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

J.M. Darhower – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Wed, 25 Dec 2019 01:57:33 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png J.M. Darhower – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Ghosted Read online Free books by J.M. Darhower http://www.books2020.com/ghosted-read-online-j-m-darhower Wed, 25 Dec 2019 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/ghosted-read-online-j-m-darhower Genre: Angst, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Authors: J.M. Darhower Advertisement

Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 138072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Ghosted
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	J.M. Darhower
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	1942206232 (ISBN13: 9781942206231)
Book Information:
He's a troubled young actor, Hollywood's newest heartthrob, struggling with fame as the star of the latest superhero franchise. Through scandal after scandal, addiction on top of addiction, a flurry of paparazzi hunt him as he fights to conquer his demons. She's a single mother, assistant manager at a grocery store, existing in monotony with her five-year-old daughter. Every day when she goes to work, lurid tabloids surround her, the face of a notorious bad boy haunting her from their covers. A man and a woman, living vastly different lives, but that wasn't always the case. Once, they were just a boy and a girl who bonded over comic books and fell in love unexpectedly. When Kennedy Garfield met Jonathan Cunningham back in high school, she knew he had all the makings of a tragic hero. With stars in his eyes, and her heart on her sleeve, the pair ran away together to follow their dreams. But dreams, sometimes, turn into nightmares. Now, years later, the only thing they share is a daughter—one who has no idea her father plays her favorite superhero. But Jonathan is desperate to make amends, and at the top of his list is the woman who gave up everything for him and the little girl he hasn't yet met.
Books by Author:	J.M. Darhower

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Rain fell from the overcast sky in sporadic bursts, quick manic showers followed by moments of nothingness. The weatherman on channel six had predicted a calm day, but the woman knew better. A tumultuous storm was rolling in. There was no way to avoid it.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her heart beat frantically, blood surging through her veins, mixing with enough adrenaline to make her stomach churn. She might’ve been worried about getting sick if there had been anything left inside of her to give, but no… she was empty. Burying her mother had taken everything out of her. This, on top of that, was too much for her to bear.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Kennedy Garfield stood on the front porch of the two-story white house, staring out into the yard as thunder clapped in the distance. Lightning illuminated the darkened afternoon sky, giving her a better view of him. Her uninvited visitor stood a mere ten feet away, dressed in a designer suit that cost more than she made in a year, but yet he still somehow managed to look thrown away. His black tie hung loosely around his neck, his button down soaked and clinging to his ashen skin.

“Why are you here?” she asked, unable to handle his silence or his presence. As quickly as this storm rolled in, she needed it to go back away.

“You know why I’m here,” he said quietly, his voice shaking. Even from a distance, she could tell he’d been drinking, his eyes bloodshot and glassy.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said. “Not now. Not like this.”

He said nothing for a long moment, running his fingers through his thick dark blond hair, the ends curling from being wet. He was drenched, although the rain had since slowed to a steady trickle. She wondered how long he’d been standing outside before she noticed him. Before she sensed him.

She imagined it had been quite awhile with the condition he was in.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The yellow cab parked along the curb blew its horn, the middle-aged driver growing impatient. Kennedy nearly laughed at the sight of it. She figured taking a cab would’ve been beneath him those days. Limos and town cars, with chauffeurs and security, were more his level.

Or so she’d heard, anyway.

He glanced back at it, his face flickering with a hidden aggression, before he turned to face her again. His expression softened when their eyes met.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I heard about your mom and I just… I wanted to be here.”

Crack. Crack. Crack.

It was the sound of her heart being torn apart once again.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she said. An assault of tears burned her eyes, but she refused to shed a single one. Not while he was there. Not while he was looking at her. So many years later and he still got under her skin. “You know that. You’re just making this all so much harder.”

“I know, but…” He paused, his blue eyes imploring. “I was hoping I could… I mean, I wondered if it would be okay if…”

“No,” she said, knowing right away what he was asking, but there was no way it would happen—not then, and certainly not with the condition he was in. He knew better than to even ask.

“But—”

“I said no.”

He sighed as the driver laid on the horn for the second time. Eyeing her warily, he took a step back, and then another, before turning to leave without saying ‘goodbye’.

They’d already said enough goodbyes to last them a lifetime.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

Kennedy stiffened as footsteps stomped through the house behind her, on a mission as they hurried her direction. The front door flung open, a tiny human tornado appearing at her side, wearing a fluffy black dress with her brunette hair in pigtails. Despite all the darkness surrounding the little girl, she was all bows and sunshine, innocence and happiness, and Kennedy would do everything in her power to keep her that way. She didn’t need to know more devastation. She was too young to endure that kind of pain.

Too young to have her heart broken by Jonathan Cunningham.

“Who was that, Mommy?” the little girl asked, watching the cab as it disappeared into the storm. “Did they come for Grandpa? Were they Nana’s friend?”

“It was no one you need to worry about, sweetheart,” Kennedy said, gazing down at a pair of twinkling blue eyes—something her sweet little girl had inherited from him. “The man was just a little lost, but I sent him back on his way.”

Chapter 1

KENNEDY

The beeping of the checkout scanner is monotonous, a dull drone I barely hear anymore, as it melds with Wilson Philips’s Hold On playing on the loudspeaker radio. The same songs, day in and day out. Same constant beeping. Same everything.

Same customers in and out of the store, buying the same things they’ve bought before.

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Advertisement Monster in His Eyes (#1) Read Online J.M. Darhower http://www.books2020.com/monster-in-his-eyes-1-read-online-j-m-darhower Tue, 10 May 2016 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/monster-in-his-eyes-1-read-online-j-m-darhower Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, BDSM, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Drama, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Authors: J.M. Darhower Series: Monster in His Eyes Series by J.M. Darhower
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 107803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Monster in His Eyes (Monster in His Eyes #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	J.M. Darhower
Language:	English
Characters:	Karissa Reed, Ignazio Vitale
Book Information:
Ignazio Vitale is not a good man. I suspect it, the first time I see him, sense the air of danger that surrounds the man. He has a way of commanding attention, of taking control, of knowing what I'm thinking before I even do. It's alarming and alluring. It's dark and deadly. It's everything I've ever wanted but the last thing I truly need. Obsession. It doesn't take him long to draw me into his web, charming me into his bed and trapping me in his life, a life I know nothing about until it's too late. He has secrets, secrets I can't fathom, secrets that make it so I can't walk away, no matter how much I beg him to let me go. I see it sometimes in his eyes, a darkness that's both terrifying and thrilling. He's a monster, wrapped up in a pretty package, and what I find when I unmask him changes everything. I want to hate him. Sometimes, I do. But it doesn't stop me from loving him, too.
Books in Series:	Monster in His Eyes Series by J.M. Darhower
Books by Author:	J.M. Darhower Books

A single finger slowly traces the curvature of my spine, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. Despite my best attempt at pretending to be asleep, I tremble at the feather-light touch, unable to contain my reaction.

My breath hitches.

Why must he do this to me?

I hate myself for it, almost as much as I hate him. And I hate him... boy, do I hate him. I've never hated something or someone so much in my life before. I hate his hair, his smile, his eyes. I hate the words he says to me and the raspy tone of his voice. I hate the things he does, the man he is. I hate the way he treats me, the way he affects me, the way his hands inflict the worst kind of pain before somehow igniting a fire within me. It burns deep, raw passion and desire mixing with the purest agony.

I hate it.

I hate it.

I fucking hate it.

Once he reaches the small of my back, his finger pauses, before tracing a line along the waistband of my panties. I can feel my body coming alive, heating, like he's expertly kindling a fire, one only he knows how to stroke.

I want to douse myself in gasoline and set myself ablaze, melting away in the flames just to escape these feelings, but I know it's useless. Even as a pile of ashes, I'd never get away. He's a force of nature. The wind would carry me right back to him.

The air feels thick, like it's filled with the blackest smoke, or maybe my lungs are just too stiff, strained along with every muscle in my body. I want to scream. I want to pull away.

I want to run away.

But I don't, because I know he'll just catch me if I do.

He did it before.

He'll do it again.

I keep my eyes closed as his finger trails up my spine again, willing myself not to feel it. It doesn't exist, I tell myself. I'm asleep. He's asleep. This is nothing more than a dream. Or is it a nightmare?

He's not really touching me.

Except he is... I know he is. Every traitorous cell inside my body is coming alive from that touch, every nerve ending sparking like live wires. If this isn't real, nothing is.

I almost wonder if that would be preferable.

His finger reaches the nape of my neck and once again pauses, this time for longer. Five, ten, fifteen... I count the seconds in my head, waiting for his next move, trying to think ahead, as if this is a game of chess and I can plan a counter-attack.

