Insta-Love – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Insta-Love – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:26 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Insta-Love – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Jealous Alpha Read Online Jordan Silver http://www.ilovenovels.com/jealous-alpha-read-online-jordan-silver-2 Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:26 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/jealous-alpha-read-online-jordan-silver-2 Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love Authors: Jordan Silver Advertisement

Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)

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My woman! Many had vied for her position, some had spent years trying to get my notice without any luck. My position and wealth was a huge draw for some, my looks another. She was the first woman not to give a damn about either.
Is that why I’d fallen for her so easily? Was it her aloof manner that enticed me, drew me to her? Is it the constant wondering of whether or not she’d been that way with him that kept this jealousy alive?
As to that, I’ve never harbored jealousy or envy against anyone in my life, I never had to. I was born with everything I could possibly need and from then until now had never wanted for anything. Whatever I wanted I took.
And then there’s Gia, my woman. I’ve taken her but the love she once bore her dead husband still haunts me. I won’t stop until I’ve erased him from her memory no matter what it takes

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

1

“Stop here.” My driver pulled up to the curb and let me out. It was still early enough in the day that there weren’t too many people around, less annoyance for me to deal with.

I walked into the coffee shop with my head down as I looked at my phone, making my way up to the counter. “I’ll have a double espresso with a twist.”

I paid and left without once looking at the person behind the counter and walked smack dab into a warm body. “Son of a…”

I looked up sharply at the expletive and came face to face with beauty. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t expecting it that it stopped me cold.

She was a little bit of a thing, barely reaching my chin. But her curves under the fitted skirt suit and the wild black curls that fell over her shoulders and back painted quite a picture.

I got just a small glimpse of her almond shaped hazel colored eyes before she looked down at herself where I’d spilled my drink.

Her scent reached me and my body reacted so strongly the shock of it left me reeling. I stood there staring down at her as time seemed to stand still.

She on the other hand barely acknowledged me as she turned and headed back out the door, muttering under her breath about inconsiderate assholes.

She didn’t even let me see to her after spilling the hot drink down her chest and I felt bad, but not as bad as I felt at the thought that I might never see her again.

The feeling of loss was so strong it was an ache in my chest and I tried calling out to her. But she was moving way too fast for me to keep up and for some reason my equilibrium seemed off. It felt like I was walking under water.

I moved out onto the sidewalk and watched her until she disappeared around the corner. I looked up at the name of the place and the street and headed back to my car where my driver was waiting to let me in.

I can’t say I thought of her for the rest of the ride, but she did cross my mind a time or two in the half an hour it took to reach my office.

I wonder who she is, if she’s from around there? And why this morning of all mornings I’d chosen to stop for coffee?

It was most definitely not the kind of place I’d usually frequent. In fact I’ve been coming this way to get from my place to the office for a few years now and never had the inclination.

By the time I logged the secret code into my personal elevator for the ride up to my luxury office on the fiftieth floor, my mind had shifted to the coming day and what laid ahead.

“Oh, you’re here, I need you to go over these specs before the new architect gets here.” My brother walked into my office minutes after I arrived.

“I thought you already did that?”

“Oh no, I’m not falling for that again. Last time I made a mistake my ears rang for a damn week after all your yelling.” This kid’s been a pain in my ass since birth.

“Just drop it there and get out of my office. I have things to do that don’t include being annoyed by you.”

“Fine, don’t forget she’s going to be here any minute. By the way you need to call our mother. She’s on the warpath again.”

“What did you do this time?”

“I like that, why is it always me? Actually this time it’s you. You missed Sunday brunch or something like that again.”

Dammit, why does my mother think she can hold my weekends hostage? “I’ll call her later.” I was already focused on the reports in front of me before he turned to the door.

I’d almost forgotten about the new architect that we’d hired, or more to the point my brother Gavin had hired.

I usually let him take care of the hiring for our company while I focused on bringing in business and making money.

Our grandfather had started the business over eighty years ago with nothing but a few thousand dollars and brute strength.

Now, what had started out, as a mere construction-company was now one of the leading residential and commercial builders in the country.

This latest project was taking us out of the country and Gavin had got the bright idea to hire some up and coming hotshot architect that he swears is the best thing since slice bread.

Since I usually let him handle that side of things, I didn’t have much to say about his choice, as long as she got the job done I could care less. Though up to this point we’d only dealt with male architects.

This woman he’s been going on about for weeks had apparently won some awards out west and was being touted as the latest talent in her field so I trust him to have it under control.

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Arranged Devotion Read Online B.B. Hamel http://www.ilovenovels.com/arranged-devotion-read-online-b-b-hamel Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:24 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/arranged-devotion-read-online-b-b-hamel Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love Authors: B.B. Hamel Advertisement

Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >92

The mafia boss caught me spray painting my ex’s car…
And helped burn it to the ground instead.

I’m at rock bottom:
I just caught my ex-fiance cheating on me…
In the bed we shared together.

It feels like my life is over when I meet Liam Lankshear.

Liam is living chaos.
He’s everything I can’t stand:
wild, impulsive, gorgeous, and a vicious underworld thug.

But my ex steals something dangerous from my family…
and starts a war I never wanted.
Which is how I end up engaged to my worst nightmare.

Liam wants marriage about as much as I do.
He’s my opposite, my shadow, and my ruin.
I don’t know how someone so attractive can also be so insanely frustrating.

The war turns ugly and death comes stalking,
Now Liam’s done playing games.

He says I’m his bride, no matter what.
And he’ll burn the city to keep me.
I just have to survive long enough to decide if I want to be saved.

Arranged Devotion is a full length standalone novel in the Whelan crime family world. It’s spicy, banter-filled, slightly dark, and has a guaranteed happily-ever-after. Enjoy!!

TROPES: Arranged marriage, mafia-lite, age gap, morally gray scarred anti-hero, he falls first (and harder), possessive/obsessive hero, good girl meets bad boy, forced proximity, marriage of convenience to real love, I’ll Burn the World For You, strangers to lovers, lots of spice and praise

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

CHAPTER 1

REGAN

I’m going to spray paint that cheating bastard’s car.

I’m not proud of it.

Well, maybe a bit.

But Kieren Foley deserves so, so much worse for what he did to me.

I hurry down a quiet Brooklyn street at two in the morning. It’s Tuesday night so there aren’t many people out this late. I’m in all black, dark jeans, matching sweatshirt, and my hood’s pulled up to cover my wavy brown hair. A messenger bag bumps against my hip. Nothing to see here, just a shady looking girl hurrying down the street, perfectly normal.

