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

Lauren Rowe – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:20:37 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Lauren Rowe – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Chasing the Ring (Football and Feels #1) Read Online Lauren Rowe http://www.ilovenovels.com/chasing-the-ring-football-and-feels-1-read-online-lauren-rowe Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:20:37 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/chasing-the-ring-football-and-feels-1-read-online-lauren-rowe Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lauren Rowe Series: Football and Feels Series by Lauren Rowe
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Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)

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When a wronged bride and an NFL quarterback find themselves sharing the same Hawaiian vacation, a no-strings, just-for-fun encounter quickly becomes unforgettable in this warm-hearted, extra spicy football romance for fans of Sarah Adams, Tessa Bailey, Monica Murphy, Kristen Callihan, and Lucy Score.

**DELUXE LIMITED EDITON with interior 4-color character art, designed chapter headers, and stenciled edges!**

Iris Benedetto’s wedding day just went viral . . . for all the wrong reasons.
After a heated blowout with her lying, cheating fiancé at the altar, Iris storms off on a solo honeymoon—loudly announcing that she’s finally going to find out what good sex is all about. Rebranding from small-town preschool teacher to #Horny Runaway Bride was not the plan, but the insanely hot stranger who ends up double-booked in her bungalow on the island of Kauai is an opportunity even devastated Iris can’t ignore.

It’s not often NFL quarterback Roman Maguire meets someone who doesn’t recognize him. Even rarer to have that someone barge in while he’s taking a shower and quickly make him an irresistible offer. Roman is in Hawaii to secure the deal that could finally land him a Super Bowl ring—and closer proximity to his son. A sexy fling in paradise is a perfect way to spend a week with a surprise roommate . . .

Except . . . suddenly a week doesn’t seem nearly enough. And once the truth about Roman’s identity, Iris’s internet infamy, and all kinds of loyalty-testing secrets are revealed, will they both be willing to step into the real-life spotlight together?

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

Chapter 1

Iris

“Who wants the last pour?” As Tatiana asks the question, she holds up a nearly empty bottle of pricey champagne—the third of three she brought as her contribution to tonight’s pre-wedding sleepover.

To celebrate my last night as an unmarried woman, my four bridesmaids—my two college besties, Tatiana and Kaylee; my best friend since grade school from here in Orchard Blossom, Harper; and Brandon’s nineteen-year-old little sister, Delilah—have come to my dad’s house, the modest, cozy home where I grew up, for a good, old-fashioned slumber party.

To give us some privacy for our girls’ night, and to free up the necessary beds, my dad and brother kindly went to sleep at our town’s biggest and only hotel for the night. Dad and Atlas said they were happy to do it, though, since the hotel is where my groom is hosting a “boys-only” poker party tonight. Classic Brandon.

“Iris?” Tatiana, our bartendress for the evening, says, tilting the neck of the champagne bottle toward me. “As the bride, you’ve got dibs.”

I shake my head. “That’s the best champagne I’ve ever had, but I don’t want to risk feeling the least bit hungover tomorrow.”

“Well, if no one else is gonna drink it,” Kaylee, our resident party girl, says, “then I will.”

“Yes, we’re well aware you’ll drink it, you lush,” Tatiana teases. “I figured I’d offer it to the bride first.”

Laughing, Kaylee addresses Delilah, my shy soon-to-be sister-in-law. “You want to split the last bit with me?”

“No, you go ahead,” Delilah replies. “I’m an even bigger lightweight than Iris.” To emphasize her point, she rises from the couch with a big stretch. “It’s bedtime for Delilah, ladies. Alcohol always makes me sleepy.” She grins at me. “No need to be quiet when you come in, Iris. I can sleep through anything, especially when I’ve been drinking.”

“I’ll be in soon. I want to get lots of beauty sleep for tomorrow.”

After Delilah disappears into the short hallway, my three best friends and I lean in and whisper about how adorable she is and how lucky I am to be gaining a sweet sister in addition to a husband.

“Hey, Iris?” Delilah says, poking her head back into the living room. “Can I borrow some toothpaste? I left mine at the hotel.”

“There should be some in my toiletry bag, which is sitting on top of my suitcase for Hawaii.” Brandon and I will be taking an early-morning flight to our honeymoon the day after tomorrow’s wedding, so we packed separate bags for that portion of our travels.

Delilah thanks me and leaves again, and conversation in the living room resumes, this time about the schedule for the Big Day tomorrow. But midway through our conversation, Delilah reappears with a confused look on her face and a cell phone in her hand.

“Did my brother leave his phone here?”

I don’t recognize the device in Delilah’s hand. At least, not from here. “No, Brandon’s definitely got his phone. He’s been texting me all night.”

Delilah hands me the thing, which is turned off, and resumes her prior spot on the couch. But even close up, I don’t recognize the mysterious device. “Where was it?”

“In Brandon’s toiletry bag. I assumed the bag was yours, but when I found a bottle of aftershave in a pocket with this phone, I realized my mistake.”

My brow furrowed, I press the phone’s power button, and it lights up and springs to life.

“Could it be a work phone?” Delilah asks innocently.

Panic slams into me. After almost seven years with Brandon, the last four spent living with him in a small apartment in his hometown of Denver while he’s worked at his father’s insurance firm, I’d definitely know it if Brandon had a work phone. My extroverted husband-to-be didn’t take his studies all that seriously at UCLA, but once we got to Denver, he became a veritable workaholic. These days, my hardworking fiancé is always on his phone with clients and running off to after-work drinks with potential ones.

Oh my God.

Suddenly, things I’ve always considered innocuous seem horribly suspicious in this context. When we got to Denver and Brandon started working such long hours at his father’s firm, I was thrilled to support his newfound work ethic and passion, especially after Brandon proposed last year and started talking about working hard for us. For our future. For the family we’re both excited to build one day. God knows my salary as a preschool teacher isn’t going to buy us a house any time soon. But now, thanks to this foreign phone in my hand, I’m seeing everything through a new lens. Was Brandon really out schmoozing potential clients all those nights he came back home late from work tasting of whiskey and bragging about landing a big new account?

No, don’t jump to conclusions, Iris. There must be a logical, innocuous reason for Brandon not to disclose this mysterious phone. He could be holding it for a friend, for instance. Or planning a big surprise for me in Hawaii, so he got a secret phone to handle all necessary arrangements.

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Spark Read Online Lauren Rowe http://www.ilovenovels.com/spark-read-online-lauren-rowe Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:26:06 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/spark-read-online-lauren-rowe Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Authors: Lauren Rowe Advertisement

Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)

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She’s my best friend. And I secretly want her.

Ruby’s my best friend and bandmate. The sister of my good friend, too. Which makes her “triple off-limits” to me. I’d even say she’s like a sister to me, if it weren’t for the unbrotherly dreams I’ve had about her since age sixteen.

But when Ruby drunkenly kisses me at a party to piss off her ex, the spark I’ve been working hard to snuff out for years bursts into a raging pyre. And now, I can’t stop obsessing about that kiss and yearning for another one.
In fact, after The Kiss That Changed Everything, I’m now determined to do whatever it takes to make Ruby mine, even at the risk of burning my whole world down.

Spark is a complete standalone, best friends to lovers, forced proximity, rockstar romance

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

1

KENDRICK

Chicago

Twelve years ago

“Let’s make a pact about this Rufus guy,” my big brother, Kai, says from across the basement. As he speaks, he’s bent over, meticulously hooking up an amp, which means Savage and I are free to exchange a look.

