21 Wall Street Series by Lauren Layne – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Mon, 27 Nov 2017 01:57:33 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png 21 Wall Street Series by Lauren Layne – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Huge Deal Read online Lauren Layne (21 Wall Street #3) http://www.ilovenovels.com/huge-deal-3-read-online-lauren-layne Mon, 27 Nov 2017 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/huge-deal-3-read-online-lauren-layne Categories Genre: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: 21 Wall Street Series by Lauren Layne
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
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Huge Deal (21 Wall Street #3)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Lauren Layne
Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
1441735704 (ISBN13: 9781441735706)
Book Information:

Even for a top-gun banker, temptation this hot is quite a gamble, in a sexy Wall Street romp from New York Times bestselling author Lauren Layne.
An alpha among the wolves of Wall Street, Kennedy Dawson rose to the top of the pack by striking the right contracts at the right times. But there’s one deal that’s been giving him a run for his money—a pact to never again let his assistant, Kate, get under his skin. She may be smart, gorgeous, and sharp as a whip, but she’s definitely off-limits.
Kate Henley isn’t a banker, but she knows a thing or two about risk management—specifically, about managing her attraction to her smolderingly sexy boss. She already fell once, and Kennedy showed no sign of paying a return on her investment. So when Kennedy’s brother starts pursuing her, Kate figures she has the best of both worlds. Jack is charming, rich, very attentive, and the spitting image of his older brother.
It’s also making Kennedy think twice. But to win Kate’s heart, he’ll have to broker the deal of a lifetime…and prove he’s worth the risk.
Books in Series:

21 Wall Street Series by Lauren Layne
Books by Author:

Lauren Layne Books


PART ONE

1

Tuesday, March 26

“Okay, so where are we with the ice sculpture?”

Kate Henley let the question hang in the air unanswered for about seven seconds longer than comfortable, hoping that the asker would hear the ridiculousness of the question and retract it.

Claudia Palmer merely blinked at Kate with eyelashes that may or may not have been real and waited for Kate’s response.

Kate let out a tiny internal sigh. She’d mastered it over the years. It was the kind of sigh nobody else knew was happening, but it allowed Kate a moment of silent acknowledgment that she was right, even if the other person didn’t realize it. Yet.

If Kate had learned anything in her twenty-seven years, it was that there was a certain power in being underestimated. And at five foot one, with boring brown hair, boring brown eyes, and a penchant for prim clothing, Kate was the queen of flying under the radar when she needed to. Other times, being underestimated wasn’t powerful so much as supremely annoying.

Times like now.

“Still working on it,” Kate finally replied. “General consensus is that a six-foot ice sculpture in a warmer-than-usual spring is going to be a pricey endeavor.”

The other woman gave a practiced, dramatic wave of her hand. “Please. If Givenchy can pull it off in Milan in August, we can do it in Manhattan in April.”

Kate surreptitiously checked the time on her iPad: 2:14 p.m. Cue the slow clap for Claudia. Her boss’s girlfriend had made it fourteen minutes into their meeting before name-dropping one of her famous designer contacts. A new record.

“Okay, so you’ll take care of that,” Claudia said, looking back down at her tiny spiral notebook. “I’m still undecided on who we should have supply the oysters. I’ve heard good things about Oysters XO. Have you worked with them?”

“Sure, several times,” Kate said. “But—”

“Okay, maybe I’ll hand off this task to you as well,” Claudia said, tapping her lip with a perfectly manicured red nail. “I’m thinking a mix of East and West Coast. What do you think?”

“I’m thinking Kennedy’s allergic to shellfish,” Kate said.

Claudia didn’t even glance up. “So? He won’t be the only one at this party.”

Um. “But it’s his birthday party.”

Claudia apparently hadn’t mastered the silent sigh, because hers was audible and annoyed. “Kennedy will understand that other people like oysters, even if he can’t indulge. There’ll be other food for him to eat.”

And chances are he’ll be so horrified by the ice-sculpture statue in his likeness that he won’t even notice the shellfish he can’t eat, the Maroon 5 cover band he can’t stand, the guest list of people he doesn’t know . . .

Kate was on the verge of letting Claudia know exactly what she thought of her party plan when the other woman reached across the conference room table and touched her arm. “Thanks again for helping me with this. His mother kept offering, but it’s important to me to show Diane that I can do this on my own. That I care about her son as much as she does.”

