Dirty Lover (The Dirty Suburbs Book 5) Read online

  Dirty Lover

  (The Dirty Suburbs Series - Book 5)

  Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  Dirty Lover (The Dirty Suburbs Series - Book 5)

  Copyright © 2017 Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents appearing therein are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status of the various products referenced in this work.

  Stories by

  Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  The Dirty Suburbs Series

  Dirty Neighbor

  Dirty Player

  Dirty Stranger

  Dirty Favor

  Dirty Lover

  Dirty Farmer

  Dirty Silver

  Dirty Forever

  The Esquire Girls Series

  Amber’s Story

  Amber Nights (Amber – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Madison’s Story

  For Madison, Always (Madison – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Ruthie’s Story

  Ruthie’s Desire (Ruthie – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Hailey’s story

  Moments with Hailey (Hailey - Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Esquire HEAT Series

  A Very Eager Intern

  A Very Frustrated Attorney

  Standalone novels

  Matteo

  Beast

  Looking for your next binge read?

  Get lost in the Dirty Suburbs!

  Dirty Silver (The Dirty Suburbs Series – Book 7)

  Evangeline

  I lied, okay?

  My family and friends think that I'm traipsing across Europe dominating one runway after the next and amassing a small fortune. But the truth is I'm in New York City, on stage at the auction, about to sell off my body to the highest bidder just to pay off the outrageous debt that I owe to my modeling agency. I’m only 22 but apparently, I’m already past my prime.

  I’m scared and I’m humiliated. Still, I know that one month with a wealthy stranger will solve all my problems.

  But the last person I expect to be placing bids on my (non-existent) virginity is Raphael Silver, my father's sexy and filthy rich best friend.

  Raphael

  I miss the good old days when closing a business deal meant cracking open a bottle of aged scotch with a rich old bastard in the VIP section of an upscale Manhattan strip club. But, this young, trust fund brat wants to take it up a notch.

  That's how I ended up at this ultra-exclusive sex club, watching idiot billionaires bid at a virginity auction. This place is sleazy, even for me. I'm not the type of man who gets off on ‘paying for play’. Still, I'll go along with it just to get this new client.

  But the last person I expect to see on that stage in a sparkly little outfit is Evangeline Brooks, my best friend’s way-too-young, way-too-tempting daughter. I can't help but notice that she's all grown up but I'll be damned if I let one of these scumbags get their hands on her.

  I’ll do anything to protect her, even if it means buying her for myself.

  COMING SOON.

  Join Dirty Folks, my exclusive Facebook group, for updates.

  Dirty Forever (The Dirty Suburbs Series – Book 8 )

  The much-anticipated conclusion to the Dirty Suburbs series

  Gracie

  "Did he cheat?"

  That's the first question women ask when they learn that I'm separated from my husband. I always offer them a weak smile and assure them that, no, Daniel didn't cheat on me. The man is a lot of things, but unfaithful isn't one of them.

  So then, naturally, the next question that comes to their mind is, did I cheat? Thankfully, they usually have enough couth to refrain from asking that one out loud.

  The reality is that neither of us were unfaithful. We found a host of much more inventive ways to break each other's hearts.

  But I'm just about sick of crying myself to sleep every night. And I hate the look of despondency on his face every time he comes over to pick up our son for the weekend.

  We've both suffered for long enough. It's time to end this madness.

  One of us has to be the bad guy. I guess that's gonna have to be me.

  Daniel

  "Are you dating?"

  That's the first question women ask me when they learn that I'm separated from my wife. Hell no, I'm not dating. And neither is she. I swear – I'd kill any man that gets near my Grace.

  People in this town assume that my marriage is over. But they don't know the lengths I'd go to for that woman. I'm not giving up on my wife. On my son. On my family.

  I'm sick of falling asleep in a cold bed every night. I need her body curled up beside me. I need to wake up next to her.

  She still loves me.

  We've both suffered for long enough. It's time to end this madness.

  One of us has to be the bigger person. I guess that's gonna have to be me.

