Beautiful Distraction J.c. Reed Read Online Free

  J. C. R East East D

CONTENTS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Championship

COPYRIGHT

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER One

Chapter TWO

Affiliate Three

CHAPTER Four

CHAPTER FIVE

Chapter Vi

Affiliate SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chapter NINE

Chapter X

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chapter TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER Fourteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Affiliate Xvi

Chapter SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Affiliate Xix

Chapter Xx

Affiliate TWENTY-Ane

Chapter TWENTY-2

Affiliate TWENTY-Iii

CHAPTER Xx-Four

Affiliate TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER Xx-SIX

CHAPTER 20-SEVEN

Affiliate TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER 20-Ix

CHAPTER Xxx

CHAPTER THIRTY-I

EPILOGUE

COMING Next

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Go on IN TOUCH WITH J.C. REED

BONUS Book – Surrender YOUR LOVE

CHAPTER Ane

Affiliate Two

Chapter Three

CHAPTER Four

CHAPTER 5

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SEVEN

Chapter Viii

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER TWELVE

Chapter 13

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Affiliate SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER Xx

CHAPTER TWENTY-I

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Chapter Xx-THREE

CHAPTER Xx-4

CHAPTER TWENTY-Five

Chapter TWENTY-6

Affiliate TWENTY-SEVEN

Affiliate 20-EIGHT

Affiliate Xx-9

Chapter Thirty

CHAPTER THIRTY-I

OTHER BOOKS BY J.C. REED

Kellan Boyd ever gets what he wants—except that one infuriating city girl who bumped into his new chick magnet sports car, dared to phone call him a jerk, and basically threw his compassion bank check in his face up.

Fast forward three months later. When Ava Cross of a sudden knocks on his door in the middle of a storm, soaking wet and in dire need of aid, he's determined to settle one-time scores and finally become her between the sheets where she belongs.

Ava knows Kellan is a complex human with a dark past and a wild reputation he can't deny. Forced to stay, Ava begins a desperate search for the truth about the ane human being she wants to despise and quickly discovers that the passion she feels for him isn't simply deep…it's unsafe to her heart.

Kellan is a beautiful distraction. When the traps of her ain weakness stand up in the way, Ava is faced with 1 pick simply: peel off the layers of a man who'south a wild cowboy at heart.

Author's note – Beautiful Distraction is a full-length standalone novel with no cliffhanger. Due to sexual content, this book is non intended for readers under the age of 18.

Copyright © 2016 past J.C. Reed. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in whatever course or by whatever means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Publisher's Note: This is a piece of work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author'south imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or expressionless, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Editing by Shannon Wolfman

Inline Editing past Therin Knite

Cover design and Formatting past Larissa Klein

DEDICATION

This book is for those who never surrender dreaming and believing in love. Here's to new beginnings, 2nd chances, hot cowboys, enjoying a night under the stars, and to living in the moment.

PROLOGUE

"Ava, where are you?"

I grimace, non in the least surprised past the high pitch of my coworker 'due south voice. Carol Evans is at her wit's end, and I can't blame her. Being the assistant to the editor-in-chief is i shit-donkey job. Tanya Bollok, TB, or The Bowwow, equally we similar to call her at work, is the devil incarnated. Because of her endless demands, impossible requests for perfection, and mile-high expectations that would impale anyone'south private life, everyone fears her.

I scowl. "Obviously non at the office."

"No shit." I can sense the obligatory roll of her eyes. "I already know that because I looked for you everywhere."

"You have? Is this about my article?" I wince at the phone and hasten my steps. "Await, I'll have it done by Monday. TB won't even find."

"Trust me, she will. I need information technology by midnight."

I let out a express mirth. "Y'all tin't be serious."

The dead silence on the other end confirms the worst.

We take a tight borderline. I get it. But the impress run is Monday two a.g. No article needs to hitting the editor-in-chief'southward desk before Sun night.

Try to explain that to TB.

God forbid you actually try to have a life or friends exterior of the office.

And God forbid you exit said office as early on equally six p.m. on a Friday night, which is what I've done for the start time in my career, and now it comes dorsum to bite me.

I don't know why I permit my best friend Mandy talk me into driving her to Social club 69 on a Friday evening, merely as usual, after a five-minute tirade nigh how she was too belatedly to call for a taxi and she had to be at work that instant, I caved in and took the one-hour drive upon me to assist her out.

I shouldn't take. Because at present I'm going to be in a shitload of trouble with my boss.

I groan again. "TB won't even be dorsum until Sun."

"So we all idea," Carol says. "She took an early on flying. I await her back within the 60 minutes."

