Mine to Keep (Southern Wedding #8) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Forbidden Tags Authors: Series: Southern Wedding Series by Natasha Madison

Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)


It wasn’t hard for me to walk away from my family without looking back—the time had come for me to live for myself.
New city. New job.
My new boss? He’s gorgeous.
It’s too bad that handsome face is wasted on such a condescending prick.
He hates me, and the feeling is mutual.
The only reason he may not be the literal devil is because he’s a devoted single dad, making it clear Caine is, in fact, capable of human emotion.


I’m good at two things:
1. Raising my daughter to be strong and independent.
2. My job.
When my new assistant walks into the office, I become good at ignoring her. She’s sassy. Smart. Beautiful.
Much younger and off-limits for more reasons than I can count.
That doesn’t mean I want her any less.
She hates me—but as each day goes by, it’s harder and harder to remember why I hate her too.

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


Dearest Love,

Boy, has love been busy.

Every single time I turn around, I see two people falling in love.

It’s amazing and magnificent.

Unless you are Grace and Caine, who think their time for love has come and gone.

He’s a divorced father.

She’s just starting to live her life.

And they just found out they will be working together.

Can they survive without killing each other?

Only time will tell.


Love NM



“This is it,” I tell myself as I press the button to turn the car off before grabbing my keys and pulling the handle to open the door. The hot, humid air hits me right away as I put one foot down on the gravel and dust on the side of the road.

I slip my phone into the back pocket of my jean shorts as I turn to look at the house where I spent so much of my childhood. Scratch that, it’s the house where all of us spent most of our childhoods. It was like the foundation of our lives. The thought makes my heart squeeze just a touch, but I push it away. I smile when I look toward the back of the house, where I see the big fields. The sound of kids running and screaming fills the air. People stand around in groups talking to each other. The smell of the barbecue hits my nose as I make my way from the front of my house to the back.

As soon as I round the corner, I see there might be over a hundred people here today, which is the normal every Sunday lunch at my great-grandparents’ farm. It started with just the family, and then the workers were invited, which then led to anyone who was in town and had nothing to do could come on over and have a place to be.

I spot my cousins sitting around a white plastic table, laughing at something that one of them said. I quickly do a scan of the yard, knowing the first people I have to go say hello to are my great-grandparents, who sit at another round table talking to a couple of friends of theirs. My great-grandmother Charlotte sits beside my great-grandfather Billy, who always has his arm draped around her chair. I even know his thumb caresses her shoulder. His cowboy hat sits on his head. In all my twenty-four years, I’ve seen him without his hat maybe two times, three at most.

I zigzag through the people, smiling as I make my way toward the table. “Hi,” I greet them when I get close enough. My great-grandmother looks up at me, her light-green eyes lighting up even more when she sees me.

She puts her hands together before holding them up for me to bend and give her a kiss. “Sweetheart.” She calls me by my nickname, but truth be told, all the girls are called sweetheart. My cousin Audrey says it’s because there are so many of us, and she can’t keep up anymore. “You came.”

“Of course, I came.” I lean down to hug her and kiss her on the cheek. “Wouldn’t miss this on my last day.” I smile at her as I see the tears form in her eyes. “No crying.” My voice is tight as I blink away the tears starting to form.

“Come here, girl,” my great-grandfather says, and I walk around to his side of the chair. He holds out his hand to me, and I grab it. This same hand held mine when I said I was ready to ride the horse by myself, but shocking, I was wrong. He knew even then, and instead of just leaving me, he held it like a vise. “You going to ride Daisy Bean before you leave?” He asks me about my horse.

“Yup,” I answer, looking around for my dad. “I promised Dad I would go on one more ride before I leave town and ship out to war.” I wink at him as he laughs.