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

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

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

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

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

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

Something Chester will not allow to happen

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

Prologue

Hallie

Age 12

Ocala, Florida

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

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

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

And she looked just like Daddy.

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

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

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

I sniffed and wiped away a few extra tears.

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

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

One he never got to make right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Chasing the Rush (Football and Feels #2) Read Online Lauren Rowe http://www.ilovenovels.com/chasing-the-rush-football-and-feels-2-read-online-lauren-rowe Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:36:38 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/chasing-the-rush-football-and-feels-2-read-online-lauren-rowe Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Forbidden, Funny, Sports Authors: Lauren Rowe Series: Football and Feels Series by Lauren Rowe
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Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)

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Rudy meets Moneyball in a sexy yet warm-hearted, second-chance football romance for fans of Sarah Adams, Tessa Bailey, Monica Murphy, Kristen Callihan, Lucy Score, and, of course, “Tayvis,” as the analytical, math-nerd, type-A daughter of a tough love coach is assigned to babysit the team’s adrenaline junkie pass rusher.

**DELUXE LIMITED EDITON with interior 4-color character art, designed chapter headers, and stenciled edges!**

Chelsea Parker, 26, knows football, thanks to growing up with a football coach for a father and two linebackers for brothers. But Chelsea’s true passion has always been math: crunching numbers to predict statistical outcomes for everything from football to stocks to romance. Chelsea dreams of merging her two passions to become the first female head of analytics for an NFL team. But for now, she’s got to convince the powers-that-be at her father’s new team, the Mastodons, the worst in the NFL, to give her that entry-level position in the front office.

Luca Maguire, 26, a pass rusher and adrenaline junkie with a famous last name, knows this upcoming training camp with his new team, the Mastodons, will likely be his last, if he can’t get out of his own way long enough to make the cut. The dire nature of his circumstances is the only reason Luca didn’t quit on the spot when Coach Parker assigned his daughter, Chelsea, a statistics-loving, spreadsheet-making math nerd, as Luca’s “personal coach” for the duration of camp. More like his babysitter, if you ask Luca.

Well, okay, Luca didn’t quit for that reason and another one: the thing that happened seven years ago between Luca and Chelsea as strangers, when Luca’s college football team stayed at the same hotel as Chelsea’s mathletes squad. Luca would never admit this to Chelsea, especially not with her being Coach’s daughter and the newly assigned bane of his existence, but the truth is Luca hasn’t stopped thinking about that cute little mathlete who ditched his ass seven years ago, right before their clothes came off, ever since

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

CHAPTER 1

Chelsea

Bloomington, Indiana

“LOOKS LIKE OUR serenity is about to get shattered by a pack of starving hyenas.” Daisy snorts. “They’re hot, though. I’ll give ’em that.”

My new friend’s comment prompts me to look up from the color-coded spreadsheet I’m working on for our math team. A college football team—Nebraska’s, based on the logos printed on their T-shirts and sweats—has blasted into the breakfast area of our budget hotel.

“You think they’re a team of some kind?” Daisy asks innocently, surveying the rowdy young men as they raucously descend upon the tepid buffet offerings and jockey to pile soggy scrambled eggs onto paper plates.

I smirk to myself, amused but not surprised my friend hasn’t instantly recognized this breed of athletic young men as football players. For my part, thanks to my upbringing, I’m already mentally sorting them into their positions on the football field, based on body type: running backs, receivers, cornerbacks, offensive linemen, and so on. And let’s not forget my all-time favorite position: linebackers. Better yet if they’re an outside linebacker. And better still if a guy is an OLB that’s an edge rusher—the guy tasked with breaking through the opposing offensive line and taking down his opponent’s quarterback. Yum.

“Maybe they’re a wrestling team?” Daisy offers nonchalantly, her gaze continuing to drift across the testosterone-laden chaos.

Her suggestion is ludicrous, quite frankly, but I refrain from saying so. Daisy knowing I come from a die-hard football family that includes a head coach and two NFL players is one thing; scaring her off by saying something that could make me sound like a know-it-all blowhard would be another.

Daisy’s the only good friend I’ve made so far since starting at Northwestern two months ago, and I’d really like to continue building the friendship. Daisy’s the sort of person I’ve always dreamed of having in my life—a fun, wild-child type—so I’m determined not to give her the ick by revealing Stat-Keeping Football Fanatic Chelsea too early.

“I feel like they’re most likely football players,” I murmur vaguely.

“Well, if anyone would know about that, it’s you.” Daisy scans the melee for another long beat. “Although I’m kinda thinking they look like soccer players.”

I press my lips together. Those are football physiques, as surely as my name is Chelsea Parker. Also, Indiana’s campus is only a few miles away, and today is Saturday—game day in the world of college football. Plus, they’ve all got NEBRASKA plastered all over their clothes, and that particular university is in the Big Ten Conference, along with Indiana, which means the two schools are likely opponents in today’s game. So, put all those facts together, along with the approximate number of them being exactly what I’d expect to see for a traveling football team, and there’s not a doubt in my mind those young men are Nebraska’s football players, come to Bloomington as the visiting team for today’s home game at Indiana.

I don’t feel the need to convince Daisy I’m right, however, so I simply shrug and return to my spreadsheet. But only a few seconds later, Daisy pokes my arm and whispers, “Hey, do any of those hotties catch your eye?” She waggles her eyebrows. “I know you said you don’t want a boyfriend for at least a couple years, but maybe you could have your first fling tonight after the competition.” She smiles mischievously. “I bet any of those boys would be more than willing to make out with you for your first time.” She snickers. “Or with me for my twentieth.”

I roll my eyes and return to my spreadsheet. “You do you, Daisy. But that’s not what I came here for. I came to win.”

“Why can’t we do both?”

I look up from my screen. “Even if I were going to let myself get distracted like that, why would I do it with someone I’d never see again? They’re Cornhuskers, Daisy. From Nebraska.”

“That’s exactly my point. You could have some fun checking off some of those boxes you keep talking about and never have to worry about the guy turning into a cling-on and suddenly thinking he’s got the right to tell you what to do.”

