GLBT – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

GLBT – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Thu, 25 Sep 2025 16:02:09 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png GLBT – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 The Most Unusual Haunting of Edgar Lovejoy Read Online Roan Parrish http://www.books2020.com/the-most-unusual-haunting-of-edgar-lovejoy-read-online-roan-parrish Thu, 25 Sep 2025 16:02:09 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-most-unusual-haunting-of-edgar-lovejoy-read-online-roan-parrish Genre: Contemporary, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Gay, GLBT, Paranormal Authors: Roan Parrish Advertisement

Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)

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Jamie Wendon-Dale may design haunted houses, but they don't actually believe in ghosts—until they meet Edgar Lovejoy, who is tall, clever, beautiful…and 100% haunted.

A COZY, GHOSTLY LGBTQIA+ ROMANCE

Jamie Wendon-Dale creates haunted houses for a living. Haunting is their life—but nobody working New Orleans' spooky circuit actually believes in ghosts.

Edgar Lovejoy is 100% haunted. No, really. Ghosts have tormented him since childhood and he's organized his life around attempts to avoid them.

Opposites? Get ready to attract. But while Jamie's biggest concern is that Edgar sometimes seems a bit distracted, Edgar's fears are much greater. Not only is he scared of encountering the dearly departed whenever he leaves the house, but he's terrified of making himself vulnerable to Jamie. After all, how do you tell someone who believes ghosts only exist as smoke and mirrors that you see them everywhere you go? And how can you trust in a happy future when you can't even believe in yourself?

A little spooky, a little magical, and a whole lot The (Most Unusual) Haunting of Edgar Lovejoy will leave you feeling like you've found a brand new bookish family of your own

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

1

Edgar

Beyond the beaded curtains of the Never Lounge was another world.

Light spangled every surface and caught in hazy shafts of perfumed smoke that plumed from the stage. Velvet-flocked walls, a cascade of velvet curtains, the velvet shred of a horn bellying low…the darkened club embraced Edgar before his eyes could adjust.

Someone called his name, and he blinked away the haze until he could pick out the familiar form of Helen Vang waving him over to the high-top table they were sharing with Veronica Deslonde and Greta Russakoff. Empty glasses, bottles, and cigarette packets littered the tabletop, and they whooped a greeting as he joined them.

Edgar steeled himself for the discomfort of socializing and tried to smile.

Helen turned to Veronica and held out their hand. With a humph, Veronica pulled a bill from her cleavage and handed it to them.

“You just cost me ten bucks,” Veronica said, but she kissed his cheek with as much welcome as she always did, the delicious honey-smoke scent of her calming him.

“I never doubted you,” Helen crowed.

Greta snorted and whispered, “They changed their bet three minutes ago,” as she hugged him hello.

“I come to stuff,” Edgar grumbled. But he didn’t grumble too loudly, because it wasn’t true, strictly speaking.

Carys, Greta’s partner, approached with an armful of drinks. Her eyes widened when she saw him. “Oh wow,” she said, sliding the drinks onto the table. “You showed!”

But she elbowed Edgar teasingly, and he tried to relax.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Get you a drink?” Carys asked.

“No, thanks.”

“Edible?” Helen proffered an Altoids tin covered in glitter, and he waved it off.

“I’m good.”

As Edgar’s eyes adjusted to the dim light and his friends’ conversation picked back up around him, he began his habitual scan of the room.

The trick was to keep your gaze steady but unfocused, letting your eyes pick up on anything that unusual. The brain snagged on standout things more easily that way. Of course, at a queer burlesque show in New Orleans, there were standout things everywhere Edgar looked.

Lava lamps on the lip of the proscenium glowed with orange, pink, and violet globules that drifted, broke, and recombined in hypnotic pulsations; ostrich feathers riffled in the breeze of the overhead fans. Performers slunk through the crowd, eyes and mouths exaggerated or erased, hair pomaded slick or piled high, rhinestones and sequins and glitter twinkling in the light, bootheels and tap heels and high heels click-clacking a chaotic rhythm that underlaid the music’s driving moan.

The atmosphere caressed every sense, and a tingle began in Edgar’s inner thighs and flushed through him.

It was seductive, but allowing himself to be seduced meant his guard would be down, so he shook it off and forced himself to breathe evenly as he resumed scanning the room, searching, as ever, for things that shouldn’t be there.

Creatures that shouldn’t be there. Because they shouldn’t exist at all.

What he usually caught first was a glimmer—light catching their nonforms differently than the living, because they weren’t made of the same corporeal stuff. But in the dark, he couldn’t depend on that.

If not a glimmer, then sometimes it was a mirage—the air between him and the entity wavy like the hottest days of August. But with the stage lights and dim houselights and the smoke and dust motes catching in both, right now he couldn’t depend on that either.

A familiar itch of panic sparked, and Edgar inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly through his mouth, noting the glowing red exit signs as beacons of escape.

The conversation had moved to the new flavor that Helen, Veronica, and Greta were developing for Lagniappe Lemonade, the cocktail business they’d developed the year before. Edgar worked for them part-time, delivering the bottles of artisanal hard lemonade made with New Orleans–grown lemons and herbs and sweetened with the honey from Veronica’s bees. He’d quickly learned that Helen, Veronica, and Greta were as close as family, and—used to it from his own sister—he’d welcomed their sibling-esque meddling and prying with equanimity.

It was why he had come tonight. They invited him to things often. Dancing, dinner parties, game nights. He rarely attended, citing his other job or a family obligation or—as often as it was believable from someone they teased for having no social life—other plans. But he’d wanted to see the queer burlesque show that some of Helen’s friends were performing in. The boldness of burlesque had always intrigued him.

Now that he was here though, he regretted it. Even as he tried to remain calm, the air became thick in his throat, and his ribs clutched at his heart.

“Bathroom,” Edgar mumbled and made his escape.

He wound through the crowd, careful not to brush up against anyone if he could help it. If there was one of them in the crowd and he touched it by mistake, ice would slide down his spine and twist his gut.

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Advertisement The Golden Raven (All for Game #5) Read Online Nora Sakavic http://www.books2020.com/the-golden-raven-all-for-game-5-read-online-nora-sakavic Mon, 10 Mar 2025 19:25:43 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-golden-raven-all-for-game-5-read-online-nora-sakavic Genre: Contemporary, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Sports, Tear Jerker, Young Adult Authors: Nora Sakavic Series: All for Game Series by Nora Sakavic
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Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)

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I do not care what they think of me. I can’t. It only matters that I play.

Jeremy Knox is no stranger to damage control, but his last season on an Exy court is off to a disastrous start. The relentless crusade against his newest teammate threatens the haven he and his friends have worked so hard to build. He promised Jean a fun senior year, but tragedy and ugly truths make every step forward an uphill fight.

Jean Moreau promised the USC Trojans a championship trophy, and he intends to deliver. Granted, it would be significantly easier if they’d slide off their high horses and throw a few elbows on the court. Their steadfast refusal to do things his way is nearly as aggravating as their unwanted affection, but maybe they’re not the ones that need to change.

