J.J. McAvoy – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

J.J. McAvoy – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Mon, 25 Mar 2024 04:50:51 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png J.J. McAvoy – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Hathor and the Prince (The Dubells #3) Read Online J.J. McAvoy http://www.books2020.com/hathor-and-the-prince-the-dubells-3-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Mon, 25 Mar 2024 04:50:51 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/hathor-and-the-prince-the-dubells-3-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction Authors: J.J. McAvoy Series: The Dubells Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)

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Hathor Du Bell is on her own path to find love in the third installment of J. J. McAvoy's Regency romance series, following Aphrodite and the Duke and Verity and the Forbidden Suitor.

Hathor Du Bell has always fought to break free from the shadow left by her revered older sister, Aphrodite. It has been two years since Hathor’s debut, and while Aphrodite is a duchess, Hathor has been left with the most boring, incomparable suitors of the ton. With the London season coming to a close, Hathor’s anxieties reach a peak. Will she be the only Du Bell unable to find her perfect match?

Then Hathor’s wildest dream comes true when the Queen announces she’ll be presenting Prince Wilhelm Augustus Karl Von Edward of Malrovia during the week-long society event at the Du Bells’ Belclere Castle. But the dream quickly crumbles when Hathor is face to face with the prince, and he is nothing like she imagined.

A flirtatious rivalry sparks a genuine romance, meanwhile Hathor fights to make a name of her own, despite society’s expectations of her. Amidst the grand balls and growing feelings, the final events of the season promise to be the most romantic and shocking of them all.

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

1

Hathor

My name is Hathor Du Bell.

Not Heather, but Ha-ther. However, not a soul exists outside of my family and our servants who pronounces my name properly, so my papa instructed that I correct people each and every time, for he was quite proud of my name—Hathor, the Egyptian goddess of the sky, women, and love. As a child, I treasured nothing more than to listen to his tales of my ancient namesake. As an adult—well, as much of an adult as I was permitted to be—I felt quite goaded by the name, for my dear papa had left out one critical fact, which I realized on my own. The goddess Hathor was, and forever will be, in the shadow of the goddess Isis, and the Greek counterpart for Isis is Aphrodite—the name my papa bestowed upon my elder sister. Thus, I always found myself overflowing with a childish desire to outshine her.

It was a war I declared of my own volition.

A war my sister did not even acknowledge, yet she defeated me in every battle. My sister was supremely victorious whether it was in music, dancing, reading, languages…beauty. Just like her ancient namesake, Aphrodite, was the ideal, the very measure of accomplishment. It had been two years, one month, two weeks, one day, and five hours since she had become known as Her Grace, the Duchess of Everely. Her greatest triumph. And though I was truly happy for her, there existed in me a deep hurt, an unattended wound somewhere within that left me in anguish. I knew not where this wound was, but I was sure of my attacker.

It was Aphrodite.

Even now, despite the distance between us, I felt her sword striking once more.

“Pregnant!” my mama, Lady Deanna Du Bell, the Marchioness of Monthermer, all but proclaimed to us as she rushed into the study. “Aphrodite is pregnant!”

“Truly? How wonderful!” My father grinned, tossing his book onto the table in haste to see the letter my mother waved like a royal decree before us. If anyone knew anything about my father, Lord Charles Du Bell, the Marquess of Monthermer, it was that he did not toss books lightly.

“Yes, she is rather far along. She wished not to say anything until she was very well sure. Now that she is, she apologizes for not being able to make it this summer but assures us that despite persistent exhaustion and an insatiable appetite for bread-and-butter pudding, she is in good health.” My mother handed the letter to him, even though she had told him all its contents.

The grin on my father’s white face was so wide I could count every wrinkle. “If I remember correctly, you were similarly afflicted while pregnant with Damon. The whole estate smelled like a bakery for weeks.”

“Did someone say my name?” Damon questioned as he entered the study, carrying in his arms a small girl, not yet two, with light brown skin and the curliest brown hair. Immediately upon seeing her, my mother rushed to take her into her arms.

“Mini, you are going to be a big cousin soon.” My mother kissed her cheek. The girl’s name was actually Minerva, Minerva Du Bell, as Damon had sought to keep Father’s tradition of styling all daughters after goddesses. However, everyone had taken to calling her Mini, a nickname bestowed by none other than our youngest sister, Abena, who was most glad to have someone younger to order around now. Mini, though, had no clue what Mother rambled to her.

“Truly?” Damon smiled the same as our father as he stood next to him to see the letter. Over the years, I had noticed that while Damon looked completely like our mother, he had inherited all of our father’s personality traits—except book reading. Mother’s skin was a warm brown, just like Damon’s, and their eyes were the same shade of dark brown. “What grand news. I will write to Evander to congratulate him. If the boy is born before Christmas, maybe we will spend the new year with them at Everely since they cannot make it this summer.”

“The boy?” My father chuckled. “How are you so certain the child will be a boy?”

“Did you not say Mother was similar when pregnant with me? Odite always does everything in Mother’s image. Besides, Evander has a daughter already, so I’m sure a boy will supply some comfort,” Damon explained.

