M-M Romance – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

M-M Romance – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:41 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png M-M Romance – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Silver Sweet (Cobalt Empire #2) Read Online Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie http://www.ilovenovels.com/silver-sweet-cobalt-empire-2-read-online-krista-ritchie-becca-ritchie Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:41 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/silver-sweet-cobalt-empire-2-read-online-krista-ritchie-becca-ritchie Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Authors: Becca Ritchie, Krista Ritchie Series: Becca Ritchie
Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
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Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 215301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 861(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)

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Phoenix is a hot drummer with a bad attitude. Tom is a punk-rock singer who’s too hard to impress. Two problem children of their bands have one shot at making it big in this M/M Rockstar Romance—if they don’t burn it all down.

Tom Cobalt has been called a lot of things. Arrogant god. Overachiever. Demanding, uncooperative jerk. It comes with the territory of being the fifth-born of a storied family. Not even his own punk-rock band can meet his high standards. So when every member of The Carraways quits on him before finishing an album, he’s left with a bruised ego and a major dilemma.

Reviving his childhood dream comes down to one infuriating choice: pair up with a hard-edged drummer or be dropped by his music label permanently.

Phoenix St. Pierre has enough baggage to ground every plane in New York City. He’s volatile, sleep-deprived, and still carrying the fallout of imploding his own band. He should not be paired with Tom, the stuck-up trust-fund baby who pushes all his buttons—yet the second chance is impossible to walk away from.

Making music means too much to Phoenix and Tom to let this last shot slip through their fingers. But working together feels like a Shakespearean disaster ready to unfold. Especially when off-the-charts chemistry, undeniable attraction, and destructive habits threaten to make or break them.

It’s nothing personal—but they just might be the best and worst thing that ever happened to each other

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

CHARACTER LIST

THE COBALTS

Connor Cobalt & Rose Calloway

First Born:

Jane Eleanor (26)

Second Born:

Charlie Keating (24)

Third Born:

Beckett Joyce (24)

Fourth Born:

Eliot Alice (22)

Fifth Born:

Tom Carraway (21)

Sixth Born:

Ben Pirrip (19)

Seventh Born:

Audrey Virginia (16)

1

TOM COBALT

I’m fucked.

Not like “my life is over” fucked.

I suffer from the extreme inability to quit on myself—even when people quit on me. I’m more afraid of my dream decaying into nothingness than I am of what I might do to keep it alive.

Which is why I’m on Craigslist right now.

I’m nearing embarrassing levels of desperation.

“Here’s one.” I stop on an ad and zoom in on my laptop so my brother behind me can see. “This guy is looking for a guitarist near Union Square. He says he plays bass and he’s a singer-songwriter.”

I need a bassist. Like by tomorrow.

I also would like a drummer. Basically, I need to reform my shattered band, and searching Craigslist for potential musicians is the only solid solution I’ve had in weeks.

Eliot peers over my shoulder, a strong hand clasped on the desk chair where I’m seated. He taps the keyboard, demagnifying the ad. “Only two sentences of information?”

“He just says to contact him if interested,” I explain. “He gives his name. Blaine Thomas.”

“I’ve never met a Blaine I liked.”

“Dude, I don’t care if he’s named Beef Hotdog right now.”

Eliot points at another ad. “Check this one.”

“I still think this Blaine guy has potential,” I say, but I go ahead and open the other ad and skim the details. “Uhh, this girl is looking for a guy to sing folk music with her in Brooklyn.” I cringe just imagining myself singing Mumford & Sons covers in a coffee shop where no one gives a fucking damn. Because why would they? They’re not there to be distracted by my life-changing, transcendent vocals. They’re there to sip their lattes, pop in earbuds, and worry about some business report due the next day.

I’m going to be ambient background noise.

Elevator music.

My face twists in a harsher cringe. I blink repeatedly, and I swallow down distaste like a four-year-old learning to eat their veggies.

It’s good for you, Tom.

I could convince her to join my band. Maybe the label would be interested in a guy-girl duo. The type of music, we could work out later.

“Maybe…” I grimace more.

“We don’t do Brooklyn, brother,” Eliot says.

We live in a luxury high-rise in Hell’s Kitchen—apartment 2166—but he’s not snubbing Brooklyn because it’s beneath us. He got in a bar brawl in a Brooklyn pub a few months ago when some drunk idiot called our oldest brother a cunt.

Charlie wasn’t even there, but that didn’t stop Eliot from defending his honor, me joining in, and our bodyguards pulling us out.

I sigh hard at the laptop. “I can’t be picky about where in New York someone is eating and sleeping. I need a viable band to present to the label in two days.” I click back into the list of ads. “And I doubt Charlie would even care that we’ve sworn off an entire portion of New York on his behalf.”

Eliot tips his head. “Vrai.” He says true in French.

After he dismisses three more potential ads—one of which was reasonable, except for the demand that the guitarist be right-handed (I am right-handed…but still)—I whirl around on my six-foot-four, towering, loyal-to-the-bone brother.

Eliot Alice Cobalt is only eleven months older than me. He’s my closest brother in more than just age. I know things about him no one else does. I tell him everything first. Between the two of us, secrets are hard to find, and out of my family—out of the Cobalt Empire—I would’ve never imagined he’d make duct-taping my band back together more difficult.

“What’s with the pushback?” I question. “I’d expect this from Charlie or Beckett. Not you. Okay, you rarely shoot down my harebrained ideas.”

“Best ideas,” he corrects.

“Exactly.” I wave a hand at him. “You think all my ideas are the best ideas. So what fucking gives?”

He threads his arms, his biceps bulging. He really needs to put down the weights. I’m starting to look scrawny next to him.

I hike my brows at his lingering silence. “What is it?”

“I’m just wondering what happened to your standards.”

My standards. I clench my jaw. “Bruised and battered, Eliot Alice.” I can’t even force a strained smile. This concerns him.

I see it in the creases of his eyes, but is it such a bad thing to lower my standards? I’ve been told they’re too high. I’ve been told I should “aspire for less” and this was coming from my own therapist.

And sure, Dr. Carlton didn’t phrase it exactly like that, but I can read between the lines and I can take a hint. I just can’t follow them. Because I’m still aiming for stars in undiscovered galaxies when I should set my expectations on planet Earth.

I’m deeply aware I’ve set unrealistic goalposts, but what is the point of life if not chasing after the thing you want and love?

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Phoenix – Standalone Novels Read Online Cardeno C http://www.ilovenovels.com/phoenix-standalone-novels-read-online-cardeno-c Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:40 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/phoenix-standalone-novels-read-online-cardeno-c Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Authors: Cardeno C Advertisement

Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >61

“Your f*cked up fits with my f*cked up and as long as we’re f*cked up together, who gives a f*ck.”