Not that anyone cares in New York City. People do weirder shit all the time.

But I can’t help the nervous energy pulsing through me. I’ve never, ever, ever done anything like this before. All my life I’ve been a good person, to the point of obsession. I got straight A’s in school, captained the debate club, played field hockey, joined the student newspaper, got perfect grades at NYU, and graduated with honors. It got to the point where my little brother Luke calls me Saint Regan to my face and Boring Regan behind my back.

I used to think he wasn’t being fair, but now I wonder if maybe he was right.

Maybe I wasted my stinking life getting an accounting degree, dating the same guy since high school, planning every single little detail of every single stupid day, down to the minute, creating spreadsheets, leaving myself Post-its all over the apartment, and maybe it’s my fault⁠—

No Regan, stop it, nobody made Kieren fuck Vera Baranov in your bed, nobody except for him.

I have to stop to catch my breath. My heart’s racing and sweat breaks out across my skin. Every time I think of that moment— the closed door, the huffs, grunts, moans, the sound of her saying his name, knowing what they were doing and still being unable to stop myself from looking inside and seeing it with my own eyes—my body feels like it’s going to fall apart.

Panic rolls down my skin in electric tingles.

It’s like the way I used to react to my father’s anger, back when I was little.

Back before I learned how to live the right way.

Get it together.

I march on, more determined now.

Screwing Vera was bad enough. I never liked her one bit. She was the popular girl, a cliche, but even better. Blonde, beautiful, cheerleader, but also brilliant, well-liked, and kind. She was talented, funny, and outgoing. We weren’t friends exactly, but we took all the advanced classes together, and I didn’t hate it when we were assigned to do group projects. Vera was always so stinking likeable.

And really hot.

We could never be friends though. Not in a million freaking years. Not when her last name was Baranov and mine was Corrigan.

Not when her family and my family despise each other.

No, banging a hot Russian girl is bad, but the real problem is what Kieren fucking her means.

I come to a stop outside of the parking garage where he keeps his precious car. The old BMW he obsessively restored back in college and keeps in immaculate condition. Boxy, shiny, and cool as heck, if I’m being honest. It’s fussy and a pain, but Kieren loves that thing so much. I used to joke it’s like his second girlfriend.

Now I’m thinking it was more like his third.

I slip inside the structure. It’s cool with all that concrete around. My footsteps echo and I force myself to focus on the task at hand. I tug a surgical mask over my face and slip a pair of fake glasses over my eyes. The rims are dark and thick. I don’t know if there are security cameras in here, but I’d be an idiot if I didn’t at least try to hide my identity.

And there she is. Kieren’s beamer, right where he always parks it, in that overpriced spot he says is worth every penny. Lucky me, there’s no other vehicle to its right.

I drop the messenger bag, glance around, and take out a can of white paint.

I shake it, heart leaping into my throat.

Am I seriously going to do this? I pictured it a thousand times on the way over here. I imagined drawing a huge dick on his hood, writing cheater and liar and fucker all over the doors and windows. But now that I’m standing here, shaking the can and listening to the plastic ball clack around, I’m starting to have second thoughts.

I close my eyes and blow out a slow breath.

And I see them again. Vera on all fours. Kieren behind her, thrusting away, his face twisted in bliss. He looked happier than I’d seen him in years. Our sex life was never adventurous, but I thought we did okay. Once per month, exactly eight minutes long, blowjob, missionary, orgasm, good to go for a while. But he never looked at me like he was looking at Vera’s ass, his naked chest sweating, his eyes shining with pure lust and happiness.

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Crowned by the Ruthless Billionaire – Ravenous Royals Read Online Hope Ford http://www.ilovenovels.com/crowned-read-online-the-ruthless-billionaire-ravenous-royals-read-online-hope-ford-2 Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:20 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/crowned-read-online-the-ruthless-billionaire-ravenous-royals-read-online-hope-ford-2 Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Mafia Authors: Hope Ford Advertisement

Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >24

After thirty-five years of marriage, I walked away from my husband.
Not because I stopped loving him.
Because somewhere along the way, I stopped feeling seen.
Robert Kingston is the ruthless mafia king of the south and feared by everyone around him.
But to me?
He’s Bobby. The man I built a life with. The man I’ve loved more than half my life.
Leaving him was supposed to help me find myself again.
Instead, it shattered us both.
Now his enemies are circling, another man is threatening me, and Bobby refuses to let me face any of it alone. He wants me back in his home, in his bed, and standing beside him where he believes I belong.
And the worst part?
I’m not sure I want to stay away anymore.
Because beneath the power, the violence, and the empire he built…
my husband is still the only man who’s ever owned my heart

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

CHAPTER 1

ELEANOR

I walk into my apartment and slip out of my high heels.

The sound of them falling onto the hardwood floor is loud and echoes off the walls. I drop my keys onto the counter, and the metallic clang is deafening.

Since I walked away from the Kingston family home, this is the one thing that always sticks out to me. This life is quiet. Most times, it’s a little too quiet.

I move through the apartment and try not to think about the loneliness.

I chose to be here. It was my choice to leave Robert Kingston, the Mafia king of the South.

I’m the one that wanted to leave my husband, the Mafia, the guards, the drivers, and the people that were always watching me.

I married into that life, and I knew what I was getting into. But over time, it had become too much. When Robert and I were first married, it was me and him against the world. But now it’s like all decisions are made before I can even voice my opinion. I was just there… and I couldn’t deal with it any longer.

I look around my apartment. I should be happy, but I’m not.

Because even though I asked for this, I miss my husband.

We’ve been married for thirty-five years, and I feel his absence.

I miss the way he used to look at me. I long for the way he’d slip his hand into mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. Heck, I miss just sitting in his office and watching him work.

My phone buzzes, and without even looking at the caller ID, I know it’s him. It’s as if my body is attuned to him or something.

I dig through my purse, glance at my phone, and see Bobby’s name flashing across the screen. I smile at the nickname. There’s no way I would call him that in front of anyone. To the rest of the world, he’s Robert, but to me, he’s always been Bobby.

I debate whether to answer it. I’m in no rush because I know if I don’t answer, he will just call again. I also know that if I don’t answer it at all, he will come looking for me.

I sigh. As much as I want to see him, I know that I’m not prepared to. I don’t have the strength to keep him at a distance. I’m weak, and if he comes in here demanding I come back home, I’m not sure I have it in me to say no right now. Not with him touching me and while I’m looking into his big brown eyes.

