Page 1 of Starting Over with Her Billionaire Boss

PROLOGUE

Six MonthsPrior

Daegan’s heartfelt as cold as the winter air beckoning at his window.

He wasn’t entirely heartless.Am I?Surely, he could understand where this stubborn woman was coming from, what this house meant to her and her family. Generations of memories were honored within those walls. Yet he couldn’t connect with that feeling as of late. Nostalgia didn’t fill bank accounts, and clinging to memories didn’t repair broken towns.

The ink smeared under Daegan’s thumb as he read over the letter again. Rose wasn’t willing to sell. Not yet. The same thing all the other homeowners had said, until he’d dangled more money in front of them like a carrot on a stick.Everyone has a price.

But Rose was different. She wouldn’t budge, no matter how many zeros he added to every new offer. If the town didn’t change, neither the house nor the generations tied to it would have a future here. With the way things were going, Trueport wouldn’t be around long enough for anyone to remember. Rose’sfamily had lived in the house for over a century, much like his own family had only a few blocks away. He knew what that kind of history meant. He refused to let those legacies die—not on his watch.

A knot formed in his stomach. Trueport’s economy was failing. Businesses were shuttering their doors, and families were leaving in search of an easier life. The stubborn few who stayed were struggling to survive. Summer tourists would come and enjoy a little slice of New England for a weekend or two, but when the warm weather headed farther south, so did the money. Trueport deserved better than seasonal pity. It had so much more to offer, if only people could see it.

Daegan glanced out his study window, the afternoon sun casting a pale glimmer across the snow-covered land.Thiswas what he wanted people to experience. Every season in this town was something special. But if something didn’t change soon, Trueport would fade, forgotten like a postcard buried in a dusty drawer.

That was why the resort was so important. It wasn’t just about profits—it was about people. About families staying, businesses thriving, and the next generation building their lives here, the way his family once had.

He remembered walking these streets as a young boy, Daegan’s father holding his hand and pointing out the little shops all open for business. Back then, the town had felt indestructible—a place where everyone knew your name. But that was before the downturn, before the boarded-up windows and the 'For Sale' signs. Before people had started leaving for the city.

Rose wanted to preserve her home for another generation to enjoy. Daegan understood that. But what good was a house, no matter how cherished, if there was no town left to hold it?

The snow outside clung to the tree branches, heavy and still, like the past weighing on the present. He could almost feel the cold creeping through the glass, a reminder of how quickly things freeze when left unattended. It would be easy to walk away, to let nature take its course and leave Trueport in his rearview, like so many had already. But Daegan had never been one to accept defeat, not when there was still a spark left to fan into a flame.

This wasn’t just about a house—it was about keeping the soul of a town alive. Daegan wouldn’t let it slip away without a fight.

1

Present Day

Exhaustion and grief sure makean interesting couple. Kinsley remembered the odd yet exact phrasing she'd used to explain it to her friends. She felt like she was on autopilot, going through the motions with no energy for anything more than what was necessary, yet being too wound up to rest. It made no sense, but Kinsley couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten over four hours of sleep—certainly not during the past few months. Since then, she’d been telling herself that everything happened for a reason; that sometimes fate played a hand in turning something bad into something good. That when one door closed, another door opened.

It was all a crock of shit.

While Kinsley was glad to say goodbye to her dead-end job, saying goodbye to her best friends was far from easy. She hadn’t wanted to let go of Brienne’s tight embrace, or bid farewell to a teary-eyed Cameron as they packed her car together. Although the pair had promised to visit in a month, even one day away from those two felt far too long.

The only hope Kinsley was still holding onto was that this move would be the do-over she desperately needed. Taking her friends’ advice, she was trying to see this as an opportunity, rather than a gauntlet. But being without the only two people she had left made Kinsley’s trip lonesome and sullen, not optimistic. A gust of wind blew into the car, jostling her hair and the food wrappers she had abandoned on the passenger seat.

She felt defeated, wrapping herself in a silent cocoon of loneliness for a moment. Suppressing her tears, she mustered the courage to open the car door and head to the side entrance of Granny’s home.No—myhome,she corrected herself.

Kinsley took a deep breath as she examined the house’s light mauve paint; it reminded her of better days. Despite some needed repairs, it still looked as charming as the other homes on the block, besides the one boarded up; Kinsley hadn’t noticed that one during her previous visit. As she looked at the faded porch, she could almost picture Granny opening the door to greet her.But it won’t happen this time.A flock of seagulls flew overhead instead as she approached, no doubt heading toward the ocean a few short miles away.

The old Victorian home held lifetimes of memories, including some of her own. The dusty windows inside the old tower called out to her. As the rays of sunshine caressed the old wood, with its chipped paint, a faint smile dared to tug at Kinsley’s cheeks. It was a moment to be proud of—to be inheriting her family home from the 1860s. Yet it left her feeling hollow.

Each step seemed harder to take than the last. Nevertheless, Kinsley made it to the door. Her hands trembled like they had when she was a kid, nervously reading the morning announcements at school. She fumbled for the house key among the others, feeling the cold metal against her skin, and insertedit into the lock. For a moment, she froze, hesitating to accept her new reality.Can I really do this?

She inhaled deeply. The warm summer air, laced with the scent of approaching rain, calmed her nerves. After an easy turn of the knob, the door opened with a slight creak. A lifetime of memories came rushing back to her like a stampede of elephants—mesmerizing to watch, but nothing you want to be caught up in.

This was it. The start of something new, built on the ruins of everything she’d lost.

Stepping inside the foyer, Kinsley was greeted with the scent of pine cascading over her. She was at once ten years old again, coming to spend two weeks at Granny’s house. She’d run in and slip on the recently waxed wood flooring. Granny would come to the rescue with a hug and a kiss, a bag of ice already in hand.

A car horn from somewhere down the block brought Kinsley back to reality. Closing the door behind her, she looked around. The ache in her chest was familiar, a constant companion these past few months, but stepping inside made it too real. The wood creaked beneath her feet, a familiar sound throughout this home. It was nothing compared to a certain floorboard in the upstairs hallway, which Kinsley had learned to avoid years ago when sneaking downstairs for a midnight snack.

A small, bittersweet smile stretched her cheeks. The house looked no different than it had during Kinsley’s last visit a few months ago, unchanged as it had been through every visit throughout her life. Even the well-cared-for antique furniture still looked immaculate. The intricate designs on the rugs were as crisp as ever. The little knickknacks her grandmother had loved to decorate with were in their same spots, not an inch out of place.

An eagerness drew Kinsley deeper into the old parlor room. As she walked toward it, her fingers trailed along the banister,its wood smooth and worn from years of hands brushing against it. She closed her eyes. Kinsley could almost hear the gentle hum of the television in the next room. Granny would have it on her favorite television programs—game shows and soap operas, with a little reality television thrown in for good measure.

Her heart grew heavy. But to have a heavy heart, Kinsley supposed it would have to be a full heart. Emptiness weighed nothing. A full heart meant love. But it also meant eventual heartache. You couldn’t have one without the other; Kinsley had both in spades.

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