Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:39 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.1 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 Willing Captive Read Online Alexa Riley http://www.wownovels.com/willing-captive-read-online-alexa-riley Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:39 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/willing-captive-read-online-alexa-riley Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Authors: Alexa Riley Advertisement

Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >24

Leo has inherited a laundromat from a distant uncle she never met. With only warnings from her mother not to get involved, she doesn’t have much to go on. But it turns out that running the new business is mind numbingly boring. Her secret daydreams of the laundromat being part of the mafia and becoming the wife of a kingpin start to fade away… until Mattia shows up.
Mattia is in the middle of handling business when he looks up to find Leo pointing a can of pepper spray at him. No one in this town threatens him, let alone a woman half his size. He can’t let her find out who he truly is, but for some reason, he can’t stay away.
Over the top? And then some! This mafia romance is less about being dark and more about being ridiculous. Have some fun with us as we follow these two into their happily ever after

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

Chapter 1

Leo

The wild adventure I thought I was getting has been pretty dull. I fight a yawn, knowing if I let one go, I’ll be doing it for the rest of the day. I could use a nap after staying up way too late reading. It’s kind of ridiculous because I read most of the day, but I always promise myself just one more chapter.

There’s only so much I can do at a laundromat, and it doesn’t exactly take a lot of time. I check the machines and empty out the change. Then I sweep a few times and take the trash out. It’s tedious, especially when I built a whole scenario on how this would go in my head. Doing that is normal for me. I’ve been told more than a few times I live too much inside of my own imagination. That in itself sounds silly, but I understand the sentiment.

When a man in a swanky suit knocked on my door and informed me that I had a long-lost uncle on my mother’s side who left me a laundromat, I was excited for a new journey. Not that I was on a journey to begin with, but I had to start somewhere. That’s what life’s about, and I wanted to get out there and live it.

Ignoring all the times my mom told me that her family was bad news, I was focused on getting out of the small town I lived in. Sure, she wasn’t in contact with any of them, but I never agreed to that. Besides, the uncle that left it to me is dead, so I’m not sure it fully counts.

Either way, I wasn’t telling my mom about it. She would have told me to turn them down and send them away, but there’s no adventure in that. That’s how I ended up living a state away in my very own laundromat. Thankfully it came with the apartment above it.

The entire laundromat reminds me of something out of a mob movie. Maybe it has to do with all of my mother’s warnings about her family and not being involved with them. Or it could be that I saw my uncle’s name, Antonio Rossi, and that made me pause. It sounds like the name a gangster would have. Not that I know a ton about the mob outside of movies and books.

In the few weeks since I’ve been here, there hasn’t been any mob activity, and no one has asked me to launder money. Although once I googled what laundering money means and that it has nothing to do with actually washing it, I was disappointed.

I strum my fingers on the small counter that I spend most of my day sitting behind and debate if I should heat up leftover Chinese food for dinner or toss a pizza in the oven.

The bell over the door chimes, and I glance up as a man in his mid-twenties comes rushing in. He pauses when our eyes meet and raises his chin before slowing his steps. He heads for the other side of the laundromat, but he doesn’t have any laundry with him. My guess is he’s meeting the person bringing it here.

When another yawn almost hits me, I grab some quarters and go over to the vending machine. I’ve never had an energy drink, but that might do the trick. After I key the number in and it drops down, I crack it open for a taste.

“Ew,” I mutter to myself before I take another sip. It’s just as bad the second time, but I keep drinking it. I already paid for it, and I won’t let it go to waste.

I take my seat behind the counter again and watch as the man lingers in the corner. I debate if I should tell him that the washer he’s at isn’t the best out of the bunch when another man comes striding in. All the words on my lips evaporate at the sight of the new guy. Not because he clearly doesn’t belong but at how incredibly attractive he is.

He’s got dark hair with striking blue eyes that are hard to miss. His broad shoulders are encased in a dark gray suit that was made to fit him like a second skin. He isn’t paying any attention to me as he zeroes in on the other guy.

I brace for an argument of some kind, thinking I should probably go ahead and start calling the police, but this is free reality TV right in front of me. It’s exciting until the man in the suit pulls out a gun and pistol-whips the other guy. It happens so fast, I have no time to react. All I can do is stand there and watch it happen.

Blood splatter goes everywhere before the man in the suit slams the other guy into the washing machine behind him. Well, at least he did it against the bad one.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >24

Advertisement
A Lick and A Promise (Avenging Angels #5) Read Online Kristen Ashley http://www.wownovels.com/a-lick-and-a-promise-avenging-angels-5-read-online-kristen-ashley Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:37 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/a-lick-and-a-promise-avenging-angels-5-read-online-kristen-ashley Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Crime, Funny, Suspense Authors: Kristen Ashley Series: Avenging Angels Series by Kristen Ashley
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >135

Luna Nelson and Knox Chambers fell together fast, and they did it hard. It was so big, so special, they wanted it just for themselves and kept it a secret from their found family: the Avenging Angels and the Hottie Squad.

They both knew this was it. Together forever.

What Luna didn’t know was that Knox had secrets.

Secrets that tore them apart.

But when Knox asked for them to continue being friends—for the sake of their crew, and so he wouldn’t lose her—Luna loved him enough to say yes. Yes to the torture of being in the life of a man who was the love of hers, but he let her go.

Then, Knox gets shot. He gets shot not because he’s got a dangerous job (which he does), but because his family is an absolute mess.

With the man who means everything to her recuperating, Luna can’t keep away.

While Luna tries to keep the Angels safe from interfering in Knox’s family’s criminal enterprises, she and Knox circle each other, drawing a different kind of blood.

Will Knox continue to keep his secrets?

And will both of them be safe in the Chambers Family Feud?

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

ONE

HE WANTS YOU

I shouldn’t be here.

I knew I shouldn’t be here.

But when Raye called, even though my mind said one thing (that I shouldn’t be here), my body (okay, my heart) said another.

So I was here.

The good news: I was just one more body in the mix, so it wasn’t like I was the cast-off chick hanging around, embarrassing herself pining for some dude.

In other words, that hospital waiting room was a crush seeing as all the Hottie Squad was there, all the Angels along with Tex, Nancy, Shirleen, Marjorie. Even Tito was there.

So I was just another person in a sea of people worried as fuck Knox got shot.

That was the bad news, Knox had been shot.

Twice.

He’d been shot…twice.

Oh yeah.

That was the way bad news.

