The Dating Game (Alphalicious Billionaires) Read online

  THE DATING GAME

  Alphalicious Billionaires

  Lindsey Hart

  CONTENTS

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  COPYRIGHT

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PREVIEW MARRIED BY MISTAKE

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Nothing serious. Just another fling, just another challenge to win.

  That was what I signed up for when I agreed to the blind date.

  But I never thought I would be hooked on her. Personality, beauty, curves and all.

  But I cannot have a serious relationship … especially not with her.

  I have lied to her. She does not know who I am and that I am just playing a game.

  When she finds out the truth, there will no longer be any us.

  But wasn’t that what I wanted … before meeting her.

  Hey Loves, come meet those sexy men loaded with more than just that cash package and so ready to claim their not-so-reluctant heroine. Each book is a standalone and can be read in any order. Following popular demand, we have brought the exploding can of whipped cream back in action. Enjoy!

  And don't forget, we are team HEA all the way!

  COPYRIGHT

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, or transmitted by email without permission in writing from the publisher. While all attempts and efforts have been made to verify the information held within this publication, neither the author nor the publisher assumes any responsibility for errors, omissions, or opposing interpretations of the content herein. The book is for entertainment purposes only. The views expressed are those of the author alone and should not be taken as expert instruction or commands.

  Copyright © Passion House Publishing Ltd 2019

  All rights reserved.

  You can contact the team at [email protected].

  CHAPTER 1

  Muffy

  It must be nice to be born with a sweet, normal name. A name that doesn’t ruin everything because it’s so incredibly god-awful.

  “I need to change my name. It’s because of my name that Steve dumped me.” Muffy dumped her car keys on the table and sank down beside her BFF, Carla. She swiped at her puffy cheeks. She was well aware that her pale skin looked blotchy as hell and her tear ducts were so empty, they’d probably never produce liquid again. Her swollen tear-stained eyes felt like she’d stuck her face in a bad science experiment and the acid was currently eating away at all her vital tissues.

  Her heart felt a little like that too. Or maybe that was just her pride. Getting dumped over something she had no control over didn’t exactly give a big self-esteem boost. Steve was the kind of guy a person could take home and introduce to their parents. He was the kind of guy who had a decent job, drove a nice car and owned his own place.

  The small apartment she shared with Carla was a safe place. Carla herself was like the apartment. Safe. Loving. Caring. And currently, Carla had her hair wrapped in a blue fluffy towel that matched her extra blue, extra fluffy robe. Her cheeks were flushed pink from her bath earlier. It was Friday night. Carla, avowedly single, liked to light a candle, kick back, and dump half a bottle of bubble bath into the tub. Which should have been hell on her skin, but her skin was always perfect.

  Despite Muffy’s world-ending news, Carla went right on stuffing popcorn into her mouth at an alarming rate. She wasn’t very good at it either. She missed her mouth and a few kernels dropped to the floor. She rolled her eyes at Muffy’s outburst, the way that only best friends who detest said man can roll their eyes.

  “Did it ever occur to you that Steve breaking up with you was the best thing that could have happened?”

  “No!” Muffy wailed. “I spent a year with him! A year of my life!”

  “A year wasted on wrinkly old balls. You never did tell me if his pubes were grey or not.”

  “Carla!”

  “What?” Carla waggled her brows and stuffed another hand of popcorn into her mouth.

  “His balls weren’t old or wrinkly. They were nice balls. Like, really nice ones. Like, perfect balls. And he didn’t have any pubes. He manscaped down there.’

  “He ever dragged them across your face?”

  “What?” Muffy’s mouth dropped open.

  Carla shrugged. “I just don’t see the point in shaving your balls if you’re not going to drag them across a person’s face. Did you like- when you- you know- did you lick them?”

  “No! Dear lord god, what is wrong with you?”

  “See. No point in making them hairless. Speaking of balls… we have to take Mr. Twinkletoes to the vet tomorrow morning, so no food for him tonight after ten.”

  On cue, their new rescue cat, a huge orange tabby that followed Carla home the week before, sauntered into the kitchen. The guy was the size of a house. He was missing both ears, from frostbite or ear mites or something. He only had half a tail and the end was covered in scars where the hair no longer grew. His body was flappy and saggy, and his coat was dull. In short, he was a mess. It didn’t stop him from having the kindest green eyes that Muffy had ever seen. Carla was a sucker when it came down to animals. She couldn’t stand lost causes in men, but cats- that was a different story. She’d scooped the ancient street cat up and promised him a better life.

  “Mr. Twinkletoes!” Muffy extended her hand, but the cat sniffed at her and hissed before sauntering off. She turned back to Carla, shocked. “What’s gotten into him?”

  “Oh, I told him this time tomorrow he’d be ball-less and flawless.”

  “Carla! You can’t tell him something like that. You’ll scar him for life!”

  “Nah.” Carla shoved in a handful of popcorn. She licked the butter off her fingers before dipping them back into the huge baking bowl for more. “Have you seen him? He looks like he can handle finally losing his baby-makers.”

  “You’re terrible, you know that?”

  “No way. I could have left him out there on the street in the frigid cold, but now he’s living the life. I was thinking about rescuing another and getting him a friend.”

  “Well… the apartment does have a limit of two pets per place. We could get another.”

  “You mean you wouldn’t be angry?”

  “No, of course not. Maybe it would cheer me up. If I can’t get a man to stick, I’ll just turn into a crazy cat lady. God. I can practically feel my ovaries shriveling up as we speak.”

  “You’re better off without losers in your life. Especially ones who insult your name. There isn’t anything wrong with your name.”

  “He said he couldn’t take me seriously because I was named after a seventies-style vagina. I swear I could kill my mom some days.”


  “I like your name. You can do all sorts of fun things with your name.”

  “No. Guys don’t want to date me at all because the first thing they see is my name and it makes them think of seventies bush and rotting old beavers in a time when people still called boxers beavers and it’s just a huge turn-off.”

  “You could always give in and do online dating.”

  “I’d rather invent a time machine and go back in time and force my mother to give me a normal name.” Muffy sighed. “God. Why does it cost so much to get all your ID changed? I would totally pick a normal name. Something like, Deanne or Stephanie or Amy.”

  “Yeah, well Carla sounds like a name for the evil aunt, the kind who dyes her hair neon orange and gets a perm every other week and borrows her husband’s Hawaiian shirts.”

  “Carla is a nice normal name.”

  Carla shrugged. “Does it smell like burning in here?”

  “Uhh…” Muffy paused mid pity party. She sniffed the air. “Yeah. It kind of does. Why? What were you trying to make before the popcorn?”

  For someone who was so successful, had a Masters in Marketing, who ran her own boutique, who was confident being single, who took charge and who others followed effortlessly and looked up to, there were some things Carla couldn’t do. God, she’d burn her takeout even if she didn’t have to cook the damn stuff, she was that bad.

  “Oh- yeah. I went through a couple of batches of popcorn.”

  “How do you burn popcorn?”

  “I think I overloaded the maker. It just came out all black.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t burn the place down. Remind me to call my insurance and up the liability part of it. If you catch the building on fire, the two million dollars isn’t going to go far.”

  “We have mine too. So together it would be like, four million.”

  “This is Chicago. Four million is going to cover like one single apartment and there are like sixty in here.”

  Carla rolled her eyes. She nibbled at the popcorn and talked with her mouth full. “It was the maker’s fault. They could sue it.”

  “You can’t sue for that. I think they would claim that it was user error and you’d be hooped.”

  “Yeah, well, at least I got you to stop thinking about Steve. The guy was like three hundred years older than you anyway. It’s no big loss.”

  “He was forty. I’m thirty. That’s only ten years.”

  “Really? Guess I must suck at math.”

  “You’re amazing at math,” she deadpanned.

  Carla couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Relax,” she assured her, with one of those special Carla eye roll specialties that told the receiver just how much they were really loved. “You’re thirty. Thirty is young. No one has kids until they’re like forty anymore anyway. Not that you want kids. We have too much stuff to do first. You’re a great catch. You’re smart. You make a decent amount of money at the world’s most boring job. Best of all, you still have a tight body. Your tits haven’t even started to sag, so trust me, you’re good. Even with a name like Muffy. Steve is the one missing out.”

  “You never liked him. And his old balls.”

  Carla visibly shuddered. “Thank god I never had to see his old balls. It would have done me in. Death by balls. I can see the headline now. Death by hairless balls”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah. There’s always online dating. We could make you a good profile, take a few grainy pictures, and best of all, make you a fake name. You wouldn’t even have to give them your real name on the date. Then you couldn’t get dumped by grey pubed men over something so stupid they should have their head examined to see if it’s actually hollow. Hey, maybe that’s why he shaved them all off. He didn’t want you to know how white they were.”

  The bridge of Muffy’s nose burned again. She blinked so rapidly her eyelashes probably would have flown off if they were fake. But no, they weren’t fake. They were just her own bland boring eyelashes. She never wore falsies. She was an accountant. Accountants didn’t wear false eyelashes. Accountants looked exactly like her. They had brown mousy hair and skin that was a little too pale even in the summer and boobs that were probably a size too small and a flat ass and a skinny body and bland features that no amount of makeup was really going to dress up.

  “I don’t want to die an old shrew,” Muffy moaned.

  Carla licked her fingers again. Nice, long, tapered fingers with perfectly manicured nails. Carla was beautiful. Blonde. Stacked. Perfectly proportioned in every way that mattered. She had a natural disdain for all men and vowed she’d stay single until the day she died, so her looks were wasted. Muffy wondered if her friend would ever consider doing a body switch in the near future. She wished those things were doable, just like the time machine thing.

  “You won’t,” Carla assured her. “Or if you do, at least we’ll die shrews together. We can get old together, you and me. We can watch our boobs sag down to our waists and our butts expand and-”

  “Oh god, stop. I can’t take it!”

  Carla grinned. “So… dating profile it is then?”

  “I just got out of a relationship! I don’t need to jump back into another one.”

  “Darling, dating is one thing. Relationships are another. What you need is to learn how to relax. You’re never going to find the right guy if you think every guy is the right guy and try to force them into being that.”

  “Is that what I do?” Muffy asked, horrified. Carla could be pretty darn blunt at the best of times.

  “Yeah,” Carla admitted. “You kind of do. You just need to let your hair down and have a little fun. I mean seriously. Let. Your. Hair. Down. Stop doing it up in those super-tight buns that make your eyes look extra-long at the corners.”

  “They do not!”

  “You know what I mean. You just need to learn how to have fun. Don’t look for something serious. We can put that right in the profile. Some people just don’t want to be lonely. They’re looking for fun and a connection and if they have that, they want to see where it goes. That’s the type of thing I’m talking about.”

  “Says the person who doesn’t date.”

  “Just because I don’t date, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun. Girls have itches. Urges. Whatever.”

  “I don’t even want to know.”

  Carla just blinked and offered Muffy a sly smile. “I think we both already know.”

  “Yes, yes we do. I know way too much. Sometimes I wish I could bleach my ears.”

  “I’m sure you do. But your profile… it’s going to be the best one on there and you’ll be having all sorts of balls thrown your way. Old balls, since that’s what you seem to like. Young balls, hairy balls, hairless balls, tight balls, saggy balls…”

  “I get the idea,” Muffy groaned.

  She closed her eyes and slammed her hands over her ears. Why did her life always have to turn into a massive disaster?

  CHAPTER 2

  Alex

  “It’s a thing. Women like men who have money. They like the money. They like being pampered and spoiled. That’s why the terms Sugar Daddy and trophy wife exist. We can’t have meaningful relationships with a woman because we have fuck loads of money and it stops them from seeing or liking us for anything other than what we can do for them.”

  Alex leaned back in his chair. The thing cost like a million dollars, but it was ergonomic or some shit, so he gave the go ahead for HR to order them.

  His partner in crime- not literally, literally just his business partner, but also his good friend, Jay, paced the room. The guy was a serial dater. Alex wasn’t sure that Jay was much better than the string of ditzy fake breasted, fake lipped, tight assed, short skirted women he went out with. The guy definitely had a type.

  You’re rubber and I’m glue. Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.

  The childhood taunts railroaded through Alex’s mind and he was hard-pressed to keep a straight face. Those girls were definitel
y rubberish, plastic-ish, okay, same difference, but that didn’t make Jay glue. The guy was like bug repellent, except for women.

  “I don’t know,” Alex started. He was going to try and give some sagely business partner, friend advice, but Jay cut him off at the pass.

  “Women don’t like a guy that doesn’t have any money. Do you see a bunch of broke guys going out and getting laid all the time? No. Why not? Because women don’t think that’s sexy. They want to be treated like princesses. They want flowers and spa dates and to be taken out to shows. They like nice cars, not old beaters that die on the side of the road. They want to be taken out shopping and bought expensive dresses and shoes and purses.”

  “Some women might be able to settle for halfway,” Alex said dryly. “Maybe you should find someone normal and you’d have better results.”

  Jay spun and pointed an accusatory finger in Alex’s face. “You’re an ass, you know that?”

  Alex shrugged, only mildly offended. “Guilty as charged. I never pretended otherwise.”

  “Since we’re all about social experiments here, I have a challenge for you. You seem to know everything about women and dating. You always have some advice for me, but you’re never willing to put your money where your big yap is.”

  “First of all, this company isn’t a social experiment. We develop apps for online counseling. That’s hardly an experiment. That helps people. Maybe you should try downloading a couple and talking to someone who knows what they’re doing. They’d probably tell you the same thing I’m telling you. You have to stop dating the wrong kind of woman and you’d get better results. Change the variables in the experiment.”

  Jay shook his head. “Always so smart. Just because you have like twenty-eight degrees doesn’t mean you know anything about women. You don’t even date.”

  “That’s because I don’t like the results. I’ve been there, done that. It was time to move on.”