Billionaire – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Billionaire – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:37:07 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Billionaire – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Break Me (Knighton Equestrian #1) Read Online Tillie Cole http://www.ilovenovels.com/break-me-knighton-equestrian-1-read-online-tillie-cole Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:37:07 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/break-me-knighton-equestrian-1-read-online-tillie-cole Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Tillie Cole Series: Knighton Equestrian Series by Tillie Cole
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Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)

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The sexy, scandalous and heart-stopping romance from global sensation and multi-million copy bestseller, Tillie Cole . . .

--------------------

Born and raised a Texas cowgirl, Hallie Oakley is the most skilled showjumper on Team USA. She has just one goal in mind - Olympic gold. To achieve this, she must train with the most prestigious facility in the world, Golden Oaks in the Cotsworlds.

There she meets Chester Knighton, the oldest son in a showjumping dynasty, who has recently inherited Golden Oaks.

Their attraction is instant and mutal but when something devasting happens, it threatens to tear both Golden Oaks and Hallie apart.

Something Chester will not allow to happen

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

Prologue

Hallie

Age 12

Ocala, Florida

The humidity felt different here in Florida. It stuck to my skin like glue, wrapping its wet hands around each strand of my long dark hair, making it curl into ringlets around my face.

My heart fluttered as fast as a hummingbird’s wings as I gaped at the humongous equestrian center spread out before me. I knew horses. I’d been raised in the saddle with reins in my hand. I knew how to ride and rope cattle from a mustang’s back. I knew how to navigate rough pastures and herd cows into pens with perfect precision. But as a large bay mare passed by me, coat glistening, mane brushed out, hooves oiled and free of dust and mud from a hard day’s ride, I may well have been as unfamiliar with these animals as I was with the country clubs and fancy houses I’d seen on the ride from the airport.

The main door in a huge white barn to my left opened, and a woman around my daddy’s age came walking out. She looked as pristine as the bay mare that had just passed us by. Her bright-red hair was swept off her freckled face and tied in a bun at the back of her scalp. She wore cream breeches, a polo shirt to match, and polished tall black riding boots. As if feeling my stare, she lifted her head and saw me standing beside the social worker who had brought me here. Her face was as beautiful and put together as her clothes.

And she looked just like Daddy.

A lump sprouted in my throat as she approached, and her hazel eyes glistened with tears as she tracked her wide gaze over me. I glanced down at my well-worn cowboy boots, Wranglers, and favorite pink, long-sleeve button-up. My trusty Stetson was on my head—I had my daddy’s packed in a protective box in my luggage.

“Hallie,” the lady rasped, throat hoarse, and a tear fell from her eye. Her hands were shaking as she quickly wiped it away. She moved until she was just before me. She smelled like rose petals. Her cheeks matched their red shade too. She crouched until she was eye level with me. Without thinking, I reached out and touched her face. I felt my bottom lip tremble.

“You look just like my daddy,” I said. My chest felt tight. I was trying real hard not to cry. I’d cried a ton over the past few days. Ever since my daddy . . .

I sniffed and wiped away a few extra tears.

“You look like him too,” the lady said softly.

Aunt Jeanie, I reminded myself. Her name is Aunt Jeanie. She was my daddy’s younger sister. Daddy never spoke of her much. The only thing he’d ever said was that he’d been real sorry he’d stopped speaking to her when she decided to leave the family ranch before I was born. Said he hadn’t understood her choice to move away at the time. And that breaking all ties with her was the biggest mistake of his life.

One he never got to make right.

“You can cry, darlin’,” she said, her accent sounding a little like mine.

“Cowgirls don’t cry,” I said, echoing what Daddy and the cowboys back at the ranch used to tell me if I was hurt or upset.

A flash of what looked like sadness took over her face, like she’d heard that saying before too. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.

“Aunt Jeanie,” I said, and pointed at Sally, the social worker. She’d explained where I was going. Aunt Jeanie stood up and shook Sally’s hand. They began to talk about me, but movement from my right caught my eye, pulling me away from the conversation. In an outdoor arena across the yard, someone was cantering on a horse—a large gray horse that must have been at least seventeen hands high and then some. The horse was beautiful, all platinum glossy mane, its body thick with muscle.

Before I knew it, my feet began moving, and the next thing I knew, I was watching the rider and horse through the slats in the pretty white fence. Watching as the man steered the horse over huge, brightly colored jumps. My pulse raced and my breath held as, with each one, they seemed to take flight.

I wondered what that would feel like, to ride on horseback over those huge fences.

I watched, transfixed, as the man jumped all the fences, not touching a single pole. He patted the horse’s neck as he brought the horse to a slow and steady trot. The man unclipped the chin strap of his fancy helmet and placed it in his lap, tipping his head back toward the sun. His dark hair was sweaty, one thick strand falling over his forehead. It still looked perfect.

Before I knew it, he’d moved closer to where I stood.

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Cord (Cuddle a Cowboy #2) Read Online Mia Brody http://www.ilovenovels.com/cord-cuddle-a-cowboy-2-read-online-mia-brody Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:36:32 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/cord-cuddle-a-cowboy-2-read-online-mia-brody Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Insta-Love Authors: Mia Brody Series: Cuddle a Cowboy Series by Mia Brody
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Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >39

I did a very crazy thing for a very logical reason.

Mira

My cheating groom thinks I don’t know he’s only marrying me for my fortune. But I’m going to publicly humiliate him, and it’s all thanks to the Cuddle a Cowboy auction.

See, I rented a hot cowboy for seventy-two hours. He’s supposed to object to my wedding because he’s madly in love with me. Everything is going according to plan until he takes my groom’s place.

Suddenly, I’m married to the hottest cowboy I’ve ever met. But that’s not the wildest part. No, that was in the hotel room when we drunkenly slept together.

I guess I should tell the crazy cowboy we’re legally married now.

Cord

It was supposed to be simple. Object to the bride’s vows, claim to be in love with her then…take the groom’s place and marry her. Actually, scratch that. The last part wasn’t supposed to happen at all.

Now, she’s trying to slip away quietly and take the honeymoon solo, but this cowboy isn’t letting that happen. Nope, this is our honeymoon. And I’m going to spend it convincing my new wife to fall as madly in love with me as I am with her.

If you love a determined cowboy who will do anything to make his curvy woman smile, then climb onto Cord’s horse. It’s going to be a wild ride, but you’ll ache in the best way.

