Dirty Filthy Rich Men
Series: Dirty Duet #1
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Author: Laurelin Paige
Publication Date: March 27th, 2017
From NYT Bestselling author Laurelin Paige, discover a whole new world filled with sex, love, power, romance and dirty, filthy rich men.
When I met Donovan Kincaid, I knew he was rich. I didn’t know he was filthy. Truth be told, I was only trying to get his best friend to notice me.
I knew poor scholarship girls like me didn’t stand a chance against guys like Weston King and Donovan Kincaid, but I was in love with his world, their world, of parties and sex and power. I knew what I wanted—I knew who I wanted—until one night, their world tried to bite me back and Donovan saved me. He saved me, and then Weston finally noticed me, and I finally learned what it was to be in their world.
And then what it was like to lose it.
Ten years later, I’ve found my way back. Back to their world. Back to him.
This time, I’m ready. I’ve been down this road before, and I know all the dirty, filthy ways Donovan will try and wreck me.
But it’s hard to resist. Especially when I know how much I’ll like it.
After she was gone, I walked over to the windows and drank in the scene. The Town Center was high enough that it had an unblocked view of downtown Manhattan, Brooklyn, and beyond.Giddiness surged through me, starting like a pinprick at my center and moving out through my veins in all directions until even my fingers and toes felt warm.
I was really here.
I made it.
It wasn’t the way I thought it would be, but in the end, it still came out of my time at Harvard. I’d always known that connections made the difference in a career, and here I was. Finally. At the top of the world, looking out.
I couldn’t stop grinning.
“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” a male voice came from behind me.
Still smiling, I glanced up and caught his reflection in the window.
And everything disappeared.
The world that had buzzed below, the beautiful scene, the excitement that had unfurled through my body—all of it evaporated and all that existed in its place was a pale, hollow shell of myself and the man in the perfectly tailored suit behind me.
I turned to look at him directly. Our gazes smashed together, and my legs nearly fell out from under me.
“Donovan,” I rasped. It was a miracle that I managed to find enough voice to say that much.
And there was so much more that had to be said. So much more that I hadn’t prepared for. Which was ridiculous since I’d talked to him so many times in my head over the years, practiced so many conversations, but never did he show up out of the blue looking so dastardly handsome in a dark gray three-piece suit, his face rugged with scruff, his eyes hazel and earnest despite the playful smirk on his lips.
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I wasn’t even sure how to breathe anymore.
He broke our gaze to nod out the window at the skyline, walking toward me as he said, “I’m sure you found the Empire.”
Though his focus was now on the scenery, I didn’t take my eyes off him as he approached. He didn’t stop until he was right beside me. So close our shoulders would touch if I coughed. Tension ran off him like foam spilling over from a mug of beer. Good tension. Bad tension. I wasn’t sure if there was a difference when it came to Donovan.
Which was why I was screwed if he was here.
Why the hell was he here?
“I thought you were in Tokyo.” I couldn’t stop staring at him. He’d gotten more refined with age, and rougher at the same time. His hair was short and his curls gone, giving him a polished look he lacked before. The lines by his eyes were more defined and his expression seemed harder than I’d remembered. It made him sexier.
As if he was a man who needed to be sexier than the one I knew.
“I came back two months ago,” he said offhandedly. “That’s it right there.” He leaned his face in close to mine as he pointed to the famous structure. “Do you see it?”
Fuck if I cared about the Empire. I was in Donovan Kincaid’s orbit. What else was there in the world?
And in every way that it was vile and wrong, I loved it. In every way that it meant I was sick and shameful, I embraced it.
Sweet. Baby. Jesus.
I don’t know whether to rip my hair out of my head, get a brace for the emotional whiplash I just endured, or get my head examined. I can’t want to strangle both of the main characters 85% of the time and still root for them…can I? I’m not even kidding here, people. I wanted to drop kick the hero for the majority of the book. Not in the balls though. He put those to good use. But I digress. I also wanted to shake the heroine for hope that she’ll see reason. My head hurt. My eye was ticking. I wanted to chuck my kindle at the wall. And yet, I couldn’t stop reading it. I just couldn’t. This story was a delicious hot mess, and I was like an addict, hoping for another morsel. What is wrong with me? The answer is quite simple here, because such is the mastery of Laurelin Paige. She can take a story with two entirely depraved and messed up individuals. She can make them go through hell and back and put each other through even more. She can make you rage, scream in frustration, and keep you glued to the pages because you’re that riveted.
“Don’t worry, you will.”
Enemies to lovers fans, meet your catnip. It doesn’t get more intoxicating and enraging as Donovan Kincaid. The man is cold, ruthless, domineering and magnetic. He’s an asshole of the highest order. And we all know that happens to be my catnip.
Dirty Filthy Rich Men is told in two parts; the first retelling the first time Donovan and Sabrina crossed paths. Sabrina as a young and naive seventeen year old at Harvard with a crush on Weston, the cute playboy that doesn’t seem to notice her. Donovan as the brooding and mysterious teacher’s aid and Weston’s friend. They share something the changes the course of Sabrina’s life and even though ten years have now passed since that day, she still can’t seem to forget.
She’s grown up now. A professional in her own right and still questioning her sexuality and the unnerving urges that she still can’t seem to get over. A chance encounter with an old crush leads her right into the cross hairs of the man that not only stirs her blood, but makes it boil.
If you’re thinking this is a love triangle, fear not. There’s not even a question of who Sabrina has true chemistry with. Too bad that person also happens to play the kind of mind games that will make even your head spin. These two are antagonistic and downright messed up together, yet the chemistry between them is so strong, it practically crackles.
I can’t tell you that I loved every page, because there were times that Donovan’s constant back and forth and hot and cold drove me out of my ever loving mind. And yet, I still couldn’t stop panting after him.
Laurelin Paige is the queen of skating that fine edge of depravity and chemistry. This is not your run of the mill romance. It’s interspersed with just the perfect touch of dark desire to whet your appetite. It’s darkly erotic. It’s captivating and magnetic. It was mind blowing enraging and panty melting hot. If you happen to enjoy dub con, you’ve found your next read. Just make sure to have some Xanax on hand, because OMG. Just OMG.
USA Today and New York Times Bestselling Author Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She’s also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn’t do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio. She is represented by Rebecca Friedman.
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USA Today and New York Times Bestselling Author Laurelin Paige is a sucker for a good romance and gets giddy anytime there’s kissing, much to the embarrassment of her three daughters. Her husband doesn’t seem to complain, however. When she isn’t reading or writing sexy stories, she’s probably singing, watching Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, or dreaming of Michael Fassbender. She’s also a proud member of Mensa International though she doesn’t do anything with the organization except use it as material for her bio. She is represented by Rebecca Friedman.
Whoever had decided that damnation was fire and brimstone was wrong. Hell was cold and ice and emptiness. Hell was watching the one I’d grasped to so tightly slip through my fingers.
The heart stopping conclusion to the erotically charged story that began with 
For those that read the first book and are afraid there may be a love triangle, don’t be. At least not quite. But that’s the most you’ll get out of me because I don’t want to ruin it for you.