“Strange that you provided no such comfort with your birth, only greater concern.” My father chuckled, causing Damon to roll his eyes, which then fell upon me as I sat in the corner of the room behind my easel.

“Hathor? I did not even realize you were in here,” Damon said.

“Yes, I noticed. Mama did not either,” I replied as I sketched the book stacks behind them to the best of my ability.

“I very well did notice you, my dear. I was merely waiting for you to offer your excitement at this joyous news. Why are you just sitting there?” my mother said as she bounced Mini in her arms. And they all looked at me, waiting.

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Advertisement Verity and the Forbidden Suitor (The Dubells #2) Read Online J.J. McAvoy http://www.books2020.com/verity-and-the-forbidden-suitor-the-dubells-2-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Mon, 24 Apr 2023 15:56:02 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/verity-and-the-forbidden-suitor-the-dubells-2-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Genre: Alpha Male, Forbidden, Historical Fiction Authors: J.J. McAvoy Series: The Dubells Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 116547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)

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A spirited and independent heiress defies the expectations of society to chase happily ever after in this irresistible romance from the author of Aphrodite and the Duke.

With her brother, the Duke of Everely, married off to the beautiful and charming Aphrodite Du Bell, Verity Eagleman feels more alone than ever within the cold halls of the family estate. So when she's invited to stay in the Du Bells' clamorous, boisterous home, she leaps at the chance.

When Verity crosses paths with Theodore Darrington, the doctor who saved her brother's life, she can't help but notice how her heart flutters anytime he is near. But as the estranged bastard son of the Marquess of Whitmear, Theodore is forbidden to pursue anyone of the noble set. Despite being popular amongst the ton for both his heroic efforts and handsome charm, Theodore knows that no amount of social capital will allow him to be with the woman he secretly loves. Luckily for him, Verity has never cared much for the rules of society. . . .

A forbidden romance blossoms as Verity and Theodore give in to their all-consuming passion, with any thought of scandal flung to the side. But when the concerns of their friends and family begin to loom over their love, will they truly be able to break the rules?

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

1

Verity

I am not a Du Bell.

But oh, how I longed to be. Not for title or wealth, nor even prestige and influence, as my family name, Eagleman, held all the same to even greater extents as a dukedom. With the exception of being a princess, there is no higher birth a girl could have than my own. And I was very much aware of the many who envied my life. Despite the many scandals of my household—my father’s affairs and illegitimate son, my mother’s misery and then death, followed by my father’s wholly inappropriate marriage to my stepmother, a butcher’s daughter; not to mention Evander, my elder brother, and his own marriage mishaps—there was no shortage of people asserting how fortunate I was to be born Lady Verity Eagleman. But given the choice, I would have preferred to be born Lady Verity Du Bell. To be born into a home filled with warmth, laughter, and teasing. A home filled to the brim with overwhelming love.

Instead, love seemed to always evade me. As though it had some personal vendetta against me. Evander was the godson of the Marchioness of Monthermer, Lady Deanna Du Bell, and as such was afforded many opportunities to experience such tender emotions with the family. I, on the other hand, was kept away from them and society at the behest of my father. By the time he passed, Evander had made a mess of our connection with the Du Bells, and, consequently, no other chances presented themselves.

Now, as I watched the candlelight of my brother’s carriage fade into the darkness, taking him and his perfect new wife, Lady Aphrodite, to their long-awaited happily ever after, the opportunity had arrived, only I knew not how to stand before this family or society at all.

I was alone.

The name Verity means truth, and yet I felt as if I were nothing but a lie. In front of most people, I sought to appear confident, self-reliant, but the truth is I was afeard…of so much.

“I cannot believe it is done,” said the marquess to his wife, whom he held openly within his arms, as we all stood before the gates of their London estate.

“After all these years, you still underestimate me, my dear?” the marchioness replied with her head held high, appearing pleased with herself.

The marquess was a man of white skin and golden hair that was nearly all gray now, with sharp blue eyes that always seemed focused upon either his family or a book. His wife was the opposite of him, with rich brown skin deeper in shading than my own and curly brown hair that she kept pinned up neatly. Rather than books, her brown eyes read people with frightening accuracy.

“Underestimate? Never. Stand in awe of your power? Always. Well done, my dear.” He squeezed her arm slightly, making her laugh while their eldest son groaned.

Damon Du Bell, the Earl of Montagu, also stood beside his wife, Silva, whose face was a bit round with a nose a bit short, but her demeanor was pleasant. They were locked, arm in arm, very much a parallel set to his parents. The look on Damon’s face showed he was not keen on the elder couple’s public display of affection, even as he mimicked them.

“One would think that you would have some restraint at your ages,” Damon said to them as though he were the parent.

“Dear,” Silva muttered in apprehension.

“You should thank heaven we do not, or you would not exist,” his father replied, making the marchioness’s eyes widen.

“Charles!”

“Father!”

