Insta-Love – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Insta-Love – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:22 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.1 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Insta-Love – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Willing Captive Read Online Alexa Riley http://www.books2020.com/willing-captive-read-online-alexa-riley Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:22 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/willing-captive-read-online-alexa-riley Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Authors: Alexa Riley Advertisement

Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)

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Leo has inherited a laundromat from a distant uncle she never met. With only warnings from her mother not to get involved, she doesn’t have much to go on. But it turns out that running the new business is mind numbingly boring. Her secret daydreams of the laundromat being part of the mafia and becoming the wife of a kingpin start to fade away… until Mattia shows up.
Mattia is in the middle of handling business when he looks up to find Leo pointing a can of pepper spray at him. No one in this town threatens him, let alone a woman half his size. He can’t let her find out who he truly is, but for some reason, he can’t stay away.
Over the top? And then some! This mafia romance is less about being dark and more about being ridiculous. Have some fun with us as we follow these two into their happily ever after

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

Chapter 1

Leo

The wild adventure I thought I was getting has been pretty dull. I fight a yawn, knowing if I let one go, I’ll be doing it for the rest of the day. I could use a nap after staying up way too late reading. It’s kind of ridiculous because I read most of the day, but I always promise myself just one more chapter.

There’s only so much I can do at a laundromat, and it doesn’t exactly take a lot of time. I check the machines and empty out the change. Then I sweep a few times and take the trash out. It’s tedious, especially when I built a whole scenario on how this would go in my head. Doing that is normal for me. I’ve been told more than a few times I live too much inside of my own imagination. That in itself sounds silly, but I understand the sentiment.

When a man in a swanky suit knocked on my door and informed me that I had a long-lost uncle on my mother’s side who left me a laundromat, I was excited for a new journey. Not that I was on a journey to begin with, but I had to start somewhere. That’s what life’s about, and I wanted to get out there and live it.

Ignoring all the times my mom told me that her family was bad news, I was focused on getting out of the small town I lived in. Sure, she wasn’t in contact with any of them, but I never agreed to that. Besides, the uncle that left it to me is dead, so I’m not sure it fully counts.

Either way, I wasn’t telling my mom about it. She would have told me to turn them down and send them away, but there’s no adventure in that. That’s how I ended up living a state away in my very own laundromat. Thankfully it came with the apartment above it.

The entire laundromat reminds me of something out of a mob movie. Maybe it has to do with all of my mother’s warnings about her family and not being involved with them. Or it could be that I saw my uncle’s name, Antonio Rossi, and that made me pause. It sounds like the name a gangster would have. Not that I know a ton about the mob outside of movies and books.

In the few weeks since I’ve been here, there hasn’t been any mob activity, and no one has asked me to launder money. Although once I googled what laundering money means and that it has nothing to do with actually washing it, I was disappointed.

I strum my fingers on the small counter that I spend most of my day sitting behind and debate if I should heat up leftover Chinese food for dinner or toss a pizza in the oven.

The bell over the door chimes, and I glance up as a man in his mid-twenties comes rushing in. He pauses when our eyes meet and raises his chin before slowing his steps. He heads for the other side of the laundromat, but he doesn’t have any laundry with him. My guess is he’s meeting the person bringing it here.

When another yawn almost hits me, I grab some quarters and go over to the vending machine. I’ve never had an energy drink, but that might do the trick. After I key the number in and it drops down, I crack it open for a taste.

“Ew,” I mutter to myself before I take another sip. It’s just as bad the second time, but I keep drinking it. I already paid for it, and I won’t let it go to waste.

I take my seat behind the counter again and watch as the man lingers in the corner. I debate if I should tell him that the washer he’s at isn’t the best out of the bunch when another man comes striding in. All the words on my lips evaporate at the sight of the new guy. Not because he clearly doesn’t belong but at how incredibly attractive he is.

He’s got dark hair with striking blue eyes that are hard to miss. His broad shoulders are encased in a dark gray suit that was made to fit him like a second skin. He isn’t paying any attention to me as he zeroes in on the other guy.

I brace for an argument of some kind, thinking I should probably go ahead and start calling the police, but this is free reality TV right in front of me. It’s exciting until the man in the suit pulls out a gun and pistol-whips the other guy. It happens so fast, I have no time to react. All I can do is stand there and watch it happen.

Blood splatter goes everywhere before the man in the suit slams the other guy into the washing machine behind him. Well, at least he did it against the bad one.

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Advertisement Blitz (Redline Kings MC #10) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.books2020.com/blitz-redline-kings-mc-10-read-online-fiona-davenport Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:06 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/blitz-redline-kings-mc-10-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Erotic, Insta-Love, MC, Virgin Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: Redline Kings MC Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)

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Canyon “Blitz” Madsen didn’t believe in mercy. When the Redline Kings MC secretary learned one of his prospects was an undercover fed, he planned to seduce the agent’s innocent younger sister as revenge. But he ultimately decided it was a line he wouldn’t cross.

Then he met Aubrey Cullen and knew leaving her alone wasn’t an option. One look at the sweet nanny, and Blitz was gone. Now caught between the secret that could destroy them and the fierce need to protect her, he’ll do anything to keep Aubrey safe—even working with the FBI brother he once wanted to destroy

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

1

BLITZ

Istepped out of Jax’s office—the tech genius for my MC—letting the heavy door swing shut behind me. I moved into the hallway and braced my shoulder against the wall, staring at the opposite one without really seeing it. A heavy tension had settled deep in my gut, like an anchor dragging me down. I knew this feeling. It was fucking betrayal.

The realization twisted into anger, confusion, and frustration. A prospect I’d brought into the fold, a man I’d called a friend and soon-to-be brother, was something else entirely. Tripp was something dangerous. And hidden.

As secretary for the club, I oversaw prospect development and evaluated whether they were truly Redline Kings material. Knowing I’d fucked up so spectacularly was like swallowing jagged glass.

Fuck!

I blew out a slow, measured breath and rubbed a hand roughly over my jaw, replaying it all back from the very beginning.

I’d met Tripp at an underground race months back. Our MC was built on and surrounded by the racing culture. Motorcycles, cars, legal races, and illegal ones—we had our hands in all of it.

Our president, Kane, was a world-renowned racer. Despite being big for a driver, he was known for his sharp reflexes and calm dominance. His body knew exactly how to handle any motorcycle or race car he drove without having to think about it. Then he won enough races to gain the capital to build his own racing teams and eventually tracks. Combining all of that with smart investments, he’d become a billionaire and a fucking giant in the industry—controlling the professional and underground racing world in the South the way the DeLuca crime family ruled New York.

