Nic by Monica J. Miller

Capturing the heart of a European billionaire was the last thing on my mind. Me standing between him and his next investment was the last thing on his.

Painting is my calling. When I paint, I can almost forget how instead of pursuing my art career, I had to return to Rhode Island to help my parents run their café. How Parkinson’s is ravishing my mother’s body, reducing her to a frail woman while I’m forced to watch on helplessly. How I’m nearly thirty and still very single.
As if I didn’t have enough on my plate, arrogant playboy Nic Giordano sets his gaze on our family café. To the cold-hearted bastard, the café is nothing more than an investment. He doesn’t care how hard my parents had to work to build their business from the ground up.
I tell Nic to go to hell with his offer, and to my surprise, he apologizes. Slowly, I start seeing a different side to him. No longer the enemy, Nic turns into a confidant whose clothes I want to rip off. This is ridiculous. A European tycoon and an arts major from a working-class, immigrant family could never work, or could they?