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Maid for Three (MMF)

Big Girls and Billionaires

Etopia Press

Heat Rating: SIZZLING
Word Count: 50,563
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Love is even better when it's made for three...

When Avery Moore upends her life in Montana to take a job as a housemaid at a mansion on a private island in Florida, she knows the dramatic change could end up being the best thing to happen to her...or the worst. She's no stranger to hard work, but when she meets Max Barone and John Mitchell, the two gorgeous billionaires who inhabit the tropical paradise, she has to stomp out her flood of naughty thoughts. After all, these men can have any supermodel they want, so why would they be interested in a curvy girl who works as one of their maids? But after the two men take her cruising on their sailboat for her birthday, one thing leads to another, and a kiss in the heat of the moment might end up costing her the job...

After their last ménage relationship ended badly, Max believes John is the only person worth trusting with his heart. The last woman in their threesome conned them, stole their money, and escaped with their yacht. But the new chambermaid already has him second-guessing himself. She's exactly their type—a woman with a million-dollar smile, all the right curves, and a guileless charm they can't resist. Too bad she's part of his staff and strictly off limits. When a sudden kiss complicates everything, he decides their growing desire can no longer be denied. He's left with only one option to get what he wants. In order to have Avery, he must first fire her. But will John forgive him, even if he's doing what he believes is right? Or will a woman be the cause of their heartache once again?

Reader note: contains m/m/f ménage and hot romance elements, BBW and billionaires, and male/male love. A complete, stand-alone story with a happily ever after

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“Please follow me, ma’am. I’ll take you where you need to go.”

She paused a fraction of a second before smiling and nodding. For the briefest moment she’d thought she’d seen a mischievous glint in the old man’s eyes. But it was gone again before she could be sure.

He didn’t take her to the front door. Instead, he rolled her suitcase around the side of the huge house, chatting to her as she walked beside him. They passed a massive six-car garage and a large black limo sitting in that section of cobblestoned driveway. The limo gleamed, so she was surprised he wanted to polish it. Phil talked to her about Florida and how she would love the beaches. She kept silent on that because she’d never actually been to a beach, even as a kid. Montana was not exactly near the ocean, and there hadn’t been a lot of vacations in her life anyway. Best she’d ever done was Rock Creek Lake and a few times to Georgetown Lake, and they weren’t very big.

As they approached the far end of the mansion’s southern wing, she heard laughing, splashing, and music coming from somewhere ahead of them. It was Reggae music, and she smiled at the upbeat rhythm and thick bass guitar.

“Usually I’d take you through the front,” Phil said, “but I know Mr. Barone and Mr. Mitchell aren’t much for standing on ceremony either.” He glanced at her. “Not that we don’t run a tight ship here, but it’s not exactly the Royal Palace if you catch my drift.”

She didn’t really, but she kept her mouth shut.

She hesitated after they rounded the corner and she saw the huge, infinite edge pool sprawling behind the mansion. Reggae music drifted from speakers mounted around a huge, beautiful patio wrapping around the back of the mansion. There was a food prep area with two gleaming stainless steel grills against a back wall of red stone and stucco. She spotted a fire pit and plenty of tables and seating areas. The ground was covered in a beautiful mosaic design of blue, pearl, and green tiles. Everywhere she looked there was lush greenery, flowers, potted palms, and exotic plants.

But what really caught her eye were the two gorgeous men at the pool.

The blond-haired man was on the diving board. She tried not to gape and failed as he ran toward the edge of the diving board, sprang high into the air, flipped, and shot down into the water. His grace and motion reminded her of Olympic diving, but he had a powerful, athletic body closer to that of a weightlifter. He swam to the side of the pool and climbed out again. She was going to love Florida if there were plenty of shirtless men who looked like this guy with his cut abdominal muscles, perfectly sculpted chest, and broad, muscular shoulders. And those thighs…packed with heavy muscle but each one beautifully defined. And he was wet.

Avery realized her mouth was open, so she shut it with a snap. Her knees were a bit wobbly, but that was probably the onset of sunstroke or something. She tore her attention away from him as he dove into the pool again, and her gaze landed on the other man…who he was just as bad. Or good, depending on how you looked at it. The second man was standing next to some patio furniture, drying himself off with a towel. He was tall, with dark hair, an olive complexion, and smoldering brown eyes. He wasn’t as heavily muscled as the other man, but that didn’t mean he was anywhere near skinny. He was clearly athletic and spent time in the gym, judging by the V the muscles on his back made and how his wet swim trunks clung to a perfect ass. Even his calves bulged. Her mind betrayed her by giving her a vision of him naked above her, powerful arms braced, staring down into her eyes as he thrust into her with those cut muscles flexing—

Avery shook her head to clear it. Desperately, she thought of extravagant fashion accessories to calm the surge of lust gripping her body. Shoes: Christian Louboutin, Jimmy Choo, Walter Steiger. Handbags: Louis Vuitton, Fendi, Chanel. A nice scarf: Le Mer or Givenchy. All of which she could never afford to own. All of which were safer to think about than anything currently in her imagination at the moment. Clearly, she desperately needed to get laid. It had been too long, with too little fun in her life, and Holy Handbags, either of these two examples of scrumptious man candy would do. Maybe they would do, and do her, down on the beach, making love at sunset—

Shoes. Handbags. Scarves. No drooling. Be professional!