With so many ready to drag him down, how can he learn to fly?

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

CHAPTER ONE

Jean

Friday morning practice started with a brief team meeting. As each Trojan arrived, one of the coaches was on hand to redirect them to the huddle rooms. “Whichever one has seats” was the only directive they received, but for the most part the players segregated themselves by offense and defense out of habit.

Unsurprisingly, striker Ananya Deshmukh had eschewed the status quo to sit with Cody Winter and her fiancé Patrick Toppings, both of whom were backliners. Movement in the doorway had her looking up to check the newest arrivals, and her jaw dropped when she saw Jean Moreau’s battered face.

“Good lord,” she said, too loudly, and all eyes swung his way.

Catalina Alvarez briefly pressed a shoulder against his arm, but Jean didn’t care if they looked. He’d been a bruised and bloodied mess most of his career with the Ravens. His former teammates were quick to mock him and quicker to take advantage of his weakened state on the court, but they knew better than to ask questions. Most of them assumed his injuries were due to the master’s displeasure, especially since the perfect Court was called away daily for private sessions. Whether or not they truly believed it or simply refused to think critically of their beloved captain, Jean would never know.

“We left you alone for twelve hours,” Pat said. “Did you get hit by a car or something?”

A stupid question deserved a stupid answer, so Jean said, “Yes.”

“We’re going to talk about it, I’m sure,” Jeremy Knox said. He’d preceded Jean into the room, but now he was half-turned to study Jean’s distant expression. He said nothing else, but Jean saw the question in his searching look. Jean didn’t waste his breath responding but stepped toward him and sent one last glance around the room. Lucas Johnson and his friends were yet to make an appearance, but as far as Jean could tell the rest of the defense line was accounted for.

The room was arranged as five rows of five seats each, with a table at the front for Coach Jimenez to use as needed. Sophomores William Foster and Jesus Rivera were in the first row with the over-eager freshmen, though they were now all turned to unabashedly stare at Jean. Cody’s lot had claimed the second row, and fifth-year Shawn Anderson was in the fourth with Shane Reed. Those two had nothing to say yet, but their stares were heavy and unwavering. Jean’s injuries only benefited one of them, the man whose spot he planned on taking this season, so Jean didn’t waste his time returning their searching looks.

Jeremy led Jean and Cat down the third row so he could take a seat behind Ananya. Cat gave Cody’s shaved hair an affectionate scritch when she ended up behind them, but Cody was too busy staring at Jean to greet her. The three had just gotten settled when Laila Dermott arrived. She’d detoured by the lockers alone to put their lunch away, but now she took the chair on Cat’s other side and said, “Lucas is here.”

It was a split-second warning before Lucas finally stepped through the doorway, and the entire mood in the room shifted. Shane was on his feet immediately with an alarmed, “Jesus Christ, Lucas.”

The hours since Grayson’s visit had been unkind to them both: reddened skin and faint shadows had bloomed into technicolored bruises that covered too much of their faces. Both of Lucas’s eyes were blackened, courtesy of his broken nose, and Jean had long scratches down his face from cruel fingernails. Lucas hadn’t bothered to cover anything up, and Jean had only slowed long enough this morning to tape new gauze over the teeth marks left on his throat and wrist.

“This has to stop,” Shane said, looking between them. “You’re teammates, for god’s sake.”

“Shane,” Jeremy started, but Lucas beat him to the punch:

“We didn’t do this,” Lucas said as he led Travis Jordan and Haoyu Liu onto the fourth row. Because Shane and Shawn had gotten there first, it forced Lucas into the open seat behind Jean. Jean didn’t feel like turning far enough to keep an eye on him, so he folded his arms across his chest and faced the front of the room. Lucas stopped behind him but didn’t sit until he corrected himself with a quieter, “He didn’t. I did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shane asked. “Jeremy? Jean?”

Jeremy was still turned enough to see the door, so he just said, “Coach.”

Eduardo Jimenez entered the room with Jackie Lisinski only a few steps behind him. Since neither James Rhemann nor Michael White showed up, Jean assumed they were handling the other room. Lisinski’s face was a thundercloud, but Jimenez’s expression was harder to read. The defensive line coach did a quick headcount before slapping a folder against his palm.

“Good morning,” he said. “Couple quick announcements and then we’ll get you back on track. First things first: Lucas and Jean will be on no-touch jerseys until further notice and will not be participating in scrimmages today.”

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Advertisement Deck the Palms – An Annabeth Albert Christmas Read Online Annabeth Albert http://www.books2020.com/deck-the-palms-an-annabeth-albert-christmas-read-online-annabeth-albert Thu, 19 Dec 2024 11:50:23 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/deck-the-palms-an-annabeth-albert-christmas-read-online-annabeth-albert Genre: Contemporary, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance Authors: Annabeth Albert Advertisement

Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >73

Nolan Bell has a very Merry problem this holiday season…

As a native New Yorker, I’ve always dreamed of my name in lights on Broadway. But when my Army officer brother calls in a favor, I wind up in Hawaii to help his family while he’s deployed.

A winter in paradise doesn’t sound too bad until I become the substitute choir teacher at a middle school near the base. Wrangling a bunch of tweens while planning the annual school holiday lights festival is a far cry from playing Peter Pan.
Enter Merrick “Merry” Winters, the school’s grumpy but hot shop teacher. I can win over any audience, but Merry’s a tough sell. And I need his help to make the festival successful.

The more time I spend with Merry, the less grumpy he seems, and the more I like the guy. He’s the third generation of a legendary North Shore surfing family. He’s committed to raising his twin boys on the island as a single dad. And like me, he doesn’t have time for an inconvenient but undeniable attraction.

As disasters pile up, the only holiday magic Merry and I seem to be making is with each other. What starts as a harmless fling becomes the only present I want under my tree.

If I want this romance to last past New Year’s, I have to decide which dreams are truly worth chasing.

Can Merry and I catch a wave for a future together before the sun sets on this holiday season?

A brand-new holiday romance from the author of the beloved The Geek Who Saved Christmas starring two middle school teachers in over their heads in an opposites-attract, fish-out-of-water romance. Deck the Palms features a slightly grumpy single dad and a sunny city slicker navigating family dynamics amid holiday small-town romance vibes with a side of Hawaiian sunshine. Guaranteed low-angst, feel-good, happy ending with a heaping helping of holiday spice!

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

One

Welcome to November, ohana! It was lovely to see so many of our middle school family members at our Autumn Festival. Now, the countdown begins for our annual Lights Festival. Mrs. Crenshaw is on a medical leave of absence, but never fear! Our holiday extravaganza is in excellent hands…

NOLAN

I stared down at the colorful newsletter distributed to students during last period and sent to parents via email. As someone who’d enjoyed a rocky relationship with reviewers, I tried to believe any press was good press. However, Principal Alana was testing that belief by way overselling my talents for a job I’d only learned about twenty minutes prior.

