New Adult Novels

Braxton Merriweather always gets what he wants. Now, he wants her--Julia Thompson, the wife of one of his workers. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he knew he had to possess her in every way. When Jeff Thompson takes him up on the bargain he proposes, Braxton is shocked. He's even more surprised when Mrs. Merriweather agrees. But now that he's had a taste of her, he wants more. How can he possess a woman who's already married to someone else? Julia feels trapped by her marriage to her high school sweetheart. In the two years since they've been married, he's changed, and not for the better. When billionaire Braxton Merriweather shows interest in her, she's flattered. And intrigued. Is it possible that one of the richest men in the world could really want her? And if so... what does she do about her husband? The Billionaire CEO's Bargain is a sexy story for mature readers. *************** The Billionaire CEO's Bargain Julia I turn off the hot water and place the last of the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, giving the kitchen one last glance to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Jeff has already left for work, but if I’ve missed a dish, I’ll have to wash it by hand. He doesn’t like it when I miss something. Satisfied that all of the dishes are in the dishwasher, I put the soap in the compartment and push the start button. It’s not a big machine, but then, only two of us live in our tiny apartment for now. Jeff has made no secret that he hopes to have children soon. I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m not sure we are ready. Once the dishwasher is purring, I start to wipe down the counters and the stove. They are already clean. I constantly wipe down the surfaces in the kitchen because I have nothing better to do. Jeff has also made it clear that he doesn’t want his wife to have a job, even though he knows we could use the money. He has been at the financial advising firm for almost two years now. Meriweather and Associates is a great place to work, but I’m not sure that Jeff is as good at his job as he lets on. He has never gotten a raise, and a few times, he has come home late, drunk, angry that those “assholes” at work just don’t understand him. I think on those days he’s gotten in trouble for messing up his accounts. I can’t think about that, though. Most of the time, our life is comfortable. We live a pretty meager life in the largest city in the country, but no one knows that our existence is so pitiful. Jeff spends most of his salary on appearances, and we have a lot of credit card debt as well. His boss, Braxton Merriweather, is a billionaire. He throws lavish parties and invites people from his company to join him. Jeff never misses a chance because he wants to be a part of that world, even though we really are not. We come from a small town in the midwestern part of the country, thousands of miles from here. Worlds from h...

Promise Me (Diamond in the Rough 2) Read Free *************** 1 Raelynn “Rae, stop!” I growled at him. “For the love of fuck, you’ll let me go. Even if it kills me.” My phone stumbled out of my hand as I bit down into Michael’s arm. But he released me. And I threw myself toward the edge of the bridge again. I felt him rushing for me, desperate to pull me back as I gazed over the twenty-foot drop. Sirens finally sounded in the distance. I flashed my light down there, catching yet another glimpse of where Clint was. After slipping away from Michael’s attempt to block me against the metal railing, I rushed for the tree line. “Rae, are you thick-headed? You’re going to get yourself killed!” “I’m not leaving him down there by himself, Michael! Get over it or go home if you don’t like it. I’ll have an officer take me home.” I tripped over tree roots I couldn't see and forced myself to slow down. It was a very long drop to the river. A drop that would easily put me in Clint’s position if I wasn’t careful. But I knew he was alive. He had to be alive. Because no God in this universe was as cruel as that. I refused to believe that. “I’m coming for you, Clint. Just hang on.” Sirens wailed at they rushed up the road. It felt like they were an eternity away. I heard the sirens, but I didn’t see their headlights. And I wondered how much longer until they actually got here. I pointed the flashlight on my camera down toward the ground. I heard Michael cursing my existence as I grabbed on to trees. They inched me down, centimeter by centimeter, until I slipped. “Rae!” “Shit!” I tumbled into a tree that caught me and I almost lost my phone. I lay against the tree, catching it as the steep ravine turned into damn-near the straightest drop I’d ever seen. Vines hung from the trees, dangling above the ground. And while I considered taking the chance, none of them dropped all the way to the river’s bank. Where Clint was sprawled out. I groaned. “Come on, Rae. Think.” “Rae! Can you hear me?” Michael’s voice echoed off the trees and I rolled my eyes. “Unfortunately!” “Quit being a smartass and stay there. If you move and that tree gives—” “Didn’t I tell you to go home if you couldn't stop ordering me around?” “Maybe I give too much of a shit to let my best friend kill herself over—” The sirens swallowed his voice and I was thankful for it. Because I was damn near ready to toss him over the bridge’s railing. I placed my phone inside my bra, with the flashlight facing outward. With the angle I was sitting at, it meant I had a clear shot of what the downslope had for me to cling to. Some rocks. A bunch of massive tree roots. If I was careful, I could still get down there. So I shimmied down the tree and hung on tight. “Damn it, Rae!” I blocked out Michael’s yelling as the sirens grew closer. “Don’t make me come down there after you!” I rolled my eyes as I slipped over the edge, placing my foot on the first rock. “Rae, Allison is going to kill you!”

The Wayward Sister (The Wayward Sons 5) Read Free On the outside it looked like Sierra Falco was keeping it together. On the inside she was totally falling apart. That's why she took off, leaving the boys, her coffee shop and her little town of Lee Vines behind. Six months later she's back, preparing to deal with her past and face her future, which includes three handsome park rangers; Adrian, Holden, and Smith. These three men are determined to help Sierra break down the walls she's building to survive while tearing down her inhibitions as her relationship develops with them. Can this Wayward Sister find her true loves the same way the Sons found theirs? The Wayward Sister is a follow-up novel to the Best Selling Wayward Sons series. *************** Prologue Walking away was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. No. That’s not true. Burying my parents at the age of eighteen, that was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. What followed--raising Dexter, taking in the boys, becoming a foster parent, building the Wayward Sun--all of that was done in a fog. A well-intentioned, exhausted, running-on-empty fog. Carry on, amirite? But where does that leave me? Twenty-three, burned out, and running away from home. God, my life is a mess. For a minute I thought theirs was too, and I couldn’t deal, but I saw that the boys would be okay, that Dexter would be okay, that they had Starlee and her mom and Mrs. Nye; I knew I needed to go. I just needed a break. So, I left. And I hate myself for it. It’s six months later and I’m sitting in the back of the high school auditorium, the same auditorium I graduated from five years ago, and watch them stride across the stage. Dexter with his shoulders back, pride written on his face. Jake, the one I wasn’t sure would make it, clutching his diploma tighter than a football. Charlie and George, smart, silly, broken, and ultimately rebuilt. My heart swells, seeing them accomplish this goal. This small goal that was so hard to achieve. I wipe a tear from my eye as the principal makes it official and they fall into each others' arms. I should be there. For Dexter, at the very least. For my mom and dad. But my legs feel like lead, and my is heart heavy. I need more time to get my shit together. To find my way back home. I glance down at my tattoo, the one we all share, knowing my family needs me, but right now I need something else. I just have to figure out exactly what. 1 Sierra I hear the car coming down the dirt road long before I see it. I step out on the front porch and shade my eyes from the early summer sun. The truck comes to a stop behind my Jeep and Katie steps out, blonde hair twisted into two knots on the top of her head. She’s wearing a cut off Def Leppard shirt that shows off her belly ring and she waves when she sees me. “I think I got everything you need,” she calls, heading to the steps, holding a bag in her hand. When she gets to the top, I take the bag and pull her into a hug with the other. “Thank