"What?" I didn't hateful to shout. Several people turn their heads to regard me. Waving my manus, I oral fissure, "I'k fine. Haven't been mugged or annihilation," and tune back to the conversation.

"You're lucky I was here to intercept her call or else you lot would've been the fifth she fired this month."

"She tin can't fire me." Non in the least because I'm swell at what I do, but TB has never been the reasonable type and I'm not ane to take my chances. "Okay. I'm coming." Cradling the phone between my shoulder bract and my chin, I scurry to my car, fishing for the keys in my bag while guessing how long information technology'll take me to get back to the office. A glance at my scout tells me it won't be before 10 p.m. Great. I'll exist spending another unpaid Friday night staring at a estimator screen with TB breathing down my cervix.

I open the car door and throw in my purse, suppressing the urge to remind Carol that anybody's entitled to an evening off every in one case in a while. Simply what would be the signal in arguing with her when information technology's not her fault?

"What if she arrives before you?" Carol asks.

"Tell her I'm sick."

"I thought yous said your grandmother died. That's what Jay said yous told him when you left early."

I cringe. "Yes, that too."

"Ava, you can't dice twice."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning you a

lready told the same prevarication last year, then continue your lies straight."

Actually, that was but a half-lie because Grandma was ill and TB wouldn't let me fly dwelling house until I came upward with the dying role. Give thanks God, Grandma lived. But TB even had me testify her the hospital beak.

"Yes. Remind me to make a list." I permit out a nervous laugh as I'grand rounding the car to get into the driver'southward seat.

"I'll try to steer her off of you, only no guarantees. Can you lot exist back in half?" Carol asks.

"What? Half an hour?" Aye, if I larn how to fly. "Sure," I say chirpily.

My gaze brushes over the busy street and the long line of people trying to get into Club 69 equally I push the key into the ignition and kickoff the engine. I throw the car into reverse and attempt to wriggle my manner out of the congested parking lot. I scoot my car forward a scant three feet in line, my eyes focused on the decorated street. As I'm near to exit the parking lot, a car approaches mine.

I don't know my way effectually cars, just I'1000 pretty sure it's a red Lamborghini.

Shiny, and brand new, and expensive as shit.

And it honks impatiently.

Probably some rich guy who'll wave his wallet into the bouncer's face to become into the gild.

Another entitled wiggle who thinks he owns the globe.

The guy honks again.

"Asshole," I half-shout.

"Excuse me?" Ballad says.

"Not you. I'grand talking to the guy behind me." I groan and glance in the rear-view mirror. "If TB arrives before me, tell her I'll be dorsum as before long as I can. And I have every intention of working through the night."

Which I usually practice anyhow. Java'southward my best friend. Sleep's the enemy. If I could alive off ane and get rid of the other, TB would probably hug me.

"Effort to get here ASAP."

"I'1000 on my way." I hang up and throw my phone onto the passenger seat, my glance shooting back to the red car. As I try to movement forward, my engine dies.

Some other impatient honk—drawn out and annoying the living hell out of me.

Seriously?

Arrogant bounder. Can't he wait for two frigging seconds?

What is it with people and Club 69? Merely the mere possibility of seeing the information technology-band Mile High greeting the crowd has everyone, including my best friend Mandy, out of their minds.

Right then he holds his hand out of the window and waves at me, motioning for me to motility alee.

"Cheers, jerk!" I gesture at him through the open window so press hard on the gas at the same moment the red Lamborghini moves frontwards, whipping around me.

The crash is inevitable, the audio of scratching metal making my heart drop into my lap.

Fucking hell!

Why would he give me a heads up to motion and then do the aforementioned?

And who the fuck drives like a maniac, daydreaming of the usual traffic around Gild 69, or the fact that it'due south Friday night and the streets are bound to be busy?

My blood'southward boiling in my veins, the thick liquid thrumming in my ears.

I kill the engine and jump out of the car, leaving the door ajar.

"What the hell did you call up you were doing?" My voice is a high-strung mixture of rage and exasperation.

Maybe the owner of this quarter-million-dollar chick magnet has the fluffy bank account to have their machine repaired, but I sure as hell volition have to alive with the dents forever. I'll probably accept to skimp on food for a month to salve the coin for new headlights.

"I could inquire you the same thing." The low grumble of a male vocalism reaches me through the open up window before the door's thrown open and out jumps a male person in his late twenties.

I take a sharp jiff. Then another, my center skipping beats.

Wow.

He's hot. And certainly not in an bawdy, imperfect style.

He looks like a god.

His pilus, dark and shiny, frames an bonny face with a direct nose, chiseled chin and the most stunning optics I have ever seen. The expensive, light blue apparel shirt can't hibernate his broad shoulders or the fact that he's probably sporting a six-pack below it. The sleeves are rolled upwardly, revealing strong, tan artillery and capable hands that don't look similar they're stuck to a computer keyboard all day.

