Manhattan Millionaire: Book Three in the Kendall Family Series

by Jennifer Ann

  “How?”

  “I was going to ask you again tonight,” Nolan answers with a sly wink. “Figured it was time to start making happy memories in Vegas.”

  Dear god, I love this man with all my heart.

  Equally ready to consummate our marriage, we hurry Overweight Elvis along to the “I do” and the kissing part—which admittedly gets a little overheated. After a few quick candid shots and a selfie with Overweight Elvis, we’re taking a car back to our hotel and passionately kissing outside the penthouse. When I start for the button on Nolan’s jeans, he stops me.

  “Not yet. I have a surprise for you.”

  “It better be good,” I pretend to pout, watching his gorgeous ass as he’s opening the door. “I need my husband’s co—”

  “SURPRISE!”

  A room full of guests jump out from behind the sectional couch. By quick assessment, the mob appears to consist of all my siblings and their significant others plus Katie and our friends Theo, Kelly, Chloe, and Mick.

  “Holy shit!” I scream, clutching my chest. Everyone is staring at me and laughing, making my face burn hot. When I turn to Nolan, he’s grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “Did you know about this?”

  “I invited them for an early birthday party since the next couple of months are going to be crazy for your family,” he tells me, drawing me in for a quick hug. Then he whispers, “They have no idea that they’re the ones about to get an even bigger surprise.”

  “You’re the best husband ever,” I whisper back, with the third set of tears for the day blurring my vision.

  No one has ever thrown me a party before.

  Sharlo rushes forward with Katie and Evelyn hot on her heels, giggling like a couple of ten-year-olds at a sleep over. I bring my hand to my forehead and laugh as Nolan hurries away from the pack of wild women.

  “So were you—” Sharlo stops mid thought, her eyes widening. “Bloody mother of hell what is that there on your finger?”

  Realizing I just flashed them with my new ring, I bring it down for Sharlo to hold and the three of them to drool over.

  “Oh my god this is actually your engagement party!” Katie cries.

  Evelyn looks up at me, smiling. “It’s gorgeous! Congratulations, big sis!”

  “When exactly were you going to fill me in on your little secret?” Sharlo asks, glaring over to where Nolan’s carrying on with the guys.

  Dimpled smile popping into place, Nolan meets my gaze and mouths, “Now?”

  I shrug and move over to stand by him again. By now everyone in the room is staring at me from my sisters’ freak-out, so Nolan clears his throat.

  “Trust me when I say I hadn't planned for things to go exactly this way, but I’m especially glad all of you could join us in Vegas tonight because Sofia and I have a special announcement to make.” Then he whispers in my ear, “You want the honors?”

  Scanning the room filled with people most near and dear to me, minus my nephew whom I’m guessing is somewhere else in the hotel with a competent sitter, my throat becomes tight with tears. “To see you all here, knowing you flew from the other side of the country to help me commemorate this special occasion means the world to me. When you take into consideration all the heartache our family has been through together, I’m proud to say that we’ve become a tighter-knit crew because of it. I love you all dearly. There’s no one else I’d rather celebrate our marriage with. Seriously, thank you all for coming.”

  For a moment they’re all stunned into silence.

  Finally Evelyn speaks out. “Marriage?” Her eyes flip between me and Nolan. “You mean engagement, right?”

  “No, marriage,” Nolan replies, holding up the temporary cheap silver band we purchased for him from Overweight Elvis to make it official. “We just tied the knot at a chapel down the street.”

  Literally everyone in the room appears stunned beyond comprehension, unable to move or speak.

  “Surprise!” I say, flashing them a toothy smile. Chuckling, Nolan kisses the top of my head.

  After the initial shock wears off, the room erupts with questions hurled our way.

  “Bottle service and the caterers should be here shortly, so make yourselves at home!” Nolan shouts over the ruckus. “I’m going to make love to my wife!” Then he sweeps me into his arms and heads toward the master suite. Above the feminine shouts of protest, several of the guys applaud and whistle.

