Cole McCade – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Cole McCade – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Wed, 08 Sep 2021 08:19:35 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Cole McCade – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 His Cocky Prince (Undue Arrogance #3) Read Online Cole McCade http://www.ilovenovels.com/his-cocky-prince-undue-arrogance-3-read-online-cole-mccade Wed, 08 Sep 2021 08:01:30 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/his-cocky-prince-undue-arrogance-3-read-online-cole-mccade Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance, Romance Authors: Cole McCade Series: Undue Arrogance Series by Cole McCade
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Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 123873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 619(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	His Cocky Prince (Undue Arrogance #3)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Cole McCade
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B099KP928L
Book Information:
What happens when the Prince of Romance...meets an actual prince? For decades, Brendan Lau has swept the Hollywood scene as an openly gay actor starring in romantic films — but now, at 51, he's losing out on leading roles to younger actors. And when he's passed over as the hero in a sprawling period film and instead cast as the father, it's less his reputation and more his pride that can't take the insult. But when he confronts the younger actor who stole his part... Brendan walks right in on Cillian Tell struggling to fend off the director's aggressive — and unwanted — advances. For 29-year-old Cillian, Brendan's more than a knight in shining armor. He's the reason Cillian fell in love with acting in the first place, and fought to find a place in Hollywood. But the real Brendan is nothing like his debonair heroes or the charming, reserved image he presents on the red carpet; he's arrogant, domineering, grumpy, and entirely set in his obstinate ways. There's no doubt in Cillian's mind that Brendan's a straight-up a-hole. There's also no doubt that Cillian needs him. Cillian can't stand to lose his first role in a major feature film. Brendan can't stand the idea of working with a sleazy director. Yet when Cillian begs him to silence, Brendan agrees to keep his secrets — and stays on set to remind the director, Oliver Newcomb, to keep his hands to himself. But somehow Brendan's role as Cillian's guardian and even mentor turns into something else, when Cillian confesses a taboo kink he can only practice with someone he trusts. Brendan just may be the perfect lover of convenience...and is definitely the fake boyfriend Cillian needs to maintain his public image. But what happens when Cillian starts to fall for the heart beneath the grouch? And what happens when Brendan discovers Cillian's royal lineage...and how short the leash on his career might be?
Books in Series:	Undue Arrogance Series by Cole McCade
Books by Author:	Cole McCade

CONTENT WARNING

AS ALWAYS, BEFORE YOU BEGIN reading one of my books I’d like to make sure you’re informed of any triggers that may be inherent in the story and that may affect you. Please take these to heart; I don’t list them lightly, and if they’re mentioned you can assume that regardless of degree, if the subject is triggering to you it will likely be triggering in this story. Content warnings for His Cocky Prince include:

A May/December relationship with a very clear power imbalance not just by age, but by social and celebrity status + worldly experience.

A relationship centered around consenting non-consent kink, also known as non-consent roleplay and rape play. Please be aware that this is a central thread in their sexual relationship, and if this kink bothers you, you probably should stop here.

Depiction of an attempted cis male on cis male sexual assault against a main character, involving abuse of power, money, and industry influence to attempt to coerce compliance and secrecy. Note: this is depicted from the victim’s POV at the very start of chapter two. The attempt is interrupted before anything physical beyond intimidation takes place, but you may still wish to be warned before encountering this. I very specifically made this more of an attempt than any successful assault both for the sake of the reader and because I don’t like using sexual assault as a plot device (more on this in the afterword), but even the attempt can be traumatic for some, as it also very clearly upsets the target/victim. Please be aware that the attempt is not perpetrated by the other MC/love interest. All non-con interactions between the two main characters are in the context of willing, consenting kink roleplay with negotiated boundaries and limits.

Discussion of a male director’s secret/whisper network reputation in Hollywood for inappropriate sexual behavior and assault, a la Harvey Weinstein.

Depiction of the aftermath of a physical assault, portrayed in such a way as to give the brief misconception that the injuries are a result of the continuation of the previously interrupted sexual assault.

Repeated threats of violence and physical harm by a main character against/toward a serial sexual offender.

A main character having a brief trauma reaction/flashback in a sexual situation.

Self-referential use of a misogynistic slur congruent with gay slang (b**ch).

Intimations of a violent temper in a main character (this is later addressed in a discussion about perception vs. actuality, but the early conversations/inner narrative about this might make some uncomfortable).

