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

L.J. Shen – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:21:09 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png L.J. Shen – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Petty in Pink Read Online L.J. Shen http://www.books2020.com/petty-in-pink-read-online-l-j-shen Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:21:09 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/petty-in-pink-read-online-l-j-shen Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary, Funny, Novella Authors: L.J. Shen Advertisement

Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)

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Return to the bestselling world of The Devil Wears Black in this Valentine’s Day spin-off where longtime friends with benefits unwittingly find themselves in a serious predicament.

In New York Times bestselling author L.J. Shen’s valentine-themed novella, a surprise pregnancy shakes up expectations between a romance-phobe and her longtime hookup who’s always wanted more.

Layla Schmidt has artfully dodged Cupid’s arrows for six years now, keeping things casual with her standing booty call—no romance, no strings.

As far as Layla’s concerned, it’s the perfect setup. For both of them. With her painful track record, the lively teacher wants nothing to do with commitment, and Grant Gerwig, dedicated oncologist, is too busy for it. Truthfully, Grant wants to make the time, but he knows better than to push where Layla won’t budge.

Their emotional standstill can’t last forever, though.

When a coworker’s wedding brings a blast from Layla’s past, it blows a hole through her future too. Swirling emotions lead to impulsive decisions, and after an adrenaline-fueled night, she finds herself pregnant.

Layla and Grant have a lot to talk about…and a lot to prepare for. Falling in love was never supposed to be part of their equation, but even the best-laid plans unfold with some surprises along the way

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

Chapter One

Layla

Valentine’s Day, 2023

“This is giving strong undecided vibes,” I told Maddie on the phone, squinting at an appetizer that peered back at me.

“Layla, you’re at their wedding,” my best friend said, snorting. “I’m pretty sure they’re serious about each other.”

“Don’t be. Choosing Valentine’s Day as your wedding date, thereby ruining everyone else’s plans?” I scoffed as I put down the weird shrimp appetizer with the buggy eyes. “And making all the guests wear pink? Regardless of splotchy skin tone? They’re trying to compensate for something. I better investigate.”

I moved down the mile-long table of appetizers. The tablecloths were red, and black-and-white heart-shaped confetti covered every surface of the floor. I was a big fan of the show, don’t tell rule. Not only when it came to the books I consumed, but also to the people I spent my time with. And this was screaming telling. What did they have to prove?

Usually, the cocktail hour was my favorite part of the wedding—the only tolerable part, actually—but this time the food selection was too fancy. A mix of caviar, seafood, and soup shooters in tiny pink glasses. It felt like I was in some kind of extravagant detox rehab, minus the celebrities and comfy yoga pants.

Maddie snickered. “How’d you get roped into attending some strangers’ wedding, anyway?”

“Hey, she is not a stranger. She’s honestly the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister.”

“Wow. Fighting words right there. Thanks a bunch, L.”

I’d only known the bride, Kellianne, for two months. She was my new teacher’s assistant at Bright Horizons Academy. But she was sweet and motivated, and she didn’t run away screaming when we got the Twos class, notoriously the most difficult age group. I showed her the ropes and invited her to our weekly drinks and monthly spicy book club meetups. She was a recent arrival to the city, and I’d learned she was trying to build new friendships. So when she asked if I could come, mentioning that only her close family was able to afford coming and that the groom had over three hundred guests, I caved.

“Listen, I usually go through three teaching assistants a year whenever I get the Twos class. One time a PTO mom had to step in for a full semester before we found someone to brave those little angels.” I plucked a champagne glass from the long table, then took a sip. “Kellianne stuck around. We are sisters-in-arms. I’d give her an internal organ if she ever needs one.” I smoothed down my pink satin dress with my free hand, peering around the grand marble lobby of the Central Park hotel where the wedding was taking place.

The couple might not be in love, but one of them was definitely rich. I’m talking golden-toilets-and-Dolce-&-Gabbana-toasters rich. A Danish prince had gotten married here two weeks ago.

“Is the food decent, at least?” Maddie sighed.

“I just had a stare-off with a shrimp. I hope that answers your question.”

“It does. But now I have to vomit again.”

“Sorry. Why is it that the more bougie the event is, the less edible the food is?”

“That question is way above my pay grade.” I heard Maddie cracking open a can of what I assumed was her seventh ginger ale today. “Isn’t it in that new hotel? Are there any dashing eligible bachelors to speak of?”

I scanned the room again. Everyone was paired off or huddled together into groups. I guessed the groom was in investment, or something equally soulless. The tall-white-men-with-Ivy-League-haircut percentage was out of control.

Virtually every person in the room had their back to me. Not that I could blame them. I stuck out like a brain cell in a flat-earther convention, with my electric green hair and red-hot lipstick.

There were a few fine-looking men, but I would bet my left boob that all of them wouldn’t have swiped right for me on an app, or vice versa. It was an energy thing. Theirs was will-not-be-seen-alive-in-anything-cheaper-than-Prada, and my energy gave off will-drink-water-from-the-pickle-jar-for-twenty-bucks vibes.

“No one that passes the vibe check,” I drawled to the phone, taking another sip of my bubbly drink. “I’ll just show my face, say my congratulations, and move along with my life.”

Said life currently included watching the last season of The Great British Bake Off and ordering pad Thai while wearing compression socks, but whatever. I wasn’t hurting anybody.

“Hey, am I hearing Ms. Rachel in the background?” I tapered my eyes.

“The answer depends on whether you’re going to chide me for giving my child screen time or not.”

“Not.”

“Then yes, Caitie’s Classroom is on.”

“What’s my godson still doing up?” I pulled the phone away from my ear to check the time. It was nine. Who the hell gets married at nine?

“I put him to bed an hour ago. I’m just too lazy to stand up and grab the remote. This pregnancy is killing me.”

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Advertisement Bad Bishop (Society of Villains #1) Read Online L.J. Shen http://www.books2020.com/bad-bishop-society-of-villains-1-read-online-l-j-shen Wed, 19 Nov 2025 18:28:01 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/bad-bishop-society-of-villains-1-read-online-l-j-shen Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia Authors: L.J. Shen Series: Society of Villains Series by L.J. Shen
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Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)

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From New York Times bestselling author L.J. Shen comes a dark age-gap mafia romance.

He's Deathless.
She's trying to find a reason to live.

Lila

My innocence was ripped from me one fateful night under the starless sky.
Resulting in an unwanted teenage pregnancy and a secret the Camorra must bury.
My father decided to hand me off to the highest bidder.
The lucky winner? Tiernan Callaghan, psychopath extraordinaire.
The Irish mafia prince wants me for all the wrong reasons.
Alliance. Money. Prestige. War.
I am but a pawn in his twisted game.
The man who sits on a throne of his enemies' skulls thinks I'm a weakling.
Little does he know, in this chess game, the underdog wins.
Because the thing about bad bishops?
They protect good pawns.

Bad Bishop is a dark and twisted romance. Please read trigger warnings before reading

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

CHAPTER ONE

TIERNAN

362 DAYS TO SELF-DESTRUCTION

Pain.

It was one of my favorite delicacies.

I savored the hot lick of a sharp knife, the icy kiss of metal shackles, the explosive heat of bones crushing beneath knuckles. Really, there was nothing better than getting a little fucked up to remind me I was alive.

Apparently though, even I had my limits.

I found them in the basement of the Ferrante crime family. Zip-tied onto a wooden chair that reeked of shit, piss, and dried blood. My face was swollen from being beaten to a pulp for the last forty minutes.

