T.M. Frazier – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

T.M. Frazier – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Wed, 03 Aug 2022 06:42:33 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png T.M. Frazier – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 A Kiss For You Read Online Rachel Van Dyken, Staci Hart, T.M. Frazier, K.A. Linde http://www.ilovenovels.com/a-kiss-for-you-read-online-rachel-van-dyken-staci-hart-t-m-frazier-k-a-linde Sat, 23 Jan 2021 20:31:28 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/a-kiss-for-you-read-online-rachel-van-dyken-staci-hart-t-m-frazier-k-a-linde Genre: Contemporary, Romance Authors: K.A. Linde, Rachel Van Dyken, T.M. Frazier Advertisement

Total pages in book: 436
Estimated words: 415303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 2077(@200wpm)___ 1661(@250wpm)___ 1384(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >436

Read Online Books/Novels:	A Kiss For You
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Rachel Van Dyken, Staci Hart, T.M. Frazier, K.A. Linde
Language:	English
Book Information:
See all the Top Shelf Romance Collections HERE. It’s more than a kiss. More than a touch. More than a book. ⁣A Kiss for You is a collection of four romances, you’ll be glad you devoured. Over 800 pages and 3 standalone novels and a best selling duet that readers can’t stop talking about.⁣ ⁣The four best-selling novels included are:⁣ ⁣The Dark Ones by Rachel Van Dyken Bad Penny by Staci Hart King by T.M. Frazier The Wright Brother by K.A Linde ***Top Shelf Romance represents the best of the best in romance. There are no cliffhangers. These are simply must-read novels for readers looking for the best in happily ever afters.
Books by Author:	Rachel Van Dyken, Staci Hart, T.M. Frazier, K.A. Linde

The Dark Ones

By Rachel Van Dyken

Genesis

I was never one to be accused of being patient. Then again, I'd never understood the need for patience. To me, patience meant that I was either in the process of getting lectured or about to get lectured. I chewed the edge of my thumbnail and waited in the darkness.

"Ugly." My mother shook her head in my direction. "Remember that… you will always be ugly to them."

Them.

The very word dripped with hatred. You'd think after centuries of working together, we'd have found a happy medium. My mother had her own reasons for hating them, and up until this point, I'd had exactly none.

I'd spent my entire existence balancing my normal school life with my folklore studies, something I'd always hated but it had been necessary, just in case my number was called.

My entire family had a bad reputation for going against the rules, against the calling that had been given them, so I'd never been really concerned about being called in.

Until now.

I'd been eating soggy cereal, staring into the Corn Chex, when my mother's scream erupted through the house, followed by her passing out and my dad needing to call the paramedics.

Her heart had stopped. Literally. Stopped.

All because of a phone call.

Naturally, my parents had lied and said she'd been having chest pain, but I knew the truth.

It was fear.

Fear had stopped her heart, almost resulting in her death.

And fear was about to stop mine.

"Stop," Mother hissed at my side. "Do you want them to think you're a barbarian?"

To them? I already was, so I didn't really see the point in pretending to be anything else. To those individuals, I would always be the dirt beneath their feet, the little plaything they had to put up with.

I knew their history.

Probably better than most of them.

I'd been studying them for most of my life, pouring over books and research with constant dread that, one day, my number would be called, and my life would be played out for me in absolute horror.

Humans were like little insects that they allowed to survive only because it was necessary for their own survival. We die. They die. Therefore, we live.

The darkness lifted for a few brief minutes as the door creaked open.

"Genesis?" a seductive male voice spoke into the darkness. "They will see you now."

My mom, with her long dark hair and bright green eyes, gave me one more look and shook her head. "Remember, you are nothing, you are ugly, you are humble, you are stupid, you aren't brave, you are nothing. You. Are. Nothing."

I nodded and repeated the mantra in my head.

The same one she'd pounded into my skull since my birth. She'd had her reasons, not that it made hearing those words any easier. Several times during my upbringing, I'd locked myself in my room and just stared at myself in the mirror. I'd focused on each feature and wondered what was so horrible about my eyes, my lips, my face — even my cheeks — that I had to repeat those ugly words until I was blue in the face.

The one time I'd asked her, she'd snorted and said something about our bloodlines being wicked and selfish, and how the females in our family were not known for our humility.

Basically, my own mother believed that if my number was called…

I would be killed.

My sarcastic nature didn't help things, and if my number was called, I figured it would get my tongue cut out.

And even though it was 2015, and I thought we'd come a long way with equality and human rights…

I was still nothing. In their eyes I was both nothing and everything, all wrapped up into one.

Human.

Special.

But unable to grasp my own uniqueness because of my imperfect creation.

"Nothing," I chanted under my breath. "I am nothing."

My black, over-the-knee boots clicked against the concrete as I made my way toward the light, the only light in the room, peeking out from the grand doorway.

I'd chosen to wear black leggings with a wraparound cream sweater, hoping that if I covered enough of myself, it would look humble, but not so humble that I didn't at least try to look nice for my meeting.

I'd never been the most secure girl in the world. Then again, how could I have confidence when every day of my life my mom had repeated that same mantra in my head? "You are nothing."

I sensed a sudden presence at my back. A hand, I realized. The contact made me gasp. A slight warm tingle ran through and somehow down my neck.

"Sorry," a man said to my right. I couldn't see him yet, but his voice sounded like a soothing melody, causing me to almost sway on my feet. "I forget how fragile humans can be."

I nodded. "It's okay."

"This way." The pressure from his hand wasn't necessarily painful, but it wasn't pleasant either, almost like an electric current was passing from his body into mine. I'd heard that it was nearly impossible to turn off certain powers — it would be like me trying to tell my heart to stop beating.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >436

Advertisement
King of the Causeway Read online T.M. Frazier (King #9.5) http://www.ilovenovels.com/king-of-the-causeway-read-online-t-m-frazier Thu, 29 Nov 2018 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/king-of-the-causeway-read-online-t-m-frazier Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Biker, Dark, MC, Romance Authors: T.M. Frazier Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >29

Read Online Books/Novels:	King of the Causeway (King #9.5)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	T.M. Frazier
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B07XPHFT53
Book Information:
A massive hurricane looms off the coast of Florida while a different kind of storm is brewing in Logan’s beach. A mysterious newcomer is vying for the title of King of the Causeway. He’ll do anything to steal the crown, including bringing someone back from King’s past who will threaten a lot more than the title King has spent his lifetime earning. A hurricane is coming. And it could destroy everything. (This novella features King & Ray from King & Tyrant)
Books in Series:	King Series by T.M. Frazier
Books by Author:	T.M. Frazier books

Intro-fucking-duction

Preppy

Guess who? I’ll give you a hinty-hint. I’m as handsome as a supermodel, and as devilish as, well, the devil. I get a hard-on for both pussy and pancakes. I like my blow with a side of blow, and my man meat is enormous.

