Top Billionaire Romance Novels Novels & Stories

“You know, you talk about him differently now. And you talk about him a lot.” Victoria frowned and denied it quickly. “I do not.” Julie shook her head slowly. “You do. In fact, you smile when you talk about him.” “That’s just your overactive imagination.” She countered. Julie ignored her. “I’ve written enough romance novels. And read even more.” Victoria immediately knew where this conversation was heading. “Oh no.” Julie nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes.” She began counting on her fingers. “Contract marriage. Cold billionaire. Independent female lead. They’re forced to live together.”

When he went back home with Natasha for dinner, he said seriously, "I really didn't expect that you guys would like to read those novels." Natasha asked, "What's wrong? What did you see?" "I downloaded a reading software right away and looked for domineering CEO related romance novel on this popular best selling list. At least eight out of the ten books are related to a man and a woman having a one-night stand..." Natasha coughed and said, "These are all the patterns and tricks used." "I really regret as to why I didn't learn of this trick back then!" Christin was in a dilemma in silence. If he had learned this trick earlier, he would have been able to be together with her earlier, right?

I order on the call. "Huh. Are you gonna sue me?" Nev mocks at me as I turn to him. "An indebted CEO is gonna sue me" He bursts into a laugh. I go near him and kick him hard on his chest. "That's not your fault Nev. I know that you don't know me," I say, grabbing his collar. "His net worth is 1 billion," Sana snaps from behind while smirking. I discover Nev's face turning pale as he hears this.

It was like crawling hands on my skin, which creeped me the fuck out. With a slight shiver, I turned my back to them and leaned my elbows on the huge, wide mahogany front desk. I mean, the West family was rich, rich, because who on earth had a front desk in their family estate? Even the whole building itself sprawled as far as my eyes could reach. Yeah, they were a different kind of wealthy. Which was why it made absolutely no sense for Daniel to steal my company like he did. While we were making some steady growth in my company, it was nowhere near what the Wests had built. And that meant Daniel shouldn’t lack anything.

I shot back, "We'll see who ends up begging." I turned, my gaze landing on the VIP table. A man sat there in a tailored suit, lazily swirling a glass of red wine. Gabriel York was Lumeria's wealthiest man and the company's biggest investor. Lifting the hem of my dress, I walked toward him under everyone's watchful eyes. He looked up, studying me with clear interest. "Mr. York." I took a deep breath and said loudly, "The banquet's already paid for. Since the groom is trash, would you like to replace him? I've got 100 billion in assets, and I can promise you a lifetime of absolute devotion."

Devastating. The article is worse. "Isla Bennett, 26, served $85 steaks to Manhattan's elite while drowning in $250,000 of debt from her father's failed construction business. Now she's engaged to billionaire Gabriel Hunt and living in a $30 million penthouse. Fairytale romance or financial transaction? Sources close to Hunt Capital suggest the engagement came with a very specific price tag..." "Sources?" My voice cracks. "Hale. Or someone he paid." I scroll to the comments. I can't stop myself. It’s like picking a scab.

“Ahhh. That explains the look on your face. Spill. Now.” I narrated everything to her, spilling my guts about what happened today. “WOW!” She exclaims, leaning back in her seat, taking a sip of her wine. “He’s interested in you.” “Then, he has a funny way of showing it.” “I live to see this hate unfold into something else,” she said, a mischievous light sparking in her eyes. Typical Anastasia. “Whatever.” I taunted her. “This guy is a billionaire, Demetria — not just running hotels and casinos here in L.A., but across states, across countries. He practically owns the playgrounds of the rich.”

I mutter into his chest, "he doesn't act like I exist unless other people are around. He gets a new girl into his bed almost every night. This marriage is a joke." "I'm sorry," he mutters into my hair, "if I could do anything I would. Who is the guy you're marrying?" "Leon Bailey," I tell him while lifting my head off of his chest, "he is the worst person, I thought that Jacob was in my business class. I was so wrong!" "The stupid billionaire playboy?" Oliver asks and I nod, "he's on almost every magazine this month. He's the talk of America basically."

But tonight, amidst the glitz and glamour, I sensed an undercurrent of tension, an invisible threat lurking in the shadows. Unbeknownst to us, a rival billionaire, Charles Blackwood, vying for Alexander's power and wealth, had hatched a sinister plan. He had hired a seductive spy, Isabella, to infiltrate our lives, to seduce me and extract valuable information that could be used as leverage against Alexander. We were pawns in a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and the stakes were higher than ever.

But the mysterious and attractive charm from the man in the black nightgown made Vivian unable to resist but had to look back. Her first impression of Dominic was that the man was so beautiful. He was as handsome as a knight or some god out of a myth, with a tall body, broad shoulders, long arms, and an angular face full of masculinity. His gaze was sober and calm, he casually passed others but made them pay attention to him. Vivian watched him until the figure of the man disappeared behind a turn in the hospital corridor. It was not until later that she learned that he was Dominic Arnold, the richest famous billionaire, wielding fearsome power and also a notorious arms dealer. She was lucky