The Billionaire Book Club by Max Monroe
The Billionaire Book Club Questionnaire
#1: Who is your least favorite character in the book?
Me—Caplin Hawkins. I am an absolute idiot.
#2: Who is your favorite character?
Gorgeous, addictive, insanely challenging Ruby.
She’s smart, driven, self-confident, and so beautiful, she makes my chest ache.
#3 What is your biggest takeaway from the story?
Ruby Rockford and I are meant to be.
I just have to prove it to her.
For the entirety of my adult life, I’ve been content.
Content in my single lifestyle, content in my stressful-but-extremely-successful job as
the main corporate counsel for almost every Fortune 500 company in North America,
and content in my playful, spontaneous ways.
I had no idea it was possible for someone to change my mind.
The endless women and work are no longer enough, and just as Ruby Rockford told
me—it’s about time I grow up.
It’s going to take a strategic attack from more than a couple brilliant minds to win her
affection, but luckily, I know exactly where to find the right guys for the job…
The Billionaire Book Club.
It’s safe to say that I, Caplin Hawkins, the man most women would call The Ultimate
Player, have finally met my match, and man oh man, has my end game changed.
I’m coming for you, Ruby.
And soon, you’ll be coming for me, too.
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My Review:
My Rating: 4.5 stars
If you need a romantic comedy that won't let you stop laughing while still having a few swooning moments this book is for you. Cap is a lawyer, who knows his way around laws and what to say or do to get you to do something. Cap is used to women falling at his feet, yet one chance encounter with Ruby and he is intrigued and ready to chase her. Afterall, once he scratches the itch he'll be fine right? Ruby is attracted to Cap, but doesn't let it show because he already has a big ego. Cap will keep you laughing and shaking your head at his antics to woo Ruby. The Billionaire Book Club was worth reading multiple times. Hot guys reading romance books and discussing them? Yes please! Every book that Max Monroe writes I know I am just going to enjoy and I can't wait to read about Lena next. If you need a book that will have you laughing and smiling READ THIS BOOK!
Excerpt:
Cap
Errands officially run and work and Hell-ary’s margs with the girls out of my
fucking head, I settle into poker night with the guys.
This, right here, is exactly what I needed.
Just the guys, smoking cigars, and playing poker.
Smoke swirls above the green felt of the table as Thatcher Kelly knocks the ashy
end off his cigar, puts it back in his mouth, and deals a round of cards.
I catch them under my hand as he throws them, placing them one by one into the
palm of my other hand and studying what luck has dealt me.
This hand gives me a queen, a king, and a trio of shitty other random cards, but
in my actual life, it’s a whole lot of really good shit.
I’m a happy guy with a job he loves, friends he can count on, and more money
than I’ll ever know what to do with.
I don’t have to worry about making the mortgage every month, I don’t have a
sordid past with demons to conquer and wounds to heal, and I get more pussy than the
SPCA.
There are occasionally stressful situations that come with being the top corporate
lawyer for nearly every muckety-muck in the country, but I thrive off the pressure. It
feeds my need for adrenaline and puts a nice layer of padding on an already swollen
ego.
Which is, frankly, just how I like it.
Confidence keeps my life balanced. If I weren’t confident in my abilities at work,
I’d be spending this time poring over files instead of enjoying a game of poker with my
rarely available, pussy-whipped friends. But I know myself, I know my tenacity, I know
my willingness to work an all-nighter, and most importantly, I know a little free time for
pleasure does the business part of my mind a whole lot of good.
Kline Brooks, Thatcher Kelly, Wes Lancaster, Milo Ives, Trent Turner, and
Harrison Hughes sit around the table in front of me, arranging their cards and smoking
their cigars in comfortable silence. Quincy Black and Theo Cruz couldn’t make it
tonight—something about a baby and a new hip nightclub respectively—but as I
understand it, they have a standing invitation to poker night as well.
When the last card is dealt, Thatcher Kelly, a numbers genius, friend, fellow
billionaire, and client of mine, places his cigar in an ashtray and shoves back in his chair
to make his massive frame look even bigger. Frankly, I’m the only one in this group of
guys who even comes close to his size, but I’m still not a giant like him. At six foot three
and just over two hundred pounds, I’m leaner, but I can still pretty much guarantee I’m
the stronger of the two of us.
“Welcome, motherfluffers…to the official Thatcher Kelly Poker Night, trademark.”
