Pam Godwin – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Pam Godwin – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Thu, 23 Apr 2026 22:53:07 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.2 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Pam Godwin – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 Rise of Ink and Smoke (Frozen Fate #4) Read Online Pam Godwin http://www.wownovels.com/rise-of-ink-and-smoke-frozen-fate-4-read-online-pam-godwin Thu, 23 Apr 2026 22:53:07 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/rise-of-ink-and-smoke-frozen-fate-4-read-online-pam-godwin Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Suspense, Taboo Authors: Pam Godwin Series: Frozen Fate Series by Pam Godwin
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Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)

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A spinoff of the Frozen Fate trilogy by Pam Godwin, New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author.

Wolfson Strakh fought his way to freedom, and it still isn’t enough.
With ink-stained fingers and his fierce Alaskan family at his side, he should feel whole. Instead, the past clings like scars, leaving a loneliness that won’t release him.
Until Dove Rath blows it apart.
A runaway bride with a rifle, she’s the dangerous fairytale princess of his dreams. But she isn’t here to be saved. She’s here to end her stepbrother, Jag Rath.
Ruinously handsome and lethal behind a keyboard, Jag drags old darkness into Alaska, twisting protection into possession and loyalty into hunger. Curiosity sharpens. Desire flares. Boundaries blur. Secrets stir.
Jag’s past threatens the freedom Wolf bled for, the love he never expected, and the woman caught between them.
Now Wolf stands on another cliff, betting his life on love as everything ignites in a rise of ink and smoke

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

“You smell different when you’re awake.”

~ Eddie B, Whistler Canada

One year ago

I sit in the hollow silence of my prison. No windows to the outside world. No lights to ruin the ambiance of hopelessness. No mouth-breathers to invade my hell.

Just me and my voyeuristic companion.

“Hello, Regret.” I can’t see a dirty godsdamn thing beyond the reach of my hand, but… “I know you’re there.”

Silent and cold, Regret stares back.

“Admiring my banging good looks again?” I stroke my full beard. “Four months in this cage, and I’m still a sexy beast. Jealous?”

No answer. Of course not. Regret doesn’t speak. It seeps. Slithers around my rib cage. Crawls inside my lungs. It’s the dark abyss squeezing my balls with clammy tentacles and yawning in my face, unimpressed.

“Serious question. Why are you so clingy? Got nothing better to do than lurk in the damn corner like a bad habit?”

Regret swells, filling my empty spaces.

I have a lot of those.

“I feel you smothering.” I chuckle bitterly. “Breathing down my neck. Rubbing up inside me like a dirty dick. I get it. I fucked up. Is that what you want to hear?”

A chill pebbles my skin.

I shove off the musty mattress, needing movement. And a smoke.

Titties would be good, too. A couple of supple pillows to rest my weary head. Can’t remember the last time I felt up a girl.

Never sounds accurate.

The room stinks of sweat and stale breath, of time stretching too thin, of Regret festering in my bowels.

I should be dead.

To think, if I hadn’t thrown myself off that cliff, I wouldn’t be trapped in a concrete room without basic necessities like smokes and titties.

Instead, I did the damn thing. I stretched out my arms like Caucasian Jesus, died for mythical reasons, and resurrected downstream, right into the manicured hands of Dr. Try-Hard.

Yeah. My captor is a medical doctor. Good for me. He mended the arrow wound in my arm, dragged me from the brink of death, and locked me in this tomb.

The best part? He has an unhealthy hard-on for the psycho who raised me. Like, he wants to be Denver Strakh.

As if.

Dr. Limp Dick is a cheap imitation. A dollar-store Dahmer. I’ve been here for four months, and he hasn’t tried to rape me or eat me.

Why not?

Why keep me alive if not to fuck my heavenly body ten ways to Sabbath?

I inhale deeply and regret it immediately.

The damp air, ripe with mildew, carries a sharp bite of antiseptic.

Bleach.

Urine.

Blood.

Unthinkable fluids live in these walls.

How many people have died here? How many bodies have rotted down the drain?

I curl my fingers, pressing them to my nose. It’s fine. I’m fine. I just need to think.

The facts are these. If I hadn’t jumped, I’d be dead. I would’ve starved with Frankie and my brothers. Or we would’ve crashed the plane and burned alive.

But I wouldn’t have died alone.

Now you will. Regret fists my stomach. You’ll die a virgin. Caged. Forgotten. Alone.

“What do you want from me? An apology?” My jaw tightens. “Want me to fall on my knees and beg for forgiveness? It won’t change anything. They’re dead. Everyone I love is dead, and I’m not. I wasn’t supposed to make it out. Not without them.”

My insides clench as Regret strengthens its hold.

“You love this, don’t you? Watching me tear myself apart. Watching me drown in my mistakes.”

Regret leans in, waiting.

“I know. You won’t let me forget her. Or them. Or the last thing I said…”

I definitely tried to kill her. She’s dead anyway. We all are.

The echo of my words scrapes through my skull like rusted iron.

“No.” I grip my head. “That was a lie.”

A cruel, desperate lie. One I needed Leo to believe.

I would never hurt Frankie. When I fired that gun on the cliff, I aimed wide, knowing I wouldn’t hit her.

What if she believes the lie? What if she thinks you tried to kill her?

“She’s smarter than that. She knows I only said it so Leo would put a hot one in my chest. But the moron didn’t pull the trigger.”

So I jumped.

And instantly regretted it.

I tried to break the fall, repositioned to absorb the impact, and narrowly avoided a jutting rock. I landed like a fucking baller. I mean, the river was brutal, but I survived. Obviously.

And now you’re trapped. Regret drapes a phantom arm over my shoulders. With me. Keeping me here. Feeding me.

“I can’t escape.”

Don’t pretend you want to escape me. The whisper retreats into the shadows. When you’re ready to talk again, I’ll be here.

I rake my fingers down my face, digging into my beard and filthy skin. I need to focus. I need to get the fuck out of here.

But where the hell is here?

The doctor flew me to this place. I was drugged out of my mind and half-dead as he hauled me from his plane to this outbuilding. But as consciousness flickered in and out, I saw…

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Beneath the Burn Read Online Pam Godwin http://www.wownovels.com/beneath-the-burn-read-online-pam-godwin Mon, 12 May 2025 18:29:56 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/beneath-the-burn-read-online-pam-godwin Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic Authors: Pam Godwin Advertisement

Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >180

They meet by chance. The timing is wrong.

Three years later, she finds him again, but their separation was poisoned with narcotics and bloodied by enslavement.

Her freedom gambled away, Charlee Grosky escapes the international businessman who held her captive. But his power reaches beyond her protective barriers and threatens everyone she has come to love.

Jay Mayard wears his tortured secrets under his rock god facade. Drugs are his release, even as he seeks to be the man forged of the steel only she can see.