Exposed (Ethan Frost 3) Read Free *************** Chapter 1 The phone rings at three a.m. I think about ignoring it. Now that I have Chloe back in my arms—and my bed—I have no interest in moving for the next century. Certainly not until dawn breaks across the sky and I set things in motion for our impromptu trip to Vegas. I haven’t slept since she left me, not for more than an hour or two, and now that she’s cuddled up against me, her even breathing pressing her breasts against my side and her strawberry blond hair tickling my cheek, I’ve finally been able to relax, to breathe, for the first time in way too long. But I’ve been waiting for a phone call and if this is it—if this is it, the last thing I want to do is miss it. Without moving the half of my body that is firmly under Chloe’s, I reach blindly toward the nightstand. My hand collides with my phone on the second try and a quick glance tells me that I really do have to take this call. Fuck. “I’ll get back to you in five minutes,” I bark into the phone the second I accept the call, and then I’m hanging up. Running a hand over my face. Trying to blink myself into wakefulness. It takes a good two or three minutes. Nothing like the abject relief that comes from holding the woman you love to finally put you under after a week of sleep deprivation. I’m half-asleep and grumpy as shit as I slip my arm out from beneath Chloe’s head and try to slide over to my side of the bed. The fact that she moans a little in her sleep and clutches at me, her arms and legs wrapping around me like a vine, only makes it harder to leave. If it was anyone else on the phone—if the call was about anything else—I wouldn’t even think about it. I soothe her back to sleep with a couple strokes of her hair and a few murmured words. And then I stumble to my feet and turn away, even though that’s the last thing I want to do. Even though I want to spend the next hour, day, year, beside Chloe, worshipping her beautiful body with my own. I walk down the hall to her living room, pull out my phone. Dial the number. And wait for the private detective on the other end to pick up—and God willing, give me the news about my useless brother that I’ve been dying to hear. There’s a click and then a terse, “Mr. Frost.” “Yes.” A long pause, like he’s shuffling papers. Or taking a drag on a cigarette. Or tossing back a finger or two of scotch. Then again, that could just be my imagination running wild—I’ve seen a lot of old-time detective noirs through the years and right now it feels like I’ve stepped into the middle of one. The idea makes me more uneasy than it should. After all, I thought I was ready to hear whatever he had to say—was anxious to hear it—yet now that the moment’s here, there’s a part of me that just doesn’t want to know. Brandon is my baby brother. I’ve spent my life protecting him, trying to keep him safe, trying to fix his problems for him. But that was before I knew what he was. What he’d done. Before I knew that he had

From This Moment (After We Fall 4) Read Free *************** One HANNAH I thought he was a ghost. The same one I’d seen a hundred times in the last eighteen months, doing all manner of everyday things. Driving the car behind me. Crossing the street in front of me. Jogging along the beach, sweat soaking one of his faded green Michigan State T-shirts that seemed to multiply in the wash. And it never failed. Every time, every single time, my heart would beat a little faster. I knew it! I knew he wasn’t really dead! They’d been wrong. I’d been right. He was still here. Except he wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t. “Hannah?” But the voice was pitch perfect. My breath caught as I experienced a euphoric millisecond of hope before I realized the man next to me in the produce section at Foley’s, the one with my husband’s face and voice and hands, was not an apparition at all, but his twin brother. “Wes.” I recovered, managing a smile I hoped would pass for glad, if not happy. But my insides trembled. I’d been dreading this moment ever since I’d heard he was moving back to take over his father’s medical practice. Like Drew was supposed to. “Hey.” We hugged, and I had to rise up on tiptoe, just like when I used to hug Drew. His chest was hard and muscular, and his shirt was dark blue. Drew had a shirt almost exactly like it. Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe. This has been a Good Day, and if he smells like Drew, it will slide the other way in a heartbeat. Pulling back, Wes crossed his arms and looked at me with Drew’s gray-green eyes, unable to mask the sadness in them. “It’s good to see you.” “You too,” I lied, twisting my wedding ring around my finger. It was a diamond eternity band. Eternity. What a crock. “How are you?” “I’m—I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine, I’d never be fine again, but I’d learned it was the answer everyone wanted to hear. “How are you?” “Okay. Still a little jet lagged.” I nodded. Wes had been in Africa working for Doctors Without Borders for the last several years. He’d come home for the funeral, but I’d basically been an automaton in those days. I don’t know whether it was my body’s defense mechanism or what, but I’d been so stunned, I’d barely felt a thing. It made no sense. A fatal heart attack at age thirty-four? But he was a doctor in perfect health! A man in the prime of his life! A father and husband and son and brother and friend! He couldn’t die—that was absurd. He had his entire life ahead of him. And we had plans! We were going to have more children and plant a garden and take a trip to Europe. We had dinner reservations and his father’s retirement and a three-year-old child to parent for the next fifteen years. And we were only halfway through the third season of Game of Thrones! He couldn’t die now! It took a week or so for the disbelief to subside into blind grief, and after that, I didn’t get out of bed for weeks, except to vomit. I have no idea who I saw in that time. Thankfully, my mother had stayed on to take care of Abby, and by the

Tequila Rose (Tequila Rose 1) Read Free *************** Magnolia Four years ago College campus on the East Coast I lie to myself. That’s what a person does when they’re hurt. They say they’re not hurt at all. “I’m fine … and Robert can go fuck himself.” The additional statement is an extra special truth to make the lie okay. I’m dead set on the words coming out of my mouth even though I’m alone in my apartment with no one here to listen to my declaration. The ball of anxiousness and betrayal in my throat lodges itself deep at the mere mention of his name. Funny enough, every gulp of Sweet Red I take seems to ease that cruel combo down and shrink it so I can swallow the bitter breakup. Wine and cupcakes. That’s what I’ve been working with tonight. I could eat a dozen cupcakes right now, but I only had two left over … and even the remnants of the frosting on their containers is gone. So now I’m down to just wine. Alcohol, sweets and trash TV is supposed to be how a girl deals with a breakup, right? I’m trying my darnedest to take all this in stride, but it freaking hurts. I’ve never been with anyone else. I’ve never loved anyone else. I don’t even know how to handle a “breakup.” If I can even call it that. He dumped me. Plain and simple. My high school sweetheart, the man I’ve been with for five years dumped me, and he did it over a freaking phone call. Tears prick the back of my eyes remembering how we just slept together when I was home last week and how adamantly I believed the words that came out of his mouth when he told me he loved me. I feel so stupid for believing him. I’m a fool for having no idea that this was going to happen. I need more cupcakes. Shoot, maybe I should buy a full-blown cake at this point. I pick up the half-empty bottle of red wine and pour another helping into the pale pink mug. You can achieve any goal you can dream is printed on the other side of it in a silver, feminine script. My goal right now: get wasted. And yes, I can achieve it. One point for me. I don’t own shot glasses, but a bottle of citrus vodka is next. Not having wineglasses didn’t hinder the wine, so why should a lack of shot glasses hinder the vodka? Two weeks ago, when I turned twenty-one and partied in my hometown to celebrate the last year I’d have away at college, my best friend, Renee, poured all the shots that night and left me the bottle. She’s a bartender back at home. Moving away from one of South Carolina’s coastal Sea Islands was insane for me to do in Renee’s eyes. She’s never had any intention of leaving. Not for college, not for anything. She loves the boating life and sea breeze. As do my other friends. Maybe that’s why Robert ended it. This long-distance relationship is too much all of a sudden. That doesn’t make sense, though. Maybe it was the long distance that kept him from severing the relationship. In less than a year, I’ll be back in our small town and it wouldn’t be a long-distance relationship anymore. Maybe he could deal with

Greek (Palm South University) Read Free *************** IF ANYONE WERE TO look down upon this scene from an aerial view, they would likely remark that it’s a lovely and serene sight to behold. A stunning penthouse suite at a gorgeous Mexican resort, the sheer white curtains floating in the breeze, the expanded balcony with a private hot tub and plunge pool all so alluring and beautiful. The magical backdrop of a pristine white beach and turquoise water, currently reflecting the full moonlight overhead, and the distant sound of the waves washing ashore. From the outside, it appears to be an absolutely extraordinary slice of paradise on Earth. But inside? It’s a goddamn disaster. “I… I… I’m a monster,” Cassie cries to herself, snot and tears dripping down her face as she rocks herself back and forth on one of the daybeds. She sniffs, not even bothering to wipe away the mascara staining her cheeks. “How could I do that to Adam? How can I ever live with myself again?” She balked. “How do I tell him? Oh, God.” She covers her face and sobs even harder, and Skyler winces, rubbing her back and doing her best to comfort her Little as she falls apart. Erin is pacing back and forth, arms folded hard over her chest as she shakes her head over and over, tossing between murmuring to herself and screaming curse words loud enough for the entire resort to hear. Something happened to her around the same time Cassie had her meltdown, about an hour ago amidst the thumping music of the beach club, but she has yet to tell us what, exactly. All we know is she looked at her phone, screamed bloody murder, cried, and has been pacing ever since we all dragged Cassie back here to console her. Ashlei disappeared into the bathroom as soon as we got back, and for how long she’s been in there, I can only imagine she’s ralphing up the fruity shots we’ve been knocking back all night. And then there’s me, swiping back and forth between two pictures on my phone, each depicting a different man I love. Swipe. Me on Kade’s back, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, lips pressed to his cheek as my hair falls over us like a curtain. His warm brown eyes are bright with love and adoration, his smile megawatt in size as he snaps the selfie. Swipe. Me and Jarrett in bed, his beast of a body encompassing all of mine as I curl my back into his chest like a cat. The morning sunlight reflects on our soft, sated smiles, and his dark eyes smolder at the camera, promising he’s nowhere near finished with the girl in his arms. Swipe. Kade. Swipe. Jarrett. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Back and forth, over and over, I stare at those men — the men who own my heart — and feel it break at the realization that I will hurt one of them. That I’ve already hurt them both. I don’t deserve the patience they’ve given me — the space, the time. And I definitely don’t deserve their love. But I have it, and though I love them both in return, I know there’s no putting off the decision I have to make. The decision I

