Never Say Never Series by Lauren Landish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Never Say Never Series by Lauren Landish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:26:48 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Never Say Never Series by Lauren Landish – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 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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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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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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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)

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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.

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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)

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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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Never Marry Your Brother’s Best Friend (Never Say Never #1) Read Online Lauren Landish http://www.wownovels.com/never-marry-your-brothers-best-friend-never-say-never-1-read-online-lauren-landish Fri, 20 Jan 2023 22:15:23 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/never-marry-your-brothers-best-friend-never-say-never-1-read-online-lauren-landish Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Romance, Virgin Authors: Lauren Landish Series: Never Say Never Series by Lauren Landish
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Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)

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Opposites attract?
In theory, maybe.
In reality, doubtful.

When my brother’s best friend asks me to fake marry him to secure a business deal he desperately needs, I laugh in his face. Me help Carter Harrington? That’s split-your-pants, rip-roaring hilarious. I don’t even like him.

Besides, no one would believe I’m Carter’s wife. It’s ridiculous.

He’s tall, blond, and attention-grabbing gorgeous. I’m short, curvy, awkward… and usually invisible.
He’s never met someone he couldn’t charm. I can barely talk to friends, much less strangers.
He’s a workaholic that lives and breathes money and business. I prefer to lose myself in my art.

Believability factor of us as a couple? Zero.

But when he puts his hand on my thigh, pulls me to his side possessively, and whispers dirty things in my ear that make me go liquid, all the reasons why we shouldn’t be together start to fade away.
And when we’re forced to share a bed to keep up the charade, this fake marriage begins to feel real.
Dangerously real.

What's a girl to do when the man she can't stand starts to feel like her husband?

Never Marry Your Brother's Best Friend is a full-length romance with a Happily Ever After. It can be read as a standalone.

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

CHAPTER

ONE

CARTER

“Son of a bitch!”

I slam the door to my office behind me, well aware that it was a second too late to muffle my outburst. I snarl over my shoulder, muttering under my breath the way my grandma taught me to do when you don’t have anything nice to say. “Cam’s nose is so far up Dad’s ass, he can probably tell what he ate for dinner last night.”

I can’t help that Cameron is the golden child—the oldest, most brilliant, the most like our father and grandfather. Except we all know Cam’s flawed in the worst way possible with a soul-deep scar from the accident that took his wife and left him a single parent.

That’s not something we discuss out loud, even in an empty room under our breath. But Cameron’s ever-present ability to stay in Dad’s good graces and make me come out looking like a hack? That’s fair game.

I throw the report Cameron presented onto my desk, glaring at it as if my brother can feel my anger through its perfectly formatted brilliance. I pace left, glare, then right, sighing as I try to find fault with any detail of his plan. But there’s none. I know it. Cameron wouldn’t have presented it otherwise.

He might be an ass, but he’s a damn good businessman.

The door opens behind me and Zack comes in.

“Fuck off. Not now.”

Considering he’s my best friend, he doesn’t take the slightest offense. Nor does he listen. Instead, he walks in like he owns the place. He doesn’t even work here, and the meeting for our private real estate company is supposed to be over dinner tonight, so he shouldn’t even be here.

Not that anything like that has ever stopped him. I don’t think Zack has met a single obstacle in his life that he didn’t tackle with single-minded, obstinate determination. Or steel balls, whatever the case may call for.

“Whoa, who pissed in your grits this morning?”

His humor makes me even angrier. Launching in without preamble, I inform him, “Cameron did a big-ass, full-court presentation today. I had no idea he was even working on anything, but then he goes and throws out a whole business plan with plotted out progress points and fully developed return on investment figures like he shit it out after his morning Metamucil.”

I wave a hand at the report on my desk, shooting it another sour look for good measure. I hope Cameron feels the glare like a solid kick to his family jewels. Not that he fucking needs them. He’s head-down, focused on work or his daughter, twenty-four-seven. I’d be surprised if he ever distracts himself with something as frivolous as jacking off.

Zack picks up the paperwork and helps himself to one of the chairs in front of my desk, flipping pages as he scans to get the gist of Cameron’s new grand plan. “Venture capital?” he surmises as he throws it back to the desk carelessly.

“Yeah, some hotshot chef’s opening a restaurant. Somehow, the damn thing already has a waiting list before they’ve even begun construction. It’s a ‘sure bet’, or at least Cam thinks so.” I add finger quotes to make sure Zack understands how idiotic this proposal is. I would never admit it, but I’m pouting.

Normally, I’d be laughing that he brought in an investment into a restaurant because generally, they’re risky, but I’ll admit this is gold. But only to myself, not to Zack.

My grandfather began the family business decades ago with a profit-sharing deal with a friend, and it’s grown exponentially since then. We have our well-manicured fingers in business deals around the globe, in everything from real estate to stock markets to small start-ups to portfolio management.

We’re the archangels of angel investors. Anything we can do to make money, or make someone else money, which in turn also makes us money, is our specialty. And in a business that traditionally has more misses than hits, we have a remarkable ‘batting average’.

Because of deals like Cameron’s Hottie McHottie chef.

I also have a side hustle business with Zack, using my funds and his brains. Not that he doesn’t have money or I don’t have a brain, but we started it long ago when my focus was on making my way in the family business and he needed an influx of start-up cash.

Zack holds up his hand, rubbing his fingertip against his thumb. “Want me to play you a sad song on a tiny violin the size of your teeny-tiny dick? You can cry your whiny tears ’til you blow snot bubbles out of your nose.” His voice is gratingly pitying as though I’m a fussy toddler demanding their way.

“My dick is not teeny-tiny,” I correct, focusing on the most important part of what he said and purposefully ignoring the rest as I plop into the chair next to him.

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