Erotic – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:27 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.1 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Erotic – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Willing Captive Read Online Alexa Riley http://www.ilovenovels.com/willing-captive-read-online-alexa-riley Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:27 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/willing-captive-read-online-alexa-riley Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>24
Advertisement

Leo has inherited a laundromat from a distant uncle she never met. With only warnings from her mother not to get involved, she doesn’t have much to go on. But it turns out that running the new business is mind numbingly boring. Her secret daydreams of the laundromat being part of the mafia and becoming the wife of a kingpin start to fade away… until Mattia shows up.
Mattia is in the middle of handling business when he looks up to find Leo pointing a can of pepper spray at him. No one in this town threatens him, let alone a woman half his size. He can’t let her find out who he truly is, but for some reason, he can’t stay away.
Over the top? And then some! This mafia romance is less about being dark and more about being ridiculous. Have some fun with us as we follow these two into their happily ever after

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

Chapter 1

Leo

The wild adventure I thought I was getting has been pretty dull. I fight a yawn, knowing if I let one go, I’ll be doing it for the rest of the day. I could use a nap after staying up way too late reading. It’s kind of ridiculous because I read most of the day, but I always promise myself just one more chapter.

There’s only so much I can do at a laundromat, and it doesn’t exactly take a lot of time. I check the machines and empty out the change. Then I sweep a few times and take the trash out. It’s tedious, especially when I built a whole scenario on how this would go in my head. Doing that is normal for me. I’ve been told more than a few times I live too much inside of my own imagination. That in itself sounds silly, but I understand the sentiment.

When a man in a swanky suit knocked on my door and informed me that I had a long-lost uncle on my mother’s side who left me a laundromat, I was excited for a new journey. Not that I was on a journey to begin with, but I had to start somewhere. That’s what life’s about, and I wanted to get out there and live it.

Ignoring all the times my mom told me that her family was bad news, I was focused on getting out of the small town I lived in. Sure, she wasn’t in contact with any of them, but I never agreed to that. Besides, the uncle that left it to me is dead, so I’m not sure it fully counts.

Either way, I wasn’t telling my mom about it. She would have told me to turn them down and send them away, but there’s no adventure in that. That’s how I ended up living a state away in my very own laundromat. Thankfully it came with the apartment above it.

The entire laundromat reminds me of something out of a mob movie. Maybe it has to do with all of my mother’s warnings about her family and not being involved with them. Or it could be that I saw my uncle’s name, Antonio Rossi, and that made me pause. It sounds like the name a gangster would have. Not that I know a ton about the mob outside of movies and books.

In the few weeks since I’ve been here, there hasn’t been any mob activity, and no one has asked me to launder money. Although once I googled what laundering money means and that it has nothing to do with actually washing it, I was disappointed.

I strum my fingers on the small counter that I spend most of my day sitting behind and debate if I should heat up leftover Chinese food for dinner or toss a pizza in the oven.

The bell over the door chimes, and I glance up as a man in his mid-twenties comes rushing in. He pauses when our eyes meet and raises his chin before slowing his steps. He heads for the other side of the laundromat, but he doesn’t have any laundry with him. My guess is he’s meeting the person bringing it here.

When another yawn almost hits me, I grab some quarters and go over to the vending machine. I’ve never had an energy drink, but that might do the trick. After I key the number in and it drops down, I crack it open for a taste.

“Ew,” I mutter to myself before I take another sip. It’s just as bad the second time, but I keep drinking it. I already paid for it, and I won’t let it go to waste.

I take my seat behind the counter again and watch as the man lingers in the corner. I debate if I should tell him that the washer he’s at isn’t the best out of the bunch when another man comes striding in. All the words on my lips evaporate at the sight of the new guy. Not because he clearly doesn’t belong but at how incredibly attractive he is.

He’s got dark hair with striking blue eyes that are hard to miss. His broad shoulders are encased in a dark gray suit that was made to fit him like a second skin. He isn’t paying any attention to me as he zeroes in on the other guy.

I brace for an argument of some kind, thinking I should probably go ahead and start calling the police, but this is free reality TV right in front of me. It’s exciting until the man in the suit pulls out a gun and pistol-whips the other guy. It happens so fast, I have no time to react. All I can do is stand there and watch it happen.

Blood splatter goes everywhere before the man in the suit slams the other guy into the washing machine behind him. Well, at least he did it against the bad one.


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>24

Advertisement

All Bets Are Off Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.ilovenovels.com/all-bets-are-off-read-online-jessa-kane Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:24 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/all-bets-are-off-read-online-jessa-kane Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, Novella Tags Authors:
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>51
Advertisement

Vida works as a maid at Reserve, an ultra-exclusive resort on the Massachusetts coastline. She’s been warned about entitled trust fund boys for years, but when she catches the ultimate rich boy’s eye, he’s anything but typical. Tripp Sterling is a billionaire and comes from a vastly different world than Vida. One of yachts and glitzy parties and Ivy League educations. There are strict rules against guests socializing with staff, but the moment Tripp sees the stunning maid, he’s consumed. He’s going to have Vida, no matter the cost. But first he’ll have to convince her to enter his world of wealth…an often judgmental world that sticks to their own and doesn’t like change

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

ONE

Vida

I push the laundry cart down the luxurious corridor, stopping outside of room 721. Using the edge of my universal key card, I tap lightly on the heavy cream door.

“Housekeeping.”

Tucking the card back into the pocket of my uniform, I rub the stiffness from my neck and wait for a response or any indication that the occupant is still inside the room. There isn’t one. And honestly, there shouldn’t be anyone inside. It’s a gorgeous July day outside on the coast of Massachusetts, the waves lapping gently against the cliffs, the gulls calling to one another gently. All the trust fund kids who arrived today are at a welcome soiree on the beach, sipping the resort’s signature cordials and soaking in the sunshine.

Technically, I’m not employed as a housekeeper for Reserve, the Northeast’s premier beach resort designed for the upper class, but I have been filling in for my aunt a lot. Her arthritis is causing her to come home in too much physical pain lately, so I stepped in and took over.

What is she going to do in the fall when I start my freshman year at Dartmouth?

Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I proceed to gather the towels I need off the cart. My mind is still on my aunt, however. Peggy raised me from the age of ten, and she’s worked around the clock to support us both, through bad times and good. I probably wouldn’t even have applied to colleges if she hadn’t insisted. Can I really leave her when the time comes? Who is going to cover her shifts when she’s weakened with pain?

Setting aside the worry for later, I let myself into the room with an armful of towels.