This is a steamy cowboy romance with plenty of on-page spice between a lonely cowboy and his curvy woman set in the welcoming, small town of Courage County. If that sounds like your kind of story, click to read now

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

Chapter 1

Mira

“Chicken nuggets for everyone! My treat!” I announce as I nudge my best friend, Ronnie, and point to the local fast-food restaurant.

She sends me a tight smile as her twins Brock and Branson high five in the backseat. They’re five, and they don’t realize their mom lost her job. I’ve offered her a position at my company twice now, but she’s too stubborn to take it. She insists she’ll hear something good any day now.

We place our order then park in the lot next to the restaurant. It’s an old, faded hardware store. The kind of mom-and-pop place that slowly dies because the big businesses around it can offer more competitive pricing and a larger selection of products.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of the kids happily munching their food in the backseat while Ronnie squints at her cracked phone screen. “The final alterations to your dress were finished, and the flowers are still scheduled to arrive on time.”

“You make a great wedding planner,” I tell her, trying not to think of my upcoming nuptials. I dunk a chicken nugget in my honey mustard, careful to avoid dripping on her car interior. She wouldn’t notice or care. She only cares about the boys since the day her husband abandoned her, leaving her to raise the twins on her own. The woman has a spine of steel, and if I ever see her ex-husband in our city again, I will break his face for breaking her heart.

She chuckles, but there’s no mirth to the sound. “Maybe if the j-o-b hunt doesn’t work out, I’ll do that. Did I tell you I applied for one on a f-a-r-m?”

The boys are obsessed with horses, so there’s no way she’s getting them excited about it until she knows for sure. Everything is about them now, and she’s never once complained. She’s carried on in that unflappable way that’s completely Ronnie. Still, I don’t want her thinking about the job search. She’s under enough pressure. “Have you given any more thought to what I asked?”

“What I want for my birthday?” She glances toward the back seat to see if they’re listening. They’re busy arguing over who gets the green toy. It’s their favorite color, and there’s only one green toy. “I want something fun to ride. Like really rugged and tough. You know, something to make me tingly.”

“Or someone,” I point out with a giggle.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t have time for someone. Besides, marital bliss is not in the cards for me like it is for you.”

I shrug and toss my trash into the paper bag at my feet, my diamond engagement ring glinting in the late afternoon light. My stomach twists at the sight. I can’t deny that lately something has felt “off” between me and Stuart. It’s not something I can put my finger on. Just a general sense of apprehension. Maybe it’s anxiety like my therapist suggested. “I can’t believe I’ll be Mrs. Stuart Dean by this time next week.”

“And drinking something fruity in Kauai by the hotel pool,” she says.

I open my mouth to ask her if she ever had doubts before her wedding.

“It’s mine, stinkyhead!” Branson yells, and it’s clear we’re only seconds from an all-out brawl in the backseat.

Ronnie calls both of their names in what she’s termed her “strict parent” voice, and they pause long enough to pay attention to her. “If you boys want us to get the lumber to fix the broken step on the treehouse ladder, then I expect you to behave.”

Brock tries to object, but Ronnie sends him a look, and the four of us go into the hardware store in search of the wood needed for the treehouse. Ronnie built it herself last summer with the boys. There’s nothing she can’t do when she sets her mind to it.

I follow the three of them through the store while Ronnie clutches her list and talks to herself under her breath about the repairs her place needs. They’ve already turned down another aisle when my phone dings.

I pull it from my purse, frowning when I see it’s not a text message from my dad. I half expected him to text me about that new legal contract I reviewed yesterday. Another brand wants to partner with us, and they put some sneaky language into the contract that could negatively impact us.

Together, my dad and I run a company called Molly and Milo, a nod to my own Jack Russell Terriers who inspired me to create a blend of dog food that’s healthy and satisfying for dogs. Three years ago, the brand went viral and now the company is growing like crazy.

The notification isn’t from my dad though, and it’s not a message from Stuart either. No, this is a notification that the camera in my bedroom has been turned on by the motion sensor.

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Falling for My Sister’s Heartkeeper Read Online Marian Tee http://www.ilovenovels.com/falling-for-my-sisters-heartkeeper-read-online-marian-tee Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:35:29 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/falling-for-my-sisters-heartkeeper-read-online-marian-tee Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Authors: Marian Tee Advertisement

Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >30

She has his dead sister’s heart. And that makes her entirely forbidden.

A stranger died, and Jassy was given a second chance at life. Now she’s finally chasing her dream of becoming an actress…and falling hopelessly in love with the mysterious billionaire who saved her life. The only problem? He keeps pushing her away.
Maximo’s rigid routine shatters the moment Jassy moves under his roof. He wants her more than he’ll ever admit. So he does the only thing he knows how to do. He keeps hurting the woman he can’t stop wanting.

A billionaire age-gap romance featuring slow burn, forced proximity, protective alpha heroes, laugh-out-loud banter, and a heroine who wears her heart on her sleeve

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

Chapter One

THERE'S A RIGHT WAY to end a fourteen-hour double, and I'm currently living the other one.

The right way has a bus in it. A couch. And the sad triumphant half of a sandwich I've been thinking about since noon.

The wrong way has two men in it, an alley, and the dawning understanding that the twenty dollars in my pocket is about to become their twenty dollars.

"Hand it over, sweetheart."

A smart girl would know how to pick her battles, but since this smart girl (meaning me, duh) is also broke...

"So, here's the thing—" My shoulder blades find brick. "I'd genuinely love to. But this twenty and I've just been through a lot together, emotionally—"

"Now."

A smarter girl would start screaming here. Then again, a smarter girl wouldn't have taken the wrong way in the first place. She would have known that the shortcut behind the noodle place turns into a shortcut to death after dark. But...whatever.

I can't turn back time, but I can scream.

And so I open my mouth...and only get exactly one syllable out.

Aaaah!

And then one of them is just...gone.

Not gone-gone.

Gone as in a hand closes over the back of his jacket and lifts him out of my personal space the way you'd pick a stray hair off a sweater. The second guy lasts a little longer. But not much.

When it's over, there's a man standing between me and the street, and he's not even out of breath. Whoa.

Two grown men, gone, and my rescuer hasn't even fixed his cuffs, and he's...um...how do I put this?

It's not my first time to see a handsome guy, but this man...is unlike anyone I've seen. He's tall and broad, his suit fits him better than anything has a right to, and his face is the kind that makes me forget that I was almost robbed—

"You're hurt."

—until he says that.

