Avenging Angels Series by Kristen Ashley – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Avenging Angels Series by Kristen Ashley – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Wed, 07 Jan 2026 10:40:26 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Avenging Angels Series by Kristen Ashley – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Bad Medicine (Avenging Angels #4) Read Online Kristen Ashley http://www.books2020.com/bad-medicine-avenging-angels-4-read-online-kristen-ashley Wed, 07 Jan 2026 10:40:26 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/bad-medicine-avenging-angels-4-read-online-kristen-ashley Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Suspense Authors: Kristen Ashley Series: Avenging Angels Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)

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Willow Knightley has just been through it with her ex-mooch of a boyfriend. But sadly, he’s just the latest in a long string of men (starting at birth) who didn’t treat her right.

She decides her only recourse is to give up on men forever.

The problem is, her friend/acquaintance/one-time bodyguard, member of the Nightingale Investigations & Security team, Gabriel Stark, has targeted her as His One.

Gabe’s been through it at the hands of women too, so he knows exactly what he wants.

And he wants Willow.

Willow states her case against them being an us, but she doesn’t count on the fact that not only does Gabe love a challenge, he lives for them.

Up against an onslaught from a man who rinses his own whiskers out of the sink, Willow might not stand a chance.

But then, while the Angels are trying to figure out what’s got one of their informants very jittery, she gets a hint that there are demons in Gabe’s history, and she has to know.

The bets are on…

And luck favors a Stark

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

ONE

EVISCERATED

Several months ago…

I didn’t know how it happened.

One second I was standing just inside my apartment door and Gabe—my hot guy acquaintance/friend who had recently turned into my bodyguard—was moving through my space to make sure it was secure, no bad guys lurking in the closet, no ex-boyfriends planning on doing something (else) that was immensely stupid.

The next second, he called out all was safe, I stepped in further and shut the door behind me.

The second after that, he appeared in the mouth of the hall.

And then, for some reason, I was staring at him. (Okay, I knew the reason, he was breathtakingly handsome in a scary, uber masculine way.)

He was also staring at me.

How we made it across the room to each other, that was the part I didn’t know.

How we collided in the middle of my drab living room, again, no clue.

Though, I didn’t miss how his mouth crashed down on mine. How his arms crushed me to his tall, hard body. How my fingers skated over his thick, close-cropped, coal-black hair. How his neatly trimmed beard deliciously abraded my skin. How I opened my mouth to him practically before our lips touched. How he didn’t hesitate to thrust his tongue inside like my mouth was his to claim.

Like it had always been his to claim.

Before we met.

Before we were born.

Before the universe even came into being.

Uh…no, I didn’t miss how good his kiss was.

And I didn’t miss how good he felt, strong and warm.

Further, I didn’t miss how good I felt: wanting him, him wanting me…

Belonging to him.

Already.

I belonged to him.

With…just…one…kiss.

One kiss that wasn’t even done yet!

And I didn’t miss how safe…

How safe…

Safe.

Safe.

With all the mental and physical strength it took—and mind you, it took a lot (straight up, all I had)—I yanked from his arms and retreated two very wide steps, only stopping because I ran into my secondhand (but not all that bad) armchair.

Gabe was staring at me, his broad, proud chest visibly rising and falling with his breaths.

He wasn’t the only one breathing heavy.

“Willow—” he started.

I shook my head, lifting a hand, palm aimed his way like I was holding him off, but I knew.

Man, did I know.

Those gestures were for me.

I was holding myself back from making another really stupid, really damaging, really messed-up decision.

“That wasn’t smart,” I said, my words shaky.

He nodded, and that movement, his agreement, should’ve set my mind at ease.

But it felt like a million needles piercing my skin.

Then he said, “You’re right. While I’m assigned to protect you, we shouldn’t go there.”

“Gabe—”

“But after this shit is done, babe⁠—”

“No,” I stated firmly, surprised I had that in me, glad I did, but at the same time devastated.

His excruciatingly perfect, arched black eyebrows winged up. “What?”

“No,” I repeated.

“No…what?” he asked, appearing confused, which was kinda adorable.

Gabriel Stark had been in my sphere now for a good while. He was buds with my buds’ boyfriends. We were firmly entrenched in the same posse.

He was also built like a brick shithouse—bulky, sturdy, no lean muscle there. Though he was all muscle and it was all in-your-face power.

He was further, all spread-legs-while-seated, arms flung over the backs of chairs and booths, taking up manly space like it was his due. His chuckle, which was hard to come by, was deep and rumbling, and each time he emitted it, it was clear he was bestowing a gift you should feel lucky you received.

And whenever I heard it, I felt lucky.