Unexpected Fight (Unexpected Arrivals 2) Read Free No matter how much you plan or try to prepare for what's to come, life always sends you on an alternate path.We're taking each curve in the road as it bends.Except what do you do when you don't see the curve coming?We're struggling, learning to navigate in total darkness.One breath.One second.One minute.One hour.One day at a time, we're learning to live with our unexpected fight. *************** Chapter 1 Reagan * * * As soon as I walk in the door, I see the smile gracing my big brother’s face and know she’s told him. I couldn’t be happier for them and the life they’ve created. This last year has been hard, so they definitely deserve some happiness shining their way. “Hey, you.” I hear a deep voice behind me. I don’t need to look over my shoulder to know it’s Tyler, but I do anyway. “Hey.” I smile at him. “Sister,” Ridge calls out, finally tearing his eyes from his wife and son to notice they have company. “Brother,” I counter. “Get in here. We have some news.” I’m smiling, but I keep the reason why to myself. Yeah, I already know what he’s about to tell me. “If your smile gets any bigger, your face might crack,” I tease. “Ty, hey, man. Thanks for coming.” Ridge holds his fist out for Tyler as we approach them. Knox concentrates on making a fist and does the same. I’m not surprised; he’s seen his daddy and his uncles make that move hundreds of times. “Happy Birthday, little man.” Tyler bumps his fist with Knox, who giggles. The joys of being so young and innocent to the world around you. “So, what’s this news you speak of?” I ask Ridge, keeping my eyes on him. If I look at Kendall, I’m afraid I’ll give away that I received insider information before he did. “Well, two surprises actually.” He holds out his free arm that’s not supporting Knox. Kendall walks into his embrace, and he tugs her close. “We should wait to tell everyone at once,” she tells him. “We’ll tell these two, and then we can tell everyone else together.” “You can wait.” She smiles up at him. “I can’t,” he tells her. “Yeah, the suspense is killing us,” I say, taking Knox from Ridge as he reaches for me. “How’s my favorite nephew?” I ask him, kissing his little cheek. He giggles, and my heart melts. He’s such a happy little boy. That’s not only because of my brother being a kickass dad but because of his wife. Kendall has brought so much to their lives. “Knox, buddy. Show Aunt Reagan your new shirt,” Ridge says with a shit-eating grin. “Did you get a new shirt?” I ask my nephew. He looks down at his shirt then back up to me. “Let me see.” Tyler steps up behind me and reaches his arm around to move Knox’s hand out of the way. The heat of his body aligned with mine seeps into me. Tyler Justice is sexy as hell. We’ve been spending a lot of time together over the last year, and it gets harder and harder to resist him. It’s a complicated situation. He’s one of my brother’s very best friends. Ridge, Tyler, Seth, Mark, and Kent have been t

Fallen Angel (Angel's Halo MC 6) Read Free *************** Chapter One Rory Three Years Earlier “AURORA? HONEY, IS THAT YOU?” I paused outside my mother’s bedroom, frozen as I fought internally with whether or not to go in. My mom had been bedridden for the last three weeks. When I saw her the day before, she had looked even more fragile than the day before that. She was getting sicker by the day—by the damn hour—and it hurt to see her that way. She had only been diagnosed with gastric lymphoma two months ago, but the doctors said there was nothing they could do. It had been left too long, and it had already spread. If she was lucky, she would have six months. At least, that was what they had said four weeks ago. But that was before Sabrina Michaels hadn’t been able to get out of bed. It was before she had started vomiting blood at the end of every day. It was before she had given up. Now, hospice came in once a day, to make sure she was comfortable, and to make sure the new live-in nurse my father had hired knew what to do in case something happened. Because it could happen any day now. There was no way to determine just how long my mother had, and it was breaking my heart. Slowly, I opened the door to the bedroom that had been my mother’s sanctuary for years, her own little slice of heaven that only a few people in the universe were allowed to share with her. I was one of the lucky few, but that privilege didn’t extend to my father. They had kept separate rooms since before I was a teenager. My gaze went straight to the hospital bed that was only one of many new additions to the décor of the room. There was a heart monitor on a rolling cart beside the bed, along with an IV stand, pushing fluids and blood into Mom. She had a feeding tube in now because eating just wasn’t possible these days. Timidly, I approached the bed, and my mother gave me a weak smile as she lifted a thin hand. “How was your date last night, my love?” My own smile was shaky, but I forced it to stay in place as I sat on the edge of the hospital bed that practically swallowed up the tiny woman. “Matt took me out to this old field, and we watched stars for a few hours.” It wasn’t a complete lie. We had gone to an old field, and he had spread out a thick blanket. He’d held me close while shooting stars had fallen across the sky, but my eyes hadn’t been on them. They had been wet and swollen as I had cried out my grief for my mother against his chest. He hadn’t said a word the entire time. Just rubbed his fingers up and down my back and let me cry it all out because he knew how much my mom meant to me. He knew how much I was going to lose when she took her last breath. Sabrina wasn’t just my mom. She was my best friend, and when she passed away, it would be just my father and me. A man who would try to control every aspect of my life. But Mom had stood in his way for years now, ensuring that I had my own life, that I could be free from him and his manipulations. Once she was go

Completely (New York 3) Read Free *************** Chapter 1 Rosemary Chamberlain hadn’t showered in fifty-two days. She’d counted. Climbing was a waiting game, and climbing Mount Everest forced patience on those who didn’t have it. But Rosemary had patience in spades. She spent long, indistinguishable mornings huddled in a sleeping bag on the floor of a tent, perched on a shelf between the sky and the long drop, waiting for a break in the weather. Counting. Twenty-one days since she’d last worn fewer than two pairs of socks, and thirty-seven since she’d seen her own naked body. Seventeen cracks in the sole of the climbing boot. Five points on the toe cleat that she kicked into the ice. She put her weight on it, paused, waiting to see if it would hold. She counted the white clouds of her exhalation—two, three, four—and pushed hard to engage her quads. They burned, but that didn’t matter. Her left arm came up, synchronized, and drove the ice ax in. Above her, the orange blob that was her team’s guide, Indira, beckoned with one arm. She shouted something, but the wind took her words before they could reach Rosemary’s ears. She found a good placement for her left foot, weighted it, counted her breath, straightened her leg, swung her ax. Three team members ahead. Four behind. If she could just know how many feet remained between her and the summit, she would count them down, but she couldn’t, so she counted everything else. She’d written six thousand words yesterday. Two thousand competent and chirpy for an article that would appear on a conservationist website in England, four thousand plodding and uninspired on the draft of the first significant piece of her book. She needed to turn it in to her publisher as soon as she’d completed this climb—it was meant to be a magazine article, with the serial rights already sold to a major American outdoor publication—but she knew what she’d written lacked the spark her editor was looking for, the inspiration that would turn Rosemary’s book into a bestseller. This morning, she’d taken a walk around the perimeter of Base Camp with Indira, speculating about their chances at making the summit. They spotted three birds flying low against the bleak sky, which Indira had told her was a good sign. Some climbers adopted magical thinking. Rosemary preferred to count. Her teammate Anna had three children, four, six, and nine years old. Her husband wanted a divorce. Her husband didn’t understand why Anna couldn’t get a job at a bank and stay home with her family, but Rosemary did. Anna’s family was for the quiet pauses in between the swings of her ax. The mountain was her life. Rosemary’s left leg trembled uncontrollably when she leaned into it. She paused to rest and looked out at the alien landscape of snow and ice, bald rock, clear blue sky. She didn’t know if Everest was her life. She only knew that she’d spent most of her adulthood barely living, then left everything behind to set off down the path that led her here.

