P. Dangelico – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

P. Dangelico – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Wed, 03 Nov 2021 09:56:15 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png P. Dangelico – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Out of the Blue Read Online P. Dangelico http://www.books2020.com/out-of-the-blue-read-online-p-dangelico Wed, 03 Nov 2021 09:28:47 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/out-of-the-blue-read-online-p-dangelico Genre: Contemporary, Romance Authors: P. Dangelico Advertisement

Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Out of the Blue
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	P. Dangelico
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B09FY36RNS
Book Information:
Life comes at you fast and love comes out of the blue… A small-town romance about letting go of the past and learning to live in the moment. Blue Baldwin takes no horse crap from anybody. Well, actually, that’s not entirely true. She does take horse crap. Piles of it. The real kind that is––not the metaphorical one. It kind of goes with the job description when you run a large animal rescue. What she does not take, however, is crap from an entitled movie star who needs to reform his rotten image. Unfortunately, the farm she manages is in trouble and if she doesn’t raise the cash to save it she’ll be homeless along with the precious animals who depend on her. So she’ll grin and bear the King of Hollywood Screw Ups, and the assistant, and the overprotective brother he brings along. I mean, she takes care of large animals for a living. Isn’t that basically the same thing?
Books by Author:	P. Dangelico

Chapter 1

Nobody prepares for catastrophe. I mean, let’s be real. It’s not like anyone wakes up one day and says, “Today is the day I get ready for my life to hit a brick wall going a hundred miles per hour,” and acts accordingly. Because––my two cents here––whether we’d like to admit it or not, most of us hope for the best even though we often get the worst.

Fundamentally, the human species is a tragically optimistic lot. It’s what keeps us moving, evolving, thriving. Myself included, even though personal experience has taught me that life doesn’t give notice. Good and bad happen, for lack of a better description, out of the blue.

In the corner of my left eye, Jess’ white BMW 3 Series comes into view. It’s traveling toward me at a high rate of speed, blowing with nary a pause past the Harris Ranch sign, which has been hanging at the end of the driveway since this place was built close to a hundred years ago.

In fact, I’m absolutely certain she just hit the gas. The car fishtails and kicks up a cloud of red dust. It’s a scene straight out of a Mad Max movie.

“Uh oh…”

My feelers immediately perk up because the immutable facts are as follows:

Fact number one: Jess works in Beverly Hills as a junior agent at one of the big three talent agencies, a good hour and half away from the furthest reaches of Ojai where the Harris Ranch is located.

Fact number two: Jess hates anything remotely rural. You’d have to drag her by her perfectly flat-ironed hair to any place that isn’t covered in concrete.

Fact number three: It’s Jess, so this is going to be bad no matter what it is.

I’ve never been great at math, but in this moment, I am Isaac freaking Newton calculating every variable from wind speed to the ground distance I need to cover to get to the farmhouse. Unfortunately, I determine that even my personal best isn’t good enough to save me. In other words, I don’t have the time to run and hide. Which I could argue is a good general description of my life thus far.

“Brace for impact, Billy.”

Billy, the one-eyed dwarf goat we rescued from a neglectful petting zoo, squints at me with his one good yellow eye but otherwise remains by my side next to the feeder. Little man loves to eat. The problem is, with the heat index hovering somewhere between convection oven and hot-as-the-deepest-corners-of-hell, the grain mixed with flax seeds sours quickly and this batch needs to be dumped. All in a day’s work when you run a rescue which includes multiple regular-sized horses and two elderly Percherons, three mini horses, two sheep, four goats, two mini donkeys, one lamb, one llama, and a couple of chickens. No partridge in a pear tree yet.

Dropping the shovel on the rain-thirsty summer ground, I tip up my baseball cap and wipe my sweaty face with the collar of my faded Raiders t-shirt, because hunched over a pile of rancid, leftover grain isn’t how I want to have this conversation.

The BMW comes to a hard stop in front of the fence I’m standing behind and dirt billows up around me. It lands and sticks to every exposed, sweaty surface of my body. Excellent.

The car door swings open and the red sole of my best friend’s black Louboutin high heel hits the ground hard.

“Mierda,” she growls. Pushing her black Tom Ford sunglasses to the top of her head, she inspects the dirt covering her pumps with an expression of pure disgust.

“Hey…” My voice comes out strangely high and thin, shooting up on the last vowel like it does when shit’s about to get real. “What are you doing here…” I ask, sliding out between the slats of the paddock fence to face whatever reckoning’s coming, “in your work clothes… in the middle of the day?”

To understand the question, you’d have to understand my BFF. Jess is the person who rings your doorbell unannounced at 1:00 in the morning holding an overnight bag because she decided a trip to Vegas is suddenly absolutely essential. I once went seventy-four hours without sleep because she insisted on driving to Texas to see a Beyoncé concert. We were sixteen at the time. Her parents were not amused that we “borrowed” their car without permission.

Jess is the most spontaneous person I’ve ever met. And that’s saying a lot because I used to be pretty spontaneous myself. But there’s good reason to be on guard whenever she shows up for an unscheduled visit. Because there’s a very good chance that an arrest warrant awaits you at the end of that journey.

Her brown eyes drag from her expensive kicks to me, and for a split second, there’s a heavy dose of guilt in them that only a rare few who know her well would detect.

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Advertisement How to Save a Life Read Online P. Dangelico http://www.books2020.com/how-to-save-a-life-read-online-p-dangelico Mon, 08 Feb 2021 19:09:10 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/how-to-save-a-life-read-online-p-dangelico Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Romance Authors: P. Dangelico Advertisement

Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	How to Save a Life
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	P. Dangelico
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	9780578775883
Book Information:
There’s more than one way to save a life… Riley James has everything to live for, a business to grow, goals to achieve. After everything she’s overcome, there’s no way she’s going to let anyone get in the way of her hopes and dreams. Not even a handsome businessman who makes her a crazy offer she would be even crazier to refuse. Jordan West has everything a man could want. And yet it all feels so meaningless. But when tragedy strikes and he’s entrusted with the care of a toddler, life doesn’t seem so meaningless anymore. Jordan West suddenly has everything to live for. Problem is…how does he hold on to that feeling?
Books by Author:	P. Dangelico

Prologue

Jordan

“Jordan…”

The voice reaches me in the fog. Some of it tequila induced. Some grief. All of it beyond my control. It sounds like my father, but it can’t be him. Dad’s in the Keys deep-sea fishing with Beau, so it must be another fog-induced delusion. I’ve had plenty of those in the last few weeks.

“Jordan,” I hear again. More forceful and clear this time, projecting from the threshold of my bedroom door. Hovering over me, bearing down on me.

“Jordan?” comes again. It’s about as welcome as sand between the back of my teeth.

“Who let you in?” I say into the pillow, my voice cracking from disuse.