I roll my eyes at his theatrics, and trust me, I’m not the only one. Thatch has
been trying to get a poker night going for our group for months, and now that it’s finally
happening, I’m not even a little surprised he’s treating it like the first night of the
Olympics. “What happens here, stays here, locked away from the women, the men, the
children in your lives. This is a sacred table, a sacred ritual, a sacred game, and you will
respect it.”
“Jesus,” Kline Brooks, another client of mine, CEO of the popular dating app
TapNext, and Thatch’s best friend in the whole world, mutters.
Thatch carries on, unaffected. “I know you have other things in your lives, and I’ll
allow it, but from here forward, this biweekly game is to become your priority.”
“No,” Wes Lancaster, owner of the New York Mavericks and another one of
Thatch’s best friends, remarks. “I’ll be here when and if I have time. Fuck your sanctity.
And, for the sake of everyone’s sanity, let’s keep your text reminders of poker night
down to one in the future.”
“You’re disrespectful and disappointing, Whitney. You should be happy I allowed
you, a woman, to participate.” Thatch smirks. “This is supposed to be boys only.”
Wes holds up his middle finger and takes a puff on his cigar, and I jump in as a
colorful referee.
“Relax, guys. I think what Thatch is trying to say is that he misses you guys.
You’re all so busy with your pussy—”
“Hey!”
“Yo!”
“What the fuck?”
“I’d tread lightly…”
The chorus of responses is loud and overwhelming, but I shush them with a hand
and continue. “That we never really get to hang out anymore. This is a chance to bond
like men. To talk about things you can’t talk about at home. To relax and play poker and
not give a fuck about anything else.”
“I’m pretty fucking relaxed at home,” Milo interjects, and unfortunately, the rest of
the band of misfits nods in agreement.
“Well, fuck you guys very much,” I say with a sour laugh. “Do it for me, then.”
“Technically, they’re doing it for me,” Thatch corrects. “And I’d keep your voice
down. If Cassie hears you say some of this shit, I’m not gonna hold her back for you.”
“Your wife is here?” I question with a groan. “I thought this was about the guys. A
sacred ritual locked away from the women and children in your lives—”
“It is, it is,” Thatch interrupts with a sigh. “But Cassie wouldn’t let me come into
the city to have poker night at our Manhattan apartment and leave her with the kids at
the New Jersey house, so she got a sitter, and the girls are having a meeting in their
space, all the way on the other side of the apartment. Don’t worry. This is the guys’
space. They know that.”
Manhattan apartment. New Jersey house. Talk about first world problems.
Thatcher Kelly has more houses and apartments than he has members of his
family.
Not that I can’t say the same for myself, but that’s minor details.
I roll my eyes at his pathetic words. Cassie Kelly wouldn’t follow a directive given
by her husband if it literally saved her life. She wears the pants in their relationship, and
Thatch usually doesn’t deny it. Instead, he just presents her tits as evidence.
They’re great tits, I’ll give him that, but I play with my fair share of great fucking
tits, and I do it without having someone holding my balls hostage in exchange.
“So, we should expect her to pop in within the next ten minutes, then,” I remark,
and even Kline, the most adult of the entire group, snickers behind a hand.
“She’s not gonna pop in, okay?” Thatch booms. “Fluffing hell. It’s like you don’t
trust—”
“Yoo-hoo!” his wife interrupts appropriately, peeking her head around the door of
the smoky room. “You guys hungry, or are you too busy punching one another in the
dick?”
Thatch sighs and closes his eyes as I give him a hard glare. The rest of the
group breaks out in smiles. Thatch places his cards on the table and turns to look over
his shoulder so he can meet his wife’s startlingly blue eyes.
“Honey, I thought we talked about this. Poker night needs separation from ladies’
night. Like church and fluffing state.”
“Well, excuse me,” Cassie replies pseudoangrily, opening the door fully to step
inside, “for fluffing checking on the status of your big, ogre stomach. From here on out,
I’ll let you starve.”
I bite my lip and lower my cards to the table before letting my head drop back as
Thatch jumps up so they can bicker in closer proximity.
“Christ, woman! Did you get your annual exam today, or are you just raging for
no reason?”
“Your exams are gonna be reduced down to annual if you don’t cool your fluffing
jets.”
“My jets are cool!” Thatch shouts, and the rest of us groan as Cassie lunges
forward and punches him…right in the dick.
Ah hell.
As annoyed as I am at him, my crotch throbs sympathetically.
Cassie storms off, and Thatch, hunched over in a ball of agony, turns back to the
table. “I’ll be right back.”
Still almost fetal, he waddles through the opening at a surprisingly brisk pace.