  COMING SOON

  Join Dirty Folks, my exclusive Facebook group, for updates.

  Dirty Lover

  The Dirty Suburbs Series (Book 5)

  Blakely

  My roommate found her happily-ever-after in the middle of our lease. Don’t get me wrong – I’m glad that she found her prince and they’re shacking up. I swear I am. But I've got rent to pay.

  So when my cousin offers to hook me up with a nerdy Silicon Valley programmer who spends his days writing code and watching Japanese anime cartoons, it seems like the perfect arrangement, especially for a timid, socially-awkward girl like me. But nobody warned me that said geeky programmer would be performing said boring activities while shirtless and dripping his libido-igniting pheromones all over my new sofa.

  A girl like me can't handle all that charm and charisma in such a small space. Every time he smiles, it feels like I’m on the verge of a medical emergency and these heart palpitations are really starting to worry me.

  He can't stay here. His effortlessly seductive energy is cutting minutes off of my life expectancy.

  This living arrangement definitely isn't going to work.

  Nicholas

  I've got angel investors lined up around the block to fund my next project. Too bad I'm burnt out and lacking inspiration. I spent years working 18-hour days to build technology that will make a mark on the world. But it's taken a toll on me. I'm desperate for a change of pace.

  So when a buddy mentions a low-key opportunity in a lazy little Illinois suburb, I jump on the offer. Now, I'm rooming with sweet, innocent Blakely. She’s got tempting curves, red curls and freckled skin that blushes every time I smile at her.

  But the girl is full of secrets…and she's got dirty, dirty mind.

  And now I've got a new project; corrupting that shy girl’s curvy little body.

  "Dirty Lover" is book five in the "Dirty Suburbs", a series of stand-alone romantic comedies about the residents of small town Illinois.

  Table of contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

 
Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Blakely

  "You come here often?"

  My fingers freeze over the screen of my smartphone. I literally take a moment to glance around at my surroundings because the last time I checked, I was hiding out in the walk-in pantry of my ex-roommate’s new kitchen, hurriedly jotting down a scene that began forming in my head somewhere between the salad course and dessert.

  When I saw the way that Annaleigh’s eyes fluttered shut and the crimson flush that crept up her neck as she savored the experience of Prescott’s lips sealed to her cheeks, I knew I had to capture that moment for my upcoming novel. It was pure gold.

  I wasted no time sneaking away from the engagement party to get those magical words typed into my phone. I've managed to get so lost in my thoughts as the story idea comes to life that, for a fraction of a second, I worry that I may have unknowingly been teleported to some sleazy nightclub where unimaginative pickup lines are an acceptable form of flirtation...

  My eyes frantically drift over the shelves of pasta boxes, tuna cans and condiment jars. I sigh in relief. Still in the pantry.

  I peek up at the blond-haired, green-eyed man in the crisp gray suit giving me his best Fabio-pose against the doorjamb.

  "Excuse me?"

  He smiles wide and repeats himself, louder this time, y'know, just in case the distant hum of the conversations and the cling-clang of silverware from the swanky dinner party carrying on down the hall drowned him out the first time. "Do you come here often?"

  I groan inwardly. Such a shame. He has so much going for him. He even has dimples.

  Yes, dimples.

  And a strong, stubbly jaw and long, long lashes.

  But unfortunately, he opened his mouth. And words started falling out of it.

  Fantasy, ruined.

  This is why I allow myself to get lost in my romance novels. This is why I choose to live vicariously through my fictional heroes and heroines – Darcy is my guy. Cullen is my mate. Grey is my master – because real-life guys say dumb shit like 'do you come here often?' when you're minding your own business in a walk-in pantry at an engagement party.

  Is an intelligent conversation-starter really too much to ask these days? If this is all that the dating scene has to offer, I'm going to die a virgin.

  Mr. Gray Suit is still standing there, waiting for an answer. My skin blazes when I realize that he's blocking the only exit and that there's no way out of here without dealing with him head-on.

  Oh, boy...

  One look at my crimson cheeks and he quickly decides to forgo any further subtlety. He leans in close, carrying the overbearing scent of his cologne with him. "So, are you gonna get out of here with me or what?"

  Dude, come on...

  That's one of the pitfalls of being a shy girl. Every guy I cross paths with thinks that his ‘utter irresistibleness’ is the reason for the blush semi-permanently etched on my cheeks. They’re too dense to realize that I’m really just clumsy and socially-awkward to boot and the thought of making casual banter – or god forbid, flirting – causes my heart to squeeze itself into my windpipe.

  I give him a tight smile. "No."

  What I really want to say is, ‘I've got a pretty little g-spot massager and a fresh pack of batteries at home. So, I’ll pass, you arrogant, misogynistic asswipe.’ But that would be rude.

  He hikes a brow. "No?" As though he's never heard the word before.

  Wow, entitled much?

  "No, " I say again.

  His lips form the most unpleasant scowl I’ve ever seen. “Why?”

  I blurt out the first excuse that comes to mind. "I'm pregnant and I don't know who the father is."

  Really, Blakely?

  His eyebrows dart up and his face goes pale. "Uh, okay...g-good luck with that..." he stutters as he slowly backs out of the doorway. I clasp my hands over my mouth to suppress my laughter as he turns and hightails it back to the party.

  Argh! The things women have to do to keep thirsty losers at bay. I take an easy breath now that he’s gone.

  Ah-kay, back to typing out my story idea.

  And as his lips trailed across her cheekbone, Leigh-Anna felt desire ripening in her loins. If she had her way, she’d allow Preswell to take her right here and now. But that would definitely not be proper or ladylike. Still, it delighted her immensely when his mouth brushed the lobe of her ear and his words spilt across her skin. “Oh, my dear, the things I will do to you once I get you alone…”

  Gosh – why does fictional Annaleigh suddenly sound like a British aristocrat?

  Backspace. Backspace. Backspace.

  My irritation begins to deepen. Damn you, Gray Suit for showing up in here and throwing me off of my game.

  Let’s try this again.

  I immerse myself into getting those words out but it’s obvious to me that I’ve lost my flow. Still, I persist. I decide that even if I end up spending the rest of the night in here, I’ll just keep typing and deleting until I get this story right.

  But before long, Annaleigh slips into the cupboard next to me, startling the hell out of me. She closes the door softly behind her and kicks off her high heels. She exhales a heavy sigh of relief as she wiggles her reddened toes. “Can somebody turn up the air conditioner in here? I’m sweating my tits off.” She fans herself with her hand. The girl is literally sweating under pressure.

  I quickly shove my phone into the pocket of my dress. She and I are really close – she’s my cousin, my ex-roommate, my best friend, really – but I’m sure she'd be pretty freaked out to learn that she and her fiancé are my muses for Taken by my Bad Boy Lawyer, the erotic romance that I’ve been in here outlining this whole time.

  "You okay?" I ask.

  Her eyes roll up as if she’s trying to catch a glimpse of the false lashes hanging off of her eyelids. "These things are creeping me out,” she whines, “It's like having spiders' legs glued to my face." I titter softly at her plight. "And If Prescott's mother drops one more hint about being ready for grandbabies, I swear to god I’ll rip out my fallopian tubes and use them to strangle her."

  I giggle. "Well, this is your engagement party. It's not crazy that people are thinking about what comes after marriage," I state diplomatically.

  She glares at me as she sets a bare foot on one shelf and hoists herself up to grab a bottle of tequila hiding behind the breakfast cereal all the way at the top. "You're not helping, Blakes." She uncorks the bottle and takes a deep swallow. Then, she grimaces before stuffing a handful of cornflakes into her mouth. "I was two seconds away from a meltdown in there."

  Annaleigh is a tomboy who lives in sneakers and old hoodies. Tonight, she had to flat-iron her hair and put on lipstick…I know she's suffering.

  She watches me with a mixture of suspicion and excitement on her face. "So, what the hell were you doing in here with Ambrose Carlton?"