Tangled up in Ice Read online

  Tangled up in Ice

  Charlotte Byrd

  Contents

  Don’t Miss Out!

  Also by Charlotte Byrd

  Prologue

  Chapter 1 - Jackson

  Chapter 2 - Harley

  Chapter 3 - Jackson

  Chapter 4 - Harley

  Chapter 5 - Jackson

  Chapter 6 - Jackson

  Chapter 7 - Harley

  Chapter 8 - Harley

  Chapter 9 - Harley

  Chapter 10 - Harley

  Chapter 11 - Harley

  Chapter 12 - Harley

  Chapter 13 - Jackson

  Chapter 14 - Jackson

  Chapter 15 - Jackson

  Chapter 16 - Jackson

  Chapter 17 - Harley

  Chapter 18 - Harley

  Chapter 19 - Harley

  Chapter 20 - Harley

  Chapter 21 - Harley

  Chapter 22 - Harley

  Chapter 23 - Harley

  Chapter 24 - Harley

  Chapter 25 - Harley

  Chapter 26 - Harley

  Chapter 27 - Harley

  Chapter 28 - Harley

  Chapter 29 - Harley

  Chapter 30 - Harley

  Chapter 31 - Harley

  Chapter 32 - Jackson

  Chapter 33 - Jackson

  Chapter 34 - Jackson

  Chapter 35 - Harley

  Chapter 36 - Harley

  Chapter 37 - Jackson

  Chapter 38 - Harley

  Chapter 39 - Harley

  Chapter 40 - Jackson

  Black Edge

  Chapter 1- Ellie

  Chapter 2 - Ellie

  Chapter 3 - Ellie

  Chapter 4 - Ellie

  About Charlotte Byrd

  Copyright © 2019 by Charlotte Byrd, LLC.

  All rights reserved.

  Proofreaders:

  Renee Waring, Guarding, Guardian Proofreading Services, https://www.facebook.com/GuardianProofreadingServices

  Julie Deaton, Deaton Author Services, https://www.facebook.com/jdproofs/

  Cover Design: Charlotte Byrd

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a word of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Visit my website at www.charlotte-byrd.com

  Created with Vellum

  About Tangled Up In Ice

  I have debts to pay and secrets to keep. When someone threatens my life, I crash into him: Jackson Ludlow

  The recluse billionaire of New York

  Once, he had everything a man could want. Then, he lost the only thing that he ever loved.

  * * *

  So, he spent four years holed up in his mansion doing the only thing he knew how to do: make money.

  * * *

  We are all wrong for each other. He’s cold, uninterested and demanding.

  I’m impatient and inexperienced.

  * * *

  The only thing we have in common is that we both have secrets.

  And the closer we get, the more they threaten to destroy us.

  Praise for Charlotte Byrd

  “Decadent, delicious, & dangerously addictive!” - Amazon Review ★★★★★

  * * *

  “Titillation so masterfully woven, no reader can resist its pull. A MUST-BUY!” - Bobbi Koe, Amazon Review ★★★★★

  * * *

  “Captivating!” - Crystal Jones, Amazon Review ★★★★★

  * * *

  "Exciting, intense, sensual” - Rock, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★

  * * *

  “Sexy, secretive, pulsating chemistry…” - Mrs. K, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★

  * * *

  “Charlotte Byrd is a brilliant writer. I've read loads and I've laughed and cried. She writes a balanced book with brilliant characters. Well done!” -Amazon Review ★★★★★

  * * *

  “Fast-paced, dark, addictive, and compelling” - Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★

  * * *

  “Hot, steamy, and a great storyline.” - Christine Reese ★★★★★

  * * *

  “My oh my....Charlotte has made me a fan for life.” - JJ, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★

  * * *

  "The tension and chemistry is at five alarm level.” - Sharon, Amazon reviewer ★★★★★

  * * *

  “Hot, sexy, intriguing journey of Elli and Mr. Aiden Black. - Robin Langelier ★★★★★

  * * *

  “Wow. Just wow. Charlotte Byrd leaves me speechless and humble… It definitely kept me on the edge of my seat. Once you pick it up, you won't put it down.” - Amazon Review ★★★★★

  * * *

  “Sexy, steamy and captivating!” - Charmaine, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★

