Loni Ree – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Loni Ree – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Thu, 23 Apr 2026 22:52:58 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Loni Ree – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 The Next-Door Kiss (Love Place #3) Read Online Loni Ree http://www.wownovels.com/the-next-door-kiss-love-place-3-read-online-loni-ree Thu, 23 Apr 2026 22:52:58 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/the-next-door-kiss-love-place-3-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Novella Authors: Loni Ree Series: Love Place Series by Loni Ree
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Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30528 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)

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Nestled in the heart of charming Worthington Hills, this quaint apartment building is more than just brick and mortar—it's a hotbed of budding romances and steamy encounters.

Each book in this sizzling rom-com series spotlights a different resident of #1 Love Place as they stumble into love's path. All these stories blend laugh-out-loud moments with curl-your-toes chemistry.

What's cooking at #1 Love

• Small-town charm with big-city heat

• Flirty elevator rides and awkward laundry room run-ins

• Nosy but lovable neighbors playing matchmaker

• Hilarious misadventures in love at first sight

• Guaranteed happily ever afters

So pull up a chair, order your favorite latte, and get ready to fall head over heels for the lovable residents of #1 Love Place. In this building, love isn't just knocking on doors—it's kicking them down!

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

CHAPTER ONE

IRIS

Before the blinding sunlight coming through my dollar store drapes penetrates my mind, I hear an unusual sound. It’s not the gentle, neighborly shuffle of morning feet on carpet, or even the muted drone of vacuuming through a wall. No, this is seismic, industrial, the kind of noise you expect from a herd of water buffalo stampeding through an Ikea showroom.

I jackknife awake, heart pounding, nearly catapulting myself straight off the mattress. Across the room, the digital clock flashes seven-eighteen in glaring, blood-red numbers, as if taunting me for waking up so early. Seriously? It’s Saturday. Way too early to deal with this kind of nonsense.

A relentless barrage of thumps, dragging, then something that sounds suspiciously like someone bowling with furniture and letting the ball thunder down a staircase comes from next door. So. I guess 2H finally got rented out. Figures. I was just starting to enjoy the weird peace that comes with not having a neighbor, the quiet ringing through the walls. Now it’s shattered.

The pounding and scraping double down, rattling the thin wall between us. I can practically picture boxes slamming to the floor, bags tumbling and rolling, maybe a lamp careening end over end. The sound vibrates through my bed, right into my bones.

I flop back, let my head drop onto the pillow, but every heavy crash from next door jolts me like a live wire. The new neighbor is moving in with the grace of a demolition crew. What a way to wake up. My teeth clench with every impact, each scrape and bang a fresh jolt to my bleary brain as my quiet Saturday morning dies a quick death.

Through the wall, I hear heavy, masculine cursing, followed by a metallic clang so violent the floorboards vibrate.

Irritation wins out over the part of me that wants to bury my head in a pillow and ignore the noise. I swing my legs off the bed, tangle them in the blanket, and stumble out of bed.

Curiosity wins out, and I decide to check things out for myself. I swap pajama shorts for sweatpants, pull my hair up into a messy bun, and snag my phone, just in case.

I pad into the hallway and see three men wrangling a sofa the size of a minivan through the open doorway of 2H. The lead guy, a compact, tattooed engine of a human, shouts something in Spanish to the man on his right. The third man is mostly hidden behind the couch, only his dusty ball cap visible above the cushions.

They somehow manage to push the heavy sofa through the doorway and out of sight. I’m debating whether to peek in the door or head back to my apartment when a man steps into view. Oh, holy cow.

He’s tall. Not just tall, but insanely humongous. His T-shirt is black, stretched tight across shoulders that practically block out the light behind him. His face is what gets me. Square jaw. Nose that's clearly been busted and somehow healed even better than before. Eyes so dark the line between iris and pupil just disappears. His hair is dark, too. Neatly cut close on the sides, with a little silver at the temples that manages to make him look both slightly dangerous and completely in control, all at once.

He notices me standing there, swallows, and says nothing. Not “hello,” not “good morning,” not even a “sorry about the noise.” He just stares.

My pulse skids into overdrive. I don’t even have time to feel mortified about my “Coffee spelled backwards is EEFFOC. Until I’ve had coffee, I don’t give eeffoc” T-shirt. My brain empties out, replaced by a sudden, primal awareness of the fact that I am face-to-face with a man who looks like the human version of a military Humvee.

After silence that lasts way too long, I break the unspoken standoff between us. “Hi,” I say, then immediately regret the high, squeaky pitch. “I’m Iris. I live next door.”

He nods, not blinking. “Hunter Hartwell.”

I expect him to say something else. Comment on the weather, apologize for the move, anything. Instead, he just stares as if I’m a particularly complex IKEA manual.

After another, longer pause, I realize it's on me to fill the void. The air between us feels charged, like static electricity before a storm.

"Nice to meet you," I say, and then, because my mouth apparently doesn't listen to my brain, I add, "I planned to sleep in, but…" My voice trails off as his eyes lock with mine.

A flicker of something touches the corners of his mouth. "Sorry for the noise." His deep voice vibrates through me, settling somewhere low in my belly.

This time, there's a glint of something in his eyes—a spark that makes my stomach drop a few stories. Heat blooms across my chest and up my neck.

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The Downstairs Flirt (Love Place #2) Read Online Loni Ree http://www.wownovels.com/the-downstairs-flirt-love-place-2-read-online-loni-ree Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:14:35 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-downstairs-flirt-love-place-2-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Novella, Virgin Authors: Loni Ree Series: Love Place Series by Loni Ree
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Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)

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Love is on the menu at #1 Love Place

Hazel

Visiting my grandmother, Nonnie Laine, at #1 Love Place is always a sweet escape. The bonus? Her neighbor, Mr. Perpetual Smirk, who always seems to appear whenever I least expect him, armed with a flirty line and dangerous good looks. Totally out of my league, but who am I to refuse a harmless flirt? So imagine my absolute shock when I walk into Nonnie’s for Sunday lunch to find him sitting at her dining table. Suddenly, his playful glances don't feel quite so innocent, and my heart definitely didn't get the memo about playing it cool.

Preston

For weeks, she’s been the mystery girl who got away—a flash of a smile, a quick laugh, and then poof, gone before I can even ask for her number. I promised myself the next time I saw her, I wouldn’t let her slip by. I was ready to chase her down the street if I had to.

Turns out, I didn’t have to run far. Nonnie invites me over for lunch, and just as I’m getting comfortable, in walks the girl of my dreams. Hazel. Finally, a name to match the daydream. Fate has clearly set the table, and I’m done playing games. The catch-me-if-you-can phase? Officially over. Now, the wooing begins—just as soon as she stops looking at me like I’m an alien invasion in her grandmother’s kitchen

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

CHAPTER ONE

HAZEL

After the longest day in the history of long days, I glance at the clock and breathe a sigh of relief. Two minutes left until I can escape for the day. Honestly, my job isn’t hard, and I actually love it. Most days. But today, I’m PMS’ing, and the Corner Mart was out of gummy Nerd clusters. No further explanation needed.

By three after five, the last stragglers make their way out the front door, and I lock up behind them, ready to head over to Nonnie Laine’s house for our usual Sushi Tuesday.