I'm hurt. Or so he says. I should probably focus on that, but my brain isn't working at the moment, with his voice going straight to the backs of my knees, low and even and expensive, the kind of voice that's never once had to ask for anything twice and knows it.

And here's the truly unfair part. It isn't just the face, or the shoulders, or the suit. What makes my heart beat dangerously fast is his calmness. It's not Zen-like, but more like mafia-boss-cool, and no, I'm not in favor of syndicated crime, but you get what I'm saying, right? Right?

So anyway, this rescuer of mine...

He's that kind of cool, with how he took two men apart without mussing his hair, and now he's watching me like violence is something he keeps in a drawer and only takes out when it would be rude not to.

I have met exactly zero men who could do that, and maybe that's why my borrowed heart chooses this exact moment to remind me it's in there.

Slow down, heart!

I need to calm down. It's not good for me to be excited like this. I need a distraction like...oh, right, he did say I was hurt earlier, didn't he?

I check my elbow, and...oh. I see it now. A scrape. But honestly? I've had worse from a spatula.

"I'm fine," I tell him. "This is nothing. You should see the other twenty." I'm not expecting him to laugh at anything, but he doesn't even crack a smile, and his too-handsome face remains stoic. He really should lighten up. Instead of looking at me like I'm a math problem he didn't agree to solve, he should...

"Have dinner with me."

The words are out before I even realize what I'm saying, but there's thankfully no need to blush since all he does is stare at me like he doesn't speak English.

"As a thank you," I say quickly.

He's still silent, so now I'm thinking he's terribly overwhelmed by my generosity.

"Because you saved my life," I add, just in case he needs clarification. "That's basically a documented obligation. You save me. I have to feed you. It's in the—" I wave a hand. "It's in the rules."

"And whose rules would that be?" One dark brow climbs a fraction, the most expression he's spent since he strolled in and rearranged my whole evening.

"Mine, of course, so there's no sense in arguing—" I'm already walking as I say this, not wanting to give him a chance to refuse. It's a strategy that's worked for me eight times out of a possible nine hundred, but that doesn't mean I have to give up. In my book, I just need to keep trying, and so that's what I'm doing here.

"Come on, office boy. My treat."

I'm trying to be his friend, that's all.

"I know a place with the kind of dumplings that fix things."

The words come out breezy even as my chest tightens in sudden panic because...what if he doesn't follow?

What do I do then?

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >30

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Gravehouse (Cursed Lovers Duet #2) Read Online Amo Jones http://www.ilovenovels.com/gravehouse-cursed-lovers-duet-2-read-online-amo-jones Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:32:34 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/gravehouse-cursed-lovers-duet-2-read-online-amo-jones Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Dark, Suspense Authors: Amo Jones Series: Cursed Lovers Duet Series by Amo Jones
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >102

She has his dead sister’s heart. And that makes her entirely forbidden.

A stranger died, and Jassy was given a second chance at life. Now she’s finally chasing her dream of becoming an actress…and falling hopelessly in love with the mysterious billionaire who saved her life. The only problem? He keeps pushing her away.
Maximo’s rigid routine shatters the moment Jassy moves under his roof. He wants her more than he’ll ever admit. So he does the only thing he knows how to do. He keeps hurting the woman he can’t stop wanting.

A billionaire age-gap romance featuring slow burn, forced proximity, protective alpha heroes, laugh-out-loud banter, and a heroine who wears her heart on her sleeve

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

PROLOGUE

Thud.

His head rolled under the grand piano.

Le Boucher Sans Loi watched blood spread across the marble and gather around his boots before it ran on toward the dead man’s severed hand.

The study had been arranged to announce power to anyone who got past the walnut doors. Shelves climbed two stories. Leather chairs faced the fireplace at careful angles. A crystal decanter waited beside two glasses, set out for the civilized conversation rich men preferred before arranging another person’s death.

One chair had overturned during the struggle. The dead man’s torso lay against it, shoulders wrenched back until it gave.

Le Boucher drew a cigar from inside his coat. His gloves left a dark smear across the wrapper. He inspected the damage, clipped the cap, and struck a match against the underside of the desk.

The flame caught, and smoke filled his mouth, bitter and warm, before he pushed it out through his nose. Beneath the tobacco sat the dense metal odor of fresh blood, opened bowels, and fear.

Death had a scent long before decay claimed it. Blood was a word that was easy to digest, but Blood was only the beginning.

No one would find this rot. He planned to leave it here until the ground took it back.

He lowered the match into one of the crystal glasses, killing the flame in the remaining whiskey.

The head beneath the piano faced the wall. Dark hair covered most of the cheek.

If he was being honest, Le Boucher didn't plan for the man to leave with his life, but he didn't expect to kill him so quickly either. Guess that was what he got for thinking Le Boucher was some hit man

His hand went to the back of his neck without permission. The muscle had knotted there, hard enough to ache. He rolled his shoulders once beneath his coat and took another pull from the cigar.

He looked toward the desk. One drawer stood open. A compact pistol lay half inside it, caught against a leather ledger. The dead man’s fingers had missed the grip by less than an inch.

“That went well,” Le Boucher murmured.

The dead were excellent confidants.

Crossing to the body meant stepping around the deepest blood. His soles peeled off the marble with each step. He crouched, setting the cigar across the rim of the clean glass. The dead man wore casual clothes, his collar open on a narrow strip of skin. No pulse there. Head under the piano aside.

Two fingers into the inside pocket found a wallet. Cards, cash, and a photograph folded twice.

He opened the photograph.

Three people huddled together, one a child. Le Boucher studied the child for one breath, then folded the picture along its old lines and returned it to the wallet.

Children deserved better.

He searched the outer pockets. Keys in the left. A small folding knife in the right. Two receipts, one from a private club and another from a jeweler. The jeweler’s total carried enough zeroes to buy affection from anyone willing to rent it by the hour.

A dark rectangle pressed against the fabric near his right hip.

There.

He drew out the phone and wiped the bloody edge against the dead man’s jacket before moving to the head and taking hold of the hair. The strands were damp between his gloves. He turned the face toward the ceiling.

The eyes were open.

One had filled with blood where a vessel had burst. The other stared past Le Boucher at the painted cherubs above the piano. The mouth hung open around a breath it never finished.

The neck had been cut cleanly. His weapon was made for that work, though human bone always demanded commitment. Anyone who claimed otherwise had only watched from a safe distance.

Le Boucher held the phone above the face.

The lock opened.

He lowered the head carefully. It rolled an inch before the cheek settled against the floor.

