Pregnant and Desperate (Forbidden Fantasies #73) Read Online S.E. Law

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Forbidden, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Forbidden Fantasies Series by S.E. Law

Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)

Ellen: I was pregnant, homeless, and utterly desperate to find a place to stay. Fortunately, a gorgeous alpha male saw me with my big belly swaying, and decided to open his doors to a destitute young woman. Now I want to show my appreciation, but the handsome man seems determined to hold me at arm’s length … but not if I have my way.

Ryder: What Ellen doesn’t realize is that pregnant women turn me on. But I’d be a total a$$hole to take advantage of a penniless co-ed living under my roof, so I try to stay honest. I won’t touch her. I’ll give the girl space. The problem is that as a red-blooded alpha male, I have *needs*. As a result, I start going to s*x parties on the sly to take the edge off, but then Ellen FOLLOWS me to Club Z one night. Fine. If she wants it that bad, then I’ll give it to her and soon, the pregnant girl’s bent over my lap … panting and gasping as my big hand comes down on that round rear end for some dirty punishment!

This book is a follow-up to Sitting in Santa’s Lap. There’s something about the alpha males in this series, don’t you think? They’re rough, possessive, and totally growly, yet with a dirty / sweet side that makes you want more! (and our heroines want more too!) Give in to total hedonism as Ellen and Ryder explore a forbidden relationship that ends with fireworks so hot that you’ll be singed turning the pages. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers.

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



I’m alone in my mom’s kitchen. The early morning dawn is brilliant, but the shafts of light don’t quite make it through the dusty windows and cheap, half-closed blinds of the small space. Not that it would be so great because in the dim kitchen, I can make out piles of dirty dishes in the sink and leftover food from at least a week’s worth of pathetically thrown-together meals.

This is not the home I grew up in. In fact, there never was such a thing called a ‘home,’ if I’m being honest. A more accurate description would be that there’s a long string of houses that I lived in with my mother and whatever boyfriend she had at the time. The list of addresses goes back as far as I can remember, and unfortunately, I can remember them all.

This latest house, which is a small, cheap plywood box on an otherwise nice enough street, hardly meets the mark either. My mom moved here when she got her job at the post office last year. It’s horrible inside, but at least Angela moved in alone without some stinking, drug-using man attached to the abode. At least, I think that’s a good thing because honestly, my mom is pretty unbalanced. Whenever she’s single, she gets depressed. Angela’s just one of those women who always needs to be in a relationship, even if said “boyfriend” is a convicted felon with a rap sheet a mile long. My mom can’t function otherwise, and she’s really paid a price for this handicap, in my opinion.

Sighing, I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. The action instantly hurts my sore breasts, and I wince, reminded of why I’m here. After all, it’s not by choice, not exactly. It’s just that I had no place else to go. My first year at college ended yesterday, and I took the bus here at first light. Even though it took me almost three hours, the ride went by in a flash because I kept replaying the conversation I’m about to have with Mom over and over in my mind, imagining every possible outcome.

I hope Angela lets me stay here for the summer. But you never know because once she finds out that I’m pregnant, maybe she’ll lose it. Maybe she’ll ask me to terminate the pregnancy, although I’d never consider that option. But then, where would I go? I literally have no one else in the world, and the only thing that springs to mind is a homeless shelter. Do they even have a homeless shelter nearby, or will I have to travel to a different city to find one?

I sigh again, wilting against the counter. The droning of the small fridge next to me creates a low hum, and there’s a weird scrabbling sound from the walls, which probably means we have mice. But still, I can’t focus on that right now because I have bigger problems. As my heart thumps with anticipation, I imagine the other heartbeat inside my belly at the moment. In my mind, it flutters like a butterfly’s wings, and just thinking about it sends a wave of happiness coursing through my body, making me smile as I place my hands on the softness of my stomach. I know I can’t keep putting off the inevitable because I’m going to be a mother, and I need to know whether or not I have a place to live while I prepare for my baby’s arrival.

I’m about to cross the small space and head down the hall to Mom’s bedroom to wake her when I hear a toilet flush. She’s up. I stop dead in my tracks, wondering whether I should have made a pot of coffee, or maybe toasted a bagel or two just to soften the mood a little.

But before I can act on this thought, the door to Mom’s bedroom opens and a bony figure stumbles into the dim light of the hallway while lighting a cigarette. Damn, it’s only 9 a.m. and my mom’s already lighting up? Well, Angela has her vices and I suppose nicotine is a difficult addiction to kick. Then, the figure stops when she sees me, pausing with the cigarette dangling from her lips. I can tell Angela’s trying to work out why I’m here because she’s clearly forgotten my visit.

“Hi Mom,” I try with a careful smile. “Good morning. I let myself in because the door was unlocked. I did knock, but no one answered, so I figured it was easier this way.”

Angela doesn’t reply. She exhales smoke, then seems to recover and continues to limp down the dark hallway towards me. As she enters the kitchen, she doesn’t meet my eyes and instead, makes a beeline for the coffee machine. I curse inwardly, wishing I’d had thought of making joe for her sooner. Clearly, my arrival isn’t exactly welcome, and maybe the coffee would have helped. My shoulders slump, but then I make myself perk up because it's do-or-die right now.