Bellamy Creek Series by Melanie Harlow – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Sat, 29 May 2021 22:59:57 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Bellamy Creek Series by Melanie Harlow – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 Tie Me Down (Bellamy Creek #4) Read Online Melanie Harlow http://www.wownovels.com/tie-me-down-bellamy-creek-4-read-online-melanie-harlow Sat, 29 May 2021 22:37:21 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/tie-me-down-bellamy-creek-4-read-online-melanie-harlow Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Bellamy Creek Series by Melanie Harlow
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
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Tie Me Down (Bellamy Creek #4)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Melanie Harlow
Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
9798501648555
Book Information:

Just friends.
That’s all Beckett Weaver and I have ever been.
Sure, he’s a hot cowboy who left Wall Street behind to take over his family’s ranch. Yes, I’ve had a secret crush on him since we were seventeen. And who wouldn’t appreciate those strong hands, that massive chest, and the way he fills out a pair of Levis?
He makes a girl sweat just looking at him . . . and I look. A lot. But I’m a single mom trying to move on with my life, and he’s running that ranch single-handedly while taking care of his elderly father. We don’t even live in the same state. I only returned to my hometown of Bellamy Creek to sell my late mother’s house, and he just invited me and my son to stay with him because he’s got a big heart.
That’s not the only big thing he’s got--which I discover the night I finally sneak across the hall to his bedroom and shed my inhibitions right alongside my pajamas. And once we give into each other, we can’t stop.
The hayloft. The bed of his truck. The dock by the pond.
Nothing has ever felt so right, but his past has taught him not to believe in happily ever after, and every perfect night I spend in his arms brings us closer to goodbye.
Like any cowboy, he’s good with a rope and knows exactly how to tie me up.
But what if I want him to tie me down?
Books in Series:

Bellamy Creek Series by Melanie Harlow
Books by Author:

Melanie Harlow


Fifteen Years Ago

BECKETT

“Who wants to go first?” Cole asked.

All of us stared at the empty tackle box on my family’s kitchen table. Griffin had brought it over, and I’d taken out all the trays so it could serve a different function.

Time capsule.

Since we were kids, my three best friends—Cole Mitchell, Griffin Dempsey, and Enzo Moretti—and I had planned on burying a time capsule the summer after we graduated from high school. We’d heard about time capsules years ago, in fifth grade social studies class, and all four of us agreed then and there that we were going to do it.

After some discussion, we’d agreed that it made the most sense to bury it somewhere on my family’s farm. We figured anyone else’s family might move someday, but Weaver Ranch had been in my family for over a hundred years and it would be in my family for generations to come.

I was going to make sure of it.

My plan was to major in finance, get an MBA, and secure one of those Wall Street jobs where you could make millions if you had the brains, the guts, and the work ethic.

I had all three, and I’d use them to help my family.

“I’ll go,” said Griffin, placing his beat-up backpack on the table and reaching inside it. He pulled out his graduation tassels, a photograph of him standing between his dad and grandfather in front of the open hood of an old truck they were restoring, and a folded sheet of paper.

“What’s that?” Moretti asked, pointing at the paper.

“It’s a copy of the letter from the Marine Corps telling me when and where to report to boot camp.”

We nodded and watched Griffin put those three items in the box. He was heading out in three weeks for Parris Island, the first of us to leave Bellamy Creek and our tight foursome. In August I was leaving for Harvard, where I had a full academic scholarship, and Cole was headed to a local college, where he planned to study law enforcement. Moretti was already working full-time for his family’s construction business, as he had since he was fourteen.

The last thing Griffin pulled from the backpack was a dirty, scuffed-up baseball. “From the day I hit the game-winning home run against Mason City High to clinch the title,” he said reverently. “I signed it, in case you guys put a baseball in too. That way we’ll know whose is whose.”

We all nodded. Baseball was sacred to us—the only thing more sacred was our friendship.

Griffin placed the ball in the box as if it were made of glass.

“Okay, who’s next?” I asked.

“I’ll go.” Moretti placed a brown paper bag on the table. From it, he pulled out a newspaper clipping from the Bellamy Creek Gazette about his record streak of stolen bases and a takeout menu from DiFiore’s, his favorite restaurant, which was owned by his cousins. Then he took out one of his senior portraits and added it to the box. Not a small one, either—a five-by-seven.

“Really, Moretti?” Griffin gestured to the photo. “A big picture of yourself?”