The phone showed a stack of notifications: missed calls, messages, a banking alert.

None carried the name he needed.

Back on his heels, he opened the messages. His thumb moved through conversations while the cigar burned behind him.

Most were useless.

Reason to believe failure. She has been infected. Nonna made sure of it.

Le Boucher opened that exchange.

Ah. So this is how we got to this point.

His jaw tightened. The cigar smoke no longer covered the odor rising from the rug. He stood and carried the phone to the desk, where the reading lamp threw a narrow pool of yellow across the ledger and pistol.

We will call in Le Boucher. He will handle it.

Arrogant bastard.

Killing him this early had made everything ahead harder. Le Boucher didn’t care. He had patience, and in time she would come apart the way everyone comes apart.

Under his knife.

CHAPTER

ONE

ASHER

ONE YEAR AGO

My odds were shit from the start. Either my name or the slopes were gonna take me out eventually. But her?

Fuck.

I try to lift my head, but it weighs a thousand pounds, pulling at the muscles in my neck.

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His Assistant – Sinful Mafia Daddies Read Online Natasha L. Black http://www.ilovenovels.com/his-assistant-sinful-mafia-daddies-read-online-natasha-l-black Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:30:29 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/his-assistant-sinful-mafia-daddies-read-online-natasha-l-black Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Mafia Authors: Natasha L. Black Advertisement

Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >67

I took the wrong elevator.
Now I work for the Mafia.

I was supposed to interview for an entry-level office job…
To help pay off my father’s debts.

Instead, I walked straight into Dominic Vieri.
Billionaire. Older. Powerful.
The kind of man who walks into a room…
...and owns every inch of it.

He never interviewed me.
He hired me.
Now he looks at me like he already owns me.

The job came with one unwritten rule.
Don't fall for your boss.
I broke it anyway.

One reckless night changed everything.
Now I've become the one thing his enemies can use to destroy him.

Dominic's solution?

Move me into his penthouse.
Post guards outside my door.
And makes one thing perfectly clear.
Nobody touches what's his.

The only problem?

Once Dominic discovers I’m carrying his child…
He’ll never let me go.

This is a full-length, standalone age-gap mafia romance packed with danger, possessive heat, and a guaranteed HEA. No cliffhanger

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

1

SOFIA

The woman at the security desk looks at my shoes before she looks at my face, and she doesn’t seem particularly impressed. I pretend not to notice. They’re clean. That should count for something, right?

They’re also a knockoff designer brand I scored on clearance. The left one pinches the side of my foot something awful, but fashion is pain, right? They match the navy slacks and cream blouse I picked out for my interview, so I breathe through it.

I desperately need this job. So, I don’t mind the way the security guard is side-eyeing me. It’ll be worth it later when she’s scanning my employee badge.

“Sofia Bellini,” I tell her as I step up to the desk. “I have a nine-thirty interview with the hospitality division.”

She checks her screen. I keep my shoulders straight and my hands still, even though I want to grab the edge of the desk for balance. After a few excruciating seconds, she prints a badge and slides it across.

“Twenty-sixth floor,” she says in a bored voice.

“Thank you!” I squeak out.

She nods once, already looking past me to the next person waiting to get in.

The lobby is so large I’d call it cavernous. It’s bigger than the cathedral I grew up attending in Queens, and for years I thought that was the biggest building in the world. Dad didn’t take us into Manhattan much. This place has marble floors, brass trim, and floor-to-ceiling windows. It feels wrong to scuff it in my knockoffs.

Vieri Holdings isn’t my usual scene. It’s a far cry from my Queens apartment, where the water pressure is pitiful, and my father’s repair shop with the cracked front window.

This place screams luxury and old money. There are floral arrangements taller than children going through puberty here. They probably cost more than my rent, too.

I head for the elevators and try not to tally the price of everything I see. It’s an unfortunate force of habit. My phone buzzes in my pocket just as the doors open, and I pull it out to read the message.

Good luck, sweetheart. Everything here is fine.

It’s from my dad, and I know for a fact that everything is not fine. The garage is not fine. It hasn’t been fine in a long time. His health isn’t fine either. His blood pressure is a constant headache to his doctor. His debt is not fine. It’s the main reason I made the trek on the subway this morning.

I wish it worked that way. I wish just saying things were fine would make them so.

I step inside the elevator with a woman in a pinstriped suit who’s barking into her phone like there’s no one else in the cramped space. Two men follow her in. One smells like expensive cologne. At least $500 an ounce, if I had to guess.

The woman presses thirty-two. One of the men presses forty. I press twenty-six. At least, I think I do.

My phone buzzes before the doors close.

Dad: Don’t worry about me today. Focus on you.

It would be a lot easier to focus on me if he’d stop texting. I don’t mean to feel as annoyed as I do, but my nerves are complicating everything else. I take a deep breath and type out a response.

Me: Love you. I’ll call after.

By the time I look up, the doors are open, so I step out, thinking it must be my floor. Only, too late, I realize the woman in the pinstriped suit is still yelling into her phone two feet ahead of me. The doors close behind me before I can get back in and try for the right floor.

“Of course,” I mutter.

I jab the down button and wait impatiently. This stupid little mistake is going to make me late to my interview. I turn my phone off just to make sure I don’t make another dumb error.

Somewhere down the hall, a woman yells, “No, no, no, that is not the revised deck.”

A man answers, “It was in the folder.”

“The wrong folder, Bruce.”

“I didn’t name the folders.”

“You don’t need to name them to read a date.”

I pretend not to hear them since it’s doing nothing to calm my nerves. Instead, I clutch my own folder containing my resume tighter to my chest and tap my foot impatiently at the world’s slowest elevator.

Then someone rounds the corner too fast. A hard shoulder slams into mine and I nearly fall to the floor. My folder wasn’t so lucky though and slips dramatically from my hand. Pages from my résumé scatter across the floor. A stack of black presentation folders hits the marble at the same time, and now there’s a huge mess. Why, God, why? This is the last thing I need right now.

Then I look up. The man who ran into me is tall, broad, and ridiculously attractive. Like, I’d probably forget my own name if he asked attractive. He’s wearing a dark, expensive suit. I’m guessing at least $5,000, not counting the shirt or cufflinks. His dark hair is graying a little at the temples, though it’s more silver than gray. He’s scowling even though he’s the one who ran into me, and that just irritates me further.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >67

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Just a Little Tempted (Sterling Family Crossover #3) Read Online Carly Phillips http://www.ilovenovels.com/just-a-little-tempted-sterling-family-crossover-3-read-online-carly-phillips Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:24:59 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/just-a-little-tempted-sterling-family-crossover-3-read-online-carly-phillips Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic Authors: Carly Phillips Series: Sterling Family Crossover Series by Carly Phillips
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Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >85

I never meant to fall for my boss.

