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

Lauren Blakely – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:14:53 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Lauren Blakely – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 It Seemed Like a Good Idea (Darling Springs #1) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.ilovenovels.com/it-seemed-like-a-good-idea-darling-springs-1-read-online-lauren-blakely Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:14:53 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/it-seemed-like-a-good-idea-darling-springs-1-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: Darling Springs Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)

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Grumpy meets sunshine in this charming and hilarious forbidden small town romance from #1 New York Times bestselling author Lauren Blakely!

I really don't need a bodyguard―I run a small-town lavender farm, for bee's sake! But I'm getting one anyway since my identical twin sister just booked the movie role of a lifetime and it's being shot in my hometown. And guess who my new broody, tattooed protector is? None other than the guy I had a one-night stand with last month.

he's the guy with the wicked mouth and heated eyes who ran out on me before the bang without so much as goodbye. And of course he arrives in my tiny hometown where the film is shooting right in the nick of time to save me from the paparazzi at the market. The coffee shop. The dress shop too. I'm trying hard to stay mad after the third time the sexy jerk rescues me.

To top it all off, he's staying in the cottage at my farm. With me. And there's only one bed.
Maybe just one night would relieve all this tension? But one night turns into another, and then into sharing hearts and secrets that are best locked up. Especially since he's leaving and I'm staying, and there's no way we can be more than a summer romance that ends far too soon.

Small town, rom com, grumpy/sunshine, bodyguard, mistaken identity, forbidden romance, only one bed

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

1

ORIGAMI MAN

RIPLEY

“You can’t just leave after dropping news like that on me.”

Seriously. My sister can’t take off yet. Not when I need to make the list of all lists. Hands parked on hips, I stare, slack-jawed, as she zips up her peach suitcase, the color matching her personality.

“You’ve got this, Ripley,” she says breezily as she springs up from the plush carpet, pops the handle of the suitcase some luggage company gave her, and nods to the door, a sign she’s heading off to catch her flight.

I briefly consider flinging myself against the hotel room door and forcing her to stay in this suite till we’ve covered every single detail of the things I’ll have to do in less than thirty days, but when my sister wants something, not even a human shield can stop her.

“But there’s not enough time. Can’t we have more time?” I ask since I’m still flabbergasted at the impossible assignment she wants me to make possible, and I need to process my flabbergast with her.

“Who else but you can take care of things this quickly?” Haven says.

“Quickly?” I know time isn’t Haven’s favorite thing, but quickly is the mother of all euphemisms. She’s asking me to hustle at the speed of a time-lapse video. “I have to get our farm ready to host a film crew in one month? I’m good at doing all the things. Very good, mind you. But I am not that good.”

She stops on the way to the door of the suite she’d booked for this sisters’ getaway weekend and gives me a don’t be ridiculous look. “Yes, you are. This is what you do. All this”—she waves a hand—“kind of stuff.”

“This kind of stuff?” I flick through the memories of, oh, say, my entire life, but nope, not once did I fix up our small-town lavender farm in twenty-eight days for the benefit of a Hollywood film company.

Haven gives me one of those magic smiles that’s impossible to look away from. A smile I can’t even try to mimic when she begs me at get-togethers to do my impression of her—the sweet sister. “You know what I mean,” she says. “Like how you drove me to the audition for that perfume commercial when my car broke down.”

“I didn’t fix your car,” I grumble, remembering that wild day when she said she was so stressed about being late that she was going to pee her pants but at the same time was so excited that she was also going to pee her pants.

Spoiler alert: she did not pee her pants.

But she did get the gig.

She drops her suitcase handle and reaches for my hands. “You fixed me. I wouldn’t be here without you.” She holds my gaze for a weighty beat, and we’re not talking about the car anymore.

Darker memories flash in my mind, and I blink them back. There’s no time for those today—not when I have a farm to whip into shape. The film financing for Someone Else’s Ring—a project she’d been waiting to get the green light on—has officially been finalized. Seems our little farm, more than an hour from the big city, is going to be her co-star, so to speak, as long as I can get her into shape.

“You’re leaving me when I need to figure out this whole thing.”

She squeezes me harder. “You’ll make money on this whole thing, I’m sure. It’ll be exactly what Lavender Bliss Farms needs to show off its rustic charm,” she says, grabbing the handle of her suitcase with a certain finality.

“Oh. It’s definitely rustic. So rustic that I’ll get sued for everything I’m worth if a cameraman’s foot goes through a rotten board.”

“They have, you know, insurance and stuff.”

“Insurance doesn’t prevent you from getting sued. It pays for—” There’s no point in explaining damages. Haven doesn’t need to worry about behind-the-scenes details of running a family flower farm that needs a fork-ton of work.

“It pays for dreams,” Haven says, eyes wide and imploring. “And you know this is a dream come true.”

My hardened heart softens, like it always does for her. “I know. And of course I’ll do it.” We both know I was always going to say yes the second the financing came through. In this case, about, you know, ten minutes ago.

Haven had been biting her nails for weeks, waiting for word on this film, her first big starring role. Someone Else’s Ring, based on the runaway bestseller of the same name, just so happens to be set in a small town, so her agent had pitched the producers on shooting some key scenes on my lavender farm. My little, desperately-in-need-of-a-new-coat-of-paint lavender farm.

But I’ll make it happen. That’s what I do. “Like I can turn you down.”

“Yay! I told my agent a few minutes ago not to worry since you’re the best older sister in the world.”

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The Rival Upgrade Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-rival-upgrade-read-online-lauren-blakely Sat, 28 Feb 2026 17:32:42 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-rival-upgrade-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lauren Blakely Advertisement

Total pages in book: 10
Estimated words: 9060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 45(@200wpm)___ 36(@250wpm)___ 30(@300wpm)

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They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

I say the best way is to get under his rival.

Enter Shaw: smooth, sexy, British—and my ex’s biggest enemy on the ice. What was supposed to be a one-time revenge fling turns complicated when he invites me to his game… and catches me in my lie.

Turns out, nothing turns him on more than payback.

And now I’ve got a hockey player who won’t stop chasing me

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

1

NO BIG DEAL

Camden

Everybody has an annoying trait.

Or three.

And you just have to remind yourself…it’s no big deal.

For my boyfriend, the question he’s asking just happens to be one of those three.

“Hey, babe, where’s my protein powder?”

I look up from the sage-green couch in the living room of my West Village rooftop apartment, where I’m reviewing the final details for the kickoff of my music club next month, and meet Erik’s concerned gaze. He’s a few feet away in the kitchen, his brow a furrowed line digging into his thick forehead as his gaze darts from the blender on my sleek white countertop, then to the cupboard, then to the blender again.