His Third Wife Read Free *************** “The New South” After a predictable rising sun had rolled through hopscotch maps of plantations, crawled along the tips of decaying steeples in suburban enclaves, and made its way to the ambitious stacking skyline that marked Atlanta’s city center, a body was found all akimbo in the middle of Peachtree Street. People who’d come from pollen-covered cars that had been slowed to a crawl in both directions along the venous strip, which connected all of what was being called the official “capital of the New South,” looked to the sky, like maybe the bloody brown mess had fallen from the sun’s fiery rays. One person pointed. Then two pointed. Three. Then four. A reporter arrived. And then a police officer. All pointed to the top of the Downtown Westin. The body in the street in the bloody gray suit had come from there. Had to have. One pointing son asked his mother, “Was that a woman up there looking down at us?” Further along in the crowd, a co-worker asked a driver, “Was that a man dressed as a woman standing at the top of the Westin?” A wife said to her husband and then later to a police officer, “It was a woman. A woman in a dress.” Her husband disagreed: “It was a man dressed as a woman. The shoulders were too broad.” Then they started arguing about there being two women up there. Well, a woman and a man dressed as a woman. But some hadn’t seen anything. Just a shadow. Maybe a bird sitting on the edge looking down at the body like prey. Soon it was a scene. And someone in a white cloth jumpsuit lifted what was left of the head that had been crushed by the weight of the fall, and in the pieces and fragments of a once familiar face made out a truth. This was no angel that had fallen from the sun to halt rush-hour traffic. It was the new mayor. That was when the talk started. When it would never stop. Because that man, the mayor who’d fallen from the top of the Westin to the black tar, was Jamison Taylor. Everything the chocolate side of the city could be proud of and the white side could use as an example of Southern progress. Born poor in the SWATS. A Morehouse man. Fraternity guy. Self-made millionaire. A heart that won the old guard. A voice that had vowed to repave the very street that had become his deathbed. A soul that wanted everything he could imagine. And he was dead. The city dressed in black for the funeral. And from the boardrooms in Buckhead to the lunch counters at the Busy Bee and Chanterelle’s in the West End, chatter was king. There was a first wife. A new wife. A mother. A son. A fat pig’s belly worth of secrets. A mess of shadows that everyone thought they could see clearly. Politics at its finest. Headlines. But that was just the tipping point of it all. Stories like that never begin with a body falling from a mid-level hotel. PART I “. . . to have and to hold, from this day forward . . .” “His Next Wife” Everything started when a mother came to town. Quiet and all alone, she got off a Gr

Crystal Jake: The Complete EDEN Series Box Set Read Free *************** PROLOGUE Crazy ‘NOOOOOOO,’ I HOWL, but there is gravel or grave soil in my throat, and nothing other than an ugly, dried-up rasp travels out of my mouth. My head shakes back and forth like a mindless wind-up toy. Even my body is denying the horror before my eyes. Without warning my knees buckle under me, and I find myself in a heap at the doorway of his flat. Frantically, I begin to crawl toward him, screaming, babbling. I can’t lose him! Not him! Oh God, not him. Please. Not him. Two feet away from his body and it occurs to me: this is just a nightmare. Of course it is. It has to be. Any moment now I’ll wake up. And the first thing I’ll do? Call him and tell him how much I have missed him, how much I love him. I feel the floor scrape against my bare knees. It isn’t a nightmare. It is real. We haven’t spoken for two weeks. I had exams and when I called his mobile, it went straight to voicemail… Shit excuse. I should have called again, I should have emailed. Why hadn’t I? I should have known. I hunker down over his body, my pose ungainly, heavy, that of a suffering beast. My buttocks hit the floor and my legs fold up and cross under me. I press my fingers against my open mouth and stare at him. His lips and fingers are blue and the rest of him is ashen and still. He can’t be dead. It can’t be real! The stillness of a dead body is impossible to describe. And yet when you see it you refuse to believe it. You always think it is a trick. A mistake. A ploy…. But a needle is embedded in his arm, which is blackened with the skin stretched and unreal. It looks as if it belongs elsewhere. That is not my brother’s arm. I know my brother’s arm as intimately as I know my own. My breathing is shallow and trembling. I suck a huge burst of air into my lungs and pull the offending needle out. My stomach twists. It should never have entered his body in the first place. I throw the syringe away. It hits something and rolls on the wooden floor. It also leaves a tiny hole in my brother’s flesh that does not bleed. I swallow hard. My hands are shaking badly. That means he didn’t suffer, a voice whispers in my head. He did not even have time to pull it out before he was gone to wherever it is he went to. Oh God! He is nineteen. He can’t be gone. CPR. I should give him CPR. There must be something I can still do. I grab his shoulders and try to drag him across my thighs, but his body is so heavy, so cold, and so stiff and foreign that my shocked hands fly away from his shoulders as if they have touched fire. I gaze at him as he lies unmoving. The blood that ran without rest during his short life has stilled within his veins. Everything has cooled and hardened. He is like a piece of wood. With a sob of intolerable, indescribable anguish I reach for him and with every ounce of my might I drag his cold, dead weight toward me and lift it onto my lap. I touch the soft brown hair that flops across his f

Beautiful Redemption (The Maddox Brothers 2) Read Free *************** Chapter One CONTROL WAS ALL THAT WAS REAL. I had learned from a young age that planning, calculation, and observation could avoid most unpleasant things—unnecessary risk, disappointment, and most importantly, heartache. Planning to avoid the unpleasant though wasn’t always easy, a fact that had become glaringly apparent in the dim lights of Cutter’s Pub. The dozen or so neon signs hanging on the walls and the weak track lighting from the ceiling, highlighting the bottles of liquor behind the bar, were only slightly comforting. Everything else made it evident just how far I was from home. The reclaimed barn wood made up the walls, and the blond pine smudged with black stain had been designed specifically to make the Midtown space look like a hole-in-the-wall bar, but it was too clean. A hundred years of smoke hadn’t saturated the paint. The walls didn’t whisper about Capone or Dillinger. I’d been sitting on the same stool for two hours since I’d quit unpacking the boxes in my new condo. For as long as I could stand, I’d put away my items that made up who I was. Exploring my new neighborhood was much more appealing, especially in the amazingly mild night air even though it was the last day in February. I was experiencing my new independence with the added freedom of having no one at home who expected a report of my whereabouts. The seat cushion that I was keeping warm was covered in orange substitute leather, and after drinking a respectful percentage of my relocation incentive that the Federal Bureau of Investigation had so generously deposited into my account that afternoon, I was doing well to keep from falling off of it. The last of my fifth Manhattan of the evening slid from inside the fancy glass into my mouth, sizzling down my throat. The bourbon and sweet vermouth tasted like loneliness. That at least made me feel at home. Home though was thousands of miles away, and it felt even farther the longer I sat on one of the twelve stools lining the curved bar. I wasn’t lost though. I was a runaway. Stacks of boxes sat in my new fifth-floor condo, boxes that I had packed with enthusiasm while my former fiancé, Jackson, stood and sulked in the corner of our tiny shared Chicago apartment. Moving on was key to climbing the ranks in the Bureau, and I had gotten very good at it in a small amount of time. Jackson had been unfazed when I first told him I was being transferred to San Diego. Even at the airport, right before I’d left, he’d promised that we could still make it work. Jackson wasn’t good at letting go at all. He had threatened to love me forever. I dangled the cocktail glass in front of me with an expectant smile. The bartender helped me set it soundly on the wood, and then he poured another. The orange peel and cherry were in a slow dance somewhere between the surface and the bottom—like me. “This is your last one, honey,” he said, wiping the bar on each side of me. “Sto

Veiled (Ada Palomino 1) Read Free *************** CHAPTER ONE I wake up with a gasp that freezes in my lungs. My body is strained, nearly paralyzed, a stark contrast to my heart which races erratically inside my chest, as if looking for a way out. It was the noise that woke me. That same noise, night after night. One knock. Two knocks. Three knocks. Like someone’s at my door, even though they never are. I wait, trying to suck the air deep into my lungs, realizing I couldn’t move even if I tried. There’s nothing else to do but wait and hope my heart calms down and I don’t die from a fucking heart attack. It’s in your head, I tell myself. You know this. You looked it up. But after growing up with a sister like Perry Palomino, it’s hard to know what’s in your head and what’s real. I much prefer it when my mind plays tricks on me. Even so, I lie there in the dark, listening to every sound in my room. Outside a cricket chirps once, twice. A light breeze rustles the trees and I feel the air as it comes through the open window and washes over my body, my limbs that are outside the sheets. It’s been stinking hot in Portland this summer and this breeze is nearly cold. It would be refreshing if I wasn’t so rattled.

