Gentleman’s Anger – Players and Sinners Club Read Online M.K. Moore

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Insta-Love, Romance, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23007 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
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“Not for this club.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m bringing you as my guest to my private club.”

“I don’t want to see strippers,” I say, quickly.

“It’s not that kind of private club. I mean not unless you want it to be.” I look at him with what I am sure is the craziest look on my face. “I’m not doing a very good job of explaining this.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay. It’s like this. Do you know what the regency period is?”

“Yes.” I don’t elaborate that the only reason I know what it is isn’t because of history classes. When my mom died, she had tons of historical romance novels. They were all over the house. She just left them wherever she finished them, like decorations. Jensen was selling everything, which I got, but when no one bought the books, he was going to donate them to a thrift store. For some reason, I didn’t like that. I made him keep them. Since I was only seven at the time, I left them in boxes in the garage. When I turned twelve, after being punished for shoplifting, I was tasked with cleaning and organizing the garage. I found them again. Armed with Lady Sophia’s Duke For Hire by Chastity Bontrager in one hand and a dictionary in the other, I fell into a fantasy world I’ve never shared with anyone. It’s my guilty pleasure. Some guys snuck Playboy and Hustler; I wasn’t one of them. Instead, I read every single one of my mom’s books and I feel like I learned a lot from them. Once I finished one, I moved on to the next one. They have graduated from six carboard boxes in my brother’s garage to a large plastic tote that can hold a six-foot Christmas tree in my air-conditioned storage unit back in Florida. I still read them now, but thanks to the invention of the Kindle, I can read them discreetly. I can’t imagine what how fucking badly my teammates would make fun of me if they ever found out.

“So in the Regency Period they had gentlemen’s clubs.”

“Like White’s on St. James Street?” I ask, cutting him off.

“Exactly. This club is on St. James too, but it’s open to anyone. Men and women. It’s called The Pinnacle.” I choke on my water, which I just started gulping down. Pinnacle is an old term for a woman’s orgasm. I don’t know if this is common knowledge, but I know, and I’d be lying if I said I was intrigued by the idea of this club. “You okay, mate?”

“Yep. Great. Go on.”

“Well, tonight is their famed Crisis party. I can bring a guest. If you like it, you should join. I’ve been a member for six months and it’s pretty fucking awesome.”

“Is it?” I ask.

“Yes. It’s unreal. Unlike any club I’ve ever been too. Therefore, you have to wear this.” He hands the bag back to me.

“Okay. Let’s go,” I reply, suddenly excited a way I don’t think I ever have been before.

Any club named after the female orgasm who holds a party named after the male orgasm definitely warrants at the very least a visit.

two

PATIENCE WINTERS

“Where the hell is Patience?” I hear shouted from somewhere on the other side of my shut and locked trailer door. I know I’m needed on set. They have called this scene three times now, but I am not ready. Diva Patience is on the loose. My best friend, Holly opened up a private club in London and asked me if I wanted to invest in it. I was looking for a tax write-off at the time, so I invested, becoming a silent partner with a 49% stake. After that, I invested 1% in the London Lions, my dad’s favorite rugby team. I’ve been going to matches there since I was little girl, so when they were looking for some new investors, it was a natural move for me. My phone vibrates across the table, so I pick it up and see that Holly has texted me.

Holly: You have to come see the club. We’ve been open for two years and you still haven’t come to see the place. You should come. Tomorrow night is the Crisis.

Me: Okay. I’ll be there.

Since I haven’t been home in ages, I quickly book a ticket for London and set my phone back on the charger. She has been asking for a while now and I would honestly kill someone for my mum’s Toad in the Hole. It’s fucking delicious. There is nothing like Yorkshire Pudding battered sausage with the best gravy ever. It’s always been my go-to comfort food. However, I haven’t had any in two whole years. I’ve been acting since I was four years old. My mum was the best mumager ever, but when I turned eighteen, she went home and managed me from there. She’s the best business partner I could ask for. Other than Holly, I don’t trust a single person besides my parents to help me with this. Everybody lies, cheats, and steals. That’s why I don’t have many friends. I’ve been burned too many times. I look at myself in the mirror. Twenty-one is way too young to feel this tired. To look this tired, but I really, really love my job. I love getting to be a totally different person every day. I love telling stories. I love that people get lost in those stories. Hell, I love it all.


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