Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Mr. Masters |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | T.L. Swan |
| Language: | English |
| Book Information: | |
He was powerful, older and my boss, a lethal combination. Job satisfaction has taken on a whole new meaning. When I lied on my resume, I didn’t expect it to matter. I mean any child would love me; I was born to be a nanny. I applied for a position working for a woman, or so I thought. But Julian Masters is definitely all man…the kind you dream of licking chocolate from. The first day was bad. The kids were the spawn of the devil and I spied through a window and caught him doing something obscene…. and equally fascinating. The second day was worse, he caught me snooping in his bathroom cabinet in my skimpy pyjamas and all hell broke loose. On the third day, I ran over him in a golf cart. And by day four I had decided that I wanted that chocolate…all of it. Melted….on me. But intelligent, widowed Judges don’t fall for ditzy nannies. Or do they? | |
| Books by Author: | T.L. Swan Books |
Prologue
Julian Masters
ALINA MASTERS
1984 – 2013
Wife and beloved mother.
In God’s hands we trust.
Grief. The Grim Reaper of life.
Stealer of joy, hope and purpose.
Some days are bearable. Other days I can hardly breathe, and I suffocate in a world of regret where good reason has no sense.
I never know when those days will hit, only that when I wake, my chest feels constricted and I need to run. I need to be anywhere but here, dealing with this life.
My life.
Our life.
Until you left.
The sound of a distant lawnmower brings me back to the present, and I glance over at the cemetery’s caretaker. He’s concentrating as he weaves between the tombstones, careful not to clip or damage one as he passes. It’s dusk, and the mist is rolling in for the night.
I come here often to think, to try and feel.
I can’t talk to anyone. I can’t express my true feelings.
I want to know why.
Why did you do this to us?
I clench my jaw as I stare at my late wife’s tombstone.
We could have had it all… but, we didn’t.
I lean down and brush the dust away from her name and rearrange the pink lilies that I have just placed in the vase. I touch her face on the small oval photo. She stares back at me, void of emotion.
Stepping back, I drop my hands in the pockets of my black overcoat.
I could stand here and stare at this headstone all day—sometimes I do—but I turn and walk to the car without looking back.
My Porsche.
Sure, I have money and two kids that love me. I’m at the top of my professional field, working as a judge. I have all the tools to be happy, but I’m not.
I’m barely surviving; holding on by a thread.
Playing the façade to the world.
Dying inside.
Half an hour later, I arrive at Madison’s—my therapist.
I always leave here relaxed.
I don’t have to talk, I don’t have to think, don’t have to feel.
I walk through the front doors on autopilot.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith.” Hayley the receptionist smiles. “Your room is waiting, sir.”
“Thank you.” I frown, feeling like I need something more today. Something to take this edginess off.
A distraction.
“I’ll have someone extra today, Hayley.”
“Of course, sir. Who would you like?”
I frown and take a moment to get it right. “Hmm. Hannah.”
“So, Hannah and Belinda?”
“Yes.”
“No problem, sir. Make yourself comfortable and they will be right up.”
I take the lift to the exclusive penthouse. Once there I make myself a scotch and stare out the smoke-glass window overlooking London.
I hear the door click behind me and I turn toward the sound.
Holly and Belinda stand before me smiling.
Belinda has long, blonde hair, while Hannah is a brunette. There’s no denying they’re both young and beautiful.
“Hello, Mr Smith,” they say in unison
I sip my scotch as my eyes drink them in.
“Where would you like us, sir?”
I unbuckle my belt. “On your knees.”
Chapter One
Brielle
Customs is ridiculously slow, and a man has been pulled into the office up ahead. It all looks very suspicious from my position at the back of the line. “What do you think he did?” I whisper as I crane my neck to spy the commotion up ahead.
“I don’t know, something stupid, probably,” Emerson replies. We shuffle toward the desk as the line moves a little quicker.
We’ve just arrived in London to begin our year-long working holiday. I’m going to work for a judge as a nanny, while Emerson, my best friend, is working for an art auctioneer. I’m terrified, yet excited.
“I wish we had come a week earlier so we could have spent some time together,” Emerson says.
“Yeah, I know, but she needed me to start this week because she’s going away next week. I need to learn the kids routine.”
“Who leaves their kids alone for three days with a complete stranger?” Em frowns in disgust.
I shrug. “My new boss, apparently.”
“Well, at least I can come and stay with you next week. That’s a bonus.”
My position is residential, so my accommodation is secure. However, poor Emerson will be living with two strangers. She’s freaking out over it.
“Yeah, but I’m sneaking you in,” I say. “I don’t want it to look like we’re partying or anything.”
I look around the airport. It’s busy, bustling, and I already feel so alive. Emerson and I are more than just young travellers.
Emerson is trying to find her purpose and I’m running from a destructive past, one that involves me being in love with an adultering prick.
I loved him. He just didn’t love me. Not enough, anyway.
If he had, he would have kept it in his pants, and I wouldn’t be at Heathrow Airport feeling like I’m about to throw up.
I look down at myself and smooth the wrinkles from my dress. “She’s picking me up. Do I look okay?”
Emerson looks me up and down, smiling broadly. “You look exactly how a twenty-five-year-old nanny from Australia should.”