He did not get shot while conducting Nightingale Investigations & Security business, which it was my understanding was a possibility, if not a probability in their line of work due to them not being your average, everyday private investigations and security business, but a whole lot more.

He got shot because his family was a nightmare.

More good news, the surgeon came out and told us he was out of surgery, stable, resting and no lasting damage had occurred. Though he’d need some time to mend and do physical therapy to regain full strength in his shoulder and leg.

Okay, so that was mixed good news because, absolutely, no lasting damage was obviously a good thing.

But he had to recuperate from two gunshot wounds he got because his family was borderline ready for their episode of Evil Lives Here, and that totally freaking sucked.

More of that mixed good news, my staring contest with Cheyenne was over.

Although I sensed why she hated me—even though it was lame as hell, since she’d had him for a while, and I didn’t (well, I did, but it wasn’t a very long while)—what I didn’t know was why she was there at all.

They’d broken up.

But by damn, when the surgeon came out, the bitch popped out of her seat like a demented jill-in-the-box and shouldered even Cap and Mace out of the way (respectively, Knox’s best bud and his boss) to belly up to the doc.

She also lied and said she was Knox’s partner, so she got to be the first to go back and see him.

Usually, the dudes were super cool with chicks. Lots of patience (needed), lots of understanding (also needed—what could I say? we were a bunch of nutso broads), all kinds of room to be who we were and do what we did (as, of course, it should be—save Knox in that scenario, but that was a longer story).

But when Cheyenne did that, everyone got pissed, and even the dudes didn’t hide it.

And when she did it, Raye took my hand (again, she’d been holding it on and off for the last three hours), and Brady shot me a look.

Truth: Brady and I had screwed the pooch.

Honestly, it seemed a good idea at the time.

Okay, not a good idea. A demented, in-your-face, heartbroken idea. But when you were heartbroken, demented ideas often seemed like good ones.

Then again, I was learning not to lead with the heart. Though, admittedly, I was learning this by messing up royally because I’d done something stupid at the edict of my heart.

My heart had me sitting right there, benched, because I meant nothing to Knox except being a member of his friend posse.

A distant one.

Someone he was around who he tolerated.

And that was it.

And my heart led me to pretend-flirt with and, okay, semi-kinda fake-date Brady (really, it was just two friends hanging out, but we wanted Knox to think it was something else) after Knox got together with Cheyenne.

We did this so he might feel a little bit of what I was feeling since Cheyenne was suddenly at all of our AAHS shindigs (Avenging Angel/Hottie Squad, for your information, of which I was a member of the former, and for more information, that former was unprofessional, unpaid chicks who stuck our noses in places they shouldn’t be, but someone had to do it, and the latter was professional, trained, skilled badasses).

And since Knox scraped me off, and he knew where I was at with him, he had to know how that would sting.

Sure, he’d made himself clear, and as such, I had no claim, so who was I to engage in some harebrained fake-dating scheme to make the guy I liked (right, okay, dammit…loved) jealous?

The idea was doomed from the start.

Why I couldn’t get a guy like Cap, like my bestie Raye did—a man who struggled with our whole Avenging Angels vigilante gig, but he got a lock on it because he knew how important it was to his woman—I did not know.

Or an Eric or Gabe, my other friends, Jess’s and Willow’s dudes, who were super chill and didn’t kick up a fuss at all.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >135

Advertisement
All Bets Are Off Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.wownovels.com/all-bets-are-off-read-online-jessa-kane Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:35 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/all-bets-are-off-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, Novella Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >51

Vida works as a maid at Reserve, an ultra-exclusive resort on the Massachusetts coastline. She’s been warned about entitled trust fund boys for years, but when she catches the ultimate rich boy’s eye, he’s anything but typical. Tripp Sterling is a billionaire and comes from a vastly different world than Vida. One of yachts and glitzy parties and Ivy League educations. There are strict rules against guests socializing with staff, but the moment Tripp sees the stunning maid, he’s consumed. He’s going to have Vida, no matter the cost. But first he’ll have to convince her to enter his world of wealth…an often judgmental world that sticks to their own and doesn’t like change

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

ONE

Vida

I push the laundry cart down the luxurious corridor, stopping outside of room 721. Using the edge of my universal key card, I tap lightly on the heavy cream door.

“Housekeeping.”

Tucking the card back into the pocket of my uniform, I rub the stiffness from my neck and wait for a response or any indication that the occupant is still inside the room. There isn’t one. And honestly, there shouldn’t be anyone inside. It’s a gorgeous July day outside on the coast of Massachusetts, the waves lapping gently against the cliffs, the gulls calling to one another gently. All the trust fund kids who arrived today are at a welcome soiree on the beach, sipping the resort’s signature cordials and soaking in the sunshine.

Technically, I’m not employed as a housekeeper for Reserve, the Northeast’s premier beach resort designed for the upper class, but I have been filling in for my aunt a lot. Her arthritis is causing her to come home in too much physical pain lately, so I stepped in and took over.

What is she going to do in the fall when I start my freshman year at Dartmouth?

Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I proceed to gather the towels I need off the cart. My mind is still on my aunt, however. Peggy raised me from the age of ten, and she’s worked around the clock to support us both, through bad times and good. I probably wouldn’t even have applied to colleges if she hadn’t insisted. Can I really leave her when the time comes? Who is going to cover her shifts when she’s weakened with pain?

Setting aside the worry for later, I let myself into the room with an armful of towels.

I’m brought up short when I find the curtains are drawn, leaving the room dark. Most of the new arrivals dropped off their luggage and went straight to the beach. Warily, I turn on the lamp to my right, which is perched on a modern, oak desk with gold hardware. My eyes widen a little at the size of the room that is revealed. Is this the presidential suite? I don’t think I’ve ever cleaned a room this large. This isn’t even the bedroom. It’s merely the seating area.

“Hello?” I call, wetting my lips. “Housekeeping.”

Silence.

No water running.

“Just leave the towels and go, Vida,” I whisper, advancing toward the hallway, the sounds of the ocean growing louder as I draw closer to the bedroom. Based on the orientation of the room, the sleeping quarters must overlook the Atlantic. How incredible it must be to wake up in such a room. Why would anyone want to keep the sunlight out?

Reminding myself that rich kid behavior is none of my business and I’m just here to clean, I step soundlessly into the bedroom and gasp, barely able to keep my jaw off the floor.

It’s extraordinary.

