Cinderella Series by K. Webster – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sun, 25 Apr 2021 12:08:33 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Cinderella Series by K. Webster – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 The Glass Slipper (Cinderella #3) Read Online K. Webster http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-glass-slipper-cinderella-3-read-online-k-webster Sun, 25 Apr 2021 11:48:00 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-glass-slipper-cinderella-3-read-online-k-webster Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Erotic, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Cinderella Series by K. Webster
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Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
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The Glass Slipper (Cinderella #3)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

K. Webster
Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B08SKP4SFY
Book Information:

Betraying the most powerful man in New York wasn’t something I ever envisioned when I first started playing games with Winston Constantine. But he’s engaged in far more dangerous games than ours, and his enemies are out for blood.
Winston has my heart, the Morellis have incriminating photos, and I’m left with nothing except three stepbrothers who want to hurt me and a future in doubt. I knew Winston wouldn’t be my prince charming, but that didn’t stop me from falling for him.
After all, the slippers fit, and I let myself believe I’d be dancing with Winston forever.
Until too much truth comes to light.
Until I realize instead of ruling the board, I was just a pawn.
In the end, I have only one question. When his game with me is over, will I be able to pretend as if the glass slipper wasn’t a perfect fit?
Books in Series:

Cinderella Series by K. Webster
Books by Author:

K. Webster


CHAPTER ONE

Winston

Since my birthday party.

That’s how long my useless maid, my filthy toy, my Cinderelliott has been keeping this secret from me. Not just any secret, but conversations behind my back with Leo motherfucking Morelli about God only knows what.

I’m disgusted. Furious. And a whole other array of emotions I have no business feeling.

Another tear rolls down Ash’s pink cheek, chasing after the one before it.

One. Two. Three. So many tears, each one a reminder of why I don’t do this. Why I keep my heart icy and impenetrable. Because, no matter how good something seems with the perfect woman, it can all come crumbling down with just a few salty teardrops.

Betrayal isn’t always a waterfall of fucked up like it was with Meredith. Sometimes it’s the drip, drip, drip of I should have fucking known better.

I did.

I knew this was a potential outcome.

Not whatever the hell is happening right now between Ash and Morelli.

But the secrets. The lies. The shady bullshit.

It happened with Meredith. I vowed it’d never happen again, and yet here we are. Nate and Mother practically force-fed me the warnings, but I’d been so distracted with playing games with Ash I didn’t see her playing a game of her own.

More tears.

My maid is pretty when she cries. Too fucking pretty. It’s almost distracting enough to take my attention away from the reason why she’s crying. Not because we’ve made a deal and I’m humiliating her. Not because I’m delivering a little pain with pleasure. Not the usual reasons.

No.

She’s crying because she’s been hiding something from me and essentially lying to my face. The fact her lies revolve around a Morelli is what makes it unforgivable. She knows she’s fucked up.

Royally.

“Win,” she starts, but I halt her with a lift of my two fingers off the table.

“Shh,” I murmur. “Let me look at you like this a little while longer.”

Broken. Devastated. Caught red-handed. The humiliation and regret shining in her eyes is something she managed all by herself this time. I didn’t do this. I didn’t pay her for this. This was all her.

Her phone continues to buzz, but she ignores it to plead with me using just her leaking, sad hazel eyes and pouty lips. The seconds tick by. Neither of us look away.

“Are…Are you going to leave me here with him?”

Because I’m the monster here. That question hurts a lot more than I care to admit. Another reminder of why I don’t let people in. I don’t like to hurt. Not even a little bit. Cold, hard walls of I don’t give a fuck are what has gotten me through life thus far. It’ll have to get me through it this time.

“That depends.” A cruel laugh barks out of me when she flinches at my words. “Do you want me to?”

The devastation on her face transforms into irritation making the green shards in her hazel eyes nearly glow. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Too late for that, Miss Elliott. I was born that way.”

She actually rolls her eyes and for a split second it’s just me and Ash. My sassy Cinderelliott. The girl I’ve grown obsessed with. I’m disappointed at myself. So easily I allowed myself to be charmed by a fucking teenager.