It’s just one of those things—him never remembering where he left his protein powder.

“The cupboard. Above the stove. Where you left it yesterday,” I say helpfully, since there’s no point getting pissy about it.

He shakes his head. “That’s not my whey protein though. I need the whey for muscle recovery. I just worked out,” he says, flipping open another cupboard as he hunts.

“You left more than one type of protein here?” I don’t ask how many types of protein one needs because I can’t bear another conversation about the differences between egg protein and whey protein and who-even-cares protein.

Erik Karlsson is good at a lot of things—being a sweetie-pie and having great stamina—but wowing me with the fine details of his post-workout regimen is not one of them.

“Yes. I leave all my protein here because one, you’re my girl, and two, I come here after the gym. The season starts in a month. We have a shot at the Cup finally, but you can’t be a top defenseman in the NHL without working out hard,” he says, like it’s a gift he marks my place with his tools for getting ripped.

I suppose it’s sweet, in a very Erik Karlsson way.

He yanks open another cupboard when I spot a huge white container on the other side of the stove.

“There it is,” I say, my bracelets sliding down my ink-covered arm as I point to the in-your-face treasure he seeks.

“Damn, babe. Look at you,” he says with a big smile, then stalks over to me, cups my face and declares, “You’re the best.”

“Thanks,” I say to my teddy bear of a boyfriend, then adjust my black strappy tank top.

Erik returns to his protein mission, measuring and dumping powder and spirulina and spinach and other get-bigger-faster this and that into my blender, which I’ll need to fumigate later because…gross. But I can manage that annoying thing too.

It’s not a big deal, like the other things aren’t a big deal.

When he’s finally done, he points finger guns at the appliance. “Kapow,” he says. To no one. Or maybe himself.

Okay, fine, that’s another annoying thing. Actually—make that two, if we’re counting both the finger guns and the talking to himself.

Like he’s doing right now as he mutters, “Gotta have better stats than Coleman this season.”

Right, right. That’s his rival. The guy on the other New York team that he’s obsessed with. He can’t stand the fact that some other player makes more money, was picked ahead of him in the draft, and has more points.

But I’m doing my best to ignore both the finger guns and the muttering as I email the general manager for Goddess, the new club that I funded with the proceeds from my platinum album, letting her know the plans for the launch are not only approved but that they’re goddess-level beautiful.

When I close my laptop, Erik’s lounging against the counter, downing some of his shake—a white, milkshake-y line above his lip. His phone buzzes on the coffee table, and he lowers the tumbler. “Oh! Can you grab that? My agent’s booking an interview for me on a lifestyle show,” he says, lips curving in a satisfied grin. “You don’t see Coleman getting those opps, do you?”

I smile placatingly. “No idea.”

“You don’t, babe. Because your boyfriend is the hottest fucking commodity. Especially since sports talk gurus are saying the New York Red Hawks are going to go all the way this season.”

Okay, that’s a little annoying too. The way he’s his own hype man. But I ignore that as well, grabbing his phone as I pop up from the couch, then I startle. Blink. Stare.

The hair on my neck stands on end. What the hell is this on his screen?

A photo from the neck down of a woman in a red-lace baby-doll nightie with a demi-cup bra? Next to a bunny avatar and captioned with the words: Are we on for tonight?

My smile disappears. I grip his phone so tightly I could break it. “Does your agent want you to wear some sexy lingerie for the interview, Erik?”

His tongue pauses mid protein-mustache lick. Oh shit flashes in his blue eyes. He gulps, but his guilt lasts only a few more seconds. He straightens his spine. “Babe. I can explain.”

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Just Breaking the Rules (Hockey Ever After #1) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.ilovenovels.com/just-breaking-the-rules-hockey-ever-after-1-read-online-lauren-blakely Sun, 01 Feb 2026 09:24:20 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/just-breaking-the-rules-hockey-ever-after-1-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: Hockey Ever After Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >143

Everyone knows the golden rule of business—don’t bang your business partner.
Especially if he’s your brother’s hot-as-sin, hockey-star best friend.

But when the sexy single dad athlete saves me from a cake contest catastrophe—and shows me how good he is with his hands—I blurt out the world’s worst business pitch: Want to invest in my bakery?
With no loan or backup plan, this is my last shot at proving I’m more than my past mistakes, and shockingly, he says yes.
We set one rule: don’t mix business with pleasure.
Except Corbin Knight’s impossible to resist.

When he’s not scoring goals, he’s staying up late with me to test tempting recipes.
Braiding my hair before we bake like it’s foreplay.
Giving me his jersey to wear to games.

I try to keep a professional distance from the bossy, possessive and dangerously flirty hockey player, but soon we’re testing the limits of the kitchen counter.

This bakery is my chance to finally get my life right, so I fight the messy feelings.
Until one night, he shows up after closing and admits he can’t stop thinking about me.

Suddenly I’m ready to break every rule—no matter the cost to our dreams.
And breaking the rules has never tasted so good

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

1

THE LLAMA-KISSING EX

MABEL

What’s more nerve-racking than decorating a delicate heart-shaped cake in front of a few hundred strangers and the world’s most scathing food judge, who’s scrutinizing every swoop of your frosting?

Doing it thirty feet from the big-screen TV where a promo plays of your douchey ex hitting on a fellow reality-show contestant.

I’m not saying the universe has it out for me. But I’m not not saying that either.

I force myself to stop sneaking peeks at the expo’s nearest high-def monitor. I’ve got exactly five minutes to finish my “Hearts and Flutter” cake. The gigantic kitchen timer ticks ominously on the long table, where the final five contestants vie for the cake-decorating prize at Webflix’s Love Is in the Air romance fair. The local expo, right next to the Ferry Building, is to promote their fall slate of new rom-coms and—thanks, universe!—their hit reality dating show starring none other than my annoying ex.

As I position the last baby-pink fondant heart in the cascade of hearts spiraling around the vanilla cake, I’m hoping—no, make that begging the universe—that the publicity of a win here today will help me finally nab the financing I need to open a bakery in San Francisco. The cash prize would help too.

Not a pop-up shop. Not a ghost kitchen. But a real, honest-to-goodness storefront after years of trying and failing.

To take the top prize, I need to impress guest judge Ronnie Legend—the intimidating British celebrity chef whose own baking show can make or break bakers. He’s been stalking my station the whole time, making me sweat.

All that’s left to do is mount a half dozen dainty rice-paper butterflies onto white chocolate sticks, then insert them on top of the cake. The heart-shaped wings are so light they’ll flutter in the breeze for the ultimate aww effect.

