The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Mon, 23 Sep 2024 09:22:15 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 When it Sizzles (The Mcguire Brothers #8) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/when-it-sizzles-the-mcguire-brothers-8-read-online-lili-valente Mon, 23 Sep 2024 09:22:15 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/when-it-sizzles-the-mcguire-brothers-8-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Novella Authors: Lili Valente Series: The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)

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I’m a nerdy virgin—glasses, spreadsheets, collection of test tubes, you get the idea—and proud of it.

I don’t mess around with unpredictable things like lust, let alone love.

Or so I think…until a gorgeous, brilliant blast from the past kisses me at my sister’s wedding. Suddenly, I’m staying up all night with Dr. Connor Sinclair, making out, making plans, and kicking his adorable butt in chess.

The catch? Connor’s leaving town in three days Three days! That isn’t nearly enough time to spend with this delicious, sexy, oh-so-perfect-for-me man.

So when he shows up at my place the next morning with two tickets to Vegas and a wild plan to roll the dice on forever, I shock myself by saying…yes.

Yes, to a whirlwind romance.

Yes, to saying “I do” in Sin City.

Yes to breaking all my logical rules.

Will this turn out to be the biggest mistake of my life? Or the best illogical choice this nerd ever made?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Wendy Ann McGuire

The last single McGuire sibling standing.

(Or rather, running, away from her mother’s

matchmaking as fast as her spindly

nerd legs can carry her…)

“All those tattoos. I’ll never understand it.” Mom sighs and shakes her head, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips as she adds, “Though they looked nice with the flowers she chose for the bouquet.”

“They looked amazing,” I agree as Seven spins my sister Binx around the dance floor for their first dance. “She looks amazing.”

Binx is gorgeous in a form-fitting white satin gown and fancy up-do, but it’s the expression on her face as she gazes up at Seven that makes her shine.

She’s so in love, so happy…and I can’t help feeling smug about it.

After all, if Sprout, Seven’s nine-year-old daughter, and I hadn’t parent-trapped these two, this wedding might never have happened. I catch Sprout’s eye across the ballroom and grin, shooting her a subtle thumbs-up. She grins and gives me two enthusiastic thumbs-up back as she sways to the music, clearly ready for the first song to be over so we can join the lovebirds on the dance floor.

“My baby girl,” Mom says, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “All grown up and married and starting a family of her own.” She pats my arm with a sniff. “That just leaves you, sweetheart. Which reminds me, Petey Sinclair is here. Remember Petey? From when you were little?”

My smile falls from my face.

Maybe if I pretend that I didn’t hear her, she’ll let it go.

“You know, Petey Sinclair,” she adds, proving she’s still my mother and not about to let anything go. Ever. “You used to play in his sandbox when you were little, and his mother and I were still doing those Tupperware parties. You had so much fun together. You’d be out there digging for hours.”

“No, I don’t remember,” I say, though I do. I remember Petey Sinclair being a pain in the butt who hogged the good shovel and kept insisting I play with his wrestler dolls, even though I have always had the good sense—even at five years old—to hate wrestling.

Mom huffs. “I find that hard to believe. You played together all the time.”

“I was five, Mom,” I mutter.

“So?” She lifts a hand to fluff her immaculate bob. I don’t know how she gets her hair to behave so well, but it’s not a trait I inherited. Fifteen minutes after leaving the hairdresser in the bridal suite this afternoon, my brown curls were frizzed all over. “I met your father when I was five, and I certainly remembered him.”

“Because you went to school with him for years after that. Petey was homeschooled,” I say, before adding beneath my breath, “And I’m pretty sure he ate playdough and his own boogers.”

“See! I knew you remembered him,” Mom says. “He’s a doctor now, a pediatrician! Well, nearly a pediatrician. He’s doing his residency in Minneapolis, which isn’t that far to drive for a date. Especially if you do something fun on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. He’s moving home to join his brother’s practice after he finishes his residency next year.”

“Mom, no, stop,” I say, my cheeks heating. “I don’t need you to set me up with a booger eater.”

“Well, goodness, I’m sure he doesn’t eat them anymore,” she says. “And it’s not like you were the perfect child. I remember one time I came outside to check on you in the sandbox, and you’d taken off your socks, filled them with sand, and were bonking poor Petey on the head with them.”

“I was probably trying to stop him from eating his boogers,” I say, earning a hiss from Mom and a swat on my wrist.

“Lower your voice,” she says. “His parents are here. The whole family is close with Seven’s mother. Apparently, they’ve been frequenting her establishment for decades.”

Mom says the word “establishment” like she’s talking about a crack house filled with feral, unwashed dogs, but that’s not a surprise. She’s come a long way in the months since Binx and Seven first got together, but it’s hard to teach an old snob new tricks.

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Advertisement Kind of a Bad Idea (The Mcguire Brothers #7) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/kind-of-a-bad-idea-the-mcguire-brothers-7-read-online-lili-valente Sat, 31 Aug 2024 08:14:41 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/kind-of-a-bad-idea-the-mcguire-brothers-7-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic Authors: Lili Valente Series: The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Seven Trevino is a “bad boy” single dad with a heart of gold and a body a Viking king would kill for.

He’s also my best friend.
A friend I wish could be more, but he refuses to even consider dating.
He’s convinced he’s too old for me.

But I know he feels the electricity that crackles in the air every time we touch, and I don’t care about our age gap. All I care about is that no one has ever made me feel as safe, understood, or desperate to get naked as Seven does.
So when we end up stranded in the woods together after his daughter pulls a Parent-Trap scheme for the ages, I’m in no hurry to find a way back to civilization.
I intend to take advantage of every second of being trapped in a tiny cabin with this man.