Rebel Heir (Rush Series Duet 1) Read Free *************** “I’ve never even had sex on the beach, no less made one.” “There are two other bartenders. They can help you make whatever you don’t know. Pleeeeaaase. My sister’s water just broke, and I want to drive back to New Jersey tonight to avoid the morning traffic. I’ll owe you one.” I heard Riley pouting through the phone. “But I was going to write tonight.” “You didn’t come to the beach today because you were going to write all day. How many words have you written so far?” I looked down at my laptop. Seven. I wrote seven damn words today. “More than yesterday.” Sadly, that was the truth. “But I’m on a roll.” “Pretty please. It’s an emergency, or I wouldn’t ask.” I huffed, “Fine.” Riley squealed. “Thank you! Oh! And wear something low cut to show off that big rack of yours. No one will care if you don’t know how to make a drink with those on display.” “Goodbye, Riley.” I looked in the mirror. My dark hair was in a messy bun piled on top of my head. I had no makeup on and already switched out my contacts for glasses that hid my tired, blue eyes. I sighed. At least I’d showered today. My roommate, Riley, bartended in one of the trendy Hampton bars down by the beach. It was the type of place that snotty, rich, yuppie guys sported polos with little horses embroidered on them and loafers with no socks. The women were all thin and flaunted excessive, perfectly tanned skin. After the last run-in I had with a guy there, I definitely wasn’t looking to attract attention. I brushed on some mascara, let my hair down from the bun, and didn’t bother to put my contacts back in. Good enough. The parking lot at The Heights was packed. The place had a rooftop bar. Thus, the name. People were smoking out front, and the music from inside blared so loud that the windows vibrated. I remembered from the one time I’d come that there were three bars…the rooftop, one inside, and one outside on the deck that overlooked the beach. There was also an adjacent restaurant that seemed to be popular before the bar crowd took over. I wasn’t sure where my roommate was working tonight. A giant man opened the door as I approached, so I went to check inside first. Riley spotted me right away. Yelling, she waved two hands in the air from behind the bar, then cupped them around her mouth. “Come on back. I’ll give you a quick tour.” I walked to the end of the long bar and lifted the hinged top for access. “This is Carly.” She pointed to a redhead wearing pigtails and a half-shirt. The woman waved. “She works the outside bar with Michael. Just popped in to steal some of our glasses because she didn’t stock her own bar well enough.” Carly shrugged before lifting a box and yelled over the music. “I’m always late.” Riley pointed to a shorter, blonde girl who made Carly’s skimpy outfit look matronly. For a second, it made me regret not changing into something a little nicer or at least fixing myself up a bit. “And that is Tia. She works the

Slow Burn (Lost Kings MC 1) Read Free *************** CHAPTER ONE It wasn’t love at first sight when I met her. Lust? Definitely. I don’t think I believed in love at the time, but one look at her beautiful face, and all the bad stuff around me melted away. Not an easy feat for a guy in handcuffs. Someone as innocent as her should never have gotten involved with a man like me. By innocent, I don't mean she was some breathy, eighteen-year-old virgin ingénue. No—when we met, she was a thirty-one-year-old married lady. When I use the word innocent, it is in terms of never having killed someone. Never seeing someone die in front of her. Never breaking the law. True violence had never touched her life. Violence and I had been close personal friends for a large part of my life. Along with crime. And death. I used violence as a tool to keep order in my often chaotic world, just as she used the law to keep things orderly in her black-and-white one. She was a lawyer. I was a criminal. She was married to a decent, hard-working, honest guy. I fucked any willing girl who hung out in my club, and made my living in less than honest ways. She was kind. I didn't know any nice women. Hadn’t known one since my mother died shortly after my eighth birthday. I don’t have many memories of her, but the ones I do have are warm and pleasant. None of the tramps my father brought home after her death had an ounce of compassion for a motherless brat. The strippers that danced in my club seemed younger every day. A lot of them were bitchy drama queens, and the older I got, the less patience I had for emotional scenes. The girls who attended to the members of my motorcycle club were down to fuck, but not much else. That’s how I liked them. We met in a courtroom. I sat in the area designated for prisoners. Shackles laced my hands and feet together. I shuffled into the room wearing a spiffy orange jumpsuit, the county correctional logo stenciled across my back in big white letters—just in case anyone thought I suffered from bad fashion sense. She sat in the front row. I didn't hang my head when I entered. I stood proud and tall looking over the entire room. Some of my brothers stood along the back wall, waiting to see if I'd get bail. I couldn’t find my attorney in the sea of people. His big, shiny, bald dome should have been easy to spot. My gaze wandered back to the girl in the front row. Long, straight, reddish-brown hair flowed down past her shoulders. Straight bangs across her forehead framed brilliant green eyes. Even from where I sat, I spotted freckles splattered across her nose. The deep green suit she wore emphasized the creaminess of her skin. The banister separating the criminals from the common folk blocked my view of anything below her shoulders, but that angelic face hooked me right away. The sheriff leaned over and whispered to me, "Your attorney called to say he's running late." I nodded and mumbled a "thanks" without taking my eyes off the girl. Was her old ma

Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Three (King 7) Read Free *************** PROLOGUE Dre There’s the type of evil that dwells deep within men’s souls, the kind that makes them do cruel things because they’re driven to do so by the demons whispering inside them. Evil can be subjective. At least that’s what I’ve learned in my time with Preppy. Not all acts of malice are created equal. Not all men who have those demons choose to unleash them into the world. There are those like Preppy, like Bear, like King, who’ve chosen to channel that need, compartmentalize it into something they only draw upon when needed. When threatened. Preppy is capable of both cruelty and mercy, of both murder and salvation. He’s been the victim, the villain, and the hero. What I don’t think he’ll ever realize is that this gives him a power most men would dare not aspire to. Throughout his entire life, he’s walked a fine line between heaven and hell, between sinner and saint, between endless love and hardened hatred. Then he died. And although his death didn’t include ceasing to breathe, he still found himself in a living hell. Preppy had every reason to harbor resentment so deep there would be no coming back from that dark place. He could have let the devil turn him into one of those men who answers his demons without question. I don’t want to say Preppy had been tamed. Tame is the last word I’d use to describe him. He’s too wild. Too unpredictable. Too Preppy. Taming Preppy would be like trying to put a leash on the wind. However, he did have this eerie sense of calm about him. He became focused. Precise. If you looked past the smile and jokes, you’d see someone who held his cards close to his chest and knew when to play them. Like now. With the echoes of my son’s cry playing over and over again in my head I knew Preppy would come for me. He’d play those cards. And he’d win. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. The way back will be paved with blood. CHAPTER ONE Dre I was jolted into consciousness, my head slammed against the side of whatever confines I was trapped in. I opened my eyes, but nothing but blackness stared back at me. The occasional bump and hum of an engine made me realize I was in some sort of vehicle, but I wasn’t in the cab. I was in the trunk. My hands and feet were bound together. A gag was tied so tightly around my head the fabric prevented my mouth from closing, so I was forced to bite down on it. My heart was beating a million miles a minute. I felt my fingers turn cold. I felt dizzy, and when I tried to swallow, I found that I couldn’t. Don’t panic. I took a deep breath and set a mental image of Preppy and Bo in my mind. An acute sense of focus took over. A determination to get out of that trunk and back to my family. But how? Eventually, someone was going to open the trunk, I had to be ready. I felt around with my fingertips and bare feet for anything I could use as a weapon but disappointment set in quickly.

Drawn To You (Paloma's Edge 1) Read Free *************** Prologue Four days ago… Chase Our character is what we do when we think no one is looking .— H. Jackson Brown, Jr. (Life’s Little Instruction Book) In a blink of an eye, I missed her. And with my luck, I’d never see her again. I’d waved to Scott, one of my teammates and friends, as he got into his Explorer and began his drive back to Ohio for the summer. I turned away from the girl for the slightest moment. She’d stood at the end of a long, crowded line for the bus. A middle-aged man had passed by the girl. His hands were full. Bills fell out of the side of his pocket. No one else in the line had noticed. They’d been chatting with other people, anxiously waiting for the first-come-first-serve bus. The major benefit: the bus was cheap. The girl, however, had noticed. She’d picked up the bills and had run after the guy to return his money to him. Grateful, he’d made a gesture in what had to be an offer for some cash in return. But she’d declined and he’d left. Her suitcase had been tossed farther back. When she’d gotten back on the line, it’d increased in size. Before I’d observed her look out for a complete stranger, I was gonna try to talk to her, ’cause she looked good in her t-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers. After my appointment with my coach, I had promised myself that if she was still there when I came out of my meeting in fifteen minutes, I’d give her a drive to where she needed to go to get to her destination. Chapter 1 Bethany Beth, Sorry but love doesn’t wait for you to be ready for it. – Cindy, xoxo As I sat down by my bed, I must have read Cindy’s clichéd note a hundred times. I instantly knew that Cindy had left me because she was convinced that she was having the love affair of a lifetime. My mom, Cindy Leann Pruitt, had always insisted that I call her by first name since before I could walk; it was ingrained in me. My friends had thought it was cool when we were little. Their parents, though, hadn’t, and I had always felt like I was looked upon as a latchkey kid. Most folks in our small town—Franklin Parks, Florida—expected the worst from me because of Cindy. Trust me, I wanted to call her Mom…because, well, she was my parent. And that was what everyone else I knew who had moms did. I had told her how detached from her it made me feel to call her by her first name, how other kids had looked at me like I was a new creature at the zoo—or avoided me altogether. Today, my plan had been to wait for the first-come-first-served bus that took kids from the University of Miami back to Franklin Parks. However, Mariska and Jake, my two best friends, had called as I waited on the never-ending line and said that they’d pick me up. My beloved Ford Taurus, Betsy, had retired on me during New Year’s Eve. After I had spent some time with Jake and Mariska, I wanted to come home to Cindy. When I’d come home tonight, it’d been silent. There hadn’t been any evidence that she had recently been her