She’s parroting my own words back to me. That’s what I told her during freshman orientation when the topic of boyfriends came up, because that’s how it went down for two of my best friends from back home, once they got their first boyfriends. After living under the watchful, protective eyes of my father and two big brothers my whole life, why would I want any man thinking he’s got a say in what I do, now that I’m finally free and on my own?

“Well, regardless, I couldn’t possibly do that tonight because I’m one hundred percent positive we’ll make it into the finals, which means we’ll need to come back here and prepare as much as humanly possible before getting to bed at a reasonable hour so we maximize brain function with a full eight hours of sleep.” As Daisy well knows, the top six teams in today’s first round of the competition will advance to tomorrow’s finals, and it’d take an act of God to keep a team like ours out of them.

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Grizz (New York Vipers #1) Read Online Sawyer Bennett http://www.ilovenovels.com/grizz-new-york-vipers-1-read-online-sawyer-bennett Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:30:44 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/grizz-new-york-vipers-1-read-online-sawyer-bennett Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Sawyer Bennett Series: New York Vipers Series by Sawyer Bennett
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Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)

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Grizz McAvoy is the most electrifying player in professional hockey…and the most volatile. He’s got a wicked shot, a hair-trigger temper, and spent his childhood surviving his father's cruelty. Off the ice, he's a PR catastrophe, racking up fines, burning through handlers, and daring the New York Vipers organization to do something about it. He’s built his entire identity around one principle: winning solves everything.

But winning can’t silence the past trauma that haunts him when the arena lights go dark.

Daisy Turner was fired from a top style magazine for asking questions powerful men didn't want to answer and exposing hypocrisy in the world of high-fashion. She's looking to salvage her career as a journalist by scraping together a second chance as Grizz's new media handler. Fearless in her own right, she carries scars from a betrayal that taught her trust is a currency she can't afford to spend freely.

From their first combustible meeting, Grizz and Daisy collide in a battle of wills neither is prepared to lose. She challenges him, and he can't look away. What begins as mutual provocation becomes far more dangerous when the walls between professional and personal start to crumble, and the wreckage of Grizz's past threatens to destroy the one person brave enough to see through his rock-solid armor.

Grizz is a scorching, emotionally charged hockey romance about two people who were never supposed to fall for each other, and the bruising, tender, inevitable collision that happens when they do

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

Chapter 1

Grizz

They say the game slows down when you’re in the zone.

Mine doesn’t.

It speeds up.

Skates cut into the ice. My lungs burn, but the adrenaline makes it feel like ecstasy instead of pain. I’ve got the puck and I know the guy on my tail is a rookie, legs too long, instincts too green. He’s guessing and I’m not.

I fake a pass to my left winger, Deacon Campbell. The defenseman on Philly bites hard and it’s a rookie mistake. I pivot, cut right, and my stick readies as I cock my wrists, snapping the puck. The net’s wide open and the goalie’s gone sprawling. I don’t hesitate, rifling a shot top shelf, tickling the twine, the best feeling for a hockey player at any level.

My second goal of the night and the crowd roars, unhinged. Absolutely electric. Noise so visceral it vibrates and rattles through the boards, up the glass, and straight into your bones. Vipers fans from ice-level to the rafters are on their feet, fists pumping, beers sloshing, screaming my name.

“GRIZZ! GRIZZ! GRIZZ!”

Kids in face paint pound the glass. Grown men wearing my jersey are hoarse from yelling. A woman in the fourth row jumps up and down, holding a homemade sign that says #GRIZZMODE. Another fan a few rows over holds one up that reads LET THE BEAST ROAM.

I coast along the glass, eyes scanning the raucous crowd as they cheer me on, flashing my million-dollar smile. My teammates are pounding the boards with their sticks, screaming my name too.

But I barely hear them.

I’m in that place—the sweet spot between chaos and control—and I fucking live for this shit.

I skate back to the bench as though I own the rink. Hell, as far as I’m concerned, I own all of New York City.

And for tonight, I really do.

Coach Carlin’s jaw is a granite slab. He’s fighting to mask his satisfaction and losing badly. Mid-fifties, a former enforcer who collected bruises the way some men collect one-night stands, Carlin wears a perpetual five o’clock shadow and a scowl that survives even victories. His trademark beige suit hangs on his stocky frame. Game days are the few times he swaps his track pants and lanyard for an outfit resembling respectability. The only colorful thing about him is his vocabulary when I screw up.

“You just had to drop the elbow on 25, huh?” he says as I hop over the boards and slide onto the bench.

I grin around my mouth guard. “He tried to take my head off in the second period. What’d you want me to do, offer him a juice box?”

“You’re gonna get suspended. Again.”

“We’re leading by two,” I shoot back as I grab a water bottle and squirt it into my mouth, then spit some back onto the ice. “You want clean or you want goals and wins?”

Coach doesn’t answer. But he doesn’t bench me either.

The third period ticks down. We’re still up by two, but Philly’s playing desperate. Slashing sticks. Late hits. Cheap shots after whistles. I can feel the tension in the frigid air of the arena.

It’s early October, just about a month into the season, the time when everyone’s still out to prove they’re top dog and tempers burn hot. We’re all highly combustible after the long summer we had to endure since we were knocked out of the playoffs early last season.

Coach gives me a look like he’s debating whether I’m a weapon or a liability. He sends me back out, anyway.

“Keep your head, Grizz. Nothing stupid out there,” he shouts as I jump over the boards onto the ice.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” I snap back.

I prepare for the face-off in our zone, crouching low, tapping my stick twice on the ice. To my left is our winger, Tanner Wylie. This is the third season we’ve played together, and we’ve been inseparable as line mates since he arrived in a trade from Chicago. He knows where I am on the ice at all times and vice versa. The Philly center stares me down, trying to look tougher than he is. We both know how this is going to end.

I win it clean and direct it over to Tanner before taking off like a slingshot, cutting across center ice with blinding speed. He threads it back to me on the fly and I catch it, burning past their defense, all open ice and forward momentum.

