Lauren Landish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Lauren Landish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Sat, 28 Feb 2026 17:32:29 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.1 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Lauren Landish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 The Diamond Puck-Up (Dirty Puckers #1) Read Online Lauren Landish http://www.wownovels.com/the-diamond-puck-up-dirty-puckers-1-read-online-lauren-landish Sat, 28 Feb 2026 17:32:29 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-diamond-puck-up-dirty-puckers-1-read-online-lauren-landish Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lauren Landish Series: Dirty Puckers Series by Lauren Landish
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Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)

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A brooding hockey enforcer and a spirited jewelry designer find love—and trouble—when a stolen ring brings them together in this steamy romance from Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author Lauren Landish.

NHL enforcer Griffin Mahoney has spent years protecting his team on the ice—and his heart off it. The one woman who makes his stone-cold exterior melt? His best friend’s sister, Penny Lee. But when a stolen ring entangles her with the Mob, Griffin’s protective instincts override his promise to stay away.

As a custom jewelry designer, Penny transforms family heirlooms into modern treasures. She’s always thought her brother’s best friend was grumpier than a bear with a hangover—until she discovers the brooding hockey player’s hidden soft side. Their undeniable chemistry catches them both off guard, even as danger circles closer.

With Stanley Cup playoffs looming, Mob threats escalating, and her overprotective brother ready to cross-check them both into the next season, Griffin and Penny’s path to happiness is anything but smooth. Together they’ll discover that true love, like diamonds, can withstand any pressure—and shine even brighter for it

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Penny

This day could not be more perfect. The sun is high and bright in the blue sky, it’s just on the warm side of chilly, there’s not a hint of wind in the air, and the hike to the hillside photo spot was easy to the point of being more of a stroll than a workout.

I sit down carefully on a flat rock and take a sip from my favorite water bottle, noting the vinyl stickers from various towns and concerts I’ve been to, plus my favorite one, an ostrich on ice skates that says, “She is beauty, she is grace, she will not fall on her face.” My bestie-slash-roommate, Talia, bought that one for me as a joke when I first made the Ice Hawkettes, our local NHL hockey cheer team, because on the ice is the only place I’m not likely to fall. Slippery, slidey, hazardous? I’m as solid as can be. Flat, smooth, even ground with full focus and attention, and sensible shoes? This girl’s going down. It’s happened too many times to argue to the contrary.

Thankfully, I stayed vertical today on the way up the hill, though it remains to be seen if my unusually good luck will stick with me for the return trip down.

Trying my best to be discreet, I catch glimpses of the group around me. It’s not an organized hike, but this is one of the most popular trails in the area and spring is known to be the best season for scenic outlooks, so there’s at least a dozen other people here with me, if you count the mom with the toddler strapped to her in some sort of backpack situation as two people. Damn, lady, your legs must be pumped as fuck, and I say that in full jealousy despite being someone who spends hours dancing and skating every week.

But mostly I’m trying to watch Lance, my client in the navy-blue pullover to my right. He looks a bit sweaty, more than you’d expect with the cool air, and he keeps nervously touching his pocket like he’s afraid he might’ve lost his wallet on the trail.

Actually . . . I pat my fanny pack, making sure I feel the chunkiness of my keys, because it’d be just my luck to have dropped them somewhere over the last two miles.

Lance glances around, and I catch his eye, giving him a supportive smile. You can do it, the smile says. But I don’t think he understands the message, because he frowns and jerks his gaze back out over the horizon. I watch with bated breath as he lowers himself to kneeling and clears his throat.

Suddenly, everyone realizes exactly what’s happening, and there’s a chorus of gasps and “aww”s. A kid asks, “What’s going on?” A quick look shows that the mom has clapped her hand over her older child’s mouth and is telling him “shh” meaningfully while simultaneously bouncing herself to keep the toddler on her back quiet. She’s a superwoman, I decide, and then return my attention to Lance so I don’t miss the Big Moment.

“Elaina Marie Wilcox, you are the love of my life. You give meaning to the sunrise and the sunset, and every moment in between. You make me see beauty in a world that desperately tries to highlight the ugliness. You bring happiness to my life, and I want to do the same for you with every day that I’m given . . . as your husband, your soulmate, and your best friend. Will you give me that honor and be my wife? Will you marry me?” He holds up a ring, offering it with hope-filled eyes.

You could hear a pin drop. Not even a bird caw breaks the sanctity of the moment.

Which is precisely when I unceremoniously slide off my rocky perch and land on the hard dirt with an unladylike grunt. Another round of gasps sounds out, but these are in horror as a dozen pairs of eyes find me—yes, including the baby, plus Lance and his still-to-answer fiancée.

Shit!

Thankfully, that’s an internal thought, not an out-loud one, but even so, my grimace from the impact is enough to make a few people step toward me to offer assistance.

“Sorry! I’m okay! Carry on,” I tell Lance, waving a hand to let him and everyone else know I’m fine, though my ass really hurts despite the fair amount of cushion I’ve got back there. I also suddenly realize that I’m dangerously close to the edge of the sloped hill, and knowing my luck, there’s a very real chance the dirt might give way and send me careening down to my death, or at least a broken bone or twelve.

Lance clears his throat again and pulls on Elaina’s hand to get her attention once more, and finally . . . finally she starts nodding wildly.

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Never Dance with the Devils (Never Say Never #6) Read Online Lauren Landish http://www.wownovels.com/never-dance-with-the-devils-never-say-never-6-read-online-lauren-landish Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:26:48 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/never-dance-with-the-devils-never-say-never-6-read-online-lauren-landish Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lauren Landish Series: Never Say Never Series by Lauren Landish
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Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)

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One plus one equals love.
At least, that’s what I’ve always been told.

I’m Kayla Harrington—ice queen, corporate shark, and the woman smart men know better than to cross. I plan for every contingency. I don’t get played. Control isn’t just a keyboard button—it’s how I run my life.

Then one electric night in the shadowy back corner of a bar changes everything. Two devilishly handsome men. One unexpected connection. And suddenly, my perfectly ordered world is missing a critical chaos.

But that night was supposed to be a one-time thing. A glitch in my system.

Until they show up at my office. Unannounced. Unwelcome. And dangerously tempting.

Riggs, the gruff defenseman with a chip on his shoulder. Maddox, the party-king winger with a golden heart. They claim I’m their “prize.”
Not for blackmail.
Not for leverage.
But for love.

Love? As if.
Except… they’re relentless. Hilarious. Disarming in ways I never saw coming.
And under all that bravado? They’re tender in a way that threatens to break through every wall I’ve ever built.