When the phone starts ringing again, I answer.

“Hey, Robert,” I say, using his full name to try and keep some kind of distance.

It sounds like he lets out a breath. “Ellie.”

I clench my eyes shut, hearing my nickname from his mouth. He knows the power he has over me, and he’ll use it to his advantage.

I try to keep my tone professional. “What do you want, Robert?”

He grunts. “Really? You need to ask me what I want? You know what I want. I want my wife, at home, in my bed.”

I walk over to the big bay windows and look down at the city below. “Well, I’m not coming home, so if that’s all you need, there’s no reason for us to continue talking.”

“Wait,” he hurries to say, as if he’s worried I’m going to hang up. “Ellie… Please… Talk to me.”

I sit down in the chair. “Fine. I will talk to you but not if it has anything to do with me coming home.”

He pauses. “Fine. Uh, Cole seems happy.”

I lean back in the chair and play with a strand of my hair, thinking back on our youngest son’s wedding. “Yeah, he is. Happier than I’ve ever seen him. Luna is good for him.”

Robert’s voice is gruff. “She reminds me of you. She thinks she can save the world.”

I shrug. “Maybe she can.”

His voice drops. “You think they’re going to make us grandparents soon?”

I chuckle. “Yes, I guarantee it. Probably sooner rather than later.”

He huffs out a breath, and I don’t have to see him to know that he’s running his hand over his face. “So maybe I didn’t fuck up as bad as I thought I did.”

I sit up at that. Robert has never been one to second-guess himself. He always does what he thinks is best, and as far as I know, he never thinks about it again. It’s not like him to question his actions. “What do you mean?” I ask.

His voice is strangled. “I uh, told the boys they had to get married.”

He’s silent, as if he just dropped a bombshell, and when I don’t react, he comments, “You already knew.”

I stand up and start pacing the living room. “Yeah, they told me.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >24

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Devilish Debt (The Debt Tales #3) Read Online Xavier Neal http://www.ilovenovels.com/devilish-debt-the-debt-tales-3-read-online-xavier-neal Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:19 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/devilish-debt-the-debt-tales-3-read-online-xavier-neal Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Insta-Love Authors: Xavier Neal Series: The Debt Tales Series by Xavier Neal
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Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

From USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR Xavier Neal comes an all-new MMF, age-gap, dark romance featuring a familiar face from The Hunted Trilogy with a spicy, contemporary fairy tale twist!Once upon a time, they were asked to find treasure.

Little did this trio know, the arrangement they agreed to was going to get a bit more devilish than the original fairy tale…

TROPE CHECK:
Fairytale Retelling
Dark Romance
Possessive Alpha
Ticking Clock
Fling-to-Forever

**This is a STANDALONE dark retelling, MMF reinvention of the Little Mermaid fairy tale intended for ADULT AUDIENCES

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

Chapter 1

Zero

Most people dream of dining with royalty.

Me?

I dread it.

Why?

‘Cause unlike the fairy tale shit you read about as a kid or see in movies, they’re not friendly.

They’re fucking ruthless.

And I’d know.

This isn’t the first one I’ve met.

Though, it is the first one to kidnap me.

Maybe this means I’m truly moving up in the food chain.

Or is that down?

Is trapping me big game hunter shit or more of a Cub Scout badge of honor sitch?

Prince Thaddeus Weslington of Hoalkey – an island country slightly smaller than Australia with some of the most beautiful beaches in the world – casually gestures his warm tan, open palm to the empty seat across from him. “Sit.”

Doesn’t seem in my best interest to deny the demand.

Could be because the same asshole who cornered me when I stepped out of my penthouse elevator to zip tie my hands, cover my head with a black bag, and throw me into what I imagine was the trunk of an SUV is giving off do it or die vibes.

Don’t care for those.

A lot like I don’t care for being here.

I may not be a pack animal – like at all – but I’d rather be in a pack right now than one on one with a hungry fucking predator that’s sizing up my lissome frame like I’m the next piece of meat he’s gonna slobber over.

He doesn’t wait for me to slink into the cream-colored plush seat to continue speaking, his English-like accent simultaneously sexy and scary, “You are quite a difficult man to locate, Mr. Fiorenzo.” The forkful of bloody steak soars towards his thin lips. “Even for me.”

“Apparently not difficult enough,” I mumble under my breath prior to glancing over my zebra striped shirt covered shoulder to further drink in the white tablecloth filled dining space that’s currently only occupied by him and his security team.

There’s one of me, and six of them.

Lurking.

Circling.

Like African wild dogs just waiting for me to run so they can chase.

Outpace.

Exhaust and eventually devour me.

Yeah, that’s not exactly the type of devouring I had in mind for my Wednesday night.

I was hoping to do a little non-gender specific feeding.

Particularly in the bathroom of my favorite club, The Kastle.

“Oh, do not pout, Fiorenzo,” insists the rectangular head shaped male, redirecting my attention to his smirking. “We have sources in similar circles.”

That’s not nearly as fucking comforting as he thinks it is.

Leaning defeatedly back into the chair occurs at the same time I grump, “Why am I here, Weslington?”

“Please,” he feigns politeness, “call me Thaddeus.”

“I’d rather call an Uber.”

Another smug smile is attached to a small fork waggle. “I was warned you had quite a sense of humor.”

“At least you were warned of something.” Folding my light sand toned fingers together occurs on my own phony grin. “Can’t say the same.”

Seriously.

I had no fucking clue this asshole wanted to see me.

Or even knew who the fuck I was.

Yeah, my reputation precedes me and shit, but like…you wanna talk?

Try texting me, my guy.

Thaddeus stabs another hunk of meat on his plate and announces, “I have a job for you.”

“I’m not looking for work.”

“Pardon,” haughtily chuckles the prince as he meets my gaze, “let me rephrase, Fiorenzo.” The expression instantly shifts to one that’s arctic cold. “You are going to do a job for me.”

See.

This is the shit I’m talking about.

The shit Disney doesn’t show unless you’re the “villain”.

Which all of those so-called princes really are.

Check ‘em out in the original formats.

They’re cruel, horny monsters.

Full stop.

End of Snap.

Cut the Tok.

Post stealing an annoyed glance out of the floor to ceiling windows currently showcasing Spike Village’s downtown skyline, I less than happily huff. “And why’s that?”

“Because you owe me debt.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

“I would beg to differ.”

“You can beg, borrow, or barter, my guy, but it doesn’t change shit.”

