Axel (Men of Mirror Lake Mountain #1) Read Online Penny Dee

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Men of Mirror Lake Mountain Series by Penny Dee

Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 40221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

(Men of Mirror Lake Mountain #1) Axel

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Penny Dee

Book Information:

Lauren Carmichael is going to be kidnapped.
And the last thing I want to do is get involved. But when I overhear the plans to abduct her on the eve of her wedding, I know I have to do something.
My past stops me from going to the authorities, and I don’t know how deep this conspiracy goes in the small town of Mirror Lake Mountain, so asking for help is too risky.
I can only trust myself. I have no choice.
To keep her safe, I’ll have to kidnap the pain-in-the-ass heiress myself.
Call the fire department because things are about to get hot in here! Axel, book one in the Men of Mirror Lake Mountain series is straight up what fantasies are made of, with an over-the-top sexy hero, a heroine who gives as good as she gets, and so much Kindle-melting deliciousness you will lose your mind!
So, sit back, check reality at the door and get ready for one lip-biting, toe-curling read!
Books in Series:

Men of Mirror Lake Mountain Series by Penny Dee

Books by Author:

Penny Dee

Chapter One


It’s impossible to sleep. I punch my pillow and lie back down, hoping a shift in position will help.

But no.

I’m too tightly wound to relax.

My skin is damp. My body tight.

My head a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts and crazy nerves.

I keep telling myself it’s pre-wedding jitters, after all, this time tomorrow I’ll be married to the most eligible man in New York. Vince the Prince, they call him. A Wall Street miracle man. The tabloids love our story. The Wall Street prince and the society princess. Apparently, we’re a match made in tabloid heaven. Him a good-looking stock broker in his three-piece suits and chiseled model looks, and me, Lauren Carmichael, daughter of the King of Wall Street, Christopher Carmichael.

Yep. That’s it. I’m famous for being born to a stock-brokering genius. And that’s about as far as my achievements go. Oh wait, I did go to college, even got a degree in what my father called a waste of money, otherwise known as Naturopathy. I started in law, hated it, and quickly changed to something I actually enjoyed. Law was stuffy. Naturopathy wasn’t. I was more at home with the tinctures and oil remedies than the anatomy of law.

Daddy was furious. But he wasn’t available for consultation when I decided to change career paths, because he was caught up with some kind of stock-brokering crisis on the Street, so I went ahead and changed it anyway. Unfortunately, naturopathy was not a suitable career choice for a society princess, and Daddy lost his shit. Now, I’m pretty sure he’s marrying me off to Vince just so my new husband can deal with my stubborn ass so he doesn’t have to. He’s been struggling to know how to handle me since my mom died fifteen years earlier when I was just twelve years old and at the threshold of puberty.

I turn again and try to settle comfortably into the mattress.

The mattress that costs a thousand dollars a night to sleep on.

We’re staying at the spectacular Mirror Lake Lodge, deep in the alpine woods of Misty Peaks. It’s a sprawling mountain lodge of pine logs, river stone fireplaces, and raftered cathedral ceilings. A favorite getaway for the rich and famous. Here they drink overpriced bottles of champagne, bathe in deep tubs made from Italian marble, and indulge in their scandalous rendezvous with everyone but their spouses, hidden among the smoky seclusion of the mountain. Or there was the other side of the coin where this palatial mountain hideaway is used as their personal detox facility, where they can spend weeks coming down off of whatever has them up by order of the courts following some kind of scandal.

But not even the rich and famous are allowed here this weekend.

Unless by invitation, of course. And out of the five-hundred guests due to arrive, I’m sure there are certainly a few of those. I say, I’m sure because like any of this, I haven’t been involved in the planning. My friends extend to the number of fingers on my right hand. Which is five, just to be clear.

It is costing my father almost a hundred-thousand dollars just to hold the wedding in this magnificent location.

It was Vince’s idea. He was insistent we get married here. He wanted the mountain hideaway where a lot of guests would have to arrive by helicopter.

I had envisioned something a little less extravagant. A beach wedding on California sand, or a small garden ceremony somewhere, followed by an intimate reception for family and close friends.

Mirror Lake Mountain Lodge seems a little over the top.

But I have to admit, I’ve already been seduced by the mountain with its alpine forests, the heady scent of sap, and crisp summit air that makes my skin tingle.

Just like everything he turns his mind to, Vince has gotten it right.

I sigh.


Lately, things have been a little … strained between us. It’s been weeks, months, since he’s touched me. His work keeps him busy. He usually spends most nights working, and afterward sleeps at his apartment in the Upper East Side, while I live in a palatial loft on Park Avenue.

Right now, my body is so tight with need it’s like a tightly coiled spring ready to explode.

Tonight, we are sleeping separately. Being the night before the wedding, Vince insisted we spend it apart. He’s with his groomsmen in a ridiculously expensive lodge in town, while I spent the evening with my three bridesmaids being pampered and primped, and drinking champagne. But my bridesmaids have gone to their rooms to get some sleep, and now I am alone.

And needy.

I let my fingers slide down my torso and gently sweep back up again.

Vince says it will change once we’re married. We’ll be living together, so we’ll see each other more. And he will be more attentive then.