For the first time, I’m not sure I want to win this game alone.
Because maybe love isn’t about control.
Maybe it’s about surrender.
And maybe, just maybe, it takes two Devils to melt an ice queen.

Never Dance With The Devils is a full-length romance with an HEA. It can be read as a standalone

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

KAYLA

“You lost, little girl?” the man asks. The smirk on his face grows exponentially as he gives me a slow up and down wolfish look, using his mini flashlight to highlight my more desirable assets. And I’m not talking about my Rolex.

I am neither little at five-seven in my bare feet, nor am I a girl. Even when I was a child, I was never a mere ‘girl’. I was born into the type of privilege that comes with a legacy all its own, one I used to my best ability, meaning I was a bitch long before it was acceptable to saddle me with such an insulting label.

But the truth is, I am a bit lost, because despite my best intentions, today has not gone to plan.

It’s been shit from the start of my day at five in the morning when my coffee pot released thick, clumpy sludge instead of my much-needed brew, to the meeting that went haywire when the CEO who I thought was a sure-thing signature on our merger contract decided to let me down gently, informing me that he’s decided to ride his company into the ground instead of making bank by selling to me. Well, to Blue Lake Assets, but that’s basically the same thing since it’s my family’s capital investment firm. And now to my current situation, which is standing on the sidewalk in front of what is most definitely a club, given the throbbing bass of dance music pouring out through the closed door behind the well-dressed bouncer, and not the bar I asked the hotel concierge to recommend.

I consider my options. I could go back to the hotel’s bar. But that idea is dismissed before it even fully forms. The bartender there is a bit too chatty, bordering on flirty, and I want to sip my consolation drink in peace. I glance up and down the sidewalk, seeing if there might be someplace else more in line with the vibe I’m looking for, but it seems to be storefronts, all of which are long-closed for the evening. I give the bouncer a glacial look. “That depends. Do you have scotch?”

A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest as his smirk morphs into a full smile. “Yeah, we got scotch.”

“Then I’m not lost.”

For the moment, that’s true. A double pour of scotch to soothe away the day’s failures is all I want, and it’s on the other side of that door.

In the larger sense, though, I do feel adrift.

I’ve built a reputation at work for being the closer on difficult assignments. Yet, today’s shitshow ended without either a closing, or at a minimum, the favorable negotiation I’m known for. Am I nursing my wounds? Yes. But only in private, at a bar where I can sulk over a drink and analyze what went wrong to prevent it from ever happening again as I move on to the next project, the next acquisition, and the next big thing. That’s business, something I’m well-versed and experienced in despite being on the cusp of thirty. I grew up sitting in the corner of my dad’s office while he negotiated contracts, planned mergers, and plotted hostile takeovers. It’s all I’ve ever known, and all I’ve ever wanted to do—live up to, and maybe even outshine, his achievements.

“Have a good time,” he says, opening the door. He doesn’t even ask for my ID, which is safely housed in my wristlet bag. Not sure whether I should feel insulted by that or not.

Inside, the music is louder, but thankfully not eardrum-blowing. It’s more of a deep thrum of bass weaving through the darkened space. There’s a dance floor filled with writhing bodies and a stage where the DJ can oversee the effect his work is having on the crowd. I bypass that entirely and make my way to the bar on the far side of the room, where it’s a little quieter.

“What can I getcha?” the bartender asks, his ear tilted toward me as he wipes the shiny surface.

“What’s your top-shelf scotch?”

That gets his full attention and he gives me a once-over too. “Got some twelve-year-old Johnnie Walker, if that’s your thing, or an eighteen-year-old blended Dewar’s. Pricey, though. Just warnin’ ya.”

I nod. “Double of Johnnie, please.”

“You want a seat at the bar?” he asks even though every stool is taken. “Or a spot in VIP?” He lifts his chin, pointing toward an upstairs area.

If I’m honest, I’m not surprised by the special treatment. Everything about me is cultivated and curated to immediately communicate with a glance that I’m a ‘power princess’, from my blonde hair, to my designer office attire including tasteful jewelry at my ears and on my fingers, to my posture, to my aura of importance, though all of that relates to the power portion of my image. The princess part? That’s on me to live up to as the only daughter in a family of five boys, all born to business royalty. Because of that, I’m always treated well, no matter where I go or whether they know my family name, though I’m not averse to throwing it out as a targeted missile when it's warranted.

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The Pucking Proposal (Maple Creek #2) Read Online Lauren Landish http://www.wownovels.com/the-pucking-proposal-maple-creek-2-read-online-lauren-landish Sun, 02 Mar 2025 13:37:10 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-pucking-proposal-maple-creek-2-read-online-lauren-landish Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lauren Landish Series: Maple Creek Series by Lauren Landish
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Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)

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A sports reporter and a hockey player get up close and personal in an outrageously sexy romantic comedy by Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author Lauren Landish.

When it comes to hockey, unflappable Maple Creek sports reporter Joy Barlowe is privy to a lot of behind-the-scenes locker room activity. Like stumbling upon Dalton Days in all his unabashed glory. After the muscled goalie goes on to score better than he ever has, he proposes Joy take another peek before his next match. It works, and a provocative pregame tradition is born.

Dalton has the best stats in the league, but he’s also superstitious. Now he’s found his good luck charm. Joy is not only game, she’s playing along. She’s also his best buddy’s younger sister and totally off-limits. What happens between them has to be their late-night FaceTime secret. That’s the naked truth. So is the fact that Joy and Dalton are discovering there’s more to each other than meets the eye.

Falling in lust? Easy to hide. Falling in love? Much harder. Now Dalton has one more proposition for Joy. And the fallout could rock Maple Creek.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Dalton

Preseason workouts suck balls. Like wrinkly, dangly ones with pubes that’d get stuck in your teeth. Not that anyone’s sucking my cock today. I’m so exhausted, I couldn’t get it up, let alone bust a nut.

Coach Wilson has been hard on us for the last few weeks, demanding drill after drill on the ice, record lifts in the weight room, and most dreaded of all, twice-daily tabata bike protocols. The kind originally developed for the Japanese Olympic speed skating team. Add in flexibility training, sauna time, and watching videos while Coach yells about how we’re gonna fall on our asses if we keep showing up the way we are, and yeah, preseason sucks.

I thought practice was going well. Apparently not, which is why I’m grumpy as hell.

Not that that’s new or unusual.