I make it outside, into the thick Texas heat, and instantly start sweating in unmentionable spaces. My thighs are sticking together, my curls are already escaping the bun like rats from a sinking ship, and I’m pretty sure my deodorant is having a hard time keeping up. But for some reason, I can’t stop grinning.

Tuesdays at Nonnie’s are my favorite. We inhale spicy tuna rolls and watch reality TV in an apartment that smells like vintage books and Chanel No. 5.

Walking the two blocks over is basically my cardio for the week, and by the time I get to The Happy Chopstick, my blouse is sticking to my back, and the escaped curls are staging a full-scale rebellion. The AC in there is set to penguin habitat and, oh my God, it’s heaven.

First thing that hits me: fried rice. Sharp and hot and salty, straight to the brain. My mood? Instantly better. My order’s already waiting on the counter, exactly where it always is, and I make a beeline for it. I flash a quick wave to Mr. Yamada, who’s on the phone but still manages a tired smile.

I hustle back the three blocks to #1 Love Place. Nonnie doesn’t have a car, so I always park in her assigned parking spot in the apartment garage. It’s close to work and our favorite sushi spot. It’s honestly the only way I can afford sushi twice a week because downtown parking in Worthington Hills is criminal.

I step into the busy lobby, balancing my tote, the takeout bag, and my phone, and promptly collide with a brick wall. Except it’s not a wall. It’s a man.

Correction: it’s the man I’ve been secretly lusting after for weeks. Tall and broad and so real he basically blocks out the sun. My face is like two inches from a perfect chest in a suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent. I look up, way up, and oh my God.

He’s so freaking unfairly handsome. His jaw is all angles and stubble, square and stubborn, the kind of jaw you see in cologne ads. His lips are full and smirking, and I could write an essay about his cheekbones alone. But it’s his eyes that kill me. Ice blue. Intense. They lock onto mine, and I swear I stop breathing.

Those eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins, like he’s in on some private joke. And suddenly, my pulse skyrockets. I’m honestly shocked my knees don’t buckle. We’re standing so close, I can smell his dark, expensive, and scandalous cologne.

He leans in, his hand still wrapped around my upper arm. Warm. Steady. Capable of lifting me with one pinky finger, probably.

“You okay?” His voice is unfair. It’s deep and smooth, total command in three syllables.

I try for an actual sound, but what comes out is closer to a frog in a blender. “Yeah. I’m just—I mean, you’re really tall.”

Nailed it, Hazel. Real smooth.

His smirk kicks up. “And you’re… adorable.”

I’m not sure if the word adorable is a compliment, but I’m taking it anyway.

My cheeks are on fire, and I literally forget how to move. We’re just standing there, blocking the lobby, my takeout dangling from one hand and his fingers still curled around my arm like I might bolt if he lets go.

Oh, God. Say something, I order my frozen brain, but nothing happens. Zilch. Nada.

He’s staring at me like I’m dessert. Like he could skip dinner and just eat me up in one bite. My heart is doing gymnastics, Olympic-level stuff, while my brain short-circuits. I blink. Once. Twice. My tongue is apparently glued to the roof of my mouth, which is awesome for me, because I have absolutely no idea how normal people talk to men who look like literal sin in a Tom Ford suit. If there’s a world record for awkward silence, we’re shattering it right here in the middle of the lobby.

He’s still watching me like he’s trying to figure something out. His grip is gentle but firm, and it takes a legitimate second for my brain to reboot.

Words. Right. Those would be good right now.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” I finally manage, waving my sad little sushi bag between us. “For, um, running into you. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

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Wild for Walker – Silver Spoon Cowboys Read Online Loni Ree http://www.wownovels.com/wild-for-walker-silver-spoon-cowboys-read-online-loni-ree Sat, 28 Feb 2026 17:33:24 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/wild-for-walker-silver-spoon-cowboys-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Authors: Loni Ree Advertisement

Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)

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He can handle the heat, but letting her go isn't an option.

Letty
Cooking for a bunch of rough-and-tumble cowboys? Easy.
Dealing with Walker Jessup? Not so much.

He's gruff, rude, and insufferably hot.
He also decided I was a problem the minute we met.

I probably shouldn't have set out to prove him right.
But hot sauce does go on tacos.
So what if I used the hottest available on his?

I expect complaints.
I expect threats to get me fired,
I don't expect him to save my life.
And I'm absolutely not prepared for the way he touches me like I'm already his.

Now, he's driving me wild in a whole new way...and I'm beginning to think there's far more to this grumpy cowboy than I expected.
Because when he looks at me, it feels dangerously close to forever.

Walker
Letty Alvarez is a problem.
She's the kind of woman a man like me would kill to keep.
She's also smart, stubborn, and she fights dirty.

I deserve everything she throws at me. I can take it.
But the second she's in danger, something in me snaps.

I don't do sweet.
I don't do soft.

But if learning how is what it takes to keep her?
I'll be damned if I don't try.
I'm not losing her. Not now. Not ever.

About the Series
In Silver Spoon Falls, love has a way of working itself out in unexpected ways. But nothing could prepare these rough cowboys for the wild, curvy women coming their way.

To tame their hearts and find forever, they'll fight harder than they ever have. Luckily, the sweat in their veins, the dirt on their boots, and the grit in their bones have taught them everything they need to know to go toe-to-toe with fate and come out unconquered

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

Chapter One

Letty

"This is…wow," I whisper, trying desperately not to gape at the kitchen around me. It's state-of-the-art, with pots and pans hanging from hooks over a central island, three different stoves, and enough workspace to make a chef's dreams come true. I've never seen anything like it.

The kitchen at Tapias certainly wasn't like this. We were lucky if the sink wasn't overflowing and the trash compactor worked without an assist from the Virgin Mary.

I doubt a single item in this kitchen has ever failed.

"You like it?" Tanner Carrington grins over at me. "It should have everything you need to keep these cowboys fed."

"It's perfect," I murmur, running my hand across a countertop. "Just one question."

"Shoot."

"Are you sure you trust me to do this?"

"Trust you?" He cocks his head to the side. "I've had your cooking, Letty. Believe me, anything you make will be a goddamn treat compared to what these idiots have been making for themselves for the last six months."

"Thanks." I avert my gaze, still not sure how to take a compliment from one of the Carringtons. They're billionaires with a ranch big enough to prove it. I'm…well, I'm something. I was born in the back of a pickup, eighty miles from the nearest hospital. Life never really got any easier after that. I think maybe I just got better at tackling it.

"You'll do great," Tanner says. "And I'll pay you five times what Jorge was paying you."

"F-five times?" I blink wide eyes at him. That'll put me over six figures a year! Considering my bank account currently has a whopping .63c in it, it's safe to say that's more money than I've ever seen in my life. "That's really not necessary, Tanner."

"Believe me, sweetheart, it is." He grimaces. "One thing these motherfuckers can do is eat. If you're going to feed them five days a week, you'll be busy. You'll earn every penny. Here." He strides across the kitchen to a tablet, snatching it up. "This is where you'll put in your order every week, whatever you need. Just order it all through the app here. The grocery store in town will pack it all up and deliver it. If you need help putting it away, ask some of the hands."