“Hey, I happen to think I look good in this shot. What if I go bald or something? I’ll want to look back and remember when I had amazing hair. And cheekbones.” He placed the picture in the box.

Laughing, I shook my head. It was typical Moretti. He was vain and egotistical, but you couldn’t ask for a more loyal friend. I’d miss him. I’d miss them all.

“And I also have a picture of us, so piss off.” He took out a snapshot of the four of us after one of our last games, four cocky eighteen-year-olds in ball caps and dirty uniforms, grinning at the camera. He added it to the box and looked across the table. “Cole? Want to go next?”

“Okay.” Cole opened up a large Ziplock bag and took out a folded sheet of paper. “Our baseball team roster and season record,” he said, placing it in the box. “And I have the ball from the no-hitter I pitched this year. I signed and dated it.”

“Such a good fucking game,” Griffin said, clapping Cole’s back. “That’s the best I’ve ever seen you pitch. Man, I’m gonna miss those games.”

“Me too,” I said, hating the hollowed-out feeling in my gut. “Think we’ll ever play together again?”

“Hell yes.” Moretti guffawed. “We’ll be like those old dudes who come out on Thursday nights every summer with their beer bellies and rickety old knees.”

We all laughed too, unable to imagine ourselves with paunchy guts and stiff joints.

The last thing Cole placed in the box was a photo of all of us with our dates the night of our senior prom. Cole had taken his girlfriend, Trisha; Griffin had taken a girl he’d been dating on and off since Christmas; Moretti had taken his flavor of the month; and I’d taken a friend, since the girl I wish I could have asked—Maddie Blake—was off limits.


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Call Me Crazy (Bellamy Creek #3) Read Online Melanie Harlow http://www.wownovels.com/call-me-crazy-bellamy-creek-3-read-online-melanie-harlow Sun, 28 Feb 2021 09:50:50 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/call-me-crazy-bellamy-creek-3-read-online-melanie-harlow Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Bellamy Creek Series by Melanie Harlow
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Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
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Call Me Crazy (Bellamy Creek #3)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Melanie Harlow
Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B08VRVPCKF
Book Information:

It was the perfect plan. I needed a wife—temporarily—in order to inherit the family business. And she needed a favor—the kind that takes nine months to deliver.
We had it all worked out, from the no-touching policy on our wedding night (her rule) to the no-falling-in-love decree (mine). She’d marry me, I’d give her the means to have the baby she’d always wanted, and one year later we’d amicably part ways with no hassle, no demands, and certainly no regrets.
After all, Bianca DeRossi and I are experts at infuriating one another—we’ve been doing it since we were kids. Trouble is, she grew up gorgeous and feisty, and she still knows exactly how to get under my skin.
And that wedding night? Well, it doesn’t exactly go down hands-free.
Then she moves in with me, and I really start to lose my mind. From her sexy little pout to her wicked sense of humor to those meatball sandwiches she makes just because she knows they’re my favorite . . . I find myself wanting to break every rule we put in place.
Our story was never supposed to end with happily ever after.
But call me crazy, I just might be in love with my wife.
Books in Series:

Bellamy Creek Series by Melanie Harlow
Books by Author:

Melanie Harlow


One

Enzo

There comes a day in a man’s life when he enters a room with hope in his heart and a ring in his pocket, fully prepared to get down on one knee. To pledge his eternal devotion. To take his soul mate’s hand in his and pop the question, promising to love, honor, and cherish her forever and ever, until death do them part, amen.

This was not that day.

However, I did have a ring in my pocket—a very nice one-point-four carat diamond solitaire on a gold band. I’d gotten a great deal on it because my cousin Paulie worked at the jewelry store, and some poor guy had just returned it. Sure, it was engraved with someone else’s name, but Paulie had assured me that could be removed.

In hindsight, I probably should have done that before I proposed. But I wasn’t thinking straight—I needed a wife, and I needed one fast.

It was all because of this ridiculous tradition in my family. In order to inherit the family construction business, Moretti & Sons, the oldest son has to be “settled down” with a wife and preferably a kid or two by the time he’s thirty-five. My father, who was sixty-eight years old and ready to retire, had been threatening to leave the business to my younger brother Pietro for years now.

Fucking Pietro!

He might be thirty-two and married with his third bambino on the way, but he was never on time, he was always disorganized, and he was way too easygoing to be an effective manager. Contractors, suppliers, and clients were constantly walking all over him because he hated confrontation.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s my kid brother and I fucking love the guy—and my niece and nephew are awesome—but he’s not the one you want running your multi-million-dollar firm.