In a celebrity world filled with paparazzi, groupies, and drugs, Jay and Charlee must face their worst fears. When the battle is over, what will be left...Beneath The Burn.

Romantic Thriller
Stand Alone (no cliff-hanger)

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

1

The aroma of rotting food crept in from a dumpster and clung to the humid air clogging the back of Jay Mayard’s van. The brunette writhing beneath him smelled worse. Stale smoke and hairspray infected her gaping pores.

Facedown and arms spread over a speaker box, she nudged him with her bony backside. “Come on, Jay. You’re so damn hot. I’m dying here.”

He ground his dick against her. He wasn’t hard, not even close. “I told you to shut up.”

“But I want you.” A husky, ashtray-laden whine.

He grabbed her neck, and she squeaked. Why was he even here? Maybe it was hope that sex would drown out the din in his head. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. Dammit. His dick had been hard when they left the bar. Maybe he’d picked the wrong groupie.

He drove her face into the casing. “If you keep your fucking trap shut, I’ll give it to you.”

“Mmm.” She relaxed, waiting.

He could do this. He needed this, as long as she didn’t touch him. “Put your hands on the edge. Yeah, just like that. Now hold on and don’t let go.”

She panted and wiggled as he fished for the condom in his pocket and unzipped his leathers. Come on, fucker. Get hard.

The bastard lay limp against his thigh. He stroked it. Tried to drown out the body odor lingering in the band’s lived-in van. Tried to tune out the metal guitar chords vibrating from the back of the bar. Tried to attenuate his thoughts to the one thing that could give him five mindless minutes.

Willing, wet cunt.

His cock half-woke. He wrapped it, positioned it, and worked it into her.

Numb. The hole encasing his dick offered nothing but empty, dead space. He might as well have humped the air. He thrust harder, deeper and felt nothing.

“Ahh, yeah, rock star. Give it to me.” She pumped her hips and smacked her gum.

Could she not feel him shriveling? He fisted her ponytail. “Shut. Up.” He released her hair with a shove of her head.

The pace of their thrusting increased, out of sync, but the finish would come. It had to. He kept his eyes open, focused on the music equipment stacked around them, the bed rolls he and his bandmates slept on, anything but the self-destructive thoughts prowling the edges of his mind.

Something moved over his thigh, clenched on his ass. He froze mid-thrust. His skin recoiled from the sensation. Fingernails raked down his leg, searing a trail of heat. Hurt. Burning skin. Oh God, too much burning.

He stumbled backward and knocked over his guitar case. “Never fucking touch me.” His roar was harsh and clotted with spit.

Glittery black smudges caked her round eyes. She didn’t know what was going on inside him, and she wouldn’t be around long enough to find out.

The condom fell off in his hand. He flung it at her. “Get the hell out.” His fingers shook as he stuffed himself in his pants and zipped up.

The clueless twat tried to rise from her squat on wobbly heels without bothering to pull down the skirt bunched at her waist. “You are one messed up motherfucker. What the hell is wrong with you?”

His memories were tearing open, spewing flickers of the shed, the rumble of the oven, the stifling darkness, the trudging footsteps, and the creaking door. Oh God, he needed to get out of there before he gave her a sampling of his madness.

He shouldered out the passenger door and jogged down the alley beside the bar. Boosting his pace, he left his bandmates celebrating their successful show with booze and girls. His sprint, however, put an effective distance from the bitch screaming after him.

“You’re just a wannabe rock star. You and your limp dick.”

He rounded the bend and slowed to plod along the main drag. He didn’t want to be a rock star. He wanted to lose himself in his music, singing and playing guitar, town after town, night after night. Above all, he just wanted to forget.

Nightclub crawlers lingered in the south St. Louis streets, hanging on one another and howling with unrestrained laughter. He could be right there with them, immersed in all the trappings of a good time, if he figured out how to deaden his hang-ups.

He could go back to the van and write a song. He could find another groupie to screw. Or he could get high. Temporary distractions. He needed something permanent, something that would erase the hideous reminders that sucked sound judgment from his brain and his dick.

A tattoo could do that. A needle hammering ink into the second layer of skin was about as permanent as he could get. He’d wanted one for years, just couldn’t work up the courage to expose his skin.

Fuck it. He’d spotted a shop on his way to the show. If it was still open, it was meant to be.

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Heart of Frost and Scars (Frozen Fate #3) Read Online Pam Godwin http://www.wownovels.com/heart-of-frost-and-scars-frozen-fate-3-read-online-pam-godwin Mon, 23 Sep 2024 09:23:59 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/heart-of-frost-and-scars-frozen-fate-3-read-online-pam-godwin Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Suspense, Taboo Authors: Pam Godwin Series: Frozen Fate Series by Pam Godwin
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Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >192

I’m the silent ache, the shadow that lingers, the present from your past, the knife in your heart.

In the chilling finale of the Frozen Fate trilogy, Frankie enters a world far deadlier than the one she escaped.

A sinister threat lurks in the shadows, hunting her with a dark obsession as her savage protectors battle the rules of society.
Thrust into the civilized world, they spiral into violence and refuse to conform, their wild natures threatening to tear apart their bond.
Amid these struggles, her seductive billionaire husband fights to reclaim her love.
Caught between possessive men, a deadly stalker, and a legacy of pain, she must decide her fate.
Choose wrongly, and she’ll lose everything to a monster with a heart of frost and scars.

Tropes: Adult Romance, Age Gap, Alpha Hero, Angsty, Band of Brothers, Billionaire, Boy Obsessed, Close Proximity, Fish out of Water, Forbidden Love, Forced Proximity, Found Family, Heroine in Danger, Menage, MFM, One Bed, Poly (3+ people), Protector, Romantic Suspense, Scars, Stalker, Starting Over, Taboo, Touch Her And Die, Tragic Past, Troubled Marriage, Unrequited Love, Why Choose, Will They or Won’t They

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

“My! People come and go so quickly here!”

Dorothy, The Wizard of Oz

1

Leonid

—

Frost-laden shock clings to my heart as Monty parks the car on the tarmac.

An early spring fog casts a haze over the runway of Anchorage’s airport, the last vestiges of the blizzard lingering in dirty slush along the edges of the pavement.

The weather might have cleared, but the storm still rages inside me, its blinding flurries of resentment and distrust obscuring the path forward, numbing my senses, and leaving only a sharp, cold determination to protect Frankie from this new danger. Whatever the fuck it is.

She sits in the back seat, pressed tightly against Kody, her face ashen, her voice seemingly frozen in her throat. She barely breathes, her shoulders rigid and lips bloodless.

I hate seeing her like this, the fearless spark she usually exudes snuffed out, replaced by a dull, haunted look.

Kody’s arm wraps around her, holding her close to his side, his expression dark and brooding.