“Are you sure you want a substitute in charge of something so important?” I asked Principal Alana. She had arrived at the choir room shortly after the final bell sounded, undoubtedly to prevent my escape with the students and ensure my attendance at the holiday festival planning meeting.

“First, you’re not just a sub. You’re a Broadway star.” The principal was barely over five feet with long dark hair piled on her head. Many of the middle schoolers were bigger, and indeed, she didn’t look much older than the eighth graders. However, the principal had a voice worthy of commanding a fleet. “You’re exactly the shakeup this festival needs after years of the same script.”

“Star might be pushing it,” I said demurely. Sure, my resume was full of production credits, and if we counted Off-Off-Broadway, a few leading roles, but no one in New York would ever mistake me for a star. Perhaps things were different in Hawaii.

“Second, I’ll be honest, we don’t have a ton of other options.” Principal Alana continued her forthright attack on my resistance. Unlike the cushy New York private high schools where I encountered stiff competition for my substitute teaching and voice-lesson gigs, I’d apparently been the only applicant for the role of substitute choir director and drama teacher at this public fine arts magnet middle school. It was a sobering thought.

Impervious to my glum thoughts, Principal Alana plowed ahead. “Merry Winters will help, of course, but Merry lacks your flare. However, you can count on the industrial arts students to deliver whatever decorating vision the two of you arrive at.”

Merry Winters. I immediately visualized the industrial arts teacher as a kind, gray-haired British hippy lady. Probably ever so slightly butch, what with the woodworking classes, but churning out domestic projects like cutting boards and candlestick holders. Good at set construction, but seeking the guidance of a plucky Broadway star for this holiday festival.

And yes, I was exactly vain enough to love that vision.

“Lucky for you, I’m a praise wh—junkie, and all that ego stroking worked.” I winked at Principal Alana, narrowly avoiding calling myself a praise whore in front of my boss for the next two months. “Lead the way to this meeting.”

“How was the first day of classes?” she asked as we navigated the wide hallway lined with lockers, artwork, rules and reminders, and varied club and activity announcements.

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Advertisement Marrying Mr. Majestic Read Online Lucy Lennox http://www.books2020.com/marrying-mr-majestic-read-online-lucy-lennox Wed, 07 Aug 2024 09:50:02 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/marrying-mr-majestic-read-online-lucy-lennox Genre: Contemporary, Funny, GLBT, M-M Romance Authors: Lucy Lennox Advertisement

Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)

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I’ve made myself into many things over the years. A Yale graduate. A brilliant corporate strategist. A city boy. And, though no one outside my inner circle knows it, a billionaire.

One thing I never expected to be? Accidentally married to a straight, small-town cowboy named Waylon, the pride and joy of… *checks notes*... Majestic, Wyoming.

Sadly, what happens in Vegas does not, in fact, stay in Vegas, and before I know it, I’m trying to track my erstwhile husband down, divorce papers in hand and thrift store clothes on my back, desperately hoping the stranger I married won’t realize he’s suddenly entitled to a lot more than that shiny gold ring on his finger.

Unfortunately, Way has other plans.

His town is counting on him as mayor to bring the lucrative AdventureSmash wilderness race to Majestic, and he refuses to sign my papers until the deal is done… which means me and my second-hand blue jeans will be hanging around a lot longer than I’d imagined, pretending our one-night whatever-it-was was a love match for the ages.

As it turns out, Majestic is more charming than I’d expected, and Way… is not entirely without charms himself. It also turns out he’s, ahem, not as straight as he thought he was.

Before I know it, dusty boots feel more comfortable than my shiny wingtips, coffee at the Love Muffin tastes better than Starbucks, and being the First Husband of Majestic starts to seem as important as any corporate merger I’ve ever negotiated.

But for a man with secrets to keep and a whole life waiting for him back in Manhattan, the only thing worse than Marrying Mr. Majestic… would be falling in love with him for real.

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

ONE

WAYLON

Nobody sets out to marry a stranger by accident in Vegas. Sometimes, and I’m speaking hypothetically here, sometimes a person sets out to marry a friend. To do someone a solid. To help solve a difficult situation.

And then gets horribly rejected and ends up drinking himself into oblivion.

Which then causes him to marry a stranger.

I was several drinks into my rare quest for oblivion when I realized the businessman on the stool next to me was enjoying a laugh at my expense. The first time a lady at the bar sent me a drink, he’d huffed out a silent laugh. Now, as I accepted my third—possibly fourth?—drink from the bartender, whiskey this time, he was outright snorting.

So I side-eyed the guy. You know, as you do when a businessman gets all up in your business.

The man was clean-cut and sharp-looking. Probably a corporate type in town for a conference on balancing stocks and bonds in a well-curated portfolio. Short brown hair, likely styled by someone who’d never seen the inside of a ten-dollar quick-cuts place. Well-fitting button-down shirt with cuffs folded meticulously up muscular forearms. An Apple Watch that probably kept track of his fitness goals and net worth at the same time.

He oozed money and influence. He probably hadn’t looked at the prices of the drinks before ordering whatever he wanted. And he wasn’t even pretending polite disinterest in my situation. “May I help you?”

“I can’t decide if you’ve got game or you’re oblivious.” His voice was as deep and smooth as the gold-boxed chocolates my sister loved. Cultured. Expensive. “Either way, it’s entertaining.”

I took a sip of my drink and felt it burn down my throat. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“The cowboy schtick is really working for you. You’re incredibly popular with the ladies.”

I took another sip of whiskey while trying to pretend ignorance. I wasn’t proud of what I was doing, and the idea someone had noticed didn’t sit right with me. “What ladies?”

He laughed and tilted his head in the direction of the older woman down the bar who’d sent me my latest drink. “Well, her, for one. Or the gaggle of college girls who sent you the pink and purple test tube shots. Or the waitress who ran her hand across your shoulders. Or the woman who asked if you preferred red over white. You don’t seem interested. None of my business, but⁠—”

My face flooded with heat. “Oh… that. Well, I mean, no, I’m not interested in a… a casual encounter, but…” It was embarrassing to admit, but my tongue had been loosened enough to be less worried than usual. I leaned in and lowered my voice, noticing belatedly that he smelled nice. “I can’t really afford this place. The free drinks are nice.”

“Casual encounter?” His bark of laughter startled me. “Where the hell are you from?”

His amusement only made me blush harder.

“Wyoming,” I said, feeling a little annoyed at his condescending tone.

I shifted the cowboy hat on my lap and rubbed the edge of the brim where some of the buffalo felt had worn smooth after years of me fiddling with it. The man probably thought I was in Vegas to blow off steam and I was doing it wrong. The truth—that I’d come to marry my good friend, like an idiot—was even worse, so I didn’t bother correcting him.

I also didn’t bother explaining that casual encounters weren’t a thing when you were the mayor of a very small town where everyone already knew everyone. I’d heard about hookups in big cities, but I’d never been a party to one of them. Where I was from, you dated and got married. Period. Or else your mama, sisters, and aunt heard every last detail before the sun was up the next day.