“You hacked into my country’s national criminal database through a backdoor you installed – via an Interpol program – to extract sensitive information for a client of yours who then proceeded to use said information during what had become quite a hostile negotiation.”

Yeah.

That was me.

I was young and dumb and did sloppy shit like any other fifteen-year-old.

But I’m not gonna cop to it.

Besides, that was over a decade ago.

Eleven years to be exact.

Whatever “charges” he wants to try to bring me in on – assuming he could even fucking prove them – are past their statute of limitations in this country.

And I know that for a fact.

Beni’ of having an attorney in your back pocket even if you really wish you had him in your front.

Or on your front.

Or on his knees.

Or you on yours.

Again.

Not picky.

I would hit save on any and all of those.

“Hacking is most certainly an illegal offense, Fiorenzo.”

“Debatable.”

“Keeping your name from being brought up in certain circles is a feat worthy of payment.”

“Overkill.”

“You only believe that because you are convinced that holding you accountable for the aforementioned cybercrime is impossible due to it being past its prosecution date.” He prepares to slide the bite into his mouth. “Am I correct in my assumption?”

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Drifter – Satan’s Fury MC – Little Rock Read Online L. Wilder http://www.ilovenovels.com/drifter-satans-fury-mc-little-rock-read-online-l-wilder Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:15 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/drifter-satans-fury-mc-little-rock-read-online-l-wilder Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Insta-Love, MC Authors: L. Wilder Advertisement

Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

Some men are born drifters. Others are just waiting to find their way home.
Wall Street Journal and USA Today Best Seller L. Wilder brings you a new addition to the Satan’s Fury MC- Little Rock series that will have you rooting for new beginnings.
Loss is tough.
Some learn to live with the grief and move on.
I couldn’t.
There were too many memories.
It hurt too much, so I packed up and left.
I spent years trying to outrun my ghosts
And then, a threat drew me back in.
It wasn’t my fight.
Hell, it wasn’t even my chapter.
I was only in Little Rock to deliver a warning.
I never intended to stay.
And I certainly never intended to meet her.
She was beautiful and soft in all the ways that can undo a man.
And she unraveled me without even trying.
I had no business getting tied up with her, but I couldn’t stay away.
She reminded me what it was like to have something worth living for.
Now, I had to make a choice.
Stay lost or find my way home

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

CHARACTER LIST:

Preacher- (Hudson) President

Sons- Beckett and Memphis

Tabitha- Ol’ Lady

Sergei, Viktor, and Nikolai- her sons

Creed- Vice President (Jameson)

Devin

Devin’s kids- Austin and Chrissy

Seven- (Holt) Sergeant of Arms

Tallie-ol’ lady

Ford- son

Blade- club doctor

Grim- (Lawson) Enforcer

Jenna is his ol’ lady

Luna is Jenna’s daughter

Skid- son

Sheppard- Club Hacker

Ghost- (Sutton) Brother

Casey- Ol’ lady

Toby- Casey’s son

Memphis- (Weston) Brother

Antonia- ol’ lady

Rusty- Brother

Goose- (Luke) Brother

Presley- ol’ lady

Dagger- Brother

Garrison-his son

Duggar- Prospect

Jonesy- Prospect

Skid- (Thatcher)

Grim’s son

Ol’ Lady- Laken

Baylor is Laken’s daughter and Bunny B

Smitty- Prospect

Lil Nix- Fallen Prospect

Zeke- New Prospect

PROLOGUE

It’s funny how quick a decent day can go to complete shit.

I’d been out riding, minding my own business and taking in the sunshine, and it came time to fill up the tank. I pulled into the gas station and parked next to the pump like I’d done a million times, and as soon as I took off my helmet, I opened my saddle bag for my wallet.

I reached in without thinking, and my knuckles brushed up against the small bear I kept tucked inside. I don’t know why I kept it. I should’ve tossed it years ago, but I never could seem to part with the damn thing.

I picked it up and ran the pad of my thumb along its back. Its fur wasn’t as soft as it used to be. It wasn’t quite as white either. And its tiny shirt was now nothing more than worn patches.

It might’ve been old and tattered, but it still brought the same sting, taking me back to a time I’d tried to put behind me.

I could almost feel their presence in the air--could almost hear her singing to him, the sound of her voice low and soft.

‘A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck.’

God, how I missed that sound, along with his giggling in the background. He was always laughing and smiling and tangling his little fingers in my beard.

‘A hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap.’

They filled my dark world with light and joy. That was something I thought I would never truly find or even want, but they made me long for it.

‘A barrel and a heap, and I’m talking in my sleep about you.’

And now, it was gone.

My throat tightened as the silence settled around me.

Somewhere in the distance, there were cars driving by and people carrying on their lives. They were reminders that the world kept turning, but some wounds don’t move with it.

They stay, and they burrow deep, never letting go.

It had been five years, long enough for the ache to dull, but it hadn’t. I doubted it ever would. And I was okay with that. I didn’t want to forget.

I wanted to remember. I wanted to remember every damn second.

I had it all back then.

A club full of brothers who’d give their lives to protect mine. A woman who looked at me like I was something better than I could’ve ever thought of being, and a kid who had a smile that had a way of breaking my heart and putting it back together again all at the same time.

I had a family. A home. Something to look forward to at the end of a long day. I closed my fist around the toy, pressing it into my hand as the memory cut through me all over again.

One blink.

That’s all it took.

One second, I had it all, and the next, it was ripped from me so fast that there was nothing left but smoke, blood, and the kind of gut-wrenching heartache that never goes away. Not completely.

I made them pay for what they did.

God help me, I made them pay.

One by one, I hunted them down like the animals they were. I could still hear the sounds of cracking bones, the wet choke of their final breaths, and the way my rage burned hot enough to blur out the grief.

At least, for a little while.

Killing them should’ve been enough.

It wasn’t.

It didn’t bring the laughter back. It didn’t warm the empty side of the bed or fill the house with her scent. And it sure as hell didn’t bring back his little fingers wrapped around mine.

I opened my hand again and stared down at the tiny bear he once held. I ran my fingers over it again, slower this time, chasing a memory that was just out of reach. I shook my head as the old anger rose deep within, dark and familiar, curling low in my gut. It had lived there for almost five years. Most days, I was able to keep it locked down.

I buried it under miles of asphalt and the steady rumble of my bike.

But tonight it resurfaced in full force, leaving me wondering what the hell to do with it. Damn. The cycle never seemed to end.

