Hunted by Billionaires Box Set Read online

  Hunted by Billionaires

  A Virgin and Billionaires Reverse Harem Romance Collection

  Copyright © 2019 by Ryan Ramsay; All Rights Reserved.

  This collection contains the first six books in the Hunted by Billionaires series: Hunted by Billionaires, Hunting their Treasure, Hunting their Virgin, Hunting their Treat, Hunted on Thanksgiving and Hunted on Christmas.

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  Table of Contents

  Hunted by Billionaires

  A Reverse Harem Romance

  Chapter One

  Stephanie

  Chapter Two

  Stephanie

  Chapter Three

  Frank

  Chapter Four

  William

  Chapter Five

  Stephanie

  Chapter Six

  Stephanie

  Chapter Seven

  Frank

  Chapter Eight

  Nathan

  Chapter Nine

  Stephanie

  Epilogue

  William

  Hunting their Treasure

  A Virgin and Billionaires Reverse Harem Romance

  Chapter One

  Christy

  Chapter Two

  Ron

  Chapter Three

  Christy

  Chapter Four

  Damien

  Chapter Five

  Christy

  Chapter Six

  Logan

  Chapter Seven

  Christy

  Chapter Eight

  Ron

  Chapter Nine

  Christy

  Chapter Ten

  Damien

  Chapter Eleven

  Christy

  Chapter Twelve

  Ron

  Chapter Thirteen

  Logan

  Chapter Fourteen

  Christy

  Chapter Fifteen

  Christy

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ron

  Chapter Seventeen

  Christy

  Chapter Eighteen

  Logan

  Chapter Nineteen

  Christy

  Chapter Twenty

  Damien

  Epilogue

  Christy

  Hunting their Virgin

  A Virgin and Billionaires Reverse Harem Romance

  Chapter 1

  Amy

  Chapter 2

  Richard

  Chapter 3

  Amy

  Chapter 4

  Chad

  Chapter 5

  Amy

  Chapter 6

  Matt

  Chapter 7

  Richard

  Chapter 8

  Amy

  Chapter 9

  Matt

  Chapter 10

  Amy

  Chapter 11

  Matt

  Chapter 12

  Amy

  Chapter 13

  Richard

  Chapter 14

  Matt

  Chapter 15

  Chad

  Chapter 16

  Amy

  Chapter 17

  Matt

  Epilogue

  Amy

  Hunting their Treat

  A Halloween Billionaires and Virgin Reverse Harem Romance

  Chapter 1

  Jesse

  Chapter 2

  Jesse

  Chapter 3

  Jesse

  Chapter 4

  Simon

  Chapter 5

  Simon

  Chapter 6

  Jesse

  Chapter 7

  Jesse

  Chapter 8

  Jerry

  Chapter 9

  Jerry

  Chapter 10

  Jerry

  Chapter 11

  Jesse

  Chapter 12

  Mike

  Chapter 13

  Jesse

  Chapter 14

  Jerry

  Chapter 15

  Jesse

  Chapter 16

  Mike

  Chapter 17

  Simon

  Chapter 18

  Jesse

  Chapter 18

  Jesse

  Epilogue

  Jerry

  Hunted on Thanksgiving

  A Virgin and Billionaires Reverse Harem Romance

  Chapter 1

  Mia

  Chapter 2

  Mia

  Chapter 3

  Mia

  Chapter 4

  Scott

  Chapter 5

  Adam

  Chapter 6

  Mia

  Chapter 7

  Bill

  Chapter 8

  Scott

  Chapter 9

  Mia

  Chapter 10

  Scott

  Chapter 11

  Mia

  Epilogue

  Mia

  Adam

  Extended Epilogue

  Mia

  Hunted On Christmas

  A Virgin and Billionaires Reverse Harem Romance

  Chapter 1

  Ashley

  Chapter 2

  Ashley

  Chapter 3

  Shem

  Chapter 4

  Arnold

  Chapter 5

  Peter

  Chapter 6

  Ashley

  Chapter 7

  Arnold

  Chapter 8

  Ashley

  Chapter 9

  Shem

  Chapter 10

  Peter

  Chapter 11

  Ashley

  Chapter 12

  Peter

  Chapter 13

  Shem

  Chapter 14

  Ashley

  Chapter 15

  Arnold

  Chapter 16

  Ashley

  Chapter 17

  Peter

  Chapter 18

  Arnold

  Chapter 19

  Ashley

  Chapter 20

  Shem

  Chapter 21

  Ashley

  Chapter 22

  Ashley

  Epilogue

  Peter

  Ashley

  Dirty Deeds (Excerpt)

  Accidentally Married in Vegas (Excerpt)

  Three Hollywood Hunks (Excerpt)

  Hunted by Billionaires

  A Reverse Harem Romance

  Copyright © 2019 by Ryan Ramsay; All Rights Reserved.

  Chapter One

  Stephanie

  The long walk across Hyde Park, past the white lilies and blue petunias, often excites the little girl in me a bit more than it should. Although I’m twenty-one and an adult, being in the park is still one of my favorite activities, even if it’s just on the walk to church.