How long have I been in this state? A few days. Maybe more. I’ve lost all concept of time. It’s irrelevant now, only serving as a constant reminder of what happened. Inertia got a hold of me that day and life as I know it stopped. It didn’t cease to exist. It just stopped in that one awful fucking moment, leaving me forever trapped there.

“You gave me the code.”

The old man has always been a blunt talker and honest to a fault. I used to love that about him.

“Remind me to change it when you leave.”

His feet shuffle across the carpet, the brushing sound like sandpaper to my already injured nerves. I bury my head deeper under the pillow but it’s useless. There’s no getting away, no more hiding. The button activating the shades beeps and sunlight invades my bedroom. It hits the bare skin on my back and makes me recoil. Everything hurts right now. Simply existing hurts. Taking a deep breath hurts.

“Your brother tried calling you.”

Yeah, I know. I had to block him after the twenty-fifth call.

“How much longer you plan on doing this?” he continues after a heavy beat.

How long…good question.

How long does it take for a life to end if I will it? How long until I fade away? Quietly. Without drama. Stop looking for me, I want to tell him. Stop trying to save me. But the words won’t come out. Something stops them. Some feeling just out of reach.

I close my eyes and I’m on a foggy beach, a girl calling to me. Lainey, maybe. I’m not sure. I can’t see her face. But she keeps calling my name. And she sounds happy. She sounds so damn happy I want to go to her. It’s all I want.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the Keys?” I say squinting into the sun, the outline of my father’s broad frame blotting out most of it in an act of mercy.

“Your mother is worried. She said if you don’t get an assistant, she’ll get one for you.”

My mother––the control junkie. There’s no changing her. I used to tell Beau to learn to live with it. My words keep getting thrown back in my face. Life has a funny way of doing that. If I ever survive this, I need to put a stop to her bullshit.

“You’re divorced. Start acting like it.” I dig my fingers into my eye sockets. My head pounding with a nasty case of drinker’s remorse and a cruel case of a bright sunny day in the dead of winter.

“She’s my best friend. We got a divorce so we could stay that way.”

The mention of a best friend is a gut punch, my stomach turning over and over.

My best friend is gone.

I’m never going to see or hear from her again. Only in the fog. The fog is my ally, the fix I need to get from one day to the next. The only thing that keeps the pain from running roughshod over me.

“I know you’re hurting, but this…”––he looks around––“you can’t let it take you down. It doesn’t do anybody any good.”

John West, a shrink by trade, rarely counsels his own family. This is his way of telling me he’s worried.

“I’m fine, Dad. You can go back to your boat,” I manage with semi-believable conviction.

The old man responds with a long-held sigh and stuffs his hands, callused by years of wrestling tuna and marlin, into his pockets.

“You win,” I say, sitting up, resigned that he won’t go away until I make an effort to appease him.

I run a hand over my jaw, discover the full beard covering my face. I guess more than a few days has passed. Bottles litter my bedroom floor, which explain how that time was spent. That was never in doubt. The only way I can bear life right now is in a state of deep intoxication. Drowning in oblivion. I wish he would leave so I can get back to it.

“I’m alive. You can tell Congresswoman West to call off the search party.”

“Get dressed,” Dad says as he heads for the door. “I’ll take you to lunch.”

The image of his flannel covered back and wrinkled khakis is so damn familiar and comforting the grief goes into remission for a minute. Only for a minute though.

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Advertisement Nothing But Wild Read online P. Dangelico (Malibu University #2) http://www.books2020.com/nothing-but-wild-2-read-online-p-dangelico Fri, 02 Nov 2018 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/nothing-but-wild-2-read-online-p-dangelico Genre: Chick Lit, College, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance, Sports, Young Adult Authors: P. Dangelico Series: Malibu University Series by P. Dangelico
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Nothing But Wild (Malibu University #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	P. Dangelico
Language:	English
Book Information:
Dallas Van Zant… Water polo god. Shameless flirt. Beautiful disaster in the most literal sense of that label. Trust me, it’s not hyperbole. He’s in big trouble with the law. What does this have to do with me, you ask? Unfortunately, a lot. For some reason, which I still can’t quite wrap my brain around, I’ve been talked into driving him around as part of his plea deal. Problem is, he makes me nervous. I’m not good with people, men in particular, popular athletes especially. I’ve worked really hard to get my disability under control and one minute in his company and all my hard work flies out the window. To top it all off, I promised myself that I was going to make some serious changes this year. I’m tired of feeling awkward around boys. I’m tired of never having had a boyfriend. I’m tired of being lonely. And he’s wrecking my plans. But I’m also not the type to turn away a person in need. So I’ll do what I must to help him out. I’ll just pretend that I’m not enjoying his company. And I’ll ignore the fact that he’s sweet and funny. And I’ll tell myself every day that he’s out of my league. Because I’m as inexperienced as they come. And Dallas Van Zant is nothing but wild.
Books in Series:	Malibu University Series by P. Dangelico
Books by Author:	P. Dangelico Books

Prologue

Dallas

The envelope with my name sits on the bed unopened, the handwriting definitely Beth’s. My head feels like a pressure cooker, ready to split in two from the force of it.

Forgoing the glass, I put the bottle of Jägermeister to my lips for the third time and tip it back. The burn feels good. Productive, even. It means the Jäger’s doing its share to get me where I want to go, which is oblivion. It’s all I want right now and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.

The roar of the crowd downstairs filters into my bedroom on the second floor. The empty bottle slides out of my fingers and hits the carpet. Following the noise, I step out onto the balcony and climb the railing. Standing on it, I survey the people congregated around my pool two stories below. Among them, I catch sight of Jen and Amy vying for my attention. No need to vie ladies, there’s plenty of me to go around.

My mind snaps back to the letter and my mood goes back to zero. I’m wallowing in the darkness, trying to claw my way out by any means possible. No one wants to be around this version of me. Least of all me. So I push it all down and lock it up nice and tight.

“I am a golden god!” I shout, arms stretched out wide.

We won today. I should be happy, in a celebratory fucking mood. It was an important match against Cal and we made Holloway and his boys bend over and beg for mercy.

The NCAA men’s water polo season is a short one and every game counts when you’re hunting another title and we definitely are. The Malibu Sharks are contenders every year, having already won seven championships, so, you know, expectations and all that.

“Jump, jump, jump,” the crowd chants in return, drowning out the noise in my head.

“Do NOT jump.” Brock yells with his hands cupped around his mouth from amongst the crowd below. “You’ll break your neck, asshole!!”

The look on his face says if the fall doesn’t kill me, he will later. I love the dude but he has no idea what it’s like to be me. To have a family like mine. His is an advantage, mine a liability. One very clear distinctions.

