Nero – Shattered Wings Read Online Shandi Boyes

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Mafia Tags Authors:
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>61
Advertisement

Minutes after being served divorce papers, I receive a phone call that warps my mind.

If it isn’t bad enough my soon-to-be ex filed for divorce on our fourteenth wedding anniversary, he also used my company card to spoil his mistress with a honeymoon suite and a thousand-dollar floral arrangement.

I’ve not been handed a single flower since we wed, so when the hotel clerk requests to see my card before processing the payment, I accept the opportunity unknowingly granted to me.

With the tiny teddy I had hoped would milk my husband of one measly orga$m covered by a thin coat, and my cell phone recording, I burst into the honeymoon suite, gung-ho for the evidence that will offer me the ultimate revenge.

There isn’t a single person in the entire suite.

A god, though. There’s one of them.

He glares at me like I was caught cheating, and the heat of his stare makes me wish that were true.

I’d sign on the dotted line without protest just for the chance of spending an hour with the dark and brooding stranger who doesn’t look at me like I should cover my curves with an outfit “more appropriate for my body type.”

Nero loves the way I fill in the racy little number, and he’s more than happy to spend a few hours ensuring my husband knows exactly what he let go, and to help me repair my shattered wings.

*

Nero is a standalone bratva (Russian Mafia) romance about two people who wanted revenge, but instead, found each other

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

1

MIRANDA

When I look in the mirror, I grimace when I see how the crisscross pattern of my teddy clings to my body.

The changing-room mirrors at the boutique store I popped into last month must be those flattering, you’ll-never-look-fat-in-our-store mirrors, because this ensemble looks nothing like the one I tried on weeks ago.

I’m meant to be spicing up my marriage, not giving Roy more reasons to whine.

This hot little number is supposed to complement my curves. It’s made them offensive.

Roy will complain that there’s too much skin showing. He’s such an ass he’ll probably say I look like a pork roll held together by a mesh cooking bag.

As much as this kills me to admit, his hurtful comments aren’t far from the truth. My tummy has more cellulite than a man seeking a trophy wife would find acceptable.

Furthermore, due to a hectic pre-Christmas work schedule, my thighs are chunky enough that they clap when I walk.

While getting ready, I scared my Jack Russell terrier, Tempy, more than the luminous clouds darkening my hometown’s sky hours earlier than usual did. She’s a chicken when it comes to storms. Her tummy has been a bundle of nerves all evening.

Mine hasn’t been much better. Although I’ve been married for fourteen years, my stomach still gets butterflies whenever I dress up for a special occasion.

They’re not good flutters.

I can’t recall the last time Roy and I had sex. I think it was Easter the previous year…

Actually, scrap that. His aunt had an emergency not long after we exchanged sugar-laden gifts. I ate his share of our treats and mine.

My stomach hurt for days, and the scale was just as damning the following week, but it was the most satisfied I’ve ever been.

My plump lips arch at one side when I twirl, taking in the entire package.

Not bad, Miranda. Not bad at all.

I have plenty of junk in the trunk to deviate even the most disinterested man’s eyes from my stomach, and a trip to the salon this afternoon did wonders for my hair.

My face isn’t half bad, either.

As my grandma always said, a couple of pounds on the scale will plump out any pesky wrinkles.

I appear closer to mid-twenties than mid-thirties and look put together. Possibly hot.

I doubt my husband will agree, though. He hasn’t issued a single compliment since we exchanged vows.

Ugh! Why do I put myself through the torment?

Roy is a dick. I should have left him years ago. It is just hard to remember a life without him in it. He swept me off my feet when I was young and dumb and when he could cover his flaws with a rigidly sharp jaw and a handsome face that concealed all his lies.

I married him too fast. We hadn’t even dated for six months.

It was fun at the start, but now that the shine has long worn off, I’m on the cusp of depression.

That’s what my outfit is about. It’s our anniversary, and as much as I wish I were in sweats, eating ice cream out of the tub and watching my favorite shows, I need to do something to re-spark our connection.

Roy promised our rut would only be temporary, so I must give him the chance to make true on his promise.

It is the most I can do since he’s not kept a single one in the past fourteen years.


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>61

Advertisement