Home > One Night with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #6)

One Night with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #6)
Author: Jessica Clare

About the Author

Jessica Clare is the New York Times bestselling author of the Bluebonnet series, and the Billionaire Boys Club and the Billionaires And Bridesmaids novels. She also writes under the names Jill Myles and Jessica Sims, and has a day job in finance. Jessica lives in Texas with her husband and cats, spending her time writing, reading, writing, playing video games, and doing even more writing. Follow her on Twitter _JessicaClare or join her on Facebook at  facebook /AuthorJessicaClare.

Be dazzled by Jessica Clare’s passionate love stories …

‘Just thinking about it puts a smile on my face … In short, this is a really fun, entertaining, engaging book, and I can’t wait to read (and reread) the other billionaires’ stories’ Heroes and Heartbreakers

‘Saucy, blistering and emotionally endearing … sizzling good fun. With broad strokes and wry detail, Clare creates characters who are unapologetically individual and wonderfully unpredictable’ Romantic Times

‘An awesome quick read that touched my heart and stirred my spirit. Buckle up and take the ride – you’ll enjoy every peak, valley, twist, and turn’ Cocktails and Books

‘Fun and sexy and flirty … Stranded with a Billionaire has reignited my love of the billionaire hero’ The Book Pushers

‘Sizzling! Jessica Clare gets everything right in this erotic and sexy romance … You need to read this book!’ Romance Junkies

‘A cute, sweet romance … A fast, sexy read that transports you to the land of the rich and famous’ Fiction Vixen

‘Fast paced, passionate, very sexy … A unique, modern-day fairy-tale that’s as steamy as it is entertaining’ Harlequin Junkie

‘A fun, flirty, and sexy read … an emotionally rich love story’ Fresh Fiction



By Jessica Clare

Billionaire Boys Club Series

Stranded With A Billionaire

Beauty And The Billionaire

The Wrong Billionaire’s Bed

Once Upon A Billionaire

Romancing The Billionaire

One Night With A Billionaire

Billionaires And Bridesmaids Series

The Billionaire And The Virgin

The Taming Of The Billionaire

The Billionaire Takes A Bride



About the Book



The Billionaire Boys Club is a secret society of six incredibly wealthy men who have vowed success in business — at any cost. But success when it comes to love is a different matter …

Kylie may be a makeup artist to the stars, but she knows what it feels like to be overshadowed. Especially by her famous boss, the pop star Daphne. That’s why she’s stunned — and delighted — when one night at a party, she attracts the attention of a gorgeous stranger. But when Daphne decides she wants the handsome billionaire for herself, Cade Archer is suddenly off-limits for Kylie …

Cade has known Daphne for years, and always wondered if she might be the right woman for him — even though she never gave him the time of day. But one sizzling night with Kylie has changed everything. So why is she suddenly avoiding him? Fortunately Cade is determined to get what he wants, and he’ll do anything to show Kylie she can get everything she wants too …

Want more irresistible romance? Look for the Billionaire Boys Club titles, Stranded With A Billionaire, Beauty And The Billionaire, The Wrong Billionaire’s Bed, Once Upon A Billionaire and Romancing The Billionaire. And don’t miss Jessica’s sizzling-hot and ultra-glamorous Billionaires And Bridesmaids series.



For all the fans who have been following along with my billionaires and can’t wait to read Cade’s book. This one’s for you!

Also, for Mel aka Mistress M, who recommends my books to everyone and always makes me feel like the world’s best writer. Everyone should have fans like you.





If there was a gift Kylie Daniels wished she could gift to the world, it would be the ability to pencil in a great pair of brows. The woman sitting across from her? Her brow game was terrible. She looked as if she’d Sharpied her thin black brows on in the dark while intoxicated and it overwhelmed her narrow face. And what were those little comma things she’d drawn at the end? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Not that Kylie was an expert on makeup, but . . . well, okay, she was. An expert on makeup, that is. She was a licensed cosmetologist, had worked with several singers and stage productions, and could make even the most heinous pores disappear with the right brushes.

And that was why she was sitting in the office of Dirty Dollar Records this lovely July afternoon, sweltering her large ass off as she waited to be called in for an audition. A friend who styled hair for several celebrities had mentioned a record manager who was looking for a makeup artist who was discreet, inventive, and ready to tour with his client. Through a friend of a friend, Kylie had gotten the job interview and now sat, waiting, and hoped that her own makeup didn’t sweat off by the time she got in there.

No one wanted to hire a fat makeup artist in L.A., but they really, really didn’t want to hire one if she looked like hell. Makeup was Kylie’s calling card, after all. She had to look damn good at all times or people questioned her ability. So instead of going for low-key and demure as one normally would for a job interview, she went all out. Kylie wore a tight navy dress with a square sailor top and clinging black mermaid skirt, along with bright red heels. The entire look was retro, and she’d curled half of her dyed blond hair into two fat sausage rolls that perched atop her head like a forties movie star, letting the rest dance on her shoulders. Her makeup was bold, too. Her brows had been penciled into a sweeping line above eyes that were lined with a deep black eyeliner extended to a dramatic point, and the rest of her eyes highlighted with a bright white to make her cat’s eyes pop. Her lashes had been stacked with fake ones to create a thick fan. She’d gone light on the blush to highlight the porcelain look of her skin and picked a dark, cherry red for her lips. Two cherry earrings and a cherry-decorated necklace completed the ensemble.

It was a little kitschy, but she was interviewing to be the makeup artist for Daphne Petty, and Daphne Petty wasn’t exactly demure herself. Known in music circles for her wild lyrics, her nutty stage costumes, and her party-girl attitude, she looked like she’d be a lot of fun to go on tour with.

Kylie hoped so, anyhow. Anything had to be better than the diva she’d recently toured Asia with. Chanteuse had insisted that her crew wear all white and not speak unless spoken to. Kylie couldn’t wait to get away from that job. She’d gotten the boot when she’d returned to the States because, as it had been explained, Chanteuse didn’t like that Kylie “didn’t take care with her appearance” and she felt it reflected poorly on her to have someone like that in her staff.

AKA, your fat butt embarrasses me. It still stung, but Kylie was doing her best to get over it. After all, she questioned the sanity of someone who had a diamond-encrusted toilet seat that she took with her on tour.

So here Kylie was, unemployed once more and hoping for the best.

“Miss Daniels?” a voice called, and Kylie got to her feet, her old-fashioned circular hatbox suitcase in hand.

She sucked up her nervousness and straightened her clothing as she strode forward, then offered her hand to the frowning man waiting for her. “Kylie Daniels,” she told him, keeping her voice cool and confident despite the look he was giving her. This man was clearly conservative, but hopefully his client wouldn’t be.

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