Jessa Kane – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Jessa Kane – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:01:55 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Jessa Kane – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 The Girlfriend Treatment Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.books2020.com/the-girlfriend-treatment-read-online-jessa-kane Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:01:55 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/the-girlfriend-treatment-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)

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Petra is not an escort—but she does answer the phones at one such agency. When she receives a call from a scarred veteran named Barry, he makes a request she never saw coming. He needs a date to his brother’s wedding in order to honor his elderly grandmother’s final wish to see him settled down. One problem? None of the other girls are available, leaving Petra, a mere receptionist with no dating experience, to pretend to be Barry’s girlfriend at the wedding. But when their attraction detonates on sight, what starts as pretend doesn’t stay that way long. After all, there’s only one bed…and their relationship is definitely the only thing being faked

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

one

Petra

The phone rings and I jolt, causing the perfect cat eye that I’m applying with electric-blue liquid liner to go crooked. Exhaling with a huff, I slump into the leather armchair and wrinkle my nose at the hollering landline. I am not cut out for this receptionist job, but I wasn’t exactly given a choice when it came to my employment, was I?

I am the youngest of five sisters.

The runt.

The brat.

The grunt.

An endless source of amusement to my four older sisters, each of whom owns a stake in Sweet Fleet: An Escort Agency, based just outside of good old Las Vegas.

They escort, while I schedule their dates from the safety of my boring air-conditioned office. And don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t rather be working in the field. No way. It is my goal in life to never be pawed by some garlic-breathed businessman in the high roller suite of the MGM. That life is not for me. Not that I’m judging.

But I’d rather be doing something else.

Petra Kowalski: Makeup Artist to the Stars.

Heck, I’d take a company of showgirls. I just want to work with makeup.

Anything to avoid answering this phone and having to hear the lecherous excitement in the voice of another client. But that’s what I get paid to do…and this call has been ringing a while, so I better answer.

While leaning forward and attempting to fix my smudged cat eye, I hit the button for speakerphone, since I’m alone in the office. “Good evening,” I say in a practiced, sultry tone. Have to create the right vibe, don’t I? “This is Sweet Fleet. What can we do for you?”

There’s a long pause on the other end. Then, finally, “Yeah. Hi.”

My eyes widen involuntarily, caught off guard by the deepest voice I’ve ever heard. Male. Gruff. Resonant. “Hello, sir. Are you calling to schedule a date?”

The sound of pacing commences on his end of the line. “Something like that.”

Uh oh.

This guy must be into something kinky, but he’s not ready to share any particulars. Maybe it’s just his first time pursuing a particular fetish and he’s shy talking about it? It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened. It wouldn’t even be the first time this week.

I’m a virgin myself. But I’ve gotten quite an education sitting in this chair.

I probably know more about sex than any other virgin on planet earth.

“Sir, I’ve been working the phones for Sweet Fleet for a whole year. There is no kink this gal hasn’t heard about. Believe me. This is a judgment-free zone.”

His laugh is chagrined. Pleasant, too, oddly enough. “It’s not…a kink thing.”

Sure. “Oh.”

“I’ve just never done this before. I never thought I would.”

“I see.” I frown at my reflection in the makeup mirror. I’m used to first timers, as well, but there’s something different about this guy. He’s not eager and out of breath, the way most callers get when they’re arranging to meet an escort. “Why don’t we start with your name.”

“Right. Barry.”

“Barry,” I echo, adding a little coaxing to my tone, my finger winding around the curly phone cord. “What’s your idea of a perfect date?”

He’s quiet for a good five seconds. “Are you old enough to be taking these calls?”

I rear back, affronted. “What? I’m using my most seductive voice!”

He makes a skeptical sound. “I can still tell you’re young.”

“I’m nineteen, thank you very much.”

“Nineteen? Okay, I’m going to hang up now.”

“No! Wait!” I listen for the void of disconnection to hit my ear, but thankfully the quiet sound of him breathing is still there. “I only do the scheduling, Barry. Calm down.”

He laughs without humor. It turns into a sigh. “Look, I don’t know what I’m supposed to ask for. I have a unique situation.”

Relieved he’s talking again and I haven’t blown it with a client, I wake up my computer screen by wiggling the mouse. The color-coded calendar appears, along with our core offerings. “Well, we have a few different options. Why don’t I go over them with you? You can tell me if one of them fits the bill.”

“I highly doubt that’s going to happen.”

“You’ll be surprised.” I clear my throat. “First up, we have the Instant Gratification Package. That one has an hourly rate.” He’s a first timer, right? I should be extra clear, just so he doesn’t get confused. “You engage in sex—”

“I’ve got the picture.”

“That’s not what you’re looking for,” I surmise. “Okay. We have the Date Night Package. One of our girls is your companion for the whole evening. Take her to dinner, to a show. Even a work function. They are all excellent conversationalists and can adapt to any scenario. At the end of the night, sex is certainly on the table, but it’s an upcharge.”

Spoiler alert: they always request the upcharge.

“We’re getting warmer,” Barry says dryly. “Except for that last part.”

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Advertisement Debt Ridden Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.books2020.com/debt-ridden-read-online-jessa-kane Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:14:50 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/debt-ridden-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)

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Billie’s parents are about to lose the family ranch—and the brooding, mysterious landowner to whom they pay the mortgage, is notorious for showing no mercy to his tenants. But Billie doesn’t back down from a challenge and she holds the ultimate bargaining chip. Her body.
Knox doesn’t get visitors and that’s the way he likes it. Imagine his surprise when his tenant’s daughter comes knocking and offers herself in exchange for debt forgiveness. He needs to say no. Something about this girl gets under Knox’s skin and he doesn’t do love. But turning down the offer of a lifetime is easier said than done…

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

one

Billie

I huddle on my bedroom floor, hugging my knees to my chest while my parents argue in stressed out whispers on the other side of the door. They think I’m sleeping and don’t want to wake me up, but my mother had an extra tumbler of whiskey tonight, so she’s not as quiet as she thinks, her sobs cutting into me through the wood at my back.