I’ve been the goalie for the Maple Creek Moose for the last five years, and I’ve nearly destroyed myself, inside and out, for the team, taking us to the playoffs two years ago. It was a nail-biter, but ultimately, we lost in overtime. Second place is first losers as far as the guys and Coach are concerned, and nothing’s been the same since getting that close to a dream and falling short. We swore we’d come back bigger, better, and stronger last year, and we worked even harder, only to not make it to the finals at all.

This year, we’re bound and determined to not only get to the playoffs, but win. All or nothing, baby.

It’s what we live for.

And honestly, that kind of success, and the press coverage it brings, is the only way any of the guys are going to catch the attention of the parent club, and big-league money. We all want that. Sure, being a big fish in a small pond—a.k.a. the Maple Creek Moose—is great, but being a small fish in a big pond and getting a shot at the big leagues is what we all dream of.

For me, that dream’s getting further and further away with every passing day. Goalies are in their prime from twenty-five to twenty-eight, and my last birthday cake had thirty candles on it. Not unheard-of—there are legends who played all the way to their forties—but I’m sure as shit not getting any closer to a pro contract when I feel every bit of those thirty years, despite being in tip-top shape. I just don’t bounce back as quickly as I used to.

Hence, why I’m the first one in and the last one out for practice. Every single time, no misses. I met with the trainers this morning for a prepractice stretch, massage, and some kinesiology taping, and while the rest of the guys have showered and headed out, I’m still sitting in the ice bath, freezing my aforementioned balls off.

“Dalton? Your time was up four minutes ago. Get your ass outta there, man. Now.”

Given the respect the whole team has for Fritzi—head trainer and former D1 college athlete—his command should be hard to ignore, but the most I can do is peel my eyes open and peer at him. He’s standing beside the tub, arms crossed, one brow arched high, and jaw hard as stone. He’s not only mad, he’s pissed at me.

It’s not that I’m intentionally discounting his order, but right now, moving sounds like hell. Probably because I’m this close to becoming a frostbitten Neanderthal Popsicle.

“Five more minutes, Mom,” I grumble, injecting as much asshole teenager in my voice as possible. I like Fritzi, and he does a great job keeping the whole team in playing shape and as healthy as any professional athlete can be, but giving him shit is how we roll around here. If someone’s nice and polite to you, it most likely means they hate your guts. If they roast you at every opportunity . . . you’re basically trading handwoven, matching “besties 4ever” bracelets. In Maple Creek Moose green and gold, of course.

“You wanna make your dick fall off? Be my guest. Call yourself the Cockless Wonder for all I care. Not my concern. But the health of your hamstrings? Entirely my business. Out.” He holds a towel up, not allowing any argument.

But I’m me, so what do I do? Jack shit, nothing, nada. I don’t move an inch, other than tilting my head a bit, silently asking if he wants to try that again.

He shakes the towel to emphasize his point. I’m an asshole, but Fritzi deals with the whole team on the daily and has his own ways of making us do what he wants. They usually involve zero mercy when digging that damn silver blade thing he uses for massages into various muscles until we cry.

“Fine,” I sigh, leaning forward to take the towel. I’m only giving in because he does have a point. I have been in here a while.

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Never Bargain with the Boss (Never Say Never #5) Read Online Lauren Landish http://www.wownovels.com/never-bargain-with-the-boss-never-say-never-5-read-online-lauren-landish Tue, 28 Jan 2025 08:15:06 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/never-bargain-with-the-boss-never-say-never-5-read-online-lauren-landish Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Lauren Landish Series: Never Say Never Series by Lauren Landish
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Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)

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Grumpy single dad? Me.
Sassy nanny with a past? Her.
And a too-smart-for-her-own-good pre-teen? That’d be my beloved daughter.

Being a single dad isn’t easy. Neither is running a billion-dollar company. Parenting is definitely harder, but I’ve been doing just fine—at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. And then another nanny quits.

I’m not asking for much, just someone to help manage our carefully planned schedule, put up with my surliness, and not run away from the challenges my twelve-year-old daughter presents. Sounds easy enough, right? Apparently not.

Until Riley Stefano shows up.

She’s nothing like my other nannies. Pink hair, wrists full of oversized bracelets, and a personality as loud as her wardrobe. Not exactly the picture of order and professionalism I prefer. She’s chaotic and carefree, while I’m cursing the sun for daring to rise each day. But Grace loves her - and as much as I hate to admit it, Riley’s good at what she does. She fits into our little family better than I would’ve thought possible.

It should be perfect. There’s just one problem. Riley.

She has a way of breaking down walls I’ve spent years building, bringing up a past I’d rather leave buried, and making me feel things I have no right to. But with her right down the hall, it’s impossible to stay away. And the more time we spend together, the harder it gets to remember why I swore I’d never risk my heart again.

Never Bargain With The Boss is a full-length romance with an HEA. It can be read as a standalone.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

Grace Marie Harrington

This woman cannot be serious.

Beatrice. That’s her name. Like she’s an eighteen-hundreds-era homesteader, waiting for her one true love. Except she’s not. She’s my nanny.

And utterly, completely ridiculous, I think with an internal eye roll. No one would fall for a woman like this, anyway.

Oops, judging by Beatrice’s expression, I might’ve actually rolled my eyes. Not that it matters.

“You have to give everything your best effort. We’re all destined for greatness, but it won’t simply fall into your waiting hands. You have to do the soul work to be ready, the stars have to be perfectly aligned, and you need an open heart and mind to receive the universe’s gifts when they come to you.” She places both hands on her chest like her heart is not only open, but full public access. “What’s your birthday again? We can figure out your star sign, so you’ll know when good and bad things are coming your way and you can reach your truest potential.” Her voice lilts up as though she’s actually stretching for something, even though she’s sitting at the kitchen island, not grasping anything more metaphysical than an air fryer-cooked chicken nugget.

Beatrice gives me an earnest look, like she’s certain her woo-woo pep talk will alter the entire trajectory of my life, and opens an app on her phone where she waits with a poised finger to type in my birthday, which I guess is supposed to magically fix everything wrong with me.

Except, I’m fine. Actually, I do have one problem right now. Does her contract include drug tests? Because I’m pretty sure that my Uncle Kyle would say she’s on a major trip.

I failed my math test, not because I didn’t understand the material but because I refused to give Mrs. Vanderlicker—which isn’t her real name, but it’s what we call her—the satisfaction of thinking she actually taught our class anything. All that I understood of graphing linear inequalities, I learned from Dad. But it doesn’t matter. It’s one test, not the end of the world, but according to Beatrice, it’s a sign that I’m not living my best life.