“Daddy” jokes in an age gap relationship that does not involve Daddy/little or age regression, but that may still evoke those associations.

Discussions of limits and boundaries in RACK sex (even if it’s not explicitly called that in the story).

Multiple scenes of explicitly penetrative cis male/cis male sex without condoms and with exchange of bodily fluids.

Multiple sex scenes involving either rough, violent consenting sex or consenting non-con roleplay sex involving choking, force, threats, pain, pantomimes of refusal, depicted fear and pain reactions, etc.

Mentions of homophobia faced by queer actors in Hollywood.

A side character self-identifying as a fujoshi and engaging in what’s basically real-person slash in the story. It’s tolerated with humor and it’s mostly me being cheeky about shite (RPS actually bothers me quite a bit), but just in case the warning’s there.

Mention of an animal hunted and killed in fictional media.

Mention of anti-Asian racism in Hollywood and in other contexts.

A main character kinkshaming and victim-blaming himself, associating kink with fault for his assault.

Mention of date rape drugs (roofies).

Mention of vomiting (not depicted or described in detail).

A shitty character shaming a main character for his kink and blaming him for his own assault.

Use of sexually exploitative materials as blackmail.

Pain as a sexual response factor/kink/aphrodisiac.

Depiction of main characters engaging in casual/dining/recreational drinking.

Hair-pulling.

Choking.

Knifeplay.

Passing mention of drug and sex addiction.

Scenes of intentional verbal taunting and sex-shaming as part of kink pleasure (verbal humiliation kink, including use of the words filthy, dirty, and sl*t).

Consenting simulations of violent/forced oral sex.

Fixation on bodily fluids in a kink context.

A situation with ongoing emotional and professional/occupational abuse from a serial harasser.

Depiction of a highly controlling parent.

Mention of illnesses involving photosensitivity and seasonal affective disorder.

Acceptance of death while deep in a (fictional, story-within-story) character's POV in a way that may imply suicidal ideation.

Reference to Armie Hammer.

Mention of parental death from old age.

Many of these may not seem like triggers to you, but everyone is different and what may be nothing to you may bring up deeply painful memories or trauma for others. Ignore the ones that don’t apply to you, take heed to the ones that do, and walk away from the book if you need to. I’ll say what I always say, and always will say time and time again:

Take care of yourselves, loves.

-C

READING NOTE

THE ISLAND COUNTRY OF SCLATA is a fictional location created for the purpose of the story and is not meant to resemble any existing nation, national identity, or royal family. The northern California town of Asherville briefly mentioned in the story is also fictional.

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Just Like This (Albin Academy #2) Read Online Cole McCade http://www.ilovenovels.com/just-like-this-albin-academy-2-read-online-cole-mccade Sat, 28 Nov 2020 19:44:00 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/just-like-this-albin-academy-2-read-online-cole-mccade Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance Authors: Cole McCade Series: Albin Academy Series by Cole McCade
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Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Just Like This (Albin Academy #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Cole McCade
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	1488076936 (ISBN13: 9781488076930)
Book Information:
Rian Falwell has a problem. And his name is Damon Louis. Rian’s life as the art teacher to a gaggle of displaced boys at Albin Academy should be smooth sailing—until the stubborn, grouchy football coach comes into his world like a lightning strike and ignites a heated conflict that would leave them sworn enemies if not for a common goal. A student in peril. A troubling secret. And two men who are polar opposites but must work together to protect their charges. They shouldn’t want each other. They shouldn’t even like each other. Yet as they fight to save a young man from the edge, they discover more than they thought possible about each other—and about themselves. In the space between hatred, they find love. And the lives they have always wanted… Just like this.
Books in Series:	Albin Academy Series by Cole McCade
Books by Author:	Cole McCade

Chapter One

Rian Falwell had a problem.

And that problem was currently staring at him through a messy tangle of black hair, from beneath a brow dotted with gleaming beads of sweat that—beneath the glassy afternoon light streaming through the windows—turned to glistening motes of amber against dusky brown skin.

Honestly, if Damon Louis was going to come barging into Rian’s studio like this...

He could at least have the decency to wear a shirt.

The P.E. teacher took up far too much space inside the tiny cubicle of a studio, his shoulders so broad they had almost touched both sides of the door frame as he’d stalked inside. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of the gym, with his wide, sculpted, scar-rippled chest glazed in a sheen of sweat and a pair of loose black track pants hanging off his hips, the elastic waistband barely clinging to the narrow line cut below his iliac crest. His shoulder-length tumbles of dark hair clumped together, completely drenched, droplets dangling from the tips.

