Oil Kings Series (Ebook)

Immerse yourself in the world of the Kings, a dad and four adult sons, as they find love following the rules established by a trust--get married or lose the money. Get all the books for one low price. 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "A wonderful collection!"--Reader Review

What you'll find in this series:

• Marriages of convenience
• Age gap romance
• Enemies to lovers
• Millionaire heroes

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "Sweet and Sexy!"--Reader Review

Books includes in this collection:

✔️ King's Crown

✔️ King's Ransom

✔️ King's Treasure

✔️ King's Country

✔️ King's Queen

Excerpt from book 1, King's Crown:

One bed. There was only one bed. And it wasn’t king size.

Was it even queen size?

“Okay,” Mr. King’s deep voice rumbled behind me. “I can sleep on the . . .”

The wall was lined with a dresser that had a small flat-screen TV on it and an old desk that was nothing but four legs and two drawers. The only other seating option in the room was the desk chair, which was a level below what Mr. Golding had ordered for us in the office.

“Sorry,” Mr. King said. “I didn’t mean to swear.”

I suppressed a desperate giggle. “It’s okay, Mr. King. I think the situation calls for it.”

He roamed around the bed. The only other space in the room was a three-foot-wide path around the bed. Cozy. The comforter was the most modern thing in the room. Cream with reds and browns, it matched the older maroon, thick, paneled drapes over the window. The wood grain of the furniture was darker than the deep brown carpet. Everything seemed clean and well cared for, but dated a good twenty years. Maybe thirty. Except for the comforter and TV.

His gaze lifted. The striking intensity in the depths of his amber eyes sent my internal thermostat higher. “Home sweet home.”

For a night. Or two. “Yeah, uh. It’s a small room.” I circled around, looking for the best spot to put my suitcase. All I owned in the world was pared down inside this ratty luggage.

I found a luggage rack in the closet that had less room than my old refrigerator. Muscling my bag on it, I managed not to grunt. Mr. King set his bag on the desk and unloaded his laptop. As I unzipped my bag, I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. He shrugged off his suit coat and draped it over the chair. His white shirt stretched over broad shoulders, and his muscled chest couldn’t be more obvious.

“Make yourself comfortable, Ms. Brinkley. I have work to do.”

“Are you hungry?” I was starving. The charcuterie plate on the plane hadn’t held me past noon, and we’d had no real lunch. Supper wasn’t looking good. “I can go round something up.”

A faint smile tipped his lips. “And here I’m the rancher. Sure, whatever you can find.”

I doubted that what I’d find was anything he’d eaten before.

Heading back downstairs, I used the time to myself to have a little panic attack. Alone with Mr. King. One bed. Sleeping next to Mr. King.

Who was I kidding? I wasn’t going to get any sleep.