The Vows (The Vows Duet #0) Read Online Ketley Allison

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Vows Duet Series by Ketley Allison

Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)

THE VOWS is a two-book series combining the heartwarming chance of finding lost love with the terrifying concept of being taken against your will. This second chance, romantic suspense collection will heat you all the way through, then chill you to the bone.

Included in this Collection:

A gripping psychological thriller involving a prosecutor’s race to save the woman he loves from the hands of a serial killer mastermind.

A romantic suspense prequel giving an unputdownable glimpse of how Spencer and Emme met and fell in love.





My blood was frozen thick, the wind turning the air into a wall of ice that cracked against my lips and burst into shards down my throat. I tried another step, choking, coughing, protecting my face with my gloved hand. The wind whipped up again, trash lifting into the air, empty aluminum cans clattering down the street and accompanying plastic bottles picking up the music. Something brushed against my legs and I tried to hop around it, but the plastic bag tangled around my heels until I kicked it off. Its smeared, torn exterior had a faded smiley face that twisted and deformed as it rippled into the air. HAVE A NICE DAY! it proclaimed, then was sucked into a gutter.

The sky was a hazy black, the sun nothing but a blurred, off-white memory of the miserable hours before. The breeze carried the bitter pull of winter on its wings and I cringed all the way to my destination.

Once I reached it, I shoved the key I’d been given into the lock, fingers stiff with cold. It clicked and I shouldered the door open, almost melting against the deserted lobby’s waft of heat.

The door thumped shut behind me, cutting off the whistling wind and honks of avenue traffic echoing against the wind tunnels built by office skyscrapers. Switching my large leather tote from one arm to the other, I pressed the elevator button, rubbing my hands together and dancing in place.

The elevator dinged as it arrived in the lobby and I stepped in and pressed the fourth-floor button, eager to get this over with so I could go home, curl up on the couch, and binge-watch something. Maybe I’d order delivery. Sushi or salad or—no, pizza. Tacos. Cajun. Something with spice to melt the jagged points of the icicles still shredding my lungs.

The elevator doors slid open and I stepped into the loft that took up the entire floor. Each bulb flickered on separately as the empty space was illuminated. Dropping my oversized tote by the elevator, I shed my jacket, beanie and gloves, leaving them there as well, the central heat doing quick work in warming me inside and out.

I took stock of the space, envisioning a long, rectangular table toward the back to put the buffet and an additional table around the corner to stack the gifts. It would be hidden from view just enough to prevent any guilt from the guests who brought nothing but smiles for the birthday girl.

My heels made hollow sounds on the hardwood, the loft richoteting the illusion of expansiveness with its empty corners and one, lonely corridor leading into a small kitchen. Out of curiosity, I opened the fridge, wondering if whoever rented this space before me left any goodies for the next, but it was completely wiped down and empty. The wafting frosty air had me shutting the door with a smack.

It seemed a long time already. I pulled my phone out of my skirt’s pocket and checked the time. 7:07 PM and no new messages. My assistant, Shirley, was late, but only by a few minutes. Since she had the proposed layout and all the plans on her tablet, there was nothing to do here but wait, maybe play Candy Crush on my phone and finally get past the level that’d been screwing with me for ages. There was nowhere to sit, so I hopped up on the kitchen counter, swiped my phone open and played the game on silent, my heels thwacking against the cabinets in a random rhythm.

A message notification popped up.

Dave: Hey babe, home early. What you feeling for dins?

My lips kicked up with the rhythm of my legs. It wasn’t often Dave and I could match evenings. With him as an investment manager and me an event planner, our hours were mostly off. Sometimes I’d join him for cocktails with clients after work and witness his enamoring ability to woo paper out of wallets, what with his crinkled smile and trusting creases of dimples punctuating the ends of his lips. I enjoyed those sexy indentations deepening in surprise when I jumped into the conversation with a light hand on his arm and a quip to match his own.

A flash of sparkle caught the light as I tapped a reply, a new, almost unbelievably permanent addition to the few accessories decorating my skin. My simple regime consisted of two studs in each ear, a simple rose gold necklace from my father, and a belly ring I got when I was fifteen and was too lazy and, okay, too attached, to take out and let close over at twenty-eight. I pictured surprising Dave by stripping off my clothes here, stuffing them in my bag and greeting him with just my coat when I arrived. I’d untie at the door and let the black cotton slide down until there was just a piece of glitter remaining on my naked torso, overtaken only by the fire of my diamond ring.