Here’s excerpt three of the small-town sweet romance story The Billionaire’s Matchmaker. It’s available now on Amazon for $0.99 or free with Kindle Unlimited.
Excerpt 3 of 3: The Billionaire’s Matchmaker
Marcus sat in Keisha Powell’s office, matchmaker extraordinaire, biting back his frustration. In one month, he was slated to attend the Strand’s fundraiser ball in Miami, and he still didn’t have a date.
The ball would be a networking buffet of business owners in need of an investor. That included P.J. Schwartz, who Marcus had been wooing unsuccessfully for months. Marcus had no doubt that P.J., and other potential clients, would show up at the ball with their significant others, bragging about their children and showing off family photos. Meanwhile, Marcus didn’t even have a plus-one, though Keisha Powell’s matchmaking services were supposed to prevent that from happening. Marcus’s jaw tightened with annoyance.
He couldn’t be the odd man out at the ball, literally and figuratively. He had to impress P.J., a family man who didn’t like doing business with bachelors—didn’t trust them. Whatever. Marcus wouldn’t let P.J.’s bizarre hangup dissuade him. Truth be told, Marcus should’ve put his bachelor days behind him already.
So he’d made it a goal to find a wife, and he’d given himself a deadline to achieve it. He’d also aligned his thoughts and actions. Why the hell hadn’t anything manifested yet?
Marcus willed himself to relax in the cream-colored chair across from Keisha. From behind her desk, she tapped buttons on a keyboard. She had a new batch of profiles for him to check out. Candidates, she’d called them.
His gaze floated over Keisha’s pretty face. Easy on the eyes, to say the least. Too bad she wasn’t on the roster of candidates. He’d enjoyed his meetings with Keisha more than the dates she’d set up for him. Keisha was sharp, witty, and not intimidated by his success—or enamored by it. She was a self-sufficient, independent woman who enjoyed her career. Definitely a turn-on.
He’d been attracted to Keisha from the moment he met her. Plus, she was tall and didn’t shy away from a heel. He’d always liked that kind of woman. She commanded a presence and confidence that went unspoken. Another turn-on in Marcus’s book.
A stillness suddenly washed over him, like a blanket of clarity. And he almost laughed at his own absentmindedness.
Had he been missing the obvious all this time? The person right in front of him?
Keisha turned her computer monitor in his direction. The end of her long sleek ponytail tumbled from her shoulder to her back. Almond-shaped eyes followed his gaze, which he’d kept on her instead of the screen. He reluctantly shifted his focus back to the monitor.
“This is Tina Bartholomew,” Keisha said. “She’s—”
“Bartholomew?” He shook his head. “I don’t like that name. Reminds me of a client I had once. Things didn’t end well.”
Her lip quivered. Trying to hold back a laugh, he guessed. “So you throw her out because of it?”
“Well, yeah. What if they’re related?”
“What if they’re not? You’re not related to Macy’s.”
He tipped his head in her direction. “Touché.”
She gave him a little smile, the crooked one that screamed sexy without her knowing it. “Okay, Mr. Macy, I’ve got a few more for you today.”
“I told you to call me Marcus.”
“I do call you Marcus. But I call you Mr. Macy when you throw out my ladies like they’re an old rag.”
“Fair enough. What else do you have?”
Keisha pulled up another picture. Marcus flinched, blinded by the woman’s translucent skin against her black dress. “Ugh.” He pulled a face. “Too pale.”
Keisha chuckled. “She has …what’s that term? Porcelain skin.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “This isn’t 1914. I like women with a tan.” He glanced at Keisha’s neckline, a natural tan color that women would kill to have. She must’ve noticed because she shifted in her seat.
“Okay, let’s try Kylie.”
Wasn’t that one of the Kardashians’ names? He sighed at the thought as Keisha pulled up the woman’s photo. Cute girl, though. A registered nurse, which meant she’d have long shifts at work and would probably understand Marcus’s long workdays. Her skin had a healthy glow. Nice smile. Lived in California, too. This could be promising, he thought, until he read the line about her height.
“Five-one?” He groaned. “I’d tower over her.”
“Five-one isn’t that bad.”
He frowned. “I don’t want to feel like I’m holding hands with a child.”
“I know for a fact that she loves to wear platforms.” As if that mattered.
He glared at her. “I’m tall, Keisha, I need a tall woman. And I need a woman of color…” He hurriedly added, “I mean, a woman with color…”
He hadn’t planned for it to come out quite that way, for his interest in Keisha, a woman of color, to be that obvious. But there it was, hanging in there air now.
For the last several months, he’d wondered why things weren’t working out with any of these candidates she’d sent his way. He couldn’t figure out why his thoughts and actions hadn’t manifested yet.
Now he understood.
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