White Lies Duet Series by Lisa Renee Jones – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

White Lies Duet Series by Lisa Renee Jones – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Sat, 24 Jun 2023 21:47:40 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png White Lies Duet Series by Lisa Renee Jones – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Provocative (White Lies Duet #1) Read Online Lisa Renee Jones http://www.books2020.com/provocative-white-lies-duet-1-read-online-lisa-renee-jones Sat, 24 Jun 2023 21:47:40 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/provocative-white-lies-duet-1-read-online-lisa-renee-jones Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Suspense Authors: Lisa Renee Jones Series: White Lies Duet Series by Lisa Renee Jones
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)

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Book one in the sexy and scintillating new White Lies duet by Lisa Renee Jones!

There are those moments in life that are provocative in their very existences, that embed in our minds forever, and sometimes our very souls. They change us, mold us, maybe even save us. But some are darker, dangerous. If we allow them to, they control us. Seduce us. Quite possibly even destroy us.

The moment I walked into Sonoma’s Reid Winter Winery and Vineyard and made eye contact with Faith Winter for the first time was one of those moments. Provocative because I know at least one of her secrets, of which, I suspect she has many. Provocative because she believes I was a stranger to her when we met, but I am not. Provocative because I sought her out, with no intention of touching her. But now I have. Now I want her. Now I have to have her. But that changes nothing. It doesn’t change why I came for her.

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

Provocative Playlist

“Sugar” by Maroon 5

“Ain’t My Fault” by Zara Larsson

“Whisper” by Chase Rice

“i hate u, i love u” by Gnash

“World Falls Away” by Seether

“Sugar” by Maren Morris

“Make You Miss Me” by Sam Hunt

“Sex and Candy” by Marcy Playground

“Take Me Away” by Seether

“Stay” by Rihanna

“Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac

“Human” by Rag ‘n’ Bone Man

“Love on the Brain” by Rihanna

pro·voc·a·tive

adjective

1. causing annoyance, anger, or another strong reaction, especially deliberately.

2. arousing sexual desire or interest, especially deliberately.

Chapter One

Tiger

There are those moments in life that are provocative in their very existences, that embed in our minds forever, and sometimes our very souls. They change us, mold us, maybe even save us. But some are darker, dangerous. If we allow them to, they control us. Seduce us. Quite possibly even destroy us.

The moment I stepped into the mansion that is the centerpiece of the Reid Winter Vineyards and Winery wasn’t one of those moments. Nor were any of the moments I spent weaving through a crowd of suits and dresses cluttering the circle that is the grand foyer of the 1800s mansion, fancy tiles etched with vines beneath my feet. Nor the ones spent declining three different waiters offering me glasses of various wines from one of the most established vineyards in Sonoma, meant to entice me to buy their bottles and donate money to the charity hosting the gathering. Not even the instant that I spotted the stunning blonde in a snug black dress that hugged her many lush curves proved to be one of those moments, but I would call it a damn interesting one. The moment I decided the blonde silk of her long hair belonged in my hands and on my stomach was also a damn interesting one. And not because she’s fuckable. There are plenty of fuckable women in my life, a number of whom understand that I enjoy demands for pleasure, which I will definitely provide, and nothing more. This woman is too prim and proper to ever agree to such an arrangement, and yet, knowing this, as she and her heart-shaped backside disappear into the congestion of bodies, I find myself pursuing her, looking for more than an interesting moment. I want that provocative one.

I follow her path formed by huddles of two, three, or more people, left and right, to clear a portion of the crowd, scanning to find my beauty standing several feet away, her back to me, with two men in blue suits in front of her. And while they might appear to blend with the rest of the suits in the room, they hold themselves like the parasites I meet too often in the courtroom, those who most often call themselves my opposing counsel. My blonde beauty folds her arms in front of her chest, her spine stiff, and if I read her right—and I read most people right—I am certain that she’s found trouble. But lucky for her, trouble doesn’t like me nearly as much as I like it.

Closing the space between them and me, I near their little triangle just in time to hear her say, “Are we really doing this here and now?”

“Yes, Ms. Winter,” one of the men replies. “We are.”

“Actually,” I say, stepping to Ms. Winter’s side, her floral scent almost as sweet as the challenge of conquering her opponents that are now mine, “we are not doing this here or now.”

All attention shifts to me, Ms. Winter giving me a sharp stare that I feel rather than see, my focus remaining on the men I want to leave, not the woman I want to make come. “And you would be who?” the suit directly in front of me demands.

I size him up as barely out of his twenty-something diapers, without experience, the glint in his eye telling me he doesn’t realize that flaw, which makes him about as smooth as a six-dollar glass of wine everyone in this place would spit the fuck out. A point driven home by the fact that he’s wearing a three-hundred-dollar Italian silk tie and a hundred-dollar suit, no doubt hoping the tie makes the suit look expensive and him important. He’s wrong.

“I said, who are you?” he repeats when I apparently haven’t replied quickly enough, his impatience becoming my virtue as my role as cat in this game of cat and mouse is too easily established.

