Colleen Hoover

Colleen Hoover – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Wed, 26 Oct 2022 19:49:30 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.2 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Colleen Hoover – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 It Starts with Us – It Ends with Us Read Online Colleen Hoover http://www.ilovenovels.com/it-starts-with-us-it-ends-with-us-read-online-colleen-hoover Wed, 26 Oct 2022 19:49:30 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/it-starts-with-us-it-ends-with-us-read-online-colleen-hoover Genre: Contemporary, New Adult Authors: Colleen Hoover Advertisement

Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)

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Before It Ends with Us, it started with Atlas. Colleen Hoover tells fan favorite Atlas’s side of the story and shares what comes next in this long-anticipated sequel to the “glorious and touching” (USA TODAY) #1 New York Times bestseller It Ends with Us.

Lily and her ex-husband, Ryle, have just settled into a civil coparenting rhythm when she suddenly bumps into her first love, Atlas, again. After nearly two years separated, she is elated that for once, time is on their side, and she immediately says yes when Atlas asks her on a date.

But her excitement is quickly hampered by the knowledge that, though they are no longer married, Ryle is still very much a part of her life—and Atlas Corrigan is the one man he will hate being in his ex-wife and daughter’s life.

Switching between the perspectives of Lily and Atlas, It Starts with Us picks up right where the epilogue for the “gripping, pulse-pounding” (Sarah Pekkanen, author of Perfect Neighbors) bestselling phenomenon It Ends with Us left off. Revealing more about Atlas’s past and following Lily as she embraces a second chance at true love while navigating a jealous ex-husband, it proves that “no one delivers an emotional read like Colleen Hoover” (Anna Todd, New York Times bestselling author).

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

Chapter One Atlas

The way ass whole is misspelled in red spray paint across the back door of Bib’s makes me think of my mother.

She would always insert a brief pause between syllables, making it sound like two separate words. I wanted to laugh every time I heard it, but it was hard to find the humor in it as a child when I was always the recipient of the hurled insult.

“Ass… whole,” Darin mutters. “Had to be a kid. Most adults know how to spell that word.”

“You’d be surprised.” I touch the paint, but it doesn’t stick to my fingers. Whoever did this must have done it right after we closed last night.

“Do you think the misspelling was intentional?” he asks. “Are they suggesting you’re so much of an asshole that you’re a whole entire ass?”

“Why do you assume they were targeting me? They could have been targeting you or Brad.”

“It’s your restaurant.” Darin takes off his jacket and uses it to pry a large shard of exposed broken glass out of the window. “Maybe it was a disgruntled employee.”

“Do I have disgruntled employees?” I can’t think of a single person on payroll who would do something like this. The last person I’d had quit was five months ago, and she left on good terms after getting a college degree.

“There was that guy who did the dishes before you hired Brad. What was his name? He was named after some kind of mineral or something—it was super weird.”

“Quartz,” I say. “It was a nickname.” I haven’t thought about that guy in so long. I doubt he’s holding a grudge against me after all this time. I fired him right after we opened because I found out he wasn’t washing the dishes unless he could actually see food on them. Glasses, plates, silverware—anything that came back to the kitchen from a table looking fairly clean, he’d just put it straight on the drying rack.

If I wouldn’t have fired him, he would have gotten us shut down by the health department.

“You should call the police,” Darin says. “We’ll have to file a report for insurance.”

Before I object, Brad appears at the back door, his shoes crunching the broken glass beneath his feet. Brad has been inside taking inventory in order to see if anything was stolen.

He scratches the stubble on his jaw. “They took the croutons.”

There’s a confused pause.

“Did you say ‘croutons’?” Darin asks.

“Yeah. They took the whole thing of croutons that were prepared last night. Nothing else seems to be missing, though.”

That wasn’t at all what I was expecting him to say. If someone broke into a restaurant and didn’t take appliances or anything else of value, they probably broke in because they were hungry. I know that kind of desperation firsthand. “I’m not reporting this.”

Darin turns to me. “Why not?”

