testblog – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

testblog – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:47 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png testblog – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Jealous Alpha Read Online Jordan Silver http://www.books2020.com/jealous-alpha-read-online-jordan-silver-2 Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:47 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/jealous-alpha-read-online-jordan-silver-2 Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love Authors: Jordan Silver Advertisement

Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >64

My woman! Many had vied for her position, some had spent years trying to get my notice without any luck. My position and wealth was a huge draw for some, my looks another. She was the first woman not to give a damn about either.
Is that why I’d fallen for her so easily? Was it her aloof manner that enticed me, drew me to her? Is it the constant wondering of whether or not she’d been that way with him that kept this jealousy alive?
As to that, I’ve never harbored jealousy or envy against anyone in my life, I never had to. I was born with everything I could possibly need and from then until now had never wanted for anything. Whatever I wanted I took.
And then there’s Gia, my woman. I’ve taken her but the love she once bore her dead husband still haunts me. I won’t stop until I’ve erased him from her memory no matter what it takes

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

“Stop here.” My driver pulled up to the curb and let me out. It was still early enough in the day that there weren’t too many people around, less annoyance for me to deal with.

I walked into the coffee shop with my head down as I looked at my phone, making my way up to the counter. “I’ll have a double espresso with a twist.”

I paid and left without once looking at the person behind the counter and walked smack dab into a warm body. “Son of a…”

I looked up sharply at the expletive and came face to face with beauty. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t expecting it that it stopped me cold.

She was a little bit of a thing, barely reaching my chin. But her curves under the fitted skirt suit and the wild black curls that fell over her shoulders and back painted quite a picture.

I got just a small glimpse of her almond shaped hazel colored eyes before she looked down at herself where I’d spilled my drink.

Her scent reached me and my body reacted so strongly the shock of it left me reeling. I stood there staring down at her as time seemed to stand still.

She on the other hand barely acknowledged me as she turned and headed back out the door, muttering under her breath about inconsiderate assholes.

She didn’t even let me see to her after spilling the hot drink down her chest and I felt bad, but not as bad as I felt at the thought that I might never see her again.

The feeling of loss was so strong it was an ache in my chest and I tried calling out to her. But she was moving way too fast for me to keep up and for some reason my equilibrium seemed off. It felt like I was walking under water.

I moved out onto the sidewalk and watched her until she disappeared around the corner. I looked up at the name of the place and the street and headed back to my car where my driver was waiting to let me in.

I can’t say I thought of her for the rest of the ride, but she did cross my mind a time or two in the half an hour it took to reach my office.

I wonder who she is, if she’s from around there? And why this morning of all mornings I’d chosen to stop for coffee?

It was most definitely not the kind of place I’d usually frequent. In fact I’ve been coming this way to get from my place to the office for a few years now and never had the inclination.

By the time I logged the secret code into my personal elevator for the ride up to my luxury office on the fiftieth floor, my mind had shifted to the coming day and what laid ahead.

“Oh, you’re here, I need you to go over these specs before the new architect gets here.” My brother walked into my office minutes after I arrived.

“I thought you already did that?”

“Oh no, I’m not falling for that again. Last time I made a mistake my ears rang for a damn week after all your yelling.” This kid’s been a pain in my ass since birth.

“Just drop it there and get out of my office. I have things to do that don’t include being annoyed by you.”

“Fine, don’t forget she’s going to be here any minute. By the way you need to call our mother. She’s on the warpath again.”

“What did you do this time?”

“I like that, why is it always me? Actually this time it’s you. You missed Sunday brunch or something like that again.”

Dammit, why does my mother think she can hold my weekends hostage? “I’ll call her later.” I was already focused on the reports in front of me before he turned to the door.

I’d almost forgotten about the new architect that we’d hired, or more to the point my brother Gavin had hired.

I usually let him take care of the hiring for our company while I focused on bringing in business and making money.

Our grandfather had started the business over eighty years ago with nothing but a few thousand dollars and brute strength.

Now, what had started out, as a mere construction-company was now one of the leading residential and commercial builders in the country.

This latest project was taking us out of the country and Gavin had got the bright idea to hire some up and coming hotshot architect that he swears is the best thing since slice bread.

Since I usually let him handle that side of things, I didn’t have much to say about his choice, as long as she got the job done I could care less. Though up to this point we’d only dealt with male architects.

This woman he’s been going on about for weeks had apparently won some awards out west and was being touted as the latest talent in her field so I trust him to have it under control.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >64

Advertisement Just Playing for Keeps (Hockey Ever After #2) Read Online Lauren Blakely http://www.books2020.com/just-playing-for-keeps-hockey-ever-after-2-read-online-lauren-blakely Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:47 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/just-playing-for-keeps-hockey-ever-after-2-read-online-lauren-blakely Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lauren Blakely Series: Hockey Ever After Series by Lauren Blakely
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >129

A grumpy/sunshine fake dating hockey romance from #1 NYT Bestseller Lauren Blakely!

Ever hear the story about the dating coach who got dumped on the hockey arena’s jumbotron?
Everyone did. But I lived it. Including the moment when the team’s broody, tattooed star Lake Axelrod swooped in on skates to rescue me from public humiliation.
Even more surprising? When the famously grumpy (and ridiculously sexy) hockey player insists on being my fake boyfriend for my sister’s high-profile wedding. It’s the perfect sweet revenge plan since my ex is the best man. Bonus – I might even salvage my professional reputation.
We need rules though.

To pull this off, everyone from his teammates to my boss has to believe we’re a real couple.
That means swoony touches and knee-weakening kisses are required.
When it ends, we walk away.
But the intensity in Lake’s eyes after every post-game kiss makes me wonder if he’s pretending. With each whispered secret, the line between fake and real bends. Until it shatters one night in a hotel room.

Soon, he isn’t just playing the protective boyfriend—he’s the only one who truly sees me.
If I’m not careful, I’m going to break the most important rule of all: don’t fall for your fake date.

This is Lake and Remy’s romance. Tropes include: grumpy/sunshine hockey romance, fake dating, workplace romance, best friend’s brother, obsessed hero

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

I’VE GOT EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL

REMY

Twenty-four hours’ notice and I have everything ready. I can’t leave a night like this to chance. Not after spotting a certain little jewelry box hidden among the sweatshirts in my boyfriend’s closet.

Inside the arena, a peaceful warmth floods me, the bliss of thorough preparation for whatever the night brings.

Jameson gestures to the aisle in the arena, letting me go first. I move in front of him, walking down the steps toward our seats as anthemic rock music pipes through the hockey rink, pump-me-up tunes perfect for the players as they warm up on the ice.

