Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Six Months With My Uncle (Forbidden Fantasies #58) |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | S.E. Law |
| Language: | English |
| Book Information: | |
Uh oh! The man I love happens to be my mom’s kin. What do I do now? Hadley: After I commit arson (it wasn’t that bad I swear), my mother sent me to rural Missouri to live with her long-lost stepbrother on a farm. Yes, me. The girl who considers herself a sassy, curvy creature of the urban jungle is now stuck on a farm in the middle of nowhere. But my mom’s brother is different from what I expected. Frank’s huge. Gorgeous. Ripped and muscular, from working the fields every day, with big hands that make me pant. Even worse, there’s an attraction that’s not supposed to exist. He’s my mom’s kin, for crying out loud! Even if we’re not related, we’re still *sort of* related in a weird, indirect way. But the heat is undeniable, so Frank and I strike a deal: six months of pure hedonism in his arms, and then I leave for good. But when our time is up, I’m not alone … … because I have Frank’s baby in my belly! But will he consent to being a daddy or is our love story over for real? ****This is a follow-up to Secrets and Lies, where we catch up with Hadley, Lindy’s sassy cousin who got her into a life of escorting. But Hadley’s a spicy one, so she’s taking some time to gather her thoughts in the middle of a field of corn, and trust me, this girl adores golden ears of corn *wink*. Fortunately, our feisty woman finds love in unexpected circumstances, and soon, she and Frank are creating a family together. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers. | |
| Books in Series: | Forbidden Fantasies Series by S.E. Law |
| Books by Author: | S.E. Law |
1
HADLEY
I let out a loud huff as I stare at Dolly’s locker with narrowed eyes. That girl is my absolute least favorite coworker. The bitch has a bad case of sticky fingers, and despite me repeatedly telling her to keep her hands off my shit, she never listens. Now, I’m willing to bet that my favorite pink bustier—the one that I just bought a couple of weeks ago, with lots of glitzy crystals on it—is tucked away inside her locker too.
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
I keep my head down, my face curtained by my blonde tresses as I look around furtively. Good, the women’s locker room seems pretty deserted except for the sound of some showers in the back. Okay, so those girls might step out at any moment, which means I have to act fast. But fast is my middle name, did I mention?
Quickly, I dig into my bag for a paperclip, and once I have it in my fingers, I twist it into the shape of a wire before sticking it into the lock of Dolly’s locker. It only takes a minute before I manage to hit something right, and click! The metal door practically swings open by itself. But that’s when the shit hits the fan because a waterfall of crap starts tumbling out.
What the hell is this stuff? You’d think that Dolly lives here at Club Z, given how much shit just landed on the floor. A quick eyeball reveals several pairs of expensive-looking high heels, about ten different eye shadow palettes, twenty different blushes, and a billion half-empty tubes of lipstick and lipgloss alike, not to mention plastic tiaras, fishnets, lingerie, hair products, skincare products, empty snack wrappers, water bottles, notebooks, and even some medication that looks to be about two years expired. I wonder what she doesn’t keep in here. Man, this girl is a total packrat.
Even more gross, there are a bunch of hair extensions inside, in that buttery golden shade that Dolly loves. In fact, there are so many of them that they practically form a small animal. Holy shit. Is Dolly going bald because why else would she need so many extensions? This is enough for two or three girls, and it’s literally tangled together like a huge hairball. Seriously, it resembles a freaky ass bird’s nest made completely of fake hair…
Eugh!
“Whatever,” I mutter as I try not to gag. “I just want my bustier back. Just find your bustier, Hadley. Come on, it’s got to be in here somewhere.”
I use two fingers to pick through her things as quickly as I can in an attempt to locate my missing bustier. It’s my favorite pink one, and it’s a good luck charm of sorts. The boning emphasizes my ample figure, and the demi-cups show off my creamy tits to their best advantage. I’ve caught Dolly eyeing it covetously more than once.
But where is that darned thing? Just when I’m starting to think that she might not actually have it, I spot a flash of pink at the back of the locker. It’s crumpled up and sad-looking, and my blood boils as I fish it out.
OMG, what did she do to my bustier? This girl is an absolute pig because there’s a huge makeup stain on the side and a crap ton of missing crystals. It’s wrinkled and aged-looking, so that instead of a sexy, come-hither piece of lingerie, it merely looks like a piece of scrap ready for the trash. I can’t believe that this is the same top that was brand new when I wore it last week. I guess some girls just don’t know how to take care of their stuff. Or should I say, other people’s stuff.
Anger boils in my veins as I hurriedly cram Dolly’s things back into her locker. Then, I hold up my bustier once more and tears fill my eyes. OMG, I’m just so pissed off! This item cost me a pretty penny and now it’s totally ruined. The stain looks like long-wear lipstick, and honestly, the pink fabric looks kind of gray and worn now.
Even worse, it was ruined by a girl that had no business touching it in the first place because this is my personal property, not hers. What a fucking liar and thief! Rage makes my blood go hot as my entire body shakes with suppressed anger.
Suddenly, an idea pops into my head. Should I? No, because it would literally be criminal. But quickly, I shoot another glance around the locker room and the coast is still clear. Not only that, but there are no cameras here because it would be a violation of privacy. As a result, I dig around inside my bag once again, searching for my lighter. I don’t smoke, oh no, but some of the men we entertain enjoy the occasional cigar, so it’s always good to have a lighter on hand.