My frigid demeanor has the sassiness leeching from her and she squirms in her seat. Her tits bounce slightly, so goddamn delectable in her dress, but I refuse to acknowledge them and keep my hard stare on her face.

“He told me not to tell you,” she whispers, shame creeping over her cheeks in a crimson flood. “I was scared and…”

My brow lifts as I regard her with a bored expression. “Please continue,” I urge in a flat tone. “Please tell me why you thought it was better to listen to that rat than talk to me. Me—the same man who rescued you from your disgusting stepbrothers and has more money than God. The same man who could stomp on the entire Morelli empire if provoked. I’m all ears.”

I sound pathetic.

Sad.

Upset.

I’m not.

Liar.

“I…” She swallows hard and closes her eyes. “The pictures of us. The videos. The texts. He has it all. I didn’t want to help him but he said if I didn’t or if I told you, he’d…”

“He’d what?” I ask coolly. “Send them to the paparazzi? Embarrass me by showing my friends? Tell my mommy?”

And what the hell does “help him” even mean?

My blood boils at the thought of Morelli using my toy against me.

“Win—” Her chin wobbles.

I motion at her with a flick of my wrist. “For fuck’s sake, pull yourself together.”

Fire flashes in her expression. Good. She’ll do better being a bitch than playing a sniveling victim.

“Listen, little girl,” I say, leaning toward her so she can hear me well. “I came here because there’s something I needed to do. This ‘thing’ with you and Morelli is merely an unexpected sideshow for my entertainment tonight.”


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Prince Charming (Cinderella #2) Read Online K. Webster http://www.ilovenovels.com/prince-charming-cinderella-2-read-online-k-webster Wed, 03 Feb 2021 06:27:53 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/prince-charming-cinderella-2-read-online-k-webster Categories Genre: BDSM, Billionaire, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Cinderella Series by K. Webster
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Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Prince Charming (Cinderella #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

K. Webster
Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B08K9F9Z35
Book Information:

Winston Constantine is no prince charming...
I crave him so badly I think I might be losing my mind. He's right in front of me, but he’s just as remote as my dreams of getting away from my stepbrothers. I keep playing his twisted games, and I want to stay just as distant as he is. But I can’t. I never could. I’ve fallen for him. Hopelessly. Irrevocably.
But Winston isn’t a lover, he’s a business venture. A way for me to pay for college. A ticket out.
He’s never pretended to be anything other than that. I can’t blame him for making me fall in love.
There can be no happily ever after between a maid and a prince, no matter what the stories say.
Books in Series:

Cinderella Series by K. Webster
Books by Author:

K. Webster


1

Winston

Flash. Flash. Flash.

I’m posing like a goddamn Versace model to please my insufferable mother when I’d rather be playing naughty games with her.

My assistant.

My worthless maid.

My obedient, dirty girl who gets off on the same depraved shit I do.

Soon enough.

I just have to make it through this bullshit first.

Tilt your head a little to the right. No, a bit more to the left. Angle down slightly. Stare intently into the camera. Do the serious scowl thing again. Now switch it up and give us a smirk.

This is more Perry’s scene. Strutting around like a rooster so everyone will admire him. It’s a waste of my time to preen in front of a camera when I could be doing something more productive. One cursory glance of the courtyard tells me either he’s late or choosing to avoid this shitshow. I’ll gripe his ass out later for bailing on me.

Smile, Mr. Constantine. I said smile, not grimace. Are you ill, sir?

This goes on for eons. Mother takes great pleasure in my displeasure based on the sly grin curving up one side of her lips. It’s times like these, despite me being a grown-ass man, I wish my father were here to intervene. He was always the warmer of our two parents and seemed to be one of the few who could thaw her out. After the first half hour of indulging Mother with photographs, he’d have pulled me aside for “business.” We’d have hidden out until the party started, cracking open a sixty-five-thousand-dollar bottle of Louis XIII Black Pearl Cognac as we enjoyed a few moments of silent bliss.

The bitterness of losing my father rears its ugly head. My spine goes rigid, and my scowl deepens.