Their paths never should have crossed. Torrence Dunworthy lived with his four brothers and his sometimes-there-but-mostly-not mother, always struggling to get by. Julian Sterling was born into a life of privilege and connections, which was the only reason his anger issues didn’t get him kicked out of kindergarten. He’d also never had a friend. And then Jule met Tor.

They shouldn’t have had anything in common. Their parents shouldn’t have involved six-year-olds in their affair. They shouldn’t have found ways to stay connected when everything seemed designed to drive them apart. A lot of things shouldn’t have happened over nearly three decades. But one thing that never wavered was their commitment to one another.

Their paths were destined to cross. They had everything in common. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and despite surface appearances, Jule and Tor grew from the same orchard, with roots too deep to kill

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

Chapter 1 – Age 6

“Julian, this is Torrence. Stay here and play with him. I need to get some work done with his mother.”

Big blue eyes in a dirt-streaked face looked up at him. The boy was sitting on a weird bed, which wasn’t made, and he was wearing his daytime clothes. They looked filthy. There was a big hole on the shoulder of the shirt and both knees of his jeans. So much was wrong with the scene that Julian was too distracted to argue with his father and demand that they go home.

His mother had bought him the new Pokémon game the night before and she said he could play it as long as he was being good. He hadn’t broken anything or yelled at anyone at school that day so he should be in his playroom enjoying his new game. Instead, he was in someone else’s room. Someone else’s small room. He could fit four of them in his bedroom. It was crowded with two sets of bunkbeds. It smelled funny.

“Your bed’s weird,” he said to the boy. The bunkbed didn’t look like one Julian had ever seen. The bottom bunk wasn’t a bed at all, just a mattress on the floor with a rumpled blanket. The top bunk didn’t have a rail to keep the person safe. The wood looked splintery.

“It’s a bunkbed,” the boy, Torrence, said.

“I know it’s a bunkbed,” Julian snapped. He wasn’t stupid.

“My brothers built it. I helped.”

He considered that statement. “You built your own bed?”

Torrence nodded. “We found a bunch of pallets. Had enough to make a couch too.”

“What’s a pallet?”

The boy’s face scrunched together and Julian started getting mad. He wasn’t stupid just because he’d never heard of a pallet.

“I’ll show you.” Torrence stood, walked over, and tugged at his shirt. “Come on.”

“My dad told me to stay here,” he reminded Torrence.

“So?” he shrugged.

Julian decided he liked him. He followed Torrence out of the room, down a short hallway, through the living room or family room or television room, Julian couldn’t tell which it was. He stopped walking and looked around. There was a lot of furniture crowded in the space, but he could pick out the couch Torrence said he built. It had the same type of strange wood as the beds, stacked in a row with cushions on it.

“You coming, Julie?” Torrence said. He stood a few steps away, staring at him.

He felt his skin go hot. “My name’s Julian.”

“That’s too long.”

He stomped over to Torrence and pushed him. “Julian’s a boy’s name. Julie’s a girl’s name. Don’t call me that.” There wasn’t an adult around to punish him, but Torrence would cry and run to his mom and she’d tell Julian’s dad, and then he wouldn’t be allowed to play his Nintendo when he got home. That made him even angrier, and he punched Torrence in the stomach.

“Wow, Julie,” he said, smiling instead of crying. “You’re strong.” He tugged at Julian’s shirt again. “Come on.” He pulled a confused Julian into the kitchen and out the back door.

The backyard didn’t have much grass, mostly dirt and rocks and a couple of trees. There wasn’t a sport court or a playground set but there was stuff everywhere. He followed Torrence around the maze of piles until they reached an area with the same wood he had seen inside.

“These are pallets,” Torrence said. “They use them to move blocks and plants and shit.”

He snapped his head to other boy and his jaw dropped. “That’s a bad word.”

He shrugged like he had inside. “Want to play a game?”

“Do you have Pokémon?” he asked.

“What’s that?”

He was surprised that Torrence didn’t know but he hadn’t made fun of him when he didn’t know what a pallet was, so Julian didn’t tease him about it. He couldn’t show him the game because it was at home, so he explained, “It’s a Nintendo game.”

“Oh. I don’t play video games.”

“Your mom doesn’t let you?” he asked, understanding. His mother hadn’t either. She used to say screen time was bad for him. But then one day, she gave him the Nintendo and said he could play it if he didn’t get in trouble at school. He could share that idea with Torrence and maybe his mom would get him a Nintendo too.

“My mom’s almost never here. She’s only been back for a week this time.”

“Um.” He tried to understand but wasn’t sure he did. Maybe his mother traveled for work a lot, like his mom. “Your dad doesn’t let you?”

“He never lives here,” Torrence said, shaking his head.

“Why?”

“Video games cost too much,” Torrence said, misunderstanding what he was asking. He grasped Julian’s wrist and pulled him through the yard. “Come on. This’ll be fun.” As they walked, Torrence stopped and dug through piles. “Hold this.” He handed Julian two metal pipes and then walked off. Julian’s shirt was definitely going to be dirty. He considered whether his parents would be mad enough to take away his Nintendo privileges.

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Sweet Something (Wood Hollow Stories #2) Read Online Lane Hayes http://www.ilovenovels.com/sweet-something-wood-hollow-stories-2-read-online-lane-hayes Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:38 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/sweet-something-wood-hollow-stories-2-read-online-lane-hayes Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Authors: Lane Hayes Series: Wood Hollow Stories Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >89

The baker, the grumpy lumberjack, and a new dad journey…

Dexter

The donut business is booming in Wood Hollow, along with my flag-football program. Now I’m ready to take on a new challenge—parenthood. See, I’ve always wanted to be a dad and it’s finally happening. Wood Hollow is the perfect place to raise a child. It’s quiet, safe, and the folks here are friendly.

One glaring exception is the grumpy lumberjack…who ends up being besties with my surrogate. What are the odds?

Yeah…this will be interesting.

Viggo

I’m a logger. I like wood. That’s it. Maybe that makes me a solitary person, but so what?

Unfortunately, I can’t ignore the handsome donut man’s new dad-to-be situation. Not when it concerns an old family friend.

Look, I don’t want to be involved, but I have no choice. And if that means I’ll have to step outside of my comfort zone and do people-y things to make sure Dexter is a going to be a good dad, so be it.

It doesn’t mean I like Dexter. He’s accidentally funny, kind of sweet, very hot, and—

Okay, fine.

Maybe I like him too much.

Sweet Something is an MM bisexual, grumpy/sunshine, small-town romance featuring Wood Hollow’s hottest baker and the grumpy lumberjack with a big heart

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

CHAPTER 1

DEXTER

“It’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness.”—Chuck Palahniuk, Diary

Eighteen years ago

It was the fourth quarter, the score was 14-7 with less than five minutes on the clock, and Spartan Stadium was bumping.