But as overheated as Damon looked?

His dark brown eyes were completely cold—glossed to reflective ice as he folded thick, brawny arms over his chest and took a slow look around the cluttered space of Rian’s studio.

Rian could track the line of his gaze—starting with the gloppy pile of clay on his pottery wheel; a pile that would eventually become a vase, but right now was just misshapen lumps of gray.

Then to the thin sheets of handmade papyrus parchment drying on a clothesline strung across the room, pulped and pressed from the fallen early autumn leaves of the trees around Albin Academy, an experiment Rian had been quite pleased with when it resulted in fine paper with a green-gold translucent fragility, flecked with bits of brown from the leaves’ veins and stems.

Next, the many half-finished canvases propped about on their easels, slashed with angry, bold strokes of paint in abstract designs.

The anatomical diagrams pinned to the walls.

And the extra large sketchbook left open on his worktable, displaying loose, light sketches of male bodies in motion, focused on capturing the flow of sinew in the turn of the waist, the tightening of an arm as it drew back, the extension of the body and curve of the spine during a long, lazy reach.

Damon’s eyes lingered longest on that one, his dark, expressive brows rising fractionally, almost mockingly—and Rian’s face burned.

All of these were his personal projects, all unfinished, but still things he put everything he had into.

So why was this stone-faced, unsmiling jerk standing here looking over them like he was about to assign Rian a failing score?

What was he even doing here at all?

Those dark brown eyes snapped back to him as if Damon had somehow heard the question snarling in the back of Rian’s mind.

“So,” Damon drawled, and Rian realized this was the first time he’d actually heard Damon speak in his three years at Albin Academy, rather than noncommittal affirmative mutters during staff meetings. His voice was deep, raw, gritty, with a subtle pull to it that didn’t quite seem to echo typical New England accents around Massachusetts. “I thought this was some kinda broom closet. Chambers and Walden know you’re using it for...” He tilted his head. A damp ripple of hair fell across the refined sharpness of his cheekbone, the tip practically licking at the corner of his wide, full, stern-set mouth. “...this?”

Rian tensed.

More at the implied scorn dripping from this than at the fact he’d been...uh...

Caught using school grounds for unauthorized purposes.

He doubted Principal Chambers and Assistant Principal Walden would particularly care. Especially when Rian had been using the storeroom as a studio since he’d been hired, and no one had really noticed—though considering Lachlan Walden had only been hired last semester, the assistant principal had more things to worry about than one rogue art teacher moving a few brooms.

So Rian drew himself up, lifting his chin as he reached for the wet rag hanging from the edge of his wheel and began wiping the thick patina of clay from his hands, peeling off the cold, clinging layer.

“My broom closet,” he said firmly. “Attached to my classroom. I’m allowed to use it as I deem necessary as long as it’s for educational purposes.”

This...counted...technically.

He was the art teacher.

He couldn’t exactly teach his students if he was out of practice himself, but there wasn’t space for a studio in the tiny shared faculty apartments—and considering he was expected to be on campus as an RA even when he wasn’t teaching, renting a studio down the hill in town wasn’t particularly optimal. Not...that he thought...a town as small as Omen would even have many spaces for rent, but...well...

He’d made do.

Especially since on top of being Walden’s subordinate?

Rian was also his roommate.

And Walden was a bit of a neat freak.

What business was it of Damon’s, anyway? Especially when the man was just looking at Rian, his lips twitching faintly as if Rian had said something absurdly funny. Rian scowled and turned away from the wheel to cross to the little janitorial sink against the wall, using the mostly-clean underside of his wrist to nudge the faucet on so he could thrust his fingers under the cold spray and scrub the last of the clay away.