I didn’t lie to my brother for kicks, by the way. I just knew telling him the keyboardist coming to audition for our fledgling band any minute now is a dude who plays linebacker for my new school’s football team was the only way he’d keep an open mind.

After Kai’s band at his hipster music college downtown fell apart following his breakup with the lead singer, he’s now got it stuck in his head our band isn’t going to have any girls in it, which I personally think is stupid. Kai is three years older than Savage and me and in his first year of music school, though, so the band is kind of his baby at the moment. At least, according to Kai. If you ask me, with Savage being front and center and so fucking talented and charismatic—there’s no doubt he could become a superstar on his own, unlike Kai or me—I personally feel like Savage, not Kai, should call the shots. At least, as to whether a female keyboardist should be allowed to audition for us tonight.

Granted, Savage couldn’t run a band if his life depended on it. He’s flighty. Never on time. And when he finally makes it to wherever he’s going, he’s easily distracted and totally lacking in motivation, despite his insane, God-given star quality. But still, the fact remains I’m irritated my big brother thinks he can act like a dictator, and I know Savage feels the same way. Hence, me lying to Kai about the identity of the keyboardist coming to audition for us tonight. Not for Kai. For us.

“I’m just saying,” Kai replies, his attention still focused on the cords and wires he’s connecting for our imminent jam session with Rufus, “we should all agree this dude has to be a perfect fit—and I’m talking musically and personality-wise—or else he’s a no-go. We don’t need a keyboardist. I know you want one, Savage⁠—”

“So do I.”

“—but why set ourselves up to split the money four ways, instead of three, if⁠—”

“What money, Kai?” I blurt, cracking up at my brother’s ridiculousness, while Savage’s chuckles shake the couch cushion next to me. Fugitive Summer, as we’ve recently decided to call ourselves, hasn’t played anywhere but this dank basement in our apartment building. We haven’t even posted any of our rough demos online, either. And yet, somehow, Kai’s utterly convinced that with Adrian Savage as the face and voice of our band, we’re headed for worldwide fame and fortune.

It’s real pie-in-the-sky stuff, regardless. But even more so because we all know I’ll drop the band like a hot potato when I get the football scholarship I’m gunning for. Come to think of it, though, Kai probably thinks he’ll easily replace me on drums, once I’ve handled my best friend for him and gotten him invested in the band. And you know what? He’s probably right about that.

Kai straightens up from the work he’s been doing. “The gigs will pour in once we get the right musicians in place and dial in our sound. And from there, the money will come. That’s why we have to do everything right at the beginning: because soon we’re going to have more gigs and money than we know what to do with.”

Savage is the one to crack up first this time. “No disrespect, man, but we sound like every other garage band.” That’s why he keeps pushing for a keyboardist—so we can fill out our sound with all kinds of cool stuff that can’t be created on the classic combo of guitar-bass-drums.

“I can do amazing things on Pro Tools,” Kai insists.

“Yeah, for the recordings,” Savage shoots back. “But you’re the one who keeps saying we have to be able to play our songs live because nobody buys music anymore and streaming doesn’t pay shit.”

“You do say that a lot,” I agree.

“Stop kissing his ass, Kendrick,” Kai grits out, glaring at me with dark, intense eyes. Kai takes after our late father with his brown hair and eyes, while I take after our mother with sandy hair and light eyes. It’s why nobody thinks we’re brothers when they first meet us. Not to mention, because Kai’s broody and closed-off by nature, and I feel like life is too short not to enjoy the ride.

“He’s not kissing my ass,” Savage spits back angrily. “He’s being truthful, for the greater good of the band.” He shifts on the couch, gearing up for whatever he’s about to say next. “If nothing else, we need someone who can sing harmonies behind me. You sing like a bag of cats, and KC can’t harmonize for shit. No offense, KC. You know I love your voice.”

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The Infatuation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #1) Read Online Lauren Rowe http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-infatuation-the-josh-kat-trilogy-1-read-online-lauren-rowe Tue, 05 Aug 2025 19:55:32 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-infatuation-the-josh-kat-trilogy-1-read-online-lauren-rowe Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Suspense Authors: Lauren Rowe Series: The Josh & Kat Trilogy Series by Lauren Rowe
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Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)

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It’s a war of wills between stubborn and sexy Josh Faraday and Kat Morgan. A fight to the bed. Arrogant, wealthy playboy Josh is used to getting what he wants. And what he wants is Kat Morgan.

The minute Josh Faraday meets feisty, vivacious Kat Morgan, he wants her. Not for a relationship, of course. He doesn’t do those. He wants her in his bed. But, to his shock and extreme frustration, Kat won’t play by Josh’s rules like all the others. No, this stubborn woman declares she won't so much as kiss Josh until he divulges some highly personal information . . . But it's something Josh has never told anyone, and won't be telling Kat. Not over his dead body, no matter how gorgeous and sexy she is.

But the chemistry between the pair is explosive, scorching hot electricity like nothing he’s felt before. Oh, God, he’s got to get a taste. He figures all he has to do is wear the sexy woman down with is patented “playboy razzle dazzle”—show her the hotness she’s missing out on and she’ll cave, like all the rest . . . The only problem with that strategy? It’s Kat’s strategy, too: she plans to wear Josh down and get what she wants by showing him the hotness he’s missing out on.

It’s a war of wills. A match to the bed. Who will crack first? And when they do, will either of their hearts be on the line?

INFATUATION is first book of the JOSH AND KAT TRILOGY. The next two books are REVELATION and CONSUMMATION, to be read in order.

*Readers 18+ due to graphic language and adult situations.

NOTE: Kat Morgan is the sister of the Morgan brothers (Colby, Ryan, Keane, and Dax from standalones HERO, CAPTAIN, BALL PEEN HAMMER, and ROCKSTAR), plus best friend Zander (MISTER BODYGUARD). Josh Faraday is the twin brother of Jonas Faraday from THE CLUB TRILOGY. You can jump right in and read Josh and Kat's trilogy, before or after The Morgan Brothers or The Club Trilogy.

"One of my favorite series, ever." "Addicting." "Hot." "Hilarious." "Romantic." "Emotional." "Gripping." "Sexy." “I want to be a Morgan.” "I want to have the Faradays brothers' babies."

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

One

Josh

Oh my fucking God. What’s wrong with Jonas this time? I’m so worried I’m jumping out of my skin. I look out the window of the limo, wracked with the same sense of dread I always feel when Jonas calls me with that barely contained panic in his voice. Of course, I dropped everything and immediately caught the next flight to Seattle, just like I always do—but this time, unlike every other time, I don’t have a clue what’s happened to freak Jonas out. And that, in turn, freaks me out.

“Hey,” I call up to the limo driver. “Can you change the channel to something a bit more mellow, please?” The song blaring in my ear is “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred, definitely not a song that’s gonna calm my jangling nerves.

“How’s this?” the driver says, switching to another station on the radio. The song playing now is “Mad World” by Tears for Fears.

“Yeah,” I say, smirking to myself. “Leave it here. Thanks.”

