Erotic – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:56:35 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.1.3 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Erotic – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Cowboy Magic Read Online Laylah Roberts http://www.books2020.com/cowboy-magic-read-online-laylah-roberts Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:56:35 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/cowboy-magic-read-online-laylah-roberts Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 40942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
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Desperate and down on her luck, Blakely is grateful to get a job at Maple Grove Ranch.
Even if her new boss is demanding and grouchy.
Stafford is drawn to his new housekeeper, but he hasn’t got the time or energy for a relationship.
Can Blakely work some magic and gain a cowboy Daddy to call her own.

*Please Note: This story was in the anthology. Nothing has been changed

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

1

“Now the brilliant, brave Blakely will attempt to free herself from the ropes of doom. Ta-da!” Blakely tugged at the piece of rope in her hand.

And nothing happened.

When she pulled on the rope, the whole thing was meant to fall off and free her.

So why wasn’t it working?

She pulled again. Was it her imagination or was the rope around her getting tighter?

No, no, no!

“Oh! Witches and wizards!” she cried as she jumped around. The rope was secured around her torso, over her bottom, and around the tops of her thighs.

Not good. Really not good.

She glanced over at her audience for help, but they just gaped at her in horror.

“Well, don’t just sit there, help!” she cried.

Not one of them moved.

Well. Wasn’t that just lovely? She’d always helped them when they needed it. When Mr. Whiskers lost an eye, who had sewn it back on?

She had. That’s who.

And when Mrs. Flopsy’s dress had a rip in it, who mended it?

She did.

And what thanks did she get? They just sat there and watched her flail around like an idiot.

What was that smell?

No time for strange smells, Blakely! You have to get out of the ropes.

“That’s it! No Christmas presents for you,” she threatened as she attempted to free her arm.

“Why did I have to tie it all the way around me? I’m not even that good at tying knots. I can’t tie my shoelaces properly and yet here I am trussed up like a turkey on Thanksgiving with no way to get free!”

Okay, she was really starting to panic now.

Her breathing grew choppy as she broke out into a sweat.

Got to get free.

What was that smell?

Hmm, it smelled like . . .

“Smoke!” she screamed.

An alarm suddenly blasted through the small apartment.

No! My tuna noodle casserole!

She had to turn that alarm off! If Mr. Brandt heard it, he wouldn’t be pleased. He hated any sort of noise. And Blakely needed this apartment. It was the only place she’d been able to find that she could afford.

As she spun, the ropes suddenly slid off her.

Huh. How had that happened?

“Magic,” she whispered with a smile. It worked!

Well, sort of.

The blasting of the smoke alarm infiltrated her happiness.

Shoot!

Rushing into the tiny kitchen, she saw the smoke drifting from the oven.

“No.” She reached for the door and smoke billowed into her face. “No. No. No.”

Smoke stinging her eyes, she searched around for her oven mitts. She grabbed something, not paying attention to what it was as she used it to lift out the hot dish.

But whatever she’d grasped hold of, they weren’t her thick oven mitts. And the heat from the dish seared her hands.

She quickly dumped the dish into the sink.

Sobs broke free as she stared down at her hands in horror.

“Ouch,” she cried. “Ouch, ouch, ouchie!”

Don’t just stand there. The alarm!

Shit! She searched around for something that she could stand on to turn it off.

Spotting a dining chair, she ignored the pain in her hands as she dragged it over to the alarm and stood on it. She hit the button on the alarm, but it still kept going.

Urgh!

She finally managed to remove the alarm so she could pop out the batteries.

The noise immediately stopped, and she sat down on the chair with a sob of relief.

This was all too much.

Tears filled her eyes. Her hands hurt, her casserole was ruined, and the apartment smelled of smoke. If Mr. Brandt was home, then he’d probably be here soon to complain about the noise.

Another noise blared at her. It sounded cymbals chiming. Ooh or a magic wand.

Oh, witches and wizards!

That was her phone alarm.

Standing, she scrambled around for her phone. Her hands throbbed and burned and in the back of her mind she knew that she should be running them under cool water.

But she had to know why her phone alarm was going off.

If it wasn’t for her phone’s calendar and reminder alarms, she’d never remember to do anything. So she never ignored that chiming.

Finally, she found it lying on the coffee table in the living room.

No!

No, no, no.

She had her interview this afternoon. And in thirty minutes! It was going to take her nearly that long to drive out to the ranch!

Scrambling around, she found her handbag and keys. She stuffed her phone into her handbag and quickly pulled open a couple of windows.

She was on the second floor, so she wasn’t worried about anyone trying to break into her apartment. If they did, they’d be severely disappointed because there was nothing worth stealing.

What was she going to do about her hands, though? They hurt so badly and they were all red.

Bandages. She needed bandages.

“Where is my first aid kit?” she grumbled to herself. “Wait, I don’t have a freaking first aid kit! Why?”

Calm down.

She might not have a first aid kit, but she had a drawer filled with bits and pieces that she’d gathered over the years. Wincing, she searched through it until she found some petroleum jelly and bandages. Hands shaking, she slathered on the jelly, then hastily wrapped some bandages around her hands.


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Falling for Love (Dare to Fall #2) Read Online Carly Phillips http://www.books2020.com/falling-for-love-dare-to-fall-2-read-online-carly-phillips Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:56:24 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/falling-for-love-dare-to-fall-2-read-online-carly-phillips Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Dare to Fall Series by Carly Phillips
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Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
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Billionaire Romance · Surprise Pregnancy · One-Night Stand · Second Chance Love · Protective Alpha Hero · Scandal · Emotional & Sexy

I never meant to fall into bed with a stranger.

But the night I meet Jack Dare in Charleston, I stop thinking—and start wanting.

One look, one drink, one kiss—and I forget the rules I’m forced to live by. For one reckless night, I let myself breathe and allow myself to come undone.

But by morning, I’m gone.

Because if Jack knew who I really was—the ex-fiancée of a powerful man who still controls my life—he’d either walk away… or stay and get destroyed right along with me.

Two months later, I’m standing on his Miami doorstep with secrets. I’m pregnant and running from a man who’s bound to catch up with me.

That’s when I discover the kind of man Jack Dare really is.

He’s the man who fights for me. Who protects me. And refuses to let me go.

A sexy, emotional billionaire romance featuring a one-night stand, surprise pregnancy, second-chance love, a fiercely protective hero, and a love strong enough to stand up to power, scandal, and the past.

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

CHAPTER ONE

Jack

I’ve found the perfect space for my next nightclub in downtown Charleston. It’s taken two trips out here. The first was a bust. Then, months later, I got a call from the realtor that the perfect building came up for sale and he’s right. Not that I’ll let the realtor know how interested I am in buying the property.