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Just Like That Read online Cole McCade (Albin Academy #1) http://www.ilovenovels.com/just-like-that-1-read-online-cole-mccade Sun, 16 Feb 2020 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/just-like-that-1-read-online-cole-mccade Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Authors: Cole McCade Series: Albin Academy Series by Cole McCade
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	(Albin Academy #1) Just Like That
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Cole McCade
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	1488076294 (ISBN13: 9781488076299)
Book Information:
Carina Adores is home to highly romantic contemporary love stories featuring beloved romance tropes, where LGBTQ+ characters find their happily-ever-afters. Summer Hemlock never meant to come back to Omen, Massachusetts. But with his mother in need of help, Summer has no choice but to return to his hometown, take up a teaching residency at the Albin Academy boarding school—and work directly under the man who made his teenage years miserable. Professor Fox Iseya. Forbidding, aloof, commanding: psychology instructor Iseya is a cipher who’s always fascinated and intimidated shy, anxious Summer. But that fascination turns into something more when the older man challenges Summer to be brave. What starts as a daily game to reward Summer with a kiss for every obstacle overcome turns passionate, and a professional relationship turns quickly personal. Yet Iseya’s walls of grief may be too high for someone like Summer to climb…until Summer’s infectious warmth shows Fox everything he’s been missing in life. Now both men must be brave enough to trust each other, to take that leap. To find the love they’ve always needed… Just like that. In Just Like That, critically acclaimed author Cole McCade introduces us to Albin Academy: a private boys’ school where some of the world’s richest families send their problem children to learn discipline and maturity, out of the public eye. This book is approximately 65,000 words. One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!
Books in Series:	Albin Academy Series by Cole McCade
Books by Author:	Cole McCade

Chapter One

Albin Academy was on fire.

Summer Hemlock saw the plume of smoke before he saw the school itself—just a thick coil of black puffing up into the cloud-locked sky, spiraling above the forest of thin, wispy paper birches that segregated Albin from the rest of the town. He ground his rental car to a halt at the foot of the hill and clambered out, staring up the winding lane...then over his shoulder, at the clustered handful of shingle-roofed houses and stores that barely qualified as a town.

No sign of alarm from the Omen police department. No fire trucks lighting up and screaming out into the streets.

With a groan, Summer thunked his forehead against the top of the Acura’s door.

Business as usual at the boarding school, then.

He guessed seven years away hadn’t changed a thing.

He climbed back into the Acura and sent it coasting forward once more, struggling with the gear shift on the steep hill and the narrow lane that crawled its way up the slope. Thin fingers of branches kissed their tips across the road to create a tunneled archway, a throat that spilled him from the lane and into the academy’s front courtyard.

He remembered, as a boy, walking up this lane every morning as the only local who attended the academy, the thick layer of mist that seemed a staple of Massachusetts mornings coming up to his shoulders, making his uniform cling to him damply. He’d always been a little scared, on those walks. Something about the fog, the thin black trees, the silence of it, where he could hear his own lonely footsteps on the pavement and imagine them echoed back by some strange ghost in the woods.

Maybe the ghost of Isabella of the Lake, the drowned girl who haunted the rowing pond behind the school.

Or maybe just his imagination, chasing him with all the fears he hadn’t been able to face.

At the moment, though, he was driven less by fear and more by resigned curiosity as he forced the Acura to make the steep ascent. By the time he pulled into the courtyard, the plume of smoke had turned into a brooding cloud hovering over the school, wreathing its pointed spires in ominous black. Most if it seemed to be coming from one upstairs window in the front west tower, the pane pulled up to let the smoke escape.

The entire courtyard was crowded with teenage boys, all of them lounging about in loosely knotted groups. They wore ennui like cologne, draping it around them as casually as their expensively tailored uniforms—and utterly uninterested in both the burning school, and the harried-looking teachers trying to shepherd them away from it.

Maybe Summer was a little weird.

Because the chaos of it was a familiar, bittersweet ache of homecoming, and it made him smile.

He stole an empty parking slot, cut the engine, and slipped out to weave through the crowd, holding his breath against the stink of chemical fumes on the biting early spring air. As he pulled the front door open, a severe-looking man in a navy blue suit—someone new, Summer thought, no one he recognized—reached for his arm.

Without even thinking, Summer stepped back out of pure instinctive habit, pulling out of arm’s reach and edging past the man.

Until he was forced to stop, as the man stepped in front of him, blocking the door.

“Excuse me, sir.” The man looked at him coldly through half-rim glasses. “Visitors are not allowed at the moment. In case you can’t see, we’re in the middle of an emergency.”

Summer smiled, not quite meeting the man’s eyes. It made him uncomfortable, always, this feeling like people were crawling inside his skin with a single stare—but most never noticed that he was looking right over their shoulders, instead. “It’s okay,” he said. “I work here. And I’m used to Dr. Liu’s explosions. I’m just gonna grab a fire extinguisher and help.”