I’m brought up short when I find the curtains are drawn, leaving the room dark. Most of the new arrivals dropped off their luggage and went straight to the beach. Warily, I turn on the lamp to my right, which is perched on a modern, oak desk with gold hardware. My eyes widen a little at the size of the room that is revealed. Is this the presidential suite? I don’t think I’ve ever cleaned a room this large. This isn’t even the bedroom. It’s merely the seating area.

“Hello?” I call, wetting my lips. “Housekeeping.”

Silence.

No water running.

“Just leave the towels and go, Vida,” I whisper, advancing toward the hallway, the sounds of the ocean growing louder as I draw closer to the bedroom. Based on the orientation of the room, the sleeping quarters must overlook the Atlantic. How incredible it must be to wake up in such a room. Why would anyone want to keep the sunlight out?

Reminding myself that rich kid behavior is none of my business and I’m just here to clean, I step soundlessly into the bedroom and gasp, barely able to keep my jaw off the floor.

It’s extraordinary.

Modern in whites and creams and golds, the curtains billow gently behind the mostly closed windows. As if someone didn’t want the light, but they wanted the sound of waves. A finger of discomfort creeps up my spine at the feeling that someone is either in the room or only recently departed. The maids are supposed to operate without being seen or heard. We’re the unseen facilitators of comfort, not meant to be underfoot. Ever.

If I were to jeopardize Peggy’s position at the resort, I’d never forgive myself.

No one is here. Calm down.

Taking a deep breath, I sidestep toward the bathroom and lower the heavy, carved gold handle, pushing inside⁠—

A man stands at the double sink, his hands planted on the alabaster marble, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. His head is bowed forward, giant noise-canceling headphones covering his ears—and the music must be blasting, because I can hear the bass from five feet away. No wonder he didn’t hear me calling.

I’m frozen in indecision. Run? Make myself known and apologize?

Oh God. What do I do?

Trapped by uncertainty, I can’t help but notice the man I’ve just intruded on is…Something to behold. To call him a work of art would be an understatement.

He’s easily six foot four, generously muscled. His hands and bare feet are huge. Tension tightens the cords and sinew of his broad shoulders and triceps. Even without seeing his face, I can deduce that he belongs in a grand room such as this. It’s a room fit for a lord or a king. A god among men. That’s exactly what he is. But gods come armed with wrath, and that means I need to get my butt out of here. Unseen.

Embracing my flight instinct, I back up a step⁠—

His head lifts. Whips around.

I’m pinned by a pair of turbulent blue eyes.

My breath jams in my lungs and I drop the towels.

I’ve never seen more attractive features in my life. Not even in the movies.


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>51

Advertisement

Big Stick Energy (New York Legends #2) Read Online Sarina Bowen http://www.ilovenovels.com/big-stick-energy-new-york-legends-2-read-online-sarina-bowen Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:13 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/big-stick-energy-new-york-legends-2-read-online-sarina-bowen Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Sports Tags Authors: Series: New York Legends Series by Sarina Bowen
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>101
Advertisement

A hockey team captain and a bubbly staffer mix business with pleasure when they start fake dating through the wedding season in this hot sports romance perfect for fans of Mariana Zapata​ and Elle Kennedy.

Darcy Kendrick is used to putting out fires. As an overworked admin to a hockey team, she’s seen it all. But nothing prepares her for accidentally DMing her very private, very NSFW fantasy to the subject of this fantasy: team captain Eric Tremaine. Nobody actually dies of embarrassment. Right?

But when a wedding invite puts them on a collision course with her chaotic family and his emotionally fraught past, Eric suggests a plan: they fake-date their way through the “Wedding Experience.” It’s mutually beneficial. Totally strategic. And definitely not real. Except between mini tacos, slow dances and lingering glances, Eric starts to wonder if the sharp-tongued assistant with a bottomless to-do list might be the one person who truly sees him. And for Darcy? The fire in her heart might be the only one she can’t put out.

It’s supposed to be fake. It’s supposed to be temporary. So why is it so hard to walk away?

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

Chapter 1

A Little Prickly

Eric

May

The bus rumbles to a stop outside our Fort Lauderdale hotel, and the collective groan tells me everything I need to know about the team’s energy level. We’re deep in the playoffs, and nobody has slept a full night in weeks.

“My legs are trashed,” DeLuca announces from the seat behind me. “I might need to be carried off this bus.”

“I’ll grab your head, the rookie can take your feet,” Patterson offers, already standing and stretching dramatically.

“I’m not touching anyone’s feet,” Weber grouses. “That’s not in the handbook.”

I clap my hands together. “Less whining, more walking. I’m hungry.”

“They’re feeding us again, right?” DeLuca asks.

“I’m sure. Get your asses off the bus, and then I’ll check.” Captain’s duty.

I watch as they file toward the front, a procession of exhausted millionaires griping like toddlers before nap time. Petrov has his sleep mask still pushed up on his forehead, Weber is limping slightly from a blocked shot that found the one unpadded spot on his ankle, and Larkin is already on his phone, probably checking in with his pregnant wife.

I’m always the last one off the bus. Captain goes down with the ship, or in this case, makes sure nobody leaves their phone chargers or lucky socks behind. I do a quick scan of the seats, picking up a water bottle Emerson left behind and a granola bar wrapper that somehow missed the trash.

That’s when I notice a flash of ginger up front. As I get closer, I realize that Darcy—the GM’s assistant—is still in the first seat, her head resting against the window, completely dead to the world.

For a second, I just stare. I’ve never seen Darcy Kendrick anything less than alert and efficient. She’s always three steps ahead of everyone else, anticipating problems before they happen, notebook in hand and a sharp comeback ready. But here she is, mouth slightly open, completely oblivious to the fact that we’ve arrived.

I reach for her shoulder but then hesitate. I don’t want to startle her. “Darcy. Hey there, Darcy?” I say softly instead. “We’re back at the hotel.”

But she doesn’t move. Her pretty face is slack.

“Darcy?”

Once again, nothing.

I’m going to have to be more assertive, but I’m not looking forward to it. Darcy is a fantastic asset to the team, but she’s always been a little prickly to me. And only to me. When everyone else is around, she smiles more. I irritate her, though, and I’ve never been able to figure out why.

Honestly, it bugs me.

None of that matters right now, though. We need to get off this damn bus, so I reach down and give her shoulder a gentle nudge. “Buddy, we’re back at the hotel. I don’t think you want to stay on this bus.”

Her eyes snap open with the suddenness of someone who’s been yanked out of a dream. When she looks up, her gaze meets mine, and for a brief second, there’s a flash of something almost dreamy in her expression before it’s quickly replaced by irritation.

“Damn it.” She leaps to her feet, her face flushing nearly as red as her hair. “I never fall asleep. Did anyone draw on my face?” Her hands fly to her cheeks.