First thing in the morning, I’ll talk to Tristan and Lucas, my partners and co-owners of the original Midnight in Miami, and tell them about the building, including the repurposed industrial district where it’s located. The vibe is perfect. The guys will have to take a trip to check out the area for themselves, but I know in my gut this is it.

“As you can see, this building is located in the Upper King Street Design District.” Scott, the realtor, gestures with a wave of his hand. “The area hosts urban high-end home furnishing stores, eclectic boutiques and showrooms, along with trendy dining and hotels. And the good news is that if you buy or rent this building, and as I mentioned, both options are available, your club would be right in the center hub of the city.” He studies my impassive expression. “So, what do you think?” he asks.

I think if I get overly excited or let him know I’ve already decided I want the space, he’ll push me to bid higher. “It’s definitely a possibility,” I tell him. He’s shown me three other options, but this building is the optimal site.

“Good.” He nods, seemingly satisfied. “I should warn you, it can be a little difficult to get zoning and permits to open a nightclub here, but it’s worth the hassle to be in such a busy area.”

We’ll have to look into the zoning laws here, but that’s what our lawyers are for. “Thank you. I appreciate your time. I need to talk to my partners. I’ll be in touch.”

I follow him out of the building and we shake hands, then part ways with me promising to call him once I have a definite answer.

The realtor couldn’t meet until six p.m. Now it’s past seven and I’m starving. There are plenty of restaurants to choose from and eating around here will give me a chance to check out the area at night before I go back to my hotel, which isn’t far from here.

I walk around, stopping at a café with an Open Mic Night sign in the window. I walk into the restaurant. It’s dark with paneled walls and an old bar vibe. A man is sitting near a makeshift stage playing an acoustic guitar. A woman stands beside him, singing into a microphone, her voice sultry and raw, her talent obvious.

I pause in front of a sign that says: Seat Yourself.

Glancing around, I realize all the tables are taken, then I see the back of a dark-haired woman who is sitting alone. It’s either I ask her to share her space, wait for a seat to open up, or head out and walk around until I find another place to eat, but I have a feeling all the restaurants will be as crowded as this one.

I stride over and step up to her table, catching a glimpse of her for the first time. Her chin rests on her hand as she watches the duo perform. Straight shoulder-length jet-black hair frames a beautiful face. Her lips are full, and her hazel eyes are rimmed with gold, standing out against her peaches-and-cream complexion. One look and I feel as if I’ve been sucker punched. I’ve met and dated many women, and none have drawn me in with just one look. She does.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her eyebrows raised as she meets my gaze.

I’m caught staring because I find it impossible to look away. “The restaurant is crowded so I was hoping I could join you.” I point to the empty seat at her round table.

“Oh.” She glances from me to the chair and back again.

“I’m actually starving,” I admit, not ashamed to sound a little pathetic if it gets me food and the company of a beautiful woman. “So if you could take pity on me and let me sit down and order, I’d appreciate it.” I treat her to my most charming grin.

She laughs and gestures for me to take a seat, which I do.

“I’m Jack,” I say.

“Taylor. Nice to meet you, Jack.”

We spend a few minutes in comfortable silence watching and listening to the pair up front until they announce a break. Silence takes over where the throaty sounds of the singer had been, just as a server stops by and I order a hamburger, fries, and a Samuel Adams.

“Do you want to refresh your drink?” I ask Taylor, glancing at her tall glass.

She lifts a delicate shoulder. “Sure. Seltzer and a spritz of cranberry juice please,” she says.


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Ghost (Black Crowns MC #3) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.books2020.com/ghost-black-crowns-mc-3-read-online-fiona-davenport Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:56:22 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/ghost-black-crowns-mc-3-read-online-fiona-davenport Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Black Crowns MC Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
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Gavin “Ghost” Danner smiled through work that made other men flinch. The former SEAL handled every threat with a fuse for the Black Crowns MC. Until Tamsin Bellamy glared at him, and he decided she was his.

Tamsin was used to being underestimated, so she was stunned when the massive biker respected her command after a fireworks display went horribly wrong. Then inventory discrepancies were discovered, and anyone putting Tamsin in the blast radius was going to pay a steep price

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

1

TAMSIN

The minutes were ticking down to the fireworks display, so there was no time to spare as I walked through the launch area to verify every detail was exactly as it should be. This was normal for me. The displays my family’s company dealt with contained multiple pounds of highly explosive chemical compositions that were capable of causing fatal blast injuries, so one mistake could lose us a whole lot more than our federal license.

And this veterans’ fundraiser, hosted by the Black Crowns MC, was bigger than usual.

Past the caution tape, the field had already filled in. More bodies on the safe side of the line meant less room for anybody to get sloppy on mine.

I put my boot against the nearest rack base and leaned. When it didn’t shift, I moved on.

Unused cable was still in a firing lane that was supposed to be empty by now. One of our guys walked past like he didn’t see it.

“Cable out of the lane,” I ordered. “Now.”

He glanced at the coil, then his gaze drifted over my shoulder instead, hunting for Len the way half the older crew still did when I gave an order. “I was just⁠—”

“Out.”

I waited until the lane was clean before I pointed at a crate sitting six inches inside the restricted mark.

“That too. Other side of the paint.”

He muttered something under his breath as he hauled the box back where it belonged.

One of the radios attached to my belt crackled, and I half listened to the conversation between two crew members as I checked the spectator marks next. The crowd had crept close in a couple of spots, but the barricades we’d erected held them back.

Flipping to the launch diagram on my clipboard, I moved toward the racks. Cutting across the packed dirt toward the launch line, I was already counting tubes against the diagram when Len fell into step beside me.

He’d been with the company as long as I’d been alive. My childhood had been filled with shows he’d been in charge of, and he was the one who had walked me through my first inventory count.

“No need to worry,” he assured me. “I completed the final check of the launch racks and firing equipment myself.”

“I still need to⁠—”

“You’ve got a lot of ground to cover today, Tamsin.” His hand hovered near my shoulder and dropped again. “Let me handle this section.”

His tone was almost paternal, which irritated me since I was the safety coordinator for this event. At times like this, I realized he still saw me as a child playing at authority, rather than the competent woman who knew what she was doing, in part because he had a hand in teaching me.

Huffing out a breath, I reminded myself that we were at a public event, so I needed to stay professional. Otherwise, I’d prove him right.

“Thanks. Radio me if anything comes up.”

“Will do.”

I turned away from the launch line and glanced over at the nearest barrier. My heart raced when I spotted the irritatingly sexy biker leaning against it as though he didn’t have anything better to do. He’d been keeping a close eye on me ever since I arrived, and it was darn irritating. Flattering too, although I didn’t want to admit to that part.