Everyone knew not to fuck with Kane or his brother, Edge, our VP. And when they founded the Redline Kings, he hadn’t even been given a road name. He’d built his reputation as a fair but merciless, lethal motherfucker, so definitively that his real name became synonymous with fear and respect. When people heard “Kane,” they already knew who the hell it was.

Tripp had raced that first night, landing an impressive fourth place. Not dominant enough to trigger suspicion, but clearly talented. I’d come in second, finishing just behind Edge. Afterward, I’d approached the newcomer, teasing him good-naturedly about finishing fourth.

Tripp had taken the ribbing easily, flashing a quick grin and giving as good as he got. That night had started our friendship.

From then on, we’d hang out frequently after races, sharing drinks and jokes and forging a strong camaraderie. Soon, I started bringing him around the club socially and introducing him to the brothers. He’d fit in surprisingly well.

Eventually, I’d suggested prospecting. Kane told Jax to run a background check on him. Everything had checked out—family, old addresses, etc. His employment history had been thin, but he’d won enough races for us to assume he lived mostly off the purses he’d earned

Tripp had quickly earned the club’s trust. He was funny, laid back, and undeniably talented, but something about him had always seemed just slightly off. I’d attributed it to past trauma, sensing that Tripp carried some unseen weight that he didn’t share openly.

But as time passed, more subtle inconsistencies emerged.

Looking back now, the first time I should have noticed something was off was when we went to the gun range. We always took prospects to assess their ability with weapons so we knew who could be sent on certain runs, and if they were eligible for certain roles, like being an enforcer.

Tripp had obviously had weapons training, and when I inquired about it, he told me it was from learning to hunt with his dad. But that wouldn’t explain his expert marksmanship with handguns. And while Tripp’s dossier showed that he had a concealed weapons permit, he’d mentioned that he didn’t own a gun.

I noticed Tripp avoiding conversations about family and deflecting any questions that became too personal. He redirected attention quietly, carefully keeping the focus off himself. I initially chalked it up to private struggles, but now it seemed far more deliberate.

Then the federal raid had happened. A warehouse just outside Crossbend, sitting near a critical transport corridor used by the MC’s operations, had been busted wide fucking open. The feds discovered that it was a major hub for laundering, trafficking, and weapons operations.

The Redline Kings had zero ties to that warehouse or its activities, but it didn’t matter. The warehouse sat dangerously close to routes frequently traveled by the club’s vehicles—transport rigs, security teams, and race equipment.

In hindsight, it was obvious that federal surveillance had captured Kings-affiliated vehicles repeatedly moving through the area. The feds wouldn’t have realized it was coincidental—they would have begun building a case, theorizing a connection between the warehouse operations and Kane’s empire. It was exactly the kind of misunderstanding that could’ve done massive damage.

Except it didn’t.

Because just before the raid went down, Tripp had brought unusual activity to Kane’s attention—strange vehicles parked near the transport route, unfamiliar surveillance gear, and odd movements along the corridor. At the time, it seemed exactly what a loyal, observant prospect would do, eager to prove himself to the club. Kane had agreed it felt off and had promptly rerouted all Kings-related vehicles through alternate routes as a precaution.

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Advertisement Bred by the Cowboys – Wild Rides Read Online Stephanie Brother http://www.books2020.com/bred-read-online-the-cowboys-wild-rides-read-online-stephanie-brother Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:00 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/bred-read-online-the-cowboys-wild-rides-read-online-stephanie-brother Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Novella Authors: Stephanie Brother Advertisement

Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)

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One wild night between two rugged cowboys… which one has put a baby in me?

Brookes and Mason Caldwell are cowboys who ride hard, fight harder, and take what they want. I should’ve known better. But I wanted one impulsive, filthy, mind-altering night with Mason’s mouth on my neck and Brookes watching from the shadows like he couldn’t decide whether to join, or just make me beg.

When they find out what’s growing in my belly, they insist I move to their ranch.

They say it doesn’t matter whose baby it is. That I belong to them. That they’ll share.

But the idea of a life with two men like them? It’s reckless. Impossible.

They want me between them, held open, keeping them warm in the most intimate ways, and dripping with everything they’re willing to give.

They like to edge me, watch me beg, and make me fall apart over and over again.

The way they are should terrify me, but I can’t stop thinking about what it feels like with both of them around me, inside me, owning me.

But can a girl like me really fit between two rough ranchers with darker needs, and build a family that was never supposed to be?

In Rockwell Ridge, scandals don’t stay secret for long. Will the truth break us… or bind us together for good?

Hold on to your horse, because this kinky, forbidden, fast-burn, cowboy menage romance features a secret baby, found family, and two brothers who want to keep one woman full and on the edge

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

Chapter 1

Janey

Spending an entire evening trying to avoid staring at Brookes and Mason Fletcher would be easier if they didn’t make it so hard to look anywhere else.

We’re at a first birthday party, for heaven's sake. Not a bar or a club where ogling members of the opposite sex is expected.

And there has definitely been ogling in both directions.

The party wound down, with most of the other guests hitting the road, but not Brookes and Mason. They sit on their cousins’ porch swing, sipping beer like the whole wide stretch of sprawling land and open night air was built around them.

Mason leans back with one arm stretched along the backrest, his posture loose in a way that still manages to feel deliberate. Brookes sits beside him, his body more contained, his weight angled slightly forward, his attention sharper.

Two brothers. Same blood. Totally different gravity.

And I’m drawn to both.

I lean against the doorway, transfixed in a way I haven’t been over a member of the opposite sex in far too long.

Mason draws the eye first. His shirt pulls across his chest when he shifts, the fabric stretched, hinting at the thick, solid muscle underneath. The sleeves strain slightly at his upper arms, exposing sun-browned skin and a faded line of ink curling and disappearing beneath the fabric. His forearm rests along the back of the swing, strong and marked, with a pale scar cutting across it. His fingers flex idly, as if he's always half a second away from doing something with them.

Something filthy and amazing, probably. Or tough. He looks like the kind of man who could wring the neck of a wild beast or a violent man without breaking a sweat.

My gaze lingers on him longer than it should. Longer than I mean it to.

