Goldie and the Three Wisconsin Bears Read online Theodora Taylor

Categories Genre: Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Goldie and the Three Wisconsin Bears

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Theodora Taylor

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B08DXPG1LM
Book Information:

One is nice. One is smooth. One is gruff. And they’re all starving.
What would you do if you found yourself stuck in the wilderness, desperate and alone, with no one to turn to but three large and extremely hot football players?
Well, that’s my situation.
And here’s the story of how I handled three very hungry Bears.
READER WARNING: The QUARANTALES series starts off steamy and gets hotter with each read before its sweet finale. This is the blazing Quarantale. Please do not one-click without the proper…ahem…support for any feelings that might arise upon reading this crazy hot story.
Also please note, this is not a shifter romance. It is an extremely hot contemporary romance, featuring three football player leads.
Books by Author:

Theodora Taylor



GINA

Chevy Nova starts sputtering about one hundred and fifty miles before I make it to Duluth. Then it jerks to a stop with a sickening metallic gurgle.

I curse when I climb out of the car. There’s gray smoke spilling from the hood, and it smells like old rust and burned oil. I’m no mechanic, but I’m sensing it will take more than a walk for gas to get me off this two-lane highway.

This extremely remote two-lane highway.

With nothing but dark woods on either side of it.

An icy wind blows as I look into the carless distance and think about the worldwide coronavirus pandemic that has so many people scared. I’m alone out here. More alone than I’ve ever been.

Panic descends, threatening to overwhelm me. I knew I couldn’t do this. Knew I couldn’t escape on my own. Tommy was right about me. I’m too stupid and weak to do anything—

It doesn’t matter what you think you can do, another voice reminds me, quiet and desperate. You have to do this.

Yes, I have to do this.

I shake off all that fear and force myself to be grateful I made it this far. I’d only been able to withdraw five hundred dollars from my bank account before I left Georgia. That was enough to get me all the way to Wisconsin. So, mission almost accomplished.

I used my bank card to buy gas in Madison, which was risky for sure. Tommy was probably monitoring our shared bank account to track me, or he would have closed it as soon as I disappeared. I’d hoped I was close enough to my final destination for it to be safe to make one transaction. If everything had gone as planned, I would have been across the Canadian border before the charges even registered on my bank account.

But now my only means of transportation is spitting smoke. Dammit.

I place a hand on top of my stomach and try to stay calm.

“I’m going to get us out of this,” I promise the baby growing inside of me. I whisper the same words now as I did a few weeks ago when I peed on a stick and saw two thin blue lines.

Zipping up the hoodie I bought at that Madison gas station over my turquoise blue ribbed bodycon dress, I start forward with a determined stride. Walking a mile or two to find a mechanic is a small price to pay for our freedom.

Only it isn’t a mile or two. At least I don’t think it is. I left my phone along with most of everything else I owned back at the house in Jonesboro for fear of Tommy using it to track me. But I’m pretty sure after what feels like an hour of walking that I’ve gone more than a couple of miles.

It was technically a good idea to stick to back roads whenever possible, so there would be less chance of a surveillance camera picking me up. But this one might be a little too backcountry. In the time I’ve been walking, not one car has passed by. Also, it’s getting dark….

I eye the setting sun with a fearful heart.

Something rustles in the woods.

I snap my head toward it. What was that?

Okay, time to turn back, I decide, reversing direction. Better to wait in the car where wolves and bears and back road murderers can’t get me than out in the open.

I pick up my pace, but after another huge chunk of time passes, I’m trudging. My yellow espadrille wedges match nearly everything in my wardrobe and make my calves look spectacular. But they are not ideal for hours of walking. My entire body aches and my legs have gone wobbly like they’re just looking for a reason to give out.

Despite that, I keep trudging along, determined to get back to my car. Only to jerk to a sudden stop when I see the sign nailed to a tree, bright and red:

PRIVATE ROAD. PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO ONE ALLOWED PAST THIS POINT.

A lump of horror rises in my throat. That sign wasn’t there before. I would have remembered it. That means I’ve walked past where I left the Chevy Nova.

Oh, God… Someone must have taken my car. I’m stranded. Lost and stranded.

I look back to the quiet road. I know I passed a small town called Sweet Lake in the other direction. Maybe about ten to fifteen miles back. But after nearly a full day of driving and hours of walking, I don’t have it in me to hike that far.

I shift back to the sign. Ominous and forbidding. But at this point, I can’t see any other choice. The sun’s almost fully set, and I have no idea where my car is.

Teeth chattering against the freezing night wind, I make my way down the dirt road the sign declared forbidden.

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