Kate forced a smile in response, even as she privately doubted that someone who’d been dating Kennedy Dawson for all of two months could possibly care about the man as much as his own mother. Not to mention, Claudia was hardly doing this “on her own.” Kate should have known better when Claudia had asked if she could “run a few ideas” by Kate for a small surprise get-together for Kennedy.

In reality, Kate was spending nearly as much time on this damn party as she was her actual job as Kennedy’s assistant, and she was pretty sure she was ending up with the majority of the work for what was turning into a freaking circus.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Kate said noncommittally. “Though if you’re open to suggestions—”

“Claudia? What are you doing here?”

Kate went still for just a half second, the way she always did when she heard his voice, the gesture as frequent, and nearly as imperceptible, as her internal sighs.

Claudia immediately stood, all graceful movement and long legs, as she slid her notebook across the table to Kate.

Since Claudia’s and Kennedy’s focus was entirely on each other, Kate allowed herself the gratification of an eye roll at Claudia’s hasty handoff. As if Kennedy were really going to make a beeline for a tiny, impractical little notebook that had—Kate flipped through it—maybe twenty pages.

Most of the pages were filled with over-the-top party ideas. One simply said Doves.

Kate smiled a little at that. It would serve Kennedy right to have doves at his party. In fact, if Claudia asked Kate’s opinion on the doves, Kate was happy to lie her little heart out.

Absolutely! Kennedy would love to see a bunch of creepy birds at the birthday party he doesn’t know is happening and probably doesn’t want, because he hates surprises even more than he hates parties . . .


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Hard Sell Read Online Lauren Layne (21 Wall Street #2) http://www.ilovenovels.com/hard-sell-2-read-online-lauren-layne Thu, 27 Jul 2017 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/hard-sell-2-read-online-lauren-layne Categories Genre: Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: 21 Wall Street Series by Lauren Layne
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Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
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Hard Sell (21 Wall Street #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Lauren Layne
Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
1441735380 (ISBN13: 9781441735386)
Book Information:

He’s a Wall Street wolf. She’s been hired to tame him. From New York Times bestselling author Lauren Layne comes a wildly sexy novel of business and pleasure.
Twenty-eight and filthy rich, Matt Cannon is the youngest broker on Wall Street. He may be a “boy wonder,” but he’s every inch a man. Ask any woman—any night. But when Matt’s latest fling makes scandalous headlines, his clients get anxious, and his bosses at Wolfe Investments level an ultimatum: keep his assets zipped, get a “real” girlfriend, and clean up his act. Only one woman can help Matt with something this hard.
For PR genius Sabrina Cross, the best fixer in Manhattan, playing Matt’s steady is going to be a challenge, even if it’s just for show. They already have an explosive history, she can’t stand the cocky party boy, and worse—she can’t stop thinking about him. So who’ll dare to break her “no touching” rule first? Because when that happens, Matt and Sabrina’s game of let’s pretend will get so hot it could set both their reputations on fire.
Books in Series:

21 Wall Street Series by Lauren Layne
Books by Author:

Lauren Layne Books


1

MATT

Monday Morning, September 18

“You’re an angel, and I love you,” I say with a reverence usually reserved for people in church.

My assistant lifts an eyebrow and holds out two aspirin. “Are you talking to me or the bagel sandwich?”

“Both,” I say around a bite, holding out my free hand for the pills.

Kate waits until I swallow, then holds out a Venti Starbucks cup that I use to wash down the pills.

“How’d you know?” I ask, picking up the egg and Swiss on sesame bagel once more.

“That you were hungover as crap? I get your flight change notifications. Taking an unplanned Sunday red-eye from Vegas to New York after a bachelor party pretty much says it all.”

I wince. “Can we not say the word Vegas? Or bachelor party? And until further notice, all references to alcohol are hereby banned.”

She smirks. “It sucks getting old, huh?”

“I’m not old,” I say automatically. The very suggestion’s an affront. After all, I’m Matt Cannon, Wall Street’s legendary wunderkind.

And yeah, only douchebags would call themselves legendary, but in my case? It’s kind of true. I graduated from high school when I was sixteen, college when I was nineteen, and got hired on at Wolfe Investments just days after my twenty-second birthday, back when my liver was basically a virgin (though I was definitely not) and more than ready to take on the booze-fest that is Wall Street.