“What are you all talking about?” questioned the youngest Du Bell, Abena, her little face bunched in confusion. Alongside her were two of her sisters, Hathor and Devana, and her brother Hector.

“Nothing!” said the marchioness and her eldest son in unison.

“That does not seem like nothing,” Abena pressed, frowning. “Are you keeping a secret?”

“Yes, they are,” said Hathor, the second Du Bell daughter, causing Abena to look to her for an answer. “Mama and Papa were thinking of sending you off to a professional pot washer, seeing as how you’ve become so good at it of late.”

Hector and Devana giggled and then laughed outright as Abena looked at her parents in horror.

“No, Papa!” Abena ran to her father, holding on to his waist for dear life, which made the marquess bend to her level and hug her.

“She is merely teasing you,” he comforted her.

But at that moment, it was I who felt pain.

What must it have been like to hug one’s father, one’s own mother even?

I did not know.

I stood before one of the most prominent and amiable families in all the ton, one I had always wished to be a part of, yet now I desperately desired to escape their blissful company. The irony.

“Verity, my dear, are you well?” the marchioness asked, stepping away slightly from her husband toward me.

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Advertisement Aphrodite and the Duke (Aphrodite and the Duke #1) Read Online J.J. McAvoy http://www.books2020.com/aphrodite-and-the-duke-aphrodite-and-the-duke-1-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Mon, 03 Oct 2022 08:16:41 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/aphrodite-and-the-duke-aphrodite-and-the-duke-1-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Genre: Historical Fiction, Romance Authors: J.J. McAvoy Series: Aphrodite and the Duke Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)

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A jilted beauty and a regretful duke discover that second chances can be divine in this diverse Regency romance for fans of Bridgerton

Second chances are even sweeter. . . .

Aphrodite Du Bell has always resented her name. While the members of the ton, and even the queen herself, praise her warm brown skin, perfect curls, and exquisite features, Aphrodite can't help but think that living up to the literal goddess of beauty is asking a bit much. Her renowned loveliness certainly didn't stop the love of her life from jilting her and marrying another woman four years ago.

When Aphrodite's formidable mother summons her back to London to aid in her sister's debut, she has no choice but to acquiesce. But Aphrodite is determined to ignore one man in particular: Evander Eagleman, the Duke of Everely, the man who devastated her all those years ago. Yet why does her guileless heart still flutter at the sight of him?

Evander Eagleman lost his chance for true love, but now that he is an unattached widower, he is determined to win back Aphrodite's trust--and her hand in marriage. But just as the couple make strides to mend old wounds, Evander's true reason for rejecting Aphrodite threatens their coveted future . . . and even their lives.

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

1

Aphrodite

My name is Aphrodite Du Bell.

Yes, truly. Aphrodite, as in the goddess of love and beauty. A name wholly magnificent, yet, to my mind, utterly cruel to give a child, for who could live up to such a grandiose mantle? Was it not daring all the world to measure a young lady’s beauty not against her peers but against a goddess? If she did not meet the measure, she would be left to ridicule and mockery. Should she be blessed with extraordinary beauty, she would be cursed with the expectation of magnificence. Failing to meet that expectation would also herald ridicule and mockery. It is an unforgiving name, and I believed it was fated to bring forth some great tragedy, just as in the myths.

For all the stars in the sky, I could not fathom why Father and Mother had given me this burden. Even upon asking them, they had no remorse for their actions and thought themselves quite clever. So much so, they proceeded to name my three younger sisters after goddesses as well, though they were more fortunate than I with their names—Hathor, Devana, and Abena. If you were not as scholarly as my father—who had taught much to my mother in terms of Egyptian, Slavic, and West African mythology—you might be utterly unaware that those were the names of deities. So my sisters’ burdens did not equal my own. And my two brothers, named after heroes, Damon and Hector, made off quite easily as well, though they were men, and such were their lives.

We were the six children of Lord Charles Du Bell, the Marquess of Monthermer, and Lady Deanna. To all the world that mattered, we were among the most prominent families, fortunate with title, wealth, wit, beauty, and of course, a loving home, which was Belclere Castle. With the exception of my elder brother, not one ill word could have been uttered about any one of us…until certain events came about in my life. After years of running away I was now in a carriage on my way back to London society.

“The man is a fiend, a wolf among men just like his father was,” my dear brother Damon complained.

“Careful, my dear, you shall wake her,” his soft-spoken new wife, Silva, said in reply, believing I had somehow managed to fall asleep. I could feel the pressure of their gaze upon me.

“We have only just succeeded in convincing her to return,” my brother whispered. Damon had many talents, but holding his tongue was never one of them. “Now sister’s letter says that beast will also return to London this season.”

They were speaking of him. Rather than betray any inner workings of my mind or heart, I kept my eyes closed.

“It is to be expected. Does he not have a sister due to come out as well?” Silva asked.

It was to be expected. As our sister Hathor and his sister, Verity, had now come of age, at eighteen.

“I may have forgotten, but surely our mother did not. She should have instructed Hathor to wait another year to spare us the reopening of this wound.”

How unfair that would have been to Hathor.