Even if I hadn’t caught him staring, he would’ve been impossible to miss at six-three with shoulders that strained the seams of his black leather vest and a chest broad enough that his shirt was stretched taut. His hair was almost black, cut short on the sides but messy on top, and his neatly trimmed beard was the same dark color. His warm brown eyes seemed to track my every step.

If all that wasn’t enough to capture my attention, he had a large black-and-gray demonic skull inked on his throat, with red eyes, nose, and mouth that most people paused to gawk at. But I shouldn’t have been one of them because I needed to focus on my job, not some man who’d caught my eye. Even if it was completely out of the ordinary for me because I’d been too busy to worry about dating.

The fact that he kept shifting my focus away from my job made me want to throw the clipboard at his head. But I somehow managed to resist the urge. Barely.

When I moved to the temporary control station to read through the launch plan one last time, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that his boot was on the wrong side of the painted safety marker. Without looking up, I muttered, “You’re inside my exclusion line.”

“By three inches.”

My lips pressed together in a flat line before I pointed out, “Still inside.”

“Prez put me on site safety.”

“Stryker doesn’t hold the pyrotechnics license.” I finally looked up to glare at him. “Behind the line.”


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Hidden Desires – Dangerous Desires Read Online S.E. Law http://www.books2020.com/hidden-desires-dangerous-desires-read-online-s-e-law Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:56:13 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/hidden-desires-dangerous-desires-read-online-s-e-law Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Forbidden, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
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I lead a naughty secret life ... and my dad’s best friend found out!

Eliza:

When Jack Landry strides into my parents’ yard, I’m done for. He’s older. Dominant. Arresting. My dad’s best friend is a retired Air Force hero with a broad chest and piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through my “good girl” act.

He sees me in my garden. He sees me in my tiniest bikini by the pool. He sees me offering him a drink while my dad is just twenty feet away. But Jack doesn’t realize that the innocent young woman he sees during the day has a much darker side once the sun goes down.

Jack:

I spent twenty years in the military, but nothing prepared me for Eliza Shaw. She’s goddamn tempting with her saucy smile and those lush curves, but I have to keep my hands off my best friend's daughter.

Except I know her secret. She says she’s a hardworking paralegal, but I’ve seen her on my laptop screen. Performing for an audience of men under the name BunnySnowGirl. I’ve been paying for private sessions just to watch her, but now that I’m back in town, I’m done being a spectator because it’s time for this curvy blonde to perform for an audience of one!

Sparks fly and secrets unravel in this high-heat, age-gap romance. When Eliza finally lets Jack in on her hidden life, the veteran is more than game to play—and he’s bringing his own brand of discipline to the table.

HEA guaranteed. This is a standalone follow-up to One Taboo Night. 73k words

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

1

CHAPTER 1 – MY SECRET IDENTITY

Eliza

At 7:50 a.m., exactly as scheduled, I glide into the marble lobby of Gibson Grant with a determined click of my kitten heels. The fluorescent lights overhead render the place with hospital clarity—glass, chrome, and a massive aquarium filled with colorful fish. My skirt’s pressed to mathematical precision, the blouse sharp enough at the cuffs to draw blood, and the bun at the base of my skull is so tight it’s already giving me a headache. But that’s the impression that I’m trying to give because this is work, and I want people to think of me as a lady badass. After all, if they knew the secret life I’m leading, they’d be shocked, scandalized, and utterly agog.

But of course, no one at the law firm knows anything about the real me. The security guy waves me through without a word. He’s learned, after many months of smiling, that my conversational skills are reserved exclusively for work. I flash him a half-smile anyway—a habit of courtesy my mother boiled into me, like potatoes, until I couldn’t tell if it was sustenance or just starch.

Upstairs, I’m the first to reach the fifth floor. Gibson Grant’s paralegals are paid slightly above poverty wages in exchange for quietly running the world, or at least keeping the world of litigation from flying off its axis. I like the silence, the sense that my hands are already touching the gears before anyone else in the building’s even found their second sock.

On my desk: a pile of deposition transcripts, a flat, warm Coke from yesterday’s lunch, and a Post-It from last night’s me—”Don’t forget: Curtis motion, Buster v. Steele, 9:30.” I do not forget. I never forget. Some days, the only thing holding my atoms together is a lanyard of self-imposed reminders.

I log in, read through the overnight case notes, and triage the day’s emergencies. At 8:41, the first attorney breezes in. They all breeze, even the ones shaped like melted cheese sticks, because that’s how you’re taught in law school: if you’re late, it’s a power move; if you’re early, it’s a power move with a hangover.

“Morning, Eliza.” This one’s Rhonda—mid-forties, nails lacquered in an old-fashioned French, every word delivered in bullet points.

“Morning. Your docket’s on your desk and the revised Kincaid summary is in your inbox,” I say, because it’s already been there for seven minutes.

She makes a show of surprise, then swans off toward the break room, probably to test whether the coffee can melt another K-Cup machine before lunch.

The day’s first battle: the conference room at 9:30, where James Grant (senior partner, local legend, and my friend Marnie’s boyfriend) expects a flawless digest of three months’ discovery in under thirty seconds. I have not only the digest but the sub-digests, and color-coded post-its for when his temper flares and he needs a fact check within two heartbeats.

I sit at the far end of the walnut table, laptop open, the epitome of helpful invisibility.

Mr. Grant, already half-scowling, scans the documents I pass him. His blue eyes flick to mine. “You highlighted the new affidavits?”

“Yellow, as requested,” I reply, adding, “The ones contradicting last week’s statements are tabbed red.”

He nods imperceptibly. It’s either grudging approval or a prelude to homicide. I file both responses away for future use.

“Fine,” he says in a tight voice. “Thanks, I’ll take it from here.”

I nod and step out, wondering if I should have asked about his new baby. After all, my friend Marnie is dating him … as well as Gibson Grant’s other senior partner, Brent Gibson. Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like. Marnie was once a lowly paralegal here, just like me, and somehow, she got entangled with not one man, but two. Not only that, but Brent Gibson and James Grant are the co-heads of Gibson Grant itself.

Suffice to say, it was a huge scandal. It ended up with my friend quitting her job here for obvious reasons, but Marnie didn’t go away. Instead, she moved into a huge penthouse apartment, and now has a baby by her two boyfriends. Who’s the biological father? No one knows. But it doesn’t matter because my buddy is as happy as a clam with her newborn son, and even happier still with two alpha males to service her each night. Yes, our two senior partners are engaged in a menage a trois with my pretty friend, and it’s for the better, to be honest. Mr. Gibson and Mr. Grant used to be ruthless perfectionists at work, and they still are. But there’s a slight edge of softness now, and I attribute that to the gentle, feminine influence of my friend.