None of us have spoken since we left the lawyer’s office, the gravity of Denver’s revelations suffocating the car.

Beside me, Monty stares at his private jet through the windshield.

I don’t know the man, but I bet his hand doesn’t normally tremble like that.

He clenches it and reaches for the door handle, his face glowing with the shiner I gave him at the hospital.

“You said my reappearance made national news,” Frankie whispers. “But I haven’t seen a reporter since we left the hospital.”

“I took care of it.”

“How?”

“My public relations team is providing controlled, regular updates and exclusives, eliminating the need for invasive reporting. It only buys us a day or two. Long enough to fly to Sitka. Once we’re on the island, we’ll be out of the public eye, secluded, safe, and impossible to access. I also have security measures in place here and when we land to stop anyone trying to approach us.” He opens the door. “I’ll check on the plane. Stay here.”

He exits the car like he can’t escape our unbreathable air fast enough.

The door clicks shut as he strides away, a dark silhouette against the overcast sky.

I may not grasp the full scope of his influence over the media, but I understand the outcome. He’s shielding Frankie, protecting her from public scrutiny.

It’s an uncomfortable reminder of the power he wields.

Montgomery Strakh.

My uncle.

Kody’s half-brother.

Wolf’s father.

Frankie’s husband.

The part that I’m really struggling to wrap my head around is that Kody, the guy who’s been my little brother my entire life, is actually my uncle.

And we share the same woman.

Shit doesn’t get more tangled than that.

I don’t trust Monty, and he shouldn’t trust me. Yet the dumbass left the car running.

I’ve never driven before, but I can figure it out. The controls can’t be more complicated than flying a plane.

“Let’s get out of here.” I twist in the seat and find Kody’s eyes. “We don’t need him.”

“You sure about that?” He stiffens, his voice low and rough. “You heard what he said about the reporters. We can’t have them broadcasting her location. She’s in danger.”

“Apparently, being in danger is my new normal.” She curls her fingers on her lap, her words clipped. Angry.

Outside, Monty gestures animatedly as he converses with the crew beside the jet, preparing to carry us off to his estate in Sitka.

“This threat against you…” I soften my tone, not wanting to scare her more than she already is. “It’s worse than wolves and blizzards and starvation. You know why? Because we don’t know who or what it is. We won’t see it coming until it’s too late.” I thrust a finger at the man who is far too eager to help us. “The threat could be Monty.”

I expect her to react, to argue, to defend him. But she doesn’t. She glances in his direction, where he huddles into his coat and talks to the crew.

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Cage of Ice and Echoes (Frozen Fate #2) Read Online Pam Godwin http://www.wownovels.com/cage-of-ice-and-echoes-frozen-fate-2-read-online-pam-godwin Sat, 11 May 2024 14:57:02 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/cage-of-ice-and-echoes-frozen-fate-2-read-online-pam-godwin Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Suspense, Taboo Authors: Pam Godwin Series: Frozen Fate Series by Pam Godwin
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Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >123

Frankie’s story continues in this second book in the Frozen Fate trilogy by Pam Godwin.

Frankie and her ruthless protectors conquered unspeakable evil. But their fight to escape the hills of shivers and shadows is far from over.
Stranded in Alaska, survival becomes paramount against starvation, hypothermia, and the dangerous predators lurking outside their isolated cabin.
Sharing precious body heat with her viciously possessive men presents another challenge. She must navigate not only the brutal arctic tundra but also the intricacies of polyamorous love to ensure they make it out alive.
Tensions rise as the ice thickens, and their only hope rests on a plane they can’t fly.
Unless they unlock the secrets hidden beneath its wings in a cage of ice and echoes.

Tropes: Adult Romance, Age Gap, Alpha Hero, Angsty, Band of Brothers, Billionaire, Boy Obsessed, Close Proximity, Enemies-to-lovers, First Love, Fish out of Water, Forbidden Love, Forced Proximity, Found Family, Heroine in Danger, Menage, MFM, One Bed, Poly (3+ people), Protector, Romantic Suspense, Scars, Stalker, Starting Over, Stranded Together, Survival, Taboo, Touch Her And Die, Tragic Past, Troubled Marriage, Unrequited Love, Virgin Hero, Why Choose, Will They or Won’t They

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

“Better the illusions that exalt us than ten thousand truths.”

Alexander Pushkin

In the quiet of my heart, where death whispers, I tread softly, carrying the weight of Wolfson’s absence.

A week has passed without him. A deep, black void. Cold. Painful. Never-ending.

Like the polar night.

Like our empty bellies.

Somewhere north of the Arctic Circle, I stand at the frosted window of our cabin, watching snowflakes dance.

Our cabin.

My prison for over four months. Longer for Leonid and Kodiak. They’ve been trapped here since childhood.

With Denver and Wolf gone, it’s our cabin now. A cage of ice with frozen pipes, dwindling pantries, and echoes of the dead.

A permanent chill lives on my skin, my goosebumps the size of cherries. But it’s a welcome distraction from the ache within.

The heavy weight in my arms, Wolf’s saxophone case, holds memories etched in brass and melody. A relic of a tortured soul taken too soon. His haunting music used to fill these walls as vibrant and inimitable as the northern lights.

Now there’s just silence. A silence so swollen it chokes.

I feel guilty wearing his coat when he died in the bloodstained ruins of mine. I feel guilty loving his brothers when I couldn’t love him the way he wanted. I feel guilty taking a breath when I couldn’t stop him from taking his life.

I need you with me. We can finally be together.

He didn’t want to die alone.

Part of me, a dark, dangerous shadow, knows it would be easier to join him. To let the cold embrace me, to close my eyes and imagine it’s Wolf’s arms around me one last time.

I shake off the thought, my survival instinct still too strong. Even stronger is my love for his brothers. I would never do that to them, would never hurt them more than they’re already hurting.

The tread of boots drifts from the basement stairs, heralding Leo’s approach.

In the caress of candlelight, he emerges, a silhouette of sorrow, cradling a box laden with ghosts of the past. Within lie the remnants of innocence—clothes he and Kody wore as children—and the identities of women lost to this place. Among them, his mother.

My eyes, always on the brink of tears, look away.

Sensing my turmoil, he sets down the box, eases the case from my grip, and lowers it to the floor with reverent gentleness. His hands, red from the cold yet steady and firm, find my shoulders, anchoring me.

Our foreheads meet, resting together in a communion of pain.

“Breathe.” His voice is my lighthouse in the fog. “Again.”

Our lungs empty in unison, our breaths a coil of vapor.

“Want to talk about it?” His fingers dig in, massaging tense joints.

Wolf lives in my head in fragments, in flashes. Eyes that once held galaxies of mischief, now stilled. Hugs that once thawed the harshest winter, now phantoms. His punch lines and pet names, now lost to the wind.