“Nope. You’re clear,” I say quickly. Although it’s a legitimate fear. Last month, on a flight to Dallas, Johnson fell asleep with his mouth hanging open and DeLuca drew a handlebar mustache on him with a Sharpie, which didn’t fully wash off until three games later. The TV commentary was rough.

She scrubs at her face with her hands anyway, then gives me a furious look. “Don’t stare. It’s impolite.”

“I’m not. I’m waiting for you. Like a gentleman,” I insist. Then I change the subject. “Dinner is probably soon, right? That’ll perk us up.”

She hoists her bag onto her shoulder and gives me another frown. “I’m on it, okay? I’ll check with the kitchen before I go up to my room.” Then she marches off the bus as if I’ve offended her.

Which is fine, right? I don’t need everyone to like me.

They usually do, but whatever.

I thank the driver for his service and drag my tired ass into the hotel.

Chapter 2

Like a Pit Bull in the Sun

Darcy

The Florida humidity sticks to me even after I’ve staggered into the air-conditioned hotel lobby. But the heat makes sense, because I’m suddenly in hell. I can’t believe that Eric Tremaine just found me drooling on myself. So mortifying.

I’d been floating along in a dream state when I’d heard a low, sexy voice. “Darcy. Hey there, Darcy?”

My first reaction had been: Oh yes, baby. Say more. But when I’d eventually opened my eyes, I’d been filled with horror. Out of two dozen players, it had to be Eric Tremaine who found me? I let out a groan, and a bellhop gives me a quizzical look.

You’d groan, too, buddy. My working relationship with Eric Tremaine is already complicated. He’s at the tippy top of the Legends food chain, and I’m on the bottom. Since he’s the captain of the team, I interact with him more than with other players.


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>101

Advertisement

Blitz (Redline Kings MC #10) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/blitz-redline-kings-mc-10-read-online-fiona-davenport Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:11 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/blitz-redline-kings-mc-10-read-online-fiona-davenport Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Erotic, Insta-Love, MC, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Redline Kings MC Series by Fiona Davenport
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>43
Advertisement

Canyon “Blitz” Madsen didn’t believe in mercy. When the Redline Kings MC secretary learned one of his prospects was an undercover fed, he planned to seduce the agent’s innocent younger sister as revenge. But he ultimately decided it was a line he wouldn’t cross.

Then he met Aubrey Cullen and knew leaving her alone wasn’t an option. One look at the sweet nanny, and Blitz was gone. Now caught between the secret that could destroy them and the fierce need to protect her, he’ll do anything to keep Aubrey safe—even working with the FBI brother he once wanted to destroy

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

1

BLITZ

Istepped out of Jax’s office—the tech genius for my MC—letting the heavy door swing shut behind me. I moved into the hallway and braced my shoulder against the wall, staring at the opposite one without really seeing it. A heavy tension had settled deep in my gut, like an anchor dragging me down. I knew this feeling. It was fucking betrayal.

The realization twisted into anger, confusion, and frustration. A prospect I’d brought into the fold, a man I’d called a friend and soon-to-be brother, was something else entirely. Tripp was something dangerous. And hidden.

As secretary for the club, I oversaw prospect development and evaluated whether they were truly Redline Kings material. Knowing I’d fucked up so spectacularly was like swallowing jagged glass.

Fuck!

I blew out a slow, measured breath and rubbed a hand roughly over my jaw, replaying it all back from the very beginning.

I’d met Tripp at an underground race months back. Our MC was built on and surrounded by the racing culture. Motorcycles, cars, legal races, and illegal ones—we had our hands in all of it.

Our president, Kane, was a world-renowned racer. Despite being big for a driver, he was known for his sharp reflexes and calm dominance. His body knew exactly how to handle any motorcycle or race car he drove without having to think about it. Then he won enough races to gain the capital to build his own racing teams and eventually tracks. Combining all of that with smart investments, he’d become a billionaire and a fucking giant in the industry—controlling the professional and underground racing world in the South the way the DeLuca crime family ruled New York.

Everyone knew not to fuck with Kane or his brother, Edge, our VP. And when they founded the Redline Kings, he hadn’t even been given a road name. He’d built his reputation as a fair but merciless, lethal motherfucker, so definitively that his real name became synonymous with fear and respect. When people heard “Kane,” they already knew who the hell it was.

Tripp had raced that first night, landing an impressive fourth place. Not dominant enough to trigger suspicion, but clearly talented. I’d come in second, finishing just behind Edge. Afterward, I’d approached the newcomer, teasing him good-naturedly about finishing fourth.

Tripp had taken the ribbing easily, flashing a quick grin and giving as good as he got. That night had started our friendship.

From then on, we’d hang out frequently after races, sharing drinks and jokes and forging a strong camaraderie. Soon, I started bringing him around the club socially and introducing him to the brothers. He’d fit in surprisingly well.

Eventually, I’d suggested prospecting. Kane told Jax to run a background check on him. Everything had checked out—family, old addresses, etc. His employment history had been thin, but he’d won enough races for us to assume he lived mostly off the purses he’d earned

Tripp had quickly earned the club’s trust. He was funny, laid back, and undeniably talented, but something about him had always seemed just slightly off. I’d attributed it to past trauma, sensing that Tripp carried some unseen weight that he didn’t share openly.

But as time passed, more subtle inconsistencies emerged.

Looking back now, the first time I should have noticed something was off was when we went to the gun range. We always took prospects to assess their ability with weapons so we knew who could be sent on certain runs, and if they were eligible for certain roles, like being an enforcer.

Tripp had obviously had weapons training, and when I inquired about it, he told me it was from learning to hunt with his dad. But that wouldn’t explain his expert marksmanship with handguns. And while Tripp’s dossier showed that he had a concealed weapons permit, he’d mentioned that he didn’t own a gun.

I noticed Tripp avoiding conversations about family and deflecting any questions that became too personal. He redirected attention quietly, carefully keeping the focus off himself. I initially chalked it up to private struggles, but now it seemed far more deliberate.

Then the federal raid had happened. A warehouse just outside Crossbend, sitting near a critical transport corridor used by the MC’s operations, had been busted wide fucking open. The feds discovered that it was a major hub for laundering, trafficking, and weapons operations.

The Redline Kings had zero ties to that warehouse or its activities, but it didn’t matter. The warehouse sat dangerously close to routes frequently traveled by the club’s vehicles—transport rigs, security teams, and race equipment.

In hindsight, it was obvious that federal surveillance had captured Kings-affiliated vehicles repeatedly moving through the area. The feds wouldn’t have realized it was coincidental—they would have begun building a case, theorizing a connection between the warehouse operations and Kane’s empire. It was exactly the kind of misunderstanding that could’ve done massive damage.

Except it didn’t.