Just look at Jameson. He’s all dressed up, wearing his signature vest, of course, and a forest green checked shirt I picked out for him when he asked me to take him clothes shopping a few weeks ago. He’s rocking an undercut, and his jaw is clean-shaven. When we reach the second row, he pats the cushy black faux leather aisle seat. “Isn’t this great, Remy?”

His voice pitches with nerves. My chest tingles from that sign too.

“These seats are amazing,” I reassure him, since he sometimes needs that.

When my boyfriend of eleven and three-quarter months surprised me last week with center-ice tickets to the one thousandth game the Golden State Foxes have played at this arena—seats I can’t even get as the team’s part-time community relations manager—I figured it was an early anniversary gift.

But then last night, I grabbed a hoodie to borrow, and a little gray jewelry box marked “Made by Fable” fell out of the front pocket.

I popped it back in its hiding place, borrowed a different sweatshirt, and shifted into planning mode, stat. A day later, here we are, at a place meaningful to both of us. And Jameson and I did meet by his craft beer brewery on the concourse, so it makes perfect sense he’d pick the arena for the occasion.

Once he settles into the seat, he waves a slightly shaky hand toward the boards. “I know how much you love these games.”

I press my lips together so I don’t burst into confetti. “I do.”

Not the only time I’ll be saying that in the near future.

I smooth a hand over my jeans as Lake Axelrod, the team’s top right winger, glides past the glass, his gaze touring the stands like he’s checking out who’s here. I shed my jacket quickly, revealing my off-the-shoulder soft cream sweater.

Jameson’s gaze strays briefly to my exposed shoulder, then he looks away, toward the ice. Eye contact must be tough when he’s trying to keep a secret.

The game begins, and I focus on the action during the first period while mentally ticking off the arrangements I’d managed in one mere day. Like that slim videographer in the plaid beret weaving his way through the fans during the game breaks, asking them to share favorite memories of games in this arena, which are broadcast on the Jumbotron for all twenty thousand attendees to see.

I told Odin I’d help plan a special date for him and his wife if he’d stick near me during the upcoming fox toss when I think Jameson is most likely to ask the question.

And there’s the curly-haired usher, Selena. I set up a hotspot on her phone once upon a time, and she told me she owes me (she doesn’t), so she was happy to help. She’ll have a bottle of Veuve Clicquot chilled to the perfect temperature and ready for her to bring over at my signal—a double tuck of my hair.

Then a row away is Savannah, the backup photographer I hired in case Jameson didn’t think of it. What if he doesn’t know I’ve always wanted a fun, frothy proposal, or that I’d want pics of every moment?

I stop myself from scanning the seats for photographers Jameson might have hired. It’s best I focus on what I can control.

And I’ve prepared for everything.

I settle in for the rest of the game, trying to contain my excitement as the clock winds down to the second intermission. Finally, the loudspeaker warbles in the arena. “And now…” the announcer booms from the rink, “your Golden State Foxes are coming back to the ice a little early. Get ready to toss your stuffed foxes onto the ice as your home team collects them to donate to the local children’s hospital.”

The hockey stars fly through the tunnel in their purple and white jerseys, sticks in hand. The fans go wild, popping up in their seats to chuck their tawny stuffies over the glass and onto the rink.

The guys skate around, scooping them up with their gloves or sticks. I glance at the clock. The fox toss spans the final two minutes of the intermission—I planned the event. There are ninety seconds left. Plenty of time for Jameson to ask me to be his.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >129

Advertisement Arranged Devotion Read Online B.B. Hamel http://www.books2020.com/arranged-devotion-read-online-b-b-hamel Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:45 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/arranged-devotion-read-online-b-b-hamel Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Authors: B.B. Hamel Advertisement

Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >92

The mafia boss caught me spray painting my ex’s car…
And helped burn it to the ground instead.

I’m at rock bottom:
I just caught my ex-fiance cheating on me…
In the bed we shared together.

It feels like my life is over when I meet Liam Lankshear.

Liam is living chaos.
He’s everything I can’t stand:
wild, impulsive, gorgeous, and a vicious underworld thug.

But my ex steals something dangerous from my family…
and starts a war I never wanted.
Which is how I end up engaged to my worst nightmare.

Liam wants marriage about as much as I do.
He’s my opposite, my shadow, and my ruin.
I don’t know how someone so attractive can also be so insanely frustrating.

The war turns ugly and death comes stalking,
Now Liam’s done playing games.

He says I’m his bride, no matter what.
And he’ll burn the city to keep me.
I just have to survive long enough to decide if I want to be saved.

Arranged Devotion is a full length standalone novel in the Whelan crime family world. It’s spicy, banter-filled, slightly dark, and has a guaranteed happily-ever-after. Enjoy!!

TROPES: Arranged marriage, mafia-lite, age gap, morally gray scarred anti-hero, he falls first (and harder), possessive/obsessive hero, good girl meets bad boy, forced proximity, marriage of convenience to real love, I’ll Burn the World For You, strangers to lovers, lots of spice and praise

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

REGAN

I’m going to spray paint that cheating bastard’s car.

I’m not proud of it.

Well, maybe a bit.

But Kieren Foley deserves so, so much worse for what he did to me.

I hurry down a quiet Brooklyn street at two in the morning. It’s Tuesday night so there aren’t many people out this late. I’m in all black, dark jeans, matching sweatshirt, and my hood’s pulled up to cover my wavy brown hair. A messenger bag bumps against my hip. Nothing to see here, just a shady looking girl hurrying down the street, perfectly normal.

Not that anyone cares in New York City. People do weirder shit all the time.

But I can’t help the nervous energy pulsing through me. I’ve never, ever, ever done anything like this before. All my life I’ve been a good person, to the point of obsession. I got straight A’s in school, captained the debate club, played field hockey, joined the student newspaper, got perfect grades at NYU, and graduated with honors. It got to the point where my little brother Luke calls me Saint Regan to my face and Boring Regan behind my back.

I used to think he wasn’t being fair, but now I wonder if maybe he was right.

Maybe I wasted my stinking life getting an accounting degree, dating the same guy since high school, planning every single little detail of every single stupid day, down to the minute, creating spreadsheets, leaving myself Post-its all over the apartment, and maybe it’s my fault⁠—

No Regan, stop it, nobody made Kieren fuck Vera Baranov in your bed, nobody except for him.

I have to stop to catch my breath. My heart’s racing and sweat breaks out across my skin. Every time I think of that moment— the closed door, the huffs, grunts, moans, the sound of her saying his name, knowing what they were doing and still being unable to stop myself from looking inside and seeing it with my own eyes—my body feels like it’s going to fall apart.

Panic rolls down my skin in electric tingles.

It’s like the way I used to react to my father’s anger, back when I was little.

Back before I learned how to live the right way.

Get it together.

I march on, more determined now.

