Stuck with My Grumpy Millionaire Protector: A Next Door Lovers Romance

By Kasia Kain

Kat

New me, new beginning I say.

Paris, Tennessee here I come.

Nothing but rest, relaxation and Song writing!

Well, isn't he sexy? Says his name is Connor.

Then I find out he's my new bodyguard.  What?

I hate being told what to do, when to do it and I'm going to pout about it too.

 

Connor

Says her name is Kat. And those blue eyes with her dark hair.

She is simply gorgeous.

If only I knew where she is staying.  We might hook up. Who am I kidding,

she can't be a day over 22 and I'm 41.  But a guy can dream can't he?

And there she is standing in my mom's kitchen at the bed and breakfast.

She fixes steely blue eyes on me and is not happy.

Kat is not going to make this easy to protect her. I can just feel it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kasia Kain
• Release date: May 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224569335

Book preview

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Copyright 2024 by Kasia Kain - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.

All rights reserved.

Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

Stuck with My Grumpy Millionaire Protector

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A Next-Door Lovers Romance

Kasia Kain

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Contents

1.New Me, New Beginning

1. Kat

2.A Badge of Honor

2. Connor

3.Come with Me

3. Kat

4.Al Rossi

4. Connor

5.I Don’t Think I’m Safe

5. Kat

6.Well, the Cat’s out of the Bag Now

6. Connor

7.I’ll Focus on that Tomorrow…Maybe

7. Kat

8.It’s My Duty to Take Care of Her

8. Connor

9.Forever is a Long Time

9. Kat

10.She’s Good People

10. Connor

11.Message Received

11. Kat

12.You’re Safe

12. Connor

13.Take What You Want

13. Kat

14.Sim Simpson

14. Connor

15.The Flowers!

15. Kat

16.Damn, I Think I Love This Woman

16. Connor

17.It’s Over Between Us

17. Kat

18.I’m More than Mortified!

18. Connor

19.Please Stay…

19. Kat

20.Six Months Later

20. Connor

Epilogue - Two Weeks Later

The End.

To Jasmyn, you are missed each

and every day, and you will never be forgotten.

Your Auntie loves you beyond words.

To GOD,

because without you,

nothing in my life would make sense.

Chapter 1

New Me, New Beginning

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Kat

I can’t believe Dan dumped me! What a jerk. And for that girl, of all people. The one I knew had the hots for him… which he denied altogether.

A woman’s intuition is always right, I say to myself, as if I’m some sort of sage.

I eye my naked ring finger. I’m a proper lady, so of course I gave Dan his engagement ring back. But it was on my damn finger for two years so it feels weird-slash-wrong to not be wearing it.

New me. New beginning, I announce to my empty car, a swanky BMW that showcases how lucky I’ve been in my career. I went for the vanity plate too that displays my pen name: KAT DNGR.

Kat Danger.

I’m driving from Nashville four hours west to Paris, Tennessee for a three-week all expenses paid sabbatical, compliments of A&R Entertainment. Sounds like a thrill a minute, right? Don’t be too happy for me, though.

I’m all but under threat of death or dismemberment if I don’t write twelve songs in the next three weeks. Not just any songs. They’ve got to be great. Shouldn’t be too hard, though, while I’m sequestered away like a monk in a town so small it has only one hotel: Secret Garden Bed and Breakfast.

"There it is, or should I say voila, I look at the bright and shiny sign as I take the exit off the freeway. It says, Welcome to Paris" and has a drawing of the Eiffel Tower along one side of it.

I feel my spirits lifting. My string of bad luck is about to change. My ex will be forgotten and my writing streak will return. I’m so busy manifesting my success that I nearly breeze right past the teeny grocery store called Pain et Beurre.

Okay, they are totally taking this whole French theme a little too far around here. I notice the painting on the wall of the grocery store. It’s of a small male with black hair and a little beret hat. Wayyy too far.

I smile despite my words, looking around. The library across the street has a sign outside that looks like a historical marker with both English and French on it. The names of the streets are French words. And I see posters in Pain et Beurre’s front windows advertising some local French festival this summer.

My smile widens. I have to admit it. It’s cute the way this town brazenly displays French inspired themes. The buildings aren’t as grand or old as the French Quarter of New Orleans but the spirit of the place shines through the more I look around.

This is home for three weeks, I remind myself as I get out of my car.

I walk inside, smiling brightly at the only cashier in the place, a teenager smacking gum and scrolling on their phone.

Bonjour, I say with a cheeky grin.

He looks at me like I’m crazy, and I realize that not everyone in Paris, Tennessee is into the French vibe. My grin vanishes and I hastily grab a cart, pushing it away to the furthest aisle to collect my wits about me.

I’m staying at a bed and breakfast and the owner, Betty, was generous enough in our last phone call to agree to let me use the kitchen to make my own lunch and dinner.

I run through my mental grocery list after unzipping my designer handbag to discover that I don’t have an actual grocery list, though it seems I stuffed everything else into the bag.

I wander down the bread and pasta aisle, picking up some ramen packets and some whole wheat bread.

Meat for sandwiches. I guess I need some of that, I mumble, turning my cart around with a big push and striding toward the deli.

