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		<title>Crowned by Fate Read online Amo Jones (Crowned #2)</title>
		<link>http://www.books2020.com/crowned-by-fate-2-read-online-amo-jones</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[testblog]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Tue, 22 Oct 2019 13:57:33 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Billionaire]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Contemporary]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dark]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Romance]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Suspense]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Amo Jones]]></category>
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			<span class="cat-links"><span class="screen-reader-text">Categories </span>Genre: <a href="http://www.books2020.com/genre/billionaire" rel="category tag">Billionaire</a>, <a href="http://www.books2020.com/genre/contemporary" rel="category tag">Contemporary</a>, <a href="http://www.books2020.com/genre/dark" rel="category tag">Dark</a>, <a href="http://www.books2020.com/genre/romance" rel="category tag">Romance</a>, <a href="http://www.books2020.com/genre/suspense" rel="category tag">Suspense</a></span> <span class="tags-links"><span class="screen-reader-text">Tags </span>Authors: <a href="http://www.books2020.com/authors/amo-jones" rel="tag">Amo Jones</a></span> <span class="cat-links">Series: <a href="http://www.books2020.com/series/crowned-series-by-amo-jones">Crowned Series by Amo Jones</a></span><br />	
	
	
	

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<div class='book-details-pages-words'><strong>Total pages in book: </strong>81<br /><strong>Estimated words: </strong>76478 (not accurate)<br /><strong>Estimated Reading Time in minutes: </strong>382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm) <br /></div><div class='pagination-custom-post-pages'><a href='#'><<<</a><a href='#'><</a><a href='#' class='active'>1</a><a href='?mypage=2'>2</a><a href='?mypage=3'>3</a><a href='?mypage=11'>11</a><a href='?mypage=21'>21</a><a href='?mypage=2'>></a><a href='?mypage=81'>81</a></div>	
	
	
	
	