Brookes is different. He’s quieter in a way that makes him harder to read and, somehow, harder to look away from once I start. Where Mason spreads his arms and legs wide to take up space, Brookes seems to hold himself in, like everything about him is controlled. His sleeves are rolled as well, though the muscle there is leaner and more defined; the kind that’s formed by repetition rather than force. There’s a small, almost hidden mark at his wrist, ink that disappears when his hand shifts, subtle enough that it feels private. His hands rest loosely in his lap, though there is nothing soft about them. They look as capable, rough, and familiar with work as his brother’s.

I’m ogling.

Again.

Heat creeps up the back of my neck as I drag my gaze away, suddenly very aware of myself in a way I have been all night. Of how I must look. Of how I must seem.

Eager, probably. Hungry. Shameless.

Desperate to be grabbed by those hands and held down. Made to do things I really want to do, even though I’d pretend otherwise.

This is ridiculous.

I'm not a teenager. I don’t lose my composure over a couple of men who must be at least a decade older than me. I might be young, but I have a good head on my shoulders and a set of boundaries that keep me away from temptation and danger.

My eyes flick back anyway.

Mason shifts, dragging his boot across the porch floor, the movement slow and unhurried, pulling the denim of his jeans tight across his thighs, and the ease of it sends a small, unwelcome ripple through me. It’s his confidence. The complete lack of self-consciousness, as though he knows exactly who and what he is and has never once questioned it.

Brookes glances toward the house, and for half a second, our eyes almost meet. I look away before they do, my pulse picking up for no good reason.

Except there is a reason.

It sits low in my stomach, warm and restless, spreading slowly the longer I stand here pretending I'm unaffected and in control.

I shift my weight, pressing my thighs together slightly, as if that might ease the ache.

It doesn’t.

If anything, it makes me more aware of it. I’m warm and swollen down there, and maybe a little slick from all my filthy cowboy-centered fantasies.

Which is… deeply inconvenient.

I draw in a quiet breath, trying to center myself, though my attention drifts back out to the porch like it has a mind of its own.

Two brothers. Two rugged, older, imposing ranchers.

A very bad idea waiting to happen.

The worst part is how little that thought deters me.

“Earth to Janey.”

I jump, turning back into the kitchen to find my best friend Joelle watching me with a knowing expression, “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t hear you come in. It’s been a long day.”

“Mm-hmm.” Her tone carries enough skepticism to make my face warm. “You planning on going to bed anytime soon, or are you going to keep pretending you aren’t interested in those two hunks of men out there?”

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Advertisement Bronco (Cuddle a Cowboy #1) Read Online Mia Brody http://www.books2020.com/bronco-cuddle-a-cowboy-1-read-online-mia-brody Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:55 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/bronco-cuddle-a-cowboy-1-read-online-mia-brody Genre: Alpha Male, Forbidden, Insta-Love, Virgin Authors: Mia Brody Series: Cuddle a Cowboy Series by Mia Brody
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)

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I did a teeny, tiny bad thing for a very good reason.

Lauren

When I heard my aunt was about to lose her home, I couldn’t just sit by. I had to do something. So, I started a fundraiser inviting people to cuddle a cowboy and well, it kind of went viral.

Now, women are bidding on these big, bearded cowboys who are grumpy and scowling. But the grumpiest one is Bronco. He’s my brother’s best friend, and he’s furious with me for using his farm this way.

I should probably tell him that I got the winning bid on him.

Bronco

This cowboy wants to cuddle. Problem is, the only one I want to cuddle is my best friend’s little sister. She’s sunshine and sweetness and temptation rolled into one vintage vixen.

When I told her to use the farm as a fundraiser, I had no idea she’d be putting me on the auction block.

Now, it’s time for this cowboy to put his boot down and show Lauren that she’s the one who belongs in his arms.

If you love a gruff cowboy who will do anything to make his curvy woman smile, then climb onto Bronco’s horse. It’s going to be a wild ride, but you’ll ache in the best way.

This is a steamy cowboy rom com with plenty of on-page spice between a gruff cowboy and his curvy woman set in the welcoming, small town of Courage County. If that sounds like your kind of story, click to read now

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

Chapter 1

Lauren

I read a statistic that said if you have one person you can call in the middle of the night who will drop everything to come help you, then you should count yourself lucky. Well, I guess I’m doubly lucky because my person also happens to be a cranky cowboy with a heart of pure gold.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The moment, I hear my brother’s best friend’s voice some of the tension bleeds from my shoulders. He is the cranky cowboy. He’s cranky with everyone. Except me.

I stare at my bedroom wall where the water spot grows bigger by the second, a distinct rushing sound behind it. I whisper into the phone, “I need you.”

“I’m on the way.”

It’s two in the morning. He doesn’t sound all that awake, but his tone is gentle. It could make a girl think she were special to him if she were foolish enough to believe in such things. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Wasn’t sleeping anyway,” he answers as if I can’t read the lie in his rumbly voice. Still, it makes me feel better that he’s trying to make me feel better. Bronco has been like this as long as I’ve known him, though I’ve only known him for a few years.

He and my brother, Vale, became best friends when they were serving in the Marines together. They were supposed to come home and start a ranch for veterans, a place where guys returning from combat could transition back to civilian life.

Except that only one of them came home.

Now, Bronco looks after me because I’m his responsibility. The little sister he inherited from Vale. Problem is, I’ve never once looked at Bronco and thought of him as a big brother. I’ve always thought of him as a man—a big, gruff man with eyes that are stormy blue and a bushy beard I want to touch.

I listen to the sound of his quiet breathing and the rustle of clothes as he pulls them on. Does Bronco sleep naked? Is that a normal thing to wonder about your brother’s best friend? Somehow, I don’t think it is.

I wish things were different between us. I wish he’d want me back. I wish he’d take me in his arms and kiss me until I can’t think anymore. But if I can’t have that, then I wish I didn’t think of him at all. I wish I could be content, happy even, with his begrudging friendship.

Instead, I’m stuck with a helpless crush that I’ve never been able to shake. I guess, it’s my fault really. When Vale told me about Staff Sergeant Hayes, a gruff loner with no family of his own, something in my heart hurt.

I hated the idea that there was a man out there, willing to give everything to protect his men and no one was looking out for him.

After that, when I sent care packages to Vale, I included little treats for Bronco. He never said thank you or acknowledged a thing I did. But I knew it mattered. I knew it in the way that only someone who’s been abandoned too could know it.

“Tell me something,” he says, and I hear the truck door slam. He’s on the way. Help is on the way. Tears prick at my eyes when the thought comes, and I have to blink them back. Bronco doesn’t know how bad things are here. No one does.