Because just before the raid went down, Tripp had brought unusual activity to Kane’s attention—strange vehicles parked near the transport route, unfamiliar surveillance gear, and odd movements along the corridor. At the time, it seemed exactly what a loyal, observant prospect would do, eager to prove himself to the club. Kane had agreed it felt off and had promptly rerouted all Kings-related vehicles through alternate routes as a precaution.


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>43

Advertisement

Broken Pride – Texas Pride Series Read Online Kindle Alexander http://www.ilovenovels.com/broken-pride-texas-pride-series-read-online-kindle-alexander Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:02 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/broken-pride-texas-pride-series-read-online-kindle-alexander Categories Genre: Contemporary, Erotic, M-M Romance Tags Authors:
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>120
Advertisement

In recognition of current economic challenges, all Kindle Alexander titles have been reduced in price and will remain so for the foreseeable future.

Description:

Mega movie star Slade Whitaker lives under a constant microscope. Fame, fortune, and a global fanbase come at a hefty personal price of keeping his true self tightly under wraps. One he escapes from every year to his secluded West Texas ranch, far from the relentless paparazzi and the dark side of Hollywood.

For Mason Sutton, life used to be simple. Long days spent on the rich Texas soil and the quiet, steady comfort of his beloved rodeo mare, Wildflower. But one tragic afternoon shatters everything, leaving him alone to rebuild the pieces of his life. The last thing Mason wants is a sexy temptation with a great strut wreaking havoc on his broken life.

In the quiet countryside, far from cameras and gossip columns, the line between fantasy and reality blurs. Will they risk their futures for a chance at love, or will the fear of being exposed destroy the one thing that might finally make them whole?

A steamy MM celebrity romance featuring a movie star, a Texas cowboy, small-town heat, emotional hurt/comfort, and a secret relationship that could change everything

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

Prologue

Mason Sutton

7 years ago

The ear-piercing squeak of the swinging saloon doors came with all the creaking that only hand-carved more than a hundred-year-old white oak could achieve. How the batwing doors were still attached to the doorframe was a marvel in itself. As far as I knew, the hinges holding the doors in place were forged before the industrial revolution became a thing. Those double-action hinges had stood the test of time but did nothing to help my aching head or tired body. The clanking bells attached to the modern front door didn’t help either.

The culprit who let the doors make all that racket was technically the man who owned this bar. My grandfather, mighty Max Sutton, shuffled across the Texas walnut floor to his carved-out piece of the bar, the place he spent every day since his stroke more than three years ago. The swishing of each booted foot, along with the walker he used, hoisted all the sounds into the high-frequency range, stabbing like a knife into my throbbing head.

Darkness frayed the edges of my vision. My stomach twisted, scrambling me down each rung of the ladder in record time. Passing out, or even worse, spewing the contents of my semi-empty stomach, would be better at ground level. Obviously, replacing light bulbs was a job better suited for tomorrow.

“You drink too much,” my grandfather said in his stroke-inhibited speech pattern. Sometimes it was hard to figure out what he tried to say, and he’d get riled up, slapping the tabletop and raising his voice. Not this time, he was straight up telling me his opinion and the words held clarity I couldn’t mistake. The same sentiment revibrated through my head every day that I woke up in the mind-numbing existence I lived.

I rested my hands on my knees, closed my eyes, and breathed in controlled puffs, trying to get past another roll of my gut. My life was painfully monotonous. This same routine every single day. Something had to give. I counted the seconds until my body behaved.

My family had kept the nostalgia of the bar intact. Not because we needed it this way, but due to the generations of our ancestors who’d owned this property and parcel of land it sat on.

The generations of Suttons had updated the hundred-and eighty-year-old bar over the years. While the Silver Star Saloon kept its vintage appearance, we did have the conveniences of indoor plumbing, climate control, and a modern kitchen.

A trickle of sweat ran down my temple as the next spike of pain shot through my head, causing me to swivel on my heels in search of the first-aid kit to find some pain reliever and anything else that might help.

“Where you goin’?” my father, Les Sutton, called from the entry with another clank of those evil bells. “We got a truck full.”

“Give me a…” I lost the battle and grabbed the bar’s undercounter trash can, burying my head inside while emptying my stomach.

“He drinks too much.” My grandfather’s rough, gravelly voice was louder than before, this time with more clarity.

“He does drink too much,” my mom, Jilly Sutton, echoed. Though her tone hinted at both compassion and concern. Instinct told me that she was headed my way. A cold can of Dr. Pepper and a wet towel were her cure-alls for a hangover. First the soda then the damp rag appeared on the bar top in front of me. “He’s also not of legal age to be drinkin’ at all. We could get in trouble.”

Again, another thing I knew without needing a refresher course.

After a few seconds, I forced myself to man up, not even trying to hide the wince as I ran the rag over my forehead and went for the small sink, splashing water over my face and into my mouth.

“Is Lori here yet?” my mom asked, her hand caressing a comforting trail down my back. Where I’d reached about six feet in height, my mom was a tiny thing, having to lift to reach my shoulders. “Babe, I can get you some breakfast.”

Oh no, absolutely not. With a hard shake of my head, I rejected anything food-related and popped the top on the soda before taking several long gulps.

My mom and I shared a connection that meant something special. She read me like a book, and I didn’t want to hear what she had to say, stopping it before it started. “I won about seventy bucks last night,” I said, rubbing the rag over my wet face. “We ended about seven this mornin’.”

“You’ve been up all night?” she asked, her brow crinkling. “How can anyone play that much poker?”

A smile touched my lips as I rested a palm on the edge of the glazed countertop made of the same walnut as the floor. No one understood the draw of poker until they played, which she never had. Besides, the guys that used our back room for their Thursday night game paid to rent the space. They drank more alcohol than a week’s worth of customers. We profited from the weekly game.


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>120

Advertisement

Code Name Ember (Jameson Force Seattle #1) Read Online Sawyer Bennett http://www.ilovenovels.com/code-name-ember-jameson-force-seattle-1-read-online-sawyer-bennett Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:55 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/code-name-ember-jameson-force-seattle-1-read-online-sawyer-bennett Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Erotic, Suspense, Thriller Tags Authors: Series: Jameson Force Seattle Series by Sawyer Bennett
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>82
Advertisement

A whistleblower is dead. A journalist is hunted. And only one man can keep her alive.

After a career in special forces, then as a smokejumper, Cole Mercer is ready for a new challenge. When he hears that the world-renowned covert operations team at Jameson Force Security is opening a facility in Seattle, Cole knows exactly where he belongs. What he doesn’t expect is to come face-to-face with the woman he never stopped loving—the one who walked away before either of them said goodbye.