He works out…probably a lot.

He steps closer, and I can make out the color of his irises. In the dim light, his eyes shimmer in the dark crystal green shade of a beautiful, untouched lake.

Standing at half-dozen-human foot-two, he oozes confidence and money.

And something else.

Sex.

The word invades my listen, and for a moment that's all I tin can recollect nigh.

Hot, steamy, wild, rough sex. The kind of sex that has you gripping at the sheets equally wave subsequently wave of orgasm rolls over you.

I'm not cheap, but I'grand not a saint either. I appreciate a hot guy when I see i. And this ane tops the charts. And judging from the long line of women glancing at him, like bees swarming around an exotic flower, I know I'm not the only i having those kind of thoughts.

But non even a hot guy can distract me from the situation at manus.

I examine the damage to my car.

My car'south headlight is broken, while his automobile looks intact.

"At that place'due south a scratch." His voice is deep and low. His sexy accent sends a delicious tingle down my spine as I stare at my car in the knowledge it'll cost me way as well much to become information technology repaired—coin I don't accept.

"You telephone call that a scratch? Tin you—" I turn sharply to face him and stop midsentence, expecting him to be inspecting my automobile.

Instead, he'due south leaning over his car. "You lot're right. It's more of a chip." Hot Guy points to a small nick, which I swear could just also be a smudge of clay, and trails a finger over information technology, his face drawn in worry. "This is going to be expensive."

I scoff, feeling angry.

"You're talking nigh a chip? Have you lot seen my car?"

He glances at it fleetingly before his eyes return to me. "That erstwhile matter? I'm surprised y'all tin can still drive it."

My jaw drops as I'k rendered speechless.

My honey Ford might have been previously endemic, twice—at least I hope the automobile dealer told me the truth—just information technology'southward been with me through more ups and downs than whatsoever human existence in my life.

I experience strangely nostalgic toward my beloved Ford, and tears begin to sting the corners of my eyes.

Aye, it's just a car and a battered one at that, but I can't permit a guy become away with hurting the one thing that I worked my ass off saving up for—the most valuable affair I ain, even though information technology probably costs less than his polished pair of dress shoes.

"Why are we talking about your auto?" I ask. "You lot can inappreciably see the damage."

"Do you realize how much my Lamborghini'due south worth?" Mr. Expensive Shirt says, raising a perfect forehead, reading my thoughts.

I can't believe it.

"Jerk!" I yell. "Arrogant prick. I don't know how much your damn car's worth, and I don't care because it'southward your fault." I spit out the last two words, oblivious to the fact that I probably look like a madwoman the way I stab my finger into his chest. He doesn't even seem to register it as his gaze travels down the front of my snug pinnacle and tight jeans, which I threw on in haste.

"Did you merely phone call me a 'jerk' and a 'prick'?"

Oh, that vocalism. Deep and hoarse and penetrating, carrying the slightest hint of amusement. It instantly sends a pleasant chill through me. I can near experience it vibrating between my legs. My skin prickles from the expression he gives me every bit he scans my trunk.

I'thousand suddenly aware of the fact that I wait like a hot mess: my brown hair'southward all tangled, and I'm inappreciably wearing any makeup. I couldn't stand out more among the Club 69 crowd of long, oiled-up legs and brusque skirts. Had I known I'd be having a close encounter with Mr. Sex activity On Legs, I might accept even made an attempt.

"Aye, I did," I spit out. "Considering it's your error."

"M

y fault?" He turns his head to me, his gorgeous confront fatigued in surprise. "Y'all gave me the point to get ahead."

"I did what?" Frowning, I let out a sarcastic laugh. "No, you gave me the point to go ahead."

He shakes his head. "I most certainly didn't."

Is he suffering from some neurodegenerative disease?

I stare at him, open-mouthed, and then mimic his wave. "This is the go-ahead sign to move."

"No, it ways yous drive similar an lxxx-twelvemonth-old, and I don't accept all twenty-four hours to scout you amble around." His eyes encounter mine, his gaze challenging.

His features are relaxed; his mouth is slightly open as he stares me down in amusement. I don't know why, merely I go the distinct feeling he's enjoying the situation.

Well, I'm not tickled.

"I wasn't ambling. I was waiting to get in line and you lot tried to overtake me," I state the obvious.

"You lot stopped," Hot Guy points out. "That means you lot gave me the all-clear."

My mouth opens and closes, which probably looks like I'm a panting fish out of water. At final, I shake my head in disbelief. "Are y'all for real? I stopped to check if a motorcar was coming."

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