But there’s work to be done. At around ten, the associates arrive, trailing whispers and cologne, and the room turns into a knife fight over timelines. I type and type, catching the overlapping cross-talk, threading sense out of their combined mania. When they start talking about the Carlsen brief, my own pulse kicks up a gear—I worked on that one at midnight, and it’s a disaster nobody else has noticed yet.


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Jaxson (Grumpy Men of Higher Ridge #1) Read Online Sam Crescent http://www.books2020.com/jaxson-grumpy-men-of-higher-ridge-1-read-online-sam-crescent Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:56:02 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/jaxson-grumpy-men-of-higher-ridge-1-read-online-sam-crescent Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Grumpy Men of Higher Ridge Series by Sam Crescent
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Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
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Jaxson Riggs once hated everything about Higher Ridge. But after years in the big city, he’s come to appreciate the small town he grew up in—the safety, the peace, and the fact that it finally feels like home.

He’s also earned himself quite the reputation with the local women.

But there’s only one woman he truly wants.

Tillie Short.

Sweet, curvy, and kindhearted, Tillie has no one in the world but her beloved dog, Belle. And lately, Jaxson keeps finding reasons to be around her. To everyone else, he’s the town grump. With Tillie, he’s something entirely different.

Their unlikely friendship quickly becomes the best part of her life.

Until one scorching summer night changes everything.

One moment they’re friends. The next, Tillie’s no longer a virgin—and Jaxson has no intention of going back to the way things were.

He wants Tillie. Not for a night. Not as another name in his past.

He wants her as his woman. His wife. His forever.

But Jaxson’s reputation is hard to ignore, and now he has to convince Tillie of the one thing that matters most:

She was never just another woman to him

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

Chapter One

“Fuck off,” Jaxson Riggs said, as he exited Elizabeth Carly’s house. He was angry—no, scrap that, he was pissed off—that the forty-year-old mother of three had tried to seduce him. Not only that, she had even implied if he didn’t fuck her, she was going to tell the whole town he had raped her.

He was not a man to be threatened, and he refused to help the Carlys in any fucking way. They always tried to get out of paying, and Elizabeth was a horndog who fucked anything that walked. He had no idea why her husband put up with it.

The whole family was a shit show, but they had messed with the wrong man. He was not afraid of idle threats, and it probably helped that he had such a blunt and honest opinion on everyone and everything, so no one was going to believe her. However, rather than sit on his ass, he climbed into his truck and went straight to Old Man Daniels, who was also the sheriff in their small, piece-of-shit town, Higher Ridge.

Storming inside, he saw no receptionist at the front desk, but he knew where he was going, and he found Daniels on his cell phone, scrolling. The moment he entered, Daniels jumped.

“What the ever ... damn it, Jaxson, don’t you knock?”

“Where’s Lucy?” he asked, referring to the young receptionist that had taken over from Edna.

“It’s her day off,” Daniels said.

“You think that is wise?”

“Why, because of a crime spree running through Higher Ridge?” Daniels rolled his eyes. “I’ve been sheriff for thirty years, and trust me, other than potential alien invasions, I think I would be out of a job.”

“Elizabeth Carly has just threatened to accuse me of rape for not fucking her,” he said.

Daniels groaned. “Again?”

“Again?” Jaxson asked, a little confused.

“I had Rusty, the rancher, in here just the other week, telling me the exact same thing.”

“Did she follow through with it?” Jaxson asked.

“Nope, I think it is her way of attempting to blackmail you to have sex with her.” Daniels shrugged. “Duly noted.”

Jaxson sighed. “You know what she’s doing is wrong, right?”

Daniels nodded. “I’m aware of it, and the moment she tries to accuse anyone, I will deal with it. This badge is not part of a costume, you know. I take my job very seriously. There is only so much I can do.”

“What-fucking-ever.”

He hated this piece-of-shit town and had attempted to leave it many times. In fact, he did leave it, only this town was nothing compared to the outside world. He had dreams of making it as a big tattoo artist. Had his hopes set on making it large, only those had fizzled and gone to shit in less than six months.

City life was horrible. He hated to admit it, but he rather liked living in a town where everyone knew everyone, and in their own way had each other’s backs. He’d come home, and his father had paid him to go to college, where he qualified to become an electrician, then a plumber, followed by the guy they called when they needed any odd job done. He was damn good at what he did, even if he had a bad reputation.

Jaxson never minced words. He was grumpy as fuck, not that it stopped him from getting laid. He loved to fuck. And there were plenty of single women in Higher Ridge who liked to ride his cock. He had one rule, though—he never played with married women. He actually believed in the sanctity of marriage, and that was because his own parents were still very much in love.

He knew it always amazed people that Mark and Susan Riggs had given birth to a very mean, grumpy son. At least, he was with everyone else, but he adored his parents. They were good parents, and when he was a teenager, he hadn’t been easy. His father had kept him in line. There had been one point when he’d been determined to run away. He didn’t like playing by the rules, and he certainly didn’t think they applied to him. His father had found him at the Higher Ridge border, right at the sign, with a single bag packed.

“Is that it, son? You can’t handle a few rules designed to keep you safe? You think the whole world is going to put up with you breaking the rules? Go ahead, make a go of it, but remember, whatever you do out there, I can’t help you. In here, you’ve got a chance.”

The rule he’d been pissed off about was the 10:00 PM curfew. He didn’t want to be ruled by his father’s time. He wanted his own.

For a good hour or two, he sat at that border and waited, only to get up, turn around, and meet his father at the front door. He would find out a few months later that his own father had done the same to his father. It was expected.


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Spiral Lies – Game Changers Read Online Nichole Rose http://www.books2020.com/spiral-lies-game-changers-read-online-nichole-rose Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:55:49 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/spiral-lies-game-changers-read-online-nichole-rose Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 72(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
<<<<12311>19
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The game predicted her future. He changed the rules.

Seraphina
My boss is the hottest coach on the planet.
He's also grumpy, impatient, and—judging by his constant scowl—definitely hates me.

So why did I drunkenly try to MASH my way into a future with him?

No clue.
Good the game failed.
Bad I brought it to work.

Yeah. He found it.

Now, instead of an earthquake swallowing me whole, he's staring at me like he wants to devour me.
Turns out, his bad attitude might be hiding a whole lot of complicated feelings.

I shouldn't want him.
I'm absolutely not falling for him.
At least, that's what I tell myself.