Modern in whites and creams and golds, the curtains billow gently behind the mostly closed windows. As if someone didn’t want the light, but they wanted the sound of waves. A finger of discomfort creeps up my spine at the feeling that someone is either in the room or only recently departed. The maids are supposed to operate without being seen or heard. We’re the unseen facilitators of comfort, not meant to be underfoot. Ever.

If I were to jeopardize Peggy’s position at the resort, I’d never forgive myself.

No one is here. Calm down.

Taking a deep breath, I sidestep toward the bathroom and lower the heavy, carved gold handle, pushing inside⁠—

A man stands at the double sink, his hands planted on the alabaster marble, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. His head is bowed forward, giant noise-canceling headphones covering his ears—and the music must be blasting, because I can hear the bass from five feet away. No wonder he didn’t hear me calling.

I’m frozen in indecision. Run? Make myself known and apologize?

Oh God. What do I do?

Trapped by uncertainty, I can’t help but notice the man I’ve just intruded on is…Something to behold. To call him a work of art would be an understatement.

He’s easily six foot four, generously muscled. His hands and bare feet are huge. Tension tightens the cords and sinew of his broad shoulders and triceps. Even without seeing his face, I can deduce that he belongs in a grand room such as this. It’s a room fit for a lord or a king. A god among men. That’s exactly what he is. But gods come armed with wrath, and that means I need to get my butt out of here. Unseen.

Embracing my flight instinct, I back up a step⁠—

His head lifts. Whips around.

I’m pinned by a pair of turbulent blue eyes.

My breath jams in my lungs and I drop the towels.

I’ve never seen more attractive features in my life. Not even in the movies.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >51

Advertisement
At the Boss’s Mercy Read Online Sam Crescent http://www.wownovels.com/at-the-bosss-mercy-read-online-sam-crescent Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:34 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/at-the-bosss-mercy-read-online-sam-crescent Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire Authors: Sam Crescent Advertisement

Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

Abigail Gardner is done being the “safe” girl her cheating ex claimed she was. To celebrate a year of freedom, she does something reckless—she walks into an exclusive sex club and spends one unforgettable night with a masked stranger.

Then the mask comes off.

Her mystery man is Roman Brown. Her older, billionaire boss.

Roman has wanted Abigail for far longer than she realizes, and now that he’s finally had a taste of her, he’s not willing to let her go. Abigail agrees to one rule: inside the office, they stay professional. Outside of it? Roman plans to worship every inch of her.

What starts as a no-strings fling quickly turns into something far more dangerous. Because Roman has secrets. Secrets tied to Abigail’s past. And when the truth comes out, their explosive chemistry may not be enough to save them

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

Chapter One

Abigail Gardner couldn’t believe she was in a sex club on a rare Friday night off. First, she rarely had a Friday off, or any night for that matter. Working as a PA to Roman Brown was demanding work. He expected excellence at every turn, and he didn’t leave room for error. She’d been his PA now for nearly four years. She got the job after his last PA messed up accounts and was caught attempting to steal from him, as well as blackmail him. There was a lot going on four years ago, and Abigail applied for the position and got it.

Her boyfriend at the time hadn’t been happy. It meant she was suddenly earning more than him, as he’d been securing his reputation in a law firm. She worked longer hours and traveled the world. None of that mattered, because a year ago, she walked into their shared apartment to find him balls-deep into his secretary. She ended it right there and then, and much to her surprise, without much feeling.

Brad, her ex, had never been supportive of her. All he’d done was attempt to suck her dry. Each time she came home, he would complain about everything. They hadn’t slept together in over sixth months prior to it ending. His parting words to her, as she held open the door, were that she was a frigid, prudish, boring bitch. He literally said all three of those words.

One year later, giving herself a chance to get over him, even though there was not a lot to get over, now she was in a sex club. She didn’t know how she found this place, or that it even existed, yet here she stood at the bar, drinking pure orange juice, watching the open displays all around her.

She’d never been in a sex club. Over the years she’d been curious about them, but Brad had always said they didn’t need anything but each other. The sex with Brad had been okay. She figured she had a higher sex drive than him, and feelings had started to develop, so she got into a routine.

There was no routine now.

Even though she loved sex, she’d never just randomly slept with men. It’s what made this experience so insane.

Standing in her lacy red-and-black dress, she watched one of the displays as a woman kissed her way down a man’s body. His shirt was already off, and within a few seconds, she’d eased the man’s cock out of his pants, and he was rock-hard. Right there, in front of everyone, Abigail watched the woman take him into her mouth. He growled, sinking his fingers into her hair.

All of their faces were masked. On her entrance, the man at the door had said admission was for mask only. It would be her choice, if she wished to remove her mask once inside. She noticed some people already had, and others were still covered.

She liked being hidden.

She took a sip of her orange juice and felt someone come close to her.

“It’s a delightful scene, isn’t it?”

Abigail frowned, because something about that voice seemed familiar. She turned to look at a masked figure, and there was something still vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on the why.

“Yes, it is.”

“Your first time?” he asked.

“How could you guess?”

“You’re watching. First timers like to watch, to see if this is the kind of club for them.”

She liked his voice. “Is it the kind of club for you?”

“Yes. I like to watch,” he said.

Abigail looked at him, and she marveled at the fact he ran his gaze down her body and back again. Part of her expected him to walk away. She was all curves, thick thighs, a fuller tummy, and she didn’t even want to discuss the size of her ass. She no longer hated her curves but had learned to embrace them. At thirty years old, she’d been on every single diet and exercise plan there was. She had never just accepted her body the way it was, until now.

This is what she’d been trying for a couple of years now. She didn’t care what the size tag said in her clothes, only that she looked good in what she purchased. She no longer attempted to drown herself in clothes that were too big.

“Would you like a tour?” he asked.

The old Abigail would have told him no, but tonight was about new experiences, and she was shocked by her instant hit of attraction to this man. He didn’t crowd her space. He’d not offered to buy her a drink.

“Yes, I’d like that,” she said.

“Good.” He held his hand out for her. “I promise I won’t bite, unless you ask for it.”

Abigail frowned, but then she placed her hand in his.

Her mystery man took her on a tour of the sex club, which was filled with many rooms. There was a larger bar, as well as dance floor, and a lot of couples in many different stages of nakedness.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

Advertisement
Aquarius (The Zodiac Queen #11) Read Online Gemma James http://www.wownovels.com/aquarius-the-zodiac-queen-11-read-online-gemma-james Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:32 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/aquarius-the-zodiac-queen-11-read-online-gemma-james Genre: Alpha Male, Dark Authors: Gemma James Series: The Zodiac Queen Series by Gemma James
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >31

Twelve men. A virgin queen. One arranged marriage.