With quick, efficient moves, I line up the first butterfly on the edge of the pretty pink cake. Ronnie prowls in front of me, his bald head shining like a cue ball as he emcees the action on the center stage of the expo’s big tent. He speaks into the mic as if he’s narrating a nature documentary: “And now here we have a local pop-up baker attempting the very risky rice-paper butterflies. They take several hours to make at home. One single misstep in front of the crowd could spell disaster for her.”

Gee, thanks. I’m totally not picturing all my painstakingly prepared butterflies wilting in the San Francisco heat now.

I offer the crowd a small smile, and thankfully, Ronnie moves down the table to unnerve the rest of the bakers. I keep my head down and try to concentrate.

Over the course of the contest, the three hundred or so chairs in front of the stage have stayed mostly full, plus there’s a crew from a local TV station streaming the contest. The expo is stuffed with booths hawking merch and goodies, and the huge screens in the aisles run promos of Webflix romance-themed shows. Romance Beach, among others. The sound is turned down, thank god. My ex—or Dax Strong, as he calls himself on TV—dumped me for that show. I don’t want to even accidentally catch a word of it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a man in a dark suit at the edge of the crowd. Big shoulders, broad chest, messy brown hair—something familiar about him catches my attention. Before I can place him, Ronnie’s back, telling the enrapt audience, “This is the do-or-die moment for the butterfly baker. Hold your breath with her.”

A hush falls over the tent, leaving the conversation on the closest monitor the only sound, just as a woman asks Dax why his last relationship ended.

Ignore them, Mabel. Just ignore them.

I do my best as the man I used to live with lounges beachside in a cabana, a garish blue drink in his hand, holding a very intense conversation with the woman on-screen. “The thing about my ex is she’s kind of a hot mess,” he confides.

What the hell? I whip my gaze to the screen as he blathers on about me. “It was easy to choose this opportunity to find love and a real connection, with someone here who seeks success. My ex can’t really get her act together. She’s been chasing her own tail for years now, and we’re just not in the same league. It’s sad, but the breakup was a long time coming. I mean, this is a girl who dreams of making cakes with two llamas kissing on them but doesn’t do a damn thing to make it happen!”

Lies! I don’t put llamas on my cakes. I put llamas on my logo.

Seething, I go back to work, praying no one will connect the self-absorbed reality-show contestant with the self-made baker on the stage. I reach for the final butterfly oh-so casually—too casually for someone who’s just been cruelly mocked on TV.

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The Flirting Game (Love and Hockey #6) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-flirting-game-love-and-hockey-6-read-online-lauren-blakely Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:03:52 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-flirting-game-love-and-hockey-6-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: Love and Hockey Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)

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Revenge was the plan. Falling for the hockey star next door wasn’t.

My new neighbor is a hot, grumpy hockey player who works out shirtless on his porch every morning. But it’s not technically spying if I just happen to be on my patio at the same time … right?

Imagine my surprise when the sexy grouch turns out to be the client who just hired me to redecorate the house he’s giving his mom.

What’s a ray of sunshine like me to do? Pretend I’ve never noticed his abs while we pick out furniture—since I’d never date a client. And Ford’s made it clear this is his final season, and he wants zero distractions.

Which means I need to exercise some serious resistance …

To his cool blue eyes that track my every move.
To that deep voice that makes me shiver.
And to the mouth that shuts me up one night in our shared backyard with a scorching kiss.

We agree it’s a one-time slip-up—until my cheating ex invites me to a party, and Ford insists on being my revenge date. Our fake night out turns into a very real sleepover.

Now the press and fans think we’re a couple, so we keep it up. One fake date at a charity gala turns into another at a hockey game, and somewhere between fabric swatches and porch picnics, I stop pretending.

But how do I convince Ford that with me, he can have both love and hockey?

Tropes: Neighbors to lovers, hockey romance, workplace romance, revenge fake dating, romantic comedy. This is Ford and Skylar's romance!

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

1

SHARING IS CARING

SKYLAR

I’m nosy by nature.

If a couple decides to whisper their grievances across a diner table, I’m going to lean back in my booth and eavesdrop.

If someone’s reading next to me on a plane, I’m going to peek at their screen to see if the hero’s about to evade an assassin, rocket to Mars, or buy a chocolate shop as a gift for his heroine. I’ll take the latter, thank you very much.

And when I spot my brother’s cat in the mudroom with her unblinking green eyes locked on the corner of the yard, I need to know what has caught Cleo’s attention at the same time every morning this week.

I can’t leave well enough alone.

As my coffee works its magic, I peer through the open window leading to the luxurious catio—an enclosed patio for cats—trying to get a read on her target.

But I can’t tell what it is from inside my home. Hopping onto the mudroom cubbies, I adjust my fuzzy pajama bottoms covered in illustrations of martini glasses and a threadbare T-shirt that says, Everything is Fine Here in a font of flames. I poke my head out, taking another drink from my steaming mug, coffee tendrils wafting into the warm October air.

“Sharing is caring,” I tell the feline, but the regal tuxedo is perched on the highest shelf of the catio maze my brother built in his townhome—before he took off for an assignment in Europe six weeks ago and I moved in—and she’s pointedly ignoring me.

After I set my coffee cup at the end of the first cat shelf—like I’d leave my coffee behind—I roll up the cuffs of my pajama pants.

I hoist one leg over the windowsill, brace myself, and haul my ass out. Why didn’t I venture here sooner? This catio is state of the art, with screened walls keeping the kitty safe and an obstacle course of shelves giving her premium vantage points.

The catio is about fourteen feet long and ten feet wide, so I’ve got some distance to cover. Have I mentioned that each shelf along the catio only has about three feet of headroom?

I take a fortifying sip of coffee, then do my best John McClane impression, crawling through the catio like I’m sneaking through heating vents to save Christmas.

I wiggle forward like a caffeine-addicted snake, and finally—finally—I reach Cleo.

Oh. Hello there, hot neighbor.

My eyes pop. My pulse spikes. Hell, my coffee cup sweats.

Cleo is a naughty girl. She’s been staring for a week at an absolutely strapping specimen on the back porch of the house next door. I’ve never seen him before though. Is he a guest? Or does he live there? And if he lives there, why didn’t my brother tell me?

I jerk my gaze away from the vision of well-muscled glory and turn an accusatory stare to my companion. “You were holding out on me,” I whisper, betrayal laced through every word. “Where is the leaning in, girl? I’m seriously disappointed.”

Cleo lifts her haughty chin like she obviously doesn’t care. Well, she doesn’t. The greedy little thing has been keeping the hottie all to herself.

But not anymore.

I sit next to her, take another sip of coffee, and settle in to check out my next-door neighbor properly—or improperly, as the case may be—as he does porch yoga.