Me? I loved confrontation. I wasn’t afraid to tell someone when they were fucking up or remind them of the price they’d quoted or the deadlines they’d agreed to. I knew when to be charming and when to be a dickhead. I knew when to be a charming dickhead. And I knew how to close a deal.

At least, I thought I did.

But that was before I proposed.

I’d been seeing Reina for about three months, which I thought was a pretty decent amount of time to spend with someone, although I might not be the best judge of that since long-term commitment has never been my thing. Not that I was a jerk about it—I always made sure a woman understood exactly what I could offer her (one hell of a good time), and what I couldn’t (anything resembling a relationship).

But as thirty-five closed in on me and my father’s threats started to get more real, I realized it was time to man up and put a ring on someone’s finger.

Reina seemed as good a candidate for Mrs. Moretti as anyone. She was a little young—she’d just turned twenty-one yesterday, in fact—a little too attached to her phone, and sometimes I had no fucking idea what she was talking about, but she checked all the other boxes for me. She was beautiful, she wasn’t crazy, she got along with her family, and her mother was in her late forties and still looked good. What more could I ask for?

She checked my parents’ boxes too: Catholic. Italian. My Nonna knew her Nonna.

Was I in love with her? No. But love was something that developed over time, wasn’t it? I wasn’t exactly sure, since I’d never been in love, but it seemed to me like something you settled into, like a couch that’s a little stiff at first but grows more comfortable the more you sit on it. I figured we’d get there eventually.

The important thing right now was to secure my place at the top of Moretti & Sons, where I’d worked every damn day of my life since I was fourteen years old. I hadn’t put all that blood, sweat, and tears into growing the business just to see it go to Pietro, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to be the only oldest son in five generations who failed to inherit. If I had to get a wife and kid to do it, I’d get myself a wife and kid.


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Make Me Yours (Bellamy Creek #2) Read Online Melanie Harlow http://www.wownovels.com/make-me-yours-bellamy-creek-2-read-online-melanie-harlow Sat, 28 Nov 2020 19:43:59 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/make-me-yours-bellamy-creek-2-read-online-melanie-harlow Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Bellamy Creek Series by Melanie Harlow
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
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(Bellamy Creek #2) Make Me Yours

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Melanie Harlow
Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B08M9YQ43M
Book Information:

He’s my brother’s best friend. The hot single dad next door.
And one accidental sext later, my massive crush on him is no longer a secret.
It’s my own damn fault. I’m thirty years old, for heaven’s sake. I’m a kindergarten teacher and a (reasonably) responsible adult. I should know better than to get tipsy and draft a fake text listing all the dirty things I wish Officer Cole Mitchell would do to me.
I wasn’t supposed to hit send. He wasn’t supposed to see it.
And he definitely wasn’t supposed to text back telling me to go on . . .
Because after that, things escalate quickly.
Cole is everything I’ve ever wanted. He’s sexy and protective. A devoted father to his little girl. A dedicated cop the whole town adores. The kind of guy you can trust to keep his hands to himself, even when you’re desperately hoping he won’t.
I’m not the girl he thought he’d end up with, but after all this time, I might finally get the chance to say the words I’ve always dreamed of . . . make me yours.
Books in Series:

Bellamy Creek Series by Melanie Harlow
Books by Author:

Melanie Harlow


One

Cole

“Is that what you’re going to wear?” My nine-year-old daughter, Mariah, assessed me from my bedroom doorway, her nose wrinkled.

I studied my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. “Yeah. What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s boring. I thought you were going to a party.”

“It’s just my friends at the pub.” I frowned at the hunter green polo shirt I’d chosen because it was on the top of the pile in my drawer. Was that the problem? Or was it the khaki pants?

Mariah entered the room and flopped onto my bed, chin propped in her hands. “But it’s a party, right? A bachelor party for Uncle Griffin?”

“Yes.” Bachelor parties were not my favorite thing, but Griffin Dempsey and I had grown up next door to each other, and we’d been best friends since we were younger than Mariah. He was getting married in two weeks, and I was the best man—in other words, tonight was a must-show.

“What’s a bachelor, anyway?” Mariah wondered.

“It’s a guy who isn’t married.” I scratched my jaw. Maybe the belt was wrong. I unbuckled it, deciding to swap it for a darker brown leather.

“Are you a bachelor?”

“No.”

“But you’re not married.”

“I was.”

“But you’re not divorced. Is there a name for what you are?”

“A widower,” I told her, slipping a new belt through the loops.

