The Gamble Read Online Donna Alam

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)

My husband devours me with every glance.
Kisses me like he’s starved and I’m his only sustenance.
And when he holds me in his arms, the whole world fades away.
There’s just one problem.
It’s all pretend because he won me in a card game.

Let me rewind.
I’m no shrinking violet and I’m no one’s idea of a pushover,
But when a gorgeous stranger goes to this much trouble to get my attention,
I’m also secretly flattered.
I storm his office with the plan. I’ll tell him exactly what I think of his game…
Then find myself leaving it on unsteady legs, and wearing his engagement ring.

Raif needs a wife for one year and I need the money he pledges.
But there’s no such thing as easy cash with a man as calculated as he is charming.
As seductive as he is possessive.
The more time we spend together, the more I begin to wonder which of us is bluffing.

But he has a secret—the deck is stacked.
Too bad I'm already all in.

The Gamble is a deliciously steamy and swoony, banter-filled standalone romance featuring a marriage of convenience between a heroine who could start an argument in an empty room and a smexy (he falls first & hardest) billionaire. It includes fun, family, fire, and that all important happily ever after!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Set your life on fire.

Seek those who fan your flames.

~ Rumi



I bet he’s a really good kisser…

Of course he’s a good kisser. With a mouth like that, how could he be anything else? Not that I’ve had that pleasure, and not that I think a kiss is the reason he’s brought me into this room.

I wish I had lips like his, full and soft-looking. I imagine kissing him would be just like kissing a girl. Better even, because that one time I kissed Jenny Sullivan at camp didn’t exactly rock my world.

“I tried to explain, but it’s like he wasn’t listening.”

I sway a little to the muted sound of the music playing in the other room. I ordinarily hate house parties, but this house is in Chelsea, and they’re serving champagne, not warm beer in disposable cups. The guests are dressed like it’s a debutant ball in fancy frocks and evening suits. And the party pills on offer are being passed around on silver trays. Not that party pills are my thing.

Anyway, Tod asked me to come with him tonight, and he’s pretty good at talking me into things I don’t want to do. But if nothing else, it’s a networking experience. Rich people enjoy investing in art, and I enjoy selling it to them.

“Then he said it wasn’t his problem,” he continues, throwing up his hands in a gesture of futility.

“Really?” I tilt my head as though engrossed. I suppose I am, but more with the shapes his mouth makes than the sounds. His voice can be a bit whiny. He makes shapes with his hands as he talks, too. I’ve never found a man’s fingers so intriguing. They’re kind of stubby, I suppose, but those calloused tips make me shiver with the slightest brush. Or they would if he ever touched me.

I don’t even mind the paint that collects under his fingernails. Much. And dirty fingernails usually give me the biggest ick.

“Please tell me you understand.” He makes puppy dog eyes at me, which is annoying, given he’s not a Labrador. “There wasn’t anything else I could do.”

One of these days, I’m going to get that mouth to kiss me and those hands to touch me, and then—

“Say something. Please.”

“Of course.” I place my champagne flute back on the table, my spiked heels echoing as I take a couple of hips-swaying steps closer. “Of course I understand.”

One day, he’ll notice the silken swish of my dress and the toned length of my thigh through the long split.

“Oh, thank God.” The words rush out, and when he smiles, it warms my insides like a mouthful of good whiskey. “You’re just the best, Ned.”

I almost grimace. It’s not the cutest of pet names, but I suppose it’s cuter than Lav. I hate it when my brothers call me that. It’s so undignified being referred to as a toilet.

“So you’ll go speak with him?”

“Absolutely.” I dust my hands across Tod’s shoulders, and when he lifts his chin, I adjust the angle of his dickie bow.

“I don’t mind telling you, I’ve never met anyone as frightening as him. Well,” he adds as his eyes dart down, “apart from you.”

“I’m not frightening,” I murmur.

“Lavender, you’re my best friend, but you’re fucking terrifying. Or at least, I used to think so.”

“Silly.” His boyish smile curves into my palm as I cup his cheek. Friends. Ours will be a love born from this friendship. I just know in the marrow of my bones that Tod will one day glance across the breakfast table, and like a bolt of lightning, he’ll realize I’m the only woman he needs in his life. Then we’ll sail off into the sunset, like some real-life Barbie and her Ken.