Masie Kicklighter Series by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Masie Kicklighter Series by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:15:43 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Masie Kicklighter Series by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Vampires, Whiskey, and Southern Charm (Masie Kicklighter #2) Read Online Mimi Jean Pamfiloff http://www.books2020.com/vampires-whiskey-and-southern-charm-masie-kicklighter-2-read-online-mimi-jean-pamfiloff Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:15:43 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/vampires-whiskey-and-southern-charm-masie-kicklighter-2-read-online-mimi-jean-pamfiloff Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Vampires Authors: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Series: Masie Kicklighter Series by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
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Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)

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From New York Times bestseller Mimi Jean Pamfiloff comes a story with Southern feels, more cussing than Mamma approves of, and a vampire who thinks being hot is enough to win her heart: Vampires, Moonshine, and Southern Secrets.

HE’S FIVE HUNDRED YEARS OLD. SHE’S NOT IMPRESSED.

My name is Masie Kicklighter, and you’re never going to believe what our local vampire is up to this time. He honestly thinks he’ll get away with it, too.

Bless his undead heart.

Because this is still my town, and I’m not about to hand it over to a five-hundred-year-old vampire, just because he’s hotter than our Kicklighter whiskey.

Oh, and by the way, don’t drink the moonshine

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

PROLOGUE

To the editor of Supernatural Enquirer:

Hello. Me again. Masie Kicklighter.

The last time I wrote you, I was in prison for a murder I didn’t commit. (All Montgomery Stark’s wicked fault, of course. Ugh. Vampires!)

But this time, I am writing to confess to a murder.

Or pre-confess?

Whatever. Point is, this time I fully intend to kill that no good, lying POS Montgomery Stark—the world’s cruelest, most evil vampire.

Yeah, you heard me right.

I’m gonna kill, kill, kill that fangy man-trash! And I’m inviting you and your readers to join in your own murder-fun.

Now, before you start accusing me of sounding all crazy or like a woman scorned, I will admit that I’m spittin’ angry, but that’s not why I’m planning to end this beast of the night or why I’m urging you to do the same to your local evil vampire.

There is a new law about to pass, and it’ll give vampires “living” status. They want the same rights as humans!

Can you believe that crap? (Sorry, Mamma, I still can’t stop swearin’.)

Why any politician would vote for this pile of crusty turds boggles the mind, but I guess the lot in DC does love those donations. And vampires, well, they’re freakin’ loaded.

The only problem is that vampires have a plan, and spoiler alert: it don’t involve a peaceful coexistence with the livin’. They want to conquer us and make us feel all comfy-cozy and ooey-gooey warm inside until one day…blam! World domination.

Not that any of them bloodsuckers’ll say it to your face when you’re lying there naked in bed together. They’ll tell you how perrrty you look. They’ll say things like they love you, that they “want to spend eternity making your toes tingle,” and that they’ve “waited their entire existence for you.” That’s what them nasty ol’ vampires will tell you.

Well, wanna know what I say?

Liars!

Every single one of them!

Especially that Montgomery Stark, who betrayed me in the worst possible way.

So you tell your readers that we got us a few days to kill as many evil vampires as possible. Do not wait! They can’t be trusted!

Especially the one who broke my heart. And for that, Montgomery Stark will pay.

Yours Truly,

Masie Kicklighter

CHAPTER ONE

Leiper’s Fork, Tennessee. Five days earlier.

From the comfort of Stark’s antique-filled mansion, I rolled over in bed and beamed into his sultry, pale blue eyes, my chest heaving with postcoital exertion.

His long dark hair shined like glossy strands of midnight against the crisp white pillowcase. In the background, the glowing embers in the stone fireplace gave his bedroom a velvety feel that cocooned us in the moment.

Dang it, he’s so beautiful. I sighed with a contentment that plucked at my heartstrings. Had I known that sex could be (sigh…) so soul-consuming, leaving me raw and vulnerable in the best kind of way, I wouldn’t have waited my entire life to give it a whirl.

Though, on second thought, I doubted any of the men I’d come across during my twenty-seven years of life could butter my biscuits the way Stark did.

This vampire knew what he was doing—when to linger and when to pump those narrow hips. Even his breathing felt like a sexy slow dance: a deep guttural groan to let me know he was losing his mind with pleasure, followed by the softest breath on the crook of my neck to keep me in the moment, experiencing every touch, every beat of his heart (yes, heart!), and every spike of pleasure. In bed, he was in total control, but that control was for my pleasure.

“If you continue sighing like that,” Stark said in a smooth, deep voice, “I will be forced to make love to you again.”

A shamelessly goofy smile popped onto my swollen lips. “Welp, Stark, no one ever said I’d be easy to please.”

He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at me. “You are a demanding little vampire. This pleases me.”

Vampire. The word bounced around in my head like a pinball going nowhere. Was I really one of them now?

I still felt just as human as I had on my last day alive, when Stark’s brother, Lazlo, and Lazlo’s evil sidekick Fiona took my life in the parking lot behind the Flaming Rooster—my family’s bar, which I now owned. Next door to that was the distillery where we made award-winning Tennessee whiskey. It was a great life that I’d worked hard for, and that night, I’d thought I was done for.

Until I woke up.

Two days ago.

As a vampire.

“You look uneasy. What is the matter?” Stark asked.

“I know you said it’ll take some gettin’ used to, but shouldn’t I have super-hearing or super-smell or something vampiry?” My stomach grumbled.

“You have super-hunger. Shall I bring you the drink?”