Whoops. I just remembered we’re not talking about alcohol. Not until the aspirin, caffeine, and this sandwich work their sweet magic on my hangover.

Anyway, the point is I’m only twenty-eight. Not exactly a boy wonder anymore, but to be one of the Wolfes before thirty is brag-worthy. It’s hard enough to get hired by the company in the first place, even harder to move up the ranks at such a young age, and . . .

Oh hell, who am I kidding?

I can’t drink like I could when I was twenty-two, and I am officially feeling the effects of the forty-eight-hour rager that was my cousin’s bachelor party.

“How are you feeling, for real?” Kate asks, giving me a critical once-over.

Kate Henley’s one of those assistants who you guard more closely than your wallet, Pappy Van Winkle, or bank account password. She’s that valuable.

Sure, she’s got the petite, pretty, doe-eyed look of a 1950s debutante, but she’s obscenely competent at her job. So competent, in fact, she works for not one demanding boss but three. A couple of years ago, I got promoted to director the same month as my two best friends and Wolfe colleagues, Ian Bradley and Kennedy Dawson. The promotion meant we each got our own assistant instead of sharing one like the junior guys. We couldn’t decide who got Kate, so she took on all three of us and does it twice as well as any of the other assistants who support only one investment broker.

Our arrangement also means we made a pact to keep our playboy wiles far away from her, though truth be told, I don’t know that she was ever really at risk. I’m pretty sure Kate’s too smart to fall for one of us because she knows us all too well, though her gaze does seem to linger on Kennedy at times.

I grin at her. “Better. Thanks. Headache’s already receding.”

“Good. Because The Sams want to see you.”

My grin disappears. “Now?” I check my Rolex. “It’s barely eight on Monday morning.”

“Yeah, well, this is Wall Street. Everyone’s day started four hours ago. Speaking of which, I’ve called you, like, ten times.”

I rub my forehead. “I lost my cell phone . . . somewhere. The Sams say what they wanted?”

“Nope,” she says, bending to pull something out of a garment bag. “But they came by my desk themselves instead of sending Carla, which is never good. Put this on.”

She hands me a skinny blue tie, and I obediently tug off the striped one I put on in the airport bathroom at baggage claim. At best, it smells like the smoke of a Vegas casino. At worst . . .

The way Kate wrinkles her nose when she takes it tells me it’s in the unnamed “worse” category.

I put the fresh tie around my neck, but she holds up a finger and waves it in a circle. “Hmm, nope. You’re worse off than I thought.” She holds up a white dress shirt. “Wardrobe change. Where the hell’d you sleep last night, a barroom floor?”

“Didn’t sleep at all,” I mutter, unbuttoning my shirt.

It sort of sums up my and Kate’s platonic relationship that I’m shirtless but she doesn’t so much as glance at the upper body I’ve earned through long gym hours as she hands me the shirt. “One day you really are going to be too old for this, you know.”

“One day,” I say as I put on the fresh shirt. “Not today.”


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Hot Asset read Online Lauren Layne (21 Wall Street #1) http://www.ilovenovels.com/hot-asset-1-read-online-lauren-layne Thu, 04 May 2017 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/hot-asset-1-read-online-lauren-layne Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: 21 Wall Street Series by Lauren Layne
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Hot Asset (21 Wall Street #1)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Lauren Layne
Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B075WTFNCM
Book Information:

A sexy agent hounds Wall Street’s hottest new wolf in an exhilarating novel from New York Times bestselling author Lauren Layne.
Ian Bradley is the definition of a Wall Street hotshot: seven-figure salary, designer suits, and a corner office. His drive off the floor is just as potent. Every woman who knows him has felt the rush. But now he’s met his match in Lara McKenzie—a woman with the power to bring Ian to his knees.
An ambitious, whip-smart daughter of FBI agents, Lara is a rising star in fighting white-collar crime. Her latest case—the investigation of Ian Bradley for insider trading—could make her career. She knows a scoundrel when she sees one. Ian fits the bill: a cocky, ridiculously handsome bad boy with a slick swagger.
She’ll do anything to prove he’s guilty. He’ll do anything to prove he’s not. But it’s only a matter of time before their fierce battle of wits gets oh so hot and personal. Now, taking down Ian has become more than business for Lara. It’s become a pleasure—and there’s more at risk than she ever dreamed.
Books in Series:

21 Wall Street Series by Lauren Layne
Books by Author:

Lauren Layne Books


1

IAN

On paper, I’m a douchebag. Yeah, I said it so you don’t have to.