Ignoring his note of warning––as I always do––I step off the railing and tuck into a cannonball. It feels like I’m falling forever, rushing toward a flashpoint––a life changing, unavoidable one. That is, if the fall doesn’t kill me first.

Chapter One

Dora

This was a mistake.

Sweet muther goose, this was a big one. Next time I get an idea as stupid as taking a thirty minute Uber ride from my Malibu University dorm to attend a UCLA sorority party in Westwood I should just run my head into a brick wall and save myself the trouble.

Bad Guy by Billie Eilish pumps loud enough to drown out everything else, the heavy bass vibrating under my feet making my toes go numb. It was fun for about five minutes. Now I keep having to shift from foot to foot like I’m in marching band just to restore feeling.

Packed together, barely dressed bodies bathed in neon blue and pink strobe lights sway to the music. Each one more perfect than the next. Had I not grown up in Southern California, this scene would’ve one-hundred-percent sent me screaming from the room. Luckily, I’ve been immunized.

It’s no myth that there are a disproportionate amount of beautiful people living in the Golden State. You either make peace with it, eat your feelings of inadequacy, or move someplace less intimidating. I did a lot of the second and eventually settled on the first.

As for me, I’m not partaking in the dancing. I’m hanging in a dark corner instead. That’s more my thing anyway––watching from a safe distance. From a safe place. Like libraries and study halls. I kill it there––or I used to.

I promised myself I’d make more of an effort this year to put myself “out there,” whatever the flip that means. If you ask me, it sounds like walking a gangplank towards an inevitable death, but whatever, I’m trying to keep it positive so I’m calling it the “less observing, more doing” plan.

So far…not a winner.

For the millionth time, I scan the crowd and get nothing, no Sasha to be seen anywhere. My cousin is the only person I know at this party and she’s been MIA for an hour. Since she laid eyes on Aquaman.

Lesson learned. Never take Sasha literally when she says, “Be right back.”

…or when she says, “You should get the Cat Woman costume. Winnie the Pooh makes you look like a fat orange troll.”

…or when she insists that I need to come to the Theta Halloween party because “It’ll be epic.”

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Advertisement You Can Have Manhattan Read online P. Dangelico http://www.books2020.com/you-can-have-manhattan-read-online-p-dangelico Mon, 02 Jul 2018 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/you-can-have-manhattan-read-online-p-dangelico Genre: Angst, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Authors: P. Dangelico Advertisement

Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	You Can Have Manhattan
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	P. Dangelico
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	9780578529196
Book Information:
You are cordially invited to the worst wedding of the century. Sydney Evans is no stranger to hard work. It’s the one constant in her life. And with no family or friends to speak of it’s been easy to pour everything she has into her career as general counsel for Blackstone Holdings. She wants for nothing. Until her boss offers her a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. All she has to do in return is marry his good-for-nothing son. Scott Blackstone used be a party whore. Pardon, party animal. He hasn’t been that guy in a long time though. Not since he moved to Wyoming, bought a failing cattle ranch, and turned it into a profitable business. All is good. Until a phone call from his father threatens the quiet, simple life he’s built. Marry or lose everything. And to a woman who can’t stand him, no less. Well, Scott is not going down without a fight. He’s never going back to Manhattan. Not if he can help it.
Books by Author:	P. Dangelico Books

Chapter One

Sydney

Life-changing moments rarely announce themselves. They prefer to sneak up and sucker punch you in the face by way of greeting. That’s how it happened to me. It started as a day like any other. Until it wasn’t. Until it turned into both the best and the worst day of my life.

“Look at me, Sydney,” Frank calmly ordered from across his desk.

Frank Blackstone was always calm and always giving orders which was why I ignored the request and continued typing on my smartphone. A small snag in a contract for a property we were acquiring––and what I mean by “we” is Blackstone Holdings––needed my immediate attention. In all likelihood, it was going to keep me working throughout the weekend once again, but such was life as general counsel of this company. Frank was always either buying or selling something, and I’d known what I was getting into when I took the job. Not only did it not bother me, but I relished it.

“I said look at me, Sydney.”

Holding up an index finger, I continued to type one-handed. I’d tried to reschedule our usual Friday morning meeting only to be told in no uncertain terms to get my butt over to his office pronto. So here I was––butt in the chair across from him pronto even though the contract snag had to be untangled before the end of the week.

“Wilson & Bosch is trying to sneak in a last…minute…clause…bastards…”

Being a woman in a male-dominated business meant I was often underestimated and seldom given the respect I deserved. It didn’t bother me. On the contrary, I used it to my advantage and laughed all the way to the bank. I was accustomed to this nonsense and had remarkably thick skin when it came to business. This eleventh hour BS, however, was a downright insult to my intelligence and they were about to find out who they were dealing with.

“I’m dying.”

“Just give me ooone more minute, Frank…”

“Put it down, Syd. I’m not going to ask again.” The impatience in his voice told me to wrap it up. Frank was not the type you wanted to keep waiting.

Hitting send, I placed the phone on the antique walnut desk that separated me from my boss and glanced up, my eyes meeting the dark eyes belonging to the man I worshipped and adored. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. Like the man, Frank’s office was eclectic. The furniture American Colonial antiques, the art on the walls from the surrealism period, and the rugs Persian.

“Done. You were saying?”

He adjusted the white French cuffs of his signature Turnbull & Asser shirt, laced his hands together, and placed them on his trim midsection. “I said I’m dying.”

My smile dropped as I processed the claim one letter at a time. This had to be a joke. “Is this one of your pranks? Because I have a long day ahead of me and I really need to get some food before I go through the updated proposal and make sure they didn’t booby-trap it.”

I couldn’t keep the skepticism off my face, nor out of my voice. And I wouldn’t have asked if the man in question wasn’t famous for pulling pranks. Frank once threw a ridiculously lavish party for a thousand of the world’s richest people, then sent them a bill for their share of the cost. True story. When they refused to pay, he threatened to publicize it in his newspapers. Frank owned three. Everyone promptly wired the funds and Frank donated the ten million dollars to Child Find of America.

Was I privately pleased? Damn right, I was. Needless to say, Frank’s pranks were hilarious when I played accomplice. Not so much when the joke was on me.

“With a little luck I could live another twelve months…” He sighed. “…but I’m not betting on it.”

I couldn’t wrap my arms around all the feelings I was simultaneously experiencing. Whatever force was holding me up vanished. Slouching in the leather wing chair, I began to sweat in my black Jill Sanders suit while my mouth ran dry. Mostly because I knew Frank better than I knew myself and his expression told me he wasn’t fooling around.

