Rachel Van Dyken – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Rachel Van Dyken – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Sat, 28 Feb 2026 17:32:30 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Rachel Van Dyken – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Sweet Poison (The Rise of the Langes #3) Read Online Rachel Van Dyken http://www.books2020.com/sweet-poison-the-rise-of-the-langes-3-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Sat, 28 Feb 2026 17:32:30 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/sweet-poison-the-rise-of-the-langes-3-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Authors: Rachel Van Dyken Series: The Rise of the Langes Series by Rachel Van Dyken
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)

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The final book in Rise of The De Langes an interconnected standalone mafia romance...

𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦.
𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳.
𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭…
His breath hit my neck, lips brushing skin.
"𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘪𝘵?”
All it took was one phrase—“𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦?”—and I was already losing.
To the enemy.
To a Tinder date gone violently wrong.
To the Syndicate’s most dangerous heir.
It was supposed to be my last middle finger to the establishment before they sacrificed me on the family altar of arranged marriage. So I took control. I made the rules. I chose the husband.
Louis De Lange.
The twin who should’ve died.
The traitor.
The man who lost my sister—his so-called true love.
He said he had nothing left. So I made him my weapon.
But the problem with controlling a wolf in sheep’s clothing?
You never see the fangs until they’re already at your throat.
The plan was simple. The timeline set. Sixty days to infiltrate, manipulate, and survive.
But I wasn’t banking on Louis being more than broken—I wasn’t ready for how dangerous he could be when he finally decides he’s done bleeding for everyone else but himself.
I was playing to win.
He was playing to lose.
And we were both about to learn…
The sweeter the poison the more bitter the fight.
To the end. Love. Hell. Or destruction. Let the games begin

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

PROLOGUE

BOSS UNKNOWN

TEN YEARS AGO

“Everybody makes mistakes. This was mine. I can honestly say that when I look back at my life there are few things I regret—that day was one of them, that evening is one that will burn in my soul for an eternity. I imagine, just like everyone else involved, I’ll one day have to own up to what I did.”

“That day…” He took a seat across from me. “…may come sooner than you realize.”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“Would it be easier if I did?” he asked from his spot in the shadowy corner. “Just know, the truth will eventually come to light. Hug your daughters a little tighter, smile a bit more, get a damn haircut, and stop blaming yourself for something that’s already happened.”

I would always blame myself.

It didn’t matter if someone gave me permission not to, as if they had the power to even be the one to allow the mark to get buried. One bad choice doesn’t just affect your future, it affects multiple futures, multiple lives. It may not make a difference in the moment, but the grim reaper is patient like that.

No need to take my soul then.

He’d wait for the perfect time to strike.

And enjoy the anxiety that filled every part of me until that day came.

A nightmare? Yes.

My fault? Absolutely. I called the shots. I was a boss, after all.

A powerful one who knew better.

I stared into the glass of whiskey and swirled the amber-hued liquid. “Does anyone else know?”

“No.” He clipped out the answer without further explanation.

“Good.” I tossed back the rest of the drink. “Then we never mention my impending death again, agreed?”

“Fine.” He sighed. “But a boss dying will be a big deal.”

“A boss living this long is just as big of a deal,” I countered. “Let’s go grab some food.”

“Sure.” He stood and led me out of my office.

The sound of laughter filled the house.

I think… I think I’ll miss that the most.

Them.

I saw him then, a complete and total older version of the life I stole, and I knew… the sand had already started to sift.

Tick. Tock.

SWEET POISON

LOUIS

Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies. — Nelson Mandela

"Tempest.” My voice cracked. “You can leave if you want.”

There was nothing for her here anymore.

Nothing I could offer except pieces of the ghost that were left and the guilt I would now carry over what I had to do.

Do you want to play a game? I should have said no.

I should have asked for more terms.

I should have thought it through. Then again, would the ending have changed? Would it have been any different? Any less tragic? If not me pulling the trigger, would she prefer it be a stranger?

“Tempest.” I held up my hands; they were shaking. God, I couldn’t stop the tremors wracking my body. I still had his blood staining my clothes. I didn’t tell her it was from a hug.

Let her think me the monster I was, better that than she know the truth.

Let him die a hero.

Let me live a tyrant.

It was better this way—for her, for everyone. She could move on—God knows she’d have no choice now that I’d already finished what I started.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You said you had no choice.”

“I didn’t.”

Muffled sobs escaped her lips as she covered her mouth with her hands looking between the body and me and back again. “They’ll hunt you for this. Torture everyone you hold close—maybe even me, did you for one second think about what this would do to me? To us?”

“There is no us.” It was harsh. I meant for it to come out softer, but I was having a hard enough time holding it together, I was barely able to breathe let alone get words out. I needed her to hate me.

I needed her to cling to her family, her sister, her friends. For once, I fucking needed Tempest to actually do what she was asked.

One time.

Please God, let it be now.

She choked on a sob. “Was any of this real? I mean, was it all a game from the start or did you actually care… did you—” Her voice cracked. “Did you fall even a little bit for me?”

Her eyes were so bright, so vulnerable. I’d earned too much of her trust, I didn’t deserve any of it.

Shit!

I bit down on my lower lip to keep from screaming. We were running out of time—she was running out of time. She needed to get to safety, she needed to be guiltless in all of this.

She kept talking. “Were your eyes wide open from the very first drop?”

I said nothing.

“God!” She screamed. “Did you do this willingly and smile at me while doing it? All to infiltrate my family? Break me in order to break them? Use the last shred of love I have against me?”

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Advertisement Fallen Gods (Fallen Gods #1) Read Online Rachel Van Dyken http://www.books2020.com/fallen-gods-fallen-gods-1-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:08:07 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/fallen-gods-fallen-gods-1-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Myth/Mythology, Paranormal Authors: Rachel Van Dyken Series: Fallen Gods Series by Rachel Van Dyken
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Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)

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They said the Gods were myth. That the Giants were only stories told around dying fires. They lied.

The Gods aren’t dead—they’re only sleeping, locked in mortal bodies, scattered across the world, waiting for the right spark to wake them. And my father is the most ruthless of them all.