Whenever I caused it, I felt like the queen of the world.

He was intense.

He was edgy.

He was so sexy, it was almost scary.

So not once, not even close, had he ever looked remotely adorable.

And seriously, in this exact moment, I really did not need to know he could.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

You’ve learned, my logical brain told me. The hard way. Like, a gazillion times. Starting at, oh, I don’t know…birth!

But this is Gabe, my starry-eyed, dreamer brain told me. He’s a member of the Hottie Squad. They’ve managed the impossible. They’ve succeeded in morphing the hot, sexy alpha bits with the thoughtful, sensitive enlightened bits of a human being with a dick.

Raye says Cap struggles with his inner caveman all the time, my logical brain reminded my dreamer.

He bests it, my dreamer reminded my logic.

Barely, Logic pointed out.

“Willow?” Gabe called.

I focused on him.

“No, not after either,” I pushed out because I had to.

For a second, it seemed my words didn’t penetrate.

I knew when they did because his brows knitted ominously.

“Were you in a fugue state when I kissed you and you missed what just went down?” he asked.

That was kinda funny, which was surprising because Gabe was not a funny guy. He didn’t joke. He didn’t quip. He was not lighthearted and fun-loving.

I wished I could laugh. Laugh and shrug off the words I’d just said. Tell him I wasn’t thinking straight. Tell him Kevin had muddled my head. Tell him, yeah, he was right, while all this crap was going down with Kev and Kev’s very dead friend Trev, we shouldn’t go there, but after…

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Advertisement Tenderfoot (Avenging Angels #3) Read Online Kristen Ashley http://www.books2020.com/tenderfoot-avenging-angels-3-read-online-kristen-ashley Mon, 30 Jun 2025 19:08:32 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/tenderfoot-avenging-angels-3-read-online-kristen-ashley Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Crime, Funny, Suspense Authors: Kristen Ashley Series: Avenging Angels Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)

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Harlow O’Neill is waiting for Javier Montoya to make his move. She has it bad for the gorgeous new investigator at Nightingale Investigations and Security. She’s sure he knows it. She’s also sure he’s just as into her.

And she’s read the Rock Chick books. She knows how those Hottie Squad men are supposed to win their women.

Javi is just not trying to win her.

Then one evening Harlow is undercover on a mission for the Avenging Angels, and Javi blows her cover. She’s not happy about it. They share words and some of the ones Javi uses aren’t all that great.

Harlow retreats. Javi goes on the advance.

And the man Harlow was investigating winds up dead.

The Angels go all in to discover what’s happening with a dating app scam that ended up with a dead guy. The Nightingale men aren’t fans of the women wading in on such a dangerous case, and they’re doing something about it.

It’s a race between the Angels and the Hottie Squad as to who’s going to solve the mystery.

While all of that happens, Javi’s not taking any chances with Harlow’s safety. He moves her into his place and Harlow learns firsthand what it means to be in the romantic crosshairs of a member of the Hottie Squad…and the heartbreaking reasons why Javi kept her at arm’s length

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

ONE

“THE PROPHECY”

(TAYLOR SWIFT)

“All quiet on the Western front.”

“You were just dying to say that, weren’t you?”

“Well…duh.”

“Though, how do you know? You’re on the Eastern front.”

“Semantics.”

“Directions.”

“He’s late.”

“I’m not liking this.”

“Is this business usually this boring?”

In order, all the above was: Luna, Raye, Luna again, Jess, Luna, Jess again, Willow and Shanti.

My crew. My besties.

The Angels.

This convo sounded in my new ear thingy. One of the ones Arthur gave us.

It was fancy-dancy. It received and sent. In other words, it picked up my voice and the conversations I had. My girls could hear everything, and I didn’t have to speak into a wristwatch or something like that.

It was extra cool.

Then again, Arthur tended to spoil us, and as such, always got us the best stuff.

The ear thingies even matched our flesh tones so they’d be harder to see. Like really matched, as if they were made just for us. Mine was a peachy pink. Jess’s was an oliveish peach. Shanti’s was mocha. You get the picture.

Though, I wore my hair down, just in case.

I wasn’t taking any chances because, with this loser I was going to be dealing with that night, I was our only shot, and I couldn’t blow it. He went for girls like me (and Willow), and one could say Raye, Luna, Jessie and Shanti weren’t at all like me (or Willow). And since he was Willow’s ex, and he was giving her troubles, me and the other Angels were trying to shut him down.

It wouldn’t do for him to see my ear thingy and the jig being up.

