Maple Creek Series by Lauren Landish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Maple Creek Series by Lauren Landish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Sun, 02 Mar 2025 13:37:10 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.1 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Maple Creek Series by Lauren Landish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 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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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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