Her Midsummer Billionaire: A Steamy Instalove Age Gap Romance (Tycoons of Pleasure Valley Book 6)
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Steamy billionaire age-gap romance with a tattooed hospitality CEO who made strangers feel at home for a living and never built one for himself—A wedding coordinator meets the best man in a stairwell collision at golden hour, wrapped in instalove certainty, solstice-night vulnerability, midsummer chemistry, and the kind of invisible loyalty that cracks open when someone finally shows up for the man who always showed up for everyone else.
She built the perfect day for every bride who walked through her door. He was the first person who asked why she’d never had one of her own.
ELOISE
I’d been on that rooftop since noon. Chairs angled southwest for the light. Peonies in the fireplace alcove. Every detail for tomorrow’s solstice wedding pinned to my binder. Hadley and Beckett’s rehearsal dinner was running perfectly.
One problem. The best man was late.
Hadley’s handwriting in my binder: Tristan Titus. Best man. Will be late—don’t worry. I was worrying. I was backing through the stairwell door with a box of place cards when I hit something solid.
His arms went around me. I went still.
Not because I was startled. Because the buzzing under my skin since dawn just stopped. Three seconds of quiet I didn’t ask for, my hands flat against a chest that smelled like cedar, his heart beating steady under my palms.
Then I stepped back, went red, and started talking about the timeline.
He wasn’t sorry for being late. He was just there. Dark beard, broad chest, dense tattoos past his collar, the kind of man who leaned against doorframes like he’d been there for hours. He knew Beckett the way seventeen years of friendship looked—deep, easy, the man on the other end of every midnight call.
I knew what it looked like to hold a room together while everyone else lived in it. Tristan had been doing it for seventeen years. He showed up for everyone. Nobody showed up for him.
He stayed after the rehearsal dinner emptied. Helped me reset the chairs. Brought me food when I hadn’t sat down all night. Asked about me—not about Beckett, not about Myrror, not about anyone else.
The next day, I gave Hadley and Beckett the longest golden hour of the year. I watched the ceremony from behind my binder and cried the way I always did. He gave the toast, and I couldn’t breathe.
On the dance floor, I told him I’d coordinated thirty-one weddings and never once been the person at one. He said he’d been the best man for seventeen years and nobody had ever asked him to stay.
The solstice light went from gold to amber to rose, and I stayed.
The problem was that I’d spent my whole life being the oldest daughter who held it together—planning birthday parties, organizing holidays, stepping in when my mother was overwhelmed. I was praised for being helpful, never for being happy. Wanting something for myself on someone else’s wedding night felt like abandoning the only role I’d ever been good at.
Featuring these tropes:
- Tattooed billionaire CEO who built homes for strangers and lived alone in his
- Wedding coordinator who planned everyone’s perfect day except her own
- Stairwell collision meet-cute at the rehearsal dinner
- Solstice-night vulnerability that strips away every wall
- Virgin heroine, experienced hero
GENRE: Contemporary Billionaire Romance
TROPES: instalove, age gap, he fell first, tattooed billionaire, virgin heroine, best friend’s wedding, forced proximity
TONE: midsummer warmth, emotional authenticity, longest-day-of-the-year tension, solstice heat
HEAT LEVEL: steamy open-door, first-time chemistry, possessive alpha heat
COMPS: Pleasure Valley billionaire romance, hospitality CEO instalove, wedding coordinator forced proximity, tattooed alpha billionaire HEA