When I was hired to be Simon’s assistant, everyone warned me he was impossible—brilliant, demanding, and obsessed with control. But after surviving two months of his rules and grumpy attitude, I’ve learned how to manage my boss. Maybe it’s my chaotic upbringing or the fact that I desperately need this job, but I can’t ignore the moments when his guarded edges soften… even if he pretends they don’t.

Then one nervous slip in front of a major client turns into a fake relationship neither of us can back out of. Now I’m Simon’s “girlfriend,” attending dinners, traveling for meetings, and sharing far too much close proximity with the man I’m not supposed to want. Pretending to belong to him shouldn’t feel real—but it does. And the hardest part isn’t keeping up the lie. It’s realizing I’m falling for him for real.

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

CHAPTER ONE

Simon

“You’re fired.”

Sarah’s eyes went wide, her jaw dropping open. She’d been my assistant for all of three weeks, so I’d hoped she’d take the news without much fuss. But the outrage twisting her features told me I’d miscalculated. She was going to make a scene.

“Is this a joke?” Fire flashed in her eyes.

I couldn’t fathom what part of this she imagined I’d find amusing. I folded my arms across my chest and let my gaze go hard. “No. Gather your things and leave your parking pass on the desk.”

I turned toward my office, but she recovered fast, darting around her desk to plant herself in my path. If looks could kill, the one she leveled at me would have dropped me where I stood.

“You can’t just fire me,” she said, her voice sharp with anger. “I’ve been a great assistant—”

“You were adequate at first.” I cut her off, my patience already thinning. “But your performance lately has been less than impressive. I gave you a list of tasks this morning. You’ve completed half of them.”

She rolled her eyes, and any flicker of doubt I might have had about letting her go vanished. I couldn’t trust someone who couldn’t finish the work and then got defensive when I called them on their incompetence.

“That list was ridiculous,” she shot back. “It was too much. I tried to tell you that, but of course you didn’t listen. You’re too much of an unreasonable tyrant.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard a variation of that. You’re too demanding. You’re mean. You’re impossible to work with. You’re bossy.

That last one always grated. I was the boss. I signed the paychecks, and I expected results in return. I had standards for my assistants. There was nothing wrong with that.

And yet every assistant I’d let go lately seemed to agree on one point: I was the problem.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. Staying professional while someone insulted me took effort, but I refused to let my temper get the best of me. “If you find me to be such an unreasonable tyrant, then surely you’ll agree this job isn’t a good fit. Please leave.”

It wasn’t a request. We both knew it. I stepped around her and into my office, and the moment the door clicked shut behind me, the ranting began. Her commentary on my character was colorful and loud enough that Liam, my brother and business partner here at Powers Investment Group, was guaranteed to catch every word from his office across the hall.

Of course he was in today. He spent most of the week at GalvaTech, the electronics company we’d invested in a few months back. Any other day, there would have been no witnesses. Today, naturally, there would be.

Sarah was gone within fifteen minutes. Liam gave me five more before he walked into my office without knocking, his mouth set in a frown.

I was halfway through the quarterly report from one of last year’s investments, and I stubbornly kept my eyes fixed on the columns of numbers on my screen, hoping that if I looked busy enough, he’d take the hint and leave me alone.

Instead, he dropped into one of the chairs across from my desk. So much for wishful thinking.

“So.” He drew the word out. “That one lasted what—three weeks? Slightly longer than the last one, at least.”

I lifted my gaze from the computer screen. His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed a fraction, like I was a puzzle he’d given up trying to solve. He exhaled a heavy sigh and crossed his arms. Liam wasn’t a lecturer by nature, but everything in his posture said one was heading my way.

I leaned back in my chair and managed a shrug. “You and the staff have a bet going on or something? What’s the difference if she lasted three weeks or three days?”

Liam groaned and dragged a hand through his dark hair. “Please don’t fire someone after three days. That’s insane.”

“I was exaggerating,” I said, though I didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Were you?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Because lately it seems like you can’t hang on to an assistant at all.”

“It’s not my fault if they aren’t up to the job.”

“It is your fault if you’re impossible to work for.” He said it gently, which somehow made it land harder.

I let out a laugh that was completely devoid of humor. “Is this supposed to be tough love from my big brother?”

“This is concern from your business partner.”

Irritation settled over me. “And as my business partner, I’d think you’d appreciate that I have such high standards. I’m trying to elevate this company by demanding excellence. That’s not a flaw.”

Liam shook his head. “You’re purposefully setting expectations that are difficult to meet. That’s different.”

I held his stare and said nothing. I wasn’t going to repeat myself. After everything we’d been through, he knew where the standards came from. If demanding excellence made me difficult, then the problem wasn’t the standard—it was that I hadn’t found anyone who could rise to it. Someone who’d work hard. Someone who thrived under pressure instead of folding beneath it. Someone I could trust.

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Meet Cute the Virgin – Meet Cute Read Online Lucy Darling http://www.ilovenovels.com/meet-cute-the-virgin-meet-cute-read-online-lucy-darling Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:24:40 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/meet-cute-the-virgin-meet-cute-read-online-lucy-darling Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Novella, Virgin Authors: Lucy Darling Advertisement

Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >67

What happens when a grumpy billionaire tech genius accidentally on-purposes his way into guardianship of the sunshine heiress he's been low-key stalking for years? Firewalls, feelings, and spectacularly bad decisions fly.

Tristan Vanderbilt’s whole carefully-controlled life implodes when he becomes guardian to Lily Swan, daughter of his definitely-murdered mentor. He was only going to watch her. Keep her safe. Maybe build a dating app to talk to her anonymously, install surveillance across from her best friend's estate, and break into her bedroom that one time. New mission: convince the girl he's been obsessed with since forever that this is all totally normal protector behavior. She is, after all, his princess.

Lily Swan has terrible luck with escapes. Every time she runs, Tristan appears, in Paris, in her actual bedroom at 3 AM being emotionally vulnerable and annoyingly hot. He's either the most dedicated guardian in history or a complete disaster. Possibly both. New mission: figure out if she's escaping from him or running toward him. He is, after all, her sweetheart.