“Ahh, a real cowboy, then.” The man’s grin faded. “Sorry. I can see I plucked a nerve. Didn’t mean to. Sometimes I’m an asshole. And tonight… well, let’s just say my own nerves got plucked like a motherfucker. Let me buy the next round as an apology.” He grinned again. “No casual encounter necessary.”

I was tempted to ask him what had happened, but then he might want to know why I was in here tying one on, and that was way too embarrassing to admit…

Until three quick drinks later, when my liquor-lips decided to tell the story my pride had been too crushed to let loose.

“So I proposed to her,” I explained, trying not to slur. The alcohol had hit my empty stomach and spread like prairie fire, making the whole world seem a bit warm and blurry—though unfortunately not blurry enough to let me ignore the fact that I’d flown hundreds of miles only to make a fool of myself.

The man in the button-up squinted at me. As the bar had gotten warmer with the addition of more bodies, he’d opened his top two buttons. I tried not to stare at the little patch of chest hair poking through the gap, but for some reason, my eyes kept going there. “Some guy got your friend pregnant, so you offered to⁠—”

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Advertisement Mr. Important (Honeybridge #2) Read Online Lucy Lennox http://www.books2020.com/mr-important-honeybridge-2-read-online-lucy-lennox Mon, 25 Mar 2024 04:50:45 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/mr-important-honeybridge-2-read-online-lucy-lennox Genre: Billionaire, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance Authors: Lucy Lennox Series: Honeybridge Series by Lucy Lennox
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >137

One New Year’s masquerade. One anonymous hookup. One billionaire-sized mistake.

Once upon a time, someone looked at my scrawny, impetuous eight-year-old self and nicknamed me Mr. Important… and I believed them.

That was my first mistake.

Two decades, a dozen failed careers, and a thousand meaningless hookups later, I’ve made more mistakes than I can count. My parents have decided I’m purely decorative, my brother thinks I need pep talks, and the gorgeous billionaire who hired me as a favor to my dad? He’s forgotten I exist.

So I’m done with mistakes.

Call it my New Year’s resolution. From now on, I’m going after what I want… starting with the mysterious silver fox in the Roman warrior mask who approached me at the charity gala and offered me a scorching, anonymous one-night stand.

Unfortunately, when our masks come off I realize mistakes are not done with me.

Because the bossy guy who blew my mind? He’d thought I was someone else. Worse than that, he’s my father’s friend. A supposedly-straight workaholic. The person I’m stuck on a road trip with for the next two weeks. And, oh yeah, my actual boss.

The farther we get from New York, the closer we become, and the harder it is to pretend I’m not falling for him. But I can’t see how someone as brilliant, controlled, and successful as Thatcher Pennington would risk everything to be with someone like me… even if he makes me feel like I’m finally Mr. Important.

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

Chapter One

Reagan

“Mask stays on. Clothes come off,” a deep, male voice rumbled in my ear. “You’re going to be good for me tonight, aren’t you?”

The man’s indecent proposal sent a trail of goose bumps washing over my skin, and I froze in shock.

Before he’d spoken, I’d been watching various couples twirl across the floor at the masked charity ball, wondering what the hell I was doing there on New Year’s Eve when there were so many other, more fun, places I could be. When I’d moved out of my parents’ house in tiny Honeybridge, Maine, I’d left my designer tuxedo hanging in the closet for a reason: glad-handing at society galas wasn’t supposed to be on my agenda anymore. But I’d underestimated how hard it was to break the habits of a lifetime—namely, my parents’ habit of thinking they ran my social calendar and my habit of letting them. Just a couple of months into what should have been my personal renaissance, there I was, doing my best impression of a politician’s silent, smiling second son while the cameras flashed, wearing a black feathered mask atop a stifling mask of bland politeness and praying someone (not me this time) would do something interesting before midnight to save me from death by boredom.

Fortunately, the Universe had heard my plea.

Unfortunately, it had sent excitement in the form of a creepy whisperer… which was really on brand for the Reagan Wellbridge Renaissance Era, whose tagline seemed to be “be careful what you wish for.”

Under other circumstances, being approached by a creepy whisperer might have been outrageous in a fun way. A hilarious tale to trot out to my friends at parties, or maybe even a story for my Instagram followers. But the last few months had been… well, difficult.

When I’d moved to New York, I’d vowed to be a new Reagan. A different Reagan. Not an immature twenty-something socialite whose parents controlled his bank account or a pretty, wholesome-looking doll who posed at campaign rallies.

But nothing had quite worked out the way I’d planned, and New Reagan was frustrated as fuck.

All the career disappointments I’d been pushing down for weeks, all the snarky retorts I’d choked back while making my way around the party tonight, sat in my chest like a heap of dry kindling, and the creepy whisperer was the spark.

I turned around to spew all of my anger and resentment in a verbal torrent sharp enough to flay this rude, outrageous man’s flesh from his bones…

And then choked on my own saliva.

Rude and outrageous he might be, but the creepy whisperer was… built.

He was tall—well over six feet—and his perfectly tailored black tuxedo lovingly cupped his broad shoulders and chest. Dark hair swept cleanly back from his brow. Though I couldn’t make out his eyes behind the burnished gold of his Roman warrior mask, especially in the “atmospheric” faux candlelight of the ballroom, I could feel the intensity of his gaze as he watched me.

Not creepy but sexy. Sexy enough to shoot a bolt of lust down my spine that left me shivering in the overheated ballroom. And so very much my type.

Maybe the Universe had done me a solid after all.

“Pardon me?” My words came out husky and flirtatious. “Do I know you?”

One black brow lifted over the top of the man’s mask, and his plush lips set in a firm, unsmiling line that made my pulse race with arousal… and then with a sudden fear as I remembered exactly where and who I was.

Think, Reagan. How likely was it that a man who resembled a Roman warrior even without his mask was trolling for an anonymous hookup with another man at a stuffy event like this one, where every third guest was a politician, a reporter, or a society gossip? More than likely, I’d misunderstood, or⁠—

“Not interested in games,” he growled, leaning closer. A muscle ticked in his perfectly smooth jaw.

—or maybe I’d understood perfectly. I blinked. How the hell did his voice feel like it was wrapping directly around my balls, firm as a physical touch?

His earlier words seared through my brain like a flash fire, burning away all other thoughts: Mask stays on. Clothes come off.

Well, shit.

Back when my father had been on the cusp of his political career—which was, sadly, right around the time I’d begun transforming from a sweet child into a snarky, opinionated teenager who Needed to Be Managed—my mother had signed me up for formal etiquette lessons. I’d loathed them, of course, but they’d come in handy over the years. These days, I could chat with anyone, from a sultan at a polo match to nice, elderly ladies in retirement homes, and most of the time, I even enjoyed it. I was never, ever at a loss for words.

Until now.