Hugo Alexander.
Philanthropist.
Protector of children no one else will save.

A man not interested in my body, only my talent.
He offers a partnership, not a price…
A gown for his foundation’s charity auction.

By day, Hugo and I form a genuine friendship. By night, screams tear through his walls, and I learn the gentlest man in this tower is the most haunted of them all.

But his ghosts aren’t the only ones in this house.

I’ve got secrets, too.
Ones I can’t reveal to a single soul.

Because the love of my life isn’t dead.
He’s gone underground, on the hunt for answers.
And one slip from me could put him back in danger.

A night was all it took.
An unexpected reunion.
One unbreakable rule broken.

Now I’m protecting the most miraculous secret of all.
And the stakes have never been so high.

Part 11 of The Zodiac Queen. Intended for mature readers who enjoy dark and explicit themes. Reader discretion is advised

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

1

January 13th

My name echoes through the dark, colliding with the rush in my ears. Dizziness sends my head into a tailspin, and I stumble back until the door braces me, holding me upright as my eyes reject what’s in front of me.

Because my mind is splitting down the middle—one half still drowning in weeks of crushing grief while the other processes the miracle of his presence.

That hoarse whisper shapes my name again, and I know it’s him.

The ghost of Sebastian Stone.

Moving toward me in the darkness.

Flesh and blood.

Alive.

Just as my knees buckle, a small squeak escapes my throat.

“I’ve got you,” he says, catching me before I hit the floor.

His arms lock around me as the world tilts, and the steady thump-thump of his heart drags me back, beat by beat. I can’t get a single word out to question the how or why. None of it matters.

Because Sebastian is alive.

That word loops in my mind as my eyes adjust to the unlit room, bringing his face into focus. Inky black hair falls in disarray, no trace of the blond I used to run my fingers through. Suddenly, the masked man I glimpsed at the ball comes back to me.

So familiar in stature, yet so out of place with that hair color.

“I thought I saw you…that was really you downstairs?”

“It was me.”

“How?”

“It’s a long story.” He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and we hold each other while the unbelievable trembles through us both. I have no idea how long we stand together, fused as one. I only know that everything feels right in my world.

Eventually, he pulls back and cradles my cheeks, thumbs wiping away drops of fragile hope, and we stare at each other.

Soundless and unmoving.

The kind of quiet that hums with life and reunion, bearing witness to souls bound, lost, and found again. I could live forever like this, wrapped in his arms without the clutter of words.

But even forever has a time limit.

An electronic chime slices through our sanctuary, followed by a sharp click as the mechanical lock disengages.

Sebastian’s blue eyes flash.

Someone is seconds away from entering my suite.

With the grace of a lion, he pulls me deeper into the room before slipping into the wardrobe alone.

I don’t have time to gather my wits. Light from the hall spills across the floor, outlining the familiar silhouette of Oliver. He steps inside, and the door shuts behind him as he flicks on a lamp. I blink against the sudden brightness, my gaze locking on the man who reshaped the ruins of my life these past few weeks.

Now I wish I could take back every treacherous second.

“You’ve been crying,” he says, reaching me in three long strides. His warm brown eyes track the wet streaks on my cheeks, the uneven rise of my chest, the way my arms hang limp at my sides. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” My heartbeat fumbles as I try to think of a believable lie. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” He lays a hand on my shoulder, as if to steady me. As if I might collapse. “You’re shaking. Are you upset about the circle?” His frown deepens. “Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head, eyes downcast, but he won’t let me avoid him.

With a coaxing finger, he lifts my chin. “Then what happened since I saw you downstairs?”

What happened is standing ten feet away, hiding in the wardrobe.

“Nothing happened.” I pull in a breath, preparing to skirt the edge of honesty. “It’s the elixir. I think it’s still affecting me.”

“That’s not surprising. Dr. Morgan designed it to last for hours.” He reaches into the pocket of his dress slacks and withdraws a vial. “That’s why I brought the antidote, as promised.”

The small glass tube catches the lamplight, and something inside me recoils. An hour ago, I would have taken it without hesitation. Now it’s akin to betrayal.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Words of objection, or at the very least, resistance, almost tumble from my mouth. But then he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and my thoughts scatter.

“Open,” he says, stepping closer and lifting the vial to my lips.

God help me, I follow his command.

The antidote hits my tongue, tasting of the power Oliver has over me. For several suspended moments, I hover somewhere outside myself, watching my body obey what my heart refuses to surrender.

His fingers glide down my collarbone to the top of my bodice. Then he dips lower, tracing lazy circles around my nipple, his thumb dragging the silk across the hardened peak. That single touch unravels me faster than it should. Before I can stop it, a shameful whimper slips out.

“There she is,” he says, voice low with satisfaction. “You have a tell, sweetheart. You flush when your pussy needs attention.” His mouth hovers at my ear. “I want the taste of you on my tongue.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >31

Advertisement
Autumn’s Winterhaven – A Novella Read Online Samantha Young http://www.wownovels.com/autumns-winterhaven-a-novella-read-online-samantha-young Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:31 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/autumns-winterhaven-a-novella-read-online-samantha-young Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Novella Authors: Samantha Young Advertisement

Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >32

When my friends invited me on their annual trip to Colorado, I decided leaving behind Glasgow and a trail of bad relationships for some guy-free time at Winterhaven Ski Resort was just the thing I needed to find myself.

However, I wasn’t counting on colliding with Hudson Ward on the slopes. I’ve never met anyone like him. Hudson is confident, smart, with a wicked sense of humor, and he makes the men I’ve dated seem like boys.
My intense attraction to him puts me on the defense because being open-hearted in the past has only gotten mine broken.
Yet it becomes increasingly difficult to resist a man who is not only determined to seduce me, but is adamant about helping me embrace the person I am so I can find my purpose in life.

I know I shouldn’t fall for Hudson. It can only end badly.

After all our lives are divided by an ocean and our inevitable separation is just another heart break away…

Previously published under the title Hold On: A Novella

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

1

Winterhaven Ski Resort, Colorado

February

The fresh, cold air stung my cheeks as I stared down the snowy slope through my ski goggles.

“Bloody Nora,” I muttered under my breath, watching mostly kids skiing on what they called the bunny slope. There were a few adult beginners but they were with ski instructors.