When I saw my brother’s incoming call on my phone earlier this evening, I figured Jonas had gotten back from his trip to Belize with the “most amazing girl ever,” the one and only Sarah Cruz, the magical, mystical unicorn he hacked into U Dub’s server to find, sight unseen, and that he was calling to slobber all over the phone about how “amazing” she is. But the minute I heard his voice, I knew he wasn’t calling to babble happily about his Belizian getaway with his new crush—I knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Are you okay? Is Sarah okay?” I asked him, my stomach twisting into knots.

“Yeah, I’m okay. The trip was incredible—Sarah’s incredible,” Jonas replied. But before I could exhale with any kind of relief, he said something that sent me reeling: “It’s The Club, Josh. It’s total bullshit—a fucking scam. I think Sarah’s in danger—like, maybe serious danger.”

What the fuck? I couldn’t process what that statement could possibly mean.

Mad World, indeed.

It’s been well over three hours since Jonas called and said those bizarre words, and I still haven’t figured out what the fuck he meant by them. The Club’s a scam? Well, no, it isn’t, Jonas. I happen to know through my own personal experience it’s one hundred percent not a scam. I can personally attest that I filled out my application, paid my money, and got exactly what I asked for, to the letter, in multiple cities, over the course of one very awesome and cathartic month. So what’s the fucking scam?

The more likely scenario is that Jonas didn’t get what he asked for because, whatever it was, it was literally impossible to deliver. Knowing him, he probably asked for something only some magical combination of the circus, the philosophy department at Yale, and American Ninja Warrior could have delivered. And that’s what he thinks of as a scam? Maybe this is a wanton case of “it’s not them, it’s you.”

Shit. When I told Jonas about The Club in the first place, I should have told him, “Dude, when you fill out your application, less is more. Just go for the big one or two things you’re dying for and leave it at that. You can only do so much in one month, trust me—don’t get too ambitious.” I shake my head. Jonas is so fucking bad with women, I swear to God—and he always has been. They fall all over themselves the minute they see him, of course—everywhere he goes women practically throw their panties at him. But then he opens his fucking mouth and starts quoting fucking Plato and talking in riddles and looking like a fucking serial killer and they run away, screaming in bloody terror. (God only knows how he tricked this Sarah girl into sticking around for so long. Hell, maybe she has a thing for Plato, too, for all I know.)

But for the sake of argument, let’s say The Club is some kind of scam (which it’s not); how the fuck could that possibly mean this new girl of Jonas’ is in some kind of danger—let alone “serious” danger? I can’t wrap my brain around any of it. The only thing I can think is that Jonas must have met Sarah in The Club? But that makes no sense. When I asked Jonas about his membership not too long ago, he said he’d applied but had gotten hopelessly distracted by his quest to get laid by his mystery law student.

I’m just so fucking confused. I look out the window of the limo, listening to the song for a long minute.

Frankly, I’m really worried that all this rambling is a sign that Jonas is having some sort of psychotic break again. And if that’s what’s really going on, why now? As far as I know, my brother’s been in full beast mode lately. I mean, shit, just last week when we negotiated the acquisition of all those rock-climbing gyms, he was in tiptop form, kicking ass and taking names like the beast he is. He was a sight to see, actually—he sure out-beasted me by a fucking mile. Of course, he couldn’t stop talking about this Sarah chick the whole three days I was with him—which is so unlike him, at first I wasn’t sure if he was punking me—but I didn’t see that as any cause for alarm. In fact, I was happy for him.

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The Revelation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #2) Read Online Lauren Rowe http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-revelation-the-josh-kat-trilogy-2-read-online-lauren-rowe Tue, 05 Aug 2025 19:55:30 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-revelation-the-josh-kat-trilogy-2-read-online-lauren-rowe Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Suspense Authors: Lauren Rowe Series: The Josh & Kat Trilogy Series by Lauren Rowe
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Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)

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Let the fantasy fulfillment begin! Josh and Kat’s initial secrets have been revealed, and now it’s time for them to explore each other’s fantasies.

Wealthy, arrogant playboy Josh Faraday finally has feisty, vivacious Kat Morgan in his bed. And in his shower. And in the bathroom of a bar. He knows her deepest sexual fantasies, and he’s intent on fulfilling them all. But Kat wants more than fun and games. She wants to know the real Josh. The man behind the mask. And that’s not something Josh is willing to show Kat—or any woman. But, damn, this stubborn, sexy, relentless woman is wearing him down . . . and he’s not sure he can resist her much longer.

For the stubborn, adventuresome, explosive Playboy and the Party Girl, it’s always a war of wills. Who will crack first? And when they do, will either of their hearts be on the line?

REVELATION is the second book of the JOSH AND KAT TRILOGY. The full trilogy is INFATUATION, REVELATION, CONSUMMATION, to be read in order.

*Readers 18+ due to graphic language and adult situations.

NOTE: Kat Morgan is the sister of the Morgan brothers (Colby, Ryan, Keane, and Dax from standalones HERO, CAPTAIN, BALL PEEN HAMMER, and ROCKSTAR), plus best friend Zander (MISTER BODYGUARD). Josh Faraday is the twin brother of Jonas Faraday from THE CLUB TRILOGY. You can jump right in and read Josh and Kat's trilogy, before or after The Morgan Brothers or The Club Trilogy

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

1

KAT

The door to Jonas and Sarah’s suite closes behind Josh’s back and I look down at Josh’s laptop, holding my breath with excitement. This is it. I can’t believe I’m finally gonna read Josh’s application to The Club, after all this build-up. My chest is tight. My stomach is in knots. What on earth did that man write that’s made him so skittish about revealing it to me? Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out:

Name?

“Joshua William Faraday,” he writes. Oh, I didn’t know Josh’s middle name is William. For some reason, seeing his full name makes my heart flutter.

With this application, you will be required to submit three separate forms of identification. The Club maintains a strict “No Aliases Policy” for admission. You may, however, use aliases during interactions with other Club members, at your discretion.

“OK,” he writes.

Age?

“29,” he writes.

I stop and think. Josh is thirty. I wonder when he had his birthday? I’d love to know his zodiac sign. Damn, it sure would suck donkey balls if it turned out we were cosmically incompatible.

Provide a brief physical description of yourself.

“I’m 6’1, 190 lbs. I’ve got brown hair and blue eyes and tattoos on my torso and arms. I prefer not to talk about the meanings of my tattoos at length, so please tell whoever gets assigned to me not to ask about them.

“I work pretty hard at keeping fit,” he continues. “I’m a big believer that a man only gets one chance at a first impression, so I try to make mine count, every time. Just to be clear: I’m not applying for membership to The Club because I have some sort of inferiority complex about my appearance (I don’t) or because I can’t attract women on my own (I can).”

I can’t help but smile. Even when Josh is being kind of douche-y, he’s sexy as hell to me.

With this application, you will be required to submit three recent photographs of yourself to your intake agent. Please include the following: one headshot, one full-body shot revealing your physique, and one shot wearing something you’d typically wear out in a public location. These photographs shall be maintained under the strictest confidentiality.

Oh, this I gotta see. I scroll down, assuming Josh’s photos will be attached to the end of his application, but they’re not there. I scan the top of the document, looking for some indication of where I can find his pictures—but, nope. There’s nothing. Goddammit! I grab my phone.

Josh answers my call immediately. “Wow, that was fast,” he says. “I’m only just now walking into the casino.”

“Where are your photos?”

“My photos?”

“Yeah, the three photos you submitted with your application.”