  The double doors to the suite click shut behind us, muffling the ruckus from the other room. Nolan sets me down on my feet and reaches for the back of his shirt, yanking it over his head in one swift motion. I’m left swooning with the sight of his chiseled chest and tight abs.

  Holding his all at once playful gaze, I can’t stop the ridiculous grin that stretches over my cheeks when I cradle his bearded jaw in my hands. This beautiful, noble man with a heart of gold is all mine. One day he’ll even be the father of my children. For a good part of my life, I was scared of the concept of love and committing myself to one person until he showed me how amazing the experience could be. I never knew love could be this spectacular.

  “Get naked, counselor. I plan on taking all night to worship this beautiful little body. And I’m going to keep doing it for the rest of our lives.”

  “Is that a dare, playboy?”

  The pupils of his eyes widen when he advances toward me. “It’s a fucking promise.”

  * * *

  ###

  Note from the Author

  If you enjoyed Nolan and Sofia’s story, please take a quick moment to leave a review on Goodreads and the site from where you purchased this copy. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate your time and support!

  To receive a FREE copy of my upcoming novella Ten Nights, the story of Charlie and Evelyn’s honeymoon, and to be notified when Katie and Braden’s story in Oceanside Marine (book 4 in the Kendall series) becomes available, sign up for my newsletter. I promise not to be all spammy.

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  * * *

  COMING SOON!

  Keep reading for an exclusive preview of my upcoming standalone, Fighting for Phoebe! (Coming 11.28.16)

  * * *

  For as long as she can remember, Phoebe Carson's existence has revolved around deception. It’s almost impossible to stop the lies from spewing out of her own mouth. Sometimes it's like a damn disease...one she’s been exposed to since birth. As many times as she’s dreamed about running away, her mother’s grasp on her runs deep.

  After a failed attempt to expose the truth about a fellow Marine’s disappearance, running was Jace Daniels's only option. He doesn’t know how much time he has until they’ll arrest him, but he's determined to make things right.

  When their paths collide, the passion is so explosive that neither of them can walk away. Even though Jace can’t afford to get involved with anyone, he feels a need to protect Phoebe from her psychotic ex. But once the truth unravels, proving it’s more than fate that brought them together, can they survive the hell they’ll bring into each other’s lives?

  Fighting for Phoebe

  Fifteen years ago

  I stand at the entrance of the giant store, itching the back of my neck where the tag on the new dress rubs at my skin. Then I glance down at the pink polka dot print flowing around my legs and smile. Although it’s a pretty dress, it’s too nice. Way too nice for someone like me. I can’t take the tag off because it’s going back to the store. Doesn’t matter anyway… I know I don’t deserve nice things.

  A lot of people hurry back and forth, none of them paying attention to the little girl staring at everyone who enters. I’ve never been this scared. I don’t understand what I’m s'posed to do, or why she just left us here.

  “Hurry up and pick someone,” my big brother snaps in my ear.

  Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I turn to stare at him with butterflies crashing into my stomach. He is better at ly
ing to strangers. Why didn’t she tell him to pick someone?

  “You’re gonna get us both in trouble if you take any longer,” he warns.

  Turning back to all the people, I ball my fingers into fists at my sides. My throat feels as dry as sandpaper when I spot a man with wrinkled skin and thick gray hair heading our way. He’s wearing dark, fancy clothes like Grandpa Eddie wore when he stopped breathing and they stuck him in the big box. I’ve been told anyone with a lot of money dresses like that.

  But the man looks mad about something. His mouth is tight like he’s sucking on a lemon and there’s a deep line between his eyes.

  “That guy,” my brother tells me, hitting my arm. “Go. Now.”

  My tummy feels sick as I hurry along to the man’s side and pull on his sleeve. “Mister? Can you help me?” When I remember I’m supposed to be crying, I stick out my lip and sniffle. It’s not so hard to pretend when I’m scared. “I lost my mommy.”

  Suddenly the man’s cold eyes become soft and he pats my shoulder. “Sure thing, sweetie. We’ll have someone working here call your mother’s name over the speakers so she knows where to find you.”