Unwilling to waste words on a predictable, expected question that I’d never ask, I simply reach into the pocket of my three-thousand-dollar light gray suit, which I earned by beating opponents with ten times his experience and negotiation skills, and offer the unimportant prick my card.

He snaps it from my hand and gives it a look that confirms my name and the firm I started a decade ago now, after daring to leave behind a certain partnership in a high-powered firm. “Nick Rogers?” he asks.

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Advertisement Shameless (White Lies Duet #2) Read Online Lisa Renee Jones http://www.books2020.com/shameless-white-lies-duet-2-read-online-lisa-renee-jones Sat, 24 Jun 2023 21:47:39 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/shameless-white-lies-duet-2-read-online-lisa-renee-jones Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Suspense Authors: Lisa Renee Jones Series: White Lies Duet Series by Lisa Renee Jones
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Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)

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The second and final book in the sexy and tantalizing White Lies Duet from New York Times Bestselling Author Lisa Renee Jones.

Nick "Tiger" Rogers, sought out Faith Winter with revenge as his agenda. He made her his obsession. He seduced her. He made her want him. He made her trust him. And then he trusted her. He wanted her. He loved her.
But now, the lies will be exposed, the truth revealed.
Hearts will be broken. Lives shattered.
Nick. Faith.
The truth. The passion.
The SHAMELESS obsession.

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

Chapter One

Nick

Faith Winter is the problem. She’s dangerous. Far more than her mother. She must be stopped.

Those are my dead father’s words, scribbled on a piece of paper I found in his things only minutes ago. Words now burned in my mind, as I stand in the doorway of my bedroom, staring at Faith as she sleeps, moonlight from a nearby window casting her in a soft glow. Her blonde hair draped over my pillow. Her amber-and-vanilla scent a sweet whisper in the air on my skin. While the words she’s dangerous repeat in my mind again and again, radiating through me like an electric charge, but not because I trusted my father’s opinion about anything. But rather, there is no denying the fact that I did seek Faith out with the opinion that he was murdered, perhaps by her.

And he didn’t say she’s trouble or a problem or difficult. He said that she’s dangerous.

And yet, as seconds tick by, I am riveted by the image of Faith in my bed, where I invited her to sleep, and holy fuck, I like her there. I want her there, when I never let any other woman in my house, let alone in my bed. I’m obsessed with this woman, and as Faith herself warned yesterday, obsession is dangerous. Some—most—would say fucking a woman you suspect killed her mother and your father is dangerous, but it doesn’t seem to matter. I want her. I am crazy about this woman, and maybe that just makes me crazy.

Needing space to clear my head, I walk across the room toward the bathroom, my tie and jacket that I’d worn to tonight’s event at the Merit gallery gone, and I don’t even remember removing them. I remember Faith. Her smile as she’d been praised for her art. The way she trembled with the news of her success, when she is not a woman who trembles. Not unless it’s with pleasure. And these thoughts are exactly why I stop myself from turning back to her, because what I really want is to be in that bed with her. But, when I’m with her, touching her, kissing her, just fucking holding her, even looking at her in my bed, I am not objective. And yet, knowing this, I reach the doorway, about to escape into the quiet sanctuary of the next room, seconds from the space I need to rein in my thoughts, and fuck me, I find myself pausing in the doorway, facing the bed again.

She stirs suddenly, as if she senses me watching her, a soft, sexy sound slipping from her lips as she shifts from her side to her back, her hand settling on the pillow next to her. She instantly rolls over to where I should be, reaching for me, only to sit up, the sheet falling away, and even in the shadows, I am aware of her naked breasts, her naked body, which I know feels so damn good against mine. “Nick?” she calls out, turning in my direction, sensing me here.

And the minute she says my name, her voice is like silk on the sandpaper of my nerves, and I know that if she’s dangerous, I’m fucking high on the danger. And if that is what she is, I want that danger on my tongue, in my hands, in my bed.

I rotate and press my hand to the doorframe over my head, shutting my eyes. What the hell am I doing? Either I have a killer in my bed, which I reject as an option, or I have a woman I’m falling in love with who has to hate me for lying to her. Love. Damn it to hell, where did that come from? I don’t do love. I don’t do commitment, and once again, I have to remind myself that you don’t prove guilt when you’re looking for innocence. And yet, I know this woman is not a killer.

Dangerous, though. That word just won’t let go of me. Why the fuck did my father use that word?

“I just finished up some work,” I say, lifting my face to the ceiling, lashes lowered. “I’m going to shower, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I haven’t said the words before Faith is not only slipping between me and the wall, but resting against the doorframe under my hand. My gaze is riveted to her moon-kissed naked skin. My body arches in such a way that she can’t easily touch me, and I don’t touch her, but I want to, and I don’t even remember in this moment why I resisted doing so before now.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Aside from the fact that my dead father called you dangerous, I think, or that your stunning, naked breasts should not be in my hands, I need time to think. But since she doesn’t know about my father, can’t know about my father—not yet—I offer her the expected answer of, “Nothing is wrong.”

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