Frank Blackstone was not only my employer, but a many other things as well. Mentor. Friend. Father figure. The closest thing to a father I’d ever had. And most importantly, the only person who had never let me down. I loved him. He’d taken a barely-out-of-law-school graduate and given me every chance to succeed. And succeed I had thanks to him, quickly climbing up the ranks at Blackstone to become Frank’s right hand. Being named general counsel of Blackstone Holdings at age thirty-four was an accomplishment few people could speak of and I would eternally be grateful to him.

“How?” Mired in shock, my voice sounded hollow.

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Advertisement Nothing But Trouble Read online P. Dangelico (Malibu University #1) http://www.books2020.com/nothing-but-trouble-1-read-online-p-dangelico Sat, 06 Jan 2018 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/nothing-but-trouble-1-read-online-p-dangelico Genre: College, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance, Sports, Young Adult Authors: P. Dangelico Series: Malibu University Series by P. Dangelico
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Nothing But Trouble (Malibu University #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	P. Dangelico
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B07N8G65F2
Book Information:
A standalone novel. Reagan Reynolds... Water polo god. Owner of a face that belongs under Wikipedia’s definition of drop dead gorgeous. Too charming for his own good. But most importantly––the worst driver on the planet. No, really, I’m pretty sure his blind nana taught him how to drive. I had no idea who he was until he almost ran me over. And frankly, I kind of wish I still didn’t because then I wouldn’t have a sprained ankle to show for it. And my leg wouldn’t resemble a boa constrictor that’s swallowed a feral pig. Yeah, it’s that bad. I’ve spent years saving every penny I’ve ever earned to be able to transfer to Malibu University. And now my entire future––including my scholarship––is in jeopardy. So I either accept the help he insists on giving me, or lose everything I’ve sacrificed for. In the meantime, I’m going to ignore the fact that we’re becoming friends. And I’m definitely going to pretend he’s not turning into the object of my…umm, dirty fantasies. That’s not happening. Not even a little. Because the minute I clapped eyes on him I knew he was nothing but trouble.
Books in Series:	Malibu University Series by P. Dangelico
Books by Author:	P. Dangelico Books

Chapter 1

Present Day

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.” —Steve Jobs

Alice

I’m roasting. The class valedictorian drones on and on about taking life by the short hairs, something she knows nothing about, while the pale skin of my forehead gets blowtorched. The diplomas haven’t even begun to be handed out yet. At this rate, I’ll resemble extra crispy barbecued pork by the time it’s over.

From my seat on the outskirts of the audience, I glance over my shoulder and search the crowd. The view of the Santa Monica Bay from the side of the hill where the graduation ceremony is being held is surreal, picture perfect. The water Zen-like calm. The treacherous blue sky cloudless. The sight never gets old.

“Who you looking for?” Zoe queries on my right.

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to bring him up today?”

Am I surprised, however? No. As a general rule Zoe has never met an order she didn’t love to trample under her Chanel motorcycle boots.

“So you were looking for him.”

I snatch the graduation program out of her hand and fan myself. It was probably a mistake to wear black but it matched my mood.

“No. Just bored,” I casually answer without making eye contact. I don’t even know why I bother. She’s much too perceptive for her own good. If Zoe Mayfield ever decided to give a shit, she could rule the world.

“Riiight,” she drawls while casually inspecting her short, dark nails. The sun catches the stacks of skinny diamond rings on her long fingers and returns a spray of light.

“I’m not looking for him,” I mutter. A bold-faced lie. It’s wrong how easily it trips off my tongue.

Meanwhile my neck heats, and a blazing path of pure embarrassment climbs over my face which has nothing to do with the Southern California sun. I can’t bear to look pathetic anymore. It’s time to move on. It’s been time for a while now.

Expression completely blank, Zoe gives me the universal gesture for hand job and I snicker.

“I don’t read sign language,” I whisper.

“How about this? You read this?” She flips me the bird and I chuckle.

Two seats down, Blake leans over and glares at us. I shrug and point to Zoe. She shakes her head. No need to explain. She knows Zoe better than I do seeing as they’ve been best friends since junior high. Next to her, Dora rolls her eyes.

“What time does the party start?” I say in an attempt to drive the conversation elsewhere and fast.

“Nine at Shutters on the Beach––”

Two girls seated directly in front turn around and shush us. Zoe makes a face and crosses her tanned legs. The white Stella McCartney dress she’s wearing hikes up to mid thigh, making them look like they go on for weeks. “We got a block of rooms so no one has to drive,” she explains.

The two girls in front take it to the next level, graduating from shushing to giving us dirty looks. Filled with irritation, Zoe’s gaze snaps back to them and I brace for the inevitable. I know that look. And more importantly, I know what comes next.

She rests her elbow on the back of her chair and swings her crossed leg. “Mind your own business, or I’ll rip off those caterpillars glued to your eyes.”

And there it is.

Horrified, the girls swivel around to face ahead.

“There’s still time. Maybe he’ll show up,” she continues, completely unfazed by the exchange.

As much as I want to believe that, I promised myself that I was done pining like a war bride. It wouldn’t be so bad if I knew he was safe and happy, living his best life. The life that he chose for himself and not the one mapped out for him. But I don’t know. And I have to accept the fact that I may never know.

Looking into the sympathetic eyes of my well-meaning friend, I shake my head. “I haven’t heard from him in four months.”

“Do you want me to ask––”

“No––don’t.”

The hope in Zoe’s eyes dims. And even though I can tell she wants to argue, all she does is nod. Curbing the urge to take one last look around, I force my attention onto the podium.

“So in closing, I give you the words of a truly inspiring First Lady, Michelle Obama––” Squaring her shoulders, the valedictorian beams, sunshine reflecting off her wide bright grin. “It is absolutely still possible to make a difference.”

Applause explodes all around me. Everyone stands while I remain seated. This should’ve been his graduation day. In which case, I would’ve been on my feet, cheering him on. Except I’m not. Instead, I’m left to watch everyone else celebrate while a heavy weight settles in my gut.

“It’s time to move on,” I mumble more to myself than anyone else. I just want to forget. Except the yawning void where my heart used to be won’t let me.

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Advertisement A Million Different Ways to Lose You Read online P. Dangelico (Horn Duet #2) http://www.books2020.com/a-million-different-ways-to-lose-you-2-read-online-p-dangelico Sat, 30 Dec 2017 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/a-million-different-ways-to-lose-you-2-read-online-p-dangelico Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Romance, Suspense Authors: P. Dangelico Series: Horn Duet Series by P. Dangelico
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Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >98

Read Online Books/Novels:	A Million Different Ways to Lose You (Horn Duet #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	P. Dangelico
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B01MDNAMJ4
Book Information:
The second book in the Horn duet, Vera and Sebastian's journey continues. Set against the elegant backdrop of Geneva, Switzerland. Worlds collide when an illegal immigrant finds herself working for a wealthy American financier. What began as a dangerous and undeniable attraction to each other grows into a once-in-a-lifetime love affair in the final installment of the Horn duet. Their journey continues… With the shadows of their past threatening to tear them apart, Sebastian and Vera must learn to trust each other if their relationship is to survive. Can Vera prove her father’s innocence? Can Sebastian discover who wants him dead and why? Together they embark on a journey to uncover the truth. But as secrets slowly come to light, is their love strong enough to withstand the consequences?
Books in Series:	Horn Duet Series by P. Dangelico
Books by Author:	P. Dangelico Books

Prologue

Houston, Texas 1985

A high-pitched wail woke him out of a dead sleep. Sebastian sat up abruptly, his Spiderman pajamas tangling with the bed linens. One at a time his eyes cracked open to find the room cloaked in absolute black. Someone had turned off his nightlight. That was the first sign that something was wrong.