The man just blinked at him, cocking his head with a quizzical frown.

So Summer stole his opportunity and slipped inside, just barely managing to squeeze past the suit-clad man without touching.

He barely had a moment to register the disorienting feeling of familiarity—as if he’d traveled back in time, back to that rawboned thin pale boy he’d been, walking into the eerily quiet, high-ceilinged entry chamber of dark paneled wood and tall windows with his shoulders hunched and head bowed—before he vaulted up one side of the double stairway, taking the steps two at a time, and dashed for the northwest wing. The smell of bitterly acidic smoke led him on, beckoning him through vaulted corridors where the air grew thicker and thicker, until the murk fogged everything gray and stung his eyes.

Coughing, he pulled the collar of his button-down up over his mouth, breathing through the cloth and squinting. Just up ahead, he could barely make out a few shapes moving in the hallway—but a familiar voice rang down the hall, low and dry and authoritative, this thing of velvet and grit and cool autumn nights.

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His Cocky Cellist Read online Cole McCade (Undue Arrogance #2) http://www.ilovenovels.com/his-cocky-cellist-2-read-online-cole-mccade Fri, 15 Sep 2017 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/his-cocky-cellist-2-read-online-cole-mccade Genre: BDSM, Erotic, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance Authors: Cole McCade Series: Undue Arrogance Series by Cole McCade
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	His Cocky Cellist (Undue Arrogance #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Cole McCade
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B07JYB9GXV
Book Information:
One night. One contract. One kiss, and Victor Newcomb will never be the same. By age 24, Vic has accomplished more than most men achieve in a lifetime. Since childhood he's tried to be the perfect son, the perfect executive, the perfect heir—and as next in line for the throne of his father's multibillion dollar textile empire, he's made his life entirely about discipline and control. But he doesn't know what discipline truly means—until he meets Amani Idrissi. University student. Part-time masseuse. Cello virtuoso. The serene, reserved Moroccan American femme fascinates Vic with his cool allure, changing everything Vic thought he knew about power, about control, about his own sexuality. Yet when cello lessons turn into a business deal of an entirely different nature, Vic quickly realizes he'll pay anything for the chance to see Amani again. To submit to his touch. To discover the complete and utter freedom in giving up control. But the deeper Vic falls headlong into love, the more he realizes he doesn't know Amani at all. Secretive, withdrawn, Amani seems determined to keep their relationship strictly business. Even if Vic can see the quiet hurts, the old wounds hiding behind those dark, enticing eyes... How far will he have to go, to win the love of his cocky cellist?
Books in Series:	Undue Arrogance Series by Cole McCade
Books by Author:	Cole McCade Books

CHAPTER ONE

VIC NEWCOMB LAY WITH THE grass of Prospect Park tickling between his spread fingers and tangling in his hair and scratching at his ears, while overhead clouds scudded across a sky as blue and hard as a marble. Summer heat baked through his waistcoat and shirt, until he was a potato crisping in its jacket and sweat trickled down the back of his neck, seeping under his collar.

At least, he hoped it was sweat and not a particularly enterprising ant, beetle, or other nasty little creepy-crawly that was ninety percent exoskeleton and one hundred percent skittering horror.

“This,” he said flatly, “is not working.”

At his side, Ash laughed, light and carefree. He tilted his head back against the grass, glancing over at Vic, blue eyes sweetly merry. Little shit looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, when he should be a complete stressed-out mess trying to manage the global megacorporation his father had handed him just months ago.

Then again, why would Ash be stressed when the bloody behemoth of a valet—currently sitting rigidly on a nearby park bench—did all of the worrying for him?

Rolling over onto his side, Ash propped himself up on one elbow; shaggy black hair fell across his face. “You just don’t know how to relax properly.”

“I can’t relax when Forsythe fucking glares daggers at me if I get half an inch too close to you.”

“He’s possessive.” More than possessive, from the way Ash flushed, his smile turning shy. “He’s like that with everyone.”

“He knows me. He’s known me my whole life. And he knows I’m straight, and not interested in shagging my shiftless, irresponsible sod of a best friend.” Vic leaned in and pressed his fingertip to Ash’s nose. “So tell him to cut it the hell out. Bastard’s going to hex me, glaring like that.”

Ash crossed his eyes, then pulled back, laughing again and flopping down into the grass once more. “I’m not shiftless or irresponsible.”