That’s right! It’s me, Samuel Motherfucking Clearwater.

If you’re wondering how I’m able to do this introduction, then you need to read Bear’s story ‘cause the end will blow your mind! Then, read my story, you know, because it’s about me. I tell you what. If you read it, I’ll make you pancakes. Dirty, dirty, delicious pancakes. I’ll stand over you and pour that syrup right into your sweaty hot…you get the point.

But, I motherfucking digress.

Basically, I’m here because I’m fucking alive. Like Stefano from Days of Our Lives, (Don’t pretend like you’ve never seen it). I just keep coming back for more.

There, you’re all caught up on me. Onward and upward, motherfuckers.

I’m going to need you to sit back, hold onto your nipples, and get ready for the continuation of Boss-Man and Doe’s story. Or King and Pup. Or Brantley and Ramie. Shit, between the two of them, they’ve got like a million names, but it doesn’t matter which one you call them, the story is still about the same two people, who just happen to be my family as well as my two best friends.

Important note: Don’t tell Bear I said that. That motherfucker will get his titties in a jealous twist if he knew he wasn’t my number one man. I mean, sure he plays hard to get, but the shirtless wonder has a soft spot for ole Preppy, and we don’t want to go hurting all his big burly man feelings before we even get into the story, right?

RIGHT?

So, relax. Take a bubble bath. Put on some nice calming music like some Offspring or old school Limp Bizkit. Maybe, pour yourself a glass of wine or a light fat joint. A bucket of blow is always a fun option.

Now, for a little recappy cap. *Clears throat*

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, but centrally located in Southwest Florida, was a little awesome, yet shitty town called Logan’s Beach. There, long, long ago, two people fell madly in love very much the way most couples do.

It’s a tale as old as time. You know, girl with no memory offers herself to boy as a hooker hoping for safety. Boy rejects girl, then kidnaps girl. Then, girl runs away; then boy decides to keep girl. Boy and girl fall in love and have dirty sex and get tattoos. Somewhere in there is a carnival and an incorrect statement about penguins being the only flightless bird. Coolest person in the fucking world dies. Boy offers girl back to her father in exchange for boy’s daughter. Girl thinks boy is dead. Girl marries a fucking prick in order to adopt boy’s daughter. Boy is actually alive. Girl regains memory and realizes the prick is a super prick. Prick dies violently and much deservedly. Boy and girl get two kids for the price of one in an epic family BOGO.

And they lived happily ever after. The end.

Until now.

Dum dum duuuummmmmmm!

Imma go make me a delicious sammich. Catch you on the flip side.

Enjoy, kids.

Chapter 1

Ray

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Three huge speakers, stacked one atop the other, vibrate and pulse as the music forces itself through them. Deep, bass notes beat against my chest, penetrating my rib cage. My already pounding heart sputters. I cough and wheeze, pulling in a shaky breath. I place my palm over my breast as if it could somehow calm my heart through the layers of clothes, skin, blood, muscle, and bone.

A sheen of sweat breaks out on my heated skin, but inside, I’m ice. Maybe, it’s a foreboding. A warning not to take another step.

But I’ve been through this already.

I don’t have a choice.

I choke down my unease with a dry swallow. Each step I take down the narrow hall through the sea of closed-eyed dancers gyrating against one another moves me closer toward the hell I’ve created for myself.

For her.

I’m so sorry, but I don’t see any other way, I silently apologize to the girl I don’t know. The one I was before I lost my memory. The one who took up residence in my body before I woke up on a bench with nothing and became friends with a hooker I don’t even like.

I don’t dislike Nikki because she’s a hooker, but because she’s a bitch.

Through the eerie drug-induced movements of the bodies surrounding me and between the flashes of pulsating light, I manage to keep my eyes trained on the goal.

The door at the end of the hall.

The door to my salvation.

The door to my— a sense of deja-vu breaks my focus.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >29

Advertisement
Nine The Tale of Kevin Clearwater Read online T.M. Frazier (King #9) http://www.ilovenovels.com/nine-the-tale-of-kevin-clearwater-9-read-online-t-m-frazier Mon, 09 Apr 2018 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/nine-the-tale-of-kevin-clearwater-9-read-online-t-m-frazier Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, New Adult, Romance Authors: T.M. Frazier Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >94

Read Online Books/Novels:	Nine The Tale of Kevin Clearwater (King #9)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	T.M. Frazier
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B07QF591NC
Book Information:
Stalking is such sweet sorrow... Nine lives. Nine inches. One chance to make her his. Preppy's brother is about to live up to the family legacy in more ways than one. This is the story of Nine, The Tale of Kevin Clearwater. Nine can be read as a complete standalone.
Books in Series:	King Series by T.M. Frazier
Books by Author:	T.M. Frazier Books

“The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls.”

Edgar Allan Poe

Prologue

Time has no master.

It’s elusive, yet as real as greed.

It presses on when you need it to stand still and comes to a halt just as you’ve hit full speed.

No matter how fat your wallet is, you can’t buy more time. It won’t be bargained for or reasoned with.

Willing it to stop or fast-forward is of no use.

All-powerful. Godlike. Time does not require your love or devotion. It commands only respect, sans fanfare and misguided faith.

Time is the one thing we all have in common. Its roots are planted deep within everything. A constant reminder that although it is infinite…it isn’t for us.

Our breaths are limited.

Our days are numbered.

Save yourself…before time runs out.

Tick motherfucking tock.

Chapter One

KEVIN

Seventeen Years Old

Serial killer and mass murderer, Andrew Kehoe, once said, “Criminals are made, not born.”

Maybe, that was true for him, but it’s not for me.

I was born into chaos, with theft in my blood and rage boiling in my heart. Pushed out unceremoniously into the world, unwanted by everyone I crossed paths with, including my own piece of shit mother.

I’ve had to fight for anything I’ve ever had. Earn it by way of scars on my knuckles and hate in my soul.

My only family has been the streets. My only long-term home has been juvie.

A month ago, I was released from the latter of the two. Now, I find myself in one of the places I hate most, but the only place I could legally be released to according to the powers that be.

Yet another foster home.

My personal purgatory until I turn eighteen or get locked up again, whichever comes first.