The drink. Earlier, he’d offered me a concoction he called “moonshine” in a brown glass bottle, and I’d turned it down. He claimed it was an ancient herbal elixir with a small amount of human blood to ease my discomfort during the transformation.

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Advertisement Vampires, Whiskey, and Southern Charm (Masie Kicklighter #1) Read Online Mimi Jean Pamfiloff http://www.books2020.com/vampires-whiskey-and-southern-charm-masie-kicklighter-1-read-online-mimi-jean-pamfiloff Thu, 08 Feb 2024 08:24:22 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/vampires-whiskey-and-southern-charm-masie-kicklighter-1-read-online-mimi-jean-pamfiloff Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Vampires Authors: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Series: Masie Kicklighter Series by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
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Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)

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From New York Times bestseller Mimi Jean Pamfiloff comes a standalone story filled with Southern vibes, way too many cuss words, and a woman determined to defeat the local vampire.

HE’S NEVER GIVING UP, AND SHE’S NEVER GIVING IN.

My name is Masie Kicklighter, and I work at my family’s local bar in the heart of Tennessee, slinging whiskey and living a quiet life.

I can’t say my life was perfect, but when a local vampire started stalking me and sayin’ all sorts of crazy things (I was not his. Nor would I ever be), my first instinct was to run.

But Leiper’s Fork was my home. This was my town. And no one was gonna run me out. Even if he was hotter than a Sunday BBQ in July.

So I came up with a plan to run him off.

The only problem? He was one stubborn man. And crafty, too.

Then something terrible happened. A whole lot of terrible somethings. And they would change everything for us both.

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

PROLOGUE

To the editor of the Supernatural Inquirer:

My name is Masie Kicklighter, and in the interest of transparency, you should know a few things about me before jumping into my story, a story that just might save your readers’ lives.

First, I use obscene language when I’m nervous. Lately, that’s every waking second. You’d be swearing, too, if you were in my shoes.

Second, despite my use of nasty words, I’m a good girl. Don’t smoke, do drugs, drink, or believe in premarital sex. My body is a temple worth saving for the right man. Mamma raised me that way, and I feel no shame for being old-fashioned. After all, what has new-fashioned done for my sorry, poor ass besides get me into trouble?

Which leads to point number three: I’m now a convicted murderer, writing to you from prison, where I’ll be spending the rest of my life for a crime I did not commit.

Fact! You can’t murder someone who’s already dead! Though, I am guilty of a crime worse than murder. I betrayed someone important.

In closing, just know that I don’t deserve to leave this cell, but I hope you will publish my enclosed story. It is not for vindication. This is for you, your readers, and humankind, even if no one will believe a word I’m about to say.

Because he’s still out there.

Yours truly,

Masie Kicklighter

P.S. Please excuse the fact that it is written on toilet paper.

CHAPTER ONE

“Kiss my doughnut hole, cowboy. I wanna speak to a lawyer.” I stared defiantly at Thomas Rowlan—aka Sheriff Idiot—who had a fresh coffee stain down the front of his beige uniform. His dirt-brown hair stuck up on one side like he’d just rolled out of bed. Probably because he had.

It was just past four in the morning—an ungodly hour—but that wasn’t going to stop me from screaming at the top of my lungs to anyone who’d listen. I was being framed!

You’re not getting away with this! You hear that, you evil vampire? I wasn’t Montgomery Stark’s first victim, but I’d be damned if I let some other poor sucker be his last. That honor would be mine, since I was the world’s only hope for stopping him. Over the last few weeks, I’d learned all of Stark’s tricks.

Well, except for the one that landed me here at the Leiper’s Fork Police Station, located in the heart of Tennessee, just forty-five minutes from Nashville.

Mamma, my older sister Maybell, and I moved here from Paducah, Kentucky, about ten years ago, when I was fifteen. Daddy had already been in Leiper’s Fork for almost a year, working hard at the whiskey distillery for his brother, the owner, Uncle Jimmie.

Needless to say, Daddy couldn’t afford much in the way of houses, so he bought a run-down shack and did what men in our family had always done: used their own two hands to build something better.

Sadly, after the house was complete and we all moved in, Daddy died of a heart attack. At least he got to see the smile on Mamma’s face when she saw the place for the first time. She especially loved the wraparound porch he’d built her, just perfect for sipping iced tea on a hot summer day.

She never did get to enjoy that tea with him, but at least the property was paid for, so we weren’t going to be homeless—the only comforting thought during the worst year of my life. I’d had to start a new school in a new town with just the three of us as sad as we could be.

Little did I know how hard it was going to get after that. Don’t get me wrong, there were good times, too, and those were the memories I clung to when things got crazy. Lately, that was all I had. Crazy with a side of dang-crazy.

It all started a few years ago when rich folks began moving to town, building luxurious country estates. Overnight, home prices went through the roof, and most of the locals couldn’t resist cashing in. Mamma was one of them. Sold our two-bedroom “Southern charmer” and one acre for a million bucks. Now she lived in Florida in some old people’s community. Not my thing, but good for her. God knew something positive needed to come out of all this, because I recently learned that those rich folks weren’t folks at all.

Most of ’em were vampires.

Yep, you heard me right. The cursed, the children of the night, bloodsucking devils, the immortal. On the outside, Leiper’s Fork was a quaint Southern town with its local mom-and-pop café and quilting store, but beneath the historical charm, something dark and sinister was brewing: Montgomery Stark. And he was one sneaky SOB.

“Masie, you can drop the tough-girl act. I know you,” said Sheriff Idiot. “Tell me why you stabbed that man. Let me help you.”

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