“That sounds like an old man.”

“I am an old man.”

“Daddy! You’re thirty-three. That’s not that old,” she said, letting me know with her tone that it was somewhat old.

“Thanks. Is this any better?” Turning around, I held out my arms, showing off the new version of my party outfit.

Mariah shook her head. “No. You’re still boring.”

I gave her a dirty look.

“What? You asked. I’m just being honest.” A cheeky grin appeared. “You look like the guy who came to measure for the new windows yesterday.”

I groaned. “Come on, that guy had a huge pot belly.”

“Or maybe the guy who sold Grandma her new car.”

“Fred Yaldoo? He’s got a pot belly and he’s bald! That’s it.” I dove for her.

She squealed and tried to scramble off the bed, but I managed to get her in my grip and tickle the spot behind her left ear that always made her giggle and squirm. “No! No! I’m sorry!” she shrieked. “I take it back! You’re the handsomest daddy in the world!”

“Too late!”

My mother appeared in my bedroom doorway, arms crossed. “What on earth is going on in here?”

I gave Mariah a quick noogie before releasing her. “My daughter says I look like Fred Yaldoo.”

Just to make sure she wasn’t on to something, I jumped up and checked my hairline in the mirror. Thankfully, it looked fine. I probably could have used a closer shave, but whatever. Griffin and the guys weren’t going to give a shit about my scruff.

Mariah scooted off the bed and put five feet between us. “I did not say that! I just said that his outfit was boring.”

My mother studied me critically from the doorway, one hand on her hip. “Is that what you’re wearing to the party?”

I rolled my eyes, then leaned down and yanked my brown dress shoes from the closet. “Yes. And I’m leaving now, before my self-esteem gets any worse.”

“Well, it wouldn’t kill you to dress up a little more,” my mother went on, taking it upon herself to enter my room and start straightening up the items on the top of my dresser.

I sat on the bed and put the shoes on. “Mom, stop. You don’t have to clean my room. I’m not ten.”

“You live in my house, you deal with my cleaning.” She gathered up stray coins and dropped them into a little painted clay bowl Mariah had made in art class last year. “You want to live in a mess, you get your own house.”

Mariah and I exchanged a here we go again glance. My mother’s definition of a mess was not the same as a normal person’s. Crumbs, dust, and clutter were the enemy. Growing up, I rarely saw her without a broom, the vacuum, a rag and a spray bottle in hand. My older brother Greg and I had learned early on that you take your shoes off at the door, you wipe up your spills immediately, and you make your bed in the morning or else. We used to joke that she wore hand sanitizer like perfume. We’d wrap it up for her at Christmas.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that,” I said, tying my shoes.

“About getting our own house?” asked Mariah, surprise evident in her voice.

“Yes.” I straightened up and looked at her, trying to gauge her reaction. “What do you think about that?”

Mariah bit the tip of her thumb. “Where would it be?”

“I don’t know. We’d have to look. Take your thumb out of your mouth.”

She did as I asked. “Would we move far away?”


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Drive Me Wild (Bellamy Creek #2) Read online Melanie Harlow http://www.wownovels.com/drive-me-wild-bellamy-creek-2-read-online-melanie-harlow Thu, 02 Jul 2020 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/drive-me-wild-read-online-melanie-harlow Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Bellamy Creek Series by Melanie Harlow
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
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Drive Me Wild (Bellamy Creek #1)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Melanie Harlow
Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B08D9V7CVM
Book Information:

When Blair Beaufort literally crashes into Bellamy Creek wearing a ball gown and a tiara, I should have towed her car, said goodnight, and sent her packing.
I’m a mechanic, not a hotel manager. I've got enough on my plate trying to keep my shop from going under, my overbearing mother off my back, and my baseball team in contention for the league championship. I don’t have time for a former debutante with zero street smarts and a cash flow problem, even if she is crazy beautiful.
Problem is, she’s stranded in my small town, and I’m hiding a protective streak underneath my grumpy exterior that runs deep. So I offer her a place to stay and keep my hands to myself. For exactly one night.
If only she weren't so gorgeous. So funny. So eager to please. She’s a disaster behind the wheel, but she drives me wild without even trying--at work, at home, in the back of my truck . . . I can’t get enough of the way she makes me feel.
But I know better than to think it can last. She wants a fairy tale, and I’m no prince.
So when it comes time for her to leave, there’s nothing I can do but let her go.
No matter how much it hurts to say goodbye.
Books in Series:

Bellamy Creek Series by Melanie Harlow
Books by Author:

Melanie Harlow


One

Griffin

A watched pot never boils, but a watched mechanic will.