I open the envelope given to me by my caseworker, Mrs. Peterson, at our most recent follow up meeting. Usually these transfer packages come with the standard stuff, copies of legal forms, release papers, wrap sheets, and is usually accompanied by a pamphlet Mrs. Peterson likes to toss in there about how to manage anger without violence. That particular literary treasure is my personal favorite. It features a diverse group of smiling children plastered on the front who look like they not only drank the Kool-Aid, but bathed in it twice.

Of course, those kids don’t use violence to deal with their anger. They’re heavily medicated—preparing for a suicide trip to Mars with their cult leader.

But this package isn’t like any of the others I’ve received. No pamphlets. No transfer papers. It’s a letter from my case worker.

* * *

Dear Kevin,

Since you’re aging out of state care soon and I know you don’t have any plans as to where you’re going after you turn eighteen, I wanted to help in any way I could. I did some digging. I think I found your brother. His name is Samuel Clearwater. His last known address is in Logan’s Beach.

Good luck, Kevin. I truly wish you all the best. You’re a very bright kid. I hope you use some of that intelligence to find your place in this world.

-Mrs. Peterson.

* * *

My place in the world? I’m pretty sure that’s the tagline from one of those infamous pamphlets.

Mrs. Peterson has got to be losing it because I don’t have a brother.

I don’t have anyone.

I tuck the letter back into the envelope and pull out a picture, which turns out to be a mugshot of a guy who looks a lot like me but with lighter hair and a shit-ton of tattoos peeking out from underneath the collar of his dress shirt. My heart begins to race. I sit up and look closer at the picture. He’s wearing a bow tie and a matching pair of suspenders. His head is cocked to the side, and he’s making duck lips at the camera while holding a sign that reads LOGAN’S BEACH SHERIFF’S OFFICE INMATE with a date from two years ago listed below it. I look closer and realize that he’s holding the sign with only his two middle fingers.

I wonder if the sheriff’s office ever noticed that. I grin to myself.

A brother. My brother.

The concept is baffling, having grown up with no family to speak of and no one to rely on but myself and my friend Pike. That is, until Pike and I got separated, and we lost contact when he ended up in a detention center clear across the state.

My thoughts are interrupted when reality hisses at me like a snake about to be stepped on, courtesy of my foster father.

“Loretta, where is that boy?” Jameson shouts angrily above the Willie Nelson song blaring beyond my bedroom door. The tune is cheery. The situation is not. It’s like “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” blasting through the speakers of Hell.

“I don’t fucking know! You want him? You go look for him!” Loretta slurs.

I’ve been in great homes, and I’ve been in terrible ones. On a scale of one to ten—ten being the shittiest—Loretta and Jameson’s home ranks in the triple digits somewhere above the seventh circle of Hell.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >94

Advertisement
Up in Smoke Read Online T.M. Frazier (King #8) http://www.ilovenovels.com/up-in-smoke-8-read-online-t-m-frazier Sat, 25 Mar 2017 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/up-in-smoke-8-read-online-t-m-frazier Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Dark, Erotic, MC, Romance, Suspense Authors: T.M. Frazier Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >92

Read Online Books/Novels:	Up in Smoke (King #8)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	T.M. Frazier
Language:	English
Book Information:
A King Series Novel. I’m a man without a conscience. I deal in murder and mayhem. I’m the best at what I do. Frankie Helburn is supposed to be an easy job. A means to flush her father out of hiding. Simple. Except there isn’t anything simple about Frankie or the secrets she’s keeping. She’s stubborn as hell and the sexiest god damn thing I have ever seen, sending dark, dirty animalistic desire coursing through my veins. She’s cocaine with legs. A f*cking addiction that makes me question things I’ve never questioned before. Want things I’ve never wanted before. I might have her, but she isn’t mine to keep. If her father doesn’t show his face, she will be mine. To KILL.
Books in Series:	King Series by T.M. Frazier
Books by Author:	T.M. Frazier Books

Prologue

I deal in murder and mayhem.

Bullets and bravado.

Fear and faults.

I crush bones as well as spirits.

I plant seeds from which hatred and sorrow grow.

I’m a man among men, but I’m not really living.

I answer to no one.

I’m heartless. Soulless. Lawless.

Godless.

I’m what’s left of humanity after it’s burned. After good has succumbed to evil. When lies and lust roam free.

I’m what remains after the flames have been doused.

I’m Hell on Earth.

Brimstone and fire.

Embers and ashes.

I am motherfucking Smoke.

Chapter One

One Year Ago

Most folks turn out the lights before they go to bed, but not Morgan. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s had this strange habit of keeping her lights on even when she isn’t home. She even sleeps with her house lit up like it’s her job to guide the god damned planes over to the airport.

That’s how I know something’s wrong.

Her house is dark.

Way too fucking dark.

Motherfucking shit.

I pull my gun and silently make my way to the front door. It’s open. I lean against it with my shoulder and step inside. My boot slides over something slippery. An all too familiar smell singes my nose hairs.

I know the smell of death so well I can decipher the different stages of decay based solely on the stench lingering in the air. With one whiff, I know the death lingering inside is recent.

It’s pitch black. I slide my hand against the wall and follow it until my fingertips hit the kitchen backsplash and I flip the light switch above it.

The house is bathed in bright white light. My eyes take a few seconds to adjust. The white shifts to red.

So. Much. Fucking. Red.

“Fuck,” I holster my gun.

I’ve seen a lot of shit in my life. I’ve caused my fair fucking share of it, too. But nothing like this. There ain’t an inch of the kitchen not freshly painted in red. It’s smeared across the white tile floor as if someone crawled or was dragged from one side to the other. There’s splatter marks on every wall. Every cabinet.

This wasn’t just death. This wasn’t just a kill. A hit.

This was pure fucking evil.

I round the center island, coming to a stop as my boot connects with a slender bare foot. There’s no need for me to hurry over to her; it’s not like there’s any saving her now, but I shove my gun into the waistband of my jeans and race over to the other side of the island anyway. I crouch down over Morgan.

What’s left of her. Every inch of her naked body is twisted and contorted. Her once blemish-free pale skin has been sliced and cut and opened at every angle exposing teeth and skull. Her dark hair is wet with her own blood.

My eyes travel down her battered body. “No,” I shake my head in disbelief. “No!”

What’s left of her once rounded stomach looks like something put through a meat grinder at the butcher shop. “God fucking damnit!”

I stand but I don’t make it to the sink in time, emptying the contents of my stomach around the counter and onto the floor.

I’ve caused my share of death, but even my brutality has limits. I’ve never done something like this. Not to a woman at least. Not to an innocent, someone who didn’t fucking deserve it. For the first time in my entire life the sight of death makes me physically fucking ill.

I steady myself with my hands on both sides of the sink. “Morgan,” I whisper. “Fuck.”

I crouch back down and attempt to cradle her in my arms but her body is so hacked up and bloodied I can’t get a hold on her. Flesh flops from her bones, falling back to the floor.

“I’m so fucking sorry, kid. I’m so very fucking sorry.”

I lie down next to her, getting as close as I can without touching her. My cheek is pressed to the floor. Morgan’s still-warm blood clogs my ear, soaking through my clothes and skin. I’m surrounded by all that’s left of her. I want it to sink into my bones and stay with me forever.

Morgan is dead. So is our unborn child.

And it’s all my fucking fault.

Chapter Two

Present

I’ll be dead within a year.

Probably sooner.

I try not to dwell on the thought because it makes me crazy. Most days I’m seconds away from losing my shit and proclaiming the desk lamp as my new best friend/Queen of England. Being tired doesn’t help. It’s as if gravity is pulling down on me much harder these days. If I don’t get a decent night’s sleep soon I’m going to start hearing colors.

We all die after all. My death will just be a little sooner than most. Before the wrinkles have set in and old age has me repeating the same stories over and over again.

My eyelids are heavy. I’m fighting yet another battle in the continuing war against myself to stay awake. My elbow slides further and further off to the side of the desk, my chin propped in my hand.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >92

Advertisement
Preppy: The Life and Death of Samuel Clearwater Read Online T.M. Frazier (King #7) http://www.ilovenovels.com/preppy-7-read-online-t-m-frazier Tue, 01 Nov 2016 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/preppy-7-read-online-t-m-frazier Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Authors: T.M. Frazier Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >65

Read Online Books/Novels:	Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Three (King #7)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	T.M. Frazier
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	9781386410171
Book Information:
The bowtie is BACK! Dre was just a beautiful stranger when Preppy saved her the first time around. Now, he has to save her again, but she's no longer some stranger, she's family, and he has no idea who or what he's up against. What he does know is that putting his family back together is the only acceptable outcome. Preppy's to-do list? SAVE FAMILY. SEEK REVENGE. He's alive...and he's out for BLOOD. Preppy Part Three is the third book and conclusion of Preppy and Dre's story. It's also the 7th book in the King Series, which should be read in order starting with KING & TYRANT.
Books in Series:	King Series by T.M. Frazier
Books by Author:	T.M. Frazier

“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy

and vague. Who shall say where the one ends,

and where the other begins?”

-Edgar Allen Poe

PROLOGUE

Dre

There’s the type of evil that dwells deep within men’s souls, the kind that makes them do cruel things because they’re driven to do so by the demons whispering inside them.

Evil can be subjective.

At least that’s what I’ve learned in my time with Preppy.

Not all acts of malice are created equal. Not all men who have those demons choose to unleash them into the world. There are those like Preppy, like Bear, like King, who’ve chosen to channel that need, compartmentalize it into something they only draw upon when needed.

When threatened.

Preppy is capable of both cruelty and mercy, of both murder and salvation. He’s been the victim, the villain, and the hero. What I don’t think he’ll ever realize is that this gives him a power most men would dare not aspire to. Throughout his entire life, he’s walked a fine line between heaven and hell, between sinner and saint, between endless love and hardened hatred.

Then he died.

And although his death didn’t include ceasing to breathe, he still found himself in a living hell.

Preppy had every reason to harbor resentment so deep there would be no coming back from that dark place. He could have let the devil turn him into one of those men who answers his demons without question.

I don’t want to say Preppy had been tamed. Tame is the last word I’d use to describe him. He’s too wild. Too unpredictable.

Too Preppy.

Taming Preppy would be like trying to put a leash on the wind.

However, he did have this eerie sense of calm about him. He became focused. Precise. If you looked past the smile and jokes, you’d see someone who held his cards close to his chest and knew when to play them.

Like now.

With the echoes of my son’s cry playing over and over again in my head I knew Preppy would come for me. He’d play those cards.

And he’d win.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

The way back will be paved with blood.

CHAPTER ONE

Dre

I was jolted into consciousness, my head slammed against the side of whatever confines I was trapped in. I opened my eyes, but nothing but blackness stared back at me. The occasional bump and hum of an engine made me realize I was in some sort of vehicle, but I wasn’t in the cab.

I was in the trunk.

My hands and feet were bound together. A gag was tied so tightly around my head the fabric prevented my mouth from closing, so I was forced to bite down on it.

My heart was beating a million miles a minute. I felt my fingers turn cold. I felt dizzy, and when I tried to swallow, I found that I couldn’t.

Don’t panic.

I took a deep breath and set a mental image of Preppy and Bo in my mind. An acute sense of focus took over. A determination to get out of that trunk and back to my family.

But how? Eventually, someone was going to open the trunk, I had to be ready.

I felt around with my fingertips and bare feet for anything I could use as a weapon but disappointment set in quickly.

It was empty.

Out of frustration and fear I pounded my bound wrists against the coffin on wheels, pausing when I remembered something.

“Andrea, how did the cat end up in the trunk of the car?” my dad asked.

“I dunno,” I sang innocently, twisting from side to side as my dad hit a button on his key chain, popping the latch. Mr. Wiggles hissed, springing out as if he'd been shot out of a catapult. He looked back at me with his own special brand of cat-like contempt as he pranced back into the house, no doubt to hack up a revenge hairball on my pillow.

“Well, don’t do it again, okay?”

“I swear I’ll never do it again.” I’d have to find another place to play bomb-shelter. A place that didn’t automatically lock when it shut.

“Good.” My dad nodded, seemingly satisfied with my promise. He bent over at the waist and yanked lightly on one of my braids. “Because I don’t think the emergency release latches were designed with cats in mind.”

Immediately after remembering my dad’s words I felt around with my fingertips, growing more and more frustrated with my bound hands.

I didn’t know where I was being taken, but I knew my time was limited, and if I didn’t act now, I’d end up on the wrong end of whatever plans had been made for me by whatever psycho was stupid enough to abduct me.

Preppy would find this asshole, and he’d stop at nothing to make sure he paid. That thought fueled me as I continued my search. My frustration grew. I flipped over onto my stomach and shoved my fingers down as far as they could go into the crease on the floor lining in the backside of the trunk. I gasped with delight through my gag when my fingers hit something plastic. I grunted, reaching down further and further until I was finally able to fit my fingers through the loop.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >65

Advertisement
Preppy: The Life and Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two Read Online T.M. Frazier (King #6) http://www.ilovenovels.com/preppy-2-6-read-online-t-m-frazier Sun, 18 Sep 2016 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/preppy-2-6-read-online-t-m-frazier Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Crime, Dark, Drama, Erotic, Funny, Romance, Suspense Authors: T.M. Frazier Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >79

Read Online Books/Novels:	Preppy: The Life and Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two (King #6)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	T.M. Frazier
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B01M29S2QI
Book Information:
Preppy finds himself back in a world he once loved, but no longer recognizes. His dim smile can’t hide his inner turmoil and the people he views as family all suddenly feel like polite strangers. Except for one person. A girl with dark eyes and even darker hair. A girl who isn’t even an option. At least, not anymore. Dre can’t decide who she’s going to listen to. Her heart, her head, or her body. Because two out of those three things have her heading right back to Logan’s Beach. Closure is what she tells herself she’s seeking, but when she unlocks doors that were never meant to be opened she soon discovers that when it comes to Samuel Clearwater, closure might NEVER be an option. This is book six in the King Series and the second part of Preppy and Dre's story.
Books in Series:	King Series by T.M. Frazier
Books by Author:	T.M. Frazier books

PROLOGUE

PREPPY

There’s this light in the distance. It’s bright, burning, and blinding as fucking hell. It’s just out of my grasp. A whisper away. I can talk about it. I can think about it, but it’s almost like it’s not real. Like it’s not really fucking there, and it drives me insane because all I can think about is reaching for it.

Reaching for you.

Because as my letter said, YOU are my light when I’m surrounded by nothing but dark.

I try to ignore it, the echoes of my name being called between time and space, because FUCK death.

Fuck anything that tries to keep me from finding my way back to you. If and when I'm liberated from the shackles that keep me tethered to the gates of hell, have no doubt, I’m coming for you, Doc.

Because YOU are what has kept me alive all these months.

Kept me WANTING to be alive.

Which is fucking hard sometimes because when death calls out to me, he sounds like an old friend offering comforts that would be so fucking easy to take. But you know me, probably better than anyone, and I’ve never been a man to take the easy route. Maybe that’s why I’ve chosen instead to take the road back to you.

To the US.

The Reaper came for me, and he demanded that I take his hand and he told me he was my friend, my companion in death.

I couldn’t help myself when I laughed in that fuckers face and told him his sister gives good head. Luckily he sent me right back across the river on my merry fucking way.

Back to LIFE.

Back to POSSIBILITY.

A long time ago, when I was just a skinny little nothing being beaten up by a bully in the school yard, I met someone who defended me when no one else would. We made a plan to be our own bosses that very day. It didn’t matter that we were just kids because we meant it then, and I mean it just as much right fucking now.

Which is why, when faced with the fucking end of my life, I spit in the Reaper’s face.

Because my name is Samuel Clearwater, and I take orders from no one.

Not even death

CHAPTER ONE

DRE

“What does he mean by that?” Ray asked, coming over to stand next to me at Preppy’s bedside. After his sudden outburst he’d passed back out, leaving me more disoriented than when I walked in the door to find him ALIVE. “Why did he call you his wife?”

I shook my head. “I...I’m not really sure,” I answered, not able to focus on her question, still consumed with the fact that Preppy was alive. Battered and looking nothing like his former self.

But ALIVE.

“It was probably just nonsense,” Bear said from the doorway. “He’s been muttering a bit over the past few days. One of the doctors thinks it’s a sign that his body’s healed enough to start fighting his way out of the coma. He said it might still be a few weeks, but it’s a decent sign.”

“Yeah, but those other two quacks think it could be just reflex’s, and it don’t mean shit,” King added, looking every bit skeptical.

“How...how is this...how is this even possible?” I asked, covering my open mouth with my hand. I leaned over his body like I was checking to see if he was real or if my teary eyes were deceiving me. His chest rose and fell, and it sounded like the most beautiful music I’d ever heard.

Ray paused as she was about to answer like she was considering my presence with a new kind of skepticism. She stared hard at where my hand was touching Preppy. Apparently, she was the only one who questioned my intentions, because the other three that were with her had disappeared from the doorway, leaving the two of us in the room alone.

NOT alone.

With PREPPY.

I squeezed his hand and let out a sigh of relief, sending out a few thank you’s into the universe along with a few choked sobs.

“He was...” Ray looked at the floor and shuffled her feet. She crossed her arms over her chest. “He was here the whole time. In Logan’s Beach,” she said, like she still couldn’t believe it herself.

I gasped. “Why? How?”

“We don’t know a lot of the details. Just that he was being held close by and that the guy who was holding him must have had a lot of people in his pocket to make us all believe he was dead.”

“What did the police say?”

It dawned on me how stupid my question must have sounded when Ray cocked her head to the side. “How well did you know Preppy?”

“Well enough to know it was idiotic of me to ask about police involvement.” I flashed her a tight-lipped smile.

Ray nodded as if I answered correctly. “King and Bear are on it. They’re not trusting anyone to look into it but themselves. They’ve been up most nights until the sun comes up going over theories and retracing everyone’s steps to find out who else could be involved.” She pointed to Preppy, “But only he knows what happened down there, and there isn’t any way a single second of it was something good. The only thing we know is that he’s lucky to be alive. We are all so lucky that he’s alive.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >79

Advertisement
Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater Read Online T.M. Frazier (King #5) http://www.ilovenovels.com/preppy-the-life-death-of-samuel-clearwater-5-read-online-t-m-frazier Tue, 09 Aug 2016 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/preppy-the-life-death-of-samuel-clearwater-5-read-online-t-m-frazier Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Biker, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Funny, MC, Romance Authors: T.M. Frazier Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >86

Read Online Books/Novels:	Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater (King #5)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	T.M. Frazier
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B01IAAZ13M
Book Information:
Bowtie...'till I DIE. Samuel Clearwater, A.K.A Preppy, likes bowties, pancakes, suspenders, good friends, good times, good drugs, and a good f*ck. He’s worked his way out from beneath a hellish childhood and is living the life he’s always imagined for himself. When he meets a girl, a junkie on the verge of ending it all, he’s torn between his feelings for her and the crippling fear that she could be the one to end the life he loves. Andrea ‘Dre’ Capulet is strung out and tired. Tired of living for her next fix. Tired of doing things that make her stomach turn. Tired of looking in the mirror at the reflection of the person she’s become. Just when she decides to end it all, she meets a man who will change the course of both their lives forever. And their deaths. For most people, death is the end of their story. For Preppy and Dre, it was only the beginning…
Books in Series:	King Series by T.M. Frazier
Books by Author:	T.M. Frazier Books

PROLOGUE

PREPPY

PRESENT

Tiny flashes of dim light spark in the darkened corners of my mind. Slowly, it turns from dusk to dawn, awakening my thoughts as the inner light grows brighter and brighter.

I hear a sound, a faucet running, and I realize it’s the blood rushing through my ears. When it reaches my heart I choke as it comes back to life like a bass drum. Boom. BaBOOM it beats, on and on, until it falls into a quick yet steady rhythm. The new life inside me grows louder, stronger, until death fades away and I awake on a gasp.

My eyes spring open. I try to take in air, but nothing happens. I try again and my lungs burn as they finally decide to cooperate. I can breathe, but it hurts like a son of a bitch.

I’m fucking alive.

My first thoughts shock the shit out of me. They’re of a girl. A sad looking girl with shiny black hair and huge dark eyes sitting on the edge of the water tower.

My heart falls out of rhythm, beating faster and faster until it’s thrumming against my chest like the vibration of a jackhammer.

Her.

Although my vision is blurry as shit, my thoughts of her are clearer than they’d ever been, and for the first time in my adult life, I’m fucking scared.

I don’t even need to see the big motherfucker standing over me with a baseball bat to know I am completely and totally fucked.

CHAPTER ONE

PREPPY

THREE YEARS EARLIER…

FUCK that’s some good shit.

I wiped the excess powder from under my nose and rubbed it on my gums. “Grade A blow. Thanks, man. This shit day sucks just a little bit less,” I said. We’d just pulled up to Grace’s house after dropping King off to start serving his sentence. We’d see him again, but not for 2-4 years.

“Fuck,” Bear said, echoing my thoughts about the coke as he snorted a line off my dashboard. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head from side to side, his long, blond hair flapped around his face like a wet sheepdog shaking itself dry as the rush from the blow slammed into his brain.

I knew the feeling.

I knew it well.

I fucking loved it.

Bear wiped any residual evidence of our pity party off the dashboard with his hand. He got out of the car, but I hesitated with my hands on the wheel. I glanced up at Grace’s little cottage and sighed. “You coming?” Bear asked, leaning down in the open window. He lit two cigarettes and leaned up against the car, obscuring my view with his jean covered ass.

Reluctantly, I got out and as I rounded the car, I smoothed down my khakis, straightened my bow tie, and took a deep breath. I joined Bear against the car as we both stood in silence, staring up at Grace’s front porch. He handed me one of the lit cigarettes and I took it, taking a long deep drag.

“You pissed he told us not to visit?” I asked. Bear hooked a thumb into his pocket, kicking a loose shell with the toe of his boot.

I took another drag and exhaled slowly. Bear shrugged. “Some of my brothers, when they get locked up, they say the same thing. No visits, no calls. When they’re on the inside they have to concentrate on life on the inside. Can’t imagine it helps to have visitors reminding them all the time of the freedoms they don’t fucking have.”

“I wasn’t talking about your Beach Bitches, Care Bear. I was talking about King,” I said, stubbing out my cigarette under my shoe.

Bear rolled his eyes and flicked his cigarette into the road, blowing the smoke out of his nostrils. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

“Bear?” I asked, feeling suddenly uneasy as we made our way up the front walkway, tapping my fingers on the front of my pants. I straightened my bow tie again.

“Yeah, Prep?”

I followed him onto the porch and lowered my voice to a whisper, “I think weed would have been a much better idea than blow.”

Bear turned around, his pupils the size of pancakes. He pointed to my eyes. “Yeah man,” he agreed as we both broke out into a fit of laughter. “I think you might be fucking right.”

* * *

“The way I see it, there is only one fucking solution to this problem of ours,” I announced, glancing between Grace and Bear, and the depressing-as-all-fuck looks on their faces. They both stared down at the table as if it were going to magically offer up the answer we were all looking for. Grace’s eyebrows were knitted tightly into a downward point, causing more wrinkles to form on her already heavily lined face, as she circled the rim of her glass with her spoon over and over again. It killed me that I couldn’t fix this for her. For us.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >86

Advertisement
King Read Online T.M. Frazier (King #1) http://www.ilovenovels.com/king-1-read-online-t-m-frazier Thu, 12 May 2016 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/king-1-read-online-t-m-frazier Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Biker, Contemporary, Dark, Drama, Erotic, MC, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Authors: T.M. Frazier Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 91161 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >78

Read Online Books/Novels:	King (King #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	T.M. Frazier
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	1512038563 (ISBN13: 9781512038569)
Book Information:
Homeless. Hungry. Desperate. Doe has no memories of who she is or where she comes from. A notorious career criminal just released from prison, King is someone you don’t want to cross unless you’re prepared to pay him back in blood, sweat, pu$$y or a combination of all three. King’s future hangs in the balance. Doe’s is written in her past. When they come crashing together, they will have to learn that sometimes in order to hold on, you have to first let go. Warning: This book contains graphic violence, consensual and nonconsensual sex, drug use, abuse, and other taboo subjects and adult subject matter. Although originally slated to be a standalone, KING is now a two part series.
Books in Series:	King Series by T.M. Frazier
Books by Author:	T.M. Frazier

Prologue

King

Twelve years old

“Come on you fucking fag! You’re such a little fag pussy!”

I’d seen some of the kids in my school bully other kids before, but I’d never felt like I should butt in. If a kid didn’t have the balls to stand up for himself, then they deserved whatever they had coming to them.

But that morning I’d made the decision to leave home for good. Moms current boyfriend had used her as a punching bag yet again. But this time, when I’d stepped in front of her, not only did she push me aside, but she defended the fucker.

She said she deserved it.

She even went as far as apologizing.

To him.

I hated her for that. For becoming weak. For letting him lay his hands on her like that. I wanted to wail on John’s face so bad that I sat on the side of the school during recess clenching and unclenching my fists as I replayed that morning over and over again in my mind. I may not have been able to win in a fight against a grown man, but I was convinced I could have at least done some damage.

So when I heard those words shouted from across the playground it was like my anger had made the decision before I had a chance to really think about it. Before I knew it, I’d leapt across the sandbox and was on my way to a group of kids gathered in a circle on the far side of the yard next to the kickball field.

I towered over all the other kids in my grade and could easily see over their heads. In the center of the circle was a brute of a kid named Tyler, a dark-haired boy who always wore band logo t-shirts with the sleeves ripped off. He was holding this skinny kid by the collar of his shirt, punching him in the face over and over again with his closed fist. The littler kid grunted each time Tyler made contact. The boy’s ripped shirt rose up over his pale stomach revealing bruises in varying shades of purple and yellow. His ribs were so visible I could count them. Blood dripped from his nose and fell to the ground. I pushed aside two little girls who were cheering on the beating.

Kids can be fucking cruel.

Adults can be crueler.

I jumped in front of Tyler and cocked back my fist. With one punch to the bully’s pimpled jaw, I knocked him flat on his ass. The back of his head landed with a thunk against the pavement. Out cold.

I instantly felt better, although the need to inflict violence was always like a rat gnawing on my every thought and emotion, punching Tyler had temporarily dimmed the feeling from blaring spotlight to burning candle.

The skinny kid was on the ground holding his bloody nose. He moved his hands away from his face and looked up at me with the biggest most ridiculous smile, blood coating teeth that were too big for his mouth. Not what I expected from someone who’d just been beaten. “You didn’t have to save me. I was just letting him get some punches in before I rained down the pain.” His voice cracked on every other word of the lie. Tears ran out the sides of his eyes and down through the blood smeared across his lip. The circle of kids had broken up and gone back to their kickball game.

“I didn’t save you.” I said, stepping over him. I started walking away, but somewhere around the sandbox the kid had caught up with me.

“Of course you didn’t. I could totally have taken him. But shit man, that fucking prick has a stick up his ass,” the kid swore, throwing his hands up into the air as he jogged to try and keep up with my long strides.

“Oh yeah, and why is that?” I asked.

“Cause he wanted me to do his fucking math worksheet, and I’ll tell you something. I’m no one’s fucking bitch. So I told him to fuck off.” His voice was muffled since he was still trying to stop the blood dripping from his nose by pinching his nostrils together.

“All you said to him was ‘fuck no’ and he started beating on you?” I asked, although I didn’t find it hard to believe, aside from the bullshit with my mom and John it was mostly little things that had been making my fist ache for something to connect with.

The kid smirked.

“Well, there was that… and then there was how I told him how I thought it was cool that his dad didn’t mind that his son was the spitting image of his mama’s boss at the Price Mart.” He brushed the dirt off the scrapes on his elbows, then dusted the palm of his hands off on his wrinkled khakis. “Name’s Samuel Clearwater. What’s yours?”

I stopped and turned to him. He extended his hand to me and I uncrossed my arms and shook it. For a gangly kid who was the same age as I was, he dressed and spoke like a foul-mouthed grandfather, someone too old to give a shit about filtering his words. And what eleven year old shook hands?

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >78

Advertisement
Tyrant Read Online Free Novels T.M. Frazier (King #2) http://www.ilovenovels.com/tyrant-2-read-online-t-m-frazier Thu, 12 May 2016 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/tyrant-2-read-online-t-m-frazier Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Biker, Contemporary, Dark, Drama, Erotic, MC, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Authors: T.M. Frazier Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 82662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >71

Read Online Books/Novels:	Tyrant (King #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	T.M. Frazier
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B00ZGEWUWQ
Book Information:
I. Remember. Everything. Only now I wish I didn't. When the fog is sucked away from my mind like smoke through a vacuum, the truth that has been beyond my reach for months finally reveals itself. But the relief I thought I would feel never comes, and I'm more afraid now than I was the morning I woke up handcuffed in King's bed. Because with the truth comes dark secrets I was never meant to know. I will put the lives of those I love most at risk if I let on that my memory has returned, or if I seek help from the heavily tattooed felon who owns me body and soul. I don't know if I'm strong enough to resist the magnetic pull toward King that grows stronger every day. He's already saved me in more ways than one. Now it's my turn to do whatever it takes to save him. Even if that means marrying someone else...
Books in Series:	King Series by T.M. Frazier
Books by Author:	T.M. Frazier

Prologue

King

The average time spent between incarcerations for a career criminal is six months.

I’d only been out three.

I’d expected to find Max in that car. Instead, cold metal clinked around my wrists, and the asshole pig had the audacity to laugh when he tightened the cuffs to the point of pain.

I didn’t wince, though. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He pressed down on my head roughly and shoved me hard into the back of the old police cruiser. I landed on my side, and my cheek slammed against the sticky seat. It smelled like vomit and bad decisions. My hands tingled from the loss of blood flow.

The motherfucker was lucky I was in cuffs.

Three years. They already had me for three fucking years, and they were going to have me for a whole lot longer.

Kidnapping wasn’t exactly rewarded with a light slap on the wrist, especially for someone whose record was as long as mine. I promised I was never going back, but keeping my promises is just another thing I was never very good at.

I was all out of fucks to give though. The system could have me. I belonged to them, but they didn’t fucking own me. They would NEVER fucking own me.

She owned me.

Heart and black fucking soul.

I will walk to the fucking chow line with a shit-eating grin on my face wearing my scratchy orange jumpsuit every motherfucking day. I will play cards with the worst of the worst and make nice with the guards who are willing to cut me some slack. At night, when I’m alone in my windowless cell with my dick in my hand, I will remember what it was like to have her in my bed; how her innocent wide eyes stared up at me as I moved inside her. The way she arched her back into me as I made her come over and over again.

I kept telling myself I didn’t have anything to offer her, but that wasn’t true.

I had love.

Pup. Doe. Ray. Whatever the fuck her name was. I loved her more than what was normal, rational, or sane, and I would gladly rot in fucking prison with a smile on my face if I knew my girl was going to be okay.

But I didn’t know that. I couldn’t know that.

I should have known that motherfucker was going to fucking cross me.

“The notorious Brantley King,” the pig said with a smirk as he got into the front seat. The plastic-like leather squeaked against his belt as he closed his door and started the engine. “You’d think you’d have learned your lesson by now, boy.”

He laughed and shook his head. It was obvious this guy was getting some sort of sick pleasure out of being the one to put me in cuffs.

“King,” I corrected him defiantly. Nobody called me Brantley but her.

“Excuse me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me through the rearview mirror.

I sat up straight, meeting his gaze with mine, as if I were staring straight through to his pussy-ass soul. “They call me King, mother fucker.”

The rage inside me grew to epic proportions. That’s when I noticed the detective didn’t turn onto the main road but instead drove straight onto the path through the woods.

This guy was no fucking cop. I spotted his gun; he’d set it on the dash. It was a Judge, not the kind of gun that was standard police-issue. This guy wasn’t taking to me jail.

He was taking me to ground.

There was no time to waste.

My girls needed me.

More than that, I needed them.

The moron had cuffed me in front. That should’ve been my first indicator that something was off. A real cop would’ve never done that unless he was transporting a nonviolent criminal.

Which wasn’t me.

Using the chain that connected my cuffs, I trapped the fake detective’s neck against the headrest and yanked back with all my might until I felt like my biceps were going to explode.

His hands left the wheel and flailed about as he tried to connect with my head, but I dodged him by lowering myself behind the seat.

The car veered off the path and bounced from side to side as it ran over a patch of knee-high roots.

The pressure mounted behind my eyes as I tugged back on the cuffs, squeezing tighter and tighter. I didn’t release my hold until the car came crashing to a stop and every inch of life had drained from his body.

The fake cop was right; I would never be anything more than the notorious Brantley King.

That was fine by me because the senator had a lesson to learn. You did not take what was mine and not expect to pay in blood, sweat, or pussy.

He took my girl. He wanted to take my life.

His payment would be in blood.

Chapter One

King

Revenge is sweet.

That’s what they say anyway. But it wasn’t until I crawled out of the wreckage, picking shards of glass from my skin, that I realized how true that saying really was.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >71

Advertisement
Lawless Read Online Free Books T.M. Frazier (King #3) http://www.ilovenovels.com/lawless-3-read-online-t-m-frazier Wed, 11 May 2016 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/lawless-3-read-online-t-m-frazier Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Biker, Contemporary, Dark, Drama, Erotic, MC, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Authors: T.M. Frazier Series: King Series by T.M. Frazier
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Read Online Books/Novels:	Lawless (King #3)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	T.M. Frazier
Language:	English
Book Information:
Thia is prim and proper. Bear is leather and lawless. It will never work between them. It's a lie they almost believe... It is necessary to first read King and Tyrant to fully enjoy Lawless.
Books in Series:	King Series by T.M. Frazier
Books by Author:	T.M. Frazier

PROLOGUE

Bear

I was born a Bastard.

A soldier, in the lawless army of the Beach Bastards Motorcycle Club. Groomed to one day take the gavel from my old man.

Duty came before my conscience, before family, before everything.

I didn’t choose the life, it chose me, and living it came with knowing, and accepting, that every morning I got up to take a piss, could be my very last day above ground.

Or, depending on my orders…someone else’s last.

Being a biker, a Bastard, wasn’t just in my blood. I didn’t just live it.

I breathed it.

I drank it.

I fucking loved it.

It was everything.

Until it wasn’t.

I don’t remember the exact moment it happened, maybe after my first kill, maybe on the day I was patched in, but it happened. Motor oil, leather, violence, and a penchant for laying down enemies of the club, replaced the blood in my veins.

I became more biker than man.

And I was proud.

I never thought of it as a problem, but I also never thought there would come a day when I wouldn’t be a Beach Bastard anymore.

But it came.

And I wasn’t.

On the day I laid down my cut and walked out the door of the MC, I’d turned my own hourglass and set the expiration on my life.

Once a Bastard, you were always a Bastard.

Or you were dead.

They’d come for me. But the fucked up thing was that it wasn’t the thought of my brothers trying to put me to ground that bothered me most, it was the uncertainty.

I knew everything about being a biker.

I didn’t know shit about being a man.

I’ve been tortured and on the verge of death, violated for the amusement of my captors. Through it all I’d never lost that edge that kept me alive. That fight. The thing inside that makes your heart beat so fast it feels like it’s going to beat its way right through your chest, and tells you that no matter the situation, you’ll not only get the fuck out of it, but that you’re going to burn every motherfucker alive who tried to take you down.

I’ve been beaten, but I’d never been broken.

Until Thia…

CHAPTER ONE

Thia

Ten years old…

I don’t know where it all went wrong.

I never understood that saying. Because looking back on my life I can pinpoint the exact day, the exact hour, when it all changed and took a turn that no one could have predicted.

Especially me.

Three weeks away from my eleventh birthday, I had just ridden my little red bicycle the three miles to the Stop-n-Go. Dad wanted me to drop off a crate of oranges so I’d tied them to a skateboard and tied a rope from the front wheels to the seat of my bike with a rope I’d found in my dad’s old boat. “Will you watch the counter, Cindy?” Emma May asked, swaying her hips from side to side, she shimmied her way over to the door, clutching her little square purse in her hand. “I’m just going to pop next door to the salon for a bit. No one will probably even come in,” she added, leaning over the counter she opened the antique cash register using a series of button pushes and a slam of her fist on a spot at the bottom. She removed some cash and smiled back at me, pushing through the glass door that chimed when she opened it and again when it swung shut.

Emma May was right. She’d asked me to watch the store before and no one had ever come in.

Until that day.

It’s not like I was eager to get home. Mom had started acting weird. Cleaning the floors for hours until the wood lost its shine. Talking to herself in the kitchen. Anytime I asked her about it, she acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. Dad told me that it would be okay and to just stay out of her way and give her some space.

I did what he said and stayed away as much as possible, most of the time not getting home until just after the sun set.

Watching the store was a good reason as any to prolong going home.

After an hour I got fidgety. I straightened the wall of cigarettes behind the register, turned the hot dogs on the rollers that didn’t work, and tried to read a magazine, but I didn’t understand what ‘Seventeen Positions to Make Him Ache’ even meant.

If someone was aching why didn’t they just go see a doctor? Or a dentist? That’s where I went when I had a toothache.

I’d given up on magazines and was leaning back on an old bar stool that creaked every time I swiveled on it. With my feet up on the counter, I turned the channel dial on the little black and white TV that was propped up on a phone book sitting on the corner of the counter. The only two channels that came in was some western one and the weather channel. Both pictures were fuzzy and the only sound coming out of the speakers was the sound of static and white noise. I tried to turn the entire thing off but nothing was working, if anything I’d only managed to make it louder. It became so loud that I didn’t hear the motorcycles pull in the parking lot or the chime of the door bells against the glass.

I pulled the plug from the outlet. I was still holding the cord when I looked up into the eyes of a dark-haired stranger.

And his gun.

“Everything you’ve got,” he ordered, pointing with his gun to the register. He was swaying from side to side and his eyes were rimmed in red.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Read Online Books/Novels:

A Kiss For You

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

Read Online Books/Novels:

King of the Causeway (King #9.5)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

B07XPHFT53

Read Online Books/Novels:

Nine The Tale of Kevin Clearwater (King #9)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

B07QF591NC

Read Online Books/Novels:

Up in Smoke (King #8)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

Read Online Books/Novels:

Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Three (King #7)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

9781386410171

Read Online Books/Novels:

Preppy: The Life and Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two (King #6)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

B01M29S2QI

Read Online Books/Novels:

Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater (King #5)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

B01IAAZ13M

Read Online Books/Novels:

King (King #1)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

1512038563 (ISBN13: 9781512038569)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Tyrant (King #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English

B00ZGEWUWQ

Read Online Books/Novels:

Lawless (King #3)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

English