Investigative journalist Tessa Ward has uncovered proof that a powerful real estate developer is tied to a string of deadly wildfires in the Pacific Northwest. It’s the kind of story that could make her career… or end her life. When her source is murdered in cold blood, Tessa realizes the truth is more dangerous than she ever imagined. With no other options, Tessa knows she has no choice but to turn to the one man she swore she’d never ask for help.

Some fires are set on purpose. Others never stop burning.

Their past ended in heartbreak, but when it’s clear she’s being hunted, Tessa and Cole are forced to set aside their hurt. As they chase a trail of corruption, arson, and murder, every life-or-death decision reignites old passions. But the closer they get to the truth, the more dangerous the game becomes—and one wrong move could cost them everything, including each other

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

CHAPTER 1

Cole

Gunfire cracks through the training bay, sharp and contained, the sound ricocheting off steel beams and reinforced concrete. The air carries the acrid smell of burned propellant left behind by the sim rounds—the small polymer bullets we shoot at each other rather than real ammunition.

I pivot left around a fabricated drywall corner, Glock up, both hands steady. The digital overlay in my heads-up display flashes a red silhouette through the partition—an armed hostile, two meters beyond the threshold.

I drop to one knee at the doorway, lean out just enough to clear the angle, and fire three rapid shots.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

The projection target flickers and dissolves. A chorus of electronic beeps confirms the neutralization, but the overhead scoreboard still burns bright above the bay doors.

SECOND PLACE.

“Hostage compromised,” the automated system announces in its calm, infuriating voice over the comms.

Fuck.

The third floor of the Jameson Force Seattle headquarters isn’t just a firing range. It’s a full-immersion tactical maze with modular walls on hydraulic tracks that can be moved around in various formations. Programmable lighting can drop the room into blackout mode in half a second and ceiling-mounted projectors are capable of projecting holographic moving civilians, vehicles or armed suspects into the simulation drills. On top of that, we have the standard pop-up targets that will appear out of nowhere and shave years off your life.

Today’s scenario is a hostage extraction inside a two-story urban warehouse. The program is giving us several hostiles, three civilians and zero acceptable collateral damage.

I clear the doorway properly this time, sweeping the near corner before shifting deeper into the room. A hostage mannequin lies zip-tied behind stacked cargo crates, an attached LED light blinking yellow to indicate a moderate but survivable injury. My HUD—the heads-up display projected across my smart lenses—flashes the damage report at the lower edge of my vision.

All hostiles neutralized. Zero civilian deaths. Clean shot placement. Response time four-point-two seconds behind optimal.

Second place by a margin that would have been invisible to anyone not running at this level. Reid was faster today, but it won’t happen twice.

Somewhere to my right, another three-shot burst echoes, perfectly timed, perfectly placed.

“Mercer,” Reid calls from behind a barricade, a grin in his voice. “You slowing down, old man?”

I duck as a fresh hologram pops up to my left. “You’re welcome for the cover fire,” I shoot back, nailing the digitized silhouette before it can light me up. “Maybe focus on not getting yourself killed.”

Josie’s voice crackles over the comms. “Focus, gentlemen. We’re supposed to be rescuing hostages, not arguing like frat boys.”

“Frat boys get to drink more,” Reid mutters.

“True that,” I commiserate, grinning despite myself. Reid’s Marine Corps swagger and Josie’s NSA-trained sharp tongue keep this place from feeling like a funeral. It’s almost enough to make me forget the smell of real smoke and blood.

Almost.

“Clock’s ticking,” Malik’s voice cuts in, calm but firm. “Two minutes to extraction.”

I roll forward, scanning the virtual layout on my wrist display. Target room dead center—two hostiles, one hostage. Breach-and-clear.

“Reid, flank left. I’ll take point.”

“Copy.”

“Josie, bring up the rear.”

She doesn’t acknowledge but hangs back three paces as we sweep the corner. Josie is our lead intelligence specialist at Jameson Seattle. While she’s most dangerous at a keyboard, Malik insists everyone trains the same, and her tactical skills are every bit as sharp as mine or Reid’s.

My pulse steadies but then again, it always does when the adrenaline hits. Everything narrows. Breath, sight, timing.

The door is magnetically locked so I plant a breaching charge, count down from three, and we flow through after it blows. Two paint rounds zing past my shoulder. I drop one target and Reid takes the other. The hostage dummy screams through the speakers in mock terror, a realistic element that sort of creeps me out.

“Clear,” I say, and Josie comes in behind us, holstering her weapon and cutting the restraints off the dummy while Reid and I cover her in case Malik sends in some surprise hostiles.

But then we hear his voice over the comms. “That was really good. Mission complete.”

Josie grins as she rises from the now freed but still inert hostage. “Nice work, boys. Only one of you is bleeding this time.”

I glance down at the red paint blooming across my shoulder plate.

Reid smirks. “You hesitated. Thought you were supposed to be the calm, collected one.”

“Next time, you breach first. Let’s see how calm you stay.”

We exit into the corridor, the air shifting from propellant and burnt plastic to crisp and filtered sweetness. The Jameson Force Security–Seattle Division facility still smells new. It’s been three months since we opened unofficially, a spinoff from the Pittsburgh division, which spun off from the original in Las Vegas.

Tonight is the grand opening proper, and our owner, Kynan McGrath, spared no expense. The building is a 1908 brick structure in Pioneer Square, formerly known as the Blackwood Exchange, but is now referred to among us simply as headquarters. It’s four stories with Romanesque arches lining the upper windows, ornate stone cornices, deep red masonry and tall, narrow windows trimmed in dark metal. From the street it reads as old Seattle wealth—respectable, established, untouchable. Nothing about the facade hints at what happens inside.


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>82

Advertisement

Crowned by The Wolf Prince – Ravenous Royal Read Online Olivia T. Turner http://www.ilovenovels.com/crowned-read-online-the-wolf-prince-ravenous-royal-read-online-olivia-t-turner Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:52 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/crowned-read-online-the-wolf-prince-ravenous-royal-read-online-olivia-t-turner Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Insta-Love, Paranormal, Suspense Tags Authors:
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>37
Advertisement

Olivia T. Turner's second instalment in the Ravenous Royals series.
Description coming soon...
Glamour. Intrigue. Desire hot enough to burn down a palace.

These possessive princes and kings won’t settle for just any woman. They want their queen. The one true love who can bring these powerful royals to their knees.

New standalone stories by your favorite best-selling steamy romance authors, Hope Ford, Olivia T. Turner, and Michele Mills.

A crown has never been so sinful

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

Prologue

Kieran

“Do you think he has made his decision, cousin?” Lucan asks as we race past the guards patrolling the front gate. I have a step on him as we head to the high tower where my father, the Wolf King, has his office.