  * * *

  “ Intrigue, lust, and great characters...what more could you ask for?!” - Dragonfly Lady ★★★★★

  * * *

  “An awesome book. Extremely entertaining, captivating and interesting sexy read. I could not put it down.” - Kim F, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★

  * * *

  “Just the absolute best story. Everything I like to read about and more. Such a great story I will read again and again. A keeper!!” - Wendy Ballard ★★★★★

  * * *

  “It had the perfect amount of twists and turns. I instantaneously bonded with the heroine and of course Mr. Black. YUM. It's sexy, it's sassy, it's steamy. It's everything.” - Khardine Gray, Bestselling Romance Author ★★★★★

  Don’t Miss Out!

  Want to be the first to know about my upcoming sales, new releases and exclusive giveaways?

  * * *

  Sign up for my Newsletter and join my Reader Club!

  * * *

  Bonus Points: Follow me on BookBub!

  Also by Charlotte Byrd

  All books are available at ALL major retailers! If you can’t find it, please email me at [email protected]

  * * *

  Black Series

  Black Edge

  Black Rules

  Black Bounds

  Black Contract

  Black Limit

  House of York Trilogy

  House of York

  Crown of York

  Throne of York

  Standalone Novels

  Debt

  Offer

  Unknown

  Dressing Mr. Dalton

  Prologue

  Her small, delicate mouth parts in the middle.

  She licks her lower lip and my body burns for her. I lift my chin to hers. Our lips collide.

  I bury my hands in her hair.

  It’s soft and damp with an earthy scent that doesn’t come from any shampoo bottle.

  She is soft and snug in my arms and she pulls away only far enough to utter, “I love you, too.”

  I clutch her closer, wrapping her arms around mine.

  Her breaths become mine and mine become hers.

  Her hands are ice.

  She slips them under my shirt, and my back recoils for a moment before welcoming her in.

  I’m restless and hun
gry for her.

  All of her.

  Right now.

  That’s what she does to me.

  One touch and I have to have her.

  Another touch and I morph into a beast who can’t control his impulses.

  With her chin tilted toward the ceiling, her long hair moves in waves.

  I run my hands down the contours of her body. I know every curve and every dip.

  The more I feel, the greedier I become.

  Chapter 1 - Jackson

  Hate

  I hate this city.

  I hate the grime.

  I hate the sad and angry faces that people make as they walk down the sidewalk.

  I hate the rush.

  I hate that everyone has somewhere more important to be than the person next to them.

  I hate the way the poor kids from the projects look at rich kids with personal drivers.

  And I hate the way kids with drivers look at everyone else, like they are specks of dirt beneath their feet.

  I hate that a family of five has to cram into a one-bedroom apartment and pay two-thirds of their income in rent for the luxury of a two hour commute.

  I hate that I live alone in a twelve thousand square foot, five-story mansion with a view of Central Park from practically every window.

  I hate the summers with their hordes of tourists taking pictures of every mundane and uninteresting thing.

  I hate the fall and the spring, with its torrential rains which chill you to the bone and make the city gray and gloomy for weeks.

  But most of all, I hate those five weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year’s that everyone else seems to find so magical.

  It’s the time of year that people spend hours gawking at window displays designed to dazzle and make you forget that you really can’t afford anything there.

  I hate the blinding lights that twinkle all day and all night without a moment’s peace. But mostly I hate the cheer that fills the city, which only has one real purpose - to sell more crap.

  I hate people and I hate that I’m alone.

  I hate that I haven’t left this house in almost four years and I hate how much I like being alone.

  I hate that all I do is work, but without work, I’d have even less than I do now.

  I hate my money, and I hate to imagine a world in which I don’t have it.

  But mostly I hate myself.

  I hate the scars that cover my body.

  I hate that every time I look at them, my mind is flooded with memories of that day.

  I hate that the person I used to be is gone and I hate that I can’t imagine my life without all of this hate.

  Chapter 2 - Harley

  Love

  I love this city.

  I love the lights that illuminate the streets until twilight.

  I love that something is always going on.

  I love that everyone is always in a hurry.

  Where are they going?

  What are they doing?

  What is it that’s so important?

  I love the traffic jams and people honking when they are standing still.