“Oh, my photos.” He pauses. “Why do you want them? You already know exactly what I look like.”

“I just want to see them.”

“But you’ve already seen every inch of me—you’ve seen my YOLO’d ass, for Chrissakes.” He snickers. “Not to mention my balls.”

I join him in snickering. “Up close and personal.”

He snickers again.

“But I still wanna see your photos.”

He sighs. “How ’bout this? I’ll come back up there and let you take three photos of me any which way you want. We’ll have a photo shoot, just you and me, baby.”

“Ooh, sounds fun—I’ll definitely take a rain check on that offer. But I still wanna see the photos.”

He grumbles. “But why?”

“Because I wanna see what photos you thought would best represent yourself to perverts in a sex club.”

There’s a long pause. “You’re such a fucking pain in the ass, you know that? A terrorist and a colossal pain in the ass.”

“I told you—I’m a Scorpio. We’re extremely focused and we also have a disproportionate sense of entitlement. Plus, I gave you my three photos—a deal’s a deal.”

He laughs. “Oh my God, those photos, Kat.”

“You liked them?”

“I loved them. The one of you in your undies was so hot—and then I practically pissed myself laughing at the one of you pretending to barf over the toilet. You’re so funny.”

“Thank you. You’re pretty funny yourself—but funny ain’t gonna get you off the hook, dude. Those photos are part of your application, which means they’re part of your promise.”

He grunts. “Fine. Are you familiar with Macs?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one—from your brother, actually.”

“My brother gave you a Mac?”

“Yeah. To replace the one The Club stole from me.”

“That was awfully nice of him—I didn’t know Jonas knew how to be nice.”

“Yeah. He’s been super nice to me. Okay, quit stalling. Where are the photos?”

He groans. “Fine. Go to ‘Finder’ and click on ‘Pictures’ on the left side of the screen.”

“Yep. Okay.”

“And now do you see the folder...” Josh says, but I don’t hear the rest of his sentence because something has caught my attention on Josh’s laptop screen: a folder labeled “Sick Fuck.” Well, jeez, with a name like that, the folder might as well be named “Open me, Kat!”

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The Consummation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #3) Read Online Lauren Rowe http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-consummation-the-josh-kat-trilogy-3-read-online-lauren-rowe Tue, 05 Aug 2025 19:55:27 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-consummation-the-josh-kat-trilogy-3-read-online-lauren-rowe Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Suspense Authors: Lauren Rowe Series: The Josh & Kat Trilogy Series by Lauren Rowe
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Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 132464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >134

The final heart-stopping, heart-breaking, hilarious, and hot finale of the Josh Faraday and Kat Morgan trilogy is here! Playboy Josh Faraday is addicted to Kat Morgan now . . . but she wants more than fun and games. She wants his heart. Is he capable of giving her what she wants . . . or will this be goodbye?

It began as a war of wills between the Playboy and the Party Girl. But now, Josh Faraday unexpectedly sees something in Kat Morgan—and the big, crazy Morgan family—he’s never seen before: a future. Will he break down and grab hold of Kat and everything she has to offer him . . . or will he lose her forever?

With CONSUMMATION, the Josh & Kat Trilogy is now complete! CONSUMMATION is the third book of the trilogy and should be read after INFATUATION and REVELATION.

*Readers 18+ due to graphic language and adult situations.

NOTE: Kat Morgan is the sister of the Morgan brothers (Colby, Ryan, Keane, and Dax from standalones HERO, CAPTAIN, BALL PEEN HAMMER, and ROCKSTAR), plus best friend Zander (MISTER BODYGUARD). Josh Faraday is the twin brother of Jonas Faraday from THE CLUB TRILOGY. You can jump right in and read Josh and Kat's trilogy, before or after The Morgan Brothers or The Club Trilogy

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

One

Josh

I stumble out of Walmart (the only place open at eleven-forty-five that sells electronics) and cross the parking lot toward my waiting town car. I open the door of the black Sedan and hurl myself into the backseat. “Thanks for waiting, man,” I mumble.

“Did they have what you were looking for?” the driver asks.

I hold up a plastic Walmart bag containing my new purchases.

“Where to now?”

I give the guy the address of Kat’s apartment and he starts the engine.

As the car pulls out of the parking lot, I surreptitiously dig into my plastic bag and pull out one of my three Walmart-purchases: a bottle of Jack.

The driver’s eyes flicker at me in the rearview mirror, but, thankfully, the guy doesn’t say jack about my Jack. I lean back in my seat, the bottle of booze perched against my lips.

Man, I fucked up tonight. I had no idea not telling Kat about my upcoming move to Seattle would play out like fucking Armageddon. Watching Kat cry big ol’ soggy tears, especially on account of something I did (or, technically, didn’t do), ripped my heart the fuck out of my chest. Each tear that streamed down Kat’s beautiful face felt like a knife stabbing me in the heart.

“I would have been bursting at the seams to tell you if the situation were reversed,” Kat said in front of the karaoke bar, her eyes glistening. “You would have been the first person I would have called.”

Up until that moment, I’d been thinking my tempestuous little terrorist was simply overreacting—letting her emotions and temper run wild, as she’s been known to do a time or two. But the minute those daggers left Kat’s mouth, I knew they were cutting me so deep because they were the God’s truth—and that if Kat were to buy a house in L.A. and not bother to mention it to me, I’d be crushed.

Which is exactly how Kat seems to be feeling right now: crushed. In fact, it seems like Kat might be thinking she’s done with me for good, though that’s not what she said when I dropped her off at her apartment. All she said before slipping inside her place was that she “needed a couple days to think and regroup” so she could “figure out if she was overreacting or not”—but the look on Kat’s face as she closed her door made it clear she wasn’t even close to deciding she’d overreacted.

“Okay,” I said softly, even though all I wanted to do was plant a deep kiss on her mouth that would somehow erase her short-term memory from her brain. “Take your time,” I said. “I’ll call you in a few days.” And I wasn’t bullshitting her when I said that—I really wasn’t—I truly planned to leave her alone. I mean, shit, God knows groveling never has been my style. But, fuck me, after only an hour alone in my hotel room, drinking whiskey and staring at the Space Needle—not to mention getting my ass chewed by fucking Adele—I just couldn’t sit there like a flop-dick anymore. I had to do something to make her forgive me.

So I texted Kat a couple times, asking her to call me—but she didn’t respond. So I bit the bullet and called her—let the groveling begin!—but my call went straight to voicemail. So, finally, I tucked my dick and balls firmly between my legs and left Kat a rambling voicemail that can only be described as “vaginal.” But, still, I didn’t hear a goddamned peep from her. Which is when a panic started descending upon me, a thumping need to make Kat understand I’m genuinely crazy about her, addicted, insatiable. And that’s when I got my brilliant idea.

I pull my new portable CD player out of my Walmart bag and remove it from its packaging. It’s quite a bit smaller and way more modern looking than the old-school boom box I’d envisioned when I stumbled into the electronics aisle at Walmart, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers, especially at just before midnight on a Friday night.

The sedan pulls up to the front of Kat’s apartment complex.

“Just park in the driveway,” I say to the driver. I hand him my phone. “Connect this to your stereo—I’ve got a song all cued up.”

“Huh?”

“Blast the song I’ve got cued up on my phone.”