“Is there any doubt?” I say with a carefree laugh, bursting through the wooden doors of the tower. “The Wolf King made his decision the second I emerged from the womb and let out a mighty howl.”

“More like a pathetic whimper while you pissed yourself,” Lucan says, grunting to try and catch up.

I leap onto the curling stone staircase and race up the tower. Lucan is right behind me.

“Whoever gets to the top first gets to be the next king,” I say, laughing as I turn the bend. A maid screams in fright, plastering herself against the wall as we run past her.

“I’ll take that deal,” Lucan says as I pass the stained-glass window of our grandfather, the great Wolf King Breyor. He ruled for four prosperous decades before he died and passed the throne onto his oldest son, Lucan’s father.

But Lucan’s father only lasted three years as the Wolf King of the Stormfur Realm before he unexpectedly died eight years ago when my cousin and I were six. My uncle had barely begun his rule before an accident at sea took his life, along with the lives of both our mothers. The ocean bordering our Western front turned rough and violent while my mother and the King and Queen were traveling up North. No one on the ship survived that horrible day.

So, the crown passed to the last remaining heir, my father, Wolf King Axton.

He has been a good king. A fair king. A strong king.

The Stormfur Realm has been prosperous and safe during his rule. King Alaric and his Moonborne Kingdom along our Eastern flank has respected our pack and our borders, and the human kingdom to the south has remained relatively peaceful. My dad has done a good job. Better than my uncle would have done, no matter what Lucan has to say about it.

My heart is racing as I fly up the steps as fast as I can. Only one floor to go.

“Get ready to bow to the next king,” I say, laughing in triumph. “You have no chance.”

But Lucan rarely plays fair. He grabs my ankle and yanks it back. I stumble on the stairs, slamming my shin against the sharp stone step. He laughs as he pushes me down and races past me.

I curse and slam my fist into the stone, jumping up to catch him.

He arrives at my father’s office first, bursting through the giant wooden doors and stepping inside.

Lucan stops at the threshold of the office, clasping his hands behind his back and lowering his head—a sign of respect—although there’s no respect in my cousin. He looks at me over his shoulder with a malicious grin as I catch up.

I bump into him with my shoulder as I take the same pose—hands behind my back, head lowered in reverence.

“King Lucan,” he whispers. “I like the sound of that.”

“Never going to happen while I’m alive,” I whisper back.

I raise my head an inch and sneak a peek at my father. He’s sitting on the other side of the vast room, speaking with his advisor amongst endless stacks of parchment. That’s what the pups of the pack get wrong. They think being a Wolf King is all danger and glory, when in reality, it is mostly meetings and paperwork.

My father’s eye meets mine and he gives me a wink. Lightness fills my chest. Pride surges through my veins as I stand a little taller.

I adore my father. Not only is he a great king, he is a wonderful dad. When I was a young pup, sitting on his shoulders as he marched through town, all of the pack showering us with smiles and kind words, I felt like the luckiest wolf shifter in the land.

“Boys,” he says, waving us in. “Join me.”

He turns his attention back to the parchment as his advisor finishes up, cleaning up the stack and taking it with him.

I look around the cavernous room, wondering if this office may be mine one day with the towering shelves of books lining the walls all the way up to the tall ceiling. A ceiling that is covered in a grand fresco of a gruesome ancient battle between my wolf ancestors and the barbarous humans.

A fire is raging in the massive stone fireplace, filling the room with the warm scent of burning wood and sending shadows flickering across the stone floor.

Lucan and I are subtly exchanging arm punches as we walk across the vast room. The old wrinkly advisor, Morrick, notices and gives us a disapproving frown as he passes us on the way to the door.


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>37

Advertisement

Final Verdict (Verdict Trilogy #1) Read Online Whitney G http://www.ilovenovels.com/final-verdict-verdict-trilogy-1-read-online-whitney-g Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:48 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/final-verdict-verdict-trilogy-1-read-online-whitney-g Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Novella, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Verdict Trilogy Series by Whitney G
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 22937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>22
Advertisement

I don't lose cases.
I don't lose sleep.
And I certainly don't lose my mind over women.

Why would I?

For the past twelve years, I've built a reputation as the attorney people hire when they want to win. I don't believe in distractions, complications, or anything remotely resembling a relationship.

My life works exactly the way I want it to.

Until her.

This woman was supposed to be a stranger.
A drunk college girl who stumbled into my Porsche and assumed I was her Uber driver...

Yet somehow, I keep running into her.

Every other day...

Then I find out she's been working at my firm.

I should've fired her immediately—for constantly tempting me with her cherry red lips—but I didn't.

I let her stay on for my next trial, let her keep challenging me until, for the first time in my career, I'm not sure winning is worth it.

And that's a problem.

Because some cases have consequences long after the verdict is read...

Final Verdict is Book 1 in a brand new legal romance series

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

PLAYLIST

Hate That I Made You Love Me by Ariana Grande

Ur Heartbeat by Jessie Reyes

Tread Carefully by SZA

Shabang by Drake

I Don’t Wanna by Aaliyah

Shut It Down by Drake

Often by The Weeknd

Needy by Ariana Grande

OPENING STATEMENT (N.):

THE EXPLANATION BY THE ATTORNEYS FOR BOTH SIDES AT THE BEGINNING OF THE TRIAL OF WHAT WILL BE PROVED DURING THE TRIAL.

JAMESON

Every lawyer is a liar disguised in a smile and a threatening three-piece suit—a human snake that’s willing to swallow the worst client’s case for the right price.

What’s left of their tortured hearts is tucked deep in their pockets, all because the pain of living from verdict to verdict is far too much to keep in their chests.

Contrary to what we’re taught in law school, the courtroom is not a place to fight for justice; it’s a stage where the jury is the ultimate audience, and the best actor wins.

Unfortunately, I have yet to receive all the awards and accolades I deserve, but my undefeated record speaks for itself.

It’s only during moments like today, for cases like this, that I wonder if my A-list acting can overcome how much the jury despises my definitely guilty client…

“Spit out the gum,” I say to her. “And don’t roll your eyes when the judge reads the verdict.”

“It’s not gum.” She sticks out a tongue full of crushed red candy. “These are cherry Pop Rocks.”

“Spit them out. Now.”

“Okay.” She winks and bends down under our table, staring into my eyes as she drools into the trash can. Just like she drooled over an undercover police officer’s cock in exchange for drugs—the very incident that brought us here.

“There.” She licks her lips as she sits up. “Happy, Mr. Tate?”

I hope he locks your ass up for life.

“All rise for the jury!” the bailiff announces.

I stand to my feet and watch their faces, trying to see which way they voted, but their faces are stoic as stone.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” the judge asks.

