The Sunny Side (The Model Agency #1) Read Online Lily Morton

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Model Agency Series by Lily Morton

Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)

Jonas Durand is successful, rich, and controlled. He owns a prestigious modelling agency and has the world at his fingertips, but a turbulent childhood has taught him to be focused and never deviate from a plan.
Dean Jacobs threatens that stance. He’s one of the world’s most sought-after supermodels, but he’s also laidback and lighthearted and free in a way that Jonas has never quite managed.
Dean has always been interested in Jonas and has never made any secret of his admiration, but from the beginning, Jonas put him in a neat little box labelled, “Don’t touch,” turned the key, and never looked back.
However, the universe seems determined to thwart Jonas’s plans. Over the course of one hot summer, the two men come together, and Jonas’s well-ordered life becomes something a whole lot wilder.
Moving from the glamorous worlds of London and Paris Fashion Weeks to the sleepy South of France, Jonas finds himself liberating partridges, chasing his supermodel, and falling in love.




I climb the stone steps to the police station and, after letting myself in, I blink at the cacophony that greets me. The waiting room is full of people sitting or standing, and the air is thick with the sound of different languages being spoken at high volume.

I push through the crowd and stand behind an old lady speaking to the duty officer. Her voice is cultured, and she’s a little out of place here. I wonder what’s drawn her to a police station in Charing Cross at midnight.

“No, you must understand I do not want to press charges,” she says shrilly. “The hotel was completely wrong to ring for the police. It was just high jinks amongst young men. They were letting off steam.”

“Madame, they are not kettles,” the officer says, unimpressed.

The lady looks around for support and catches my eye. “Men,” she says.

I nod, heartily concurring. I deal with them on a daily basis, and whoever said that women were the deadlier of the species obviously never ran a modelling agency.

She turns back to the policeman. “So, I wish for him to be released immediately. It’s a travesty of justice.” She nods regally at him and stalks away to a seat.

He sighs. “It was a hotel brawl. He’s not Sean Connery in The Rock,” he mutters. He straightens as I step forward. “Sorry, sir. How can I help you?”

“I’m here for Dean Jacobs,” I say briskly, checking my watch. “I understand he was brought in an hour ago.”

“Oh god. Not you too.”

I frown at him. “Pardon?”

“You can join his fan club over there,” the policeman says. He gestures at the old woman who was just speaking to him. She’s now watching a man blowing bubbles with a dachshund dressed as a clown perched on his lap. The dog looks like he’s pretending this isn’t happening to him. “We’ll be bringing Mister Jacobs up in a bit,” he adds.

I stare at him. “He’s not being charged, then? My lawyer is on his way.”

“No need for that.” He leans closer. “He was really brought in just to keep the peace. No one was hurt, and as the hotel doesn’t want to press charges and neither does the lady concerned, then there isn’t anything that needs to happen. We just left them in the cells to sober up.”

“What exactly happened? Mr Jacobs wasn’t very forthcoming when he rang my assistant.”

“I’m surprised he could speak. He was rather drunk when we brought him in, and he’s slept through most of his time in the cell. I wish they were always that obliging.”

“Oh, he’s always obliging,” I say grimly.

He looks behind me, and as there’s no one waiting, he unbends a little. “Apparently, he was in a hotel room for the night and went to the bathroom. When he came out, he went right rather than left and ended up naked in the hotel corridor.”

I sigh and pinch my nose. “Oh god,” I say faintly.

His mouth twitches into a half-smile. “Then he compounded his error by letting himself back into the hotel room. The only problem was that it wasn’t his hotel room, and the old couple it belonged to were rather startled to find a six-foot-four naked supermodel trying to get into bed with them.”

“That old couple?” I say, pointing to the woman who was before me in the queue. She’s holding hands with an older man who I presume is her husband. He nods and I sigh. “Fuck my life. So, then what happened? Tell me he wasn’t brawling with those two old-aged pensioners?”

He snorts. “Oh, don’t worry, sir. It wasn’t them. That was his…” He hesitates. “His partner for the evening.”

I look up, my stomach roiling. “Who?” I ask sharply.

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge names, sir.”

I wave my hand. “Don’t worry about it. I doubt he’ll ever see him again anyway.”