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

Suspense – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:16:59 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Suspense – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Brutal (Vexley Sin Trilogy #1) Read Online Helen Hardt http://www.books2020.com/brutal-vexley-sin-trilogy-1-read-online-helen-hardt Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:16:59 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/brutal-vexley-sin-trilogy-1-read-online-helen-hardt Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Suspense Authors: Helen Hardt Series: Vexley Sin Trilogy Series by Helen Hardt
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 77171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)

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The Vexley empire was forged in blood the night three brothers crossed a line no man should survive—Samson with violence, Nathaniel with power, and Cain with a mind ruthless enough to design it all. The world sees wealth, control, and untouchable authority, but beneath it lies a secret capable of destroying everything they built.

Welcome to The Vexley Sin Trilogy—three dark romances where ruthless men meet the only women capable of bringing them to their knees

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

PROLOGUE

Rain pelts, making the wooden dock slick.

I shouldn’t be here.

I know it.

I knew it the second I left the car, the second I chose not to wait, not to call it in, not to hand this off to someone safer.

But safer doesn’t get you this close.

And I am close.

Close enough to feel it.

The truth has a weight to it. You don’t see it, not at first, but once you do, it settles in your bones.

The file inside my coat does exactly that.

It’s enough.

Enough to prove that what looks like separate companies, separate deals, separate incidents is anything but.

It’s all the same thing.

I press my hand briefly against my chest, feeling the edge of the folder through the fabric.

This is proof.

Not rumor. Not suspicion.

Proof from a reliable source who slipped it to me minutes ago.

The kind of proof that brings down families. Powerful families who think they can’t be touched.

But they can.

This is how I redeem myself. How I become what my girl deserves. What I should have been long ago.

The marina is quieter than it should be.

That’s the first thing that’s wrong.

Too quiet.

Like something already happened. I slow as I move down the dock.

I wasn’t supposed to come this far. That’s the second thing.

The meeting point was closer to shore where the light is better.

So either I misunderstood the instructions…or they changed.

Voices carry over the water. I stop to listen.

There are at least two of them.

No. Three.

The third doesn’t speak.

That’s how I know he’s the most dangerous one there.

“…not the way⁠—”

“…it doesn’t matter⁠—”

“It matters if⁠—”

The words cut off abruptly.

Something tightens in my chest.

This isn’t how the meeting is supposed to go.

I shouldn’t be here.

The thought hits again. I turn slightly, glancing back toward the shore.

I’ve come too far now. It’s too late.

I take another step forward.

I need to confirm, because if the contents of this file are true, I can destroy this family, their careers, their fortunes, their legacies.

All gone in an instant.

And they know it.

They have to.

Which means I’ve already crossed the line.

I slip on the damp wood, and my shoe makes a loud scrape.

Too loud.

The voices stop.

All of them.

I freeze.

Every instinct I have screams at me to move. To walk away. Not to run. That would make me look like I have something to hide.

I turn.

Take one step back.

Then another.

But behind me⁠—

A hand clamps around my arm and yanks me backward. Hard.

I don’t scream. I don’t gasp. But I stumble, catching myself on instinct, the file shifting under my coat.

“What the hell⁠—”

The man in front of me is bigger than I expected, and I don’t just mean size. His presence is big, the kind that owns every room he steps into.

He isn’t surprised.

He isn’t confused.

He isn’t even angry.

He’s simply fixated, as if I’ve stepped exactly where I was meant to.

“That’s far enough,” he says.

I swallow. “You’re making a mistake.” I keep my voice steady because I know what I’m holding. Because I know what it means.

He tightens his grip on me, pulling me away from the edge, while another man emerges from the shadows. This one isn’t quite as big, but already I can see his eyes even in the dark—emerald green and hard. Eyes that don’t miss anything.

And behind both of them, still in the shadow, is a third. Tall but thinner than the other two. Lanky, actually, like he still has to grow into his size.

He watches.

“I don’t think so,” the second man says.

I let out a breath. “You don’t understand,” I say. “What I have⁠—”

“We understand exactly what you have.” From the first man. The big one.

My pulse spikes. “Then you understand what happens next. This doesn’t stay here. It doesn’t disappear. I made sure of that.”

Rain hammers harder against the dock. Water splashes up against the wood.

The man holding me shifts slightly, just enough to further tighten his grip.

“Did something change?” I ask. “I was told that⁠—”

“Shut up!” The man holding me squeezes my throat.

I suck in a breath.

The third man in the shadows tilts his head, just slightly.

He’s not concerned. Not threatened.

And that’s when I know this is all wrong.

Not just the location.

Not just the timing.

Me.

I’m wrong.

I’m not supposed to be here.

“I think,” the second man says quietly, “you’ve misunderstood your position.”

I shake my head. “No. I know exactly where I stand.”

But do I?

The second man moves. And everything that happens next goes too quickly to stop.

Too quickly to fix.

The file shifts under my coat as I go down.

The last thing I understand is that whatever was supposed to happen here tonight with these three men…

I wasn’t part of it.

And that’s why I’m not walking away.

1

SAMSON

Fifteen years later…

The club smells like old money, perfume, and quiet corruption.

Yeah, corruption has a smell, kind of like dirt that’s laced with blood and a touch of manure. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who can smell it. My old man sure can’t.

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Advertisement Contempt of Court (Verdict Trilogy #2) Read Online Whitney G http://www.books2020.com/contempt-of-court-verdict-trilogy-2-read-online-whitney-g Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:16:33 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/contempt-of-court-verdict-trilogy-2-read-online-whitney-g Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Novella, Suspense Authors: Whitney G. Series: Verdict Trilogy Series by Whitney G
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Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >25

It's not my fault I lied to him.

I had to.

Alas, Jameson Tate might be the biggest walking hypocrite on the planet because his deeply harbored secrets make mine look like child's play.

Still, I started to trust him.

To believe in him.

But as more things begin to unravel, I regret ever meeting him...

The second installment in The Verdict Trilogy from New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Whitney G

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

TAINTED EVIDENCE (N.):

IN A CRIMINAL TRIAL, INFORMATION WHICH HAS BEEN OBTAINED BY ILLEGAL MEANS OR HAS BEEN TRACED THROUGH EVIDENCE ACQUIRED BY ILLEGAL SEARCH AND/OR SEIZURE.

JAMESON

The best liars in this world are the ones who don’t know they’re lying.

They’re so committed to the role they’re playing that they actually believe they’ve become someone else. And no matter how many times you try to show them reality, they refuse to take off their masks.

They’re incapable of stepping off the stage.

“Scarlett Winters,” though?

She’s a fucking terrible liar.

And her real last name is apparently “Hunter” like her father’s…

The slight clench of her jaw, the flash of “please believe me” in her irises, and the soft stutter before she serves certain sentences—her lying is some of the most obvious I’ve ever seen.

What’s different about her lying is the timing—the way her bombs drop in the silence and derail the peaceful ride that came before.

I’m now convinced that she just frolics through life lying for fun.

She’s not even getting paid for it.

I look over at where her father—my client—is staring at her and try to mentally rewind the words he just said. To see if maybe—just maybe—I misheard them.

“She’s my daughter…”

“Is this my karma of some sort?” I ask. “I’ve heard it doesn’t usually work this fast.”

“Huh?” Lucas looks at me. “What did you say, Mr. Tate?”

“I was talking to myself out loud,” I say. “Ignore me.”

He shoots me a confused look before returning his attention to Scarlett.

“Now isn’t a good time for us to talk,” he says to her. “I’m meeting with a special lawyer about some business, and I’m sure you can see that…”

“Yes.” Her cheeks flush red as she trails off. “I can see that.”

“Well, leave us to it then.” He flicks his wrist, flashing a million-dollar watch that looks similar to one of mine. “I’ll deal with you once we’re finished here.”

As will I…

She stands still, not moving.

“Scarlett.” He narrows his eyes at her. “Leave the room so we can start our meeting.”

“I was hoping I could stay—to maybe help?” She slightly stutters. “Since I’ll be a part of the family business someday, I can take notes.”

“That’ll be years from now.” His expression softens, but he walks to the door and opens it. “Out.”

She shoots an “I’m so sorry” look at me before leaving the room.

Her father locks the door.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “My daughter can be quite unpredictable at times.”

“I’m unfortunately aware.”

“How?” He arches a brow. “Have you met her before today?”

Fuck. “No. I was just agreeing to be agreeable.”

“Interesting.” He looks like he doesn’t believe me, but there’s no way in hell I’m addressing anything Scarlett-related for the rest of the day.

“Go ahead and tell me everything you need my firm to work on for you, Lucas,” I say, taking a seat. “Don’t skip over any details.”

“I would never.” He sits across from me, tapping his fingers against the wood-grain table like usual, taking his precious time as if his is more valuable than mine.

“An undercover detective is watching my every move these days,” he says finally. “Actually, there are three of them.”

“I’m sure you’re not surprised by that.”

“I’m not.” He smiles. “But with these new charges and three of my real men having to lay low for a while, I need some new people I can trust.”

“This is a law firm, Lucas,” I say. “Not a staffing agency.”

“I need you to see to it that no one gets in trouble when these undercover detectives are mysteriously beaten to within an inch of their lives sometime this weekend.”

Jesus Christ... I stare at him.

“It’s been quite fun toying with them and pretending like I don’t know what they’re up to,” he says, “but I have a real empire to run, and I can’t afford to waste any more time.”

“I told you to stop giving me advance notice on you committing crimes.” I hold back a sigh. “I like to pretend that you’re somewhat innocent.”

“I am.” He smiles. “I’ve never been convicted of a crime. I don’t even have a parking ticket.”

“Is that all you need?” I ask. “Help with assault charges?”

“If they get caught.”

They will…

“Fine. Anything else?”

“Two more things.” He nods and pulls out something from his breast pocket, sliding it to me.

“First, I think someone might be stealing from my daughter,” he says. “I think that⁠—”

“Today’s the first day I’m realizing you have a daughter.” I can’t help but interrupt. “I know about your sons, but you’ve never mentioned her once. Why?”

“Because she’s a disappointment.” There’s a harshness in his tone. “At least, she has been for a while, and I don’t like discussing my weaknesses.”

I sit up, slightly offended and confused at the same time.

“My daughter—unfortunately—is a naive dreamer who still sees the world in black and white.” He shakes his head. “She has no idea about the grayness you and I operate in, and she thinks she still has a chance at being a stage actress someday.”

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Advertisement Every Single Broken Piece Read Online Michelle Heard http://www.books2020.com/every-single-broken-piece-read-online-michelle-heard Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:16:00 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/every-single-broken-piece-read-online-michelle-heard Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Suspense Authors: Michelle Heard Advertisement

Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)

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A tattooed, touch-averse alpha becomes the sunshine to a grieving woman’s darkness—but the secret connecting him to her family’s brutal murder could destroy the love that’s healing them both. From USA Today bestselling author Michelle Heard.

Kelcie

After losing my entire family in a brutal attack, I’m drowning in grief. The only bright spot? My mysterious new neighbor, Levi—a tattooed bestselling author who somehow understands my pain.

He’s grumpy, he’s damaged, and he hates being touched. Except by me.

Levi

I moved next door to Kelcie for one to make sure she’s okay after the tragedy that took her family. A tragedy I know more about than I should.

She’s the only person whose touch doesn’t make my skin crawl. The only one who makes me want to be whole again.

But I’m hiding a devastating secret—one that connects me to the worst night of her life. And when she discovers the truth, it could destroy the fragile love we’ve built from our broken pieces

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

Chapter 1

Kelcie

Levi Graye, 32. Kelcie Woodruff, 24.

Taking a sip of my vanilla iced latte, I savor the delicious taste.

“Mmm . . . I could drink it every day and never grow tired of it.”

This heaven-in-a-cup sensation became my latest addiction at the beginning of the summer, and every afternoon, I take a walk to Dixie’s Coffee.

Mrs. Dixon, the store owner, chuckles as she shakes her head. “I’ve noticed, but you won’t hear me complaining.”

She’s so used to seeing my face, she now has my drink ready the moment I walk into her quaint little coffee shop. I love the green and lilac décor and always feel at peace when I’m here.

Maybe it’s just Mrs. Dixon’s calm demeanor that rubs off on me. She might be in her sixties, but she doesn’t look it. Her red hair always hangs in perfect curls around her shoulders, and her pale blue eyes remind me of a clear sky on a warm summer’s day.

Honestly, she’s one of our town’s greatest treasures.

I give her a wave as I head toward the door. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Tell your mom I’ll be at tomorrow’s embroidery class,” she calls after me while wiping down the counter.

“I will,” I reply cheerfully before I step out onto the sidewalk.

While enjoying my latte, I smile at all the familiar faces as I pass them on Main Street. Nearing Mom’s store, I glance through the window, and not seeing any customers, I quickly slip inside. When the bell above the door jingles, Mom looks up from the romance novel she’s busy reading.

A warm smile spreads over her face. “Hi, buttercup.”

I lean against the counter and rest my elbows on the worn wood. “I’m on my way home.” I nod at my beverage. “Just got my daily dose of goodness.”

Mom takes the cup from me and helps herself to a sip before scrunching her face. “Wow, that’s sweet.”

Chuckling, I shake my head. “You say that every time.” I glance around at all the shelves stacked full of everything a person could ever need for embroidery and other arts and crafts. “How’s business?”

Mom reaches over the counter and tucks a few stray strands of hair behind my ear. “It’s a bit slow today.”

“Mrs. Dixon says she’s coming to the embroidery lesson tomorrow. Save her a seat.”

Mom’s smile widens while she shuts the book she’s reading. She’s one heck of a bookworm. For as long as I can remember, there hasn’t been a day when I haven’t seen her engrossed in a novel. I don’t share her love for books, unlike Sage and Jordan, my older siblings. Instead, I take after Dad and love whittling wood.

Three years ago, the folks in town found out about my little hobby when Mom asked me to make her bunnies and eggs so she could decorate her store for Easter. Since then, I’ve been getting orders from our neighbors. I also created an online store, and it’s become so successful that I’m able to make a decent living. Even though I can afford a place of my own, I still live with my parents, and I’m in no hurry to move out.

Looks-wise, I’m the spitting image of Mom with my light brown hair and brown eyes, whereas Sage and Jordan got their blond hair and green eyes from Dad. I’m also a head shorter than my siblings, which has contributed to them being overprotective of me.

I tap a finger on the cover of the book. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Oh yes.” Mom’s eyes light up. She loves talking about books. “This one has a lot of angst. The hero is so swoonworthy.”

A chuckle escapes me before I take a sip of my drink.

Laughter sounds up from out on the sidewalk, and I watch as three teen girls walk past the store. They look carefree and happy, and it has my smile growing. They wave at us before they continue down the street.

All in all, Verona is a happy little town with an everyone-is-your-neighbor feel. Sage and Jordan couldn’t leave quickly enough, but to me, it will always be home.

Dad was sworn in as mayor last year, and that elevated us to royalty status around here. It took months for me to get used to all the attention, but thankfully, it finally died down, and things are back to normal.

“Did you get that big order out in time?” Mom asks.

I had to whittle and paint one hundred Christmas balls for a store in Virginia. With the festive season a few months away, things are going to be super busy for a while.

“Yes. I plan to sleep for most of the weekend before I get started on the next order.”

“I’m happy to hear that. You haven’t taken a break in a while.” Her eyes drift over my face, then she asks, “What should we have for dinner?”

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Advertisement Fractured Promise (Where Promises Lie #1) Read Online Ivy Layne http://www.books2020.com/fractured-promise-where-promises-lie-1-read-online-ivy-layne Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:15:42 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/fractured-promise-where-promises-lie-1-read-online-ivy-layne Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Suspense Authors: Ivy Layne Series: Where Promises Lie Series by Ivy Layne
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)

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She chases answers. He guards secrets. Until their worlds collide in fire.

True crime podcaster Sylvie Calloway made a name chasing justice for forgotten women. But when her investigation into a quiet data analyst ends in a car bombing—and her camper van goes up in flames—she barely escapes with her life. Her only lead brings her to Sinclair Security—where she finds more questions than answers, and a man who swore he’d never work with a civilian… until walking away from her became impossible.

Eli Bishop has been on edge since his team lost their mentor under mysterious circumstances. Sylvie’s case links back to that disappearance, and the last thing he wants is a civilian complicating the investigation. Except Sylvie is nothing like he expects—sharp, fearless, too stunning to ignore—and the more she pushes back, the more he wants her by his side… and in his arms.

Forced into an uneasy partnership, Sylvie and Eli dig into a trail of lies, power, and buried crimes. Every answer brings them closer to a dangerous conspiracy—and to each other. As enemies close in, they realize the case is bigger than one murdered woman…

And someone will kill again to hide the truth.

She’s a target.
He’ll burn the world down to protect her.
But first—they have to survive the fire.

Fractured Promise is a standalone romance with a happy ending. It's the first book in the Where Promises Lie series, set in the world of Sinclair Security

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

Chapter One

SYLVIE

Don’t leave us hanging, Sylvie — when is the next season coming out?

Istared down at the comment on the post for the latest episode of my podcast, my finger hovering over the screen on my phone. I debated whether to respond. I loved talking to my listeners on social media, but I hated letting them down. And the truth was, there was one episode left of my current season, and I had no idea when the next season was coming out. I’d thought I had a plan, had felt the story taking shape in my mind, but the more I investigated the murder of Emily Shaw, the more questions I had. So far, I’d found very few answers. I scrolled away from the comment, removing the temptation to give a vague promise about soon.

Usually, I loved nothing more than diving into a cold case, hoping I could uncover something new and find answers for the dead and their families. I’d been intrigued by the first reports I’d found of Emily Shaw’s murder—a car bomb in suburban Knoxville—and further interested by the way she’d disappeared from the news as quickly as the unusual story had hit. Too quickly.

Murder was my bread and butter. I paid attention to the rhythms of the media. You could learn a lot from the way things were reported, and this one was pinging my radar. I’d dug in—and was getting nowhere.

I sat back in my chair, feeling unusually claustrophobic in my van. Normally, the compact living and working space felt snug and comforting. Today, everything felt like it fit too tight. I got like this when I was frustrated. Restless. I’d come to Atlanta following a lead, and that lead had thrown up a stone wall.

Another message illuminated the screen of my phone: Only one more episode left of this season. I can’t take the suspense.

That one made me grin. I led a solitary life, pretty much a one-woman show, but my listeners always made me feel like I was part of something bigger. Maybe because I’d started out as one of them. I’d been a true crime junkie since I was a kid, sneaking books off the shelf at the library. Aside from hiding my reading material from my mother, I’d been a rule follower back then. A good girl fascinated by darkness, by serial killers and criminals. In my real life, I dotted every I and crossed every T, got straight A’s, and was respectful to my elders, but I couldn’t quench my curiosity about those who walked outside the lines—and those who tracked them down and brought them to justice.

The second I discovered podcasting, I’d given up my books for endless episodes, digging into the minutiae of unsolved crimes, listening to shows that followed the crime all the way to conviction. I was captivated, but had the single worst day of my life not happened, I probably would have spent my entire life being the good girl, listening to my murder podcasts, and not doing anything about the stories that haunted me.

Being a good girl couldn’t save me from being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A life shoved brutally off course had turned into something new. I hadn’t planned to spend my life in a camper van chasing justice for murdered women, but the woman I’d become didn’t see any other path. I’d never get the justice I needed for myself, but I had a shot at getting it for someone else. Even then, filled with grief and a need for justice, I never thought about taking up the microphone myself.

Not until Carol Stevens.

Five years ago, I’d come across her case in a compilation episode of one of my favorite podcasts. Carol Stevens had been working the dinner shift in a restaurant; she’d had the job for a few years, knew most of the customers, was close with the staff. One night, she picked up her purse, changed her shoes, and walked out through the kitchen, waving good-bye to the line cook still cleaning the grill. The door was propped open to the parking lot, lit by a single streetlight that Carol had carefully parked beneath.

The line cook had watched her open the door to her car and lean down to get in before he’d turned back to the grill. When he looked up again a few minutes later, Carol’s car was still there, the door hanging open, her purse on the ground beside it. Carol was nowhere to be seen. Her body was found three weeks later, less than a quarter mile away, in a drainage ditch.

I didn’t know what it was about Carol Stevens’s case that got to me. Maybe it was that I’d waited tables to put myself through college and I knew what that was like—feet aching at the end of a long day, sweaty, the grease of the kitchen on my skin, my stomach growling, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and an equally hot meal, desperate to put my feet up and not feel obligated to smile at anyone for at least a few hours. I remembered what it was like to walk into that empty, dark parking lot. The way I, too, had always been careful to park under a light, as if that would protect me. The way the scuff of a foot on asphalt would have me spinning around in alarm.

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Advertisement Gravehouse (Cursed Lovers Duet #2) Read Online Amo Jones http://www.books2020.com/gravehouse-cursed-lovers-duet-2-read-online-amo-jones Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:15:34 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/gravehouse-cursed-lovers-duet-2-read-online-amo-jones Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Dark, Suspense Authors: Amo Jones Series: Cursed Lovers Duet Series by Amo Jones
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >102

She has his dead sister’s heart. And that makes her entirely forbidden.

A stranger died, and Jassy was given a second chance at life. Now she’s finally chasing her dream of becoming an actress…and falling hopelessly in love with the mysterious billionaire who saved her life. The only problem? He keeps pushing her away.
Maximo’s rigid routine shatters the moment Jassy moves under his roof. He wants her more than he’ll ever admit. So he does the only thing he knows how to do. He keeps hurting the woman he can’t stop wanting.

A billionaire age-gap romance featuring slow burn, forced proximity, protective alpha heroes, laugh-out-loud banter, and a heroine who wears her heart on her sleeve

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

PROLOGUE

Thud.

His head rolled under the grand piano.

Le Boucher Sans Loi watched blood spread across the marble and gather around his boots before it ran on toward the dead man’s severed hand.

The study had been arranged to announce power to anyone who got past the walnut doors. Shelves climbed two stories. Leather chairs faced the fireplace at careful angles. A crystal decanter waited beside two glasses, set out for the civilized conversation rich men preferred before arranging another person’s death.

One chair had overturned during the struggle. The dead man’s torso lay against it, shoulders wrenched back until it gave.

Le Boucher drew a cigar from inside his coat. His gloves left a dark smear across the wrapper. He inspected the damage, clipped the cap, and struck a match against the underside of the desk.

The flame caught, and smoke filled his mouth, bitter and warm, before he pushed it out through his nose. Beneath the tobacco sat the dense metal odor of fresh blood, opened bowels, and fear.

Death had a scent long before decay claimed it. Blood was a word that was easy to digest, but Blood was only the beginning.

No one would find this rot. He planned to leave it here until the ground took it back.

He lowered the match into one of the crystal glasses, killing the flame in the remaining whiskey.

The head beneath the piano faced the wall. Dark hair covered most of the cheek.

If he was being honest, Le Boucher didn't plan for the man to leave with his life, but he didn't expect to kill him so quickly either. Guess that was what he got for thinking Le Boucher was some hit man

His hand went to the back of his neck without permission. The muscle had knotted there, hard enough to ache. He rolled his shoulders once beneath his coat and took another pull from the cigar.

He looked toward the desk. One drawer stood open. A compact pistol lay half inside it, caught against a leather ledger. The dead man’s fingers had missed the grip by less than an inch.

“That went well,” Le Boucher murmured.

The dead were excellent confidants.

Crossing to the body meant stepping around the deepest blood. His soles peeled off the marble with each step. He crouched, setting the cigar across the rim of the clean glass. The dead man wore casual clothes, his collar open on a narrow strip of skin. No pulse there. Head under the piano aside.

Two fingers into the inside pocket found a wallet. Cards, cash, and a photograph folded twice.

He opened the photograph.

Three people huddled together, one a child. Le Boucher studied the child for one breath, then folded the picture along its old lines and returned it to the wallet.

Children deserved better.

He searched the outer pockets. Keys in the left. A small folding knife in the right. Two receipts, one from a private club and another from a jeweler. The jeweler’s total carried enough zeroes to buy affection from anyone willing to rent it by the hour.

A dark rectangle pressed against the fabric near his right hip.

There.

He drew out the phone and wiped the bloody edge against the dead man’s jacket before moving to the head and taking hold of the hair. The strands were damp between his gloves. He turned the face toward the ceiling.

The eyes were open.

One had filled with blood where a vessel had burst. The other stared past Le Boucher at the painted cherubs above the piano. The mouth hung open around a breath it never finished.

The neck had been cut cleanly. His weapon was made for that work, though human bone always demanded commitment. Anyone who claimed otherwise had only watched from a safe distance.

Le Boucher held the phone above the face.

The lock opened.

He lowered the head carefully. It rolled an inch before the cheek settled against the floor.

The phone showed a stack of notifications: missed calls, messages, a banking alert.

None carried the name he needed.

Back on his heels, he opened the messages. His thumb moved through conversations while the cigar burned behind him.

Most were useless.

Reason to believe failure. She has been infected. Nonna made sure of it.

Le Boucher opened that exchange.

Ah. So this is how we got to this point.

His jaw tightened. The cigar smoke no longer covered the odor rising from the rug. He stood and carried the phone to the desk, where the reading lamp threw a narrow pool of yellow across the ledger and pistol.

We will call in Le Boucher. He will handle it.

Arrogant bastard.

Killing him this early had made everything ahead harder. Le Boucher didn’t care. He had patience, and in time she would come apart the way everyone comes apart.

Under his knife.

CHAPTER

ONE

ASHER

ONE YEAR AGO

My odds were shit from the start. Either my name or the slopes were gonna take me out eventually. But her?

Fuck.

I try to lift my head, but it weighs a thousand pounds, pulling at the muscles in my neck.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >102

Advertisement His to Keep – Lake Fortune Read Online L.K. Farlow http://www.books2020.com/his-to-keep-lake-fortune-read-online-l-k-farlow Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:15:13 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/his-to-keep-lake-fortune-read-online-l-k-farlow Genre: Alpha Male, Suspense Authors: L.K. Farlow Advertisement

Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >107

The last thing I expected was to find safety in the arms of my enemy.

Ellis Wilder is the bane of my existence. As my ex's best friend, I know he feels the same way. Luckily, ignoring him, his stupidly good looks, and sharp tongue is all too easy.

What I can’t ignore are the anonymous love letters that seem to follow me everywhere I go. But when they turn from sweet to sinister, I know I need help. Unfortunately, I can only think of one man for the job.

Ellis is a protector down to his core and while he doesn’t like me, I know he'll keep me safe. Except his idea of security is forcing me to live under his roof, where he can keep an eye on me 'round the clock.

Being so close to him is as enthralling as it is suffocating, and before I know it, we're toeing the line between hate and something far more dangerous. Because the closer we get, the more I can't help but wonder…

Who will destroy me first—my stalker lurking in the shadows or the man that swears I’m now his to keep?

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

ONE

SCARLET

“This seat taken?” I ask, glancing up at the god of a man posted up at the bar, a lone bottle of beer in front of him.

He’s built like the freaking Hulk, with muscle on top of muscle. His blond hair’s cropped close on the sides with a long, unruly strip down the middle. He’s the definition of rugged, dressed in ripped jeans, a white tee, and a black vest. Oh, and his beard… don’t even get me started on his freaking beard.

Too bad he’s not interested—at least, if the scowl pointed my way is anything to go off.

Okay, then. Let’s pivot, because I need a damn drink or three, preferably on someone else’s dime.

I toss my hair over my shoulder and slide onto the barstool beside him anyway—it’s not like he can actually stop me from sitting here. He doesn’t own the seat.

It’s Friday, and The Creek, our local bar for the under-sixty crowd, is practically at capacity. I’m dressed to kill in a pair of ass-hugging jean shorts and a tank top that shows off exactly what I’m working with—so, who cares if this guy isn’t interested? Someone else will be.

I twist around in my seat and scan the densely packed space. There’s a group of guys at a high top that looks promising. They’re all decked out in plaid shirts, well-worn jeans, and work boots. They’re exactly my type—at least for tonight, because god knows I’m not looking for forever.

I’m just about to abandon my stool in favor of the guys at the high top, when the bartender slides a tall glass garnished with a lemon twist in front of me.

“Creek water for the lady.”

“Oh.” I glance up and down the bar, in case he’s mistaken me for someone else. “Um.”

“It’s what you usually order, right?” he asks, a subtle blush creeping across his cheeks.

“It is.” I nod, curling my fingers around the cool glass. “How’d you know?”

“Good memory.” He taps his temple and shrugs, averting his eyes before slowly bringing them back to me.

I can’t help but wonder if he’s this attentive to all of his customers, or if I’m somehow special.

“Well, thank you,” I murmur, offering him a small smile as I reach for the crisp twenty-dollar bill I tucked into my bra—my just in case money.

His cheeks go from pink to red, the neon beer signs overhead only serving to amplify the glow. It’s kind of adorable the way he flip-flops between self-assured and shy. “This one’s on the house.”

Well, it looks like my night’s already turning around. “Aren’t you a sweetheart…” I glance down at his nametag. “…Clint.”

He winks and heads off to help one of the many other patrons waiting to order.

I keep my gaze on the bartender for a long moment before finally taking a sip of my drink. It's ice cold, and I relish the tang of the lemon juice with the bite of the bourbon as I swallow it down.

Once my glass is nearly drained, I swivel my stool around and discreetly check out the guys I have my eye on. Out of the six of them, one is a hard no thanks to the thick, silver wedding band he's proudly rocking, three are doable, and the other two are absolutely fuck-hot.

“You are a badass bitch,” I whisper to myself before tossing back the last of my drink and fluffing my hair.

The hulking, silent man next to me snorts a laugh, and I whip around to glare at him. “Something funny, asshole?”

“No, no.” He waves me away as if I’m nothing more than an annoying little bug before taking a long pull from his beer. “As you were.”

“You clearly have something to say,” I hiss, rattling the ice in my now empty glass.

He looks me up and down before smirking. His silence is infuriating. I'm tempted to tell him off, but, before I can, someone crowds into my left side.

A mouthwatering and familiar scent invades my nostrils, and I know exactly who’s behind me. Ellis fucking Wilder. It’s unfair for someone so unpleasant to smell so good. Like cedarwood, clove, and a hint of patchouli… like temptation and bad decisions.

“Who let you out of hell for the night?” he asks, his deep voice closer than I expected, causing me to shiver, despite the overly warm room.

Tall, dark, and shitty attitude snorts into his beer, and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Why are you here, Officer Jackass?” I ask, without turning to look at him.

“You know, I'm starting to worry about your memory, Scar,” he murmurs as he flags down the bartender. “You seem so forgetful these days.”

I scoff, prepared to rain down hell on his obnoxious ass, but in typical Ellis fashion, he doesn't let me get a word in edgewise.

“I mean, we've been over this... I'm not a cop anymore.” He speaks the words slowly, like I’m a toddler, and I swear to god, it makes me want to smack the stupid, smarmy smile off of his stupid, smarmy face.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >107

Advertisement Hot Bodyguard Summer – Sunbreak Harbor Security Read Online Logan Chance http://www.books2020.com/hot-bodyguard-summer-sunbreak-harbor-security-read-online-logan-chance Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:15:12 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/hot-bodyguard-summer-sunbreak-harbor-security-read-online-logan-chance Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Suspense Authors: Logan Chance Advertisement

Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 45996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >50

Sunbreak Harbor is all sun-kissed sand, yacht parties, and salty breezes—until the Hawthorne brothers arrive with one follow the trail that might finally lead to their missing father.

Jace Hawthorne is supposed to blend in.

Easy. He’s got the charm, the smile, and the kind of confidence that makes trouble look like an invitation.

Then she becomes his assignment.

She’s smart, stubborn, and way too visible in a town where everyone’s watching… including the person who wants her gone. Suddenly Jace is playing bodyguard in board shorts, keeping her close through beach crowds, midnight marinas, and the kind of heat that has nothing to do with summer.

The closer they get to the truth, the more dangerous Sunbreak Harbor becomes.

And the more Jace realizes the biggest risk isn’t the threat stalking her—

It’s how fast she’s turning his “temporary” into mine.

One safe house. One too-small bed. One hot bodyguard summer…
and a man who will burn the whole coastline down before he lets her be taken.

summer fling that isn’t a fling • forced proximity • one bed • protector hero • flirty banter • “stay behind me” • found family brothers • high-stakes suspense • swoony HEA

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

1

Jace

I lean against the warm hood of my black Jeep Wrangler, arms crossed over my chest, watching the front door of the neat two-story house in one of Halo City’s quieter suburbs. The sun’s beating down hard, turning the asphalt into a shimmering mirage, but the salty breeze rolling in from the coast a few miles away keeps it from being unbearable. Even here in the middle of the city, you can still smell the ocean if the wind is right.

I check my watch again. She’s running late. Or maybe she’s inside debating whether to climb out a window and make a run for it. I wouldn’t put it past her after everything Anniston told me about her big sister.

The front door finally swings open. Sadie Wells steps onto the porch, dragging a sensible rolling suitcase behind her like it has personally offended her. She looks exactly like the third-grade teacher Anniston described and somehow even better in person: neat blonde ponytail, crisp white button-down shirt tucked into khaki pants, sensible flats, and a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

She stops at the top of the porch steps when she sees me. Her eyes narrow behind her glasses as she takes in my board shorts, faded black T-shirt, sunglasses pushed up into my messy hair, and the easy grin I’ve got locked in place.

“You must be Jace Hawthorne,” she says, voice clipped and professional. “The bodyguard my sister insisted on sending. Banks’s brother, right?”

I push off the Jeep and stroll toward her, keeping my smile friendly and relaxed. “Guilty as charged. Jace Hawthorne, at your service, Miss Wells. You ready for a little involuntary trip to Sunbreak Harbor?”

Her grip tightens on the suitcase handle until her knuckles turn white. “It’s Sadie. And no, I’m not ready. I have lesson plans due next week, and a very normal life here in Halo City. I don’t need a babysitter because my little sister decided to play hero with dangerous people.”

I stop at the bottom of the porch steps and look up at her. She’s smaller than I expected—maybe five-five on a good day—but she carries herself like she’s six feet tall and armed with a ruler. Cute as hell, too. The kind of pretty that sneaks up on you when she’s scowling like this.

“Anniston doesn’t strike me as the overreacting type,” I reply, keeping my tone light. “And considering someone tried to put a knife in her recently, I’m going to trust my brother’s judgment on this one. You’re important to your sister. That makes you important to me.”

Sadie’s cheeks flush the tiniest bit, but she lifts her chin higher. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I have conditions before I get in that Jeep with you.”

I raise an eyebrow, fighting a grin. “I’m listening.”

“No flirting. No calling me sweetheart, darling, or any other cutesy nickname. No treating me like I’m some helpless damsel you need to charm into compliance. I’m a grown woman with a career and responsibilities. I’m here because my sister is worried sick, not because I want to be your summer project.”

I can’t help it. I grin wider. “No flirting? That’s going to be tough. I’m naturally charming. Doctors say it’s a medical condition. Very serious.”

She gives me a flat, unamused stare that could wilt steel. “Try harder.”

I hold up both hands in surrender, still smiling. “Fine. Professional mode activated. For now. But I’ve got to warn you—I’m very good at my job, and part of that job is keeping you safe and sane. If that means making sure you actually relax a little while you’re stuck with me in Sunbreak Harbor, I’m not apologizing for it.”

Sadie huffs a short laugh that sounds more like disbelief than amusement. “You’re ridiculous.”

“So I’ve been told. Frequently.” I step up onto the porch and reach for her suitcase. She reluctantly lets me take it. “Come on, Sadie. The sooner we get on the road, the sooner we can get you settled in a safe house by the beach instead of standing on your front porch where anyone could be watching.”

She follows me down the steps, arms crossed tight over her chest. As I load her suitcase into the back of the Jeep, I catch her glancing around the neighborhood like she’s saying goodbye to her normal life.

I open the passenger door for her with a small flourish. “Your chariot awaits, Miss Wells.”

She climbs in without a thank you, spine straight, hands folded neatly in her lap like she’s heading to a parent-teacher conference instead of protective custody.

I slide behind the wheel, start the engine, and pull away from her house in Halo City. The moment we hit the highway heading north toward Sunbreak Harbor, the city skyline starts shrinking in the rearview mirror. The salty ocean breeze blows stronger through the open top of the Jeep as we leave the concrete jungle behind.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >50

Advertisement Not A Gentleman (Don’t Date Him #7) Read Online Lani Lynn Vale http://www.books2020.com/not-a-gentleman-dont-date-him-7-read-online-lani-lynn-vale Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:14:25 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/not-a-gentleman-dont-date-him-7-read-online-lani-lynn-vale Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Suspense Authors: Lani Lynn Vale Series: Don't Date Him Series by Lani Lynn Vale
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >70

This Series will cover a brand new set of characters that are ex-cons (Or can they be ex-cons if they escape from prison?) and the one true loves. This book will be Odin's book.

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

Prologue

My name isn’t Tom, but I’m Petty AF.

—T-shirt

Ramsey

I sat in the college campus coffee shop and waited for Nadine to show.

She was a professor at the University of Arkansas where she taught sociology.

She, of course, was late.

Really, really late.

I glanced at my watch again and realized that she was so late that it likely meant that she wasn’t coming.

How surprising.

It’d been the same old song and dance ever since I’d found out that she was pregnant.

I’d been pretty neutral about finding out that she was pregnant.

It wasn’t like I wanted kids—I was in the fuckin’ military for Christ’s sake with no end in sight—but I wasn’t opposed to having them.

When I’d found out, I’d said that I would be there every step of the way.

Only, she hadn’t wanted me there every step of the way.

She’d wanted me gone and never missed an opportunity to share that she didn’t want me there.

I’d had to fight for everything that I got timewise with my kid, and she literally fought me at every turn.

Hell, I hadn’t even realized she’d had Dean until three weeks later.

Which fucking sucked, because I’d missed having time off with him before I’d had to go back to work.

I’d gotten to see him for six short hours before I’d been forced to return to the base, where I’d then been sent out on a mission.

The next time I got to see Dean, he’d been two months old and terrified of me.

Apparently, Dean had never been around another man.

I’d learned from a private investigator that Nadine had been a lesbian, and she’d wanted a child. But she and her girlfriend had been too poor to go the route of in vitro. They’d tossed a fucking coin to find out who would be pregnant, and Nadine had won.

Nadine had gone out one night with her girlfriend’s permission and had fucked the first dumb bastard that gave her attention—that dumb bastard being me.

They had intended to never tell me, but Nadine and her girlfriend had had a stroke of conscience and had thought…we should tell him. But he’s military, so he probably won’t care anyway.

Well, I had cared.

I’d wanted to be a part of my son’s life.

But it’d become so increasingly hard to do that that I’d had to leave the military.

I’d gotten a place in Little Rock and had fought to see Dean.

Only, more often than not, Nadine violated court orders and never showed up for our court-mandated swaps.

I saw Dean so rarely that the kid freaked way the fuck out any time I finally got him.

And, since Nadine was still breastfeeding, I never got to keep him long enough to get him used to me.

I was just a random man who took him from time to time.

But today, that would change.

Today, we were going to discuss what the rest of our time looked like.

I now had a court order from a judge that declared that I would be given every other week with him. From now on, we shared fifty-fifty custody.

To say that Nadine was pissed would be an understatement.

But this time, she couldn’t go about violating court orders, or she wouldn’t be seeing her kid at all.

Those were the judge’s exact words.

Which she hadn’t liked hearing.

Today, we’d be meeting to discuss what this fifty-fifty custody looked like for us.

Except, she hadn’t showed.

She was now two hours late, and I was on my fourth cup of coffee.

I stood up to get a refill.

“You drink anymore,” the cute brown-haired girl with her nose buried in a nursing book called out as I passed. “You’re never going to be able to sleep tonight.”

Little did she know that I had trouble sleeping, but it had nothing to do with the amount of coffee I consumed.

I’d clocked the woman the moment I entered the store.

She was sitting in the usual booth that I preferred, which was in the corner of the room with my back to the door.

She’d been scanning her surroundings so much that I would’ve guessed she was ex-military if it wasn’t for the youthfulness of her face.

She was twenty-one, max.

“Yeah, I’m sure it won’t help,” I admitted as I walked away to get another refill. After the barista handed it back I stopped at the young woman’s table and said, “You should take a break. No way you can retain the information you’re cramming in there without one.”

She looked up and smiled, and my heart arrested in my chest.

Damn, she was pretty.

Short and curvy, she had tits for days, long brown hair that fell in waves around her shoulders and to the tabletop in front of her, and gray eyes the same color as mine.

Damn, she’s pretty.

I’d been trying not to look at her so closely this entire time.

“I’m about to leave,” she sighed. “It’s getting dark, and I don’t like walking home after dark.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >70

Advertisement Raff (Shady Valley Henchmen #10) Read Online Jessica Gadziala http://www.books2020.com/raff-shady-valley-henchmen-10-read-online-jessica-gadziala Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:13:58 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/raff-shady-valley-henchmen-10-read-online-jessica-gadziala Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Suspense Authors: Jessica Gadziala Series: Shady Valley Henchmen Series by Jessica Gadziala
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >77

Lula spent years telling Raff exactly why he’s not her type.

He’s an outlaw biker: carefree, reckless, wholly unserious, and the biggest flirt she’s ever met. She’s the accountant who cooks the books for the mob. Lula likes order. Spreadsheets. Five-year plans.

Then one mistake destroys everything she’d worked so hard for.

Desperate to fix it, she sets out to find the man who ruined it all. Which means accepting help from the one man she’d been telling herself she doesn’t want but might just be exactly what she needs

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

CHAPTER ONE

Raff

Look.

I didn’t mean to start the bar brawl.

Sometimes, shit just happens.

Did shit happen a lot around me? Yeah. Sure. Especially since I started doing the lion’s share of the trips through the South to procure weapons for the club by myself. I liked being on the road. The others weren’t as big a fan.

I’d been laid up for a long time with a knife wound to my thigh. I had some extra steam to blow off.

Besides, could I even be blamed for this one?

The woman climbed up on the bar herself.

She spread the line of salt between her tits, set the tequila shot glass on her bellybutton, and the lime between her teeth.

Was I really supposed to not lick, sip, and bite?

How was I supposed to know her boyfriend would walk in and get all butt hurt about it? It wasn’t like she was branded with his name.

Fine.

She was.

But it was a tramp stamp.

How was I supposed to see it until she climbed off the bar?

By then, I had a fist the size of a fucking catcher’s mitt in my face.

And, hey, it’s hard to apologize when you have a mouth full of your own blood, y’know?

The problem was, the dude came with a whole group of his friends. And his friends got into it with my friends. Bones were breaking. Blood was flying. The distant sound of sirens was drawing closer.

“We gotta go. We gotta go,” York said, snagging my wrist and dragging me up off the floor and pulling me toward the door.

Velle and Dixon followed us out the door, the Florida heat slapping us in the face as soon as we stepped outside, the humidity making sweat bead up on my brows and scalp as we ran toward the bikes parked in the lot. Mine was borrowed since I came to Florida with an old beater sedan that was outfitted to hide the guns I purchased from various shows or private sellers.

Our engines roared to life, and we pulled out of the lot and down the street just as the cops made their way into the bar parking lot, sirens blaring, red and blue lights flashing.

My face was throbbing in time with my heartbeat as we drove through the swampy backroads on our way back toward the clubhouse in Golden Glades.

I swallowed back more of my blood and ran my tongue across the gash on the inside of my lip where the punch made my teeth bite into the sensitive flesh.

“The fuck happened?” Huck, the president of the club, asked as we pulled into the driveway and parked.

“Bar fight,” York admitted.

Huck’s gaze slid right to me. “What’d you do?”

“How’d you know it was me?” I asked, smiling with blood in my teeth.

“Because Coast and Remy are retired from the bar life,” Huck said.

“You gonna tell on me to Daddy Slash?” I asked, meaning my club chapter president.

“Pretty sure he can see it for himself when you make your ass back to California,” Huck said, shaking his head at me. “I was looking for you,” he added.

“What for?”

“I got a call from Zayn. He wanted me to put in an order.”

Zayn was an international arms dealer connected to the Golden Glades club. But because his clients wanted more weapons than Huck and his club could feasibly supply on their own, I picked up extra guns on my travels to sell to Huck, who unloaded them to Zayn.

“I just gave you half of what I had.” Slash would not be happy if I came back to Shady Valley with an empty car. Which either meant I dealt with his anger… or I extended my trip and picked up more guns on my way back.

“No, this is for a specialty gun. Specially built, if you know what I mean.”

I knew what he meant.

One of my club brothers, Sway, was with a woman who was a weapons designer. But she made all the shit herself. Which meant it wasn’t cheap.

“That’s gonna cost,” I warned.