He raised me to obey. To bleed. To be his blade when the time came. Now he’s sending me to Endir University, a place filled with ancient bloodlines and deadly secrets, to steal back Mjolnir, the hammer of legend. If I fail, everyone I love dies.

But Aric Erikson wasn’t part of the plan. He’s the enemy’s heir. Distant. Dangerous. And…the one person I can’t afford to fall for. He’s closed himself off completely behind a wall of ice, but the more I’m ordered to unravel him, the harder it becomes to remember where the lies end and I begin.

There's only a mission I never chose—and a man I was never meant to love—standing between me and a war that will decide the fate of the world.

But if I’m the spark, maybe he’s the fuse. And the Gods? They’re about to wake up angry

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

Prologue

Rey

“Would you?” I whisper, hating the tremor in my voice.

We’re stopped in the middle of campus, a cool breeze brushing against my heated cheeks giving me the courage to ask again. “Would you run away with me, knowing that the world would eventually end? Knowing that the world would burn?”

Weeks ago, I never would have thought we’d have a conversation like this. Now the air between us is cold enough that his breath fogs in front of him in a frosty haze. In another life, I would have thought it poetic. Now, it just reminds me exactly what he is.

A Giant.

Ruthless.

Powerful.

A God in his own right.

Aric shifts his weight, and silence stretches between us like a chasm neither of us can cross.

Maybe I never should have let go with him. Not after knowing what was really behind the war between the Gods and the Giants. Now it just feels like the end.

“You’re hesitating.” I can barely get the sentence out.

His dark gaze holds mine, and his jaw clenches.

“I can’t promise you,” he finally says. “Not until we end this.”

All I wanted was for him to say yes. I wouldn’t have made him go through with it. I just wanted to know that he was willing to take the risk—for me.

The soft rustle of ancient leaves threads through the space between us, a low reminder of where we stand…and what’s at stake.

“So that’s it, then? We’re doing this.” Heat burns my cheeks, but I had to ask. Just one last time.

His tongue slides across his bottom lip, then his jaw tightens—like he’s trying to keep himself from saying too much. As a few errant flakes of snow float through the air, his eyes remain locked on mine.

I shake my head. One of us needs to be strong enough for this.

“I don’t need the cold,” I say and feel even more pathetic. “I don’t want it.”

“But I still need your warmth,” he adds, and I know he means it. But it’s no longer enough. Snow dusts his broad shoulders, the same shoulders that have carried so much.

“One of us is going to die.” I finally say the words out loud.

And deep in my soul, I know.

It’s going to be me.

Chapter One

Rey

One week earlier…

The note in my hand is so crumpled and damp with sweat that I’m sure the ink is etched into my skin like a brand. But that’s not what gets me.

Despite the way he treated her, I’ve never seen my stepmother cry. Not once. In all my years with her, Laufey’s been a fortress—unshaken, unreadable. Through his abuse, through her sickness, through everything.

Until today. My eighteenth birthday.

At first, I thought it was because of what my father finally asked me to do—that one “favor” I always knew was coming but prayed never would. Until of course it finally did.

But this? It feels heavier.

Like she’s been holding in something massive for years, saving her tears for this very moment.

Today, Laufey finally broke.

Between sobs, she begs, “Please, Rey. Don’t do this. We can find another way.”

I can’t meet her gaze. She was the only safe space I had other than Rowen. She protected me, and now it’s my time to protect her. She may not be my real mother, but she’s the only one I’ve ever known. And her tears cut through me like a blade.

I glance around my father’s opulent home and, for the first time in my entire miserable life, wish I could stay. But I can’t. Father has given me a mission—and promised me the world if I succeed.

My stomach pitches, but fear doesn’t matter. Can’t. Not if it means setting Laufey free.

“I know what you dream about, Rey. One day being away from me,” Father says, unmoved by his wife’s hysterics. “I know it eats you alive.”

His words dig deep into my skin like an ache I can’t get rid of, and I don’t bother to deny them. Instead, I turn to hold his dark gaze, and I let just the tiniest hint of a spine bring my shoulders higher.

An icy smile spreads across his face, and my gaze shifts. White hair pulled back into his signature low ponytail. Patch covering his right eye. Three-piece navy suit accented by a sharp walking cane. Gold adornments draping from his tie. One a hammer, the other the head of his enemy.

He’s a riot at parties.

Father glances at his bodyguard leaning against the darkened doorway to my left and nods. Without a word, Rowen moves to collect Laufey. He’s just a few years older than me and taller than Father, his shoulders seemingly twice as wide, his demeanor youthful and strong. And yet, he’s always appeared the weaker man. Maybe that’s because he obeys Father’s every whim without question.

I get it. I feel just as small in his shadow.

My stomach twists as Rowen wraps an arm around Laufey’s waist and hauls her up. She collapses against his broad chest as he leads her down the hallway to her private rooms.

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Advertisement Clause and Effect Read Online Rachel Van Dyken http://www.books2020.com/clause-and-effect-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Sun, 07 Dec 2025 21:06:24 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/clause-and-effect-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Genre: Alpha Male Authors: Rachel Van Dyken Advertisement

Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)

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One mysterious contract.
One brooding Christmas heir.
Charlie never expected the fine print to include stolen kisses, snowbound nights, and a Clause that could melt the North Pole. This Christmas, get ready to feel naughty and nice...

This agreement requires Charlie Lyn Horseman to deliver in-person services for one holly-jolly night. The specifics shall be determined by Charlie and Stetson, fueled by mistletoe, mischief, and mutual pleasure.
“Pleasure,” for legal purposes, shall include—but is not limited to—kisses, cookies, and Claus-related activities that may land one or both parties on the Naughty List

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

CHAPTER ONE

THE NORTH POLE

I’m frozen.

Like… toes- numb, fingers- tingly, nose- already feels like it has icicles kind of frozen. No, I’m not dying of hypothermia—but I might as well be. Disney has done me a great disservice here. I thought the word alone conjured up snowmen, friendly reindeer, and hot men who can sing and handle their ice, instead, I get this frigid weather. I hate the cold. Every part of it offends me. I’m a California girl, born and raised. I like the sun, the smell of sunscreen, the feel of sand between my toes and the uncanny taste of salt on my lips. And more than anything? I like vacations in the sun.