Screwing Vera was bad enough. I never liked her one bit. She was the popular girl, a cliche, but even better. Blonde, beautiful, cheerleader, but also brilliant, well-liked, and kind. She was talented, funny, and outgoing. We weren’t friends exactly, but we took all the advanced classes together, and I didn’t hate it when we were assigned to do group projects. Vera was always so stinking likeable.

And really hot.

We could never be friends though. Not in a million freaking years. Not when her last name was Baranov and mine was Corrigan.

Not when her family and my family despise each other.

No, banging a hot Russian girl is bad, but the real problem is what Kieren fucking her means.

I come to a stop outside of the parking garage where he keeps his precious car. The old BMW he obsessively restored back in college and keeps in immaculate condition. Boxy, shiny, and cool as heck, if I’m being honest. It’s fussy and a pain, but Kieren loves that thing so much. I used to joke it’s like his second girlfriend.

Now I’m thinking it was more like his third.

I slip inside the structure. It’s cool with all that concrete around. My footsteps echo and I force myself to focus on the task at hand. I tug a surgical mask over my face and slip a pair of fake glasses over my eyes. The rims are dark and thick. I don’t know if there are security cameras in here, but I’d be an idiot if I didn’t at least try to hide my identity.

And there she is. Kieren’s beamer, right where he always parks it, in that overpriced spot he says is worth every penny. Lucky me, there’s no other vehicle to its right.

I drop the messenger bag, glance around, and take out a can of white paint.

I shake it, heart leaping into my throat.

Am I seriously going to do this? I pictured it a thousand times on the way over here. I imagined drawing a huge dick on his hood, writing cheater and liar and fucker all over the doors and windows. But now that I’m standing here, shaking the can and listening to the plastic ball clack around, I’m starting to have second thoughts.

I close my eyes and blow out a slow breath.

And I see them again. Vera on all fours. Kieren behind her, thrusting away, his face twisted in bliss. He looked happier than I’d seen him in years. Our sex life was never adventurous, but I thought we did okay. Once per month, exactly eight minutes long, blowjob, missionary, orgasm, good to go for a while. But he never looked at me like he was looking at Vera’s ass, his naked chest sweating, his eyes shining with pure lust and happiness.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >92

Advertisement Big Mad – A RomCom Read Online Amarie Avant http://www.books2020.com/big-mad-a-romcom-read-online-amarie-avant Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:44 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/big-mad-a-romcom-read-online-amarie-avant Genre: Alpha Male, Funny Authors: Amarie Avant Advertisement

Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >77

Judge Bald & Order. His salty ex-wife. And a second chance romance messier than the bayou after a storm.

MADISON
I did something illegal. Don’t ask. Now it’s prison or agreeing to my ex-husband’s ridiculous “date me” ultimatum. Judge Washington Babineaux is tall. Caramel. Judgy. And that sexy bald head is an entire violation.
But me? I’m BIG MAD.
No, he didn’t cheat. We buried our son … our baby … and somehow Wash kept living. Kept smiling. Kept existing like the world didn’t end. Meanwhile, I’ve been surviving on spite and boxed wine. So, I’ll sip my drink, nurse my anger, and pretend my pulse doesn’t act brand new every time he stares at me like he still owns me.
Spoiler alert: I may not keep my hands to myself.

WASHINGTON
Madison Spencer Babineaux is the love of my life. She’s also the most stubborn woman breathing ever since we lost our boy. That day, she left me and took all her light with her.
Now, she’s in trouble, and I’m her only hope.
So, I made her a deal: three high-profile dates. She thinks it’s blackmail. At least it includes a side of second chance. But Maddy’s still the sexiest storm I’ve ever survived. Sharp tongue. Gorgeous dark skin. And I’ll take every ounce of her anger.
Because underneath it, she still loves me, and I’ll be damned if I let her run again.

This romcom includes the theme: loss of a child

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

All humor is rooted in pain.

~ Richard Pryor

#

With gratitude to a few of my beta readers: Char, Denise, & Nene.

For your strength, beauty, and resilience.

And for my Uncle Kevin, because you would’ve

laughed your ass off on page 43.

While this story is purely fiction,

I hope I brought the characters to life,

especially Big Mad(ison).

mad

. . .

Why did I go to that masquerade ball, anyway? I should’ve let endless rivers of champagne, king cake, and maybe a couple of selfies with the Valentine’s Mardi Gras centerpieces tempt me. Hell, I could’ve photobombed the newly engaged couple during what was obviously a proposal party on steroids. But no … I spotted my ex-husband’s new car. And I got MAD.

“Are you listening? That. Is. You!” The detective I’d dubbed Bad Cop sat across from me, pointing at an enlarged photo.

He must’ve thought he was grilling me like a two-dollar burger. Bless his heart. At least my ex-brother-in-law’s girl said yes to the dress. But did I get some crawfish and shrimp? Nope. I hadn’t even entered the venue before that shiny import made me snap!

Panic had my forehead shimmering brighter than the shores near the Bermuda Triangle. I almost brushed my bangs away but rethought any sudden moves. Because I’d be damned if this New Orleans interrogation room weren’t the place where common sense vanished.

But it wasn’t the blown-up picture on the metal desk between Bad Cop and me that cooked my anxiety. Video footage took those honors. Good Cop silently towered near a flat-screen television paused on … let’s call her the Epitome of Excellence.

Not me.

That beautiful, masked Black queen used a metal bat on her ex-husband’s Bent- ahem, somebody’s baby-blue, two-door Bentley.

Bad Cop, a melted Ken Doll in a crumpled suit, leaned forward across from me. An audio recorder sat between us. Hands resting on the table, he growled, “Admit it, Madison! That’s you.”

“First of all, with a shape like that, I’d absolutely take the compliment. Unfortunately, she’s wearing a Mardi Gras mask. Sounds like this might make a good episode for Unsolved Mysteries. Second, honey, I don’t even mind if you use this recording.” I nudged my head toward the audio recorder. “But this ain’t a museum, and I ain’t an exhibit. So, you gotta hit my Cash App, Venmo, Zelle. I could go on, I got ‘em all.” My bottom lip poked out with its own attitude problems.

“We’re over the jokes, Madison!”

“Good! Me too! I have an important meeting tomorrow morn-, well, this morning. That’s another thing. I don’t appreciate y’all arresting me in the middle of the night.” I stared down at my fuzzy pajamas. Dummies should’ve found me a week ago. Now, I was missing out on sleep.

“You ain’t gonna make that meeting.” Bad Cop chuckled.

We glared at each other for a solid ten Mississippis.

Somewhere close, a juicy fly did a U-turn just to increase the tension in this interrogation room. My glare flicked toward Good Cop, up to his tangled bird’s nest, and back into his icy gaze. What you gotta say?

