Sweet for You: A BBW Billionaire Romance by Harper Ashe Page A

recommendations.
    Lois concluded her presentation with a plug for her plus-size personal shopper business before opening the floor to questions.
    “How much should we expect to spend on some of the wardrobe basics?” a woman at the front asked.
    “The cost can vary depending on fabric quality, designer, and other factors,” Lois replied. “With a couple hundred dollars, you can certainly add a few separates to your closet. If you have a thousand dollars or more to spend, you should be able to buy the core items we talked about tonight.”
    Abby’s heart sank. A thousand dollars? At her current salary, it would take her a whole year to save that much money. When the Q&A segment wrapped up, she was still dejected, but also determined. On her way out the door, she grabbed the lavender flyer from the back table and shoved it in her bag. One way or another, she was going to get the money to dress for success.
    ~~~
    S till energized by Lois’ presentation, Abby called the number on the flyer when she got home, expecting to get an automated messaging system.
    “Operator,” a live voice answered.
    “Oh...I would like extension 24906 please.”
    “Please hold while I connect you.”
    While orchestra music played in the background, Abby flipped through the latest issue of Food Fest magazine. The cover featured a dashing image of Stephen Blake with promises of a tell-all interview beginning on page 19.
    Mr. Blake was a celebrity in female foodie circles, best known for inheriting the CEO position at Blake Foods, Inc. at a fairly young age and for dating skinny supermodels that clearly steered clear of the gourmet foods his company produced. Abby had harbored a secret crush on the food magnate for years and bought every magazine that interviewed him. She had even applied for an administrative position at his company once but didn’t get past the first round of interviews.
    She had already read the Food Fest magazine interview and it certainly wasn’t a tell-all. In fact, it was nothing more than a thinly-veiled advertisement for the company’s gourmet foods. Yet with Mr. Blake’s image on the cover, she couldn’t quite bring herself to toss the issue into the recycle bin.
    Touching the magazine, Abby wondered what it would be like to let her fingertips trail across Mr. Blake’s firm jaw in real life. Would his skin be smooth and supple, with a hint of musky aftershave? Or would there be a trace of roughness where his stubborn beard refused to be eradicated? Simply thinking about him made her heart race and her belly flutter.
    While the orchestra music continued to play, Abby fantasized about meeting Mr. Blake. She stared at his picture on the magazine cover and pretended they were at a fancy ball.
    Their eyes would meet across the crowded ballroom and he would look at her as if she was the only other person in the room. Looking breathtakingly handsome in his impeccably tailored black tuxedo, he would walk slowly but purposely toward her, never letting go of her gaze.
    After complimenting her on her beauty, he would hold out his hand and ask her to dance. Leading her out to the dance floor, her gossamer gown with an empire waist would flow freely around her curves, and the fitted bodice, cut scandalously low, would highlight her ample cleavage.
    He would twirl her around the dance floor, and the skinny girls with flat chests standing on the sidelines would secretly wish that their bodies were as luscious as hers so that, just maybe, he would ask them to dance next. As the orchestra music hit a crescendo, he would pause and pull her close, crushing her full breasts against his hard chest.
    Time would seem to stand still as they both realized that they were meant to be together. He would bend his head and slowly bring his lips toward hers—
    Just then, the music stopped and Abby’s fantasy vanished with it. After a series of clicks, another voice came on the line. “Research Institute. This is Mary. How may I help