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<table id="bookdetailstable">  <tr>    <th><h2>Read Online Books/Novels:</h2></th>    <th><h2>Crowned by Fate (Crowned #2)</h2></th>  </tr>  <tr>    <td><h4>Author/Writer of Book/Novel:</h4></td>    <td><h3><a href="/authors/amo-jones">Amo Jones</a></h3></td>  </tr>  <tr>    <td><strong>Language:</strong></td>    <td><h5>English</h5></td>  </tr>  <tr>    <td colspan="2"><strong>Book Information:</strong></td>  </tr>  <tr>    <td colspan="2"><br />
He asked me to love him, so I engraved his name onto my heart.<br />
He craved my loyalty, so I let him feast on my soul.<br />
I wanted a husband, but he gave me a monster. So, I made it my pet.<br />
The lines between what was real and what wasn’t were blurred.<br />
Our story was a lie. Until now.<br />
  </td>  </tr>  <tr>    <td>Books in Series:</td>    <td><h3><a href="/series/crowned-series-by-amo-jones">Crowned Series by Amo Jones</a></h3></td>  </tr>  <tr>    <td>Books by Author:</td>    <td><h3><a href="/authors/amo-jones">Amo Jones</a></h3></td>  </tr></table><br><br>Death. The word that passes our minds infrequently. How will it happen? Will it hurt when it does? Or occasionally, I’d think about the date. Knowing that I had already lived through the date I would die sixteen times. The eerie feeling of being right on the reaper’s doorstep twenty-eight times is a feeling that would haunt me every year.<br />
<br />
Only it doesn’t have to anymore. Because that date has come.<br />
<br />
Water engulfed me as I slid deeper and deeper in. Black. Dark. Empty and silent. No waves crashing, no screams. Everything is just so silent.<br />
<br />
I opened my eyes, my long dusty brown hair floating around me. I can’t breathe. I can’t see past the murky waters.<br />
<br />
This is it.<br />
<br />
I’m going to die.<br />
<br />
I’m no longer waiting for death to take hold of my languid soul, I’m there. Door wide open.<br />
<br />
I sunk deeper and deeper into oblivion. The unknown. The darkness that holds no promises…<br><br>Not all truths should rise.Some should be doused in lies and remain buried. - Isa<br><br>To sin, you would need to believe, because evil cannot exist without the faith of good. I am not good. I am not well. I am something that has been caged inside of a dark cell for years. A cell that has no key, no access code, and no escape route. It lives within me, between the twisted knots of my brain.<br />
<br />
I wake, shivering, my lips trembling and my teeth chattering. Why is it cold? It’s so so cold. I stumble off the bed, fisting the clean white sheets with me and wrapping them around my body. My hand comes to my stomach, where there was once a swollen bump, it is now flat, with no evidence of me bearing a child. What is this? What is my name?<br />
<br />
I scan the room. I’m so cold. There’s a metal bed. A fireplace, stone and inbuilt into the silent echoes of white walls. Unlit. It’s so cold. There is a load of logwood beside the front mantle, bark scaling off and scattered over the ground. I shiver again, goose bumps breaking out over my flesh. Under my toes is a plush red rug, the color of…<br />
<br />
"Blood…” I whisper to myself, as memories crash into my brain at a hundred miles per hour.<br />
<br />
My name is Isa Royal.<br />
<br />
Bryant Saint Royal is my husband.<br />
<br />
I didn’t have to fear death, I am death. It follows me everywhere.<br />
<br />
It’s so cold. Air whooshes past me, and my body violently shivers with its embrace. The door creaks. Wooden, like a cabin. The windows, sealed with icicles, slip down the other side of the glass, melting away.<br />
<br />
I’m in a cabin, but how and why? There’s a double bed that I’m curled up in in the lounge room.<br />
<br />
I tilt my head, confused. The front door swings open and a man enters, kicking it shut behind him.<br />
<br />
“Oh, it’s fucking cold out,” he says casually. Too casually.<br />
<br />
I squeeze the sheet, a scream slipping from my mouth. “Who the fuck are you?”<br />
<br />
The man. He’s large, broad, and hairy. His beard is long, but his eyes are pretty. They slant softly around the edges, but the color pierces me like a flying dagger, target: me.<br />
<br />
“Quiet.” He drops some logs down near the open fireplace, the flames licking through the air. I don’t want to ask more questions. Confused and dazed, I crawl backward until my back hits the wall. Sweat coats the palm of my hands, a tightening in my chest that I can’t loosen.<br />
<br />
“Why?” I whisper, my hand coming to my head. My hair is brushed, curled in perfect curls and when my fingers touch my lips, I can feel the cream from the lipstick smudge off. “Where am I?”<br />
<br />
The man doesn’t answer.<br />
<br />
He moves around the cabin, and I watch in pure fascination as he shuffles with precision despite his size. A wooden table, an outdated stone style kitchen, a two-seater fabric couch, and no TV. A large portrait painting hangs on the wall. A woman. Dark hair that drops over her slender shoulders and a collarbone that looks to be sharpened by a scalpel. Her face is a warped mess of oil colors stirred together to conceal her identity. I don’t know why, but I resonate with the painting. Transfixed and entranced by the art, I reach out to touch the wilted canvas, needing to touch her face.<br />
<br />
Movement catches me off guard, snapping me out of my trance. I spin around, the flames from the fire licking my back. “Do I know you?”<br />
<br />
“No,” he answers, clipped. Not a man of many words.<br />
<br />
I swallow my nerves. “Where’s the bathroom?”<br />
<br />
He points a big finger over my shoulder. “Second door on the right. If you’re not out in five minutes, I’m coming in.” I slide past him, heading straight for the room he directed me to. I don’t want him near me right now. Not until I know who he is.<br />
<br />	
	

			
			

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<div class='pagination-custom-post-pages'><a href='#'><<<</a><a href='#'><</a><a href='#' class='active'>1</a><a href='?mypage=2'>2</a><a href='?mypage=3'>3</a><a href='?mypage=11'>11</a><a href='?mypage=21'>21</a><a href='?mypage=2'>></a><a href='?mypage=81'>81</a></div>