“They might catch whoever did it.”

“That’s the point.”

I grab an empty box out of the dumpster and start picking up shards of glass. “I broke into a restaurant once. Stole a turkey sandwich.”

Brad and Darin are both staring at me now. “Were you drunk?” Darin asks.

“No. I was hungry. I don’t want anyone arrested for stealing croutons.”

“Okay, but maybe food was only the beginning. What if they come back for appliances next time?” Darin says. “Is the security camera still broken?”

He’s been on me to get that repaired for months now. “I’ve been busy.”

Darin takes the box of glass from me and starts to pick up the remaining pieces. “You should go work on that before they come back. Heck, they might even try to hit up Corrigan’s tonight since Bib’s was such an easy target.”

“Corrigan’s has working security. And I doubt whoever it was will vandalize my new restaurant. It was a matter of convenience, not a targeted break-in.”

“You hope,” Darin says.

I open my mouth to respond, but I’m interrupted by an incoming text message. I don’t think I’ve ever reached for my phone faster. When I see the text isn’t from Lily, I deflate a little.

I ran into her this morning while I was running errands. It was the first time we’ve seen each other in a year and a half, but she was late for work and I had just received the text from Darin informing me we had a break-in. We parted somewhat awkwardly on the promise that she would text me once she got to work.

It’s been an hour and a half since then, and I still haven’t heard from her. An hour and a half is nothing, but I can’t ignore the nagging in my chest that’s trying to convince me she’s having doubts about everything that was said between us in that five-minute exchange on the sidewalk.

I’m definitely not having doubts about what I said. I might have gotten caught up in the moment—in seeing how happy she looked and finding out she’s no longer married. But I meant every word I said to her.

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Finding Perfect – Hopeless Read Online Colleen Hoover http://www.ilovenovels.com/finding-perfect-hopeless-read-online-colleen-hoover Wed, 17 Feb 2021 09:49:58 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/finding-perfect-hopeless-read-online-colleen-hoover Genre: Contemporary, New Adult, Novella, Romance, Tear Jerker, Young Adult Authors: Colleen Hoover Advertisement

Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 20548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Finding Perfect - Hopeless
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Colleen Hoover
Language:	English
Book Information:
Finding Perfect is a short story that brings back some of Colleen’s most beloved characters. Told from the point of view of Daniel from Finding Cinderella, readers will finally get the conclusion they’ve been hoping for. For the best reading experience, make sure you’ve read all four books that come together to make up this heartwarming story: Hopeless, Losing Hope, Finding Cinderella, and All Your Perfects.
Books by Author:	Colleen Hoover

Chapter One

“That’s three for me,” Breckin says, dropping his Xbox controller. “I really need to go home now.”

I pick up the controller and try to hand it back to him. “Just one more,” I say. Or beg, really. But Breckin already has on his ridiculous puffy jacket and is making his way to my bedroom door.

“Call Holder if you’re this bored,” he says.

“He had Thanksgiving dinner at his dad’s house yesterday. They won’t be back until tonight.”

“Then ask Six to come over. I’ve hung out with you enough today to last me until Christmas break. I have family shit tonight.”

That makes me laugh. “You said shit.”

Breckin shrugs. “Yeah. It’s Thanksgiving. I have family shit.”

“I thought Mormons couldn’t swear.”

Breckin rolls his eyes and opens my bedroom door. “Bye, Daniel.”

“Wait. You coming Saturday?” On our drive home from school a couple days ago, Holder suggested we do a friendsgiving while we’re home on Thanksgiving break. Sky and Six are going to cook. Which means we’ll probably end up ordering pizza.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. But only if you stop pointing out my religious flaws.”

“Deal. And I’ll never call you Powder Puff again if you stay and play one more game with me.”

Breckin looks bored with me. I don’t blame him. I’m bored with myself.

“You need to go somewhere,” he says. “You’ve been playing video games for twelve hours. It’s starting to smell like a waffle cone in here.”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“I meant it in a bad way.” Breckin closes my door and I’m alone again.

