Silver Fox Fever Audiobook Bundle | 16 Age Gap Romance Audiobooks | 90+ Hours

16 included audiobooks are:

1. Her Silver Fox Billionaire (5 hrs). She lost her job. He’s her dad’s best friend. Then a Valentine’s storm traps them together.
2. Ho Ho Ho With the Silverfox (5 hrs). One night, one hotel room, one rule. Fifteen months later, she’s back in his town with his child.
3. A Fling With My Silverfox Professor (5 hrs). A fake marriage to her grumpy, off-limits professor, and one rule she can’t stop breaking.
4. Once You Go Daddy (5 hrs). She was his son’s ex. By the time he found out, he couldn’t let her go.
5. Once You Taste Silver (6 hrs). She ran once and he let her. This time, he’s coming with her.
6. Silver Fox Summer (6 hrs). One night with a divorced CEO turns complicated when he becomes her new boss.
7. Silver Fox Valentine (5 hrs). She’s running his Valentine’s event, and he looks at her like she’s the one thing he can’t buy.
8. Silver Fox Fall (6 hrs). She’s half his age and ten times the chaos he needs.
9. Silverfox Daddy’s Secret Heir (5 hrs). She left five years ago and took his daughter with her. Now she’s back, and he’s done waiting.
10. 20 Years Older Than Me (9 hrs). She’s engaged to the wrong man. The night before her wedding, she shows up in the right man’s bed.
11. My Thigh Gap Got Me In This Age Gap (5 hrs). The one woman he should never touch, and he did anyway.
12. My Ex’s Dad’s Secret Baby (6 hrs). She was supposed to be a mistake until he saw the little girl with his eyes.
13. Stealing My Best Friend’s Daughter (6 hrs). She asked for help. He gave her a business deal, then a lot more.
14. Stealing My Son’s Ex (6 hrs). She trashed his food. Now she’s in his kitchen, and he can’t stop wanting her.
15. The Best Man Is Better (7 hrs). Her groom ran three days before the wedding. His uncle stayed.
16. Fake Marrying My Best Friend’s Dad (4 hrs). She came for revenge. He made her his wife.

20 Years Older Than Me

Janelle

I take one last breath of cool night air, then force myself back through the French doors. The party crashes over me like a wave—warm bodies, perfume mixing with cigar smoke, laughter that sounds sharp against my ears. I reconstruct my face into the appropriate expression, the one that says grateful fiancée instead of woman contemplating escape routes.

A server offers me champagne from a silver tray. I take it, though the bubbles taste flat and sour against my tongue.

"There she is!" Aunt Vivian swoops toward me with arms outstretched. "We were wondering where our beautiful bride had wandered off to."

"Just getting some fresh air." The lie slides out smooth as silk. "These October evenings are perfect."

More faces turn toward me, drawn by the gravitational pull of social obligation. I smile until my cheeks ache, nod at compliments about my dress—a navy silk number Mother selected because it photographs well—and pretend my heart isn't slamming against my ribs like a bird desperate to escape its cage.

The crowd shifts and flows around me, a river of expectations I'm drowning in. Someone asks about the wedding favors. Another wants details about the rehearsal dinner. Each question feels like a small death, another piece of myself carved away and fed to the machine of other people's satisfaction.

"You disappeared."

The voice cuts through the noise, low and familiar. I turn to find Nathaniel beside me, his jacket gone, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that speak of controlled strength rather than gym vanity. His blue eyes hold something I can't name—concern, perhaps, or recognition of something the others miss entirely.

Heat climbs my neck. "I needed air."

He studies my face with the same attention he gives contracts—thorough, methodical, missing nothing. The party swirls around us, but suddenly we exist in a pocket of quiet, as if the universe has carved out space for this conversation.

"Difficult evening?"

The simple question unravels something inside me. Not how wonderful is your engagement party or aren't you the luckiest girl. Just acknowledgment that this might be difficult rather than the fairy tale everyone assumes it to be.

My throat tightens. "I feel as if I'm suffocating." The words spill out before I try to stop them, raw and true in a way that terrifies me. "Like I'm vanishing piece by piece while everyone cheers for what's left."

His expression doesn't change, but something shifts behind his eyes. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition of a feeling he knows intimately.

"The woman they're celebrating—" My voice drops to match his, barely audible above the party noise. "She's not me. She's this perfect version they've all agreed exists, but I can't find her anywhere inside myself."

Nathaniel's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. His gaze flicks toward the crowd, toward Evan holding court near the bar, then back to me.

"Maybe," he says quietly, "the woman they're celebrating was never supposed to exist."

The space between us crackles with something dangerous. His words hang in the air like smoke—the woman they're celebrating was never supposed to exist—and I watch his hand start to rise toward me. His fingers twitch with the beginning of a gesture that would shatter every boundary we've carefully maintained.

"Janelle..." My name falls from his lips like a confession, rough and unguarded. The sound hits me in the chest, stealing my breath.

But then his jaw snaps shut. His hand drops to his side with the force of a man catching himself before stepping off a cliff. The muscle in his neck jumps as he swallows whatever words were clawing their way up his throat.

The silence lingers between us, loaded with everything we can't say. His blue eyes search my face with an intensity that makes my skin burn, as if he's trying to memorize every detail before forcing himself to look away.

I know I should move. Should step back into the safe distance between business partner's daughter and business partner. Should pretend this moment never happened, that his almost-touch didn't send electricity racing up and down my spine.

Instead, I stand frozen, caught between terror and longing as the party continues to swirl around us like we're invisible.

"I should—" I start, but my voice cracks.

"Yes." His response comes too quickly, too sharp. "You should."

The dismissal stings even though I know it's necessary. Even though I know he's protecting us both from something that would detonate our careful lives like a bomb.

I force my lips into the shape of a smile—the practiced curve that says dutiful daughter and happy fiancée and woman who definitely wasn't just confessing her suffocation to her father's business partner.