“Yes, you are. Forsythe just helps you hide it.”

“Hey!” Ash’s shoulders shook with repressed laughter. “I take offense to that.”

“You don’t, because you know it’s true.”

“…only a little true.” Ash’s laughter trailed into a sigh. “But it’s not so bad being a little irresponsible, Vic. It’s the only way to keep from falling apart, when you do what we do.”

“I don’t have the time.” Vic stared up at the sky, lacing his fingers together over his stomach. “I shouldn’t be here. I’ve got six different board meetings this week, and—”

“—and six different prescriptions for hypertension, and if your doctor said if you don’t slow down you’re going to kill yourself before you’re thirty.” Ash shifted enough to bump his elbow against Vic’s arm. “I’m not really ready for you to die, asshole.”

“Then stop trying to bore me to death out here staring at the sky. What am I watching for, contrails?”

Ash let out an exaggerated groan. “No appreciation for nature at all.”

“A cultivated patch of grass in the middle of New York City is not ‘nature.’”

“You’re not the only one on a tight schedule. I don’t exactly have time to drag you out for a relaxing drive in the country.” With a snort, Ash sat up, leaning back on his hands and squinting up at the sky. “So if a day in the park isn’t your thing, what is?”

“I’m supposed to have a thing?”

“Everyone has a thing. Something that relaxes them. For me, it’s my horses. Managing the farm is work and I only get to do it on weekends, but it takes my mind off the company and lets me slow down.”

Vic grimaced. The warm affection in Ash’s voice when he spoke of that ridiculous bloody horse farm he’d just up and bought one day out of the blue… Vic wasn’t certain he’d ever had anything like that. “What do most people do to relax?”

“Um…go shopping. Go on vacation. Local tourism. Party. Get drunk. Fuck around. Take spa days.”

“What about spa hours? I can’t take an entire effin’ day off.”

“You could if you wanted to. You just don’t want to.” Ash chuckled. “Tell you what. I know this really great masseuse who can turn anyone into a puddle in less than an hour. If I book you an appointment with him, will you go?”

“Maybe.” Wrinkling his nose, Vic sat up and brushed his fingers through his hair, then plucked a blade of grass from his waistcoat. “So being a layabout for an hour while some bloke feels me up is supposed to be relaxing?”

Ash’s brows wiggled. He fished his phone from his pocket and started tapping away. “Sure as hell worked for me.”

“Not all of us cap our ambitions at being the town flirt.” He flicked Ash’s arm, then sighed, leaning on one hand. “Fine. I’ll go. I might have an hour free next week—”

“You’re booked in forty-five minutes.”

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His Cocky Valet Read Online Cole McCade (Undue Arrogance #1) http://www.ilovenovels.com/his-cocky-valet-1-read-online-cole-mccade Thu, 04 May 2017 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/his-cocky-valet-1-read-online-cole-mccade Genre: BDSM, Erotic, M-M Romance, Romance Authors: Cole McCade Series: Undue Arrogance Series by Cole McCade
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Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	His Cocky Valet (Undue Arrogance #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Cole McCade
Language:	English
Book Information:
Ash Harrington's life is out of control. At twenty-three years old, he's suddenly the head of a multibillion dollar global corporation he is in no way equipped to run. His father is dying. His mother's run away. He's spent his entire adult life playing fast and loose with his life and his loves, but when he's dragged into a position of responsibility with the fate of the company on his shoulders, he goes spinning into freefall. And Brand Forsythe is the only man to catch him. Icy, detached, nearly twice Ash's age, the massive monolith of a British valet is impossible to deal with and like no servant Ash has ever met. Domineering and controlling, Brand quickly puts Ash's life in order. And quickly takes Ash in hand. Even if by day Ash has to project authority, leadership, and calm...by night he's discovering the breathless pleasure of giving up control. The shivering thrill of surrendering to Brand. The sweet taboo of being submissive to the man in even the smallest things. Ash can't quite understand why it feels so good to put himself in Brand Forsythe's capable, commanding hands. He only knows, as he faces the hardest decisions of his life...the only thing that can save him is the love of his cocky valet. Author's Note: If you're reading this, you likely know why this book exists. Bask in the petty, my darlings. Bask.
Books in Series:	Undue Arrogance Series by Cole McCade
Books by Author:	Cole McCade Books

CHAPTER ONE

ASHTON HARRINGTON TRULY NEEDED BETTER friends.