So alone.

I fall back onto my bedroom floor and stare up at the ceiling for a while. Then I look at my phone and there’s nothing. Six hasn’t texted me at all today. I haven’t texted her either, but I’m waiting for her to text me first. Things have been weird between us for the past couple months now. I was hoping it was because we were in a new setting, both in our first semesters of college, but she was quiet on the drive home two days ago. She had family shit yesterday and hasn’t even invited me over today.

I feel like she’s about to break up with me.

I don’t know why. I’ve never had a girl break up with me. I’m the one who broke up with Val. But I would think this is what it’s like just before a breakup. Less communication. Less making time for each other. Less making out.

Maybe she does want to break up with me, but she knows it would hurt the awesome foursome we’ve got going on. We do everything with Sky and Holder now that we’re all in college together. Breaking up with me would make it awkward for all three of them.

Maybe I’m overthinking things. Maybe it is college that’s stressing her out.

My bedroom door opens and Chunk leans against the doorframe, arms folded. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Why are you in my room?”

She takes a step back so that she’s technically in the hallway. “It’s your turn to do dishes.”

“I don’t even live here anymore.”

“But you’re home for Thanksgiving,” she says. “Which means you’re eating our food and using our dishes and sleeping under our roof, so go do the chores.”

“You haven’t changed at all.”

“You moved out three months ago, Daniel. No one changes in the span of three months.” Chunk walks back down the hallway without closing my door.

I have the urge to run after her and disagree with her about people not changing in just three months, because Six changed in that short of a time span. But if I disagreed with her, I’d have to back it up with an example, and I’m not talking to Chunk about my girlfriend.

I check my phone one more time for a text from Six and then push off the floor. On my way to the kitchen, I pause at the doorway to Hannah’s bedroom. She doesn’t come home as often as I do because she goes to college in South Texas and has a full-time job.

I haven’t found a job yet. That’s not surprising, though. I haven’t filled out a single application.

Hannah is sitting up in bed with her laptop. Probably doing homework for med school or something equally responsible. “Do they still make you do dishes when you come home?” I ask her.

She glances up at me before looking back down at her computer screen. “No. I don’t live here anymore.”

I knew she was the favorite. “Then why do I have to do chores?”

“Mom and Dad still support you financially. You owe them.”

That’s a fair point. I remain in her doorway, stalling the inevitable. “What are you doing?”

“Homework,” she says.

“Want to take a break and play video games with me?”

Hannah looks up at me like I’ve suggested she murder someone. “Have I ever wanted to play video games with you?”

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Heart Bones Read online Colleen Hoover http://www.ilovenovels.com/heart-bones-read-online-colleen-hoover Thu, 25 Jun 2020 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/heart-bones-read-online-colleen-hoover Genre: Angst, Chick Lit, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Authors: Colleen Hoover Advertisement

Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Heart Bones
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Colleen Hoover
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B084HNWBD6
Book Information:
Life and a dismal last name are the only two things Beyah's parents ever gave her. Forced to carve her own path alone, Beyah is well on her way to bigger and better things, thanks to no one but herself. With only two short months separating her from the future she's built for herself and the past she desperately wants to leave behind, an unexpected death leaves Beyah with no place to go during the interim. Forced to call her last resort, Beyah has no other option than to spend the remainder of her summer on a peninsula in Texas with a father she barely knows. Beyah's plan is to keep her head down and let the summer slip by seamlessly, but her new neighbor Samson throws a wrench in that plan. Samson and Beyah have nothing in common on the surface. She comes from a life of poverty and neglect; he comes from a family of wealth and privilege. But one thing they do have in common is that they're both drawn to sad things. Which means they're drawn to each other. With an almost immediate connection too intense for them to continue denying, Beyah and Samson agree to stay in the shallow end of a summer fling. What Beyah doesn't realize is that a rip current is coming, and it's about to drag her heart out to sea.
Books by Author:	Colleen Hoover

ONE

Summer 2015

There’s a picture of Mother Teresa that hangs on our living room wall where a television would go if we could afford the kind of television that hangs on the wall, or even a home with the kind of walls that could hold a television.