That’s the look. Right there. Money shot, sir. Perhaps narrow your eyes a bit. Show them you mean business.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I itch to pull it out and take the call. The pictures Ash sent me of her all dolled up in the gown were breathtaking. It makes me crave to dirty her up and ruin her. I’d been about to tell her that too when I was dragged back to the photoshoot where I’ve been miserable ever since. Knowing my spoiled girl was expecting “endless amounts of praise” when I haven’t had an opportunity to shower her with it yet or even send money for the photos sits in the pit of my stomach like a lead balloon. If it weren’t for my need to put on a good show for the public, I’d have shut this circus down already. I didn’t exponentially grow my father’s company since his death by being stubborn or obtuse. No, I did it because I know the necessary games that must be played. Agreeing to a magazine spread that showcases the power the Constantine name possesses with my smiling face and expensive suit on the cover is just one of those moves that must be made in order to stay on top. Sometimes the ones beneath me need a reminder of the force behind the dominating name.

When the photographer stops to look at the settings on his camera, I pull my phone from my pocket. I have a missed text from her and one from Perry.

Ash: Winston, I’m sorry lover, but I won’t be able to make it to the party. While it was lovely using you for your money, I won’t need it anymore. My brothers will look after me now.

I reread the text three more times.

It’s not her. My gut tells me it’s not.

And even though I haven’t rewarded her yet like she craves, she wouldn’t jump to such a harsh reply.

The girl is practically in love. I finally gave her the fucking she’s been begging for and spent the night with her. It means one of those little triplet shits thought it’d be funny to pretend to be her. Irritation spreads across my flesh like a fever, scalding and dizzying me. If I hadn’t invited the entire Mannford clan to the birthday ball, I’d be a little worried about her being with them. But, since Dr. Mannford is almost as reliable as my mother when it comes to social appearances, I shelve my concern for now because everyone will be here soon. I’ll refrain from texting her back in case one of those dickheads took her phone. I read Perry’s text next.

Perry: Something came up. I had to run out, but I’ll return shortly. I always got your back, Winny.

His words strike me as odd, but I also find a sense of relief in them.

“Sir, could you put your phone away? We still have a few more shots,” the photographer calls out in an exasperated tone, distracting me from Perry.

“I’m sorry,” I rumble, piercing the man with a hard stare. “For a second there, I thought I was Winston Constantine who owned this entire goddamn city.”


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Stroke of Midnight (Cinderella #1) Read Online K. Webster http://www.ilovenovels.com/stroke-of-midnight-cinderella-1-read-online-k-webster Sun, 01 Nov 2020 20:22:01 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/stroke-of-midnight-cinderella-1-read-online-k-webster Categories Genre: BDSM, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Cinderella Series by K. Webster
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Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
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(Cinderella #1) Stroke of Midnight

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

K. Webster
Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
9798692027016
Book Information:

From USA Today bestselling author K Webster comes a brand new forbidden romance that's going to leave you speechless.
Money can buy anything. And anyone. As the head of the Constantine family, I’m used to people bowing to my will. Cruel, rigid, unyielding—I’m all those things.
When I discover the one woman who doesn’t wither under my gaze, but instead smiles right back at me, I’m intrigued. Ash Elliott needs cash, and I make her trade in crudeness and degradation for it.
I crave her tears, her moans, her submission. I pay for each one. And every time, she comes back for more.
When she challenges me with an offer of her own, I have to decide if I’m willing to give her far more than cold hard cash. But love can have deadly consequences when it comes from a Constantine. At the stroke of midnight, that choice may be lost for both of us.
Books in Series:

Cinderella Series by K. Webster
Books by Author:

K. Webster


1

Winston

The silence is bliss.

No murmurs, no laughs, no bullshit.

A sense of pride washes over me when they all yield to my simple demands. It’s what keeps the wheel greased and moving efficiently. We’re not a Fortune 500 company and one of the world’s most prestigious acquisition firms for nothing. It takes an iron fist to keep everyone in perfect submission. All because they obey my one golden rule.

Work over play.

I reward them handsomely for it, too.

Halcyon requires everyone to play by the Constantine rules—by my rules—in order to maintain the utmost control over this godforsaken city.

