Nicole Snow – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Nicole Snow – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:14:45 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Nicole Snow – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Almost Real – Almost Ever After Read Online Nicole Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/almost-real-almost-ever-after-read-online-nicole-snow Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:14:45 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/almost-real-almost-ever-after-read-online-nicole-snow Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)

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A love for paws and claws unites a fiery vet tech and a bad boy billionaire in this intense and steamy fake engagement fiasco by Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow.

Lena Joly has a fierce soul for healing every pet who limps into her struggling clinic. Taming human jerkwads is nothing new—until the day Brady Pruitt storms in with an adorable lost puppy.

There’s nothing cute about him. His wicked reputation overshadows devastating good looks and a jaw-dropping fortune. She’s relieved to send Seattle’s infamous bad boy billionaire packing and get back to fighting for her clinic. But Brady already decided the spitfire who ranks him lower than a banana peel can convince his family he’s finally respectable.

Lena could scream. A temporary “engagement” to fool his optics-obsessed parents? An obscene payday to keep tails wagging forever? And practice kissing?

Holy hell. The girl with barbed wire guarding her scarred love life can’t hide when the butterflies hit. And after their love for animals sweeps them away, after pillow talk becomes bad habit, after it feels too real, two stone hearts will be glorious confetti…

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

I

Dog Days

(Lena)

This job is bittersweet.

You don’t sign up for this business unless you live, sleep, and eat challenges.

Because no girl in her right mind dreams of spending her Friday evening cleaning up puddles of puppy pee.

I mean, it’s not that I mind. The puppies are adorable, bouncy little balls of golden floof, still finding their paws when they’re not mouthing everything in sight. Who am I to judge them for not knowing how to hold their bladders yet?

At their age, I probably couldn’t either.

But I love my job, urine and all.

Maybe I’d skip janitor duty if I could. But you don’t get the sparkle in life without taking out the trash.

So, here I am, mopping and disinfecting until my arms hurt. It’s just before closing, and I’m doing my very best not to eavesdrop on Dr. Ezzie’s conversation like the shameless rat I am.

Easier said than done when her office door is cracked open.

And I was born curious. Came out of the hospital wanting to know everything about everyone, so yes, my ears perk up at the concern in my boss’s voice.

Not good.

I can’t quite make out the words, but I don’t need to when her tone gives away so much. That sad, clipped edge in her voice says the news she’s getting isn’t sunshine and rainbows.

I finish cleaning and flush the dirty water from the bucket down the sink in the back room. Even from here, I can hear the way Dr. Ezzie’s tone rises and falls in the background, this nervous rhythm with a slight hush that hints she’s trying so hard not to overreact.

My heart hurts.

It has to be about her folks again.

Last week, her elderly father had a nasty fall and broke his hip.

That’s what happens when people get old—just like animals—but it doesn’t make it suck any less. Dr. Ezzie came in frazzled this morning, straight from the hospital, trading one bone-white center for sick creatures for another.

Straight from looking out for her dad to looking out for us.

As for her mom . . . well, I guess the jury’s out on whether she’s still all there. The last time she visited, her mother didn’t recognize her.

The thought hits me with anxiety.

It makes me worry for my own mom one day, and mourn the way I’ll never get a chance to face love and frailty with my dad because he’s already gone. But that’s not the only reason I’m worried today.

Why does this feel like a bad omen for Pawsome Hearts?

We’re a small clinic. One of those scrappy family-run businesses that put the well-being of our furry, feathered, scaly patients above all else. Dr. Ezzie drives the whole operation.

She’s the entire reason I applied for a position here, and I’ve loved it ever since.

But if she has to quit to play full-time caregiver or just because the job becomes too much when she’s got so much on her plate—

I don’t know.

I don’t have a clue what that means for the clinic without its owner.

And honestly, that scares me.

There’s no one standing by to swoop in and fill her shoes, to give us a fighting chance in a crowded Seattle market.

Without Dr. Ezzie, Pawsome Hearts won’t exist.

Not without a buyout from one of those big corporate places where they count dollar signs more than healthy animals. I can only pray that doesn’t happen.

Having our supplies and every hour I work micromanaged to “streamline” efficiency is not what I signed up for.

I glance at my smartwatch. It’s eight o’clock now—closing time.

Finally.

I head to the door to flip the sign and make sure it’s locked, pausing at the window to glance over the property.

Across the courtyard, on the edge of the parking lot, there’s the building for the kennels that backs up to the park, where dogs are bedding down for the evening. Keith, our lone night shift boarding guy, gives me a friendly wave as he circles back inside to check on them.

For Seattle, Pawsome Hearts is a unicorn. One of those rare overgrown green spaces bursting with small-town vibes in the big city, where people still know each other’s names and greet you with a smile.

No, I wouldn’t dare change a thing, even if our daily operations demand it.

When I first hired on, we had more kennel workers for boarding. We had larger kennels too.

It’s been a tough year. Even without Dr. Ezzie leaking deets about her finances, I know that.

It’s pretty impossible to miss when we’ve had to make cuts left, right, and center.

I suppose I should be happy, though.

I still get to work here.

I still get to help awesome pets and mend their owners’ worried hearts. All in a day’s work for a tireless vet tech who runs on iced lattes and ginseng tea.

Hopefully that won’t change.

I’m still mulling that over when I see people approaching the door. Just before I can reach them to say we’re closed, the bell jingles.

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The Right Wrong Promise – The Blackthorn Inheritance Read Online Nicole Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-right-wrong-promise-the-blackthorn-inheritance-read-online-nicole-snow Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:03:58 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-right-wrong-promise-the-blackthorn-inheritance-read-online-nicole-snow Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Authors: Nicole Snow Series: Series by Nicole Snow
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Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)

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The gruffest broken single dad finds home with a spitfire heiress in this stormy and spicy romance by Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow.

I inherited a freaking family.
Thanks, Gramps. I expected the lake house, the repairs, and the weird little secrets you left behind.
But sharing this place with Kane Saint and his kids?
Holy potato.

Don't laugh at his name.
There's nothing holy about a man this guarded and growly and scary fine.
He's at war with everything except his adorable munchkins.
It's a classic standoff the instant I let him stay after an awkward mix-up.

I go to work looking for my grandfather's final cryptic gift.
Saint Dadzilla goes to work on me.
A helping hand I never asked for.
The warmest laughs over breakfast feasts.
And when one stolen kiss claims my soul, I forget this is clinically insane.

I'm in shambles.
Every flaming night whispers promises we can't keep—especially when Gramps' legacy has teeth.
What happens if playing house with the wrong man feels like coming home?

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

1

MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME (MARGOT)

It’s a long drive up to the lake house from Portland.

Over three hours on the road where city comforts bow to marching mountains and tall forests as thick as my memories.

I make the entire trip with the windows down, though.

It’s fall, and the wind streaming through my hair gives me a sense of freedom I’ve been missing forever.

Why does this feel like a new beginning when it’s really just a working trip to assess the mess I’ve been handed?