  The soft flower petals brush underneath my fingertips, and a light breeze that passes my feather-like dress brings a smile from within me out to curve my lips. This is the best part of Sunday mornings; maybe even the best part of the week.

  Beside me, cool but endearing, are my parents. Mom’s hand is in Dad’s, but I — as well as the rest of the world, I’m sure — can see the numbness on her face.

  She’s in her white-laced cloak, clicking away on heels that defy all logic as they balance on the rough path, and he – tight-lipped, clean-shaven, broad-faced and scripture-woven, so clean you could smell the soap on his skin – is dressed all in black, from his tie to his perfectly shined shoes.

  And no, it’s not a funeral we’re walking towards, but rather a normal Sunday sermon in the old, somber Will
ow Parish Church we attend every week.

  Every week. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

  I get so annoyed when Mom and Dad act like the perfect couple at church, but I guess it goes along with the way they dress up and pretend everything is shiny and nice on the outside, when really things are a mess underneath. At home, they barely speak.

  I’m not sure exactly when their love died. It must have been when I was in high school and in my own little world. Now everything between them is strictly about appearances.

  Three years ago, they both started only wearing their wedding rings on special occasions. Seeing that angered the child in me, but what could I do?

  I couldn’t make them love each other again. That was not in my power.

  So, I hold my tongue and drag my feet on the path through the park as they prepare for another performance of how they think a perfect couple should act.

  Watching fake love makes me doubt the real thing. That’s why I don’t date. Part of me wants to, desperately, especially because I’m a virgin, but the risk seems too great.

  Why fall in love if it will just end in shattered ruins I have to patch up for the outside world to see? The risk to my heart doesn’t seem worth it.

  A butterfly catches my eye. I use watching it as an excuse to hang back more. I want to stretch the time of this walk for as long as I can.

  Out in the sunshine is where I feel best. Here, I can ignore what is really going on in my life — all the hate and the coldness.

  “Stephanie, Dear,” my mom calls out, wheezily, as she spins around to catch my eye.

  I reluctantly take it off the purple and black wings I had been staring at, as she sneezes.

  Summer in Hyde Park is not her favorite time of the year. Her allergies act up and affect her breathing.

  “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Would you mind holding the hand of Mrs. Carmen’s young daughter all through the sermon?” she asks, sniffling.

  She has one eye on me while the other is on Dad, who has walked to the steps of the church and is chatting with said Mrs. Carmen. His conversation with the young, attractive single mother has gotten a touch too… touchy.

  I can see Mom’s back stiffen. I know Mom wants me to watch the child so Mrs. Carmen doesn’t have to leave the service to calm the three-year-old. Dad always goes to “help” her. Such actions do not meet my mom’s requirement for keeping up appearances.

  I, however, do not want to calm a raucous toddler. I ball my hands into fists and glare at my mother.

  “Oh, come on, Mom, really? She’s old enough to behave herself in church. It’s not rocket science!”

  I can see that Anna, Mrs. Carmen’s daughter, is standing a few feet behind her, and is on her mother’s phone, clicking wildly at some stupid game. Or video. I can’t really tell from this distance.

  “It’s a favor for your father,” Mom says, a bit high-toned, with her voice nasally. “So he can enjoy hearing all of God’s words.”

  She steps closer to me and wraps my hand around her arm. I can see that her eyes are puffier than usual.

  “You know, your father is running for office in the fall. This is how we get him in the Senate. Say the words with me, baby girl.”

  Oh, no.

  Not this again.

  Making sure she doesn’t see, I roll my eyes.

  “Say them with me, Stephanie,” she urges, the frizzy top of her hair nearly vibrating with her serious intensity.

  I hate it when she brings up the campaign. While I fight every urge within myself to run away, we utter the words together.

  “Family before all.”

  A forced smile creeps up Mom’s face. Her eyes are cold and heavy-lidded. She drops my arm and heads to the steps of the church. Suddenly, all I’m thinking of is ditching the church service and dipping my toes in the cool creek two miles away, with a bowl of frozen yogurt in one hand and a good book to think about in my other.

  But then, my parents would argue that I am lazy. The argument is too much to handle, so I continue to follow my mother’s stiff back.

  Black-suited, blonde-haired and thick-smiled Mia, a fellow parishioner who is just slightly older than I am, exits the church and stands on the steps above us in excited fashion and parts her arms in a wave-like motion.

  “I have an announcement to make!” she calls, pumping her fists in the air and getting all of the church goers’ attention. “Before the service, we have a fun game today — for kids and adults who are kids at heart! In the park and on the grounds of the church, we have hidden several golden pieces of jewelry. There are bracelets, necklaces and a few crosses. Find a friend and join the hunt! Are you ready for some fun?”

  The congregation shouts, “Yes!”

  She says, “I can’t hear you!”

  “Yes!” Everyone else calls out.