“If we’re all destined for greatness,” I start, quoting her fortune cookie paper phrase, and she smiles like she thinks she’s truly done something. “Then would you consider what you do to be great? I mean, driving me around, flipping through Instagram while I take riding lessons, and complaining about your boyfriend… is that the true greatness you’re destined for?”

I pop the chicken nugget I’m currently holding between my fingers into my mouth, chewing it thoughtfully like I’m thinking hard about that question too. Beatrice’s eyes widen and her mouth makes a perfect raspberry-colored O. Raspberry like the lip gloss, not the fruit, which she loves the color of but hates the taste of. It takes her a long second, but then she blinks and huffs out, “That was rude, Grace.” She stands, the legs of her chair squeaking along the floor, but before she leaves, she adds, “I was trying to make you feel better because I know how hard math can be.”

I could say something mean, like ‘math is hard for you, maybe, but not for me.’ But I don’t. I swallow the hurtful words along with the rest of my chicken nugget, because I’m not a complete bitch.

I am, however, a twelve-year-old girl, with all the hormonal fury that comes with that, plus a somewhat absentee dad who pawned me off on a nanny who thinks charting my star sign will make the hellscape that is middle school better, when it hasn’t helped her a bit because her boyfriend—who she says is “The One” even though there was a different “The One” two months ago—keeps commenting gross things like ‘heyyy mama’ on other girls’ Instagram posts.

I even keep my mouth shut when I hear Beatrice slam her door and start dramatically wailing. Not getting drawn into her exaggerated theatrics, I clean up from our after-school snack, throwing away the air fryer liner, putting our plates in the dishwasher, and wondering what’s going to happen now while I get out my homework and get started.

A few minutes later, I get my answer when my phone rings.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Young lady, I am very disappointed in you.” Dad’s voice is deep and serious, and I can picture his frowning face like he’s here. Which, of course, he’s not. He’s at work, like always.

“Okay. Am I grounded or what?” I say, rolling my eyes because what’s he gonna do? Take away my phone? He would never, because it’s how he tracks me. Not let me ride my horse, Pegasus? He pays for the lessons and my horse’s barn fees either way, and it’s my main activity, so I don’t think he’ll do that, either.

So, lecture it is. Or at worst, a few days of hanging in my room after school. Oh, no, the horror of Netflix on demand. Because it’s not like I’ve done anything bad or wrong. I said something that hurt Beatrice’s feelings. Rude, but forgivable, especially given the circumstances. And in this family, rude barbs are the preferred form of communication, having been perfected into a genetic art form.

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I Do with You (Maple Creek #1) Read Online Lauren Landish http://www.wownovels.com/i-do-with-you-maple-creek-1-read-online-lauren-landish Thu, 21 Nov 2024 13:36:07 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/i-do-with-you-maple-creek-1-read-online-lauren-landish Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny, Insta-Love Authors: Lauren Landish Series: Maple Creek Series by Lauren Landish
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Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)

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A runaway bride rushes headlong into true love in a funny, flirty, and empowering romance by Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author Lauren Landish.

Hope Barlowe is a vow away from a lakeside wedding to her high school sweetheart. Next, check off her follow-up two kids, a dog, a home, and a happy ever after. But suddenly, ever after seems like a very long time. Instead of saying I do, Hope thinks I can’t and bolts for the woods—right into the unpredictable life of a handsome tattooed hiker.

Days into a three-week getaway, struggling musician Ben Taylor is in search of inspiration. He never thought he’d find a bride stumbling through the bramble. Right away her sweet baby blues, confounding dilemma, and spirited independence strike a chord. Ben has found his muse, and he’s falling fast. Hope is finding something just as important—herself.

Soon enough Hope and Ben have all of Maple Creek talking—and divided. Where do they go from here? If Hope has learned anything, it’s that happiness is more than a checklist, and dreams can change in a heartbeat.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

HOPE

“Hope Mercy Barlowe, if you are not in the truck in five minutes, I’m leaving without you!” Mom yells through my bedroom door. If I had a dime for every time she’s told me that, I’d be richer than Bezos—but this time I have the perfect answer . . .

“You’re not going anywhere without me, Mom. I’m the bride!”

I grin at myself in the mirror, quite proud of the once-in-a-lifetime retort. Surrounding my reflection are stickers from high school; Polaroids of my soon-to-be husband, Roy, and me at homecoming; and a good luck–kiss print I made the night we went on our first date. Behind me is the childhood bedroom I’m desperately ready to leave. College was short, but it showed me that I’m ready for more—more than coming home to my parents’ house, for sure. Last night was the final time I’ll sleep under the pink-and-purple comforter Mom bought for my sixteenth-birthday room makeover.

Because today I’m the bride, and tonight I’ll be a wife. Mrs. Roy Laurier.

“Hope Laurier,” I whisper, the way I have hundreds of times before.

This has been the plan since I was a sophomore in high school, and I’ve tried out the name dozens of times. I’ve written it over and over to figure out my new signature, practicing my new introduction. The completed paperwork for my updated driver’s license is already in an envelope in my purse, waiting for a copy of the marriage license. What can I say? I’m a planner to the nth degree, plus infinity.

It’s quiet on the other side of my door, and I can almost see Mom frowning at my sassy response to her urgency and coming up with one of her own. Finally, she says, “Well, fine, but if you’re late to your own wedding, the whole town’s never gonna let you live it down. You’ll be nearly fifty years old, planning your twenty-fifth-anniversary party at the lodge, and people will still give you hell about how you’re always late. They’ll say, ‘Hope’ll be late to her own funeral.’ All because you were late to your wedding when you were twenty-three years old.”

I sigh. Mom can be dramatic when it serves her, but in this situation, she’s not exaggerating. The people of Maple Creek have long memories and love nothing more than to rehash old gossip during dull moments.

I twirl one of the loose curls by my ear around my finger, careful not to damage the magic Bettye worked to make my straight, thin light-brown hair look full in the romantic upsweep she said would go perfectly with my dress and veil. Looking in the mirror again, I smile. But it doesn’t reach my eyes, which are blank and vaguely fear filled.

Mom’s right.

Today is the start of everything. All that I’ve planned, all that Roy’s planned, all that everyone expects from us.

Finish high school: check.

Go to college: check—me getting my dental hygienist degree, and Roy, a business degree.

Secure jobs? Check. I’m working at Dr. Payne’s office, and Roy’s been at the local bank for almost two years.