Thanks, PopPop. You always did love to send me on scavenger hunts.

By the time I pull up the gravel driveway outside my grandfather’s secluded lake house, I think I’m ready.

I tell myself I’ve braced for the emotional sucker punch.

I’m sure I’m old enough to handle this like a grown-up and not a hurt little girl who still desperately misses the old man who held her entire universe together.

Ha, no.

This is the first time I’ve seen the place since Gramps died. Honestly, since my first year of college.

Half a lifetime ago, we’d head up here every summer as kids for deliciously lazy weeks lost among the country greenery and an infinite canopy of stars.

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve made the trek up the long, dark, winding path through the tall pines and vibrant maples.

The old house’s exterior certainly doesn’t match the memory in my head.

“Ouch,” I mutter, wincing at the worn blue paint.

The short steps leading up to the porch are a little overgrown along the sides. We’re talking weeds poking through the slats like they’re scheming to trip you.

The handrail looks like it’s a heartbeat away from falling over the second you grab it.

With a heavy sigh, I linger in the car, just taking it in for a second.

Dead, black windows stare back at me. The nostalgia trapped inside this place suddenly feels gloomy.

The old blue house has certainly seen better days.

So have I.

But at least it’s a warm, sunny day for September.

One of those breezy autumn kisses that likes to pretend it’s still summer. Cloudless blue sky, rolling breeze, gold splashed everywhere.

It makes this house feel picture-perfect even if it’s looking more rustic ruin on the outside.

Makes coming here feel a little less morbid, I guess.

In the will, PopPop left me the lake house and vast land around it. The only real estate with my name on it.

The rest of his sprawling empire went to my brother, Ethan, and that’s fine.

There’s still some big secret waiting in the wings for my little cousin, Cleo, too.

For me, it was a generous addition to my trust fund I didn’t really need, plus this property.

But now that I’m here, I’m more confused than ever.

Why did he leave me a place that probably needs a hundred fixes to shine again?

My hands grip the steering wheel, turning my knuckles bone-white. I release them, blowing out a long, slow breath.

Then I put on my game face and climb out of the car.

My arrival disturbs a few big crows on the porch. They erupt from their roost cackling, and a couple of them nearly take my head off in their rush to leave.

“Jeez!”

I almost drop my sunglasses as I throw up my hands. Before I can curse them, they’re gone, spiraling into the sky like a plume of black smoke.

Great. At least I’m alone if this place has gone to the birds.

I snort, shaking my head.

If Ethan saw me freaking out over a few bouncy crows, he’d never let me live it down.

Whatever. It’s expected.

Jitters.

That’s part of the journey when you come back to a childhood stomping ground that’s basically haunted. Memories can be just as scary as ghosts.

For all I know, a few real ghosts moved in while it’s been abandoned, barely checked by locals and Gramps’ old bodyguard, Holden.

With my luck, I’ll need to look for psychics along with contractors to make this place decent again.

I snatch the unopened letter off the passenger seat and pat the back pocket of my jeans to make sure I’ve got the keys before stepping through the tall weeds crowding the old stone walkway to the back of the house.

The rickety stairs are sturdier than they look. They only creak a little as I climb them.

It’s weird doing this alone without my dumb brother charging ahead of me, or my bestie, Hattie, by my side.

When we’d come here as kids, we’d always run in through the back.

“Front’s for guests. The back, that’s for family,” PopPop would always tell me with a wink.

Old habits die hard.

Same with people, and God, I miss him.

It’s been almost a year since he left this world, but every time I think about it, my heart aches bitterly.

My grandfather was more like a third parent to Ethan and me.

So much crap has come out about his life and his complicated relationship with my mom that I don’t even know how I should feel about coming here.

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Vows We Never Made Read Online Nicole Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/vows-we-never-made-read-online-nicole-snow Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:26:26 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/vows-we-never-made-read-online-nicole-snow Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)

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A sunshiney bookworm's life explodes when her best friend's atrocious brother proposes in this steamy and electrifying romance by Wall Street Journal Nicole Snow.

Big dreams come with bigger catches.
Mine came wrapped in a merciless suit—Ethan Blackthorn.
Billionaire tyrant. My bestie's older brother. Bane of my childhood and jackwagon of the century.

Now he's my flipping fiancé. All thanks to a brutal six-month marriage clause in his grandfather's will.

He promised me everything to play along.
An eye-popping payout.
The bookstore of my dreams.
Plus, a nice glittery Cinderella break from reality.
But that's not what steals my breath away.

He's taking this too seriously.
He's kissing me like it means something.
He's ready to declare war when other men dare look at me.

I don't understand. The conceited, incurable monster who used to make me cry now lives for my smiles and he's making this so hard.

Between his secrets and obsession, do I even stand a chance?
How do I forget the vows we never made if they start feeling sacred?

A deliciously sweet and stormy standalone romance with a heart-pounding fight to ever after. Irresistible tropes grumpy x sunshine, best friend's brother, marriage of convenience

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

1

ALL OR NOTHING (HATTIE)

If this was another day, it would be perfect weather for lunch.

On any other day, I’d eat up the clear blue sky, the hint of summer-fresh breeze, the chance to wear shorts and a tank top for the first time all year. I even shaved my legs for the occasion and picked out my cutest white shorts.

But today is so not the time to kick back and enjoy the good things in life.

I step out of the Uber and stretch my legs, rolling my shoulders as the sun streams down the cobblestone sidewalk.

Girls bounce by in airy sundresses and there’s a pop-up churro stand on the corner. The place must be killing it because who doesn’t love a churro on a sunny day in Portland?

My stomach growls.

I’m about to have my usual iced caramel macchiato and I don’t need the extra calorie bomb.

Still, on a day like this, where it’s so scenic the universe demands I enjoy something…

I cave and get a small pair of lovely chocolate-filled churros, gobbling one down before tucking the paper bag in my purse.

I’ll save the other for my bestie. Margot has a sweet tooth, and moral support is the reason I’m here.

Our usual meeting place is one of my favorites, an adorable café-bookstore called Book Club. Its old brick storefront with the forest-green paint and the smell of potent coffee and pages instantly makes me smile.

Like I said, any other time, this would be wonderful.

But on this day, I’m taking a deep breath and steeling my nerves as I step inside the cool building, pushing my sunglasses up over my eyes.

While I patiently wait for my order, I pull out my phone again, unable to stay away from the local news.

Leonidas Blackthorn’s death is everywhere.

I think half of Maine is in shock, like people forgot that one of our most wealthy and powerful men was actually mortal. He’s been a local fixture for decades, only second to the historic Head Light itself.

The old lighthouse will live on, of course, but I’m not sure how we’ll manage without the money he poured into the art scene here. That’s what has everybody freaking out the most in local groups.

Nobody loved Maine’s culture and natural beauty like he did, and everybody loved his generosity back.

Me, though?

The gaping hole in the art world isn’t why there’s a lump in my throat. I’m going to miss that man because I knew him.