The driver looks incredulous, not to mention annoyed. “It’s past midnight, sir. We can’t be blasting music in a residential area.”

I shove a couple hundred bucks at the guy. “Come on, man, I’ve got a girl to win back. I fucked up and now I gotta make her forgive me.”

The driver takes my cash. “The song’s cued up?”

“Yep. Just press play at my signal—and then blast the motherfucker at full volume, as high as your speakers will go.”

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Finding Home Read Online Lauren Rowe http://www.ilovenovels.com/finding-home-read-online-lauren-rowe Mon, 10 Mar 2025 19:24:38 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/finding-home-read-online-lauren-rowe Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Chick Lit, Contemporary, Dark, Suspense Authors: Lauren Rowe Advertisement

Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >122

I’m Caleb Baumgarten, the “bad boy” drummer of Red Card Riot. The world knows me as C-Bomb, but I assure you, it’s Lil Miss Rule Follower, Aubrey Capshaw, who’s the human equivalent of an atomic bomb.

After tragedy strikes and the toddler with half my DNA inside her loses her beloved mommy, I get the bright idea to hire my daughter’s remaining lifeline, her “Auntie Aubbey,” as my live-in nanny. Also, embarrassingly, as my sobriety coach, so I can fulfill the terms of mandatory rehab.

Going into my forced living arrangement with Aubrey in her small town, I’m determined not to give in to my growing, thumping, white-hot attraction to her. There’s only a month before the custody hearing that will decide my fate as a father, and I’ll need Aubrey to testify on my behalf. Well, you know what they say about best laid plans, right? Yeah. My bad.

I expected Aubrey and me to scorch the walls of my bedroom, once I got her into my bed. What I didn’t expect, though, was that Aubrey would become the center of my universe, along with my small daughter. My family. My home. Which is why, when danger threatens, I don’t hesitate to protect what’s mine.

Finding Home is a standalone, small town, single dad rockstar romance with suspense, deep feels, spice, no cheating, no third act breakup, and a happily ever after. No prior reading required.

Please check content warnings on Lauren Rowe’s website

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

Chapter 1

Caleb

About a year and a half ago

Santa Monica, California

Iturn onto my side and exhale in the quiet darkness of my bedroom. When the change of position doesn’t quell my racing thoughts, I turn over and check the time on my nightstand.

4:37.

In less than three hours, my sister will be here, so we can take our mother to her first chemo appointment. It’s going to be a long, sleep-deprived day. A whole lot longer for Mom, though, so I shouldn’t complain. Not even in my own head.

I turn onto my back this time and try to let the distant sounds of the ocean lull me to sleep; but I can’t keep my thoughts from spiraling the same way they did last night. And the night before. Although tonight, I’m back to thinking about my kid—the six-month-old who’s out there somewhere, probably in Seattle, but maybe not. Is my kid a boy or girl? What’s their name? Do they look like me? I know it’s early days yet, but are they showing signs of musicality?

I roll over onto my side again.

I hate feeling like the second coming of my deadbeat father—someone I swore as a teen twenty years ago I’d never become. Granted, I’ve been sending massive sums of money to my child on a monthly basis, and at a level that’s far more generous than anything my baby momma could have hoped to squeeze out of me, if I’d forced her to take me to court. Which I didn’t. But the fact remains, I’m not in the kid’s life. Never have been. And worst of all, thanks to my own stupid insistence during negotiations, my kid will never know their father is C-Bomb, the drummer from Red Card Riot.

When I insisted on complete anonymity and confidentiality a year ago through my lawyer, I was certain that’s what I wanted: zero obligations to my future child, other than sending money. But once the baby was born, and especially after my good friends, Colin and Amy, had a baby only a week after my kid’s birth, doubt started creeping in. After my mother’s diagnosis, my doubt solidified into regret. And now, after watching a video of Colin and Amy’s six-month-old, Rocco, trying apple sauce for the first time today, my regret morphed, once again. This time, into full-blown guilt and shame.

Did my baby recently try apple sauce, like Rocco? If so, were my baby’s facial expressions as funny as Rocco’s? Colin and Amy belly-laughed behind the camera in that video today. If I’d been there to witness my own baby making silly faces in a highchair, would I have belly-laughed like they did? It feels like forever since I’ve done that. Have I ever?

I sit up in bed and rub my face. I never imagined myself having these kinds of thoughts when I signed that agreement with Claudia Beaumont. When I first learned of her pregnancy, I didn’t even remember her—not until my lawyer showed me a photo of the pretty blonde groupie from Seattle to jog my drunken memories. Plus, Claudia said she didn’t want me involved, other than sending child support payments, so why wouldn’t I agree to oblige her?

Claudia only asked for fifteen grand per month, which my lawyer said was fair, since she’d probably get more in court. But I offered Claudia twice that amount—thirty grand—on two conditions:

One, confidentiality.

Claudia couldn’t talk about our agreement or her night with me, and she also had to keep my identity a secret, not only from the kid, but from the world at large. As the “bad boy” drummer for Red Card Riot, I wasn’t afraid of the world’s condemnation. I knew the world would shrug their collective shoulders to find out C-Bomb had accidentally knocked up a groupie during a casual hook-up.

No, when I demanded confidentiality in exchange for more money than Claudia could win in court, I was actually concerned about my mother and sister finding out my dirty little secret. God help me, I knew if those two ever found out I’d not only fathered a kid without telling them—but worse, I’d also decided not to step up, other than financially—they’d never forgive me. Also, they’d want to forge a meaningful relationship with the kid, which would force me to do the same, and I selfishly didn’t want to do that. Or so I thought at the time.

My second condition to Claudia Beaumont was one my attorney, Paula, initially balked at: Claudia could never bring the baby to her hometown of Prairie Springs, Montana. At least, not during summers. Once Paula showed me a photo of Claudia, I vaguely remembered smoking a blunt with her, either before or after sex, and figuring out the pretty blonde from our show in Seattle had coincidentally grown up in the same small town as my mother. The same place where my grandfather—my mother’s father, who was still alive at the time—owned a cabin on Lake Lucille.

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My Neighbor’s Secret – Alternate Cover Read Online Lauren Rowe http://www.ilovenovels.com/my-neighbors-secret-alternate-cover-read-online-lauren-rowe Fri, 15 Dec 2023 11:43:25 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/my-neighbors-secret-alternate-cover-read-online-lauren-rowe Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Lauren Rowe Advertisement

Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >124

I hate him and I don’t even know his name.

The good news is my nemesis has made it abundantly clear the feeling is mutual. He did call me pretty, though, in the midst of a heated screaming match. Which would have been flattering, if I didn’t loathe him so much. But whatever. I don’t care how handsome he might be, or how charming the rest of the world probably finds him, guys who look like aged-out boy banders aren’t my type. Add to that, he’s got a knack for being in precisely the wrong place at the wrong time, and I was thrilled to march away from our angry skirmish and never see the bastard with the piercing blue eyes, ever again.

It wasn’t meant to be, though. As it turns out, my sworn enemy is my new next-door neighbor. F*ck my life. Luckily, he’s got a big secret to keep, just like I do. He’s in a jam, and so am I. So, we’ve decided to put our differences aside long enough to resolve our respective predicaments. Of course, we’ve made it clear this is going to be a business arrangement and nothing more. A necessary means to an end. But when you’re forced to work closely with your sworn enemy, a guy who happens to be ridiculously attractive and surprisingly funny—when he actually starts to grow on you, much to your shock—keeping things strictly professional becomes easier said than done.

