Anyta Sunday

Anyta Sunday – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Wed, 09 Jul 2025 19:14:27 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Anyta Sunday – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 The King’s Man (The King’s Man #5) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-5-read-online-anyta-sunday Wed, 09 Jul 2025 19:14:27 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-5-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
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Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)

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A healer who masks his identity. A king held captive. A game of power, deception, and undeniable longing.

Cael has always walked the thin line between healer and outlaw, but when he learns Quin, the true king of Lumin, has been captured, he risks everything to reach him. Disguised as “Haldr,” Cael infiltrates Iskeldir’s court, tending to Quin’s wounds while keeping his own identity buried. Each stolen moment between them is a battle of sharp words, lingering touches, and the ever-present danger of discovery.

But Quin’s freedom comes at a cost. To secure his release, Cael must do the win the Medicus Contest, a ruthless competition designed to prove Lumin’s superiority in healing magic. With only alchemy and wit, Cael must outmatch spell-wielding rivals, outmanoeuvre those who would see him fail, and outlast the unseen forces working against him. When the final trial demands he enter the callous regent’s memoryscape, Cael faces an impossible risk his soul to save those trapped inside or lose everything. Including Quin.

In a world where healing is power and love is a battlefield, how far will Cael go to protect the man he can never have?

THE KING’S MAN is an epic romantasy filled with slow-burn passion, courageous choices, and the relentless spirit of a healer determined to beat all odds.
This six-book series is one continuous journey and romance arc and is best read in order for maximum enjoyment

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

Iuncork a small vial, tip the contents down my throat, and stagger into the courtyard of our borrowed refuge. Three steps, and the timber walls, beams, and upper balcony tilt drunkenly. The cobbled courtyard shifts, rising in waves beneath my feet. Lykos, the crusader who destroyed my magic, is a shadow at the well, hauling water as though the world owes him tribute. Megaera, my former intended and near murderess, sweeps past in a flash of crimson, her movements doubled in my blurred vision.

“And you worry I’ll poison you,” she murmurs, catching my arm and guiding me to a bench. “You do a fine job of that yourself.”

“Is he mad?” A younger voice cuts through my haze, and Zenon, youthful and wide eyed, emerges carrying a steaming bowl. “This is the third time this month.”

Megaera takes the bowl, her tone breezy as she spoons the bitter concoction into my mouth. “He calls it trial and error. I call it a slow march to an early grave.”

But only through trial and error can I heal; only through a lot of it can I forget.

The thought settles heavily in my gut, but I push it aside. My newest desire since arriving in Ragn has been to learn every alchemic healing method possible, practice each to perfection alongside my aunt and stranded companions, and, above all, avoid any thought of Lumin royalty. . . . Specifically, where they might be three months after we parted. Or how they might be faring. Or whether one in particular has had any stray thoughts about me.

“It’s all he does,” Zenon grumbles. “He barely even sleeps.”

I swallow, my throat clenching around the foul taste, and my limbs begin to seize. Megaera assures Zenon I’ll be fine shortly and nudges him back to his reading lessons at the courtyard table. I silently count two minutes in my head—the time it takes for the antidote to neutralise the poison crawling through my veins.

My vision sharpens first. The courtyard snaps into focus, the distorted waves settling into stone. Lykos abandons the well, his broad shoulders tensing as he grabs his spear and prowls toward Megaera. His lips curl as he presses the tip between her shoulder blades.

Megaera, ever unruffled, tosses a cloud of pale dust over her shoulder. Lykos staggers back, coughing violently, spear falling to his side.

She spins with a mocking laugh, crimson cloak flaring. “I’ve won every round, crusader. When will you learn?”

His dark eyes flash with frustration—and something else. Fascination. “What was that?”

“One of Cael’s poisons.” Her voice lilts. “Be a good boy, and I’ll give you the antidote.”

“You—” Lykos topples, unconscious, before he can finish.

Zenon peers over the edge of the table, shaking his head. “I can’t believe women used to swoon over him.”

Megaera smiles faintly as she kneels, tipping the antidote into Lykos’s mouth. “He has a certain brutish charm. Pity about what’s in his head.”

“Should we drag him inside?”

“Leave him. The spring air will do him good.”

They mean well, all of them. Stuck here in Iskaldir with me, longing for somewhere else—someone else. Especially Lykos and Zenon. It’s like they have a place they’re supposed to be, a person waiting for them.

As soon as I can, I’ll find a way to get us back to Lumin.

I shake my stiff arm and leg, willing sensation to return. The town bell tolls—Arcane Sovereign! It’s quarter to five already. I’m due at the temple in fifteen minutes. Last time I was late, Prins Lief made me write lines by candlelight under the watchful eyes of the temple statues. I’m now certain I believe in ghosts.

My arm tingles as feeling returns, and I leap to my feet. Megaera calls lazily after me, “Your curacowl’s by the stove. You nearly cooked it.”

I snatch the white healer’s hat from its perch, inhaling a faint whiff of smoke as I cram it onto my head. Delightful. Pulling the veil down over my face, I grab my bag of remedies and bolt.

The courtyard door bangs shut behind me, and I step into the heart of Ragn, a coastal town cleaved in two by a glacier winding down from the pine-covered mountains.

I hurry along cobbled streets lined with timber houses and glance up at the peaks. Perched on one is a stone castle, its battlements silhouetted against the fading light; on the other, catching the golds of the sinking sun, stands the temple of the gods—the place I need to be.

Swinging right, I enter the town square, where a wall of celebratory music and masked dancers hits me like a wave. They whirl around enormous stone runes set into the ground—a wedding celebration.

I zigzag through the throngs of revellers. “Excuse me—sorry.”

From a balcony overhead, someone shouts, “Release the runes!”

Four massive gulls are set loose from the rooftops, their wings beating as they scatter pebbles into the crowd below. A roar of delight erupts as hands shoot skyward, scrambling for the falling stones.

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The King’s Man (The King’s Man #6) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-6-read-online-anyta-sunday Wed, 09 Jul 2025 19:14:24 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-6-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
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Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)

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The mask is finally coming off. But some truths are more dangerous than lies.

Cael never expected to fall into Quin’s memories. Never expected to uncover the moments Quin kept his quiet observations, his reluctant admiration, the silent war he waged against his own heart. And at the centre of it all? A truth that shatters everything Cael thought he knew.

But the past is a trap. And while Cael is lost in Quin’s memories, the war still looms.

Reality drags him back. To Ragnarson. To a battlefield where Quin stands before him, not as a ghost of the past, but flesh and blood. Real and untouchable. Their reunion burns brief and bright before duty rips them apart once more.