“Yes, Your Honor, we have,” the foreperson says.

The judge motions for the bailiff to retrieve the form, and out of the corner of my eye I catch one of the jurors—a brunette woman in the back—shaking her head at my client.

Dammit.

“On the first count of solicitation of prostitution,” the judge reads, “this jury finds the defendant, Clarissa Ridgeland, not guilty.”

Miss Ridgeland squeezes my hand.

“On the second count of unlawful possession of a controlled substance—the jury finds this defendant not guilty.”

Stunned, I slowly nod as he rattles off his appreciation for everyone. Then—as usual—I wait for someone to finally walk through the side doors to hand me an Oscar.

It never comes.

“Court is adjourned.” The judge bangs his gavel, and my client doesn’t even say thank you. She rushes out of the room at the speed of light.

You’re welcome…

Sighing, I slide my notes into a briefcase and slam it shut.

As I’m turning around to leave, I find myself staring right into the glaring eyes of the state prosecutor.

“Well, hello, Julia,” I say. “Tough loss for you today. No hard feelings.”

“Feelings?” She scoffs. “I’m shocked you even know what those are, Jameson.”

“Me too.” I smile. “I’ve read about them a lot, though.”

“Okay, seriously.” She shakes her head. “How the hell do you sleep at night?”

“I turn off the lights and occasionally put on some rain sounds. Would you like a link to my playlist?”

“I would like you to get fucked.”

“I don’t need any help in that department.”

“I mean, get ‘fucked over’—as in ruined.” She glares at me. “Your client was guilty as sin, and everyone in this courtroom knew it.”

“Everyone except the jury, apparently…”

“They gave the wrong verdict this time.” She stabs a finger against my chest, enunciating every syllable. “Protecting the guilty will come back to haunt you when you least expect it, Jameson. Trust me.”

“I wouldn’t trust you to help me walk across the street.”

“Sooner or later, the devil will come to address the debt you owe him.”

“Do you know if he’ll be paying via cash or check?”

Her face reddens and she lets out an unsteady breath. Then, as if she knows she’ll never—ever—win a war of words with me, her lips curve into an uneven smile.

“Until we meet again, Mr. Jameson,” she says.

Until you lose again, you mean.

I hold back my thoughts and push open the gate for her.

“Have a good night, Miss Bantam.”

She stomps past the pews and out of my sight.

I take one last look around at the empty courtroom, waiting to feel a morsel of regret for tampering with Lady Justice’s scales for a win today, but nothing comes.

The system fucking owes me…

Swinging my briefcase over the gate, I walk past the pews and step into the hallway.

“That prosecutor lady is right, you know?” Clarissa Ridgeland suddenly stands up from a bench. “I heard everything she said to you.”

“I was hoping you’d disappeared somewhere I’d never have to see you again,” I say. “Please go enjoy your freedom.”


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>22

Advertisement

First Time Crush (Worth The Wait #2) Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.ilovenovels.com/first-time-crush-worth-the-wait-2-read-online-dani-wyatt Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:46 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/first-time-crush-worth-the-wait-2-read-online-dani-wyatt Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Worth The Wait Series by Dani Wyatt
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>29
Advertisement

Emily’s an eighteen-year-old barrel-racing trust-fund baby who has only ever wanted one cowboy. She’s climbed him, kissed him, tempted him six ways to Sunday, trying to get him to break, and he’s made sure she’s stayed as pure as Ivory Soap as well.
Roman’s a bad boy built like his jacked-up Ford with a heart that’s been tethered to one hot filly since he first learned to walk. With a face every cowgirl in Montana wants to ride, no one would guess Roman’s been holding back his first time for his one and only.
Only, Roman wants to shake the tragedy of his past and prove to Emily’s father he’s the man she needs before he takes her to the altar and pops that cherry good and proper.
But there’s someone lurking in the background of this happily ever after, and he’s ready to ruin it all.

Author’s Note: The Worth the Wait collection is all virgins, love at first sight, and shameless indulgent fantasy. These are the second-generation children of the couples in books one and two. You get a hot breeding obsessed cowboy and a brazen cowgirl who just wants to ride her man good and proper. If you want to disappear into a low plot, hot sm u tty wonderland with a happily ever after, no cheating, and an obsessed alpha who will conquer his past for his girl? Step inside. We’ve got the goods

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

1

Emily

“I'm 18. Totally legal. No more fear of committing a felony with an underage gal.” I wink at Roman, who I can tell from the knot in his forehead is ready to pop an aneurysm. “I’m serving this up on a plate for you. How can you possibly say no?”

I reach over as he pulls the truck off the main street into the parking lot, and run my hand down the exquisite hardness of his chest.

A chest I've known and watched grow from the little boy who became part of my Aunt Leah and Uncle Allister’s family when he was just three years old to the man he definitely is now.

We've been in this truck for two and a half hours, running down from our combined family's ranch compound in middle Montana to the college town on the border of Wyoming where my cousins, Roman's brother and sister, go to school.

Roman was adopted, so he’s not blood-related to any of us, but still, in our hearts, we’re family in every way that’s important.

My pussy has been throbbing the whole drive.

I have dreamed of climbing him like a tree for so long, I can’t remember who I was before this constant, unrelenting ache started inside of me.

He’s patient, if not infuriating, and as sweet as he is with me, there’s a seething bad boy just under the surface, ready to pop out and go fist to cuffs, probably more than he should.

There’s also a sad cowboy origin story behind that jaw-dropping chest. And those dark chocolate eyes. But someday, I hope he finally realizes it doesn’t matter where you start in life. It’s where you end up.

“I think you love this truck more than you love me,” I tease as he finds a spot under a huge shady tree and puts it in park. “You let me sit out in the sun. What if my paint starts to crack?” I nibble the end of my thumb while tugging the collar of my shirt to the side, exposing my chest and the indent of my cleavage.

“You want me to blow up my truck to show my devotion?” His thick, masculine voice makes frustrating things happen down below my belly button.

I bare my teeth in a playful growl. “I want to say yes, but I know you’d do it, then I’d feel twenty Sundays of bad about being a brat. And then we wouldn’t have a truck, and you’re one of two people I trust to haul Ruby around to my competitions.”

Ruby Tuesday is my mare, and we are sitting first in the regional 1D standings. Minnie Mae is my trainer and the only other person I’ll allow to haul Ruby. And Roman actually feels the same way about his champion quarter horse, Cavalier.

We’ve just parked outside the building where Roman’s adopted brother and sister have an off-campus condo. My twin cousins, Casey and Carrie, are already at college because they’re bona fide geniuses, but the four of us have been sharing secrets and making mischief as far back as our memories go.

We are each other’s ride or die.

‘Hunnerd percent.