I don’t remember how old I was when I first heard my dad say it, but damn if he wasn’t right. There was nothing worse than a hoverer, and old man Dodson was a serial offender.

“Are you sure you need to hit that so hard?”

Clench jaw. Count to three. “Yes.”

“Is that really the right way to do it?”

Take a breath. Don’t throw things. “Yes.”

“Are you going to be done soon?”

Not if you keep standing there asking me stupid questions.

My temper was nearly at the boiling point, but since I really couldn’t afford to lose customers, I turned around and attempted something resembling a smile.

“Shouldn’t be too long now, Mr. Dodson. Why don’t you take a walk? Maybe grab a cup of coffee and a donut at the diner? By the time you get back, I’ll have your vehicle all ready for you.”

The old-timer scratched his head and hitched up his kelly-green pants. “You know, Swifty Auto said they could have this done in half an hour. And their price was cheaper than yours.”

I gripped the wrench I was holding even tighter.

Fucking Swifty Auto. The fast food chain of automotive repair. High volume, low value, shitty rush jobs done on the cheap—but customers didn’t seem to care. Apparently, a chandelier in the lobby, glossy TV ads, and free cookies were more important than good service. “Well, they’re a bigger shop. And they’ve got a different philosophy.”

“But I’ve always brought my cars here, and your dad was a good honest guy. Knew what he was doing. I figure you’re a good honest guy too.”

“He taught me everything I know,” I said. In other words, I too know what I’m doing, asshole. Now go get a fucking cruller and let me finish this up. You didn’t even have an appointment—I squeezed you in as a favor.

Dodson exhaled and gave up. “Guess I’ll take a walk then.”

I watched him wander out to the sidewalk and begin his old-man shuffle down Main Street, then got back to work.

“Damn, that guy is annoying,” called McIntyre, the other mechanic at Bellamy Creek Garage. I owned the place, but he’d been working there almost as long as I had. We also had a helper—a “stack the tires” guy—whose real name was Andy, but we referred to him as Handme, since we were always telling him to hand me that wrench or hand me a towel or hand me the 10mm socket I just dropped in the engine bay and couldn’t fucking find if my life depended on it.

“Yeah, he is. But he pays his bill, at least.” I checked the clock on the shop wall. “Hey, where the hell is Handme? I thought he was supposed to be here by seven. It’s almost nine.”

“I think he had to take Lola somewhere.”

“Oh, right. He mentioned that yesterday.” I shook my head as I went back to work under the hood of Dodson’s Buick. “Poor kid.”

“What do you mean, ‘poor kid’? He’s getting laid all the time.”

“I mean, he’s a fucking mess over that girl.”

“So?”

“So it’s Handme. She’s gonna eat him alive and spit out his bones.”

McIntyre laughed from beneath a Ford Mustang. “He might enjoy that. I know I would.”

“You and Emily fighting again?” McIntyre was engaged to be married in six months—if he and his high-maintenance fiancée could stay together that long.

“She broke up with me last night.”

“What was it this time?”

“Hell if I know. I think her words were something like, ‘Because you’re an insensitive asshole who doesn’t care about anything important.’ But by important, she means shit like what color the flowers will be at the church or what flavor the wedding cake will be, or who sits where at the reception. What do I care about that stuff? It doesn’t matter!”

I couldn’t agree more, but I kept my mouth shut.

“It’s all bullshit,” he rambled on. “Why can’t we just say ‘I do’ at city hall and go drink beers afterward like normal people? I’ll even wear the suit.”

I laughed. “Got me. You’re the one who asked her to marry you.”

“I know, but it’s like she lost her mind with all this wedding stuff. She used to be so fun. We used to hang out and listen to music and talk about shit that matters, like cars and baseball. Now all we do is argue. I have to say I’m sorry like ten times a night.”

“So stop apologizing. Let her crawl back to you for once.”

“That could take weeks, Griff. I can’t wait that long to have sex. Not all of us have the discipline to be a celibate monk like you.”

“I’m not celibate, asshole. I’m just not a slave to my dick like everyone else who works here.”

“But don’t you miss it?” McIntyre asked.

Was he kidding? Of course I did. But needing something or someone so badly made you weak, and I prided myself on being strong. Sure, I was human like anyone else, and occasionally a cute ass in tight jeans got the better of me, but I always followed my rules: I was a one-night-only attraction, I always used protection, and I never slept over.


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