It’d taken some doing to get to the point of this fake date, even if he didn’t know it was fake, including some reconnaissance (to others this might be considered stalking, though stalkers tended to stalk, and we were stalking as a means to an end—I liked to think that made all the difference so it didn’t feel skeevy).

It also included me signing up to a dating app (not my thing at all, when I found my guy, it’d happen like it was supposed to happen…organically) and arranging for me to be in his vicinity because the app he used to prey on women was one that binged with a possible match when someone was close.

Seriously.

Creepy, or what? (I’ll answer that…it was creepy.)

Why any woman would willingly allow strangers to know she was nearby, I had no idea.

I didn’t suspect that app was going to have a long lifespan. I’d messed around with it, and unsurprisingly, the vast majority of people on it were men.

And I suspected many of those men were what we weren’t but were forced to be under the circumstances: stalkers.

But there I was, after Kevin and I “matched.” With Willow’s guidance, the Angels created a profile for me he’d go for, and I had to admit, with no small amount of disquiet, what we wrote wasn’t far from the truth.

Me and Willow’s ex, Kevin, had been messaging each other for a week.

It was time for a meet.

Let me rewind.

My friends and I were the Avenging Angels. We were vigilantes (of a sort). We investigated crimes on our time off from being servers, baristas and bartenders at a fun, hip spot called The Surf Club.

We had a benefactor: Arthur. He was our Charlie. He seemed to have unlimited means, but none of us had met him, nor did we know who he was.

We also had a Bosley, but her name was Clarice, she was a high-powered, expensive lawyer, and she didn’t like to be referred to as Bosley.

I know this sounds crazy, and maybe to some, it was.

But surprise of surprises, even with zero training, we were really good at this investigating stuff.

It might be dumb luck, but I was an optimist, so I liked to think of it as good intuition.

Since we started doing this, we’d solved the mystery of women going missing, abducted by a human trafficking ring.

We’d then solved the mystery of people from homeless camps also going missing, kidnapped to be forced labor in drug dens.

Now, we were doing this.

It all started when Raye was triggered, because her little sister had been kidnapped and murdered when she was super young, and her entire family had fallen apart. Raye descended onto a path of wreaking justice to injustice and eventually investigating the disappearance of a little girl (who, yeah, you guessed it, Raye found with zero training).

The rest of us got roped in (by “the rest of us,” I mean Jessie, Luna and I).

Recently, we recruited Shanti and Willow, mainly because Arthur picked Shanti, and she was tight with Willow, and Willow was having man problems, so we girls pulled her in because we figured that was what Arthur got us all together to do.

Not to mention, Willow was already a loose member of our crew. She worked with us at SC, we all liked her a whole bunch, she thought our Angel business was cool, so why not?

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Advertisement Back in the Saddle (Avenging Angels #2) Read Online Kristen Ashley http://www.books2020.com/back-in-the-saddle-avenging-angels-2-read-online-kristen-ashley Fri, 06 Dec 2024 20:24:06 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/back-in-the-saddle-avenging-angels-2-read-online-kristen-ashley Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense Authors: Kristen Ashley Series: Avenging Angels Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)

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Jessie Wylde is on a secret mission. She’s trying to find her brother. She hasn’t told her friends; this is about family.

She doesn’t think it’s dangerous.

Eric Turner disagrees.

Eric is a member of the Nightingale Investigations and Security team. Therefore, Eric knows what he’s talking about.

Eric isn’t only badass, he’s also a seriously gorgeous guy, and Jessie has a huge crush on him. She doesn’t think he knows she exists…until now.

Eric steps in, and so do Jessie’s besties, the Avenging Angels. Soon, the Angels and the Hottie Squad are on the case to find Jessie’s missing sibling.

There’s more happening when it comes to Eric, though. Jessie’s so worried about her brother, she’s not paying attention. Eric sets about changing that, and just like all the Hot Bunch before him, when he finds his one, he doesn’t mess around.

However, something is afoot in Phoenix. And as the Angels uncover the sinister workings behind people going missing, and Eric and Jessie unpack their emotional baggage, the Angels dive deeper into the dark underbelly of the city…

Finding heroes, more hot guys, lots of hijinks…and heart.

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

ONE

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

It was dark as pitch in the area around the makeshift encampment that sat in the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse, in what had become a kind of no-man’s-land just south of the heart of the city.

This darkness might have had to do with the fact it was nearing one in the morning.

It wasn’t a great time to do my search, but in the last six months, I’d been hitting up the encampment at random times, day and evening, and always came up empty-handed. But due to safety issues, I’d never gone so late (or early, depending on how you looked at it).

This time, I was giving it a shot precisely because it was so late (also because I was getting desperate).