All at once his heart was hammering inside his chest so hard it hurt, so fast butterflies filled his stomach. It didn’t take long for his fertile imagination to run wild. Out of the darkness he thought he saw a claw reach out for him and his palms began to sweat. Gripping the sheet even tighter, he pulled it up to his chin.

That old familiar feeling was back. Loneliness. He was always alone, with no one to chase the monsters away for him. Sebastian knew what he had to do then, what he always did when he got scared.

He became Spiderman.

Spiders were the coolest. Spiders were small enough to hide, and some of them were even dangerous. Mr. Miller, his third grade teacher, said that the venom of a black widow spider is fifteen times stronger than that of a rattle snake. They were real things. Unlike Superman, who was fake ‘cause Sebastian never met any man that was nice, and strong, and liked kids.

A second more pronounced wail interrupted the silence. His mother’s voice…he recognized it instantly. Without a second thought to those monsters, Sebastian jumped out of bed. Small, bare feet carried him as fast as they could down the endless hallway, headed straight for the shaft of light that filtered onto the carpet. Once he reached the edge, though, they stopped abruptly. They stopped because Sebastian was more scared of what awaited him inside that room than he was of the monsters lurking in the dark.

Spiderman doesn’t get scared, he reminded himself. Spiderman doesn’t need anyone. Gathering every drop of courage he possessed, Sebastian slowly stepped into the doorway.

Diana Horn lay face down on her sprawling California king sized bed, small mewling sounds and hiccups emanating from her prone body. Her vintage, red Halston dress was ripped and her long, champagne blonde hair spilled over the side of the mattress in soft waves. Sebastian’s stomach clenched painfully.

“Momma?” he called out, his voice barely audible.

At the sound of a whisper thin voice, Diana slowly lifted her face off the mattress. If there was ever a hot mess it was this woman. Tracks of tears melted down her face, stained black from the heavy eye make-up she’d worn that evening. Her lipstick was bleeding right off the edge of lips worthy of the front cover of Vogue magazine.

A boy stood before her, shifting nervously from foot to foot. She stared blankly at him while her alcohol fogged mind struggled to identify the child. As recognition hit her, so did a fresh set of tears.

“Scout? What are you doin’ up, baby?” she slurred, the words tripping over her sloppy tongue.

“I heard you cryin’.”

Reaching out, she clasped Sebastian’s wrist and pulled him closer, close enough that Sebastian could smell the familiar stench of wine on her breath, coming off of her skin and her pretty hair.

“My beautiful baby boy,” she mewled and batted her fake eyelashes. Another round of sobs followed.

“Are you okay?”

With the heel of her hand, Diana swiped at the dampness on her cheeks, the makeup smearing across her face. “Oh baby, what does that even mean?” Her son returned a confused scowl. “I’m fine,” she said, waving a hand at him dismissively.

“I gotta go back to bed, or Santa won’t come tonight,” Sebastian mumbled.

“Santa? You still believe in that old fool,” she chuckled, the sound ringing of bitterness. “There’s no Santa. He’s not real. Like love––” she scoffed. “That ‘aint real either, baby.”

Clumsily, she dragged herself into a sitting position and grabbed the bottle of Haute Brion Blanc off the nightstand. For a moment, solemn amber eyes made her pause, though the moment passed just as quickly. Then, after giving her son a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she tipped the bottle up to her full lips and took a long, slow gulp.

Sebastian’s wide, worried gaze followed the track of wine that dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and snaked down her chin.

“Promise me something, Scout,” she pleaded, her long red nails digging into the boy’s slim shoulder. “Promise me you won’t ever love nobody but me, ‘kay, baby?” Her suddenly determined gaze bored into Sebastian’s.

“Okay,” he replied in a small voice.

Pacified, a flimsy smile spread across her face. “I knew I could count on you.”

Clutching the bottle of wine, Diana rose off the bed and staggered around precariously on her St. Laurent heels. Back and forth she swayed, her coltish legs as weak as her character. In an attempt to reach the back zipper of her dress she jerked dangerously forward.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >98

Advertisement A Million Different Ways Read online P. Dangelico (Horn Duet #1) http://www.books2020.com/a-million-different-ways-1-read-online-p-dangelico Thu, 21 Dec 2017 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/a-million-different-ways-1-read-online-p-dangelico Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Romance, Suspense Authors: P. Dangelico Series: Horn Duet Series by P. Dangelico
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Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >140

Read Online Books/Novels:	A Million Different Ways (Horn Duet #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	P. Dangelico
Language:	English
Book Information:
Six long years I've been running, hiding, rejecting friendships and intimacy of any kind. Because nothing will stop them from coming after me. Of that, I'm certain. And then I met him. Powerful, broken, and so alone. Life had put us on an unavoidable collision course, one that could destroy us both... Worlds collide when an illegal immigrant finds herself working for a wealthy American financier. Escaping a scandal that threatens to land her in prison, medical student, Vera Sava, flees to Switzerland in the hope of reinventing herself, and starting a career in medicine. Her plans derailed, she finds employment as a housekeeper, in the one place that will offer her a job without legal documents. Sebastian Horn is an angry man. After having lost his young wife in a terrible car accident, he's decided that life isn't worth living anymore. Crippled physically and spiritually, he spends what's left of it numbing the pain with booze and pills.
Books in Series:	Horn Duet Series by P. Dangelico
Books by Author:	P. Dangelico Books

Prologue

1985

Santa,

Hi. I am 6. I can rite becase I have a tuder. Can you make my mom and dad like eech other. thanks

love sebastian

1987

Santa,

Hi its Sebastian. I live in texas and my parents dont fite anymore. I dont see my dad much. my mom drinks that stuf that smells can you help her?

Thanks you are grate.

love Sebastian

1988

Deer Santa,

My mom is in the hospitol agan!!!!!!! A boy in my class said you are NOT REAL. I really hope he is rong!!!!!!!!! can you rite write me back. I am not going to rite you anymore. I stil still live in texas.