“The footage is clear, ma’am. That’s you!” Good Cop squeaked. Well, damn, he’d been silent this entire time. Now I understood why. His voice was at least two feet shorter than his imposing six-and-a-half feet.

“You should’ve asked for the director’s cut, boo.” I winked. “That footage could be clearer.” Kidding. New Orleans PD must’ve confiscated this television from a kingpin. At least seventy-five inches and probably 4K too.

Bad Cop slammed a hand on the table. “You vandalized the honorable Judge Babineaux’s Bentley⁠—”

“Baby No,” I corrected.

“Babineaux. That’s what I said.”

“And Madison said, ‘Baby No.’ ” Another voice, seasoned with a deliciously rough Louisiana Creole accent, came from the door behind me. “Question. Did you call me Baby No when you were my wife?”

I tried not to look, but my stiff neck needed a stretch. And when I turned … mercy.

Standing in the doorway like a gift-wrapped pair of red-bottom heels with an apologetic matching bow, all of which I didn’t need, stood my ex-husband, Washington Babineaux.

He had the eyes and jaw of Shemar Moore. No, Boris Kodjoe’s eyes and build.

Okay, so, he was the pure beauty that ChatGPT would spit out if a greedy woman asked for Shemar and Borris combined. All in a tailored suit.

How could I do this to myself? Be slightly, ever so slightly, addicted, I mean, attracted to that man. He forced me to commit vehicular vandalism. I didn’t wake up on Valentine’s and say …

Wait. I did.

I had that plan. And it went off without a hitch. Until some secret Ring camera or whatever caught me. But why take a week to find me?

“What?” I snapped, staring at the top of his shiny bald head. A safe spot. No. Never mind. He had that big scalp energy, all shine, no chill … and I remembered humming while I massaged his scalp with tea tree oil.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >77

Advertisement Brutal Betrayal (Caruso Cosa Nostra #2) Read Online Shandi Boyes http://www.books2020.com/brutal-betrayal-caruso-cosa-nostra-2-read-online-shandi-boyes Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:42 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/brutal-betrayal-caruso-cosa-nostra-2-read-online-shandi-boyes Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Mafia Authors: Shandi Boyes Series: Caruso Cosa Nostra Series by Shandi Boyes
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >119

Lucia:

Keeping my head down has kept me alive, so I’m clueless why I couldn’t walk away when I noticed a little girl in distress. Her eyes were drenched as she fought to free herself from a large, intimidating man breaking her heart one finger peel at a time.

Although it would have been safer for me to ignore her silent request for help, when a child is in distress, I’m morally obligated to assist.

With my heart in my throat, I marched to her side, shoved my finger into the devastatingly handsome brute’s chest, and protected that little girl with everything I had.

It’s not like I knew the dashing suit-clad man was her father, and that she was afraid of a dentist appointment he’d scheduled for her and not the man himself.

Mistakes happen all the time. I just had no clue this one would place me in direct sight of the Cosa Nostra’s most intimidating family, and that Dante Caruso is a man willing to do anything to make me a permanent fixture in his daughter’s life… and perhaps his.

Dante:

I’m used to being the antihero. It’s second nature in a family like mine. I’ve spent thirty-four years surviving in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty is currency.

I know what it means to be feared and revered, but since becoming a father, I’ve stepped back from the role that’s made me billions.

I want to forge something better for Camille—something that won’t judge her solely on her gender… and the feisty blonde, who didn’t cower like those around her when she spotted a child in distress, could help me achieve that.

My objectives have nothing to do with the fact that the stranger is beautiful, courageous, and tempting enough for me to want to break a five-year hiatus from s€x.

My daughter wants this gorgeously stubborn foreigner in her life, and I’d rather take a bullet to the chest than disappoint her.

Though I’d be a liar if I said I was only pulling out my best tricks to ensure the busty blonde becomes a part of Camille’s life.

Camille and I are a package deal.

You can’t have one without the other.

And I’m about to have the time of my life teaching Lucia Martinez precisely that

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Lucia

As I leave the dentist’s office, I run my tongue over the once jagged edge of my front tooth and wince. I spent the last hour under bright lights, being patched up by a dentist’s gloved hands. I didn’t feel an ounce of pain, as I made sure a chipped tooth wouldn’t stop me from shining under another blinding light tonight, but now the anesthetic is wearing off.

The dull ache in my jaw reminds me of last night’s mishap. A careless knock from an overeager patron led to an emergency appointment at a clinic that required my real name. I haven’t shared my birth name in so long that I nearly forgot it.

Over the past three years, I’ve tried to reinvent myself as someone who won’t have to look over her shoulder. Today, with my real name on the intake form and echoed by a dental assistant, I can’t avoid displaying the woman I used to be.

All day I’ve been on edge. I hate it. The clinic must honor patient confidentiality, so my records are secure. Even so, an oppressive weight clings to the air, choking me. It’s thick enough to cut with a knife and has kept me walking on eggshells since I arrived in Palermo.

I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Given my childhood, my unease is understandable. My stepmother would have a heart attack if she knew how I earn a living. Alas, when I suggested going to a shady, revoked-license dentist, my employer rejected the idea and paid for today’s expensive appointment.

I’m thankful I didn’t pay out of pocket for dental work I wouldn’t have needed if a client hadn’t been so rough-handed, but I’ve seen greats go down from a measly paper trail.

My only comfort is that Mother’s judgment would be hypocritical. She raised me to be exactly this way. I just accept money from strangers now instead of men with titles like fiancé, husband, and baby-daddy-to-be.

With my mouth tingling and my confidence just as bruised, I double the length of my strides, eager to get home and wash off the funk before another brutal all-night shift.

The streets between the clinic and the train station quieten around me as the late-afternoon sun casts long shadows, bathing the historic city in a golden glow. Tucking my hands into my tattered coat pockets, I slow my pace. The city’s beauty is a perfect distraction from the persistent ache inside me.

Palmero proudly displays its history. Old sandstone buildings hold stories no one will uncover—some wonderful, others painful. Every experience leaves a memory. What hurts most is how deeply we feel it.

Flaring my nostrils, I enjoy the smell of fresh bread from the corner bakery instead of the antiseptic scent of the dental office. With my senses alert, I hear a commotion at the front of the dental clinic. A little girl, maybe four years old, grips the doorframe of a large black SUV. Her knuckles are white, and moisture is flooding her eyes.

She remains silent while struggling to break free from the brute’s grasp, but her distress is clear. It radiates from her in silent waves.

I hesitate for barely a second, but the guilt is gut-wrenching. My instincts yell at me to keep walking and mind my business. I’ve spent my life bowing down and sidestepping trouble, but the girl’s desperation won’t let me walk away.

I can’t abandon her. My determination to help, even if it hurts, is deeply ingrained.

Still fighting my self-consciousness, I drift my eyes between the spectators circling the little girl and the man breaking her heart one finger peel at a time. Her cheeks are ashen, and salty blobs threaten to spill down them, but no one seems to notice.

No one but me.

After shimmying my shoulders, shifting the thumps of my pulse from my ears to my fingertips, I move forward faster than my hesitation should allow. The man is tall and broad-shouldered, meaning he faces no issues keeping the girl contained with only an arm curled around her waist. His dark hair has that two-hundred-dollar haircut all my clients seem to have. He keeps his beard thick but neatly trimmed, and even with his eyes narrowed into slits, I’m certain they’re deep brown, almost black. He’s attractive—very much so—but also intimidating.

When the girl notices my approach, her grip on the doorframe loosens as relief filters across her adorable, dimple-blemished face.

A mixture of protectiveness and old fear rises within me. I barge myself between her and the man ready to force her to submit—like my father always made me.

The stranger towers over me, easily six five, with a presence that could make anyone shrink. Still, I refuse to back down. Not this time. I could have avoided so much heartache if I’d stood my ground years earlier.

“Walk away. Now.” My tone wavers but still conveys confidence.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >119

Advertisement Crowned by the Ruthless Billionaire – Ravenous Royals Read Online Hope Ford http://www.books2020.com/crowned-read-online-the-ruthless-billionaire-ravenous-royals-read-online-hope-ford-2 Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:41 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/crowned-read-online-the-ruthless-billionaire-ravenous-royals-read-online-hope-ford-2 Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Mafia Authors: Hope Ford Advertisement

Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >24

After thirty-five years of marriage, I walked away from my husband.
Not because I stopped loving him.
Because somewhere along the way, I stopped feeling seen.
Robert Kingston is the ruthless mafia king of the south and feared by everyone around him.
But to me?
He’s Bobby. The man I built a life with. The man I’ve loved more than half my life.
Leaving him was supposed to help me find myself again.
Instead, it shattered us both.
Now his enemies are circling, another man is threatening me, and Bobby refuses to let me face any of it alone. He wants me back in his home, in his bed, and standing beside him where he believes I belong.
And the worst part?
I’m not sure I want to stay away anymore.
Because beneath the power, the violence, and the empire he built…
my husband is still the only man who’s ever owned my heart

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER 1

ELEANOR

I walk into my apartment and slip out of my high heels.

The sound of them falling onto the hardwood floor is loud and echoes off the walls. I drop my keys onto the counter, and the metallic clang is deafening.

Since I walked away from the Kingston family home, this is the one thing that always sticks out to me. This life is quiet. Most times, it’s a little too quiet.

I move through the apartment and try not to think about the loneliness.

I chose to be here. It was my choice to leave Robert Kingston, the Mafia king of the South.

I’m the one that wanted to leave my husband, the Mafia, the guards, the drivers, and the people that were always watching me.

I married into that life, and I knew what I was getting into. But over time, it had become too much. When Robert and I were first married, it was me and him against the world. But now it’s like all decisions are made before I can even voice my opinion. I was just there… and I couldn’t deal with it any longer.

I look around my apartment. I should be happy, but I’m not.

Because even though I asked for this, I miss my husband.

We’ve been married for thirty-five years, and I feel his absence.

I miss the way he used to look at me. I long for the way he’d slip his hand into mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. Heck, I miss just sitting in his office and watching him work.

My phone buzzes, and without even looking at the caller ID, I know it’s him. It’s as if my body is attuned to him or something.

I dig through my purse, glance at my phone, and see Bobby’s name flashing across the screen. I smile at the nickname. There’s no way I would call him that in front of anyone. To the rest of the world, he’s Robert, but to me, he’s always been Bobby.

I debate whether to answer it. I’m in no rush because I know if I don’t answer, he will just call again. I also know that if I don’t answer it at all, he will come looking for me.

I sigh. As much as I want to see him, I know that I’m not prepared to. I don’t have the strength to keep him at a distance. I’m weak, and if he comes in here demanding I come back home, I’m not sure I have it in me to say no right now. Not with him touching me and while I’m looking into his big brown eyes.

When the phone starts ringing again, I answer.

“Hey, Robert,” I say, using his full name to try and keep some kind of distance.

It sounds like he lets out a breath. “Ellie.”

I clench my eyes shut, hearing my nickname from his mouth. He knows the power he has over me, and he’ll use it to his advantage.

I try to keep my tone professional. “What do you want, Robert?”

He grunts. “Really? You need to ask me what I want? You know what I want. I want my wife, at home, in my bed.”

I walk over to the big bay windows and look down at the city below. “Well, I’m not coming home, so if that’s all you need, there’s no reason for us to continue talking.”

“Wait,” he hurries to say, as if he’s worried I’m going to hang up. “Ellie… Please… Talk to me.”

I sit down in the chair. “Fine. I will talk to you but not if it has anything to do with me coming home.”

He pauses. “Fine. Uh, Cole seems happy.”

I lean back in the chair and play with a strand of my hair, thinking back on our youngest son’s wedding. “Yeah, he is. Happier than I’ve ever seen him. Luna is good for him.”

Robert’s voice is gruff. “She reminds me of you. She thinks she can save the world.”

I shrug. “Maybe she can.”

His voice drops. “You think they’re going to make us grandparents soon?”

I chuckle. “Yes, I guarantee it. Probably sooner rather than later.”

He huffs out a breath, and I don’t have to see him to know that he’s running his hand over his face. “So maybe I didn’t fuck up as bad as I thought I did.”

I sit up at that. Robert has never been one to second-guess himself. He always does what he thinks is best, and as far as I know, he never thinks about it again. It’s not like him to question his actions. “What do you mean?” I ask.

His voice is strangled. “I uh, told the boys they had to get married.”

He’s silent, as if he just dropped a bombshell, and when I don’t react, he comments, “You already knew.”

I stand up and start pacing the living room. “Yeah, they told me.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >24

Advertisement Devilish Debt (The Debt Tales #3) Read Online Xavier Neal http://www.books2020.com/devilish-debt-the-debt-tales-3-read-online-xavier-neal Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:40 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/devilish-debt-the-debt-tales-3-read-online-xavier-neal Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Insta-Love Authors: Xavier Neal Series: The Debt Tales Series by Xavier Neal
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

From USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Xavier Neal comes an all-new MMF, age-gap, dark romance featuring a familiar face from The Hunted Trilogy with a spicy, contemporary fairy tale twist!Once upon a time, they were asked to find treasure.

Little did this trio know, the arrangement they agreed to was going to get a bit more devilish than the original fairy tale…

TROPE CHECK:
Fairytale Retelling
Dark Romance
Possessive Alpha
Ticking Clock
Fling-to-Forever

**This is a STANDALONE dark retelling, MMF reinvention of the Little Mermaid fairy tale intended for ADULT AUDIENCES

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Zero

Most people dream of dining with royalty.