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		<title>Crowned by Hate Read Online Amo Jones (Crowned #1)</title>
		<link>http://www.books2020.com/crowned-by-hate-1-read-online-amo-jones</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[testblog]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 09 Feb 2017 01:57:33 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Alpha Male]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dark]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Erotic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Romance]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Suspense]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Amo Jones]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/crowned-by-hate-1-read-online-amo-jones</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[]]></description>
			<span class="cat-links"><span class="screen-reader-text">Categories </span>Genre: <a href="http://www.books2020.com/genre/alpha-male" rel="category tag">Alpha Male</a>, <a href="http://www.books2020.com/genre/dark" rel="category tag">Dark</a>, <a href="http://www.books2020.com/genre/erotic" rel="category tag">Erotic</a>, <a href="http://www.books2020.com/genre/romance" rel="category tag">Romance</a>, <a href="http://www.books2020.com/genre/suspense" rel="category tag">Suspense</a></span> <span class="tags-links"><span class="screen-reader-text">Tags </span>Authors: <a href="http://www.books2020.com/authors/amo-jones" rel="tag">Amo Jones</a></span> <span class="cat-links">Series: <a href="http://www.books2020.com/series/crowned-series-by-amo-jones">Crowned Series by Amo Jones</a></span><br />	
	
	
	

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<div class='book-details-pages-words'><strong>Total pages in book: </strong>56<br /><strong>Estimated words: </strong>52843 (not accurate)<br /><strong>Estimated Reading Time in minutes: </strong>264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm) <br /></div><div class='pagination-custom-post-pages'><a href='#'><<<</a><a href='#'><</a><a href='#' class='active'>1</a><a href='?mypage=2'>2</a><a href='?mypage=3'>3</a><a href='?mypage=11'>11</a><a href='?mypage=21'>21</a><a href='?mypage=2'>></a><a href='?mypage=56'>56</a></div>	
	
	
	
	