“I’m not blowing up my truck.” He extends his arm and grabs me by the back of my hair, pulls my head forward, and plants a warm but powerful kiss on my forehead.

“I just want to know what it feels like to have that monster you've got down there inside me.” I pout, and Roman lets out a low growl as I give him my flutteriest lashes. “Pretty please? I dream about it even. Every night. I want all that bad boy baby batter fillin’ me up good n’ proper.”

I flutter my lashes some more, and he swallows, and that movement of his Adam's apple in his throat does things to me down low.

“Soon, baby.” He releases my hair as the truck’s diesel engine settles into a low idling rumble.

I’ve dreamed of being pregnant with my sort-of-cousin’s baby so long it’s shameful. I think I wanted to be the mother of his babies before I even knew how babies were made.

But along with that, I also have this thing… I want my dad’s approval of the man I’ll marry. It’s important to me to know that we have his blessing.

It’s all wrapped up with hormones and horniness, but deep down, if I ever saw disappointment in my father’s eyes, it would kill me.

Roman knows it, and he’s been living with my dual personalities, one of which would jump him in an instant, while the other would die inside knowing she disappointed her daddy.

Well, her first daddy, I should say.

“Saint Roman,” I tease on a dramatic exhale. “Your balls must be the color of blueberries.”

His hand darts out, fingers clamping at my windpipe, and suddenly, breathing is impossible. There’s a second of fear, but gosh, how I love it when he gets bossy and rough.


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>29

Advertisement

First Time Fever (Worth The Wait #3) Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.ilovenovels.com/first-time-fever-worth-the-wait-3-read-online-dani-wyatt Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:45 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/first-time-fever-worth-the-wait-3-read-online-dani-wyatt Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Worth The Wait Series by Dani Wyatt
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
<<<<1231121>45
Advertisement

Previously as When She’s Mine no longer available published long ago. This book has been re-edited, largely re-written, additional content added. Now…what you are getting…
Allister Marshall is built like a wrecking ball and runs a club where every down-on-their-luck stray can change their life. What this big bruiser doesn’t have? Any clue what to do with a woman. He’s been holding his v-card for the one, thank you very much, and the day he unlocks a forgotten basement dungeon and finds the most beautiful woman alive chained inside, every cell in his oversized body knows.

Mine. I’m getting inside that and never leaving.

Leah Morgan was raised dripping in money and locked away from the world, hidden by the very family meant to protect her. Until old debts come calling. Now she’ll trade her ivory tower for a dungeon. She’s never been touched. Neither has he. The first time is going to wreck them both. She’s his to feed, his to spoil, his to ruin. But when she slips out of his grip a second time, Allister learns there’s no line a virgin brute won’t cross for his woman

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

1

Leah

It was a nice little service. My sister's wedding, that is. To her whirlwind new love, Decker. I'm happy.

Right?

Let's go with ambivalent.

You know what else I am?

Horny.

I can't believe I just used that word. I've never felt this before, and I'm not sure how I feel about feeling it now.

But, my God. The man about to climb into the back of this limo with me is causing crazy things to happen down low.

Crazy wonderful.

And crazy wet.

Gah.

Allister.

That's his name. That's a great name.

He's Decker's best man and best friend, and I do my best not to stare as he lowers himself into the back of the limo, leaving the door open behind him.

Allister Marshall fills the available space, side to side, roof to floor. His massive hands come to rest on his thighs, and I'm mesmerized by the veins shifting under the skin, the tendons working, hands that look like they could crush bone.

My gaze drifts as a breath swells his chest, the starched white shirt under his charcoal suit pulling taut across all that muscle.

He looks at me, and I struggle to swallow the golf ball that feels lodged in my throat. This man looks hungry.

For me.

The girl with braces on her legs. The girl who gives in to the wheelchair at night because she can't stand the pain anymore.

Me.

I think this mountain of masculinity wants me.

In some way.

Maybe in the ways I've only read about in my stacks of worn, dovetailed books with wispy, corseted women on the covers. Ways I've never known in real life.

Never felt.

I feel it now, in the dampness between my thighs and the hair prickling at the nape of my neck.

I battle to hold onto the eye contact and lose. My gaze flits and flies, alighting on pieces of him, then landing on some fascinating fleck of dust on the floor.

He looks like something a careless god built to ruin women. His heartbeat seems to thrum in the very air of the car, and mine must be taking its cue, because it's trying to break out of my chest while he sits there, calm, those cut features sharp and yet, intensely relaxed.

A short growth of dark hair covers what used to be a slick, bald head, and I wonder what made him start to grow it out.

Wilson, my driver, shuts the door behind Allister with a click, and the limo dips slightly as he settles into the front seat.

Allister’s nostrils flare slightly as I inspect his face for a blink.

I note the age difference between us in the lines around his eyes, the three across his forehead. Less than ten years between us, I’d guess. That only flutters my heart more. And he's other things besides older.

Experienced.

Controlled.

Impeccable.

The Bentley pulls away, near-silent but I feel it moving.

Why doesn’t he say something? God, this is unbearable. I’m counting my heartbeats as they bang around in my chest.

How can he sit there looking so calm?

"I can't believe my little sister is married." I blurt unable to hide the quiver in my voice.

My face flames as Allister swallows and shifts his hips, and the limo jerks as Wilson works us through traffic toward Decker's guesthouse, where I've been staying ever since the police found me locked and bound in a room in the basement of my family's mansion.

Well. The police were there. The one who actually found me was him.

Allister.

Why do I love that name so much?

"Why can't you believe she's married?" Allister's voice matches the rest of him, a sonic boom that nearly knocks my head into the headrest.

I turn to the window, hunting for an answer that doesn't make me sound like a selfish brat.

I was afraid of him when he came into that room to rescue me. The day still plays on a loop in my dreams. The dark, the bindings, then light pouring in from the doorway, and people everywhere. My first thought: I'm safe. Then Allister, nearly blocking out the light again, and I screamed and pounded him with my fists the second he cut me loose. Not one blow earned a wince.

Not from him. My little cotton-candy fists, banging against the solid lead under his clothes.

I'm lost in the contradiction of it. Just being this close has my breath coming short and hot. But, there’s kindness under all that menace, a golden heart glowing straight through the tailored suit.

And yet he's tied to everything I've lost. He's Decker's best friend.

Decker, who's taken May away from me.

I shake the selfish thought loose. May is happy. Decker is amazing. I'm being a petulant child.

"I don't know." I reach for something honest. "I should be the one taking care of her. Not some stranger she only just met."

His eyes settle on me, and I shrink into the seat. Tiger's eyes, gold bleeding into brown until I can't tell where one ends and the other starts.


Advertisement

<<<<1231121>45

Advertisement