I haven’t told him because it’s not his mess. This is my mess. I made it. I have to figure out how to clean it up. Except that I’ve never been so scared in my life, and I’m terrified that the people I care most about are going to pay for it.

“Like w-what?” I ask, stalling for time.

“A favorite memory,” he answers easily. “What’s one of your favorite memories?”

It only takes me a moment to think of one. “There used to be a magnolia tree on the property. It was the first thing I noticed the day my mom aban—dropped me and Vale off here.”

I’m not sure how much of our past Vale told Bronco. I don’t guess it matters. A lot of kids are abandoned by their drug addicted mom. Most kids just aren’t abandoned by their mom at a retirement community.

My Aunt Elaine is the director of the Wildflower Retirement Community. She didn’t blink or hesitate when my mom left the two of us on her doorstep. She hugged both me and Vale, gave us her trademark sunny smile, and promised that things were going to be all right.

Because of her, I grew up in this retirement home. I spent my days running the halls and doing craft time with the seniors. It was like having a big extended family filled with dozens and dozens of grandparents. Most of them doted on us, and very few complained about the noise we made. Instead, we were embraced as part of the community.

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Advertisement Crowned by The Wolf Prince – Ravenous Royal Read Online Olivia T. Turner http://www.books2020.com/crowned-read-online-the-wolf-prince-ravenous-royal-read-online-olivia-t-turner Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:46 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/crowned-read-online-the-wolf-prince-ravenous-royal-read-online-olivia-t-turner Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Insta-Love, Paranormal, Suspense Authors: Olivia T. Turner Advertisement

Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >37

Olivia T. Turner's second instalment in the Ravenous Royals series.
Description coming soon...
Glamour. Intrigue. Desire hot enough to burn down a palace.

These possessive princes and kings won’t settle for just any woman. They want their queen. The one true love who can bring these powerful royals to their knees.

New standalone stories by your favorite best-selling steamy romance authors, Hope Ford, Olivia T. Turner, and Michele Mills.

A crown has never been so sinful

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

Prologue

Kieran

“Do you think he has made his decision, cousin?” Lucan asks as we race past the guards patrolling the front gate. I have a step on him as we head to the high tower where my father, the Wolf King, has his office.

“Is there any doubt?” I say with a carefree laugh, bursting through the wooden doors of the tower. “The Wolf King made his decision the second I emerged from the womb and let out a mighty howl.”

“More like a pathetic whimper while you pissed yourself,” Lucan says, grunting to try and catch up.

I leap onto the curling stone staircase and race up the tower. Lucan is right behind me.

“Whoever gets to the top first gets to be the next king,” I say, laughing as I turn the bend. A maid screams in fright, plastering herself against the wall as we run past her.

“I’ll take that deal,” Lucan says as I pass the stained-glass window of our grandfather, the great Wolf King Breyor. He ruled for four prosperous decades before he died and passed the throne onto his oldest son, Lucan’s father.

But Lucan’s father only lasted three years as the Wolf King of the Stormfur Realm before he unexpectedly died eight years ago when my cousin and I were six. My uncle had barely begun his rule before an accident at sea took his life, along with the lives of both our mothers. The ocean bordering our Western front turned rough and violent while my mother and the King and Queen were traveling up North. No one on the ship survived that horrible day.

So, the crown passed to the last remaining heir, my father, Wolf King Axton.

He has been a good king. A fair king. A strong king.

The Stormfur Realm has been prosperous and safe during his rule. King Alaric and his Moonborne Kingdom along our Eastern flank has respected our pack and our borders, and the human kingdom to the south has remained relatively peaceful. My dad has done a good job. Better than my uncle would have done, no matter what Lucan has to say about it.

My heart is racing as I fly up the steps as fast as I can. Only one floor to go.

“Get ready to bow to the next king,” I say, laughing in triumph. “You have no chance.”

But Lucan rarely plays fair. He grabs my ankle and yanks it back. I stumble on the stairs, slamming my shin against the sharp stone step. He laughs as he pushes me down and races past me.

I curse and slam my fist into the stone, jumping up to catch him.

He arrives at my father’s office first, bursting through the giant wooden doors and stepping inside.

Lucan stops at the threshold of the office, clasping his hands behind his back and lowering his head—a sign of respect—although there’s no respect in my cousin. He looks at me over his shoulder with a malicious grin as I catch up.

I bump into him with my shoulder as I take the same pose—hands behind my back, head lowered in reverence.

“King Lucan,” he whispers. “I like the sound of that.”

“Never going to happen while I’m alive,” I whisper back.

I raise my head an inch and sneak a peek at my father. He’s sitting on the other side of the vast room, speaking with his advisor amongst endless stacks of parchment. That’s what the pups of the pack get wrong. They think being a Wolf King is all danger and glory, when in reality, it is mostly meetings and paperwork.

My father’s eye meets mine and he gives me a wink. Lightness fills my chest. Pride surges through my veins as I stand a little taller.

I adore my father. Not only is he a great king, he is a wonderful dad. When I was a young pup, sitting on his shoulders as he marched through town, all of the pack showering us with smiles and kind words, I felt like the luckiest wolf shifter in the land.

“Boys,” he says, waving us in. “Join me.”

He turns his attention back to the parchment as his advisor finishes up, cleaning up the stack and taking it with him.

I look around the cavernous room, wondering if this office may be mine one day with the towering shelves of books lining the walls all the way up to the tall ceiling. A ceiling that is covered in a grand fresco of a gruesome ancient battle between my wolf ancestors and the barbarous humans.

A fire is raging in the massive stone fireplace, filling the room with the warm scent of burning wood and sending shadows flickering across the stone floor.

Lucan and I are subtly exchanging arm punches as we walk across the vast room. The old wrinkly advisor, Morrick, notices and gives us a disapproving frown as he passes us on the way to the door.

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Advertisement Gauge (Redline Kings MC #11) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.books2020.com/gauge-redline-kings-mc-11-read-online-fiona-davenport Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:34 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/gauge-redline-kings-mc-11-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Erotic, Insta-Love, MC, Virgin Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: Redline Kings MC Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 42479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >46

As the man who kept the Redline Kings’ garage running smooth, Gauge fixed bikes and stayed out of trouble. Until Riley Mercer rolled into Crossbend. One look at the sassy beauty with car trouble, and Gauge knew she was his.
He gave Riley the job she desperately needed, but when he found out she was on the run from the law, Gauge didn’t fire her. He protected her. Now he’ll clear her name so he can claim the only woman who’s ever matched him under the hood

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

1

RILEY

When my mom warned me that my dedication to my job would be the death of me, she’d meant the hours I put in. Not what I stumbled across tonight. But I really wished we were close enough that I hadn’t shrugged off her concern because then maybe I wouldn’t have accidentally discovered physical inventory shortages on high-value performance parts.

