Eli Crane is one tough bastard. After an explosion left him injured and honorably discharged from the Marines, all he wants is to be left alone. Yet his brothers insist he take a greater role in the family business. They’ve hired him ten personal assistants—and Eli sent each one packing as fast as possible. But when beautiful number eleven walks through the door, Eli will do anything to make her stay.

Isabella Sawyer’s employment agency can’t afford to lose Eli Crane’s business. Her plan: to personally take on the role of his PA, and secure her reputation with the wealthy elite in Chicago. But this beauty and her hot billionaire bad boy soon find themselves mixing business with pleasure in the most delicious ways. And passionate, stubborn Isabella won’t rest until she tames this wicked beast…

Details

Book 3, Billionaire Bad Boys, featuring Eli Crane & Isabella Sawyer

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Billionaire Bad Boys

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Photoshoot

Model Jonathan Cannaux represented Eli Crane on the cover of The Bastard Billionaire. Here are some shots from the original photoshoot, including one with a female model who they didn't end up using. (Thanks Michele, for snapping these pics!)

Excerpt

The flames in the fireplace were nearly extinguished, the curtains drawn on the high windows of Elijah Crane’s office. Rain pattered on the glass, providing a soothing backdrop for his work. He pecked at his keyboard, his mind on the e-mail, when a mousy, quiet voice lifted in the darkness.

“Mr.…Crane?”

The desk lamp and a slice of natural light made its way past the doorless entry to his office. His newest temporary assistant stood blocking that light, her shadow a long, narrow wedge.

“Reese Crane called,” she said as she walked into his office. “Your brother.”

Like he needed that clarification?

“I know who Reese Crane is, Melanie.”

“He asked me to…” Her small voice grew smaller until it vanished altogether. Reason being, Eli had taken a deep, rumbling breath and pushed himself up from the desk.

Slowly.

Let it never be said intimidation wasn’t an art form.

He kept his eyes on the woman now standing at the other side of his desk. She was young, in her early twenties, and from what he’d gleaned in the last eight or so hours since she’d started this position, weak. He’d bet he could run this one off in record time. Not that he was keeping track, but maybe he should. He was getting good at it.

He blew out that same breath, keeping his lip curled, his expression hard. He let the breath end on a growl.

“What did I tell you this morning?” he asked, his voice lethal.

His latest temporary personal assistant currently putting a massive cramp in his style blinked her big, doelike eyes. “Not to interrupt you, but, Mr. Crane—”

“Not. To. Interrupt me.” He made a show of pulling his shoulders straight and hobbling around the table. Her gaze trickled down to the prosthesis at the end of his right leg as he affected a limp. One he didn’t have. One he’d trained himself not to have.

The help found him more intimidating when reminded he was an amputee. He’d used it to his advantage on more than one occasion. “Do I look like I need to be bothered with trivial questions, Melanie?”

“N-no, sir, but it’s about Crane Hotels and I was hired to—”

“You answer to me,” he told her point-blank. “I don’t care if it’s a memo from the Pope. I asked not to be interrupted. I expect not to be interrupted.”

“But the board meeting…” Melanie trailed off, her eyes blinking faster as if staving off tears.

Tough shit, sweetheart.

The sooner word reached his brothers that the ninth—or was Melanie the tenth?—PA to set foot in Eli’s warehouse left in tears, the better. He wasn’t interested in resuming a position with Crane Hotels for a myriad of personal reasons, none of which he’d shared with them. The thickheaded men in his family didn’t listen when he’d clearly and concisely said no to a pencil-pushing position at the Crane home base, so he’d resorted to showing not telling. The more assistants Reese had sent, the brasher Eli had become.

“Mr. Reese Crane said all you need to do is read this report and give your opinion. I can reiterate on the conference call for you,” she squeaked.

Eli elevated his chin and stared her down. She didn’t hold his gaze, hers jerking left then right and very purposefully avoiding dipping to his missing limb for a second time.

Sucking in a breath, he blew out one word. “Fine.”

“Fine?” Melanie’s eyebrows lifted, her expression infused with hope. She was sweet…and about to get a lesson in hard knocks. He hadn’t always been this rigid, but change was inevitable after what had happened. She was about to be on the receiving end of the not-so-nice guy he’d become.

“You want my opinion? I’ll give you my opinion.” He lashed a hand around her wrist, removed the folder from her hand, and tossed it into the fireplace. There were mostly embers now, but a single flame crawled over the edge of the folder as it slid onto the concrete floor. Then the fire fizzled, smoking instead of igniting.

Well. That was unimpressive.

“You...you’re…” Melanie’s fists were balled at her sides, her eyes filling yet again as she visibly shook.