"I can do it," I say softly, peering at the grocery app on the tablet. It seems straightforward enough, except everything is in bulk. Makes sense, considering he and his brothers have around twenty men they have to feed every day, sometimes more.

"I know you can." Tanner grins at me. "When you're ready, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

"Um…" I quickly set the tablet back on the dock and then turn toward him. "I'm ready."

We head out of the kitchen, through the simple mess hall, and out into the early morning sunshine. I pause, peering out into the field. Some of the hands are out there, trying to catch a bull. Or maybe they're just chasing it for fun. I'm not entirely sure, but judging by the amount of cursing they're doing, the bull is definitely going to win.

"Avoid that bastard," Tanner grunts, nodding at the bull. "He's mean as hell."

"Aren't they all?" I ask. I've never met a bull personally, but none of the ranchers who ate at Tapias had anything nice to say about any of theirs. They were different variations of assholes, bastards, and the spawn of Satan.

Tanner booms laughter, slapping his cowboy hat back onto his head. "Shit. You ain't wrong about that. They're all a bunch of bastards."

I grin up at him, relieved that I know at least that much about life on a ranch. I suspect I may be in way, way over my head when it comes to the rest of it. But I just signed on to live—and work—beside twenty oversized cowboys anyway.

What I know about them, I learned in books. Somehow, I seriously doubt the reality version is anything like the bargain-bin Harlequin version. I guess I'll find out soon enough, though, right?

"This is your place," Tanner says, striding across the dying grass to a small house with a tidy front porch and rosebushes. The shutters are blue. So is the front door. "You'll live here alone. You don't have to allow anyone through the door that you don't want inside. You make the rules in your place, and it's yours for as long as you work here."

"What about rent?"

"Rent?" He shakes his head, a tiny smile playing at his lips. "You're saving our asses here, Letty. You don't pay rent."

"But—"

"No buts. We pay your room and board. We pay your insurance. We pay for whatever you need in the kitchen. Hell, we even contribute to a 401k for you." He smirks at me, holding the front door open for me to enter. "You're welcome to have people over, treat it like your own place…whatever. Just no parties without prior approval. And be respectful after ten. Work starts early as fuck around here, every damn day."

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The Upstairs Crush (Love Place #1) Read Online Loni Ree http://www.wownovels.com/the-upstairs-crush-love-place-1-read-online-loni-ree Sat, 28 Feb 2026 17:32:45 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-upstairs-crush-love-place-1-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Novella Authors: Loni Ree Series: Love Place Series by Loni Ree
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Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)

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Man’s best friend is about to be his best wingman.

Nadia

Moving into a shoebox studio at #1 Love Place was a dream come true for me. I'm not sure what I expected, but I didn't expect him.

I first saw Julian "Jay" Vale being walked by his dog—literally. There is nothing funnier, or hotter, than watching a Greek god of a man get bossed around by a ten-pound Platinum Frenchie. When he caught me laughing and walked over with that devastating grin, my brain short-circuited.

Now, I’m seeing him everywhere. In the lobby, by the mailboxes, near the elevator. Every time our eyes meet, my knees go weak. I know I just got here, but my heart is already trying to move in upstairs.

Jay

I’ve never believed in love at first sight. Lust? Sure. Feelings? Definitely. But looking at Nadia Mirewood standing on the sidewalk felt like getting hit by a lightning bolt. She’s beautiful, she’s funny, and she’s the only woman who’s ever made me forget my own name.

I knew the second I saw her that she was mine. The problem is, I need to convince her of that without looking like a stalker.

Good thing I have a secret weapon. My Frenchie, Salty, will do anything for a treat—including tangling his leash around the prettiest girl in the building. I’m playing for keeps, and I’m not above playing dirty to make sure Nadia falls just as hard as I have

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

CHAPTER ONE

NADIA

Being a third-grade teacher the week before spring break is like trying to wrangle thirty sugar-high squirrels with nothing but your wits and a rapidly diminishing supply of patience. I lost my voice somewhere between the morning spelling quiz and the afternoon art project gone wrong. What started as a neat bun is now a wild tangle with at least two pencils stuck in it, and my black pants bear the battle scars of dried Elmer's glue. The three tote bags I'm hauling might as well be filled with concrete, especially the one containing everything I've had to confiscate today.

But I survived. I only hope the security cams missed my personal breakdown in the teacher’s lounge.

One tiny mercy is that my apartment is only a two-block crawl from the school. Of course, there’s a downside—those two blocks are basically the Appalachian Trail, especially when you’re dragging three loaded totes. My current speed is somewhere between “retirement home mall-walker” and “zombie whose legs got chewed off.” My reward for all my hard work is my very own studio apartment in #1 Love Place, which sounds like the location for an adult hotline, but is actually a steel-and-glass “luxury” high-rise right in the heart of Worthington Hills.

I drag myself up the front sidewalk, clutching my tote bags, and praying my legs don’t fail me now. My lungs are on fire. My calves burn. I’m limping in a way that’s humiliatingly close to a waddle. But #1 Love Place towers in front of me, all modern glass and steel. God, I love my new apartment building.

The sidewalk leading to the main entrance is surrounded by this ridiculous, golf-course-green lawn that’s so perfect it looks fake. Seriously, there’s not a single weed and absolutely no rogue dandelions.

To the right, there’s a whole dog park fenced in with black wrought iron, and a winding walking trail lined with tiny, colorful wildflowers. A Frenchie in a neon raincoat is currently terrorizing a poodle twice his size. The poodle’s owner looks like she’s rethinking her life choices.

And then I see him.

The hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life. And that’s saying a whole lot since I once accidentally wandered through a shirtless firefighter calendar signing at the Worthington Hills Mall.

He’s tall, dark, and dressed like James Bond’s hotter, meaner cousin, but he’s totally losing a battle of wills with a twenty-pound French Bulldog in a raincoat. The dog is platinum white, stocky, with its face set in an expression that screams, “I run this town!” He yanks on the leash so hard, Gorgeous Man sort of half-stumbles, and I realize he’s not walking his dog. This dog is walking him.

My mouth goes dry like every last drop of moisture has evaporated. I slow down without even meaning to and stop to stare as Gorgeous Man tries to reason with his tiny dictator. His voice is gentle, and he’s got a smile that could melt steel beams. His eyes are soft when he looks at the little one, then his gaze flickers up and snags on me, and my insides spark and stutter. My heart does a weird little flutter, and for a second, I forget how to breathe at all.

My heart squeezes while my lady bits wake up and sing. My shy side kicks in, and I try to angle past them, keeping my head down. But my exhausted body betrays me. My tennis shoe catches on a crack in the sidewalk, and as I pitch forward, my life flashes before my eyes.

Okay, not my life, but the last thirty minutes, which was mostly glue, crayons, and a third grader named Parker trying to convince me he’s being “haunted by the spirit of SpongeBob.” I lurch, arms windmilling, at least two tote bags swinging like medieval weapons. I’m about to faceplant straight into the hard concrete.

But I don’t actually fall. Big, steady hands wrap around my biceps and yank me upright before I can even squeak. I glance down, finding the tiny Frenchie firmly wedged between my ankles, snorting at the inconvenience I’m causing.