Then I see him… number 25, Wiggins. He’s got a gnarly beard and a missing front tooth. He’s the same bastard who threw that high hit on me, a transgression that I can’t ignore. He’s coming for me again and this time he doesn’t care about the puck at all, just my head.

Shoulders down. Ugly intent written all over his face.

I cut hard, shift the puck to my backhand, but he clips me high and late. Not enough to drop me, but enough to rattle my cage.

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Hate You Love You (Kingmakers Prep #1) Read Online Lucy Darling http://www.ilovenovels.com/hate-you-love-you-kingmakers-prep-1-read-online-lucy-darling Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:30:36 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/hate-you-love-you-kingmakers-prep-1-read-online-lucy-darling Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Insta-Love, Sports, Virgin Authors: Lucy Darling Series: Kingmakers Prep Series by Lucy Darling
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Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)

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Madeline Pearson didn’t come to Kingmakers Prep Boarding School looking for trouble. She came to survive senior year after losing everything.

She definitely didn’t come looking for him.
Luke Locke is the school’s golden hockey boy with a mean streak—arrogant, untouchable, and used to getting what he wants. When Madeline refuses to back down from him, the boy who never chases starts chasing. The girl who trusts no one starts wondering if she could.
But Luke isn’t the only one that has their sights set on the new girl.
Now Luke isn’t so untouchable anymore. He has something to lose.
A dead woman in a boathouse. A secret that vanishes before they can prove it. And a school where power protects the powerful, no matter what they’ve done.

Now Luke and Madeline are the only ones who know the truth—and the only ones who can untangle a web of corruption, obsession, and murder before the wrong person takes the fall. But the closer they get to answers, the harder it becomes to ignore what’s happening between them.

Some secrets get you killed. Some get you ruined.

And some? Some change everything

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

Chapter One

MADELINE

Iadore my sister. She is all the family I have left. Not that we ever had a big family. It’s been only us and our father for years. I don’t remember our mother. I’m uncertain if that’s a good or bad thing. With how my father was, it made me think it was for the better.

My father had two modes: working or drinking. It was always those two. It was why I enjoyed hanging out with him in his mechanic shop. He was levelheaded when he was there and had a hard rule about not drinking on the job. Ultimately, he broke that rule, and it took his life.

The man had been right: Drinking in the shop leads to injuries. Did he manifest his own death in the end? I’d even pondered if it was truly an accident. I mean, a car falling on you is a hell of a messed-up way to go, but it appeared to have been an accident. If my father wanted to kill himself, that’s how he’d make it appear. We’ll never know.

Not sure why he couldn’t wait one more year, but maybe the pain was too unbearable anymore. I’m not mad at him. What good would that do?

“I’m glad you’re smiling, but you’re going to hurt my feelings,” my sister Paislee teases.

“I shouldn’t be smiling.” I try to school my features, but the last month has been filled with sadness. The smiles aren’t coming like they used to.

“He would want you to be happy.”

I nod, believing her. I know my father loved me. It was just hard for him to stare at the girl who was turning into a woman that could be his wife’s twin. In the end, he loved my mother more than anyone else. Again, not mad about it. If anything, I feel sadness for him, but it does make me question the idea of falling in love. Why would anyone? Shit sounds brutal, and life is already that way enough on its own. It doesn’t need extra help.

“Excited to see Georgia.” I saw her a few weeks ago. Her parents were nice enough to send a car out to her so she could come to the city for my father’s funeral. Normally, I spend the whole summer in Charming with my sister. I have for the last couple of years. She lives and works here. That’s when I met Georgia.

We come from two very different worlds, but we simply clicked that first day we met. Now we don’t go a day without texting each other. Sometimes I slip a phone call in there too. She teases me about it, but I know she enjoys our conversations.

“She’s excited to see you too.” Paislee glances over, giving me a warm smile.

We’ve got a handful of years between us. We never went through that whole sibling rivalry battle other siblings talk about. It could be because we’re good together or my sister chooses not to argue with me. I’d guess it’s a bit of both. She is always about making everyone happy. Too much, in my opinion, but that’s her way.

That was part of why I pushed her to take this teaching position at Kingmakers Prep. My sister needed to get away from both my father and me, or she’d spend her life parenting when she should be living. It took me a while to convince her, but finally I got her to agree.

“I still can’t believe you pulled this all off.” My sister was going to put in her resignation at Kingmakers Prep until the dean made her an offer she couldn’t refuse when he showed up at my father’s small funeral.

Dean Locke said I was welcome to attend my senior year at Kingmakers Prep if my sister agreed to stay on. I was floored by the offer. It’s one of the best schools in the world. It’s a boarding school. Ninety percent of the students live on campus. Yes, campus, because the grounds are vast and there are multiple buildings. The place runs almost like a college. Hell, if you graduate from Kingmakers Prep, you can go to any college you want. It opens you up to so many opportunities that can be life-changing.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up. I might not be stupid, but I’m not a protégé, which is what a lot of the people that go to this school are. They are either wicked smart, good at hockey, or come from a family whose name holds weight. I am none of those things.

“Dean Locke is”—she pauses—“nice.”

I snort a small laugh. “Are you sure about that?” She did not sound confident in her own opinion of him.

“He is,” Paislee insists. “I mean, he can be hard.”

“Hard, you say?” I wiggle my brows.

“Maddie.” She rolls her eyes at me, but her cheeks turn pink. Well, shit. Is she into him? He does have striking green eyes, but that’s about all I can recall of him. “He would not do that with an employee. As I was saying, he can be a hard man, but he’s fair.”

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Illegal Formation – Red Zone Rivals Read Online Kandi Steiner http://www.ilovenovels.com/illegal-formation-red-zone-rivals-read-online-kandi-steiner Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:25:12 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/illegal-formation-red-zone-rivals-read-online-kandi-steiner Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Forbidden, Sports Authors: Kandi Steiner Advertisement

Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)

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When I make the cheerleading team for Seattle’s pro football organization, there are many rules.

Most notably?
Stay away from the football players.

Everyone on my squad takes that warning to heart.
I, on the other hand, take it as a challenge.

Especially after I meet Braden Lock.