Wolf.

My Wolf.

He left this world because it hurt him irreparably. From the moment he was born, it brutalized him, molested him, starved him of love, and ripped him apart.

No use talking about it. It won’t bring him back.

“We need to move forward.” I bury my hands in the fur of Leo’s coat. “I don’t want to cry anymore.”

Understanding shines in his mismatched eyes. “I miss you. Your smile. Your body. Your warmth.”

I sleep between him and Kody every night, swaddled in masculine heat. But that’s not what he means. He misses our intimacy. Our profound connection through sex. We haven’t been together like that in two weeks.

Days consumed by the relentless pursuit of sustenance and solutions leave no room for baser needs.

Nights, while tangled together in a pretzel of limbs, offer no comfort for longing hearts, only the stark reminder that every calorie must be conserved. Anything beyond tender whispers of love is a luxury we cannot afford.

“I miss you, too.” I hold my lips to his, soaking in his affection. “So much.”

Frustration sharpens his breath.

“This is temporary.” He steps away to collect the box.

“Forever awaits.” Whatever that means, however long it takes, I’m here for it.

I grip the handle of the saxophone case.

He snuffs out the candles. Then, hand in hand, we step outside, braving the maw of a howling blizzard.

Snow crunches under our boots. Icy air bites at our cheeks. The short trek to the workshop isn’t quick, thanks to the brutal, unrelenting wind. When we finally step inside and slam the repaired door on the storm, it feels like I traded one tomb for another.

Not enough candlelight to chase away the shadows. No heat source to cut through the cold. We’re out of coal and firewood, and the power system remains inoperable.

I’m afraid. Afraid of the isolation that gnaws as fiercely as the hunger. Afraid of the hope we put into a plane we don’t know how to fly. Afraid of a future devoid of Wolf.

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Hills of Shivers and Shadows (Frozen Fate #1) Read Online Pam Godwin http://www.wownovels.com/hills-of-shivers-and-shadows-frozen-fate-1-read-online-pam-godwin Mon, 25 Mar 2024 04:51:43 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/hills-of-shivers-and-shadows-frozen-fate-1-read-online-pam-godwin Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Suspense, Taboo Authors: Pam Godwin Series: Frozen Fate Series by Pam Godwin
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Total pages in book: 205
Estimated words: 204377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1022(@200wpm)___ 818(@250wpm)___ 681(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >205

Abducted and taken to a remote cabin in Alaska, Frankie finds herself at the mercy of four feral men, each with his own dark secrets and twisted desires.With nowhere to run, she must rely on her wits to survive the harsh winter, trapped with them.As she delves into their mysterious pasts, she uncovers an insidious evil that feeds on loyalty and uses love as a weapon.Nothing is as it seems.In this desolate world where the monsters are as beautiful as they are cruel, trust is elusive. They torment her, protect her, and keep her in the dark.But to have any chance of escape, they must stand together.Or fall prey to the evil in the hills of shivers and Abduction, Adult Romance, Alpha Hero, Angsty, Anti-Hero, Band of Brothers, Billionaire, Bully, Captivity, Dark Romance, Enemies-to-lovers, First Love, Forbidden Love, Forced Proximity, Found Family, Poly (3+ people), Protector, Romantic Suspense, Scars, Slow Burn, Stalker, Survival, Taboo, Tortured Past, Touch Her And Die, Tragic, Vengeance, V-card Hero, Why Choose

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

Prologue

Denver

—

She watches from the bedroom window, her haunting green eyes fixed on the rainy gloom. On me.

She can’t see me. Not yet. She thinks she’s alone in her misery. She’s not.

I’ve finally come for her.

It’s time, Frankie.

Time to disappear with me.

She’ll never leave willingly. Of course not. She doesn’t know me. But I’ll rectify that.

Until then, her understanding of the situation will be a struggle. It’ll be an effort to bring her into the right way of thinking. She’ll fight and try to run, again and again, and I’ll take risks to keep her safe, again and again.

She’s worth it.

Without shifting her gaze from the window, she lifts an amber drink to her lips and licks the rim of the glass.

Kentucky bourbon. Always. With a splash of Amarena cherry juice and two cherries. Not the bright red ones. The dark, rich, juicy ones.

I bet her mouth tastes sweet and unique. Like her name.

Frankie.

It’s not short for Frances or Francine. Her parents named her after a grandfather she never met. Just like my parents named me after a city I’ll never visit.

We both lost our parents years ago, and I’m not sad they’re gone. We’re the ones stuck with the ill-fitting names.

But we fit together, and she has me now. That’s all she needs.

The longer I stand in the icy rain, waiting for her to look away from my hiding spot, the more certain I am that I’m making the right decision.

She’s worth every mile I traveled to this wet hole called Sitka, Alaska. She’s worth every second of the ice-cold naked swim I endured to slip undetected onto this private island. She’s worth all the preparations I made to steal her away and bring her home with me.

I’m doing this for you, Frankie.

And for my boys.

Christ, they’re going to love her. But not at first.

She’ll win them over. But not on purpose.

She’s unintentionally flirty. An accident waiting to happen. It’s those eyes. Those flirty, dirty, long-lingering, green eyes that make promises she doesn’t mean to make. She can’t help it.

Just like men can’t help growing hard at the sight of her.

Weak men.

I’m not hard. Then again, I’m not weak. I have discipline and patience, and she needs that. She needs me and my impeccable restraint.

Never mind that I couldn’t get hard right now if I tried. Not while standing stark nude in the freezing rain.

The cold doesn’t bother me. A little sleet is nothing compared to the subzero temperatures at home. I hope she has plenty of warm clothes and thick socks and a good pair of winter boots, and goddammit, why is she so pretty?

Long, wavy red hair shimmers like fire against her fair skin. All-natural. Full pink lips pout with despair. Also natural. And those tiny, upturned tits? Doesn’t get more natural than that.

She didn’t bother with a bra today as if to give her nipples permission to cut through her shirt and the glass window.

My boys will notice them, no matter their small size. She’s small everywhere—her nose, her hands, her breakable bones. The savages won’t know what to do with such a delicate, compact body. But they’ll learn. And they’ll thank me.

At last, she retreats from the window, and I make a break for the wraparound porch, bounding up the stairs in a few long strides.

I tread lightly, my footsteps soundless across the rain-soaked decking. With a waterproof bag of clothes tucked under my arm, I edge past one brightly lit window after another, stopping only when I reach the covered alcove of the rear door.

From the bag, I remove dry jeans, a thermal shirt, rope, and a pair of latex gloves. As I pull everything on, my attention doesn’t stray from the perimeter.

Towering trees canopy every acre of this private island, creating a false sense of isolation, an ambiance that wants so badly to be off the grid and roughing it. But there’s no roughing it here. There’s no barren wilderness. No endless winter. No hunger pangs.