I blink up, way, way up, and I’m locked into the most unfairly beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen. His glasses are slightly askew, and he’s got just enough scruff to make me want to run my fingers over his jawline.

Holy. Shit. He’s hot. He towers over me, and every inch of him is sharp lines and raw power, all caged up in designer fabric with a stupidly perfect face. His jaw is so chiseled it could probably cut glass. His mouth is full and soft and made for sin. I want to kiss it. He’s got a dark wave of hair, artfully messy, and expensive designer glasses. For one second, I forget my name.

“Whoa,” he says, voice all low and smooth. “You okay?”

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Dear Detective – Naughty Notes Read Online Loni Ree http://www.wownovels.com/dear-detective-naughty-notes-read-online-loni-ree Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:21:26 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/dear-detective-naughty-notes-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love Authors: Loni Ree Advertisement

Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)

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The dog played matchmaker. The detective played for keeps.

POPPY

I am running on fumes. Between drowning in college textbooks and scrubbing floors at the exclusive #1 Love Place to pay my tuition, I have exactly zero time for distractions. My only goal today is to finish cleaning apartment 4C and get to class before I collapse.

But the universe, and a mischievous Frenchie named Pepper, have other plans. One minute I’m mopping, the next I’m trapped in the master bathroom by a fallen mop handle and a guilty-looking dog. I’m stuck, I’m sweaty, and I’m panicking. Then the bathroom door opens to reveal a mountain of a man with a badge on his belt and eyes that darken the second they land on me. I should be running for the hills, but the big, growly detective is looking at me like I’m the last drop of water in the desert. And honestly? I want to stay right where I am.

JACK

I deal with the worst of humanity all day. My apartment is supposed to be my sanctuary—a place of order, silence, and solitude. Or it was, until I come home to find a stunning, curvy brunette locked in my bathroom.

I’m not looking for love. I definitely don’t need any complications. But the second I lay eyes on Poppy, logic goes out the window. She’s flustered, beautiful, and everything I need. And now that I’ve found her, I’m never letting her go.

I’ve spent my life hunting bad guys, but she’s the only thing I want to catch. I’m totally obsessed, and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make her mine.

This insta-love romance is short, steamy, and sugary sweet. If you like over-the-top possessive heroes and curvy heroines who keep them on their toes, this story is for you

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

CHAPTER ONE

POPPY

At ten a.m. sharp, I’m running the dust cloth over the last shelf in 4C, inhaling eau de entitled, otherwise known as fancy spa candles. Right now, I’m trying not to pass out from exhaustion or boredom. Both are strong contenders since I attend college full-time plus clean apartments several hours every day.

My own place is a six-hundred-square-foot shoebox a few floors down, which I’m lucky to have. I spend most of my time cleaning other people’s apartments, and I’ve seen enough embarrassing things in people’s medicine cabinets to fill a memoir. I keep reminding myself that I’m just biding my time until I can afford to finish college and get a job that pays enough to buy my own spa candles.

I pop out my left earbud. The notes for Business Law 210 keep playing in my right, Professor Riley’s voice monotoning like some legal-themed sleep meditation. My next exam is in sixteen hours, and the last time I actually had a full night of sleep… last Friday? Right now, it’s Tuesday and I have about as much brain power as a Roomba and twice as much dust to suck up.

I groan, catching my own reflection in a streak-free glass door. I look like someone who’s been dragged through the business end of a vacuum cleaner—hair coming loose from my bun, blue cleaning smock buttoned crooked over my ancient Def Leppard tee.

By noon, I’m running on fumes. The third apartment on my list is home to a homicide detective and his adorable black French bulldog who hates me. Not dislikes, hates.

The detective is never here when I clean, and I’m dying to meet him in person. I’ve only ever seen his handwriting. Even though he has my number, he chooses to leave little notes on the counter, usually next to a box of fancy dog treats.

Poppy,

Thanks for taking care of the living room mess last time. Pepper’s been in a mood since yesterday. Ignore her. She’s all bark.

Jack

His handwriting is all sharp angles and heavy pressure, like someone who presses too hard when they write. The blue ink bleeds slightly into the cream-colored sticky note.

Another time, he left a note next to a mug with the outline of a dead body chalked in white against glossy black ceramic. The sticky note was forest green this time, the same decisive handwriting slashing across it.

Poppy,

Sorry the den looks like a crime scene. I’ll send an extra tip to cover the additional work.

Jack

The notes always make me laugh. It seems like the detective tries so hard to sound serious, but I can tell he’s messing with me. I’m not going to lie, I have a little bit of a crush on the detective whom I’ve never met. My overactive imagination has conjured up a whole tall, dark, and handsome fantasy man. I’m really scared to meet him and find out he doesn’t come anywhere close to my dreams.

I let myself into the apartment and find Pepper stretched out on the brown leather sofa, chewing on something that looks suspiciously like an expensive shoe.

I freeze in the doorway, one hand clutching my cleaning tote like a shield. Pepper doesn’t even bother to look guilty. She just gives me a side-eye and keeps gnawing, little gremlin teeth working overtime. “I won’t be disturbing your cartoons very long, Pepper.” Yes, I’m talking to the dog.

She literally rolls her eyes at me as I get to work. The apartment itself is a typical bachelor pad. Floor-to-ceiling windows that make you feel like you’re floating in the clouds. There’s a giant TV mounted on the wall, playing cartoons for the spoiled pup. Everything is dark wood, matte black, and steel. Every time I step into the kitchen, I’m amazed at how the other half live.

There’s a wine cooler built right into the cabinetry, stacked with bottles that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Next to it, a whole separate fridge just for sodas and energy drinks. Who even has a soda cooler? Apparently, homicide detectives who like their La Croix cold and their merlot colder.

The appliances are all matte black and steel, not a single fingerprint in sight. I drop my cleaning tote on the marble countertop and get to work.

Most of the job is muscle memory by now: beds, counters, floors, bathrooms, all in a set order. I used to be slow, stopping to marvel at the massive walk-in closets or fancy marble showers. Now it’s all about efficiency. I can do a three-bedroom in ninety minutes flat, provided nobody has thrown a party.

Still, you pick up on things. The detective works long hours and spends his free time catering to his spoiled Frenchie. If reincarnation is real, I’m coming back as a dog in this building.

Especially a dog like Pepper. There’s literally a whole room just for Pepper that’s bigger than my entire apartment. It has a velvet bed. And not a dog bed. An actual, people-sized bed, upholstered in bright pink velvet and sitting low to the ground, like it was designed for a four-legged diva. The comforter is velvet, too.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >21

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Dear Hot Guy Next Door – Naughty Notes Read Online Loni Ree http://www.wownovels.com/dear-hot-guy-next-door-naughty-notes-read-online-loni-ree Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:21:20 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/dear-hot-guy-next-door-naughty-notes-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love Authors: Loni Ree Advertisement

Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >24

I didn’t plan on meeting my new neighbor for the first time wrapped in a towel, dripping wet, and half-awake. The worst part? She’s glaring at me like I just ruined her morning, but the way her eyes roam over me tells a very different story.

