Somehow, Some Way

By: Jennifer Probst

A Billionaire Builders Novella

1001 Dark Nights





Acknowledgments from the Author



Huge thanks, kudos, and squishy hugs to the fabulous Liz Berry and MJ Rose. This 1001 Dark Nights family you’ve built is so much better than the mob. And much safer too. I’m so honored to be part of this.

Thanks to Kim Guidroz for the wonderful edits and feedback. Thanks to Jillian Stein for being one of the best bloggers in the entire planet and integral to this team.

I cannot tell you how many more fabulous authors I got hooked on by reading these books. You’ve all done a service to readers who love a great love story. That is your greatest success of all.





Dedication



Anyone who’s read my books know I love to write about strong women.

I’d like to dedicate this book to Rosemary Conlon – my godmother and beloved Aunt, who taught me about all the fabulous things in life. Thanks for being an important part of my life and always believing in me. I love you.






One Thousand and One Dark Nights



Once upon a time, in the future…



I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.

I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and

the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast

library at my father’s home and collected thousands

of volumes of fantastic tales.



I learned all about ancient races and bygone

times. About myths and legends and dreams of all

people through the millennium. And the more I read

the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered

that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually

become part of them.



I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher

and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I

would not be telling you this tale now.

But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off

with bravery.



One afternoon, curious about the myth of the

Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to

see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar

(Persian: شهريار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then

sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written

and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade,

the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand

women.



Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived

in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged

places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had

never occurred before and that still to this day, I

cannot explain.



Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have

taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can

protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to

protect herself and stay alive.



Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.

And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a

point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.

And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that

he might hear the rest of my dark tale.



As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new

one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before

you now.





Chapter One



“It’s not the beauty of a building you should look at; it’s the construction of the foundation that will stand the test of time.”—David Allan Coe



Her gaze ate up the gorgeous build before her. Oh, this one was hot. Her hands ached to touch, stroke, enjoy. Immerse herself in the dirty, sweaty actions that would fulfill them both.

No.

She paused, pressing a hand to her mouth. What was wrong with her? Why was she always attracted to the ones needing so much damn work? It was like she craved to be the savior, restoring all the broken parts to achieve wholeness and beauty. How many times had she been bitterly disappointed by the result? By her investment in time and energy that never seemed to be enough?

Could she stand to take another risk?

Charlotte Grayson squeezed her eyes shut and struggled with the raw lust shooting through her body, competing with her sensible, overworked brain that screamed for her to walk away.

“Earth to Charlie.”

Her lids flew open. And once again, she succumbed to bad-boy charm and the lure of the challenge. “I want him.”

Her contact lifted a brow. Gage was a bit cutthroat in business but held a soft spot for her. No one ever took him as a serious competitor. His uniform was a backward red baseball cap, jeans with holes in the knees that weren’t fashionable, nerdy white sneakers, and a T-shirt that declared BEER IS GOOD. With his nondescript features, unshaven jaw, and casual attitude, he looked like he’d rather be smoking weed in the garage than flipping dilapidated properties for a profit. Another reason Charlie liked him. People had been misjudging her forever, and it was nice to meet another of her kind. “How come you always call them he?” he asked curiously, scratching his head.

Top Books