Room Service – It’s Raining Men Read Online C.M. Steele

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Room Service - It's Raining Men

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

C.M. Steele

Language:
English
Book Information:

Cassandra
A day of mishaps.
A convoluted plan.
A hot man in a towel.
Yep, I’m in trouble.
Jamison
I watch her on camera, trying to determine her motivations, all the while knowing mine. Little miss trespasser is going to learn that I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I always get what I want. As soon as she’s standing in front of me, my little criminal understands she’s been caught.
But she doesn’t know I’m never letting her go.
Books by Author:

C.M. Steele



Chapter One

Cassandra

“Mom, just relax. It’s just a short vacation.” I tiptoe closer to the front door because I’ll miss my flight battling with her.

“You don’t need a vacation.” I roll my eyes at her which makes her angry as always, but she’s pushing my buttons. I don’t know why I bother even seeing her because we end up getting into an argument.

“I can’t stay here and find any peace and quiet. I want to sit on a beach, let the sun hit my face, and read my books.” I have so many on my TBR that I’m dying to scratch off. I keep promising myself I will, but work and new books to add just keep my to-be-read pile growing instead of shrinking.

She scoffs, tipping her nose up in the air so high I can see her damn brain. “You mean that trashy garbage they pawn off as literature?”

“When is the last time you picked up a book, Mother?” I snipe. She might not pick up a book with sex in it, but she sure as hell can’t get enough of those shows on Netflix that are all the rage and full of lusty plots. Hell, she’s watched a bare-chested Henry Cavill many times.

“Who has time to read? You’re wasting your life looking for the perfect man. They don’t exist. Marry a man like your stepbrother. Charles is good-looking enough, and I’m sure you can train him to spoil you,” she says, patting my cheek before giving it a pinch. “You could use some color.”

“I don’t want someone like Charles.” She looks as if I said something evil. I shake my head and pat her hand. “Anyway, I’m going on vacation, not running away, so relax. You stress me out more than work does.” And work most certainly tests my patience, especially because I’m working for my handsy stepbrother. We met four years ago just before I turned eighteen and we hardly spoke until he hired me, so it’s not that taboo feeling that bothers me. It’s the fact that I don’t find him the least bit attractive, interesting, or even a decent human being. He’s the definition of arrogant and sleazy.

“You’re overreacting, as usual. I’m telling you it’s stupid to go all the way to Nowheresville for a vacation all alone. Anything could happen to you.”

“I have three days to enjoy my time alone.” I check my new waterproof watch. “I have to go. I’ll see you next week.” Or maybe not at all. I’ve considered dropping everything here in Chicago to move somewhere quiet so I can read and take it easy.

Having worked for Charles for the past two years, I’ve saved as much as I could over those years as well as my inheritance from my father to enjoy working when I feel like it and find my own path. For the past decade, I’ve done everything by my mother’s decree, including working for my stepbrother. I’m just twenty-two with no fundamental skills other than hiding away from my mother’s demands.

“Come back here, Sandy,” she shouts as I march out to my Jeep Patriot. I ignore her because I’ve never liked being called Sandy, and she knows it. Hell, she didn’t like it until Charles, my shithead stepbrother, started calling me that. Then suddenly it’s such a cute nickname. I gag every time I hear it.

My flight leaves soon, so I need to get my ass moving. I pull out of her driveway, regretting that I came to say goodbye. I’ve packed cash and my cards, keeping some in my luggage and some in my purse. I have everything I need, including my tablet full of brand-new reads to fill my time on the sandy beach.

Turning up my music, I send the incoming call to voicemail. My mom needs a chill pill. Seriously, it’s not like she cares about me personally, but what my behavior can do to her reputation. I turned down three different Ivy League schools and enrolled in community college just out of high school, thinking smart. I still don’t know what the hell I want to be. Having graduated in December with a degree in Business Administration to have something to work with while I figured out my life. I’m seconds from quitting my job with Charles, but I’ve held onto it to protect my mom’s feelings. Although, I’m not sure why I bother; it’s obvious she doesn’t care about mine.

I rock out to some Imagine Dragons and let the tension roll off me. Once I arrive at my apartment, I call a cab because I don’t do any of those ride-share programs. There are way too many scary stories for my liking. It comes rather quickly, giving me two hours to get through check-in before my flight takes off.

After I’m all settled in, I take out my tablet and look at my book list. I can’t decide what to read, so I turn on one of my games on my phone while listening to music in my headphones. The time passes as I try to build up my gardens, so much so that I nearly miss my call for my flight. Settling in my seat, I put my phone into airplane mode and listen to music, peacefully falling asleep.


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