Mr. Masters Read Online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
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“Hello, Samuel. Is everything okay?”

“The cat attacked the man’s privates,” he blurts out.

“Stop watching such rubbish,” I hear Mr. Masters say.

A cat jumps off the kitchen bench and falls into the rubbish bin. It tips over and scares the dog, and we all burst out laughing again. Sammy can’t speak for laughing.

“The cat fell in the bin,” he screams in excitement.

“Good grief,” Mr. Masters groans. “Put your sister on the phone.” Sam passes the phone to Willow.

“Hello, Dad.” She smiles.

“Is everything okay, Will?”

A cat falls into a fish tank and we erupt again.

She laughs out loud. “Yes, Dad, everything is fine. I have to go.”

She hands the phone back to me.

“Can we get a cat?” I ask.

“Definitely not. I don’t think it’s at all humorous that a cat attacks a man’s dick while he sleeps.”

I burst out laughing again. “I’m so training it to do that to you.”

“Jesus Christ, Brielle.”

“All is good here, no need to worry.” I smile.

“Miss Brielle,” he sighs. “Please put the children to bed now. Enough with the stupid cats.”

I roll my eyes to the kids, and they both grin back at me.

“Okay, fun cop. Roger that. Say goodbye to Dad, kids,” I call.

“Goodbye, Dad,” the kids cry in unison, just as a cat jumps on a dog’s back. The dog takes off at full speed, while the cat hangs onto its back for dear life.

The kids all squeal again, and I hang up just before I burst out laughing.

We are so getting a cat.

It’s Thursday afternoon, and Sam and I are waiting for Willow outside her school. I have a surprise for her and I’m excited to share.

She walks up and gets into the car.

“Hi.” I smile.

“Hey,” she mutters as she does her seatbelt up.

I pull out into the traffic, and my eyes flicker to her in the rearview mirror.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Don’t tell me. You’re really a YouTube cat and not really a nanny?” she offers sarcastically.

“Meow,” I tease.

“Oh, God.” She winces. “Please, stop.”

I smile as I drive, and Sammy giggles. “I have two surprises for you, actually.”

“Yeah, what’re they?” She sighs, uninterested. “I thought you two could help me cook tonight.”

She frowns. “What for?”

“I gave Janine the night off.”

“Why?”

“So I could teach you how to make pasta.”

She screws up her face. “Is that my surprise? Sounds more like a punishment.”

“Well, I thought you could learn how to make fresh pasta, and then on Sunday night you could make dinner for your father, all by yourself.”

I watch her in the mirror as her eyes rise to meet mine, her interest sparked.

“Your father loved that pasta so much the other night, and imagine how surprised he will be if you know how to make it yourself.”

She bites her bottom lip as she contemplates the idea. “What’s the second surprise?”

“I enrolled us both in golf lessons.”

“What?” She shrieks. “I’m not doing golf lessons with you. You’re so embarrassing.” She stays silent for a moment. “Probably run over somebody or something,” she mutters under her breath.

I smile because I knew she was going to say that. “Okay, I won’t come, but you start next Wednesday.” I was never really enrolled anyway.

She twists her lips as she looks out the window, and I know that, even though she will never admit it, she’s kind of happy about it.

I grip the steering wheel and pretend to drive really fast. “Let’s get home and get our cooking on, baby,” I say in a French accent.

She rolls her eyes in disgust. “Oh God, make it stop.”

“You see this?” I bring my ball of dough back to me and then forward again. “You knead it across the bench.”

The children concentrate as they watch me, both of them kneading their dough.

Willow’s is sticking to the counter.

“You need some more flour,” I tell her.

She dips her hand in the jar and puts the minuscule amount onto the counter.

“Not like that,” I say. “Get a whole handful. Get into it woman. There isn’t a flour shortage.”

I dig my hand into the jar and grab a big handful of flour and throw it across the counter. A little falls on the floor.

“You’re getting it everywhere,” she snaps.

I smile, pick my hand up, and I blow a little puff of flour into the air.

“Stop it,” she snaps as she concentrates on her dough.

Sammy’s dough begins to stick, so Willow grabs a huge handful and throws it across the counter, watching as it goes all over me.

My mouth falls open in surprise as I look down at myself.

She smiles goofily. “Oops.”

“Do that again and I’m going to crack an egg over your head.” I smirk as I continue to knead.

Her eyes dance with delight, and she puts her hand into the jar, throws a handful of flour across the counter, and watches as it goes all over me again.



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