I could barely hear myself think above the symphony of cheers, chants, and band music. I wasn’t worried, though. We had this one nailed. It was our ball and if I could get it to Serrano, we’d pull away for sure. The Wolverines were always tough, but we’d spotted a few holes in their defense and had happily taken advantage.

“Listen up!” Coach yelled, tapping his clipboard as the offense gathered around him.

I guzzled water, grunting along with my teammates while I scanned the crowd. My whole family was here today—even my dad. That was kinda awesome. He was jazzed about the contract my agent had been bragging about. I mean…yeah, the dream had always been to go pro. It was wild to think it could happen so soon. This time next year, I could be at Ford Field. Probably sitting on the bench, but so what?

“Watch out for number 22. He’s got fresh legs, and I’ve seen this dude play. He’s a freaking beast.” Troy sidled close, interrupting my daydream.

I rolled my eyes. “We got this, man.”

Coach rattled off the play, which was a simple, “Throw the ball to Serrano,” and added a rousing, “Let’s fuckin’ do it!”

We were pumped up, ready for action.

All thoughts of family, future glory, or even getting laid that night were shoved firmly aside as the whistle blew and our center snapped the ball to me. I stayed in the pocket and scanned for Serrano. The guy could run like the wind, but he was kinda short and I couldn’t see him over the throng of giants in the way. My line wasn’t going to hold for long, I had to move…fast.

I twisted to my right, avoiding getting swiped by a tackle, and yes…there he was. Serrano waved wildly at the five-yard line, totally open. Easy money, baby.

I cocked my arm, prepared to launch the ball to the end zone. My elbow was high, my feet were planted, and then⁠—

Boom!

Nothing.

Darkness.

Complete shutdown.

Later, I’d tell everyone that I didn’t come to until I was in the hospital, but the truth was that for a fleeting moment, I’d been half conscious.

I willed myself to get up, shake it off. I willed my eyes to open, but couldn’t do it. Panic was setting in and I was going under…fast. Everyone was here, rooting for me, counting on me.

My last thought was… I’m fucked. There goes the dream.

Now

Sunlight streamed through the rain-streaked windows, sending a prism across the battered wood table for two. The rainbow hues softened the edges of the manic mood college students carried with them into the campus coffee shop. Their idle chatter buzzed under the hum of alternative music and the hiss of the industrial coffeemaker.

The cacophony was soothing in its own way, and on the plus side, it nearly drowned out the woman at a nearby table engaged in a lively conversation on her phone. Something about wanting to sell her ex’s crappy-ass guitar.

“Do you think I could get a hundred bucks for it? Oh, no. He owes me, honey. eBay, here I come!”

I tuned her out and scanned the parking lot as I sipped my latte. A young mother shook out her umbrella while her two small children splashed in a puddle with gleeful abandon. Their shoes were toast, but Mom didn’t seem concerned. A couple stood in front of a beat-up truck, their arms around each other. An old man shuffled along the sidewalk, his head bent, the belt of his raincoat dragging behind him.

The little vignettes of life playing out in real time made me smile. Or maybe it was finally glimpsing the sun after days of rain. And yeah, I couldn’t help thinking, hoping it was symbolic of something positive on the horizon. I wanted to roll my eyes at the fanciful notion, but I was preoccupied—a normal state for me lately.

Where was she? I was early. On purpose. The drive to Burlington from Wood Hollow had been treacherous. There’d even been a weather advisory. But this was in-person news. I had to look into her eyes and see if this was real.

Other than the weather, everything had gone smoothly today. Meg and Dallas were minding the store, Janey would handle the deliveries, and Silas and Troy had the afternoon flag football practice under control. The field would be a mess, but the kids wouldn’t mind and⁠—

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, willing my shoulders to settle into place as I sent up another prayer. Please let this be it.

“Dex?”

I jumped out of my chair, pasting a bright smile on my face. “Freya. Hi. Um…take a seat. I’ll grab you something to drink. Do you want tea or coffee, a latte, cappuccino?”

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Honovi’s Briefs Read Online Lucy Lennox http://www.ilovenovels.com/honovis-briefs-read-online-lucy-lennox Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:37 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/honovis-briefs-read-online-lucy-lennox Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Authors: Lucy Lennox Advertisement

Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >21

A surgeon with a god complex. An attorney with zero patience. One reckless moment that changes everything…

I don’t do impulsive.

I do order and structure. I do airtight arguments and depositions that make egotistical surgeons sweat. Protecting the families of Hobie, Texas, is my job—and I’m damn good at it.

Which is why dragging Dr. Xavier Rhodes into a dark, empty hospital room is… wildly off-brand for me.

Xavier is everything I avoid. Arrogant. Smugly gorgeous. Infuriating at every turn. And unfortunately? A brilliant surgeon with hands capable of things I absolutely should not be thinking about.

Our “one-time” lapse becomes a habit—hot, stolen moments between two men who don’t have time for anything real. It’s messy. It’s addictive. And it’s the most alive I’ve felt in years.

But when a life-or-death emergency throws us together, the truth hits
I can keep the careful life I built…
or risk everything for the complicated man I can’t walk away from.

*This book was previously part of a promotional giveaway in January 2026. No new content has been added

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

1

HONOVI

“Are you aware the patient’s consent was obtained under sedation?” I asked for the third time in as many hours.

The surgeon’s nostrils flared. “Once again, I’m aware the patient had been stabbed and was at risk of death. I didn’t think stopping to let him sober up was worth his life. Still don’t, in fact. No matter how many times you want to ask me the question.”

Dr. Xavier Rhodes was a beautiful man. There was no doubt about that. Everyone in Hobie, Texas, was aware of it. In fact, I’d overheard Doc Wilde say something about how the man was “too perfect.”

He also came off like a textbook ego-driven surgeon who thought he was a god, which was going to be a problem on the stand if this civil suit went to trial.

Hell, it was already a problem for me.

He was handsome, yes—maybe even ridiculously, unfairly handsome—but I could hardly stand to look at the man since every time I tried to question him, he turned into an automaton hell-bent on ruining this case or crushing my spirit, whichever came first.

I took a breath and held it for four beats, five. Seven. “Be that as it may, the patient is contesting the procedure, and you and the hospital are on the hook for it.”

He leaned forward and jabbed the table with one long, elegant finger to make his point. “This is a complete waste of time. Ask any surgeon in any hospital in the country and they’ll tell you they would have done the same thing. The man needed his appendix out, so I gave him an appendectomy.”

“You were treating him for a stab wound,” I pointed out calmly. In order to keep from adding another stab wound to this case.