My Neighbor’s Secret is a funny, silly, zany, swoony, spicy, enemies-to-lovers, forced proximity rom com that will keep you laughing, swooning, guessing, and fanning yourself, all the way to Charlotte and Auggie’s happily ever after.

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

1

CHARLOTTE

Idid it.

I’ve finally arrived in my new, temporary hometown of Seattle after three long days of driving by myself. As soon as I can get myself a new job that returns me to my old life, and also figure out a way to unload the pricey condo I never should have bought, I’ll be out of here. But for now, I’m thrilled to get to live in the same city as my lifelong bestie again, if only for a few months.

Buzzing with excitement, I burst through the front door of Captain’s, Tessa’s downtown bar, and immediately scan the place looking for her. Captain’s is a popular hot spot, so it’ll surely be packed later; but at this time in the afternoon, it’s easy to spot Tessa Morgan—Tessa Rodriguez, when growing up with me—standing near the bar. She’s chatting with one of her employees and looking equal parts Argentinian assassin, badass businesswoman, and pregnant supermodel.

I take two bounding steps into the trendy space before planting my feet like a gymnast sticking a landing and shriek, “Let’s get this party started, Crazy Girl!”

Tessa’s dark eyes abruptly shift to me, and the moment she beholds my beaming, ecstatic face, she whoops, throws her arms up, and bounds gleefully toward me, her adorable baby bump leading the way.

As Tessa makes her way toward me, I launch enthusiastically into the silly dance moves we choreographed together as tweens at a birthday sleepover. Later that year, we performed the routine at our sixth-grade talent show, much to the mortification of both sets of our older brothers, and we’ve been performing the dance, ever since.

Despite being in her place of business, Tessa stops short before reaching me and enthusiastically mirrors my gyrating, flailing movements without missing a beat. Although Tessa, unlike me, is making our ridiculous choreography look graceful and sexy, while I look like a clown on cocaine who’s been shot out of a cannon. But that’s per usual. Tessa’s always been the effortlessly elegant, mysterious brunette of our duo, while I’ve always been the comedic relief—a high-energy redhead who telegraphs every emotion on her expressive face and who’ll do basically anything for a laugh.

Midway through our routine, we both dissolve into laughter, meet in the middle, and fall into a warm embrace. “Welcome to Seattle, Nut Job,” Tessa whispers into my hair.

“I’m so excited to be here with you, Crazy Girl. I’ve missed you.” Even though I won’t be here long, I know whatever time spent here will be exactly what my bedraggled, paranoid, sleep-deprived soul needs. God, I’ve missed this woman. When I got laid off from my job as a flight attendant last month and lost the perk of free flights, I could no longer hop a free flight to visit Tessa and her family on a whim. Such a bummer. Due to that specific loss of benefits, and the loss of my job and income in general, and also combined with the heightened anxiety I’ve caused myself by doing that idiotic, stupid thing the day before my layoff, and this has been the most stressful, isolating, and nerve-wracking period of my entire life.

“Are you feeling any better?” I ask, touching Tessa’s blooming belly. She’s been feeling acute morning sickness with this, her third pregnancy.

Tessa nods. “Now that I’m in my second trimester, I’m sure I’ll feel much better soon. That’s how it went with Zach and Claire, so I’m hoping this one follows suit. How are you feeling?”

She’s referring to my lay off and the lack of progress I’ve been making with my job search. Tessa doesn’t know about the other major stress I’ve been under—the one I caused myself by making that colossally stupid mistake, and I’m hoping to keep it that way. If I tell Tessa about the mess I’ve made, she’ll try to fix it for me. Because that’s what she does. And there’s no way I’m going to drag anyone I love into this particular mess of mine, especially not someone I love as much as Tessa.

“I’m feeling a lot better,” I lie. “Now that I’m finally here with you.”

“How long do you think you’ll stay?”

“However long it takes to get a new job and/or fix up the condo enough to sell it for a profit or rent it out at a rate that makes sense with my mortgage payment. I’m guessing no longer than a couple months.”

Tessa pouts. She’s tried to get me to move from our hometown of LA to her new city many times over the past six years. But like I keep telling her, the rainy, gloomy weather in Seattle isn’t my jam. Not to live in, anyway. I love pulling out a fashionable raincoat when visiting Paris or London. Bad weather is glamorous when traveling. But in my real life, give me all the Southern California sunshine, please.

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Textual Relations Read Online Lauren Rowe http://www.ilovenovels.com/textual-relations-read-online-lauren-rowe Sat, 23 Sep 2023 20:10:45 +0000 https://www.booksnovels.com/textual-relations-read-online-lauren-rowe Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Authors: Lauren Rowe Advertisement

Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Grayson McKnight

I haven’t been having much luck on the dating scene lately, ever since my breakup with my longtime college girlfriend. I thought being twenty-five and single would be a blast, but dating apps are trash and I’ve managed to get nothing but three fake numbers at my favorite bar.

Thankfully, the actual owner of the third fake number was kind enough to reply to let me know I’d texted the wrong number. She was warm and open and expressed curiosity about the fake number I’d been given, so we got to texting. She gave me some flirting advice, so I can get a real number next time. But she was so hot when dispensing her advice, and also so kind, I saved her as Hot Teacher in my phone and mustered the courage to ask her for drinks tonight. Not to get more advice, but to persuade her to give me a shot herself. And she said yes. Well, actually, she said maybe. But I honestly think she’s coming.

Sight unseen, I’m already far more attracted to Hot Teacher than anyone I’ve met on the dating scene, so I’m going to pull out all the stops tonight, if she comes to the bar. The thing is, I might be shy and terrible at flirting, but if Hot Teacher gives me a shot, I’m pretty confident I’ll be able to surprise her behind closed doors. I’ve been studying up so diligently since my breakup, in fact, I’m pretty damned sure I’d be able to blow her beautiful mind, if only she’ll give me the chance.

Textual Relations is a steamy older woman/younger man romantic comedy that will make you laugh out loud, fan yourself, and swoon your way to Grayson and Selena’s happily ever after.

NOTE: Portions of the full-length novel, Textual Relations, originally appeared in Lauren Rowe's much shorter novella, Wrong Number, Right Guy, that was only briefly available.

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

1

GRAYSON

Oh, God, no. Not this again.

That’s what I think as I sit on my bed and read the disheartening text that just landed on my phone.

Sorry, Grayson. I’m not Katie. Double-check the number she gave you. If you entered it correctly, then it appears she didn’t “thoroughly enjoy” last night’s “stimulating conversation” at Captain’s as much as you did.

Shit.

Why do women keep giving me fake numbers in bars after what I thought was a great conversation? It’s particularly baffling to me that it could keep happening at Captain’s weekly Singles Night, where everyone ostensibly came for the same reason: to meet other singles.

I know I’m not a “lady killer” sort of guy. I’m shy and on the nerdy side. Plus, I don’t get to the gym nearly as often as I should. But if a woman’s not digging me, then why not say so in the moment, rather than laughing at my jokes and replying “sure thing!” after I’ve mustered the nerve to ask for her number?

If a woman told me to my face she wasn’t feeling it, then I’d be able to ask her why. What better way to improve my flirting game than collecting real-time data from a member of my target demographic? I’d be able to turn rejections into focus groups!