The first twenty were enjoyable enough. Fuck, I even got a little stiffy when Achilles took out the brass knuckles. Now, however, I’d overindulged. This was overkill, even for a pain connoisseur like me.

The actual violence wasn’t the problem; death was always an option in my line of work.

I just hadn’t realized the cause of mine would be boredom.

I was half tempted to finish their job and slit my own throat.

It was better than listening to them droning on about my little…what shall I call it? Art project.

“My, my.” Achilles drove his fist into my face, sending me careening across the floor. An inferno of blood exploded from my nostrils. “I see why the Rasputins call you Deathless. You refuse to fucking die.”

A metallic grunt skulked up my hollowed chest. I shifted my body so as not to crush my wrists under my weight, darting my tongue to catch the river of blood snaking along my cheek. “Maybe you’re just bad at killing people.”

A forceful blow found my ribs. This time it was Enzo Ferrante, the baby brother. Felt like he ruptured my liver. As if the poor organ didn’t have its hands full as it was. “Zip it before I skin you scrotum to face, Callaghan,” he warned, his voice cheery and cordial.

When were we getting to the good part? Time was money, and unlike the Ferrantes, I had to earn my keep every night.

Enzo spat on an open wound in my face, his saliva irritating my raw flesh.

In return, I spat a ball of phlegm and blood on his shoe.

“Christ, these Louboutins are hand sprayed by Banksy,” he muttered. “Have you no shame? And to think I send you Christmas cards every year.”

He did. Though I never opened the fucking letters.

The Ferrantes ruled 90 percent of New York. Personally, I wouldn’t put them in charge of an automatic door. I reigned over the remaining 10 percent, and with a deadlier fist. I was the future. They were the past. And they knew it.

Some people collected stamps. Others coins. I collected my enemies’ craniums. It was an economical hobby, if not a little messy. It also sent an accurate message—I wasn’t someone you wanted to fuck with, over, or in general.

Consequently, there was a human skull discarded between us. My little weekend splurge. The skull belonged to Igor Rasputin, the head of the Bratva. Well, ex-head now, evidently. This was what got the Ferrantes’ panties in a wad.

“Mind Igor’s cranium,” I said dryly. “I plan to use it as a penholder.”

“Gonna be hard to pen letters without hands, Alexander Hamilton,” Luca tutted.

A flicker of irritation passed over my face. A rare flash of humanity. Luca noticed. He pressed on. “What’d you think was gonna happen when we called you here? You killed the West Coast’s pakhan in our territory.”

“And you’re welcome.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you took better care of said territory, he wouldn’t be coming here, fucking your whores, sampling your drugs, poaching your soldiers.”

Achilles moseyed over to me. His fingers fastened around my neck, his thumbs hiking my Adam’s apple up my throat. Choking me to death on my own cartilage? Creative. I despised all things mundane, and that included artless murder. Achilles Ferrante was a cold-blooded monster. But hey, at least he wasn’t mediocre.

His brothers pulled him back before he cut off my air supply, slamming him against the wall. The three broke into an argument in Neapolitan, their lips moving a mile a minute.

Waiting for them to stop bickering, I examined my surroundings in boredom.

As far as torture chambers went, this one was adequate. Stone walls bracketed the room. It was dark, cold, and packed with medieval torturing devices. The iron maiden, the rack, the pear of anguish. There was also a generic knife rack, a chainsaw, and a wall of artillery. It was Disney World for psychopaths. And I wasn’t allowed to test any of the rides.

The door at the top of the steep stairway was padded with noise-canceling foam. No one was coming to save me.

Not that there was anything to save.

No soul.

No heart.

No conscience.

I was an animated corpse. Bones, muscles, flesh, and menace. Vengeance was my fuel, and it was enough to keep me moving, just about.

At last, Luca broke out of their human circle. He grabbed me by the collar and pulled me back into a sitting position. He popped a cigarette into my mouth, flicking his Zippo to torch the tip.

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Advertisement Handsome Devil (Forbidden Love #3) Read Online L.J. Shen http://www.books2020.com/handsome-devil-forbidden-love-3-read-online-l-j-shen Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:27:10 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/handsome-devil-forbidden-love-3-read-online-l-j-shen Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia Authors: L.J. Shen Series: Forbidden Love Series by L.J. Shen
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Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)

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I made a deal with the devil to save my mother…
But is it really hell if I love the way it burns?

Gia

The monster from my nightmares crawled into my reality, masquerading as my boss.
Tatum Blackthorne is Lucifer, personified.
When he discovers my weakness, he makes me an offer I cannot refuse, and I become his wife.
I always knew he was depraved, but as his twisted vendetta unfurls, so does my darkest secret.
Now we’re both the target of very nefarious people…
They’re about to find out no one matches my husband’s wrath.

Tate

I am a man of a few pleasures, one of which is destroying Gia Bennett.
Slowly. Patiently. Systematically.
My fixation with my secretary has an origin, but no limits.
When my revenge spree sparks into an all-consuming Mafia war, I expect nothing but a good time.
After all, death cannot come too soon.
Alas, it isn’t just my life that’s on the line now.
In this chess name, the king protects the queen.
Even at the price of burning down his entire empire.

Handsome Devil is a mafia-themed, enemies-to-lovers standalone romance. It deals with sensitive subject matters and includes violence, gore and explicit scenes some might find disturbing. Reader discretion is advised

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

All of them.

(I’m not kidding.)

If you still want the full list, please visit this website.

From: Dr. Arjun Patel, MD

(arjunpatel@stjohnsmedical.com)

To: Tate Blackthorn

(willnotanswerunsolicitedemails@GSproperties.com)

Tate,

While I understand your schedule is demanding, I urge you to pay me a visit in the next couple of weeks.

I instructed my secretary to prioritize this meeting. You are not well. I repeat, YOU ARE NOT WELL.

You have multiple disorders that need to be mitigated immediately.

I understand you prefer to liaise directly, but if this is a time constraint issue, I’d be happy to schedule appointments through your PA.

I eagerly await your reply.

Dr. Arjun Patel.

Roman baths of Bath

It wasn’t on my year’s bingo card to contaminate the water of two-thousand-year-old ancient thermae, but life had a way of surprising me every now and again.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to stop flailing about, Mr. Boyle,” I suggested stonily, my voice muffled by the plague doctor mask I was wearing.

Breathing through an upholstered leather beak was decisively inconvenient, but the Roman baths of Bath were littered with security cameras, and while severely allergic to humans, I had a feeling I was even more averse to prison food.

Plus, I had it on good authority that Boyle wasn’t a fan of crows.

I always appreciated a good Hitchcockian touch.

Nothing short of polite, Darrah Boyle stopped thrashing in the shallow water upon my request, but not before hitting his head on the edge of the Roman bath’s stair and splitting his forehead. The sound of bone cracking rang and echoed through the empty arena. My nostrils flared.

I despised clumsiness.

I especially hated mess.

Crimson crawled across the green-hued water, visible even in the pitch black of the night. Clenching my teeth, I tapped on the side of my right leg twice, then six times, then twice again.

I loathed going off script. This was definitely a diversion from my plan. He was not supposed to bleed. I wanted his corpse unsoiled and bruise-free.

It’s not in your plans.

It’s not in your plans.

It’s not in your plans.

“Plans change,” I said loudly, authoritatively, to myself.

Uncurling my fingers from his blood-soaked hair, I pushed up on my heels and watched as his ashen, naked frame drifted along the rectangle body of water, face down. A minute passed, then three. Because he wasn’t Aquaman, he was obviously dead.