“Do you believe she did not know? The duke is a widower now,” Silva said.

“After the disgrace and humiliation he delivered to my family? He does not deserve even the poorest of women, let alone my sister. I will never allow it.”

“It is not you who would be called to allow it but your father. And should your mother wish it, your father will allow it.”

The sound that came from his chest was one of evident frustration. Again, his wife was right.

“If my mother arranged this on purpose…” He sighed heavily. “I am at a loss as to the state of her mind. How could she possibly forgive him?”

“Is she not his godmother?”

“Is my sister not her daughter?” he retorted angrily.

“Calm, my dear.”

Once more, they were silent and undoubtedly examining me to see if I had awakened. But I had become proficient in the art of feigning sleep. It was all in the breathing.

“He may be her godson, and his mother may have been her very best friend, but surely none of that can overcome the love of a mother for her daughter.” He spoke resolutely, so it was only natural that his wife agreed.

“Then, by your reasoning, it cannot have been done on purpose, so you can spare your jaw any further tension,” Silva replied. The soft laughter between them nearly made me break my act, as I wished to smile alongside them.

My brother Damon, though kind and sweet to his family, had had the reputation of a rake in society before he wed the young Miss Silva Farbridge, the only daughter of a baron. It came as a surprise to everyone, even my mother, who had an eye for these things. The many women he’d had dalliances with were rumored to be very handsome indeed. Miss Silva Farbridge, however, was thought to be quite plain. She, a lady he had seemingly overlooked, and he, a lord that all were sure she did not like, until a few weeks ago when they became beside themselves in love. I was unaware of what had brought this love to fruition, and the two of them held that secret close. The only explanation they offered anyone was simply that their previous encounters had been misunderstandings. No one asked anything more, and they were quickly married, though I was desperately curious.

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Advertisement My Midnight Moonlight Valentine (Vampire’s Romance #1) Read Online J.J. McAvoy http://www.books2020.com/my-midnight-moonlight-valentine-vampires-romance-1-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Mon, 03 Oct 2022 08:16:40 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/my-midnight-moonlight-valentine-vampires-romance-1-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance, Vampires, Witches Authors: J.J. McAvoy Series: Vampire's Romance Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 122946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)

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Druella Monroe is a vampire, but she hasn’t been one for long. Ever since her rebirth a year ago, she’s done her best to live a quiet, peaceful life as an art conservator and restorationist at The National Gallery of Art. All she wants is to blend in with the humans.

However that all gets thrown out the window one night while hunting in Great Falls Park, where Druella comes across a naked vampire with no memory of how he got there, or the last century for that matter. All he seems to be sure of is that she is his soulmate…and he won’t leave without her.

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

“Monster, monster,

stay longer, stay longer,

shine bright all night,

like the moonlight at midnight

for a witch’s sight.”

PART I:

AMERICA

Chapter 1

I was a romance novel junkie. I’d been one since I was fourteen and forced to read Pride & Prejudice for my Introduction to Great Literature class, during freshmen year. I’m not sure why it clicked then; I’d read Romeo + Juliet in middle school. Well…I mean I’d seen the movie, but all I ended up thinking afterward was how stupid both of the characters were and how young Leonardo DiCaprio was cute. It wasn’t really until high school that my heart ached for them, two fictional characters who may or may not have existed hundreds of years ago. And not just them, I’d gotten attached to Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester, Emma and Mr. Knightley, Margaret Hale and Mr. Thornton. It wasn’t all classic literature, either. I enjoyed Wesley and Buttercup, Claire and Jamie, heck even Peeta & Katniss…though some would argue The Hunger Games was not a romance novel. With each book I read, with each couple I was introduced to, I couldn’t help but wonder, how would my love story begin? Would I hate the guy and then slowly fall in love with him over time, because those secretly were my favorite type of stories. Who didn’t enjoy witty banter and stolen glances?

I wanted to know. I so badly wanted to know. And yet, every guy I’d ever met seemed to fail to spark anything in me. It was wrong to compare them to romance heroes. I knew that, and I should try to get to know people first before writing them off because there weren’t any fireworks. However, it didn’t change how I felt or the disappointments I’d gone through in the past.

A friend of mine in college told me once, “The moment you stop looking, you’re going to run smack into the man of your dreams.”

I wanted to tell her I read that in a book, too, but I let it go. So long as I kept living, I was going to keep thinking about it. I couldn’t help it; it was just how my brain worked. I saw romantic plots everywhere. So, nothing romantic ever touched me. It made me colder toward real love. I called it the romance reader’s curse. Nothing was stronger…expect death.

And man, did I die.

And with death, I became a junkie for something else.

Blood.

It was all I could think about today. I’d waited for hours for the sun to go down and for the humans to go to sleep so I could finally, desperately sink my teeth into something and drink. I’d driven to my favorite forest and parked my car on the edge of the road before running as fast and far as my feet could take me, enjoying the rush as I hunted, the sound of deer as they ran from me, feeling my presence. That was supposed to be my dinner…deer. When I smelled it, the honey-like scent of human blood—a lot of it—without even a second thought, I turned so quickly that I heard something snap under me. But I didn’t care to see what. I ran toward the smell only to stop at the sight of grey, not blue, but grey wolf-like eyes staring back at me. His white face and dark black, wavy hair caught in the moonlight.