He took a breath and repeated his earlier explanation as if he was pressing Rewind and Play on a boring and disgusting med school lecture. “During the procedure to repair the penetrating abdominal trauma, I identified necrotic tissue and purulent fluid consistent with early necrotizing peritonitis. At that point, I extended the incision and proceeded with an open appendectomy and lavage to avoid sepsis. Standard procedure. Had I not made the call, sepsis would have led to septic shock, where blood pressure collapses, organs fail, and mortality exceeds 50 to 60 percent, even with aggressive ICU intervention. Yes, he came in for a stab wound, but that stab wound actually saved his life.”

“Says you,” I murmured as I made a few more notes.

His square jaw somehow managed to get square-er. “Mr. Baptiste, with all due respect, there’s no doubt in my mind that this will be resolved in the courtroom once we get medical experts on the stand.”

I tried not to stare at his hands as he tapped his fingers impatiently on the table.

In the few months Xavier Rhodes had been back in Hobie, those capable hands of his had earned a hell of a reputation among his patients. Superhuman, they said.

Which was completely irrelevant right now.

Focus, Hon.

“I believe your defense attorney’s goal is not to get anyone on the stand,” I explained, glad I wasn’t his actual attorney, only assisting the guy with information-gathering and trial prep as a favor. “It’s to gather enough evidence to make them go away. And so far, your combativeness and refusal to cooperate hasn’t helped us get anywhere near that goal.”

Dr. Rhodes pushed back from the conference table with those same damnable fingers and stood, shooting the cuffs of his expensive dress shirt and smoothing his baby blue tie down to his shiny silver-buckled belt. “I have kept my cool for over three hours of repetitive, inconsequential questions about a simple medical decision, Mr. Baptiste. And I’ve reached my limit. A patient and his ambulance-chasing attorney are looking for an easy payday. I hope this hospital’s legal team is good enough not to give him one. If you have more questions for me, you’ll have to schedule them for another day. Good afternoon.”

With that, I watched his tight, rounded ass, pristinely draped in expensive suit pants, walk out of the conference room and into the hospital corridor.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

My paralegal tilted her head and pursed her lips. “To be fair, he stayed way longer than anyone expected.”

I gave Gracie a weak laugh. “Not nearly long enough. You and I both know we didn’t need any of that information. We needed to know how he’d handle being under pressure with repeated questions. And the answer is, ‘Not particularly well.’”

One of the hospital administrators I’d forgotten was in the room sighed as she stood up. “The poor man. Dr. Rhodes has been slammed ever since Dr. Khidhri retired. I don’t know when he sleeps. One of the nurses says he’s practically living in the doctors’ lounge.”

My eyes snapped to hers. “Could his overwork and possible sleep deprivation be used against the hospital in this case?”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >21

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Just a Bit Crushed (Straight Guys #16) Read Online Alessandra Hazard http://www.ilovenovels.com/just-a-bit-crushed-straight-guys-16-read-online-alessandra-hazard Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:35 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/just-a-bit-crushed-straight-guys-16-read-online-alessandra-hazard Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance, Sports Authors: Alessandra Hazard Series: Straight Guys Series by Alessandra Hazard
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Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >64

Cameron Richter has everything exactly the way he likes it.

He’s a Formula One World Champion. He has money, fame, respect—and absolutely no patience for spoiled rich kids who know nothing about racing. Like Scott Palmer, the ridiculously wealthy, ridiculously beautiful American heir Cam is forced to tolerate as a VIP guest.

Scott has never met anyone he couldn’t charm—until now. And the more Cam glares at him, insults him, and acts as though Scott is the most annoying person on the planet, the more Scott wants to get under his skin.

Cam wasn’t supposed to become his obsession. Scott is into pretty twinks, not bossy, homophobic straight men who could bench press him without breaking a sweat.

Except their mutual dislike quickly turns into an irresistible attraction, one that could destroy Cam’s career—and might be the only wreck he can’t walk away from

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

Chapter 1

His assistant wore a sheepish expression.

Cameron Richter sighed inwardly. That look on Bianca’s face never meant anything good. It usually meant she was about to tell him something he didn’t want to hear.

“Just tell me and get it over with, Bianca,” Cam said in a clipped voice, grimly wondering whether he was about to get dragged into yet another sponsor event. He fucking hated Thursdays. It hadn’t always been this way, of course. But when you were a Formula One driver, Thursdays before a race weekend meant enduring an endless parade of PR obligations Cam had no patience for.

Of course, it was part of the circus. Part of the job. But sometimes he wished he could just focus on driving and ignore everything else. Unfortunately, he couldn’t, not when he was the reigning World Champion and the face of McLaren.

“You’re going to hate it,” Bianca said.

Cam snorted. “Not an encouraging start.”

Bianca gave him a tight smile. “I’ll start with the good news: the IWC photoshoot has been postponed until next month.”

Before he could exhale in relief, she added, “Now for the bad news: you have to meet and greet a VIP, give him a hot lap around the track, and maybe show him around if there’s still time.”

“Great,” Cam muttered under his breath, grimacing. There was nothing he hated more than playing glorified chauffeur to some daddy’s boy who knew nothing about Formula One but had deep enough pockets to get the premium VIP experience. If Cam was chosen to be the one to give this guy a hot lap and show him around, that definitely wasn’t cheap. His time was precious. And expensive.

“Who is he?” he asked. He didn’t particularly care, but he’d need to at least know the guy’s name.

“His name is Scott Palmer. He’s the only son and heir of the owner of Palmer Corp.” Bianca glanced at her phone. “He’s twenty-eight, unmarried. He’s technically employed at his father’s company, but he’s always in Europe. He organizes some charity events and has his own—”

“So, a trust-fund baby,” Cam said, his lips twisting. “Basically like a Kardashian, right?”

Bianca sighed, giving him a pleading look. “Please be nice, Cam.”

“I’m always nice,” Cam said with a laugh.

She gave him an unimpressed look. “You made the last VIP you met leave the paddock immediately.”

“You shouldn’t foist them on me if you want them fawned over,” Cam said with a shrug. “I’m not going to change the way I am to appease some nepo babies who know nothing about Formula One.”

Bianca sighed again and shook her head. “He’ll be here at ten. Don’t be late, Cam.”

He gave a clipped nod. As much as he hated that part of the job, it was still part of his contractual obligations. God, he was really looking forward to renegotiating his contract next year.

***

The guy was... pretty.

There was no other word for it. Tousled dark hair, high cheekbones, light eyes—blue or gray—and skin so smooth it didn’t look real. He was tall and fit, and he practically oozed old money as he strolled gracefully through the paddock with Bianca, heading in Cam’s direction, his phone pressed to his ear.

Cam eyed him, his lips curling with derision. In his years in the sport, he’d met hundreds of celebrities, but something about this guy just screamed privilege. His gaze swept over the man’s tailored light-colored trousers and deceptively simple white shirt. Judging by the way it skimmed his torso, accentuating lean muscle and the curves of his pecs, the shirt was almost certainly bespoke.