“You should go out with an instructor,” Catie had said a mere twenty minutes ago, seeming concerned as we strapped on our boots at the rental just across from the lodge.

I’d seen the young instructors, probably college kids making a few extra dollars during the ski season, and they seemed perfectly competent. However, beneath my laidback façade was a great deal of stubbornness and I believed I could do this alone.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t skied before.

I had.

I’d also broken my leg the last time I’d strapped on a pair of skis.

“Bloody Nora,” I repeated.

What was I doing here?

Not here in Colorado—here. I only had to lift my gaze over the snowy mountains to know why anyone would want to visit Winterhaven. I meant, what the hell was I doing here? Here in snow boots clicked into the skis, wearing goggles, a hat, thick gloves, and an admittedly adorable emerald green snow suit I couldn’t resist buying.

Because what I really wanted to do was go back to the lodge and wait for my afternoon spa appointments to begin. I wanted to lounge by the pool with a glass of wine and write down my life plan. That’s what I was here for. To get some space from my life back in Glasgow and “find myself” in the snowy hills of Colorado. Like a heroine in a Reese Witherspoon movie. Just me and my thoughts. And the occasional third wheeling of Catie and her husband Kyle’s annual holiday.

My friend and her hubby were currently on the top slopes as they were experienced skiers.

“Face your fears, Autumn,” Kyle had said before we got on the chairlift that would drop me on the bunny slope.

Face my fears. Yes, I knew that’s what this moment was supposed to symbolize.

When I was fourteen I’d broken my leg on a high school skiing trip and I’d vowed never to get on skis again. But this year had been rough and I’d grown increasingly afraid of facing the fact that I was floundering in life. Strapping on a pair of skis was supposed to help me face those fears. If I could ski again, I could get my life back in order.

But…

“What utter rubbish,” I huffed.

Skiing was rubbish! I hated it. You only faced a fear if it was going to make your life better. How was skiing going to make my life better?

A massage.

A massage would make my life infinitely better.

Decided, I pulled my ski poles out of the snow with a little too much vigor and immediately threw my weight off balance, my skis flying out from under me.

“Oh…oh…” I tried to right my center of gravity but threw myself too far forward. “Oh sh—” Suddenly I was heading down the slope. And I was heading for a woman and a ski instructor and I couldn’t remember how to stop!

“Out of the way!” I yelled in warning.

The ski instructor, his expression masked by snow sunglasses, looked up at me and then, instead of getting out of my way, got deliberately in it.

I smacked straight into his large body, winding myself and knocking him off his skis, taking him to the snow.

“Oof!” he grunted, sounding more than a little bit winded himself.

Mortified, I tried to clamber off him. Unfortunately, my knee connected somewhere it shouldn’t.

“Fuck,” he wheezed.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Somehow, I got off him without causing him any further injury and righted myself on my skis as he curled into a fetal position in the snow. “Are you okay?”

He waved me off, apparently unable to speak.

I looked at the woman who hovered over him, wincing. “Is he okay?”

She shot me a dirty look. “Does he look okay? If you can’t ski, you shouldn’t be out here without an instructor.”

“I was trying to leave. I slipped and lost control…” I looked back down at the instructor who was taking his time getting up onto his skis. He braced his hands on his knees for a moment and then straightened, his lips pinched together in pain.

It was then I realized how big he was. And even without being able to see his eyes because they were covered by snow sunglasses, I could tell he was quite a bit older than the rest of the boy-men instructors. “Are you all right?”

“I will be.” He put his hands to his hips as I looked up at him. I was tall for a woman at five foot nine but this guy was tall. He had to be at least six foot three. And broad shouldered.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >32

Advertisement
Belong to Me – East Coast Mafia Read Online Marian Tee http://www.wownovels.com/belong-to-me-east-coast-mafia-read-online-marian-tee Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:29 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/belong-to-me-east-coast-mafia-read-online-marian-tee Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Mafia Authors: Marian Tee Advertisement

Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >79

He’d rather break her heart than lose his.

In Cruel Love, Bratva billionaire Anton Almazov decides to teach young paralegal Daisy Fletcher a lesson. There’s nothing he despises more than dishonesty, and he’s ruthless in his desire to punish and claim her in equal measure. By the time he realizes Daisy is not what he thought she was…it’s too late. He’s already destroyed her, heart, body, and soul.

In Close Enough to Kiss, Mia Robertson has decided she’s waited long enough. Since she was sixteen, she’s been in love with her billionaire guardian Alexei Almazov, and she doesn’t care if he also happens to be the most dangerous man in Monaco. But just when she dreams of forever…Alexei walks away and acts like that one stolen kiss between them never happened.

Note: Both books are standalone romances previously published under my pen name Martha Ruthie

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

Chapter 1

DAISY

The coffee is on my blouse before I make it through the doors.

Not a tasteful splash. Not something I can dab at with a napkin and pretend never happened. A full, committed spill, the lid popping clean off my travel mug as I trip on the marble step outside Keyes, Inc., and now there’s a river of medium-roast running from my collarbone to my waistband, and the glass doors are several feet away, and through them I can see women in silk and heels crossing a lobby that costs more than my parents’ house.

I'm seven minutes late on my second day of work.

The doors are heavy. They swing inward on some kind of hydraulic system that makes them feel like they’re judging you, and inside, the lobby of Keyes, Inc. smells like gardenia and money. White marble floors. Recessed lighting that turns everyone’s skin golden. A reception desk made of something dark and polished that might be ebony or might be the physical manifestation of my inadequacy.

“Fletch!”

Aunt Kaye crosses the lobby like she was born on marble. Her heels make no sound. Her hair is pinned in something architectural, blonde and immaculate, and her suit is the colour of graphite, and she is smiling at me with the specific warmth of a woman who once let me eat frosting straight from the can at Thanksgiving and now signs paycheques with a title under her name.

“Let me see.” She takes my shoulders, turns me, assesses the coffee damage. Her mouth presses together. “We’ll fix it. Come on.”

She steers me past the reception desk, past three women who track our movement with the polished disinterest of cats evaluating a mouse, and into a washroom that has actual hand towels. Cloth ones. In a dispenser.

“Dab, don’t rub,” Kaye tells me, handing me a towel. “The blouse is a loss, but the jacket will cover it. You brought the navy jacket?”

“It’s at my desk.”