He stood there as naked as the day he was born, staring back at me, as he drank from a blond-haired woman, who had gone limp in his arms. All around him, the bodies of other humans—seven total, five women and two men—lain like broken dolls upon the ground. He released the woman he currently drank from, and with one swift and easy motion tossed her at my feet. Unlike the rest, she was not bled dry, and I could hear the faint beating of her heart, fighting against hope to survive.

The aching need at the back of my throat burned, the smell of her sent tingles down my body, and I so badly wanted to taste her blood, but I stepped back and stopped when I heard a growl.

“Were you not taught manners, young one?” A deep, husky voice spoke with an accent I couldn’t place. And when I looked at the man, the vampire, stood only inches from me. His smooth bare muscular chest at my eye level forced me to look up. He had a slight 5 o’clock shadow across his defined jaw. “It is rude to waste food given to you.”

I took a moment to speak, too stunned by what I’d seen. “I—I don’t drink from humans.”

His eyebrow raised slightly. “What else is there to drink from? Rats?”

I shook my head. “Deer, and there are some bears—”

He growled and turned his head from me. “Such a fate repulses me.”

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Advertisement The Prince’s Bride – Part 1 (The Prince’s Bride #1) Read Online J.J. McAvoy http://www.books2020.com/the-princes-bride-part-1-the-princes-bride-1-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Mon, 03 Oct 2022 08:16:39 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-princes-bride-part-1-the-princes-bride-1-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Genre: Contemporary, Funny, New Adult, Romance Authors: J.J. McAvoy Series: The Prince's Bride Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)

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He is a spoiled playboy prince whose family is in desperate need of money.

She’s an American heiress who can only get her inheritance through marriage.

According to their families they are a perfect match.
According to each other, arranged marriages have no place in modern times and this could not possibly work.
But Prince Galahad “Gale” of Ersovia is bound by duty to obey the crown anyway.

Odette Wyntor doesn’t give a damn, she doesn’t want to get married.

Can he change her mind?

Can she even handle what it means to be royal, if he did?

The Prince’s Bride is Part 1 of a 2 part series.
Part 2 arrives a month later.

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

Chapter 1

OCTOBER 29

There is a secret amongst us nobles that we all know but never dare to say. It may have been the oldest, unspeakable yet obvious truth in all of Europe. It was the lie of nobility. But who among high society would be daft enough to admit that we were no better or worse, no more lord or ladylike than the masses? That a title did not bring with it class, wit, or morality...I am, of course, that daft for I am confessing this truth, this known secret to paper. Though what can anyone do to stop me?

In this modern era, a title did not even bring the two things it always had: power and respect. Royalty now was nothing more than a spectacle, and our duty was to entertain, and to entertain, one needed wealth. One needed wealth to ensure power and respect. Money made the aristocracy go round. The older the money, the better the ride. Nothing came much older than this family—the House of Monterey. The problem with old things, however, was their tendency to die. The problem with dying, especially when that death was not quick, was the will to survive no matter how futile it may be.

Nothing fought death more than a monarchy.

“Gale, are you listening to us?”

“I’m trying my very best not to, Mother,” I replied as I wrote, bracing myself for my father’s bellowing voice to lecture me into an early grave.

“You are not a boy anymore, Gale—”

“Mother, Father, he is kidding,” my brother cut in before our father could go any further. “He is listening more than he wants you all to know. It is only by acknowledging him that he will stop paying attention.”

Glancing up from my journal, I met their desperate eyes. My father stood like a puffed-up penguin in his dark suit by the fireplace, and beside him, sitting in her chair like the oil painting behind her, was my mother. Her white face seemed to pale with each passing second; the stress was getting to her. Both of them only held back their reprimands and anger at me for the sake of my elder brother. The only one uninterested—and allowed to be so—was my younger sister. She sat sprawled on the couch in her ripped jeans and oversized checkered sweater, nodding her red head to whatever depressing music she was listening to.

“Hello, brother. Welcome to the conversation; I am truly sorry to interrupt your writing. We were all merely discussing the future of our family.” The polite sarcasm dripped heavily as he set Persephone—the King Charles spaniel his wife had reduced him to babysitting while she was in Paris—onto a plush handmade, goose-feather pillow.

“Oh, were you?” I asked with the same tone. “And here I thought you were all deliberating on how to sacrifice my happiness for your own gain. Forgive me; carry on.”

“Gale, my dear, we would never want you to be unhappy,” my mother declared.

“Unless my unhappiness can ensure we remain a great and fabulously wealthy monarchy, of course, then what is a little unhappiness?”

“I have had enough of your selfishness!” my father hollered, his face already turning red from anger.

“My selfishness?” I called back. “It was not I who made bad investments! It was not I who caused our current distress, which cannot be as bad as you all make it seem. Yet it is I you are all trying to force to marry! If I am selfish for refusing, then you are selfish for asking!”