Me?

I dread it.

Why?

‘Cause unlike the fairy tale shit you read about as a kid or see in movies, they’re not friendly.

They’re fucking ruthless.

And I’d know.

This isn’t the first one I’ve met.

Though, it is the first one to kidnap me.

Maybe this means I’m truly moving up in the food chain.

Or is that down?

Is trapping me big game hunter shit or more of a Cub Scout badge of honor sitch?

Prince Thaddeus Weslington of Hoalkey – an island country slightly smaller than Australia with some of the most beautiful beaches in the world – casually gestures his warm tan, open palm to the empty seat across from him. “Sit.”

Doesn’t seem in my best interest to deny the demand.

Could be because the same asshole who cornered me when I stepped out of my penthouse elevator to zip tie my hands, cover my head with a black bag, and throw me into what I imagine was the trunk of an SUV is giving off do it or die vibes.

Don’t care for those.

A lot like I don’t care for being here.

I may not be a pack animal – like at all – but I’d rather be in a pack right now than one on one with a hungry fucking predator that’s sizing up my lissome frame like I’m the next piece of meat he’s gonna slobber over.

He doesn’t wait for me to slink into the cream-colored plush seat to continue speaking, his English-like accent simultaneously sexy and scary, “You are quite a difficult man to locate, Mr. Fiorenzo.” The forkful of bloody steak soars towards his thin lips. “Even for me.”

“Apparently not difficult enough,” I mumble under my breath prior to glancing over my zebra striped shirt covered shoulder to further drink in the white tablecloth filled dining space that’s currently only occupied by him and his security team.

There’s one of me, and six of them.

Lurking.

Circling.

Like African wild dogs just waiting for me to run so they can chase.

Outpace.

Exhaust and eventually devour me.

Yeah, that’s not exactly the type of devouring I had in mind for my Wednesday night.

I was hoping to do a little non-gender specific feeding.

Particularly in the bathroom of my favorite club, The Kastle.

“Oh, do not pout, Fiorenzo,” insists the rectangular head shaped male, redirecting my attention to his smirking. “We have sources in similar circles.”

That’s not nearly as fucking comforting as he thinks it is.

Leaning defeatedly back into the chair occurs at the same time I grump, “Why am I here, Weslington?”

“Please,” he feigns politeness, “call me Thaddeus.”

“I’d rather call an Uber.”

Another smug smile is attached to a small fork waggle. “I was warned you had quite a sense of humor.”

“At least you were warned of something.” Folding my light sand toned fingers together occurs on my own phony grin. “Can’t say the same.”

Seriously.

I had no fucking clue this asshole wanted to see me.

Or even knew who the fuck I was.

Yeah, my reputation precedes me and shit, but like…you wanna talk?

Try texting me, my guy.

Thaddeus stabs another hunk of meat on his plate and announces, “I have a job for you.”

“I’m not looking for work.”

“Pardon,” haughtily chuckles the prince as he meets my gaze, “let me rephrase, Fiorenzo.” The expression instantly shifts to one that’s arctic cold. “You are going to do a job for me.”

See.

This is the shit I’m talking about.

The shit Disney doesn’t show unless you’re the “villain”.

Which all of those so-called princes really are.

Check ‘em out in the original formats.

They’re cruel, horny monsters.

Full stop.

End of Snap.

Cut the Tok.

Post stealing an annoyed glance out of the floor to ceiling windows currently showcasing Spike Village’s downtown skyline, I less than happily huff. “And why’s that?”

“Because you owe me debt.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

“I would beg to differ.”

“You can beg, borrow, or barter, my guy, but it doesn’t change shit.”

“You hacked into my country’s national criminal database through a backdoor you installed – via an Interpol program – to extract sensitive information for a client of yours who then proceeded to use said information during what had become quite a hostile negotiation.”

Yeah.

That was me.

I was young and dumb and did sloppy shit like any other fifteen-year-old.

But I’m not gonna cop to it.

Besides, that was over a decade ago.

Eleven years to be exact.

Whatever “charges” he wants to try to bring me in on – assuming he could even fucking prove them – are past their statute of limitations in this country.

And I know that for a fact.

Beni’ of having an attorney in your back pocket even if you really wish you had him in your front.

Or on your front.

Or on his knees.

Or you on yours.

Again.

Not picky.

I would hit save on any and all of those.

“Hacking is most certainly an illegal offense, Fiorenzo.”

“Debatable.”

“Keeping your name from being brought up in certain circles is a feat worthy of payment.”

“Overkill.”

“You only believe that because you are convinced that holding you accountable for the aforementioned cybercrime is impossible due to it being past its prosecution date.” He prepares to slide the bite into his mouth. “Am I correct in my assumption?”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Advertisement Diesel’s Last Chance – Steel Sinners MC Read Online Loni Ree http://www.books2020.com/diesels-last-chance-steel-sinners-mc-read-online-loni-ree Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:38 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/diesels-last-chance-steel-sinners-mc-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Dark, MC Authors: Loni Ree Advertisement

Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >37

Steel Sinners MC
What happens in Vegas...
At Elysium, visitors can find whatever guilty pleasure they seek, as long as they don’t cross the line. Because this casino is run by the Steel Sinners Motorcycle Club, a morally-gray found family of alpha men who are soft only for the women who love them.
This insta-love MC series will take you on a ride you’ll never forget, but don’t worry. The HEA is always guaranteed. Follow Pope as he guides his crew of rough and dirty men through a Vegas nightlife filled with danger, surprises, and love. These OTT protective men will stop at nothing to claim what’s theirs, even if it means calling in favors from Pope’s cousins in the Steel Rebels and Steel Order MCs, and maybe even from Pope’s estranged twin brother who leads their Reno rivals, the Steel Aces.
This is a multi-author series set in Las Vegas and the shared Steel Sinners MC world. Each book can be read as a standalone

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

DIESEL

The air in The Boneyard Garage is thick as gravy, a swirling mix of grease hanging heavy in the humidity, the scorched scent of coffee from this morning, and the sharp, bitter bite of steel filings drifting around like invisible grit. Every breath I drag in, it hits me right in the chest. The fumes, the clang of metal on metal. This place is real in a way the Strip out there never is, all shimmering heat and showmanship, everything riding on luck and flash. Here, reality is measured in torque and horsepower. No smoke and mirrors.

It’s a typical Thursday in the garage. The sun’s barely come up, and I’m elbow-deep in the guts of a vintage Mustang, chrome and polish warping my face into a funhouse version of reality as I lean in closer. My hair's tied up and already escaping, strands sticking out in every direction, and my knuckles are black with grease that isn’t coming off any time soon. It’ll take three showers and half a gallon of industrial soap to even make a dent in it. But that’s the job. There’s nothing fast or fancy about it, not in here. Just sweat, stripped bolts, and that slow, patient hunt for what makes this car more than a pretty shell.

It is quiet, mostly. The sound of Benny’s classic rock station hums in the background, competing with the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of Jax trying to find where he parked his torque wrench for the fourth time this hour. I don't look up when Jax curses under his breath. This is my sanctuary. Here, every problem has a mechanical solution. You turn the bolt, the pressure changes, the engine sings. People are significantly more complicated.

My phone starts vibrating on the workbench, dancing a frantic little jig next to a pile of gaskets. I don't look at it. I'm in the zone, that sweet spot where the rest of the world just falls away into the background noise of the shop.

It buzzes again. And again. The sound is an intrusion, a jagged edge cutting through the smooth rhythm of my work. I wipe my hands on a rag that has seen better decades and squint at the screen through the smudge of a fingerprint. It’s Alana. My little sister doesn’t call three times in a row unless someone is dying or she’s found a vintage leather jacket she absolutely needs me to bankroll.

"Hey, kid," I say, pressing the phone to my ear with a clean-ish shoulder while I try to keep a stubborn bolt in place. "If this is about that bike you want, the answer is still no. You’re too fast for your own good as it is."

"Diesel." Her voice is shrill and sharp. It isn't the playful tone of a sister looking for a favor or the sassy retort I usually expect. It’s the sound of someone who is holding back a scream, or perhaps already letting one out in slow motion.

I drop the wrench. It hits the concrete floor with a heavy, final thud that echoes through the rafters. Jax stops his pacing, and even Benny looks up from the ‘Vette. They know that tone. It’s the sound that turns a mechanic back into a Sinner.

"What happened?" I ask, my voice dropping into the low, dangerous register that usually makes people start backing toward the nearest exit. I’m already moving toward the sink, ignoring the grease as I grab a handful of industrial grit soap. "Are you hurt? Where are you?"

"I’m fine. I’m at the apartment, but it’s Serenity," Alana says, her breath hitching in a way that makes my chest tighten. "It’s bad, Diesel. There’s a guy from her accounting class. He’s been following her, and today he emailed a picture of her sleeping. Through the window. He was outside our place last night."

The soap bubbles in my hands turn a murky, dark gray, but all I can see is Serenity’s face. Not the way I usually try to picture her—smiling, safe, tucked away in the 'off-limits' corner of my brain—but vulnerable. Terrified. I think of her eyes, that specific shade of blue that always reminded me of the sky right before a desert storm, and I feel a cold, hard knot of rage settle behind my ribs.

"Did you call the police?" I ask, though I already know the answer. Campus security is a joke, and the LAPD doesn't move for a stalker until there’s a body to outline in chalk. My little sister knows how the world works; she grew up in the shadow of the chrome skull.

"They said they can't do anything because he hasn't threatened her yet," Alana spits the words out like they're poison. "He’s lurking, Diesel. She’s terrified to leave the room. She’s sitting on the floor right now, and she won’t even look at her phone because he keeps calling from blocked numbers. I don't know what to do."

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >37

Advertisement Drifter – Satan’s Fury MC – Little Rock Read Online L. Wilder http://www.books2020.com/drifter-satans-fury-mc-little-rock-read-online-l-wilder Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:36 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/drifter-satans-fury-mc-little-rock-read-online-l-wilder Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Insta-Love, MC Authors: L. Wilder Advertisement

Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

Some men are born drifters. Others are just waiting to find their way home.
Wall Street Journal and USA Today Best Seller L. Wilder brings you a new addition to the Satan’s Fury MC- Little Rock series that will have you rooting for new beginnings.
Loss is tough.
Some learn to live with the grief and move on.
I couldn’t.
There were too many memories.
It hurt too much, so I packed up and left.
I spent years trying to outrun my ghosts
And then, a threat drew me back in.
It wasn’t my fight.
Hell, it wasn’t even my chapter.
I was only in Little Rock to deliver a warning.
I never intended to stay.
And I certainly never intended to meet her.
She was beautiful and soft in all the ways that can undo a man.
And she unraveled me without even trying.
I had no business getting tied up with her, but I couldn’t stay away.
She reminded me what it was like to have something worth living for.
Now, I had to make a choice.
Stay lost or find my way home

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHARACTER LIST:

Preacher- (Hudson) President

Sons- Beckett and Memphis

Tabitha- Ol’ Lady

Sergei, Viktor, and Nikolai- her sons

Creed- Vice President (Jameson)

Devin

Devin’s kids- Austin and Chrissy

Seven- (Holt) Sergeant of Arms

Tallie-ol’ lady

Ford- son

Blade- club doctor

Grim- (Lawson) Enforcer

Jenna is his ol’ lady

Luna is Jenna’s daughter

Skid- son

Sheppard- Club Hacker

Ghost- (Sutton) Brother

Casey- Ol’ lady

Toby- Casey’s son

Memphis- (Weston) Brother

Antonia- ol’ lady

Rusty- Brother

Goose- (Luke) Brother

Presley- ol’ lady

Dagger- Brother

Garrison-his son

Duggar- Prospect

Jonesy- Prospect

Skid- (Thatcher)

Grim’s son

Ol’ Lady- Laken

Baylor is Laken’s daughter and Bunny B

Smitty- Prospect

Lil Nix- Fallen Prospect

Zeke- New Prospect

PROLOGUE

It’s funny how quick a decent day can go to complete shit.

I’d been out riding, minding my own business and taking in the sunshine, and it came time to fill up the tank. I pulled into the gas station and parked next to the pump like I’d done a million times, and as soon as I took off my helmet, I opened my saddle bag for my wallet.

I reached in without thinking, and my knuckles brushed up against the small bear I kept tucked inside. I don’t know why I kept it. I should’ve tossed it years ago, but I never could seem to part with the damn thing.

I picked it up and ran the pad of my thumb along its back. Its fur wasn’t as soft as it used to be. It wasn’t quite as white either. And its tiny shirt was now nothing more than worn patches.

It might’ve been old and tattered, but it still brought the same sting, taking me back to a time I’d tried to put behind me.

I could almost feel their presence in the air--could almost hear her singing to him, the sound of her voice low and soft.

‘A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck.’

God, how I missed that sound, along with his giggling in the background. He was always laughing and smiling and tangling his little fingers in my beard.

‘A hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap.’

They filled my dark world with light and joy. That was something I thought I would never truly find or even want, but they made me long for it.

‘A barrel and a heap, and I’m talking in my sleep about you.’

And now, it was gone.

My throat tightened as the silence settled around me.