Our families have been unlikely friends forever, since the day I was paired up with Margot at summer camp.

And while the online chatter writes him off as a charitable old grouch who kept to himself in his older years, I know better.

Old Leo could be hilarious.

His dad jokes were the worst, and he could clear the room with one well-placed grandpa pun.

More than anything, he was kind.

Sure, he was rich, but he never let his colossal fortune go to his head. Plus, he was always nice to everyone around me—whenever our families met up for Christmas or New Year’s, he was the life of the party.

When I’d hang out with Margot, I was family. He’d take whole days away from his business empire to spend time with us.

Big dinners on the beach with seafood alfredo and lobster bakes he’d whip up with his own hands and a little help from his crew of kids. I still don’t understand how his heavenly blueberry cheesecakes were real.

The memories are a gut punch but not unwelcome.

Sailing out on his gorgeous yacht to spot whales in the summer.

Story time in front of his huge roaring fireplace in a library too beautiful for life—he kept us spellbound, reading Greek mythology or sometimes just Tolkien or Narnia.

He made my crush on old books an obsession.

He’d feed me, tease me, and make me feel like I belonged.

He wasn’t perfect—who is?—but that man could make people laugh or break down in tears.

I can’t believe he’s gone.

Despite the pristine summer day, the world feels colder.

Every news article screams it, too, taking my disbelief and shoving it down my throat.

Real Estate Titan Leonidas Blackthorn Dead at 85 From Cancer.

Blackthorn Family Reeling over Sudden Loss of Patriarch Leonidas Blackthorn.

Seeing it written out makes me regret the churro, but I force myself to read until my eyes sting and my belly hurts.

I can’t go to pieces like the emotional little kitten I normally am.

When Margot gets here, I need to be strong.

I also need to be up to date on the news. I can work on coming to terms with it later.

Leonidas Blackthorn is dead!

But Margot has it rougher than I do, even if it’s been a few days. The family waited to make it public, but it still came without warning.

I mean, yes, we all knew he was old and he’d gotten kind of reclusive the last few years. But I had no clue he was sick—and I don’t think Margot did, either.

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Three Reckless Words – The Rory Brothers Read Online Nicole Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/three-reckless-words-the-rory-brothers-read-online-nicole-snow Mon, 10 Mar 2025 19:23:42 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/three-reckless-words-the-rory-brothers-read-online-nicole-snow Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)

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A runaway bride brings trouble and temptation to a stone-hearted single dad in this emotional and scorching hot romance by Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow.

Is there any coming back after you blow your own wedding to pieces?
I braced for the fallout when I left my emotionally unavailable groom.
I expected the tears, the family wrath, the drama galore.
I found the perfect little cabin to hideout and heal.
But I never planned for him.

Archer Rory makes my bridal breakdown look tame.
A gruff single dad with a genius son.
A billionaire control freak who only speaks common sense.
Also, the man who's now my landlord, my boss, and my protector.
Whew.

I think we were doomed the instant I agreed to help him with some very special bees.
Maybe it's the big daddy vibes he breathes or the way Mr. Heartless secretly cares.
I'm sure the hottest minute of my life when his lips stormed mine has nothing to do with it.
Oh, but every day we're drifting closer to those three reckless words.
And once they're out, will it be heaven or heartbreak?

A standalone grumpy x sunshine romance with high heat, heart, and so many laugh out loud moments. Come see the snarliest billionaire who swore off love try to resist his unexpected damsel in distress and try not to cheer.

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

1

OUCH! THAT STINGS (WINNIE)

When I was little, I was always told my wedding would be the best day of my life.

In my humble opinion, that’s a lot of hype for one day where everything must go right, and any error could spell disaster.

What if the groom gets hammered the night before in one last blowout of bachelor glory and can’t stand up the next day?

What if a bridesmaid twists her ankle?

God, what if there’s rain?

Or, what if the blushing bride hits her breaking point, gets cold feet, and goes flying from the venue like a fox on the run?

Yeah. That last catastrophe speaks to me.

That’s why I’m ripping down the highway in a car with streamers cascading from the back and JUST MARRIED soaped on the windows in white letters so thick I can barely see out the back windshield.

That’s why I’m trapped in shoes that pinch my feet and a corset that crushes my ribs.

That’s why I’m still wearing this prison dress.

Welcome to my life.

It sucks.

My hands hurt from clenching the steering wheel for dear life, and the A/C fights a losing battle against the sweat dripping down my face in the July heat. If I’m not careful, I’ll blow the thing out on its max setting if I don’t die from heat exhaustion first.

At this point, the only thing I’m craving is freedom from this godforsaken dress.

I would sell my soul to get out of this thing.

It’s tight, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s a savage reminder of the life I’ve just blown to pieces.

Also, the man I abandoned, basically at the altar.

Basically.

Oh, God.

I mean, it wasn’t technically at the altar in front of a big crowd with their mouths hanging open. I’m not that borked in the head.

I never made it down the aisle. I didn’t stop and stare at my fiancé like a deer trapped in the headlights. No one was knocked down in my great escape.

Small blessings.

Still, too bad I made it to the part where I was zipped up in this hell-dress and there was no chance of persuading anyone to take it off again before I scrammed.

Especially when every passing face I saw before I ditched was twisted in a What the hell do you think you’re doing, little missy? kind of way.

I wonder what Holden would—

Nope. Don’t think about him.

He’s probably livid. I just humiliated him in front of his entire social circle, but I doubt he’s wounded.

My fiancé—ex-fiancé?—cares just as much about me as I care about him.

You do the math.

It’s not a big number, barely in the low double digits on a scale of meh to soulmates.

I turn off the highway, taking a little road skirting a forest. Then I’m forced to slow down for a series of bends that make me glad this Chevy has decent suspension.

Otherwise, I’d probably be careening over the hill to my fiery doom, making this even more of a bloody red-letter day.

I don’t even get a chance to appreciate what being a race car driver feels like. This dress squeezes me with the force of every turn until I’m sure I’m about to crack a rib.

Then I see it.

The sign for the cabin, black with silver letters that spell out Solitude.

“Thank God,” I mutter.

The wood front with soaring windows looks new and shiny and modern, just like the pictures on their website. When I turn, the ample glass reflects my headlights back at me.

That’s glamping for you, I guess. All the bells and whistles of a pretty modern home with just enough trees around to let rich people think they’re communing with nature or whatever.

Right now, I don’t give a crap, just as long as the place has a cozy bed and a shower.

Oh, and scissors. I’ll use the jaws of life to pry this dress off if I have to.

I might also hunt down whoever decided to make wedding dresses a team effort.

They’re the only kind of dress you wear that’s not self-sufficient. They’re not supposed to be.

They invite icky crowds to help you put them on, and then they expect your long-suffering husband to fiddle with buttons or awkward zips or laces to eventually peel the sweaty, smelly thing off.

It's so not hot. Not sexy.

And it’s inconvenient as hell when you’re alone.

The tires crunch as I pull up outside the cabin and switch off the engine.