I briefly considered leaving him inside the columned bath to be found. It would look like an accident. An inebriated ex-felon who came for a late-night dunk where swimming was prohibited. Knocked his head and drowned.

But I couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

There were rituals to follow. A ceremony to be made.

Two, six, two.

Two, six, two.

Two, six, two.

With an exasperated, long-suffering sigh, I strode into the thermae to retrieve my prey. Water enfolded my Tom Ford Chelsea boots, soaking my Brioni pants. The fog of the spring water swallowed his body in thick mist, and I had to fish my phone out of my peacoat and turn on the flashlight.

I checked for messages, but there weren’t any. Not even from my personal assistant, Gia, whom I called a half hour ago about a missing document I needed for work.

I would deal with her later.

The quiet swishing of the water as I treaded through it drowned out my slow and steady heartbeat.

Boyle’s body floated toward a corner of the stairway.

I gripped his hair in my gloved hand, dragging him up to the limestone pavement.

I used the tip of my boot to roll him over so that he faced me. A sloppy, sodden sound rang in my ears.

His blue face was splotchy, his skull distorted and slightly caved in from the injury. His lips were liver-hued.

You couldn’t even have a clean kill, Andrin’s voice mocked in my head. You just had to make a mess of it, didn’t you, Boy?

I shook my head, ridding myself of his voice.

It was my first kill. Practice made perfect, and I had at least two more people to help hone my craft.

See, five years ago, Darrah Boyle, along with two other inmates, murdered my father in prison over a bet. A game of cards. A reckless, meaningless moment.

My father was a powerful man. The type not to land himself in prison for anything short of murder.

As it happened, he did kill someone. Accidentally.

Nothing accidental about what Boyle did to him, though.

Paying with his life was the only logical outcome. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, et cetera.

I had always straddled the murky line between a businessman and a criminal.

Tonight, I stepped over that line.

Hell, I fucking sprinted through it, all the way to another continent.

To track down Boyle and his partners in crime, I had to get in bed with New York’s notorious Camorra organization.

The Ferrante family, who ruled the Italian Mafia in New York, was a lot of things.

None of them outstanding members of society.

“I suppose you could say you popped my cherry.” I reached for the inner pocket of my double-breasted coat, producing a black thorn still attached to the twig. I pressed it to Boyle’s cold, purple mouth. It was an unordinary, telling detail. Black thorn.

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Advertisement Wildest Dreams (Forbidden Love #2) Read Online L.J. Shen http://www.books2020.com/wildest-dreams-forbidden-love-2-read-online-l-j-shen Mon, 21 Apr 2025 22:19:49 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/wildest-dreams-forbidden-love-2-read-online-l-j-shen Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark Authors: L.J. Shen Series: Forbidden Love Series by L.J. Shen
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Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >136

He’ll protect his best friend’s baby sister from anything…other than himself.

Rhyland

Dylan Casablancas is a forbidden fruit, undeniably delicious, but one bite just might kill you.
She’s my best friend’s baby sister, a single mom, and a royal pain in the ass.
When Little Miss Baggage moves downstairs to house-sit her brother’s Manhattan apartment, my potential business partner mistakes us as a couple.
He wants a family guy. I want access to his billions.
And Dylan? She needs a big, burly guy to scare off her loser ex.
Pretending to be engaged to the feisty girl next door gets messy when I take a bite of the illicit apple.
What can I say? I’m an instant gratification kind of guy.
We made a deal to walk out of each other’s lives once my contract is signed.
The only problem? She might take my heart with her when she leaves.

Dylan

Rhyland Coltridge is out of the question.
Unless the answer is: “Who’s the biggest man-whore you’ve ever met?”
Hedonistic. Wild card. Utterly corrupt. And those are just the traits the jerk prides himself on.
My life is too messy for a boyfriend. Even if it wasn’t, Rhyland would be the last man I’d consider.
He is supposed to be my ticket out of this nightmare.
But he’s fast becoming my wildest, most dangerous dream.

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

“Spiracle”—Flower Face

“Recomposed By Max Richter: Vivaldi, The Four Seasons”—Max Richter (My Brilliant Friend)

“Washing Machine Heart”—Mitski

“Soaked”—Shy Smith

“The Tortured Poets Department”—Taylor Swift

“Wildest Dreams”—Taylor Swift

“I Like the Way You Kiss Me”—Artemas

“Crazy Girls”—TOOPOOR

“Lilith”—Adeline Troutman

“Bulletproof”—La Roux

“I’m Not in Love”—10cc

DYLAN

There were worse ways to be greeted in your own home than by catching your mother spread-eagle, plastered against the glass backyard door, getting mauled by her fiancé. But I couldn’t think of any of them as I stood at the entrance tightening my fist around the door handle, fighting—and losing—a war against my gag reflex.

“Yes, Marty! Yes. Right there, dio mio—don’t stop.” Her muffled cries, blurred by his palm as he tried to make sure they wouldn’t wake the toddler upstairs, trickled into my brain, burning themselves into my core memory.

My knee-jerk reaction was to scream, “MY EYES, MY EYES!” à la Phoebe Buffay and charge out of the house, town, state, and planet with my arms flailing in the air. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that. First, because my three-year-old was asleep upstairs and I wasn’t going to leave her behind. Second, because at the age of twenty-six, I still lived with my mama, albeit in the gorgeous mini mansion my brother had built for her. She had more right to this house than I did.

Third? Get it, Mama. Props to you for living your best life.

Throwing up a little in my mouth, I shut the door with a soft click and flung myself back into my red 1999 GMC Jimmy, giving them their privacy. I slammed the ancient driver’s door behind me. In retaliation, it tore off its hinges, collapsing onto the muddy ground with an angry thud.

Closing my eyes, I choked the steering wheel, inhaling deeply.

Everything is okay. More than okay. Great, really. You have a roof over your head. A steady job. A kid you worship…

My phone danced inside the flimsy front pocket of my diner uniform. The outfit consisted of a pale pink minidress short enough to moonlight as a napkin and a checked apron with an array of indistinguishable stains, from tomato sauce to coffee, vomit, and grease.

What can I say? It was a life of luxurious extravagance, but someone had to live it.

My eyes tapered to the image of my best friend Cal’s face on my screen. It was a photo of her with her head tossed back, laughing carelessly, my brother’s demonic face buried in her neck as he kissed her, with the Eiffel Tower as their backdrop. I chose this as her contact picture to remind myself of the one and only flaw in her otherwise sunny character: she was screwing Lucifer’s doppelgänger, a.k.a. my overbearing, controlling older brother.

I mean, they were married. And hella cute together. Maybe I was just annoyed because everyone around me was paired up, cocooned in their own loved-up universes. My only boyfriends in the past four years had been battery-operated and made of silicone.

I glided my finger across the screen but didn’t speak. I was afraid I’d throw up if I opened my mouth.

“Dyl,” Cal laughed breathlessly on the other end of the line. Row growled in the background in that grizzly-bear way he always used whenever he was kissing her.

I wasn’t jealous Cal was living her happily ever after. She’d earned it through taming my half-civilized sibling.

“You won’t believe who we just ran into in Cannes!” she shrieked.

Closing my eyes again, I talked myself out of a spontaneous mental breakdown.

Ed Sheeran? Taylor Swift? King Charles? God?

Their life was full of celebrity parties and Pinterest-worthy vacations and food too picture-perfect to eat.