“What are we going to do, Porter?” asks my mother. “That fancy horse trainer came into the town and stole half of our business. His cattle are more in demand, and heck, we lost sixteen cows to bloat in the fall. We’re behind six months on the mortgage. I just…I don’t see a way out of this debt without declaring bankruptcy.”

“I told you, I’m not doing that,” my father whispers, the pain clear in his voice.

Pain that razes my insides.

Bankruptcy.

I’ve heard the word whispered before. I’m eighteen and I paid attention in school all the way up to graduation day. Especially in economics class, because my plan was always to take over the ranch someday. It’s the only home I’ve ever known. I know what it means to declare oneself financially ruined—and I know my father’s pride will never survive that. His standing in town, respect from his fellow ranchers, his sense of self. He values those things so highly and he would be sacrificing them all.

“Maybe you could take a trip up the mountain and speak to Knox Morgan?”

My entire body tenses at the mention of his name. The mysterious man who swooped in and purchased our land, as well as thousands of other Montana acres that surround us. We pay him the mortgage now. Dozens of our neighbors call him landlord, as well. He lives up on the mountain overlooking everything he owns.

I’ve never met him in person, but I’ve been terrified of him for years.

My father sighs at my mother’s suggestion that he go pay Knox Morgan a visit. “The man doesn’t take kindly to visitors, and there is no way in hell he would forgive our debt, woman. He’d throw me out of his house and shoot me in the ass for good measure.” I shiver at my father’s hushed words. “I met him one single time at a town hall meeting. Trust me, he’s made of pure ice. The most hateful human being I’ve ever encountered in my lifetime. There is no help to be given from that corner, trust me.”

Hmm.

Is that so?

My toxic trait is that when a task is labeled impossible, I feel personally challenged to prove that it’s not impossible for me. Many horses have come through our ranch that were called wild. Or unable to be trained. My stubborn determination to break wild horses has caused several trips to the hospital and three broken arms in as many years.

My mother says I’m responsible for her gray hair.

And I hate upsetting either one of my parents, but I am who I am.

I look fear in the eye and dare it to take a bite out of me.

Maybe I can do the same with Knox Morgan.

I stand up as quietly as possible, sidestepping the creaky floorboards that I know as well as the back of my hand. I stop in front of the mirror affixed to my bureau and examine my reflection. My deep brown hair is long and tangled from a day of ranch work, but my face is scrubbed clean for bedtime. Freckles spill across the bridge of my nose, my cheeks. My ice blue eyes are clear, inquisitive. Too inquisitive, my mother would say.

They travel lower now, cataloguing my body.

My breasts aren’t ample by any stretch, but they’re decent sized and firm.

I test the shape of my hips with the palms of my hands, the rasp of skin against my white cotton nightgown filling the bedroom. I turn around and pull the material tight against my butt, shrugging over the shape of it. What is a nice ass supposed to look like? I should go ask one of the more looks-conscious girls in town. The ones I went to school with who knew exactly which clothes would accentuate their bodies. Or which makeup to use to highlight their cheekbones. I don’t understand any of that.

However.

I’ve noticed the ranch hands looking at me.

I hear their conversations about me when they don’t think I’m within earshot.

Is it my turn for a beat-off break? Been watching Billie bounce around in the saddle for hours and I’ve got more wood than a forest full of trees.

The girl is fearless. Bet she’d be dynamite in the sack.

I’d give my life savings to pop that girl’s cherry.

Their muttered comments have gotten harder to ignore. But maybe it’s a good thing I’m aware that men find me appealing. Because maybe…my cherry is worth something?

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Advertisement Resisting the Roommate Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.books2020.com/resisting-the-roommate-read-online-jessa-kane Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:21:31 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/resisting-the-roommate-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)

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College freshman Shea’s apartment just flooded. Good thing her roommate Emma’s father lives in the next town. When he answers the door, Shea is expecting an average dad. Instead, she’s now staying in the guest room of a big, tatted construction worker and desperately trying not to notice the confusing…and exciting effect this man twice her age has on her body. When Jason and Shea end up alone one night, intimate confessions bring them up against temptation no one could withstand. And when their hearts get involved, they’ll have to choose between true love and judgment. Which will prevail?

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

one

Shea

A water droplet plops onto the crown of my head.

That’s…weird. Why is it raining in my living room?

Pausing my fifth re-watch of Secretary this week, I frown up at the ceiling.

“Uh oh.” A dark spot is gathering directly above my head. “Emma,” I call to my roommate, who is in the kitchen making ramen. “I think there’s a leak.”

“Huh?” She slogs into view in her pink bunny slippers and a spoon in her hand, peering up at the ceiling. “Oh shit. That doesn’t look good.”

“Should we call the landlord?” I get off the couch, so I’m no longer sitting directly below the drip. “Or maybe go knock on the door of the guy upstairs?”

“Both of those options suck. They’re both creeps.”

“I know, right?” I murmur, chewing my lip.

Emma groans, retrieving her phone from the pocket of her robe. “I’ll call my dad.”

“All the way back in Seattle? What is he going to do from there?”

My roommate shakes her head. “You’re thinking of my stepdad. My real dad only lives in the next town.”

I absorb that new information, flinching farther away from the leak when the ceiling starts to form a giant bubble. I’m no scientist, but I know bubbles eventually burst and this one already looks on the verge of doing exactly that.

“Hey, Dad…” Emma says into her phone. “We have a bit of a problem.”

Yes, we do. And as two college freshmen living off campus, we are totally ill-equipped to deal with it. We couldn’t even rack up the courage to kill the spider we saw in the bathroom. He’s still in there somewhere, living footloose and fancy free. Now a leak? I have a paper to complete tonight about color fundamentals in modern design—and I haven’t even started it yet, thanks to my weird fascination with the movie Secretary.

A loud crash in the back of our apartment interrupts my train of thought.

After trading a wide-eyed look with Emma, I jog down the hallway toward the rear bedrooms, gaping at the water pouring in through the ceiling onto the IKEA bed I spent six hours assembling only a month ago. “Oh my God.” I look up at the ceiling of the hallway and notice a dark spot spreading directly overhead. “Emma, the apartment above us must be flooded. We need to get out of here. Like, now.”