“Galahad Fitzhugh Cornelius Ed—”

“Present, Father, no need to call my whole name!” I cut in only to hear a slight snort of laughter from my sister. Apparently, she wasn’t listening to music at all.

“Enough!” The old man truly stomped his foot, and I would have laughed if I were not amazed. “You will marry whomever this family deems fit, or so help me I will...I will...disown you and banish you from this nation!”

“I’m still a citizen, Father. As king, you can banish me from the monarchy, but under the constitution, you need parliament to get me out of the nation.”

“Good to know we did not waste money on law school for you. But tell me, oh wise son of mine, with your history, do you think they will object?” For the first time since this conversation had started, the slight humor in his voice was evident. His eyes narrowed on me, and his head lifted high as if he’d already won.

Looking away from him, I turned to my sister, who I could always trust to help me drive our parents mad. “Eliza, did you hear that? He’s going to banish me. Whatever am I going to do?”

She pulled out one earbud and looked back to me in all seriousness. “There is only one thing you can do, and that’s to sell your body.”

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Advertisement My Sunrise Sunset Paramour (Vampire’s Romance #2) Read Online J.J. McAvoy http://www.books2020.com/my-sunrise-sunset-paramour-vampires-romance-2-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Mon, 03 Oct 2022 08:16:39 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/my-sunrise-sunset-paramour-vampires-romance-2-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance, Vampires, Witches Authors: J.J. McAvoy Series: Vampire's Romance Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)

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The sequel to My Midnight Moonlight Valentine, book two of the Vampire’s Romance Series…

“What must come must come,
What must be must be,
Nothing can stop fate…
Not even thee.”

The threads of fate are woven and in the heart of it all is a young vampire by the name of Druella. Who is her maker? Why is she abandoned? What is her purpose? And is this love of hers for Theseus Thorbørn, the Prince of Night, the vampire eternal, the key to her salvation or damnation?

All she wanted was to be normal among them, but magic will always have the final say. Picking up from My Midnight Moonlight Valentine’s cliffhanger ending, My Sunrise Sunset Paramour follows Druella and Theseus as they uncover the secrets that wiped away their memories a year ago.

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

“What must come, must come.

What must be, must be.

Nothing can stop fate,

Not even thee.”

* * *

My mind was full of quotes from dead men.

Everyone is a moon and has a dark side, which he never shows to anybody, said Mark Twain.

No matter how hard you fight the darkness, every light casts a shadow, and the closer you get to the light, the darker that shadow becomes, thought Plato.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before, wrote Edgar Allan Poe.

Their words flooded my mind instantly, almost as if they were trying to protect me, trying to block the words Theseus spoke from reaching me. Trying to keep me from giving in to this…this horror I felt rising inside me. But nothing could stop it, could stop his words from ripping through me.

“You took my memories…You killed me, Druella,” he said before his whole body collapsed into the arms of his brother, Ulrik, who grabbed on to him tightly. Even if Ulrik weren’t a vampire, his size alone would be enough to carry him on his own, which was why watching them all rush to Theseus’s side was so striking. They weren’t just trying to catch him. They were trying to protect him—from me.

It was clear from the look on everyone’s faces.

Rhea stood beside her mortal and immortal sons, her gray eyes boiling over with rage as she glared at me. Melora, Ulrik’s mate, who had linked arms with me just a few hours ago and called me sister, now looked as if I were not good enough to touch the same earth. Hinrik, Arsiein, and Atarah were like a wall around Theseus, the man who was supposed to be my mate, protecting him from me because…because apparently, I had hurt him, and I did not remember how or why. Why would I hurt someone I cared about? I didn’t understand. Theseus was good to me. I wasn’t sure about anything else, but I knew that fact. So, if I had hurt him, killed him, was I the wrong one? What—who was I?

A former Omeron witch turned vampire.

Everything I had seen, heard, and learned about the Omerons was their deep-seated hate for vampires and their unwavering desire to kill them. Before I was a vampire, I was one of them. So did I have that hate and desire to kill vampires before, too? The more I thought about it, the more my head and heart hurt.

They hurt a lot.

I should go. I need to go. That thought kept running through my mind.

“And where exactly do you think you shall go?”

I turned back to the only member of the Thorbørn family not protecting Theseus from me, Sigbjørn, the head of the Thorbørn family. The king of Ankeiros. He stood at the library table, dressed in a white linen tunic and dark trousers and his long Nordic hair and braids let down around his shoulders. He held on to the black and white composition book, or what he had explained was a grimoire—my grimoire, the thing that had caused my current misery. His tattooed hands flipped the empty pages, running over them as if there were something there to read.

“There is more here to read, young one,” he stated, reminding me of his mind-reading gift. “However, it has been enchanted and thus, hides itself. Come see it if you can unlock it, as you did the first page.”

“Father, because of the single page, Theseus—”

Only then did Sigbjørn lift his gaze from the pages in his hand to Arsiein, who stopped speaking immediately. A dangerous chill was suddenly in the air.