  His cold, wrinkled hand wraps around mine.

  That was easier than I thought. Maybe there’s nothing to be scared of after all.

  ONE

  PHOEBE

  There are two things I haven’t allowed myself the pleasure of in what feels like ages, mostly because I’m broke and by all accounts I should know better by now. Getting blissfully drunk at the bar without worrying about the consequences, and shamelessly lusting after an attractive man that looks every bit the part of a bad boy.

  But in my defense, the stranger sitting three barstools across from me is hot beyond words. In every way imaginable. As in my panties get a little more soaked each time I sneak a look his way. And let’s be real. There are men who are born naturally hot, and men who get better looking after discovering they possess a charming personality or whatever bullshit desperate women tell themselves after meeting a fugly guy. The natural ones aren’t always easy to come by.

  I suppose it’s possible getting turned on from staring at a complete stranger makes me a complete perv in need of psychological help, but damn it, I haven’t been laid in a long time. Besides, he looks to be around my age and he isn’t wearing a wedding ring, so my ogling is harmless. Or so I keep telling myself.

  I watch his thick, tattooed arm rest on the cracked bar top in front of him as the other arm flexes to bring a glass of amber liquid up to his pouting, delectable lips, surrounded by a shadowed jaw. I’ve never seen a mouth that beautiful on a man. When I imagine getting a taste of those heavenly lips, soft and sweet like the rum he’s drinking, I bite down on a whimper.

  The rest of his face is every bit as memorable as his mouth, though a Yankees baseball cap pulled down to his fierce eyebrows obscures more than I’d prefer. Piercing blue eyes, sharp nose and jaw, beautiful cheeks that would almost give him a baby face if it weren’t for his strong jaw, and a dark scar running across one of his temples that catches in the dim light whenever he studies someone entering the bar. I’ve been staring at his features so long that if I had a lick of artistic skills, I could go home and paint him by memory.

  I’m pretty sure I’ve seen all 1,501 residents of this town at least once, and there’s only a minuscule percentage could be categorized as decent looking. None could even touch this guy’s beauty, or his impressive build.

  Even if I hadn’t spent the last ten years in Chesterville, it’d be painfully obvious the guy wasn’t from around here simply by how he’s dressed in tasteful, designer jeans and a black button-down that hugs every beautiful curve, or how he wears his dark hair neatly cropped on the sides.

  And then there’s the colorful ink snaking up each of his arms. From what I can tell, one is of the US flag and another has something to do with an anchor. Doesn’t matter what they are because just possessing them seriously increased his attraction factor. Having several tattoos somehow made me the town freak, which would make this guy the ringmaster.

  It’s obvious he’s no stranger to the gym without being grossly overly muscular like someone popping steroids and ready for competition. He’s more like the buddies my big brother, Logan, would bring home when I was a hormonal teenager who hadn’t yet been deflowered and easily developed a crush on every damn hottie to walk through the door.

  Someone that beautiful doesn’t belong in this rundown bar among dusty beer ads on the walls and carpet so old that the pattern is no longer distinguishable from the literal shit the farmers tracked in.

  Mr. Gorgeous suddenly stands from his stool and cuts a sharp look toward the rickety metal door to the bar’s entrance like he’s waiting for someone to bust in. Just when I’m afraid he’s preparing to leave, he veers toward the bathrooms in the back. As I watch the muscles in his ass and backside flex and turn with each step, I imagine him carrying me up the steps to my apartment with ease, and let out a long, dreamy sigh.

  Did I mention I need to get laid?

  “Phoebs, did you hear me?” Kory asks, snapping a ratty old towel my way. When his blue eyes follow my gaze to the hot guy disappearing down the dimly lit hallway, Kory releases one of his howling laughs that always makes me adore him a little more. “Put your tongue in your mouth. You’re going to scare the poor guy away.”

  “What the shit?” I whisper back, leaning closer to Kory. “Who is he? Where the hell did he come from? My wildest fantasies?”

  Throwing the towel over his wide shoulder, Kory settles back against the pull-tab containers and shrugs. “Don’t know. He showed up a few minutes after I opened and he hasn’t said much except to order a few—”

  “Captain and Cokes,” I finish. “Believe me, I know. I’ve been secretly watching him ever since I walked in.”

  “You might want to work on your stealth mode,” he says with another cruel laugh. “You can tell it’s been awhile since you’ve been interested in someone. You’re rusty as shit.”

  “Whatever. Suppose you could do your favorite patron-slash-old-classmate a solid and help me find a way to interact with him? He’s so quiet that I’m afraid if I open my big mouth and do my usual blabbering thing, he’ll bolt.”

  Kory glances toward the bathroom uneasily. “He seems pretty content on keeping to himself.”

  The front door suddenly squeaks on its rusty hinges, followed by the sounds of shuffling feet.

  “Would you look at that, boys?” a familiar voice roars from the entrance. “It’s our lucky night!”

  Turning in my seat, I cringe with the sight of my ex and his wild pack of morons entering. The last few months have been blissfully quiet since he only ever used to set foot in this bar when we were together. Decker’s not the type to belly up and chat with the locals, because that would require social skills beyond trash talk. His idea of a good time involves beers, campfires, and emptying live ammunition in the woods behind his house.

  “I’ve been looking all over fucking town for you,” he tells me with a little hiss. His nostrils flare as something dark passes through his gaze. “The two of us need to have ourselves a chat.”

  Though I’m rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I inwardly brace myself for what he has to say.

  “Go home, Decker,” Kory warns, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his chin. My loyal friend isn’t a small guy by any means and was a force to be reckoned with on our high school football team. But since he’s become a daddy? Soft as a teddy bear. “I’m not going to serve you guys when you’re obviously loaded already.”

  “Who said anything about drinking?” Decker replies with a nasty sneer. “Maybe we just wanted to stop by and play a game of pool.” He begins to slink my way with his buddies hot on his heels.

  This crew has the good ol’ country boy who’s served occasional jail time look down to a science. Tall and beefy with shaggy hair, fleet store jeans, flannel shirt, and several hundred dollar work boots. There’s even a chunk of chew bul
ging from most of their bottom lips. The memory of kissing Decker sends a shiver rippling down my spine. Whenever he was drunk, it was like making out with a fish. Cold and disgustingly wet.

  How did I ever agree to have sex with someone so vile? In my defense, alcohol.

  As he closes in on me, the odor of whiskey and tobacco on his breath mixed with the oil on his shirt becomes so strong that I feel the need to cup my hand over my nose.

  “You smell fuckable, baby.”

  I lean back, my shoulder blades hitting the vinyl covering the bar. “And you smell like ass.”

  Admittedly, talking shit to his face probably isn’t the smartest move. In the end of our relationship, things got ugly. And when I told him that I was moving out, he hit me hard. Nothing like the usually slap against the face or shove I’d grown familiar with.

  I should’ve probably gone to the ER, but I stayed with my cousin in The Cities for a week until the swelling on my eye went down and I could use my wrist without crying. I told Ellen I fell off a table when drunk. It was a cowardly way out, but shit would’ve hit the fan if she knew I let a man hit me, and I didn’t need to give her another reason to feel superior.

  “Something of mine went missing,” Decker says in a tone that’s sickeningly sweet. The asshole’s eyes drag down my body as he wets his lips. “And I don’t just mean this tight little body of yours.”

  “This body was never yours.” I glare into his glossed eyes. “You must have me mistaken for whatever twat waffle of the week you’re banging these days.”

  Setting his hands on the bar on either side of me, he leans in and I feel the urge to regurgitate an entire week’s worth of food with his stench. My heart races into double-time as I wait to see how he’s going to respond. At least I know his hairless balls aren’t big enough for him to hit me when there are witnesses.

  “That mouth of yours could be put to much better use. You find someone else to keep you satisfied, or has everyone in this town realized by now that snatch of yours is worn out?”