The island runs on city power, for fuck’s sake. The closest hospital—where Frankie works—is only minutes away by boat, and the food isn’t caught or grown here. It’s delivered. By an overpaid servant. Just one of many who are employed by the lord of the manor.

Walking paths crisscross the property, but Frankie doesn’t walk on them. She runs. With full speed, high energy, and maximum endurance, she tears up those trails every day.

Good thing. Where I’m taking her, she’ll need every bit of that grit and stamina to survive.

More paths lead to the infinity pool, helicopter pad, gear shed, boathouse, and two docks made to hold large yachts. The main attraction, a cedar shingle and stone mansion, looks like something out of Alaskan Architectural Digest, if such a thing existed. It doesn’t.

No expense was spared on aesthetics and comfort. It’s the ultimate retreat home built for a billionaire who fishes for sport, not survival. Who decorates with hides from bears that were killed and skinned by someone else. Who pretends to be a man when really he’s just a pretentious little cunt.

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Dirty Ties Read Online Pam Godwin http://www.wownovels.com/dirty-ties-read-online-pam-godwin Mon, 11 Apr 2022 16:27:55 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/dirty-ties-read-online-pam-godwin Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Biker, Dark, Erotic, MC, Romance, Suspense Authors: Pam Godwin Advertisement

Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Dirty Ties
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Pam Godwin
Language:	English
Book Information:
Revenge. I race to finance it. I evade to protect it. I kill to attain it. I planned everything. Except her. The alluring, curvaceous blonde at the finish line. With sapphire eyes that cheat and lie. Whose powerful family murdered mine. I hate her. I want her. I know she’s hiding something. But so am I.
Books by Author:	Pam Godwin

1

Kaci

The ache between my legs throbbed, intensely and obsessively. Sometimes I didn’t think about him for hours, not the fluidity of his leather-wrapped body crouched on his sportbike or the strength of his hands around the grips. Often, I went an entire day without mentally tracing the muscle definition in his shoulders and thighs, imagining the flex of his ass, the thrust of his hips.

Today hadn’t been one of those days.

I’d tried to confine my thoughts to merger proposals, senior staffing issues, and all the other initiatives that demanded attention under my leadership. But he was always present, fighting and twisting and charging into my mind, riding on his steel horse, and carrying my body beyond the edge of restless desire.

A man I’d never met.

Gah! Where was my damned dignity? I shut down the tablet displaying the new photos of him and returned it to my leather satchel. Who would’ve thought Chicago’s favorite criminal would be spotted at a grocery store? Somehow, it made him more human. The media seemed to agree, buzzing excitedly about his public appearance on local television and papers. I didn’t like that, didn’t like sharing him with four million women.

Outside the windows of the company car, the mammoth columns and well-lit awning of the Trump Tower drew closer. I shoved my aching feet into the heels, the phone pinned between my ear and shoulder. “When these pictures were snapped, was he caught off guard?” My insides fluttered with foolish hope. “Anyone see his face before he got away?”

The ruffle of papers scraped through the speaker, followed by my personal assistant’s husky, feminine voice. “Nope. He never removed the helmet.”

Always masked, much to my despair, as well as every woman, journalist, and cop in Chicago. Everyone wanted a piece of him.

Thanks to online gambling, the web of criminals profiting from the underground racing syndicate enticed corruption from all over the world—investors, mobsters, and racers alike—turning my Chicago into a hub of dirty money. And at the forefront of this underworld was the undefeated racer himself.

Maybe it was his anonymity that held the city so captivated. Or the inexplicable way he invited death at 185 mph on narrow, potholed streets. Two years ago, one of the reporters at my company had coined him Evader, and the moniker stuck. Should’ve been Invader, given his persistent intrusion into my fantasies and the subsequent wet spot cooling in my panties.

I squeezed my thighs together. A rough fuck from one of my husband’s hired playmates would be the second best way to spend the evening. The first being entwined with the notorious sportbike racer while straddling the vibrations of his inline-four engine.

The town car rolled to a stop, and I smoothed the skirt over my knees. “Did you send me the latest file?”

My standing order to receive those encrypted files was almost as risky as my appearances at Evader’s dangerous venues. But Jenna couldn’t open the files without the private key. She had no idea they contained the details for upcoming illegal races, information the police and media would love to get their hands on.

The file I was waiting on tonight held the map for the race that was starting in a few hours.

“Yes, Mrs. Baskel. Anything else?”

“That’ll be all.” I dropped the phone in my purse and grabbed the satchel.

The chauffeur opened my door. The din of honking and shouting carried me out, capturing me in the energy of the city. I vibrated with the rush of sensations, the scent of asphalt, the warm press of the evening wind, and the buzz of passing pedestrians, their voices rich in layered accents. At seven o’clock on a Thursday, the nightlife crush had just begun.

I strode the few paces to the dedicated entrance for residents of the Trump Tower, my heart beating with the pulse of traffic. Glass walls of modern architecture towered above, glimmering with the reflection of city lights. Behind those walls, people just like me accumulated millions of dollars through hard work, innovation, marriages…and lies.

While my own marriage was forged in deception, the heart of it resided in a deep friendship, nurtured by our families since birth. A smile twitched my cheeks. The stunning Italian genes Collin Anderson inherited from his mother were an added bonus.

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Lessons in Sin Read Online Pam Godwin http://www.wownovels.com/lessons-in-sin-read-online-pam-godwin Sat, 03 Jul 2021 23:24:53 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/lessons-in-sin-read-online-pam-godwin Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Romance Authors: Pam Godwin Advertisement

Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Lessons in Sin
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Pam Godwin
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	9781953553300
Book Information:
There’s no absolution for the things I’ve done. But I found a way to control my impulses. I became a priest. As Father Magnus Falke, I suppress my cravings. As the headteacher of a Catholic boarding school, I’m never tempted by a student. Until Tinsley Constantine. The bratty princess challenges my rules and awakens my dark nature. With each punishment I lash upon her, I want more. In my classroom, private rectory, and bent over my altar, I want all of her. One touch risks everything I stand for. My faith. My redemption. And even my life. As if that could stop me. I need her pain, and her heart, and she needs my lessons in sin.
Books by Author:	Pam Godwin

CHAPTER 1

TINSLEY

One measly blow job, and it all came crashing down.

My social calendar, my high school, my designer clothes… Even my silk pillowcases were taken away, my entire world downgraded in the blink of an eye.

My life was over.

The end.

There was no coming back from this.

Dramatic? Maybe. But I felt a very real sense of dread about my circumstances. It was one thing to be ripped away from my friends and family. But to be sent to an all-girls Catholic boarding school?