  I love how hot, steamy, and unbearable the summers get.

  I love how everyone who has anywhere to go takes off for the Hamptons, Connecticut, Vermont, leaving the rest of us with a bit more room to stretch out.

  The summers bring in all the tourists and I even love them.

  I was one of those tourists once.

  When I turned fourteen, my parents brought me here to show me the sights.

  Statue of Liberty.

  Broadway.

  Times Square.

  The typical places that all real New Yorkers avoid.

  That’s when I first fell in love with the city, and that’s when I knew that I had to do everything in my power to move here.

  And the thing that I love most is that magical time between Thanksgiving and New Year’s.

  The tree lighting ceremony in Rockefeller Center.

  Ice skating in Central Park.

  The storefronts and the lights that seem to explode with life.

  But I also love this city on those other less lovable days; the cold, slushy days of February that are all too short.

  I love the dirty snow that appears the day after a big blizzard, and I love the way there’s always one rebel pizza place that remains open while the rest of the city closes down and everyone crams into it for a bite.

  I love the crowds.

  I even love my apartment.

  And that’s not easy to love.

  It’s a four-hundred square foot studio and I share it with a roommate.

  Yet, I still love it.

  I love the tiny kitchen in which every appliance is miniature.

  I love the little closet, which only fits half of my clothes, and I don’t even shop that much.

  I love the little bathroom that has absolutely no space around the sink. I have to house the shampoo and conditioner in a wire hanger around the shower head and keep the rest of the products in boxes under the bed.

  Why do I love this apartment?

  I can’t help it.

  It’s about the size of a large Barbie Dream House, if she had a Dream New York Apartment, but it’s enough for me.

  Maybe there’s something more to all of this.

  Maybe I love this place because of how it makes me feel about myself.

  Despite what I have, or rather don’t have, I feel important.

  Special.

  New York does that to people to get them to move here.

  It’s almost as if the city itself sends you these subliminal messages that say no matter how crappy your apartment is or how crowded, loud, and angry people are, you’re in New York.

  Just being here is enough!

  That has to true, right?

  Why would I love this place otherwise?

  Chapter 3 - Jackson

  Price of urban elegance…

  A house is considered a mega-mansion by the real estate industry when it is over ten-thousand square feet.

  Given the lack of space and the sheer number of people who live on this island, there are not that many mega-mansions around.

  Even many hedge fund managers and some billionaires are forced to settle for six or seven thousand square foot apartments and buy bigger properties in the Hamptons, or Greenwich, to enjoy on weekends.

  Though there isn’t much room for many three-bedroom houses, let alone mega-mansions in the city, there was a time when the rich of New York were nearly as rich as they are now, adjusted for inflation, of course.

  It was the turn of the century and the robber barons along with the bankers and other collectors of wealth built large homes overlooking Central Park.

  Many of those homes were torn down or converted into multi-unit apartment buildings, but my house remained.

  Somehow it has weathered the times and remained in possession of one wry widow who lived to the ripe old age of one hundred and two.

  Unlike me, she had a big staff who also lived in the home, and like me, she also raised her child there.

  I wouldn’t admit it out loud, if pressed, but that’s probably the main reason she sold me the house in the first place.

  That and I had to sign a contract that said that I would never convert the place into “one of those horrid two-bedroom apartments for paupers they have littered this park with” - her words, not mine.

  I am not in the real estate game and I bought this place solely because my daughter fell in love with it.

  I would’ve paid thirty-five, and she would’ve accepted twenty-five, but after some negotiation, we finally settled on thirty million.

  And that was it.

  The turn of the century mansion, with only one owner, and magnificent historic touches was ours.

  Its ‘limestone trim, broad, low stoops, and ionic porticos’ gave the mansion ‘an impression of urbane elegance’ the listing said, but to us it simply became home.

  After I made
some updates, of course.

  The team worked hard to incorporate many modern updates while maintaining the true character of the mansion, all for the bargain price of only five million.

  When everything was finally done and we moved in, our bliss lasted only a short time.

  Exactly eleven months and three days later, it happened.

  Nothing was ever the same again.

  Chapter 4 - Harley

  Price of cozy comfort

  ‘Cozy’ is one of those words that real estate agents use to describe small apartments.