  “That’s more like it!” she roars. “Now, let’s go out there and make this treasure hunt the most amazing event of the year!”

  Mia is always planning these kinds of things. I’ve heard Mom say that she works as a party planner, but I’ve never asked her for confirmation. She’s always been the cool girl at church, the one I’ve been reluctant to talk to. I don’t want to seem like a dork.

  The kids run in all directions, parents trailing after them like owners of pets who have all broken free of their leashes. Anna, the three-year-old, waddles over to me and holds her hand up, equally unenthused.

  I stare over at her mother, who is looking hopefully at me. She wants me to take the toddler off her hands so she can flirt with my dad more.

  “Nope,” I utter and give her a dagger-like glare.

  The young mother drops her eyes. She reluctantly takes her daughter’s hand and leaves my dad at the church steps. He also shoots me a frown before I turn away, pretending to start looking for the treasure.

  Mom stands under the old oak tree, sniffling and drying her eyes with her white hankie, while Dad stands by the large brown paneled doors leading to the church and laughs uncontrollably with Miss Lestrade, Miss Smith and Miss Ulman, who are widowed, single and horny, in that order.

  I can’t bare the sight, so I head deeper into the park, glancing at bushes and trees for a golden sparkle. Nothing catches my eye.

  Chapter Two

  Stephanie

  After ten minutes of searching, I am still without a golden piece of jewelry of my own.

  “This is the worst treasure hunt ever,” I whistle under my breath. And I mean it. “This whole morning has turned into a huge disappointment.”

  “Is that so?” calls a mellowed voice behind me.

  I jump, startled, and turn.

  Mia giggles.

  “Oh my; I’m so sorry, Stephanie. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

  She looks even more fashionable up close in her perfectly tailored pants suit. A golden broach in the shape of a flower sits on her lapel. I have never had the courage to talk to Mia before, and to be honest, this feels a little exciting. Part of me wants to be just like her.

  “That’s okay,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “Say, won’t you be leading the kids for the treasure hunt?”

  “Not really,” she answered, half-jaunted and half-witty. “This is definitely not my crowd.”

  Now my interest is piqued. “How so?”

  “Same reason as you, I suppose,” she adds with a quick laugh at the end.

  Her smile is mysterious, like she has some hidden joke she is not telling or not willing to tell.

  Like a freshly baked cookie taken shortly after it’s been given, the curiosity she raised within me quickly goes unsatisfied. My arms fall to my sides lightly.

  “Mia, you do remember we’re almost the same age, right? I mean, we actually went to school together. Why all the subtlety?”

  She considers me for a moment, as if she’s weighing some kind of options in her mind. Back in high school, she actually was the class recluse, the kind of girl in the chic-lit movie who always wore glasses and hid behind
a lock of messy and tangled hair, only to realize how breathtaking she actually was with the help of a best friend, most likely a boy who seriously crushed on her.

  Actually, I have no clue how she turned this gorgeous. Or how she even went on to become a successful party planner. It might be better if I came right out and asked her. Or not. I’m still feeling intimidated.

  “What would you say to an even better treasure hunt a few blocks away from here, with rewards unimaginable?” she stylishly asks, with a curled lower lip.

  My curiosity is ramped up again.

  Another treasure hunt?

  Why not?

  Honestly, anything is better than watching Mom and Dad live through their joke of a melodrama.

  “The candy better be awesome,” I joke, as we gingerly walk away from the parish, onto the summer boardwalk, past the lilies and petunias across Hyde Park’s Cherry Lane, through a few stumbled blocks of houses empty and cleaned, with most folks out and about for their Sunday mornings, way beyond the lights that dance close to the frozen yogurt and burger joint Barney’s, and onto the posh sides of the suburbs.

  Linfield Grove.

  Where everyone is prissy and fake. And where people much richer than my family can afford to live in the nice big houses across from the park.

  It suddenly hits me that I have been so comfortable walking along with Mia that I haven’t talked to her the whole way to wherever it is we’re going. And boy, do I actually like that. It’s a fresh change of pace from burgeoning questions and suggestions from my parents and other church goers to get married or go to college or find a job. Or have a kid.

  Mia stops behind a golden branded gate with heavy insignia and a giant eagle crest. The metal magically, electronically, parts in two and gives way to a… a mansion?

  “Mia?” I ask.

  Curiosity has now been taken over by churning worry.

  I have no idea where I am going.

  She walks ahead, clearly ignoring me. Expensive cars — like I have never seen, or have only seen in movies, or on Netflix, or while browsing the Internet on one of those lazy nights — are parked up front.

  There’s a fucking fountain in the drive, for God’s sake, and actual bird baths surrounding the pristine house.

  And the woman ahead of me simply walks on as if all of this is normal and we’re supposed to be here. She is headed for what appears to be a garden. Then she disappears into green hedges. I follow but her steps are quicker than mine and I lose sight of her.

  “Mia!”

  I call her name, hoping to find her, but, boy, oh boy, I do not expect what I do finally find.