Blissful silence falls over everything.

It’s been a long-ass drive from Springfield, but I’m here.

Finally.

Just half an hour or so outside Kansas City. Saved by the first place I found beyond the city limits that had a vacancy on short notice.

My snort sounds slightly snotty as I struggle out of the car, my phone in one hand and my enormous getaway bag that was resting on the passenger seat in the other. I swiped the cutting cake too and threw it in the back.

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One Big Little Secret – The Rory Brothers Read Online Nicole Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/one-big-little-secret-the-rory-brothers-read-online-nicole-snow Thu, 21 Nov 2024 13:35:53 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/one-big-little-secret-the-rory-brothers-read-online-nicole-snow Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)

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One wild night and a surprise reunion sends a moody billionaire spinning into fatherhood in this heartwarming and steamy romance by Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow.

I guessed wrong.
A little reckless fun with a stranger never hurts.
A drunken one-night stand doesn't leave you pregnant.
A savage twist of fate won't make your baby daddy your new boss.
Bad luck can't last forever—unless you're me.

Should we count the ways I'm cooked with Patton Rory?
He rocks the grumpy gene, dialed up to eleven.
He's so handsome the mirror winks back and his bank account has its own zip code.
He's also totally oblivious—thank God.
I'm not sure what he'll be if he figures out the little boy who trashed his fancy building and ruined his favorite tie is his son.

Maybe I'm becoming a human knot, but I won't make the same mistake twice.
If he starts acting human and making my munchkin laugh, I'm not swooning.
If his forbidden kiss tastes like pure temptation, I'll eat mud.
If he makes my heart sing, I'm still clinging to my big little secret.
Even if it's growing so massive I can't separate love from the lie.

This standalone romance read serves up a sweet and spicy secret baby entanglement with heart-rippy feels. Witness the last man who ever thought he'd be a father wake up and go all-in for the wife and son he needs more than his next breath.

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

1

TAKING A GAMBLE (SALEM)

Six Years Ago

The water glimmers from the riverboat’s lights, spinning reflections into streaks of gold.

It’s pretty in a distant way, but with how I’m hanging over the side, I’m feeling lucky I haven’t fallen in.

The worn wooden railing feels warm under my arms on this balmy night and the water looks delightfully cool.

Oh, I’m tempted.

But a night of pure torture will make you consider the craziest ways to escape.

Of course, splunking down in the Missouri River would ruin my makeup and my best dress. Not good when Kayla Persephone, my so-called friend whose father rented the boat, spent at least twenty minutes bringing me oh-so-close to matching her rich-girl friends, so I’d feel a little bad.

I just wish I knew why she bothered inviting me.

I twist around, leaving the water to its shimmering silence, and face the rest of the riverboat scene.

The sunset stains the sky blood orange.

The music pounds away in the main cabin, so loud I’m pretty sure I’ll have Adele’s voice burned into my brain for life.

Kayla’s giddy little hamster friends talk and gamble. I see them through the windows, exploring the many rooms of this boat, throwing away play money I can’t even dream of.

To distract myself from the fact that I’m the only one here who isn’t a high-class daddy’s girl, I swipe a glass from a nearby waiter and turn back to the water. Against the backdrop of big money, the river looks more inviting by the second.

God, why are we still friends?

Sure, so back in ninth grade I shared my umbrella with Kayla once, saving her perfect makeup and designer outfit, but we’re adults now.

We’re total opposites socially and—well, every other way.

She left high school and went to Old Mizzou, partying it up like everyone else here. She had the time of her life husband hunting between chasing a degree in whatever her heart desired.

She’s glamorous and successful and beautiful.

And I’m—I’m me.

The girl who turned down debt and her parents’ pleas to go to a real university.

The clown who ditched the conventional college-first advice to work on my business plans back in Kansas City.

I take a long sip of my mimosa and try to savor it, but it just tastes like privilege.

I’ve had loads of businesses by now. Gobs of big ideas.

They’ve just never quite worked out.

The vending machines selling mints seemed like a winner, but I didn’t have the charm to win any amazing locations and the turnover sucked. Apparently, Kansas City isn’t too worried about bad breath.

My eco-friendly cleaning business would’ve been lucrative enough if the market wasn’t jam-packed. It’s amazing how many folks are willing to clean toilets for a living and brandish their green chemical-free credentials, even here in flyover country.

And in this town, good luck charging premium prices for dog walking when there are ten new doggy start-ups every month.

But it’s fine.

I’m fine.

My next big idea is out there, I just know it.

And maybe I’ll even have a chance at finding it if I can get off this casino riverboat with Kayla and her rich friends.

“Salem!” Kayla’s scream splits the air. Everyone turns to stare as she throws herself at me like an overdone kitten, her white-blonde hair curling around her ears. She’s gone for a Marilyn Monroe look tonight and I kinda hate that she’s nailed it.

Beside her, I look like I just clocked off a long night shift at the loser factory.

“Hey, Kay.” I summon a smile from the tips of my toes. “Having a good time? Are you winning anything in there?”

“Lady, we’re just getting started! But why aren’t you playing with us? And why aren’t you drunk yet?” She scoffs at my half glass of mimosa, jerking my arm until I follow her inside to the velvet interior and the longest bar ever.

A cute bartender glances at me for a second. He has a piercing in one ear and a dark tattoo curling up his forearm.

“Lemmy, loosen up! You could be having fun for once,” Kayla croons in my ear.

I try not to shudder.

“I didn’t want to go too crazy tonight. Long week ahead, y’know,” I start, but she’s already leaning over the bar, pushing her ample cleavage half out of her dress.

The cute bartender coughs and spills a big scoop of ice all over the floor, trying not to stare.

Presto boobo, I’m forgotten.

“Shots!” Kayla demands, banging her fists on the counter.

“Huh?” I look at her.

“Tequila. You’re slamming it with me. Right the fuck now.”

Wow. So this evening can get worse.

“…I dunno. I really do have an early morning and—”

“No, Lemmy. No. We have a double date with a top-shelf hottie made of glass and a lime and we’re not standing him up.” She leans back and laughs at her own joke. “You’re gonna have fun here, babe. I promise.”

Inside isn’t much better than outside.

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The Darkest Chase Read Online Nicole Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-darkest-chase-read-online-nicole-snow Thu, 22 Aug 2024 20:05:32 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-darkest-chase-read-online-nicole-snow Genre: Alpha Male, Suspense Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >137

Two complete opposites fall into a heart-ripping fairy tale in this scorching hot small-town grumpy sunshine romance by Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow.

Life is just full of crazy surprises with teeth.
One day you’re the forever single wallflower keeping up the boring family furniture shop.
The next, you’re getting mouth-to-mouth from a scary hot stranger who wants to make your life a thriller novel.
Yes, my disaster has a name.

Micah Ainsley.
Everything I’m not. Nothing remotely good for me.
He’s all wolf—moody, savage, and ferociously protective.
I’m a human puppy.
He thrives on secrets.
Everybody knows what I had for breakfast.
He’s experienced. So experienced.
I’ve never even been kissed.
But when he needs my help to take down a rich creep who just happens to be my new client, I’m game.
I’m ready to live a little.
I’m eager to prove I’m more than a hot mess with a cross-eyed crush on a coldhearted man who’s too old for me.

Then another surprise bites me in the face.
The night Micah claims me.
The moment our wrong becomes reality and there’s no going back.
The darkest chase is on and it only ends one way—sweet dreams or total devastation.

All the small-town sugar, spice, and angsty goodness in one epic slow-burn romance. Remember to breathe as you watch Redhaven’s coldest man thaw for the little spark he’ll fight like mad to keep.

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

1

IN THE DARK (TALIA)

Ithink I’ve been shut up in the workshop without ventilation for too long.

Varnish. Fumes. Lack of oxygen.

That sort of thing.

That’s the only reason why I could possibly be standing here in the open doorway of Grandpa’s shop, blinking at the bright sunlight filtering in, drenched in the smell of spring wildflowers and the warm scent of rising bread from the bakery two doors down.

All while a clean-cut, dark-haired man in a full three-piece uniform with a tailcoat and white kid gloves bows.

There’s a heavy vellum envelope in his hand with A Touch of Grey written across it, closed with a wax seal.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, staring at the envelope with our shop’s name on it. “You must have the wrong place.”

“No mistake, Miss Grey. I’ve been asked to request your grandfather’s company,” the man says. I guess he’s a butler or a valet or something. The way he talks is so formal, polite but stilted and intimidating. He straightens, still holding the envelope, waiting for me to take it. “This invitation provides the time and date.”

“But why?” I blurt out.

The man only looks at me mildly, waiting for me to take the envelope.

Yeah, I’m not getting any answers here.

This is just too weird.

And I have a funny feeling I know who’s behind this, considering the uniform and the fact that there’s only one family here in Redhaven who’d do something this dramatic. Any other rich client would send us an email or call.

But the Arrendells just have to make a big production out of everything.

Breathlessly, I take the envelope gently like it’ll grow teeth and bite me.

By now, I’m used to the Arrendells being the kind of weird only filthy rich people can be. They’ve been the backdrop of my town for my entire life and they’ve always given me the creeps.

Honestly, I’m not sure if I want anything to do with them.

It's not me they want, though.

He asked for my grandfather.

I turn that over as I break the seal. The smooth red wax crumbles against my fingertips, and there’s a hand-calligraphed invitation card addressed to Grandpa.

We formally and humbly request Mr. Gerald Grey for a consultation on a custom commission project. Please arrive at the manor tomorrow at precisely 8:00 a.m.

-L, M, and X Arrendell

L and M—Lucia and Montero Arrendell—the Lord and Lady of the house and also the town’s First and Second selectmen.

X… that must be Xavier.

The only son left in town after the ugly scandals that left two of his brothers dead recently. I’d say I can’t begin to imagine how it feels to lose family that way, but unfortunately, I can.

I glance over my shoulder, through the open door to the workshop. I can just hear the rhythmic sounds of Grandpa working the lathe.

I offer the valet a thin smile.

“Um, this seems less like an invitation and more like a demand.”

His lips twitch faintly. A hint of weariness, maybe?

“Please forgive the tone. The young master is rather accustomed to getting his way, yes. May I tell him he can expect Mr. Grey in the morning?”

“Well… let me talk to him first.” I flash my politest smile, though I feel like I’m putting on a mask. Especially when this guy keeps standing here like he’s waiting for me to go talk to Grandpa now and come back with an immediate answer. I take a step back, one hand on the shop door, my smile frozen in place. “We’ll be in touch. No need to wait around, dude.”

The valet looks like he might protest.

I almost feel bad for him.

Too bad.

If Xavier Arrendell is anything like the rest of his kin—and from the rumors, he’s the most short-tempered of them all—then he won’t like this minion coming home without an answer.

“Sorry to be so short. It’s just a busy day for us,” I say, hastily closing the door in his face before I bustle back into the rear of the shop.

God, I need a minute.

I’m not good with people or unexpected surprises.

And I really do need to talk to Grandpa before we can even think about accepting this invite to hell.

When I step into the workshop, my grandfather stops the lathe. He still uses the old manual kind with a foot pedal, and its whirring grinds to a halt, along with the bassinet leg he’s been shaping.

“Serena?” he asks. “Is that you? Would you mind bringing me a glass of water, please? All this sawdust is choking me somethin’ fierce.”

My heart sinks when he calls me that name.

So it’s a bad day.

He thinks I’m my mother again. He’s forgotten my parents have been gone for over twenty years, killed in a car wreck caused by a drunk when I was just a toddler.

At twenty-seven, I guess I do look a lot like my mother did when she died, though. Now I know I made the right choice, not letting the Arrendell valet see him.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >137

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Two Truths and a Marriage Read Online Nicole Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/two-truths-and-a-marriage-read-online-nicole-snow Sat, 30 Mar 2024 18:34:07 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/two-truths-and-a-marriage-read-online-nicole-snow Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >141

The grumpiest billionaire accidentally scores a sunshiny fake fiancee and pure chaos in this hilarious, sweet, and deliriously steamy romance by Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow.

I can still pinpoint the exact second when my life became two truths and a lie.
You don't forget delivering a mountain of fresh-baked sweets to a man like Dexter Rory.
I never wanted to see his scowling, bossy, brutally godlike face again, no matter how well he tipped.
If you told me I'd wind up wearing his ring, I would've died laughing.

But here I am, trying to cling to my sanity while I confront the undeniable.
Truth #1: I'm spiritually allergic to this man.
He's as grumpy as a storm, twice as unpredictable, and he thinks my life's work is the devil.
Truth #2: I need his money—it's the only Hail Mary I have to keep my family bakery alive.

That's why we're living a ginormous lie that can't last.
I mean, who would believe we're engaged when we can barely share the same oxygen?
But Dexter can be wickedly convincing when he needs a win.
And the way he kisses me dizzy right in front of my adoring grandmother...
Hello, butterflies.

What happens when the truth matters less by the day?
What happens when you start falling in love with a lie?

This standalone read brings heat, heart, and mammoth feels all the way to the happily ever after. Witness two opposites attract, collide, and go down fighting the beautiful truth called love.

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

1

SWEET RELIEF (JUNIPER)

There are days when I wish I was a college girl.

Not often, mind you. And not because I love the thought of having a gazillion dollars in debt on my shoulders, either. Because with the Sugar Bowl creaking along on its last legs, the very last thing we need is more debt.

But a few more math classes would sure as hell help my brain hurt less with these numbers.

“That can’t be right,” I spit.

I rub my eyes, squinting at the spreadsheet for the fifth time.

Nobody warned me that inheriting a business means spending more time hunched in front of a computer screen than actually working. My already pale skin practically glows white. I’m ninety percent sure the blue light from the screen is making my hair frizz.

Numbers.

Ugly money numbers.