“Good girl.” She leans against the counter and crosses her arms. In the washroom mirror, we are two versions of the same gene pool: her jaw, my jaw. Her blue eyes, my blue eyes. But hers come with fifteen years of Monaco and whatever it is that turns a woman from Boise into someone who moves through marble lobbies without making a sound. “How was the apartment last night? Did you find the grocery store I mentioned?”

“Found it. Bought pasta. Burned the pasta.”

She laughs. It’s a real one, head back and teeth showing, and for a second she’s just Aunt Kaye again, the one who drove me to the airport in Boise with the windows down and Promise me you’ll call every Sunday on her lips.

“You’ll find your feet,” she tells me. “Everyone does. The first week is survival. After that, it’s instinct.”

I nod. I dab. The coffee stain isn’t coming out.

KEYES, INC. OCCUPIES the top four floors of a building on Avenue de Grande Bretagne, and everything about it is designed to make you feel like you’ve wandered into someone else’s life. The conference rooms have glass walls. The partners’ offices have views of the harbour. There are fresh flowers on every surfaceand the women who carry files down the corridor do it like other people carry champagne flutes: with their wrists turned out, fingers long, as if the file itself is an accessory.

I carry mine pressed against my chest like a shield.

Blythe finds me at ten-fifteen.

She’s the other new paralegal. Or not new, exactly. She’s been here less than a year. But she’s the one Kaye assigned to “show me the ropes,” which so far has meant a tour of the copier room, a list of partners’ names I will never remember, and a single, devastating sentence delivered over the copier while it hummed: “The dress code is technically business professional, but everyone here is auditioning for something.”

Today she’s wearing a pencil skirt and a blouse that probably cost what I pay in rent. Her dark hair is blown out straight and her eyeliner could cut glass.

“You have coffee on your—”

“I know.”

“Jacket.”

“Wearing it.”

She tips her chin toward my desk. “Kaye wants the Marchetti files colour-tabbed by end of day. Red for litigation, blue for compliance, green for correspondence. You know how to tab?”

I pull open my desk drawer. Inside: a bag of adhesive tabs I brought from Idaho, sorted by colour, each strip pre-cut to the same length. Blythe bends down. Her eyebrows go up.

“You brought your own tabs.”

“The ones in the supply room are too wide.”

Something crosses her face. Not amusement, not quite. Something closer to recalibration. She straightens. “End of day,” she repeats, and turns on one impossible heel and is gone.

BY THURSDAY I HAVE a system.

Tabs: red litigation, blue compliance, green correspondence, yellow for anything that doesn’t fit the first three categories but feels important. I’ve added sub-tabs: small white ones that flag pages with signatures, dates, or dollar amounts. Every file on my desk is squared, spines aligned, a colour-coded map of someone’s legal life that I can navigate in the dark.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >79

Advertisement
The Rancher’s Fake Fiancee – Billionaires of Evergreen Texas Read Online Marian Tee http://www.wownovels.com/the-ranchers-fake-fiancee-billionaires-of-evergreen-texas-read-online-marian-tee Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:27 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/the-ranchers-fake-fiancee-billionaires-of-evergreen-texas-read-online-marian-tee Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Authors: Marian Tee Advertisement

Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >26

He hired me to play his fiancée for a week. Neither of us planned on the part where it stopped being pretend.
I’m forty years old, broke, and the kind of woman nobody looks at twice.
And I’d made my peace with that. Really!
Then billionaire Loukas Karalis summons me to his ranch with an offer I’m too desperate to refuse.
“I’m about to offer you the only thing in the world you want,” he tells me with a smile as annoying as it’s seductive. “Of course I can ruin it.”
And the offer: one week, one ring, and one glamorous train across Texas where I’m to smile and cling and make every last investor believe I’m madly in love with a man I hate.
Easy.
Except the coldest man in Texas keeps forgetting to be cold when it’s only me. And the longer I wear his ring, the harder it gets to remember I’m only borrowing it.
I swore I’d never be a fool for a man again.
He swore love was a bad investment.

But the closer we get to the end of the deal, the harder I find it to let go. I’m so tempted to ask him the one thing I swore I never would…until the night it all falls apart, and I finally hear what he’s been telling me all along. Loukas doesn’t do love, and he never will. I was just too busy falling to listen.

Note: A slow-burn, later-in-life, fake-engagement, enemies-to-lovers romance. No cheating. HEA guaranteed

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

Chapter One

OKAY. SO HERE’S A THING I know about myself: I’m not a woman who gets into strange trucks.

I want that on the record before I tell you what I did, which is get into a strange truck.

In my defense, it was a very large truck, and it belonged to a man named Loukas Karalis, and eighteen years ago Loukas Karalis stood up in a lecture hall full of people and announced that no one alive could ever love me. So really, getting into the truck was an act of tremendous personal growth. Most women would’ve set it on fire.

The ranch hand who came to fetch me couldn’t have been more than nineteen. He tipped his hat and called me ma’am and told me, going pink, that Mr. Karalis was expecting me for lunch and was, and I’m quoting this poor sunburned child word for word, “not real comfortable waiting.”

Not real comfortable waiting. As though waiting were a thing that happened to other people, as though Loukas Karalis had ever once stood on a platform in his life and watched a train pull out without him on it.

I should’ve said no. I had a whole speech ready, and it was a good speech.

I got in the truck.

Look, I’ll explain. You’re going to need context, otherwise this just sounds like I’ve got no spine, and I’ve got loads of spine, I’ve got an excellent spine, ask anyone.

Eighteen years ago I was twenty-one and idealistic and taking a business ethics class purely to fill a requirement, and a smug second-year named Loukas Karalis stood up and argued that marriage was a financial merger and anyone who married for love was, in his exact words, subsidizing their own poverty with feelings. I argued the opposite. For ninety minutes. The professor was delighted. I thought I’d won.

Then, while everyone was packing up, Loukas leaned across the aisle and told me, very pleasantly, that he finally understood why I’d never been seen with anyone, since no one alive could fall in love with a shrew.

So I told him I finally understood why all his girlfriends were rumored to be on retainer, the only way to keep a woman near him being to pay her by the hour.

And then we didn’t speak for eighteen years, which suited me fine. Great. Perfect. Couldn’t have planned it better.

I’ve thought about him approximately once a day for those eighteen years though, and speaking of things I keep to myself, that’s the real reason I got in the truck, and it’s nothing to do with old grudges.

It’s everything to do with the four red notices currently fanned out under a magnet shaped like a roadrunner. Electricity. Water. The feed supplier who’s stopped, very politely, returning my calls. And the big one, property tax, the number that wakes me at three in the morning and sits on my chest like something with talons.