I didn’t know anyone here. The air reeked of damp wood and misery. Crucifixes hung on the walls like grisly omens. And the green plaid uniforms? Ew. The color was all wrong for my complexion. I wasn’t even Catholic.

This can’t be happening.

The sound of my footsteps echoed through the old, empty classroom as I paced along the wall of windows. Beyond the glass, the sun descended into the mountains, casting the school grounds in shades of lavender. It would’ve been a majestic view if not for the bars.

Iron bars on third-story windows.

“This isn’t a school. It’s a prison. Or hell. I’m in hell.” Resentment snarled through me as I whirled toward my mother. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. It was just a blow job. You can’t lock me away for that.”

“This is hardly a prison.” Perched on a wooden seat in the front row, she didn’t look up from her phone. “Sion Academy inspires respect and admiration, two qualities you severely lack as of late.”

“Because I messed around with a guy? The Queen of England has done more than that at least four times. What’s the big deal?”

“The Queen of England is the longest-serving female head of state in world history. She didn’t achieve that status by engaging in oral sex with a Burger King employee. She earned it through duty, respect, and marrying appropriately.” Her chin snapped up, eyes blazing. “It’s your role as a Constantine heiress to do the same.”

Vomit. Literally, I puked in my mouth.

Caroline Constantine was all about arranged marriages. She wasn’t just the matriarch of our rich and powerful family. When my father died, she became the reigning head, the supreme authority of the Constantine dynasty, and the final word. Who was I to question her?

I was merely the baby. The youngest of six children. Also known as the precious princess. The belle of every ball. Teeny Tinsley, the nicest Constantine.

In other words, no one thought I had a backbone.

Well, fuck them. I could be just as ruthless as my mother, despite her overbearing efforts to portray me as sweet and innocent in the press.

“I’m eighteen.” I clenched my hands at my sides. “I can put my mouth wherever—”

“You’re a Constantine. Your mouth represents this family, and I decide what you do with it.”

I hated her for this. It was hard enough to maintain real friendships in Bishop’s Landing. But here? Hours away from home? I was doomed to spend my last year of high school alone.

Leave it to my mother to find a prestigious, high-status, all-girls school in the middle of nowhere. Sion Academy of the Sacred Heart was in an old New England village hidden in the foothills of the White Mountains. In fucking Maine.

As we waited to meet the headteacher, the isolation closed in around me.

A large tower projected vertically from the rear of the classroom, where auditorium-style seating stacked in tiers, overlooking the teacher’s desk and massive chalkboard.

The soaring domed ceiling made it all so very grand and open, but the heavy wooden desks and tarnished brass railings added darkness and gloom to the old-fashioned ambiance.

The first day of school officially began tomorrow. When I arrived moments ago, I caught glimpses of the residents in the corridors. Their aversion to newcomers rang loud and clear. For every unwelcome glare, I flung one right back, refusing to show weakness.

I couldn’t fathom sitting in this room among rows of prissy girls, wearing identical pleated plaid skirts, eager to learn and pray and conform.

Just…no.

I wanted to crush on boys, wear my own clothes, and live a normal life. Why was that too much to ask?

The blow job with Robby Howard hadn’t been my first. He was just another new guy in town, a college freshman attending the nearby university. He didn’t know he wasn’t allowed to touch me.

I would’ve given him my virginity, but just like with the others, my babysitting bodyguard had put a stop to that.

Maybe it was because Robby didn’t have a trust fund and had to work at Burger King to pay his tuition, but he was the final straw with my mother.

And here I was, facing the fallout.

Regrets?

Oh, I should have them. I should have a handwritten, tattered-around-the-edges journal full of them. Most eighteen-year-old girls did. But I wasn’t like other girls. I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes or have regrets.

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Complicate (Deliver #9) Read Online Pam Godwin http://www.wownovels.com/complicate-deliver-9-read-online-pam-godwin Sat, 13 Mar 2021 09:11:08 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/complicate-deliver-9-read-online-pam-godwin Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Dark, Erotic, Romance, Suspense Authors: Pam Godwin Series: Deliver Series by Pam Godwin
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Complicate (Deliver #9)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Pam Godwin
Language:	English
Book Information:
The heart-pounding conclusion of the DELIVER series. Cole Hartman is a mystery. He works alone, sleeps alone, and satisfies his aches…alone. He hasn’t touched a woman in seven years. No one will ever compare to the one who broke his heart. Until he stares into the seductive eyes of his enemy. He finally meets his match in the redheaded Russian spy. But she’s a dangerous risk. His obsession with her leaves him only one choice. If you love something, let it go. If it doesn’t kill you, hunt it down and take it. —— This is Cole Hartman’s story. But it’s not his beginning. The saga of Cole, Danni, and Trace starts in the TANGLED LIES trilogy. You don’t have to read TANGLED LIES, but if you want to read it, do so before reading this book. The books in the DELIVER series are standalones, but they must be read in order.
Books in Series:	Deliver Series by Pam Godwin
Books by Author:	Pam Godwin

Something was missing.

Something significant. Troubling.

Cole Hartman lowered his head to his hands, wrestling with the insidious sense of foreboding. Over the last seven months, it emerged without symptoms, invading gradually, subtly, but with detrimental effects.

Dread was eating him alive.

He sat on the floor in the armory of his safe house, his back to the wall, knees bent, and stomach clenched in knots. Down the hall, his beautiful, free-spirited dancer was likely practicing her choreographic sequences of the biggest production in the history of wedding dances.

For as long as he’d known Danni, she’d fantasized about her wedding dance.

Not the dress.

The dance.

Hers and his. Their first dance as Mr. and Mrs. Hartman.

Over the past few months, she’d been teaching him the steps. Dancing was her thing, not his, but he didn’t mind learning. Hell, rubbing up against her hot little body would never be a hardship. He fucking loved her. So goddamn much it hurt.

But something was missing.

Four years ago, he’d left her to complete a one-year, undercover assignment overseas. They’d only been together for ten months at the time. He shouldn’t have gone. He didn’t know that year would turn into several more.

Without her knowledge, he’d left her under the protection of his best friend, Trace Savoy. In doing so, he’d inadvertently fucked his fate and shoved his entire world into Trace’s arms.

After botching the mission, faking his death, losing Danni to his best friend, and finally, finally winning her back, he’d crawled out of hell, alive and victorious.

He’d chosen his job over her, and in the end, she chose him over all else.

His decisions had destroyed her life, and in return, she gave him her heart. Again.

The shattered pieces of his miserable existence had been put back together. He didn’t deserve her, but when he’d returned from the dead, he put every ounce of life into earning her forgiveness.

He’d fought countless battles through his clandestine career, but seven months ago, he won the only war that mattered.

He won back his dancer.

Fair and square.

She let Trace go.

She chose me.

But something was missing.

