billions.” The man scratched his chin. “I realize I just said that things come naturally to me, but I think we could agree that this whole thing is rather unnatural, correct?”