With his easy smile, endless patience, and heart-of-gold reputation, the star receiver is everything I’m not — soft where I’m sharp, steady where I’m mayhem. Braden Lock has always played by the rules.

Unfortunately for him, I’m very good at breaking them.

And after one unexpected turn of events leaves me spiraling, I convince the league’s golden boy to indulge in one very forbidden distraction: me.

What starts as secret hookups and harmless fun quickly turns into something far more dangerous — because the more time we spend sneaking around behind closed doors, the harder it becomes to pretend we’re not already in too deep.

But our organization has one ironclad rule: players and cheerleaders are strictly off limits. If anyone finds out about us, Braden’s contract — and my spot on the squad — could disappear overnight.

We knew the risks of our illegal formation. We just didn’t realize the real danger wasn’t getting caught.

It was how badly we’d destroy ourselves trying to hold on

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

Emily

There was nothing worse than underboob sweat.

It took everything in me not to pick at the band of my sports bra to relieve some of the dampness there, or to take the towel draped around my neck and shove it down between my breasts. Just the thought had me twitching to do so, knowing I’d feel instant relief.

Instead, I was focusing on all the sweat pooling in the worst possible place knowing damn well I couldn’t do anything about it.

If I were at the gym, it’d be a different story. If I were at the little studio downtown where I’d been dancing since I moved to Seattle, that would have been fine, too. I could have wiped myself down and I wouldn’t have given two shits who saw me or passed judgment.

But this was the final auditions for the Seattle Seahawks Dancers.

And I had to act like a fucking lady.

Act being the keyword there. I had spent hours on my hair and makeup this morning to pull off the look of a well-behaved and amiable young woman — although to this group, I was far from young.

At twenty-nine, I was the oldest to audition.

If I made it, I’d be like a grandma to these youngins.

My smile twitched a little as another bead of sweat slid down the crevice between my tits to join its friends. They were having a little sauna party down there. The band of my bra was completely saturated, even now, well after my audition was done. God, I didn’t even have large boobs. What did the girls with double Ds do when heat struck?

I shifted in my seat, hoping my smile was still sweet and demure and not the uncomfortable, impossible-to-fake-much-longer version that it felt like. To be fair, I wasn’t only sweating under my boobs. Sweat was also running down my spine and prickling at the back of my neck.

I was nervous.

It was hard not to be when — for the first time since I could remember — I actually wanted something bad enough to care.

I wasn’t sure I really wanted to be on the squad when I submitted my virtual audition back in March. Maybe it was that my life was stalling out in Austin. The trio of jobs I’d tried while living there hadn’t panned out, and I kept finding myself drawn back to dance — except there was no way to make a decent salary dancing in Austin. The best I could find was as a go-go dancer at one of the bars on the weekend and frankly, I was too old for that shit. I preferred to be asleep by midnight, at the latest, and even that was pushing it.

So, I submitted my virtual audition to the Seattle Seahawks Dancers, just to see what happened.

I’d only been to Seattle once before, when I’d booked a solo hiking trip after I graduated high school. I wanted to experience something new before I was locked down for another four years of school.

I found I loved the city, the fog and the drizzle and the cool, crispness of it all. I loved the mountains and hiking within driving distance, the culture of the people, the way everyone seemed to actually give a fuck about the planet.

Seattle was calling me back in a way. I wasn’t sure why, and I was fairly certain — given my track record — that I wouldn’t stay long. But it was where my heart was drawn to, at the moment at least.

When I got through to the interview round for the dance team, my interest picked up. Could I actually do this? I wondered.

And by the time I attended the first round of auditions at the stadium, battling it out with almost two-hundred other dancers?

Yeah. I wanted it.

I wanted it bad.

Maybe it was because I’d been wandering the world like a lost kitten for so long now that the idea of belonging somewhere, of having a job I cared about and was good at and wanted to do lit me up in a way I hadn’t felt since I danced for my college team.

To my friends — and especially to my family — it seemed like I loved the life of a nomad, that I thrived in not being tied down to any place or job or life plan.

But anyone who’s ever lived inside that reality knows better.

We’re all looking for something.

I just wasn’t sure what that something was.

Now, weeks after the first round of auditions, and hours after the finals, the final forty of us were gathered in the stands at Lumen Field, the lights shining down on the green turf.

And I couldn’t help but feel like it was all a bit ridiculous.

They could have just told us right after auditions ended this afternoon who made the team. Instead, they’d made us stick around for most of the day other than a quick break for dinner, and now, we were back to hear the names of the dancers who made the squad.

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Locke (Portland Wildfire #2) Read Online Sawyer Bennett http://www.ilovenovels.com/locke-portland-wildfire-2-read-online-sawyer-bennett Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:24:48 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/locke-portland-wildfire-2-read-online-sawyer-bennett Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Sports Authors: Sawyer Bennett Series: Portland Wildfire Series by Sawyer Bennett
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Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

He’s the league’s most dangerous defenseman. She’s the specialist sent to determine whether he’s too broken to save. Neither of them is prepared for what happens when the truth hits back.

Locke Donovan has a reputation carved in blood and penalty minutes. The league’s most dangerous defenseman, he’s an angry, unapproachable loner who fights harder and refuses to let anyone in. The Portland Wildfire only took him because no one else would, and Locke seems determined to prove every rumor true. He doesn’t do teammates. He doesn’t do relationships. He barely does conversation.

Dr. Livia Cross is quiet, brilliant and controlled. Officially, she’s the Wildfire’s new high-performance consultant. Unofficially, she’s been embedded by the league to evaluate one player.

One risk.
Locke.

Her job is observe him, test him, and determine whether he’s safe to stay on the ice, or too volatile to keep playing. But the man she finds beneath the scowl and silence isn’t what she expected. He’s sharp. Watching. Walled off for a reason. And when sparks ignite where there should only be professionalism, Livia’s carefully built boundaries start to crack.

Locke doesn’t trust easily yet he lets Livia closer than he ever intended, long before he learns she isn’t who he thinks she is. And when the truth comes out, it won’t just shatter their fragile connection… it might end his career.