Get married on the banks of the creek where it meets the lake, surrounded by family and friends and the maple trees our town is known for? Half check.

Next? I’m moving into Roy’s apartment so we can save enough money to eventually afford a small house and a couple of acres outside of town. We’ll have two daughters, Olive and Sage (Roy’s picks—his favorite color is green), and a dog named Chester (my pick), a cattle dog who’ll wear a blue bandanna and herd the girls to the dinner table every night. And we’ll live happily ever after.

It might as well be inscribed on a granite tablet and put up in the town square with a velvet rope around it.

I just have to get in the truck.

So why am I still sitting here, unable to move from the bedroom I hated coming back to after college because it made me feel like a child? Why do my feet feel like they’re encased in concrete, not specially selected white cowgirl boots with blue stitching? Why does my stomach feel like I’m both starving and completely full of June bugs buzzing around a porch light on a summer night?

Oh God. Am I pregnant?

No.

I know I’m not. Roy and I have been sexually active since the night of his senior prom, but we decided to abstain for a little while before the wedding so that tonight would be extra special. Well, “special” was my phrasing; “horny as fuck” was Roy’s. Either way, I’m definitely not pregnant.

Just nervous, I guess.

I shouldn’t be. I’m getting all I’ve ever wanted. My every dream is coming true. Today’s ceremony is the official start of my life with Roy.

It’ll be a good life—I know that. It’ll be fine, perfectly picturesque and Instagram-worthy.

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Never Kiss the Bad Boy (Never Say Never #4) Read Online Lauren Landish http://www.wownovels.com/never-kiss-the-bad-boy-never-say-never-4-read-online-lauren-landish Mon, 23 Sep 2024 09:21:57 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/never-kiss-the-bad-boy-never-say-never-4-read-online-lauren-landish Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Lauren Landish Series: Never Say Never Series by Lauren Landish
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Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)

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The blue collar bad boy next door infuriates me. Until his comebacks become kisses, and anger isn’t what I'm feeling.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

DANI

Knock, knock.

The banging on the door isn’t a surprise. I’ve been listening for it for at least thirty-two and a half minutes, because Nessa is never late. I’ve run down the emotional spectrum from ‘she’ll be here any minute’ to ‘where is she?’ to ‘getchur ass here now’ to ‘what if she’s dead in a ditch somewhere?’, never mind the fact that there aren’t ditches anywhere near this part of town.

“Where the hell’ve you been?” I ask as I throw a towel over my shoulder and rip the door open with a smile. She’s here, and that’s all that matters now.

Nessa busts in, intentionally shouldering me out of the way like a linebacker with her armfuls of paper bags as if the delay were my fault. “Don’t you dare start with me. Take these so I can get the rest,” she clips out as she shoves my daily grocery delivery toward me.

Reflexively, I wrap my arms around the bags, and she spins on one tennis-shoed toe to return to her car for more bags. Too shocked at her unusual snappiness to really shoot back a quick reply, I decide to give her grace and instead huff out my own frustration as I haul the bags to the kitchen, where I plop them on the table in the middle of the room that serves double duty as my island and prep station.

A moment later, Nessa follows, barging in behind me with another load of bags, which she drops onto the table next to the others with a clang and a grunt. The clang is the bag. The grunt is Nessa. “Two trips’ worth of groceries? Are you for real, girl?” I don’t have to look her way to see the side eye she’s shooting me because it’s entirely audible in her tone.

“Needed what I needed,” I answer, unpacking my much-considered—and again, late—groceries as quickly as I can. I need to start chopping, pronto, because I should’ve been doing that… I peek at the clock… thirty-eight minutes ago.

Nessa doesn’t want my answer anyway because after barely catching her breath, she continues to complain, throwing her now-empty hands this way and that. “First, the store was a freaking madhouse. For why? Who the hell knows because no one should be shopping at seven in the morning. The sun’s barely up! Not like they’re giving away free samples of the good stuff or having a two-for-one deal on toilet paper.” She points toward my neighbor’s house. “Second, that shit over there is ridonkulous. What in the hell is that lady—and I’m using the word loosely—up to now? And of equal importance, how can we get back at her for it? I’ve got my petty confetti ready to throw, just say the word.”

It's not funny, like at all, but a small laugh escapes at Nessa’s neck-rolling, finger-snapping, lip-curling indignation on my behalf. She’s a good friend, and everyone knows the number-one rule of friendship is, the enemy of my bestie is my enemy too. Also known as, I hate who you hate and will back your play on cutting a bitch at the knees and keeping that shit on lockdown if asked about it later.

Well, maybe that’s just us? But either way, Nessa hates my neighbor almost as much as I do. To be fair, it’s absolutely, one hundred percent warranted.

Kathy Wilson—aka The Bitch Next Door, or TBND—moved into my neighborhood about eighteen months ago. Okay, maybe it isn’t ‘my’ neighborhood, but I’ve been here long enough and keep things real enough that the old timers respect me as one of their own. Unlike TBND. When she moved in, she was well aware that it’s what’s politely called a ‘transitional’ area. We’re a few streets outside of the downtown square, with narrow and uneven streets, and every property is at least seventy-five years old, which makes for some odd neighbors. One lot will have a tiny, rundown house like mine, and right next door will be a two-story, historical home that’s been fully renovated in recent years, like Kathy’s.

To be fair, the real estate agent definitely didn’t bring her around during my rush hours of lunch service, but she knew the neighborhood, and despite knowing exactly what she was getting into when she bought her house, she hasn’t stopped TBND from trying to make my life a living hell.

First, she tried to start a homeowners’ association, claiming it would beautify the area. People saw through that real quick and shut it down in a hurry when she mentioned yard mowing schedules, holiday light permissions, and hiding unsightly eyesores like children’s backyard playsets. I have no doubt she would’ve also included backyard grills in her eyesore category because she definitely seems to hate mine.

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The Wrong Guy – Cold Springs Read Online Lauren Landish http://www.wownovels.com/the-wrong-guy-cold-springs-read-online-lauren-landish Mon, 01 Jan 2024 09:40:52 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-wrong-guy-cold-springs-read-online-lauren-landish Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Lauren Landish Advertisement

Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >107

Best of friends with benefits—and more in common than they ever expected—in a funny and sexy romance by Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author Lauren Landish.

Wren Ford is the city attorney for Cold Springs—a job she takes seriously. Good thing she has a great form of stress relief: a friends-with-benefits arrangement with the well-muscled and very attentive construction worker Jesse Sullivan. Wren’s heart secretly craves more, but how can she fess up her feelings to a man who doesn’t want to get tied down?