Who the fuck wore white and beige on a rainy, muddy day in Spielberg, Austria? There wasn’t a speck of dirt or water on the guy’s clothes, even though it had just stopped raining. He looked like he’d stepped off a magazine cover.

“Hey, Cam,” Bianca said. “This is the guest I told you about, Scott Palmer.”

The guy smiled, flashing him a positively Hollywood smile and revealing his perfect white teeth. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, extending his free hand for a handshake, a Rolex glinting on his wrist.

Reluctantly, Cam took the hand in his own and shook it. The guy’s palm was soft, his skin silky smooth, his fingernails well manicured. His own felt very rough and calloused in comparison. Cam tried not to grimace. He couldn’t imagine having anything in common with this guy. He was probably a model on the side or something. He certainly had the looks for it.

“Sorry, one moment,” Scott said, and brought his phone back to his ear. “Baby, I really have to go. I’m at the track already.”

Cam couldn’t make out what the caller said, but the voice was unmistakably male.

He stiffened.

So the guy was one of… those. Cam hadn’t been sure—hadn’t wanted to assume just because the guy was pretty and dressed like... that.

Frowning, Cam reached for his helmet and put it on. Whatever. It was none of his business. He could put up with the guy for the five minutes it would take to drive him around the track—if the guy finally bothered to stop chatting with his boyfriend and wasting Cam’s time.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >64

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Santa’s Special Helper Read Online M.A. Innes http://www.ilovenovels.com/santas-special-helper-read-online-m-a-innes Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:33 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/santas-special-helper-read-online-m-a-innes Genre: Kink, M-M Romance Authors: M.A. Innes Advertisement

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >27

Getting roped into playing Santa at the Bound & Controlled club holiday party isn’t exactly how Rhett planned on spending his evening. Luckily for him, he’s got a cheeky elf playing helper who’s keeping the night interesting.

Sometimes naughty is very nice.

Getting roped into playing Santa’s helper isn’t exactly how Stirling thought he’d spend his time at the wickedly fun Christmas party, but saying no to Conner, the owner, is impossible. Luckily for him, he’s got a sexy Santa to tease and a punishment to look forward to.

When Santa’s adorably naughty helper finally breaks out of his comfort zone, nothing will ever be the same…including Christmas.

Santa’s Special Helper was originally titled Daddy’s Special Helper in the 2024 Daddy’s Naughty List Anthology. No material changes have been made to the original story. However, it does contain a cutie who’s been working on building his confidence, a partner who loves him to pieces, and exploration when things didn’t go right the first time. While there are mentions of past trauma with a previous partner, nothing is detailed on page

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

Chapter 1

Rhett

“You know, I thought Santa’s beard was supposed to be thicker?” The cheeky, questioning tone was deliberately designed to push my buttons, but the way the naughty elf reached out and tugged on my beard made it clear he was doing his best to drive me crazy.

Brats were an adorable handful, but I knew better than to react too much.

“Really?” Raising one eyebrow and tapping my fingers on my thigh, I leaned back against the throne I’d been given to sit on. It was a bit over the top for a Santa, but I wasn’t the drama queen in charge of the celebration. “As an official helper Santa, I’m calling bullshit on that.”

Playing Santa for the Bound & Controlled Christmas party hadn’t been my first choice for how to spend the evening. There were more relaxing ways to hang out with everyone, but it’d been worth losing my free time to see the subs giggly and happy.

Especially the littles.

The brats, on the other hand, were a more interesting bunch.

My cheeky helper sucked in a breath, playing shocked as he brought his hand up to his mouth. “And cursing too? I can’t believe it. What kind of Santa does that?”

This one.

“Santas who believe in giving out punishments instead of coal.” Sitting taller in the throne, I glared at the naughty boy who’d been assigned to be my elf for the evening. “I’ve given out a lot of presents so far tonight, but I think I should hand out at least one more punishment.”

Well, the other cuties who’d been punished for being naughty had thoroughly enjoyed their time over Santa’s lap with either their friends or Doms doing their best not to cheer them on. This cutie was a bit different, though.

The other subs who’d been pretending to be naughty hadn’t asked me if I was too old to play Santa or if my Depends needed to be changed halfway through the party.

Yes, someone was overdue for a conversation about manners.

A firm conversation involving my hand and their bottom.

“To a sub who kept making creaking noises every time I moved.” My dry tone had him trying not to smirk, clearly proud of himself for that one. “Creaking? Really?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you are kind of old.” The sexy elf shrugged, trying to play it off as he ignored my twitching hand. “You said it, though. I didn’t.”

No, he’d just asked me if I had an early curfew at the old folks’ home and if they’d realized I’d gotten out unsupervised.

“It’s probably my ancient memory, but I’m not recalling that the same way.” Keeping my expression serious, I ignored the giggles coming from around us as the last of the stragglers who were hanging around Santa were starting to enjoy the naughty elf’s drama. “But luckily for me, Santa is in charge of dishing out the punishments tonight.”

Within reason and within everyone’s limits, of course.

My helper’s eyes got wide but he blustered through it and eventually sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure you’ve got the strength for it, old man.”

Oh, weak and old?

Naughty, naughty elf.

“It seems my helper is in need of a reminder about his manners.” Reaching out, I took his hand and slowly pulled him closer, thoroughly enjoying the view of his tight little shorts and the outline of the hard cock showing through them. “You definitely don’t deserve a nice present from Santa.”

My sexy elf looked confident but I could feel the way he was shaking. “I just tell it like it is, Santa.”

So naughty and so sexy.

Maybe I didn’t mind being Santa as much as I’d thought I would.

“Which is why you’ve been added to Santa’s naughty list.” Pulling him over my lap, I gave him a few seconds to safeword before I peeled his tiny velvet shorts down just below his ass. The rest of his body was reasonably well-covered, and as long as he stayed over my lap, even his erection was hidden.

Sighing, I shook my head. “Definitely on the naughty list. A thong? It’s shocking.”

Several helpful members of our audience called out that it was sexy and one even said Santa’s elves kept getting sexier every year, but I ignored him because he’d been the elf last year. The comments had my helpful elf trying to hide his giggles, though.

Someone liked the approval he was getting.

“Shocking Santa with your lewd behavior will not get you on the nice list. Truly shocking, so I think it’s time I made an impression on you.” There’d been plenty of time for the cheeky elf to safeword, so I rubbed my gloved hand over his mostly bared ass and held his torso tight with the other.