The one-thousand-seven-foot skyscraper Halcyon Building is more than the hub for a multi-billion-dollar firm but is also the home of three five-star restaurants, a bar and cigar lounge, a state-of-the-art wellness spa, three elite residential floors, and a rooftop private terrace. It’s one of the most revered and admired pieces of architecture in New York. We’ve been in every architectural magazine, and a movie was even once filmed here.

This building is our proverbial balls.

Huge. Powerful. Intimidating.

The Morellis only wish their presence in this city were anywhere close to ours. No matter how hard they try to claw their way out of the gutter and dress up to fit our world, they’ll always be rats in fucking suits.

“Good morning, Mr. Constantine,” Abby chirps. Pretty blonde. Big tits. Three kids.

I tip my head. “Abby.”

“Good morning, Mr. Constantine,” Brenda calls out, a wide smile on her wrinkled face. Sixties. Widowed. Obsessed with yoga.

“Brenda.”

HR hates my obsessions.

Order. Cleanliness. Rules.

But, because I own them too, they indulge me despite whatever laws they were trained to follow.

“Good morning, Mr. Constantine,” Cara says, waving a manicured hand. Failed model. Daddy issues. Loves Chinese food.

“Cara.”

Our four secretaries that assist the executive offices follow the strictest guidelines. Namely, confidentiality isn’t simply a request, it’s a necessity. We have too many rats in this city waiting for a crack so they can weasel their way inside. It’s my job to know everything about everyone who works beneath me to make sure they’re solid, and I don’t take well to vermin.

I reach the last desk—each one angled perfectly and aligned the way I like—and wait for my secretary to end her phone call. As soon as she’s done, she plasters on her veneered grin and hands me my coffee. Black and piping-hot with a dash of nutmeg.

“Good morning, Mr. Constantine.” She bats her fake lashes at me. Divorced. Career ladder climber. Master organizer.

“Deborah,” I say back. “Any calls?”

“Your brother. Perry.” Ahh, Perry. Still sucking on Mother’s tit like he can dip his hand in her deep, deep purse and pull out whatever the fuck he wants whenever he wants. Silly boy. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. I asked if he’d like to set up a meeting, but he declined. Though, he used far more colorful words than I thought were necessary.”

We both share a smirk.

Baby Constantine hates when he’s pushed aside or ignored. I blame it on Mother’s nanny, Ivory. The woman never could have children and treated Perry like he was hers. He’s spoiled as fuck, and that’s saying something coming from our blood.

“I suppose I’ll give him a ring at some point next week,” I say as I bring my mug to my lips. “Ahh, perfect as always.”

Deborah preens. “The best for you.”

I give her a wink, slightly annoyed at one of my self-imposed rules. Don’t fuck the staff. Often, I consider breaking it for Deborah. She’s so eager to please and that shit makes my dick really fucking hard. However, I know what a storm that would create. No matter how nice the woman looks in a pencil skirt and how the idea of having her on her knees under my desk is quite enticing, it’ll end messily. Deborah is too good at her job to lose her to feelings gone awry. And they absolutely would go to hell because I’m not exactly a relationship kind of guy.

“I have a meeting with Ralph Bison from Bison Group in an hour. Hold my calls. If Perry calls, ask him how much.” We both know Perry only blows up my phone when he needs money for whatever fucking prima donna reason he has next.

“Of course, sir.”

I stride over to my office door and set down my deep-brown Venezia leather laptop briefcase so I can enter in my code. Though I trust Deborah with a lot, access to my office when I’m not here is a boundary she’s not allowed to cross.

After opening my door, I pick up my briefcase and hit the lights, illuminating my massive office. It’s not necessary considering the lack of furniture, but I like the negative space. A sleek, five-foot wide black floating desk sits in the middle of the room. It can be converted to a standing desk with a push of a button, which is an absolute must considering how much pacing I tend to do while working. I stride inside, noting an unfamiliar sweet scent lingering in the air, and set my mug and briefcase down on my desk. Like always, I make my way over to one of the two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows so I can look down on the city we own.


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