It's pointless, even wondering. He's already captured my king. Checkmate.

Once more, his finger follows the path of my spine, making it halfway down before deviating. It explores the rest of my back, going every which way, making shapes and forming patterns along my warm skin like I'm a living canvas and he's an artist.

Despite myself, curiosity gets the best of me, and I wonder what he's drawing. It feels random, nonsensical, but I know this man. Everything he does is for a reason. There's always method to his madness, meaning behind every word, a point to his actions.

And it's usually never good.

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, trying to make sense of the movement of his finger, as it seems to dance along my back. Is he drawing me a pretty picture of a life he once promised, trying to make the lies seep through my skin? Could he be writing a love letter, swearing to do better?

Or maybe it's more like a ransom note.

I wish he would draw a rope so I could pull it from my flesh and hang him with it. I'm sure he deserves it.

I pick up on the pattern eventually, noticing his finger following the same continual trail, looping and curving. I envision it as he does it, realizing after a moment that he's spelling out a lone word in cursive.

Vitale.

His full name is Ignazio Vitale, although once, not so long ago, he urged me to call him Naz. And it was Naz who charmed me, who won me over and made me melt. It wasn't until later that I got to know the true Ignazio, and by the time I met Vitale, it was far too late to just walk away.

If I ever even could've…

"Ugh, that's it." A book slams closed across from me, so hard the entire table shakes. "I can't take it anymore. I quit."

I don't look up, my eyes scanning a section of text, only vaguely absorbing the words. I've skimmed through it a dozen times, the book glued to my side the past few days, like maybe the information will sink in through osmosis.

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Advertisement Torture to Her Soul Read Online J.M. Darhower (Monster in His Eyes #2) http://www.books2020.com/torture-to-her-soul-2-read-online-j-m-darhower Mon, 09 May 2016 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/torture-to-her-soul-2-read-online-j-m-darhower Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, BDSM, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Drama, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Authors: J.M. Darhower Series: Monster in His Eyes Series by J.M. Darhower
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 127476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Torture to Her Soul (Monster in His Eyes #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	J.M. Darhower
Language:	English
Book Information:
Don't say it unless you mean it… It's a simple concept, one I've said time and again, but something people don't seem to comprehend. You should choose every syllable carefully, because you never know when somebody will hold you to your word. Somebody like me. I'm not a good man. I'm not. I know. I have enough darkness inside of me to rid the world of every stitch of light. But there's one I could never harm, one light I couldn't bring myself to snuff out. Karissa. She thinks I'm a monster, and maybe I am. I taunt her with my touch, get a thrill out of torturing her soul. But I'm not the only one. The world is full of monsters, and I'm not the most dangerous one out there. Not even close… God help me, I love her. I do. And God help anyone who tries to take her from me.
Books in Series:	Monster in His Eyes Series by J.M. Darhower
Books by Author:	J.M. Darhower Books

Secrets are a funny thing.

You keep them bottled up, hidden thoughts nobody else hears. It makes it hard for others to get close to you—for them to ever really know you—when you hold the deepest parts of yourself back, only letting people graze the surface.

But some secrets, I think, are better left unspoken.

Sometimes secrets have the power to kill. The power to destroy. We each hold nuclear weapons inside of us, our fingers always hovering over the buttons for detonation. Most of us press them. Some of us don't.

I wish I had that kind of restraint.

I envy those who keep everyone at an arm's distance.

I'm weak.

Too fucking weak.

I let her get too close to me.

I heard this saying once, long ago, that I've never forgotten: three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead. I've spilled many secrets in my life, secrets that always ended up with somebody dying. Sometimes because of me, and other times... well... because of me. I think about them when I lie in bed at night, see their faces when I close my eyes, relive the moments the buttons were pressed and everything around me imploded.

I'm a haunted man.

Darkness surrounds me.

Figuratively.

Literally.

It's dark.

It's that heavy sort of darkness, the kind you can feel when you breathe, the denseness filling your lungs and slowly suffocating you. There's no relief in this darkness… only more torture. Sweat coats my skin as the summer humidity clings to the air, making it hard to find a shred of comfort. I toss and turn, restless, in and out of sleep, losing seconds, minutes, hours...

Every time I look, the clock in the bedroom reads something different, the glowing red numbers taunting me.