“Spit it out. I don’t have all day.”

“You’re a monster!” She turned and ran—yes, ran—from his office, through his dining room and to the warehouse elevator. He stepped out from behind his office wall to watch the entire scene, arms folded over his chest. There were few doors and walls in this place, so not much hampered the sight of another victory won by Eli “Monster” Crane.

Back in his office, he stomped on the smoking file folder at his feet. Once he was sure he wouldn’t burn down his house, he chucked the folder into the wastebasket at the side of his desk.

“Sorry, Reese,” he said to thin air. “You’ll have to manage without me.”

They’d managed without him for the years he was stationed overseas. His brothers could put one foot in front of the next without him. God knew being away hadn’t improved Eli’s ability to weigh in on financials.

But that’s not why they wanted him there. Reese and Tag, and their father, wanted Eli there because they believed Crane Hotels was part of Eli’s future. A legacy, like CEO was for Reese. Like Guest and Restaurant Services was for Tag.

Eli’s avoidance was in part because he had spearheaded a sizeable personal project and in larger part because wherever he went, unfortunate events unfurled. He wasn’t quite ready to topple the company his father had grown into an empire.

His cell phone buzzed with a text from an old friend he’d contacted earlier this week. He lifted the phone and walked smoothly from his desk to the kitchen, reading the text.

Yep, still in business.

He tapped in a reply. Let’s talk more next week. Give me a choice of dates.

He pocketed his phone, feeling a charge shoot down his arms. Since he’d come home, he’d been consumed with giving back. With changing the worlds of men and women who’d made sacrifices. For their country, for their families. Men and women who’d returned home with less than they’d had before they left and were expected to drop back into the flow of things.

Penance, some might argue, for everything in Eli’s past. He wasn’t above admitting that evening the scales for his failures was a big part of what drove his actions now.

Which meant he had no interest in stepping in as chief operations officer of the gargantuan Crane Hotels, no matter how many PAs his oldest brother sent over.

Keep ’em comin’.

Eli had become adept at running off PAs. In fact, he’d become even more creative about the ways he could get them to quit.

If poor Melanie had her way, he’d reside in a creepy mansion atop a hill. The gossip rags would murmur about the beastly Crane brother no one dared bother lest they suffer his wrath. He let out a dry laugh, amused by the bend of his thoughts.

After the year he’d had, that sounded a lot like heaven.

. . .

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Q&A

Q: Why did you write a military amputee hero?

A: Thank you, Laura, for the question!

For those of you who have read The Billionaire Next Door, you know that Tag goes into the hospital room to see his brother, Eli not knowing the details of Eli’s injuries. Once he gets there and sees the flattened bit of sheet, he realizes his brother has lost his leg below the knee.

The idea to feature a realistic hero with this sort of injury came about when I spotted a photo by Michael Stokes taken of cover model B.T. Urrella. I was floored not only by the composition, but also the utter beauty of the image. Stokes has a series of photos of men missing limbs, and I realized as I perused his Facebook page that this has become the norm rather than the exception. This is how our boys come home now, and they are expected to acclimate to life in a way they hadn't planned on. That sad reality sparked an idea…

I shelved the idea in a corner of my mind and later stumbled onto a magazine article about amputees and the damage done to them from roadside bombs. I devoured the article and the fictional hero in the back of my mind stirred to life yet again. But I didn't have a home for him yet. I have a sideline hero named Ant (featured in Bad Boy Blues), but he wasn’t quite right for my unnamed hero.

When the bad boy series ended, my publisher asked for three books for a series they wanted to call Billionaire Bad Boys. I had been brainstorming more bad boy characters anyway, so I swapped out their torn jeans for suits. Reese, Tag, and my ex-Marine amputee solider, Eli, were born.

As soon as my editor approved my proposals, I became nervous I would fail Eli in a huge way. So I did my research. I contacted a man who designed prosthetic limbs for a living and peppered him with questions. I read article after article written by soldiers who had returned home without a leg. I read message boards and Q&As written and answered by military amputees. Once I understood the timeline of healing from such an injury, I shook off my fears and wrote Eli the same way I write any other hero. I dug around in his head until he told me what frightened him, what moved him, and what needed healing—not his leg, but his heart.

I'm fiercely proud of Eli's book. Believe it or not, the focus wasn’t on his missing leg so much as Eli navigating what he calls "the new normal." I balanced Eli's super-crabby attitude with a take-charge, fiery heroine who never balked when he growled. The result? Feisty Isabella is one of my favorite heroines of all time!

And that is how this beauty and her “beastly billionaire” came to be.