Sigbjørn shifted his stare to me, placed a small smile on his face, and stretched out his hands. “Come, young one, show me.”

I stood still.

Fear was in me because I did not understand. Why was he acting so differently from everyone else? Didn’t he hear Theseus? I had…I had hurt—no, I had killed Theseus, his son, a member of his family. He should be ripping me part. He should be locking me up or something.

“I would rather not be on the other side of Theseus’s rage once he awakens,” he said to me. “Even now as he dreams, he dreams only of you.”

I hung my head, that ache, that burning in my chest returning, and I shook my head. “I don’t…I do not understand. Why would I hurt him? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Which is why I wish to make sense of it.” He lifted the notebook for me to take, and now I think I feared it more than I feared him. What if I found out I was some—

“Blood-drinking monster?” Sigbjørn asked with a grin.

And for whatever reason, his indifference to the fact that Theseus was currently unconscious, wounded by whatever spell I had done and tried to undo, bothered me.

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Advertisement The Prince’s Bride – Part 2 (The Prince’s Bride #2) Read Online J.J. McAvoy http://www.books2020.com/the-princes-bride-part-2-the-princes-bride-2-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Mon, 03 Oct 2022 08:16:37 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-princes-bride-part-2-the-princes-bride-2-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Genre: Contemporary, Funny, New Adult, Romance Authors: J.J. McAvoy Series: The Prince's Bride Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)

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In book one, he was just a spoiled playboy prince whose family was in desperate need of money. Now everything has changed Odette Wyntor has a choice.
Stay or Run.
Royalty is not for the weak of heart.
Can they handle what is to come?

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

Chapter 1

“It’s a girl!” Augusta and her husband screamed as the pink smoke machines began to suffocate us, and pink confetti came down like unicorn vomit.

And no, that wasn’t just me being negative or facetious. They had two decorative unicorn heads hanging over the sides of their brand-new mansion, spewing pink confetti out onto the crowd. Why? I did not know. When you have a third of 25.9 billion dollars, you can get mystical animals to vomit whatever you want. Maybe when the girl was born, they would have a pegasus flying over us with tears of gold coins.

That would be new. I snickered at the thought. Augusta always loved to be new and different. If she wasn’t home, she was in New York or Paris or London. Name the place, and Augusta was there, ready for the best photo and parading her life for all of social media to see. She was living the dream.

Rich.

Happily married to a handsome man.

And now, pregnant.

Our relationship over the last few months had only gotten slightly better. I wasn’t turning a blind eye to her flaws as I once had. I saw her clearly. I knew what she was willing to do to get her inheritance. I could see how badly she wanted to show me she was living the dream life, to prove she was somehow better. I still did not know why she was so competitive. I was not trying to race her for anything, and I was not trying to be better than her. In fact, out of the two of us, she seemed to be the more fortunate one. I had no desire nor cared to prove anything to her or anyone else anymore. I just wanted to be happy now.

And I was ninety-nine percent happy for her. I really was, but there was that one percent. That ugly, jealous, bitter, scared, and unhappy one percent that I never wanted to show anyone. That dark part of my mind that sat back on a lounge chair with a dirty martini in one hand and Audrey Hepburn cigarette holder in the other, judging everyone viciously and saying the word darling a lot. I would be the Grinch at Christmas—and not the cartoon Grinch, the Jim Carrey Grinch at the very beginning of the movie. Oh, I would be Miss Hannigan, the evil, hot mess of a lady who ran the orphanage where Annie lived. No. I got it now. I would be Maleficent; nothing said over exaggerated, misplaced anger was better than a half-dragon, half-witch cursing a little girl to death for not being invited to her party.

I could definitely pull that off with my Angelina Jolie’s cheekbones, a dirty martini in one hand. It actually makes more sense than that magical stuff.

“Odette? Odette?”

“Huh?” I looked around to find who was calling me and taking me out of my mental spiral.

It was, of course, Augusta standing there with a crown of roses on her head and an all-white, body-hugging gown that showed off her baby bump, calling me in front of everyone. She waved me forward.

I haven’t had enough drinks for this. I needed to get out of that one percent frame of mind. Smiling, I walked up to where Augusta and Malik, dressed in white, stood.

“Throughout my life, my big sister has always had my back. She’s loved me and took care of me more than anyone else I know. Sorry, Mom,” she said and winked at Yvonne, who just shook her head, but the smile on her face was real. “Which is why I could think of no one else to be the godmother of our child.”

Everyone started to clap. Like, just because someone wanted you to be their kid’s godparent, you had to accept. What if I didn’t want to?

The ninety-nine percent, Odette. Get back to the ninety-nine percent! My mind screamed at me.

“I bet the little girl will be just as much of a handful as her mother,” I teased, hugging her.

“That’s why you have to be the no-nonsense aunt so I can be the fun mom.” She squeezed me back.

“Yeah. Yeah. Congratulations,” I said and nodded at Malik. “I am happy for you both. Are you sure you didn’t want a boy to throw a football with?”