His shiver said he liked the feel of the glove, but I knew he’d love the rest just as much. “Let’s see if we can help you be a nicer elf.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >27

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Chase Read Online Raleigh Ruebins http://www.ilovenovels.com/chase-read-online-raleigh-ruebins Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:31 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/chase-read-online-raleigh-ruebins Genre: Angst, Erotic, M-M Romance Authors: Raleigh Ruebins Advertisement

Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >111

Chase was never part of my plan.
A windstorm is hitting when I find him on the hotel rooftop.
He’s young. Wild. Impulsive. Standing at the edge of twenty stories, until I grab his arm.
And then I realize he doesn’t recognize who I am.
Chase sees me, not just the hot new actor. And he’s in pain.
He’s straight, but he wants to try something with me.
And then he becomes obsessed. And I cross a line I swear I never would again.
Logan is everything I’m not.
He’s perfect. Golden-haired. Then I find out he’s a star on TV.
I’m pure chaos, wrapped in a red-flag bow with a sprinkling of ADHD and touch fixation.
I admit my hands are needy, but he’s starved for touch, too.
I don’t do this with men, but he’s mysterious. Intriguing. So different from me.
My art is my world, and I paint in neon, take vivid photos, and want to capture him, too.
I’m getting possessive, greedy, hungry… addicted to his touch.
He’s not mine.
But when we’re together, I tell him he is. Over and over again.
And I’m starting to believe it

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

CHAPTER 1

LOGAN

I knew it would be a bad idea to come to the bar in broad daylight. Thinking with my dick is never the best choice, but it doesn’t ever seem to stop me.

The bartender has been staring at me. The Bellwood Hotel lounge is luxurious and private, and I thought I could escape fans and paparazzi and stay on the down low, but for the last ten minutes the young bartender’s eyes have been following me like he’s the goddamn Mona Lisa.

I know he recognizes me from TV.

A flash of sunlight reflects off a glass on the bar top and I wince a little, a jolt of adrenaline hitting my spine.

Chill out.

Act normal.

It wasn’t a camera flash, and it wasn't paparazzi.

I’m so on guard now that any flash will make me flinch worse than actual pain, apparently. I shift on the buttery-soft leather booth seat and swirl the Scotch I’ve been nursing for a while now, watching the golden liquid glint in the sun.

I’m halfway through this neat pour of liquor and it’s only 2 o’clock, which was another questionable decision. But it’s my first day off all month, and I got greedy when I thought I might be able to find a casual quickie in a place like this.

Then the bartender started focusing on me.

Intently.

And I realized it’s stupid to think I can be anonymous anymore.

I open my phone and see the punishing notification circle above my messages.

341 unread texts, and my email is tenfold worse.

I tap into my messages with Emily, ignoring the angry red dots.

Logan

Is it still considered thinking with your dick if you aren’t acting on your thoughts?

Emily

If you end up fucking someone, yes. If you’re just looking… still yes, I think.

I’m just looking. Probably.

I grin at the message and lock my phone again.

My manager Emily has been the brightest spot through all this. She’s been my friend for much longer than I’ve been famous, and I’d trust Emily with anything. She’s one of the only people who hasn’t started treating me differently now that my career exploded.

I gaze back up at the bartender.

I’ve been waiting for him to come ask for a selfie.

He pushes his dark hair to one side and his cheekbones stand out in the afternoon sun, like he’s trying to show off how good he looks. He’s young, and my TV show, Yard Line, is massively popular with with men in their early twenties, so he’s probably a fan.

I’ve stopped trying to hide that I’m staring back.

If he’s too proud to come up and ask for my autograph, I’m at least going to enjoy the eye candy.

He knocks over a small stack of paper coasters and a few fall onto the floor.

And he just leaves the coasters there, walking off.

Like a heathen.

I slide out from my booth and walk over to the bar, grabbing them and gathering them up.

“Trying to take my job?” he asks.

“Seemed like you were just going to leave them there,” I tell him, going back to my booth and settling in.

I watch as he cleans the beer taps, and now I seem to have instigated something.

“I was going to get them in a second. You going to keep staring at me or actually come up to the bar?”

He says it casually, with no venom in his tone. I get the sense that he’s teasing me.

“You’ve been staring at me since I walked in.”

He looks lightly amused. “Because you came in and got a Scotch at 2 o’clock.”

“And I'm almost ready for another. I’ll take a refill. Promise I'm a good tipper.”

He abandons the beer taps, his bar rag, and everything else he’s left behind, grabbing the bottle of single malt. He comes out from behind the bar, striding over to the edge of my table.

He eyes my glass, which is currently still in my hand. “Want to give me the tumbler, or are you waiting for me to pour it in your mouth?”

I hum, sliding the glass over on my table. “I guess you’re a fan of episode four.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “What?”

“Episode four. Where Damien leans over the bar and gets a shot poured right in his mouth.”

He neatly pours another serving for me, and I watch his lashes flick upward as he meets my gaze.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. But if you want anything in your mouth, you’ll need to pay that big tip up front.”

He lifts his eyebrows at me before he walks back off.

I pause for a moment as a realization hits me, heat flooding my body.

Oh, fuck.

I’m a total douche.

I sip a little more Scotch, reveling in the fact that he doesn’t actually know who I am. He didn’t do a double-take. Didn’t pull out his phone to ask for a selfie, or say “wait, you’re that guy from…”

And I love that he didn’t.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >111

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Found Objects Read Online Mary Calmes http://www.ilovenovels.com/found-objects-read-online-mary-calmes Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:30 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/found-objects-read-online-mary-calmes Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Mary Calmes Advertisement

Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

Merritt Baker is older than he looks. Quite a bit older, in fact. He knows all about the woods and where one should never wander at night, but the fact of the matter is, sometimes men are the scariest creatures of all, and Merritt makes it his business to protect the innocents caught in their wake. In the small town of Coille, West Virgina, where he makes his home, he takes care of quite a few people, and that’s always been enough. Or has been. Lately though, he’s felt a bit lost, as though he’s forgotten what it means to really live rather than simply exist.

Change arrives when a pack of shifters buys the land that borders his. He doesn’t think twice about them until his simple rules are ignored, and suddenly there’s conflict. One of the wolves, Cole Swann, is very interested in him, and surprisingly, Merritt can’t seem to get the man out of his head. But things aren’t what they seem, and between other packs, ghosts, and worst of all, love, Merritt might be in over his head. That’s the thing about being lost—it can be wonderful when you’re finally found, but is it worth the risk of losing yourself?

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

EARLY…

Iwasn’t sleeping. I hadn’t been lately. And really, I didn’t much anymore, not like I used to when the world was quieter. But I missed it, noticed it, and could say with absolute conviction that usually, not being able to rest signaled a change. Normally, there were small shifts, nothing seismic, not anymore. But because my restlessness could either be good or bad, I was anxious. My roommate, Ondine, was gone, so there was no one at home for me to talk to, and another friend who occasionally haunted my sunroom when it got colder, wasn’t around either, so I was out, alone, first checking the edges of my property before moving farther toward town.

It was early in the morning, somewhere between one and two, so the screaming caught my attention immediately. It was easily half a mile away, but sounds traveled strangely in the woods, especially when most in our small town were sleeping.