Shirtless.

This is the pick-me-up I needed. Earlier this week, I’d lost out on a project I busted my butt to land. The client went with a big corporate design firm instead of little old solo me. This bit of good fortune is the karmic jump-start I need this morning before I get into the badass business-babe zone to meet another potential client this afternoon.

I swing my gaze back to the man. Should I get my binoculars? I have a mini pair inside—well, they’re opera glasses, technically. I found them on an epic thrifting treasure hunt a few months ago. You never know when you might need them. For birds, obviously. I spotted a red-winged blackbird in the yard just last week, and I’m seriously thinking about taking up birdwatching.

But I don’t know how long the show will last, so I stay put. My gaze roams over the well-built man with all those muscles on display. He’s only wearing compression shorts. They’re bright yellow. I don’t love the fashion choice, but given the free view, I can set that aside.

He stands tall, his sturdy arms raised to the sky like he’s trying to touch it.

I swear I can make out every muscle. The biceps, the triceps, the make-my-jaw-drop-ceps.

His hair flops over his forehead with just the right amount of devil-may-care messiness that begs you to run your fingers through it. Are those golden strands woven through his brown hair, or is it just the October sun haloing this Greek god? If I were the sun, I’d shine on him too.

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Merry Little Kissmas – Evergreen Falls Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.ilovenovels.com/merry-little-kissmas-evergreen-falls-read-online-lauren-blakely Wed, 19 Nov 2025 18:27:37 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/merry-little-kissmas-evergreen-falls-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Sports Authors: Lauren Blakely Advertisement

Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >149

Wanted: A fresh shot at love for the holidays. But fake dating my brother’s grumpy best friend? He’s my new client, for Santa’s sake!
As a professional matchmaker, my biggest job this holiday season should be simple: find a date for the sexy single dad hockey player—aka my brother’s best friend—for his team’s fancy Christmas Eve gala.
Sure Rowan’s hot as a crackling fire and spicier than a gingerbread man, but he hasn’t just sworn off romance. The Christmas hater has made a bet that I can’t find him a holidate.
What’s a matchmaker to do?
Win, of course. Even if it means fake dating the grinch myself to get him ready for the real thing.
Only…these fake dates at Christmas tree farms and hot cocoa competitions in the snowy small town of Evergreen Falls start to feel a little too real as I get to know the man behind the scowl. Somewhere between kisses under the mistletoe and a snowed-in night in his cabin curled up by the fire (where the stockings aren’t the only thing hung), I realize I’m in over my elf-loving head.
And when Rowan opens up to me at last about his painful past, I’m determined to give my brother’s best friend the holiday he deserves.
But what if the only gift I want him to unwrap this season is… me?

Tropes: Holiday romance, brother’s best friend, fake dating, grumpy/sunshine, small town, Christmas competition, matchmaker romance, workplace romance

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

1

NUTCRACKER BAN

ROWAN

Two words that should not go together—nut and cracker.

But every November there’s an inundation of that cringey combination. Malls, seasonal decor, and the Nutcracker Auction that I’ve been kicking and screaming to avoid.

Because two other words that don’t play nice? Christmas and me.

I don’t deck the halls, I don’t dash through the snow, and I definitely don’t rock around trees, Christmas or otherwise. Trees are for oxygen, not for smothering with tinsel.

Unfortunately, I can’t stop the calendar or the professional obligations that have brought me to the dreaded Nutcracker Auction once again.

Well, technically, I’ve been dragged to The Resort hotel by two Christmas-loving guys I work with. Tyler and Miles ignored my protests that I’ll be watching the clock the whole time, not the auction. I swore that holly doesn’t make me jolly, but they still insisted I attend. Why have enemies when you can have teammates?

Outside the hotel, the world’s most infernal holiday song blasts its false promise that the season will be only twelve days long and not a torturous month of feral festive-ness.

“What kind of gift even is a partridge in a pear tree?” I ask them as we head up the garland-swagged steps of the hotel in the heart of San Francisco. “And why would anyone want a pear tree? I hate pears.”

With an eye roll, Tyler adjusts his Santa hat. “Of course you do.”

“Do you hate partridges too?” Miles asks, adjusting his red tie, which is covered with illustrations of dogs sporting jingle bells on their collars. “That’s on brand for you, disliking an innocent little bird.”

“No,” I grumble. “Birds are cool. It’s just pears I take issue with.”

“Just pears,” Miles repeats with a chuckle. “If only you hated ‘just pears.’ Your burn book must be as long as Santa’s naughty list.”

I yank open the brass door. “Is this the beginning of your seasonal wordplay?”

“It’s more the beginning of Grinch season, isn’t it?” Tyler asks his brother Miles in a way I’m meant to hear.

We head into the foyer, hung with far too many ornaments and wreaths, which is any number other than zero. “Yeah, well,” I grumble, “the Christmases I’ve had, it’s lucky I’m only a grinch and not something worse.”

The reminder of my ghost of Christmas past earns me a moment of sympathy from my teammates, but it only lasts so long.

“That’s why you’re here with us now, man,” Miles says in an upbeat tone that’s characteristic of the guy. He’s all about the bright side.

“That’s why you’re torturing a teammate who’d much rather be home playing board games with his kid than at a swanky auction rubbing elbows with fancy-ass people?”

“Fancy-ass people also known as our team sponsors,” Tyler points out unhelpfully.

“No need to tell me,” I say. “My agent has done that enough.”

Miles finally answers my question. “We’re here to remind you that Christmas doesn’t have to suck.”

Ah, so that’s their master plan. Too bad I’m out of holiday fucks to spend on what they’re selling.

The lobby is festooned with wreaths, garlands, and twinkling lights, and scented with pine. I bet there’s even mistletoe hanging all over the place, just waiting to trick people into thinking romance and Christmas go together. I’ve got the scars to prove they absolutely do not. “It looks like Christmas threw up in here.”

Miles and Tyler exchange knowing looks.

“Well, it does,” I insist, even though neither brother says anything.

Tyler sighs heavily. “Rowan, are you still trying to wiggle out of this?”

“Yes! Yes, I am. Haven’t I mentioned? I’d rather be⁠—”

They interrupt in unison: “Doing anything else.”

“Oh, so you were listening.” We pass a waterfall sculpture spewing red and green water, two colors that nothing should spew outside of a horror movie.

“We got the message,” Miles says.

“We did,” Tyler echoes. “But now the deed is done.”

We’ve reached the entrance to the auction—a white door with glass etched with snowflakes. Beside it, a shiny brass plaque says, The Snowflake Room.

I stifle a groan and follow the brothers inside, where an attendant hands us numbered paddles. I tuck mine into my back pocket.