I definitely didn’t plan on mistaking her for the dog walker who was supposed to be here an hour ago. Kara isn’t late, she also isn’t who I hired. She’s my new neighbor—and the second I see her, I know she’s the kind of trouble I wouldn’t mind getting into.

What starts as irritation turns into heat so fast it knocks me off balance. Every run-in crackles. Every lingering glance only makes me want Kara more.

I’m just a guy with a blue-collar job, a loud dog, and zero intention of falling for anyone. And from the moment Kara storms into my life, it feels too right to deny.

She’s newly on her own, trying to prove something—to herself and to the world. What she doesn’t know is that she walked right into my world. And once I decide she’s mine, there’s no going back.

The

Secret Admirer
Disabled Heroine
Neighbors to Lovers
Mistaken Identity
Holiday Romance
Instalove

This Valentine’s Day eight of your favorite instalove authors have something special just for you!

Our secret admirers are done pining and yearning. They’re more than ready to spring into action to be able to call their valentine mine. Pushed to the edge, these book boyfriends have been craving their women for too long and will do anything to claim them. From sweet nothings, whispered spicy dirty talk or sexy love notes, there is nothing they won't do to get their women.

Get ready for all the happily ever afters and swoon worthy moments that will guarantee to make your heart pitter patter with joy

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

Prologue

KARA

ONE WEEK EARLIER

“I’m fine. The doors are locked, the alarm is set, and I promise the softball bat is right next to me.” I only got off the phone with our parents moments ago, after reiterating the same sequence of events to my dad. Now, I’m doing the same to my brother. He has enough to worry about; he doesn’t need to add me moving out on my own. It’s been years since the accident, and while I understand his concern, sometimes you have to let the past live in the past, where it belongs.

The last surgery on my leg was the final in my healing process. It also meant more physical therapy, and I’ve had so much of that in the past seven years I could be considered a professional at this point. At least this time, my limp isn’t nearly as noticeable, and I don’t have to use a cane anymore. The car accident caused a lot of devastation and trauma. We prevailed, and I say we because if it weren’t for my family rallying together, it could have been a lot worse.

That night, my niece lost her mother on the same day she was born, and my brother became a single father, which he would have been regardless. Colt and Brooke were not destined to live in harmony; they were much better friends than lovers. It still hit us all hard to know Nellie would have to live a life without her mother. I went into surgery immediately, the hits kept hitting, and it wasn’t until this final one that I said enough is enough. There was a chance this last one wouldn’t help my pronounced limp and a cane would still be necessary, conquering stairs would be excruciatingly hard, and by the end of the day, the only thing I could do was sit on my ass.

“Good. I’m not apologizing for worrying. It’s what older brothers do. Plus, you sprung this on us at the last minute. I barely had time to rally the guys to help move you, let alone have Jude set up the security system.” I roll my eyes. Colt’s friends group includes like fifteen guys, so moving my meager belongings took roughly three hours. I’d grumbled to my mom over how my older brother seems to have friends coming out of the woodwork, whereas my best friends are my mom and Nellie, who’s my niece, and now that Colt has Sable in his life, well, she’s definitely one of us, too.

“And I’m thankful, please don’t doubt that,” I say on a tired yawn. I’m so exhausted after unpacking and putting things in their respective places that my talking is putting me to sleep. Plus, I have a weighted eye mask that I can’t wait to put on and sleep for a solid twelve hours before my work week starts.

“I know you are. Even if you weren’t, I’d have done it anyway. Alright, get some rest. I’ll text you tomorrow to see how your first night went. Love you, kiddo.” I roll my eyes. We’re only six years apart, but that still makes me younger than him.

“Good night, old man. I love you, too. Try not to worry too much. I hear it causes gray hair and fine lines.” Colt grumbles when I bring up the bone of contention.

“You’ll pay for that, mark my words. The next time you’re near a pool, you'd better be on your A-game.”

“Be nice to Auntie Kara!” I hear my niece say in the background. I glance at the clock and realize I’m in bed before eight at night. Nellie is still awake, yet here I am, showered, in bed, and about to put on the weighted eye mask she gave me as a moving present well before my seven-year-old niece's bedtime.

“Yeah, you tell him, Nellie girl. Okay, guys, I love you, but I really need some sleep if I don’t want to be a zombie tomorrow for work.” My job isn’t anything inspiring or glamorous, to say the least. It pays the bills, and they allow me to use my time off whenever necessary. And, boy, has it been used as much as possible the past few years. Honestly, now that I’m locked into my apartment after the whole ordeal of verifying my income and coming up with deposits for the small two-bedroom place where I currently rest my head, plus power and water, I’m not sure if I could find another job.

The problem: I wouldn’t even know what to look for. It’s not like I have a career in mind, and I’m pretty sure my crafting hobbies aren’t going to pay the bills without hustling while working a job, too. Damn, if only I’d listened to my parents and brother.

“Kara, you good? You went quiet on me.” I’m mulling over whether I should bring this up or not. I guess it doesn’t hurt to try.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >24

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The Penthouse Grump Read Online Loni Ree http://www.wownovels.com/the-penthouse-grump-read-online-loni-ree Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:20:14 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-penthouse-grump-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire Authors: Loni Ree Advertisement

Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >26

It’s an HR nightmare.

Alice

Running late is my cardio, but I didn't expect my morning workout to include baptizing a stranger with a venti latte. He was rude, he was growly, and unfortunately, he was gorgeous. I thought I’d seen the last of him until I stepped into the elevator that evening—and saw him hit the button for the penthouse. Just my luck. But the real nightmare began Monday morning when I walked into the boardroom at The Mercer Group. That grumpy penthouse resident? He’s Gabriel Mercer. My boss’s boss’s boss. I should be worried about getting fired, but the way he stares at me across the conference table doesn't feel like termination. It feels like trouble.

Gabriel

I don’t do distractions. I run a billion-dollar empire and I live a disciplined life—until a chaotic woman in a gray business suit soaked my favorite shirt in coffee. I should have been furious. Instead, I haven’t slept a wink since, because she’s the only thing haunting my dreams. When I find out she works for me, the game changes. She thinks I’m going to fire her for the spill. She’s wrong. I’m going to make sure she never runs away from me again. Alice Stone belongs with me, and I’m ready to break every HR rule in the book to prove it.

Nestled in the heart of charming Worthington Hills, this quaint apartment building is more than just brick and mortar—it's a hotbed of budding romances and steamy encounters.

So pull up a chair, order your favorite latte, and get ready to fall head over heels for the lovable residents of #1 Love Place. In this building, love isn't just knocking on doors—it's kicking them down!

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

CHAPTER ONE

ALICE

Monday morning rolls around, and I’m rushing through my apartment but still already ten minutes behind schedule. Shoot. I really wanted to stop by Gobble Me Up, the coffee shop in the lobby, for my usual start of the week Caramel Macchiato, but there’s no way I’ll have time. I guess I’ll have to make do with a regular old cup of coffee. Darn.

A few minutes later, I make my way to the door, juggling my purse, laptop bag, and travel mug.

As I make my way down the hall, I realize my right high heel shoe is slowly eviscerating my pinky toe. I make a mental note to dig out my emergency diaper rash cream and apply it to the spot before it breaks the skin.