We barely make it out the front door when the living room ceiling caves in.

“Uh, Dad?” Emma gulps into her phone. “Remember how you said I could come stay with you any time I want? I might be taking you up on that sooner than later.”

It turns out, our neighbor upstairs died. While running a bath.

I mean, I never liked the lecherous old dude, but I can’t shake my sense of melancholy during our Uber ride to Emma’s father’s house. “Imagine. One second, you’re drawing a nice bubble bath and then, bam, sayonara.” I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders, given to us by one of the police officers who arrived on the scene back at our apartment building. “The grim reaper wouldn’t even let him take one final bubble bath.”

“Bro, who cares about that old pervert? What about our stuff?”

My roommate, Emma, is a stone-cold bitch. We’ve only been living together for a month, but I really like her. A ton. We’re just very different personality types.

I have no idea how we matched on Roommate Finder, but there must have been some special sauce in the algorithm that day, because I adore her, despite our differences. She’s mean, street smart and loves to party, which has opened me up to a lot of new experiences. Or…she will open me up to new experiences.

Someday.

Once I take her up on a single one of her generous offers to go out.

To drink, to dance, to potentially hook up with boys.

Gulp.

Some of the stories she’s told me have caused my introverted nerves to shrivel up into prunes. I’m fun. I’m adventurous. Just in more of a lets-try-the-seasonal-coffee-flavor kind of way. But I am curious about what goes on at those dorm parties. Do people just have sex out in the open? How does one request an alcoholic beverage? Yo, beer me! Something like that? When the time comes, I’m going to be so lost.

The Uber stops in front of a Cape Cod style house.

It’s the most appealing shade of blue with a big oak tree in the front yard. There’s a wide wrap-around porch that runs around the entire house. Big lanterns light the garden. Even with all of those homey touches, somehow the house manages to be an ode to security and masculinity. No rounded corners anywhere. It’s precise. Knows exactly what it is. No whimsy, just classic lines and quality. My aspiring interior designer heart is already dying to know what it looks like on the inside.

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Advertisement Moby – A Whale Shifter Romance Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.books2020.com/moread-online-a-whale-shifter-romance-read-online-jessa-kane Wed, 07 Jan 2026 10:40:27 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/moread-online-a-whale-shifter-romance-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Insta-Love, Magic, Novella, Paranormal, Virgin Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)

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Darla is desperate to escape her overbearing parents on their Hawaiian vacation. Who could have expected a whale to swim up beside her on a boating excursion and become her closest confidant? There is something about the whale's soulful gray eyes and powerful demeanor that she finds intriguing, but alas, she must return to shore with the rest of the humans. Later that evening, however, when a seven-foot-tall man with an odd dialect approaches Darla on the beach, there is something strangely familiar about him...

Moby never intended to utilize his power to shift from a whale to a human. Until he met Darla, that is. The little human with the melodic voice and a body that grips him with sensual urges. Urges he has now come to land to fulfill—and fulfill them he will. But when Moby is harpooned by love, he must confess his true identity to Darla...and even worse, that his time on land is limited. Unless Moby and Darla can together break a decade-old curse...and keep him human forever

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

One

Darla

Islide down the side of the whale watching boat until my butt lands on the deck, gathering my bent knees to my chest. Ocean spray dampens my face as the vessel pitches sideways, dipping down low between two waves, then high again, like a diabolical seesaw. Thanking God I took two motion sickness pills before my parents dragged me on this horrific expedition, I close my eyes and imagine the dry, stable land.

I’ll never take it for granted again.

The only good thing I have going for me right now is that my travel companions are gathered on the other side of the ship, where I don’t have to listen to them. I’m on “vacation” with my wealthy parents, plus another, equally rich family, and their pissing contest about who has the more superior yacht docked in Monte Carlo has sent me as far away from them as possible, being that we’re confined to a small commercial boat.

In fact, whale watching is not my parents’ style at all. They’re more of a canapes on the sundeck type. But the other family, the one who accompanied us on our annual trip to Hawaii, have a son who wanted to see the whales.

He’s the main reason I’m hiding.

I tilt my head back and rest it on the hollow, white metal wall, breathing in deeply through my nose, trying to quell the helplessness of being in the middle of the ocean, miles from the sanctuary of my hotel room. The helplessness that comes with knowing my parents didn’t bring me on vacation to spend time with me.

They set me up.

My right knee begins to protest my position, and I straighten it out in front of me with a groan. A pitiful sound that not many eighteen-year-olds make. Not many eighteen-year-olds have survived a head-on collision with another jet ski, either. Yet another reason I’m not exactly thrilled to be pitching side to side on the surface of the ocean, but at least the odds of us crashing into anything in the middle of the sea are low.

Right?

There’s a collective exclamation on the opposite side of the boat, and I smile lightly, despite the loneliness weighing down my chest. They must have spotted a whale. I should probably head over there and share in their excitement.

I don’t move a muscle.

Gosh. I wish I had someone to talk to.

I was going to use this vacation as an opportunity to gather inspiration for Beautiful Scars, but when I arrived and realized my parents had a totally different goal in mind, all my motivation seeped straight out through my pores.

Closing my eyes, I wish for a speedy end to this whale watching trip.

When I open them again, I blink twice. Thrice. Five more times.

Surely, I’m seeing things.

That isn’t a whale head sticking up out of the water.

No, wait. It totally is. That’s an honest-to-goodness blue whale, if I’m not mistaken.

It’s gigantic—and I can only see the top of it! The giant creature’s mouth follows a natural curve that is reminiscent of a smirk, his single eye trained on me.

Rather impatiently.

“Uh. Whoa.” I sit up straighter, wondering if I should yell or sound some kind of alarm? I’ve never been whale watching before, but I’m pretty sure you’re only supposed to catch glimpses of the enormous mammals. This kind of prolonged contact can’t be typical. Whales don’t just pop out and stare at the boat passengers, like they’re trying to communicate something.