It wasn’t Cal’s fault I’d just finished a twelve-hour shift at my dead-end job in Dahlia’s Diner. It wasn’t Cal’s fault I was a single mom. It wasn’t Cal’s fault I was still living with my mother. It wasn’t her fault my life felt like the middle section of a painstakingly boring book, the pages stuck together, a never-ending chain of to-do lists and chores.

“Dylan? You there?” Cal moaned after a few seconds of silence.

Unfortunately.

I thought I heard Row grunt the words “stand still and just take it.” Seriously, who’d I kill in my previous life to deserve tonight?

The wind shrieked and swirled in a violent dance, slipping into the car like a thief, burrowing into my bones.

“Row,” Cal chided, “I’m trying to eat here.”

“So am I.”

Oh god. Would Child Protective Services intervene for a twenty-six-year-old?

“I just caught Mama and Marty boning each other against the backyard door,” I blurted out.

This is why you’re bussing tables and not keeping government secrets, Dylan.

“Holy shit,” Cal—or Dot, because of the cluster of freckles on her nose and cheeks, proof God had sprinkled her with magic dust—said. “I mean, go Zeta. She deserves some action, but also…sorry for your loss.” Cal snort-laughed. “You know, of appetite, libido, et cetera.”

“It gets worse.” I mustered a smile, mainly so she could hear it in my voice. “They’re also going to leave a mark, and you know I’m the one who cleans the windows around here.”

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Advertisement My Dark Prince (Dark Prince Road #3) Read Online L.J. Shen http://www.books2020.com/my-dark-prince-dark-prince-road-3-read-online-l-j-shen Wed, 12 Feb 2025 07:23:05 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/my-dark-prince-dark-prince-road-3-read-online-l-j-shen Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Authors: L.J. Shen Series: Dark Prince Road Series by L.J. Shen
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Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)

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This Sleeping Beauty woke up...
In a nightmare.

From Wall Street Journal bestsellers L.J. Shen and Parker S. Huntington comes a twisted second-chance romance between a prince haunted by a dark secret and his reluctant Sleeping Beauty.

Oliver
I don’t usually trap women with amnesia into marriage.
But I guess there’s a first time for everything.
When the woman of my dreams falls into my lap, I can’t help but wonder what else she can do in that position.
She’s here. In my house. At my mercy.
And she thinks we’ve been lovers the entire decade we spent apart.
Briar and I have always been unfinished business.
Now it’s time to seal the deal.

Briar
I’m marrying a beautiful monster.
A crooked fraud. America’s wealthiest bachelor.
He claims we’re in love, yet all I taste in our kisses is hate and lust.
I don’t remember why or how.
But I do remember he’s the enemy.
Now, I’m stuck inside a nightmare.
And Oliver will do anything to keep me in the dark.

Authors’ Note: My Dark Prince is a standalone enemies-to-lovers Sleeping Beauty retelling, in which a damaged billionaire with a dark past and his childhood sweetheart fall in love—literally. It is set in the decadent Dark Prince Road universe.

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

“A hundred years to a steadfast heart are but a day.”

— Sleeping Beauty

Soundtrack

Come Away With Me—Norah Jones

All You Wanted—Michelle Branch

After Tonight—Justin Nozuka

100 Ways—Jackson Wang

everything sucks—vaultboy & Eric Nam

What I’m Missing—Timmy McKeever

Colors—Halsey

Have We Met Before—Sarah Barrios & Eric Nam

Back to Me—The Rose

Slow—Jackson Wang & Ciara

Invitation—JUNNY ft. Gaeko

vampire—Olivia Rodrigo

Shameless—Camila Cabello

It’s You—HENRY

lowkey—NIKI

Pacify Her—Melanie Martinez

Honey—Kehlani

Does She—Yuna & Jay Park

La La La—Naughty Boy & Sam Smith

She’s In The Rain—The Rose

deja vu—Olivia Rodrigo

Hearts—James Lee

chances—thuy & DCMBR

LIKE THAT—BABYMONSTER

Other People—Amber Liu

It’s You—MAX ft. keshi

Memories—Conan Gray

Shouldn’t Be—Luke Chiang

Losing You—FLO

Still Life—BIGBANG

COME BACK HOME—2NE1

Sinking—James Lee ft. Shan Yichun

Bed Peace—Jhené Aiko & Childish Gambino

Prologue

Briar

I am not the heroine of my story.

I’m not the villain, either.

I am the side character – in other people’s books.

The unwanted child whose own parents found to be unlovable.

I used to live in the shadows, pressed between the crowded pages of somebody else’s tale like a wilting rose. Until he pulled me out of the suffocating paper, showering me with light until I blossomed into the person he knew I could be.

Oliver von Bismarck.

My best friend. My secret crush. My first love …

And these days? My bitter sworn enemy.

Ollie might have forgotten me, but I remember the scars he left behind.

They say the best revenge is to not be like your enemy.

I grew up to be kind, reliable, and responsible. All the things he lacked.

Thanks to him, I’m no longer a rose.

I’m a thorn.

Chapter One

Briar Rose

Age fourteen.

He is not here. Stop looking for him.

I turned my head from the party and forced myself to focus on the waves as they wrestled beneath the ominous moon. A blanket of stars draped across the sky, accompanying me as I perched on a cobbled terrace at the Château de Chillon.

All around me, people buzzed – dancing, flirting, laughing, living. Yet, I’d never felt more alone.

Every summer, the von Bismarcks hosted a grand ball to mark their arrival in Switzerland. Hundreds of Europe’s pedigreed aristocrats and tycoons flocked to the lush medieval castle kissing Lake Geneva for a chance to flaunt their connections to one of the world’s oldest royal lineages – two of them my stuck-up parents.

Oliver should have been here by now, roaming the halls or planning an elaborate prank. He’d make his grand entrance when he was ready and not a moment sooner.

Don’t search for him. Have some self-control.

Too late. My traitorous body acted of its own accord, whipping my head back to the party to hunt for those pale golden curls and mischievous eyes.

Dancers filled the outdoor ballroom to the brim, sabotaging any chance I had at spotting him. Pastel ballgowns swished across the flagstone pavers like clouds of cotton candy, swirling with practiced ease. From the tiered stage, a baroque orchestra blessed us with the rich strings of Aram Khachaturian’s Masquerade Suite I. One of my favorite waltzes.

I smoothed the skirt of my taffy-pink gown, knowing my parents wouldn’t chide me for sullying my dress on the exposed terrace bricks. For them to remark about the blatant disrespect to the satin frock, they’d first have to notice I was alive. An inconvenient fact they tried their hardest to forget.

I glanced beneath the veranda. If I were to fall, I’d hit the roof before rolling straight into gravel. It was ten, maybe twelve, floors high. Enough to kill me. I turned to my parents, who stood next to their friends a few feet from me.

They did not notice I was sitting on the edge.

They did not notice me at all.

“Sooo …” A woman in an olive dress stared down her champagne flute at my parents, her ritzy accent adding syllables where there were none. “Where are you off to next, now that the Zurich branch is up and running?”

Dad worked for Luxor Trust, a boutique bank that specialized in “massaging rich assholes’ balls.” His words, not mine. He handled management, and his job description included kissing unholy amounts of ass, opening new offices to meet Luxor’s international demand, and dragging our family with him to every billionaire-occupied corner of the Earth.

Since diapers, I’d only ever known the inside of a suitcase. Home was an abstract idea. Something other kids had. At fourteen, I’d already lived in London, Tokyo, Paris, Montreal, Zurich, Riyadh, and Budapest. Despite my American passport, I’d spent maybe a handful of months in the states my entire life. When people asked me where I was from, I said New York. But the truth was, I had no origin. No beginning to my story.