But who knows. Maybe tomorrow will be different.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll finally be able to take in a breath without feeling the ache of guilt rattling in my chest. Only time would tell.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

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Falling for My Ex-Boyfriend’s Billionaire Uncle Read Online Marian Tee http://www.ilovenovels.com/falling-for-my-ex-boyfriends-billionaire-uncle-read-online-marian-tee Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:13 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/falling-for-my-ex-boyfriends-billionaire-uncle-read-online-marian-tee Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Insta-Love Authors: Marian Tee Advertisement

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >27

Kyara’s billionaire boss wants to steal her heart…while her ex-boyfriend wants to destroy her.

For three years, Lyrius Havington has held his possessiveness and jealousy in check. But when he finally pulls her into his arms for a kiss that makes both of them forget everything…why is she pushing him away? Why is she still choosing that boy over him?
For three years, Kyara has been a faithful girlfriend to Cyrus…only to find out he’s a liar, a cheat, and now—a blackmailer?
Come when I call…or I’ll burn your boss’s life to the ground

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

Three Years Ago

Lyrius

Short red hair. A lovely face that somehow reminds me of a green-eyed kitten, only this one wears oval-framed glasses, a buttoned-up blouse, and a pencil skirt that modestly ends a few inches below her knees.

There’s something old-fashioned about her, which some may even see as prudish.

But for me she’s prim and perfect, and that’s what doesn’t make sense at all.

She’s the exact opposite of the kind of woman I usually date, so why can’t I take my eyes off her?

“Sir?”

My assistant’s voice yanks me back to reality, and I swiftly turn my attention back to her. “What is it?”

She looks at me suspiciously, but I only gaze back at her impassively, knowing that if I say a word, it would just let the older woman know she’s rattled me. Her intuition is the main reason why I hired her over everyone else—

“Is there someone among the trainees you recognize? Or someone you believe would be a good fit for your office?”

But it’s also the worst thing about having her as an assistant, with how she makes it impossible for me to lie to myself.

I force myself to look back at the training room, where over a hundred applicants are hard at work answering test after test in hopes of working for our company. While the room’s two-way windows allow us to observe from the outside without being seen ourselves, I’m conscious of how my assistant is closely paying attention to where I look as I let my gaze sweep over the room one last time.

And truthfully, I am tempted.

I’ve never been the type to leave things to chance nor have I ever shied away from taking control if I see the slightest opening to dominate. What I want, I pursue relentlessly. But because I’ve also never been the type to mix business with pleasure—

You know better, Havington.

My gaze sweeps past the girl that catches my eye without pause, and my expression remains impassive when I look back at my assistant. “My decision remains the same,” I tell her. “You’re the one who has to train her. So pick whoever you think is best.”

“If you say so, Mr. Havington.” Lara’s gaze has turned thoughtful as she says this, and I wonder if this is something her Army husband has taught her. She’s making me feel defensive even though I know I haven’t done anything wrong.

I’m a man before I’m anyone’s boss, and a girl’s caught my eye.

I’m doing my duty by keeping my interest to myself and letting Lara do the picking.

So why the heck do I still feel like my world’s about to turn upside-down?

Kyara

Once, there were 128. Went down to 44. And then there’s us, the remaining ten college graduates who were officially given job offers by Wallace International, and I...I think I have to bite my lip really hard because I can’t possibly squee.

The envelope H.R. slides across the table is fancy. Like, really fancy. I’m not sure what it’s made of—something sturdier than plain paper, but something more expensive than cardboard? Should I know what this is, just to fit in?

To-do #2 Know your paper types.

But anyway, what’s inside is what matters the most, and...oh?

Aside from the usual details about compensation, a rule book for employees, a separate glossy brochure of the company history, the thing that matters the most has been reduced to...four digits?

I’m supposed to work for 7003?

Someone whistles beside me, the sound making me look up, and...double oh.

It’s Cyrus, the first-placer in our group of ten because he scored the highest marks on all the tests and interviews in our application period, which were the most grueling three months of my life. But, like, in a good way. As in, you get to learn something new every day, and anyway, I know I’m digressing.

The point is, Cyrus, who’s blond, attractive, and just so well-dressed at all times that a part of me is just dying to ask him for style advice—he and I never really had a chance to talk in the past three months, and that’s why—

“That’s rare,” Cyrus remarks.

I forget all about the oddness of him suddenly being friendly at his words. “You know what it means then?” Because I’m honestly stumped. What does 7003 have to do with my being accepted for a job?

My question makes him smile for some reason, and while I know all of the girls in our training batch think he’s cute and all—

His smile is really refreshing because it’s not the kind of smile you’d ever get from the usual sexual predators and drunks that my mom loves to date. Cyrus’s is a good, harmless smile, and so I allow myself to smile back. It just feels good to be in the company of a normal guy, you know?

“It’s a Wallace International thing,” Cyrus continues, leaning closer like he’s letting me in on something. “When you get hired, you get the room number, and then you try to find your way there without asking.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >27

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First Time Rush (Worth The Wait #1) Read Online Dani Wyatt http://www.ilovenovels.com/first-time-rush-worth-the-wait-1-read-online-dani-wyatt Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:11 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/first-time-rush-worth-the-wait-1-read-online-dani-wyatt Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Drama, Erotic, Insta-Love, Novella, Virgin Authors: Dani Wyatt Series: Worth The Wait Series by Dani Wyatt
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Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

Previously published long ago as Where She Belongs. :) This book has been re-edited, largely re-written, additional content added. Now...what you are getting...May is a nineteen-year-old heiress who's never been allowed beyond the gates of her family's estate. But tonight she hops a bus into the city with twelve dollars in her pocket and a plan to get out of her own wedding to a man she's never loved. Her plan is simple, if not wildly flawed…find the first nightclub that's hiring. Then, dance until she's earned enough to get her and her sister new names and a new life.

What she doesn't plan on is Decker. Forty-three, the definition of tall, dark and dangerous. Oh, and he's never touched a woman in his life. By the time May finishes her first sentence, he's absolutely certain he's keeping her. The problem is, May has no idea what her fiancé is actually planning. And it isn't pretty.

Decker is about to discover the darkness that lurks behind the pristine doors of the place that May calls home. And once he does, there is nothing on this earth that's going to take her from him.

