Boy Trouble – All American Boy Read Online Kaylee Ryan

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Funny, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Boy Trouble - All American Boy

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Kaylee Ryan

Book Information:

Moving back home after college was not at the top of my to-do list. Unfortunately, until I was able to find a big girl job, it was my only option. It wasn’t that I minded waiting tables or working the bar, it just wasn’t my life’s ambition.
I spent every waking hour I wasn’t working at The Wine Cellar looking for jobs. Finally, I got the call, but I couldn’t be excited. How could I be when the offer was to work for the boy that made my life miserable growing up? He was also my brother’s best friend, and I know all too well that boy is trouble.

Morrison Hotels. My family’s legacy. Now, mine. I’ve returned home to Merlot to take over the company my grandpa built into a worldwide empire. He’s ready to retire, which means it’s time for me to step up and helm the business.
Despite having to fire an employee, things look up when I’m able to reconnect with a long-time friend. And his sister. Marley wasn’t what I was expecting, which is part of the problem. She’s no longer the little girl I used to tease mercilessly. I can’t stop thinking about her. Even when she clearly wants nothing to do with me. I’m intrigued, fascinated, and completely out of my league. I’m in big trouble.
Books by Author:

Kaylee Ryan

Chapter 1


I turn onto the main artery winding through downtown and suck in a deep breath. Merlot, California, nestled in the picturesque landscape of the Sonoma Mountains. I can practically smell the red wine and shenanigans of my youth. Not that I was a bad kid, but I definitely knew how to keep my parents up late at night with worry.

The warm sun beats down on my face as I stop my BMW convertible at a stoplight. The fountain in the middle of the town square is running, a wineglass-shaped display boasting our town’s number one industry: wine. I recall pouring bubble bath in that very fountain once with my oldest friend, Cameron Smith, when we were in grade school. We also may know a little more than we claimed about the signs plastered throughout the square, promising a good time and the mayor’s phone number.

But we vowed to never talk about that.

A horn honks behind me, and when I glance up, the light is green. I pull out, going with the flow, and taking in the area. It’s been three years since I was here, and even then, only for a short two-day visit.

Shoppers move from shop to boutique, enjoying the gorgeous day, and spending their vacation money. Merlot is more of a tourist destination, a money trap for those who like wine and spending all their hard-earned money on it.

That’s where we come in. Morrison Hotels started right here in Merlot. When vineyards were popping up, and an industry was growing, my grandpa saw it as an opportunity. He purchased land and built a gorgeous hotel. From there, he grew his legacy to fourteen hotels in heavy tourist destinations throughout the United States.

That’s why I’m home.

It’s time for Grandpa to step down and hand the company over to me.

As I make my way through the streets, a sense of familiarity washes over me. The moment I spot the large building off to my right, I instantly smile. The valet awning is immaculate, burgundy in color with a large white M in the middle.

I bypass the turnoff and head around to the back area reserved for staff. One thing Grandpa insisted on was giving the employees their own areas to congregate and come and go. They use a private, covered entrance and have tons of amenities in their own private lounge. Free coffee and snacks and even electronics to use when they’re on break. I remember asking Grandpa when I was younger why he offers so much to people who were supposed to be working and not snacking. His reply stuck with me. He said, “If you take care of your employees, then your employees will take care of you.”

I’ve never forgotten that.

Back in Chicago, I made sure to personally stock things like bread and lunchmeat in the employee refrigerator after finding out one of my housekeepers, who was a single mom of four, wasn’t eating herself so she had more for her kids. I moved a stool up front for one of the overnight clerks when her ankles started to swell during pregnancy.

Taking care of the employees was my job, and in return, they did the job I paid them to do. Well, most of the time. There’re still a few bad eggs in the carton who take advantage of your generosity, but for the most part, my team was courteous and hard workers. It was hard to leave the Chicago location, but this is where I belong.

Back in Merlot.

I park toward the back of the lot and put up my top. There’d be no way I’d leave it down in Chicago, though it would probably be fine in Merlot. Still, I’m not going to take a chance. This baby was my first big expense when I moved to the Windy City, and I treat her like the queen she is.

With an eager smile on my lips, I use my new keycard and access the back entrance. The room is empty, so I move down the hall toward the offices. The first familiar face I see is Jane Haskins, my grandpa’s long-time administrative assistant.

“Oh, Eli, I’ve been waiting for you to arrive.” She beams, jumping up from her chair and pulling me into a big hug.

“Look at you, Jane. More beautiful as the days go by. What are you now, twenty-six?”

Jane playfully hits my arm. “Oh, stop, you big flirt.” Jane fluffs up her hair. “Though, I did tell Roland I could probably trade him for two thirty-year olds,” she adds, a teasing gleam in her light brown eyes.

“I believe it,” I proclaim, relaxing in the chair across from her desk. “How is Rol doing?”

The happiness in her eyes dims just slightly as she gives me a sad smile. “He has his good days and his bad days,” she replies. After seeing a decrease in muscle control, Roland was diagnosed with ALS two years ago, right before his own sixtieth birthday. From the research I’ve done, it will eventually affect his ability to speak, eat, move, and even breathe.