Novelas y relatos de Golf

The day I was awarded the highest service medal, I got a call that my grandfather had died. My superiors approved emergency leave, and I rushed straight back to the family estate without stopping. The moment I reached the hillside cemetery behind the house, what I saw snapped something inside me. Our family burial ground had been completely leveled. My parents' graves had been dug open. Their urns had been turned into flower pot bases, with dark-red roses planted right on top of them. My grandfather's coffin had been split apart. His body was left exposed in the dirt, already starting to rot. And my younger brother, Jerry Horton, who was on the autism spectrum, was being ordered around like a laborer by my husband's assistant, Digby Wolfe, hauling construction materials back and forth. I lost it. I grabbed Digby and slammed him into the ground with a hard shoulder throw. "You touched my family's graves and made my brother do manual labor. Are you trying to get buried here with them?" Digby coughed up blood as he struggled to his feet, sneering at me. "This was Mr. Gray's decision. He said your family plot is in a good location, with plenty of space. It's perfect for building a golf course for the future Mrs. Gray. In Joule, Mr. Gray is the law." His tone was icy. "And who do you think you are?" I swallowed my rage and called Marshall Gray. "I hear you run Joule," I said. "Well, I'm about to change that."

“You have no idea,” he said quietly, “how difficult it is hearing you say things like that while you’re upstairs and I can’t touch you.” My stomach tightened hard. “Then come upstairs.” The words escaped before I could think them through. Silence crashed into the room. “You do know what you’re asking for, don’t you?” “Yes.” A long pause. Then: “Open your door.” At twenty-two, Ivy Hart has mastered the art of pretending. By day, she’s the polished daughter of a wealthy country club businessman—the successful young woman her father proudly brags about to his golf buddies. By night, she becomes someone else entirely. Hidden behind soft lighting, silk robes, and a fake name, Ivy earns millions online giving strangers the intimacy she’s never found in real life. But one man is different. Masked. Older. Addictive. Known only as BigDaddyP, he doesn’t just watch her—he sees her. Every insecurity. Every lie. Every lonely part she hides behind the camera. Their late-night sessions become her obsession. Until the night he whispers her real name during a private stream. Terrified, Ivy logs off moments before her father calls with unexpected news: his famous actor godson, Patrick Laurent, will be staying at their mansion for Christmas while her parents leave town. Cold blue eyes. Dangerous restraint. A voice she would recognize anywhere. Because the man she’s been craving in the dark is now sleeping down the hall from her. Snowed in together in a mansion, the line between performance and reality begins to blur. And the more Patrick strips away her carefully built masks, the more Ivy realizes the real danger isn’t that her father’s closest friend knows exactly who she is, It’s that she wants him in every forbidden way possible.