“You should bid on something,” Miles says. “The money all goes to charity. Didn’t Jason say that was another benefit of coming here?”

Jason Marlowe is my agent and, more importantly, my best friend since college. I trust him with my career, and, well, my life. But I could have donated without attending.

But like Tyler said, the deed is done. Time to venture into this dragon’s lair.

A holiday party can’t be worse than taking to the ice to fend off an opposing team’s vicious forwards. I train every day to jostle and elbow and, okay, fine, check as many guys into the boards in a game as I possibly can. What’s three hours of holiday-themed auction items and an infinite Christmas music soundtrack?

Miles pats me on the shoulder. “You’ve got this, man. I have faith in you.”

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Most Likely To Score (The Dating Games #4) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.ilovenovels.com/most-likely-to-score-the-dating-games-4-read-online-lauren-blakely Wed, 29 Oct 2025 22:15:28 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/most-likely-to-score-the-dating-games-4-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, New Adult, Sports Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: The Dating Games Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

A sexy new forbidden romance from #1 NYT Bestselling Author Lauren Blakely about a sports star and the woman who's off limits...

It should have been a simple play…

She needed a football player to step up and be the star for a charity calendar. I needed a sharp and savvy publicist to manage a brand-new sponsorship deal. I scratched her back. She scratched mine. And oh hell, did Jillian ever drag her nails down my back on one hell of a hot night. Okay fine, it was several hot nights on the road.

Now we’re back in town and it’s time to set the play clock back to when we were simply player and publicist. Given the way the last few years have gone, I can’t risk this deal, so it's hands off for us once again. Trouble is, I want more than than just another night with her.

What’s a guy to do when he's always been most likely to score, but the woman he’s falling for is just out of bounds?

***

I don't date players. And I definitely don't sleep with players. And I absolutely don't fall for a certain player when I get to know him and learn he's more than just sexy -- he's clever, funny and has a heart as big as his... well, you get my drift.

But my job is at stake, and I can't afford to lose that as well as my heart. The problem is, I think I've already lost that game.

What's a girl to do when the clock is running out, but the man she's falling for is off limits?

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

1

JILLIAN

I’ve always been competitive. In school, in skiing, and definitely in public relations. Add in the fact that I do public relations for a professional football team, and you’ve got the makings of a perfect job for me. I’ll go toe to toe with any of the guys on the gridiron when it comes to having a competitive streak a mile wide.

That’s why this email from Sporting World excites me. In my office overlooking the city of San Francisco, early on a summer morning, every competitive bone in my body lights up as I read: We would love for you to make your pitch for the players to consider for our annual Body Issue. This is one of our most sought-after issues in the magazine. A chance to showcase the glory of the human body in artful poses. We have twelve slots available for athletes.

The last few Body Issues of the world’s most popular sports magazine have featured some of the most iconic photos in sports. World-class athletes in the nude, but angles and shadows covering them up. I’ve never landed an athlete for a cover shot. But maybe I could this year? First though, I’ll have to nab one of the coveted twelve slots before a cover is even an option.

Excitement stirs in me and I pop up from my desk, pacing to the window, staring at the city. I’m imagining our fifty-three-man roster. Picturing different guys posing on the field, or in a studio. I nibble on the corner of my lip as images of the athletes fly past me.

But they keep returning to one in particular.

One charismatic, photogenic man.

I know who’d be best. I’m positive I have just the right guy. I hope my boss agrees though.

I march down the hall to her office. Knock on the door. “Do you have a few minutes? I have an idea to run past you.”

Lily Eckles ushers me in, all red hair, light brown skin, and energy as she gestures to the chair across from her desk. “Of course. Anything for you, Jillian. What’s on your mind?”

I sit nice and straight. “The cover of the Body Issue. I think we can land it if we pitch just the right player for it,” I say, tasting the possibility.

Lily’s eyes light up. “Who do you have in mind? Harlan would be so great,” she says, enthused.

Our running back is a solid choice. “He’s super charming,” I say. With the lush locks and a sunny disposition Harlan would be terrific.

But . . .

“Or are you thinking about our quarterback? Everyone loves Cooper,” Lily adds, clearly enthused, too.

“He’s the city’s golden boy,” I say. After his whirlwind romance with his high school sweetheart last year, he’s captured all the hearts. There are other guys, too.

But there’s one in particular that I have in mind. And I’m about to say his name when a little kernel of worry rises up in me, lodges in my mind. Am I about to pitch Jones Beckett because I’ve had a crush from afar on the wide receiver?

All of a sudden, doubts plague me. I’ve tried valiantly to keep this annoying crush of mine from influencing any of my decisions. But the crush is merely a crush. Nothing will come of it and I can’t let it stand in the way of the right choice. Jones is the best.

“They’re all excellent,” I say confidently. “But with his charisma and charm, Jones Beckett is perfect for it. I’d like to pitch him.”

Her eyes twinkle and her lips spread into a huge grin. “Damn. I should have said him first. You’re right. You’re so damn right.” Then she waves me out. “Go! Make your pitch!”

“Boss’s orders,” I say with a smile, then return to my office and put together a kick ass pitch on why one of the top wide receivers in the NFL would be the ideal candidate.

His smiles last for days. His body is impeccable. Hell, it’s a work of art. And on top of that? He’s just one of those guys that has a certain magic to him. But a picture is worth a thousand words. And I bet I could capture a great one of him. A candid image that would say it all.

I have just the idea. Maybe, just maybe, I can catch him any minute.

2

JONES

That was a hell of a run so far. Five miles across the Golden Gate Bridge, then up into the Muir Woods as the sun rises higher in the sky. Now, I’m about to cross over the bridge when my phone trills.

When I see the caller, I get a little spring in my step and, honestly, in my dick, too. It’s our very sexy, very brainy publicist for the Renegades. AKA the woman I like to flirt with but shouldn’t.

And yet, I still do flirt.

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The Overtime Kiss (Love and Hockey #5) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-overtime-kiss-love-and-hockey-5-read-online-lauren-blakely Mon, 30 Jun 2025 19:08:29 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-overtime-kiss-love-and-hockey-5-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny, Sports Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: Love and Hockey Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >145

Just what every bride dreams of—running straight from her cheating fiancé into the arms of a hot hockey star… and then getting hired as his kids’ nanny.

Tyler Falcon is protective, flirtatious…and frustratingly responsible. We almost did something reckless when he found me alone in my wedding dress, and I blurted out all the things I’d never truly experienced.

Now, the sexy single dad is saving me again with a job I desperately need—and a promise to never mention The Night of 1001 Confessions.

I live in his house. Take care of his kids. Pretend I don’t notice his heated gaze lingering on me after they fall asleep.

Until one night, the tension snaps.

Now we have a deal. Five lessons in seduction. No strings attached.

But he’s not just good in bed. He spoils me with thoughtful gifts and supports my dreams. For the first time, I feel like I belong.

Except…this was never meant to last. I’m his employee. He has kids to protect. And neither of us can afford to make a mistake.

The more nights we spend tangled up together though, the harder it is to pretend it’s just physical. Because I’m not only falling for my boss—I’m falling for the man whose kids have stolen my heart.

Tropes: single dad/nanny, runaway bride, forced proximity, spicy lessons, she's his daughter's skating coach, confession of all secrets, love notes, found family

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

1

I HEAR WEDDING BELLS AND VOICEMAILS

Sabrina

This wasn’t the ceremony we’d rehearsed, but sometimes a bride has to improvise.

I gather the billowing tulle of my dress so it won’t slow my hustle toward the Grand Ballroom of The Luxe Hotel in Lucky Falls. I only stop at the end of the hall to swallow my bridal rage and fasten on a smile while I’m still out of sight.

A glance around the corner shows the poised and polished wedding planner outside the ballroom door with her headset and tablet, directing the preparations like air traffic control.

Tessa is such a consummate professional that I almost feel bad for enlisting her unwitting help in this dastardly measure I’m about to take.

Almost.

Because sometimes revenge is best cooked up in the heat of the moment.

“Psst, Tessa,” I whisper around the corner.

She snaps her blue gaze my way and blinks in surprise. Still, her blonde, news-anchor bob barely moves, and she adjusts quickly, abandoning her post to join me in the more private hallway.

“Sabrina, is everything okay?” she asks quietly. “You’re supposed to be waiting in the⁠—”

“The bridal suite. I know.” I give my best I can’t wait to get hitched face. “But I have a surprise for Chad. I didn’t think I’d be able to find it, but I tracked it down at the last minute.” I point to her iPad. “Can you cue up the MP3 I just sent you? It’s the first voicemail Chad ever left me when he asked me out six years ago. And I know it would make him so, so happy to hear it today,” I say, setting a hand on my heart and leaning in on the hearts and flowers.

“That’s sweet. But are you sure you want to change things up now?”

“Positive.” I don’t want the first arrivals for the wedding that my mother planned—from the cloying all-white flower motif to the interchangeable cast of attendees plucked from the country club brochure—to spot the bride in the tiara and ball gown. I don’t want any witnesses. “But don’t tell a soul. It’s a surprise.”

Please don’t ask any questions. Please don’t play the file first.

If she does, I have a backup plan. I’ll keep my phone tucked inside my white lace bra, ready, if necessary, to hit play on the, well, let’s call it the new bridal march.

Tessa scans her iPad, spots my email, and nods. “Here it is. There’s not much time for changes.” Her crisp tone worries me for a moment, but then she adds, “But this is so nostalgic, delightfully so. How can I resist?”

“That’s us.” Romantic nostalgia is the theme my mother chose for the wine country wedding with its throwback vibe and my old-fashioned dress. And since Mom’s nostalgia is paying Tessa’s bills…

“I’ll have it cued up and ready to go,” she says.

“Right after Madison reaches the front.” Somehow, I say the maid of honor’s name without the sharp edge of anger cutting through my carefully composed calm. “And as soon as I take the first step down the aisle.”

Timing is everything.

“Got it.” Tessa gamely rolls with the change, and…fine, I do feel bad that she’ll be collateral damage.

But then I mentally replay the misdirected voice message I received about an hour ago. The one that sent me through the five stages of romance grief in sixty minutes. I’ve reached a sixth stage now—getting even.

“You’re the best. I’ll leave you a five-star review.” I scurry away, holding onto my tiara to keep it in place. It’s the only thing I actually picked for this wedding, and I love it in all its sparkly outlandishness.

Ten minutes later, I stand at the French doors to the grand ballroom. My heart gallops, but my nerves are steel, conditioned by years of cutthroat ice-skating competitions.

My friends in attendance don’t know the plan either. It’s easier to keep it a surprise if I only trust myself with the scheme.

I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and smile without showing any teeth. I’m next to my father, ready to walk down the aisle and tell the world how I really feel about Chad Huntington.

The groom waits under a crystal chandelier in front of two hundred and fifty guests, with his perfectly coiffed blond hair, his perfectly fitting tux, his perfectly ordained life with this perfect wedding to the daughter of his father’s business partner—a merger of a marriage here in the same town where my dad’s business began.

The maid of dubious honor arrives in front of the rows of chairs, and the music on the ballroom’s sound system fades out, ready for “Pachelbel’s Canon” to start. Instead, the crackle of a voicemail booms.

“Hey, hey, Furby.” Chad’s singsong coo addresses the orange kitten I’ve been fostering for a San Francisco rescue. “Guess what today is?”

I’d been pulling on my sheer, white stockings when I first heard the message. Earlier, Chad had called to make sure my uncle Jay knew to go to the grand ballroom, not the band ballroom. I hadn’t picked up in time, and the call went to voicemail. Chad didn’t realize he hadn’t hung up properly before he started serenading the three-pound orange cutie about our wedding.

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The Girlfriend Zone (Love and Hockey #4) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-girlfriend-zone-love-and-hockey-4-read-online-lauren-blakely Thu, 17 Apr 2025 13:13:01 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-girlfriend-zone-love-and-hockey-4-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Forbidden, Sports Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: Love and Hockey Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >141

In my defense, I had no idea the tattooed, glasses-wearing, soulful hottie I spent one perfect day—and one unforgettable night—with was a hockey star on my father’s team. And Miles didn’t know I was the coach’s daughter.

That’s the point of a “no-work-talk” date.

But now? He's as forbidden to me as I am to him.

When I land a new gig as the team photographer, we vow to keep it professional. We mostly succeed…except for that time after a game when he couldn’t keep his talented hands off me. And, okay, maybe that other time before a road trip. But I swear, it won’t happen again.

Too much is at stake—I can’t risk my heart or my father’s team.

But when I end up living at Miles’s place to care for his pack of rescue pups, the lines blur fast. Late nights turn into stolen moments and I discover there’s more to him than I ever imagined—a man who’s genuine, thoughtful, and irresistibly real.

He looks at me like he can’t believe his luck. Touches me like he never wants to let go. And listens to my hopes and fears.

My heart’s getting dangerously attached. But if I follow it… am I putting everyone’s dreams on the line?

Tropes: coach’s daughter, the one who got away, starts with a bang, second chance vibes, age gap, forbidden hockey romance, forced proximity, workplace romance

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

PRELUDE: WHEN WE MET

Last summer

1

MY FUTURE WIFE

Miles

I didn’t expect to meet my future wife today.

I had other plans. But as she heads toward me in the coffee shop’s doorway, I know that’s who she is.

Maybe the ink on her arms does it—the stenciled flowers cascading down them—or possibly the mesmerizing sea-blue shade of her eyes. But honestly? It’s probably the cute-as-all-get-out smirk she sends my way.

I’d smirk at me, too, considering the spangled and sequined mannequin I’m lugging down Fillmore Street. The full-size feathered headdress is wider than the door, and the espresso cup glued into the dummy’s stiff fingers seems a little weird. No way is my future wife going to realize I’m her future husband with this level of awkward.

But I’m not the kind of guy to let a six-foot-tall faux showgirl get in the way of Fate.

The inked beauty holds open the door to the shop, and I step up to prove that chivalry isn’t dead.

“I’ve got this.” I manage to grab the door with my free hand, opening it wider so she can exit first. Inside the café, Birdie—AKA Grandma—has caught sight of the byplay and watches, eagle-eyed, from behind the counter.

The brunette with the flower tattoos sweeps her gaze over my cargo. “I hope your date appreciates what a gentleman you are,” she teases as she slips past to the street.

“Actually,” I lean in and stage-whisper, “she doesn’t have much to say.” I glance at the mannequin Birdie asked me to bring to her. Well, insisted, really. Be a dear and grab Dolly from the foyer, will you? I need a greeter for the shop.

“Occupational hazard, maybe,” the woman deadpans. “She’s trained to keep smiling no matter what.”

“She does have a hell of a poker face,” I agree, furrowing my brow at Dolly, then meeting the brunette’s eyes again. “I can’t say I know her opinions on anything, really.”

“But maybe that’s what you want in a date?”

“Nope. A good date needs opinions.”

“Oh? Are you a fan of opinions?” She sounds doubtful as she adjusts the sweater she carries. It’s September in San Francisco, which means you never know if it’ll be warm or breezy—or both.

“Love them,” I say definitively, matching her raised brow. “The more the merrier.”

“Noted.” Her tone is playful, the kind of playful that says keep talking.

“In fact, here’s one for you,” I say, leaning in just slightly as I lay the groundwork for asking her out. “The espresso here is excellent.”

“You’re gallant, and you give free hot beverage advice too? Is it my lucky day or what?”

“It’s mine. That is if you want to share some of your opinions with me.”

She takes a beat, likely assessing me with those curious eyes. Then she nods toward the neon menu behind the counter and gives a sly smile. “Here’s one. Coffee drinks are vile.”

“That’s a bold statement to make in a coffee bar.”

She rolls her beautiful blue eyes. “A ‘bold’ statement? Really?”

I grin, delighted that the future Mrs. Falcon has the quick wits and sense of humor to catch that. “What? You don’t like coffee or coffee puns?”

“I like good puns.” Her lips twitch in a sly, bewitching smile.

With my free hand, I clutch my chest melodramatically. “You wound me.”

“I’m made of pure marshmallow fluff when it comes to helping out my grandmother.”

Her brow arches in a playful challenge. “Did you really just drop that helping out a grandma bit to let me know you’re the kind of guy who helps out his grandmother?”

Taking my arm from Dolly’s shoulder I gesture to the inside of the café—a perfect place for a date. It’s pre-season but there’s no hockey practice tomorrow, so why not lock in the chance right now? “Maybe I did. I’d be happy to explain more over a not-coffee beverage of your choice.”

She taps her to-go cup with polished black nails. “I’m a green tea girl.”

“This is great. You think coffee is vile and prefer to drink something that smells like a just-mown lawn. Look at all the opinions we have.”

“So many more to learn, I’m sure,” she says and we’re this close to a date, but then she dips her face and checks her phone screen.

It’s in her hand, and from the looks of it, someone’s calling, but I didn’t hear it ring.

Odd. I’d think it was a save me tactic, but her phone flashes with the word Dad.

She raises her face, her smile fading, and the playful atmosphere shifts. Before she answers though, she looks my way once more. “I hope you get to enjoy your next not-coffee date,” she says. Then, with maybe some reluctance in her expression, she turns away and answers her phone in a warm voice, “Hi, Dad.”

She walks up the street. Away from me.

I stand there for a second, weighing what just happened. Did she actually turn me down or did she leave the door open? I’d like to think that was a breadcrumb—not-coffee date—but she could just be phenomenally smooth. I’m not sure. But then, I remind myself this wasn’t going to be as easy as asking her out right here, right now. Nothing good comes easily. I watch her go, admiring her attitude, her sass, her banter, and, well, let’s be blunt—her ass.

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The Proposal Play (Love and Hockey #3) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-proposal-play-love-and-hockey-3-read-online-lauren-blakely Sun, 02 Feb 2025 19:14:38 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-proposal-play-love-and-hockey-3-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: Love and Hockey Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >154

My plan when I win a date in Vegas with my brother’s hockey star best friend? Poker and go to sleep early. Instead, I wake up with a ring on my finger and the sexy athlete naked in my bed.

But Asher’s my best friend too so we’ll get this annulled and laugh about this secret for years to come.

Trouble is our wedding pics went viral overnight.

Now everyone thinks we’re a real couple. We race back home, where I’ve just landed the big art commission of my dreams and he’s launching a sports charity so we need to look like we meant to tie the knot.

Easy enough. We’ll claim we’ve been secretly in love, while staying in separate rooms for the rest of the hockey season.

The last thing either one of us wants is to ruin a decade-long friendship by falling into bed again.

But I experience a new side of my husband at home. He cooks for me, encourages me…and buys me so many toys.

And, it’s more fun to share your toys with a friend.

We’re just enjoying temporary marital benefits.

Except, the more times he calls me his wife, the more I start to wonder if Asher was ever pretending?

And if my heart is ready to take the biggest risk of all.

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

PROLOGUE

THE MARRIAGE PACT

Asher

Two Years Ago

“The thing about bad ideas is they usually seem like good ideas at the time.”

I take a planned pause from my best man speech to survey the sea of wedding guests. They’re relaxed here under the white tent, rumpled suit jackets and little purses slung over their chair backs as the sun dips below the Golden Gate Bridge behind us.

With a glass of award-winning champagne in hand, I stroll around the head table, flash a we knew better glance at the groom, then shoot a winning smile for the hundred-strong crowd. Time to bring this speech home for Beckett. He deserves the best toast ever, and I’m the one who can give it to him.

“Like, say, that final shot of tequila,” I say, with a curve in my lips. “Always seems like a good idea. But it’s pretty much the opposite.”

A collective groan echoes through the room. Yup. We’ve all been there and done that.

“Or, for instance, a homemade zip line,” I add, shaking my head in disbelief at the antics of our younger selves. I stage whisper into the mic, “College. The genesis of nearly all bad ideas.”

At the head table, the maid of honor—also known as the sister of the groom—laughs, then lifts a manicured hand in solidarity, her sparkly silver nail polish glinting in the soft light. “Can confirm it was the worst idea.”

“We were lucky you were there.” I nod toward the sometimes blonde, sometimes brunette. Maeve’s hair color seems to change with her mood. Tonight at her brother’s wedding, it’s chestnut brown and twisted in, well, some kind of twist, with golden-streaked tendrils framing her face. “After all, she’s the one who took us to the ER the night Beckett and I made a backyard ride out of rope eight years ago.” A handful of guests laugh lightly, and I add, “But the shoulder injury—so worth it.”

“Better your shoulder than mine,” the groom shouts.

“My coach disagreed, but I digress,” I say, then turn back to the audience, which is made up mostly of friends, but some family. Beckett’s family primarily consists of him and his sister, and it’s been that way since we met. I clear my throat, heading into the home stretch. “But luckily, it goes the other way, too, with good ideas. Like when Maeve said she wanted to set up her brother with a gallery manager she knew.” I gesture toward the bride, Reina, who smiles dotingly at my friend. “I thought it was a terrible plan. Especially since there was that little matter of Beckett refusing to go on a setup.”

Maeve smiles faux demurely, maybe a little wickedly. Kind of her specialty. “But we knew better,” she says proudly.

I shoot her a pointed look. “You knew better. Me? I told you setups never work.” I turn back to the guests. “But Maeve insisted, and I went along with her. She’s very clever. Very creative.”

“Very tricky,” Beckett says with a fake cough.

“You benefited from it,” Maeve says and gestures grandly to the evidence—the damn wedding.

“So we organized a game night. Invited…a bunch of friends.” I sketch air quotes since we invited exactly no one. “When Beckett arrived at my place, he looked around and asked where everyone else was. I said they were coming but we could get started, just the four of us. Spoiler alert: No one showed up but Reina, and during a vicious game of trivia where those two tried to one-up each other, Maeve and I slipped into the kitchen to refresh the snacks. And…” I gesture proudly to the newlyweds. “Here we are. Thanks to a fake-out from the maid of honor and the best man.”

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The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-hopelessly-bromantic-duet-read-online-lauren-blakely Thu, 19 Dec 2024 11:50:08 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-hopelessly-bromantic-duet-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Authors: Lauren Blakely Advertisement

Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >244

A passionate, utterly addictive, roomies-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-fake-boyfriends two-book duet now available in one collection for the first time! From #1 New York Times Bestselling author Lauren Blakely writing MM romance as L. Blakely…

Once upon a time, the sexy, witty Brit was just that hot guy I met my first day in London.
Then, it turned out we were sharing a flat.
But living that close to the most charming man I’d ever met was one step away from falling in love with him.
Newsflash–I fell. Hard and fast into a swoony, epic romance that felt like something out of a movie…

Until an ocean pulled us apart.
Years later, fate tried to put us back together again.
But by then, two hearts were broken and I wasn’t sure anything could fix them. Especially, the plan for us to pretend we were in love when we’d come to hate each other…

Includes:
Hopelessly Bromantic
Here Comes My Man

NOTE: As an added bonus, this collection also includes the standalone romance novel The Bromance Zone!

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

HOPELESSLY BROMANTIC

BOOK 1 IN THE HOPELESSLY BROMANTIC DUET

by Lauren Blakely writing as L. Blakely.

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Did you know this book is also available in audio and paperback on all major retailers? Go to my website for links!

PROLOGUE

SOME GUYS ARE JUST LIKE THAT

TJ

Present Day

Seven years ago, when my boss hit me with the news that he was sending me to London for the next twelve months, I could picture my nights unfolding like a dirty fairy tale.

After working my ass off all day, I’d hit the music bars, check out cool new bands, and meet hot guys. They’d charm me with their accents, and I’d charm them with my wit, and we’d bang till Big Ben struck morning O-O-O-and-one-more-O’clock.

My sex life would be nothing like it was in college, which was a lot like a drought—a famine from which, two years post-graduation, I’d only recently started to emerge.

But Ye Olde London? It would be a beefeater feast.

And sure, yeah, a great work opportunity. Obviously. And I wanted that because I had goals. Big ones.

Little ones too.

First, I wanted to stop at the bookstore on Cecil Court I went to on a family trip when I was an awkward teenager. While my parents hunted for a guidebook, I browsed the paperbacks, and for the first time in my life, I visualized my name on a cover. I left there with an armload of books . . . and a dream.

The bookshop was one of the first places I went when I arrived in London seven years ago. I wanted an auspicious beginning to my year abroad. Full circle and all that.

But that time, when I reached Cecil Court, it wasn’t a paperback that sparked my dreams.

It was a man.

This bloke had more charm and appeal than any hero I could write into a novel.

But he wasn’t simply between the covers of a story, where I could mastermind the ending. He was vibrant, real, and the most thrilling time I’d ever had. Soon, my London life was full of him.

And—spoiler alert—this guy in the bookstore was going to upend my world, not once, but twice.

Some guys were like that. They stayed with you, even when you wanted them out of your head.

And they left, even when you wanted them to stay.

PART ONE

Seven Years Ago

And so it begins . . .

1

WHAT KIND OF LAP DANCES DOES HE LIKE?

Jude

This is the greatest vacuum cleaner ever. There has never been a better one in all the land. It’s literally going to change your life.

I repeat those notes from my agent before I head into the audition room—a drab, windowless shoebox of a place above a strip club on the outskirts of Leicester Square.

I’ve got no problem with the business of exotic dancing. But all things being equal, I’d rather audition for a new commercial above, say, a Tesco or an insurance office.

But a gig is a gig is a gig.

I put on my best smile as I give the casting director my name. “Jude Graham with Premier Talent. Harry Atkinson reps me, and it’s a pleasure to be here.”

The casting director looks up from her tablet, question marks in her eyes. “Harry? I thought he was—” She makes a slashing gesture against her throat.

“I hope not. I saw him a week ago. Very much alive. And also, not headless.”

“Ah, must have been someone else,” she says.

Yes, I’ve noticed the epidemic of talent-agent beheadings in London lately.

“Sorry for whoever that might be,” I add.

She smiles faintly, the thick coat of plum lipstick cracking. “All right, show us you’re in the market for a Cleaneroo.”

Somehow, she manages to keep a straight face when she says the brand name—something I’ll be required to do in three, two, one . . .

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