As the door closes behind him, the other guys start to chatter.
“The rest of our lives, guys. It will be this way for the rest of our lives,” Kline
mutters, and Wes laughs.
“Not if we cut him out of the friendship circle.”
Kline smirks but simultaneously rolls his eyes. “Like that’s possible. Try to cut
that fucker out, and he’ll end up shadowing you during your colonoscopy.”
“I’m not scheduled for a colonoscopy,” Wes refutes with a laugh.
Kline clucks. “Ah, but you will be. That’s how ridiculous his power is. You won’t
even know how it happened until he’s snapping on latex gloves and suiting up.”
Harrison Hughes, a longtime employee of my father’s media company HawCom
and friend of ours, laughs. He’s a little older than I am, but I’ve known him long enough
that it doesn’t feel like there was a time when we weren’t friends. He also played rugby
with Wes, Kline, and Thatch for a while, and he still throws his old, dilapidated ass into a
game in the park every now and then. But, as the only single guy left other than Theo
and me, I’m fairly certain he does it all just so he has a way to impress the ladies. “Wait.
He’s the doctor now? What the fuck?”
Kline shrugs and chuckles. “Trust me. After this many years of friendship, I don’t
put anything past that guy.”
Wes nods begrudgingly. “He’s surprisingly adept at making just about anything
possible. That’s how Lexi ended up interning for fucking Hugo Clouse. She’s a
teenager, and he’s basically the Wolf of fucking Wall Street, without the cocaine and
hookers.”
I laugh. “Geez. Where’s the fun in that?”
They all ignore me.
“How’s she liking it?” Kline asks.
“All those numbers?” Wes questions with a laugh. “She loves it. Pretty sure she’s
going to be managing my hedge fund by the time she’s twenty.” Kline smiles. “Win’s
feeling the blues, though. Says her baby is growing up too fast.”
Milo smiles, even though I’m not sure he’s ever met Wes’s stepdaughter, and I
don’t miss the pathetic fucking longing that goes with it. The bastard’s been a fucking
goner since he got involved with his best friend Evan’s little sister. Now, he’s engaged to
be married and apparently ready to add some mini-Milos into the mix.
Wait a minute…
“Oh God,” I groan at him, throwing my head back dramatically. “Don’t tell me
Maybe is pregnant already.”
“Is she?” Trent asks, his inflection going noticeably upward at the end. Because,
unlike me, he’s excited.
Love-sick fools. The whole lot of ’em.
“No,” Milo says with a little smile. “I’m just thinking about the day she will be.”
“Ugh,” I groan, miming sticking a finger down my throat. “First of all, you just got
en-fucking-gaged, you bastard. And secondly, are we really talking about women and
babies during poker night? And not, like, the good part of women, like how well their
pretty mouths can wrap around our cocks. But how lovely they are?”
Trent laughs. “Yeah, Cap. If you stopped sleeping your way through the entire
city, you might find out why.”
I scoff. “Fuck that. I’m not like you guys. I like a plethora of pussy, and I like it
often. I’m not gonna tie myself to one chick for the sake of…what? Insanity?”
Trent shakes his head, while Milo smiles behind his drink, the fucker. They’re
absolutely convinced I’ll be just like them one day, twiddling my dick while some high-
class chick shops with my money.
But they don’t know me like they think they do. I like my life the way it is. Full of
freedom and fucking and anything else I want to do.
My time is my own, and my body, a free agent.
I get to sample the best of the best, over and over if I want or just take a taste. I
have my cake, and I eat it too, and fuck anyone who thinks just because it’s the way of
the world, I need to change my ways.
In fact, after today, there’s a new pussy on the horizon, new fun to be had.
The pretty blonde with the hot body at the library who apparently likes to listen to
audiobooks that are reminiscent of some of sixteen-year-old Cap’s favorite pornos.
Goddamn, she was something. A petite little bombshell whose choice in listening
pleasure has me more than intrigued.
She didn’t give me her name, but it doesn’t matter. I am a man who thrives off a
good challenge, and I already know my future romp with her will be a better time than
any of these fuckers has ever had.
And hell, who doesn’t love a good naughty librarian fantasy?
Certainly not me.
That pretty little librarian doesn’t know it yet, but she’s the new chase.
My new mission.
And I won’t stop until I’ve tasted her and fucked these guys and their monogamy
right out of my damn head.
About Max Monroe
A secret duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today
Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
Max Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more than ten
contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time friends, Max and
Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so often missing from their
Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two writing souls feel like they’ve found
their other half. This is their most favorite adventure thus far.
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