“I, uh…” I stammered, face on fire. “That is… When you say…? Are you asking me to…?”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >137

Advertisement Falling for Raine Read Online Lane Hayes http://www.books2020.com/falling-for-raine-read-online-lane-hayes Fri, 15 Mar 2024 06:57:06 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/falling-for-raine-read-online-lane-hayes Genre: Contemporary, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance Authors: Lane Hayes Advertisement

Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >66

The gentleman, the hot mess, and a little British adventure…

Raine

Moving to London is scary and daunting, but I desperately need this job–and a redo. Okay, so I may have oversold my qualifications. That shouldn’t be a big deal, though. I mean, being an assistant’s assistant seems easy enough, and I’m a fast learner.

Hold up!

I’m already in over my head with spreadsheets, new pronunciations, and temperamental appliances. And just as I’m mentally preparing to face going home early, the big boss offers me an opportunity I can’t refuse. And I definitely should because Graham Horsham is an infuriating, complicated grumpy bear with a razor-sharp tongue, a wickedly dry sense of humor, and…I like him far too much.

Graham

I’ve been bamboozled. I’m not quite sure how I ended up with an assistant who spills coffee daily, wears wrinkled shirts, and chatters nonstop. He can’t stay, but I don’t want him to go and that’s madness. The Horsham Group is closing one of our biggest deals ever and I won’t jeopardize it. This one is personal.

Yet so is Raine.

He’s a breath of fresh air—silly, impetuous, lighthearted, good-natured, and…quite lovely. I like him more than I want to admit. For some reason, I can let my guard down with him. It’s unnerving and probably unprofessional.

But not to worry…I will not, under any circumstances, fall for Raine.

Falling for Raine is an MM, age-gap romance featuring a British silver fox, a desperate but adorable American, and a UK adventure!

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

1

RAINE

“After all, the best thing one can do when it is raining is let it rain.”— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The flight from LA to Vegas took less than an hour, which shouldn’t have been enough time to wrinkle a shirt beyond redemption or put permanent creases in khakis, right?

I winced at my reflection in the Vegas hotel lobby men’s room as I washed my hands, using a little water to pat down the wayward cowlick that had sprouted from the top of my noggin, thanks to my noise-canceling headphones and a bad haircut. This was what I got for not investing in EarPods…and for letting Winnie Rodriguez go all Edward Scissorhands on me.

Sadly, those were my best options. I couldn’t afford new headphones or a haircut from a seasoned professional. I couldn’t afford a snazzy suit, either. I’d have to wow the Brits with my winning personality and hope my new boss could overlook the fact that I’d missed my original flight, taken a taxi to the wrong hotel, and erroneously assumed it would take less time to walk from the Bellagio to The Palazzo than deal with the traffic on the Strip.

Wrong.

As in…totally, absolutely, bad-decision wrong.

I’d sweated buckets dodging drunken pedestrians armed with flasks the size of small pets as I’d wheeled my carry-on suitcase through the Forum Shops at Caesars Palace, up an escalator, and across the footbridge to The Palazzo. One glance at the line in front of the reception area later, I’d made an executive decision to forgo checking into my room for now. The Horsham Group Meet and Greet had started two hours ago, and I needed to get my ass to the right convention room, stat.

I fussed with my hair, straightened my collar, and released a long rush of air, willing my heartbeat to slow. Fuck, I was a hot mess. And I was in so far over my head, it wasn’t funny. That didn’t matter. I needed this job, and I had every intention of being the best-ever assistant to the assistant in the history of assistants.

Sure, I might have overstated my qualifications a tad and yes, I’d asked Winnie’s brother-in-law, Milo, for a mega-glowing reference even though I’d technically only worked at his law firm for a month. Not a big deal. I intended to deliver the goods.

I could do this. I was smart, ambitious, and I wasn’t afraid of change. If little ol’ gay me from a teensy-tiny town in New Mexico with a queer population of one could adapt to ultra-fabulous West Hollywood, I could certainly adapt to a new job in a new country.

I inhaled deeply and stepped away from the sink.

Time to slay.

Unfortunately, finding the convention room took another ten minutes.

I thanked the hotel employee who’d personally escorted me to a swanky junior ballroom with cascading crystal chandeliers and ornate paneling. I swiped my clammy palms on my khakis, hid my suitcase behind a potted plant, and surveyed the few attendees milling near the bar. Where had everyone gone?

A couple of waiters were busy clearing empty glasses and plates, indicating I’d missed food service and was easily three drinks behind everyone else. There weren’t many people left, though. And the dozen or so still there were well-heeled professionals who somehow managed to look sophisticated and intimidating with paper name tags stuck to the lapels of their designer suits.

Ugh. This was not my scene.

Well, it was now.

I pushed my shoulders back and strode toward the nearest group of well-coiffed thirtysomethings sipping cocktails and juggling empty plates.

“Hi, there, I’m Raine Edwards,” I announced with my hand outstretched.

They paused midconversation, eyeing me warily. A wiry dude with a perfect mustache and short reddish hair broke the staring contest to shake my hand.

“Hallo, Raine. Are you here to give us the weather report?” he asked in a posh British accent.

Ahh, good one.

But I didn’t miss a beat. “April in Vegas is hot as hell with a chance of sweating your balls off, but no precipitation,” I replied with forced cheer, quickly adding, “Would one of you happen to be Celia Carter or Julia Wells?”

A low rumble of amusement flitted through the group. Mr. Posh, however, didn’t crack a smile.

“I’m Cecil Carter. Good of you to join us, Mr. Edwards,” he said haughtily.

“Oh, sorry. There was an accident on the 405 and the traffic was hideous, so I missed my flight and—it’s been a day. I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I think you were the one I was supposed to talk to about meeting Ms. Wells. Is she still here or⁠—”

“No, she is not. If you’ll excuse us.” Cecil stepped away from the others and inclined his head, wordlessly requesting me to follow. He led me to an abandoned refreshment table and gave me a thorough once-over. “Ms. Wells left over an hour ago with Mr. Horsham. They were anxious to prepare for a meeting with the Mint and Cooperton team.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >66

Advertisement Just a Bit Captivated (Straight Guys #14) Read Online Alessandra Hazard http://www.books2020.com/just-a-bit-captivated-straight-guys-14-read-online-alessandra-hazard Thu, 07 Dec 2023 05:55:46 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/just-a-bit-captivated-straight-guys-14-read-online-alessandra-hazard Genre: Contemporary, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance Authors: Alessandra Hazard Series: Straight Guys Series by Alessandra Hazard
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Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >69

A toy for a sheikh.

That’s who Aiden Gates a straight guy sold to one of the richest men in the world.

What he isn’t is besotted with the cold-hearted, cynical bastard who bought him like a thing. Aiden hates that man. Utterly abhors him.

But before long, Aiden’s obsessive hatred starts turning into an obsession, pure and simple–and then into something far worse.

Wanting that bastard is bad enough.

Needing him is sickening.

His feelings aren’t real. He’s a pretty bird in a gilded cage. A dirty little secret.

But when the cage is eventually broken, can he learn to live without it? Without him?

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

Chapter One

Elephants.

There was a small herd of elephants stomping all over his head. Or at least it felt like it.

He groaned, rubbing at his pounding temples. Had he had too many drinks last night? He felt nauseated and dizzy. It almost seemed like the ground was moving under him. Speaking of the ground, he was lying on something hard and uncomfortable. Why was he on the floor?

“Hey, you, are you finally awake?”

A female voice. One he didn’t recognize. It definitely didn’t belong to his sister or mother—and he currently didn’t have any other woman in his life. Where was he?

He opened his eyes blearily and turned his pounding head.

A windowless room.

There were eight other people in the room. And the ground definitely was rocking.

Also—his hands were handcuffed together.

Handcuffed.

He stared blankly at the handcuffs.

Unless he’d suddenly developed a penchant for kinky, exhibitionist sex overnight, this was more than a little alarming. He couldn’t remember how he could have possibly ended up handcuffed.

What did he remember?

Aiden. That was his name. He was Aiden Gates, a twenty-year-old, a junior at Northeastern University, the youngest son of Edward and Veronica Gates.

The last thing he remembered was… He’d been… He’d been walking home after hanging out at his friend’s house for a little get-together before Christmas. He remembered footsteps behind him—and then nothing.

“Are you mute or something?” the same voice said.

Aiden shifted his gaze to the person addressing him: a young woman around his age. She was very pretty, with shiny golden hair and wide blue eyes.

She was handcuffed too. Actually, all the other people in the room were, as well.

Aiden really didn’t like the implications.

Fuck, this was too much, even by his standards. He’d always had a history of getting into scrapes. Trouble simply had a way of finding him. His mom never tired of telling the story of how a three-year-old Aiden had toddled out of the house and somehow ended up at the other end of the city. It had gone downhill from there over the years, and Aiden could only laugh at his misfortunes, but this… this was something else.

“I’m not,” Aiden said belatedly, hauling himself into a sitting position, which was unexpectedly difficult without using his hands. “Sorry—it took me a few moments to get over waking up handcuffed in a room full of handcuffed strangers. It doesn’t happen to me every day.”

“Point,” she murmured with a small smile. “I’m Janice.”

“Aiden,” he said, waving his cuffed hands. “I would shake your hand, but…” He took a deep breath and dropped his light tone. “Do you know what’s going on here?”

Janice’s lips pursed. “I’ve been here for two days, so yeah, I’ve overheard some stuff when they brought you guys in. They’re in the human trafficking business.”

Aiden grimaced. He couldn’t say he was surprised. Just his luck, really.

“We’re on a ship, right?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Do you know where they’re taking us?”

Janice’s expression darkened. “They want to sell us in the Middle East. One of them mentioned the UAE.”

Great. What were the chances of them being found halfway across the world?

Aiden screwed his eyes shut. All right, there was no need to panic yet. The authorities might catch these assholes any moment now, for all he knew. It would take the ship, what, weeks to get to the UAE? There was still plenty of time for their kidnappers to get caught.

His family was probably already freaking out.

Aiden winced at the thought, but pushed it away to focus on the more pressing issues.

He looked at the other people in the room more carefully. There were five women, including Janice, and three other guys besides Aiden. All of them were young and incredibly good-looking. And all of them were blond, which was a weird coincidence.

Or maybe not a coincidence at all.

“Is there a reason we’re all blonds?” Granted, their hair color ranged from dark blond to Aiden’s strawberry blond, but still.

Janice wrinkled her pretty nose. “Apparently perverted sheikhs like exotic pets, and natural blond hair is rare and valuable.” She pursed her lips. “Yes, they actually checked if I was a natural blonde. They checked all of us. And never mind that some of us don’t even have hair down there.”

Aiden pulled a face, glad that he’d been unconscious for that.

“Did they say anything else?” he said, trying to ignore the crying girl in the corner. She was the only one crying, but the others didn’t look much better. The guy with dirty blond hair seemed on the verge of crying too, his eyes wide and freaked out, his breath coming in loud, ragged gasps.

“No,” Janice said. “Most of the assholes don’t speak English, so I have no idea what they were saying.”

“Does anyone here know their language?” Aiden said, raising his voice a little.

No one replied.

Sighing, Aiden sagged back against the wall and tried hard not to think about what would happen to them if their kidnappers didn’t get caught.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >69

Advertisement ISO – In Search Of – After Oscar Read Online Lucy Lennox http://www.books2020.com/iso-in-search-of-after-oscar-read-online-lucy-lennox Wed, 25 Oct 2023 18:31:40 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/iso-in-search-of-after-oscar-read-online-lucy-lennox Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance Authors: Lucy Lennox Advertisement

Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >107

How in the world does a grumpy rancher end up falling for a rich dilettante?

Richard Dunning has it all: private school education, an exquisite designer wardrobe, a last name that ensures he’s invited to all the best parties, and a skincare regimen that’s to die for.

The only thing he doesn’t have is… well, a job. Or a home. Or money in the bank. Not since his dad cut him off.

So when his best frenemy approaches him with a bet—spend a month working as a cowhand on some godforsaken Wyoming ranch in exchange for his dream job—he’s a little too proud and a lot too desperate to say no.

But from the moment Richard and his rhinestone cowboy hat show up at the Silver Fork Ranch, nothing is as expected.

Not the beautiful vistas, not the terrifying horses, not the friendly people, not the epic quantities of cow manure, and definitely not Boone Hammond, the rugged rancher whose eyes are a little too intense, whose expectations are a little too high, and whose kisses are… a lot too tempting.

But when his month on the ranch comes to a close, Richard must choose: return to the safe, luxurious life he thought he wanted… or risk everything for the love he’s been IN SEARCH OF all along.

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

1

BOONE

I watched the beat-up truck fishtail, spitting up gravel before peeling off down the ranch drive toward the highway.

“Well, shit,” I muttered, turning to Jed. “There goes another one.” Even my dog seemed to let out a sigh.

My foreman wasn’t too happy with me, as evidenced by the firm set of his grizzled jaw. “Third one in as many months. When you gonna stop hiring people who have ambition? And what the hell kind of cowhand expects a promotion after three months?” He spit on the dirt. “Idiot.”

I threw up my hands. “How was I supposed to know? I hired him as a hand. I paid him good money for the work. Why the hell did he take the job if he didn’t want it, huh? Tell me that. Now I’ve got a hundred head of cattle, and I’m going to be shorthanded.”

Jed stared at the shrinking dust cloud. “Mm.”

“Fuck,” I cursed, pulling off my hat and running a frustrated hand through my hair. I blew out a breath as I propped a foot on the fence circling the horse ring and glanced toward the mountains in the distance. Most days, I loved working this ranch, but other days, I wanted nothing more than to saddle my horse and ride for the horizon, never looking back.

Today was one of those days.

I twisted my head to the side in an effort to ease the tightness along my shoulders. “Find me another hand,” I told Jed. “Hell, find me three more hands if you can. Damned Walt Hosser keeps snapping up all the good ones now he’s got those three daughters of his coming of age.” I shook my head and reached down to ruffle the fur on Birdie’s head. “Those cowboys all think they’re going to convince one of the girls to fall in love with them and they’ll inherit a cattle ranch. Stupid fuckers.”

Jed joined me at the fence, a sly smile on his face. “You can’t tell me Miranda Hosser isn’t a pretty little thing. Takes after her mama. Don’t know about the other two because I can’t hardly see past that red hair.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You always did have a thing for Walt’s wife.”

Jed squinted over toward the machine shed, which was the direction of the Hosser Ranch. “Kissed her once. That woman’s as cold as a fish, but god a’mighty, she’s something to look at.”

“Well, maybe their girls are just as cold, and those cowboys will be looking for another place to pull a paycheck,” I muttered.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Jed said. “Rumor is that Walt’s promising some pretty hefty bonuses this year. Where he’s gettin’ the money from, lord only knows.”

I shook my head. “He’s gonna run that place into the ground if he isn’t careful.”

Jed shrugged. “Would that be so bad? Then you’d be able to buy the place up and double the size of your ranch.”

I snorted. “And have Walt accuse me of stealing the rest of his land? No, thank you.” To say there was bad blood between Walt and me was an understatement. Years back, he’d gotten into financial trouble and approached me about buying some of his acreage so he could pay off his debts. It had seemed like an easy, straightforward deal until Walt started accusing me of dirty dealing and stealing what was rightfully his.

Usually I just ignored him, but these days, it was impossible to ignore the shortage of hands available to work or that it was Walt who was causing the shortage. It was hard not to see it as an intentional ploy to cause me problems.

I kicked off the fence and tugged my hat back onto my head. “Meanwhile, I’m going to get my stuff packed,” I said, nodding toward the main house. “Get Victory saddled if you don’t mind. I’d better get an earlier start than I’d planned if I’m going by myself.”

Jed reached for my shoulder and clapped a rough hand on it. “I’ll come with.”

I shook my head, not at all surprised by the offer. “Nah. You go on to the wedding. I’ll be okay. I’ll take Hiram with me. Let him know, will you? The two of us should be able to handle it fine. It’ll just mean more work when we get back.”

“We ain’t afraid of hard work,” Jed said in his lazy drawl.

“Lucky for me,” I told him. It was the truth. Jed was one of a dying breed, an old-school cowboy who’d been born and raised to work a ranch. He could have retired years ago, and I’d offered to carve off a small piece of my land for him to settle on, but he’d refused. Said he didn’t know what he’d do with himself without a full day’s hard work.

“Be sure to kiss your niece for me and wish her well,” I added, starting back toward the main house. Birdie padded along behind me. “And tell your sister not to be a stranger,” I called over my shoulder. “She promised me a visit this year.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >107

Advertisement Tango Down (The Renegades #4) Read Online Cara Dee http://www.books2020.com/tango-down-the-renegades-4-read-online-cara-dee Sat, 23 Sep 2023 20:10:40 +0000 https://www.booksnovels.com/tango-down-the-renegades-4-read-online-cara-dee Genre: Contemporary, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Suspense Authors: Cara Dee Series: The Renegades Series by Cara Dee
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >74

The Renegades #4 Romantic Suspense Enemies to Lovers Action MM
“This is it, baby. Run.”

The murder in Joel Hayward’s eyes wasn’t merely a reflection of the rage within. It was a promise to the men who had kidnapped his daughter. The one person—this amazing slip of a girl—who showed Joel every single day that there was good left in the world.

He was running on fumes. He was desperate. His closest companion was…Elliott. His ex-wife’s older brother. Okay, once upon a time, the man had been a lot more than that, but somehow they’d become mortal enemies instead. Frankly, Joel didn’t give a flying f— He didn’t care if Elliott made it back alive. Or so he kept telling himself, as the pain intensified with each day he couldn’t hold his little girl in his arms.

As they got closer and closer to their target, one lead at a time, the men prepared themselves to go to war.

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

CHAPTER 1

Joel Hayward

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Are you a coaster?”

I grinned and eyed her in the rearview. “I think you mean Coastie. I’m in the Coast Guard.”

“Huh.” She twirled a piece of hair around her finger and looked out the window. “I’m pretty sure Gammie said coaster.”

I shook my head to myself. I guess I was a coaster.

A slew of curses rushed through my earpiece, and judging by the anger from River and Reese, the man with a bag over his head currently being escorted to the center of the amphitheater was their Shay.

Reese growled under his breath. “I’m gonna kill all of them.”

“We will.” Greer spoke in a low, threatening tone.

I inhaled deeply and adjusted my scope, keeping Shay in my sights. I was about…fifty-six yards away from him.

“Everyone in position?” Emerson asked.

“JH confirmed,” I reported, like the rest did.

All of us were standing some forty yards apart, in the thicket between the entertainment area and the outer wall. Only Danny was hiding out somewhere on the other side of the stage, and he confirmed his position too.

Two men pulled the bag from Shay’s head and uncuffed him, followed by harsh spotlights suddenly flooding the stage.

Knowing that not everyone had eyes on the guy—considering the marble stands blocked the view on the sides—I inspected the kid and gave a brief report. “Minor visible wounds, some bruises, gaze focused, he’s alert.” Dirty-blond hair, pale, tatted-up, muscles tense.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and rain was just what we needed to really turn the Blanco estate into a muddy slip ’n slide. We were all covered in sweat, humidity, and grime as it was.

“Crew is on the second platform.” That was Elliott.

I clenched my jaw and shifted my scope to scan the surroundings. The bottom patio hosted primarily women and children. The second one—there. I saw Crew too. He was standing close to the balustrade, stare fixed on Shay. The men seated at the grand table behind Crew were in the process of standing up. Dinner was over. Time for the big fight.

Who could Mercier be? Cullen had shown me a photo of Crew, ’cause I couldn’t remember the kid from Elliott’s barbecue, but I had no idea what Adrien Mercier looked like.

“Where’s the Fed?” Thankfully, Greer had the same question.

“Tall guy right behind Crew, talking to the bald man in a blue suit,” Danny responded.

Okay, noted.

“Anyone got eyes on Marco?” I asked quietly. Because he was my target. He knew where my daughter was.

I kept seeing her face… Her wavy hair, her silvery-blue eyes lit up with mischief…

The light of my life.

I heard her too. Crying out for me, begging me to save her. Each sob was a knife to my heart, and the echoes of her agony distorted the images of her cute-as-fuck, happy expression. Wiping away the grins and replacing them with pain and fear.

“He might be on the third patio—I don’t see him,” Reese replied.

Fuck. We were on the damn ground; we couldn’t see that high up.

I blew out a breath and rolled my shoulders. We were running on too little sleep, and the general discomfort was fucking with my concentration. All I heard was the cacophony from the guests and the constant splats of waterdrops hitting leaves. Rainforests were never quiet.

Shay had been joined by more men, one of whom was speaking to the crowd.

Welcome to tonight’s entertainment!

You got a preview last night. Everyone excited?

Goddamn monsters.

They were done murdering. From now on, they served as my target practice.

Enzo and Marco Blanco were off-limits because of the intel they sat on, but that was it. The rest were going down. Not counting women and children, of course.

“I think that’s Enzo,” River reported. “The man walking up onstage now.”

I catalogued the old man’s features. He walked with a slight limp, not from an injury but possibly a bad hip. He looked to be around seventy. He soaked up the applause he received and spoke to their guests about the “American boy.”

Then the motherfucker announced another “warm-up,” and he fucking asked for volunteers. That sick son of a bitch. From what I’d heard, Shay didn’t lose. Enzo was sending young, inexperienced punks to a certain death.

“Motherfucker,” Reese whispered. “We need to—”

“Don’t even.” Danny cut in. “There’re too many children around, man.”

I checked my watch quickly. It was past midnight. According to Crew, most of the younger children were usually escorted to the village of villas past the entertainment area right around now. But that was more a guess than data. Crew and Mercier had been here twenty-four hours longer than us. We just didn’t have enough to go on.

Four young men took the stage, ready to challenge Shay in the warm-up, and everyone applauded.

Enzo Blanco left the stage, and I followed him through my scope until he disappeared up on the third patio.

“Suspected Enzo is on the third patio,” I said.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >74

Advertisement Learning to Run – The Education of the Heart Read Online M.A. Innes http://www.books2020.com/learning-to-run-the-education-of-the-heart-read-online-m-a-innes Sat, 23 Sep 2023 20:10:37 +0000 https://www.booksnovels.com/learning-to-run-the-education-of-the-heart-read-online-m-a-innes Genre: GLBT Authors: M.A. Innes Advertisement

Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >78

“How do you know if you’re a hostage?”

Bates
His boys ask the most interesting questions, but Bates wouldn’t have it any other way. They’re fabulously curious and wonderfully unique, and they’re quickly becoming the center of his world even though they haven’t technically known each other very long. But there are definitely more important things than time when it comes to falling in love.

Gareth
It isn’t his fault that life is weird and he has a growing list of questions, but thankfully, he has the best boyfriends he could’ve ever dreamed up because his list just keeps getting longer and longer. But Gareth knows questions are good and the answers are always fun, especially when some end with tails and playtime.

Cashel
How Gareth’s questions led to his own switchy crisis, Cashel still can’t quite figure out, but it just seems to be what happens when he’s surrounded by crazy on all sides. And the insanity is contagious because Jude’s acting even stranger and now Brady is asking his own growing list of the weirdest questions ever.

When a nosy neighbor falls for two curious cuties, it will take some kinky exploration and a bit of hostage negotiations to bring this family together forever.

Author’s This is a continuation of the story for Gareth, Cashel, and Bates from Learning to Walk . This is not a standalone.

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

Chapter 1

Gareth

Jude was insane…and possibly angry about something.

“He’s glaring at me.” I hadn’t really tried to whisper, but I leaned closer to Cash, so it counted as being polite. “We’ve slept here for two nights. I want to come and I want to sleep with Bates again.”

Jude frowned deeper.

Yep, he’d heard.

But, considering he was only about five feet away and leaning against the front door, that probably couldn’t be helped.

So it wasn’t rude, just unavoidable.

“You talking about orgasms might be why he’s frowning.” Cash was trying to look serious but it wasn’t working. His eyes kept twinkling, and I could hear the way he wanted to laugh. “That kind of makes him weird.”

That wasn’t my fault.

“I’m not talking about anything kinky or private. Everybody orgasms. It’s like that Everybody Poops book. This isn’t rocket science.” My logic didn’t make Jude happy, but it didn’t make him any more frustrated, so I was counting it as a win of some sort. “We agreed to be here more. We did that.”

I’d thought they were frustrated about chores or making sure someone was here to feed Brady, but it wasn’t about anything practical at all. For some reason, Jude and Brady thought we were moving too fast and trusting too easily and smiling too much.

Unsurprisingly, the last one had come from Jude.

“I’m not sure we should’ve agreed with that.” Cash’s answer was aimed at me but he kept his eyes glued on Jude. “I think we lost ground there. Do you think Bates would let us move in with him?”

It wasn’t what I would’ve done first to handle the weird situation, but it might not have been a bad idea if we could work out some of the details.

“I don’t know if he has enough storage space for three adults.” The one-bedroom apartments didn’t have enough closet space. “Oh, and he’s probably going to say we have to do the spanking thing first before we could live with him.”

And who would feed Brady?

We hadn’t even done a chore chart either, so there were lots of things we needed to talk about first.

But in the last few days, we’d gone through limits lists and definitions and Cash had come to the realization that the world wouldn’t end if he saw my penis. We were making good progress on a lot of fronts.

My spanking was just around the corner as long as being stuck in the apartment didn’t throw up any more conversations we were supposed to have had. Those always popped up out of nowhere and I was kind of tired of them.

“Good point.” Cash nodded, still looking at Jude and the door. “We need to remember to bring clothes for tomorrow. I’m tired of doing the walk of shame in my pajamas. We’ve run into that same guy way too many times.”

He thought we were funny and was always polite, so I wasn’t sure what Cash was worried about. Besides, he looked good in his pajamas and there was no way I was the only person who’d noticed that.

“Maybe we should just bring a few clothes down there so we don’t have to worry about that? I could pick up some extra toothbrushes and stuff tomorrow.” That made Jude frown even deeper.

Something about good oral hygiene seemed to drive him crazy, but I had to take care of Cash like he took care of me so it was important.

“You’re not moving in with someone you’ve only been on one date with.” Jude was so worked up, if we’d been in a cartoon, steam would’ve been coming out of his ears.

Happy Doms really were much sexier.

“I think it’s been at least two.” Turning to Cash, I frowned. “Didn’t it count when we brought him a sub?”

Cash finally looked away from Jude. “I thought so. Oh, and what about when he bought us Chinese food? That counts too if we’re going by eating out in some way makes it a date.”

Worked for me.

“Three dates.” I tried to look happy as I pointed that out to Jude but smiling just made him more insane. “See? That’s much better.”

“You can’t move in with someone after one date and two takeout dinners.” Jude was smart for remembering our dates but just repeating what we’d already said didn’t make him right.

“One of those was lunch.” I thought being clear about that was important, but Jude just looked up at the sky and started mumbling about being saved. “And we’ve eaten regular meals at his place too. So that probably counts in some way.”

Maybe there was some conversion chart, like three snacks equaled one dinner?

Jude was still mumbling up at the ceiling, so he wasn’t in the right headspace to be productive. I couldn’t decide if he was talking to Jesus, Santa, or another god he hadn’t mentioned before, but I wasn’t sure anyone was going to help. Santa didn’t reward cranky people and I didn’t think Jesus would either.

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