Bad Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy 1) Read Free Swallowing lies has never felt so good.Reed freaking Rivers. I wouldn’t trust a word out of the arrogant music mogul’s mouth if his gold-plated tongue were notarized. The Man with the Midas Touch would say anything to get me into his bed, and I know it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want him to succeed.Indeed, the moment I laid eyes on Reed while he was speaking at an on-campus event I’d crashed, my body physically ached to feel his golden fingers—and tongue—all over me. Unfortunately, though, I can’t give into my powerful craving to jump Reed’s cocky bones. Not until I’ve figured out my best strategy with him . . .The truth is Reed has something I desperately want. Something my heart desires even more than my body craves one night of delicious fun with the yummiest man alive. Reed assumes he’s running this game of seduction. He thinks he’s a thirty-four-year-old big cat on the prowl, and I’m nothing but a blushing twenty-one-year old field mouse with stars in my eyes. Yeah . . . no.As Reed is about to find out, he’s not the only cat on the hunt in this game of cat-and-mouse . . . . BAD LIAR is the first book of the standalone REED RIVERS TRILOGY. The full trilogy is BAD LIAR, BEAUTIFUL LIAR, and BELOVED LIAR, to be read in order. *************** Music Playlist for Bad Liar “Had a Dad”—Jane’s Addiction “Father of Mine”—Everclear “Hustle”—Pink “Bad Guy”—Billie Eilish “Truth Hurts”—Lizzo “Bad Liar”—Selena Gomez Chapter 1 Reed Fifteen years ago As the sorority girl in the purple wig kneels before me, her mouth working enthusiastically on me, I lean back in my armchair and try to clear my mind. I don’t want to think about my father’s lifeless body dangling in his prison cell while this girl is sucking me off. Actually, I don’t want to think about that under any circumstances, obviously. But after getting that horrible call this morning, I can’t stop imagining the grisly scene. I thought getting this pretty girl onto her knees would distract me from the images ravaging my mind. Apparently not. I should probably pull her off me. Pay her the usual fifty bucks and explain I’m just not feeling it tonight. But my dick is rock hard in her mouth, despite the chaos swirling inside my mind... So, fuck it. I sit back, close my eyes, and will her talented mouth to coax my racing mind into a temporary state of amnesia. This girl isn’t a professional, despite appearances, even though she’s presently sucking my cock for cash. She’s a student here at UCLA, the same as me—a fresh-faced sorority girl I met at a costume party at my fraternity house a month ago. The theme of the party was “Hookers and Pimps,” and she was dressed like Pretty Woman. So, naturally, there was no shortage of raunchy jokes throughout the night... all of which ultimately led to her following me to my room upstairs and giving me head like a pro. When the girl finished her task that night, I patted her head, congratulated her on a job well done, and

Say Yes Read Free *************** 1 Walker My gaze flicked over the neatly tri-folded stack of paper for the dozenth time, the inside of my cheek gripped firmly between my teeth as I chewed in contemplation. Nothing in the will had changed since it’d first been read to me by my father’s lawyer just days following his passing. The Times New Roman font splashed over the yellowed letterhead read as ominously now as it had the first time. ‘…and finally, to my son, Walker Prince. I would like see him with controlling interest—my interest—in Royal Technology. But this controlling share must come with something more important: a wife with whom to share his wealth and prosperity as I once did with my own, who—’ I stopped reading then, giving a scoff. I’d been doing that a lot lately, every time I decided to torture myself by re-reading my father’s last words. Just like him, to bring my mother into this, too. As if that justified this sham of a last will and testament. What was this, some cheesy B-grade rom-com? When had the old man gotten so damn sentimental? And now his sentimentality was being foisted upon me in the most ill-conceived plot-twist of anyone’s life. I sighed and tossed the will down on the large mahogany desk in my office. It was a good goddamn thing Grant, my best friend, partner in crime—and the only person outside the family lawyer who knew about this ridiculous situation—wasn’t here. He found the whole thing entirely too fucking funny. “Damn, I guess your father had a sense of humor after all. You? Married? Ha!” Dick. I shook my head ruefully, running a hand through my hair. Shit. He wouldn’t be laughing so hard if it were him. Grant could barely keep it in his pants; let him attempt a solid commitment for once. Why hadn’t my father made this stipulation while he was alive? At least then it wouldn’t fall on me to do this hastily. The will clearly stipulated that I would be unable to claim my inheritance without proof of marriage. I hated the last-minute, rushed foolishness that this was—and apparently, it was all fully fucking legal, every ‘i’ dotted and every ‘t’ crossed. There wasn’t a single damn loophole to be found. Believe me, I had checked. A buzzing sounded over my intercom, pulling me from my prolonged internal grumbling. Good—a distraction. “Midday cleaning is heading up, Mr. Prince.” “Thanks, Anna. Send them on in.” I re-folded the discarded will and shoved it into my desk drawer, indulging in a brief daydream where the whole thing spontaneously combusted and released me from my father’s ridiculous obligations. But instead of going up in a well-timed inferno, the letter just sat peacefully in the drawer, taunting me. I leaned back in my office chair, gaze cast up at the ceiling. Maybe I could find a way out of this. There had to be some way… “Hello? Excuse me, sir.” A soft knock sounded at the door, and then it creaked as it opened. “I’m Mackenzie Henson, here to do the cleaning?” I blinked and sat up so fast I nearly got

I Can Explain (Awkward Love 2) Read Free Standing on the balcony, outside my boss’s apartment, wearing only my underwear? Not how I expected to start my Saturday morning. I guess I should’ve thought harder about going home with my sexy new gym instructor, especially since I had no idea the guy was married. When he pushed me outside five seconds before his wife walked through the door, I jumped one balcony over. I thought it would be less embarrassing for a total stranger to find me than his wife. That was a smart move. So here I am, wearing next to nothing and freezing my ass off, staring through the living room window at my young, sexy, and very intimidating boss, Chase Winston. I have two choices: I can sit here and try to think of another way out of this and risk dying of hypothermia. Or I can suck it up and knock on that window. After a long, internal argument with myself, I choose option two. Here goes nothing… *************** Chapter One Alana“Alana.” Jade frowns, her skin almost cracking under the layers of makeup she has carefully piled onto her face. Two guesses who she’s trying to impress. I chuckle to myself. “Are you listening to me?” I snap back to attention and nod, still trying to hold back my smirk. “Coffee. Dry cleaning. Take contracts over to Peterson Walker,” I say, hoping I’ve gotten today’s list right. It was the same as yesterday and the day before, so I’m pretty sure I’m safe. “Right, well, just don’t stuff it up this time, okay?” Jade sighs. I bite my tongue before I say something that will probably end up getting me fired. You forget the sugar in the guy’s coffee one time, and you suddenly have a reputation. Sure, that guy just happens to be Chase Winston, my arrogant, rude, adorably beautiful, attractive asshole of a boss, but still, it’s not like I’m incapable of doing my job. Let’s face it, half the things I’m asked to do, a monkey could do. There was only one thing worse than being Chase Winston’s personal assistant, and that’s being one of the junior assistants who answers to his personal assistant. I’m simply here to make things easier for Jade and trust me when I say she takes full advantage of it. Well, I’m guessing it’s worse because I’ve never had the pleasure of being his personal assistant. The guy never even acknowledges me. I narrow my eyes at Peyton, who is hunched over her computer, trying not to laugh. I’m pretty sure watching me get my ass handed to me time and time again is the only thing keeping her working here. The second Jade leaves the office, I let loose with a string of obscenities under my breath. “One time,” I mumble, shaking my head. “I got it right yesterday, didn’t I?” “You’ve been working here how long?” Peyton giggles, her dark eyes sparkling with glee. I swear she lives for this shit. “You must’ve gotten that man a few hundred coffees. How on earth did you forget something like that?” I blush. I know exactly how I forgot. I blame the sexy barista for making flirty eyes with me as the line