Right up until I can't lie anymore, and the future I swore was just a silly game starts looking dangerously real.

Stone
I've been losing my mind over Seraphina since she started working for me.

Every time she stutters, I want to snap.
Every time she blushes, I want to break.

But she's my employee.
That can't happen.

Until I find her little game.

I thought she hated me.
Turns out, my gorgeous little assistant has been dreaming about me.

She thinks I'm the devil.
I'm about to prove her wrong.

I don't care what MASH predicted.
There's only one future for her.

And it's with me

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

Prologue

Seraphina

One Drunken Night…

"This was a great idea." I grin across the table at Ava, who looks like she's ready to vomit. "My future is safe."

"What? Let me see that." Nova snatches the paper from my hands, her eyes narrowing as they scan across it. "You're going to live in a mansion, have one kid, work as a doctor, and marry a guy named Ashton?" She peers at me over the top of the paper. "Who the fuck is Ashton?"

"No clue," I say, beaming at her. "But he isn't my boss, so I don't care." That isn't disappointment, not even an inkling. Nope. At this point, I'd take a swamp troll over Stone Warden. The man is sex on legs. He's also the biggest grouch in existence.

It doesn't matter what I do; in his book, I'm doing it wrong. He spends most days growling at me. The rest of the week, he ignores my existence. When I first started, I thought maybe I'd done something to offend him, but no, that's not it. He just doesn't like me, at least not anywhere except in the fantasies I'll never admit to having.

Honestly, it's his loss. I'm very likable.

If I could strangle him with his whistle, I would. I bet the entire football team would thank me for it. Hell, they'd probably erect a statue in my honor.

"So I'm the only one not getting laid," Ava says, sighing dramatically. "Whoever came up with these games was lame."

"Uh, that was you," Emelia reminds her, glaring at her cootie catcher like she wants to set it on fire. "And I am not getting laid. My vagina isn't going anywhere near Royce Elliot, thank you very much."

"Uh-huh," Nova says, smirking. "We'll see."

I have a feeling we will. She's definitely going to sleep with Royce. And it doesn't matter what Nova decides about Hux. Sooner or later, she'll sleep with him, too. And Ava has lost it if she thinks Dawson isn't in love with her.

But guess what? I won't be sleeping with Stone Warden. Never ever. Ever.

I'm not disappointed. Really, I'm not.

Chapter One

Seraphina

Ten Days Later…

"Seraphina!" Stone shouts through his closed office door. "Get in here."

I stab the save button on my keyboard like it's his eye, sighing heavily. "I need to quit my job."

It's a pervasive fantasy. I march into his office, choke him out with his whistle, and while he's gasping for breath on the floor, I step over his twitching body and peace out. Forever.

Best. Fantasy. Ever.

It's even better than the ones where I march into his office, he bends me over his desk, and then works out all that frustration with his tongue. Let's be honest, though. The statistical odds of me getting murdered by a serial killer are higher than the odds of my boss trying to sleep with me.

They're also probably higher than the odds of me actually quitting. I actually love my job, even if Stone does drive me nuts some days. Everyone here feels like family.

"Now!" he growls.

I swear, even with the door closed between us, I can see the way his jaw pulses with irritation beneath the stubble because I'm not moving fast enough to please him. The man has no chill. I'm not sure he even knows the definition of the word.

I haul myself out of my seat, snatch his schedule off the edge of my desk, smooth down my skirt, and march into his office.

"What the fuck?"

He's naked. Half-naked. Whatever. Where there should be a starched shirt, there's a wall of rippling, golden muscle and wiry hair.

Sweet merciful Jesus.

Stop staring.

My brain gives the command, but my eyes refuse to move away from him. He's sex on legs with his shirt on. Without it, I'm pretty sure there are entire volumes of poetry written about his physique.

Jesus Christ.

"I need a new shirt," he growls.

"Clearly." I make no move to go find him one. I'm busy not ogling him. "Uh, why do you need a new shirt?"

"Spilled my goddamn coffee," he grunts, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. His cerulean eyes lock on me. "Can you find me something suitable for this meeting with the athletic department?"

"Uh-huh. Sure can." My feet aren't moving.

"Now, Seraphina," he says, his eyes boring into me like he can drill the command into my brain.

I move so fast, I lose my balance, tripping into the side of his desk. A stack of files topples over, sliding toward the floor.

"Shit. I'm so sorry." I immediately hit my knees in front of him to scoop them up, my cheeks burning. Why am I always such a mess around him? He looks at me, and I turn into a one-woman tornado.

I refuse to consider precisely why he makes me feel so out of sorts. I'd rather choke myself out with his whistle.

"Shirt," he growls, jerking away when my hand bumps his rock-hard thigh. His jaw pulses again. "Now, Seraphina. Just leave the fucking files."


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Shamefully Trained – The Institute – Shameful Arrangements Read Online Emily Tilton http://www.books2020.com/shamefully-trained-the-institute-shameful-arrangements-read-online-emily-tilton Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:55:47 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/shamefully-trained-the-institute-shameful-arrangements-read-online-emily-tilton Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>93
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Even if she hadn’t just been forced to admit to being “the kind of girl who needs it in the ass” while bare and utterly on display for the wealthy powerbroker who now all but owns her, there would have been no hiding the helpless ar*usal dripping down Alex Murphy’s quivering th!ghs.

Because this obnoxiously sexy a$$hole isn’t just going to spank her cute little a$$ red and then make her c*me like a begging, screaming bad girl while he gives her exactly what she needs.
He’s going to bend her over his desk and teach her what it means to belong to a man like him.
Then he’s going to share her.

Publisher’s Note: Shamefully Trained is a stand-alone book which is the eighth entry in the series The Institute: Shameful Arrangements. It includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book

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

CHAPTER 1

Alex

It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask Senator Gowry to fuck me in his fucking hideaway in the Capitol. Even I, twenty-one years old and fresh out of college, in pursuit of my dream of a career as a political operative, knew that had to be a bad idea.

Really, though, part of me knew that I couldn’t even blame Gowry. The simple facts of politics bore just as much responsibility. I had thought of myself as politically seasoned, astute even, but the way my college ‘friend’ Joe introduced me to Jason Gowry should have told me I had just gotten out of my depth. I should have understood that whatever friendship existed between Joe and me took a back seat to his duty to deliver to his boss the kind of young woman his boss liked to fuck.

“Senator, this is Alex Murphy—the one I told you about,” Joe said, after drawing me away from a group of my colleagues in Senator Hathaway’s office.