Things get worse from there. I step into the stainless steel-lined elevator and wince when I see my hair already escaping the bun I hastily pulled it up into. Darn. I really shouldn’t have hit the snooze alarm that one little extra time.

I stake out a spot near the elevator control panel, my fingers clutching the polished metal rail as I silently pray we don't stop on every freaking floor on the way down. Of course, my Monday morning luck sucks spectacularly—the elevator lurches to a halt on six, where a woman in a floral perfume cloud squeezes in beside me, then again on five, where three suited men with identical leather briefcases pile in.

By the time we reach the ground floor, the claustrophobic silence has overwritten my worry about making it to work on time. I've been pushed to the very back of the tight space, sandwiched between the three businessmen and the cold, mirrored wall.

I wait impatiently for everyone to step off. When it’s finally my turn to escape from the tiny metal box, I’m so focused on keeping my coffee from sloshing onto my laptop that I never see the impending doom.

A wall of muscle steps into my path just as I clear the elevator threshold, and I slam into it with the force of a one-woman stampede. There’s a crunching sound, like Styrofoam dying, then the unmistakable splat of my coffee detonating. I watch in horror as it launches a spectacular arc of breakfast blend mixed with my favorite caramel creamer across my gray suit, and squarely onto the chest of the man I’ve just body-checked.

Time stops. Every molecule of air in the lobby freezes. I manage to look up—way up—into a face that’s at once terrifying and absurdly attractive. Dark brown eyes, the kind that probably glare holes through subordinates for fun. Short, dark, and perfectly styled hair that looks damp at the temples. His formerly bright white T-shirt now clings to him, tie-dyed in an icky shade of muddy brown coffee. My lungs forget what oxygen is. The only saving grace is that my disposable travel cup made sure my coffee rapidly cooled on the elevator ride down.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he growls, voice deep enough to vibrate the floor tiles. My eyes automatically roam down his smoking hot body. Wow. This guy isn’t just hot; he’s a walking billboard for expensive workout wear. His shirt is one of those ultra-fancy, vacuum-sealed things that look painted onto every muscle. It’s drenched now, clinging to ridges and valleys that I didn’t know existed on normal humans.

His fancy athletic shorts are a tailored, dark navy that scream luxury, cut to show off tree-trunk thighs. His calves flex as he shifts, probably annoyed at having peasant brew splattered on his workout gear. And don’t even get me started on the watch. It’s the kind of watch you’d have to mortgage a kidney for.

Wow. I wish I looked this good when I work out.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” I stammer, words escaping in a frantic squeak. “I didn’t see you. I’m running late and couldn’t go to Gobble Me Up. So, I made coffee at home. Mondays suck—” God. Why am I blabbing on like this?

He stares at me silently. And the humiliation blasts off into outer space when I try to hand him a fistful of napkins from my purse, but in my panic, I also upend the bag’s contents. Lip balm, a tampon, and the diaper rash cream I use when my high heels hurt my feet. The man looks at the diaper rash cream. Looks at me. Back to the cream.

A dark look breaks out across his face for a second, and I automatically jump in to explain.

“It helps keep my high heels from rubbing blisters,” I squeak. My face is on fire.

“Uh-huh.” He lets out his breath like he’s relieved I’ve finally stopped trying to explain. The hottest man I’ve ever seen swipes at his shirt, but it’s no use. That stain is definitely permanent. His eyes flick over my suit. The muddy brown coffee has pooled right in the center of my chest, creating a large, vaguely obscene bullseye. Of course. “That will probably stain.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >26

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Corralled by Cole – Silver Spoon Cowboys Read Online Loni Ree http://www.wownovels.com/corralled-read-online-cole-silver-spoon-cowboys-read-online-loni-ree Sun, 01 Feb 2026 09:23:15 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/corralled-read-online-cole-silver-spoon-cowboys-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Insta-Love Authors: Loni Ree Advertisement

Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >37

He’s used to getting what he wants, and all he wants is her.

REINE

One minute I’m minding my own business in a diner, trying to mentally prepare for the biggest horse auction of the year, and the next, I’m being practically undressed by the hottest cowboy I’ve ever seen. He stared. I frowned. And like an idiot, I ran away before he could even say hello.

Imagine my horror when Mr. Scorching Stare walks into the auction house and buys my prize stallion for an obscene amount of money.

Turns out, he isn’t just a pretty face in denim. He’s Cole Carrington. The Cole Carrington. Texas billionaire, ranching royalty, and currently, the man insisting on taking me to lunch. One meal turns into an entire day, and suddenly, my quiet life in Montana feels a lot less satisfying without his southern drawl in my ear. He’s persistent, charming, and looking at me like I’m the only prize he really wants to take back to Texas. I’m already falling, but can a small-town girl really handle a billionaire cowboy’s world?

COLE

I came to Montana for a horse. Just a horse. But the second I walked into that diner and saw the curvy blonde with the killer glare, the plan changed. I didn’t know her name, but I knew one thing for damn I wasn’t leaving this state without her.

Finding out she’s the one selling the stallion I’m here to buy? That’s just fate doing me a solid.

Reine Rockwell is everything I didn’t know I needed—fiery, sweet, and absolutely breathtaking. I bought her horse, but that was the easy part. Now, I have to convince her that the spark between us isn’t just a fluke. I’m finding every excuse to stay up north, but I’m done playing games. It’s time to show her that this Texas billionaire plays for keeps. I’ve already corralled the horse; now I just need to corral her heart.

In Silver Spoon Falls, love has a way of working itself out in unexpected ways. But nothing could prepare these rough cowboys for the wild, curvy women coming their way.

To tame their hearts and find forever, they'll fight harder than they ever have. Luckily, the sweat in their veins, the dirt on their boots, and the grit in their bones has taught them everything they need to know to go toe-to-toe with fate and come out unconquered

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

CHAPTER ONE

REINE

I’m sitting in my usual corner booth at Molly’s Diner, pretending to review my notes for tomorrow’s horse auction. I act like I’m focused on my work, but I’m only half-listening to my own internal monologue. Next to Thunderbolt’s name, I’ve written “DO NOT FUCK THIS UP” in highlighter underneath his stats. Yeah. No pressure or anything.

My heart lurches as I stare at the neon stars next to Thunderbolt’s name. Damnit. I hate this. The entire ranch is counting on me to get this sale right, and all I want to do is lock Thunderbolt in the back pasture and throw the key in the creek.

I scrub a hand across my face, pretending it’s just dust making my eyes sting. Who am I kidding? I freaking love that horse. He’s more loyal than ninety percent of the humans I’ve met. But feelings don’t pay overdue electric bills or keep Grams’ ancient furnace from exploding on a cold Montana night or keep the asshole’s trying to steal our ranch at bay. If we don’t get top dollar for Thunderbolt, we lose everything. My chest squeezes tight. Tomorrow is gonna fucking suck.

My skin starts prickling, and I glance up, telling myself it’s just my nerves, but I’m lying. Fuck. I know someone’s looking at me.

I try not to glance up right away, but I totally cave after three seconds. That’s all the self-control I’ve got. My eyes go straight to the far corner, and that’s when I see the hottest cowboy I’ve ever encountered in real life. Holy hell. He’s a walking wet dream, straight out of every romance cover I’ve ever hidden in my nightstand. Square jaw, dark stubble, and a mouth I want to kiss more than my next breath. His hair’s messy in a “I just rolled out of bed and still look hot as fuck” way, even with the top flattened by the black cowboy hat that’s now sitting in the center of the table. Wide shoulders stretch his plaid shirt to the limit. I can see his chest under the open collar, tan and probably carved out of marble. And those hands. Big. Capable.

He’s got this look in his eye, too. Slow and lazy, but underneath it, I swear he’s plotting something. My pulse trips over itself. He smirks, and I about melt through the cracked vinyl booth. I’m completely, embarrassingly obsessed.

He’s sitting in a booth on the far side of the small diner, acting like he owns the place, one arm stretched across the back of his booth, sleeves pushed up to show off sun-tanned forearms with elaborate tattoos. He smirks again when our eyes meet, and I swear my girly parts wake up and celebrate while my face goes up in flames.

Holy shit. I look away so fast I nearly give myself whiplash and pretend to check my phone. Then I re-highlight Thunderbolt’s notes like a psycho with a marker addiction. But I can feel his gaze burning straight through my skull.

I risk another peek and get nailed by that same look. My pulse hammers. He’s still smirking, like he’s got a direct line to my dirty thoughts and approves.

I barely resist the urge to fan myself. Get your shit together, Reine.

When he looks away to answer his phone, I decide it’s time to turn tail and run. I gather my stuff fast, trying not to drop my phone or my dignity, but I’m pretty sure my face is tomato-red.

Outside, I suck in a lungful of cold Montana air. It doesn’t help. If anything, I’m even more flustered. I jam my notes in the passenger seat, hop in my truck, and gun it back toward the ranch with my thighs pressed tightly together.

The drive home is all rolling hills and frostbitten grass, the kind of landscape that looks boring in postcards but feels like a punch in the gut if you ever leave it. I’m not sentimental, but there’s something about the way the morning sun catches on the crust of ice along the fence posts that makes me want to punch a hole in the universe and climb through to a place where nothing ever changes. Instead, I roll down the window and let the wind whip my hair into knots, because it’s better than thinking about strangers with dangerous smiles.

The Rolling R Ranch is only ten miles from town, but it might as well be ten years. Nothing about it says “money” anymore, not since Dad left and the bank started circling like vultures. The barn could use a good coat of paint, and the gate groans every time I drag it open. But the horses don’t care, and neither does Louise, my grandmother and the current boss in charge of everything but my love life.

I park the truck and grab my notes, hoping Grams won’t notice my current state. No such luck. She spots me from halfway across the corral and gives me her patented “don’t think you’re fooling me, kid” stare.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >37

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Hot Buttered Kisses – Sugar & Spice Read Online Loni Ree http://www.wownovels.com/hot-buttered-kisses-sugar-spice-read-online-loni-ree Wed, 07 Jan 2026 10:40:22 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/hot-buttered-kisses-sugar-spice-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Novella Authors: Loni Ree Advertisement

Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >23

She’s packing her bags. He’s losing his mind.

I've been crushing on Eamon for what feels like forever, and a girl can’t wait forever, right? When a dream job offer lands in my lap, I figure it's time to pack up my unrequited feelings and hit the Big Apple. Surprise. Surprise. The moment I announce my grand escape plan, Mr. Oblivious suddenly can't bear to let me go. Talk about timing! Now I'm caught between the city of my dreams and the man of my fantasies. Who knew giving notice could be so complicated?

Dee's always been there - dependable, beautiful, and completely off-limits. At least, that's what I told myself. Then the moment she mentions leaving for New York, my world tilts on its axis. Suddenly, I'm seeing Dee in a whole new light, and let me tell you, it's blinding. Now I'm on a mission to convince her to stay, armed with nothing but liquid courage from one too many Hot Buttered Rums and years of pent-up feelings. Will my eleventh-hour revelation be enough, or am I about to lose the best thing I never knew I had?

This holiday season, indulge in the Sugar & Spice series where romance brews with every sip. These steamy, holiday romances promise to ignite your passions while heating up your kindle. Whether it's spicy moments over hot buttered rum or hot chocolate, adorable elf kisses, or irresistible romances with peppermint lattes, each story will ignite your senses and make your heart glow this holiday season. These deliciously decadent stories will have you wishing the holiday season never ends

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

PROLOGUE

DEE

Working at Midnight Mischief has taught me many things, from recognizing when someone has had one too many to dealing with handsy assholes who don’t think the rules apply to them. The one thing I haven’t learned is how to get over my feelings for my boss. Fuck my life.

I wipe the sticky edge of the bar for the thousandth time tonight and watch the free show as Veronica, my ride-or-die, owns the room, while her husband is so obviously obsessed with her that I half expect him to start pissing territorial circles around her at any minute.

Meanwhile, the line is wrapped around the bar tonight. I tip a Red Bull and vodka into a glass and slide it toward a guy whose aftershave makes my eyes water. “Enjoy.” I walk away, ignoring his attempt at flirtation.

I toss the rag into the sink and pivot for the top-shelf whiskeys, but not before noticing Eamon Whelan by the entry, arms folded, eyes colder than the dry ice fog rolling across the dance floor. The club’s manager and Nathan Brennan’s right-hand man, Eamon radiates ex-military energy and the constant vibe that he could snap you in half without breaking a sweat.

His charcoal suit clings to his broad shoulders and tapers at his narrow waist like it was measured and stitched directly onto his body. The fabric catches the club lights—some expensive wool blend that probably costs more than six months of my rent. His dark hair is buzzed to military precision on the sides, longer on top, not a single strand daring to rebel against whatever product keeps it perfectly in place. When he turns his head, the muscles in his jaw flex beneath a five o'clock shadow that somehow looks deliberate rather than lazy. I'd call him intimidating if that word didn't feel like calling a hurricane "breezy."

I swear I can practically hear his Irish accent through the crowd, even when he’s not talking. Especially when he’s pissed. Which, let’s be honest, is ninety percent of the time I’m around him. It’s like my personal kink. Some girls want abs or sweet nothings whispered in their ears. Not me. I want Eamon with a scowl, jaw clenched, that low, rumbly Dublin burr sneaking in when he says my name.

Full-body shivers. Every. Damn. Time.

Sometimes I piss him off on purpose just to hear it. Like that time I reorganized the top shelf whiskeys alphabetically and almost gave him an aneurysm. Or when I wore my “F*ck the rules” cropped tee and pretended I didn’t know why he was glaring at my chest all night.

Zero regrets.

People either avoid looking at him or try too hard to impress him. I do neither. Instead, I let my gaze linger, almost daring him to acknowledge me. I get a single nod in return, which could mean anything from approval to warning, or possibly both, before he resumes his silent vigil, scanning the room for threats.

I pour myself a soda and settle behind the bar, letting my gaze stray back to Veronica and Nathan. They’re laughing over something on her phone, his hand tracing absent-minded circles on her knee. Seeing her now, so adored by the man she’s loved forever, makes something sharp curl behind my ribs. Not jealousy, exactly. This is more like a gnawing ache, a craving for the man I’ve been lusting after forever to suddenly notice me, too.

I reach for the glassware, getting my shit together behind the bar, when Eamon strolls up. He moves with a lazy intensity, like he’s got nowhere to be and all the time to get there. He leans in close, dropping his voice until it’s just for me. “Whiskey neat. Blue label.”

Cue the shivers racing up my spine. “Ever think about trying something new?” Like a night in my bed. Thank God, I manage to keep that last part in my mind only.

He doesn’t move a damn muscle, and I suddenly wonder if I did mutter that last part out loud. There’s the faintest twitch, then a smirk threatens to break through the lines around his mouth. “Not tonight.”

My heart races as I pour, careful not to spill or show how suddenly slippery my hands feel. There’s always been a charge between us, a static that gathers and sparks whenever we occupy the same orbit.

When I set the glass down, his hand closes over it, and my fingers brush his. The jolt is so real I almost pull back, but Eamon doesn’t react. He just looks me dead in the eye and lifts the glass in a small salute.

“Thanks, Sunshine,” he says, and that silly nickname sounds more intimate coming from his mouth than any of the endearments I’ve ever heard slurred at this bar.

“Anytime,” I say, way too fast, then busy myself with a sudden, pressing need to align the limes. I can feel him watching me even as he melts back into the crowd.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >23

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Auctioned to My Best Friend – Sold to the Naughtier List Read Online Loni Ree http://www.wownovels.com/auctioned-to-my-best-friend-sold-to-the-naughtier-list-read-online-loni-ree Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:03:38 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/auctioned-to-my-best-friend-sold-to-the-naughtier-list-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Insta-Love, Novella Authors: Loni Ree Series: Series by Loni Ree
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Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)

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She put herself on the block, he took her off the market.

I've been in love with my best friend, Nathan, forever. He's gorgeous, successful, and owns the hottest nightclub in town. Me? I'm just his shy, curvy friend who's never had the courage to tell him how I feel. When I hear about the bachelorette auction at his club, I decide to take a chance. Maybe, just maybe, he'll finally see me as more than a friend. What I don't expect is his reaction when he spots me on that stage...

I thought I had it all – good looks, a successful nightclub and more money than I'll ever be able to spend. But the truth is, I don't have the one thing that matters Veronica. My curvy, beautiful best friend who's been right in front of me all along. I've been too afraid to risk our friendship, but when I see her on stage at my club's bachelorette auction, something inside me snaps. The thought of another man touching her drives me over the edge. Before I know it, I'm storming the stage, throwing her over my shoulder, and claiming what has been mine all along.

When you’re on The Naughtier List, you don’t wait around for gifts — you take what you want.

These men are dark, dangerous, and done playing nice. This Christmas, they’re unwrapping exactly what they’ve been wishing the women of their dreams. Get ready for the steamiest holiday season yet as your favorite instalove authors deliver alpha heroes, forbidden desires, and happily-ever-afters hot enough to melt the snow

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

CHAPTER ONE

RONI

I grab my purse from the bottom drawer and do a quick pat-down: phone, wallet, emergency chocolate. Check, check, triple-check. I’m halfway out the door when my boss pops her head around the corner and gives me a look that screams “Don’t even think about it, Lewis.”

“Did you file the insurance paperwork for Mr. Hollister?” Dr. Chin asks, voice like nails on a pastel pink chalkboard.

My soul shrivels. I literally just want to escape this place before someone finds some other task for me to do before vacation. After today, I’ve got two whole weeks off, and I can’t wait to laze around doing nothing.

“Yep. On your desk!” I flash my most confident smile—the one I practiced in the bathroom mirror after that time I accidentally sent a meme of a screaming goat to our dental supplier.

She gives me a quick smile. “Very good. See you in two weeks.”

Before anything else can come up, I shoot out of there so fast I practically leave a cartoon dust cloud in the hallway.

Freedom. Sweet, precious freedom! My phone buzzes the second I hit the sidewalk, and, like the total disaster I am, I nearly drop everything trying to answer it. My priorities flash through my mind as I juggle my phone and purse. First, maintain vertical human posture in front of the orthodontics office. Second, read Nathan's text before he thinks I'm ignoring him. Third, rescue my emergency chocolate bar from the afternoon sun before it transforms into a sticky disaster.

Nate the Great

Just got out of a meeting. Still on for caffeine therapy?

Our schedules barely overlap. I clock in every Monday through Friday, the standard nine-to-five grind, while Nathan keeps the odd hours of a nightclub owner. Total opposites, right? To carve out a little time together, we meet up for coffee dates two or three times a week.

I’m not even going to pretend I don’t pay for it later—the late-night caffeine keeps me up and leaves me tossing around, staring at the ceiling. But honestly? Losing a couple of hours of sleep is nothing compared to the time I get with Nathan.

Me

You KNOW it. I’m already dreaming about the cinnamon rolls.

Nate the Great

See you in 10.

Cue the butterflies. Not the cute cartoon kind—the rabid, caffeine-addicted ones that chew up my insides every time I even think about Nathan Brennan in a suit. Or out of one. Jesus, brain, take it down a notch.

I hustle two blocks to the café and duck inside, instantly slammed in the face by the world’s best smell—a combination of coffee, cinnamon, and pure, unfiltered sugar. I’m barely inside before I see Nathan, and Sweet Baby Jesus, he’s impossible to miss.

He’s already at our usual table in the back, dark suit jacket stretched tight over those ridiculously broad shoulders, one hand wrapped around a mug, the other scrolling through emails like he’s trying to intimidate his phone into submission. His hair’s perfect. His jaw is perfect. Even his scowl is perfect. And I want to freaking jump his bones.

My ovaries are basically playing the world’s tiniest violin as I order my inner hussy to calm the heck down.

My heart hammers away as I walk toward him, hoping that maybe today’s the day he’ll finally glance up and see me as more than his reliable best friend. One day, I’ll stop being a total coward and say something, anything, about the way he makes my thighs clench just by existing, but today isn’t that day.

Nathan glances up the moment I slide into the seat across from him, and for one deranged second, I think maybe he caught me staring at his jawline. Or his shoulders. Or the way that tailored shirt is doing unspeakably sinful things to his stupidly perfect chest.

“You made good time.” His mouth twitches, just at the edge. No real smile and yet, somehow, it’s hotter than most guys’ full-on desperate grins. “You run the last block?” His brown eyes rake over me, the whole length of me, and I feel like I’m the only thing in the room. My blood pressure skyrockets.

I’ve spent the last six years telling myself not to let him see what he does to me. Don’t let him see you melt into a puddle from one look.

“It was a brisk power-walk,” I fire back, trying to sound sassy instead of breathless. “I skipped lunch, and I’m dying for a cinnamon roll.”

He shakes his head, dark brows drawing together in that way that makes him look both concerned and slightly dangerous. "You shouldn't be skipping lunch." He stands up in one fluid motion, all six-foot-something of him unfolding from the chair, and leans over so close I can smell his cologne—sandalwood and something expensive that probably costs more than my rent. His breath warms my ear as he whispers, "I'll get our coffee and cinnamon rolls." His fingertips brush my shoulder as he straightens, and I'm melted butter on hot toast, just from one look.

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