Or at least, friends who gave better references. Friends who weren’t trying to ruin his reputation. Friends who weren’t half the reason for his rapidly escalating stress levels. Friends who, at the very least, gave a damn about his ability to function as a human being.

Friends who gave a damn, period.

Perhaps, in this hypothetical universe where he had such friends, he wouldn’t be staring at this flinty-eyed, utterly cold behemoth of a man who stood stiffly before his desk—and apparently thought Ashton was going to give him a job.

Ashton offered a thin, formal smile and lifted a finger. “If you’ll hold a moment, please,” he said, fetched his cellphone from his inside breast pocket, and pushed the third number on his speed dial.

Vic picked up on the second ring; Ashton didn’t have to see his face to know he was grinning from the sound of his voice. “I was waiting for this. Hullo there, Ash.”

Ashton narrowed his eyes. “You ass,” he hissed, then flicked another glance at the motionless man.

His stone-set expression hadn’t changed, lips thinned as if he already disapproved, eyes narrowed behind rimless, reflective glasses. It was like being raked over by one of his old professors, that I don’t know what it is yet, but I know you’ve done something wrong stare that could cut down to the bone, and it made Ashton’s stomach flip.

He flashed a frozen smile, then dropped his voice and spun his desk chair around to face out over the broad glassed-in wall and the glimmering New York City skyline. “I ask you for a PA and you send me—” Conan the Barbarian “—this?”

“I’m telling you. He’s worked for my family for years. Brand’s amazing.” Vic’s cultured British accent made everything he said sound utterly polite and reserved, even when he continued, “Maybe he’ll help you get your shit together, Ash. Something’s got to stop your downward trajectory into pure fuckery.”

“I’m well aware,” Ashton grit out through his teeth. “Hence why I asked you to find me someone. If he’s so amazing, why isn’t he still working for your family?”

“Mum and Dad went back to the old country. Brand wanted to stay. And me, I prefer my personal assistants a little…leggier.” Vic snickered. “Not that Brand couldn’t be absolutely fetching in a short skirt, but I do believe that’s more to your taste than mine.”

“Oh my God, fuck you.”

“Now, now.” Vic clucked his tongue. “Hardly fitting language for the newly anointed heir, now is it?”

“I hate you.”

“You’ll learn to love me again. Give him a shot. You won’t regret it.”

“You’re a liar and an asshole.” Ashton sighed, risking a glance back, peering around his high-backed leather chair. The man—Brand, Brand Forsythe according to the resume on Ashton’s desk—was practically a statue, barely even breathing. “I should go.”

“…he’s standing right there, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

Vic let out a laugh that bordered on a cackle. “Oh my God, Ash. Go. Jesus fucking Christ, you cheeky little bugger. Get your shit together.”

“I’m trying,” Ashton snarled, then slammed this thumb down on the screen and ended the call. Taking a deep breath, he tried to exhale his scowl like smoke, smoothing his expression, forcing a smile—then spun his chair once more.

Forsythe eyed him with one brow lofted as he meticulously adjusted the perfectly, blindingly white cuff of his shirt, just barely visible past the crisp lines of a precisely tailored black three-piece suit. The man was so sharply put together it was as though his edges had been cut out with scissors, the streamlined, graceful flow of his suit giving his bulk taper and trim.

Even if he was still imposing as fuck.

He had to be at least six foot four, maybe more, his shoulders all broad, hard angles tapering down to a narrow waist and long legs. The subtle, quiet grace of his angular features was offset by a stubborn, clean-shaven jaw, the glasses at odds with his brutish body to give him a quiet, formal, bookish appearance made only more severe by the white gloves on his long, graceful hands. The late afternoon sunlight through the office’s windows glinted off his glasses, and gave a subtle gloss to the backsweep of smoothly combed, glossy hair in a muted, soft pale golden brown touched at the temples and scattered throughout with threads of silver.

With deliberated calm, he settled his shirt cuff, refastened his cufflink, then folded his hands together behind his back. His icy regard fixed on Ashton again, dark green eyes cool. “I assume my credentials have checked out, then,” he said smoothly.

Where Vic’s British accent made everything he said sound posh and polite…Brand Forsythe’s accent added a note of cultured, chilly disdain, deep and rolling with lyrical inflections. Ashton flushed, resisting the urge to reach up and pull his uncomfortable suit collar away from his burning-hot neck. That…would probably be a bad idea, anyway.

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