When I reached the trailer, which was a mile down the road from my property, I saw that all the lights were on. I headed around the side to the window and saw Missy Harrington, who worked days at the local market while her daughter was in school, sitting in the front room, hair mussed, lip split, nose bleeding, eye bruised, rocking her daughter and a small black-and-white puppy in the chair with her. The way she was clutching them tight told me that either the child, the puppy, or both could be the target of the man who was pacing back and forth in front of her, yelling.

The little girl—her daughter, Katey, who I knew from all the times she’d bounced into my restaurant for a cinnamon roll after school—was trembling and crying. The puppy was watching the man, shivering, but not making a sound.

“What did I tell you I was gonna do to that dog if he pissed in the house again?” James Harrington growled at his wife.

“He’s just a puppy,” she whispered. “He has to be trained.”

He charged toward her, and he would have hit his wife, but Katey cried out in terror.

“You want something to cry about?” he roared at his daughter. “How about I give you somethin’ to cry about.”

Missy put her hand over her daughter’s head and turned her face toward her. “Just me, Jimmy,” she begged. “Please.”

He clenched his fist, and I moved to the porch and knocked.

“What the hell?” he yelled, charging across the floor. I couldn’t see him from my angle, of course, but I could hear every step. The man had a distinct sound to his gait when he was drunk—his work boots on the wooden floor made a scratching noise—and he was very drunk. I could hear it in the slur of his words, but more importantly, unless he was at work on the road crew, picking up dead animals struck by cars or clearing debris, he was nearly always drunk. Many a time I had covered groceries for Missy when beer or whiskey had been purchased instead of milk or cheese or hamburger meat.

The door flew open, and it took him a second to process me standing there.

“Merritt?”

“James,” I said flatly before I grabbed him by his jacket, yanked him off his feet and out the door, then shoved him over the railing of the porch.

The fall wasn’t far, but he was winded even from hitting the sliver of grass around the trailer. Farther down the hill they lived on were various cars and cages that used to have dogs in them before the state police came and shut down his backyard breeding operation six months ago. That had been me as well. Other people were afraid of James, as he had a mean temper and more than a few equally mean friends, but no one in their right mind was messing with me, so the duty to protect the dogs had fallen to me. I had not failed them.

“Merritt, you son of a whore!” he yelled. Or tried to yell. It came out raspy, all the air having left his lungs.

“Hey,” I greeted the woman, the little girl, and the puppy. “You have bags packed, yes?”

Missy just stared at me.

I crossed the room and crouched down in front of her. “Dear, do we have bags packed?”

She nodded quickly.

“Let’s grab them, and I’ll help you put them in the car.”

“I… Merritt, what are you doing here?”

I never understood the need to clarify the why of something in the middle of emergency situations. Why was it important why I was there?

“I wanna go with Mere,” Katey said shakily, on the verge of tears. We were old friends with how many times she’d been in my restaurant. “Daddy’s gonna kill Lucky.”

“No, he’s not,” I murmured to the little girl, who turned and dove into my arms. “But we do need to go.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

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Space Daddy and a Boy Called Twink Read Online Devon McCormack http://www.ilovenovels.com/space-daddy-and-a-boy-called-twink-read-online-devon-mccormack Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:28 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/space-daddy-and-a-boy-called-twink-read-online-devon-mccormack Genre: Alien, Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Paranormal Authors: Devon McCormack Advertisement

Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >74

A SPICY MM MONSTER ROMANCE

He's got that out-of-this-world, alien baggage.

TWINK

Until recently, I figured I was a pretty average twink whose biggest problems were being a terrible barista and having a cheater jerk for an ex.

Enter hulky, sexy, oh-so-scruffy Daddy.

He's quirky and calls me Twink like that's my name.

That should have been a clue something was off, but I guess my friends are right about my broken picker because turns out, he's not even human. He's a parasitic, shapeshifting, tentacled alien from another planet.

If that's not bad enough, he's got baggage. Out-of-this-world, alien baggage.

He crash-landed on Earth after escaping his ex, Sheila, a Vorcon—whatever that is—who used him for breeding drones.

This should be more than enough drama to keep me away, but despite a brief alien abduction, he's actually really thoughtful, kind...and even the whole tentacle thing seems pretty hot.

But my new sexy extraterrestrial Daddy has a mission to get back to, and unfortunately for both of us, Sheila isn't exactly out of the picture...

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

1

DADDY

“Come on,” I said in my Furker tongue while playing with the findoneum vines, which had dislodged during my crash landing.

I’d taken stock of the many damages my ship, the Kaylog, had endured when it had unexpectedly routed off-course and thrust me into the atmosphere of a small blue dot of a planet, hurtling me toward its surface. I’d already discovered my hyperblemic crystal, a necessary component for the Kaylog, had a substantial fracture, too large for me to easily repair using the tools on my ship.

I feared the worst. That I crash-landed on some desolate planet, perhaps made mostly of ice or dirt. Some uninhabitable part of space where I would certainly die. Fortunately, as I realigned the findoneum vines, they began growing back into place, and diagnostics kicked back on, syncing with my arm cuff.

The data and stats about the atmosphere of this new place appeared before me, as if projected against the wall, though this was simply being broadcasted to my brain in a way that my visual cortex could process. To my relief, the information provided assured me the atmosphere outside was something a Furker could adapt to.

I enjoyed a moment of relief before cursing my mate—ex-mate, now—knowing she was responsible for tampering with my ship, surely hoping that I would perish because I dared abandon her. Regardless of what she intended, death would have been a reprieve from captivity under her control.

Using my tentacles, I struggled to pull myself to my feet, as my ship now rested at an angle. As I scanned the interior, it was apparent the Kaylog would be able to fix itself somewhat, though it would need time to recover from the incident, which would happen faster without my being aboard.

Still disoriented, I headed out to the main compartment and opened the hatch, discovering a dark world outside. Cautiously, I peered out to see where I had landed, surprised to find structures that seemed a product of design rather than some natural cause—architecture with clear, defined lines and shapes. In a vast universe of chaos, I wondered what the odds were that I would land among a world of creatures sophisticated enough to build such structures. Though this was not something I could spend much time dwelling on as I emerged from my ship, allowing my body to adapt to the atmosphere.

My vision rapidly adjusted to permit me to assess the path where I stood between two of these large structures, one of which had something scrawled along the side, which appeared as such:

SUCK MY DICK, MOTHERFUCKERS

I fidgeted with my arm cuff to see the state of my translating device, though the Kaylog informed me this was being reset with the rest of the ship. However, I was relieved to find that the data was being input so that, when it was back online, I could use it to navigate the language of the species.

I continued surveying my surroundings. Lights emanating from spots along the walls of the structures around me illuminated the paved path I now stood on, and farther down, there was another, larger path created between even more of these structures. Furkers had similar such paths, and on this planet, I would later come to learn these were known as “alleys” and “streets,” and the structures were called “buildings.”