And if this one is trying to communicate something, it’s attitude.

“Um. Are you supposed to g-get this close?” I stutter, lamely, scooting my knees back tight to my chest, despite the spears of pain in my knee. “Should I…get someone who knows what they’re doing?”

Is it my imagination or does the whale roll his eye at me?

“Oh, you’re annoyed? My parents brought me on this vacation under false pretenses. We were going to take sunset hikes and make our own grass skirts, but what they really wanted was to set me up with Leonardo, the son of their rich friends.”

The mouth of the mighty creature stretches open and closed.

Was that a yawn?

I’ve just been yawned at by a blue whale.

“You know what? Just go away.”

Using my elbows, I push myself up the wall of the boat, attempting to stand, but my knee has been bent too long and doesn’t cooperate. I slip back down and land on my butt again with a thud. Great. I’ve embarrassed myself in front of this dickhead whale.

Don’t ask me how I know it’s a male. I just know. Oddly, though, he is now watching me now with a solemn air, rather than an impatient one.

“Don’t you dare feel bad for me,” I say, massaging my knee, which has long, curving puckered scars from multiple surgeries. They’ve been connected by a tattoo in the form of a star constellation. My very first project for Beautiful Scars was my own. “It’s just stiff,” I explain to the whale. “It’ll loosen up in a minute.”

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Advertisement Colossal – Big Boys Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.books2020.com/colossal-big-boys-read-online-jessa-kane Wed, 29 Oct 2025 22:14:46 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/colossal-big-boys-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Virgin Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)

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Eric is a hockey goalie with one goal of his hide as much of his sizable presence behind desks, lockers and hockey pads. That is, until a new girl named Marlow arrives at school and can't hide her adoration of the 6'6" bruiser. Both of them are inexperienced in the ways of love, but their attraction is a magnetic force—and soon enough, they're spending their lunch period in the shadows of the library, sating each other's hunger. But why won't Marlow introduce him to her parents? Is she ashamed of his freakish appearance or...is she scared to tell him something?

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

Chapter 1

Eric

I hate walking down the school hallways.

Sure, there’s a smile on my face and my boys slap me on the back as I pass. I’m the goalie for the school hockey team and in Minnesota, that’s means something. I’m well liked. Fine. But from my point of view, everyone else is an ant. I’m the 6’6” ogre sent to stomp them all to death. Here he comes. Run for your lives.

My fellow students can’t simply step out of my path; they practically have to move to another continent to get out of my way. Everyone stares—and I mean everyone. Even though I’ve known most of these fools since kindergarten.

No one ever gets used to the freak, apparently.

I breathe an inward sigh of relief when I reach my pre-college physics class, ducking my head to get inside the classroom without smacking my forehead off the frame.

“Eric ‘Colossal’ Von Hagen has entered the building,” woofs one of my teammates from the far end of the class, pounding his fist against his desk three quick times. “Who’s going to slaughter Spellman High tonight?”

“We are, motherfucker,” I growl back, sending the class full of students into a cheering frenzy. “They’re going to wish they were never born.”

“All right, guys,” sighs Ms. Geary, our physics teacher. “Everyone calm down and focus on class.”

“Come on, Ms. Geary,” I say, inwardly wincing over the monstrous depth of my voice. I sound like I’m on my way to gobble up an entire village in one bite. “You know you’re going to be sitting in the first row tonight.”

The class releases a simultaneous oooh while Ms. Geary blushes. “You know I never miss a game, Colossal!” She adjusts her glasses. “But physics is just as important.”

“Sure,” I drawl, winking at her. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Everyone laughs.

Is that enough? Can I go hide behind my lab table now?

Standing in the front of the class like this, I feel ridiculous. My shirt is too tight, because I can’t seem to stop growing. When will it end? I’m eighteen, for chrissakes. My jeans are the right length, but only because I special ordered them online. The crotch, however, is snug as hell, because my dick is determined to keep up with the rest of me. Not that I’ve formally measured the thing, but I’m lucky I can zip my pants at all these days.

All too aware that every eyeball in the class is on me, I turn sideways and sidle down the row, my neck heating when three students have to move their desks, just so I can bypass them. My stomach begins to gnaw on itself and all I can think about is sitting down. Hiding. Not having to move or make a spectacle out of myself for the next hour.

Finally, I reach my table in the rear of the classroom.

I’m usually the only one who sits there. No one else fits.

But this time, it’s not empty when I get there.

There’s a girl.

Holy shit, though, that’s not just any girl.

I’ve never seen her before in my life, and wow. Wow. She’s so beautiful that my knees buckle a little and I have to grab the edge of the table to steady myself. She has this, like…incredible head of hair. Now, I don’t usually notice a girl’s hair, but this one looks like she had it done in some Hollywood salon. Deep, rich brown waves run down to the center of her very straight back, some of it gathered together in the middle and tied with a white bow. Though I can only see the edge of the bow, because she’s looking up at me with these impossibly wide green eyes.

A pattern shifts in the line of her throat.

A swallow.

I’ve never seen her before. Which means she’s probably never seen me, either.

Oh my God. Poor thing. She must be terrified.

I open my mouth to promise I’m not going to use her bones as toothpicks, but something happens first. Something I could never have expected.

Her face brightens with a smile that could summon a host of angels.

“Are you my seat mate?” she whispers, sliding out my chair.

“Um.” I clear my throat, and it sounds like a bus backfiring. “Yes.”

I wait for the girl to scoot over, so I don’t knock her over when I sit down, but she doesn’t move. She just sits there, waiting patiently. And I’m trying not to notice that she’s hot as fuck. I’m trying so hard, because if I got an erection at school, I’d probably get expelled for possession of a deadly weapon. But standing above the new girl, as I am, I can see down the front of her prim, white, button-down shirt. Her tits are small but plump, cupped in a simple bra. No frills. Just two sweet little apples that have never been plucked.