Jesse is head over heels in love with Wren, but he can’t picture a happily ever after. What would an attorney and out-of-his-league goddess want with him? Especially when a flirty, cocky lawyer who screams money and power shows an interest in Wren.

As a scandalous high-profile split escalates from name-calling to corporate takeovers, Wren and Jesse must team up to find a way to protect the people and the town they love. And everyone in Cold Springs is rooting for them to figure out that maybe, against all odds, they’re made for each other.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

WREN

“Shit, baby. You’re so gorgeous when you come. Show me.”

With every word, he thrusts his fingers deep inside me, petting that spot that drives me wild. I ride the wave of convulsions as I throw my head back and clamp my legs closed to hold him there. I writhe against the cheap cotton sheets, the roughness of the fabric adding to the sensations rocking through my body.

He leans down, nudging my thighs open with his scruff-covered chin. His breath is hot over my core as he urges me, “More.”

I don’t know if he’s telling me to keep coming or speaking his own desire for more of my body, because he licks my clit with the flat of his tongue and I fly again . . . or still. I shove my fingers through the wild length of dark hair currently between my legs. “Jesse, if you stop, I’ll kill you.”

The threat is gasped out, but I feel his smile against my tender flesh. He thinks I’m kidding, but I’m not so sure. I want this . . . need this release. Maybe that makes me greedy, but if so, I’m good with that. Especially when Jesse clamps onto my clit. The feeling is intense, and my cries get louder and louder. I squirm beneath him as he grunts back in a primal conversation between our bodies, fighting to keep our connection. The pressure inside me is building to something bigger, wilder, more out of control, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.

But Jesse is.

I shatter into a million pieces of light, becoming a human firework. Hot, sparkly, all-consuming, and over too quickly.

“Dammit, baby. Can’t . . . wait . . . wanna . . . feel you.” Jesse is doing his best to awkwardly shove a condom on with his left hand so he can keep my explosion going. Somehow, he manages, and a second later, he replaces his fingers with his cock as he thrusts into me with one rough stroke. I tense, knowing how much he always stretches me, but he’s made sure I’m more than ready for him. He shudders at the feeling of my still-pulsing pussy enveloping him.

I’m the one smiling now, loving the power I have over a man like him. I lift my legs to his shoulders, and given our height difference, he drops a kiss to my right ankle. But I don’t want sweet kisses, not now. I want to make him come as hard as I did. Using my legs for leverage, I pull him toward me. He’s quick to catch himself, one hand on either side of my head as he bends me in half. “Come here.”

I grip his face in my hands and pull him farther down to me, stealing his grunt with a kiss. He thrusts in . . . deeper, harder, with a punishing pace as he chases his own pleasure. I’m at the edge of what I can take—my hamstrings stretched, my breath erratic, my pussy full. And it’s glorious.

The tendons on each side of Jesse’s neck strain, his eyes clench closed, and he bares his teeth in a growl. And then he spasms, bucking into me wildly. I squeeze him, using my inner muscles to pull his cum from him, wanting his pleasure. He thrusts through his own release and then collapses over me, panting to catch his breath. “Holeee shiiit, Wren. You’re a damn witch. I think you stole my soul right outta my dick.”

I shrug, choosing to take that as a compliment. “I’ve been called worse. You’re welcome.” A beat later, he lifts up and peers at me with one eye open and one still closed. “And thank you.”

He places a quick kiss on my forehead as he pulls out, a habit of his that I secretly like. As he moves away to take care of the condom in the attached bathroom, I lower my legs and stretch out as long as I can, feeling luxurious even though I’m in a too-small bed, on rough sheets, with beard burn between my thighs. I groan in delight and call out, “I’m hungry. Wanna get dinner?”

Jesse pops his head around the doorframe. His hair is still messy, but I can tell he’s run his fingers through it to repair the damage my hands did, and he’s brushing his teeth. “Cahn’t. Sowwee,” he mumbles around the foam that makes him look like a rabid dog. He disappears, and I hear him spit into the running water. Coming back into the bedroom, he heads for the dresser and clarifies, “I’m meeting the guys at Puss N Boots for beer and pool.”

“Oh. No worries.” I enjoy the view for one more second as he pulls on fresh boxer briefs, and then I get up. I make quick work of cleaning up in the bathroom, and when I return to the bedroom, Jesse is dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. He holds up my panties with a smile that’d make sugar melt.

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Never Fall for the Fake Boyfriend (Never Say Never #3) Read Online Lauren Landish http://www.wownovels.com/never-fall-for-the-fake-boyfriend-never-say-never-3-read-online-lauren-landish Wed, 25 Oct 2023 18:31:28 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/never-fall-for-the-fake-boyfriend-never-say-never-3-read-online-lauren-landish Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Lauren Landish Series: Never Say Never Series by Lauren Landish
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Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >120

An AirBnB error means sharing a cabin with a sexy grump... who's now my fake boyfriend for my nemesis' wedding. A grumpy/sunshine, fake dating interconnected standalone. Cole and Janey's story.

Full blurb to come.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

JANEY

“Alright, that’s it for me, Mrs. Michaelson,” I tell the woman lying peacefully in the bed as I tuck the blankets around her frail body. She’s been a resident here for years, and her children rarely come anymore. They’re all too busy with their own lives and have already grieved the loss of their once-vibrant matriarch. But though they’ve moved on, she’s still here, and it’s my job as her nurse to make sure she’s well-cared for, something I take seriously.

I pause as though she’s going to respond and then answer accordingly in a bright, happy voice. “Of course, I’ll be careful and have fun. And if I survive the time with my family, I’ll tell you all about the wedding when I get back. It’s going to be straight off a telenovela—drama, catfights, and fake tears, oh, my!” I throw an overexaggerated wink her way, comfortable being my weird self with my patients, mostly because they’re a captive audience who appreciate the conversation.

Or at least I like to think they do. They don’t share their opinions with me often.

Still, I imagine Mrs. Michaelson clucking her tongue fussily at the unflattering depiction of my family. I’m not sure that was her nature when she was herself, but in my imagination, she’s a very proper, ladylike, and slightly judgmental woman.

Glancing out the small window that gives the room some natural light, I sigh. The next week is bound to be the literal live-action remake of Dickens’s ‘the best of times . . . the worst of times.’ Guaranteed.

First, I have days of peace in a cabin well outside the city with my boyfriend, Henry, where our plans are to read, relax, take a few nature walks, and soak in the hot tub. It’ll be our first big vacation together, and I’m both excited and nervous, especially since now he’s stuck at work for a few more days and is meeting me there . . .