So why did I agree to come on this once-in-a-lifetime vacation from hell (that’s what I’m secretly calling it—don’t tell my bestie). Well, she invited me and apparently, I’m at that point in my life that I say yes to anything that sounds like a deserved distraction from reality—even if it is in the depths of hell.

Plus, again, she invited me.

Her and her extraordinary wealthy, charming, British generous husband paid because let’s be honest, I could never afford this. And at the time, I didn’t think it would be weird that I was the only single person going on a couple’s trip to visit the Arctic.

In out of this world luxury.

I just thought: hey, this is going to help me get over what’s his nut-devil face-asshole. The one who broke my heart, shattered my soul, and made me wish I’d fall into a deep coma and wake up in another timeline—preferably Bridgerton, or one where he didn’t exist.

Yeah, that sounded nice.

Bitter? Maybe.

Ok. Definitely.

Totally, bitter.

“Charlie, you’ve got that look on your face again,” my best friend, Grace, grumbles at me as we stare out on the tundra looking for any sign of a polar bear.

Or life for that matter.

We’re in a massive polar buggy—an all-terrain vehicle I didn’t even know existed--parked on what can only be described as an ice shelf of snow waiting for a rare sight of the infamous white bear. We’ve been here for what feels like hours… it’s been ten minutes. But at least the buggy is cool and glamorous, as is everything Grace lives, breathes and ingests in her life.

It’s long and boxy, towering high off the ground with massive tires built to crush through even the thickest ice. The body is a rugged silver metallic shell designed to withstand even the harshest conditions, which is apparently now, and has a panoramic windshield for our viewing pleasure that wraps around the entire vehicle, offering an unobstructed view of the white frigid cold. Inside, it feels like a small, warmly insulated fortress, with a dashboard full of dials and gauges that may as well be in a different language. I shiver. All I can see is ice and snow stretching endlessly, a completely barren and terrifying landscape of ice as far as the eye can see.

Honestly, I could have stayed home and happily watched a David Attenborough documentary and gotten the same experience—maybe better.

“I’m cold,” I finally answer and shrug in defense as I watch her unzip the ginormous white cold-suit they made us wear to move in and out of the vehicle—apparently there is one thing money can’t buy and that’s style when it comes to suits that keep us from getting hypothermia. We’ve got so many layers on I’m surprised we can even move. I wonder for the millionth time why anyone in their right mind would want to do this—like why, when you can watch all of this “our planet” shit from the comfort of your own home dressed in pajamas and sipping wine—and with a healthy distance from any version of hypothermia or animals that really do like to eat people.

And I’m not exaggerating. They do!

Just as this thought moves through my mind through the millionth time one of her husband’s friend’s “girlfriends” takes a selfie. She’s dwarfed by a glamorous white fur lined coat with a hood that drapes over her head, definitely not what our cold suits look by the way, and pouts her lips, striking a pose for her iPhone.

Sultry and ready, she’s the perfect picture of ice barbie. Wow, and another angle. She’s really committing.

“I can see the caption now,” Grace mutters under breath making me jump a foot as she too clocks the modeling shoot with the same morbid curiosity.

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Advertisement Texts From My Exes Read Online Rachel Van Dyken http://www.books2020.com/texts-from-my-exes-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Sun, 12 Oct 2025 20:52:10 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/texts-from-my-exes-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Genre: Alpha Male, Funny Authors: Rachel Van Dyken Advertisement

Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >58

Some people scrapbook.
I screenshot my exes’ texts.

What started as me venting my dating disasters online (creative outlet, don’t judge) has turned into a blog with actual followers—and the only thing keeping me in my dirt-cheap apartment. My grandmother-slash-landlord insists I “prove my creativity” to stay, so the blog lives on.

Except now my readers want a happy ending. With an ex.
Problem? None of my exes qualify.
So…I invent one. The perfect guy. The one that got away.

Rule #1: Never roast your exes online if they know how to read.
Rule #2: Definitely don’t make up a fake ex-boyfriend just to keep your rent low.
Rule #3: Don't—under any circumstances—let your best friend discover the lie.

Because now he’s volunteered to become my fake perfect ex. And the more we fake it, the more I can’t tell if my readers are the only ones falling for the story.

Turns out, the biggest plot twist of all?
I might have been in love with him the whole time

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

CHAPTER

ONE

HARPER

You know, it was super fun while it was fun, girrrlllll. Wanna hook up tonight? I bought the new Batman movie but we both know we won’t be watching it—we be flying high, fleek, rizzzzzzzzzzz.

Besides, Sarah and I decided to just be friends. Like us. But friends with benefits. We’re adults.

Text back.

—Deacon

Istared at the text, then the whiteboard across the room labeled in red Sharpie: Wall of Regret. It had names splashed across it along with little tally marks from all the online votes. I’m a visual person like that.

“Has a nice ring to it, right, Ezra?”

Silence.

I glanced over my shoulder, nearly losing my sheet mask in the process.

“Dude, you awake?”

Ezra didn’t answer, just lifted his phone higher as his fingers tapped across the screen. His dark, shoulder-length hair flopped messily across his face like an emo shampoo commercial gone wrong. Any hairstylist would weep. He doesn’t bother pushing it aside like a normal human. No, he just shoved his neon-green glasses up the bridge of his nose and snorted again.

Wow, his snorts were starting to take on a rhythmic quality, might be able to compose a sonnet of snorts at this point. As his best friend, I’ve taken it upon myself to label them, like some weird science project. If it’s a quick snort, he’s just working and doesn’t have time to process words into sentences that could potentially be wasteful. For example, conversations with me about the reality dating shows or my six-step skincare routine. I still don’t understand the skincare one, he's half Korean, wasn’t that in his genetic makeup? Skincare? But I digress. He waves the phone into the air like he was signaling a waiter—maybe me? And yawned.