I round the corner a little too fast and boom—I collide carts with the hunkiest piece of masculine meat I’ve ever seen.

Damn, I say in appreciation, my eyes trailing up a fine set of muscular arms.

His tattoos are a collage of color and clean lines. My blue eyes take their time crossing the masculine landscape of sexiness in front of me before coming up to rest on his brown eyes that are looking at me with an unreadable expression.

He is knee-shakingly hot and this little stand-offish attitude he’s giving me just ups the ante, intriguing me.

Sorry about that. I’m just here for the meat, I say. Fuck. I mean the deli. My eyes rebel against my better judgement and glance at his crotch, a movement not lost on sexy man.

He crosses his thick arms and I realize then how tall he must be. The cart seems tiny in front of him.

What kind of meat do you like? he rumbles out in a voice so deep and sultry that it almost makes my panties drop to the floor of their own accord.

Yours, my brain declares so emphatically that I worry I said it out loud.

My phone decides to start ringing at that very moment and I yank at my purse a little too hard while looking for it. All the contents of my bag fall to the floor.

Damn, I am actually flustered right now! I’m twenty-four, not twelve, and experienced enough to hold my own… right? Who am I kidding. This man standing before me is unlike any other guy I’ve seen or been with.

I’m on my knees at this point, scrambling to scoop my various items back into my purse when my eyes land on my bright pink vibrator laying out in the open for anyone to see. Muscle man squats next to me, also eyeing the vibrator.

Looks like someone knows how to have a good time, he observes dryly. He reaches for it, horrifying me.

Single girls gotta do what they gotta do, I say with a fake laugh that tinkles annoyingly in my own ears.

Shit, that little announcement that I’m very single and therefore very available was not subtle at all. What it was, however, was desperate sounding. Ugh. I might as well have stripped naked for him and done a song and dance.

As handsome as this guy is with his brown hair and a touch of grey just so over his forehead and his sexy muscles, I just made everything super awkward. It’s time to make as graceful of an exit as I can. So, I grab the vibrator… and accidentally turn it on. Great.

It vibrates aggressively in my hand, the sound loud and the pulsing insistent. Talk about advertising the way you like to get off in your most private moments.

Oops, I say with another annoying little laugh. Where is this laugh coming from? Never in my life have I acted like this.

Impressive, he says, referring to the strong vibrations in my hand, the first hint of a smile on his full lips.

I turn it off and toss it in my bag, standing to my feet and zipping the bag closed.

You don’t know the half of it, I say saucily with a forced smile. Then I decide, in for a penny, in for a pound. I can’t possibly make things any weirder, can I? So I hold out my hand and announce, I’m Kat. And you are?

I realize too late that the hand I’m offering him was the same one just wrapped around my own vibrator and it feels oddly intimate when his eyes linger on my fingers. Slowly he takes my hand in his, shaking it.

Connor. You must be planning to stay awhile? He eyes the few things I’ve put in my cart.

I can’t get past how warm and strong his hand is and how long he’s been holding onto mine. I feel a little breathless now that I’m standing face to face with the guy and those steamy brown eyes looking at my face as if he’s memorizing it.

Yes, I squeak out, my need to rub my inner thighs together getting stronger the longer he holds my hand. I squirm ever so slightly, and he notices! Embarrassing.

His smile deepens and a rush of blood makes its way to my cheeks, flushing them pink.

Well, enjoy your stay, Kat. He glances at my purse. I’m sure it will be a pleasurable one.

My jaw drops and I stare at him as he pushes his grocery cart away, heading down the next aisle. He may have made a quick exit, but my eyeballs are quicker. I didn’t miss that firm ass sitting on top of very muscular thighs as he retreated.

With a little smirk, I walk to the meat department, knowing exactly what fantasy I’ll conjure up tonight when I put my aggressive vibrator to good use.

*******

I park my car outside the Secret Garden Bed and Breakfast, noticing I do not see one French reference on the sign or in the home’s design.

The door is thrown open and a cheery lady dressed like she’s ready to set foot on a yacht greets me. Her graying hair is cut short and styled to perfection.

You must be Kat Danger! she calls out, waving vigorously at me. Welcome, welcome! Come right on in.

I pull my small rolling suitcase out of my trunk and lug it up onto the wide veranda. The smell of jasmine and honeysuckle tickle my nose pleasantly. I notice a porch swing and several comfortable chairs across the porch that wraps around the house.

I find the tension leaving my body already. Maybe this getaway is going to be exactly what I need after all. I’ll relax and write and go back to Nashville with at least a couple of hit song lyrics.

Yes, that’s me, I say with a smile. And you are Betty?

Mmmm, but not the ‘Boop’ kind. Then she pauses. Oh, but you’re too young to know who Betty Boop is, aren’t you? Never you mind. Come right on in. I hope that suitcase isn’t heavy. We don’t have an elevator.

She chatters on and on as I walk in. She takes the stairs like a champ, obviously in great shape, while I huff and puff with my purse and suitcase behind her. I definitely packed too much. This suitcase weighs a ton.

I notice that the home is full of wood paneling, Victorian style lamp shades, and muted carpeting along the most popular walkways through the front part of the home. The