THE BILLIONAIRE’S MATCHMAKER is book one of The Sweet Matchmaker series. It’s coming soon on Amazon for $0.99—free on Kindle Unlimited.
This clean romance is short and sweet, featuring a BWWM romance, a billionaire, and a small-town matchmaker.
Here’s excerpt one of the THE BILLIONAIRE’S MATCHMAKER.
Five Months Ago
A man walked up to Keisha Powell’s desk with a perfect suit, a crisp gait, and a platinum wedding band—none of which fit in at her small-town matchmaker’s office. He didn’t have an appointment, either. But she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. As an out-of-towner, he must not have known any better. But if he didn’t, why was he here? Not that she minded. Looking at him sure beat the gray Thursday morning outside her office window.
She stood from behind the wide walnut desk. At five-foot-ten plus another inch or two thanks to a kitten heel, she usually stood eye-to-eye with men. Not with this one. He cleared her by another few inches.
Tall, handsome with a square jaw, deep-set, determined green eyes, a short buzz of dirty blond hair, and a lean build—she reminded him of Brad Pitt from the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith. She hoped this guy wasn’t looking for trouble. But he didn’t seem like it. He smiled a little after she stood, as if her height had pleasantly surprised him.
“Can I help you?” Keisha asked.
“Keisha Powell?” He spoke with a crispness that didn’t fit Longville, Texas. “I’m Marcus Macy.” He shook her hand. “I’m hoping you can help me.”
“I’ll try.” She smiled, placing her hands to her sides, the open, friendly posture she used for potential clients. Maybe he knew someone that needed a matchmaker. A sibling, a friend—
“I need a wife.”
A wife? She glanced at the ring on his left hand again. Didn’t he already have one?
She wasn’t the polygamous kind of matchmaker, and his bluntness had taken her aback. “I’d rather you check in with me after papers are signed and the ink is dry.” She sat back down in her chair with a huff.
“You’re wearing a wedding band, Mr. Macy.”
He stuck out his left hand like it was a new attachment to his wrist. “Oh.” He yanked the ring off and stuffed it in his pants pocket like loose change.
Yeah, this guy was trouble, alright. Keisha could only hope he wasn’t as duplicitous as Brad Pitt in Mr. and Mrs. Smith. If he knew martial arts like the movie character, this would be a big problem. Keisha hadn’t been in a fight since middle school. And if Al in the barbershop to Keisha’s left had the clippers going, and if Jenny in the cake shop to Keisha’s right had the mixer going, no one would hear her scream.
When Mr. Macy unbuttoned his jacket and sat in the cream leather chair across from her, she slowly set aside any criminal possibilities. The town of Longville didn’t attract criminals. Plus, matchmaker’s offices weren’t exactly known for carrying vaults of cash. And with the nicely tailored suit this man wore, he probably had plenty of cash of his own.
Pondering Mr. Macy’s request for a wife, Keisha met his gaze. “You’re going to have to explain why you’re wearing a ring if you want my help.”