Surely, it’d sting in the moment to hear a woman tell me, in brutal detail, all the reasons she’s not attracted to me. But I’d prefer that brief infliction of pain to leaving the bar with a spring in my step and a fake number in my pocket, only to find out later the woman who smiled and laughed was actually plotting her escape the whole time. Is getting a free cocktail really worth humiliating someone?

Without honest feedback, I’ve got no idea what I’m doing wrong. Is it that I come off as too eager and should slow my roll? Do I need to stop telling women the unglamorous truth about what I do for a living—namely, that I work in the IT department at a law firm—but, instead, tell them I’m something cool, like a racecar driver or audiobook narrator? Or is the problem something unfixable, like my face?

Tipsy women often tell me I’ve got an “adorable” face—a “baby face” they want to pinch, poke, and prod, often while cooing at me like I’m a six-foot puppy. Unfortunately, though, after having their way with my cheeks and dimples, women tend to leave the bar with someone else. Usually, a dude with smooth pick-up lines and confidence oozing out his pores. Guys like my buddy from work, an attorney named Max. He not only has a lucrative job to go with his bad-boy good looks, he’s perfected the art of making women chase him. Mostly, it seems to me, by acting like an arrogant jerk who doesn’t give a shit. And that’s just not me. Never has been, never will be.

A car honks its horn outside my bedroom window, drawing me from my wandering thoughts. With a deep sigh, I return to my phone and tap out a reply to the actual owner of Katie’s fake number.

Me: Thanks for the reply. I definitely texted the right wrong number. Katie entered her number into my phone, and I clicked on it when sending my text. Womp.

Unknown: Aw, that’s a bummer, Grayson. Chin up, though. There’s always next time.

Me: That’s the way the ball bounces. It wasn’t the first time and probably won’t be the last I get a fake number in a bar. It’s rough out there.

Unknown: How many times has this happened to you?

Me: This is the third fake number in about two months. In defense of the women, though, I’m terrible at flirting. I was in a long-term relationship that ended about six months ago, and it seems I’ve got a lot to improve upon in my flirting game.

Unknown: Practice makes perfect! A few more rounds in the ring, and you’ll be back in fighting form in no time.

Me: That assumes I was in “fighting form” at some earlier date, when in fact, I’ve always been lame at flirting.

Unknown: LOL. I’m sure you’re not nearly as lame as you think. Let’s look at the math. How many real phone numbers have you gotten in the same two-month period? In baseball, a batting average of .300 is considered fantastic.

Me: Sadly, it’s been Goose Egg City for me since my relationship ended. The good news, though, if we’re going to use baseball metaphors, is I haven’t been “up to bat” all that many times. I only started stepping up to the plate in earnest two months ago, after discovering weekly Singles Night at Captain’s. It’s much less daunting for a shy person like me to try “swinging my bat” when I know everyone at the bar is single and open to at least chatting.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

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Who’s Your Daddy Read Online Lauren Rowe http://www.ilovenovels.com/whos-your-daddy-read-online-lauren-rowe Sat, 23 Sep 2023 20:10:39 +0000 https://www.booksnovels.com/whos-your-daddy-read-online-lauren-rowe Genre: Contemporary, Funny Authors: Lauren Rowe Advertisement

Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >116

Maximillian Vaughn:
Once I saw Marnie Long, a sassy, sultry, charismatic older woman in a bar, I couldn’t peel my eyes off her. I wanted her. At least, for one night. I’m way too busy with my career these days for anything more. As it turned out, after recently getting burned, Marnie was on the same page as me—all she wanted was one night of fun. I was happy to be of service. What I didn’t expect during our night together, however, was how deeply we connected. Also, how much I was dying to see her again the next morning.

Marnie Long:
After accepting Max’s surprising breakfast invitation the next morning, I was floating on air. Mere minutes later, though, all hell broke loose and I had no choice but to bolt out of Max’s place like my hair was on fire. It was such a pity, too. That scorching-hot patent attorney was the best I’ve ever had.

A year later, when I ran into Max at a party, I was a very bad girl and didn’t resist doing that very naughty thing. Now, thanks to my utter lack of willpower and common sense, I’ve risked my horrible secret getting out. Even worse, I’m in danger of catching real feelings for Max. Which I simply can’t do. Obviously. I’m not sure I can control what happens next, though. When I’m with Max, I feel like a runaway train, on the verge of hurtling off my tracks.

Who’s Your Daddy? is a single mother, age gap, forced proximity, standalone, unputdownable rom com that will keep you laughing, fanning yourself, and swooning, all the way to Max and Marnie’s happily ever after.

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

1

MARNIE

“Fuck him.”

“The audacity!”

“Where did all the loyal, faithful men go?”

I’m dining in a downtown Seattle restaurant with my four closest friends since college, as well as two delightful plus-ones for our monthly meal, and I’ve just revealed an embarrassing truth: the smooth-as-silk, silver-fox businessman who’s been wining and dining me for the past six months—a man known to my friends as “Mr. BDE”—isn’t divorced and single like he told me. On the contrary, he’s happily married to “the great love of his life.” At least, according to his recently discovered Facebook account.

“For six months,” I say, “that lying bastard swore he’s never felt a connection like ours.” I roll my eyes. “I was such a fool.”

My friends tell me not to blame myself. They say it’s not my fault Mr. BDE lied to me. But it’s hard not to kick myself when, in retrospect, it’s clear I ignored several obvious red flags.

“Do you know how long he’s been married?” my friend, Victoria, asks.

“Two or three years. I’m guessing she’s not his first wife, since she wasn’t even born when he graduated college, but who knows? Either way, he’s been married throughout the entire time he dated me.”

The table expresses another round of outrage.

“How young is she?” Selena asks.

“In her early thirties, based on her high school graduation date.” I shake my head. “And here I’ve been thinking I’m a pretty-young-thing to him. When I saw those photos of her, I felt like I’d fallen off the big conveyor belt in the sky and straight into the old lady slush pile.”

Everyone tells me that’s ridiculous. That forty is the new thirty. That I’m in my prime and have never been hotter, sexier, more confident or alluring. But no matter what my friends say, I know the truth: since my mother’s death a year ago, I’ve been a hot mess. I’ve been focusing all my energy on trying to be a good mother to my almost-three-year-old, Ripley, and a comfort to my grieving father, while also trying to keep my so-called career as a private chef from flaming out. The stark reality is that I’m a woman with an unhealthy knack for pretending to have it all together when I don’t, especially when pretending to be a hot older man’s carefree plaything.

Geraldine, the sweet, kind-hearted plus-one I invited to our monthly meal, smiles sympathetically at me. Given that I don’t know Geraldine all that well, it crossed my mind to uninvite her after finding out this bombshell about Alexander last week. I’m not the best at being vulnerable, even with my longtime best friends, and I worried I’d clam up even more than usual with a new friend at the table. As it’s turned out, however, every time I’ve looked at Geraldine tonight and seen the supportive, kind look in her eyes—a look that reminds me so much of the way my mother used to look at me in times of crisis—I’ve felt uncharacteristically safe to open up and spill my guts.

Geraldine says, “My husband cheated and lied about it during most of my thirties, so I spent that entire decade thinking I was paranoid and crazy. We’ve all been there, Marnie. Please, don’t let him make you doubt your intelligence or make you feel like a cast-off old lady. I’m fifty-three, and I can honestly say I’ve never felt better or happier.”

I met Geraldine three months ago at an expensive yoga studio I’d joined for networking purposes. Unfortunately, trekking to weekly yoga classes hasn’t landed me a single new client, but if it turns out meeting Geraldine is the only good thing to come out of my failed networking idea, it’ll be well worth it. Not only because Geraldine is bona fide friend material but also because I’m sure she’d make a fabulous girlfriend for my darling father. Since Mom passed, Dad hasn’t gone out on a single date; but whenever he feels ready, he couldn’t do better than this lovely woman. In fact, Geraldine’s sweet, nurturing, easy-going energy reminds me so much of Mom’s, I was instantly drawn to her at my first yoga class.

Selena says to Geraldine, “I was married to a textbook narcissist in my twenties and the first half of my thirties. But now, at thirty-nine, I finally know exactly who I am and what I want, and I think that makes me hotter than ever.”

“Cheers to that,” Victoria says, and we all raise our glasses and drink to aging like fine wine.

My very best friend in the group, Lucy, says, “I’m so glad I brought Frankie tonight. That’s exactly the sort of messaging I wanted her to hear—that we only get better and better, the more we know ourselves.” Frankie is Lucy’s daughter—a college senior who’s home for spring break. When Lucy got pregnant with Frankie during college, and then decided to have the baby, we all pitched in and raised Frankie, along with Lucy and her parents.

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Hacker in Love Read Online Lauren Rowe http://www.ilovenovels.com/hacker-in-love-read-online-lauren-rowe Tue, 09 May 2023 20:48:48 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/hacker-in-love-read-online-lauren-rowe Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Insta-Love Authors: Lauren Rowe Advertisement

Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)

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Secrets. Everybody’s got ‘em, including me. Especially me.

The difference is mine will never be revealed, whereas I can easily get yours, assuming the price offered by your enemy is right and the scales of justice appeal to my personal standards of ethics. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. The thing that’s not so easy for a shy guy like me? Finding Ms. Right and locking her down.

Speaking of Ms. Right, the very night I was set up with Hannah Milliken by our mutual friend, I knew I’d one day kneel before her with a ring in hand. Hannah’s the kind of girl who’ll gleefully dance like a gorilla with me in the coolest nightclub or belt out a karaoke duet from Grease like her very life depends on it. She’s gorgeous, too. Funny and smart. And she even wears librarian glasses. See? Perfect.

I don’t doubt Hannah’s the one for me. Indubitably, she is. I only wonder how a dork like me could possibly land a goddess like her.

Unfortunately, when catastrophe strikes, all my questions are rendered moot. Now that Hannah knows the truth about me not actually working in cybersecurity—as well as the questionable things I’ve done to win her over—will I lose my dream girl forever, or is there still a chance for us to chase our happily ever after?

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

PLAYLIST

“Birdhouse in Your Soul”—They Might Be Giants

1

HANNAH

“Hi, Hannah Banana Montana Milliken!” Kat Morgan says brightly, answering my call.

Kat’s my co-worker turned bestie who’s been MIA from our Seattle office this past week while slaving away on a new VIP client account in Las Vegas. Or at least, that’s what our hawk-eyed boss thinks Kat’s been doing. Snicker.

In reality, my blonde bombshell of a bestie has been playing hooky with a young, hot billionaire—a handsome playboy who took one look at Kat’s gorgeous vivacity and apparently decided, “I want to play with her.” Lucky for Josh Faraday, he was exactly Kat’s type—hot, funny, and cocky as hell. And so, the glittering pair jetted off to the Neon Capital of the World for a couple days of carefree fun.

After a few days, though, when Kat informed her billionaire fling she had to return to Seattle or risk getting shitcanned, he picked up the phone and “hired” Kat for an “urgent PR job” in Las Vegas—all expenses paid and at Kat’s premium rate—thereby ensuring the continuation of their fun without the possibility of Kat suffering any adverse employment consequences.

I’ve been picking up the slack on Kat’s real accounts in her absence, but I’m not salty about it, since Kat’s done countless favors for me since joining the firm almost two years ago. Frankly, I’m relieved to finally get the chance to repay her. Plus, the chances are nil I’ll ever get to enjoy a scorching-hot fling with a young, hot billionaire, so I’ve thoroughly enjoyed living vicariously through my party-girl bestie this past week.

“Hey there, Kitty Kat,” I say, pressing my phone against my ear. “Sorry to bother you, but I’ve run into a snag on the barbeque account.” I explain the issue, and, not surprisingly, Kat offers a creative suggestion I hadn’t contemplated, which we then build upon together to reach a kick-ass solution for our client.

When the work portion of our conversation is done, I lower my voice and ask, “So, are you still having a blast with Mr. Faraday?” I’ve googled the hell out of one Joshua William Faraday of Faraday & Sons, and it’s not hard to see why Kat is currently feeling infatuated with him. Dark hair. Blazing blue eyes. An insanely fit body paired with a cocky grin. With all that going for him, Josh would be Kat’s exact type even before adding in his insane wealth—but, of course, the guy being filthy rich and wildly successful on top of everything else certainly doesn’t hurt.

“Yeah, I am, as a matter of fact,” Kat replies calmly.

I wait, but she doesn’t elaborate. It’s so unlike my loose lipped, vivacious friend to answer with such calm brevity, it can only mean one thing. I whisper, “He’s there and can overhear you?”

“Actually, yeah, he is,” Kat replies evenly. But when she adds a little “gah!” to the end of her sentence, I know exactly what she’s trying to tell me: She finally gave in to her white-hot lust and banged the billionaire.

When we spoke a few days ago, Kat still hadn’t slept with Josh, despite her extreme desire to do so, because, she said, he’d surely lose interest on a bullet train if she jumped into bed with him too quickly. During that phone call, Kat explained, “Someone needs to teach that gorgeous, arrogant man he can’t have whatever and whomever he wants with a snap of his fancy fingers—and that someone is going to be me.” At the time, Kat conceded it would take superhuman willpower on her part to resist Josh for much longer. But, she insisted, she was up to the challenge—determined to abstain for the higher purpose of keeping Josh’s attention for as long as possible.

“You had sex with Josh?” I whisper, even though Kat’s little “gah!” pretty much confirmed as much.

Kat giggles. “Yesssssss.”

I squeal, a bit too loudly for my small cubicle, and then glance toward the hallway, praying I haven’t unwittingly attracted our strict boss’s attention. Rebecca is a likeable woman outside of the office, but when we’re on the clock, she runs a tight ship and doesn’t suffer a modicum of bullshit. When it’s clear our boss isn’t nearby, I return excitedly to my call with Kat. “And was the sex a five-alarm fire, like you predicted?”

“More,” Kat breathes, elongating the vowel sound in a way that sounds vaguely orgasmic.

“Katherine Morgan!” I whisper-shout as my cheeks bloom to crimson. “Leave some cookies for the rest of the class!” As Kat cackles with glee, I add, “Please, tell me the hot billionaire has a hot friend for me.” It’s my usual joke—other than the billionaire part—the joke I always make when Kat regales me with spicy stories about her dating life. Thanks to almost two years’ worth of daily lunches, Kat knows I adore hearing every detail of her dating adventures, especially given my own two-year dating drought.

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