I run a raptor sanctuary out in the Hill Country. Forty acres of recovering hawks and owls and one extravagantly resentful red kite named Sergeant, who’s hated me personally and by name for six years. There’s a flight enclosure with a north wall that won’t survive another winter. There’s an education program for school groups who pay nothing, on purpose, the entire point being that they pay nothing.

And there’s, under all of it, a low permanent hum of money-terror that I wear like a second, itchier skin.

In about six weeks, barring a miracle I can’t afford and can’t quite let myself imagine, I’m going to lose every bit of it.

So when the richest man in South Texas sends a truck to my gate, I do the math.

The math is humiliating. The math wins.

So I’m off to see the wizard. I mean the wicked. I mean an old college friend. Yes. Let’s go with that.

I brace myself on the long drive in for a glass tower, something cold and tall and pleased with itself, the architectural version of that lecture-hall smirk. What I get, when the truck crests a rise and the land opens up the way it does out here, all at once and bigger than seems strictly necessary, is a ranch.

A working one, and I know the difference. I’ve spent my whole adult life learning to read a piece of land the way other women read a room. This isn’t a rich man’s stage set with a rented longhorn for atmosphere. The fences are tight and honest. The stock tanks sit where the water actually wants to go.

Out past the barns a red-tailed hawk’s riding a thermal in slow professional circles, not wasting a single wingbeat, and I feel myself go quiet inside the way I only ever go around the birds, and for one disloyal second I forget I’m here to grovel to a man I hate and just watch her ride.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >26

Advertisement
Big Stick Energy (New York Legends #2) Read Online Sarina Bowen http://www.wownovels.com/big-stick-energy-new-york-legends-2-read-online-sarina-bowen Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:25 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/big-stick-energy-new-york-legends-2-read-online-sarina-bowen Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Sports Authors: Sarina Bowen Series: New York Legends Series by Sarina Bowen
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >101

A hockey team captain and a bubbly staffer mix business with pleasure when they start fake dating through the wedding season in this hot sports romance perfect for fans of Mariana Zapata and Elle Kennedy.

Darcy Kendrick is used to putting out fires. As an overworked admin to a hockey team, she’s seen it all. But nothing prepares her for accidentally DMing her very private, very NSFW fantasy to the subject of this fantasy: team captain Eric Tremaine. Nobody actually dies of embarrassment. Right?

But when a wedding invite puts them on a collision course with her chaotic family and his emotionally fraught past, Eric suggests a plan: they fake-date their way through the “Wedding Experience.” It’s mutually beneficial. Totally strategic. And definitely not real. Except between mini tacos, slow dances and lingering glances, Eric starts to wonder if the sharp-tongued assistant with a bottomless to-do list might be the one person who truly sees him. And for Darcy? The fire in her heart might be the only one she can’t put out.

It’s supposed to be fake. It’s supposed to be temporary. So why is it so hard to walk away?

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

Chapter 1

A Little Prickly

Eric

May

The bus rumbles to a stop outside our Fort Lauderdale hotel, and the collective groan tells me everything I need to know about the team’s energy level. We’re deep in the playoffs, and nobody has slept a full night in weeks.

“My legs are trashed,” DeLuca announces from the seat behind me. “I might need to be carried off this bus.”

“I’ll grab your head, the rookie can take your feet,” Patterson offers, already standing and stretching dramatically.

“I’m not touching anyone’s feet,” Weber grouses. “That’s not in the handbook.”

I clap my hands together. “Less whining, more walking. I’m hungry.”

“They’re feeding us again, right?” DeLuca asks.

“I’m sure. Get your asses off the bus, and then I’ll check.” Captain’s duty.

I watch as they file toward the front, a procession of exhausted millionaires griping like toddlers before nap time. Petrov has his sleep mask still pushed up on his forehead, Weber is limping slightly from a blocked shot that found the one unpadded spot on his ankle, and Larkin is already on his phone, probably checking in with his pregnant wife.

I’m always the last one off the bus. Captain goes down with the ship, or in this case, makes sure nobody leaves their phone chargers or lucky socks behind. I do a quick scan of the seats, picking up a water bottle Emerson left behind and a granola bar wrapper that somehow missed the trash.

That’s when I notice a flash of ginger up front. As I get closer, I realize that Darcy—the GM’s assistant—is still in the first seat, her head resting against the window, completely dead to the world.

For a second, I just stare. I’ve never seen Darcy Kendrick anything less than alert and efficient. She’s always three steps ahead of everyone else, anticipating problems before they happen, notebook in hand and a sharp comeback ready. But here she is, mouth slightly open, completely oblivious to the fact that we’ve arrived.

I reach for her shoulder but then hesitate. I don’t want to startle her. “Darcy. Hey there, Darcy?” I say softly instead. “We’re back at the hotel.”

But she doesn’t move. Her pretty face is slack.

“Darcy?”

Once again, nothing.

I’m going to have to be more assertive, but I’m not looking forward to it. Darcy is a fantastic asset to the team, but she’s always been a little prickly to me. And only to me. When everyone else is around, she smiles more. I irritate her, though, and I’ve never been able to figure out why.

Honestly, it bugs me.

None of that matters right now, though. We need to get off this damn bus, so I reach down and give her shoulder a gentle nudge. “Buddy, we’re back at the hotel. I don’t think you want to stay on this bus.”

Her eyes snap open with the suddenness of someone who’s been yanked out of a dream. When she looks up, her gaze meets mine, and for a brief second, there’s a flash of something almost dreamy in her expression before it’s quickly replaced by irritation.

“Damn it.” She leaps to her feet, her face flushing nearly as red as her hair. “I never fall asleep. Did anyone draw on my face?” Her hands fly to her cheeks.

“Nope. You’re clear,” I say quickly. Although it’s a legitimate fear. Last month, on a flight to Dallas, Johnson fell asleep with his mouth hanging open and DeLuca drew a handlebar mustache on him with a Sharpie, which didn’t fully wash off until three games later. The TV commentary was rough.

She scrubs at her face with her hands anyway, then gives me a furious look. “Don’t stare. It’s impolite.”

“I’m not. I’m waiting for you. Like a gentleman,” I insist. Then I change the subject. “Dinner is probably soon, right? That’ll perk us up.”

She hoists her bag onto her shoulder and gives me another frown. “I’m on it, okay? I’ll check with the kitchen before I go up to my room.” Then she marches off the bus as if I’ve offended her.

