Midlife Dragon’s New Treasure (Midlife Shifters #7) Read Online Amelia Wilson

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Midlife Shifters Series by Amelia Wilson

Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 66(@200wpm)___ 53(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)


All the money in the world won’t save this wealthy dragon shifter’s marriage. As for this struggling single mother, she’s given up hoping for Prince Charming. She still wants a man she can treat like a king.
It takes everything I’ve got just to keep things togther.
Just to make it through the day.
The thought of losing my job is terrifying, and visions of me and the kids on the streets are worse!
But then this man…
He could have my job.
He could demand they fire me.
It wouldn’t matter if I did what I’m accused of or not.
He could fire me and instead he wants to help me.
I want him to help me.
And I want him.

Full Book:



The cart feels particularly heavy today. Oh, I know it isn’t really that heavy, but it isn’t easy to behave like it doesn’t take some kind of superhuman effort to push the thing. I take a deep breath and say, “Think of Jeanie and Billy.” Images of the kids flash through my mind, and it doesn’t make the cart any lighter, but it does make me feel stronger. I don’t know what will I’m drawing from, but I definitely feel a great deal more able to face the six hours left in my shift.

“Ms. Lake!” a voice calls from behind me. It’s Mrs., actually, although I’m a widow. I don’t correct him, though because when I turn around, I see the hotel general manager. I don’t think he’s ever talked to me before.

I can’t remember his name, so I say, “Yes, sir?”

“You cleaned the seventeenth floor yesterday, right?” I nod and he says, “Meet me at the penthouse suite.” I hesitate and he says, “Right now. Carla will be taking the rest of your rooms today.” With that, he turns around and steps into the elevator. He leaves before I ask what to bring. The seventeenth floor is the top floor with a lot of rich people. On any other floor, if there’s a spill or some other mess, the guest will have to wait for housekeeping to get to them whenever they can.

I grab my purse and that’s it. I imagine I’ll use the cart in the closet in the stairwell when I get up there. I try to imagine what some rich guy did. Probably had a party with rock stars or something or decided he wanted a harem of drunk starlets for the night. On the bright side, there might be a good tip in it for me, so I guess dealing with one big mess instead of eleven rooms with smaller messes has its advantage. I take the elevator up and the big boss stands next to the door. He raps twice on the door once I reach him. “Should I go get the cart?” I ask.

“No,” he says. That’s it. Just a negative response.

The door opens and I only see half a face peek out. It’s a very nice half-face. When it opens the entire way, I see a man in his mid-forties standing there but calling him that doesn’t do the man justice. He’s wearing an incredible suit with what I think are ruby and gold cufflinks, a watch that probably cost more than my house, and shoes I’m sure cost more than my car. It’s not just his wealth that impresses me, though. It’s like he has a kingly bearing on him.

“Please, come in,” he says, and that only reinforces for me the idea the man is royalty.

“Thank you,” the manager says. He steps in and makes a clipped gesture for me to follow. I step inside and I feel like I’m going to be sick when the manager says, “Miss Lake is the only one who could have stolen your watch.”

“What?” I cry. “What do you mean?”

The manager turns to me and says, “You know very well what I mean. A watch like that would change your life. I know you’ve been late because of your children. If I had my way, I wouldn’t hire single mothers. Completely unreliable and too prone to temptation.”

I’m about to protest but the man in the suit says, “Come now, there’s no call for this.” He doesn’t even raise his voice but there’s a command in it that’s shocking. “You owe this young lady an apology.” I can’t imagine anyone ever calling me a young lady. I mean, I think I still look good. People might confuse me for being in my early thirties or, if I’m lucky, in my late twenties. They wouldn’t confuse me with someone you might call a young lady.

The manager looks at me and says, “Miss Lake, I’m sorry.” I can’t believe how much sincerity he’s able to fake. This guest must be a real VIP. “As you can imagine, it’s very stressful to think a hundred-thousand-dollar watch was stolen from a guest, and I…”