Wondering what the heck was going on, I headed to my boss’s office. When I found his son there instead, I almost changed my mind about saying anything. Shawn wasn’t my favorite person at the garage, but Tim had been giving him more responsibility over the past few months.

I’d been irritated by that decision because Shawn didn’t take his job very seriously. He was kicked back in his dad’s chair like he already owned the place, scrolling on his phone.

He didn’t even bother to look up as he murmured, “What do you need?”

“For you to do your job,” I muttered.

His head jerked up, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you complaining about?”

I strode forward, stopping behind one of the chairs in front of the desk. “When your dad handled the inventory, there weren’t huge mistakes like this.”

His gaze zeroed in on the clipboard I was holding. “You shouldn’t poke around where you don’t belong.”

“I belong here more than you do,” I shot back. “Customers ask for me by name. I’ve been building bikes and tuning cars since I was eighteen. You just sign the checks your daddy gives you.”

His grin faltered, but that didn’t stop him from blustering. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

I dropped the paperwork onto the desk. “The wiring harness this shows for the Conrad job I did last week is wrong. Same with the dog-box transmission. The parts listed are half the cost of what I actually used.”

He shook his head. “You’re wrong.”

“Wrong?” I echoed, my eyes widening. “That’s not possible. I selected each part and installed it myself.”

Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s not what the records show.”

“Only because you messed up.” A horrible possibility crossed my mind. “Please tell me you didn’t charge them for the cheaper parts listed. That’d mean we lost sixty thousand on the job instead of making a healthy profit.”

“That’s none of your damn business,” he growled. “You’re a performance technician. Focus on the cars. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Your dad⁠—”

Slamming his hands on top of the desk, Shawn stood. “Leave my father out of this.”

“But he⁠—”

“Won’t believe a word you say.” He flashed me a smug smile. “I’m his son. The one he trusts to run this place.”

“And you’re already proving he shouldn’t have if you’re making giant mistakes like this.”

“It’s a good thing you’re good with engines because you’re not as smart as you think you are.” Something ugly flashed in his eyes. “Go running to my dad, and you’ll find your name all over this shit.”

My head reared back. “What?”

“I’ve been planning for this, sweetheart. Paper trail’s already pointing straight at you. Parts signed out under your login. Deposits that look like you were skimming. Hell, I even made a couple of transfers from an account with your name on it.”

This was even worse than I’d thought. None of this was a mistake. Shawn was embezzling from his own father’s business. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” He circled the desk. “You say one word to my old man or the cops, and you’re the one going down. I’ll make sure of it. And trust me—you really don’t want to get tangled up with the people I’ve been paying off with that money. Those guys don’t play nice. They make problems disappear. Permanently.”

The threat landed how he wanted. Racing shops attracted all kinds, and some of them had dangerous connections that went way beyond the track. “You’re a piece of crap, Shawn.”

He smirked. “Maybe. But I’m a piece of shit who’s covered his ass. Run along, Riley. Keep your mouth shut, and maybe I’ll let you keep your job. Or don’t. Either way, you’re fucked.”

I turned and walked out, my mind racing faster than any car on the dyno. I had one chance to get out before everything I’d built went up in flames. Heading straight to the bay next to mine, I plugged the USB drive I kept on my keychain for diagnostics into the workstation's computer. It was mainly used to look up OEM or aftermarket technical manuals, wiring diagrams, and parts specs. But there was access to other systems too, so I copied every suspicious file I could find and yanked the drive out before Shawn realized what I was doing.

My hands didn’t shake as I grabbed my best tools from my bay and some stuff from my locker. Then I slipped out the back door where my car waited in the employee lot. I popped the trunk and loaded everything inside. After a quick stop at my apartment, I hit the nearest ATM to pull out as much cash as I could. Even using the app to increase my daily withdrawal limit, I could only pull out a few thousand dollars, but it was enough to disappear for a little while.

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Advertisement Give In to Me – East Coast Mafia Read Online Marian Tee http://www.books2020.com/give-in-to-me-east-coast-mafia-read-online-marian-tee Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:32 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/give-in-to-me-east-coast-mafia-read-online-marian-tee Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Mafia Authors: Marian Tee Advertisement

Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >78

She asked him to prom. He showed up with her sister.

In Come Back to Me, Katy had just turned eighteen when she met billionaire Julian Ventura. He looked at her then like she was the answer to a question he never wanted to ask.
A year had to pass before their first kiss. But it only took one lie from the person she trusted most to tear them apart.
In Come Here, 20-year-old Nebra farm girl Elsa Lively sat in the third row for two years, drawing circles and pretending she wasn’t in love with her professor.
For those same two years, billionaire Luciano Salvatore pretended he didn’t notice. It was how he stayed civilized. It was how he kept her alive.
Because Luciano was a very dangerous man…and the day Elsa figured out why, the line he’d held for two years was the first thing to break.

Note: Both books are standalone romances previously published under my pen name Martha Ruthie

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

Chapter 1

DIONNE SAID HIS NAME like it was nothing.

“Julian, this is my sister Katy. Katy, Julian Ventura. We were at school together.”

They were standing on the terrace at Haven Country Club, the jacaranda throwing purple shadows across the stone, and Dionne had one hand on Katy’s shoulder, casual, sisterly, already turning back to her iced tea. It was Katy’s eighteenth birthday. Dionne had picked her up that morning in the black Audi that smelled like leather and the good perfume and had said I’m taking you to lunch, my treat, somewhere special. Haven Country Club, where a cobb salad cost more than Katy’s weekly grocery budget and the members wore watches that could pay off Amy’s medical debt. It was the nicest thing Dionne had ever done for her, and Katy had spent the first twenty minutes just trying not to touch anything.

Then Dionne spotted an old university friend crossing the terrace and waved him over, and the whole thing was supposed to be a nothing introduction, ten seconds of social choreography between courses.

Katy glanced up.

He was tall. Dark-haired. He had blue eyes, which shouldn’t have mattered. Katy had seen blue eyes before, on boys at school and actors on screens and the old man who ran the laundromat on Fig and who always saved her a dryer. Blue eyes were blue eyes. She knew this. She was eighteen years old today, as of seven that morning, and sensible about most things, and she knew that the color of a person’s eyes wasn’t a reason for the floor to tilt.

But his eyes weren’t the blue she knew. They were the blue at the center of a gas flame, hot and pale and ringed with something darker, and when they settled on her face, she felt every nerve in her body stand up and pay attention.

He regarded her for one second.

Maybe two.

And then his whole face went taut.

It was fast. If she’d blinked she would have missed it, but she didn’t blink, because her body had locked into place the moment his eyes met hers and blinking was no longer a function her nervous system was willing to perform. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth. It stayed there for a beat too long, then tracked lower, to her throat, to the collar of her dress, and came back up. When his eyes met hers again, they were darker. The pale blue had gone hot, the pupils blown wide, and the expression on his face was something she’d never seen directed at her before, something she didn’t have a name for because she was eighteen and had never been assessed like she was the answer to a question a man hadn’t wanted to ask.

It lasted less than two seconds. Then his expression shuttered, so fast it was like a door slamming. In its place was a face so neutral it could have been carved from the terrace stone.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. Low voice. Unhurried. Perfectly composed, as if nothing had just happened behind his eyes.

But something had.

Katy had caught it.

“Hi,” she managed.

That was it.

Hi.

One syllable.

She was a person who said hi to people she liked and sorry to people she bumped into and once went an entire school dance without speaking to anyone because the music was loud and she didn’t know where to put her hands. She wasn’t the girl who had a good line ready. She wasn’t the girl who had any line ready. She was the girl who stood there with her heart slamming against her ribs and a feeling blooming inside her chest like a flower opening too fast, petals everywhere, no way to close it back up.

He nodded at Dionne and moved on. His shoulders cut a straight line through the terrace crowd, and Katy followed his path until he disappeared, then sat down and picked up her fork and put it down again because her hand wouldn’t hold still.

It wasn’t just her hand. It was also the heat. It was sitting in a wrought-iron chair on a terrace in Los Angeles on the day she turned eighteen, absorbing the absence where a man had just been standing, and feeling warmth spread across her skin, a phantom trace left by his attention. She touched her throat where his eyes had lingered. The skin there felt the same as always. It didn’t feel the same at all.

Dionne was talking about a case at work. Something about a deposition. Katy said mmhmm and wow and that’s insane at what she hoped were the right intervals and tasted nothing of the birthday lunch her sister had paid for and couldn’t stop studying the spot on the terrace where he’d been standing and thought, with the calm, clear certainty of a girl who had never been calm or clear about anything: I’ve found him.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >78

Advertisement Hold On to Me – East Coast Mafia Read Online Marian Tee http://www.books2020.com/hold-on-to-me-east-coast-mafia-read-online-marian-tee Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:31 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/hold-on-to-me-east-coast-mafia-read-online-marian-tee Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Marian Tee Advertisement

Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >97

In Captivated, Ciana Reyes was twenty-four the first time she poured champagne for Andrei Almazov at forty thousand feet…and spent the entire flight pretending not to notice the scar, the silence, or the way he watched her. She didn’t know then that her airline would be his before the month was out. She didn’t know about the promise he’d made to a dying man through prison glass.

His one duty was to keep her safe. But because she made it impossible for Andrei to keep his word…he did the only thing left. He made sure she saw him with someone else.

In Caressed, young, starry-eyed masseuse Star Thornton spent every Thursday evening with Artem Almazov, the unsmiling billionaire who owned the cruise ship she worked on. Her hands would find his scars, and his body told her things his mouth never would. But just as her heart became his…Artem walked away like she had never touched him at all.

Note: Both books are standalone romances previously published under my pen name Martha Ruthie. These books are spin-offs of the Monaco Bratva series

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

Captivated

Chapter 1

THE CHAMPAGNE WAS A 2011 Blanc de Blancs, and Ciana Reyes poured it the way she poured everything: without a wasted motion, with the kind of control that came from four years of serving first class at thirty-nine thousand feet and a lifetime of refusing to let her hands betray her.

They were betraying her now.

Not visibly. No passenger in cabin would have noticed the micro-tremor in her wrist as she tilted the bottle over the first flute. She caught it before the pour wobbled, locked her elbow, and let the wine fall in a clean, golden arc. But she knew. Her body had become aware of his presence before her eyes confirmed it, the way a compass needle swings north before the traveler has any idea which direction she’s facing.

Seat 1A. Third time in three weeks.

She set the flute on her tray without looking up. Moved to 1B, which was empty, as it always was when he flew. He bought both seats. She had noticed that the first time and told herself it was a business preference, the way some men needed silence the way others needed scotch. By the second time, she had stopped pretending she wasn’t cataloguing his habits.

He never reclined. He never slept. He never asked for anything beyond what was offered, and he declined half of that. He wore dark suits that fit him the way armour fit, not for beauty, but for containment. He was enormous in the way certain men were enormous: not just tall but dense with stillness, as though his body had been designed for a kind of violence he had chosen, very deliberately, to hold in reserve.

And the scar. A pale silver seam that ran from his left temple to the hinge of his jaw, pulling the skin taut over the cheekbone in a way that should have been disfiguring but wasn’t. It changed his face, made it more dangerous and impossible to look away from.

Ciana looked away.

She delivered the flute to 1A. "Your champagne, sir."

He took it without touching her fingers. He was meticulous about that, his hand always arriving a breath before or after hers, maintaining a margin of air between his skin and hers that felt less like courtesy and more like a perimeter. She had started to think of it as the exclusion zone. Two centimetres of nothing that somehow weighed more than any hand that had ever actually touched her.

“Thank you.” Low. Accented. Russian, she thought, though it had been sanded down by years of something else. French, maybe. The vowels sat differently in his mouth than they would in a native speaker’s.

She nodded. Smiled. Cabin-professional, eyes-neutral, the expression she had perfected at twenty and now wore like a second uniform. She retreated to the galley.

Raven Burnett was already there, leaning against the beverage cart with her arms crossed and one eyebrow doing the thing it did when she had an observation she was going to deliver whether Ciana wanted it or not.

"Three weeks," Raven said.

"Don’t."

"Three weeks, Ci. Same seat. Same flight. Same look on his face like he’s running long division in his head and you’re the remainder that won’t resolve."

Ciana pulled a bottle of still water from the drawer and cracked the seal. "He’s a frequent flyer. We’ve several."

“We’ve several who fly this route. We don’t have several who watch you like you’re a problem they’re trying to solve.” Raven uncrossed her arms and reached for a packet of shortbread, tearing it open with her teeth. “I’m not saying it’s sinister. I’m saying it’s something. And you—” She pointed the shortbread at Ciana. “—are pretending it’s nothing because the alternative would require you to have a feeling, and we both know how you’re about those.”

"I’ve feelings."

"Name one."

"Irritation. With you. Right now."

Raven grinned, wide, unrepentant, the kind of smile that had gotten her out of trouble and into it in roughly equal measure since they’d met in training four years ago. She was Ciana’s closest friend, which wasn’t the same thing as saying they were alike. Raven had opinions the way weather systems had wind: constantly, forcefully, and with no regard for whether you’d brought an umbrella. She dated with cheerful recklessness, had a tattoo she’d gotten in Lisbon that she refused to explain, and kept a running spreadsheet of every airline she intended to fly for before she turned thirty. She wasn’t, in any meaningful sense, a safe harbour. She was a dare. Ciana loved her for it, mostly because Raven never once tried to be anything else.

"His hands," Raven said, quieter now.

Ciana stilled. "What about them?"

"You were looking at his hands when you poured. Not at the glass. At his hands."

That was true, and Ciana hated that it was true, and she hated even more that Raven had seen it. His hands were... she didn’t have the right word. Large, obviously. Scarred across the knuckles the way hands got scarred when they’d met hard surfaces repeatedly and without gloves. But what had stopped her, what had made her pour go unsteady for a fraction of a second, was the way he held the champagne flute. Delicately. With a precision that didn’t match the rest of him, as though the glass were something he could break without noticing and he had decided, with great private discipline, not to.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >97

Advertisement Keep Me – East Coast Mafia Read Online Marian Tee http://www.books2020.com/keep-me-east-coast-mafia-read-online-marian-tee Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:29 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/keep-me-east-coast-mafia-read-online-marian-tee Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Mafia Authors: Marian Tee Advertisement

Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 51733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >52

She was too young to be his bride. Now she’s the only woman he’ll ever fight to keep…

For the first time ever, HER OVERPROTECTIVE FIANCÉ and HER BRUTAL FIRST LOVE are published in one book.
“I’ll never let you go,” my mafia billionaire fiancé once told me.
I was only fifteen when Giancarlo Marchetti, Boston’s most feared mafia heir, saved me from becoming a madman’s bride by claiming me as his own.
Years later, he storms back into my life, more dangerous than ever, and furious that I might belong to someone else.
He doesn’t care what I want.
He only cares that I was his

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

Eight Years Ago

Ropes

IT TAKES MORE EFFORT than I assumed, but I eventually manage to rip the cord off the lampstand.

Am I really going to do this?

I start yanking the cord from both ends.

Seems okay...

But can it hold my weight long enough until I die?

Only one fucking way to find out.

Tears burn my eyes even as I force myself to get moving.

It's not like I have a fucking choice.

I climb up the sink, and it gets harder and harder to fight back my tears.

It's better this way.

Because they made it so fucking clear, even with all of their faces covered, and none of them saying a single word—-

You know it is.

The way they had smirked and high-fived each other said it all.

And I'd rather die than let them have their way.

I tie the cord around my neck, and my tears finally start falling.

Fuck you, assholes.

I loop the cord around the beam.

Tighten the one around my neck until my lungs begin to struggle.

It's the cue I'm both dreading and waiting for.

Just think of it as flying.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Fly. I'm just going to fly. That's all.

I step off the counter.

Bang!

But I'm too late.

No. Fuck. No.

Instead of flying, I hear the bedroom door crash open, and a whirlpool of despair threatens to swallow me up.

No!

It's the sound of hell knocking on my door, and a scream rips out of my throat when someone grabs my legs.

Nooooooooooooooo!

I'm screaming and kicking as fear eats me alive from within.

NO! NO! NO!

I feel myself slowly losing my mind.

Please, please, please.

The cord around my neck loosens, and I start clawing whatever I can reach.

Can't anyone please help me?

Someone starts speaking, but my mind has already started to disintegrate.

I don't want this.

My body grows heavy, and my knees start to fold.

Please.

I know I'm about to lose consciousness, and I just know—-

Please, somebody, please.

When I wake up, I'll no longer be who I was.

Can't somebody help me?

I can't seem to stop begging even though I know no one's there to rescue me.

Please.

And yet...

Please.

I could've sworn someone heard my heart crying out.

Please.

And answered me with the words I had dreamt of my entire life.

"Sei al sicuro."

You're safe now.

Cages

DON'T OPEN YOUR EYES.

It's the first thing that pops into my mind when I regain consciousness.

Don't move.

Because I can sense someone staring at me even with my eyes still closed.

Don't panic.

But my heart is an idiot like always, and it starts racing uncontrollably.

Am I...okay?

I know the word is lame as fuck, but it's all I can handle right now.

I just want to know if I'm...okay.

So, let's see...

I'm still fully clothed, for one.

And from what I've read, the part between my legs is supposed to hurt.

If I'm not okay, that is.

But I think...I am.

Right?

Because if I'm wrong, then I should feel differently.

I'd know...right?

If I'm not...okay?

"I know you're awake."

FUCK.

It takes everything in me to stay abso-fucking-lutely still and not open my eyes. The voice may have sounded gentle and distinctly female, but who gives a shit? I bet people said the same thing about the Countess of Bath just before she had their bodies drained of blood.

"You have no reason to believe me yet, but you're safe with us."

Yeah right.

"Signor Marchetti—-"

Did she just say 'Marchetti'?

"It's no use to keep pretending you're asleep when your heart rate just spiked up."

Fuck.

The truth in her words is a hard pill to swallow, but I still feel nauseous like hell as I slowly force my eyes open.

Fuck.

Why is everything spinning?

"It's alright. Just take deep breaths."

The other woman's words make me feel like a fucking baby, and I hate it.

But with the world around me still spinning, it's not like I have a choice.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I do as she says even when I feel stupid, and after a few more tries, the spinning eventually slows down, and my head gradually stops throbbing as well.

"Better?"

It takes another dose of courage to make myself turn towards the voice.

Oh.

I expected someone in her thirties, but instead, I found a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl seated next to my bed. I'm guessing she's just a few years older. Maybe 20 or 21 to my fifteen. But either way, who gives a shit? She's a stranger to me still, and that's enough reason for me not to trust her.

We stare at each other, and impatience eventually gets the better of me.

"Who are you?" I ask in a guarded tone.

Her lips curve in a smile, and she looks even more angelic than she already does.

Not buying it.

"Will you believe me if I say I'm simply someone who wants to help?"

"Only if you'll tell me what you're hoping to get in exchange."