“You seriously have to work? We scheduled this months ago.”

“Sorry, babe. Duty calls. You know they can’t do it without me, and the deadline’s coming up quick.” He sounds distracted, like he’s reading a computer screen while he tells me that he can’t go with me for the entire time.

“How about I wait for you?” I suggest hopefully. “That way, we can still go together and enjoy the obscene amounts of junk food and off-key singalongs of the road trip.” It’s a good idea even if it’ll waste a few nights of our reservation. But I don’t care. I want Henry.

Henry, though, apparently feels differently. “Pass on that. You know you can’t sing.”

I never claimed to be a red-headed Kelly Clarkson, but it sounds worse when he says I can’t sing. I agree anyway because my lack of pitch is not the issue. The demise of our couple-cation is. “Hence, why I said off-key.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, good one. Listen, I’ve gotta go. The guys are looking to me to crack the whip. But you should go ahead without me. You need the peace and quiet. I’ll meet you there when I’m done, ‘kay?”

It sounds like I don’t have a choice, and I don’t want to start our time off with an argument, so I force a smile into my voice. “Okay. I’ve never vacationed alone, and I’m not entirely sure I’ll know what to do with myself, but I guess I’ll figure it out. When do you think—”

“Good girl. I’ll be in touch. Bye, babe.”

The line goes dead.

Yeah, so that’s the best of times part.

And then, after the forced solitary relaxation and a happy reunion with Henry, the worst of times kicks in.

My cousin Paisley’s nuptials, which are next weekend, have been destined to be my own personal hell since we were children. In a family that wanted to spend loads of time together, watching the kids play while the adults sipped hard lemonades and gossiped about everyone, Paisley has always been my built-in, ever-present bully.

Of course, no adults ever saw her tormenting me. They would turn the other cheek as she’d knock down my building blocks, clap as she cast me as the monster in family skits, and laugh when she called me ‘Plainy Janey’, a blunt commentary on my late-to-arrive and none-too-friendly experience with puberty. Because of course, she grew up well and is everything I’m not.

Paisley is tall and lithe, built like a fairytale princess. I’m short and curvy. Her hair is naturally caramel-blonde-brown and falls in a sheet down her back. Mine is bright red-orange, and the curls stand out from my head like I stuck a finger in a live light socket. She’s got the perfect dentist office ad smile, while my smile is too wide and shows off the chipped tooth I was too chicken shit to get fixed because I didn’t want to tell the dentist that I got it walking into a door while gawking at a cute guy.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >120

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Never Give Your Heart to a Hookup (Never Say Never #2) Read Online Lauren Landish http://www.wownovels.com/never-give-your-heart-to-a-hookup-never-say-never-2-read-online-lauren-landish Thu, 20 Jul 2023 19:19:54 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/never-give-your-heart-to-a-hookup-never-say-never-2-read-online-lauren-landish Genre: Contemporary, Funny Authors: Lauren Landish Series: Never Say Never Series by Lauren Landish
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Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >120

Bad Boy? They’re a dime a dozen…
But a Good Guy who’s only bad for me? Well…

I’m not exactly the ‘take home to Mom’ type. I’m too outspoken and have never met an expectation I didn’t want to challenge.
And to put it bluntly, my professional career of being an intimate relationships counselor doesn’t make for polite dinner conversation.
Not that I care. I’m too busy changing the world, one healthy ‘yes, yes, yes’ at a time.

But Chance Harrington? He’s built his career and reputation on being the ultimate gentleman. Politeness and chivalry are his bread and butter, kindness and goodness are the foundation of his image, and he mentors young men to be their best, one podcast at a time.

We make no sense.

But falling at Chance’s feet in the most embarrassing meet-cute ever seems to be working out. We knew the rules - just a little fun, stress-relieving excitement for us both. Nothing more. But one encounter leads to another… and another, and no-strings-attached becomes dinners, dates, and heartfelt conversations.

Let’s just say I never thought it’d end up like this.

I never dreamed the straight-laced gentleman image hid a man who could make even me blush. But he wants more.
He’s after my heart. And the scariest part? I may just give it to him.

Never Give Your Heart To A Hookup is a full-length romance with a Happily Ever After. It can be read as a standalone.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

SAMANTHA

“So, I only need to sell fifty dildos to become a Gold Star representative of Bedroom Heaven?” The young blonde girl several seats down from me asks the question with a completely straight face, making it sound like that should be a ridiculously easy thing to do.

Of course, she did say that she’s the entertainment chair for her on-campus sorority, so maybe Trixleigh can slam out that many sales in her living room under the guise of a buzzy good night social. I can see it now . . . Trixleigh’s Tricks and Treats. Maybe with a ‘XXX’ substituted in for good measure.

Because of course her name is Trixleigh, which she spelled for us cheerleader-style with a bonus of mentioning she’s definitely ‘not for kids’ like the cereal, ending with a tee-hee laugh I’m sure she does every time she introduces herself with the bunny ear fingers she popped to the top of her head.

But while she might not think her question is that out there, my head whips around so fast I look like the possessed chick from The Exorcist, only to see Jaxx Reynolds, the dark-haired girl in goth makeup sitting next to me, cover her mouth and giggle, along with several other girls around the room. Jaxx is the one who got me into this.

This being a pseudo-business presentation with a healthy dose of sexual innuendo being led by a suburban mom who’s currently standing in the middle of her living room wielding a butt plug big enough to make King Kong cringe.

Please tell me why I’m doing this again? I ask myself for the umpteenth time. But the truth is, I already know the answer. I need the damn money.

I’m buried under a mountain of student loan debt, and with the interest rates being sky high, I’ll be battling with that mountain well into the next couple of decades.

And with only one semester left in my graduate program, I’m looking down the barrel of the day those loan payments are going to come due, right as I’m trying to figure out my post-college plans. But I’m like most people, and at some point in my life, I’d like to be able to afford luxuries like a house or a decent car . . . or cheese on a sandwich.

So you know what they say, desperate times call for desperate measures. Though I never dreamed it’d mean selling big, fat cocks from the trunk of my car.

A nudge in my side breaks me out of my reverie, and I blink to refocus on Jaxx, who has a devious smirk on her face. I wonder how many dildos she’s sold. Or maybe she sticks to leather restraints? Of course, with her style, she could sell those as fashion accessories.