He had to sleep somewhere, and I was hoping it was here. At the same time, I died a little death thinking it might be.

It was the night before Thanksgiving.

I’d hoped he’d be somewhere with someone on Thanksgiving, even if that someone wasn’t me, and, well, that somewhere was here.

I’d learned, and I had the requisite materials with me.

Four bags full of bottles of water (sorry environment) and a backpack stuffed with packs of beef jerky, boxes of protein bars and hydration packets.

Oh yeah, and an empty used sharps container.

Homer shuffled out first, as Homer always did. I wasn’t sure Homer slept. I was sure Homer was King of the Homeless Encampment.

I was sure of this because I’d learned something else. I had to make Homer trust me before anyone else did.

This took time.

And lots of bottles of water and packs of beef jerky.

He said nothing as he took two of the bags and the sharps container from me.

Then he mumbled, “Late night.”

“Is he here?”

My vision had adjusted to the dark. I’d hit the encampment, and in the dim light that came from the city and various camp lanterns dotting the space, I saw his eyes in his dangerously tanned, leathery, be-whiskered face catch mine.

And I saw my answer.

No.

My brother wasn’t there.

“Seen him?” I asked as we began to move through the oddly organized labyrinth of tents, the tarps that created crude shelters, loaded grocery carts and scattering of debris.

“Did you bring clean syringes?”

This wasn’t an answer to my question, and sadly my answer to his was, “Not this time.”

He nodded, reached into a bag, made a noise, and a hand came out of a tent.

He put a bottle of water in it as I shrugged off the backpack to pull out a bag of jerky.

Homer took that, tossed it into the tent, and we moved on.

We did this at two more tents before I said, “Homer.”

That was all I said, but he got me, so he stopped and turned to me.

And he stated it plainly. “You find him, you quit coming.”

Oh my God.

On the one hand, it felt good that he trusted me, and him saying that meant he and his brethren appreciated me. I didn’t have the resources to give much, and I knew I didn’t help their situation at all, but it was nice to understand the little I did meant something.

On the other hand, I needed to find my brother.

“Are you…keeping him from me?” I asked.

He shook his head.

But he said, “Others might.”

That meant, since Homer knew everyone and everything, others were.

Damn.

I pointed out the obvious. “I’ve gotta know if he’s all right.”

Homer gazed around the dismal space that looked bad and smelled worse.

I took his point.

If Jeff was here, he wasn’t all right.

Then again, I already knew he wasn’t all right.

Just as I knew, the minute Mom kicked him out seven months ago and he didn’t do his usual—bunk with one of his buds, then figure his shit out and get back on his meds—I would be doing what I was doing right then.

And there I was, doing what I was doing right then.

We moved through the space, silently handing out waters and protein delivery systems, with me looking closely at faces and trying to peer into tents.

I came up empty.

As usual.

When we were back at Homer’s tent, he took the spent plastic bags from me (something else I’d learned: Homer had a thing for plastic bags) but handed me the clattering sharps container.

“It’d be good you bring syringes next time,” he said.

With that, he ducked into his tent and disappeared.

I stared at it, the feelings I was feeling balling up inside me, the weight so heavy, the urge was almost overwhelming to open my mouth and shriek my fear and frustration to the skies above Phoenix.

I didn’t do that.

I carried that weight with the container and my empty backpack to my car.

Though, I didn’t make it to my car.

I stopped dead twenty feet away when I saw Eric Turner, investigator at Nightingale Investigations & Security. The place of business of Eric, Cap (my friend Raye’s boyfriend) and a number of other badasses who were all ridiculously attractive.

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Advertisement Avenging Angel (Avenging Angels #1) Read Online Kristen Ashley http://www.books2020.com/avenging-angel-avenging-angels-1-read-online-kristen-ashley Sat, 13 Apr 2024 11:41:44 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/avenging-angel-avenging-angels-1-read-online-kristen-ashley Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Kristen Ashley Series: Avenging Angels Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)

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Rachel Armstrong has a burning need to right the world’s wrongs. Thus, she becomes the Avenging Angel.

And maybe she’s a bit too cocky about it.

While riding a hunch about the identity of a kidnapper, she runs into Julien “Cap” Jackson, who was trained by the team at Nightingale Investigations in Denver. Now he’s a full-fledged member at their newly opened Phoenix branch.

It takes Cap a beat to realize Raye’s the woman for him. It takes Raye a little longer (but just a little) to figure out how she feels about Cap.

As Raye introduces Cap to her crazy posse of found family and his new home in the Valley of the Sun, Cap struggles with his protective streak. Because Raye has no intention to stop doing what she can to save the world.

But there’s a mysterious entity out there who has discovered what Raye is up to, and they’ve become very interested.