Not if Oliver von Bismarck can help it. Or rather – if you can persuade him to.

“Oh, don’t even get me started on our next adventure.” Mom raked her manicured fingers through her black bob, clawing at Dad’s Prada suit with her free hand. “Jason’s company wants him to open a new branch in Buenos Aires. You know how much I love the city. I’m half Argentinian myself.”

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Advertisement Truly Madly Deeply (Forbidden Love #1) Read Online L.J. Shen http://www.books2020.com/truly-madly-deeply-forbidden-love-1-read-online-l-j-shen Mon, 23 Sep 2024 09:23:39 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/truly-madly-deeply-forbidden-love-1-read-online-l-j-shen Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Forbidden Authors: L.J. Shen Series: Forbidden Love Series by L.J. Shen
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >160

This old flame just might set them on fire.

Conceited, unattainable, and downright delicious, renowned Michelin-starred chef Ambrose Casablancas has one passion in life—food.

Women are a distraction, and he doesn’t do those. Especially Cal Litvin, his baby sister’s best friend. Her entire existence is a complication; she’s awkward, eccentric, infuriating…

And, much to his chagrin, hotter than his kitchen.

Ambrose has a lot on his a new restaurant to open, a multimillion-dollar property deal to execute, and a violent stalker to tame.

Then Cal shows up at his doorstep, looking for both a job and salvation after their messy goodbye. His resolve, like his patience, is ebbing each day she works at his restaurant.

Because Cal is no longer a doe-eyed girl.

Now? She’s the woman he’ll do anything to conquer.

***

Quirky, compassionate ball of sunshine Calla Litvin can’t catch a break, and not just because she swore off running.

Back in her hometown to nurse her mother’s broken heart after losing her father, she finds herself jobless, hopeless, and penniless. She hopes to rekindle her friendship with her former BFF, but Dylan is attached at the hip to her cruel brother—the one Cal’s been secretly crushing on since middle school.

Falling for the bad boy the second time around would be a mistake of gargantuan proportions.

Too bad she’s always been clumsy.

Truly, Madly, Deeply, is a grumpy x sunshine, enemies to lovers romance. It is the first in the Forbidden Love series, but can be read as a standalone.

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

“Everyone wants to shine bright like a diamond, but no one wants to get cut.”

—Eric Thomas

“Truly Madly Deeply”—Savage Garden

“The Final Countdown”—Europe

“Creep”—Radiohead

“End of the Road”—Boyz II Men

“I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)”—Meat Loaf

“Torn”—Natalie Imbruglia

“Basket Case”—Green Day

“Why Can’t We Be Friends?”—Smash Mouth

“Crush”—Jennifer Paige

“There She Goes”—Sixpence None the Richer

“Alive”—Pearl Jam

“Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)”—C+C Music Factory

“Baby Can I Hold You”—Tracy Chapman

“I Will Always Love You”—Whitney Houston

“Human Nature”—Madonna

“All I Want for Christmas Is You”—Mariah Carey

“Lovefool”—The Cardigans

“Doll Parts”—Hole

“Friday I’m in Love”—The Cure

“Never Ever”—All Saints

“I Try”—Macy Gray

“Everybody Hurts”—R.E.M.

“You Get What You Give”—New Radicals

“Back for Good”—Take That

“Gold Soundz”—Pavement

“Whatever”—En Vogue

“What’s Up?”—4 Non Blondes

“Desert Rose”—Sting

“All That She Wants”—Ace of Base

“Ordinary World”—Duran Duran

“The River of Dreams”—Billy Joel

“Closing Time”—Semisonic

“Doo Wop”—Lauryn Hill

“Emotions”—Mariah Carey

CAL

“Creep”—Radiohead

Age Eighteen

If someone told me an hour ago that I would be pinned beneath Row Casablancas, partially naked and writhing against the hood of his black Mustang, I would have guessed he’d gotten himself into some kind of trouble and had resorted to drugging me and harvesting my organs to make a quick buck.

Row didn’t hate me. He didn’t love me either. I would guesstimate his feelings toward me were somewhere on the spectrum between look at this adorable little moron and shit, I forgot she existed.

I was his baby sister’s best friend. The awkward klutz who suffered from bouts of verbal diarrhea and extremely questionable fashion sense.

Fine. I didn’t suffer from the questionable fashion sense. I owned it. Sue me for celebrating my individuality.

I always figured he liked me in the same way people liked puppies—because they were cute, dumb, and adored the ground you walked on, even if you were a terrible human who peeled clementines in public places. But I digress.

Harboring a small, totally manageable crush on your best friend’s brother was a cliché. However, I was obsessed with the nineties, an era that celebrated true and tested formulas. Ergo, pining after him fit me like a tattoo choker.

In my defense, Row made it impossible for my adolescent self not to lust after him on account of him: 1) being six foot four inches of lithe, corded muscles, having floppy onyx hair, and a jawline stronger than my lifetime of New Year’s resolutions combined, and 2) having the entire bad-boy vibe down to a T—including a sports car, athletic genes, witty one-liners, a dimpled smirk, and unlaced combat boots with tight-fitting jeans stacked upon them.

To sum it up, he was a morally gray hunk who was a total red flag—my age group’s favorite color scheme. So, yes. Of course I, too, wanted to be ruined by Dylan Casablancas’s older brother. Who didn’t? Our entire high school worshipped at his altar. Fenna McGee once even made a sticker that said, I’m not saying that Row Casablancas and God are the same person—but have you ever seen them in the same room?

Point was, Row’s tongue was currently shoved so far down my throat, we were playing tonsil hockey. His ballistic missile–sized erection pressed against the buttons of my yellow plaid skirt, threatening to snap them and send them past the Milky Way. And all I could think about was how I was doing Dylan dirty.

Bile coated the back of my throat. Dylan hated it when her friends fell at her brother’s feet. She’d make gagging sounds every time someone we knew flirted with him, which made what was happening right now completely inexcusable. But I was semi-drunk, exceptionally raw, and uncharacteristically reckless. Plus…Dylan was so used to seeing Row ruining her friends like it was an Olympic sport, what was adding one more into the mix?

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Advertisement Cold Hearted Casanova (Cruel Castaways #3) Read Online L.J. Shen http://www.books2020.com/cold-hearted-casanova-cruel-castaways-3-read-online-l-j-shen Sat, 27 Apr 2024 17:48:54 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/cold-hearted-casanova-cruel-castaways-3-read-online-l-j-shen Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, New Adult Authors: L.J. Shen Series: Cruel Castaways Series by L.J. Shen
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 124971 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >130

From USA Today bestselling author L.J. Shen comes a witty romance about a woman desperate to marry into money…and her fake marriage to a (real) billionaire reluctant to commit even to a zip code.

Riggs Bates may be a billionaire, but he knows money can’t buy happiness. He keeps his financial status a secret and takes his women the same way he takes his meals—a different one three times a day. That’s until he’s caught sleeping with a married newswoman by none other than her ambitious assistant.

Daphne “Duffy” Markham wants two things in life: marry well and stay in the States. So when her almost-fiancé takes off to “find himself” and her work visa approaches expiration, Duffy resorts to the only thing she has left—blackmail. Luckily, Riggs needs an excuse to stay in New York as badly as she does, so their first meeting quickly leads to a begrudging engagement.

Armed with strict house rules and their mutual distaste for one another, Riggs and Duffy soon find there’s no denying the spark between them…or the fact that this fake marriage is starting to feel a little too real.

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

Love is like a tree: it grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being and continues to flourish over a heart in ruin. The inexplicable fact is that the blinder it is, the more tenacious it is. It is never stronger than when it is completely unreasonable.

—Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Girls just wanna have funds.

—Unknown

CHAPTER ONE

DUFFY

As I sat in front of Love Is Blind, crying into a sleeve of overpriced digestive biscuits, mourning my breakup with the man I thought was the love of my life, it was clear to me that my night couldn’t possibly get any worse. Maybe if I died. Even then, I’d get a much-welcome relief from my pain and anguish.

Was love blind? Quite possibly. There was no other way to excuse how I’d failed to read the writing on the wall. To be honest, it wasn’t even on a wall. It was on a bloody flashing neon billboard in Times Square, accompanied by a jingle: Duffy, you’re a fool / you are dating a tool / He’ll never ask for your hand / how daft are you not to understand?

All rights reserved, et cetera.

And, it wasn’t even a proper breakup. More like a quasi breakup. A half breakup. A don’t-expect-me-to-wait-for-you-even-though-we-both-know-that-I-will breakup. A Rachel Green, we-were-not-on-a-break breakup. You get the drill.

“Silver lining? That’s as bad as my life is going to get,” I mumbled aloud to my biscuit, which in answer crumbled onto my pajama-clad chest.

Don’t tempt me, you cow, the universe replied in the form of my mobile buzzing next to me on the couch.

“Sod off,” I muttered, before my gaze landed on the phone screen, on which Gretchen’s name flashed.

Gretchen Beatty, my boss, was the anchorwoman of The World Today, WNT’s flagship show. As her executive assistant, I was in charge of her entire life. Until six months ago, when Gretchen announced that she was taking a position as the White House press secretary and would be leaving New York for DC. Which also meant WNT was not going to renew my work visa. The worst part was, I couldn’t afford to tell my tyrannical boss just what I thought about her, even though I had only a few days left of work. She was the type of woman who would refuse to give me a reference if I so much as dared to order her grande iced americano with half-and-half instead of a dash of oat milk.

More on my woes later.

Clearing my throat, I swiped the screen. “Hello?”

“Good God, Daphne. Slacker much? It took you ten minutes to answer.”

I checked my new watch. It was eleven o’clock at night. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

I was certain there was. If making me work odd times was an Olympic sport, Gretchen would have been its Serena Williams.

“It just dawned on me that it’s Lyric’s sixth birthday tomorrow, and I was so busy with the handover to Claire, I forgot to buy my baby a gift.”

Busy with the handover, my foot. I was the one liaising with the woman who’d inherited Gretchen’s throne—investigative journalist Claire Scott—and her flock of assistants.

Since I could see where this was going from two planets away, I gave her my assurance. “I’ll buy Lyric presents first thing tomorrow morning. Do you have a budget in mind?”

Gretchen had given me her credit card two days into my employment. Ever since, I’d been in charge of running her entire life. This included getting groceries for her Manhattan flat and paying her bills. I also attended parent-teacher conferences, filled out her ballots, and wrote her op-eds for prestigious newspapers. Truly, to keep my job—and visa—I had done everything short of birthing her children myself. And only because, fortunately for me, they were already in existence.

“Tomorrow?” Gretchen slurped her drink noisily. “Time is of the essence. It has to be tonight. I’m driving up to Greenwich first thing tomorrow morning. Jason is making me attend the birthday, even though we literally have a show to shoot that same evening.” She groaned, as she did every time she spoke about her husband. “I told him I’m heading back to the city before she opens her presents. I have a business to run. Why can’t he understand that?”

Because you’re the mother of his children?

I’d only met Jason a handful of times, but I suspected he was a lot kinder than his wife. Which was something I could also say about a handful of stale nuts.

“You’d like me to go shopping for presents for a six-year-old in the middle of the night?” I asked tonelessly.

Wow, Karma. Wow. What did I do in my previous life? Skin babies for a living?

“What?” Gretchen yelled into her speaker over the loud music. “I can’t hear you, I’m at this god-awful pub. Full of peons. No one even recognized me here. Uncultured swine.”

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Advertisement My Dark Desire (Dark Prince Road #2) Read Online L.J. Shen http://www.books2020.com/my-dark-desire-dark-prince-road-2-read-online-l-j-shen Mon, 25 Mar 2024 04:51:11 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/my-dark-desire-dark-prince-road-2-read-online-l-j-shen Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark Authors: L.J. Shen Series: Dark Prince Road Series by L.J. Shen
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >166

She’s his sweetest desire... and his darkest secret.

The task was simple.
Sneak into Potomac’s most heavily guarded manor.
Steal back my pendant. Slip out.

Problem number one?
America’s most unattainable bachelor caught me.

Problem number two?
He decided to keep me. As the help.

Zachary Sun’s winter may be the coldest I’ve ever felt,
but he makes my skin burn.

Reserved, calculated, and savagely cruel,
he thrives on the weaknesses of others.

Little does he know, he just met his match.

He may be American royalty.
But this peasant will rise to become Queen.

Authors’ Notes: My Dark Desire is a standalone double-grump romance between a broken billionaire and a feisty maid unafraid to fight back. It is set in the decadent Dark Prince Road world.

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

“Even miracles take a little time.”

— FAIRY GODMOTHER, CINDERELLA

Soundtrack

LMM—Hwasa

LIPSTICK—Koven Wei & Aleebi

INVITATION—JUNNY ft. Gaeko

A$$A$$IN—Beauty School Dropout

Punchdrunk—Vaines

LEFT RIGHT REMIXX—XG ft. CIARA & Jackson Wang

People Watching—Conan Gray

Braindead—Sion

i hope u see this—thuy

Pretty When U Cry—ieuan

this is how I learn to say no—EMELINE

Back To Me—The Rose

I Love You 3000 II—Stephanie Poetri & Jackson Wang

Free Them—ONE OK ROCK ft. Teddy Swims

Seven—Jung Kook ft. Latto

Yesterday—Jay Park

A Little Bit Yours—JP Sax ft. Eric Chou

Leaves—jaesun & Zeru

Tomboy—Destiny Rogers

TWIT—Hwa Sa

Over 85—Hojean

Still Life—BIGBANG

cut my hair—MINO

When You Loved Me—Eric Chou & Shan Yi Chun

Cinderella's Dead—EMELINE

WINTER WITHOUT YOU—XG

Sinking—James Lee & Shan Yi Chun

All in—LAY, Victor Ma, & Shan Yi Chun

Listen on:

Spotify | YouTube

Author’s Note

Before you begin, thank you for taking a chance on Zach and Farrow. We like to joke that these two are just like us both—a clash of cultures that somehow work.

Neither of us has ever written a book like this. It’s a privilege to even have the opportunity to do so.

I (Parker) never thought I’d be able to share my culture with the world, especially through a love story. I’m part-Viet and part-Chinese, raised in both Orange County and the DMV by my zany, amazing, tight-knit family.

A lot of what’s in My Dark Desire is based on my personal experiences. They’re wild, almost unbelievable, and addictive. I can’t wait to pass along tiny doses of my life to you.

And Leigh, you’re a saint for agreeing to write this book with me and listening to me drone on about my childhood.

Speaking of… I (Leigh) enjoyed every second of writing this book with my best friend. It’s decadent, full of delicious banter, and a reflection of my friendship with Parker. (One percent of our conversations are about work. The other ninety-nine percent is split between food and family.)