Room for Love Read Free *************** Chapter 1 Six years away hadn’t improved the Avalon Inn any, Carrie realized, staring out her car window at the crumbling wreck of a building. The roof tiles still sat wonky, the terrace seemed to be sinking into the grass, and moss had crept so far up the building it appeared to have taken over the stonework. In other words, it looked like home. The place she’d spent endless childhood summers, reading by firelight or adventuring through overgrown gardens. The scene of her first kiss. Fourteen years old, dressed in Grandma Nancy’s second best silk gown, dancing on the terrace with one of the local boys. He’d sung along to the music, his breath warm against her ear as they’d hidden in the darkness, looking through the window at the women dancing, their long dresses swirling. And along the terrace, they could smell the smoke curling up from the cigars of the men in dinner jackets holding important conversations. Just through the front door, Carrie knew, stood the ornate, curving main staircase, the site of her cousin Ruth’s many fictional weddings. And somewhere, shoved in the bottom of a cupboard, she’d probably find a dressing-up box holding the endless parade of secondhand bridesmaid’s dresses Ruth had dressed Carrie in for the occasions. All so, so familiar. She could almost see Grandma Nancy skipping down the front steps, if she tried. Carrie squinted for a second, before the twinge of guilt that always accompanied the thought of six years of absence caught up with her. So instead she turned her attention back to the sound of her boss’s voice coming through her hands-free kit. Because Grandma Nancy would never walk down those steps again, and Carrie had grown up into a professional businesswoman now, no longer an imaginative child. “Well anyway,” Anna Yardley said, obviously coming to the end of a conversational ramble Carrie had been fortunate enough to miss. “I’m looking forward to seeing it. If it’s as magical as you described, it could be a real asset to the business.” Carrie winced, looking out again at the faded grey stone building looming over the Welsh valley, trying to see it through Anna’s unsentimental eyes. Trying to see it as the jewel in the Wedding Wishes crown, the dream venue of every bride. “It’ll need work, of course,” Carrie said, understating for all she was worth. A chill settled in her chest. Suddenly, her well-thought-out proposal seemed rash. Risky. But still the only way she could think of to keep both the Avalon and her job. It was all very well, her gran leaving her the inn. But the money to fix it up would have been useful, too. “Of course, of course.” Anna didn’t sound concerned. Probably because she couldn’t see the collapsing terrace, and didn’t know about the color-themed bedrooms with their chintzy curtains and pelmets. And Anna wasn’t the one who’d promised to make the inn not just habitable, but luxurious. “But such a fantastic location. Less than two hours from Manch

Hoax (The Scarab Beetle 5) Read Free *************** Salt and Sand I dreamed of eating McNuggets with Raven while we watched SpongeBob. I dreamed of kissing Marc in a pool of black water. I saw Brandon and Corey, the three of us holding hands while being photographed. Axel was there, with a hurt expression. I dreamed I couldn’t breathe. Blake was next to me, also not breathing, his face turning blue. At some point, like a wave of icy seawater hitting my heart, I realized all at once I had killed Blake in my dream, if not by my own hands, then by my own inaction. I was powerless. Blake nudged my arm, waking me up. “Kayli. We should go,” he said. “We’ve got a ship to catch.” The anger faded, but as it receded, in came the realization that my body was itchy, and I was sore from head to toe. When my eyes opened and the blur cleared, I spotted a clock radio on a side table, glaring three in the morning. I groaned, burying my head in the pillow, mumbling curses into it. Never an early riser, I wanted to retreat, even back to my dark dreams, just to find that numbness that sleep provided. I wanted to hide from the world because it was a confusing mess and I was too tired to make sense of it. I felt Blake’s touch on my shoulder and then I realized it was his lips kissing my skin. “Come on. You can sleep once we’re there.” His kiss drew me out of my internal gloom, but at the price of having to deal with the soreness and itchiness. My eyes didn’t want to open, but I moved to try to sit up. My long brown hair was clumped and dry, stiff, like I’d used a ton of hairspray and teased it. My stomach and breasts were raw, the skin irritated. The bed was gritty with sand. My heart was a tight ball of misery. I was surprised to find myself mostly naked, only in underwear. He must have removed the shirt I’d been wearing after… I sat up sharply. I rubbed the grit from my dry and crusted eyes, looking around and realizing we were in a hotel room. What the hell? Not a nice hotel room, either, but one that was run-down and reeked of smoke, probably the cause of my burning eyes. How did we get here? And why were we getting up in the middle of the night? Beside me, Blake got out of bed, his feet padding on the carpet toward the bathroom. He flipped a light switch. The orange glow of the overhead lights was too bright for my sore eyes, but I focused on a dark corner until they adjusted. Blake was in his early twenties, just a little older than me. He was wealthy, a part of Charleston’s elite who moved within their polished world. He seemed the playboy type, well put-together with expensive clothes, perfectly cut hair and manicured nails. I stretched, trying to figure out why we were here and what was going on. My brain became distracted by his naked body. I stared blankly, tired as I was, at his nude form. His sculpted shoulders were covered in patches of red, irritated skin. His normally groomed golden hair was a mess—stringy, with patches of it stuck to his head. He tu

The Road That Leads to Us (Us 1) Read Free *************** Willow Those bitches were gonna die. That was a horrible thing to say about my so-called ‘friends’—and I used the word friends loosely, because true friends wouldn’t ditch you the day of your scheduled road trip because they’d rather be sunbathing in the Hamptons. The fucking Hamptons. Ew. I mean, how clichéd could you get? This was why I hated rich people. It also sucked that I was one of those rich people. Well, I wasn’t, but my dad was. So by extension so was I. When you grew up with a rock star for a dad, cameras and eyes followed you everywhere. It was exhausting. I couldn’t just be Willow. I was Willow Wade. The daughter of the famous drummer Maddox Wade. People expected greatness from me. I just wanted to graduate college without slitting my wrists. I fiddled with the radio, changing it to a country station—my dad would most definitely not approve—and let my blonde hair whip around my shoulders courtesy of the open windows. The drive from NYU to my childhood home in Virginia was only about five hours, but it felt ten times longer thanks to the crazy traffic trying to get out of the city. I might’ve yelled at a lot of people. And waved my middle finger out the window. My parents would be so proud. Not. My failed road trip might’ve been the reason I was headed home and not out west, but I was excited to be back where I grew up. My freshman year of college had been trying, to say the least. For most people college was their chance to spread their wings. Me? I found it oppressive. That was probably due to the fact that I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Did I want to act? Sing? Dance? Join a traveling circus? I thought by going to NYU it would force me to finally decide what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

Wanting Mr. Cane (Cane 1) Read Free KANDYIt was love at first sight when I met Mr. Cane.He was handsome, broody, tattooed, and rich. For years, he’s been mine. He just didn’t know it. I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with him, or for him to want me in the ways that he did.None of it was ever supposed to happen, but after all we’ve done together, it’s too late to turn back now. A once harmless crush had blossomed into so much more. CANEWhen we first met, she was just a kid - my best friend’s daughter. A sweet, young girl with a big heart. But now, she’s a young woman who knows what she wants, and all she wants is me. I’ve tried holding back, pretending the connection meant nothing, but my sweet candy cane made it impossible. If anyone finds out, I’ll be ruined. I’ve worked too hard to lose everything I’ve built. But there’s just something about her that tempts me, making me want to sacrifice just about anything to have her. *************** 1 KANDY I remember the very first day I met Mr. Cane. I was only nine years old, but I remember exactly what I saw and how I felt when I first laid eyes on him. A shiny black car pulled into the driveway of our two-story home, parking less than a yard away from where I was. I sat on the tire swing of the big tree on the front lawn, wearing dingy-white chucks with rainbow laces, jean overalls, and knee-high pink socks. I was covered in grass stains after playing hide-and-seek with Frankie earlier that day. I squinted my eyes and watched as the car door swung open and the sole of a shiny, black dress-shoe planted itself on the pavement. My eyes shifted over to the navy blue suit pants he wore, then up to the white button-down shirt that was rolled at the sleeves, revealing strong, inked forearms. And then I found his face. He stood tall, shoulders broad, a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. His skin was a rich bronze, like it’d been kissed by the sun his entire life. He rolled his neck, and I swear I could hear the crack of it from where I sat. I don't think he saw me right away, but I saw him. He was too busy looking at the house, probably impressed by it. I really liked that house, too. The man shut the door behind him, and when he took a step to the side, I noticed a tattoo on the curve of his neck. RISE. I could see the word in bold script from the short distance away. His jawline was sharp, the barest trace of stubble on his face. There was ink on his hands and all over his arms, some of it dark, some colorful. His dark brown hair was tapered on the sides and in the back, the lengthier part at the crown gelled back. If I were to guess, I would have assumed he was no older than thirty. Maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven? He inhaled and then exhaled, taking off his sunglasses, and when he finally turned his head to the left, his eyes landed right on mine. His face didn't change. He almost seemed unbothered by my presence, or like he already knew who I was. I didn't know him at all. He walked toward the hood