As the kingdom teeters on collapse, rebellion ignites. The war isn’t just for a throne anymore—it’s for survival. And when Cael is captured, Quin will stop at nothing to bring him back.

Because kings do not beg.
This healer does not bow.
And masks cannot hide the truth forever.

THE KING’S MAN is an epic romantasy filled with slow-burn passion, courageous choices, and the relentless spirit of a healer determined to beat all odds.
This six-book series is one continuous journey and romance arc and is best read in order for maximum enjoyment

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

Ifall. Fall into a thousand violet leaves; into memories.

I take my time breathing in the carefully recalled details—the roughness of the bark; the woodsy scent of it; the freshness coming from the nearby river. We saved one another here, many years ago. It’s where I found my lost soldad; where I unravelled the truth.

This is a place where masks have been stripped.

Once again, I’m dressed like Quin has clothed me himself. The layers drape around me like a warm buffer against the crisp moonlit night.

I jump the last feet to the damp earth and turn from the violet oak. Rune-carved arches, dozens of them, spiral around it. I catch my breath and push against the first door.

The gateway shimmers as I step through into one of Quin’s truths. On a pent breath, I enter the familiar, sunny woods of the royal belt. It’s warm, birds are tweeting and summer blooms pink around tree trunks. I come to the edge of a small clearing cresting a hill: the woods spread below, and beyond, the grand luminarium glows, straddling the walled royal city and casting its light over the capital.

Some of the most heart-pounding encounters of my life have happened in these spaces.

Movement catches my eye across the clearing. A horse and its rider canter along the craggy edges of the viewpoint. My breath snags on the sight of Quin, carefully dismounting, landing on his good leg. He’s reaching for the cane strapped onto his horse when a loud crash startles the animal.

Quin tries to catch the reins, but the panicked horse shies off into the woods. Quin hobbles to the cliff edge and leans against a tree with a heavy breath that I can almost feel from here. Another crash. My chest hiccups, half on a laugh, half on a cry as I see my seventeen-year-old self scrambling down a bushy embankment into the clearing.

I rush up the hill to Quin, who has stilled upon recognising the agent of the chaos.

I remember this.

But I never saw Quin here. This was the day I met—

I get right in front of him but he stares through me, towards Chaos Me who plucks twigs from his cloak, grinning wildly as he veers toward this beautiful young man. But Chaos Me didn’t see Quin’s face then like I do here. Chaos Me saw a face veiled with magic.

I sag to my knees, overwhelmed. It was you. It is always you.

My heart throbs wildly as I watch the rest of the memory. Quin and Chaos Me. Quin and Chaos.

Chaos doesn’t even slow down as he nears Quin—in fact, he speeds up, waving a hand: come; come quick. When Quin doesn’t move, Chaos starts jogging. “Redcloaks. Hide, quick.”

Quin, still shocked at seeing Chaos, merely blinks.

Chaos, the fool, only sees a man—frowning slightly, like he’s unaware of the danger of being caught here. Chaos, the fool, grabs Quin’s arm and tugs.

Quin’s stare drops to Chaos’s fingers wrapped around him, and Chaos suddenly squeezes. Redcloaks have entered the clearing. Redcloaks have spotted them.

Chaos swears under his breath and tosses a wink at Quin. “Don’t panic. Just play along.”

I shake my head. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking they just have to act a little loopy. So the soldiers won’t see them as a threat; so they’ll shoo them along with a mere warning not to come this way again.

I cover my eyes as Chaos drops to all fours and starts crawling around. I wish I’d thought to cover my ears as he starts to whinny.

I peek between my fingers. The redcloaks stop abruptly in the middle of the clearing, watching on in bafflement. And Quin stares.

Chaos pats his hip. “Your faithful steed is here. Climb aboard!” He tosses his hair with a wild neigh, rearing up dramatically. “We’ll ride into the sunset!”

“You’re unbelievable,” Quin mutters, and slings himself onto Chaos’s back. As elegantly as one can on a pretend horse, he keeps his chin high and gives Chaos’s rump a dignified slap.

I shut my fingers over my eyes on a groan before peeking once more. Chaos is crawling along the grass with Quin positioned awkwardly on his back, pretending it’s most natural indeed. I slink after them, flushing. The redcloaks glance at one another, open their mouths and shut them again with deepening frowns. One of them points and whispers in his neighbour’s ear, “That signet on his belt, isn’t that—”

The redcloaks bow as one, and Quin quickly shoos them off; Chaos keeps crawling along, totally unaware.

Chaos hisses quietly, for Quin’s ears only, “Ride me proper. My mane, steer with it.”

Quin shuts his eyes, shaking his head. His expression is somewhere between horrified and even more horrified, but at Chaos’s buck, he grabs a handful of hair and whips it like reins.

Like this, Quin is held hostage until Chaos has crawled into the shadows of the woods, to a nook by the river where Akilah waits.

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The King’s Man (The King’s Man #3) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-3-read-online-anyta-sunday Thu, 12 Jun 2025 17:27:34 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-3-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
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Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)

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A healer in exile. A fugitive king. A kingdom that would see them both dead.

Cael should be dead. The kingdom believes it. The duke who framed him ensured it. But instead of execution, he was buried alive, and only one man dared to pull him from the grave. Now, Cael is on the run with the very king he was forced to betray.

Hunted by redcloaks and trapped in a town ravaged by disease, Cael and Quin must risk everything to survive. With supplies dwindling and the air thick with fevered cries, every life Cael saves pushes him closer to breaking. Wyverns carry the sickness, but the town’s fear and desperation are far deadlier. As tensions flare, sharp words clash, glances hold too long, and an unspoken pull tightens between them. Cael clings to the one thing slipping fastest through his control.

But even the most powerful healer has limits. And when their enemies close in, forcing Cael to make an impossible sacrifice, the price he pays will change him forever.

Uncover the fate of the healer who should have died . . . and the king who won’t let him go.

THE KING’S MAN is an epic romantasy filled with slow-burn passion, courageous choices, and the relentless spirit of a healer determined to beat all odds.
This six-book series is one continuous journey and romance arc and is best read in order for maximum enjoyment.

For readers who A slow-burn romance simmering with tensionA healer hero who refuses to be powerlessA puppet king fighting to reclaim his throneHigh-stakes adventure, betrayal, and found familyPerfect for fans of "The Captive Prince," "The Magician’s Guild," and "The Priory of the Orange Tree."

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

Fog coils, smothering Akilah and me in damp, oppressive grey. The chill seeps through our clothes, gnawing at our bones. Akilah’s trembling hand clutches at my soldad, pulling me back into harsh reality.

