The Virgin Society Series by Lauren Blakely – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

The Virgin Society Series by Lauren Blakely – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Mon, 04 Sep 2023 20:23:03 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png The Virgin Society Series by Lauren Blakely – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 The Tease (The Virgin Society #3) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.books2020.com/the-tease-the-virgin-society-3-read-online-lauren-blakely Mon, 04 Sep 2023 20:23:03 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-tease-the-virgin-society-3-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Forbidden, Virgin Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: The Virgin Society Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)

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I swear I’m a good girl.

I didn’t go to the exclusive, after-hours masquerade to kiss my dad’s best friend. I didn’t even know who the masked man was when he touched me like I was his every fantasy.

But when I learn exactly how off-limits my new lover is, I do my best to avoid him the next time. Except, he has his sinful sights set on me, even when he discovers who I am. Just one time, he whispers. Then we’ll pretend this never happened.

Seems the enigmatic, gorgeous single dad I’ve known by day is a very dirty man after dark.

What’s a good girl to do?

Say yes and walk away in the morning, keeping our secret.

Especially when I learn the next day my father’s best friend is my brand new boss.

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

1

HUSH HUSH

Jules

My friend Scarlett is begging me to fill in for her tomorrow night, but really, she doesn’t have to ask twice. The second she called and asked, “Can you play piano at The Scene?” I was all in.

“Yes,” I say as calmly as I can while I hustle past the turnstiles on Fourteenth Street.

“Thanks. I forgot all about my shift at the bar,” Scarlett says, then hesitates. “And can you still play Gershwin? They’re big on ‘Rhapsody in Blue.’”

“My fingers remember all the jazz standards from my childhood,” I tell her as I rush down the crowded steps to the platform, dodging harried New Yorkers racing up. Showtime’s at eight for a critics’ screening for a new TV series I worked on. I can’t be late, but I don’t want to press pause on this call and take a chance Scarlett might ask someone else to sub.

I soothe her worries even as I enter the belly of the subway beast. “I can play a ton of masquerade songs.”

As an incoming train on the other platform rattles in, she’s unexpectedly silent before she says, “Oh. I didn’t think I said it was a masquerade?”

Shoot. Did I just give myself away? But I’ve kept my own secrets for years. I’ve had to keep them. “With a name like The Scene, I took a guess,” I say confidently.

Another pause, then she speaks. “Well, good one, babe. Anyway, the parties are kind of hush-hush with the whole masquerade thing, and they’re also kind of risqué. So I wanted to make sure you’re definitely free tomorrow night and…well, that you’re comfortable with it.”

Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea. “I’m great with masquerades,” I answer in the same tone I’d say I’m great with people at a job interview.

“Oh good. I thought you might be, since we’ve been clubbing,” she says with a naughty little lilt in her tone. “And every time I see you, you always look like someone different.”

Well, that’s kind of the point.

I check for my train, peering down the tunnel but not getting too close to the tracks. The phone connection will sputter out any second, and I don’t need to tell her the extent of my wardrobe and wigs to prove I’m the woman for the gig. She already knows my credentials. Knows, too, I helped pay for my own college by teaching piano. Still, I want this gig badly so I need to assuage all of her concerns. “The only thing on my schedule tomorrow night was putting on a sea-clay eye mask and listening to a playlist. So, I’m totally free to help out. I’ve got you,” I tell her, selling myself subtly.

I’m not about to disclose the real reason I am bursting inside and already counting down the hours.

“Thank god. I can’t believe I spaced. We’re already short-staffed here, so my boss was going to kill me. But let me know if I can help with anything,” she says, then hesitates. “Except, Jules…”

“Yes?” I ask tightly, hoping she’s not backing out of her offer now.

“It’s important you don’t use your name. The members like the privacy and figure if they don’t know yours, you don’t need to know theirs.”

“I’m a vault,” I say, and nothing in my life is more true than that.

“And the dress code is costume light for the musician, so it’s up to you if you want to wear one. But the mask is a strict requirement. Not the sea-clay variety though.”

“I’ll make sure I wash it off before I go,” I deadpan.

She laughs, then adds, “I know some websites with overnight delivery for masquerade masks.” Scarlett is in full-on helpful mode now. “And I can recommend some cheap costume shops too.”

My friend doesn’t have to recommend a thing. I’m a junior TV producer by day…whoever I want to be by night.

“I know where a few are too,” I add as the rattle of the downtown train grows louder.

“You’re a goddess,” Scarlett says with obvious relief, then adds that she’ll text me more details, like the theme and the secret password.

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Advertisement The Tryst (The Virgin Society #2) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.books2020.com/the-tryst-the-virgin-society-2-read-online-lauren-blakely Wed, 12 Apr 2023 20:59:47 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-tryst-the-virgin-society-2-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Forbidden Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: The Virgin Society Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)

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Some men are just off-limits. Like your ex-boyfriend’s father.

