Four Play Read online Stephanie Brother

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors:
Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Four Play

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Stephanie Brother

Language:
English
Book Information:

The four annoying boys who were responsible for the worst moments of my childhood have grown into four irritating, hot-as-sin MEN.
I try to ignore them but they torment me during the day and haunt my dreams at night. Oh, and did I mention… they’re my stepbrothers.
Adam, Matt, and identical twins Josh and Jake would be most girls’ dream - but not mine. Sure, they’re tall, dark, gorgeous, and successful, but I don’t want them and I don’t need them – at least that’s what I tell myself, until I spend one mind-blowing week at their beach house.
We do things together I never even dreamed about, and I find out there’s more to them than meets the eye. But it’s just a game we’re playing, isn’t it? By the time I realize I need to protect my heart, it may be too late.
FOUR Play is a full-length standalone mega menage/reverse harem romance. It involves sizzling MMFMM, MFM, and MF scenes guaranteed to inspire your fantasies. No cliffhangers. No cheating. Just lots of steamy goodness and a very happy ever after.
Books by Author:

Stephanie Brother



1

A really big favor

“Give me four.” The woman making the request doesn’t even bother to look up from her phone. Her thumbs fly across the screen as she stands in front of the counter.

“Just four? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a half dozen?”

“No, four is good.” She glances at me for not even a second before returning to her text conversation, or game, or whatever it is she’s doing that is apparently more important to her than her order. “And any kind is good. I don’t care.”

Of course she doesn’t. And why would she? She doesn’t care that I’ve been here since four this morning. My skin, hair, and clothing are coated in a thin sheen of grease from the fryers, and for some reason, I took pride in frosting the various varieties of doughnuts, even though I had to follow guidelines that were probably decided by a committee in a conference room in some faraway corporate office. I artfully applied the packaged icing that was no doubt manufactured in a factory.

How could she possibly know that the treats she’s ordering were assembled by an educated pastry chef making the best of a complete lack of job opportunities? I am literally certified to make macarons, profiteroles, éclairs, and soufflés, but I put my best into this job at this chain doughnut shop.

I offer a smile she doesn’t return as I hand over the small white bag containing her four random doughnuts, then check my watch. Another day done. As I’m about to punch out, the shift leader calls my name. “Maddy, we won’t need you to open tomorrow. Come in at ten instead. Okay?”

I nod, not having a choice in the matter, or any predictability in my schedule at all, apparently. I hope I can make up the hours later in the week. I clock out and start back to the tiny room in the cramped apartment I share with two other minimum wage workers.

This is my life, and so far, it looks nothing like I imagined it during all my years spent dreaming of culinary school and an exciting and rewarding life in the big city.

Halfway through my thirty-block walk home – because buying a bus pass makes it difficult to also pay my share of the rent – my phone vibrates with a text.

Mom: Hi honey, can you talk?

Her message sounds innocent but I’m instantly on alert. Mom texts a few times a week but those brief messages are always just little hellos and check-ins. We talk every Sunday evening, so it’s unusual for her to want to talk mid-week.

Half a block further I turn into a corporate courtyard that will offer some shelter from the relentless noise of traffic, and I click the call button.

“Hi, sweetie! I didn’t expect you to call immediately. Are you home from work?”

“I’m on my way home. How are you? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” she says, but there’s a current of nervous excitement buzzing around her words. “How are you?”

“Mom, I’m fine. What’s going on?”

Now there’s a nervous laugh. I picture her pacing around the small living room, or maybe she’s still at her shop, obsessively wiping down the counters as we talk.

After a long pause and a throat clearing her voice sounds more grounded. “I feel funny having this conversation over the phone, and I’d much rather tell you in person, but since you don’t plan to come home until the holidays, and I haven’t seen you in six months, I thought I’d better –”

“Mom, what is it?” My tone is sharp and I’m gripping my phone so tightly that a twinge of pain shoots up my arm.

“Oh, Maddy, everything’s okay. I’m calling you with good news. Really good news.”

I let out a breath but don’t fully relax. Something’s definitely not right.

“I don’t know quite how to tell you this. It’s probably going to come as a big surprise…”

“Mom!”

“Okay, okay. Well, a few months ago, I started dating someone. I didn’t mention it right away because I didn’t think it was a big deal. But things have moved really quickly and… well… last night he proposed to me and I said yes.”

I can’t make sense of her words.

“I’m getting married. We’re getting married!”

I can’t find my words.

“Mike and I are getting married. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, and I really didn’t expect this, but he asked me, and well, it just makes sense. We don’t see any reason to wait. Not at our age.”

My mom, who, as far as I could tell, never once even dated anyone since my father left when I was a toddler, is suddenly marrying someone named Mike?

“Honey? Maddy? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m here.” I pull my long brown hair out of its ponytail and shake my head, trying to focus, trying to make sense of what she’s saying.

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