Mine to Keep (Southern Wedding #8) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Forbidden Tags Authors: Series: Southern Wedding Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
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When I slide the key into the door and turn it, hearing the click, a smile comes to my face. A huge-ass smile on my face. Opening the door, two things hit me right away, the smell of fresh paint and then the sound of the alarm beeping. I rush in and turn toward the beeping, putting in the year I was born, expecting it to shut off but it doesn’t. Which makes me panic just a little, okay a lot, as I put in the code again, this time the beeping sounds like it’s getting louder. “Think,” I tell myself, thinking of what the code could be when the phone rings in my hand and I see it’s my grandfather Casey, who we call Pops, because we have my great-grandfather Billy who we call Grandpa.

“Hello,” I answer, putting one hand in my ear so I can hear the voice on the other end.

“Having trouble?” he asks me, chuckling.

“I don’t know the password,” I say, looking at the keypad, seeing the red light blinking.

“It’s twenty twenty-three,” he shares, and I press in the code, “the year you broke my heart and left home.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, dear God, Pops.” I walk into the apartment. “Laying it on a little thick there, don’t you think?”

“My favorite granddaughter up and left me,” he pouts, and I laugh.

“Sofia got that same line when she moved out,” I remind him. “Trust me, I know, I was in the room.”

“And then you became my favorite. We should be landing in about twenty minutes.” I walk into what is going to be the living room. “And the movers should be there in thirty. Don’t do anything until we get there. We’ll change the code once I get there.”

“Roger that,” I reply, ignoring him and bringing my carry-on luggage into the bedroom. “See you soon.” I hang up the phone before opening the suitcase and grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I undress, putting my work clothes aside when my phone rings, and I see it’s my cousin Sofia FaceTiming me. I smile when I press the green button and watch the little white wheel go around.

“Hello, helloo, hellooooo,” she sings out when I finally see her.

“Hello, helloo, hellooooo,” I sing back to her, and we both start laughing.

“Have you started unpacking yet?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“The cavalry is going to be here in thirty minutes. I’ve been given instructions not to touch anything.”

“Well then, did you grab a bottle of wine to watch it all?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“I’m hoping Charlie is going to be bringing me some sweet tea from Grandpa Billy,” I share, and she snickers.

“So how is work?” she asks me. “The full first week. How did you like it?”

“I love the work,” I start to say, “love the people.” I look at her. “Hate my boss.”

“What do you mean, you hate your boss?” She laughs.

“I hate my boss. He’s a sexist pig,” I spit out, even though I’m not sure he’s sexist.

“What did he do?” She gawks at me.

“Well, the minute he met me he thought I was just out of high school.” I hold up one finger. “Then he thought I couldn’t handle getting snacks for his meeting.” I smirk at her.

“What did you do?” she gasps.

“Me?” I point at myself. “I didn’t do anything. I got him juice boxes and animal crackers.” She howls with laughter. “Then he sat me down, and when I told him I couldn’t stay after hours, he accused me of not taking the job seriously. He wanted to know why, and well, I was annoyed with him, so I went and filed a complaint with HR about him being sexist.”

“You did not.” Her eyes go big as I nod my head.

“I did too,” I confirm to her.

“What did he say?” She brings her face closer to the phone.

“There was a lot of ‘I did not say anything.’” I try to remember, listening to the conversation from the other side of the wall. “Then he said, ‘She’s a child and I can’t work with her.’” I roll my eyes. “Then he grunted, I think, or maybe growled. He apologized for asking inappropriate questions and said it would never happen again.”

“What’s his name?” she asks me, and my eyebrows pinch together. “I’m going to look him up and see if he’s hot.” Yes, my head screams out, he’s hot and probably doesn’t get enough sex from his wife, which is why he’s always so frustrated. I even tried to find a picture of the two of them together in his office, but all I see is him and a precious little girl.

“I’m not giving you his name,” I tell her. “You’ll meet him sometime next week.”

“Why am I going to meet him?” Now it’s her turn to pinch her eyebrows together.


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