"And if I say I have nothing to gain?"

"Then no. I don't believe you just want to help me," I answer flatly, but the words only cause her blue eyes to twinkle.

Cray, I think right away.

No doubt about it: this girl isn't in her right mind.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >52

Advertisement Hooked by Hudson – Silver Spoon Cowboys Read Online Nichole Rose http://www.books2020.com/hooked-read-online-hudson-silver-spoon-cowboys-read-online-nichole-rose Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:20 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/hooked-read-online-hudson-silver-spoon-cowboys-read-online-nichole-rose Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Authors: Nichole Rose Advertisement

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >27

One look and he was hooked. One “no” and he was obsessed.

Hudson
I have the world at my feet.
Power and iron-clad authority are my birthrights, and “no” isn’t a word in my vocabulary. I’m used to people bowing to my name and melting under my gaze. I’ve always been the hunter, never the prey. Until I meet Tinsley Essen.
Stunning, sharp, and maddeningly indifferent, Tinsley doesn’t give a damn about my billions or my influence. She’s completely immune to my charm, meeting my commands with a bored yawn and my arrogance with a single arched brow.
For the first time in my life, I’ve met a force I can’t control. I was supposed to be the one doing the hooking, but one look at Tinsley and I’m the one caught. Now, I’ll do whatever it takes to break down her walls and prove that while she might not need me, I’m never letting her go.
I’m about to learn that the only thing more addictive than power is the one woman who refuses to give it to me.

Tinsley
I’ve spent my life building a world where I don’t have to answer to anyone—especially men like Hudson Carrington.
He’s used to the world parting like the Red Sea when he walks into a room. He expects a bow, a blush, or total surrender. But to me? He’s just another suit with too much ego and a look in his eyes that says he’s never been told “no” in his life.
It’s a word I’m finding more and more pleasure in using.
His billions don’t move me. His shadow doesn’t intimidate me. And his “legendary” charm? It’s nothing more than a polished weapon I have no intention of falling for. But Hudson isn’t just a man who wants his way, he’s a man who has decided I’m his next conquest.
He thinks he’s the one doing the hunting, but he’s about to find out I don’t play by anyone’s rules but my own. He can try to buy my time and command my attention, but my heart isn’t for sale.
The problem is, the harder I push him away, the closer he gets and I’m having a hard time fighting the pull between us.

In this fast-paced, steamy instalove romance, the powerful billionaire cowboy is about to learn that the only thing more addictive than power is a woman who tells him “no.”

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

CHAPTER ONE

HUDSON

When things go to shit, they really go to shit. My morning had it out for me long before I stepped foot outside my door. The technical failures began when my smart home system decided to skip the alarm, leaving me to wake up forty minutes behind schedule.

After rushing through the shower and dressing, I reach the kitchen, looking forward to some strong fucking coffee. The universe isn’t done dishing out hell though. The high-end espresso machine my sister gave me for Christmas decides to violently reject its latest pod, spraying dark roast across my chest with the accuracy of a marksman. “Fucking goddamn hell,” I mutter, grabbing a napkin. While I’m changing into another shirt, the Silver Spoon Falls skies open up with a vengeance. That’s when I remember that my garage remote bit the dust yesterday, and I parked my truck in the front circular drive. Fucking hell.

By the time I settle into the front seat, I’m soaking wet. The morning from hell just keeps fucking giving. The drive into town takes me twice as long as it usually does when I get stuck behind a goddamn cattle truck with nowhere to be. I’m not sure the day could get any worse. I park in the underground garage at the Montoya Investments building already fifteen minutes late for a meeting with Cash Montoya.

I shoot Cash a quick text, letting him know I’m on my way, and stalk past the reception desk, boots squeaking at every step. Fuck. I should’ve stayed in bed. A headache pounds away behind my eyes, and I’m running dangerously low on patience for any of the universe’s games.

"Stop right there, sir."

The voice isn't loud, but it’s got the structural integrity of a reinforced concrete wall. I freeze, my hand inches from the glass, and turn to look at the source. She’s sitting behind the curved marble desk looking at the puddle forming around my feet with an expression of profound, clinical boredom.

She’s a redhead with hair like copper spun into silk with too much heat, the kind that looks like it would almost burn your hand if you reached out to touch it. Her eyes are striking. They’re sharp and that shade of clear aqua you see in photos of tropical oceans, only so bright and intense up close.

My heart pounds away as my cock turns to steel in my pants. Fuck. She’s curvy with beautiful, lush lines that her crisp, professional outfit is definitely struggling to contain. Her jawline is so firm and decisive, and when her eyes meet mine, it’s with a gaze that could stop a man in his tracks.

"Hudson Carrington. I have an appointment with Cash Montoya," I say, waiting for her to wave me through.

"Hold on, Mr. Carrington," she says, finally meeting my gaze. She doesn't reach for the phone. She doesn't even move her hands from where they’re resting on the desk, fingers poised over a keyboard like she’s waiting for me to finish being a nuisance so she can get back to something actually important. "And I’ll check you in."

“I usually just go straight up,” I mutter, my brain struggling to fire as I stare at the most perfect woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I catch a whiff of her citrusy perfume and nearly groan out loud. My eyes trail down her luscious body. The way her silk blouse clings to the swell of her breasts causes her tits to strain against the fabric in a way that makes my mouth go dry. I want to know if her skin’s as soft as it looks. What the fuck is happening to me? I notice her name badge. “Tinsley.” Even her goddamn name is beautiful. Motherfucker. I’m sounding just like my dumbass, pussy-whipped brother.

“Well, today, you’re going to wait while I check you in.” She smiles at me as shock flows through me. I stand there like a fucking bump on a log and watch while she types something on the keyboard. My entire world is spinning off its axis while she looks completely fucking unfazed by meeting me. Then she looks up and meets my eyes, and the air between us feels like it’s been charged with high-voltage electricity.

She smiles at me and points toward the elevator. "Mr. Montoya’s office is on the nineteenth floor. They’re ready for you."

“Thank you,” I mutter, standing there for a beat too long, watching her return her attention to her monitor like she’s already forgotten I exist. It’s both goddamn infuriating and the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in years. I turn away, my boots still squeaking, but my mind isn't on the meeting anymore. It’s on the curvy little firecracker who just gave me the shock of my life.

"Hudson? You with us?" Cash asks, tapping a rhythmic beat on the tabletop. He’s looking at me with a mix of amusement and concern, probably because I haven't looked at the projections he’s been discussing for the last ten minutes.

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