But when I met the sexy, powerful older man shortly after my business school graduation, he was simply the seductive stranger I wanted to notice me, and he sure did.
Fast forward a few months later, when my college ex – now a good friend – introduces me to the person he looks up to most…his father.
The man I spent that one hot night with.
I should stay far away from the commanding business mogul. But my ex and I are planning a charity fundraiser that involves late nights at his dad’s penthouse in Manhattan.
Nights where he can’t stop looking at me with desire in his eyes that matches my own.
I try to resist him, playing the good girl in the city…mostly.
He’s the perfect gentleman…until he comes knocking on my door and tells me exactly what he wants to do to me.
And I say yes.
Stealing nights with him like this is supposed to be wrong, but it feels so right. And when he saves the day to protect his son at the fundraiser, my heart wants him as much as my body does.

Can we ever be more than just a tryst?

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

1

JUST SO YOU KNOW

Layla

I only have to last thirty more minutes. Half an hour is a good faith effort, right? I’m trying, really. It’s not like I’m sitting in this bar across from Bryce Fancypants the Third for my health.

“So, yeah, when Topher came to me about a top-shelf, members-only distillery in Manhattan, I said, I am so in and here’s the check,” Bryce says, while rotating his tumbler in quarter circles every thirty seconds. I recognize the tactic from a post last week on The Gentleman’s Guide To Dating—do this if you want to communicate power on a date.

Because, of course, that’s exactly how a man should communicate power—by reading articles about how to do so.

“What a great friend,” I say, like I’m reading from a script.

“Topher has been planning this since we went to Princeton together a few years ago,” Bryce adds, no doubt in case I didn’t hear the other three times when he told me he went to the Ivy.

“How fascinating,” I say with a smile. You never know who Bryce might report back to. Like his mother at the tennis club, who’ll tell my mother at the tennis club. Since this date, like all my dates, was her idea.

But dating is like makeup. I know how to put on a good face to make it through the day. I sit nice and straight and say all the right things to whatever Bryce blathers on about for the next thirty minutes, from the money he and Topher invested in the liquor, to the money they’re making hand over fist, to the way they cater to old money, since old money’s the only thing you can trust, right?

When the clock behind the bar strikes eight-thirty, I can taste my freedom. Bryce is paying the tab, and fine, I’ll give him points for that. But after he signs the bill, he slides his credit card back in his billfold ostentatiously, giving me a chance to see that it’s black.

“Soooo,” he begins, running his fingers over his slicked-back blond hair, his gaze lasered in on my breasts. “This was great, Layla. I’d love to see you again. But just so you know, I’m really busy at work.”

He’s just so you knowing me? Does he think I don’t know that’s code for he only wants to fuck me?

I purse my lips to hold back a flurry of put-him-in-his-place zingers. Instead, I keep the stakes in mind and fasten on my best Park Avenue smile. “I love my job, too, and I’m super busy, as well. Text me.”

“Sa-weet,” he says, and he can’t mask the I’m going to score next time smile.

He can think what he wants, but I have a get-out-of-a-second-date-free card, and I’m ready to play it.

We leave the whiskey bar, and when we reach the curb, Bryce clears his throat. “So, I’ll text you, and we can do this again?”

“Sure!” I say brightly. “I’m just going to take off now and head home.”

This is the real test. I have a feeling this barely twenty-six-year-old banker will fail to do the one thing my mother values more than any other—protect her daughter.

Holding my breath, I turn toward Park Avenue. Will he follow or go on his merry way?

“I’ll text you, Layla,” he calls out as he heads off.

Virtual fist pump.

Bryce doesn’t offer to call me a cab, walk me home, or wait till my Lyft arrives. When my mother finds out, she won’t hassle me to see him again.

His fail is my win.

Once I turn the corner, I order the fastest Lyft possible and wait at the curb. My fingers fly as I text my friends to confirm they’re still at Gin Joint. They immediately answer.

Harlow: Get your ass here and give us a report on Chad. Or Thad. Or was it Brad?

Ethan: We’re placing bets.

Of course they are.

My ride pulls up a minute later, I hop into the black SUV, headed to our favorite speakeasy in Chelsea. There, I find my true loves waiting faithfully for me on a velvet chaise longue.

Harlow looks elegant and artsy with her brown hair clipped back in a silver barrette. Ethan’s the ever-cool hipster rocker in his skinny jeans and a thrift store button-down, his hair a wild mess.

I flop down between them, then blow out a long, heavy breath.

“Was it that bad?” Harlow asks, voicing the sympathy on both their faces.

“Nine out of ten,” I say, wrung out by the hour with Mister Moneybags.

Ethan lifts both arms skyward. “Yes! Free mojito for me.”

