One Night with You – Fated To Love You Read Online Lindsey Hart

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)

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One Night with You - Fated To Love You

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Lindsey Hart

Book Information:

I’m done with men!
Been there, done that, and to hell with them. I’m going to that masked charity ball as the confident single lady I am supposed to be.
That stranger over there giving me the look, Well, who cares if I enjoy the attention just for one night.
We danced. We talked. We never exchanged names. And we had a one-night stand.
Did I say we had our mask on, so yeah, I have no idea who I slept with.
My first one night-stand. With a complete stranger. I wouldn’t recognize him even if we passed each other on the streets. Except I made a mistake.
I left behind one of my earrings. The one of a kind, supposedly cursed earrings.
But there is no way my stranger is going to track me down with only that one earring, right?
This is the last installment in the cursed heirlooms series! I hope you enjoy Leandra story as much as I had fun writing it.
Books by Author:

Lindsey Hart



For the record, I am officially done with men.

Totally over them.

I’m giving my ground down, worn, and tattered heart a break, curse be damned.

Yeah, cursed.

My granny cursed five heirlooms and gave me, my brothers, and my cousins one each. It’s supposed to guide us to find the one person in this entire universe who is made just for us, aka our soulmate. But just because the curse has worked for my two older brothers and my cousins so far and I’m the last one left, doesn’t mean it’s going to work for me.

At first, I did find this curse thing to be romantic but since I was against having love forced on me by some old family heirloom, I was totally against it (what if the soulmate the universe chooses for me had a crooked dick or was some freaking bizarre guy). I even participated in the pact that my siblings and cousins made to never fall in love whatever happens. Because love is so overrated. Love does not guarantee that the guy will be here for me for the rest of our lives. Looked what happened with my dad. He took off and completely abandoned his wife and kids because he could not handle the hurdles that came along with it.

Not that I was totally against love, but it was just not meant for me. To be honest, I was open to finding the guy I think would be perfect for me, without the cursed heirloom of course.

And he did not exist.

I really tried to find Mister Right, but all I got was a bunch of Mister Muddle Dicks.

So, long story short, I’m so over the curse. I’m over trying to find my soulmate. I’m sure he doesn’t exist. All the nice guys really are taken, and all the rest of the fish in the sea smell- well, fishy. Not the good kind of fishy. The bad kind of fishy.

So tonight, at this masked charity ball function whatever, yada-yada, I’m here because Granny asked me to be. Okay, so she freaking dropped me like a hot potato at the last second, but I’m still here. On official, charitable capacity. This night is about making a difference for people who need it. It’s not about fraternizing, dancing, or hoping to spot a handsome masked stranger who gives me that tingle in the blood. Of course blood is a polite metaphor for all the other things that might tingle. But nope. I’m not going there. I’m going to stay decidedly and firmly single for the rest of my life. The universe has ordained it. I’ve received the message loud and freaking clear.

Soooo, that said, no matter how many times I pretend that wearing an expensive vintage black dress that fits better than any glove in history doesn’t make me more of a woman, I know that I’m a liar. I feel like more of a woman. I feel powerful. Graceful. Goddess style worthy. Nothing can stop the velvet flow of confidence that surges through my veins when I know I look good. Tonight, in a vintage number that waterfalls and drapes around my curves, giving me a tiny waist and ample breasts, even though my waist isn’t perfect, and my breasts aren’t normally so ample, I know I look good. I might even feel a little edgy. Maybe even slightly dangerous. Never underestimate a good vintage. I know that sounds like wine advice, but I own a clothing boutique, so I know my threads too.

I’m not just Leandra Cromwell anymore. I’m Leandra Cromwell in a dang well doubled down amazing dress who is masked, with golden hair swept up, dazzling sapphires in my ears and pearls at my neck. And heels. Yes. Black stilettos. And I’m wearing silky black lace panties, which while they’re hidden and no one will get to see them, still make me feel like a princess. A slightly dirty, spunky, lacy princess. In short, I’ve been transformed and even I’m not immune to the thrill of it. Nothing has ever made me feel this beautiful before, and the fact that I can be all mysterious and hide behind my black satin mask that covers most of my face, escape and be someone else tonight, is nothing short of thrilling.

Yes, I’m wearing the cursed earrings.

No, not because I want to find my soulmate. My soulmate doesn’t exist. Men are fishy, remember?

Maybe it was insanity or a temporary lapse of judgment. Maybe I just wanted to fly my middle finger metaphorically in the face of Granny’s curse. Maybe I’m all ice now because my eager fire died away with each terrible dating experience over the past year. Maybe the earrings were a perfect complement to the dress.

Whateves. Tonight, I’m proudly flying solo. Yes, it’s NOLA and masked balls might seem a little cloak and dagger cliché, but I have to say, I’m just a tad bit excited. Especially when Granny delivered on her promise this morning to make me look like a queen, even though she couldn’t attend because she had to go to London for business. She’s retired, FYI, but I guess that should say semi-retired. She still has her fingers in all the sticky pots.