The Lies We Tell (The Four 1) Read Free Starting over after my father’s sudden death was bad enough, but the four boys who rule Alstone College, my new university, are determined to make my life even more difficult. One in particular. Caiden Cavendish.My nightmare. My shadow. My stepbrother.My dad’s death was an accident... Lie.My life isn’t in danger... Lie.The Four won’t bring mayhem to my life... Lie.I don’t want Caiden Cavendish... Lie.Lies.Lies.Lies.Eeny, meeny, miny, mo.The Four are coming for you, Snow.Note: This book is not a standalone, and may contain triggers for some readers. *************** PROLOGUE One year ago… At Alstone College, we were kings. Untouchable. People called us “the Four.” How fucking original. We’d had the nickname since we’d first banded together at school—me, Zayde, and Cassius, all fourteen, and my brother Weston, thirteen. Now, with all of us at university and living together, we were closer than ever. Yeah, only me and Weston were related by blood, but they were all my brothers. Truth was, I didn’t have time for many people, other than my boys. Women were good for one thing, and if it didn’t involve a willing pussy or having my dick sucked, I wasn’t interested. Speaking of… “Time’s up.” I clapped my hands, startling the two topless blondes making out in front of me. They drew apart, heavy-lidded with arousal and the effects of the alcohol and weed they’d been smoking. One of the women continued to fondle the tits of the other, moaning, but my dick didn’t even stir. This shit was getting old, fast. I took another drag of my blunt. “Didn’t you hear me? Out. Now.” I pointed at the door, and they got the message. Fucking finally. “You sending away perfectly good pussy?” Cassius wandered in, grabbing the blunt from my hand and taking a huge drag. “Wasn’t that good, believe me.” He raised a sceptical brow. “How much have you had to drink?” I glanced at the empty bottle of Jack, thrown next to me on the sofa. “Shit. All of it.” “Brewer’s droop. Too much alcohol decreases the blood flow to your dick.” Cassius nodded sagely, as if he was a fucking medical expert. “That’s why you sent them away. Couldn’t get it up.” “Fuck off.” “Nah, think I’ll stay.” He slumped down next to me, throwing his legs onto the coffee table, knocking my phone onto the floor. “Watch it, mate.” I heard the door slam as I swiped my phone from under the coffee table, as Weston and Zayde burst into the room. Something, a premonition, had me sitting bolt upright, the haze from the drugs temporarily clearing as adrenaline raced through me. Weston spoke two words, his voice calm and measured, but his eyes showed the underlying worry he was trying to hide. “Code blue.” Fuck. ONE “Kinslee, I need you to be my guide in everything. What or who do I need to know?” I stood, hands on hips, watching my housemate as she blew out a breath, tapping her lip in thought. “Nothing specific I can think of right now, but stick with me and you’ll be fine. First, and mos

The Boy on the Bridge Read Free *************** “I always loved you, and if one loves any one, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be.” -Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina Part One Chapter One Riley 14-years-old As I amble along the path toward the footbridge, I adjust the heavy backpack threatening to leave a permanent indent on my shoulder. My backpack broke earlier this school year, but my mom stitched the strap back on. It has held up just fine for a while, but today Mom had to work so she couldn’t pick me up from school. That means I have to walk home. Apparently, all the extra jostling popped the threads, because about a mile ago the darn thing gave out. Now I’m trying to lug this heavy sack of books on just one shoulder and that shoulder isn’t thrilled about it. Movement ahead startles me and I gasp, clutching the backpack strap instinctively. Someone is sitting on the footbridge with their feet dangling over the edge, palms braced on the aged wood. They’re looking down into the water, not paying me any mind, so my grip eases up and my racing heart begins to slow down. Normally, there’s no one else on this path, and I feel uneasy that someone is now. Like they’ve found a place that was supposed to be secret and shown up uninvited. I guess since I stopped walking—or maybe it was my gasp—I catch the attention of the stranger on the bridge. Only when he turns his head to look at me, I see it’s no stranger at all. Hunter Maxwell is the intruder sitting on my favorite bridge. We go to school together, but we’ve never spoken. He’s kind of a popular jerk who comes to school just to hang out with his friends, and I’m kind of a quiet bookworm who actually shows up to learn. I can’t imagine we would have anything to say to one another. He must agree, because as soon as he recognizes me, he looks away—back down at the rippling water beneath the footbridge. Something unpleasant turns over in my tummy. It feels like rejection, but that’s silly. I don’t care if Hunter Maxwell dismisses me. I didn’t want to talk to him, anyway. Lifting my chin and bracing the strap on my shoulder, I set about ignoring him right back. I march across the distance between us, then march right past him. Before I make it off the bridge and onto the dirt path toward home, his low tone interrupts the mutually held silence. “Don’t tell anyone you saw me today.” I stop abruptly, frowning as I look back at him. “Excuse me?” His sigh is impatient, but he repeats himself anyway. “The school thinks I’m out of town. No one normally comes this way.” Now he turns his head to look at me. “You know this is private property, right? Mine. You shouldn’t trespass.” I’m so surprised, I only really hear the first part. As soon as he turns his head, I get a better look at the side of his face I didn’t see the first time he looked at me. The skin around his left eye is agitated and swollen. It kinda looks like he got hit in the face. The distance between us on

Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One (King 5) Read Free *************** PROLOGUE PREPPY PRESENT Tiny flashes of dim light spark in the darkened corners of my mind. Slowly, it turns from dusk to dawn, awakening my thoughts as the inner light grows brighter and brighter. I hear a sound, a faucet running, and I realize it’s the blood rushing through my ears. When it reaches my heart I choke as it comes back to life like a bass drum. Boom. BaBOOM it beats, on and on, until it falls into a quick yet steady rhythm. The new life inside me grows louder, stronger, until death fades away and I awake on a gasp. My eyes spring open. I try to take in air, but nothing happens. I try again and my lungs burn as they finally decide to cooperate. I can breathe, but it hurts like a son of a bitch. I’m fucking alive. My first thoughts shock the shit out of me. They’re of a girl. A sad looking girl with shiny black hair and huge dark eyes sitting on the edge of the water tower. My heart falls out of rhythm, beating faster and faster until it’s thrumming against my chest like the vibration of a jackhammer. Her. Although my vision is blurry as shit, my thoughts of her are clearer than they’d ever been, and for the first time in my adult life, I’m fucking scared. I don’t even need to see the big motherfucker standing over me with a baseball bat to know I am completely and totally fucked. CHAPTER ONE PREPPY THREE YEARS EARLIER… FUCK that’s some good shit. I wiped the excess powder from under my nose and rubbed it on my gums. “Grade A blow. Thanks, man. This shit day sucks just a little bit less,” I said. We’d just pulled up to Grace’s house after dropping King off to start serving his sentence. We’d see him again, but not for 2-4 years. “Fuck,” Bear said, echoing my thoughts about the coke as he snorted a line off my dashboard. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head from side to side, his long, blond hair flapped around his face like a wet sheepdog shaking itself dry as the rush from the blow slammed into his brain. I knew the feeling. I knew it well. I fucking loved it. Bear wiped any residual evidence of our pity party off the dashboard with his hand. He got out of the car, but I hesitated with my hands on the wheel. I glanced up at Grace’s little cottage and sighed. “You coming?” Bear asked, leaning down in the open window. He lit two cigarettes and leaned up against the car, obscuring my view with his jean covered ass. Reluctantly, I got out and as I rounded the car, I smoothed down my khakis, straightened my bow tie, and took a deep breath. I joined Bear against the car as we both stood in silence, staring up at Grace’s front porch. He handed me one of the lit cigarettes and I took it, taking a long deep drag. “You pissed he told us not to visit?” I asked. Bear hooked a thumb into his pocket, kicking a loose shell with the toe of his boot. I took another drag and exhaled slowly. Bear shrugged. “Some of my brothers, when they get