The milling crowd at the reception thrown by the Joint Committee on Taxation seemed to fade into the background. Gowry looked me over in a way that should have sent me back across the room at once. He didn’t bother to hide it. His gaze went from my face to my breasts, to my waist, to my legs, and then back up again, cool and assessing, as though my friend had presented him with a dossier in a skirt.

“So this is the pretty one,” he said.

I ought to have bristled, especially when I felt myself blush, helplessly, at the strangely phrased semi-compliment. Instead I smiled, because I knew men like him liked smiles, and because I understood what kind of power Gowry had. Not formal power only, though he had plenty of that. The other kind, too. The kind that made people lean in when he spoke and lower their voices when they said his name.

“I hope that was a favorable briefing,” I said.

His mouth shifted, not quite a smile. “Depends what you’re here for.”

There was no graceful answer to that. Somehow that made me want to try to give one. “To meet people who matter.”

His eyes sharpened at once. “Honest. That’s refreshing.”

It wasn’t honest, though. I was there because Senator Hathaway’s staff had been told to show our faces, to be useful, to build connections. I was there because I needed, after the last few humiliating weeks in which everything I did seemed to displease the senator, to prove I could still be useful. If Senator Jason Gowry happened to take an interest in me, if I could draw something out of that interest and carry it back to Frances Hathaway like an offering, then maybe my stupidness in other respects would matter less.

My ‘friend’ murmured something about leaving us to talk and drifted away before I could decide whether to resent him or thank him.

Gowry lifted a hand toward the bar. “What are you drinking?”

I told him white wine. He shook his head.

“No,” he said. I swallowed hard. “You need a martini.”

He vanished and a moment later he had pressed a glass into my hand. I sipped, and coughed. Senator Gowry chuckled.

Then he steered me, not by touching me at first but by simple confidence, moving through knots of people until I found myself standing in a recessed corner near a marble pillar, half screened by a display of flowers and a banner for the committee. Anyone glancing over would have seen us talking and nothing more. He planted himself in front of me and took up the available space so naturally that I didn’t realize I had been pinned there until I thought of leaving and understood I would have to ask him to move.

“I hear you’re ambitious,” he said.

I chewed my lower lip involuntarily, then tried a flirty response though my heart rate had begun to speed up.

“People talk too much.”

“Hathaway keeps clever girls around until they become inconvenient. Have you figured that out yet? From what I hear it’s only a matter of time for you.”

That stung because it was close enough to true to feel intimate. “You seem to have heard a lot.”

“I hear about everything that might be useful.” Gowry drank, looking at me over the rim of his glass. “Are you useful, Alex?”

The chauvinism in that should have revolted me. It did, a little. It also thrilled me in some low humiliating way I didn’t want to inspect too closely, because he wasn’t pretending. Most men in this town wrapped their hunger in civility and strategic feminism. Gowry let his show.

I swallowed again, wondering whether I should try to continue this increasingly dangerous-feeling game.

“I suppose that depends on what use you have in mind, Senator.”

He laughed softly. “There you are.”

His attention was heavy and direct. I could feel heat gathering under my blouse, and not all of it was anger. Every instinct that had gotten me anywhere in politics told me that men who liked hearing themselves be obeyed also liked hearing themselves be flattered. So I let my tone go a little lighter, let my eyes stay on his for an instant too long, asked him about appropriations and trade language and a committee fight Hathaway wanted badly enough to hide how badly she wanted it. He answered, but only enough to show that he knew exactly what I was doing.


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The Family Friend – Steamy Shorts Read Online Lena Little http://www.books2020.com/the-family-friend-steamy-shorts-read-online-lena-little Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:55:41 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/the-family-friend-steamy-shorts-read-online-lena-little Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16403 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
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Some crushes don’t fade.
They just wait.
_____________________________________________
Harriet
It’s my grandmother’s eightieth birthday, and all I can think about is how to survive it.
She gives me the attic loft, but I won’t be sleeping alone because I’m sharing the space with
… drum roll please … Heath Donovan.
You know the type.
The family friend who grew up next door, who spent every summer of my childhood stealing my s’mores and my good sense. The boy I trailed after like a stray. The boy I almost kissed the summer before college, right up until I made an absolute fool of myself and ran—two weeks early, all the way to a different coast, and straight into ten years of pretending it never happened.
He’s not a boy anymore. He’s six-foot-five, a professional athlete with a grin that still turns my brain to static, and I am absolutely not counting the space between his bed and mine.
I know how this goes. I reach, I get it wrong, I run.
It’s practically my signature move.
The problem is, ten years is a long time to convince yourself you’re over someone.
And eight feet is not nearly far enough to keep proving it.

_________________________________________________________________________________

One bed away from everything
she swore she was over.
_________________________________________________________________________________
The FAMILY FRIEND: a second-chance, one-bed romance with the boy-next-door
A childhood friends-to-adult lovers, second-chance, small-town, one-bed-vibes romance. Her 80-year-old grandmother pulls the strings. He’s back, not gangly anymore – a 6′ 5″ pro athlete, and they’re forced to bunk down 8 feet apart.
Spice with charm. Standalone. No cheating. No cliffhanger. Guaranteed HEA.

(WARNING: explicit)

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

1

HARRIET

"Honey, I'm so sorry, but you're gonna have to stay in the attic loft."

I set my duffle bag down next to the kitchen island and turn to look at Gram, who's standing at the stove stirring something that smells like butter and garlic and everything good about being back in this house. She doesn't look sorry.

"Yeah, sure, Gram. No problem."

"Okay, maybe a slight problem."

The wooden spoon pauses mid-stir, and I mentally brace myself. With Gram, there's always a second shoe, and it's always a steel-toed boot aimed directly at your comfort zone.

The thing about Gram is that she lies for the love of the game. She doesn't do it maliciously. She just enjoys the craft of it, the way some people enjoy crossword puzzles or sudoku.

"What is it?"

"You're sharing the loft with Heath, but no worries, I've placed the beds on opposite sides. You still have plenty of privacy."

Gram did not just say Heath, did she? Heath, as in Heath Donovan? The Heath Donovan? My Heath Donovan?

No. No way. Absolutely no way.

It's just a name, but I might as well have received the most devastating news. Well, not to be dramatic, but it is devastating—to my heart, my mind, and my entire person.

The Heath who was always next door every single summer since we were in primary school. The Heath who went to high school with me. The Heath I haven't spoken to in a decade. The Heath I've spent years trying very hard not to think about, which is difficult when his face shows up on sports websites and his name gets dropped in casual conversation by people who have no idea they're stepping on a landmine.

My parents are somewhere behind me unpacking groceries, and my twin cousins are thundering down the hall like a pair of seventeen-year-old rhinoceroses. Gram keeps watching me with those sharp brown eyes that miss absolutely nothing, waiting for my response, so I arrange my face into something that hopefully reads as normal surprise instead of internal catastrophe.