“Trust me, this client can pay.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to Murphy as soon as I get back to Shady Valley. Put her in touch with you, and you can figure it out from there.”

“Good. Appreciate it. Now go ice that eye before it swells so much that you can’t drive your troublemaking ass out of here tomorrow.”

It might not have sounded like it, but Huck loved my trouble-making ass. He was a president who found reckless behavior more amusing than frustrating. It probably reminded him of his early life before he settled down and started a family.

I made my way inside the clubhouse, snatching a frozen bag of peas out of the air as it was thrown at me.

“How’s everyone’s damage?” I asked, looking around at York, Velle, and Dixon. Velle had a split lip and bruised jaw. Dixon’s shirt was ripped and bloody from his nose taking a hit. But York, that mammoth, lumberjack fuck, seemed mostly uninjured, save for the splits on his knuckles.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >77

Advertisement Secret Seduction (Tempting Love #4) Read Online Nikki Ash http://www.books2020.com/secret-seduction-tempting-love-4-read-online-nikki-ash Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:13:28 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/secret-seduction-tempting-love-4-read-online-nikki-ash Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark, Mafia, Suspense, Virgin Authors: Nikki Ash Series: Tempting Love Series by Nikki Ash
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >98

She’s too young. Too reckless. And now she’s my wife.

Vanessa Baker is a temptation with a body made for seduction and secrets swirling in her violet eyes.
There’s no denying that she’s a stunning woman, but she’s a wild card.
Irresistible, unpredictable, and unexpected.
Exactly the kind of trouble I’ve vowed to stay away from.
So, imagine my shock when I wake up in the Bahamas with a ring on my finger and Vanessa in my bed—with no memory of how either got there.
She swears she had no choice. That marrying me was the only way to save herself from a dangerous deal she’d never agreed to.
And now I’m torn between protecting her and resenting her … doing the right thing and wishing I’d never met her.
I don’t trust easily. Not with my heart. Not with my son. And I definitely don’t trust her.
But I bring her home anyway—because her life is at risk. And even though she doesn’t deserve my protection, she has it.
Every day she’s here, charming my son, slipping past my walls, she reminds me of what love is supposed to feel like.
So, what happens when she doesn’t need me anymore … and I still want her anyway?

Please note: Secret Seduction is not a mafia romance. The book is a dark romance because of its content. Since dark romance can mean different things to different readers, please check the detailed content warnings on my website. Your mental health matters

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

SECRET SEDUCTION PLAYLIST

“Bed Chem” by Sabrina Carpenter

“Skyscraper” by Demi Lovato

“Sweet but Psycho” by Ava Max

“Sexy Love” by Ne-Yo

“Heart Attack” by Demi Lovato

“Fallin’ for You” by Colbie Caillat

“I’m a Mess” by Bebe Rexha

“Sabotage” by Bebe Rexha

“Lose Somebody” by Kygo and OneRepublic

“Bad at Love” by Halsey

Listen to this playlist as well as my other playlists on my website.

1

Lorenzo

One-point-two million.

That’s how much the mother of my son stole from me.

I was warned that she would fuck me over, but my bleeding heart didn’t listen.

So, when she showed up at my door with a baby in tow, I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Lorenzo, how do you want to go about handling this?” Eddy—the tech genius I keep on retainer—asks over the phone just as the woman in question flits through the door, dressed head to toe in Saint Laurent. Her hair is freshly dyed, and her nails and toes are a different color than they were when she left this morning.

“Leave it there—for now—and send me proof,” I tell him.

I hang up and glance at Hillary Sparks—the woman I was once upon a time engaged to. She showed up in Harbor Point, batted her long lashes, and convinced me that we were meant to be.

I didn’t think twice about moving her into my condo in downtown North Harbor Point.

Putting a massive ring on her finger—she’d picked it out, of course.

And when she offered to be my assistant after my previous one quit unexpectedly—who I later learned was paid off to leave—I was grateful to her.

But what I didn’t know was that she was working with my enemy, Enrique Rothschild, to take over and destroy my family’s multibillion-dollar real estate company.

Enrique was the son of Joseph Rothschild, my father’s childhood friend. Joseph slept with the woman my father was in love with years ago, resulting in her getting pregnant and causing a permanent rift in their friendship, which ended with my father killing Joseph and Enrique seeking revenge for his father’s death.

Hillary was paid by Enrique to extract information out of me.

And she succeeded.

Enrique had everything he needed at his fingertips to tear the company apart.

But he didn’t stop there.

He screwed over my sister, Dani, by claiming to love her.

Had me and my best friend and business partner, Matteo Antonov, arrested and thrown into jail.

He gained control of the company and almost destroyed it.

Thankfully, he failed.

Matteo handled the Hillary situation for me—while I was still in jail—ensuring she was out of my condo and the locks were changed.

Then he saved my sister from the asshole—while putting a bullet in his skull and ending his miserable excuse of a life.

Matteo and Dani fell in love, and when I got out from behind bars, I gained a brother-in-law and lost a fiancée.

“Lorenzo,” Hillary coos, bringing me back to the present, “is everything okay?”

I stifle a laugh at her loaded question and take a sip of my whiskey, craving the burn as it slides down my throat and calms me.

Everything was okay.

I might’ve been heartbroken and a bit jaded from Hillary fucking me over. But I was moving forward, focusing on the business and my sister, who was getting ready to give birth to my niece—until Hillary appeared back in my life.

I look over at my son, Leonardo Sparks—he doesn’t even have my last name because the bitch gave him hers or a middle name because she didn’t want to be bothered, both of which are already in the works to be rectified—but I can’t regret everything that happened because it led me to having my son. And I’ll never regret him.

But that doesn’t change the fact that once again, like the fucking chump I am, I allowed Hillary to come back into my life and fuck me over.

Only this time, it’s going to end a bit differently.

“Everything’s okay,” I tell her, forcing my tone to remain neutral when the sight of her alone makes me want to throw up. “Did you have a good day?”

She has several bags in her hands—all designer, of course, since she looks at me like I’m her personal ATM.

When she begged me to take her in, claiming she’d lost her job and apartment when she gave birth to our son and couldn’t go back to work right away, I let her in.

She told me she wanted to be a family.

Wanted to raise Leo together.

So, I gave her a roof over her head, a credit card with no limit, and a luxury SUV for her to drive around in, and what does she do? Steals one-point-two million dollars from me.

“I did.” She beams. “I bought Leo the cutest onesie.”

She saunters through the room without so much as a glance at our son. He’s merely an accessory. She claims she has postpartum depression, which prevents her from caring for our son. Yet I’ve never actually seen her depressed.

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