Author's The Forever Collection is all virgins, love-at-first-sight over the top fantasy. Fall hard, fall fast, take no prisoners. These are interconnected, following different couples in the series. Best read in order but can be enjoyed as stand alones as well! Get a hot read, hard breeding, happily ever after, no cheating, and an alpha obsessed hero who will paint the streets bloody to keep his girl safe. Step inside. It's steamy

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

1

Decker

Another girl, another firing. That's how my week is going.

"It was just a hand job." Claudia rolls her eyes, and her fake lashes brush her tattooed brows. "That's barely even anything. I didn't even kiss him, for chrissake."

Her eyes dart to the corners of the room as if not looking at me will change the outcome of what’s about to happen.

"You know the rules," I say, fighting the urge to lecture her like a daughter instead of fire her like an employee.

Believe it or not, it hurts me every time I have to do this. I want to help them all, but in the end, they have to want it. I can't do it for them.

"I'm great at hand jobs. I got him off in like twenty seconds." Claudia pouts. "It's almost like shaking someone's hand. Would you fire Allister for shaking hands with one of the clients?"

Allister, my right-hand man, cuts in. "Congratulations on your skill set. And no, it is not like shaking hands. Did you wear a rubber glove?" His voice is always low, but when he's disappointed, it drops to something like a bass drum learning to speak.

He's pissed. He's the one who talked me into hiring her. I told him she wouldn't take it seriously. Looks like I was right. No pleasure in being right about this kind of thing.

I press my middle fingers into my temples. The lights in here drive ball-peen hammers into my skull.

I glance down at the open employee folder on my desk, then scan around the room. The office is all white. Some would say too white. Too cold. Not me.

Neatly stacked pillars of white boxes line one wall, labeled and color-coded by unpacking priority. One of the girls asked me yesterday my favorite color. When I told her ‘white’, she snorted, said that's not a color. I disagree. White is clean, pure, without blemish. My house is the same way, and I've lived there five years.

I haven't had time to make any of it anything else.

I re-focus on the task at hand.

Claudia.

Allister is my GM. And my best friend. Heart of gold inside a body the size of Texas. The stark lights reflect off his bald head as he shakes it, running a hand back and forth over it, staring at Claudia as she inspects her shimmering pink nails.

This is my club. My rules. The girls dance, they don't strip. They wear barely anything to start with, but nothing comes off, and every customer’s hands stay where I can see them.

But in this environment, today it's a hand job, tomorrow a blowjob, next week one of my girls is in the back of some asshole's car with her face bruised. I've seen it. I won't have it.

"So, I'm done?" Claudia juts out her hip and finally settles her vitriol on me. "You're firing me? This is total bullshit. One hand job and one joint, that's all it was. And now you're firing me? I didn't even smoke it here, for chrissake. You can't tell me what I can do on my own time. This place is turning into the damn Westlake Baptist Church."

I hold up her file. "Yep, you're done. You signed the contract. School, no drugs, no drinking, don't touch the customers. You fucked up." I shrug and close the file. "I don't fire people, Claudia. They fire themselves. Get your stuff out of your locker. We'll send you a month's pay to get on your feet. Allister will walk you out. I wish you the best."

I lean back in my chair. My temples are still pounding, and my stomach is eating itself. One a.m. Haven't eaten since noon.

"You can suck my ass!" Claudia gives me one final middle finger before she stalks out the office door, Allister rolling his eyes at me as he walks behind her.

Sixteen years a Marine. Now I own nightclubs. Funny how life turns out. I don't even drink, and strip clubs never did a damn thing for me. But I got out, and the world doesn't have a lot of use for a retired jarhead with no taste for desk work, so this is what I built. Monarch was the first. Four more after that. This one, Monarch V, opened a month ago.

Every girl who walks through my door — and I do mean every one — gets the same offer. Stick to the rules, and I'll cover whatever they need to get out of whatever they're in. Rehab, attorneys, GEDs, college tuition. I've bashed in a few pimps' faces along the way, too, when they came around looking to collect what they thought belonged to them.

Some of my girls are lawyers now. PTA mothers. Social workers. One's a fucking pediatrician. I keep every Christmas card.

The low bass from the floor bleeds through the open office door. I'm usually gone by midnight. Tonight I'm not. Tuesday is tryout night. Girls who want to dance come in, we look, we decide. I usually stick around for it.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

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Her Grumpy Protector – A Halo City Protectors Read Online Logan Chance http://www.ilovenovels.com/her-grumpy-protector-a-halo-city-protectors-read-online-logan-chance Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:08 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/her-grumpy-protector-a-halo-city-protectors-read-online-logan-chance Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Suspense Authors: Logan Chance Advertisement

Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

Banks Hawthorne doesn’t lose.

Not in boardrooms. Not in backroom deals. And definitely not in Halo City—where money talks, secrets kill, and the underbelly has teeth.

But his brothers’ hunt for their missing father drags Banks straight into a blood-slick maze of power players, dirty cops, and men who smile like friends while they sharpen knives behind their backs.

Then she becomes the target.

She’s the one loose end no one saw coming—too brave, too stubborn, and suddenly standing between Banks and the truth. Protecting her should be lock it down, move her somewhere safe, burn anyone who gets close.

Except she doesn’t want saving… and Banks doesn’t know how to want anyone this much.

Halo City wants her silenced. Banks wants her in his arms.

And the moment he claims her, this stops being business.

Because in a city like this, love is leverage— and Banks Hawthorne is about to turn ruthless.

billionaire protector • forced proximity • touch-her-and-die • “who did this to you” • gritty city danger • found family brothers • high-stakes romance • mafia-esque vibes • HEA

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

ONE

BANKS

My brothers Nash and Sin are gone. Not “out of range.” Not “laying low.” Not “radio silent because the mission is hot.” Gone like a door slammed in our faces, like the world reached in and stole two Hawthorne brothers in the space between one heartbeat and the next.

We're all brothers—me, Nash, Sin, Crewe, Colt, Jace, and Mack—bound by blood and a shared history in the shadows of private security. Each of us carved out our own path in the industry after leaving the military: Nash with his expertise in high-risk extractions for corporate clients, Sin handling covert surveillance ops for elite firms, Crewe specializing in VIP protection details, Colt running tactical training for mercenaries, Jace doing close-quarters combat consulting, Mack coordinating logistics for international security contracts, and me, Banks, piecing together digital puzzles as a cyber-intel specialist. We've scattered across the globe over the years, taking jobs that pay well and keep us sharp, but this mission is different. It's personal. Our father was presumed dead years ago. Now it looks like he may still be alive. He was onto something big, something involving powerful players who don't like loose ends. So we came together, pooling our skills and resources, to find him. No contracts, no paychecks—just family hunting for the man who raised us to never back down.

The mountain air still smells like smoke and wet pine, a sharp reminder of the firefight that erupted just hours ago as we closed in on a lead tied to Dad's disappearance. Fog clings to the trees like it’s trying to hide what happened. It won’t. Nothing hides from me for long. Not data. Not patterns. Not the shape of a lie.

But right now, all I have is the aftermath.

A torn strip of black fabric snagged on a low-hanging branch, fluttering like a grim flag. Zip-tie ends scattered in the dirt, their plastic edges frayed from a hasty cut. A boot print that doesn’t match any of ours. A tire track that cuts off abruptly where the ground turns to jagged rock and the road dissolves into wilderness.

I kneel in the mud beside the track, the cold seeping through my knees, and drag my fingers through the groove, as if touch could translate into coordinates, IP addresses, or satellite pings. Like I can pull an answer out of the earth itself. The mud clings to my skin, gritty and unyielding, but it yields nothing.

Crewe stands a few yards away, phone pressed to his ear, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle twitch. He's always been the steady one, the brother who plans VIP escorts with the precision of a surgeon, but even he looks rattled. Colt paces like a caged animal, his rifle still gripped in white-knuckled hands, though the targets vanished into the mist long ago. His tactical training gigs have made him a beast in the field, but right now, that energy has nowhere to go. Jace is up on the ridge line, binoculars scanning the tree line with a fury in every controlled breath—he's the close-combat expert, the one who teaches others how to end fights before they start, and I can tell he's itching to charge after them.

Mack’s voice crackles through my headset from his remote setup back at our makeshift base camp, sharp with panic he’s trying to bury under layers of logistical calm. He's the coordinator, the brother who juggles international ops like puzzle pieces, but family hits different. “Say it again. You’re sure they took them.”

Colt answers before I can, his voice gravelly from years of barking orders in training yards. “They took ‘em. Sin and Nash are fucking gone. Someone ambushed us during the recon, dragging them into a vehicle, and disappeared into the fog.”

A silence follows that feels like a punch to the gut. Then Mack swears, low and vicious, the kind of curse that echoes his frustration from coordinating failed extractions in the past. My stomach twists. Not fear. Not helplessness. Anger so cold it feels clean, surgical. This is the part where people make mistakes. This is where emotions get you killed.

Not mine. I've built my career on staying detached, hacking into systems for private security firms to expose vulnerabilities before the bad guys do. Emotions are just noise in the data.

I stand slowly, wiping the mud onto my jeans, the fabric already stained from the trek up here. I pull my tablet out of my pack. My hands are steady. They always are when the world is falling apart. It's how I can trace digital footprints for clients who pay top dollar to stay ahead.

“Banks,” Crewe says, turning toward me, his phone call ended. His VIP protection instincts kick in automatically. “We have to move. They could circle back, set up another ambush.”

“I know,” I reply, my voice even. I’m already working, fingers flying across the screen.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

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His Favorite Student Read Online Jenna Rose http://www.ilovenovels.com/his-favorite-student-read-online-jenna-rose Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:51:06 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/his-favorite-student-read-online-jenna-rose Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love Authors: Jenna Rose Advertisement

Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >28

Jessie Carter has always been the perfect student. Top of her pre-med class and completely focused on her career. Romance has never fit into the plan.
Then she meets Professor August Holt.
Brilliant and intense, the former heart surgeon sees straight through her carefully controlled exterior. What begins as extra help after class quickly turns into stolen evenings in his office, undeniable chemistry, and a connection Jessie never expected.
But when rumors begin spreading through the department and a colleague with a personal grudge threatens August’s career, Jessie must decide if protecting her future is worth walking away from the only man who’s ever truly seen her.

A steamy, human-written, over-the-top age-gap romance featuring a possessive professor, an innocent student, no cheating, and a guaranteed happily ever after

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

1

JESSIE

I know three things for certain about myself.

One: I am going to be a doctor someday and have the best color-coded notes that I write out by hand.

Two: I make the world’s best carrot cake muffins from scratch. There’s no recipe, just the memories of my grandmother when she showed me how to make them when I was seven. I never forget anything anyone has ever bothered to teach me.

Three: I have no clue what my friends are shrieking about right now.

“Jessie!” Becca is gawking at me like I just told her I’m an alien from Planet Washkatarian. “You’ve got to be joking. Say that again.”

“I…I’ve never used one,” I reply, my cheeks heating up as I look down at the object in her hand. It’s pink and shaped like an architecturally designed zucchini. I look back at her frowning face. “Is that bad?”

Everyone goes quiet.

And not just the regular pause-in-the-conversation quiet. The kind of quiet that falls over a crowd when some drunk person at a wedding just said something completely inappropriate.

Becca, Dani, and Lourdes are staring at me with their jaws on the floor. The overly-sexy techno song blaring from the Bluetooth speaker seems suddenly extremely loud and inappropriate for the gravity of this moment.

We’re having a girls’ night out. It was Dani’s idea, which means there’s Boba tea and wine that she stole from her older sister. We’re sitting on the floor in a pile of blankets. It’s the kind of night I usually love because I love Boba, and I love my friends. I’m eighteen, so I shouldn’t technically be drinking, but it’s Friday, and school’s just started. No exams in the near future.

“Jessie,” Lourdes says very slowly, the way you talk to someone who has just told their family they think the Earth is flat. “Do you…know what this is?”

In a desperate attempt to save face, I shrug. “It’s a personal massager.” That is technically correct. It said that on the packaging when Becca pulled it out of the box.

More silence.

“A personal…” Dani laughs, unable to finish the sentence. She flops over sideways onto the couch, one hand pressed against her chest like she’s having a heart attack. “Oh my God. There’s no way.”

“Be nice!” Becca scolds her.

“What?” I ask. “What did I say?!”

Becca scoots closer and takes a seat on the coffee table, looking down at me the way moms do when they’re ready to have a serious conversation. She sets the pink zucchini-like object beside her.

“Jessie,” she says slowly. “Sweetie, I need you to tell me something. And I need you to be completely honest with me.”

“Sure, Becks.” I smile awkwardly. “I’m almost always honest with you.”

She takes a deep breath, then glances at the other girls and back at me. “Have you ever…” She pauses, blinks, and restarts. “Have you ever…explored…your…body…?”

She looks to Lourdes for help. She jumps right in. “Have you ever had an orgasm!?” she blurts out. Lourdes is from Miami and has no patience.

My eyes go wide at her question. I think genuinely and watch as Dani sits up from her couch collapse and looks at me with an expression that could only be described as grief.

“I mean—I know what one is,” I reply finally. “But I don’t think I’ve ever had one. I’d know it if I did, right?”

“Yes,” all three of them say at the exact same time. Embarrassed, I pull my blanket up a little.

“Oh. Then no.”

Dani slams her face into a throw pillow and lets out a long scream of terrible anguish. Lourdes hops up, grabs her hair, and starts pacing the length of the room like a lawyer getting ready for the trial of the century. And Becca—she leans in, grabs both of my hands, and looks at me like I’ve just emerged from solitary confinement where I’ve been the last ten years.

“Jessie,” she says. “You are beautiful.”

“Um, thanks?”

“No, like, objectively. You’re beautiful,” she repeats. “You know that guys trip over themselves when you walk by, right? Like literally yesterday on the quad, that frat guy walked right into a lamppost because he was checking out your ass.”

My cheeks prickle as I start blushing. “I just thought he was looking at his phone.”

“He was looking at you,” she says, squeezing my hands. “And your big brown eyes, your gorgeous hair, and your body, Jessica. You have a body—”

“I know I have a body, Becks,” I laugh. “I’m pre-med.”

Dani screams louder into her pillow. Becca takes a deep breath.

“That’s not what I meant. What I’m trying to say is that you are gorgeous. You’re a beautiful girl, but you’re eighteen years old, and you’ve never—not even once…?”

“Well, I’ve never had a boyfriend. You know that.” It’s the sad but honest truth. I’m a busy girl. Between the muffins that take the better part of a Sunday morning and all the work I did in school so I could get into a great college, I’ve led a pretty sheltered life.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >28

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Rev (Redline Kings MC #9) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/rev-redline-kings-mc-9-read-online-fiona-davenport Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:50:56 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/rev-redline-kings-mc-9-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Dark, Insta-Love, Mafia, MC Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: Redline Kings MC Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 42128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 211(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 140(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >46

Soren “Rev” Halvorsen never lost control. Then a terrified blonde crashed into his bike on a dark road, and the Redline Kings captain decided she was his.
After barely escaping a serial killer, Delaney Crosswell felt like the world was unsafe. Except for when she was in Rev’s arms. She knew that danger was a part of the motorcycle club, but the sexy biker quickly proved he’d burn the world down before letting anything touch her

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

1

DELANEY

Human hair was a fascinating historical textile, even if most people found it creepy. Earlier in my studies, it had taken some adjustment to get past being a little disturbed about working with a stranger's hair. Especially knowing they’d passed away. But now, I saw it as a historical material like silk or leather. And I was in awe of how artists had woven it into intricate designs, like the wreath on the antique Victorian mourning brooch I was restoring.

Adjusting the lamp, I was careful to keep my hands steady as I used compressed air to clean the microscopic debris from a crevice in the back. The piece needed to be properly cleaned before it could be restored, and I had to be careful not to introduce moisture that could seep past the gold and destroy the hair and foil-backed gems used as decoration. The reflective metal behind the jewels enhanced their brilliance but made cleaning more complicated.

The brooch was so delicate that I couldn’t afford to make a mistake. Nothing else existed for me until I finally finished the cleaning. Leaning back, I smiled, filled with the satisfaction of coaxing something broken back toward beauty.

I had been so lucky to get a coveted spot in the accelerated art conservation track. In large part because it offered the opportunity as a restoration apprentice with the museum and university preservation partnership. The lab was quite prestigious, so the competition was fierce.

I was thrilled I’d been chosen since this was where I felt most alive—bringing the past back to life, one careful stroke at a time.

My phone lit up on the corner of the worktable, the soft vibration pulling a smile from me as soon as I saw the name on the notification. I peeled off one glove and swiped the screen.

Mom

Still at the lab? It’s getting late. Dad is being grumpy about his deadline and asked me to remind you that even brilliant restorers need food.

I huffed a quiet laugh, my thumbs flying over the keyboard.

Me

Almost done cleaning the mourning brooch. I’m packing up soon.

Mom

That’s my girl. We’re so proud of you, honey.

I grinned at my screen.

Me

Thanks. Tell Dad I’ll be equally proud when he kicks his deadline’s butt.

Having a sci-fi author for a father had been interesting growing up. His schedule varied from being available to spend lots of time with me to disappearing into his office for weeks on end when he had a book due to his editor. Luckily, my mom’s hours at the library were very regular.

I got my love of books from them at an early age, which helped tremendously with my studies. And helped me snag my scholarship.

But it was the time I’d spent with the stacks of old books my mom let me “fix” as a kid that had really helped me discover my passion for preservation. Dad spinning wild stories about ancient artifacts and lost civilizations hadn’t hurt, either.

While other girls were out at parties, I was happiest with a pair of tweezers and something fragile that needed my patience. Even now, social events and academic mixers drained me, but the conservation lab was my happy place.

My mom sent me a laughing emoji, and I replied with a heart before setting the phone down again and reaching for my gloves. I’d just slipped the left one back on when the quiet scrape of a shoe behind me made me jump.

I spun on my stool, my pulse quickening.

Dr. Magnus Kinghorn stood just inside the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back, watching me with an unnerving stillness that people said came from being so brilliant. He wore his usual tailored jacket, silver threading through his dark hair, every inch the respected art historian.

I really hoped he hadn’t seen me on my phone. As the lead of the entire partnership between the museum and my university, the fate of my career was literally in his hands.

“Dr. Kinghorn.” I pressed a hand to my chest with a breathless laugh. “You startled me. I didn’t hear you come down.”

“My apologies, Delaney. I thought you might still be here.” He moved closer, stopping beside the worktable. His gaze dropped to the mourning brooch under the lamp. “How is our little Victorian lady progressing?”

I relaxed a fraction, happy to talk about the work and not me being on my cell phone. “The crack is almost ready for repair now. One more round of cleaning should do it.”

Using my gloved hand, I turned the piece so he could see better.

“Hmm.” He leaned in, studying the brooch with clinical appreciation. “Yes, I concur.”

I took a deep, satisfied breath. “Thank you.”

“Preservation is really just deciding what deserves to survive,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Some things should be kept exactly as they are before the world ruins them.”

I nodded, charmed despite the odd phrasing. “That’s beautiful. And exactly why I love this work. Giving broken things another chance.”

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