Don’t believe me? Here’s a crash course in Ian Bradley:

The charcoal-gray suit I’m currently wearing costs more than my first car. I’m six foot two, black hair, blue eyes, and I work out every day, so I wear that suit well, if you get what I’m saying, and you know you do.

At thirty-two, I’m an investment broker—director level, thank you very much—for Wolfe Investments. And let’s just say, work hard, play hard is basically the unspoken company motto.

I’ve got a corner office, a seven-figure salary, a swanky apartment in Manhattan’s Financial District, and I never sleep with the same woman twice—because I don’t have to.

Did I mention I went to Yale? Managed to graduate top of my class and get all the usual college bad decisions under my belt. Achieving both a thriving social life and summa cum laude at an Ivy League is no easy task, let me tell you.

So, like I said—I’m basically the poster boy for “Wall Street dickhead.”

But don’t hate me just yet, because here’s what that Ian Bradley poster doesn’t say:

Unlike the rest of my fraternity, that Ivy League education didn’t come courtesy of a trust fund and four generations of Yale alumni to get me in the door. More like three jobs, an academic scholarship, and a shit-ton of financial aid.

As a kid, my spoon was plastic, not silver, and was provided by a cranky but kind gas-service attendant in South Philly because most of my foster parents didn’t give a fuck whether or not I ate.

That cushy corner office I just told you about? Mine came from sheer force of will and about a decade of no sleep.

And while that seven-figure salary puts a swanky Manhattan roof over my head, it also provides college education for Philly foster kids who are willing to work for it.

Have you started a mocking slow clap yet? Yeah, that’s fair.

But the point is there’s never been a damn thing I worked for and didn’t get through relentless hard work and hustle.

Until her.

And that’s where my story really begins.

Week 1: Monday Afternoon

It’s three o’clock on “Merger Monday,” and I need more caffeine.

Monday is the day of the week where a shit-ton of mergers between companies is announced. For my colleagues and me at Wolfe Investments, that means a lot of time staring at the list, making phone calls, trying to figure out what’s huge, what’s pay attention, and what’s who cares among the deals.

In other words, it’s necessary but mind-numbing, especially after a late night, and, well . . . they’re all late nights in my world.

I step out of my office for a Starbucks run, and the second I do, the office door across from mine opens, and a stunning brunette in a tight red dress gives me a slow smile. “Hey, Ian.”

I smile back at my colleague. “Joss.”

She leans against the doorframe and strategically crosses her arms to emphasize her cleavage before giving me a slow once-over. “Busy?”

Subtlety’s not her strong suit. Hell, it’s not any of ours here at Wolfe.

“’Fraid so.”

Her eyes narrow. “I haven’t seen you around.”

She’s seen me around plenty. She just means she hasn’t seen me naked since the gin-fueled mistake last week that I have no intention of repeating. Not because she’s not hot, but because I don’t do do-overs.

The moment the challenge is over, so’s the appeal.

I’m not proud of it, but it’s always been that way—faulty wiring, I suppose.

“Sorry, been busy.” I give her a wink, then turn to head down the hall.

“Is Kennedy around?” she calls after me.

I smirk a little at the too-obvious question. If she’s trying to make me jealous, she’s wrong on both counts. I don’t do jealous, and Kennedy Dawson doesn’t do office hookups. Even if he did, my friend doesn’t touch my leftovers. Wall Street has a guy code.

“No clue,” I call over my shoulder.

I’m texting my Monday Starbucks barista to let her know I’ll be there in five (no point waiting in line when a twenty-dollar tip has your drink waiting for you) when a pair of excellent female legs in the break room catches my attention.

I slow, trying to see what I’m dealing with here. I don’t recognize the calves. Not the ass or slim waist, either, and I’d definitely remember the long blonde ponytail that’s got just the right amount of grown-up cheerleader fantasy going on.

Hot. Very hot.

Still, I’ve got shit to do, and I’m about to pass on by when I hear the woman talking to herself. “How are there eight milk options?”

I smile at the genuine bafflement in her voice. Shoving both hands into my pockets, I step into the kitchen to see firsthand if the face is as great as the body. “Well, I’m no expert, but off the top of my head, whole, two percent, skim, soy, almond unsweetened, almond sweetened with vanilla, coconut . . .”


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