Love Sebastian

Chapter One

Geneva, Switzerland 2012

Winter had worn out its welcome, dragging its feet well into April, but signs that spring had finally arrived were everywhere now. Daffodil stalks had timidly begun to sprout up from cozy beds of dirt, and a dust of color covered the naked branches of the platanus trees. The banks of the lake were packed with people emerging from hibernation. Their rolled up shirtsleeves revealed skin as bleached as an uncooked baguette.

We sat on an old iron bench that faced the Geneva fountain, the Jet D’Eau, and watched it soar 138 meters into the clear blue sky. A watercolor rainbow appeared in the down-turned arc of the spray.

“You can work at Yuri’s nightclub if you want.”

I glanced at Emilia and found her examining the cheese in her sandwich. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Em––I appreciate the offer,” I said in the most diplomatic tone I could muster. “But I’m not interested in getting out of a bad situation and into a worse one.”

She wrinkled her slender nose at the cheese and picked it out with long pale fingers. I devoured mine. I hadn’t eaten a decent meal in days. On cue, my stomach growled, nerves churned its paltry contents like a wash and rinse cycle. I placed my hand over it but only managed to reduce its angry roar to a low moan. Emilia stared at my stomach. An apostrophe between her brows marked her delicate features.

“How are you doing with money?” she asked in Albanian, our common language.

In an attempt to avoid her scrutiny, I kept my eyes on the bobbing masts of colorful sailboats being tossed about on the windswept water. “Fine,” I replied, a little too quickly. It was an egregious lie and we both knew it. Honesty had become a rare commodity between us the last couple of months. Withholding the entire truth was the only way to be in each other’s company without arguing.

My savings account was dwindling rapidly. I was reminded of it every time I looked in the mirror and saw the sharp angles of my cheekbones protruding, the dark depressions beneath my eyes. I couldn’t afford to pay the rent on the tiny room off the Rue du Berne much longer. Just for a little while, in the span of time it takes to eat a crappy sandwich, I wanted to forget my problems and lose myself in the breathtaking beauty surrounding me.

“Is there any way you can go back to the pub?” Her question caught me by surprise. Salt on an open wound. The burning sensation lingered as the memory of what had happened that evening came back to me in a rush…

It was our turn to close the bar that night and Pascal always seemed to forget something. The last time we worked the late shift together he had forgotten to lock the back door and the manager had threatened to fire us both.

“Did you lock the cash register yet?” I asked––for the third time.

His dark eyes roamed over my rear end in approval. “Oui.”

Pascal was considered attractive––he certainly never lacked female company––but if you asked me he looked like the villain in a bad romance novel. His mouth had a perpetually smug tilt to it, and his black, deep-set eyes were framed by slanted brows that winged up at the ends.

It was past one. Eager to close up and go home, I sat at the bar and divided the tip money while Pascal finished cleaning. It vaguely registered that he had been wiping the same spot on the copper top bar for ten minutes in mindless circles. My gaze nervously drifted from his powerful bicep, stretching the black t-shirt he wore, down to his meaty hand and calloused knuckles––the sight of which never failed to turn my stomach.

“Let’s have a drink,” he announced, his French accent coarse.

I paused from counting my share of the money and glanced up. Before I had a chance to respond, he had already poured himself a shot of tequila and knocked it back. “Let’s not,” I snapped, too tired to even feign an excuse.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and raked me head to toe with a blank stare. A flicker of something indefinable made me pause. All my senses coalesced, focused strictly on him. He moved behind me, to collect his keys from behind the bar, and I felt him purposely brush up against my rear end, his erection jabbing me in the small of my back. Pascal had been making sexual advances for months and had done so with all the girls. It never occurred to me that I was in any real danger.

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Advertisement Bulldozer Read Online P. Dangelico (Hard to Love #3) http://www.books2020.com/bulldozer-3-read-online-p-dangelico Sat, 09 Sep 2017 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/bulldozer-3-read-online-p-dangelico Genre: Contemporary, Funny, Romance, Sports Authors: P. Dangelico Series: Hard to Love Series by P. Dangelico
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >90

Read Online Books/Novels:	Bulldozer (Hard to Love #3)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	P. Dangelico
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B07H8SXHW7
Book Information:
What happens when a single mother is forced to live with a grumpy, ailing football star? The smolder turns red hot of course. Amanda Shaw has pulled it together. It’s taken a couple of years, a boatload of hard work, and a ton of self-discipline, but she finally has her problems in a headlock. Her yoga studio in the city has become so successful she’s opening one near the beach, and her relationship with her ten year old son is improving every day. The last thing she needs is a monkey wrench thrown into her smoothly running life. Grant Hendricks is one big monkey wrench. The four time Defensive Player of the Year, three time NFL sack leader, and all around football god has officially hit rock bottom. A devastating back injury means he may have to retire and that scares him more than doctors telling him the next hit could leave him paralyzed. All he needs is a quiet place to think and his teammate’s beach house sounds like just the place. Problem is, the woman already living there. You know the drill, folks. This book is chock full of naughty words and steamy moments. Not for delicate sensibilities and anyone under 18.
Books in Series:	Hard to Love Series by P. Dangelico
Books by Author:	P. Dangelico Books

Chapter One

I learned a long time ago not to lay tracks too far ahead of Life, that she's a fickle bitch with a mind of her own and likes to have a say in which direction I travel. It's taught me to prepare for anything and everything…or so I thought.

“But I don’t wanna go with him,” insists the surly ten-year-old in the back seat of my Ford Explorer. “He’s toe cheese.”

That’s one I haven’t heard yet. Kind of gross but I’ll give him points for creativity.

“Excuse me? Did you just call your father toe cheese?” Squinting into the sunlight, I glance at my son in the rearview mirror and find Sam looking back with the same obstinate expression he gets when I tell him it’s time to turn off the Xbox.

Big gray eyes stare back at me from behind the new goggle glasses he has to wear for his farsightedness. Not my eyes––mine are dark blue. He got those from the father he just called toe cheese. The only things he inherited from me are his absurdly tall height for a kid his age and his shyness. It’s those gray eyes, however, that are telling me he’s ready to dig in for a fight.

“You said I can’t say shit,” he casually adds.

Nice. My hands tighten on the steering wheel and my gaze returns to the road ahead. The traffic is remarkably light on this sunny Saturday, even for mid-June. We’re on our way to the beach community of East Hampton, NY, for the summer where I’m opening a satellite location of The Bend, the yoga studio I own with my business partner and best friend, Devya Axelrod. It’s my job to get the annex up and running by the end of July, and as excited as I am about this new endeavor, I’m also bowel-cramping nervous because if I fail, we’ll take a huge financial hit that we simply cannot afford.

You guys need to expand, they said. Growth is how you stay relevant in such a competitive market, they insisted. If our business growth and expansion equals anywhere near that of my anxiety, we’ll be fine.