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﻿<table id="bookdetailstable">  <tr>    <th><h2>Read Online Books/Novels:</h2></th>    <th><h2>Crowned by Hate (Crowned #1)</h2></th>  </tr>  <tr>    <td><h4>Author/Writer of Book/Novel:</h4></td>    <td><h3><a href="/authors/amo-jones">Amo Jones</a></h3></td>  </tr>  <tr>    <td><strong>Language:</strong></td>    <td><h5>English</h5></td>  </tr>  <tr>    <td colspan="2"><strong>Book Information:</strong></td>  </tr>  <tr>    <td colspan="2"><br />
Some would say I have a privileged life. Daughter of the current President of the United States, wealthy, famous, and all things that some girls wish they had. <br />
Only I'd dream of having a simple life. A life where I wasn't marrying the scariest man I have ever met. Well, I thought I had just met him, but it turns out, there's so much I don't know about myself. That's all thanks to a past so twisted, so warped, that no amount of money, or presidential status could wipe it clean. <br />
I'm the rebel child. Or as some may see it, the disappointment. I’ve never cared about expensive wedding gowns, or how much someone paid for a tailored suit. I don’t care if your wedding dress is from Walmart, or if it’s from some fancy, upscale designer line. <br />
So why am I marrying the devil dressed in a thousand-dollar suit? <br />
I'm about to find out how I got here. To marrying one of the most powerful men in the country. The road to finding out, though, is paved with darkness, painted with the blood of innocents, and it leads my ass straight to hell. Only this hell is a multi-million-dollar penthouse suite in New York City where Bryant Saint Royal, sits on his throne.<br />
  </td>  </tr>  <tr>    <td>Books in Series:</td>    <td><h3><a href="/series/crowned-series-by-amo-jones">Crowned Series by Amo Jones</a></h3></td>  </tr>  <tr>    <td>Books by Author:</td>    <td><h3><a href="/authors/amo-jones">Amo Jones </a></h3></td>  </tr></table><br><br>1<br><br>“Isa, pick your chin up and smile. I taught you better than that.”<br />
<br />
“I’m twenty years old, Lydia, not fifteen. I know what I’m doing.”<br />
<br />
Swooping up my wine glass, I empty the contents down my throat.<br />
<br />
“Well, I beg to differ. Why can’t you just be like your sister?” Lydia quips, eying me up and down.<br />
<br />
“Well, I don’t know, Lydia,” I mutter sarcastically while smiling politely at a passerby. Because it’s one of the nights my father gives me and my sister the pep-talk to behave ourselves, I have to be on my best behavior. Only he doesn’t need to drill everything into Brianna’s head like he does mine, because she understands it. She knows how to handle herself—apparently I don’t, being the delinquent and all. But, I don’t see her here tonight. Oh no, perfect big sister is shacked up studying Harvard Law.<br />
<br />
See.<br />
<br />
Golden child.<br />
<br />
“Maybe it’s because I have a thing called a backbone and a mouth?”<br />
<br />
“That’s a cheap stab at your sister and you know it, Isa. Stop this.” My eyes go over Lydia’s ridiculously perfected chiffon bun and land on my father, who has his salt and pepper hair slicked back to show his strong features and bright blue eyes. My dad was strapping when he was younger, but age has not been kind to him. Or maybe that’s karma.<br />
<br />
“My favorite girls.” He grins, his arms stretched out wide.<br />
<br />
“Great,” I murmur from around the rim of my glass. “Dad is extra cheesy tonight.”<br />
<br />
A foot hits me under the table and when I look up to Lydia, I catch her glaring at me. See, keeping up appearances is what my family is all about. Since my father not only has his fingers in all sorts of dealings in the US, and by dealings, I mean he’s a shady individual, he’s also the president of the United States of America—blah blah, that’s why it’s imminent that I’m on my best behavior constantly, and even more so while we’re at one of the many events we attend together as a ‘family.’ Family is a strong word to use, though. What I have, is more like a business gathering where we all barely tolerate each other—not so much a family.<br />
<br />
My father continues to walk toward us, pulling out a chair beside his and then taking a seat. Another figure catches the corner of my eye, but I don’t look toward it because I’m too busy counting the new wrinkles that have carved into my father’s forehead, though it probably looks like I’m openly glaring at my dad in annoyance. I can neither confirm nor deny this assumption.<br />
<br />
“Isa, I want you to meet Bryant Royal. The CEO of Royal Enterprise.” He ends his sentence with a tinge of urgency and warning, obviously hoping I’d catch his drift to behave myself. I finally bring my eyes to the man seated beside him and I have to stop my mouth from dropping open. All tied up in a sharp well-tailored suit is probably the most stunning man I have ever laid my eyes on. His brown hair is shaved short on the sides and slightly longer on the top—long enough to run your fingers through— and I wince slightly at how his green eyes watch me with burning intensity. Why the fuck is he looking at me like that. Just as I’m about to gear up with my flashy ‘I’m the President daughter’s smile,’ his lip curls up in disgust.<br />
<br />
Fuck being polite to this prick. The way his cocky eyes narrow on me, he obviously knows how hot he is, which means, I won’t be fueling that ego.<br />
<br />
He’s maxed out of ego fuel.<br />
<br />
I look to my father and watch as his eye twitches in slight annoyance.<br />
<br />
Great. Fuck my anal cavity.<br />
<br />
“Hi.” I lean over the table, placing my hand out to him with a very forced and very toothy smile on my face. I mean, you could count all my teeth from across the room, that’s how wide this smile was. “I’m Isa.”<br />
<br />
He looks to my hand, then looks up to my face, then back to my hand. Said hand is getting very tired waiting for his prick hand to accept. His angular jaw clenches a few times before his penetrating eyes pierce through mine with such hate, I almost flinch. Don’t you fucking flinch.<br />
<br />
Flinch.<br />
<br />
Fuck.<br />
<br />
“Bryant.” His voice. I wish it was ugly and ratty. However a rat would mutter the word ‘Bryant,’ but I wish it was like that. Instead, it was like, you know when you take that first spoonful of a molten lava cake, and the moist—yes, I said moist—cake melts away on the tip of your tongue, right before your taste buds get the ride of their life with the rich creamy sauce that begins to slither down your throat?<br />
<br />
Yeah. His voice was like that.<br />
<br />
I tug my hand away, slightly ashamed at how obvious he was at rejecting me. What the ever-loving fuck did I ever do to him. Or maybe someone pissed in his million-dollar cornflakes this morning.<br />
<br />	
	

			
			

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<div class='pagination-custom-post-pages'><a href='#'><<<</a><a href='#'><</a><a href='#' class='active'>1</a><a href='?mypage=2'>2</a><a href='?mypage=3'>3</a><a href='?mypage=11'>11</a><a href='?mypage=21'>21</a><a href='?mypage=2'>></a><a href='?mypage=56'>56</a></div>

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