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Advertisement Praise Me Daily Pilot Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.books2020.com/praise-me-daily-pilot-read-online-jessa-kane Thu, 25 Sep 2025 16:02:45 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/praise-me-daily-pilot-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, Forbidden, Novella, Virgin Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)

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Haylo's airline pilot father just stood her up for parent's weekend at her sorority house. In his place, he's sent Joel, his good friend and co-pilot. Joel was given one to keep his hands off Haylo. Following instructions seemed like it would be a breeze—until the former Air Force pilot sees the luscious coed in person and is hit with a bolt of possessiveness. Oh, and she's out to seduce Joel to teach her father a lesson for once again deserting her.

One thing is for sure—the weekend won't be smooth sailing

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

CHAPTER 1

Joel

“Thanks again, buddy,” says the baritone voice in my ear. “I really appreciate this.”

I squint into the sun and let out a mental sigh. “No problem, Phil.”

“Although, maybe you should be thanking me, huh?” His laugh chugs its way down the crystal-clear phone connection. “I can think of worse ways to spend a weekend than surrounded by sorority girls.”

I’m glad my mentor and frequent co-pilot isn’t here to see me shake my head, because that’s exactly what I’m doing. Phil is my best friend. When I decided to take the leap from the Air Force to commercial piloting, he helped me navigate those waters. Pointed me toward the right people and showed me the proverbial ropes. I earned the stripes necessary to pilot international skies, but Phil brought me into a network that isn’t easy to breach. He’s a good guy and we get along great, despite him being seventeen years my senior at age forty-nine.

But as a thirty-two-year-old man, I can think of a lot of shit I’d rather being doing than filling in for Phil at parents’ weekend at his daughter’s sorority. I’m currently standing at the curb in front of the Chi Omega house, and the squeals are already deafening. Girls rush out onto the lawn to greet their parents, enfolding them in enthusiastic hugs, cradling bouquets of flowers like they’re newborn babies. Take a picture of me with the flowers, two of the sorority girls say at the same time, sending them into grating peals of laughter.

I’m not going to survive this.

“Remind me why you can’t make it to parents’ weekend,” I say to Phil, my head already beginning to pound. “You get free airfare. Couldn’t you have hopped a flight to Nashville to be here?”

“Ah, come on, man. Don’t make me say why I’m not coming.”

“If I’m going to spend the weekend blinded by the color pink, I deserve an explanation.”

Phil heaves a sigh. “There’s a woman in Boston that needs my…attention, all right? I haven’t been able to see her on my last few layovers at Logan. She gave me an ultimatum. Either show my face this weekend, wine and dine her, or she’ll move on.” He makes a sound in his throat. “She’s a little high maintenance, but she’s worth the effort.”

A woman.

He’s missing his daughter’s parents’ weekend to go see a woman.

That doesn’t sit right in my chest, but maybe I should give Phil the benefit of the doubt. He’s a widower. Lost his wife young. Had to raise a daughter on his own. Maybe his constant need for female companionship is something I don’t understand.

And I do mean constant. Phil might have a girlfriend in Boston, but he’s also got one in Barcelona, Milan and Dallas—and those are only the women I know about. There could be several more that he simply hasn’t mentioned.

“You’re not judging me, right?” Phil says. “Haylo will understand. Remember the story. I got stuck in some bad weather in Thailand and they rescheduled my flight back to the States for Monday. That’s the story. You and I need to be aligned on that.”

There’s a sharp turnover below my collarbone.

I’m not a liar. Never have been, never will be.

When Phil asked me to fill in for him, the favor seemed innocent enough, but now that I’m standing outside the sorority house, waiting for Haylo to emerge, the dishonesty of it all is putting a sour taste in my mouth.

“Remind me what she looks like,” I say, scanning a blur of smiling faces. As much as Phil has spoken to me about his daughter during our countless hours in the sky over the last three years, she’s never been home the few times I’ve made it over to his house.

“I sent you a picture of her. You didn’t look at it?”

“I meant to. Hold on, let me pull it up—”

“There’s no need. You’ll know which one is her. She’s got her mother’s hair and eyes. You won’t be able to miss her.” He chuckles. “I used to tell her mother she had eyes the color of a Heineken bottle.”

“What a romantic.”

“Hey—she bought my bullshit enough to marry me, didn’t she?” A pause draws itself out until Phil eventually clears his throat. “Anyway, Haylo’s hair is the color of a moonbeam. So blonde it’s almost silver. Cute as a button.”

In an instance of near perfect timing, that’s when I see her.

I almost drop the fucking phone.

My stomach muscles seize up, a pulse rollicking in my ears.

She’s…extraordinary.

She stops on the top step and searches the gathering of parents eagerly, her hands wringing at her waist, those green eyes brimming with hope, the wind causing her unusually colored hair to blow around. That same wind flutters the hem of her pleated skirt. It plasters her thin, white tank top to her hard nipples. My knees almost give way beneath me, the wave of hunger hits me with so much strength.

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Advertisement Praise Me – Lumberjack Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.books2020.com/praise-me-lumberjack-read-online-jessa-kane Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:25:45 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/praise-me-lumberjack-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >28

Hollywood starlet Jenna Fairchild is chained to a tree. Minus her clothing. Why? Her manager is adamant that she ditch her innocent sitcom star image and blossom into a sex symbol in the eyes of the public. Now, however, with the chains biting into her bare skin and a dozen pairs of eyes staring at her, she's scared. Unsafe. Go figure that the only one to notice—and care about her distress is Penn, a mammoth local lumberjack, who is there to cut down the very tree to which she is chained. This single father in flannel is mighty, gruff, twice her size...and fourteen years her senior. But he's the first person who has ever made her feel protected. Safe. Hungry for touch. Penn and Jenna come from two different worlds, though. Will their bond be broken when she returns to LA? Or is theirs the kind of love that can surmount any obstacle

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

CHAPTER 1

JENNA

You’re probably wondering how I ended up here.

Chained to an oak tree in the middle of the forest. Naked.

Believe me, I’m wondering that myself.