“Are you… acknowledging me?” I asked. That would be a first in the past few minutes,. He’d resorted to snorts, hums, sound effects, emojis, and my personal favorite, tongue clicking.

Another snort escaped. Then finally, “You’re a mess.”

“Says the guy who hasn’t cut his hair since the last Spider-Man reboot and owns more black hoodies than a CW villain.”

He exhaled through his nose. “This again.”

“Before you even try to use your glasses as a ‘pop of color’, they’re an accessory. Doesn’t count. And I’m not a mess. I organized all the crazy dating app texts I’ve posted over the last year on my TikTok and Instagram accounts and put up the ones with the most likes, like a psychopath who actually enjoys reading lame bootie calls.”

“You created a digital landfill of every reason why most people hate dating apps and are single,” he muttered. “Random screenshots. Fake names to protect their delicate identities. Emojis in every file name. Your use of emojis is… medically concerning. I gagged at a winky face.”

I reached into the bowl of chocolate-covered almonds with a dramatic sigh. “I care not for your judgment. Only for your brain.”

“And my body?” He was teasing but I still tensed, some lines we do not cross, some lines stay firmly drawn even if we have to re-draw them at least a dozen times a month. Do not covet thy best friend for his body, brain, and the hidden face behind all that nerd.

I joked instead. “Your body’s hidden under a hoodie older than my trauma. Why do all the rich ones dress like they’re in witness protection?” He said he was a trust fund baby but I still didn’t buy it, he didn’t fit the part. All I knew was he had loads of money.

“Because we’re trying to avoid girls with whiteboards full of exes,” he muttered, eyes still glued to his laptop, his phone beside him, the screen lit up with my TikTok account. “And your trauma has its own calendar invite, pew pew.”

Was he making Star Wars guns references at a time like this?

He continued. “Single party of one, yes we’ll just have water I’m actively waiting to be stood up by another loser who lives in his mom’s basement, it’s a tough gig but someone has to walk so others can run, you know?”

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Advertisement Little Nightmare (The Rise of the Langes #2) Read Online Rachel Van Dyken http://www.books2020.com/little-nightmare-the-rise-of-the-langes-2-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Mon, 30 Jun 2025 19:07:51 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/little-nightmare-the-rise-of-the-langes-2-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Rachel Van Dyken Series: The Rise of the Langes Series by Rachel Van Dyken
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Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 62569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >63

Welcome to your final dream.
Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.
I promise. Just close your eyes.
Sleep.

It's a bad omen when the nickname for the girl you're supposed to protect is Black Widow. It's still unclear where she got it from, but I've heard the word machete and laughter thrown around way more than I'm comfortable with.

The pay is so high that my brother and I, being from the De Lange Family can't really say no.
We slide so easily into the protective unit of the Five Families that they forgot to check if we had extra knives to drive into their backs.

They have a debt to pay.
And I'm more than willing to collect it in blood—hers specifically.

I'll make her love me.
I'll make her trust me.
And when she finally gives in…
I'll make sure she knows that everything she's ever loved was destroyed by the one she gave her heart to.

She’s a living nightmare and I’m the monster she innocently invited in.
Care to play?

She thinks I’m a toy, I’ll show her I’m the master of the web and in the end, I’ll make sure she bites.

When one Family falls—another will rise.
The Rise of the De Langes

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

PROLOGUE

First Blood

“Do you have the target?”

The voice on the other end of the phone was too familiar. I’d come to hate it—almost as much as I hated myself. I didn’t believe in the cause anymore; there were too many people who would bear the brutal force of the effect.

Throat dry, I tried to keep my voice even, unfeeling, though my heart slammed uncomfortably hard against my ribs. I told myself it wasn’t regret. I lied to myself and even toyed with the idea that it was a pulled muscle or out of place rib—but I knew the reason, even my body was physically repelled by my actions.

They were wrong to do it this way. “Target secure.”

I hesitated. Let my thumb brush the blade—once. Twice. It was cold.

It wouldn’t stay that way for long. She had no idea what I was capable of, what I was supposed to do.

“Make it quick.” The voice already sounded irritated with me.

I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen the weight in my chest. “It’s my blood to spill. Mine to take.”

Not his.

“Then stop talking and do it already, you’ve been given enough chances, plus, it will earn her trust, something you need if you’re going to pull it off.”

The knife felt heavier now. Too real. I knew it would.

“The killing’s already been done,” I murmured staring at her again, allowing myself to take in her innocent smile, knowing that sharp words always followed past those lips. “Finished,” I whispered, to myself, to him. “In more ways than one.”

A laugh cracked from my throat—cold, bitter, joyless. What the hell had I become? What had I let them do to me?

Why…did it have to be her?

He joined in briefly, his laughter sinister, mine in disbelief, his voice rasped through the speaker with finality. “Make it as pretty and dramatic as her, asshole.”

I walked toward her at the same time the sacrificial lamb came up behind her. The price of his life was a million. Not much by my standards—but it would take care of his wife and two kids.

He’d been useless his entire life and now by giving it, he believed he’d be saving theirs.

He had no clue, that his son probably preferred a dad to a dollar bill, that his wife would probably blame herself and have trouble going to the grocery store or getting in the car without having a panic attack.

All because of his life.

All because he thought money meant more than love.

Money was a liar.

It said it could save.

It said it could change lives.

It said it would make everything better.

Money was a drug, one that always somehow required more of whoever possessed it.

A bead of sweat ran down his neck before he lunged for her. The precision of my knife landed directly in his carotid artery. He’d bleed out in seconds. He collapsed.

I wondered if in those seconds he wished he had said no.

I wondered if he saw his wife’s face.

His two sons.

I wondered a lot as I approached and held out my hand. “No better way to introduce myself, I guess.” I grinned at her stunned expression. “I’m your new bodyguard.”

1

RAVEN

The one where the house is filled with the ghosts and nothing but regret, the one where it burns, toils, and aches, the one where pain smiles and thrives.

Iwiped my mouth and braced the sink with my shaking hands. The taste of bile still lingered in the back of my throat. I had no choice in this. Then again, neither had he.

The haunting sound of the church organ crawled through the cracks of the small bathroom walls. If grief had a scent, I was surrounded by it. We’d had peace for so long and now it just felt like peace was the last thing I wanted. War sounded more pleasant, more distracting. I needed the darkness, the kind that made the pain feel earned. The kind that said there was a price and that I’d more than paid it over and over again. But no matter how many times I replayed the memory in my head…

It didn’t make sense. Two plus two did not equal four.

“Raven!” he’d yelled. "Get back now!”

I'd just turned when he shoved himself in front of me then collapsed against my body like a promise breaking. The back of my head hit the cement, and when I’d looked up, all I saw was the perfect blue sky.

It was a sunny day.

A day made for greatness.

He’d held my hand.

He’d promised ice cream.

Minutes later, I was covered in blood.

“Raven?” Tempest’s voice—my twin sister and other half—muffled through the bathroom door. “It’s time.”

Time.

Something I’d never have enough of.

Something I’d never get back.

Just like him. How could he be so stupid? What was my life worth without him in it? My palm hovered over my still flat stomach. “Be right there, Tempest. Give me a minute.” Or an hour. Days. Maybe just give me a grave deep enough to jump into, as long as it’s next to his.

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Advertisement Immortal Sun – Dark Olympus Read Online Rachel Van Dyken http://www.books2020.com/immortal-sun-dark-olympus-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Thu, 17 Apr 2025 13:11:23 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/immortal-sun-dark-olympus-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Forbidden, Paranormal Authors: Rachel Van Dyken Advertisement

Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >126

Discover a brand-new world where demons, vampires, fallen angels, gods, and fae roam the earth in modern day San Juan Islands in Immortal Sun, a gripping romantasy from #1 New York Times bestselling author Rachel Van Dyken. There isn't a lore that doesn't exist around Mt. Olympus, and nobody is safe from the wrath of the gods who watch.

My only goal: Beat him at his own game and escape.
His: Save the world, by way of me.

Thousands of names have been written on the ancient parchment, but it moans for one last signature.

He promised he would help me find my brother.
He lied.

I don't know why I immediately trusted Cyrus. He was stunningly gorgeous, nice, and so accommodating that maybe I felt too safe—maybe that was the first red flag.
The second was that he always said my missing twin was fine, that he'd come back when the internship was supposed to start again.
Looks are deceiving. And I forgot..

Now I'm completely screwed. I'm trapped here until the eclipse and the great Sun God says I'm the last sacrifice he has to make in order to ascend to Olympus. I have so many questions about the mixed mythology but what I don't have is answers.

He says I'm the last name he needs to enter on the pages of the Book of Life—a book that contains every descendent of his mortal enemy. He says he'll reward me with any immortal god for twenty-four hours. He doesn't know that my only goal is to do exactly what he does.

Burn the world down—Him included

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

CHAPTER 1

CYRUS

“It is not death that a man should fear but he should fear never beginning to live.”— Marcus Aurelius

In the end, she whispered it, the one name, the secret name, she wielded the power of Ra—but it fell on deaf ears. It did not bear fruit; it was too late, blood had already spilled. And they mourned the loss of the sun as darkness descended across the earth. Chaos manifests in so many different ways. I should have known that in the end, he wasn’t just watching, no, my enemy, he was waiting for the one thing immortals have in spades---the right time.

The Great Gathering

In the beginning…what a strange sentence. I should laugh but I can’t even remember the beginning. I do know, however, that the end is near, for all of us. Twelve of us remain, gods of our own realms, gods of our own territories.

I have no throne.

Humans worship us but even so, they confuse our names.

In order to save what was left of our power we decided in favor of a human trial. If you can prove that you deserve your godhood by surviving with humanity, then you’ll ascend to Mount Olympus, never to be tested again. If you fail…

You’ll roam the earth with whatever remaining power you’ve been given—tasked with one job: to serve humanity as penance for your failures.

We started with many gods. Now we have few. What god fails in living as a human? What god could be so weak?

It is that time again.

I check my watch.

After ten thousand years—my name has been called.

I am Ra. I am the morning sun. I do not blink when darkness comes. This will be nothing but a blip before I ascend to the skies where I belong.

I sit at the marble table and smile.

They’re all present. Mars, Aphrodite, Venus, Gaia, Gilgamesh, Osiris, Lugh, Marduk, Ogen, Huw. They wait for my failure. I assure them, with my smile, of my success.

“You have a thousand years.” Gilgamesh rubs his hand down his black jeweled beard. “Annihilate them all, every last child of Chaos, have them write their names in The Book of the Dead with the blood of our enemy. In the end, you will ascend where you belong. Good luck brother, may the Creator be with you.”

“May they be with us all.” I incline my head and smile.

Easy.

The children of Chaos? Only a few thousand still exist. I’ll get it done in one night and make sure they fear the light. Forget the dark, only the truly terrifying things are bold enough to walk under the sun.

Under me.

Present Day

Seattle, Washington

Club Styx

“It’s taken you a while,” Anubis whispers from a very dark and sinister looking corner in my office. He just has to always pick that seat. I’ve moved the chair for years; he moves it back. I’ve changed the lighting; he snaps his fingers and changes it back. Some gods like the darkness better than the light, and the God of the Underworld is no different, though his wife might argue that point.

Some might say their marriage was the beginning of the end for the immortal realms—they were part of the group that started finding their mates. It started with a vampire, or was it a werewolf? There has to be a joke in there somewhere, fallen angels became involved, a siren, a Katsun—there really isn’t anything they didn’t cover or are still covering, and I’ve somehow gotten thrown into the mix since the clock keeps ticking, and I’ve yet to find the last of Apep’s bloodline that actually matters, thankful I can be very convincing.

Just one left.

And it’s taken what feels like an eternity.

“What? No snarky comeback? Has humanity stolen the joy from your soul? You aren’t shining as bright anymore, maybe you have the opposite of a fever? What’s that?”

“A pulse?” I snap. “Could you focus for one second and tell me if her brother convinced her it would be in her best interest to take the management position? I looked into her financials, they aren’t great and with her brother's constant wandering on behalf of my research, it’s a shock to me she’s even been able to get him on the phone.” Idiot with stars in his eyes and I couldn’t constantly ask a new hire about his family member without looking suspicious.

Anubis’s sigh is long like I’m the annoying one. “There is this thing called the internet.”

“There’s also these things called words,” I point out wryly. “You use them to form sentences, oh and favors, which you owe me about a million of at this point.”

Anubis stands to his full height and walks over to me. He pauses in front of the fireplace. It’s one of the things I always keep within reach—heat. The flames cast a glow across his chiseled features, and bright blond hair.

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Advertisement The Chemistry of Us Read Online M. Robinson, Rachel Van Dyken http://www.books2020.com/the-chemistry-of-us-read-online-m-robinson-rachel-van-dyken Wed, 12 Feb 2025 07:23:08 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-chemistry-of-us-read-online-m-robinson-rachel-van-dyken Genre: Alpha Male, College, Sports, Young Adult Authors: M. Robinson, Rachel Van Dyken Advertisement

Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >66

Tru

He’s a pivotal player on and off the field, but as college graduation looms and his need to be a draft pick heightens, he gets assigned a tutor.

But not just any tutor…

Me.

His ex-girlfriend.

And I hate him.

Despise him, actually.

We haven't seen each other since high school. And not only am I tutoring the guy who broke my heart.

I’m also his new roommate.

Vaughan

I know she hates me…

I hate her too.

I hate her mouth when it grins at me.

I hate her curves when she walks away from me.

I hate the way she smiles.

Laughs.

Yells at me.

But mostly, I hate the way that I don’t hate her at all.

In fact…

She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved.

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

CHAPTER 1

TRU

Now

“You,” I snarled with complete and utter hatred. The word literally dripped with it.

I could feel it.

Smell it.

Taste it.

Maybe it was his ridiculously good-smelling cologne or the fact that he looked better than the last time I saw him when my foster parents were vacationing in the Hamptons a few years ago. His family was their neighbor.

This guy was the worst, and the cocky smile on his face proved he hadn’t changed in the past two years. His wicked green eyes narrowed to the point where I wondered if he was possessed as he stared at me with such disbelief that I stood before him. He leaned down toward my petite frame, his perfectly straight white teeth spread into a mocking grin.

In a condescending tone, he questioned, “You actually made it into college?”

I glared at him.

He always knew how to push my buttons to the point of infuriating rage. He didn’t even have to try. Just his appearance pissed me off to no end. He was aware of it, too, and all it did was fuel my hatred for him.

When he reached over to tug on the end of my hair, I clenched my teeth and swatted his hand away. The manwhore had no right getting close enough to touch me. He probably still wore the stench of last night’s one-night stand. If Vaughan—or as his friends and the press called him, Van—was good at anything, it was women. His pretentious smile alone could make panties drop. It was like his superpower or something.

The truth was, Vaughan Aires was the bane of my existence.

He was an undeniable playboy, and he was proud of it too. While he grew up with a silver spoon in his pain-in-the-ass mouth, I grew up as a charity case foster kid, which he often reminded me of. The mere fact that he stood in front of me as if he didn’t ruin multiple lives by simply existing made me want to slap his pretty-boy face in.

Vaughan was six three with green eyes and messy blond hair that always looked like he ran his fingers through it one too many times. Which only added to his charismatic good looks and enticing personality. Not to mention, he was built like a Greek god with his abs for days and a tight ass to match his huge muscular physique.

His friends used to joke that he never met a stranger and got away with everything. I didn’t believe them until I repeatedly saw it with my own two eyes.

He was everything a parent warned you about—from his charm to his wit to his appearance. It didn’t help that he was currently the best football player in the college league, and I only knew that because he was technically a public figure. The university held him up on a pedestal, along with the endless number of fans and groupies he had at his disposal.

The reporters loved him, although his temper made the news as much as his skills did. He was known for his short fuse on the field, causing more fights than the average player. Let alone the captain of the team.

“Move,” he abruptly ordered after a minute of us just standing there, taking each other in.

Harvard was a big college, and I convinced myself that once I was accepted for my freshman year, I’d never have to see him or run into him. I was an idiot to think this wouldn’t happen because I was bound to run into him eventually.

I just didn’t think it’d be so soon.

After all, we were only a few weeks into the summer session.

“Are you going to move, or will I have to do it for you?”

“Wow,” I breathed out. “I see you’re still the same dickhead I remember.”

“Good to know you still think about me.” He winked. “Can’t say the same for you.”

There I was, bickering with this asshole while both fists remained at my sides. I tried like hell to keep my cool, to maintain my composure and act like the lady I raised myself to be, but you wouldn’t know it by my actions. This uncontrollable distaste for him took over my entire body.

I loathed guys like him.

Men like him were all the same, every last one of them. Acting as if they were hot shit and owned every place they walked into with their I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. They knew how to flash their boyish grins and show off their dimples just the right way to grant them access to all the lust-infested girls’ panties. Their simple touch with their calculated, slick lines had those stupid, naive girls spreading their legs faster than I could yell, “They’re using you! Run!”

It was so cliché.

All of it.

Especially him.

With an overconfident arched eyebrow, he narrowed his stare at me, standing there wearing nothing more than a mischievous smirk. I swear, whenever I was around this guy, he screamed sex. It radiated off him; he had this cocky demeanor—again, not even trying—which was so annoying I wanted to commit a crime.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >66

Advertisement Ciao Bella (The Rise of the Langes #1) Read Online Rachel Van Dyken http://www.books2020.com/ciao-bella-the-rise-of-the-langes-1-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Mon, 08 Jul 2024 20:39:04 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/ciao-bella-the-rise-of-the-langes-1-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, New Adult Authors: Rachel Van Dyken Series: The Rise of the Langes Series by Rachel Van Dyken
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >75

How thin is the line between love and hate?

The Five Families thought the war was over.
They have no idea, I'm the very beginning.

I kidnapped her to prove a point—at knife point, it seemed sharper that way.
See what I did there?

I used the perfect virginal daughter from one of the most powerful Families in the Cosa Nostra to fix the broken pieces, knowing that in the process—I’d spread hers for the world to see.
I would embarrass her, shame her, use her, but I would never touch her… my one and only vow to her father in exchange for his allegiance.

The flowers at our wedding would be extravagant—people would watch it like a celebration, she’d live it as her funeral.
Call me twisted, but I thrive off her hate, I wouldn’t know what to do if I had her heart—I’m not good with pretty things I’m capable of breaking.

I’ll use every single person I can to restore order… to bring about the peace that my Family deserves.
But something sinister lurks in the darkness.
In the end, it may not be just my Family I save but theirs as well.

They say the past comes back to haunt you—that history repeats itself.
Bet they never saw this coming.

After all, when one Family falls—another will rise.

Ciao Bella.
The Rise of the De Langes

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

CHAPTER ONE

“You can’t bestow wisdom on idiots. I would know. My dad told me that every day until I realized it was me, I was the idiot. God love him.” —King Campisi, Capo dei Capi

Bella

There are three things you absolutely need to know about me.

One, I have a short temper, compliments of my dad.

Two, my dad is, to put it mildly, one of the most powerful mafia bosses in Chicago.

Three, I hate ham. Can’t stand it, which brings us into four.

Okay, so I meant four, whatever.

And four, I despised Ivan De Lange with every fiber of my soul. If he was on the side of the street limping, you best believe it was because I ran him over with my car, my bike, and then a stolen tricycle for good measure.

He wasn’t making matters easier by picking a fight during family dinner in front of everyone.

More yelling commenced from inside the house. I winced.

And now you’re all caught up.

I’m Bella Abandonato, college sophomore at one of the most elite universities in the nation, spoiled princess, hell of a cookie lover, and this is how I destroyed my enemy: one chocolate chip at a time.

Damn, too much? And was I really trying to do my manifesto while Ivan cornered me in the yard next to the giant tree he’d pushed me out of when I was fifteen?

Yes.

Was it the same tree I shoved his head against? Also, yes.

I had no problem feeling guilty when it came to him, and he had no qualms about being guilty when it came to me.

“You’re an idiot,” I said with purpose and a strong sense of conviction. I wanted to carve it into his skull so that every time he saw his own face in the mirror, he’d remember like the complete dumbass that he was.

An idiot.

See? Not that hard, and sometimes for people like him, from his Family, reading may be tough, but for him it’s literally something that makes a person wonder, can he even see words?

Ivan leaned in, too close, way too close, his green eyes penetrated mine in a way that was so severely uncomfortable that I wanted to trip him then grab the closest object and hold it high over my head. He’d of course tell my family and it would be a whole thing, the last thing we needed was more war between the Families anyway so we’re taught at an early age, not to necessarily play nice, just not to get caught by any of the bosses from any of the Families.

Ivan was cruel when I first met him at fifteen, when he came into our lives and decided to start working for the Families, not that he was really given a choice as an orphan. I’d been warned to be nice because he didn’t have any parents left, but he just wore his anger so much on his sleeve that the first thing he said to me when I offered him some homemade cookies was he didn’t eat poison then looked me up and down and said. “You should probably cut back anyway, am I right?” He’d pinched my side and what followed was me slamming a plate against him, cookies flying everywhere and blood everywhere that, till this day, nobody’s really sure where it came from.

Then again, I was in the Cosa Nostra, Italian mafia blood ran through my veins, my heart pulsed with it each beat it took and I knew that I’d either live a seminormal life or I’d be the one to wreak havoc.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >75

Advertisement Love Hazard Read Online Rachel Van Dyken http://www.books2020.com/love-hazard-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Mon, 27 May 2024 20:58:01 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/love-hazard-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark Authors: Rachel Van Dyken Advertisement

Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >31

When hate leads to love next door…

My dad is protective. Scratch that. He’s like the person who would grab a chair, place it on the lawn, and watch me walk across the street just to deliver an apple. So, when a bet between the rude, good-looking guy across the way becomes a full-on battle, it turns into absolute chaos.

He says my degree is useless and that I’m a rich, spoiled princess.

I say he’s an idiot who only knows how to fix motorcycles and is incapable of having a clean-shaven face.

He gives me a tiara. Thanks.

I buy him a razor. Perfect.

He follows that up with a book… Like. I. Can’t. Read.

I then give him soap—explanation easy there.

The following day, I receive a pink princess blanket that I may or may not have burned and tossed on his front doorstep, not realizing his dad is a cop. Now, both dads want the war to stop between us, forcing us to go on a camping trip to bury the hatchet—which I’m convinced he actually brought.

He’s a hazard to my health.

But it’s only a weekend. I honestly don’t know if we’ll make it out alive, but the dads are tired of it all. Regardless, I’ll come out, and prove I'm not the princess he thinks I am. Maybe he’ll end up lost in the woods—one can only hope.

One thing’s for sure. I will never, ever fall for him.

Ever.

A bet with the boy next door? Challenge accepted. I’ll be waiting for my trophy at the finish line.

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

One Thousand and One Dark Nights

Once upon a time, in the future…

I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.

I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and

the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast

library at my father’s home and collected thousands

of volumes of fantastic tales.

I learned all about ancient races and bygone

times. About myths and legends and dreams of all

people through the millennium. And the more I read

the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered

that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually

become part of them.

I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher

and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I

would not be telling you this tale now.

But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off

with bravery.

One afternoon, curious about the myth of the

Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to

see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar

(Persian: شهريار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then

sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written

and I had read that by the time he met Scheherazade,

the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand

women.

Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived

in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged

places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had

never occurred before and that still to this day, I

cannot explain.

Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have

taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can

protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to

protect herself and stay alive.

Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.

And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a

point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.

And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that

he might hear the rest of my dark tale.

As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new

one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before

you now.

Prologue

“If it ends with sushi, it starts with sushi.”—August Wellington

Hazel

Summer 2016

I peered around my favorite tree, smack-dab in the middle of our front yard. We’d inherited the house from my great-grandma Nadine. She had been a force to be reckoned with when she was alive and told my dad—her eldest grandson—that she’d had a premonition I would need my own place of solace. Somewhere to read and hide. She then told him she’d disown him if he didn’t build a little rope ladder leading to the top.

He tried to call her bluff.

It didn’t work.

She stood her ground, which was almost always followed by her tapping a red or leopard-print heel until he gave in—which he always did.

Now that I was seventeen, he wanted me to help out with the family businesses during the summer, but how many chores could a person do?

Each of our vineyards, the farm, and even corporate, had an insane number of staff members, and I still had to wake up at seven to help my mom with the garden. It was midsummer. I was supposed to have some semblance of freedom before my senior year.

The midafternoon was hot, and I just wanted a break. Dad always said my life wasn’t stressful, but he knew nothing about the drama in high school, especially living with the awkward, gangly body I still hadn’t grown into: weird, stringy blond hair that refused to grow past my boobs; and oh, boobs that also refused to grow.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >31

Advertisement Office Mate – The Emory Games Read Online Rachel Van Dyken http://www.books2020.com/office-mate-the-emory-games-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Sat, 27 Apr 2024 17:49:34 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/office-mate-the-emory-games-read-online-rachel-van-dyken Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Rachel Van Dyken Advertisement

Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >30

From #1 New York Times bestselling author Rachel Van Dyken comes a standalone office RomCom about what happens when the one you walked away from was now not only your boss but also your new partner in a high-stakes office game...

I liked to think things happened in My girlfriend ghosted me and changed her number.2. I got promoted, but I worked for Satan.3. Months later, said girlfriend was back in my life, working underneath me as an intern.

Ah, the universe had jokes, ha, ha, hilarious.

All I had to do was survive the fourth annual Emory Games, a ridiculous office bonding game that Max Emory, our CEO, put on every year to help boost company morale and encourage the new interns.Yeah, just ask me if they felt encouraged after diving into shark-infested waters. Don't worry... only one person got hurt, and the accidental death paperwork was sound.I had to work with her as my partner for a full week, and then I could bounce back to my department, pretend that she hadn't broken my heart, and run me over with my own truck for good measure.

I should have been focused on the games, except again, things happened in threes...1. She's my partner.2. She's hiding something.3. I may have fallen on her and kissed her. It's a thing, it actually happens in real life—people just fall, and mouths meet, and what are you going to do?

Hi, my name is Ace Harley, and I am two point five seconds away from marching down to HR and begging for therapy.

Being an adult sucks balls.

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

Chapter One

Ace

There was a stain on my jacket, not noticeable, but enough that I wanted to immediately shrug out of my black coat and toss it in the trash. Was it from the oatmeal this morning? Or was it from that bleary-eyed guy that stumbled next to me with a pickle in his hand and a weird smile who had me immediately thinking I was about to get shanked?

No idea.

The point was.

I was late.

I hated being late.

Actually loathed it.

If a person came up to me and said, do you want to die or be late I would choose death, that’s how much my anxiety crept up on me. I’d like to think that I got better over the years, the therapy, the wonderful drugs that were given to me to help me calm myself.

In the end, it was yoga that hit hard along with self-talk. I just had to talk to myself about why I was feeling the way I was and stretch, then I was good, so I had no clue why the stupid stain was making me want to go to prison.

I walked into the elevator and took a deep breath.

Those were good for you, breaths, as my Apple watch loved to remind me.

I took another and finally felt at ease. I was hiring a recruit today and the patience I’d need to just sit while watching people touch their face or move in their seats would be—huge. They should thank me for not losing my mind while a hair touched a cheek and smudged lip gloss.

I shuddered.

Gross.

Lip gloss was the worst, it stuck onto things, lips, jackets, cloths, napkins, food. I shuddered again. The worst kind was shiny, it was always stickier and the young people that came in for new hires almost always had it covering their giant lips.

Don’t even get me started on the filler.

Get stung by a bee instead… easier, cheaper, and probably organic.

I took another deep breath in, then paused.

I paused, I never paused… but the person in the elevator with me was suddenly on her knees and looking up with blinking eyes like she had no clue she existed.

“Um?” I held out my hand, prepared to wash it off later about a billion times, but I didn’t want to be rude. “You good?”

Her hair was jet-black, her eyes were bright blue, and she looked up at me like she hadn’t seen another human in years. Her small fingers gripped mine while she stood wearing a very, very, very sad looking black suit with a missing button in the middle and shoes that had been clearly tarnished on the sides. Even her hand was cold. “I’m not good.”

Honesty. Well, that was new. “Okay, do I need to call someone or?”

Her eyes welled with tears. “I have nobody to call.”

It hit me.

Because I didn’t either.

And I hated it.

I hated I had nobody, that I was an orphan, that nobody other than my best friend Dustin cared.

I kept her hand in mine, something that was so not my usual MO since I hated all germs and all things that made me feel dirty.

I held it in mine. She was warm where I always felt cold and indifferent. I didn’t say I liked it, but I did like how our random hands touched and moved against each other.

The doors to the elevator closed and opened, then closed again, we rode wherever we were going to ride until it took us to the top of the building.

“Why are you here?” I finally asked, gripping her hand tighter like my body knew that I needed something other than air. I needed touch. I needed something.

She looked down at her tattered shoes. “I’ve done seventy job interviews in the last year, I’m here to eat.”

“I like food.” I said after a minute. It wasn’t a lie. I did like food, it always filled me the way I wanted. Physically, emotionally, it did its job until it was done and it felt complete. Food was basically one of the only things that never truly let you down.

“Me too.” She sniffled. “I think I really, really need that right now. I need…” She paused as a tear slid down her porcelain cheek. “I need to feel something.”

“Feeling is important because it makes you feel whole, but don’t for one second think that it’s going to make everything okay.”

“I know that better than anyone,”” she whispered. “I’m assuming you do too.”

“Yeah.”

I refused to admit she was pretty with her long lashes and full pink lips.

“Ok.” I nodded. “Ok. Let’s go outside and eat.”

The elevator doors opened to the rooftop restaurant, and I did the most insane thing I could have ever done in my life.

Maybe I was tired.

Maybe it was the stain on my suit.

Maybe it was just life.

But I turned and pulled her against me and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

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