The walls of a trailer house aren’t made of the same stuff walls in a normal house are made of. In a trailer house, the walls crumble beneath your fingernails like chalk if you so much as scratch at them.

I once asked my mother, Janean, why she keeps a picture of Mother Teresa on our living room wall.

“The bitch was a fraud,” she said.

Her words. Not mine.

I think when you’re the worst of people, finding the worst in others becomes a survival tactic of sorts. You focus heavily on the darkness in people in hopes of masking the true shade of your own darkness. That’s how my mother has spent her entire life. Always seeking the worst in people. Even her own daughter.

Even Mother Teresa.

Janean is lying on the couch in the same position she was in when I left for my shift at McDonald’s eight hours ago. She’s staring at the picture of Mother Teresa, but she’s not actually looking at it. It’s as if her eyeballs have stopped working.

Stopped absorbing.

Janean is an addict. I realized this around the age of nine, but back then, her addictions were limited to men, alcohol, and gambling.

Over the years, her addictions became more noticeable and a lot deadlier. I think it was five years ago, right around when I turned fourteen, when I caught her shooting up meth for the first time. Once a person starts using meth regularly, their lifespan shortens drastically. I Googled it in the school library once. How long can a person live with meth addiction?

Six to seven years is what the internet said.

I’ve found her unresponsive several times over the years, but this feels different. This feels final.

“Janean?” There’s a calmness to my voice that certainly shouldn’t be present right now. I feel like my voice should be shaky, or unavailable. I feel somewhat ashamed at my lack of reaction in this moment.

I drop my purse at my feet as I stare intensely at her face from across the living room. It’s raining outside and I haven’t even closed the front door yet, so I’m still getting soaked. But shutting the door and sheltering my back from the rain is the least of my concerns right now as I stare at Janean as she stares at Mother Teresa.

One of Janean’s arms is draped over her stomach and the other is dangling off the couch, her fingers resting gently against worn carpet. She’s a little swollen and it makes her look younger. Not younger than her age—she’s only thirty-nine—but younger than what her addictions have made her appear to be. Her cheeks are slightly less concave and the wrinkles that have formed around her mouth over the last few years look as if they’ve been smoothed out by Botox.

“Janean?”

Nothing.

Her mouth is hanging slightly open, revealing yellow slivers of chipped and rotted teeth. It’s like she was in the middle of a sentence when the life slipped out of her.

I’ve imagined this moment for a while now. Sometimes when you hate someone enough, you can’t help but lie awake in bed at night, wondering what life would be like if that person were dead.

I imagined it differently. I imagined it would be much more dramatic.

I stare at Janean for another moment, waiting to see if she’s just in some kind of trance. I take a few steps toward her and then pause when I see her arm. There’s a needle dangling from the skin just underneath the inside of her elbow.

As soon as I see it, the reality of the moment slips over me like a slimy film and it makes me nauseous. I spin around and run out of the house. It feels like I’m about to be sick, so I lean over the rotten railing, careful not to put too much pressure on it so it doesn’t buckle beneath my grip.

I’m relieved as soon as I get sick because I was beginning to worry about my lack of reaction to this life-altering moment. I may not be as hysterical as a daughter should be in this moment, but at least I feel something.

I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my McDonald’s work shirt. I sit down on the steps, despite the rain still pummeling down on me from the heartless night sky.

My hair and my clothes are soaking wet. So is my face, but none of the liquid streaming down my cheeks is tears.

It’s all raindrops.

Wet eyes and a dry heart.

I close my eyes and press my face into my hands, trying to decide if my detachment is because of my upbringing or if I was born broken.

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Read Online Books/Novels:

Finding Perfect - Hopeless

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

Colleen Hoover

Read Online Books/Novels:

Heart Bones

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Colleen Hoover

English

B084HNWBD6

Colleen Hoover