“I can teach her how to throw footballs too. She’ll be the first female in the NFL when I’m done with her,” he said proudly.

“Why in the world would you want that?” Augusta questioned in horror. “All those big men just throwing her onto the ground.”

He turned to the side, showing her a fake run. “That’s why we have to work on her legs from the jump. Whoosh. Whoosh. She’ll be the female Flash. No one is touching her.”

“I will show you, Flash.”

I said nothing, watching as they showed everyone their love. It made me think of—

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Advertisement The Prince’s Bride – Beginning Forever (The Prince’s Bride #3) Read Online J.J. McAvoy http://www.books2020.com/the-princes-bride-beginning-forever-the-princes-bride-3-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Mon, 03 Oct 2022 08:16:36 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-princes-bride-beginning-forever-the-princes-bride-3-read-online-j-j-mcavoy Genre: Contemporary, Funny, New Adult, Romance Authors: J.J. McAvoy Series: The Prince's Bride Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)

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With the fairytale wedding now over and the reality of their new roles placed on their shoulders, can Gale and Odette survive the sea of politics, family secrets, and scandal that awaits them? Can they still be true to themselves and their hearts?

The whole country...even the world is watching and not everyone is happy for them.

Beginning Forever is a novella that follows the events after The Prince Bride 2.

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

Chapter 1

OCTOBER 29

There is a secret amongst us nobles that we all know but never dare to say. It may have been the oldest, unspeakable yet obvious truth in all of Europe. It was the lie of nobility. But who among high society would be daft enough to admit that we were no better or worse, no more lord or ladylike than the masses? That a title did not bring with it class, wit, or morality...I am, of course, that daft for I am confessing this truth, this known secret to paper. Though what can anyone do to stop me?

In this modern era, a title did not even bring the two things it always had: power and respect. Royalty now was nothing more than a spectacle, and our duty was to entertain, and to entertain, one needed wealth. One needed wealth to ensure power and respect. Money made the aristocracy go round. The older the money, the better the ride. Nothing came much older than this family—the House of Monterey. The problem with old things, however, was their tendency to die. The problem with dying, especially when that death was not quick, was the will to survive no matter how futile it may be.

Nothing fought death more than a monarchy.

“Gale, are you listening to us?”

“I’m trying my very best not to, Mother,” I replied as I wrote, bracing myself for my father’s bellowing voice to lecture me into an early grave.

“You are not a boy anymore, Gale—”

“Mother, Father, he is kidding,” my brother cut in before our father could go any further. “He is listening more than he wants you all to know. It is only by acknowledging him that he will stop paying attention.”

Glancing up from my journal, I met their desperate eyes. My father stood like a puffed-up penguin in his dark suit by the fireplace, and beside him, sitting in her chair like the oil painting behind her, was my mother. Her white face seemed to pale with each passing second; the stress was getting to her. Both of them only held back their reprimands and anger at me for the sake of my elder brother. The only one uninterested—and allowed to be so—was my younger sister. She sat sprawled on the couch in her ripped jeans and oversized checkered sweater, nodding her red head to whatever depressing music she was listening to.

“Hello, brother. Welcome to the conversation; I am truly sorry to interrupt your writing. We were all merely discussing the future of our family.” The polite sarcasm dripped heavily as he set Persephone—the King Charles spaniel his wife had reduced him to babysitting while she was in Paris—onto a plush handmade, goose-feather pillow.

“Oh, were you?” I asked with the same tone. “And here I thought you were all deliberating on how to sacrifice my happiness for your own gain. Forgive me; carry on.”

“Gale, my dear, we would never want you to be unhappy,” my mother declared.

“Unless my unhappiness can ensure we remain a great and fabulously wealthy monarchy, of course, then what is a little unhappiness?”

“I have had enough of your selfishness!” my father hollered, his face already turning red from anger.

“My selfishness?” I called back. “It was not I who made bad investments! It was not I who caused our current distress, which cannot be as bad as you all make it seem. Yet it is I you are all trying to force to marry! If I am selfish for refusing, then you are selfish for asking!”

“Galahad Fitzhugh Cornelius Ed—”

“Present, Father, no need to call my whole name!” I cut in only to hear a slight snort of laughter from my sister. Apparently, she wasn’t listening to music at all.

“Enough!” The old man truly stomped his foot, and I would have laughed if I were not amazed. “You will marry whomever this family deems fit, or so help me I will...I will...disown you and banish you from this nation!”

“I’m still a citizen, Father. As king, you can banish me from the monarchy, but under the constitution, you need parliament to get me out of the nation.”

“Good to know we did not waste money on law school for you. But tell me, oh wise son of mine, with your history, do you think they will object?” For the first time since this conversation had started, the slight humor in his voice was evident. His eyes narrowed on me, and his head lifted high as if he’d already won.

Looking away from him, I turned to my sister, who I could always trust to help me drive our parents mad. “Eliza, did you hear that? He’s going to banish me. Whatever am I going to do?”

She pulled out one earbud and looked back to me in all seriousness. “There is only one thing you can do, and that’s to sell your body.”

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