Dark, emotional, and electric with slow-burn chemistry, LOCKE delivers a gripping workplace romance between a guarded enforcer and the woman sent to evaluate him—until desire becomes danger, and the lines between loyalty and love blur beyond recognition

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

Chapter 1

Locke

Iknow before I even throw a punch that I’m going to get ejected from the game.

No one is going to want to hear a justification because there isn’t one. There’s no heat of the moment and there’s nothing instinctual. I simply see Morrow coming off the boards with that annoying curl to his lip, disdain for anyone in his way, and heading straight for me.

Christ, he fucking pisses me off.

Nashville’s agitator Leo Morrow is their team’s designated problem-maker, and we’ve played against each other enough to know the other’s secret tool kit. The elbow on the cycle or the slash across the back of the knee when the refs’ eyes are elsewhere. We’ve been chirping at each other the entire game, quiet enough that nobody else heard it. It’s a given that we’re going to drop the gloves. I should probably wait for him to instigate but fuck it.

I feel like fighting now because yeah… I don’t like that curl to his lip.

It’s the third period and the game is tied at two. The Portland Wildfire fans are going crazy, the arena practically shaking from the rafters downward. It’s been loud from the drop of the opening puck—new franchise, new arena, fans who are getting a team of their very own. They’re all here for the violence mixed within the sport, or at least that’s part of my justification for what I’m about to do. These fans aren’t generational loyalists who inherited the team because it’s who their father, and their father before them, rooted for. These people are on the inaugural ride of this crazy train and I’m about to deliver.

Morrow tries to circle past me, but I don’t let him. I ram my shoulder into him, knocking him off balance, and before he can even turn to give me that What the fuck look, I’m throwing my gloves to the ice.

The crowd roars with approval, the desire for blood whipping them into a frenzy. I let that fuel me—a reasonable justification even Coach would have a hard time arguing with—and I have one hand on his jersey, the other balled into a fist that connects with the side of his helmet before he can even get his gloves off.

Morrow’s good, just as big as me, and he strikes back with a vengeance. His knuckles clip my jaw, snapping my head sideways, and I taste the copper tang of blood.

Delicious.

Twenty-two thousand people who came here tonight to watch something happen are getting exactly what they wanted. Some might say I’m a fucking hero.

I manage to tuck in and drive my fist upward, catching the bottom of his chin and popping his head back. Morrow grunts but before he can retaliate, the linesmen get between us.

“That’s enough. Break it up.”

I don’t listen, trying to get my hands free to throw one more punch. The crowd screams out its approval.

“Enough, Donovan,” the official bellows. Morrow is trying to pull loose but I’m not letting him go.

“Jesus, you fucking psychopath,” Morrow snarls as I push hard against all of them.

Unfortunately, my skates slip out from under me and the momentum has me falling. Morrow somehow twists us and he lands on top of me, knocking the air from my lungs.

And then he’s gone, both linesmen pulling him off. He’s skating away from me before I can even get back upright.

“You fucking pussy,” I call out to the retreating Badger.

“Enough, Donovan,” a ref says as he skates up to me, laying a hand on my shoulder.

I shrug it off violently, pulling out my mouth guard out so he can hear me loud and clear. “I’ve played in front of better officials at a peewee tournament, you worthless piece of shit.”

His face mottles red and he points to the door that leads to the locker rooms. “That’s it… you’re out of here.”

“Peewee tournaments,” I snap back, pointing at him. “I’m sure you were fire there.”

The ref ignores me and skates to the glass where officials are eagerly awaiting the call. “At 12:34 of the third period, to Portland, number 18—five-minute major penalty for fighting. Number 18 also receives a two-minute minor penalty for instigating. And a game misconduct for abuse of officials.”

The crowd boos its disapproval, calling the refs blind and biased, although the language is a lot more colorful. I appreciate their devotion to me, but no doubt I deserve the penalties.

I slowly skate across the ice, taking my time. The crowd continues to jeer the refs. I glance up at the center-hung scoreboard—a massive four-sided video board that drops from the ceiling and makes you feel like you’re inside the play. I watch the replay of me attacking Morrow. LED ribbons running the full circumference of the lower bowl pulse in the team colors of burnt orange and forest green while rock music blares, indicating they’re cutting to a commercial.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

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Penalty Box Kisses – Seattle Knights Read Online Loni Ree http://www.ilovenovels.com/penalty-box-kisses-seattle-knights-read-online-loni-ree Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:24:31 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/penalty-box-kisses-seattle-knights-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Novella, Sports Authors: Loni Ree Advertisement

Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 18799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 75(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >21

When a little bad behavior lands Ryan Coleman in the penalty box, he discovers that being trapped in close quarters with the snarky beauty who he can't get off his mind isn't so bad.

Three of Seattle’s finest players are about to meet their matches in the form of three sassy, fiercely independent, and unapologetically curvy women who aren't impressed by a fancy jersey or a hefty paycheck.

These women know exactly what they want, and they are determined to give these pampered playboys a serious run for their money. Pucks will fly, tempers will flare, and hearts will definitely get checked against the boards.

Lace up your skates and get ready to fall in love. The Seattle Knights are about to learn that when it comes to curvy women with a sharp tongues coming in second just isn’t an option

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

CHAPTER ONE

RYAN

The mahogany table in the Seattle Knights' boardroom is polished to a mirror shine. I can see myself in it—jaw tight, collar damp. Someone has sprayed something in here that smells like a department store, but underneath it, there's something else. Something I recognize from the locker room after a bad loss.

Across the table, three PR suits have a tablet propped between them. One of them scrolls with her index finger, slow and deliberate, the way you scroll when you already know what you're looking at. None of them have looked up yet.

"We can’t ignore this and hope it goes away." The head of PR sets her tablet face-down on the mahogany. "The bar wants us to pay for the damages, and they want an apology from you."

The leather chair creaks when I shift my weight. I open my mouth and then close it. On the ice, when a winger gets in my face, I know exactly what to do with my hands. Here, under the fluorescent lights, I just sit with my collar cutting into my neck while she watches me not say anything.