She hesitantly followed as Phil made his way onto the pool deck and called to the two men. “Mr. Barone, Mr. Mitchell, may I present Ms. Avery Moore, our new hire.”

Despite the heat and humidity, a chill ran through her. Mr. Barone. Mr. Mitchell. Those were the men she’d be working for. The billionaires who owned the Osprey Lagoon Estate. Oh God. Here she was, fantasizing over her future bosses.

She wasn’t ready for this.

The man in the pool lazily swam to the edge and folded his arms on the deck, resting his chin on them as he looked at her with stunning blue eyes. It was hard not to stare at his muscular arms. It was also hard to meet his warm, curious gaze. She forced her face to contort into a smile.

He smiled back at her and glanced at the chauffeur. “What, Phil, you’re taking the butler’s job now? Smith’s not going to be happy.”

Phil chuckled and shrugged. “I only do it to annoy him, the truth be told.”

Her smile was starting to feel a bit strained. Great. She’d been dragged into internal household politics already. Well, this was one way to get off on entirely the wrong foot.

The other man, the dark-haired one who’d been drying himself off, strode over to her. He thrust his big hand out and favored her with a charming smile. Oh, she could see that smile was indeed a panty-melter. And how was she certain? Because right now she felt as if her panties had just spontaneously evaporated in an oven-blast of lust.

Deep breath. Deep breath. She carefully took his hand. He shook her hand with three brisk pumps and then let her go without once crushing all her finger bones. She appreciated the courtesy.

“Avery Moore,” he said. His voice was smooth and rich, the vocal equivalent of a good bourbon that seemed to sweep through her body, heating her as it went. “We’re honored to have you working with us here at the estate. I’m Maximilian Barone.”

The blond man still in the pool laughed aloud. “You always sound so formal, Max.”

He pushed himself out of the pool. Again, as if hypnotized, she watched his muscles flex and contract as he moved toward her with an easy grace. Water dripped down his body, along that sculpted chest and those washboard abs, and lower to— She shook her head once to clear it. What was she supposed to be thinking about again? Oh yes. Her new job.

The still-so-temptingly wet man gave her a mischievous grin and held out his hand to her. “John Mitchell. You can call me John. I don’t like being formal.”

Maximilian Barone snorted. “Formal? You’re barely housebroken.”

Avery took Mr. Mitchell’s—no, John’s hand and shook it. His hand was wet, but his grip was firm. Again, not painful, which she appreciated. She ignored the part of her brain that was lustfully musing over what it would be like to have those strong hands on other parts of her body. Parts meant to be held, caressed, stroked…

Stop. Now. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I look forward to working at Osprey Lagoon Estate.”

Was that too formal? It sounded too formal. Great. Now she was trying not to blush and feel awkward. She couldn’t seem to win today.

Neither of the men seemed concerned about it though. Mr. Barone turned to the chauffeur who’d escorted her into this trap that had her hormones freaking out.

“Phil, why don’t you take Ms. Moore into the house and introduce her to Smith and Mrs. Kelly.” He glanced at her again. “Smith is our butler. Mrs. Kelly is our head housekeeper. They will help you get settled in.”

Avery nodded quickly. She’d had a phone interview with both of them before getting the job. Mrs. Kelly had been pleasant and friendly, while Mr. Smith had been more reserved and focused on her ability to meet their needs.

Truth be told, she was more than ready to escape to somewhere these two men weren’t. She already felt exhausted, as if she’d run two laps around the track and then took an algebra test. They might be stunningly handsome, with the bodies of demigods, and they might radiate charm like warmth from the sun, but she worked for them. She could have all the secret fantasies in the world, but she would never be anything to them but an employee. Containing her traitor body’s reactions and her horny imagination’s fantasies had left her desperate for an escape before she did something to embarrass herself or endanger her job.

“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Barone,” she said, mustering all her strength for her best smile. She looked from one man to the other, consciously keeping her gaze above the neckline because honestly, damn. It was hard not to stare. “And you too…John.”

John’s grin widened. He seemed to be gloating as he glanced at Mr. Barone. “There. She used my first name without me having to ask twice. I like her already. I know she’s going to work out.”

That surprised a laugh out of her. “You must really have low standards.” Then she realized what she’d said and bit her lip, feeling awkward.

Mr. Barone raised one eyebrow at her. “We have quite high standards. But I’m certain you will fit right in. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Moore.”

Avery finally had a chance to escape, and just in time too. As she followed Phil toward the mansion’s back doors, she had the unmistakable feeling that they were both watching her intently. Her cheeks and her neck went hot and flushed, but she didn’t glance behind to check. She was liable to trip over a flower urn when looking back over her shoulder. She’d already made enough of a fool of herself on her first day here.

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