eBook Details

The Billionaire Next Door

The Billionaire Next Door

By: Jessica Bird | Other books by Jessica Bird
Published By: Silhouette
Published: Aug 01, 2007
ISBN # 9780373248445
Word Count: Not Available
Price: $3.99
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The Billionaire Next Door by Jessica Bird - Romance>Contemporary

Take-no-prisoners deal-maker Sean O'Banyon ate Wall Street financiers for lunch. So why was he losing sleep over a fresh-scrubbed nurse in old jeans and a too-big T-shirt? Maybe it was those warm green eyes. Or the way she blushed when he got personal. There was no denying the serious chemistry between them. But sooner or later Lizzie would learn his deep, dark secrets: First, he had trust issues. And second--he'd rather not go into the whole family thing.

He didn't do relationships...but amazingly, Lizzie made him want one anyway.

Reader Rating:   5.0 (1 Ratings)
Sensuality Rating:   

"No, really, I heard he was coming tonight."

The young investment banker looked at his buddy, Freddie Wilcox. "O'Banyon? Are you crazy? He's in the middle of the Condi-Foods merger."

"I asked his assistant." Freddie tweaked his Hermastie. "It's on his calendar."

"He must never sleep."

"Gods don't have to, Andrew."

"Well, then, where is he?"
From their vantage point in a corner of the Waldorf Astoria's ballroom, they sifted through the crowd of Manhattan highfliers, looking for the man they called The Idol.

Sean O'Banyon was their boss's boss and, at thirty six, one of Wall Street's big dogs. He ran the mergers and-acquisitions arm of Sterling Rochester, and was capable of leveraging billions of dollars at the drop of a hat or killing a mega deal because he didn't like the numbers. Since arriving on the Street, he'd engineered one perfectly executed corporate acquisition after another. No one had his track record or his instincts.

Or his reputation for eating hard-core financiers for lunch.

Man, folks would have called him SOB even if those hadn't been his initials.

He was indeed a god, but he was also a thorn in the side of the I-banking world's old-school types. O'Banyon was from South Boston, not Greenwich. Drove a Maserati not a Mercedes. Didn't care about people's Mayflower roots or European pedigrees. With no family money to speak of, he'd gone to Harvard undergrad on scholarship, got his start at JP Morganthen put himself through Harvard Business School while doing deals as a consultant.

Word had it that when he lost his temper, his Southie accent came back.

So, yes, the white-shoe, country-club set couldn't stand him...at least not until they needed him to find financing for their corporations' expansion plans or share buy-backs. O'Banyon was the master at drumming up money. In addition to all the bank funds at his disposal, he had ins with some serious private sources like the great Nick Farrell or the now-governor of Massachusetts, Jack Walker.

O'Banyon was who everyone wanted to be. A rebel with immense power. An iconoclast with guts and glory. The Idol.

"Oh...my God, it's him."

Andrew whipped his head around.

Sean O'Banyon walked into the ballroom as if he owned the place. And not just the Waldorf, all of New York City. Dressed in a spectacular pin-striped blacksuit and wearing a screaming red tie, he was sporting a cynical half grin. As per usual.

"He's wearing all Gucci. Must have cost him five grand before tailoring."

"Couch change. I heard he spent a quarter million dollars on a watch last year."

"It was a half million. I checked at Tourneau." O'Banyon's hair was as dark as his suit and his face was nothing but hard-ass angles and arched eyebrows. And his build matched his attitude. He topped out at six four and it wasn't padding that filled out his shoulders. Rumor had it he did triathlons for kicks and giggles.

As the crowd caught sight of him, a swarm condensed and closed in, people pumping his hand, clapping him on the shoulder, smiling. He kept walking,the powerbrokers and A-listers forming his wake.

"He's coming over here," Andrew hissed.

"Oh God, is my tie okay?"

"Yeah. Is mine--"


"I think I'm going to crap in my pants."

Lizzie Bond stared at the stripped hospital bed and thought of the man who'd lain in it these last six days.

The heart monitor he'd been on and the IV that he'd needed and the oxygen feed were all gone. So too thec ardiac crash cart that had failed to revive him forty two minutes ago.

Eddie O'Banyon was...

The Billionaire Next Door
By: Jessica Bird
buy now  Add to Cart
Add to wish list Gift
plus tax when applicable