The bark is digging into the flesh of my buttocks and back. The chains are restrictive and heavy, making it difficult to breathe. My manager, agent, an editorial team and a dozen assistants stare back at me, waiting for me to take the social media shot of the century.

We flew here on a private jet. To commemorate Earth Day.

Even I see the irony.

Maybe being chained to this tree was inevitable, though. Child actors are supposed to go down a wild and confusing path on their quest to be taken seriously, right? The transition is never seamless. It’s bumpy and often humiliating. A coming-of-age story playing out under the microscope of judgment.

I played an iconic role on a long-running sitcom called Hey Betty and now, unless I do something out of the box to prove I’m an artist and a grown woman—instead of a fifteen-year-old with a catchphrase—I will be irrelevant by next week.

Or so my manager, Dustin, tells me.

“Look passionate, Jenna! You are trying to save the tree from being chopped down,” shouts the photographer. “Dare them to come take it from you!”

“Who is them?”

“Them is me,” booms a voice from the back of the crowd. A collective jolt goes through the group, and they step aside, allowing the speaker to come forward.

And suddenly, the fact that I’m naked takes on a whole new meaning.

It’s one thing for the makeup artist, photographer and manager to see me naked. They’re a bunch of desensitized Los Angeles natives.

But this man, this giant man with a chainsaw, with his robust frame, makes me feel truly exposed in my nudity. Flustered and antsy. My hips automatically drop at an angle, cocked, my back attempting to arch off the tree. An involuntary preen. The chains are covering my breasts and sex, but only barely, and every inch of me besides that is on display. My stomach and cleavage and the highest points of my thighs. My arms are restrained, otherwise I might actually fix my long chestnut-colored hair as this man approaches—he’s that compelling in all his square-jawed, exasperated masculinity.

“Y-you’re here to chop down the tree?” I ask him as he draws closer.

God, he’s so tall. Blends right in with the mighty oaks on all sides of us.

They don’t make men like this in LA.

Not only is he unique in stature, but he’s trying not to ogle me. With all his might.

There’s a deep furrow between his black brows, his breathing growing just a hint shallow as that intense gaze sweeps my thighs and tummy. Then he clears his throat. Hard. And turns to address my manager instead of me. “This tree and three others are scheduled to come down today,” he says in that low, brusque voice. “Unless you have a permit for this…whatever it is, I’m going to need you to unchain the girl and get the hell out of my forest.”

“Your forest?” I ask, blinking. “You own the forest?”

“I’m as close as it gets.”

How is it that I feel his voice in my stomach? “Care to explain?”

He sighs. “Ever heard of a lumberjack? I’m here to harvest these trees. Where do you think the wood comes from that built your pretty little house. Out of thin air?”

“I have a condo,” I say uselessly.

“Good, Jenna!” exclaims the photographer. “Get pissed. Tell him the tree isn’t coming down on your watch. Not on Earth Day!”

My face heats. “Don’t you think there are better ways to get our point across?” I call to Dustin.

“Yes,” deadpans the man with the chainsaw. “I do.”

“Like, maybe…a donation?” I add, unable to meet the giant’s eyes.

But I feel them on my body, nonetheless.

Reluctantly raking up and down, followed by the sound of him swallowing.

“Okay,” says the photographer, lowering his camera. “We have some great shots of Jenna solo, then squaring off with the lumberjack. What else do we need to get?”

If I blinked, I would have missed the sly look between my agent and manager.

But I didn’t. I saw it. And it causes my muscles to tie themselves in knots.

“Jenna,” says Dustin, floating forward and gesturing with his phone. “We’re here to celebrate Earth Day and that’s all well and good, but we both know there’s a bigger picture. Our goal is to have the public view you as an adult, instead of Hey Betty, right?”

“Jesus,” laughs the lumberjack without humor, dragging a hand down his face. “I thought that was you.”

“You watch Hey Betty?” I ask.

“My daughter watches it,” he corrects me. “The reruns play on a loop in our house.”

Daughter. This man is old enough to have a child? How old does that make him? Thirty? Thirty-five? I just turned nineteen last week and I barely know how to pour a bowl of cereal, let alone consider having babies. His world is vastly different than mine.

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Advertisement The Gift That Keeps On Giving Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.books2020.com/the-gift-that-keeps-on-giving-read-online-jessa-kane Wed, 09 Jul 2025 19:15:43 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-gift-that-keeps-on-giving-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Novella, Taboo Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >32

Two men—one sculptor, one corporate god—will not stop fighting over Ruby Lang. She was their college Shakespeare tutor and six years later, they are still carrying a torch for her. Maybe a week in a palatial beach house with the spunky blonde is exactly what these intensely infatuated men need to work out their differences. But who will come away with the prize? Nobody knows. But their wives will be calling the shots

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

Chapter One

Ruby

Isift my fingers through the pile of past due notices with a lump in my throat.

Sip and Flip is officially going under.

I’ve barely opened the doors to my bookstore with the cozy tea lounge, and the overdue bills are going to turn off the lights. My dream is dashed before it was ever fully realized. The demise of my quaint little shop isn’t for lack of style and warmth and selection. Really, my downfall started with a giant water main break on the street in front of the shop, which shut down the entire block for my opening week. Then a leak from the tenant upstairs caused half of my inventory to be damaged.

Sip and Flip never had a chance.

Coming out from behind the counter, I gaze across the street toward the ocean on the other side. People are leaving the beach, silhouetted in the orange California sunset. Maybe a tiny tea shop with little book nooks was wrong for this tourist destination? This is far from the first time I’ve wondered if I set up shop in the wrong place. Who has time to get lost in the stacks with their kids in tow? Or sandy from the beach? If I was selling ice cream or keepsakes, would I have done better?

Maybe.

But that’s not my dream.

I begin to turn back into the darkened shop, prepared to lock up for one of the very last times, when I notice two women in their late twenties hustling toward me from across the street. They spy me through the glass door and wave.

“Are you closed?” one of them, a redhead, calls.

A little caught off guard, I still hold the door open with a welcoming smile. “Come on in. I can stay open as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” says the second woman, a tall brunette. “We are in desperate need of some reading material.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” I murmur, trying not to stare at their incredible purses. To say nothing of their Italian leather, luxury brand shoes. It’s not unusual to come across wealthy tourists in this town, but these women appear to be another level of affluent. “If you need any recommendations, let me know.”

The redhead sends me a blithe smile, then does a double take. “Hey. Why do you look so familiar?”

I rear back a little. “I don’t know. Have you shopped here before? This is my store.”

“No, we’re vacationing from the east coast,” she murmurs, staring at me for another beat before shaking herself, continuing to saunter through by the bestseller shelf. “And let me tell you, it is not going well.”

“Vacation from hell,” the tall brunette agrees. “The blame goes squarely on our husbands. They won’t even speak to each other. We had to spend the day on opposite ends of the beach.”

“Why won’t they speak to each other?” I ask.

The redhead drops her head back on a dramatic groan. “It’s complicated.”

Her friend snorts. “You can say that again.”

I don’t want to pry or ask about anything too personal, so I slide back behind the counter and busy myself with the bookmark stand.

“Tell her the story,” encourages the redhead. “It’s not like we’re in a hurry to get back to those dickheads.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” mutters the tall brunette, who approaches the counter twisting a Cartier bracelet around her wrist. “Buckle up, blondie. I bet you’ve never heard anything like this before,” she begins. “We have been best friends all our lives. Our dream was to marry, have babies and do everything together, including grow old. Simple, right? Well, our husbands had other plans.”

Her red-haired friend picks up where she left off. “We met our husbands during sophomore year at Yale.”

My chin pops up.

Yale.

I went to Yale, three thousand miles away in Connecticut. What a coincidence.

But I don’t want to interrupt, so I hold my tongue.

“They were best friends since childhood, like us. My husband is an artist who works with metal. Her husband played football and now works in the corporate sector. They’re very different men, but they were inseparable. In other words, perfect for our purposes. We had it all planned out. Snatch up these men, have pretty babies and raise them together while the men go golf and make money or whatever. Well. It wasn’t to be.”

“Nope!”

My body temperate is starting to drop.

An artist and a football player. Yale.

Oh God.

A swallow gets stuck in my throat.

This can’t be happening.

“Senior year,” says the redhead, picking up the story. “This cute freshman girl arrives on the scene. Blonde, kind of nerdy. She tutors them for their final semester, because neither one of them can decipher Shakespeare…and they both develop a little crush on her.”

“A little crush?” scoffs the brunette.

“Now, they didn’t cheat on us, mind you. We probably wouldn’t have married them otherwise. It was more of an…infatuation they both had.”

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Advertisement Praise Me – Soldier Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.books2020.com/praise-me-soldier-read-online-jessa-kane Mon, 12 May 2025 18:28:27 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/praise-me-soldier-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Erotic, Insta-Love, Novella, Virgin Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >37

July is on her first date—ever. Leave it to her to sit down at the wrong table. With the wrong man. As soon as she realizes her error, she should get up and leave, right? Thing is, she can't seem to move once she locks eyes with Theo, a soldier fighting demons that chased him from a POW camp overseas, all the way back to Chicago. The only person who seems to quiet those hostile memories in his mind...is her. But what she does to his body? It's the opposite of quiet.

And there's no switching tables now.

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

CHAPTER

ONE

Theo

My skin is feverish.

Sweat is forming a pattern on the front of my gray T-shirt.

I can’t seem to uncurl my fists long enough to pick up the coffee mug and bring the rim to my mouth for a sip. No one else in this café is having difficulty performing basic tasks, like consuming their beverage. In fact, they’re multitasking while they drink. Having witty conversations, reading, typing on laptops.

All the clicking and laughter and scratching of pens, chair legs, skin…it culminates in a marching battalion of sounds to assault my ears. Ears that haven’t heard anything but silence…or screaming…in so long, they can’t cope. I can’t cope.

I can’t do this.

I thought I was ready for the outside world, but I’m not.

I don’t even have a cell phone yet because all the icons and apps were so confusing, but trivial at the same time. Unfamiliar like everything else.

My hands are jerky, sweat rolling down my spine while I fumble with my wallet, taking out a ten-dollar bill and wedging it in between the salt and pepper shakers. Is ten enough? Has the cost of coffee gone up since I’ve been imprisoned? Why didn’t I think to look at the menu more closely?

A man two tables away raises his voice to ask the waitress for the check and my skin shrivels like hot plastic. He’s a civilian. A civilian. But all I hear is a person in distress. Another soldier being tortured on the other side of the wall. Distant explosions. Gunfire. Soon-to-be dead men screaming for their mothers. All absorbed into the blackness of my cell. My sweltering, airless hole carved into rock somewhere so far removed from this fancy coffee shop, it shouldn’t even be allowed in the same universe.

Taking a deep inhale, I close my eyes and recite the directions back to my new apartment, reminding myself not to glance right or left on the way home, to keep my attention locked on the path in front of me, lest I see something that triggers my severe PTSD and causes a scene. Sort of like in the airport upon landing back in Chicago, when I thought the rumble of the baggage claim belt starting, a horn blaring three times in succession, meant there was incoming fire.

Those people didn’t need to be hustled to safety. They were safe, normal Americans, like the people surrounding me right now. Sometimes my brain forgets, though. It forgets everything but the fear and memories and horror of the last four years.

I push my chair back to leave, but I never get the chance to stand up.

A girl sits down across from me and…

The grating noises in the coffee shop fade into a low, thumping rhythm. I don’t realize right away that it’s my heart I’m hearing. I haven’t heard it do anything but pound with painful adrenaline in so long, I barely recognize the sound.

She’s short.

Young.

In round, tortoiseshell glasses. Beautiful brown eyes look back at me from the other side of that glass, bewildered and inquisitive all at once. Her dark hair is twisted up on the top of her head in a bun, but I can see light, golden strands woven throughout the messy masterpiece. She parts her lips to say something, and thankfully, she doesn’t, because I wouldn’t have heard it, anyway. Goddamn, that fucking mouth. Supple. Full. Kissed with a light gloss that catches the golden light above the table. The bow of her upper lip is unnaturally high, and it allows me to see the tiny gap between her front teeth.

I’m staring.

I can’t stop staring and my prolonged attention is making her blush.

She drops her head forward on a shy, breathy laugh.

“You’re…” She peers up at me through her eyelashes. “You’re Kevin?”

Kevin. Kevin. Who the fuck is Kevin?

“I don’t usually let my co-workers set me up on dates. I don’t usually go on dates at all, to be honest.” Slowly, she starts to unwind a light, tan and white striped scarf from around her delicate throat, which is circled by a thin necklace. A gold charm in the shape of a bow sits right on that little notch above her collarbone and my mouth begins to salivate. What is happening to me? “I just…um…”

Dear God, her voice is so…innocently husky.

My cock gives a heavy thrum. For the first time in years.

I feel the pulsation in my throat and nearly choke on the unexpectedness of it.

Beneath the table, I dig my thumbs into my knees. Breathe.

“Well, I’m trying to be more of a yes person,” she continues. “I always say no to happy hour. When I have vacation days at work, I never use them for anything but…”

“But what?” I ask, desperate for her to keep speaking.

My voice visibly startles her. It’s no wonder. I sound like I just crawled out of a grave. In a lot of ways, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. Starting with being in this coffee shop.

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Advertisement Praise Me – Priest Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.books2020.com/praise-me-priest-read-online-jessa-kane Mon, 21 Apr 2025 22:20:46 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/praise-me-priest-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Novella, Taboo, Virgin Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >27

Father Rune McDaniel is determined to live as a faithful, pious man who serves only the church, distancing himself from the ways of the world. He never counted on crossing paths with Farrah, a beautiful thief who gets caught stealing chocolate in the marketplace…and steals his holy intentions right along with it.
Now, he’s been caught by his superior in a compromising position with the tempting girl and his collar is on the line. He’ll have to pass a series of sensual tests, involving Farrah, to prove to the elder clergyman that he’s not going to forsake his faith for the beauty. And if he passes a single one of them, it’ll be a miracle…

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

Chapter One

Rune

When I joined the priesthood, I expected a huge lifestyle change.

That’s one of the major reasons I answered the calling.

Change.

There is one thing that continues to catch me off guard, however, and that is the way people react to me when I walk down the road in my cassock. Parishioners bow their heads or simply wave. They compliment me on the mass that morning.

Others are openly hostile.

They dislike the very sight of me and Monsignor Hannibal as we walk through the fruit stands and handmade goods vendors that make up the marketplace. Father Hannibal, hands folded at his waist, a rosary woven between his old fingers, doesn’t seem to mind at all. His superiority appears to be unshakeable.

I’m more curious about that hostility and what I can do to change it. Isn’t that why I became a priest at the age of twenty-eight? To spread good tidings in my community?

That’s not the original reason you joined the priesthood.

You damn well know it.

I clamp my teeth down on the inside of my cheek, biting until I taste blood. Only a few months into this new chapter of my life and that voice in my head remains relentless. I figured it would have faded away, now that I’ve established myself in the church and developed a routine, but no. It continues to haunt me. Call me a fraud.

But I won’t listen to it. I will overcome my self-doubts.

The church is where I belong, and nothing can shake that belief.

“I see a few choir members over by the silk trader,” says Monsignor Hannibal, a cajoling glint in his eye. “They always have the best gossip. Will you join me in speaking with them?”

Normally, I say no to this weekly invitation. I don’t want to engage in gossip, and it surprises me that Father Hannibal enjoys something that should be considered a sin. I do worry, however, that he’s beginning to feel slighted, so I start to say yes…

But something catches me eye. Long, vibrant red hair among a sea of grays and whites. The figure of a young woman weaves through the busy marketplace, barefoot, her dress looking like one of the garments I see in the weekly poor box. It’s tight. I know better than to notice the fit of her dress, but the blue material allows no mysteries. A deep breath could rip the bodice straight down the middle. And given she’s so slight in stature, the damn dress must be meant for someone much younger. A child, perhaps.

She is…

She is not a child, though.

Perhaps I haven’t seen her face yet, but the swells of her breasts make that clear.

I swallow with difficulty, the voice in my head laughing now as I try to look away. Try to look at anything but her.

I’ve almost succeeded when she lifts her head…and the sun shines down on the face of pure innocence and grace. She closes her eyes and smiles up at the sky, inhaling the steam from the nearby hot chocolate vendor, her hair fluttering in the wind—a red flag.

“Father McDaniel?” prompts the monsignor.

I clear my throat hard. Sure, I’ll join you.

Those words, the right ones, are perched there on my lips.

But then the barefoot redhead turns her head and looks at me, blinking two arresting gray eyes and I forget the question. I forget the name of the very town in which I’m standing. And obviously, I’m not the type of man to be distracted by women.

I am a man of God.

And I am nothing—nothing like my father.

But there is a simmering intuition in my blood telling me I was supposed to stumble across this woman today. That I’m not meant to simply observe her and walk away.

I’m not sure I could if I wanted to.

Get closer to her.

She’s in need. Of course she is, or she wouldn’t be barefoot in the dusty town square. Her dress would fit properly, instead of strangling her shapely hips, likely to the point of poor circulation. Her face wouldn’t be pale, as if she hasn’t eaten or gotten enough sunlight recently. She needs care, this girl.

The back of my neck prickles with alarm.

I’m supposed to be immune to the opposite sex. Not supposed to be looking at her body or marveling over the generosity of her mouth. I was raised in the household of a debauched man who flaunted sexuality, his promiscuous nature on full display. They called my father many names. Tom cat. Lothario. Womanizer.

The behavior and the shame heaped on my family name, including my mother and sisters, is what drove me to the collar. He humiliated us all by siring illegitimate children all over our hometown, acting like the victim when we finally left. That was the year I started studying for the priesthood. I won’t be like him. I won’t be a servant to lust. And I’m confident I can go speak to this girl and continue to abide by my vows. Principles.

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