“That’s correct, you can’t.” This time when I glance back, I find him vacantly staring out the back seat passenger window. “Honey, those goggles are for playing basketball. Why don’t you wear your other glasses?”

“’Cause I like these,” he grumbles, pushing his brown disheveled mop of hair off his forehead. “I want to stay at the beach with you. Why can’t I?”

Hearing him sound so dejected makes my gut churn with guilt, a feeling I’m well acquainted with. And because of my old friend, guilt, I’m usually balancing between giving him everything he wants and being the parent he needs. There’s no getting out of this, though. This is beyond my control.

“It’s only two weeks,” I remind him. “Think of all the fun stuff you’ll get to do with your dad in California.” My chipper tone reeks of prime bullshit and my son being a bullshit expert sniffs it out right away.

Rolling his eyes, he pouts. “I don’t like California.”

“You were two when we left. You don’t remember California.” I swear you have to pass a bar exam to raise kids.

“Who’s gonna take care of Roxy?” Absently, he reaches out and pets his dog’s massive blockhead, staring out the window with a deeply thoughtful look on his face––a young man with the weight of the world on his small shoulders. He knows full well I’m the one that takes care of Roxy whether he’s around or not. Oblivious to the tension in the car, Roxy is happily drooling all over the new leather car seats. Excellent.

Ignoring the comment, I press my case. “And you can call him Dad, or Ronan. You can even call him Mr. McCabe. But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to call him in pronouns.” Sam kicks the back of the passenger seat. “Or toe cheese,” I wince.

“Whatever.”

Yep, there it is again. Whatever has become the new normal, his answer to every discussion we have lately. And yet I don’t have the heart to correct him. He’s had to suffer the consequences of my crappy parenting skills. As far as I’m concerned, he’s entitled to complain.

Ronan is a virtual stranger, one that was forced upon him six months ago when his father came unexpectedly back into our lives. I use the term “father” loosely because we haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in seven years, much too busy living his own life. He knew where to find us. He just chose not to.

Regardless, now Ronan insists on spending time with his son and I certainly don’t want him taking me to court. Which he’s insinuated he would do if I don’t cooperate.

“You can’t make me talk to him,” Sam mutters. “And Uncle Cal said I could stay with them.” He kicks the back of the seat again. If I wasn’t traveling at forty miles per hour, I’d be banging my head against the steering wheel right about now.

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Advertisement Tiebreaker Read Online P. Dangelico http://www.books2020.com/tiebreaker-read-online-p-dangelico Mon, 19 Jun 2017 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/tiebreaker-read-online-p-dangelico Genre: Angst, Romance, Sports Authors: P. Dangelico Advertisement

Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >92

Read Online Books/Novels:	Tiebreaker
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	P. Dangelico
Language:	English
Book Information:
All is fair in love and second chances Professional tennis star and everybody’s darling Maren Murphy is going home. Unfortunately, going home is the last thing she wants to do. She doesn’t know what’s worse, being named the executor of her grandfather’s estate, or having to deal with her grandfather’s business partner, Noah Callahan. That devil’s spawn may have broken her young, tender heart, but this time it’s advantage Murphy. If anyone’s calling game, set, and match, it’ll be Maren. Re-match on. Noah Callahan is a screw up. Well...he used to be a screw up. Bad boy reputations, however, are not easily shed. He’s been a successful business owner for over a decade. You would think people in his hometown would’ve forgiven and forgotten already, but alas no. Until his one shot at redemption walks into his office. Maren Murphy is the only woman he ever loved––and the only one he purposely drove away. She’s vowed to hate him for all eternity. He’s vowed to love her forever. Can a second chance be the tiebreaker?
Books by Author:	P. Dangelico Books

Prologue

Noah

You’re not supposed to meet the love of your life when you’re thirteen. It’s not normal, it’s not natural, and it’s without a doubt destined to end badly because it is inevitable that one of you will screw it up. And in the aftermath, when the fog of war clears, all you’ll be left with is the memory of what you once had and lost to keep you company at night. In this case, I’m the one to blame––and I’ve been paying the price of my actions ever since.

“Noah!” a girl’s voice called from somewhere on the trail behind us.

It was right before my thirteenth birthday and we were on a school field trip to Lake Thunderbird State Park that included all three schools––elementary, junior high, and high school––in a statewide campaign to educate us on Oklahoma’s endangered species. Needless to say, when you have that many students assembled in one place there never seem to be enough chaperones.

Back then, there was little I loved more than a challenge and I had gotten it in my thick head that every birthday was going to be marked by something memorable.

I’d overheard some of the older boys talk of a hiking trail, one that led to a cliff you could jump off of into the lake. I’d decided that it was going to be my something memorable that year, and once I’d formed a plan, it didn’t take much to talk Dane and Jermaine, my two best friends since kindergarten, into joining me. If it involved breaking rules, those two were always up for it.

“Noah Callahan!”

Dane and Jermaine glanced over their shoulders while I continued marching up the trail, doing my best to ignore her.

“Maren Murphy is calling you,” Jermaine said.

“No shit, doofus. I got ears.”

“Why’d you tell your girlfriend where we were goin’?” Dane, knucklehead number two, added.

“I didn’t tell her nothin’, dummy. She saw us.”

We’d made a run for it when the school chaperones were busy with lunch. Maren had been watching us all day so I knew she wouldn’t miss us leaving. “I didn’t think she was gonna follow––and she ain’t my girlfriend. Say it again and I’ll beat the shit outta you.”

Dane laughed. “You can try.”

I should’ve known though. It didn’t matter whether I was in my backyard or on the football field. Back then, those green eyes, too big for her face, were always watching me.

“Noah!”

Hoping to scare her enough for her to turn tail, I blasted her with the force of my anger. “What?!”

She stopped short, about twenty feet down the marked path, and raised a hand. “Hi,” she said, a soft smile lighting up her face.

That two-letter word was a sucker punch to the gut. No matter how many times I told her to leave me alone, to go away. No matter how mean I was to her, she always had a smile for me.

“Go away, Maren!” I shouted, taking my anger out on her because I knew Dane and J were going to give me crap about it later. “Go back to the campsite and leave me the hell alone!”

Temper simmering from embarrassment, I headed up the hill at a faster pace, the guys right behind me. We kept going until the trees cleared and the path opened onto a rocky outcropping.

Walking up to the edge, I looked down and the first pang of doubt took hold of me. Twenty feet, I figured, eyeballing the distance as best I could. As good a swimmer as I was, twenty feet might as well have been a hundred.

Problem was, the desire for a cheap thrill always overshadowed common sense. This wasn’t the first time––and it certainly wouldn’t be the last either.

While I kicked off my sneakers and stripped off my t-shirt, Dane and Jermaine conducted their own inspection of the drop.