I’ve become a pawn in the high duke’s game.

“Your dream,” she murmurs, her voice breaking. Her head droops onto my shoulder and I pull her close, fighting the raw lump in my throat.

“You’re my dream too,” I whisper against her hair.

Her teeth chatter uncontrollably; I force us to our feet, scanning the desolate landscape for shelter. The crumbling silhouette of a castle rises above the island like a spectre. We trudge toward it, our steps heavy as the pebbly shore gives way to coffinweed. The stench of decay thickens, curling in my throat.

My foot catches on something hidden in the weeds, sending us sprawling into the dirt. Akilah lands hard, her breath hitching with pain. “You alright?” I scramble to help her up.

A voice grumbles from the shadows, rough and irritated. “I’d be better if you hadn’t trod on me.”

A man rises from the ground, brushing off his cloak. He’s thin and grimy, the lines on his weathered face sharp in the dim light. Eerily familiar, though roughened. A book dangles loosely from his hand.

Akilah gasps, her grip tightening on my arm—not in fear, but in recognition. “Florentius . . .” she whispers.

The man snorts. “Wrong brother,” he says. His gaze flickers between us, guarded. “Do I know you?”

I shake my head, my throat dry. “Your brother’s . . . my friend.”

“Little Florentius made a friend?” His laugh is disbelieving but softens as his eyes land on Akilah. “You’re hurt.”

“The duke—” I begin, but the words catch in my throat.

His expression darkens; he pulls a pipe from his cloak, lighting it with practised ease. Smoke curls around him like a protective barrier. “Come on, then,” he says. “I’ll take you somewhere she can rest.”

Lucius leads us through a decaying courtyard, his pipe glowing faintly in the mist. “Water’s over there,” he says with a casual wave. “Rations are tight. Boil it first, skim the scum, try not to think too much about what you’re drinking.”

Grubby men shuffle past, their hollow eyes avoiding mine. The air is thick with the brittle sound of laughter edged with despair.

Inside the castle, it’s colder. The gallery is dimly lit by narrow windows casting pale light over rows of bedmats. Half are occupied. Lucius retrieves two threadbare blankets from a creaking cupboard and tosses them in our direction. “Spare mats are over there. Make yourselves comfortable.”

I lower Akilah onto a mat at the far end, away from the others. Her pulse is weak but steady. She needs real rest—healing sleep—but I don’t see how that’s possible in a place like this.

“Do you have any herbs? Anything for the pain?” I ask.

Lucius exhales a long plume of smoke, his expression unreadable. “I’ve got something,” he says finally. “Come with me.”

Down and down we descend, the air growing thick and heavy. The cellar is low vaulted and smoky, filled with grimy tables where people huddle, coughing between throws of the dice.

Lucius acknowledges a rather discordantly elegant woman rising from a card table; she eyes me with bright curiosity and leads me to a curtained alcove. He gestures to a small table cluttered with books and opens a drawer. Capsules glint faintly in the lantern light. “These will help with the pain.”

I take one, rolling it between my fingers. “What’s in them?”

Lucius leans back in his chair, his eyes half lidded as he puffs on his pipe. “Belief. Sometimes, that has to be enough.”

The capsule crumbles under the pressure of my grip, revealing an empty core. My chest tightens.

“The real herbs are gone,” he says, his tone flat. “What else is there to do?”

A wave of hot abhorrence slams over me. I crush the empty capsules in my hand, the glittering shells crumbling into dust.

The betrayal burns as I storm out of Lucius’s alcove, the smoky, oppressive air of the cellar giving way to the harsh, damp cold of the courtyard, then to the stifling air of the sleeping area.

At least a dozen people are coughing violently. The pervasive stench of sickness clings to the air. My stomach churns as I spot Akilah on her mat, her face pinched with pain.

I stop abruptly, drawing unwanted attention. Heads swing my way, then quickly turn back to their meagre meals.

One man leans over to Akilah and presses a capsule into her trembling hand. “This might help,” he says kindly. Akilah thanks him profusely, her voice broken with pain.

The lie has my chest seizing. These people need real care, not false hope. I fumble for my soldad, desperate to gain their trust, but what can I say? A newcomer like me has no authority here.

The air shifts behind me. I turn, startled—

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The King’s Man (The King’s Man #4) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-4-read-online-anyta-sunday Thu, 12 Jun 2025 17:27:31 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-4-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
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Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >63

He was a healer with precious magic. Now, he has nothing.
Cael has lost his power, his home, and the one person who made him feel whole.

In the city of Hinsard, where enemies lurk behind every mask, he desperately hunts for a cure for his severed meridians, for the rising sickness, and for the aching void inside him. But magic isn’t the only thing slipping through his fingers.
A conspiracy is brewing in Hinsard, one that frames his ally for treason and threatens to unravel the delicate balance of power. To uncover the truth, Cael must navigate deadly politics, stolen corpses, and an elusive poison that ties it all together. And always, Quin is there, watching, doubting, challenging him in ways no one else dares. Their past simmers between them, tangled with unspoken words and the weight of something undeniable.
But when a deadly scheme threatens hundreds, including Quin himself, Cael must make a choice. Does he cling to the healer he once was? Or embrace the survivor he has become?

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

The entrance to Nicostratus’s Hinsard home swings wide, onto a courtyard blanketed in autumn colours. Armed guards with keen eyes patrol the shadows as attendants quickly clear leaves from the path. I drop my wrapped belongings, catching my breath at the impressive inner-city estate.

“Clearly it’s been a while since their master visited.” Nicostratus laughs, waving over an incredibly tall, thin man in an aklo’s uniform. “This is my head aklo, Petros.”

Petros. Nicostratus even respects that his aklos have actual names. I grip a handful of my cloak, comforted by the thought. A good, kind man.

Petros bows his head to me with a welcoming smile.

“Anything you need,” Nicostratus says, “he’s your man. Oh, and this.” He touches a button pinned to Petros’s—and all of his staff’s—uniform. Two circling wyverns around a sun—an emblem of unity—two brothers working together to cast brightness on the kingdom. “Anyone wearing this symbol is loyal to me and my brother. They’ve vowed to protect us, and at my word, they’ll protect you, too.”

Nicostratus, although tall, has to look up at his head aklo. “Are his rooms ready?”

I pick up my belongings as Petros leads us deeper into the house. At the closed oak doors, Nicostratus asks him to bring food and looks at me softly. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday evening . . .”

My hands close tightly around my things, mostly my grandfather’s books.

He swallows audibly.