"Meet Cute the Virgin" weaves obsession and chaos in a story where love and terrible boundary-setting collide, leaving readers wondering if red flags can just be... decorative?

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

Chapter One

TRISTAN

Being in high-pressure situations is what I was built for. It’s a natural skill set I’ve always possessed. I’m sure confidence plays a massive role in that. I was very adept with computers from a young age. It’s not shocking. My father has always had a high-profile technology career that goes all the way back to the PalmPilot.

That really launched him. He became one of the most sought-after employees, bouncing between a few giant global companies.

I’d been an afterthought. He loved my mother, and she told me it was a whirlwind romance, and it wasn’t long before she was pregnant with me. He adored her. I still believe he sees her as a prize, even with how much he loved her. She was a supermodel when they met. My father was always the reserved, geeky type.

I was merely something my mother wanted. If it was possible for him to give her anything her heart desired, he did. Being a mom was on her list. As far ahead as my father could predict, he never considered the amount of attention Mom would focus on me, which meant it wasn’t on him.

This caused resentment. Not directed at my mother but at me. He put on that he loved me, but it was all a show. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were incapable of emotions beyond Mom. As I’ve gotten older, I realize that I also have many of his traits.

When I got recruited early to MIT, I didn’t hesitate in taking them up on it. I do love my mother; she means well, but I wasn’t sticking around to deal with my father any longer. I was only a few years into MIT, still a teen, when the FBI came knocking on my dorm room door wanting to recruit me.

That knock hadn’t come long after I submitted a patent for Dally 2.0. It was the world’s most advanced autonomous inventory robot. It featured a new optical system and superior sensing capabilities. It was able to effectively analyze area environments, scan and track products or items, and rapidly process data.

I have never officially worked for the government as an employee. They tried many times to hire me. I would rather not be beholden to anyone. They weren’t thrilled with my decision, but not wanting to lose me, they hired me as a subcontractor for different jobs or tasks.

A lot of my work was based around the military, but I worked closest to the director of the FBI. He took a liking to me, and it wasn’t until his death that I realized how I’d put him into a father role. He was the one who guided me through my teens and into adulthood. I respected him and looked up to him.

Victor was a good man. When he passed away, it deeply affected me, but nothing affected me more than his daughter did. I only met her a few times before his passing. Victor tried to keep his private life separate, but that line with us had started to blur.

I was shocked when, at his funeral, I was approached by his lawyer and asked to attend the reading of the will. I thought maybe there were project files he wanted me to have or a sentimental item. Never in a million years would I have been prepared for his last wishes.

Let’s just say I wasn’t wrong. To Victor, it was sentimental, the most loved and cherished possession he had: his daughter. The same daughter that is now staring daggers at me over breakfast. This is how all of our meals together have been for the last few weeks. Things around here have escalated, and for once in my life, I have no idea how to handle a situation. I’m way out of my depth. Lily isn’t a robot or a system I can try and reprogram.

She’s defiant and has a mouth worse than her father’s.

When Lily’s pissed, her voice rises, sharply, and it can easily slice right through you. Her cheeks flush, and her hands never stop moving. It’s a beautiful tidal wave of emotions. She’s filled with them in ways I have never experienced firsthand.

I watch her with a forensic intensity, tracking and memorizing the way her lips press together like she is trying to control herself, but the words end up exploding out. But when she ignores me, it’s worse. I feel it everywhere.

Lily doesn’t hold anything back and puts her emotions right out there. No matter how many times I tell her she needs to work on getting them under control. That always provokes her. Do I do it because I want her to get a hold on them or because I enjoy getting a reaction from her?

Can it be both? The reality is, I don’t have a fucking clue what I should be doing. Not since she finished school and has now come home permanently.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >67

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Once Bitten Read Online Jordan Silver http://www.ilovenovels.com/once-bitten-read-online-jordan-silver Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:24:34 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/once-bitten-read-online-jordan-silver Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic Authors: Jordan Silver Advertisement

Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >83

The daughter of Chase Thornton (Taking What He Wants) is no pushover, but when her first crush broke her heart, she withdrew into herself to lick her wounds. Drifting through life, she had no intentions of ever seeing him again until life threw her a curveball and their paths crossed once again at the worst possible time.

Julius Bliar (Dangerously In Love) has sworn off love and relationships. Ever since he broke the young girl’s heart, the girl his family legacy had chosen for him, he was sure he would walk this life alone. But then fate brought them together again and this time, he had no intentions of letting her go

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

JESSICA

“I’ll just end it if you leave me.”

“Come again!”

“I said I would end my life if you left me.”

“Hold that thought!” I left him sitting on the couch and headed into the bedroom to grab the bag I’d already packed. If this bitch was going to splatter his brain all over hell and back, he wasn’t getting blood all over my shit.

I looked around to make sure I hadn’t left anything behind. I’d already taken most of my stuff down to the car, but he got home before I could finish making my escape. I hate messy goodbyes, but if I stayed here one more minute, my freedom just might be forfeit. I’m barely holding on to my patience as it is.

“Where’re you going?” He jumped up off the couch when I started heading for the door. Ugh, he’s one of those.

“You said if I left, you would kill yourself. I accept that challenge.” Saves me having to do twenty-five to life behind your stupid ass.

He made a mad dash to block me, but I was too fast and was out the door, slamming it behind me before he took the third step. I bypassed the elevator and headed for the stairwell, booking it down three flights of stairs. I’m not an idiot; I know the elevator in this place barely works, so there was no way he would get downstairs before me. Besides, the desk clerk was on duty, and I knew my brand-new ex would eat his own young before letting himself look stupid in front of an audience.

“Going somewhere?” Charlie, the night clerk, called out as I headed for the doors.

“Yes, Charlie, I guess this is goodbye. I’m leaving that jerk.”

“Good for you.” His response brought me up short. That shit smacked of missing-missing reasons, like he knew something that I didn’t know until roughly half an hour ago.

“Hold that thought, Charlie, I’m gonna have to come back to you on that one.” I saw the flashing light of the elevator making its way down, so I hurried my ass out to my car in the lot, hit the fob that unlocked the door, and jumped into the driver’s seat like an extra on The Fast and the Furious while simultaneously tossing my bag in the passenger seat.

I saw my asshole ex run out the door just as I peeled off and gave him the middle finger salute in the rearview mirror. I wish this bitch would hold his life ransom after cheating on me. After three years of dating, didn’t he know me at all? The Purge is my all-time favorite movie, and he knows this. The fuck!

I thought of heading to my parents’ place, but made a split-second decision not to do that. That’s the first place the Asshole extraordinaire would look for me because I’m sure his narcissistic ass was too much the coward to follow through with his promise to end it.

It doesn’t matter, though, because the moment I saw the incriminating texts between him and his side piece, he was already six feet deep, as far as I’m concerned. I’m sure he knows that too, and that’s why he went to so much trouble to hide his little dalliance from yours truly.

What I’m sure he didn’t expect was for me to just leave. He was probably expecting tears and pleadings and all that other happy shit you see in the movies that are made to make women feel less than when they don’t act like their life is over without a smelly beast.

I wish the fuck I would lose my dignity over someone who didn’t think enough of me not to fuck around behind my back. The idiot knows how much I love myself. He also knows my stance on cheating and cheaters. Whatever possessed him to think I would act any differently in this situation is beyond me.

I pulled into the parking lot of the first motel I saw and sent up a hope and a prayer that there was a vacancy. It’s spring break, and our little beach town is known to swell to thousands about this time. At least this place is a little way away from the water, so I just might luck out; if not, I’ll just keep driving until I run out of gas.

The nice lady behind the desk found me a room on the second floor away from the hustle and bustle of the parking lot, which was the best I could expect at such short notice, and I took one bag with me, choosing to leave the rest of my stuff in the trunk of my car because I wasn’t planning on staying here longer than the one night it would take for me to get my ducks in a row.

First things first, as soon as I got to the room, I dropped my bag and called my parents to let them know that I was okay. I thought long and hard about how much to divulge because just as much as I didn’t want to end up behind bars, I didn’t want that for my Dad either, and he would for sure end the Asshole’s life without a second thought.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >83

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Runaway Rockstar Read Online Kylie Scott http://www.ilovenovels.com/runaway-rockstar-read-online-kylie-scott Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:23:59 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/runaway-rockstar-read-online-kylie-scott Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Kylie Scott Advertisement

Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >72

New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott returns with a hot new rockstar romance...

Nash Porter is a rockstar who wants out. He’s had enough of nonstop grinding tours and the pressure of success and fame. It’s time for a taste of normalcy. And his retired housekeeper’s home in a charming small town, is the last place anyone would think to look for him.

Having been dumped and evicted by her idiot ex, June Calloway is ready for a change of scenery. When her grandmother suggests June visit, she jumps at the chance. What could be better than quiet time in a quaint picturesque town to restart her life and take her mind off her woes? What she doesn’t anticipate is that a rockstar-in-hiding will be her new roommate—and she’ll have to help keep him away from the media and adoring fans.

Concealing a platinum-selling, award-winning musician’s true identity isn’t going to be easy, but June has some ideas. It starts with a shave and haircut, and ends with June claiming Nash is her very ordinary, not the slightest-bit-famous, ex who has come to woo her back. Surely nothing can go wrong

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

PLAYLIST

“Tití Me Preguntó” by Bad Bunny

“Dial Drunk” by Noah Kahan

“SS26” by Charli xcx

“Bitches” by Kassi Ashton

“Something To Dance To” by Willie Jones

“Blue Bayou” by Linda Ronstadt

“HUMBLE.” by Kendrick Lamar

“Bitin’ List” by Tyler Childers

“Crazy” by Patsy Cline

“Babydoll” by Dominic Fike

“Are You Ready To Love Me” by The War And Treaty

“Lover, You Should’ve Come Over” by Jeff Buckley

“Tennessee Whiskey” by Chris Stapleton

“Don’t Delete The Kisses” by Wolf Alice

CHAPTER ONE

There’s never a good time to find a stranger asleep on your front porch. But after having walked home from happy hour with your grandma is possibly the worst. The stars are shining, the cicadas are singing, and the whole world has a fuzzy distant feel to it. Like I need to focus, or there’s a chance I’m going to fall on my ass. I’m in no condition to be dealing with a trespasser, or much of anything.

My last vodka berry bramble might have been a mistake. Though an argument could be made that processing a breakup requires one drink too many and bitching about your ex to complete strangers in a bar. We had such a good night. Give or take the shadowy figure passed out on the daybed beneath the soft glow of the fairy lights strung from the rafters.

“He’s a big sucker,” I whisper-hiss from the steps. “What do we do?”

Grandma silently picks up the walking stick from beside the front door. The one she uses when wet weather sets off her bad knee. It’s wooden with climbing roses carved into it by a local artist. She swings it once or twice, testing its weight.

“You can’t just hit him.”

“I wasn’t planning to, dear,” she says. “Or not at first.”

“Should we call someone?”

“Let’s just assess the situation,” says Grandma. “Shine some light on him, June, would you?”

I aim my phone at the unconscious stranger. The sad fact is there’s a dearth of perfect asses. So it’s surprising to stumble across one in a small town in Washington State. And while I’m busy objectifying him—there’s nothing wrong with the width of his shoulders and breadth of his back. Same goes for his thick thighs and tree-length legs. The stranger passed out on Grandma’s porch is yoked. No idea about the rest of him. His long brown hair is a tangled mess, and his face is turned aside and cast in shadows.

Which doesn’t stop Grandma from recognizing him. “Oh, for goodness sake. Wake up, Nash.”

The stranger mumbles incoherently, and Grandma pokes him none too gently with her walking stick.

“Ow,” he says. Nash, she called him.

“What are you doing here?”

Nothing from him.

“Nash…”

“Please don’t poke me again,” he says in his deep, smooth voice.

“Then get up and give me some straight answers.”

He moans and groans and gets to his feet. My fear of heights would kick in if I were that tall. But not this guy. He just pushes his hair out of his face with a heavy sigh. The nerve of him to look hot as fuck with bloodshot eyes. He doesn’t appear to have slept in days. No wonder he was out cold. And I have the weirdest feeling I’ve seen his face before. Like this dude is seriously familiar. It’s the wild hair and beard and general air of deshabille he’s got going on. Ripped black jeans, a matching tee, and cowboy boots.

Nash squints down warily at my grandmother with her weapon and says, “I thought little old ladies were supposed to be nice.”

“I will beat the shit out of you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Is that how they say ‘I missed you’ where you come from?” Given the circumstances, he still sounds surprisingly cool, calm, collected, and amused.

There are many reasons why I admire my grandma. Not only is she great to go out with, but she tolerates no nonsense. “I haven’t heard from you in over two years and now you turn up here. Are you all right?”

“Of course, I am. I was just on tour. You know what it’s like. But I decided it’s time for a change.”

“What does that mean?”

Which is when it hits me. “Porter. You’re Aaron Porter. Oh my god.”

His smile is a brief flash of white teeth soon hidden by the tangle of brown hair again. I don’t know how he puts up with it.

“Nash,” says Grandma in a stern voice. “Answer me.”

Hands on hips, he announces, “I decided to quit being a rockstar and need somewhere to hide out for a while. What do you say?”

This feels like an alcoholic fever dream. Sitting at the kitchen table with a famous person drinking chamomile tea. Life comes at you with both speed and strangeness sometimes. I keep wanting to pinch one of us to see if this is real. But I settle for tugging on the end of my dark braid and frowning in confusion.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >72

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Secret Seduction (Tempting Love #4) Read Online Nikki Ash http://www.ilovenovels.com/secret-seduction-tempting-love-4-read-online-nikki-ash Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:23:57 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/secret-seduction-tempting-love-4-read-online-nikki-ash Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark, Mafia, Suspense, Virgin Authors: Nikki Ash Series: Tempting Love Series by Nikki Ash
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Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >98

She’s too young. Too reckless. And now she’s my wife.

Vanessa Baker is a temptation with a body made for seduction and secrets swirling in her violet eyes.
There’s no denying that she’s a stunning woman, but she’s a wild card.
Irresistible, unpredictable, and unexpected.
Exactly the kind of trouble I’ve vowed to stay away from.
So, imagine my shock when I wake up in the Bahamas with a ring on my finger and Vanessa in my bed—with no memory of how either got there.
She swears she had no choice. That marrying me was the only way to save herself from a dangerous deal she’d never agreed to.
And now I’m torn between protecting her and resenting her … doing the right thing and wishing I’d never met her.
I don’t trust easily. Not with my heart. Not with my son. And I definitely don’t trust her.
But I bring her home anyway—because her life is at risk. And even though she doesn’t deserve my protection, she has it.
Every day she’s here, charming my son, slipping past my walls, she reminds me of what love is supposed to feel like.
So, what happens when she doesn’t need me anymore … and I still want her anyway?

Please note: Secret Seduction is not a mafia romance. The book is a dark romance because of its content. Since dark romance can mean different things to different readers, please check the detailed content warnings on my website. Your mental health matters

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

SECRET SEDUCTION PLAYLIST

“Bed Chem” by Sabrina Carpenter

“Skyscraper” by Demi Lovato

“Sweet but Psycho” by Ava Max

“Sexy Love” by Ne-Yo

“Heart Attack” by Demi Lovato

“Fallin’ for You” by Colbie Caillat

“I’m a Mess” by Bebe Rexha

“Sabotage” by Bebe Rexha

“Lose Somebody” by Kygo and OneRepublic

“Bad at Love” by Halsey

Listen to this playlist as well as my other playlists on my website.

1

Lorenzo

One-point-two million.

That’s how much the mother of my son stole from me.

I was warned that she would fuck me over, but my bleeding heart didn’t listen.

So, when she showed up at my door with a baby in tow, I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Lorenzo, how do you want to go about handling this?” Eddy—the tech genius I keep on retainer—asks over the phone just as the woman in question flits through the door, dressed head to toe in Saint Laurent. Her hair is freshly dyed, and her nails and toes are a different color than they were when she left this morning.

“Leave it there—for now—and send me proof,” I tell him.

I hang up and glance at Hillary Sparks—the woman I was once upon a time engaged to. She showed up in Harbor Point, batted her long lashes, and convinced me that we were meant to be.

I didn’t think twice about moving her into my condo in downtown North Harbor Point.

Putting a massive ring on her finger—she’d picked it out, of course.

And when she offered to be my assistant after my previous one quit unexpectedly—who I later learned was paid off to leave—I was grateful to her.

But what I didn’t know was that she was working with my enemy, Enrique Rothschild, to take over and destroy my family’s multibillion-dollar real estate company.

Enrique was the son of Joseph Rothschild, my father’s childhood friend. Joseph slept with the woman my father was in love with years ago, resulting in her getting pregnant and causing a permanent rift in their friendship, which ended with my father killing Joseph and Enrique seeking revenge for his father’s death.

Hillary was paid by Enrique to extract information out of me.

And she succeeded.

Enrique had everything he needed at his fingertips to tear the company apart.

But he didn’t stop there.

He screwed over my sister, Dani, by claiming to love her.

Had me and my best friend and business partner, Matteo Antonov, arrested and thrown into jail.

He gained control of the company and almost destroyed it.

Thankfully, he failed.

Matteo handled the Hillary situation for me—while I was still in jail—ensuring she was out of my condo and the locks were changed.

Then he saved my sister from the asshole—while putting a bullet in his skull and ending his miserable excuse of a life.

Matteo and Dani fell in love, and when I got out from behind bars, I gained a brother-in-law and lost a fiancée.

“Lorenzo,” Hillary coos, bringing me back to the present, “is everything okay?”

I stifle a laugh at her loaded question and take a sip of my whiskey, craving the burn as it slides down my throat and calms me.

Everything was okay.

I might’ve been heartbroken and a bit jaded from Hillary fucking me over. But I was moving forward, focusing on the business and my sister, who was getting ready to give birth to my niece—until Hillary appeared back in my life.

I look over at my son, Leonardo Sparks—he doesn’t even have my last name because the bitch gave him hers or a middle name because she didn’t want to be bothered, both of which are already in the works to be rectified—but I can’t regret everything that happened because it led me to having my son. And I’ll never regret him.

But that doesn’t change the fact that once again, like the fucking chump I am, I allowed Hillary to come back into my life and fuck me over.

Only this time, it’s going to end a bit differently.

“Everything’s okay,” I tell her, forcing my tone to remain neutral when the sight of her alone makes me want to throw up. “Did you have a good day?”

She has several bags in her hands—all designer, of course, since she looks at me like I’m her personal ATM.

When she begged me to take her in, claiming she’d lost her job and apartment when she gave birth to our son and couldn’t go back to work right away, I let her in.

She told me she wanted to be a family.

Wanted to raise Leo together.

So, I gave her a roof over her head, a credit card with no limit, and a luxury SUV for her to drive around in, and what does she do? Steals one-point-two million dollars from me.

“I did.” She beams. “I bought Leo the cutest onesie.”

She saunters through the room without so much as a glance at our son. He’s merely an accessory. She claims she has postpartum depression, which prevents her from caring for our son. Yet I’ve never actually seen her depressed.

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