I take a closer look at the cuff bracelet she’s currently wearing, noting the silver loops that could definitely be used for restraint purposes. It’s paired with black fishnet stockings, black shorts, and a black rock band shirt that’s been rough-cut at the belly button.

It could be a harsh, off-putting look, but on her, it’s enchanting, and the dry humor she stoically spews makes her all the more bewitching. Some might say she’s inspired by Wednesday Addams, but the truth is, I think Jenna Ortega might’ve done a secret character study on Jaxx.

It was Jaxx who got me to grudgingly agree to try out being a sex toy rep for extra cash to help pay the bills. She’s already been doing it for months and swears it’s easy money, and it does make some sense for me to have sexual aids in my repertoire for my future practice as a licensed therapist focusing on intimate relationships. Some people call it a ‘sex therapist’, but it’s so much more than that.

Then again, Jaxx’s Aunt Kara doesn’t exactly look like the professional businesswoman I aspire to be considering she’s now holding up a dildo that’s swirling in a circle while vibrating intensely enough to make the rabbit ears on one side of it flop around wildly.

“That’s right, Trixleigh. Fifty units and you’ll be Gold, and then the sky’s the limit. These babies virtually sell themselves.”

Trixleigh squeals and goes back to looking at the catalog in her hands, pausing for an unreasonably long time on a double-ended, rainbow-striped, unicorn-horn-ribbed dildo called The Happiest Ride.

Jaxx whispers, “Got her.” She licks a black-painted fingertip and draws a tally mark in the air.

Kara smiles, likely thinking the same thing. To help sell me on the idea of this side gig, Jaxx told me the story of how her aunt had been on the verge of a foreclosure after her hair salon burned down and her insurance refused to pay for the damage, citing a cold technicality that left them not fiscally responsible for helping her recover from the accident.

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Bound Read Online Lauren Landish, W. Winters, Willow Winters http://www.wownovels.com/bound-read-online-lauren-landish-w-winters-willow-winters Mon, 13 Feb 2023 18:42:39 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/bound-read-online-lauren-landish-w-winters-willow-winters Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Romance Authors: Lauren Landish, W. Winters, Willow Winters Advertisement

Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >62

I had everything.
Wealth, power… and her.
It started as an irresistible and provocative game. Only elite circles knew about the club and what happened behind closed doors.
A monthly auction. A high price bid. A woman I was never supposed to fall in love with.

I taught her what submission is and she loved it more than I could ever imagine. It was perfect… like we were made for each other.

One tragic night tore her from me and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

For years, I’ve waited. I thought I could have her again. I thought the past wouldn’t catch up to us… I couldn’t have been more wrong. I brought danger to her doorstep, but I’ll burn it all down before I’ll ever let her go again.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

GABRIEL

Years ago . . . when she was mine to do with as I pleased.

That sweet moan of hers is addictive. It spills from her lips easily while he fucks her. With every thrust, his hips force her lush ass to jiggle and her body sways slightly. With her dark hair in curls fallen around her shoulders, her bare back is visible. The velvet dress is an emerald puddle beneath her on the sofa. The thigh-highs held up by clips from her garter belt are a nice touch, though. One I chose myself.

I loosen my tie with one hand, my other hand still on her breast, kneading and plucking her hardened nipple. He’s the first of three tonight. The deal I made with Mr. Daniels is worth fourteen billion. His crisp, tailored suit that lies like rags on the floor reeks of wealth, and still, I’m worth more than every man in this room combined.

He almost fists her hair. He reaches, but the bastard catches himself just before. Thank fuck for his jaw’s sake that he does. They’re not allowed to touch her in any way other than their cock in her cunt and their hands on her hips. No kissing, no extracurriculars, so to speak. That’s the rule she proposed and the one that drew me to her. If only she knew who I was and what she was signing up for . . .

“You like that, my little whore?” I murmur, my stiff cock pressing against the zipper of my suit pants.

“Yes Sir,” she barely manages as he fucks her harder. His blunt nails dig into her lush hips as he searches for his release, and a possessiveness I’ve never felt before comes over me as she calls out my name. It’s nearly strangled, wrapped up in her pleasure.

My lips find hers, kissing and nipping as my heart races faster. Our touch is short-lived as she braces herself, both hands gripping the arm of the warm brown leather sofa. The scents of whiskey and cigars linger, even if the poker cards are scattered across the floor.

We’ve done this more than a dozen times. Poker nights with my business acquaintances. She enjoys their touch, and I enjoy watching. She’s sensitized by the time I bring her to my room, cuff her to my bed, and punish her.

The other night, she came from my simply blowing on her cunt. That’s how high this gets her.

“Gabe!” She cries out my name, reaching up as the men change behind her. She reaches for me, her small fist grabbing my shirt.

My little submissive, being so fucking inappropriate in front of our guests. It takes everything in me not to shove him aside and take her right then and there.

Her half-lidded eyes find mine and then close in utter rapture before she forces them open. That possessiveness rocks through me again, refusing to be ignored. I watch her as she comes on his cock, her lips parted and lust written in her expression. Her hand tightens on mine in a desperate attempt to keep me close.

If only she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell I was moving an inch from her. Every muscle is coiled, adrenaline surging through my veins. She’s mine. Mine to enjoy, mine to share, mine to cherish.

“Gabriel,” she cries, pleasure rocking through her, and I can’t take it anymore.

That was years and years ago, but the memory stays with me, nearly hauntingly. I wonder if it’s only once in a lifetime that you know the moment you fall in love.

In that moment, I knew I’d have done anything to keep her as mine. I’d have killed for her. I couldn’t have imagined the tragedy that would tear us apart. I had no idea I’d kill more than once for her. I never could have prepared for what was about to happen.

KIERSTEN

Present Day

The keys jingle in the darkened alley as a chill blows by. It makes logical sense that on the anniversary of the darkest day of my life, I’d feel a prickle creep up the back of my neck. The metal bites into my hand as I grip the keys harder and turn, expecting to see someone watching me. There’s no one, though. Not a soul exists beyond myself, and I remind myself that it’s only the nerves. It’s only the memories that haunt me.

Memories that take me back to another life. Another name, even. Back to when I was only Kiersten, a naive submissive who couldn’t have prepared for what fate would do to me. Long before I was ever Madam Lynn.

It’s only my past that I’ll never outrun. With a steadying breath, I open the heavy side door to Club X.

As I step into the warm hall, with my purse in the crook of my arm and the large hot coffee in my right hand, sin disguised as luxury greets me. An easy smile slips onto my lips. This place is my escape, my livelihood, my sanctuary from everything that waits for me outside these doors.

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