I lift my hands, the gloves now useless, mocking. I rip them off, juggling my belongings, and stuff them into the bundle with the books.

“Take all the time you need,” Nicostratus murmurs. He pushes the doors open, revealing a spacious room hung all around with tapestries. They stop me cold as I follow him inside: vitalians casting, their hands aglow, as sick masses rise to their feet. In the centre, a haloed man stands among rejoicing children, his image mirrored in another panel as he kneels to accept the apex-vitalian stamp. Kyrillos. The name carries both reverence and a sharp pang, a reminder of everything I’ve lost.

“I have some last-century medicinal goblets somewhere.” Nicostratus flings open a cupboard, clattering around. He shuts it with a frown, waving it off. “Must’ve moved them.”

An akla enters and sets food on a table, tutting at us for studying the tapestries in such dim light. She lights a few candles, leaving us bathed in a warm glow. Nicostratus clears his throat and gestures to the table.

“Eat, please?”

His plea is soft, earnest. I drop into a chair beside him and force a grape into my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a while, lifting his determined gaze to mine. “I’ll provide for all your wants. I’ll see your family gets what they need.” His hand covers my cold, bare one. “Stay with me. I’ll always take care of you. Anything you need. Everything.”

I swallow thickly. “Do you think it’s impossible for my meridians to be healed?”

Nicostratus pats my hand. “I’ve never liked the word impossible. Perhaps there’s a healer out there who could help.”

My breath catches. “You really think so?”

“Hinsard is well known for having the most travelled healers in the kingdoms. Maybe one of them has seen something on their journeys.”

I pluck a few more grapes, chewing quickly.

Nicostratus chuckles. “Only . . .”

“Only?”

“Follow the healer’s orders and rest another week first.”

“I’m fully healed. The spell was . . . miraculous.” Yet even that healer couldn’t repair my meridians.

I shake off the disheartening thought. Hope. Stay hopeful. If I look hard enough, if I never give up, maybe the heavens will reward me. Fix me.

“Regardless,” Nicostratus says, scowling into the middle distance, “I’d feel better if we waited.” He snaps back to a smile. “That gives me time for my scouts to discern what the situation is in the city.”

Patience. I must be worthy enough.

I nod.

I wait.

I spend my days helping all over the estate—from sweeping to cooking to cleaning out privy pots. I help the aklas change the bedding, and Petros take stock of inventory. “You’re much too helpful,” he says, laughing. “Take a rest. Nicostratus should be at the training grounds, now that he’s waited out the doctor’s orders.”

I smirk and leave Petros to it, making my way to Nicostratus.

I stand at the periphery, silently observing his combat practice from the shadows. He moves with grace and fluidity, a blur of magic and motion. Then he picks up a crude sword and spars with his personal guards. Steel clashes and vibrates through the air, shivering over my skin. He is all precision, perfection. He’s lost nothing.

I swallow. If I’m a good enough person, maybe I won’t lose everything, either.

I spend the afternoon near the kitchens, grinding grains with a quern stone, hoping soon I’ll be doing this with herbs. My eyes are covered by warm fingers, and I call out Nicostratus’s name. He pulls his hands away, and the first thing I see is his grin. “I’ve something you’ll be interested in.”

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The King’s Man (The King’s Man #2) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-2-read-online-anyta-sunday Wed, 04 Jun 2025 21:20:35 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-2-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
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Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >62

A healer on the rise. A masked merchant hiding too much. A kingdom where the wrong kind of magic can cost you everything.

Cael is used to being underestimated. A par-linea healer in a world where magic is only for the elite, he’s fought for every scrap of recognition, and now, he’s finally earned a place in the royal city. But ambition has a price, and when he once again crosses paths with that sharp-tongued merchant who knows too much, their game of wits threatens to turn deadly.

Quin is an enigma, a man who moves through court like a shadow, watching, waiting. His gaze lingers too long, his smirks cut too deep, and when a violent conspiracy unfolds within the palace walls, Cael finds himself ensnared in a battle far bigger than himself. With wyverns wreaking havoc and a high duke tightening his grip, the city is on the verge of collapse. And somehow, Quin is always at the centre of it.

Torn between ambition and survival, Cael must decide who he can trust. But in a world where power is wielded more sharply than magic, trust may be the most dangerous weapon of all.

THE KING’S MAN is an epic romantasy filled with slow-burn passion, courageous choices, and the relentless spirit of a healer determined to beat all odds.
This six-book series is one continuous journey and romance arc and is best read in order for maximum enjoyment.

For readers who Slow-burn romance crackling with tensionA healer hero who refuses to back downCourtly intrigue, masked secrets, and deadly politicsHigh-stakes magic and rebellionPerfect for fans of "The Captive Prince," "The Magician’s Guild," and "The Priory of the Orange Tree."

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

Florentius sweeps through the royal city’s maze-like corridors, his green robes a blur against the stone walls. I follow, heart pounding, dreading another of Chiron’s infamous quizzes.

We reach the intricately carved archway marking entry to Chiron’s domain—shelves brimming with jars, the air thick with mingled scents of dried herbs and old parchment.

Chiron’s sharp gaze lands on Florentius and me, entering late.

We hurriedly sit.

“Aquamintis, earthbloom, aetherpelis, mastic resin, silvarias,” Chiron lists. “What ailment can these ingredients treat?”

Makarios and Mikros rise to answer. Makarios thrives on following Mikros, and Mikros rarely misses a chance for a joke. Together, they’ve provided some comfort to the start of my studies.

Before they can speak, Chiron raises a forbidding hand. “Let’s have a green-sash answer. Cael.”

The endless ‘let’s test Cael’ drills. I suppress my sigh and mentally assemble the herbs: aquamintis and earthbloom for stomach issues; aetherpelis as an amplifier; silvarias for tissue regeneration; mastic resin for ulcers. “Gastrotrype helkosis.”

Chiron nods reluctantly. “Describe the treatment process.”

“First, sedate the patient. Then treat the lesions, followed by a sealing spell for post-care.”

Chiron’s expression is flat. “Florentius, explain the more efficient method.”

“Stack the spells to conserve energy,” Florentius answers. “Combine the herbs into basic compounds and apply them in a single, layered spell, starting with sedation—unless the patient must stay conscious.”

Florentius’s answer is quick and precise, earning a rare nod of approval. I grit my teeth.

The room hums with quiet concentration as we weigh compounds and stack spells under Chiron’s watchful eye. Makarios mutters jokes to keep the mood light, but my focus is on the scales, each adjustment feeling like a test of my worth.

“You’re behind,” Chiron’s voice cuts through my concentration, unwelcome but not unexpected. “Without improvement, you will not reach medius-complex competency in time for the fourth examination. Prepare yourself.”

I clench my hands at my sides. The warning hangs heavily. He knows I spend hours practicing. He’s telling me to give up. But I won’t. I force my mind back to its task and shut out all else.

I’m so successful that by the time the change in atmosphere reaches me, all laughter and chatter has died. The air has shifted—sharper, heavier—cutting through the apothecary’s calm like a blade.

I freeze as a limp figure, her drenched form glistening under the lamplight, is carried into the treatment room on a stretcher. Through the open doorway, I can see blood dripping from her mouth, staining the stone floor.

Chiron snaps into action, his calm precision a stark contrast to the chaos around him. But even as he works, the whispers start—the fear.

“Water wyverns,” Florentius murmurs, low enough for only me to hear. The words send a shiver down my spine.

Chiron curses.

My fingers twitch, aching to help—something—as the akla’s breaths slow, each one shallower than the last. Her chest stills.

Silence falls, smothering the apothecary like a heavy shroud. A mage draws a sheet over her, the sound unbearably soft against the deafening quiet.

My chest tightens, and the air grows thick, refusing to fill my lungs. A life lost—so quickly, so easily. Despite the spells of vitalians.

I whisper, hesitantly. “I thought royal bloods can control water wyverns?”

“Evidently not,” Florentius says grimly. “Or they won’t.”

The air carries a faint tang of salt, sharp and unnatural. I breathe in this scent of poison, unease curling in my chest. What else is the royal city hiding? “Any chance to survive an attack?”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >62

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The King’s Man (The King’s Man #1) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-1-read-online-anyta-sunday Wed, 04 Jun 2025 21:20:31 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-1-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
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Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >76

Healing is his calling. Love is his curse. And this is just the beginning.

Cael knows the healing magic is for the privileged, and par-linea like him exist only to serve. But when his forbidden spellbooks vanish and his father arranges his marriage to settle a debt, he flees into the royal woods, where he stumbles upon dying soldiers and a poisoned noble.

Using illegal medius magic, he saves the noble’s life, only to entangle himself in a dangerous game of politics. Now hunted for magic he shouldn’t possess, his only escape is to secretly compete in the mage examinations and prove himself a true vitalian.

But the capital is a den of vipers, and two men stand in his way: Silvius, the secretive fugitive who saved his life and kissed him like a promise, and Quintus, the sharp-tongued merchant who challenges him at every turn.

Both dangerous.
Both holding secrets.
Both about to change his life forever.

THE KING’S MAN is an epic romantasy filled with slow-burn passion, courageous choices, and the relentless spirit of a healer determined to beat all odds. This six-book series is one continuous journey and romance arc and is best read in order for maximum enjoyment. For readers who love:
slow-burn, rivals-to-lovers
romance filled with tension
A rebellious healer who refuses to bow to the system
A mysterious noble with a sharp tongue and sharper secrets
Forbidden magic, political intrigue, and high-stakes deception
Perfect for fans of "The Captive Prince," "The Magician’s Guild," and "The Priory of the Orange Tree."

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

I discovered his name beneath the violet oak, a long way from home, when I was only nine. Even then, he was sharp-tongued and far too composed. And even then, I couldn’t stop staring at him.

Prince Nicostratus Aetherion.

The boy who saved me from drowning. The boy I saved from poison. The boy who would grow up to change my life forever.

Quick!

Redcloaks—three of them—ghosting through the trees with swords drawn and those unmistakable crimson cloaks.

I rip a precious thornwort root free and shove it into my belt. Akilah needs this. And I need to live long enough to get it to her.

I launch down a bushy embankment, boots skidding, cloak snagging on underbrush. Twigs whip my face. I don’t stop. The clearing’s ahead—

I lurch to a halt, boots suctioned into the mud.

I’m not the only one trespassing in the royal woods.

A young man stands at the cliff’s edge. Tall. Still. Cloak and hair caught in the wind. He’s carved from silence, as if from magic, from something old and untouchable. Beautiful. But wrong. There’s a shimmer to his face; subtle, but unmistakable.

Not his real face.

Not that it’ll matter. Masked or not, the redcloaks won’t ask questions.

He doesn’t look like he’s seen them. Doesn’t look like he sees anything.

I veer toward him, heart thundering, and wave with wild urgency.

He turns. Not startled.

Just a blink. A faint frown. On a fancy fake face.

I reach him in a few strides and grab his arm.

He glances at my fingers, curled around his sleeve. Too late.

I curse under my breath, squeeze the man’s arm, and flash him a reckless grin as the redcloaks break through the trees. They move fast. We’re in for it now, unless . . .

I drop to all fours.

“Don’t panic,” I whisper, already crawling through dirt and leaves. “Just play along.” No one can possibly take us seriously like this.

I whinny. Loudly. “Your faithful steed is here.” I toss my hair with a wild neigh, rearing up dramatically. “Climb aboard! We ride into the sunset!”

“You’re unbelievable,” the young man mutters. Creamy and composed, his voice slides straight down my spine.

But no time to dwell.

He slings himself onto my back, and I nearly collapse beneath the weight of him.

Somehow, I hold it together, biting my tongue when he offers a most dignified: “Giddyup.”

And giddyup I do, hissing for his ears only, “Ride me proper. My mane. Steer with it.”

A long-released breath. Then he grabs a handful of my hair and yanks it.

Behind us, the redcloaks falter, confused. Muttering.

Lunatics. No threat. Let them go.

I crawl with my masked rider into the shadows of the woods, heart still hammering, until we reach the nook by the river, half-wrapped in bramble and shadowlight, where Akilah waits.

She startles, blinks, rubs her eyes, then sighs. Her look says it all: This is so Cael Amuletos.

I grin, breathless. “We’re safe.” I shift beneath him. “Dismount.”

The moment his weight vanishes, I sit back. Too fast—he stumbles, catches a tree trunk but still falls, hitting his knee with a solid thunk.

I lunge forward, offering a hand.

Then I freeze.

His pain. I feel it in the air—sharp, sour, sparking against my nose. Too strong to ignore.

I reach for my healing pouch. “Let me read your pulse—”

“No.” Firm. Cold.

He braces against the tree to pull himself upright, back turned.

I hesitate. That ‘no’ was more than cold. It stung.

I glance over. “Why?”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >76

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Capricorn Faces Scorpio Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/capricorn-faces-scorpio-read-online-anyta-sunday Mon, 08 Jul 2024 20:38:24 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/capricorn-faces-scorpio-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Authors: Anyta Sunday Advertisement

Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >63

On a quest for long-lasting love, Capricorn? It may be just over the rainbow.

Grappling with a storm in his heart and feeling like a general failure, Carl Birch flees his problems at home and swaps lives with his ‘successful’ twin brother. Stepping into the shoes of an accomplished professional pianist adored by the locals feels like a breath of fresh air: he’s revered, admired, and described as ‘talented’ for the first time ever.
It feels good, but it’s also complicated. He can’t actually play the piano to save himself, and everyone he meets wants him to play, and teach, and tune, and give motivational speeches at school assembly . . .
If that’s not enough, the local heartbreaker has his dark, judgy eyes on him—eyes that seem to know. But also to understand. And, vexingly, to suspect Carl has joined the hordes of groupies swooning after him!
To get out of this spiraling mess, Carl will have to face things—both at home, and in his heart.

Buckle up, Capricorn. You’re about to undertake a journey of heart, mind, and courageous spirit.

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

Chapter One

Carl had never thought of himself as a Dead-End Dude, but he’d heard it from an out-of-town customer upset that his selection of magazines ‘lacked journalistic integrity’, and now he couldn’t quite forget it.

Dead-End Dude. He ran his own convenience store, thankyouverymuch. It had regularly replenished refrigerated drinks and a dairy section, there was a bread and cereal aisle, junk food for on the go, all your bathroom and kitchen whatever, and everything a pet owner would ever need, from anti-flea drips to oversize dog kennels.

Dead-End Dude.

He was practically a lifesaver in his curtain-twitching hometown. How many cakes had he saved with his fresh-from-the-farm eggs? And how much more miserable would the keen-eyed, hardworking policemen of Earnest Point be without his cream donuts? That really benefited everyone. Especially those like himself, who might leave their bike a little too close to a fire hydrant every so often. Or ride too fast on the footpath. Or forget their helmet. Or draw a picture of a yawning cat on a lamppost—which should totally be excusable if it makes a crying girl with pigtails laugh again.

Dead End . . .

Carl shook his head and flipped the pages of the mag he was browsing through till he reached the horoscopes. See! Capricorn was the least Dead-End-Dude of the entire zodiac. Practical. Determined. Hardworking. Protective.

Jobs most suitable for a Capricorn: Accountant. He absolutely kept his own books. And updated them every month with his trusty four-colour biro and a highlighter.

Lawyer—he might as well be one considering the times he’d weaselled his way out of fines at the local precinct.

School Hall Monitor—oh, he had to keep an eye on the kids all right. They loved trying to get away with potbellies made of lollies, or attempting to buy beer with straggly moustaches.

Sisyphus—haha, totally him. He’d run this store day in, day out since he was eighteen. That was eight whole years, and there’d be another eighty.

Nothing about that screamed Dead-End Dude.

‘Journalist integrity’. Honestly, who wanted to keep dosing themselves into depression? It was to everyone’s benefit that his magazines focused on practical matters—farming, horsing, gardening, food, fashion, fun. This was him protecting—top Capricorn trait—his fellow Earnest Pointers.

Also, not only did he have job stability and was his own boss, he had friends and family. He drank occasionally with beer buddies, regularly visited his aunt who posed as his mum, and bonded with his mum who pretended to be his cousin. Wasn’t that some crazy-sounding roundabout? Dead-End Dude. “Absolute rubbish.”

“What’s rubbish?”

Carl lifted his head to his cousin (his real mum who didn’t know he knew that and wouldn’t ever as far as he was concerned) rushing towards him in a whirl of colour and lipstick. The smooch smacked the dimple of his grin, and she snatched the mag out of his hands.

“Ohh, this part sounds promising. ‘Single Capricorns might have an increased desire for a permanent, fully committed relationship’.” She dropped the mag on the counter and her gaze veered left. A sparkle hit her eye. “What’s with the doghouse next to the counter here? Why does it have a big, floppy bow on it?”

Carl smirked. That was another thing. He not only had this store, friends and family, he had a boyfriend.

He moved to the kennel, patted the top of the fake-ceramic-tiled roof, and pointed inside. “My future.”

“Is in the doghouse?”

“Yeah.” He grinned and waved her in to see how awesome it all looked.

She came back out bouncing on her heels and gave him their special high-five-flick. “That’s way cooler than a velvet box.”

Carl threaded his fingers through his hair. “I want to surprise Pete when he finally gets back from uni this afternoon. It’s been too long, this distance schtick. I’m ready for settling. He mentioned not being sure about where he’d stay last week—this solves that. He can move in with me.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >63

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Magic for You – Love and Family Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/magic-for-you-love-and-family-read-online-anyta-sunday Fri, 15 Dec 2023 11:43:41 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/magic-for-you-love-and-family-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance, Novella Authors: Anyta Sunday Advertisement

Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 33474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >34

Will this Christmas gift, with its hint of “magic”, win the love of his crush?

In the middle of the festive season, gardener Jase finds himself renting in a new neighbourhood, tending yet another garden that won’t belong to him. But when a boisterous golden retriever brings Robin into the yard, something magical in Jase wakes up.

Jase wants to gift his new neighbour the Christmas tree of his dreams—a real live fir, grown in Robin’s own back garden—and win his heart in the process. From young sapling to fully-fledged Douglas fir in less than a year? That would be magic.

He has a plan to make it happen, and it all seems to be coming along well . . . until ‘awesome, amazing’ Lyle shows up. Lyle is also crushing on Robin, and he has the most annoying advantages: He’s smart. He’s witty. He’s ridiculously good-looking.

And he got there first.

The race to Robin’s heart is looking tough; Jase must outdo Lyle at every romantic opportunity. So that, this Christmas, he’ll share the tree with the one he loves.

~ ~ ~

"Magic For You" is a slow burn Christmas novella. This rivals-to-lovers, surprise love story is the fourth book in the "Love & Family" series, set in Wellington, New Zealand.
The books in the Love & Family series are standalone romances, and can be read in any order.

TABOO FOR YOU: Sam & Luke’s story
MADE FOR YOU: Ben & Jack’s story
HAPPY FOR YOU: Felix & Mort’s story
MAGIC FOR YOU: A Love & Family Christmas novella

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

Chapter One

“There’s no magic anymore.”

The bench I’m sitting on overlooks the garden I made—lovingly designed, built and tended—over the last half-year. My boyfriend—ex-boyfriend now, I suppose—paces the creaking veranda between me and the view.

“You must feel that too. Or rather, not feel,” he says.

The gift I prepared for him sits heavily in my lap, wrapped in colourful-Christmas-tree paper. Twenty minutes ago—hell, ten minutes ago, I thought I’d be watching him unwrap it right now.

“Say something.”

I smooth a crinkle in the gift wrapping and try to keep my tone even. “It’s Christmas Day.”

He hears the accusation in my voice, despite my efforts.

He crouches before me. “Shitty timing. I know.”

I look at him.

His eyes are teary, but I’m not sad. I’m tired. His voice shakes. “I was too nervous to tell you. I kept putting it off. I don’t know why it suddenly came out like that.” His voice drops to a whisper. “It doesn’t stop it being true.”

“No magic,” I repeat, and cast my gaze behind him to the garden. I guess it’s goodbye. Another garden full of baby trees I don’t get to see mature.

My boss, Mr Cole of Cole’s Gardening, knows a woman who knows a woman who has a rental available. It’s the shittiest house on the best block—a rundown square box from the sixties that looks like it hasn’t seen a paint job—or a lawnmower—since it was built. For a drop in rent, I offer to fix up the garden.

I begin on the first day of the new year. Flex my neck side to side and pull on my gardening gloves. My fingertip catches on a little split in one seam; these are the last in a string of industrial pairs I wore through in my last garden and they’ll fill up with dirt in no time, but they’ll do for today. Clearing the noise—the weeds and the overgrowth. Seeing what’s here.

He was right. We aren’t right for one another. We should feel a zing, he’d said. We should feel comfortable. We should want—no, need to go beyond to make each other smile. We should be perfect to each other, warts and all.

The heavy work, the taste of sweat, the sun boring down on my exposed back . . . gradually, the bones of the garden begin to show. I snip the last of the roses into shape; there are seven, evenly spaced in a graceful curve. Beneath them I can see the clear form of a bed, and the fading blades of tulips and daffodils poking up through straggling chamomile plants. Someone loved this garden once.

The sun is high and hot now; I can feel the sweat soaking my t-shirt and running down my spine. I pull the shirt off with dirty glove-covered hands and move across the newly cut grass to my dirt-covered Cole’s Gardening Services truck, parked temporarily across the footpath, to shift the compost on the back to a pile on the driveway.

Mid-shovel, something moves in my peripheral vision. A sandy-haired guy and a sullen teenager walking in my direction, deep in conversation. I hurriedly pull the last of the compost from the truck and jump down to clear the narrow strip left of the concrete for them, then plunge the shovel into the pile and lean on the handle as they pass.

Sandy-haired guy’s gaze slides over me and he says, exasperated, “That’s why you stay in school.”

I straighten a bit. “Are you for real, mate?”

The teenager snickers and keeps walking. The older guy, perhaps twice the teen’s age, stalls and looks at me. I eye him up and down. He’s the pretty type. His jeans are tight and his t-shirt is clean, locally designed. The shoes look like they’ve never seen mud or even a puddle. The way he holds himself as he comes forward, brow pinched, is distinctly . . . academic. A thinker. He clasps his hands behind his back.

“Did you call me?”

“I called you out.” I lean more heavily onto the shovel. “I didn’t like what you were implying.”

He flushes and glances in the direction the youth hurried off in.

I laugh shortly. “Whatever. Off you go.”

He faces me again and shakes his head. He even steps forward, virgin shoes pressing on crumbs of compost. “That was spectacularly rude of me.”

I arch a brow.

He clears his throat. “My—he’s only fourteen. I was trying to—”

“That’s how you apologise?”

He meets my eye steadily. “Right. I’m sorry.”

Movement near the hedge next door. I grimace. Looks like someone is enjoying his brother’s embarrassment.

“I also have a much younger brother.” I swipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “I don’t care what he ends up doing for a living as long as he’s happy.” I project my voice. “But I’d be upset if he didn’t go to school. Not for learning facts, but for learning who you are. What you believe in. What you want.” I glance back at Mr Academic. “Even if it’s just to hang out with mates.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >34

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Pier Pressure Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/pier-pressure-read-online-anyta-sunday Wed, 26 Oct 2022 19:50:01 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/pier-pressure-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Funny, M-M Romance Authors: Anyta Sunday Advertisement

Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >59

Plenty of fish in the sea.
But what if there is no “plenty”? What if Leon Finn is a lone fish? A lone fish in a glass bowl swimming in hopeful but ultimately lonely circles forever?
Dumped and forced to retreat to his tiny-town seaside bach, it’s time for Leon to cast some lines, and quick! Prove to everyone—(*cough*) ex, mother, other ex who he’s now accidentally living with—that he’s a catch.
Only no one is biting.
It sucks, but it’s solvable.
With his trusty sewing machine and endless stash of fabric he’ll make himself into the ultimate suitor. Stitch this right up.
But as a certain someone keeps whispering in his ear, is this the right way?

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

Chapter One

I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s an Italian leather loafer, teetering on the top shelf of my walk-in closet right above the ruins of a collapsed step stool. Over which I’m currently sprawled.

I pluck up the left shoe, which had tumbled down with me. Great start to the evening, Leon.

The door from my sewing room rumbles on its sliders, and Karl strides into the closet with his usual self-assurance. He spots me on the floor and blinks, like he’s not surprised to find me sitting on a pile of wooden . . . stakes. In fact, I don’t think he’d be surprised if I were stabbing said stakes into my sewing mannequins. Or if the mannequins came to life and started stabbing me.

I pick myself up and dust off my suit pants, tailored to fit—something I worked on that afternoon. Something I hope he notices. Something I hope he rips off me to break our six-month dry spell.

His gaze sweeps down my neat navy suit. “You do wear clothes other than pyjamas.”

“La Grande won’t let me in otherwise.” I glance up rows of slippers to the shoe playing see-saw. Just. Out. Of. Reach. I smile hopefully at Karl. He is, after all, the size of a steroid-addicted librarian.

He doesn’t move. “I cancelled our reservation.”

My stomach lurches as I jump for the shoe and miss. “Better plans for our third year anniversary?”

“Actually it’s been three years and six days.”

We have the same silly disagreement every year. He likes to count from when we unpacked our boxes. I like to count from the day we first had sex, which was a week after he moved in, a month after he sold me the three-million-dollar villa, and a year after I won the lottery.

I ignore the weird jumps in my belly and smile.

“You’re adorably sentimental about when we moved in together.” Always has been. He took about a trillion pictures of us in this house on moving day, and about a trillion more since.

Karl moves to one of my naked mannequins and rests an arm on its shoulder. “We should break up.”

My stomach is meant to fall. Whoosh, out my feet and all that. I kinda hate that it doesn’t. That I’m not surprised. But there have been signs.

Like our stagnant sex life.

Karl rubs his mouth like this is difficult for him. I can practically guess what he’s going to say. It’s not you, it’s me.

“It’s not me, it’s you.”

Wait, what?

“I debated whether to be honest with you, and decided it’s only fair. Awareness is the first step towards change.”

I blink and blink some more. “What are you talking about? The first step to change what?”

“The second step will be much harder work, of course. But I have every faith you’ll try.” He grimaces sympathetically.

There goes my stomach. “What do I need to change?”

Karl steps into the wreckage and pats my shoulder. “Good on you for being so eager.”

Eager? This is not eager, it’s horrified. Can’t he tell the difference?

I ball shaky hands in his five-hundred dollar shirt. A shirt I could’ve made in an evening for forty bucks, but I’m not a brand, so he told me not to bother.

“I really don’t want to be the guy who says mean things while breaking up with you . . .”

Why not pluck up one of these stakes and drive it into my heart? “But?”

“Actually, how about asking our friends? Any one of them.”

They all think something’s wrong with me? “Our friends—”

“Technically I suppose they’re my friends.”

I loosen my hold on him, laughing over the sting of a thousand needles to the chest. “What’s their consensus?”

“You know.”

I make a nebulous gesture for him to please, continue this plundering of my self-esteem.

“You change into pyjamas the second you come home. You never go out. You don’t even watch telly. Or listen to music! You’re only ever bowed over your ridiculously pink sewing machine. Or reading books in the bathroom.” Karl moves to the corner cupboard and pulls out two suitcases.

Boring. That’s what he means.

“I-I go to parties.”

“When I drag you there. You don’t say much. Just sit in the corner drooling over your kindle app.”

“I don’t like talking to people I don’t know.”

“You don’t like talking to people you do know.”

I grab a suitcase, dump it atop the carnage that was once my step stool, and start unzipping. “Let me help you pack.”

Karl grabs a stack of my neatly folded pyjamas.

I frown. He has a screw loose if he’s mistaken my collection of one-of-a-kind flannel pyjamas for his own. “What are you doing?”

He sets them inside the suitcase, gazing at me like I’m an idiot. “We’ve been together three years.”

“And one week,” I grind out.

“Exactly! In the eyes of New Zealand law, that makes this place half mine.”

I clutch a shelf behind me. He’s right. The house—everything—will be considered relationship property now. I should have signed an agreement with him that my property would remain mine. What was I thinking?

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >59

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Sagittarius Saves Libra – Signs of Love Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/sagittarius-saves-libra-signs-of-love-read-online-anyta-sunday Mon, 13 Jun 2022 12:38:12 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/sagittarius-saves-libra-signs-of-love-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance, Romance Authors: Anyta Sunday Advertisement

Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Read Online Books/Novels:	Sagittarius Saves Libra - Signs of Love
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anyta Sunday
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B0B19RHWM6
Book Information:
True love is on the horizon, Sagittarius. It’s a good time to step out of your routine and into the unknown. Jason Lyall wants someone to come home to, someone he can be his most ridiculous self with. Someone who loves him regardless. But no matter how hard he tries, he can never quite make that connection, and now his last girlfriend has moved on—she’s engaged. So when his identical twin begs him to swap lives for a few weeks, Jason can see the appeal. Suddenly he’s living another life in a tiny Australian town, contending with weird, wild, and wonderful things the likes of which he’s never encountered before. Like spiders. Like snakes. Like his new neighbour, Sergeant Owen Stirling, who is all kinds of . . . suspicious. Prepare to be caught in a merry mix-up, Libra. It’s a dance of side-stepping and seduction.
Books by Author:	Anyta Sunday

Chapter One

Wind flapped Jason Lyall’s open coat toward the window of his favourite restaurant, where Caroline sat over candlelight, laughing. With her current boyfriend.

Half a year ago, Jason had tried to make her laugh like that. He’d always missed the mark—no matter how much he wished for it, they’d never clicked. Not like that . . .

He smiled wistfully. Not for Caroline, but for the idea of her. A partner to come home to each night. Someone to be his most ridiculous self with. Someone who loved him regardless.

Because of, even.

He schlepped past the restaurant, bowing his head over a text message to his brother (be there in 2 mins), and traipsed through the dark up the light-speckled hill toward the villa he’d grown up in. The quarter-acre patch his parents had left him.

The wind tossed dark hair into his eyes; he concentrated on the tickle over his skin and not the hollowness expanding on the inside. When exactly did he get this pathetic?

He chuckled.

Silly.

He used to be vibrant. Full of energy. All colour on a grey day.

Now, at twenty-six, five years after finishing university, he was . . . bored? Boring? Lonely? Antsy?

Not that he could really complain. He was an accomplished pianist, he’d travelled the world, performed with international orchestras, he had his own home. It was just . . .

He pushed the vision of happy Caroline out of his mind, laughing at himself. Pull it together.

He waved to his brother from the gate and closed it behind him. Tall lavender either side of the path bent with another gust. Carl pushed off the porch chair and rose to his feet.

Jason’s breath caught.

It always did, seeing his brother. It wasn’t any one particular feature that momentarily shook Jason; it was the combination. Carl was medium height, his smile dimpled either side of his cheeks, his bright blue eyes thickly framed with black lashes. A slightly upturned nose gave him a cute air, and there was a tiny freckle at his jaw.

It was Jason’s face. His exact face.

He’d be used to it if they’d grown up in the same family, but Jason and Carl had met accidentally three years ago, when Jason had performed Bach and Chopin in Sydney. One of those Holy Shit moments that rarely happen in life, and he’d never thought would happen to him.

Carl was his twin.

After the initial shock, they’d swapped stories, speculated, and hired a private detective to probe into the matter. They learned they’d been born to a teenage mum whose aunt had adopted one of them. The other—Jason—had been put up for adoption.

Since then, they’d loosely kept in touch, but other than genetics he and Carl had little in common—not even a birthday, since Jason was born on December 21st and Carl on the 22nd, fifteen minutes later. Carl showing up short notice like this . . . it was a bit mind-boggling.

It seemed more the sort of out-of-left-field type of thing a Sagittarian would do.

In fact, this visit reminded Jason of the Jason he used to be.

The Jason he wanted to be again.

Before another ache could take him hostage, he smiled and opened his arms for an awkward embrace. Carl laughed, and the rhythm of it—just like his own—set off another wave of goosebumps.

Jason withdrew and let them inside. Carl peeked around the villa’s airy rooms with their sparse, elegant furnishings, while Jason uncorked a much needed bottle of wine. His eyes flickered between bottle and brother.

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Sagittarius Saves Libra - Signs of Love

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