The depressing lyrics of James Bay’s Let It Go trickled through the armory. Racks of guns covered one wall, the rest occupied by file cabinets, desks, computers, phones, and high-tech gear. The kind of equipment that didn’t exist outside of his classified unit.

In the corner, her wedding gown hung on a hook. It didn’t belong in here. Not in a room crammed with weapons, secrets, and deception.

When he’d taken the dress during their separation, he wanted it in a safe place. He longed to see her wear it as she walked down the aisle, toward him, toward their future together.

Nothing stood in their way now. She’d chosen him. Agreed to marry him. Everything was right in the world.

Except it wasn’t.

The soft tread of footsteps approached from the hallway and paused on the threshold.

His pulse quickened as it always did when she was near. His entire being pulled toward her as she entered the room. He didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, his senses alert, tracking her graceful movements as she floated past his shadowed position on the floor near the door.

She took in the space, lingering on the wall of firearms. This was her first glimpse behind the armory door. He always kept the room locked. Kept her out. She shouldn’t be here. Her spirit was too bright, too gentle amid the guns and dangerous evidence of his business.

As if realizing that, she quickly turned back to the door and paused, startled, her gaze fastened on him. Then she smiled.

The first smile she’d ever given him had been life-altering. She’d stepped in front of his motorcycle at the crack of dawn, wearing almost nothing. Except her smile. It’d been so big and full of life, it softened his insides, turned his brain to butter, and made him weak.

He didn’t regret a second of it.

No man with a pulse could regret her. Danni Angelo was a blonde bombshell with a compassionate soul. Beautiful inside and out.

Grey eyes, fair complexion, she glowed with light and stunning sensuality. Her lithe limbs and athletic physique befit her occupation as a professional dancer. But it was her smile that stole the show. And broke hearts. His heart, specifically.

She’d broken him as much as he’d broken her. Crushed. Mended. And soon to be demolished again. He felt it looming—the pain, the devastation, the inevitability of forever’s antonym.

Never was coming for him.

Because something was missing.

It was missing in the smile she wore now. Her bowed lips curved like they always had. Her eyes illuminated with angelic beauty. But it wasn’t a Danni smile. Not the one that had railroaded him the day they met. Definitely not the one that tilted the universe and knocked him off his feet.

It lacked the energy that made his heart rev. It didn’t crackle the air and charge his blood. It was low on sunshine, devoid of music, and desperately in need of life.

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Dominate (Deliver #8) Read Online Pam Godwin http://www.wownovels.com/dominate-deliver-8-read-online-pam-godwin Wed, 03 Feb 2021 06:27:54 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/dominate-deliver-8-read-online-pam-godwin Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Romance, Suspense Authors: Pam Godwin Series: Deliver Series by Pam Godwin
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Dominate (Deliver #8)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Pam Godwin
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B08NTXML8Q
Book Information:
There are many reasons to jump off a bridge, but Rylee Sutton only needs one. Her husband’s betrayal. Just before she leaps, she receives an email from a stranger. The boy’s message is meant for his dead girlfriend, but his anguish speaks to Rylee. It saves her life. Over the next decade, Tomas Dine continues to email his dead girl. As he evolves from a teenager into a hardened, vicious criminal, Rylee is there, reading every intimate word. He doesn’t know she exists. When she comes forward, he despises her, his cruelty unforgivable. But she doesn’t back down. In a carnal battle of punishment and passion, hatred dominates. Until he loses her. Amid looming danger and unsolved murders rises a devotion forged in strife. Love is lethal in his ruthless world. To survive it, they must fight for answers—and each other. DELIVER series (HEAs with no cliffhangers - must be read in order): Deliver #1 Vanquish #2 Disclaim #3 Devastate #4 Take #5 Manipulate #6 Unshackle #7 Dominate #8 Complicate #9
Books in Series:	Deliver Series by Pam Godwin
Books by Author:	Pam Godwin

PROLOGUE

Pecos River Bridge

Langtry, Texas

Ten years ago

There were many reasons to jump, but Rylee Sutton only needed one to step off the ledge.

He was her one.

Her only.

Her first love, her best friend, her husband.

He had been her ever after.

Now there was no future. No do-overs. Nothing left but inconsolable pain.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see through the searing blur of tears that poured from the damage inside her.

Goddammit, she was a mess. How had she ended up here?

Perched on the bridge high above the Pecos River gorge, she dangled her feet over the yawning black abyss, her flip-flops clinging precariously to her toes. Another sob shuddered up, and she angrily kicked off the sandals, sending them tumbling into the dark.

Plunging.

A silent, insignificant drop.

She would be next.

After a four-second fall at seventy-five miles per hour, she would crash into the Pecos River with the force of a speeding truck colliding with a concrete building.

She’d thought about this a lot, had done the research, and knew this was the one thing she would not fail.

She was done. Done failing at life. Done failing her husband.

If she only knew where she’d gone so terribly wrong.

She’d supported Mason through thirteen years of medical school and residency, worked multiple jobs to pay off his student loans, and delayed her own career pursuits to assist the startup of his private practice.

Together, they’d been an unstoppable team. The power couple that all others envied. She’d helped him become an orthopedic surgeon, and now, he was supposed to be at her side while she studied criminal justice.

Only he wasn’t with her.

He was with someone else.

Anguish surged faster, harder, wracking her body in vicious waves. She clapped a hand over her mouth and sobbed against her fingers.

She loved him so much it hurt. She hurt so badly she couldn’t see past it. Couldn’t see anything but the images of him with another woman.

“I knew, Mason,” she cried, yelling at the moonless, unfeeling sky. “I’ve known for months and refused to believe it.”

She was an idiot.

His late nights at work, shady excuses, casual flirting with other women, disinterest in sex with her—all the signs had been there, glaring at her. So two nights ago, she followed him. Watched him enter an unfamiliar house without knocking. Waited for him to come back out.

When he didn’t, she stormed right up to the front door and opened it.

No amount of suspicion could’ve prepared her for the sight of her husband banging a woman against the wall. He hadn’t even made it past the front room before shoving his dick inside her.

Rylee had lost her shit. Utterly. Maniacally. She’d screamed. He’d begged for forgiveness. She’d left in her car, and he’d chased on foot.

The devastation was so complete she couldn’t remember the last two days. She hadn’t gone home. Instead, she’d driven five hours through the desert, stayed in a motel, and found herself in Nowhere, Texas, staring over the side of a bridge.

She couldn’t pull herself away from the ledge. Revenge was gnawing. Consuming. Demanding that she hurt him as deeply as he’d hurt her.

Her death would destroy him.

Lifting her phone, she glanced at the twenty new texts and missed calls. He’d left hundreds of messages over the past two days, ranging the spectrum from denial and anger to guilt and fear. He was sorry. He wanted her back. He would do anything for her. Blah, blah, blah.