A sound caught my attention, and I promptly went to investigate. My instincts urged me to hide, so I found safety in the shadows cast by the lights illuminating the streets.

From the side of one of the buildings, a creature walked by on all its extremities. With short hair and pointed ears, it stopped and turned to me, hissing before scurrying off. Could this small species, maybe a hundred times smaller than myself, be responsible for these buildings and streets?

I didn’t have much time to consider this before three new creatures walked along the street. These were what I would come to know later in my investigation of this planet as Homo sapiens or “humans.”

Though not the strangest of creatures I have observed in my travels, it was interesting to note that, like the species I had first observed, they had four extremities, yet unlike the hissing creature, they chose to only use two of them to walk, similarly to Furkers. It seemed they used their two other limbs to hold an electronic device in one, while manipulating it with the other.

It was this device that led me to hypothesize that this was the species responsible for the architecture, though I was willing to consider other possibilities if new evidence came to light. Despite the many advantages of our species, I have always been prone to cognitive biases that have led me astray on more than one occasion. This was not a feature of Furkers, but a personal genetic defect I have constantly worked to overcome, and which will color much of what I report.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >74

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Promised to the Nightmare Realm (Dark Companions #3) Read Online K.A. Merikan http://www.ilovenovels.com/promised-to-the-nightmare-realm-dark-companions-3-read-online-k-a-merikan Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:26 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/promised-to-the-nightmare-realm-dark-companions-3-read-online-k-a-merikan Genre: Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Paranormal Authors: K.A. Merikan Series: Dark Companions Series by K.A. Merikan
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Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >129

“You will be my Dark Companion, sweetheart. I will always protect you.”

An honorable elven knight torn between duty and desire.

A human bookworm whose longing for true love may destroy him.

Nate

I’ve always dreamed of a grand love—the kind you read about at three a.m. when your heart aches and the world feels oppressive. I just never believed it would actually find me.

I’m a hopeless romantic. I fall for men who don’t stay. And the last time I trusted someone, it nearly got me killed.

Instead of dying, I was taken to the Nightmare Realm.

An elven knight pulled my soul from a dark river and offered me a my shadow in exchange for my life. I said yes, because I always do when a charming man chooses me.

Tristan is swoony, flirty, and oh-so-hot—as if every book boyfriend I’ve ever loved stepped out of the page to seduce me.

So, to hell with it, I follow him to a realm of endless darkness, monstrous beasts, and promises written in the stars.

Only then do I learn the I’m bound to another elf, one who only cares about my shadow.

Ancient laws don’t care about my shattered heart, but the deeper I fall into the Nightmare Realm—and into Tristan—the more impossible it becomes to ignore the way he looks at me. How he protects me. How he tempts me into believing I might actually matter to him.

Even if loving me could cost him every vow he’s ever sworn.

And if the Nightmare Realm doesn’t destroy me first, loving Tristan just might

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

Chapter 1

Nate

Inever expected my life to end like this, but reality doesn't work like a novel, and things don’t happen at the correct plot beat. I won’t be saved by a dashing prince. There will be no sudden surge of magic in my soul, and I won’t avoid a bullet by ducking.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, so let’s rewind a few minutes.

The stench of feces and rot assaults my senses when I open the rusty lock at the back of the shed with a crowbar. I only switch on my flashlight once I’m indoors.

“Fuck me…… don’t they ever clean here?” Richie hisses, following my lead.

My throat throbs as anger boils over, but my focus is on the neglected puppies, whose eyes shine back at me like copper coins. When their poor mother was brought into the clinic where I work yesterday, I knew something was terribly wrong. That poor dog had been bred far too frequently, and while her owners had cleaned her up before arriving at their vet appointment, the signs of abuse were still obvious.

I was the one stewing in grief and fury after the vet gave her her final shot, while the owner left. I promised I’d make sure her babies would have a better life, and while she probably didn’t understand me, I meant every word.

I might not be able to stop those bastards from raising more puppies in befouled cages, but these dogs, at least, will have a better life.

“We got to be quick,” I whisper and kneel on the muddy floor, trying to work out how to open the cage.

Soft, wet muzzles touch my hand. Curious eyes look up at me from black faces with tan markings. The little rottweilers look around nine weeks old, but I can clearly feel the ribs of the first I pick up.

“Oh, you poor thing. It’ll only get better from now on,” I promise and reach back, placing it in one of my boyfriend’s duffel bags. I then carefully repeat it with each of the other dogs.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of that smell,” Richie mumbles, before making a choking noise, as if he’s about to barf. “You’ll need to get me a new one after this.”

I laugh, but something inside me clocks this moment—yet another in a long list of disappointments. I believe Richie has a good heart, but he’s not very skilled at showing it. His parents are also very strict about cleanliness, so it only makes sense he’s squeamish about dog waste.

I wink at him. “Your birthday is coming.” I’ve already planned a little romantic getaway for us, but I could also gift him a new bag on top of that. After all, he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.

He winces, and I don’t know what to make of it. “Next month, I guess— What was that?”

We both still at the sound of a door slamming outside, and I swear the night’s gotten a bit brighter. My heart starts pounding like mad. Breaking in anywhere isn’t my usual evening. I’m the kind of guy who feels guilty for parking incorrectly.

“Gav, did you hear that?” A voice farther outside yells.

“Let’s go,” Richie hisses and he’s already on the move while I frantically look around to check if we have all the puppies.

“Wait,” I whisper, because I swear I can hear whimpering in the darkest corner of the cage.

“No! You’re on your own. I told you I’m not getting arrested over this shit,” Richie says from outside, but I can’t even see the glow of his flashlight anymore. At least he took the duffel bag.

I get it. He’s stressed. Has many expectations placed on him.

But I still can’t believe he left.

“Who goes there?” roars an unfamiliar voice, sending a cold shudder down my spine. I’m about to dash out the open door when a faint whine calls me back to the cage. It appears empty, but some poor creature is clearly calling for my help. Breathless, I flip over a ratty blanket, and my heart stops at the sight of a tiny puppy curled up underneath. It must be the runt of its litter, but I’m not leaving it behind just because it’s slow and weak.

Within seconds, he’s tucked under my hoodie. I make a run for it, switching off my flashlight as I emerge into the moonlit night. The sky is cloudless, and the glow of the full moon illuminates my path between the barn and a pile of scrap. Without thinking, I dash toward the nearby creek, because once I cross it, the owners of this farm are less likely to pursue me. I’ve not heard barking, so I hope I’m not about to be mauled by a pack of rottweilers that don’t know any better.

Maybe the years spent on my college’s track team will save my ass, because more lights come on in the nearby farmhouse, and soon enough, I’ll be a sitting duck.

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