"Right. Of course."

But inside, every alarm bell I own is screaming at maximum volume. Three nights. Three nights in a room the size of a closet with the one person on earth I cannot be trapped in a room with. The one person who could unravel years of careful distance with one look, one word, one flash of that ridiculous grin that used to make me forget my own name.

I'm twenty-eight years old and a well-respected academic researcher to boot, but here I am, acting like a lovesick teenager all over again.

All that from just hearing his name.

"What if I just sleep on the floor of Mom and Dad's room?" I give Gram my fakest genuine smile. "Or … listen. I could take your floor, Gram. I don't mind the floor. I love a floor. Besides, I really, really missed you, and we could spend the whole night just, you know, bonding with each other."

Gram's eyebrows climb toward her hairline, and her mouth curves into a fake genuine smile that eerily mirrors my own. "Is it your birthday? Are YOU turning eighty? Are you about to celebrate what might be your very last birthday? Because if the answer is yes, I will gladly step back and let you make all the decisions."

There's no answer to this. There's never an answer when Gram plays the mortality card. We both know I'm going to fold like a lawn chair in a hurricane.

"Oh, it's fine, sweetheart," Mom calls from somewhere behind the refrigerator door. "We've known Heath since he was in diapers. Remember how he used to follow you around like a puppy?"

My face goes hot. No, actually, I remember being the one doing the following, trailing after him and his little sister like a stray they'd taken pity on, grateful for any scraps of attention he threw my way.

"Wait." My cousin, Jake, pokes his head around the corner. "Heath Donovan? Like, the actual Heath Donovan? The wide receiver? He's here?"

"He got in two days ago to help me get ready," Gram says, stirring her mysterious concoction with renewed vigor. She's always had such a soft spot for Heath. "Such a good boy. Moved all the furniture, fixed the screen door, cleaned the gutters. Not like some people who show up expecting to be waited on hand and foot."

Ouch.

I've been here exactly twelve minutes and I'm already getting guilt-tripped for not arriving early enough to perform manual labor.

"Where is he?" Jake's eyes have gone wide.

"Down at the dock with your uncle, checking the boat motor."

Jake and his twin, James, exchange a look, and I just know they're about to bolt for the door and spend the next three days following Heath around like he's the Pied Piper of professional athletics.

I need air. Or a time machine. Or both.

How I got here starts with a phone call a month ago, though if I'm being absolutely honest with myself, it really starts earlier than that. It starts with the fact that I've never successfully said no to Gram in my entire life, and she knows it, even that knitted cardigan she wears to town knows it.


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The Stalking King – Texting The Bratva Read Online Flora Ferrari http://www.books2020.com/the-stalking-king-texting-the-bratva-read-online-flora-ferrari Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:55:39 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/the-stalking-king-texting-the-bratva-read-online-flora-ferrari Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
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A Bratva king has been watching me for months…
And I was never supposed to find out.

Maksim Volkov is the kind of man people cross the street to avoid.
Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable.

I’m just the nurse who treated him after a gunshot wound.
Or at least, that’s what I thought.

Until my phone lights up in the middle of the night.

Don’t move. Someone’s following you.
My blood runs cold.
How do you know?
His answer comes seconds later.
Because I’m following you too.
Turns out, Maksim has been watching me long before tonight.

He knows how I take my coffee.
How many hours I work.
How I smile before walking into a patient’s room, even when I’m barely holding myself together.

I should run from him.
Instead, this terrifying man does something no one has done since my brother died.

He sees me.
Behind the ruthless Bratva king is a man who makes me laugh over text. Who protects me without hesitation. Who looks at me like I’m the only good thing left in his brutal world.

And now someone else is watching me too.
Someone who thinks I have something worth killing for.
Maksim swears no one will touch me.
Because apparently the Bratva king has been keeping one more secret.
He isn’t just watching me.
He’s obsessed with me.

*The Stalking King is a steamy, obsessive Bratva mafia romance featuring a possessive alpha hero who will do anything to protect the woman he claims. This standalone romance has no cliffhanger and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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

PROLOGUE

MAKSIM

Idrift in and out of consciousness, the pain in my side stabbing. Goddamn Conrad Vale. He’s my most prominent rival in this town, good old DC, where information is worth more than gold.

We both operate in the realm of information empires.

We’re both fighting to be the secret keepers of this godforsaken place.

I’m pissed at myself. Walking alone down the street like some kind of amateur. I wanted a cup of coffee. And the last few years had been quiet. We’d settled into a calm rhythm. We’ve worked around each other, selling and keeping secrets. But Conrad—or one of his men, most likely—saw his chance and went for it.

When I peel my eyes open again, something hotter and purer than the pain grips me. It’s the sort of feeling I never expected to feel. Not love. My world is the furthest thing from a fairytale. My world is metal, ruthlessness, and blood.

But something human. Something real.

She’s staring down at me. Her eyes are wide, hazel, and expressive. Her hair is tied back, but I can imagine those chestnut strands flowing down her back.

“Stop struggling,” she says when I thrash.

Hospitals aren’t a place a Bratva kingpin would visit like a common man.

But I was unconscious, damn it. “Or we’ll have to restrain you.”

We share a moment as she stares into my eyes. It goes unnoticed by everyone else.

Maybe I wouldn’t mind that. I think.

She smiles and rolls her eyes before she regains control and becomes the professional again.

I gave them nothing. No real name. No information about who might’ve shot me. The second I'm alone, I leave, texting Anton, then limp across the parking lot to the jet-black sedan waiting for me. I finished my recovery with a private Bratva doctor.

But Lia doesn’t leave my mind.

Those two words—lie still—affected me profoundly, far more than any Bratva princess could.

I remember her hand on my shoulder. The heat of her palm. The fierceness in her voice.

I want to get to know her, to learn more about her. In a different life, I might’ve asked her on a date. But this is my life. Cold, focused, and grim. What right do I have to pull her into it?

So, I stay away. Physically, at least.

But my company owns the company that handles security for the hospital, among other places. I have access to the CCTV.

I watch her. Liora Quinn. Lia for short. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Walking down the hallway, her nurse’s uniform hugging her ample hips. Tossing her hair in the break room. Leaning over the counter, her scrubs pulling tight across her thick, perfect ass…

And her golden-brown eyes. The kindness in them. The care. The hope.

They’re the complete opposite to mine.

CHAPTER 1

LIA

Months Later

History is repeating itself. I try not to allow that thought to dominate my mind as I apply pressure to the wound, as doctors and nurses rush all around me. I hustle down the corridor as the young man bleeds out on the gurney.

A young man with dark, curly hair. A youthful face. Freckles scattered across his high cheekbones. He’s a stranger off the streets, involved in a high-impact collision that has twisted his body and cut a terrible gouge across his stomach. And he looks exactly like my brother.

I try not to think of Evan, of how I held his broken body in my arms. I try not to think of the pain of not knowing if he’d make it… and the misery that gripped me the moment I realized he wouldn’t. I try not to think about anything other than doing my job.

It’s like I’m split down the middle as I help to tear away his clothes. He has two phones, which is odd. And the location is strange, too. One is in his pocket. The other is strapped to the inside of his calf with duct tape, under his clothes. The doctors and nurses exchange a brief, confused glance—no more than half a second—before we get on with our work.

I put his wallet with the phones. It spills open and shows me his ID behind a plastic cover. Daniel Mercer. I would’ve preferred not to know his name. But it’s too late now.

“Stay with me, Daniel.”

My mind goes to my little brother. To another car crash, just like the one this young man was in.

I care about all my patients, even if it’s probably not smart. An older nurse once told me that caring is the quickest road to ruin. You care, you die, she said, with a severe look. I believed her. I try not to. But it’s tough. And now, it’s impossible.

Soon, it’s time for surgery. I clean myself up, relieved that it’s time for a short break. In the break room, I get a coffee and sit at the window, staring out at the hospital parking lot with a distant view of the Capitol. The white dome of the Capitol building punches through the foggy day.


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Reborn to Love You – Never Too Late Read Online Marian Tee http://www.books2020.com/reborn-to-love-you-never-too-late-read-online-marian-tee Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:55:37 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/reborn-to-love-you-never-too-late-read-online-marian-tee Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 18308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 73(@250wpm)___ 61(@300wpm)
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The husband who promised to love me…murdered me instead.
Payton didn’t think there could be anything more heartbreaking than being cheated on. Her husband proved her wrong when he took her life.

That was supposed to be the end.
But it wasn’t.
One moment, she was dead. The next moment, she was back in the past.
There were things that were exactly the same, like her husband’s selfish and cheating ways.
But other things had changed, like a second killer coming out of nowhere.
And the billionaire boss she had been working for in the past four years…
Why did he say she was his heart?

This is a fast-paced, angsty second-chance billionaire boss romance. Closed door. HEA guaranteed

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

Prologue

NELLIE never got tired of this. Even when she saw it happen every day, there was just something endlessly fascinating, almost addictive, about how women reacted in all sorts of ways to her billionaire boss. Since Fairscale’s headquarters was a five-story building with an atrium, Nellie felt like she had the best seats in the house while enjoying her morning coffee from the top floor.

The interns and new recruits were the cutest, and oh, it happened again! The girl working on the second floor, catching a glimpse of Niccolò de Vindice on his way up in the all-glass elevator, ended up walking straight into a vending machine.

So cute!

And then there was the paralegal on the third floor who had the habit of tossing her hair over her shoulder every time she saw their boss. She did it again today, and unfortunately, just like all the other days, the effort was wasted.

There were times when Nellie wished she could just issue a company-wide memo to save everyone the trouble.

To: All Staff

From: Office of the Chief Executive

Re: Clarification of an Internal Matter

Please be advised that the Chief Executive Officer's personal interests are, and will remain, otherwise allocated. No change to this arrangement is anticipated in the current fiscal year, or, in the assessment of this office, the next.

Colleagues are respectfully asked to redirect their efforts accordingly. This notice supersedes all prior speculation and remains in effect until further notice.

Thank you for your cooperation.

But since their oh-so-aloof CEO would likely kill her just for thinking it—

So sorry, babes. Let’s hope you guys find your other half elsewhere.

But in the meantime, Nellie quickly finished the rest of her coffee, threw the used can in the recycle bin, and she was ready with her clipboard by the time Niccolò reached their floor.

“Good morning,” she greeted him. “Everyone’s already waiting in the conference room.”

Nellie got a clipped nod in return, which by now she understood meant he had said ‘good morning’ back and was giving her the green light for the meeting.

Inside the conference room was the rest of the executive team. The boys on one side, and then the girls on the other, and with every ‘good morning’, her boss had a clipped nod in return except for—

“Good morning, Mr. de Vindice.”

“Good morning.” Niccolò’s voice was brief, cool, and slightly accented, but it fooled none of them. They all knew that from day one, their boss had a soft spot for their PR head, who was as clueless as she was sweet.

Niccolò got into his seat at the head of the table. “What do you have for us?”

“Well...” Nellie flipped to the first page of her report. “That depends on how much time you can spare us.”

“Enough.”

“That will work.” One click of a button, and Slide A was now on the projected screen. “European and Middle Eastern sales are doing well. Asia, not so much, but...” She looked at Denny. “You’re on top of it, yes?”

“Let my eyebags be my evidence.” Denny the Dramatic, as always.

Nellie nodded. “Evidence acknowledged. Moving on.” Another click, and Slide B was on the screen. “Here are our numbers for North America.”

“Not quite meeting our targets,” Leah reported, “but we’re in talks with new suppliers.”

And now, for their favorite part...

Nellie glanced at Payton. “How fares our social value?”

“We’ve been monitoring our social media metrics since Mr. de Vindice’s feature on Time Magazine,” the brunette shared with her usual soft smile, “and there has been a significant surge of interest in our company’s services. We’re still working on a plan for how to maximize this, but also of note is a 147% increase in keywords indirectly related to Fairscale.”

“Such as?”

“Does Niccolò de Vindice have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

Leah, Nellie, and the boys were the ones who answered simultaneously, which had Niccolò’s expression turn glacial while Payton looked confused.

“How do you guys sound so sure?” Payton looked at their boss. “Why does it seem like I’m the only one who doesn’t know you’re dating? I should be the one—”

“Don’t let them fool you,” the billionaire interrupted her coolly. “They know nothing at all.”

Nellie felt so proud of herself for not giving in to a snicker. Because contrary to what their CEO was saying, it was Payton, not Nellie and the others, who knew nothing at all.

“And more importantly, my private life is my business.”

“Well, about that—” Payton’s expression turned rueful. “All those indirectly relevant keywords I mentioned have something to do with your personal life. The second one is actually quite similar: Is Niccolò de Vindice married?”

Obviously not, Nellie thought, but you are, and there lies the problem.

Because right then, Payton’s phone had just buzzed against the table, and flashing on its screen was her husband’s photo.

“You can take that,” Niccolò said.

“No, it’s fine—” Payton grabbed her phone and dropped it into the pocket of her blazer. “Sorry about that. Shall we continue?”


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