Not to mention, women are going missing in Phoenix, and it seems like the police aren’t taking it seriously.

Raye believes someone should.

So she recruits her best friend Luna, and between making coffees, mixing cocktails, planning parties and enduring family interventions (along with reunions), the Avenging Angels unite to ride to the rescue.

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

ONE

NATURAL BADASSERY

“I’m gonna go in.”

“Are you insane? You can’t go in!”

“I’m just gonna have a look around.”

“What if you’re right? What if this guy is the actual guy?”

“Then I’ll call the police.”

“What if he sees you?”

I sighed. “Luna, this isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Exactly!” she cried in a Eureka! tone. “So, yeah, let’s talk about that, Raye.”

Sitting in my car, talking to my bestie on the phone and casing the house in question, I cut her off quickly before she could start in—again—about how she felt about what I’d been up to lately.

“I’m just going to wander across the front of his house and look in the windows. No biggie.”

Truthfully, I was hoping to do more than that, but my best friend of all time, Luna, didn’t need to know that.

We’d had chats about what she called my unhinged shenanigans, or my lunatic tomfooleries. Then there were also my deranged mischiefs (Luna read a lot and her vocabulary showed it).

But I did what I did because, well…

I had to.

Luna spoke into my thoughts. “Okay, so if I kidnapped a little girl from my church, and I was holding her for things I won’t even contemplate why someone would do that, and some woman I’d never seen in my neighborhood casually strolled in front of my house and looked in my windows, what do you think I would do?”

“Sic Jacques on them, whereupon he’d lick them and dance around them and race away, only to race back, bringing his toys so they’d play?”

Jacques was Luna’s French bulldog. He was gray, had a little white patch on his chest, and I considered myself for sainthood that I hadn’t dognapped him yet. I was pretty sure I loved him more than Luna did, and the Tiffany’s dog collar I’d splurged and bought him (which she refused to let him wear because she said it was too bougie, like that was a bad thing) proved my case on that.

“This isn’t funny, Raye,” Luna said softly.

That got to me, her talking softly.

She was yin to my yang, Ethel to my Lucy, Shirley to my Laverne, Louise to my Thelma. Dorothy to my Rose/Sophia/Blanche (and yes, I could be all three, dingy, sarcastic and slutty, sometimes all at the same time, I considered it my superpower).

You get the picture.

We were opposites, but she loved me.

And I loved her.

“I promise to be careful. It’s gone okay so far, hasn’t it?” I asked.

“Luck has a way of running out.”

Hmm.

I struggled for a moment with the use of the word “luck,” considering I thought I was pretty kickass, but I let it go.

There was a little girl missing. And I had a feeling I knew where she was.

“I need to do this, Luna.”

It was her turn to sigh, long and loud.

She knew I did.

“Call me the instant you get back to your car,” she ordered.

“Roger wilco,” I replied.

“You don’t even know what that means,” she muttered.

“It means I heard you.”

“Yes, it also means you will comply with my orders. That’s what wilco is short for.”

See?

She totally read a lot.

“Okay, so, samesies, yeah? I heard you, and I’ll call.”

Another sigh before she said, “You won’t call because either, a, you’ll be tied up in some villain’s basement, and I’ll then be forced to put up fliers and hold candlelight vigils and harass the police to follow leads. This will end with me being interviewed, weeping copiously, naturally, saying you lit up a room in a Netflix docuseries about solved cold case files once some hikers find what’s left of your body at the bottom of a ravine in fifteen years. Or, b, you won’t get anything from the guy, so you’ll start devising some other way of figuring out if it’s him or not. You’ll then immediately begin scheming to implement plans to do that, at the same time you’ll remember you forgot to buy tampons for your upcoming cycle, and you need to pop into CVS, after which you’ll realize you’re hungry and you’ll stop by Lenny’s for a cowboy burger and a malt.”

She was hitting close to home with that first bit, and she knew it. Including when my period was coming, something she always reminded me to prepare for because I always forgot, and as such, was constantly bumming tampons from her. Though, her remembering this wasn’t a feat, since we were together so often, including working together, we were moon sisters.

“I will totally call,” I promised.

“If you don’t, I’m uninviting you to my birthday party.”

I gasped.

“You wouldn’t,” I whispered in horror.

Yes, you guessed it. Luna threw great parties, especially when she was celebrating herself.

“Try me.”

“I’ll call. I’ll absolutely call. Long distance pinkie swear.”

“Lord save me,” she mumbled, then stated, “If you hit Lenny’s, definitely call me. Since I brought Lenny’s up, I now realize I need a malt.”

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