11:43 pm

12:11 am

1:45 am

2:09 am

Rolling over onto my back, I squeeze my eyes shut, throwing an arm over my face, trying to force myself to stop looking at that damn clock. It dictates my life and I hate it. I fucking hate it. The silence is strained, the noises from the old house settling exaggerated to my ears. There's nothing peaceful about it.

Another creak.

A wooden floorboard groans.

The bed shifts suddenly.

I move my arm and open my eyes, my gaze hitting the ceiling when I'm jolted. I find nothing but darkness above me, the glow from the alarm clock in my peripheral.

Slowly, turning my head, I look at the time again.

2:45 am

Another noise.

A loud click.

My heart skips a beat before hammering hard in my chest.

I know that sound.

It's not normal.

Unnatural.

The cocking of a shotgun.

I sit up, blinking rapidly, desperately seeking out whatever's in the darkness, but it takes too long for my eyes to adjust. No, her eyes adjust before mine, and she sees it… she sees the predator.

She realizes we're the prey.

"Naz!" Her voice is a panicked scream. "Oh God, Naz!"

I'm frozen. It's only a second. Just one second delay until my vision finally adjusts. I stare at the familiar face—a face that smiled at me hours ago, like there was nothing but love between us. A face, I realize, of a man who held secrets. A man I didn't really know.

The face of my best friend.

It's only a second, but it's a second too long.

A second of hesitation that takes away everything I love.

BANG

The noise explodes into a fiery light that jars me, thrusting me to consciousness. I sit straight up, once more smothered by the darkness. I gasp for air, sweat pouring down my face. I blink rapidly, the scene greeting me again and again every time I close my eyes.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Fuck.

No matter how much I try, I can't forget it.

I can't stop seeing it.

I can't stop reliving it.

The bed beside me shifts, and for a moment I convince myself it wasn't real. It was just my imagination. That's it.

It didn't actually happen.

I'm okay.

She's not dead.

But when I look over, it's not Maria's eyes that regard me, not her face I see, and reality comes crashing down all over again.

It wasn't a nightmare.

No, it was a memory.

Karissa eyes me cautiously in the darkness, but she says nothing. She doesn't try to console me or ask what's wrong. She doesn't have to.

She probably already knows.

She knows me.

Sighing, I look away from her as acceptance sinks in, instinctively glancing toward the stand beside my bed, seeking out an alarm clock I haven't owned in twenty years. I wonder what time it is now… wonder if it even matters anymore.

Time stopped at 2:45 am that day.

I've been stuck in the darkness ever since.

I'm going to tell you a secret.

A secret I've never told anybody.

I, Ignazio Vitale, have always been afraid of the dark.

If you tell anyone that, I'll kill you.

My life is a case study of gluttony.

If you're looking for an apology about that, you'll want to look elsewhere. I'm not sorry in the least. Everything I do, I do it in excess; everything I have, I have more of than I'll ever need.

What can I say? I don't deny myself anything.

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Advertisement Target on Our Backs Read Online J.M. Darhower (Monster in His Eyes #3) http://www.books2020.com/target-on-our-backs-3-read-online-j-m-darhower Mon, 09 May 2016 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/target-on-our-backs-3-read-online-j-m-darhower Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, BDSM, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Drama, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Authors: J.M. Darhower Series: Monster in His Eyes Series by J.M. Darhower
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 111768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Target on Our Backs (Monster in His Eyes #3)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	J.M. Darhower
Language:	English
Book Information:
The best way to keep your word is never to give it. Not long ago, in a chapel in Vegas, I swore to love Karissa for the rest of my days. But nobody's promised an infinite number of tomorrows. Nobody's promised forever. Sometimes, all we have left is today. Carpe Diem Seize the day. It should've been over, we should've been happy, but people are making it hard for me to live in peace. I've got so much blood on my hands they'll never be clean, and somebody out there seems to want me to pay for it. Happily Ever After always comes at a cost, one any real man would be willing to pay. But that doesn't mean I'm just going to roll over and accept these consequences. Because when it comes to the woman I love? The life I've fought for? Nobody is safe.
Books in Series:	Monster in His Eyes Series by J.M. Darhower
Books by Author:	J.M. Darhower Books

I'm going to tell you a story, a story about a lion that was killed by a callous hunter not long ago. This lion was the king of his pride, and this hunter? This hunter didn't even think twice about pulling the trigger, consequences be damned.

And consequences there were.

You see, when a king is killed, anarchy reigns as the next strongest male steps up to take his place. Sometimes that male is considerate, compassionate, but more likely he's a ruthless beast. To secure his place at the top of the food chain, to assert his dominance in a time of chaos, the lion annihilates anyone he considers competition, starting with his predecessor's cubs.

His offspring, the ones he created, the ones he raised to follow his lead... one-by-one they fell, victim to the new cruel tyrant, until the former king's pride was no more. In the hunter's mind, it was over the second he put down the gun, but in reality, that was when the real trouble began.

And trouble?

It came with a vengeance.

The pride lands were knee-deep in it.

Midtown Shooting Leaves One Dead

I stare through the darkness at the bold headline deep in the middle of yesterday's newspaper. It didn't make the front page. Not even close. It was tucked in along with the petty crimes that plague the city, like a shooting means nothing to these people nowadays.

Maybe it doesn't.

Who am I to judge?

Bullets certainly don't faze me anymore.

But this one stalled me. This one made me hesitate. My eyes drift from the vague headline to the lone victim's name: Kelvin Russo.

I know him.

Well, I knew him.

Kelvin is no more.

Once one of Ray's favorite street soldiers, Kelvin caught a bullet to the back of the skull. He was young, just starting out… couldn't have been any more than twenty-three or twenty-four. The paper doesn't say much about what happened, but I know an execution when I read about one.

Another of the former king's cubs has fallen.

I didn't pull the trigger this time, but when it comes down to it, I still shoulder the blame. He's dead because there's a new king of this concrete jungle, a king that's sending a message to everyone.

Bow down.

The thing is, though, I don't kneel for anyone. I get on my knees for no fucking man. I walked away a year ago, before pulling that fateful trigger, but that won't be good enough for someone like him.

It's only a matter of time before he comes for me.

Before he wants me.

Whoever he is...

"A leopard doesn't change its spots."

Giuseppe Vitale isn't usually a man to mince words. He speaks in riddles a lot of the time, something his son inherited from him, but his point is always there, front and center. He knows what he knows and feels how he feels, and when it comes down to it, he won't hesitate to tell you how it is.

A leopard doesn't change its spots.

He's talking about Ignazio.

"But he's different," I say, my eyes drifting to the small wooden table between us, like maybe subconsciously I doubt my own words. He has been different, that's true, but I know that doesn't mean he has actually changed.

Can he change?

I don't know.

Should I even want him to?

It has been over a year since a bullet tore through me in the foyer of the home in Brooklyn, although my chest still aches like it happened yesterday. The physical wound healed but my heart is another story.

Part of it remains broken.

It probably always will be that way.

Six weeks ago, Naz asked me to marry him. Really asked me, unlike before. This time, when I said yes, I knew exactly what I was committing to. I know what kind of man he is. I know the things he's done, the things he wanted to do. We said 'I do' that very night, in the chapel at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, and I've spent every night since then convinced I'd made the right decision.

Because he's different.

He is.

But what exactly does different mean?

Giuseppe reaches over, placing his rough, calloused hand on top of mine, squeezing lightly to draw my attention back to him. He's got a smile on his lips, but it's not a smile of happiness. It borders somewhere on pity.

I can almost hear what he's thinking.

Poor little girl, you don't understand what you've gotten into.

"You know, they say if you put a frog in a pot of boiling water, it'll jump right back out," he says. "But if you put a frog in a pot of cool water and steadily raise the temperature, it'll stay right where it is, like nothing is happening. You get where I'm going with this?"

My brow furrows at the jump in conversation. "No."

"You're the frog, girl, and Ignazio? He's boiling you alive without you even noticing."

I want to argue against that. I want to tell him he's wrong. Because he is. He's wrong. But the only words I can come up with are 'he's different' and I'm not even entirely sure how to explain what that means. He's still Naz, still the same intimidating Ignazio, but Vitale hasn't shown his face... not around me, anyway.

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Read Online Books/Novels:

Ghosted

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

1942206232 (ISBN13: 9781942206231)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Monster in His Eyes (Monster in His Eyes #1)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

Karissa Reed, Ignazio Vitale

Read Online Books/Novels:

Torture to Her Soul (Monster in His Eyes #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

Read Online Books/Novels:

Target on Our Backs (Monster in His Eyes #3)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English