I used to know which hits to take and which to walk away from. Somewhere between the trade and Seattle, I stopped being able to tell the difference. “It wasn't that big of a deal,” I mutter for the millionth time since a fight broke out in The Timeout Tavern. “I didn’t start the fight.” How many times can I explain that I was protecting myself? Some drunk asshole threw a punch, and I returned the favor.

Coach Radcliff leans back, his face a map of deep lines and disappointment. He doesn't look at the tablet. He looks at me. “It doesn’t matter. Your off-ice conduct is affecting the team, and we’re running out of patience.” His words send ice shooting down my spine. “You need to change your reputation and fast.” I got into one confrontation with a loud-mouthed asshole at a Seattle bar, and the team is acting like I committed murder. Fucking hell.

They say you can’t fight city hall, and that’s exactly how I feel right now. I rub my hand down my face. “How?”

“You need to settle down.” Coach doesn’t raise his voice, but I know he’s about to drop the hammer on me. “Or at least appear to be settled down. I don't care if you decide to date a monkey at the zoo, as long as you have a girlfriend. You need to look like you've actually got something to lose, Coleman. Settle down, or you're off the first line.”

A jolt of fear cuts through me. I feel like the floor just dipped beneath me, sudden as a trap door. My palms go down flat on the mahogany, soaking up its cool, steady quiet. I swallow it down, force myself to give a slow, tight nod. I don't dare open my mouth. Not right now. If I did, even I don’t know what would come out.

"We need a narrative shift," the PR woman continues. "Something wholesome. Something stable. A long-term relationship. We need photos of you in a grocery store, not a nightclub."

I stare at the grain of the wood. A girlfriend. The word echoes through my mind on a continuous loop. I barely have time to sleep, let alone navigate the minefield of a real relationship. I know how to check a two-hundred-pound winger into the boards. I know how to wake up with bruises I don't remember getting, tape my wrists over the sink, and get back on the ice. I don't know how to do intimate dinners and dating bullshit. I rub the back of my neck. Fucking hell.

The rest of the meeting goes on in the same vein. Find a girlfriend and get your shit together. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

By the time I push through the glass doors and back out into the gray Seattle afternoon, my temples are hammering. The Space Needle is just visible between two office buildings, poking up into the clouds like it's looking for a way out. I know the feeling. How the fuck am I going to find someone to "date?"

Hours later, I'm standing under the neon sign of The Blue Line, which flickers blue-green over the wet sidewalk in a way that makes my hands look bruised. Inside, someone has a game on. I can hear the crowd through the door before I even open it, and I push through anyway, into the smell of spilled beer and fried wings, and let the door swing shut behind me.

I slip into a booth at the back, letting the shadows eat me whole. This is the kind of place where silence is cheap, where no one asks questions that you don’t want to answer. The waitress drifts by, and I order what I always do.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >21

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Puck Marry Kill (Dirty Puckers #2) Read Online Lauren Landish http://www.ilovenovels.com/puck-marry-kill-dirty-puckers-2-read-online-lauren-landish Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:24:22 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/puck-marry-kill-dirty-puckers-2-read-online-lauren-landish Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Lauren Landish Series: Dirty Puckers Series by Lauren Landish
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >107

A hockey star’s fix his new team. The problem? He’s falling for the coach’s off-limits daughter in this spicy, heartfelt romance from Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author Lauren Landish.

NHL defenseman Dominic Lee is traded mid-season with one save a struggling team from itself. The complication? Briar Johns—a guarded single mom, zookeeper, and his new coach’s daughter. She’s strictly off-limits, but one look at her and Dominic knows some rules are meant to be broken. Too bad hockey players—and relationships—are a firm never again for Briar.

Between surviving a toxic marriage, managing an emotionally absent father, and raising her son Harley, Briar only has room for things that bring joy. A cocky defenseman should never make that list. Dominic isn’t like the men from her past, though. He shows up for Harley’s practices. He listens. He does the dishes. And he’s patient enough to wait for her walls to come down.

When her father forbids their relationship and threatens Dominic’s career, the choice should be simple. Except Briar’s tired of letting fear win. And walking away from her and Harley? That’s the one play Dominic refuses to make

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

Prologue

Dominic

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” I spit the words out so quickly that there’s no chance to stop them. Not that I would’ve, even if I could’ve.

My heart is racing too fast, pounding against my ribs. My hearing is down a long hallway, hollow and echoey. And my eyes are wide open, which is why I see the instant Coach Leverson registers both my rude tone and my disrespectful cussing.

“Now, look here, son . . .” he starts, sounding like he’s placating a too-willful-for-his-own-good, stubborn asshole of a child. Which I might be. I’m not arguing that possibility.

“Don’t ‘son’ me after telling me I’m getting traded, when I helped this team win the fucking Cup last season. A few very short months ago.” Did he forget? How could he have forgotten? I sure haven’t. It was the biggest, brightest, best moment of my life. The culmination of a dream I’ve had since I was a kid.

Coach closes his mouth, the clack of his yellowed veneers making a sound of finality that matches the steely look in his tired eyes.

“Why?” I hiss.

It’s starting to sink in—I, Dominic Lee, am getting traded from the best team in the league, the one where I’ve played for years, to one of the league cellar dwellers. Okay, that’s not fair. Coach said I’ve been traded to the Blizzard, who we played against in the finals last season, but there’s no argument to be made about it, they’re lower on the hockey stick than we are.

Not we. Because I’m no longer an Ice Hawk. I’m a Blizzard.

Me, fucking traded? What upside-down, topsy-turvy world is this? If this is a nightmare, I’m ready to wake up. Now. I curl my toes in my boots, digging them in and hoping the slight pain will raise me from sleep, but other than a cramp in my big toe, nothing happens.

“Dom, I know this comes as a shock to you,” Coach says placatingly. “It was a shock to me too. Definitely a decision made above my head, and I tried to keep you. Know that, son.” He pins me with an earnest look, but it only slightly eases the sense of betrayal starting to take root in my gut. “The Blizzard are having some turnover this year and they need you to do for Kipson what you did for Mahoney.”

My brows draw together sharply. “What?”

I’ve done a lot of things for Griffin Mahoney, the right defenseman for the Ice Hawks, but more importantly my brother from another mother. Most recently, that has included only attempting to kill him after I found out he was fucking my sister. I say attempt not because I stopped, but because my sister, Penny, stopped me with an announcement that they’re dating, in love, and blah, blah, blah. Not my best moment, but now that we’re all good, we can laugh about it. As long as they don’t talk about their sex life.

“What do you mean do for Kipson what I did for Griffin? I don’t have another sister and I’m pretty sure Griffin doesn’t share,” I say flatly. It’s a joke, but also . . . not. Unsurprisingly, Griffin is head over heels for my sister, which translates to protective as hell.

Coach leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his chest. “What do you know about the Blizzard?”

“They’re not the Ice Hawks,” I declare flatly. “They’re not the current champs. That’s enough.”

Coach tilts his head, staring at me in disappointment, before he carefully says, “That’s true. They’re not like the Hawks in a lot of ways.” I don’t know what that means and he doesn’t explain further. Instead, he shares, “Kipson got divorced right before the finals last year. He’s not doing well. Some might say he’s spiraling, and that’s putting it mildly.” Coach frowns hard like that’s a generously kind description of Kipson’s current state.

Realization dawns.

“Shiiiit. Kipson is thinking of quitting?”

Mike Kipson is good at two things—popping nifty wrist shots that seem to curve around goalie pads in midair, and staying out of the spotlight. The man’s a wizard with the puck when he’s on. All I know about him is how to go up against him in a game. But peripherally, I know he’s in the prime of his career, with years of ice time left. Unless injury or mental shit, which is surprisingly a big part of success in hockey, takes him out.

“Not if you can stop him,” Coach declares. “He’s down bad. Thinking of running off to Nebraska or somewhere to chase after his girl.” Coach makes it sound like the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard of.

“That sucks for him. Really, it does. But it’s not my problem. I saved Griffin because he’s my brother.”

Coach shrugs. “Looks like your family’s growing. Congrats, it’s a boy.”

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Revenge Puck (Michigan Ice Wolves #1) Read Online Sara Ney http://www.ilovenovels.com/revenge-puck-michigan-ice-wolves-1-read-online-sara-ney Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:24:08 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/revenge-puck-michigan-ice-wolves-1-read-online-sara-ney Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Sara Ney Series: Michigan Ice Wolves Series by Sara Ney
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >94

When I catch my girl with my hockey teammate and best friend—scratch that, ex-best friend—I’m done playing nice.

Declan betrayed me. But I have the perfect way to get even: his sister.

Juliette is sweet, bookish, gorgeous… and completely off-limits.

Fake dating her should be easy. A little wining and dining, a little harmless flirting, and I’ll get revenge on the guy who wrecked my life.

But Juliette throws me completely off my game.

Beneath her button-up shirts and wide eyes is the sexiest and most fascinating woman I’ve ever met. All good-girl by day, lacy underwear by night.

She sees right through my bad attitude… and somehow likes me anyway.

Suddenly the one thing worse than losing my best friend, would be losing her.

I’m desperate for revenge. But hurting Juliette? That’s a penalty I just can’t take…

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

PROLOGUE

AARON

My teammate has been acting strange lately.

How he thought he could fly under the radar is beyond me. We share a locker room, a practice schedule, and a mutual hatred of leg day. But that’s professional hockey for you—grown men with multimillion-dollar contracts and zero modesty.

Case in point: I see that hairy bastard naked on an almost daily basis.

And yet, I would bet money he’s been slipping out of the locker room like he’s avoiding something. Or someone.

Me, mostly.

And that is not like him—might even be funny if it weren’t so damn obvious.

Declan Kennedy doesn’t do avoidance. He’s the guy rallying after a loss, after a win, or when team morale takes a hit. He kicks us in the ass when we’re dragging.

Hockey has a way of blurring lines for us.

Teammates become roommates.

Brothers.

Built-in best friends.

We spend more time together than we do with our families, for fuck’s sake. More time than I spend with my girlfriend, Bailey, if I’m being honest. Practices, conditioning days, travel, games—there’s no such thing as personal space when you share a bench, locker, and hotel room with the same fifty guys for nine months straight.

Longer, if we get lucky and make it to the playoffs.

I notice him leaving practice early lately, skipping team dinners.

I notice the absence of his usual shit-talk during drills, the empty seat beside me on the bench. I notice because he’s usually the one making the effort when the grind starts wearing everyone down.

The guy left his equipment bag at the rink, and Kennedy doesn’t forget things, not when it comes to hockey.

Kennedy is the guy who shows up.

And I want to be the guy who shows up for him.

Which is why I’m riding the elevator up to his high-rise apartment instead of minding my own damn business. Something is up, and I’m gonna find out what it is.

I knock.

Knock again when I don’t hear footsteps walking toward the door.

“Dude,” I call out. “I know you’re in there. Your truck is in the parking garage.”

Silence.

I exhale, dragging a hand down my face, unease curling low in my gut.

I don’t love this.

I don’t like meddling, but I trust my gut, and my gut is telling me something is off and someone should know about it.

Hesitating, I search my phone for the door code he gave me months ago after a late night and too many beers in case of emergencies.

I punch it in. Turn the handle, door clicking open.

Step inside, half expecting an alarm system to begin beeping out its ten second countdown warning.

Kennedy’s apartment is big and bright, with expansive floor-to-ceiling windows. Glass everywhere. An uninterrupted view of the city below, the entire place designed to leave nothing hidden.

And yet…

I tread lightly, door clicking shut behind me; every one of my instincts is on edge as my eyes scan every corner and doorway as if expecting to find Declan slumped somewhere, broken or drunk.

The living room is empty.

Kitchen, too.

I drift farther, gaze snagging on the counter. Several empty wine bottles. Take-out containers stacked haphazardly. Dirty plates pushed aside like no one bothered to clean up because they were too busy doing something else.

A half-eaten slice of cake.

I follow the soundless apartment down the hall, my pulse thudding in my ears, until I stop outside the bedroom door.

This time I don’t knock.

Like an idiot, I push the door open without announcing myself—a decision I immediately regret.

My eyes take in the scene rapidly, brain finding it impossible to process what I’m seeing. I thought I’d find Declan alone—possibly despondent. Instead, I see⁠—

Bailey.

For several seconds, I barely know where to look—or how to breathe because that woman he’s fucking? Is my girlfriend.

Mine.

Not his.

Head tipped back, Bailey’s hands grip the headboard for leverage, and her tits bounce as she fucks him, whining moans I’m all too familiar with. Felt them against my skin dozens of times.

In my bed. In hers.

Declan smacks her ass, hard, fingers squeezing. Digging in possessively like he owns her, and that’s when it hits me: This isn’t a one-time thing.

This is not a mistake. They did not get drunk and fall into bed together last night.

They’ve done this before. Probably many times.

Behind my back.

I stand frozen, blood draining from my face. Fists clench as I stare down at them from the doorway, waiting for one of them to notice me. I can’t fucking move.

It’s sick, I know, but I can’t for the life of me look away.

Bailey moves with ease, working his dick. It makes my stomach churn how confident, practiced, and in control she is; this is a choice she’s fully committed to. She leans down, mouth brushing his neck, blonde hair spilling forward as she murmurs something I can’t hear, marveling in the power she has over him.

Declan groans loudly. His hands grip her waist, guiding her faster. Faster. “Fuck yeah, babe…”

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You Had Me at Get Lost – Sibling Goals Read Online Nichole Rose http://www.ilovenovels.com/you-had-me-at-get-lost-sibling-goals-read-online-nichole-rose Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:45 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/you-had-me-at-get-lost-sibling-goals-read-online-nichole-rose Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Sports, Virgin Authors: Nichole Rose Advertisement

Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >43

These professional athletes have more than fortune and fame in common. They also share a father who never played favorites, a mom who swears they're all her favorite, and a wild fanbase betting on who falls first.

But avoiding love when you've sworn it off should be easy...right?

Not for these siblings.

Someone really should have warned them that happily ever after waits for no player. When it hits, these siblings will make waves in the sporting world. That is, if they can keep their lives together long enough to make it down the aisle.

Sibling Goals is a spicy sports rom-com series featuring alpha heroes who have it all (maybe?) and curvy heroines who think they know exactly what they want (dresses with pockets, not love).

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

Chapter One

Briggs

"You're late," my brother, Harlan, growls, appearing in the church doorway like some timekeeping demon, his face set in a dark scowl. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

"Take it up with Jesus and the traffic." I grin at him. "I got here as fast as I could. Any faster, and we'd be having a different conversation right now." I glance at the parking lot behind me, where friends' cars are scattered across the first couple of rows. "With a whole lot of Chicago's finest behind me, trying to take me down."

Harlan grumbles under his breath like he wants to argue, but my point is solid. There's only so much a motherfucker can do about traffic in Chicago on a Friday night without divine intervention. And if there is a God, I don't see him stepping in to part the seas to get me to my brother's rehearsal dinner. The world is a shitshow. He's got more important things to do.

"Come on. Everyone is waiting," Harlan says as I duck past him into a grand foyer. The tile floors gleam at my feet, the crucifixion hanging overhead reflecting off them. Benches and floral arrangements line each side of the foyer, with lines of scripture carved into the walls. It's ostentatious, but unsurprising for a church big enough to hold half of Chicago. The big ones are rarely known for subtlety.

A giant sign announcing Harlan and Sophie's wedding stands in the center of the antechamber, with one of their engagement photos above the date.

"You nervous?" I ask my brother, clocking the way he tugs on his suit jacket, trying to get it just right. He's already more put together than he's ever been, not a wrinkle or crease in sight.

"About marrying Sophie? Fu…I mean no," he says, casting a furtive glance around, like he's afraid Jesus is going to pop out of the flowers and strike him down for almost cursing. "I've been ready to marry her since Tye's wedding." He rakes a hand through his hair. "Worried about our mother showing up."

"Ah," I say, nodding. Once, she might have made the guest list simply to keep the peace. That changed almost two years ago, when we found out she was trying to force our baby sister, Hattie, to attend Tye's wedding with a man who doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as her. Tye, Harlan, and I handled the situation with the help of Sidney Hawkes, Hattie's now-husband, and none of us have been on speaking terms with her since.

Frankly, I'd prefer to keep it that way. But our mother never goes quietly. She's done nothing but cause problems, especially once she found out that Hattie and Harlan were both getting married.

I'm the last motherfucker standing out of my siblings…and our mother hasn't been to a single wedding. No, she isn't taking it well. Not in the least.

That's on her.

"She won't show up," I promise Harlan. "I made sure of it."

"What?" He looks startled. "How?"

"We had a conversation."

"You had a conversation."

"Yeah, a conversation. I said some shit. She listened." I shrug like it's not a big deal, but we both know it is. I never willingly speak to her if I can help it, not after all the shit she's pulled. That doesn't really matter, though. What matters is that she isn't going to show her face at the wedding, not if she doesn't want the whole world to know what kind of mother she truly is.

The only thing that our mother loves more than money is being the center of the right attention. Trust me when I say she does not want the world to know half the shit she's said or done over the years. What little bit of standing she has left would crumble, and she'd really be alone then.

Harlan stares at me for a long moment, gratitude etched across his face. "Thanks, Briggs. I mean it."

"Don't mention it." If our roles were reversed, he'd do the same for me. But he's the one getting married, not me. And it's not like he even lives in Chicago to deal with her. Trying to plan a wedding from the other side of the country has been hard enough for him and Sophie. Someone had to deal with our mother for him. She can hate me for running interference if she wants. So long as she stays away from my sister and brothers, I don't fucking care.

I stopped caring about her a long time ago, right around the time I realized that she was a monster who hated her own daughter. She made our sister fucking miserable out of sheer spite and jealousy. And Hattie wasn't the only one. I never felt good enough because of her, because the only thing I've ever been to her is a bank account and a paycheck.

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