If she went home, maybe he would wear her down and convince her to stay. But she would never forgive him. Never forget. He’d decimated the very foundation of her existence. She didn’t have the energy to rebuild. Couldn’t fathom starting over at age thirty-one.

She didn’t want a life without him.

His messages would go unanswered. But she wouldn’t depart this world without the final word.

Tears fell in steady streams down her cheeks as she opened the camera on her phone, switched to video mode, and pressed record.

“Mason, you dumb son of a bitch. You fucked up. You fucked around, and you fucking lost me. I’d say that I hope it was worth it, but I know it wasn’t. The moment you put your dick in her, you ruined both of our lives.”

The light post across the bridge illuminated a halo behind her, but the screen showed only her face. A ghastly, puffy-eyed, old face. She stared at the image for several seconds, shocked by her reflection.

“The face staring back at me isn’t mine. It’s the face of a defeated woman. I don’t recognize her. I don’t accept her, and I fucking despise her for the things she cannot change.” She swiped at the torrent of tears, unable to rein in the fury in her voice. “I read your messages and listened to your voicemails. You claim it was just sex with that woman, that it meant nothing. If that were true, why do I feel so dead? I used to get tingles every time I thought of you. Now I just feel cold and sick with this slimy, hateful sensation stuck in my gut. That’s never going away. So I have a choice. I can live with the pain. Or I can end it.”

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Devastate (Deliver #4) Read Online Pam Godwin http://www.wownovels.com/devastate-deliver-4-read-online-pam-godwin Sat, 26 Dec 2020 14:11:43 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/devastate-deliver-4-read-online-pam-godwin Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, BDSM, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Romance, Suspense Authors: Pam Godwin Series: Deliver Series by Pam Godwin
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Devastate (Deliver #4)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Pam Godwin
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B077NPQ1RV
Book Information:
“What is the price you’re willing to pay?” “Money isn’t an issue.” “I’m not talking about money.” Tate is on the hunt to find his best friend’s sister. Eleven years ago, Lucia Dias was abducted. Presumed dead. He never met her, so why does he care? Some might call his efforts noble, but his motivation is more perverse, bordering on obsession. When he follows a chilling lead to Venezuela’s Kidnap Alley, what he finds is neither a corpse nor a captive. Amid poisonous lies and crippling depravity, the price of love is devastation. And he pays. With his body, his blood, and her life.
Books in Series:	Deliver Series by Pam Godwin
Books by Author:	Pam Godwin

Prologue

Four years ago…

Tate Vades reclined in a shadowed booth, glaring at a high-top table of women across the grimy tavern. They’d been stealing glances at him all night, winking and licking their lips and abrading his nerves.

There had been a time when he would’ve invited them over with a crook of a finger. But his hands didn’t twitch. Neither did his cock.

He hardened for only one woman. A fierce woman with eyes of molten brown and fire in her soul.

What a cruel thing love was, silent and desolate in its torture. How ironic that loving someone was the thing that hurt the most.

He knew how to suppress the physical, psychological, and emotional repercussions of violence. How to tune out the echoes of his weakened screams. The unholy pain of his bludgeoned flesh. The sharp, bitter scent of blood.

He was a survivor of captivity and sexual torture, and despite it all, he still considered himself a proud, dominant man. But when it came to love, he was a victim, powerless and unbearably alone in its apathetic clutches.

Two years ago, Camila Dias rescued him from his ruthless captors. She’d appeared out of nowhere, stunningly beautiful with guns blazing as she murdered the man who had paid Van Quiso a million dollars for Tate’s body. A man who meant to own Tate and use him in depraved ways.

But Camila saved him from that fate. She freed him. Then she stole his heart.

“Can I get you another beer?” A server stopped at the table, his tattooed fingers deftly collecting the empty bottles in front of Tate.

“No, thanks.” He lit a cigarette but didn’t inhale.

He wasn’t a smoker. Not anymore. He just needed to keep his hands busy while he came to terms with what he planned to do.

His long-suffering patience with Camila had finally reached its end.

He’d helped her bring down Van Quiso’s sex trafficking operation in Texas. Her small vigilante group—the Freedom Fighters—was her therapy, her way of consoling the wounds she’d collected during her own captivity in Van’s shackles.

She, Tate, and five others—Ricky, Tomas, Luke, Martin, and Kate—lived together, fought together, and slowly recovered from their shared experiences as Van’s slaves-in-training. After they escaped, Tate bided his time, giving Camila space to heal, to focus on her revenge, and to open her heart.

Two years later, she still didn’t belong to him.

Of all her roommates, he was her closest friend. When they were alone, she spoke of her darkest desires and forbidden fantasies, her seductive voice leaving him endlessly hard and desperate. But he hadn’t fucked her, hadn’t so much as kissed her.

He thought he was being chivalrous, providing her a safe place to put her trust and with time, her love.

He was a fool.

She didn’t want chivalry or patience or love. At least, not with him. She was holding herself back for something. Or, if his intuition was correct, someone.

But who? Who did Camila dream about when she slept alone every night?

He snuffed out the cigarette and tossed a wad of cash on the table. He was done waiting. Done being friend-zoned. It was time to introduce her to the real Tate Vades. The man who would compel her to her knees with a look, grip her by her stubborn throat, and demand her secrets, her submission, and her love.

Rising to his feet, he turned and collided with a rock-hard body. “Excuse me—”

“Have a drink with me.” Hazel eyes and dark hair, the ridiculously attractive stranger gestured at the booth, his accent hinting at south of the border. “I insist, Mr. Vades.”

He knows my name? What the fuck?

“Who are you?” Tate held the stranger’s intense stare with one of his own.

“We’ll get to that. First…” The man waved over the server. “A glass of aguardiente. Neat. And another beer for my friend.”

Camila drank aguardiente. Always neat. She said it was the way Colombians preferred their soft vodka.

This man, with his accent, Colombian features, and choice of drink… He was connected to her somehow. Tate was certain of it.

“I’m sorry.” The server scraped a hand through his hair. “You said ah…gwar…dee…?”

“They don’t serve aguardiente here.” Tate slid back into the booth, eyes on the mysterious man. “You’re a long way from Colombia, ese.”

“It’s Matias.” He held out a large hand in greeting.

Never heard of him. Tate stared at the outstretched fingers in silent rejection.

With a sigh, Matias lowered his arm, ordered vodka, and sent the server away.

“You’ve been taking care of someone extremely important to me.” He sat across from Tate and rested a muscled, tattooed forearm on the table. “Someone who belongs to me. For that, you have my deepest gratitude.”

Camila belonged to no one. She never talked about her Colombian roots or her cartel connections, never mentioned any names from her past. Except her dead sister. She spoke of Lucia with a longing that trembled her pretty lips.

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