Numbers with sharp teeth and a ferocious appetite for chewing up my dreams.

Yeah, things aren’t looking good.

I take a break from the nightmare on the screen and glance around. The back office looks about like it did in Nana’s time.

Same old tall metal filing cabinets propped up against the dusty wallpaper—probably less dusty when Nana ran the shop with an iron fist, of course—and the old faded photos hanging everywhere.

Same awards plastered to the wall. Newspapers and cards and bronze plaques proclaiming some version of best in Kansas City! for more years than I can count.

As I always do when I need a moment to get my wits, I stand up, push my chair back—ignoring that one squeaky wheel that cuts my ears—and pace the room, slowly taking in the wall of photos.

There’s Nana, young and bright, standing by the shop with her parents on its opening day in June, 1955. The date is recorded at the bottom of the photo, taken at a time when the world would shine in black and white with a certain charm no Instagram filter will ever match.

My gaze flicks to photos of the interior renovation in the late fifties. And again right around 1970. Before 2000, the Sugar Bowl had a stunning redesign every decade or two, and each one generated a flurry of news and happy, hungry customers pouring in for the grand reopening.

Unimaginable now.

I’m surrounded by an entire gallery of reasons to succeed, to keep going, to remember this bakery’s greatness. But I’m also buried in the fact that those fond memories and fabulous accolades come to a screeching halt in 2021—the year Nana stepped down.

Glaring evidence of my failure to take flight.

This is my family’s legacy, all wrapped up in a store that used to soar.

With me at the helm, it’s struggling to even crawl.

It’s enough to make my throat close up.

If I was the woe-is-me type, I’d have thrown in the towel a year ago. Instead, I put my hands on my hips and look around. My eyes stop on another photo, Nana and my mother when she was a little girl.

“You better not be watching, Mom,” I warn. “This isn’t my finest hour. I mean… neither was last year or the year before that. Come back in a few. The store will be hopping again or the sign will be swinging in the wind.”

I wince at another possibility—we’ll keep stumbling along, just like we have been since I took over the place, twenty-two and fresh-faced. Back when I still had a boyfriend and sky-high hopes for the future.

Better times.

Easier times.

I take one last melancholy look around at every sharp reminder of why I need to step it up—and why I suck—before turning back to my computer.

“Hunk of crap,” I whisper. The ancient thing was probably on the Titanic with its boxy monitor that’s big enough to fit Nana’s flower garden inside.

One day, it’ll give up the ghost, just like everything else here, but I don’t dare replace it.

Not when revenue looks so thin I’ll be lucky to buy an ink cartridge for the printer next quarter.

My chest swells as I sigh and melt into my chair.

The spring menu’s pushing new coffees and light pastries, but they’re lower ticket items for a fast-casual customer base.

Two weeks ago, the ovens randomly stopped firing and our accountant retired, meaning we had to shell out big bucks for a new guy with triple the fees.

Not to mention the payroll needed to run this place, cutting deeper and deeper into my skeletal profits.

My projected turnover, if these damn numbers are to be trusted, looks like—

Well, let’s just say it’s litterbox territory.

Instead of pressing my face into my hands and screaming until my throat rips—totally reasonable under the circumstances—I lean forward until my forehead thunks against the screen.

The very hot screen.

Which almost certainly shouldn’t be hot enough to slow cook an egg.

“Oh, no. Oh, shit,” I hiss, shoving back and almost knocking the giant machine off the creaking desk.

That’s when Emmy pokes her head in. Perfect timing. “Hey, Junie!” she says, tucking her static curls back with one hand. “There’s a guy waiting at the register.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >141

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The Sweetest Obsession – Dark Hearts of Redhaven Read Online Nicole Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-sweetest-obsession-dark-hearts-of-redhaven-read-online-nicole-snow Mon, 01 Jan 2024 09:40:39 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-sweetest-obsession-dark-hearts-of-redhaven-read-online-nicole-snow Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >137

Falling for the best thing that never happened brings sweet mayhem in this steamy, gripping, and heartfelt small-town grumpy-sunshine standalone romance by Wall Street Journal bestseller Nicole Snow.My brother's best friend owned my heart until the day he drenched it in kerosene and burned it down.Grant flipping Faircross is so not the reason I'm coming home.I don't care if he's gotten bigger, meaner, and grumpy enough to flash freeze the sun.So what if he's up in my business the second I arrive?I'm smarter now.I'm only back in Redhaven for my sick mother and to talk some sense into my sister before she marries a toad.Grant ran me off once and I'm not running back.I can handle the drama, the messy secrets, and an unexpected stalker just fine....or maybe not so fine.When Prince Anti-Charming charges in to protect me, it's kinda hard to say no.When I find out he's a single dad with a heart bigger than a prune, it gets harder.And when his lips storm mine with a growl that says “stay,” oh God.Are we really doing this again?Especially when an old tragedy resurfaces with hard truths, stinging tears, and one brutal question.Will our sweetest obsession finally deliver us or destroy us forever?The perfect blend of small-town romance, furious spice, and jaw-dropping thrills that will keep you guessing. Batten down your heart as a stone-hearted giant wakes up and fights to keep the girl who got away—if she'll ever admit she wants to be chased.

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

1

ONE LIFE (GRANT)

Well, damn.

That’s definitely a dead body.

I tilt my head back, looking up at the pair of heeled loafers twisting slowly over the grand ballroom of the Arrendell mansion.

We’re standing on the upper walkway looking down over the massive checkered floor. I’m so far away that the dead woman still looks tiny, dangling from the central chandelier.

Her own weight makes the whole thing sway gently with a morbid chiming of glimmering ornaments.

I cock my head to the left and right, frowning up at the body.

Next to me, Junior Sergeant Micah Ainsley huffs, cocking his head to the right, his pale-blue eyes pensive.

“Don’t know how else to call it, Captain Faircross,” he says. “It’s a textbook suicide. Pretty clear-cut.”

I grunt in numb agreement.

Not much way it can be anything else, of course, but I can’t help scrutinizing the scene anyway, considering where we are.

Call it a cop’s overdeveloped instincts for detail, but I need to be sure, dammit.

Because right now, looking at this woman dangling some fifty feet off the ground, hanging there by a trailing velvet red curtain drawn into a noose, I’m not fucking feeling it.

Oh, I am feeling lots of other things.

I don’t know.

Maybe it’s because it happened in this house, but even if it hadn’t, I’d still get a damned funny feeling about this whole mess.

The woman looks like she was in her late forties or early fifties, her dark-brown hair just starting to grey. She’s short, a little thick. Her body hangs slack inside the severe plain blue-and-white pinstriped uniform dress that’s typical for the mansion staff.

The women gathered below, nearly breaking their necks as they stare up at the scene, are wearing the same thing.

Same apron. Same thick beige stockings. Same low-heeled leather loafers.

Even the same hairstyle with their hair pulled back into tight, no-nonsense buns.

The deceased has a round, square-set face with deep laugh lines despite the puffiness already starting to set in.

There’s a terrible purple bruise around her neck, just visible past the twist of garishly red velvet.

Despite the plainness of her outfit, her nails are painted a vivid scarlet.

I scan the room again.

The walls all around the grand ballroom are draped with floor-to-ceiling velvet tapestry that sheet past the walkway where I’m standing, evenly spaced at broad intervals. They pour down like runners of blood to the ballroom floor below.

There’s one conspicuously absent on a diagonal from where Micah and I stand, just around the corner of the square walkway.

It’s easy to see what happened.

She stood at the railing of the walkway and pulled the drape loose from its overhead fixtures, then dragged the full length of it up. Must’ve done it in the dead of night—considering it’s about six in the morning right now, and her appearance tells me she’s been dead for three to five hours.

She could’ve tied one end of the drape around the upper walkway railing, then knotted the other end to weight it.

I don’t want to think how many tries it took her to toss the end until it caught just right on the chandelier and let the rest swing back to her.

From that point on, it would’ve been easy.

Undo the knot.

Tie the end into a noose.

Jump.

Leaving her life behind with a damning question.

Why?

According to the Lord and Lady of the house, one of the younger girls on the live-in housekeeping staff woke up early to get started on her chores. She came into the ballroom, saw the woman hanging, and screamed—sending the entire house scrambling to call into town.

To the Redhaven PD, namely.

To me.

“Oh, my, this is dreadful,” Lucia Arrendell hisses at my other side, wringing her thin hands.

Her aristocratic face twists, a caricature of dramatic distress. Even this early in the morning, she’s in a deep wine silk robe with perfect makeup, her white-streaked icy-blonde bob so stiff it barely moves with all her fluttering.

I just stare at her as she sniffs loudly.

“To think, the poor dear was so unhappy that she’d turn to this. God. But we always include mental health coverage as part of our employee insurance policy. I don’t understand, I just wish—”

“Quiet,” I mutter. “I’m trying to think.”

The air goes cold.

Well, colder.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Lucia Arrendell never heard those words in her pampered life. Definitely not from the offended gasp she gives back, but before she can do more than open her red-painted mouth, her husband—standing at her back in a burgundy velvet smoking jacket and black silk pajama pants—silences her with a hand against the small of her back.

“Now, now, dear,” Montero Arrendell drawls in his exaggerated Clark Gable accent. “I know you’re distressed, but do let the detectives focus on their work, yes?”

He meets my eyes over the top of his wife’s head like he’s doing me a big fucking favor.

No matter how conciliatory and smooth he sounds, I see what’s behind those impenetrable green eyes.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >137

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One Bossy Disaster Read Online Nicole Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/one-bossy-disaster-read-online-nicole-snow Sat, 23 Sep 2023 20:10:52 +0000 https://www.booksnovels.com/one-bossy-disaster-read-online-nicole-snow Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >144

A wild twist of fate throws together two total opposites in this steamy and hysterical grumpy sunshine romance from Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow.

Trust me, I'm not falling for a human porcupine.
I don't do older men with baggage a mile long.
Billionaires? Nope, I'm Miss Independence, thank you very much.
And when a man with the emotional intelligence of a cucumber decides to boss me around?
Hoo boy.

Shepherd Foster and I are utterly incompatible.
He still can't get over the day we met when I questioned Mr. High and Mighty's judgment.
He's also holding the key—and the moolah—to my animal rescue dreams.
I'm only putting up with this torture for the cute otters, I swear.

And we're only camping together so I can prove him deliciously wrong.
My ideas will outshine Seattle's grumpiest egomaniac.
If only Shepherd's scowls and barbed words weren't attached to a body crafted for sin.
I still don't know how it happened.

Don't ask me why I let his cruel mouth kiss me into a smoldering wreck.
Don't remind me that messy nights in Eden with my boss carry a brutal price.
I'm worried I'm feeling... things for a man I desperately need to keep hating.
Because there's one way this ends if Shepherd damn Foster gets his hooks in my heart.
Disaster.

An enemies-to-lovers epic standalone! Huge heart, slow-burn steam, banter galore, plus a damaged grump who falls hilariously hard for the otter-loving brant who blows his life to kingdom come.

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

Trust me, I'm not falling for a human porcupine.

I don't do older men with baggage a mile long.

Billionaires? Nope, I'm Miss Independence, thank you very much.

And when a man with the emotional intelligence of a cucumber decides to boss me around?

Hoo boy.

Shepherd Foster and I are utterly incompatible.

He still can't get over the day we met when I questioned Mr. High and Mighty's judgment.

He's also holding the key—and the moolah—to my animal rescue dreams.

I'm only putting up with this torture for the cute otters, I swear.

And we're only camping together so I can prove him deliciously wrong.

My ideas will outshine Seattle's grumpiest egomaniac.

If only Shepherd's scowls and barbed words weren't attached to a body crafted for sin.

I still don't know how it happened.

Don't ask me why I let his cruel mouth kiss me into a smoldering wreck.

Don't remind me that messy nights in Eden with my boss carry a brutal price.

I'm worried I'm feeling... things for a man I desperately need to keep hating.

Because there's one way this ends if Shepherd damn Foster gets his hooks in my heart.

Disaster.

1

A Little Misunderstanding (Shepherd)

Some people just don’t know how to keep things simple.

I lean back with a scowl that’s melting my face, the executive leather chair creaking under me as I watch the latest sludge interview on my tablet.

My blood pressure is already surging to levels that will make my doctor yell at me.

Some people do not know how to keep things fucking simple.

We were business associates. Professionals.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Vanessa Dumas promised me from day one of this stupid arrangement that she was unfussy. Uncomplicated. Oh so easy to work with.

She was, to the best of my knowledge, a smart woman with an eye for strategy who understood our mutual potential to lend each other a hand.

Yeah.

Everything I thought I knew was dead wrong.

She doesn’t know the meaning of the word professional.

On the screen, it’s the typical gaudy crap. The interview room is plush with a red sofa and white walls and a hostess with a giddy smile like she’s just walked onto the set after three shots of vodka.

The blonde hostess—Martha Rubina—is clearly doing her damnedest to prevent age from stampeding all over her face with plumped lips and an artificially tight forehead.

Opposite her, Vanessa has made a special effort for this spectacle. Curling her hair, wearing too much stoplight-red lipstick.

She licks her lips as her gaze flicks at the camera and then away nervously.

Fake nervously.

“So, can you tell us how it all started with Shepherd Foster?” Martha asks, leaning forward like Vanessa’s answer is the most interesting thing since Al Gore invented the internet.

It’ll be a lie, of course.

I’ve read the headlines.

Not that good old Martha will mind.

She wants a story, viral links, and water cooler talk for the next week, and Vanessa knows how to deliver.

“Oh,” Vanessa says breathily. A voice she never bothered using with me when she knew that airy, giggly shit wasn’t my thing.

Hell, she knew she wasn’t my thing.

Our 'relationship' was a casual forgery from day one—I made that clear from the outset.

I needed a plus-one to shut up the press and fend off swarms of real single women.

She needed a lifeline with my connections, and the networking at the various events I’m obliged to attend were perfect. Preferably without a thousand nasty rumors swirling in my wake.

I thought I had a woman on my arm who would dissuade the real gold diggers and shit-rakers from the tabloids, and she had her chance to send her career into the stratosphere.

Win-win—or so I thought.

I even covered all the damn expenses. Couture designer gowns, ego slaying shoes, glittery handbags big enough to swallow an elephant, the works.

The entire steaming enchilada.

No, she wasn’t getting me, but I was never on the table. Dating is the last fucking thing on my list of experiences, right next to eating fried wombat and a nice bout of hantavirus.

When I laid my cards out, I made that perfectly clear.

Vanessa knew precisely what she was getting into. With me, it’s always strictly business.

Absolutely no romance.

I have a reputation for not getting involved, and I gave her zero indication it would be different with her pretty smile.

I knew better. I’m too smart to fall into the fake-love-turned-real trap that claims so many other billionaires in this town.

When I needed a fake girlfriend, I intended to keep her fake and at a safe distance.

But I watch the way she smiles so innocently, my lip curling with disgust.

How did I miss it?

For all the arranging and agreeing we’d done, I never saw it coming.

I never once imagined she’d ambush me in the back of my limo.

She was the one who threw her leg over my lap and thrust her tits in my face like Thanksgiving dinner.

The memory makes my teeth grind.

We’d been at a movie premiere—some indie flick gone big—and the only reason I was there at all was because the producer, Dane Jacobs, also headed Homes for Seattle, one of the charities my company supports.

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The Broken Protector Read Online Nicole Snow http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-broken-protector-read-online-nicole-snow Sat, 24 Jun 2023 21:48:06 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-broken-protector-read-online-nicole-snow Genre: Alpha Male Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >138

Starting over isn't easy when an unexpected hero crashes her plans in this steamy and gripping new small-town enemies-to-lovers romance by Wall Street Journal bestselling author Nicole Snow.

My fresh start turned into a dumpster fire.
Awesome new job. Small town heaven. Friendly faces galore.
Then I strolled into my new home and found the unspeakable.
Just when I'm sure it can't get worse, I'm “rescued” by a man who makes me see red for miles.

Enter Lucas Graves.
A bossy grump with a badge who's sworn to keep me safe.
He rocks the scary-hot vibe, he reads too much, and he never misses a chance to give me crap for being a nerdy little cactus who mouths back.
Not the type of man I'd go for in my right mind.
Definitely not the type I should keep trading bruising kisses with.

Redhaven, North Carolina has driven me insane.
Why else does my heart race when Lucas gets jealous and overprotective?
How could I think he'll ever share more than another reckless night?
He guards his own battered heart as fiercely as he watches over me.

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

1

Lady In Red (Delilah)

No one ever totally captures the stillness of a desolate highway leading far, far away from the only city you know.

Oh, they might try.

They’ll tell you about the streaming cars slowing to a trickle, and then to crawling ants scattered few and far between.

They’ll tell you about the wide-open sky, the way the yellow dotted line on the road runs together into a single liquid stream.

They’ll tell you about the forests, the grass, the countless fences drifting by.

And they’ll always mention the silence. Nothing but your tires grinding on tarry asphalt and the occasional bump when you veer too close to the shoulder.

What they won’t tell you, though?

What it feels like to be alone for the first time in your life.

What the stillness is when you can’t hear anyone else.

No slamming doors.

No whistles from the street below.

No phones blaring down the narrow halls of an apartment building full of disjointed lives crammed together, each one insulated in its own little bubble of humming refrigerators and televisions and notifications.

There’s just nothing.

Nothing but quiet stretching on for so long, so deep, that you start to hear your own pulse.

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever known.

Somehow, it feels like a shower, rinsing off the dirt of big-city life and making me ready to step into a whole new chapter of me.

I’m not sure if that’s what’s waiting in North Carolina.

I couldn’t even tell you what really made me take a job in a tiny town I’ve never heard of, close enough to Raleigh to get decent internet but too far to make a day drive to the beach worth the commute.

When I responded to the postage-stamp-sized ad in my neighborhood circular for a K-4 teacher, I wasn’t actually expecting to get the job.

I have the degrees, but not much experience beyond a few supervised part-time and substitute teaching gigs in inner-city schools.

Something like this—a full-time position with room and board covered—would be a pipe dream back in New York.

Sure, I worked my ass off.

Perfect grades. Awards. Extracurriculars. Internships.

So maybe I was the most qualified candidate willing to move to a town that’s barely a dot on the map and probably doesn’t have a single Uber.

But maybe, just maybe, no one else could stand the thought of living in this much stillness.

Me? I could ride like this forever.

Just me and my ratty old Kia Sportage with everything I own piled in the back, cruising into an endless red sunset.

It’s barely late afternoon, the light brassy and thick, by the time Google Maps chirps and tells me to take the next exit.

There’s not a single building around. No gas stations, no rest stops, just low, sloping hills and walls of pines and poplars turning the off-ramp highways into corridors.

Not a single car in front of me or behind me for miles.

I might as well be the last woman on Earth.

My GPS leads me on through a spiderweb of old backwoods highways and spangled shadows.

As I crest the top of a hill, the robotic voice on my phone announces, “Now arriving in Redhaven, North Carolina.”

Then I look down at the view below.

Wow.

I actually feel like I’ve arrived.

Redhaven is a triple dose of that peaceful stillness I’ve felt ever since I crossed the New York state line.

The green slopes cup the town in their palm, nestled like this little secret in the forest.

Colonial architecture, rustic buildings centered around a paved town square pinned in place by a bronze statue of a man on a horse with his sword held high.

Streets ribboning out from the town center, narrowing as they curl into residential areas with the kind of cozy, deceptively simple homes people will pay a fortune to retire in.

On the far edge of town, there’s even a glimmering green lake with little piers on one side and thick shadowed woods on the other.

It’s warm and welcoming.

Everything except the one bright place that shines like a cathedral, dominating the forest around it with golden reflections spinning off its coppery roof.

It’s less a house on a hill and more like some fairy-tale castle, all towering baroque architecture and weathered stone spires. Completely out of place in this sweet little place of wooden shutters and shingled roofs and open porches.

I tense up just looking at it.

A strange undercurrent warms the muggy late August heat until the air turns stifling.

The house crouches there like this grand gargoyle, standing watch over the town, reflecting the daylight from massive windows.

It almost feels like it’s accusing me.

Why are you here? What are you running from?

I swallow thickly.

I don’t know.

Maybe nothing.

Maybe just from me.

…or maybe from the creepy ex-boyfriend who thought I couldn’t see him parked outside my apartment building, watching my every move for weeks on end.

Yeah.

That, I’m thrilled to get away from.

I have the worst taste in men.

But I tear myself away from the austere house and press on, carefully working the brakes on the slope downward.

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