Somewhere in the distance, there were cars driving by and people carrying on their lives. They were reminders that the world kept turning, but some wounds don’t move with it.

They stay, and they burrow deep, never letting go.

It had been five years, long enough for the ache to dull, but it hadn’t. I doubted it ever would. And I was okay with that. I didn’t want to forget.

I wanted to remember. I wanted to remember every damn second.

I had it all back then.

A club full of brothers who’d give their lives to protect mine. A woman who looked at me like I was something better than I could’ve ever thought of being, and a kid who had a smile that had a way of breaking my heart and putting it back together again all at the same time.

I had a family. A home. Something to look forward to at the end of a long day. I closed my fist around the toy, pressing it into my hand as the memory cut through me all over again.

One blink.

That’s all it took.

One second, I had it all, and the next, it was ripped from me so fast that there was nothing left but smoke, blood, and the kind of gut-wrenching heartache that never goes away. Not completely.

I made them pay for what they did.

God help me, I made them pay.

One by one, I hunted them down like the animals they were. I could still hear the sounds of cracking bones, the wet choke of their final breaths, and the way my rage burned hot enough to blur out the grief.

At least, for a little while.

Killing them should’ve been enough.

It wasn’t.

It didn’t bring the laughter back. It didn’t warm the empty side of the bed or fill the house with her scent. And it sure as hell didn’t bring back his little fingers wrapped around mine.

I opened my hand again and stared down at the tiny bear he once held. I ran my fingers over it again, slower this time, chasing a memory that was just out of reach. I shook my head as the old anger rose deep within, dark and familiar, curling low in my gut. It had lived there for almost five years. Most days, I was able to keep it locked down.

I buried it under miles of asphalt and the steady rumble of my bike.

But tonight it resurfaced in full force, leaving me wondering what the hell to do with it. Damn. The cycle never seemed to end.

But who knows. Maybe tomorrow will be different.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll finally be able to take in a breath without feeling the ache of guilt rattling in my chest. Only time would tell.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

Advertisement Falling for My Ex-Boyfriend’s Billionaire Uncle Read Online Marian Tee http://www.books2020.com/falling-for-my-ex-boyfriends-billionaire-uncle-read-online-marian-tee Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:35 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/falling-for-my-ex-boyfriends-billionaire-uncle-read-online-marian-tee Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Insta-Love Authors: Marian Tee Advertisement

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >27

Kyara’s billionaire boss wants to steal her heart…while her ex-boyfriend wants to destroy her.

For three years, Lyrius Havington has held his possessiveness and jealousy in check. But when he finally pulls her into his arms for a kiss that makes both of them forget everything…why is she pushing him away? Why is she still choosing that boy over him?
For three years, Kyara has been a faithful girlfriend to Cyrus…only to find out he’s a liar, a cheat, and now—a blackmailer?
Come when I call…or I’ll burn your boss’s life to the ground

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Three Years Ago

Lyrius

Short red hair. A lovely face that somehow reminds me of a green-eyed kitten, only this one wears oval-framed glasses, a buttoned-up blouse, and a pencil skirt that modestly ends a few inches below her knees.

There’s something old-fashioned about her, which some may even see as prudish.

But for me she’s prim and perfect, and that’s what doesn’t make sense at all.

She’s the exact opposite of the kind of woman I usually date, so why can’t I take my eyes off her?

“Sir?”

My assistant’s voice yanks me back to reality, and I swiftly turn my attention back to her. “What is it?”

She looks at me suspiciously, but I only gaze back at her impassively, knowing that if I say a word, it would just let the older woman know she’s rattled me. Her intuition is the main reason why I hired her over everyone else—

“Is there someone among the trainees you recognize? Or someone you believe would be a good fit for your office?”

But it’s also the worst thing about having her as an assistant, with how she makes it impossible for me to lie to myself.

I force myself to look back at the training room, where over a hundred applicants are hard at work answering test after test in hopes of working for our company. While the room’s two-way windows allow us to observe from the outside without being seen ourselves, I’m conscious of how my assistant is closely paying attention to where I look as I let my gaze sweep over the room one last time.

And truthfully, I am tempted.

I’ve never been the type to leave things to chance nor have I ever shied away from taking control if I see the slightest opening to dominate. What I want, I pursue relentlessly. But because I’ve also never been the type to mix business with pleasure—

You know better, Havington.

My gaze sweeps past the girl that catches my eye without pause, and my expression remains impassive when I look back at my assistant. “My decision remains the same,” I tell her. “You’re the one who has to train her. So pick whoever you think is best.”

“If you say so, Mr. Havington.” Lara’s gaze has turned thoughtful as she says this, and I wonder if this is something her Army husband has taught her. She’s making me feel defensive even though I know I haven’t done anything wrong.

I’m a man before I’m anyone’s boss, and a girl’s caught my eye.

I’m doing my duty by keeping my interest to myself and letting Lara do the picking.

So why the heck do I still feel like my world’s about to turn upside-down?

Kyara

Once, there were 128. Went down to 44. And then there’s us, the remaining ten college graduates who were officially given job offers by Wallace International, and I...I think I have to bite my lip really hard because I can’t possibly squee.

The envelope H.R. slides across the table is fancy. Like, really fancy. I’m not sure what it’s made of—something sturdier than plain paper, but something more expensive than cardboard? Should I know what this is, just to fit in?

To-do #2 Know your paper types.

But anyway, what’s inside is what matters the most, and...oh?

Aside from the usual details about compensation, a rule book for employees, a separate glossy brochure of the company history, the thing that matters the most has been reduced to...four digits?

I’m supposed to work for 7003?

Someone whistles beside me, the sound making me look up, and...double oh.

It’s Cyrus, the first-placer in our group of ten because he scored the highest marks on all the tests and interviews in our application period, which were the most grueling three months of my life. But, like, in a good way. As in, you get to learn something new every day, and anyway, I know I’m digressing.

The point is, Cyrus, who’s blond, attractive, and just so well-dressed at all times that a part of me is just dying to ask him for style advice—he and I never really had a chance to talk in the past three months, and that’s why—

“That’s rare,” Cyrus remarks.

I forget all about the oddness of him suddenly being friendly at his words. “You know what it means then?” Because I’m honestly stumped. What does 7003 have to do with my being accepted for a job?

My question makes him smile for some reason, and while I know all of the girls in our training batch think he’s cute and all—

His smile is really refreshing because it’s not the kind of smile you’d ever get from the usual sexual predators and drunks that my mom loves to date. Cyrus’s is a good, harmless smile, and so I allow myself to smile back. It just feels good to be in the company of a normal guy, you know?

“It’s a Wallace International thing,” Cyrus continues, leaning closer like he’s letting me in on something. “When you get hired, you get the room number, and then you try to find your way there without asking.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >27