Download Crave Me (Royals Saga, Book 4) by Geneva Lee PDF

By Geneva Lee

Belle’s tale starts off within the attractive fourth installment of the recent York instances bestselling sequence.

I made myself a promise: No males. No romance. No ready round for a prince that’s unlikely to return. simply because a few ladies don’t get fortunately ever afters. a few women basically get damaged hearts.

Which is precisely why I should still keep away from him. He’s vile. He’s boastful. He’s controlling. and that i don’t belief him.

But a few males get into your blood—under your epidermis. a few males you simply can’t get sufficient of.

Some males you simply crave.

This a full-length novel. It's advised you learn the former books, yet no longer essential to benefit from the tale.

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Additional info for Crave Me (Royals Saga, Book 4)

Sample text

That’s what she was doing. She was positively losing it. Off to her left, she heard the scuffle of shoes, and then the distinct sound of a man clearing his throat. Shit. In a microsecond, she was sitting upright, fear and embarrassment pounding in her chest. She turned to face the doorway. Sure enough, Bryce stood there, his eyes dark, an unreadable expression on his face. Joan drew a shaky breath, wondering what she’d done. What he’d seen. She glanced down, then exhaled in relief when she saw that her silk T was still tucked in.

It was time to get their school for scandal under way. ” She shivered, a slight tremor that brought him tremendous satisfaction. “Soon,” she said, closing her eyes. He brought the tip of one finger into his mouth, his tongue spiraling around her soft skin. Her breath hitched. “Very soon,” she whispered. His teeth grazed lightly over her finger as he slipped the digit free, then pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Good,” he said. ” Dear Reader, When Joan first introduced herself to me in Silent Confessions, my latest single-title release, I knew I had to give her a story of her own—particularly one that explored the erotic fantasies Joan discovers daily between the pages of the rare books she works with.

His Emily. His love. Slowly, Clive bent down and pulled the battered suitcase out from under the bed. He couldn’t help but notice the carpet, worn and stained with God-only-knows-what. This was what he’d been reduced to, living in pathetic fleabag motel rooms that could be rented by the hour and had probably never even seen disinfectant. But it was necessary. The motels he’d chosen for the long drive from California to Jersey were cheap. That meant the clerks didn’t even blink when you paid in cash, and they couldn’t care less who was renting the room.

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