Every moment of sharing that one bed…
Every moment of feeding the fire building between us…
And turns out, Seven feels the same way.
Soon we’re christening every surface in the cabin–and the outdoor tub on the porch–and I’m positive my dreams are coming true.
But can our fledgling relationship survive in the real world? Or will Seven’s determination to “protect” me shatter both our hearts?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Beatrice “Binx” McGuire

A stubborn burrito of a woman stuffed with

recalcitrant beans and topped with obstinate sauce…

I’m insane.

Truly, out of my mind.

That’s the only explanation for why I continue to do this to myself, though Seven has made it abundantly clear that he only wants to be friends.

Friends, that’s it.

Not even friends with benefits or kissing friends or friends who hold hands when they’ve had too many martinis at his mother’s dive bar. I can’t even get a longing look across the bank lobby when he comes in to make a deposit.

And yet, here I am, lingering at the entrance to my brother’s wedding reception in a clingy gold sweater that shows a hint of my black bra underneath, crossing all my fingers that the bearded bad boy of my dreams is about to stride up the hill from the parking area.

“It’s getting late,” Wendy Ann, my little sister says, stretching out on the lounge chair she dragged to the end of the vineyard’s driveway. She has a blanket over her legs, but the night is surprisingly warm for mid-October, the perfect evening for dancing the night away with the people we love. “I’ll make sure no uninvited guests crash the fun. Go enjoy the party. I’ve got this.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll keep you company a little longer.” I glance over my shoulder at the brightly illuminated tent crouched beside the vines. The band just launched into a cover of The Way You Look Tonight, and half of the guests are still in line at the buffet. “They haven’t gotten to the fast songs yet.”

“So?” Wendy Ann asks. “It’s still dancing. You love dancing. I, however, understand that dancing is a gateway drug.”

I arch a brow her way. “To what? Enjoying yourself?”

“To losing focus.” She sniffs and pushes her glasses higher on her nose, though there isn’t much to see out here at this point. The sun set an hour ago, and only the faintest pink light lingers on the horizon, making the surface of the lake glow in the distance. Soon, we won’t be able to see anything beyond the gas lamps flickering along the drive leading down to the parking lot. “And I refuse to lose focus. I have four fellowships to apply for tomorrow.”

I hum beneath my breath, willing the sound of a motorcycle engine to cut through the air. It’s Saturday night, Seven’s one night off kiddo duty, and it’s not like there’s a lot to do in Bad Dog. Surely, he didn’t get a better offer than a McGuire family wedding reception. Yes, the reception is taking place a full month after the bride and groom eloped to Las Vegas, but it’s still going to be a banger.

Say what you will about my family, but we know how to party.

Except for Wendy Ann, my nerdy baby sister, who I’m beginning to think is allergic to fun.

“Oh, come on, you can take one day off,” I say. “Tomorrow is Sunday, the Lord’s Day. And the Lord wants you to stay in bed nursing a hangover and eating nachos. That’s why he invented Sundays.”

She rolls her eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’re not living with Mom and Dad. There’s no sleeping in at that house. Dad’s up by five a.m. slamming cabinets while he makes coffee, and Mom hits the exercise room at five-thirty to blast Jane Fonda.”

My upper lip curls. “That woman is permanently stuck in the 80s. Does she still wear hot pink leggings and the leotards with the string up the butt?”

Wendy Ann shudders. “Yes, and Dad still follows her around like a horny puppy after, patting her sweaty bottom while she makes breakfast.” She sticks out her tongue with a soft gagging sound. “It’s so disturbing. I have to land a position and move out before Thanksgiving, or I’ll lose what’s left of my will to live.”

“Valid,” I say. “Though, you know, you could always crash on my couch, if you wanted. I’m pretty sure Drew has a spare room he hasn’t filled with kids yet, too. He’d probably let you stay for free if you helped out with babysitting every once and a while.”

Wendy Ann sighs. “Thanks, but that would hurt Mom’s feelings, and you know how she is.”

“A living nightmare?” I mutter beneath my breath, not wanting to think about my mother right now.

At the last family wedding, she tried to convince my father to physically subdue me so that she could cover my tattoo with makeup. And she still hasn’t quit giving me shit about shaving my head last January, even though it’s grown out to my chin, and is cut in a shaggy bob that’s pretty cute, if I do say so myself.

I never told her the real reason I shaved my head—that I was helping raise money for Seven’s daughter’s cochlear implant surgery. Even my image-obsessed mother would have been proud of me for helping a deaf girl hear music again, but I didn’t want her understanding because I’d done a good deed. I wanted her to accept that my body is mine and whatever I do with it—tattoos or haircuts or showing a hint of bra under my sweater—is my right.

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Advertisement Kind of a Dirty Talker (The Mcguire Brothers #6) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/kind-of-a-dirty-talker-the-mcguire-brothers-6-read-online-lili-valente Sat, 11 May 2024 14:57:37 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/kind-of-a-dirty-talker-the-mcguire-brothers-6-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Authors: Lili Valente Series: The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >83

Return to Bad Dog with Wesley and Tessa's story—a steamy, laugh out loud road trip of epic proportions.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

A woman having the worst second date ever.

And maybe…her last second date ever?

Eighteen months earlier…

I’m freaking out over nothing.

I’ve listened to too many true crime podcasts at work while chopping vegetables.

That’s all this is—my morbid imagination running away with me.

Carl isn’t a bad guy! He’s an accountant and accountants are never bad. People who get turned on by spreadsheets and tax codes aren’t built for murder and mayhem. That would be way too much excitement for such an orderly brain.

To be frank, Carl is, well…

Carl is boring.

Dull as rocks. About as much fun as watching paint dry. If televised golf and the line at the DMV had a baby, it would still be more exciting than Carl.

But Carl is also a forty-year-old man looking for a woman close to his own age—a rare creature in my current dating ecosystem. He’s in great shape, owns his own home a few towns over, and thinks it’s “cute” that I’ve skipped Botox and let the smile lines around my eyes run wild. He doesn’t mind that I’m fifteen pounds overweight, even though I jog four days a week after work, and best of all?

He loves hiking as much as I do.

That’s how we came to be here, nearly eight miles into a national forest on a lovely, crisp fall afternoon, all alone, without another soul in sight. The trails closer to the parking area are always busy, but out here, in the backwoods, the vibe is different. The words I would usually use to describe it are “peaceful” and “uplifting.”

There’s nothing I love more than being on a trail with the breeze in my hair and the sun on my face. Out in nature, all my problems feel smaller. I feel small, but in the best way.

But the usual peace isn’t with me today. There’s been something…off with Carl since we reached the ridge overlooking the valley. His tepid attempts at conversation have grown stone cold, he’s stopped looking over his shoulder to nod or smile, and when I asked him if he thought we’d taken a wrong turn, he ignored me completely.

Even though I repeated myself.

Twice.

Run, the inner voice hisses between my ears. Turn around and run and don’t look back until you reach the ranger’s station.

I chew my bottom lip, pulse thready as I glance down at the map again. But the slick brochure from the trail entrance hasn’t magically rearranged itself in the past five minutes. It still says we should have turned left, not right, at Walrus Rock, a hunk of granite that looks just like a Walrus, right down to the spiky “teeth” formations on its front.

When we stopped to take in the view by the landmark, I caught Carl running his fingers over the sharp, stone “tusks” in a way that set my stomach to churning. And that was before he insisted the smaller trail was a shortcut that would lead us back to the parking lot before it gets dark and took off into the woods, refusing to stop and look at the map.

Run! The inner voice screeches again.

But I can’t run.

That would be bizarre! Carl would think I was insane. He hasn’t done anything to threaten me. He’s been perfectly polite, if a bit…mute.

But maybe he’s practicing for ghosting me as soon as we’re off the trail. Men on dating apps love to ghost people. It’s probably one of the top three things they enjoy after cradling fish for pictures and talking about how ready they are to start a family now that they’re forty-two.

And that will be fine! I don’t care if Carl ghosts me.

I’ve been ghosted by far superior men, including Nate, my stone-cold fox of an ex, who slept in my bed for the better part of six months before abruptly ending things after I dared to ask where the relationship was headed. Now, he pretends his eyes no longer function when fixed in my direction. When our paths cross downtown near his bar, he breezes past me with no sign of recognition, ignoring my friendly “hello, Nathaniel,” every damned time.

Ditto with my texts asking for a reason for the break-up and my email offering to let bygones be bygones if we can just be civil in public.

If I didn’t have friends and family members who acknowledge my existence on a regular basis, I might think I really was a ghost. Just a specter haunting the Bad Dog dating scene, only visible a few days a month, when the moon is full.

It’s going to be full tonight.

I mentioned that to Carl when we started our hike, joking that if we got lost, at least we’d be able to see the trail after sundown.

He’d huffed in response—the closest I’ve gotten to a laugh from the man—and replied, “Don’t worry. I don’t get lost. You can leave that map for someone else.”

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Advertisement Kind of a Hot Mess (The Mcguire Brothers #5) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/kind-of-a-hot-mess-the-mcguire-brothers-5-read-online-lili-valente Tue, 27 Feb 2024 19:57:26 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/kind-of-a-hot-mess-the-mcguire-brothers-5-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lili Valente Series: The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)

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She's a hot mess single mom with no time for players…or anything else.

He's a wounded NHL star stuck in the home town he's fought to escape.

She needs a babysitter.

He needs a safe place to heal away from his overbearing family.

The problem?

They hate each other (and lust after each other) in equal measure.

Being roomies is going to be…interesting.

AARON and MELISSA'S story arrives winter 2024!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Melissa Marie McGuire

A woman who doesn’t have

time for your bullshit.

(Sorry, not sorry.)

* * *

Two and a half months ago…

* * *

There are bad days, and then there are days like this.

So far, today—the first Thanksgiving since my divorce and my first holiday without my two-year-old son—I’ve endured the following without losing my cool or my temper.

My mother calling at the crack of dawn to remind me to defrost the “extra” turkey I’d defrosted three days prior and marinated the night before. This despite the fact that I am a professional chef and have never forgotten to defrost the “extra” turkey that is actually a necessary turkey, considering the size of our family. You can’t feed upwards of fifty people on the two turkeys Mom squeezes into her twin ovens. We need the turkey I deep fry outside and the one my brother Wesley cooks in his smoke shack to fully satisfy the hungry masses.

My father calling just as I was falling back asleep to ask me what kind of coffee I wanted with pie in the afternoon. He had enough coffee at the house for a pot of plain and two pots of hazelnut, he said, but he wasn’t sure how I felt about hazelnut. So, he wanted to ask before he drank the plain with his oatmeal and condemned everyone to flavored coffee with their pie—especially me, since he knows I’m fussy about coffee. (I’m fussy about all food—again, professional chef—but I’ve also told my father that I hate flavored coffee at least ten thousand, seven hundred, and twelve times. I would worry about dementia, but he’s always been this way. He can remember every item of inventory in his three hardware stores down to the last screw but ask him the birthday of one of his eight children and he’ll fake a coughing fit and hide in the bathroom for hours.) I gently told Dad to follow his bliss and that I would bring extra coffee for everyone, but by the time we hung up, it was too late. I was awake. Cruelly, miserably awake, only four hours after I’d cried myself to sleep and still several hours before I was due at my parents’ house to start helping with food prep.

Lonely morning coffee in my too-quiet house, surrounded by toddler toys I didn’t have the heart to clean off the living room floor. The sight of the blocks and trains and Chase’s kid-sized kitchen made me feel like my son was going to call out from his bedroom any minute, lisping, “Mama, I wuv you. Good mowning. Wus for breffest?” My son is also a foodie. A lover and a foodie and I miss him like a piece of my heart has been carved out of my chest.

A too-crowded Thanksgiving celebration surrounded by loving couples who are still living happily ever after with their shiny, happy children, who they never have to send away for the weekend, let alone a full-blown holiday.

Overhearing my aunt Gina talking about how she “always knew that Benji was as gay as a three-dollar-bill, not sure why Mel didn’t get the memo,” while I was pulling the turkey from the frier by the garage. I wanted to shout that my ex-husband’s name is Ben, just Ben—he hated it when she called him Benji—and that maybe it would have been harder for her to guess his sexual orientation if he’d been fucking her every other night. Instead, I bit my lip and took care of the food. Of my family. Because that’s what I do. I dig in and I get the job done, no matter how much I want to punch things or curl up in a ball and give up.

Returning home to my still lonely and too-quiet house to find that weird squirrel who’s been hanging around the house in the bird feeder again, humping the edge of the small box, successfully preventing the birds from taking shelter from the pouring rain. I try not to take it as a sign that perverted bullies always win, but it’s hard. Really hard.

Getting an emergency call from my twin brother, Matty, and rushing to meet him at my catering office, only to learn he wants me to babysit Nora Boudreaux, sister of Aaron Boudreaux, my high school bully and nemesis. This brings back memories of being mercilessly teased for being a klutz and a fashion victim by the endlessly popular, aspiring NHL player, but I swallow them and do my best to make Nora feel welcome. She’s a sweetheart. She can’t help it that her brother is a stinky, microbe-infected douchebag in hockey star clothing. She also can’t help it that she’s falling in love with my brother, who makes it his mission in life to be frustratingly secretive.

Being attacked by criminals in my place of business and barely escaping with Nora, the cat she had with her, and our lives.

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Advertisement When it Shines (The Mcguire Brothers #6) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/when-it-shines-the-mcguire-brothers-6-read-online-lili-valente Fri, 15 Dec 2023 11:43:26 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/when-it-shines-the-mcguire-brothers-6-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary Authors: Lili Valente Series: The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >31

The only thing worse than being snowed in at the airport on Christmas Eve far from home?

Being snowed in with the one man you’ve been trying your best to avoid.

Bear Hansen is a burly sweetheart with loads of sexy tattoos and big hands that did wickedly wonderful things to me the last time we met.

Things that made me want way more than a one-night stand…

Which is why I ran, blocked his calls, and stopped commenting on his cat videos. I only have a few years to launch my career. I'm determined not to end up filled with regret like my mother, so I have to focus on making my professional dreams come true.

But when Bear and I are thrown together by fate on the most magical night of the year, I find myself questioning everything.

What if I have this all wrong? What if what I want most in life is standing right in front of me, offering to love me no matter what?

Bear and I have one night to find out…

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

Rose “Dipsy” Dobbs

A woman running through the airport in elf shoes,

regretting several of her recent life choices…

* * *

Through my cell phone speaker, my mother’s tinny voice frets, “You’re never going to make it! These days, you have to get to the airport five hours before takeoff, Dipsy. Five hours!”

“It’s two hours before a domestic flight, Mom, and I’m not checking luggage. I’ve got this.” I grab my rolling suitcase and zoom away from security, bells jingling on my elf shoes. “Just don’t forget to feed Hambone. He’ll be upset if he has to wait for me to get there. He likes dinner promptly at six.”

“I know that.” She sounds offended. “I never forget to feed my grandkitty.”

“Of course, not,” I say, though she forgets all the time.

But that’s partly Hambone’s fault. Most cats will meow for their dinner, making such a ruckus, they’re impossible to ignore. My sweet orange tabby lays down on the ground on his back, stretches his arms over his head, and sticks out his pink tongue, playing dead until you notice he’s being dramatic and put something in his bowl.

Unfortunately for him, Mom has a habit of ignoring living things that don’t make noise. Our kitchen window is where houseplants go to die, and we don’t talk about the ill-fated goldfish Dad thought would keep Mom company when I left for college…

“I’ll put some catnip in it for a special Christmas Eve treat, too,” Mom adds. “Your dad grabbed some while he was out getting bulbs to fix the lights on the tree.”

“Amazing,” I say. “You’re the best. I appreciate you guys.”

And I do. After the disaster in D.C., my parents graciously welcomed both Hambone and me to the basement apartment in my childhood home, no questions asked.

Like…literally no questions.

They still have no idea what went down during my East Coast failure to launch.

But that’s typical Dobbs family dynamics for you. If a situation seems fraught or messy, my parents don’t want to hear about it. They’d rather pretend I went to D.C. on vacation, not to start my first serious job, and that moving into the basement was always the plan.

It wasn’t.

Continuing to build my “scrappy girl reporter most likely to dress up in a goofy outfit and make the news fun again!” brand wasn’t, either. Fun news is fun and all, but I’m a professional. I graduated top of my class at the University of Missouri, in one of the oldest training programs in the country. Mizzou Journalism majors don’t do puff pieces; we cover serious, hard-hitting news. I’m supposed to be making a difference, not a list of the best places in St. Louis to catch a glimpse of Santa’s sleigh.

But that’s the way the cookie crumbles, and in a field as competitive as television journalism, beggars can’t be choosers.

Hence the reason I’m currently dashing down a moving walkway in full elf gear, my carry-on clattering along behind me as my mother continues to list a dozen reasons why I’m probably going to miss my flight.

A heavily lined green velvet mini-dress, elf shoes with bells on the curled toes, and green-and-white striped tights wouldn’t have been my choice for a “flying home on Christmas Eve” outfit, but there was literally no time to change. We finished filming my segment for St. Louis News thirty minutes ago, seconds before it was set to air.

As soon as we wrapped “Ten Elf Tips for Spotting Santa’s Sleigh Tonight,” I jumped in a taxi, waved good-bye to my producer and cameraman through the back window, and prayed to the sweet baby Jesus for deliverance as the cabbie skidded out into the swirling snow.

I love a white Christmas as much as the next girl, but is it too much to ask that the white stuff hold off until I’m safely home for the holidays?

Apparently so…

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the moving walkway, the snow is coming down so hard I can barely see the airline workers zooming around in their little carts, loading luggage and snacks into waiting planes.

It’s gnarly out there, but the flight hasn’t been cancelled. I checked on my way through the security line, seconds before putting my mother on speaker and tucking my cell into the breast pocket of my elf dress—the better to assure her I’ll be home for our family’s annual Christmas Eve cocoa party and run like the wind at the same time.

In hindsight, I wish I’d waited to call her after I’d boarded.

Her endless stream of doom and gloom is making the race to gate 54B even more stressful.

“The weatherman said they already have six inches of accumulation at our airport,” she says, her voice pinched with worry. “Six inches, high winds, and a chance of thundersnow!”

“And a partridge in a pear tree,” I sing-pant.

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Dipsy,” Mom chastises. “Thundersnow is no laughing matter.”

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Advertisement Kind of a Sexy Jerk (The Mcguire Brothers #5) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/kind-of-a-sexy-jerk-the-mcguire-brothers-5-read-online-lili-valente Wed, 25 Oct 2023 18:31:37 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/kind-of-a-sexy-jerk-the-mcguire-brothers-5-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Suspense Authors: Lili Valente Series: The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)

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"As soon as you're safe, I'm going to spank you."

Those are the last words Matty McGuire says to me before punching a man, tossing me into an SUV, and peeling out of Bad Dog like a bat out of hell.

And I am outraged about it, I tell you!
Outraged...and desperately turned on.

I don't want to lust after this man. He's stubborn, bossy, secretive, and leaving the country in just a few weeks. But he's also my lifelong crush, loyal, heroic, and always there when I need him.

Whether it's defending me from horny squirrels or kissing me until the local Haunted House isn't so scary, Matty does it for me. He always has, ever since we were kids.

But when his secrets turn out to be the kind that could get a girl tossed into the Witness Protection Program, I realize I'm in way over my head.

Can I make love work with a Sexy Jerk who is actually a Sexy Spy ? (And who's leaving the country after his final mission?)

Or will this one, red-hot weekend on the run from the mob be our first...and our last?

Welcome to Bad Dog where the men are incredible, the animals are ridiculous, and the happy ever afters are super emotional and steamy! Kind of a Sexy Jerk is a Standalone Romance with Spice!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

The calm before the storm…

All morning and into the early afternoon on Thanksgiving Day, as I prepare an ice-cream feast fit for a queen and her loyal lady in waiting, I remind myself that I don’t do jerks.

They say nice guys always finish last, but not with this girl.

Nora Boudreaux loves a nice guy.

I have, in fact, dated exclusively nice guys, and have never had my heart broken. Not even once. Sure, I’ve been sad when things didn’t work out, but my boyfriends were so kind during the “breaking it off” process that I never lost my faith in love, men, or my eventual happily ever after.

And thanks to Gram, I have a loving home where I can retreat to lick my wounds when looking for Mr. Right starts to feel like too much.

I’m basically the luckiest woman in the world.

So…why do I feel like absolute human garbage?

And why can’t I stop thinking about Matty McGuire, no matter how hard I try?

“Are you going to eat that scoop of passion fruit sorbet?” Gram asks, eying my last egg cup full of ice cream across our fancifully decorated dining room table. I went with a “Feast in a Fairy Forest” theme this year, decorating the chairs with gauzy wings, hanging birds and fairies from the ceiling, and weaving tiny sparkly lights through the flower vases. I’m a fashion designer by trade, but I love spiffing up a space and any excuse for a party. Even a party for just Gram and me.

I sit back in my chair with a huff, laying a hand on my stomach. “No, I’m stuffed. It’s all yours.”

“This is why you’re my favorite granddaughter,” she says, snatching the cup and diving in with one of the little espresso spoons we use for the ice-cream feast to make the feasting last longer.

“I’m your only granddaughter,” I remind her with a smile.

Her blue eyes, nearly the exact color of mine, dance above her spoon. “True. But you’d still be my favorite, even if I had a dozen. Still going on your date with Sam this afternoon? He’s a cute one.”

“Yeah, I am.” I glance at the clock above the doorway leading into the kitchen. “I should probably go change, actually. I don’t want to walk the muddy path around the lake in white jeans.”

“Yes, you should change. For sure,” Gram says, scooping a bite of sorbet between her lips before adding, “and pack an overnight bag while you’re at it.”

I frown. “What? Why?”

“So you can get some, honey,” she says, shocking me to my core.

Gram and I talk about a lot of things, but we never talk about that.

I may be nearly thirty years old, but in her eyes, I’m still that little girl who came to live with her when I was in second grade and so traumatized by life with my flighty mother that I slept on a mountain of emotional support stuffed animals.

“You’re too young and pretty to be on the shelf,” she continues.

“I’m not on the shelf,” I say, indignant. “I go on dates all the time.”

“But you haven’t gotten laid in years.”

My jaw drops far enough for one of the fake birds hanging from the ceiling to fit inside.

Who is this woman and what has she done with my sweet, mannerly little grandmother, the one who wouldn’t say “poop” if she had a mouthful of it?

“I may be old, but I’m not blind,” she says. “Or senile. I know what goes on around this town.” She arches a loaded brow my way. “And what doesn’t. And while I’m all for waiting to settle down until you find the right guy, there’s no sense in torturing yourself, sweetheart. Intimacy is a basic human need. It’s fun and relaxing and good for you.” Her brow furrows with concern. “You do enjoy sex, don’t you? If not, there’s therapy for that. And no shame in asking for help.”

“I…” I trail off. Open my mouth. Close my mouth. Blink and wait to wake up in my bed, mortified that my subconscious served up such an awkward dream.

When that doesn’t happen, I wheeze, “What are you getting at, Gram?”

“I’m trying to figure out if you have some sort of sexual dysfunction or if you’re just a big old chicken.”

My jaw drops again, and Gram reaches over, tapping me beneath the chin.

“Close your mouth, sweetheart,” she says kindly. “Don’t want a fly to get in. I saw one zooming around the kitchen earlier. Don’t know how flies are still pestering us in November, but it’s been a warm winter so far. Supposed to be even warmer tomorrow. You should pack that cute little sweater dress with the pink and blue swirls for your overnight and take your guy to breakfast tomorrow. I can hold down the fort alone for a night.”

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Advertisement When it Pours (The Mcguire Brothers #4) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/when-it-pours-the-mcguire-brothers-4-read-online-lili-valente Mon, 04 Sep 2023 20:23:02 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/when-it-pours-the-mcguire-brothers-4-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Novella Authors: Lili Valente Series: The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >24

Truth or Dare: Tell the One-Who-Got-Away that you’re still madly in love with him OR spend the night trapped with him in a hunting lodge that’s about to be swept downstream?

Ha! Trick Question. I get to do BOTH! Because when it rains, it pours.
First, I call Theo McGuire to tell him that I’ve always loved him and I always will–at least for the next few hours until Pippa Jane the Pig and I are swallowed by the floodwaters. Then, I open the second story window when Theo comes knocking in his kayak, in a likely doomed attempt to save us.
Soon, we’re trapped in the cabin where we had our first time fifteen years ago and all I can think about is how much I wish I could turn back the clock. If I could, I’d never let this fiercely kind and sexy-as-hell man go.
Since this could be The End, we agree to make our last night a night to remember.
But what happens when morning dawns, we’re both still breathing, and I can’t bear to think of a life without my favorite McGuire?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

MACY MALLARD

Of “Move This Way with Macy,”

a slow travel influencer learning

that you can’t go home again.

Or, that you can,

but you might die there…

“Please, Pippa Jane. Just do your business on the puppy pad.” I thread my fingers together into a single fist, pleading with my sweet—but oh-so-flipping-stubborn—Kunekune mini-pig. “It’s the only option, buddy.”

Pippa snorts in response and plops down on her ample haunches on the wooden cabin floor, sticking her black-and-white spotted snout in the air.

“I know it’s beneath you,” I assure her, “but it’s too dangerous to go outside in the storm.”

I stroke her head, hoping my touch will relax her the way her nuzzles always relax me. This pretty girl has been my roommate in my VW camper van since I adopted her from a rescue farm in West Virginia four years ago. She’s my snuggle buddy, my co-pilot, and my best friend.

I’ve met so many cool people on the road, but Pippa’s the only one who’s always there, no matter what. She never gets tired of my wandering lifestyle or asks me to hawk poisonous energy drinks on social media for cash or thinks I should “stop making racy internet videos and get a real job.”

My old-fashioned family disowned me years ago, embarrassed by the amount of swimsuit content on my channel—sorry, but I like to swim, and I’m not going to do it in a 1920s bathing costume—and rampant vegetarianism. They raise sheep for slaughter; I live with a pig who saved my life when I broke an ankle on a hike and couldn’t get a satellite signal to call for help.

Enough said.

Which reminds me…

I narrow my gaze on Pippa’s stubborn face. “If you’re smart enough to retrace our steps to the nearest ranger station and coax a ranger out to rescue me, you’re smart enough to know the river is too high to risk going outside right now.” I bend to gaze into her warm brown eyes with my most winning smile. “Come on, P.J. Use the puppy pad. It’s not a big deal. I’ll go into the other room and give you your privacy, take care of the mess right away, and we can pretend it never happened. No embarrassment or affront to your dignity required.”

She coughs politely into my face—her ladylike way of telling me to take my “signature charm” elsewhere, because she won’t be swayed—and waddles off to sit by the window, staring out across the waterlogged forest in the gray evening light like the heroine of a gothic novel.

“Fine,” I say, propping my hands on my hips. “But you’re not going out. That’s final.”

She lifts her snout even higher, a silent pillar of queenly defiance.

“And my signature charm is still charming,” I mutter as I cross to the opposite side of the open living space on the second floor of my uncle’s old hunting cabin. Leaning against the wall, I gaze out the sliding glass door that leads out onto the small balcony. “I’m up for two more Indie Content Creator awards this year.”

And I am.

And there was a time when I would have been really excited about that. Thrilled, even. Over the damned moon.

But that was before…

Before the internet became a toxic cesspool filled with bullies and scammers. Before the trolls learned to send bots after people they wanted to crush and had to actually post their “ur too fat to wear a swimsuit, gross, cover ur dimply ass, fatty,” comments on their own.

Before we were all reduced to algorithmic versions of ourselves that corporations use to sell us things we don’t need, propping up toxic, late-stage capitalism and speeding the destruction of our planet and society at large.

I miss the old days.

I miss my old self, the one who had a bigger life in the real world than in the virtual one.

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Advertisement Boss Me Around (The Mcguire Brothers #3) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/boss-me-around-the-mcguire-brothers-3-read-online-lili-valente Tue, 08 Aug 2023 17:46:22 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/boss-me-around-the-mcguire-brothers-3-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Contemporary Authors: Lili Valente Series: The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >67

Christian McGuire is the last person I should be asking to boss me around in bed. Sure, he's a bonafide Sex God, but he's also my co-worker AND my shiny new brother-in-law. But after a few too many tequila shots one night, I shoot him a text, asking him to be my smut mentor. As soon as I sober up, I'm MORTIFIED, of course. I try to steal his cell phone and destroy the evidence, only to find I'm too late. Christian has already read my message. Even worse? He wants no part in helping me ditch my ancient virginity. That is, unless I agree to a few rules... 1. We never talk about Sex Club. 2. We never get caught by our friends or family. 3. We commit to fulfilling each other's wildest fantasies for one steamy month until he leaves town. No holds barred, no shame, no limits. I agree without hesitation, confident that I can have a month of earth-shattering nookie and walk away without a broken heart. But the more time I spend in the sack with this wild, funny, secretly tender man, the more I fear I'll break the biggest rule of all--Never Fall for Mr. Off Limits.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

STARLING RENEE BAXTER

A woman on a mission to salvage

her dignity. Before it’s too late…

All the way over to the bowling alley in my rickety little car, the tequila-inspired message I left on Christian McGuire’s voicemail earlier tonight plays on repeat in my head…

Hey, I heard you were leaving town.

Should we get naked and have some fun before you do, or what? Just low-key, you and me, blowing off some steam. I don’t know.

Sounds like it could be a good time.

Let me know.

This is Starling, by the way. And I am currently wearing panties, but that’s a situation that could be changed pretty quickly if you wanted to come over.

I’m housesitting at Barrett’s for the weekend.

“Panties. Why did you have to mention your panties? What is wrong with you?” I mutter as I hunch over the wheel, squinting up at the rapidly darkening sky.

An autumn storm is rolling in, wiping away the last of the sunset light. If I’m lucky, maybe a bolt of lightning will knock out the power in the bowling alley, and I’ll be able to creep inside and steal Christian’s phone under cover of darkness. I’ll get in, get his cell submerged in a pitcher of beer before he can listen to that mortifying message, and get out before anyone knows I’m there.

But even as the fantasy plays out in my mind—complete with cat burglar type acrobatics and slinking around bowling ball stands on tiptoe—I know I’m fooling myself.

I’m not going to get lucky.

I’m reliably unlucky, especially when it comes to getting away with bad behavior.

The one time I took something without paying for it—a handful of penny candy from the old-fashioned general store when I was four—I was caught on camera. The owner made my mom pay double for the candy, then posted a shot of me mid-theft by the checkout counter with the line—Thieves Will Be Prosecuted: No Matter How Small the Theft (Or the Thief)—written above it in thick black letters.

It stayed there for years, long after I was old enough to read the warning and be deeply ashamed of my four-year-old self’s pudgy hand squirming through that jar of lemon heads.

The same thing happened the one time I faked being sick to get out of taking a test and the one time I stayed out past curfew my senior year. Both times, my mother caught me, gave me that “oh, honey, I love you, but I’m so disappointed” look, and I nearly died of shame.

My mother is a single mom who raised two daughters on her own, worked odd jobs on top of her accounting gig to help us pay for college, and never raised her voice to me or my big sister, Wren, in all twenty-three years of my life.

She’s a saint, and the last thing I want to do is disappoint her.

She would be shocked and appalled if she knew I’d just propositioned my employee. Yes, Christian is five years older than I am, way more experienced in both life and love, and no one’s idea of a vulnerable human, but he is, in fact, my subordinate. And propositioning someone I have the power to hire, or fire, isn’t cool.

It’s the opposite of cool.

I’m basically a sexual predator! Like one of those guys in an ‘80’s movie who oozes up behind a woman with a huge perm and shoulder pads—just some poor, hardworking woman, innocently going about her day, trying to get ahead at the office, while being disrespected by her boss, her male coworkers, and the chaotic fashion of her day—and fondles her backside by the copy machine.

I’m a backside fondler! Or at least backside-fondler-adjacent, and if I don’t get to Christian’s cell and intercept that message, I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.

I’ll have to wear a bag over my head at work.

Or cut bangs and hide behind them when he stops by my desk.

And I’d look really bad with bangs. My hair has curl in it, even when it’s really long. If I cut bangs, they’d be super floofy. I’d look like a sheep in the front and a show pony in the back, and that breed of messed up mullet isn’t a good look for anyone. I’d scare the animals at the shelter, not to mention my mother, who’s been worried about my sanity for months now, ever since I adopted a wild turkey and taught him to walk on a leash. Knowing my luck, she’d try to stage a hair intervention, I’d end up with an all-over sheep-do, and spend the rest of my twenties growing out my unfortunate hair catastrophe.

I simply must lay hands upon that cell phone and destroy it, no matter the cost.

And it will cost me. I fully intend on paying Christian back for the damage, even though he hopefully won’t know I’m the one who wrecked his phone. I’ll slip a few hundred bucks into his wallet when he’s not looking or buy him a new phone as a going away present…once he actually tells me he’s going away.

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Advertisement Boss Without Benefits (The Mcguire Brothers #1) Read Online Lili Valente http://www.books2020.com/boss-without-benefits-the-mcguire-brothers-1-read-online-lili-valente Wed, 12 Apr 2023 20:59:21 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/boss-without-benefits-the-mcguire-brothers-1-read-online-lili-valente Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Authors: Lili Valente Series: The Mcguire Brothers Series by Lili Valente
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Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >64

Last night, I met the funniest, sexiest single dad on the planet.

I also managed to get into the kind of co-ed naked trouble with him that involved a nurse, a shotgun, a feral turkey, and a pair of pliers. But all's well that ends well, and we already have plans to meet up again.

It's early days, but I'm already thinking Drew might be The One.

Then I show up to my new nanny gig and who steps out on the front porch, holding the cutest little redhead in the world?

Yep, that's right. Drew is Andrew McGuire, my new boss, and he's not about to date the nanny. His daughter's happiness and stability are his top priority.

Considering I just fell in love with this precious, motherless girl at first sight, I would be inclined to agree with him. If it weren't for one thing—my heart already has a Drew-shaped hole in it.

I'm pretty sure I would miss him, even if we'd never met.

But how to convince this amazing man that his heart—and his family—are safe with me? And that he should be my bosswith benefits? Forever.

Welcome to Bad Dog where the men are incredible, the animals are ridiculous, and the happy ever afters are super emotional and steamy! Boss Without Benefits is a Standalone Romance with Spice!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

MARGARET TATUM O’LEARY

A woman in search of a fresh start

where no one knows her name…

Every small town has that one family. That one, marches-to-their-own-kazoo family that’s been the butt of town jokes for years.

In the O’Learys’ case, it’s more like a century.

My great-grandmother moved to Fair Shot, Kentucky in the 1920s, presumably hoping for a “fair shot” at a new life with her American husband. But thanks to her thick Irish accent and habit of saluting magpies to ward off bad luck, she was pegged as an odd one from the start. Then she started attending the funerals of people she didn’t know—another very Irish thing to do, she swore to my embarrassed great-grandfather—and quickly found herself uninvited to every social event not held at the Catholic Church.

My grandmother didn’t have a shot of growing up to be anything but a spiritualist who talked to ghosts way before that was cool. After my grandfather died of a heart attack, she moved to the forest at the edge of town and reared my mother like a wild fairy.

Mom got knocked-up at seventeen by a guy who bailed, leaving Gram, Mom, and a string of deadbeat boyfriends to do their best with me. Spoiler alert: the boyfriends didn’t care about raising a toddler. As far as I could tell, they didn’t care about anything but drinking beer and playing video games.

Then Mom met Bruce, my sweet stepdad who mounts dead birds for a living. And there, in the woods, they brought forth six more children who they allowed to run weird and free, no matter what anyone in town had to say about it.

The rest, as they say, is history.

The O’Learys are the punchline of every Fair Shot town joke, the first suspects when strange crimes are committed—Gram did steal a headstone once but took it back when she was done cleansing it of bad vibes—and the last to be offered good jobs or juicy promotions.

By the time I left, I’d been working at the local daycare for five years and was still the lowest paid worker in the center. I’d been passed up for advancement so many times I had Candace, my supervisor’s, “So and So is just a better fit” lecture memorized. I showed up early and left late almost every day, leaving my heart on the playmat with those kiddos, but it didn’t make a difference.

No one seemed to be able to see past the O’Leary last name or the rumors that my six siblings all have different fathers.

Which isn’t true—I’m the only one with a different father; Bruce sired the rest of this generation’s weirdos—but even if it were true, that’s no reason to deny me, or my mother, career advancement. Mom’s been a kickass nurse at the same urgent care clinic since my little sister Molly was a baby and still hasn’t made shift supervisor.

Molly is now twenty-four and has a baby of her own.

It was at Molly’s baby shower that I finally realized I couldn’t stay in Fair Shot. I couldn’t take being judged by my flaming red curls and last name for the rest of my life.

Which is why I’m here, in Bad Dog, Minnesota, hundreds of miles from home, about to dive headfirst into my fresh start at a lakefront bar full of drop-dead gorgeous ice fishermen.

Ice fishing! That’s a cool thing you can’t do in Kentucky.

I’m fascinated by the frost in their beards when they swing through the pub door, and they look pretty interested in the new girl. These men are actually smiling at me. Smiling, without a snarky “she’s one of those O’Leary girls” look in their eye. One even bought me a martini and nicely backed off when I said forty years was too much of an age gap for me.

But props to grandpa for shooting his shot!

I can’t remember the last time someone bought me a drink. The best I could hope for back home was to sneak into the local Eagles club after everyone else was too tipsy to notice I was there. All O’Learys were banned from the club when the owner’s wife had a falling out with my grandmother over a spiritual reading gone wrong. Apparently, Gram correctly deduced that the woman’s husband was cheating on her, the woman incorrectly decided he was cheating with Gram, and our family was denied beer forever more.

The Eagles was the only place in Fair Shot that served drinks. We had one bar, two restaurants, and roughly ten thousand horse stables.

That’s it.

In Bad Dog, they have a super cute Victorian downtown with shops, restaurants, and coffeehouses, and a waterfront area with pubs and a restaurant called The Dirty Taco. The name sounds filthy (in more ways than one), but the fish tacos are legitimately delicious.

Good thing, since I’ll be staying in the apartment above the restaurant for the next month, until I’m able to sort out a long-term living situation.

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