“I don’t know about this––” Jbear, the smartest of the three of us, said first.

My heartbeat was one clap of thunder after another, and yet you would’ve never known it; my thirteen-year-old pride wouldn’t let me look scared in front of my buddies. That lake had my name on it and nothing was going to stop me, not fear and not my friends telling me not to.

“I ain’t doin’ it,” Dane seconded, kicking a rock over the side. He shook his head when the sound of water splashing returned many beats later.

I stopped undressing to get a good look at my best friends. The undisguised fear on their faces told me nothing I said was going to convince them to jump.

“Bunch’a pussies,” I mumbled, pissed that they were backing out at the last minute.

Dane’s answer was to flip me the bird.

“I don’t think you should do it,” Jermaine added for good measure but he knew the drill; once my mind was made up about something it was as good as done.

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Advertisement Sledgehammer Read Online P. Dangelico (Hard to Love #2) http://www.books2020.com/sledgehammer-2-read-online-p-dangelico Mon, 09 Jan 2017 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/sledgehammer-2-read-online-p-dangelico Genre: Alpha Male, Drama, Funny, Romance Authors: P. Dangelico Series: Hard to Love Series by P. Dangelico
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Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >104

Read Online Books/Novels:	Sledgehammer (Hard to Love #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	P. Dangelico
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	9781532332890
Book Information:
Amber Jones is in a pickle. And when I say pickle, I mean deep do-do. She knew she shouldn’t have gone to her ex’s New Year’s Eve party. And she reeeaally didn’t mean to almost burn down his house. It was the chafing dish’s fault, dang it! Now she needs a good lawyer, stat. But where to find one? All work and no play make Ethan Vaughn a very sad and lonely lawyer. Not to mention horny. He really shouldn’t have agreed to help his best friend’s wife’s bestie with her imbroglio. Now she’s remanded on bail––and living in his house. The woman is a walking, talking category five hurricane. And considering his track record with women, he needs to stay as far away from this one as possible. Problem is, he just can't seem to make himself. Heads up folks, this little heroine has a propensity for prolific profanity. Our girl's got a potty mouth and strong opinions. If you are easily offended, this book is not for you. If you have delicate nerves, this book is not for you. If you are under 18, this book is definitely not for you. Consider yourself warned.
Books in Series:	Hard to Love Series by P. Dangelico
Books by Author:	P. Dangelico Books

Chapter One

You know how they say never to go to the supermarket when you’re hungry because you’ll make some seriously ill-advised choices if you let your baser instincts rule your intellect? Yeah, the same logic applies to agreeing to see your ex-fiancée when you’ve had a soul-sucking week. I call it a perfect storm of awful circumstances. The State of New York called it arson.

“Deputy Dipshit!” I rake the bottom of a very nice Jimmy Choo high-heeled sandal, purchased on clearance at the Saks On Fifth Outlet, against the bars of the tiny holding cell. Which only serves to remind me that its sole mate was lost somewhere at the scene of the alleged crime. Go ahead and add that to the heap of reasons I wish a stray asteroid would destroy the planet tonight.

“Deputy Dipshit! I’ll have you know I’ve been watching Law and Order since I was ten! I know my rights and I demand my phone call!”

“Ain’t no one gonna come if you keep at it like that,” a deep voice announces.

I look over my shoulder, at my one and only cellmate. Her long body is half hanging off of the metal bench, arm thrown over her eyes, wig askew.

“Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, princess, but it’s been ages since anyone’s been back here.”

“Name’s Cassandra. And they always come at the top of the hour.” Cassandra lifts her arm off her face and eyeballs the clock on the gray-green wall. “It’s almost two. Someone will be around soon.”

My inquisitive gaze glides over her expensive clothes and flawless make up. Interesting riddle, this Cassandra. She sits up and crams her feet back into what looks like size fourteen red patent heels. I’m momentarily shocked to discover that Louboutin makes pumps that size.

“Amber.” My eyes cut from her feet to her face. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks.” While she adjusts the long, straight hair of her wig, her dark doe eyes sweep up and down my person. “Girl, you look like a broken down Cinderella. How’d you wind up in here anyways?”

“Bad company,” I mutter while fiddling with the ripped edge of the vintage Badgely Mishka dress I found in a consignment shop.

Cassandra exhales tiredly. “Let me guess––you stalkin’ yo ex, and show up at his house, and he married with five kids.”

“Not even close,” I reply dejectedly.

“Come on, Cinder. We probably here for another couple of hours. Might as well tell ol’ Cassandra the story.” From what I can tell, ol’ Cassandra doesn’t seem much older than me.

Under her gaze, I feel naked, her sharp eyes performing a thorough examination of my mind and finding every dangerous turn and polluted crevice. “You first.”

“Stalkin’ my ex. I showed up at his house, and he married with five kids.”

“Really?” I can’t keep the doubt out of my voice.

“No, not really. He has two kids.”

My eyes widen. “So…trespassing, or breaking and entering?”

Cassandra arches a well-groomed brow. “Nothing that exciting. Jaywalking. Also known as walking while fabulous,” she replies with elocution that would’ve made linguistics expert Henry Higgins proud.

“You got arrested for walking?”

“If you must know, I was leaving my boyfriend’s––” Her eyes narrow, lips press tight. “Ex-boyfriend’s house.” The dramatic pause is underscored with a sideways glance. “And on my way to the train station, the friendly neighborhood East Hamptons’ officer came along. We got into it when he decided to write me a ticket for jaywalking. Which turned into public indecency. Which turned into resisting arrest.”

“I burned down my ex’s parents’ house,” I blurt out. That confession felt better than it should.

Cassandra sifts her perfectly manicured fingers through her long hair. “Good for you, Cinder.”

“Not all of it. Just a small part––and it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Right. That’s what I said when my boyfriend’s wife found me on my knees.”

I snort. “No, really. It was an accident.”

Less than twenty minutes later, Cassandra has given me the Cliff Notes to her life story, how Christopher Hart was reborn Cassandra Hart, and I’m knee deep in my latest tale of woe.

“Who puts drapes in the kitchen?! And how is it my fault that someone spilled an entire bottle of booze on the floor?” Her serene eyes follow me as I wear out the concrete of the holding cell. “He watched them arrest me and said nothing!” Words are flying around as fast and loud as live ammunition.

“Jones? Amber Jones,” a male voice yells. I rush to the edge of the cell and shove my face as close to the bars as I can without actually touching them.

“In here!”

Deputy Dipshit walks up with his eyes glued to the clipboard he’s holding. “Time for your phone call.”

“I can’t wait to tell my lawyer how many different ways my civil rights have been violated this evening.” At my fit of pique, Deputy D looks bored. “And hers,” I say, pointing at Cassandra.

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