I look from one to the other. “That was your stakes? Like either of you couldn’t afford your own mojito.”

“Not the point,” Ethan says. “Now, give us the full report.”

“He paid for the drinks,” I begin. “So there’s that. But otherwise, he waved his big, rich dick around the whole time, and then he just so you knowed me.”

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Advertisement The RSVP (The Virgin Society #1) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.books2020.com/the-rsvp-the-virgin-society-1-read-online-lauren-blakely Sat, 07 Jan 2023 22:47:21 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-rsvp-the-virgin-society-1-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: The Virgin Society Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)

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Our days are full of secrets. Our nights are for seduction…

For the last year, I’ve wanted someone I can’t have.
The man my father built his latest multimillion dollar business with.
He’s a decade older than I am, and he’s entirely forbidden.
The fact that he’s never given me a second glance only makes me long for him more.
But the other night, across the room at a gala, everything changed. His broody gaze lingered on me and grew darker.
So I’m officially done being the good girl.
Tomorrow I turn 21. As a gift to myself, I plan to seduce my father’s business partner.
Happy birthday to me.

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

PROLOGUE

Harlow

I didn’t hit the car on purpose. I wasn’t that obsessed. I wouldn’t have called it an obsession at all.

Besides, I’m not that devious.

I’d say I’m more crafty.

But a year ago, I was neither devious nor crafty. I was just a girl with the start of a crush.

Everything that happened that night was just the luck of the draw.

I wound up a little bruised—fine, a little broken—and intoxicated by a man I couldn’t have.

1

THE MAN IN PURPLE

Harlow

Several Months Ago

The office door clicks open. I look up from the French news site on my laptop and sit straighter at the dining room table.

This is my chance to check him out. I’m home for the summer, so I’ve been grabbing as many opportunities as I can. Furtively, I turn my gaze as my new crush exits my father’s plush home office, then strides across the polished hardwood floors of the living room, wingtips clicking.

Sounding like money.

Looking like a magazine ad.

I’ve been stealing glances at Bridger for the last week, ever since I returned home from the NYU dorms. I’ve known him for years, but when I saw him a few weeks ago at a dinner my father hosted, my pulse surged and my skin tingled.

And a crush was born.

So, yeah, I love studying in the middle of my home, prepping for my next semester abroad. Just in case I can catch a glimpse of him.

And I’ll have another one right now, thank you very much. From my vantage point at the imposing oak table, I peek at the man’s gorgeous profile as he leaves, hoping he turns toward me soon so I can steal a glance at his outrageously blue eyes. I want to know what’s behind them.

My father ruins the view, though, walking right behind him, a glass of Scotch in his hand, saying goodbye to the man he built his media empire with over the last five years. “Sorry to cut this meeting short,” my dad says wryly. Everything sounds wry in his English accent. Part of his charm, some say.

His American daughter isn’t fooled by his British charm.

Bridger laughs lightly as they walk through the living room, empty-handed. “No, you’re not, Ian.”

Dad wiggles a brow. “Fine, I’m not sorry.”

At least have the decency to pretend.

Bridger nears the door, and I’m just not that interested in the subjunctive tense this second.

Not with Bridger wearing that tailored purple shirt that hugs his arms, those trim charcoal slacks that hint at a strong body, and no tie.

Never a tie.

Bridger’s tieless look is so…tingly.

“We’ll catch up tomorrow on the Spanish deal,” he says, scrubbing his hand along his chin. Stubble lines his fine jawline. A faint dusting of dark brown hair, a seven o’clock shadow.

What would it feel like along my fingers? Against my face?

A shiver slides down my spine, and I suppress a murmur.

“Tomorrow for all things Spanish deal. But not too early, you know,” my dad says.

What? No wink? How else would one know what you’ll be up to?

I’m tempted to roll my eyes, but instead I seize the chance to inject myself into their business conversation, flashing a knowing smile Bridger’s way. “Dad doesn’t like to wake early,” I say, innocently.

Like I don’t know the real reason Dad will sleep in.

Like the real reason isn’t coming over in a few minutes.

Cassie. Or Lianne. Or Marie. Or whoever the latest lady is that my dad’s banging behind his fiancée’s back.

Slowly, like maybe we’re both in on the joke, Bridger turns my way. My pulse kicks. His eyes are dark blue, the color of the dawn before day takes over. They hold mine for a beat, then he looks away quickly. I’m hopeful enough to want to believe he’s entertaining the same thoughts about dangerous kisses.

But I’m smart enough to know he’s not.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, then he’s out the door.

Not even a smile. He’s just gone. But what did I expect? I’m simply his business partner’s college-age daughter, ten years his junior.

I turn back to my laptop, ready to study.

Except…

With Bridger on his way, my father turns to me, checks his watch, then hums, like he’s gearing up to make a request.

Whatever, Dad. You’re not going to shock me.

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