Parker is my work wife, and considering the divorce rate among Asian Americans is 12.4%, chances are we’re in it for life.

So much of what we love about Zach and Fae comes from the day-to-day convos we share. We’ll wrap this up, so you can dive into the story. Enjoy!

xoxo,

Parker and Leigh

(P.S. Y’all, the aunt is real. So is the stolen car incident. I couldn’t believe it, then Parker showed me the receipts. I NEED CELESTE IN MY LIFE. – Leigh)

My father always said that people are paper and memories are ink.

Little did I know, my book would be dipped in tar, then ripped to shreds.

I grew up with a generous father.

Money. Identity. Love. A nice set of morals—and an even nicer set of teeth. He gave me them all.

But the most precious thing he ever gave me?

His life.

Age Twelve.

Like all calamities, the worst day of my life started innocently enough.

Dad and I rode in the backseat of his Flying Spur Bentley, our driver veering in and out of lanes in a desperate bid to beat the heavy traffic. A never-ending chain of honks filled my ears.

The sky poured above us, a storm that had followed us from the auction house. The radio played “Bookends” by Simon and Garfunkel too loud to hear my own thoughts.

I could feel Dad’s eyes glued to the back of my head as I blew hot air onto the car window and drew a sword over the frost.

He sighed. “You could really use a hobby.”

“Hobbies aren’t useful. That’s why they’re hobbies.” I drew fingers curled around my sword and blood dripping from the tip. “Besides, I have hobbies.”

From the front, our driver snorted, flicking on the left signal.

“You have talents,” Dad corrected. “Just because you’re good at things doesn’t mean you enjoy them. And sitting idly all summer as you wait for your best friend’s return does not constitute a hobby.”

Stupid Romeo Costa.

He just upped and left one day. Didn’t even say goodbye. First to Italy in elementary school. And now some boring summer camp his dad forced him into.

He came back from Europe a total bummer. I half-expected him to return this time with a chunk of his brain carved out.

I blinked up at Dad. “Why do I need to enjoy the things I do?”

A soft smile curled his lips at the edges.

He was huge.

Or maybe he just looked huge because I hadn’t shot up all the way yet. But he filled up the entire backseat with his body.

With his presence.

With his onyx hair and laugh wrinkles on the sides of his eyes. And the wicked scar on his forehead he got while chaperoning Cub Scouts.

An eagle had tried to snatch me, and he’d lineman-tackled me at the last minute, bumping against a sun lounger and splitting his forehead.

Dad rapped my temple with a curved knuckle. “Because if you don’t appreciate the journey, how would you enjoy the destination?”

“Isn’t life’s destination death?” I pinned him with a glare, so I wouldn’t have to witness my art evaporating from the condensation on the window.

He laughed. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

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Advertisement Damaged Goods (All Saints High #4) Read Online L.J. Shen http://www.books2020.com/damaged-goods-all-saints-high-4-read-online-l-j-shen Thu, 08 Feb 2024 08:25:09 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/damaged-goods-all-saints-high-4-read-online-l-j-shen Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, New Adult, Sports Authors: L.J. Shen Series: All Saints High Series by L.J. Shen
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >140

Underneath the goody two-shoes persona is damaged goods…but can the bad boy across the street save her?

Bailey Followhill is the perfect daughter. Sweet. Charitable. Pretty. Control freak. Not a hair out of place, not an inch out of line, she is everything her troublemaking sister Daria isn't. But when her A game turns out to be a lukewarm C- at Juilliard, Bailey's picture-ready life starts fraying faster than the worn satin ribbons of her pointe shoes. She's becoming a piece of gossip. The Troubled Child. A drug abuser. No longer the girl her best friend once knew.

Lev Cole is so golden, he's got the Midas Touch. Prized quarterback. Football captain. Hottest guy in SoCal. A textbook cliché. But with a girlfriend he doesn't love and a career path he doesn't value, Lev is coasting.
The only two things he cares about, Bailey and becoming a pilot, are out of reach.

But Lev is done being satisfied with the life others have chosen for him. He wants to pick his own cards. To demolish the seamless kingdom of lies his family stitched together on the ruins his mother left behind.

The question is, can he save his best friend and his dream before too much damage is done?

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

“Someday, somewhere—anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.”

—Pablo Neruda

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hours of separation.”

—Kahlil Gibran

SOUNDTRACK

“Rehab”—Amy Winehouse

“Falling Apart”—Michael Schulte

“The Show Must Go On”—Queen

“It Ends Tonight”—The All-American Rejects

“Be Alright”—Dean Lewis

“Him & I”—G-Eazy and Halsey

“Boys of Summer”—The Ataris

“Die For You”—The Weeknd & Ariana Grande

“ceilings”—Lizzy McAlpine

“people pleaser”—Cat Burns

“Freak Me”—Silk

“Goodbyes”—Post Malone feat. Young Thug.

PROLOGUE

Lev

Age fourteen

I’m standing over my mother’s grave, wondering why the fuck my eyes are dry.

I couldn’t look at the coffin back inside the church. Knight said she looked pretty. Calm. At peace. But also…nothing like herself.

I squeezed my eyes shut the entire way through, the way I did when I was really little and went on spooky rides at theme parks. Now I’m freaking out because maybe I made a mistake, because it was the last time I could look at her face not through a picture.

That’s the thing about losing someone—there are so many losses along the way that make up a big loss.

No more cuddles in bed on rainy days.

No more heart-shaped fruit in my lunch box.

No more singing lullabies to me when I’m sick, with me pretending I’m embarrassed and annoyed by it when actually Mom singing lullabies is the best thing to happen to this universe since sliced bread.

Bailey is hugging me so close, my bones are about to dissipate to dust. She’s about four inches taller than me now, which is stupid and embarrassing and just my luck. My face is hidden deep inside her hair, and I pretend to cry because it seems rude and screwed up if I don’t. But the truth is, I’m not sad or gloomy or any of those things. I’m fucking pissed. Angry. Enraged.

Mom’s gone.

What if she’s cold? What if she’s claustrophobic? What if she is struggling to breathe? What if she’s scared? Reasonably, I know she isn’t. She’s dead. But logic isn’t my friend right now. Not even an acquaintance. Hell, I doubt I could spell the word in my current state. I feel like Bailey is physically keeping me together. Like if she loosens her arms around me, I’ll collapse into thousands of little marbles, scatter and disappear into the nooks and crannies of the cemetery.

Everyone files back to their cars. Dad claps a shaking hand over my shoulder and steers me away from the grave. Bails reluctantly releases me. I clutch the tips of her fingers. She’s gravity. She’s oxygen. In this moment in time, she’s everything.

Sensing my unspoken need for her, Bailey turns to my dad. “May I please catch a ride with you, Uncle Dean?”

Thank you, Jesus.

“Yeah, Bails, sure,” Dad says distractedly, laser-focused on Knight’s back. My brother is going through his own stuff right now and my dad is trying to ensure he doesn’t lose another member of our family. Usually, I’m cool with being the low-maintenance, “background” kid. Not today, though. I just lost my mom at fourteen. I want the world to stop, but it disrespectfully keeps on spinning and functioning like my life wasn’t just destroyed.

Before we hop into the car, I clutch Bailey’s fingers and pull her to me. “If I told you I want to run away from here, somewhere really far, like…I dunno, Kansas far, what would you say?”

Her big blue eyes hold mine like my eyeballs are about to fall off. “We ride at dawn, bitch.”

“Really?” I ask.

She nods once. “Try me, Lev. You’re my best friend. I’ll never let you down.”

It’s weird, but the possibility of Bailey and me running away from all this is the one thing holding my ass together right now. She might be everyone’s good girl, but to me, she’s a bad addiction.

The drive is silent. I’m a page torn out of a book. Out of place and floating aimlessly. All I have is the memory of once belonging. Then, we’re in front of my house. Everyone trickles inside in their black frocks. They look like ghouls. Home without Mom isn’t a home. It’s a pile of bricks and expensive furniture.

Invisible ivy roots me to the ground. Bailey is the only one who notices. She loiters behind with me, and suddenly, I really hate that I’m putting all my dreams and hopes on her. Because she could be gone tomorrow too. Bus accident. Freak heart attack at fifteen. A kidnap-and-murder plot. The options are endless, and I have really shitty luck with people.

“Kansas?” She grabs my fingers, playing them like they’re keys on a piano.

I shake my head, too choked up to produce actual words.

“We don’t have to go inside.” Her hands slide up to grab my arms and keep me standing. How did she know I’m close to falling? “We can hang out at mine. I’ll make fondue. We can watch South Park.” Her blues gleam like sapphires.

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Advertisement My Dark Romeo (Dark Prince Road #1) Read Online L.J. Shen http://www.books2020.com/my-dark-romeo-dark-prince-road-1-read-online-l-j-shen Thu, 08 Feb 2024 08:25:03 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/my-dark-romeo-dark-prince-road-1-read-online-l-j-shen Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia Authors: L.J. Shen Series: Dark Prince Road Series by L.J. Shen
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Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)

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My fairy tale turned into a cautionary one.
Inked in tar and sealed in tears.

From Wall Street Journal bestsellers L.J. Shen and Parker S. Huntington comes an explosive marriage of inconvenience...between a tarnished Romeo and a reluctant Juliet.

It was supposed to be a harmless kiss at a lavish debutante ball.
A clandestine moment with a handsome stranger.

But unlike his namesake, my Romeo isn’t driven by love.
He’s fueled by revenge.

To him, I’m a chess piece. Leverage.
His rival’s betrothed.

To me, he is a man deserving of poison.
A dark prince I refuse to marry.

He thinks I’ll accept my fate.
Well, I plan to rewrite it.

And in my story, Juliet doesn’t die.
But Romeo? He perishes.

Authors’ Notes: My Dark Romeo is a standalone reluctant arranged marriage romance between a cruel billionaire heir and a feisty heiress unafraid to fight back. It is set in the decadent Dark Prince Road world.

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

“Thus with a kiss I die.”

William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Soundtrack

Starphucker — Beauty School Dropout

heartbreak honeymoon — Mad Tsai

I’m Not Sorry — Dean & Eric Bellinger

Lover Like Me — CL

Take What You What — ONE OK ROCK ft. 5 Seconds of Summer

favorite crime — Olivia Rodrigo

WE MADE PLANS & GOD LAUGHED — Beauty School Dropout

Wedding Dress — TAEYANG

Strawberries and Wine — Jaylon Ashaun

Easier — 5 Seconds of Summer

End Game — Taylor Swift, Ed Sheeran, & Future

HABIBI (MY LOVE) — Faouzia

Control — Halsey

Born Without a Heart — Faouzia

The Happiest Girl — BLACKPINK

Crush — Yuna & Usher

Oceans & Engines — NIKI

Si Fueras Mia — D.O.

Lay Your Head on Me — Crush

Time — The Rose

Die for You — Beauty School Dropout

Bonnie & Clyde — YUQI

Prologue

Dallas

I always assumed my life was a romance novel. That between my pages nestled a happily ever after. It never occurred to me that I miscategorized my genre. That it could be a horror story. A blood-chilling thriller.

Then Romeo Costa typhooned into my world, ripping off my rose-colored glasses.

He taught me darkness.

He taught me strength.

Most importantly, he delivered the cruelest lesson of all—there’s beauty in every beast. Thorns in every rose. And a love story can blossom—even from the carcass of hate.

Chapter One

Dallas

“Oh, Lord, they weren’t bluffing, were they? He really is in town.” Emilie latched on to my wrist, coffin nails sinking into the tan flesh.

“So is Oliver von Bismarck.” Savannah extended her arm. “Someone pinch me.”

I did so with pleasure.

“Ow, Dal. Stop being so literal.”

I shrugged, fixing my attention on the catering beside us. The real reason I’d appeared at the debutante ball tonight. I plucked a chocolate-covered pomelo peel from a crystal tray and crushed it between my teeth, savoring the bitter-sour nectar. God wasn’t a man. God wasn’t a woman, either. God was probably a piece of Godiva-covered fruit.

“What are they doing here? They’re not even from the South.” Emilie stole Sav’s debutante program and fanned her face. “And they’re definitely not here to meet women. Both are die-hard bachelors. Didn’t Costa dump a whole-ass Swedish princess last summer?”

“As opposed to a partial-ass Swedish princess?” I wondered aloud.

“Dal.”

Where were the Portuguese custard tarts? I was promised Portuguese custard tarts.

“You said there’d be pastéis de nata.” I snatched a consolation prize—melopita—and waved it at Emilie. “Serves me right for trusting you again.”

Her hawk eyes caught me slipping two Polish donuts into my bag. “Dal, you can’t hide that in your Chanel. You’ll ruin the calfskin.”

Sav shoved a frantic fist into her clutch, retrieving a tube of lipstick. “I heard von Bismarck is in town to buy Le Fleur.”

Jenna’s daddy owned Le Fleur. They manufactured percale sheets for five-diamond hotels. In eighth grade, Emilie and I ran away from home and slept in their showroom for a week before our daddies found us.

“What does he need Le Fleur for?” I picked a kanafeh next, my back still to the mythical creatures my best friends had collectively lost their minds over. Judging by the urgent whispers around us, they were not the only ones.

Emilie snatched the Bond No. 9 from Savannah, applying a generous coat to her lips. “He’s in hotels and hospitality. Owns a little chain called The Grand Regent. You might’ve heard of it.”

The Grand Regent began as an exclusive, invite-only resort before metastasizing into more branches than the Hilton. So, I gathered Pompous von Fancypants wasn’t strapped for cash. In fact, obscene generational wealth was the unspoken entry ticket to tonight’s event.

The 303rd Chapel Falls Royal Debutante Ball was a glorified dog show that attracted every billionaire and mega millionaire in the state. Fathers paraded their cotillion-bred daughters around the Astor Opera House in hopes they’d perform well enough to be courted by men in the same tax bracket.

I hadn’t come here to find a husband. Before my birth, Daddy had already promised me to someone, which the diamond ring on my engagement finger reminded me. This always seemed like a problem for the future—up until I discovered the official announcement on the society pages two days ago.

“I hear Romeo is dead-set on becoming the CEO of his daddy’s company.” Lord, Sav was still droning on about him. Were they planning on penning the man’s Wikipedia? “Already, he’s a billionaire.”

“Not just a billionaire. A mega billionaire.” Emilie fingered a marquise diamond on her Broderie bracelet, her poker tell. “And he’s not the type to blow it all on yachts and gold toilet seats or funding self-indulged pet projects.”

Sav snuck a desperate glance at them through her compact mirror. “Do you think we can be introduced?”

Emilie’s eyebrows pinched together. “Nobody here knows them. Dal? Dallas? Are you even listening to the conversation? This is important.”

The only grave situation I’d witnessed was the lack of shortbread, too. Reluctantly, I fixed my eyes on the two men that parted the thick crowd of silk chiffon and frozen updos.

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