Which is fine, right? I don’t need everyone to like me.

They usually do, but whatever.

I thank the driver for his service and drag my tired ass into the hotel.

Chapter 2

Like a Pit Bull in the Sun

Darcy

The Florida humidity sticks to me even after I’ve staggered into the air-conditioned hotel lobby. But the heat makes sense, because I’m suddenly in hell. I can’t believe that Eric Tremaine just found me drooling on myself. So mortifying.

I’d been floating along in a dream state when I’d heard a low, sexy voice. “Darcy. Hey there, Darcy?”

My first reaction had been: Oh yes, baby. Say more. But when I’d eventually opened my eyes, I’d been filled with horror. Out of two dozen players, it had to be Eric Tremaine who found me? I let out a groan, and a bellhop gives me a quizzical look.

You’d groan, too, buddy. My working relationship with Eric Tremaine is already complicated. He’s at the tippy top of the Legends food chain, and I’m on the bottom. Since he’s the captain of the team, I interact with him more than with other players.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >101

Advertisement
Blitz (Redline Kings MC #10) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.wownovels.com/blitz-redline-kings-mc-10-read-online-fiona-davenport Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:23 +0000 https://www.wownovels.com/blitz-redline-kings-mc-10-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Erotic, Insta-Love, MC, Virgin Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: Redline Kings MC Series by Fiona Davenport
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >43

Canyon “Blitz” Madsen didn’t believe in mercy. When the Redline Kings MC secretary learned one of his prospects was an undercover fed, he planned to seduce the agent’s innocent younger sister as revenge. But he ultimately decided it was a line he wouldn’t cross.

Then he met Aubrey Cullen and knew leaving her alone wasn’t an option. One look at the sweet nanny, and Blitz was gone. Now caught between the secret that could destroy them and the fierce need to protect her, he’ll do anything to keep Aubrey safe—even working with the FBI brother he once wanted to destroy

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

1

BLITZ

Istepped out of Jax’s office—the tech genius for my MC—letting the heavy door swing shut behind me. I moved into the hallway and braced my shoulder against the wall, staring at the opposite one without really seeing it. A heavy tension had settled deep in my gut, like an anchor dragging me down. I knew this feeling. It was fucking betrayal.

The realization twisted into anger, confusion, and frustration. A prospect I’d brought into the fold, a man I’d called a friend and soon-to-be brother, was something else entirely. Tripp was something dangerous. And hidden.

As secretary for the club, I oversaw prospect development and evaluated whether they were truly Redline Kings material. Knowing I’d fucked up so spectacularly was like swallowing jagged glass.

Fuck!

I blew out a slow, measured breath and rubbed a hand roughly over my jaw, replaying it all back from the very beginning.

I’d met Tripp at an underground race months back. Our MC was built on and surrounded by the racing culture. Motorcycles, cars, legal races, and illegal ones—we had our hands in all of it.

Our president, Kane, was a world-renowned racer. Despite being big for a driver, he was known for his sharp reflexes and calm dominance. His body knew exactly how to handle any motorcycle or race car he drove without having to think about it. Then he won enough races to gain the capital to build his own racing teams and eventually tracks. Combining all of that with smart investments, he’d become a billionaire and a fucking giant in the industry—controlling the professional and underground racing world in the South the way the DeLuca crime family ruled New York.

Everyone knew not to fuck with Kane or his brother, Edge, our VP. And when they founded the Redline Kings, he hadn’t even been given a road name. He’d built his reputation as a fair but merciless, lethal motherfucker, so definitively that his real name became synonymous with fear and respect. When people heard “Kane,” they already knew who the hell it was.

Tripp had raced that first night, landing an impressive fourth place. Not dominant enough to trigger suspicion, but clearly talented. I’d come in second, finishing just behind Edge. Afterward, I’d approached the newcomer, teasing him good-naturedly about finishing fourth.

Tripp had taken the ribbing easily, flashing a quick grin and giving as good as he got. That night had started our friendship.

From then on, we’d hang out frequently after races, sharing drinks and jokes and forging a strong camaraderie. Soon, I started bringing him around the club socially and introducing him to the brothers. He’d fit in surprisingly well.

Eventually, I’d suggested prospecting. Kane told Jax to run a background check on him. Everything had checked out—family, old addresses, etc. His employment history had been thin, but he’d won enough races for us to assume he lived mostly off the purses he’d earned

Tripp had quickly earned the club’s trust. He was funny, laid back, and undeniably talented, but something about him had always seemed just slightly off. I’d attributed it to past trauma, sensing that Tripp carried some unseen weight that he didn’t share openly.

But as time passed, more subtle inconsistencies emerged.

Looking back now, the first time I should have noticed something was off was when we went to the gun range. We always took prospects to assess their ability with weapons so we knew who could be sent on certain runs, and if they were eligible for certain roles, like being an enforcer.

Tripp had obviously had weapons training, and when I inquired about it, he told me it was from learning to hunt with his dad. But that wouldn’t explain his expert marksmanship with handguns. And while Tripp’s dossier showed that he had a concealed weapons permit, he’d mentioned that he didn’t own a gun.

I noticed Tripp avoiding conversations about family and deflecting any questions that became too personal. He redirected attention quietly, carefully keeping the focus off himself. I initially chalked it up to private struggles, but now it seemed far more deliberate.

Then the federal raid had happened. A warehouse just outside Crossbend, sitting near a critical transport corridor used by the MC’s operations, had been busted wide fucking open. The feds discovered that it was a major hub for laundering, trafficking, and weapons operations.

The Redline Kings had zero ties to that warehouse or its activities, but it didn’t matter. The warehouse sat dangerously close to routes frequently traveled by the club’s vehicles—transport rigs, security teams, and race equipment.

In hindsight, it was obvious that federal surveillance had captured Kings-affiliated vehicles repeatedly moving through the area. The feds wouldn’t have realized it was coincidental—they would have begun building a case, theorizing a connection between the warehouse operations and Kane’s empire. It was exactly the kind of misunderstanding that could’ve done massive damage.

Except it didn’t.

Because just before the raid went down, Tripp had brought unusual activity to Kane’s attention—strange vehicles parked near the transport route, unfamiliar surveillance gear, and odd movements along the corridor. At the time, it seemed exactly what a loyal, observant prospect would do, eager to prove himself to the club. Kane had agreed it felt off and had promptly rerouted all Kings-related vehicles through alternate routes as a precaution.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >43