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

Suspense – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:26 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.2 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Suspense – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 A Lick and A Promise (Avenging Angels #5) Read Online Kristen Ashley http://www.ilovenovels.com/a-lick-and-a-promise-avenging-angels-5-read-online-kristen-ashley Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:12:26 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/a-lick-and-a-promise-avenging-angels-5-read-online-kristen-ashley Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Crime, Funny, Suspense Authors: Kristen Ashley Series: Avenging Angels Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)

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Luna Nelson and Knox Chambers fell together fast, and they did it hard. It was so big, so special, they wanted it just for themselves and kept it a secret from their found family: the Avenging Angels and the Hottie Squad.

They both knew this was it. Together forever.

What Luna didn’t know was that Knox had secrets.

Secrets that tore them apart.

But when Knox asked for them to continue being friends—for the sake of their crew, and so he wouldn’t lose her—Luna loved him enough to say yes. Yes to the torture of being in the life of a man who was the love of hers, but he let her go.

Then, Knox gets shot. He gets shot not because he’s got a dangerous job (which he does), but because his family is an absolute mess.

With the man who means everything to her recuperating, Luna can’t keep away.

While Luna tries to keep the Angels safe from interfering in Knox’s family’s criminal enterprises, she and Knox circle each other, drawing a different kind of blood.

Will Knox continue to keep his secrets?

And will both of them be safe in the Chambers Family Feud?

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

ONE

HE WANTS YOU

I shouldn’t be here.

I knew I shouldn’t be here.

But when Raye called, even though my mind said one thing (that I shouldn’t be here), my body (okay, my heart) said another.

So I was here.

The good news: I was just one more body in the mix, so it wasn’t like I was the cast-off chick hanging around, embarrassing herself pining for some dude.

In other words, that hospital waiting room was a crush seeing as all the Hottie Squad was there, all the Angels along with Tex, Nancy, Shirleen, Marjorie. Even Tito was there.

So I was just another person in a sea of people worried as fuck Knox got shot.

That was the bad news, Knox had been shot.

Twice.

He’d been shot…twice.

Oh yeah.

That was the way bad news.

He did not get shot while conducting Nightingale Investigations & Security business, which it was my understanding was a possibility, if not a probability in their line of work due to them not being your average, everyday private investigations and security business, but a whole lot more.

He got shot because his family was a nightmare.

More good news, the surgeon came out and told us he was out of surgery, stable, resting and no lasting damage had occurred. Though he’d need some time to mend and do physical therapy to regain full strength in his shoulder and leg.

Okay, so that was mixed good news because, absolutely, no lasting damage was obviously a good thing.

But he had to recuperate from two gunshot wounds he got because his family was borderline ready for their episode of Evil Lives Here, and that totally freaking sucked.

More of that mixed good news, my staring contest with Cheyenne was over.

Although I sensed why she hated me—even though it was lame as hell, since she’d had him for a while, and I didn’t (well, I did, but it wasn’t a very long while)—what I didn’t know was why she was there at all.

They’d broken up.

But by damn, when the surgeon came out, the bitch popped out of her seat like a demented jill-in-the-box and shouldered even Cap and Mace out of the way (respectively, Knox’s best bud and his boss) to belly up to the doc.

She also lied and said she was Knox’s partner, so she got to be the first to go back and see him.

Usually, the dudes were super cool with chicks. Lots of patience (needed), lots of understanding (also needed—what could I say? we were a bunch of nutso broads), all kinds of room to be who we were and do what we did (as, of course, it should be—save Knox in that scenario, but that was a longer story).

But when Cheyenne did that, everyone got pissed, and even the dudes didn’t hide it.

And when she did it, Raye took my hand (again, she’d been holding it on and off for the last three hours), and Brady shot me a look.

Truth: Brady and I had screwed the pooch.

Honestly, it seemed a good idea at the time.

Okay, not a good idea. A demented, in-your-face, heartbroken idea. But when you were heartbroken, demented ideas often seemed like good ones.

Then again, I was learning not to lead with the heart. Though, admittedly, I was learning this by messing up royally because I’d done something stupid at the edict of my heart.

My heart had me sitting right there, benched, because I meant nothing to Knox except being a member of his friend posse.

A distant one.

Someone he was around who he tolerated.

And that was it.

And my heart led me to pretend-flirt with and, okay, semi-kinda fake-date Brady (really, it was just two friends hanging out, but we wanted Knox to think it was something else) after Knox got together with Cheyenne.

We did this so he might feel a little bit of what I was feeling since Cheyenne was suddenly at all of our AAHS shindigs (Avenging Angel/Hottie Squad, for your information, of which I was a member of the former, and for more information, that former was unprofessional, unpaid chicks who stuck our noses in places they shouldn’t be, but someone had to do it, and the latter was professional, trained, skilled badasses).

And since Knox scraped me off, and he knew where I was at with him, he had to know how that would sting.

Sure, he’d made himself clear, and as such, I had no claim, so who was I to engage in some harebrained fake-dating scheme to make the guy I liked (right, okay, dammit…loved) jealous?

The idea was doomed from the start.

Why I couldn’t get a guy like Cap, like my bestie Raye did—a man who struggled with our whole Avenging Angels vigilante gig, but he got a lock on it because he knew how important it was to his woman—I did not know.

Or an Eric or Gabe, my other friends, Jess’s and Willow’s dudes, who were super chill and didn’t kick up a fuss at all.

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Code Name Ember (Jameson Force Seattle #1) Read Online Sawyer Bennett http://www.ilovenovels.com/code-name-ember-jameson-force-seattle-1-read-online-sawyer-bennett Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:55 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/code-name-ember-jameson-force-seattle-1-read-online-sawyer-bennett Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Erotic, Suspense, Thriller Authors: Sawyer Bennett Series: Jameson Force Seattle Series by Sawyer Bennett
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >82

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER 1

Cole

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

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

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

Pop. Pop. Pop.

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

SECOND PLACE.

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

“Reid, flank left. I’ll take point.”

“Copy.”

“Josie, bring up the rear.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A crown has never been so sinful

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

Prologue

Kieran

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Forged in the Fire (Crimson Crows #1) Read Online A.L. Jackson http://www.ilovenovels.com/forged-in-the-fire-crimson-crows-1-read-online-a-l-jackson Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:44 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/forged-in-the-fire-crimson-crows-1-read-online-a-l-jackson Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Dark, MC, Suspense Authors: A.L. Jackson Series: Crimson Crows Series by A.L. Jackson
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Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 169013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >168

It was a terrible idea to agree to protect my enemy’s sister…

The second she stepped out of her brother’s car, I knew she was a wildfire.
Spitting mad and so stunning she stole my breath.
She thinks her brother made a deal with the devil, and by working for me, she’s paying off his debt.

She doesn’t know the real reason she’s here.
Doesn’t know the danger that surrounds her.
Soon, she realizes there is something sinister lurking in the shadows.

She hates me for keeping her in the dark.
I want to hate her back, but with every sassy thing that fires from her mouth, she gets deeper under my skin.
With each heated glance, I feel myself losing control.
And when I crawl into bed with her, I combust.

I know better than thinking I can keep her. My life is nothing but secrets and peril.
But as outside threats begin to infiltrate, I’ll do anything to keep the oath I made to keep her safe.
Even expose her to the monster that I am…

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

ONE

SILAS

It was a little before five when I stepped out from an open bay at Torque & Talon Autobody Shop, wiping my hands on an oil-stained rag.

My guts in fuckin’ knots as I let my attention travel over the gravel drive that led onto the property.

I squinted against the sunlight pouring from above. A thick, stagnant heat saturated the summer air and slicked my skin in sweat.

Or maybe it was just the irritation boiling inside me that made me feel like I was getting burned alive.

Trevan was already out there, leaning against the white exterior wall and sipping from a bottle of beer.

His own anxiety rolled from his burly frame as he eyed me from the side.

“You think this is a good idea?” he finally asked, hard voice cutting through the tension, verbalizing the same damned thing I’d been asking myself all day.

A heavy sigh pilfered from between my lips as I looked in his direction.

Dude was pure beast.

Dark brown hair and even darker eyes. A mountain of muscle that was covered in ink and oozing the type of ferocity required of my second in command.

He was also my oldest friend. With me from childhood. I trusted him more than anyone else.

I scoffed at my own expense. “Afraid it might be one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made.”

Inviting more danger onto our property than we were already facing.

We’d packed our shit and left Moonlit Ridge to get my sister farther away from the bullshit I’d gotten us mixed in there, and we’d come here to Crimson Creek, a small town in Southern Oregon.

But it seemed no matter where I went, peril loved to hunt me down.

He took another swig of his beer, dark eyes narrowed back at me. “Then why are you making it?”

He was the only one with balls big enough to question me. More than that? He was the only one who’d earned the right to do it.

“He was intrinsic in saving my sister. I owe him the favor.”

Trevan chuckled a disbelieving sound. “Thought that favor was leaving him alive? Not that the bastard won’t end up dead, anyway.”

Air heaved from my lungs, and I sank back against the wall next to him as I dove frustrated fingers through my hair. “Have to believe there is some kind of good in him since he came to me and offered the information.”

“Or did he know he was a dead man otherwise?”

Uncertainty bound up my insides.

I considered myself a damned good judge of character. You didn’t live long with a life like mine if you weren’t.

But there was something about Dereck Webber that I couldn’t put my finger on.

Instinct told me he couldn’t fully be trusted.

“Don’t know. But the one thing I do know is that his sister is innocent of the whole thing.”

Trevan’s brows raised like he was questioning that, too. “You sure about that?”

“As far as I know, she doesn’t know a thing.”

Was clueless as to what her brother was really involved in.

“Only thing that matters is that this arrangement gets us what we need,” I insisted. “He’d never dish if he didn’t think he was getting something out of it.”

Incredulity heaved out of Trevan. “There are other ways to get information out of someone.”

“Can’t take the chance that he would remain tight-lipped before Phoenix killed him.”

Phoenix was the club’s sergeant at arms.

Amused agreement huffed from Trevan before he shook his head. “You’re breaking every fuckin’ one of your own rules, man. You know that, right?”

I scrubbed a palm over my face. “Yup.”

It didn’t matter, though. With one thought of my baby sister, Elena, I knew what I had to do.

Dereck Webber might have been a low-life scumbag piece of shit, but when he’d had the barrel of my gun shoved down his throat, his one concern had been his sister.

To me, that counted for something.

“As long as you don’t mind when I tell you ‘I told you so’,” Trevan goaded around another gulp of his beer.

“As long as you don’t mind when I kick your ass when you do it,” I tossed back.

“Would like to see you try.”

Fucker tried to hide his grin before he sobered. “Seriously, though. I get it. Just worried it’s gonna bring us trouble, and God knows we already have plenty of that.”

Nah, trouble wasn’t anything new to us.

Being a part of a brutal MC tended to do that to you, and you could be sure the Crimson Crows were no strangers to strife and turmoil.

Funny that motorcycle club acted as a front for what we really did. The minor crimes we let fly flagrant used as a distraction from the monsters we became under the shadows of the night.

But it was my one big fuckup that brought us here, and I’d do anything I had to in order to rectify it.

“We’ll handle it if it comes to that,” I told him. “We always do.”

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Hold On to Me – East Coast Mafia Read Online Marian Tee http://www.ilovenovels.com/hold-on-to-me-east-coast-mafia-read-online-marian-tee Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:36 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/hold-on-to-me-east-coast-mafia-read-online-marian-tee Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Marian Tee Advertisement

Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >97

In Captivated, Ciana Reyes was twenty-four the first time she poured champagne for Andrei Almazov at forty thousand feet…and spent the entire flight pretending not to notice the scar, the silence, or the way he watched her. She didn’t know then that her airline would be his before the month was out. She didn’t know about the promise he’d made to a dying man through prison glass.

His one duty was to keep her safe. But because she made it impossible for Andrei to keep his word…he did the only thing left. He made sure she saw him with someone else.

In Caressed, young, starry-eyed masseuse Star Thornton spent every Thursday evening with Artem Almazov, the unsmiling billionaire who owned the cruise ship she worked on. Her hands would find his scars, and his body told her things his mouth never would. But just as her heart became his…Artem walked away like she had never touched him at all.

Note: Both books are standalone romances previously published under my pen name Martha Ruthie. These books are spin-offs of the Monaco Bratva series

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

Captivated

Chapter 1

THE CHAMPAGNE WAS A 2011 Blanc de Blancs, and Ciana Reyes poured it the way she poured everything: without a wasted motion, with the kind of control that came from four years of serving first class at thirty-nine thousand feet and a lifetime of refusing to let her hands betray her.

They were betraying her now.

Not visibly. No passenger in cabin would have noticed the micro-tremor in her wrist as she tilted the bottle over the first flute. She caught it before the pour wobbled, locked her elbow, and let the wine fall in a clean, golden arc. But she knew. Her body had become aware of his presence before her eyes confirmed it, the way a compass needle swings north before the traveler has any idea which direction she’s facing.

Seat 1A. Third time in three weeks.

She set the flute on her tray without looking up. Moved to 1B, which was empty, as it always was when he flew. He bought both seats. She had noticed that the first time and told herself it was a business preference, the way some men needed silence the way others needed scotch. By the second time, she had stopped pretending she wasn’t cataloguing his habits.

He never reclined. He never slept. He never asked for anything beyond what was offered, and he declined half of that. He wore dark suits that fit him the way armour fit, not for beauty, but for containment. He was enormous in the way certain men were enormous: not just tall but dense with stillness, as though his body had been designed for a kind of violence he had chosen, very deliberately, to hold in reserve.

And the scar. A pale silver seam that ran from his left temple to the hinge of his jaw, pulling the skin taut over the cheekbone in a way that should have been disfiguring but wasn’t. It changed his face, made it more dangerous and impossible to look away from.

Ciana looked away.

She delivered the flute to 1A. "Your champagne, sir."

He took it without touching her fingers. He was meticulous about that, his hand always arriving a breath before or after hers, maintaining a margin of air between his skin and hers that felt less like courtesy and more like a perimeter. She had started to think of it as the exclusion zone. Two centimetres of nothing that somehow weighed more than any hand that had ever actually touched her.

“Thank you.” Low. Accented. Russian, she thought, though it had been sanded down by years of something else. French, maybe. The vowels sat differently in his mouth than they would in a native speaker’s.

She nodded. Smiled. Cabin-professional, eyes-neutral, the expression she had perfected at twenty and now wore like a second uniform. She retreated to the galley.

Raven Burnett was already there, leaning against the beverage cart with her arms crossed and one eyebrow doing the thing it did when she had an observation she was going to deliver whether Ciana wanted it or not.

"Three weeks," Raven said.

"Don’t."

"Three weeks, Ci. Same seat. Same flight. Same look on his face like he’s running long division in his head and you’re the remainder that won’t resolve."

Ciana pulled a bottle of still water from the drawer and cracked the seal. "He’s a frequent flyer. We’ve several."

“We’ve several who fly this route. We don’t have several who watch you like you’re a problem they’re trying to solve.” Raven uncrossed her arms and reached for a packet of shortbread, tearing it open with her teeth. “I’m not saying it’s sinister. I’m saying it’s something. And you—” She pointed the shortbread at Ciana. “—are pretending it’s nothing because the alternative would require you to have a feeling, and we both know how you’re about those.”

"I’ve feelings."

"Name one."

"Irritation. With you. Right now."

Raven grinned, wide, unrepentant, the kind of smile that had gotten her out of trouble and into it in roughly equal measure since they’d met in training four years ago. She was Ciana’s closest friend, which wasn’t the same thing as saying they were alike. Raven had opinions the way weather systems had wind: constantly, forcefully, and with no regard for whether you’d brought an umbrella. She dated with cheerful recklessness, had a tattoo she’d gotten in Lisbon that she refused to explain, and kept a running spreadsheet of every airline she intended to fly for before she turned thirty. She wasn’t, in any meaningful sense, a safe harbour. She was a dare. Ciana loved her for it, mostly because Raven never once tried to be anything else.

"His hands," Raven said, quieter now.

Ciana stilled. "What about them?"

"You were looking at his hands when you poured. Not at the glass. At his hands."

That was true, and Ciana hated that it was true, and she hated even more that Raven had seen it. His hands were... she didn’t have the right word. Large, obviously. Scarred across the knuckles the way hands got scarred when they’d met hard surfaces repeatedly and without gloves. But what had stopped her, what had made her pour go unsteady for a fraction of a second, was the way he held the champagne flute. Delicately. With a precision that didn’t match the rest of him, as though the glass were something he could break without noticing and he had decided, with great private discipline, not to.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >97

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North Country Read Online K.A. Tucker http://www.ilovenovels.com/north-country-read-online-k-a-tucker Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:09 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/north-country-read-online-k-a-tucker Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Forbidden, Suspense Authors: K.A. Tucker Advertisement

Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >142

From the USA Today and international bestselling author of the Simple Wild comes a sweeping second-chance, forbidden romance set against the rugged beauty of northern Canada.

Emery McAllister once dreamed of leaving Cold River with the boy next door, but one devastating night destroyed their future and left her heart carefully guarded. Twenty years later, she’s built a life of control: running the town’s police detachment, raising her daughter, and keeping a fragile peace with her ex-husband, the mayor.

She’s certain she has moved on until the day she has dreaded—and secretly hoped for—finally arrives.

Logan Landry is home.

After two decades behind bars for being in the wrong place at the wrong time—and the choices that haunted him ever since—Logan returns to his family’s bison ranch carrying the weight of everything he lost, but especially Emery. Friendship is all he dares hope for now, but seeing her ignites a fire he thought long extinguished.

When a teenage girl disappears and old wounds reopen, Logan becomes Cold River’s favorite suspect, despite his airtight alibi. As distrust closes in, Emery must choose between the life she’s built … and the love she can’t let go

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

Playlist

Available on Spotify

Pg. 1: “Santa Monica” by Theory of a Deadman

Pg. 51: “4AM” by Our Lady Peace

Pg. 58: “Long Time Running” by The Tragically Hip

Pg. 100: “Quitter” by Cameron Whitcomb

Pg. 109: “Blown Wide Open” by Big Wreck

Pg. 129: “Wheat Kings” by the Tragically Hip

Pg. 134: “Let Me Down Slowly” by Alec Benjamin & Alessia Cara

Pg. 173: “Home” by Matthew Hall

Pg. 226: “Quitting You” by Arkells

Pg. 256: “You and Me” by Cameron Whitcomb

Pg. 277: “Silent Night” by Sarah McLachlin

Pg. 291: “Everything is Alright” by Glorious Sons

Pg. 295: “Holly Jolly Christmas” by Jeff Straker

Pg. 298: “The Breakdown” by The Trews

Pg. 305: “Next to You” by Charlotte Cardin

Pg. 331: “Sing Me a Song” by William Prince & Serena Ryder

Pg. 325: “Gordon in the Willows” by Patrick Watson & Charlotte Cardin

Pg. 357: “Weak in the Knees (Acoustic Version)” by Serena Ryder

Pg. 364: “New Plan” by The Glorious Sons

Pg. 377: “Feels Like Home” by Chantal Kreviazuk

Chapter 1

Emery

Twenty years ago, May

“Busted!” Logan’s chuckle carries over the music.

“Damn it.” My curse is punctuated with a creak as I try to slip up the stairs unnoticed. There’s no point in this charade anymore. I run the rest of the way, taking the steps two at a time, until I reach the loft above the Landrys’ garage that has become our sanctuary.

Logan is sprawled out in the middle of it on his back. The only thing between his solid six-foot-two frame and the plywood floor is an unzipped sleeping bag that never leaves this room. The window on the far side welcomes in afternoon sunlight, and the rays capture the dust in the air. A five-disc stereo system clunks and whirs as it shuffles noisily to another CD, its display lights flashing like an ’80s techno party.

“Took you long enough.” He sounds groggy. I’ll bet he drifted off.

“I had a long shift.” I drop to my knees behind his head and peer into golden-hazel eyes that are indeed bleary from sleep. My stomach flutters. It always does around him.

He inhales. “You smell like chlorine.”

“Yeah, I had to pull a kid out of the pool.” I lean down to plant an upside-down kiss on his mouth before whispering, “Happy birthday.”

His plump lips curve into a smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re officially an adult.” I don’t turn eighteen until September, when we’re in Toronto for university. We were both accepted into the University of Toronto’s downtown campus—me, for criminology, Logan for mechanical engineering.

“That’s right, I am.” In the next beat, he’s reaching over his head to grab my ribs. I squeal as he lifts and flips me around to land against him with little effort. Another quick move and he has me on my back, my arms pinned over my head with one hand, long since calloused from helping around his family’s bison ranch. “Are we still allowed to do this?” He punctuates the question by slipping his free hand under my shirt.

“Yes. As long as you’re not in a position of authority over me.”

Logan’s face dips toward my neck, his lips finding a sensitive spot below my earlobe. “Okay, Officer McAllister.”

“Wait! I want to give you your present.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” He guides my shirt up.

The warm spring air grazes my bare skin, stirring a base need. “No!” I tug against my restraints, but I can’t break free. He’s too strong. “I’ve been sitting on this forever.”

His fingertip traces the seam of my lacy bra before relenting with a groan of frustration as he releases me.

From my pocket, I slide out the envelope.

Logan’s eyebrow arches with interest as he collects it and gives it a shake.

I bite my bottom lip to quell my excitement.

“You’re kidding me.” He holds up the receipt for the two VIP Edgefest concert tickets, his eyes wide with disbelief. “But how? I couldn’t get through!”

My laughter is giddy. “I hit redial, like, a million times, as soon as they went on sale⁠—”

He cuts off my words with a hard kiss before whispering, “This is fucking amazing. I wanted to go so bad.” I get another kiss and then, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I beam, grazing my nose against his. “You have no idea how hard this was to keep secret. I almost ruined the surprise so many times.”

He rolls onto his back to study the wooden beams zigzagging across the rustic ceiling. “Now I have to decide who I’m taking.”

“Umm, shut up.” I climb on top of him, straddling his jean-clad hips. “You better be kidding.”

He laughs as he grips my slender waist within his strong hands. “Of course it’s you, Em.” He stares up at me with a mixture of awe and desire.

The moment grows heady as I feel him reacting to my body pressed against his. “Can’t you skip going out with Jay tonight? Hang out with me?” I punctuate that by rocking my hips.

“You know I can’t. He’s my brother. He’s been planning this for weeks.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >142

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Pretty Little Scars (Silver Springs #1) Read Online Kristen Proby http://www.ilovenovels.com/pretty-little-scars-silver-springs-1-read-online-kristen-proread-online Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:11:02 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/pretty-little-scars-silver-springs-1-read-online-kristen-proread-online Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Forbidden, Suspense Authors: Kristen Proby Series: Silver Springs Series by Kristen Proby
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >102

I absolutely should not be attracted to my boss.

I’m living on Tucker Hendrix’s ranch for the next year as a veterinary intern. But imagine my surprise when I walk onto the property on my first day and recognize the owner.
He’s the mysterious customer I used to flirt with at the diner all those years ago.
Now, the chemistry is hotter than ever, and all I can think about is his muscles and the fact that none of my scars bother him.
He’s seen everything that no one else has, and he’s not running away from me, or the fact that I’m a Lexington sister and we come from a monster.
In fact, for the first time in my life, a man is patient, gentle, and treats me like I’m the most important thing in his universe. Like he can’t live without me.
Like my scars aren’t the failure of a lifetime.
I’m starting to see a life for myself here with this man, on this gorgeous Montana ranch. His family has welcomed me into the fold as if it were a foregone conclusion.
But someone is hell bent on hurting me and making sure I don’t get the happy life I’ve worked so hard for.
Will they succeed? Or will Tucker and I come out the other side stronger than ever?

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

DARBY’S RECIPES

Darby’s Huckleberry Muffins

1 Cup White Sugar

3/4 Cup Butter

3/4 Cup Milk

1 Large Egg

1 t. Vanilla extract

1 3/4 Cups Sifted All-Purpose Flour

2 1/2 t. Baking Powder

1/2 t. Salt

1 Cup Huckleberries

1 T. All-Purpose Flour

Directions:

Step One

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Grease 15 muffin cups or line cups with paper liners.

Step Two

Beat sugar and butter with an electric mixer in a large bowl until smooth. Beat in milk, egg, and vanilla until well blended. Combine 1 3/4 cups flour, baking powder, and salt in a separate bowl; stir into batter until just moistened. Toss huckleberries and 1 tablespoon flour in same bowl to coat. Fold into batter.

Step Three

Spoon batter into the prepared muffin cups, filling each 2/3 full.

Step Four

Bake in preheated oven until the tops spring back when lightly pressed, about 15 minutes.

Step Five

Feed them to Tucker, who will devour them, and then you.

Darby’s Arnica Salve

Ingredients

3/4 C Arnica Oil

1/4 C beeswax pellets

1/2 t. Vitamin E oil

20 drops peppermint essential oil, or oil of choice for fragrance

Instructions

1. Using a double boiler, add a couple cups of water into the pot, then place a heat-proof bowl over the top of the pot.

2. Turn the burner on and allow the water to come to a boil.

3. Meanwhile, measure out the ingredients. Once the water is boiling, add arnica oil and beeswax pellets to the bowl of your double-boiler and stir consistently until the beeswax is melted (about five minutes).

4. Once the beeswax has melted, remove the bowl from the heat and let it sit for a few minutes on the counter to cool slightly.

5. Combine the vitamin E oil and essential oils, then pour into the oil and beeswax mixture.

6. Stir to incorporate all oils then pour into clean, dry pourable measuring cup.

7. Carefully divide the oil equally between four 2-ounce tins. Don’t forget to label your tins!

8. Let cool completely and store in a cool, temperature controlled cupboard.

How to use Arnica Salve:

-Rub on any sore joints or muscles.

-Apply to bruises or bumps.

-Rub on the back of the neck and along the jawline for tension headaches.

PROLOGUE

TUCKER

Five Years Ago

Imake the thirty minute drive over to Bitterroot Valley every Tuesday so I can have lunch at Kay’s Diner. Do I love the food there? Not particularly. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fine. But the cheeseburger and fries aren’t what’s brought me in here for the past year without missing a Tuesday.

I used to come in once a month with my friend Brooks Blackwell after we took a ride on our Harleys around the valley. We still have a standing ride day, but once every thirty days isn’t nearly often enough for me to see her.

The brunette with the kicking curves and glacier-blue eyes.

The woman whose stingy smile is etched in my mind and the only thing I see when I close my eyes.

Have I asked her out? No. But I will.

Eventually.

I’m in no hurry regarding most things in my life. I like to take my time, think things through.

For now, I like to come in here for lunch on Tuesdays, sit in my usual booth in the corner, and flirt with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.

I set the laminated menu aside, knowing exactly what I’ll order. When she walks over to me and her blue eyes brighten at the sight of me, I can’t help but smile at her.

“Well, fancy meeting you here,” she says sarcastically. Her voice is pure fucking sin. A little raspy, and a lot sexy. She rests her hand on her hip and immediately fills my mug with coffee. Her dark hair is up in a high ponytail, her gorgeous face is clean of makeup, and her lips quirk, making me want to bite them. “You’re late.”

I lift an eyebrow and check the time. “It’s 1:05.”

“Late,” she says again.

“Did you miss me?” I ask her, leaning back in the seat, taking her in. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Her cheeks darken a little as she tucks a few stray whisps of hair behind her ear. I want to do that. I want to feel that silk in my fingertips. Her Kay’s Diner T-shirt molds over her body perfectly, but not provocatively. There’s a tattoo peeking out of the sleeve on her right biceps, and I want to know what it is.

“Thought maybe you fell off that death trap out there.” She gestures at my bike with her chin.

“You’re worried about me.” I rub my hand over the scruff on my chin and smile smugly. “That’s even better. You could go for a ride with me, and I’ll show you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

A shadow slips behind her eyes, but before I can say anything, she shakes her head.

“Hard pass. Your usual today?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nods and walks away to put my order in, and while I sip my black coffee, I watch her flit around the restaurant, taking orders, delivering plates, and closing out checks. Kay’s is a typical 1950s-style diner with a black-and-white checked floor, red vinyl seats, and a jukebox in the corner playing an old Madonna tune from the ’80s. There’s a long bar with red-topped stools, and the milkshakes rival Sundae’s over in my hometown of Silver Springs, but I’ll never admit to that out loud.

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Saved by a God (Kings of Mafia #10) Read Online Michelle Heard http://www.ilovenovels.com/saved-read-online-a-god-kings-of-mafia-10-read-online-michelle-heard Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:10:52 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/saved-read-online-a-god-kings-of-mafia-10-read-online-michelle-heard Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark, Mafia, Suspense, Virgin Authors: Michelle Heard Series: Kings of Mafia Series by Michelle Heard
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >86

From USA Today & Wall Street Journal bestselling author Michelle Heard comes a new STANDALONE, full-length MAFIA ROMANCE novel.

Rosie
To others, Enzo is a ruthless and dangerous underboss, a son of the Falco bloodline. But to me, he’s the one man I can’t stop wanting.
Broody temptation wrapped in tattoos.

There’s a secret I’ve carried for years. At a friend’s club, I set up a date with a stranger to lose my V-card.
No faces. No talking.

Turned out the stranger was Enzo.
He doesn’t know it was me, the girl in the dark who gave him everything, then erased herself like she was never there.

To Enzo, I’m just Rosie, nothing more than a friend and the Cosa Nostra’s hacker.

I’ve been trying to build up the courage to tell him I love him, but I’ve waited too long.
Because when the enemy comes for the Cosa Nostra, I do what I’ve always done, I protect what’s mine…even if it costs me everything.

Enzo
For years, I told myself Rosie was just a friend. Never mine to want, because I chose our friendship over a truth that would’ve changed everything.

Rosie was my heartbeat and now she’s gone.

But I can’t let go.

I’ll tear this world apart to find her.
Nothing and no one will stand in my way of getting what’s mine, and once I have her in my arms, I will make damn sure everyone knows she belongs to me.

While Saved By A God can be read as an interconnected standalone, reading the other books in the Kings Of Mafia series will give you a better understanding of the world and its characters

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

Songlist

Spotify

Shallow – Tommee Profitt, Fleurie

Fair To You – Vincent Lima

Sacrifice – League of Legends, G.E.M

How Long Will I Love You – Ellie Goulding

Ghost – Jonah Baker

Always On Your Side – Oshins, ADONA

All I Want – Alex Rv Phillips

Still Here – League of Legends, Forts, 2WEI, Tiffany Aris

Warriors – League of Legends, 2WEI, Edda Hayes

The Story – Davis Naish

Anyone – Tommee Proffit, Fleurie

I Get To Love You - Ruelle

Chapter 1

Rosie

The Past…

Enzo, 24. Rosie, 20.

With my eyes glued to Enzo, my futile crush of four to five years, I dreamily drink in every glorious inch of him.

God, he looks hot in those faded black jeans and a charcoal shirt with the top three buttons undone.

The rolled-up sleeves allow me to drool over all the corded muscle, visible veins, and tattoos on his forearms.

There are times his black hair, the scruff on his jaw, and light brown eyes with green flecks make him too beautiful to look at.

Sadly, Enzo views me as nothing more than a friend. Or even worse. A little sister.

Eww. Don’t even think that shit.

Even though he sat me down three years ago and told me he’s not interested in a relationship with anyone and that our friendship means too much to him, I still harbor a crush on him.

Remembering the embarrassing day, I scrunch my nose, then let out a sigh.

The stupid crush will probably never go away, which annoys me. I wish I could switch off whatever part of me finds him so damn attractive.

Christiano, Enzo’s older brother and the Capo dei Capi of the Cosa Nostra, is having a birthday party at their parents’ house in Manhattan.

I glance over the people who make up the Cosa Nostra family. Some are standing by the pool while others are gathered near the barbecues.

The soft outdoor lights have turned the backyard into an intimate setting, but I see the guards moving in the shadows.

Dammit, what’s keeping Gianna?

She needs to stop taking her sweet time and get her butt to the party.

We’ve been best friends forever, and since she started dating Riccardo, one of Enzo’s closest friends, the four of us have spent a lot of time together.

Unable to stop myself, I stare at Enzo again, watching him talk to Christiano near the table that’s covered with sodas and a variety of alcohol.

Enzo became his brother’s underboss four years ago and made it look like the easiest job on the planet.

They’re both armed, their guns tucked into the waistbands of their pants. My eyes dart to Georgi, Adriano, and Augusto, the other three capos, and seeing their weapons as well, I let out a sigh.

Right now Dad’s training me to take over as the Cosa Nostra’s hacker and IT expert. I know everything when it comes to computers, but Dad’s giving me time until my twenty-first birthday because he knows the other part of the business bothers me.

With my birthday around the corner, I’ll become the head of my family and the fifth capo in the Cosa Nostra, and the title will come with responsibilities I’m not ready for.

Yeah, I’m good with everything IT-related, but I’m not so sure about going to meetings with other criminal organizations or dealing with our enemies.

I know how to handle a gun, and I’ve had combat training, but it doesn’t mean I like it. Quite the opposite. I’m comfortable with computers, not violence.

Sigh. I’m Dad’s only heir, and Christiano has made it very clear he expects me to fill the position of a capo.

Adriano, who’s ten years my senior and everyone’s big brother, glances at me, and when he comes closer, I grin at him. “Hey, grumpy. Having fun?”

“Hmm…” He drops down beside me on the outdoor sofa, and placing his arm around my shoulders, he tucks me against his side. “You look worried. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

I shrug while resting my head on his shoulder. “I’m just nervous about taking over from my dad.”

Adriano presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Why?”

“Because everyone keeps acting like being a capo is no big deal.” I gesture toward the men scattered around the veranda and backyard. “You guys make it look easy.”

When Adriano lets out a soft chuckle, I scowl at him. “I’m serious.” My eyes drift toward Enzo and Christiano again. “I can spend hours in front of a computer without blinking. I can find people, track money, monitor communications, break into systems, and build better security than half the governments in the world.”

“Only half?”

I roll my eyes at him before continuing. “But being a capo isn’t just computers.”

“No, it isn’t,” he agrees.

“It’s being out there that scares me,” I admit, a vulnerable tone to my voice. I pull back so I can look at Adriano, who has a pensive expression on his face. “Every time I leave a damn meeting, I feel sick.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >86

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Serial Bangers Read Online Sheridan Anne http://www.ilovenovels.com/serial-bangers-read-online-sheridan-anne Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:10:50 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/serial-bangers-read-online-sheridan-anne Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Funny, Suspense Authors: Sheridan Anne Advertisement

Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >111

I’m many things—sarcastic, ruthless, and offensively good at my job.

What I’m not is tolerant of my brand-new neighbor—Raiden Kane.

He’s infuriating, smug, and far too criminally attractive for someone who treats our shared parking like a declaration of war. Sure, I could handle all of that, but what I can’t handle is his Energizer Bunny stamina and apparent addiction to beautiful women—an addiction that plays out for hours every night through the insultingly thin wall between our bedrooms.

Raiden Kane knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and I’d dare say it’s the best game he’s ever played. My tolerance meter is wearing thin. Especially when he looks at me with those lazy bedroom eyes that suggest he already knows exactly how I taste.

Work is supposed to keep me sane. It’s my escape. Until it isn’t. Our worlds collide, and the man I’d happily strangle on principle starts turning up where he doesn’t belong.

Coincidence? Please.

There’s something off about Raiden Kane. He’s hiding secrets of his own, and I fully intend to pry them from his cocky, sinful soul … one delicious mistake at a time.

Living next door to him was a mistake.

Falling for him would be worse.

But underestimating him?

That might be the one thing that gets me killed

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

CHAPTER 1

KIARA

Okay, call me crazy, but I am willing to bet everything I have, even my pet cactus, Spikezilla, that there’s no single view more stunning than the coastline off the South of France. Nice, in particular. Especially standing at the top of the mountainside in a private estate, overlooking the breathtaking alcove beach below.

Alcove? Is that what they call it? Horseshoe, perhaps? A beach U-turn? I don’t know, either way, it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, until the view is stolen with the impact of a heavy, black boot kicking right between my legs, slamming smack-dab against my precious vagina.

“Ahhh shit,” I screech, jumping back from the man I thought was dead on the patio of his beautiful estate. I clutch my bits and gape at the asshole, my sweet cookie silently screaming in agony. Good God, that hurt. “What the fuck, dude? That was a low blow.”

His only response is to gurgle around the blood he’s currently choking on. Though that may or may not have something to do with my favorite polished steel, curved double-edged blade that’s currently protruding from his throat. How it got there is a mystery to me. At least that’s what I’d say if I got caught. Not that I ever get caught. I’m just that good. Though apparently not good enough because my vagina was power-rammed by steel-toed boots, but I guess that’s what the South of France will do to a girl. It’s nothing more than a picturesque distraction. It leaves the vagina wide open for a railing—and not the good kind.

Letting out a sigh, I crouch down and grab the black ornate handle of the intricate blade and yank it free from its sheath, otherwise known as this corrupt politician’s esophagus, only for the floodgates to let loose and send blood spurting across the courtyard, and more importantly, all over me.

“Damn it. I’m gonna have to get this dry cleaned,” I grumble, pulling away from the dying politician as he quickly finishes bleeding out on the terracotta pavers. I have a great relationship with my dry cleaner. He doesn’t ask questions, but he’s definitely curious as to the constant blood stains on my clothes, and this little black corset top has seen way too many incidents like this. But what can I say? It’s my favorite.

After wiping the blade against my thigh, I go to leave when I turn and glance up at the massive home. It truly is beautiful. The epitome of French countryside living, and while I know I shouldn’t, I find myself itching to go inside.

I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. And yet . . . I really want to.

You miss all of the opportunities you don’t take, right? What could it hurt anyway? It’s just a peek. I won’t get caught. From the research I did, this magnificent property was bought by the family as a holiday home. The wife visits every few months with their daughter, whereas this scumbag is here every other week, using it as a meeting place for all his shady business deals and women he runs through—women young enough to be his daughter.

No wonder the contract came my way. It was only a matter of time.

It was too easy to lure him here, and now that all is said and done, I don’t see why I shouldn’t take just a quick peek at how the upper class truly lives.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m in no way on struggle street. I’m at the top of my game. One of the best contract killers across the globe, and I get paid handsomely for what I do, but I’m not flashy.

I live in a small apartment, just outside the city limits of LA, where it’s still busy enough to blend in. I can go out for a run every morning without people asking questions, can stop by my local barista, and have a decent conversation while I wait, and can be my edgy little self without drawing the wrong attention. It’s exactly what I need.

While I can more than afford to purchase a luxury estate in the South of France, all in cash, it’s not my style. So, what do I spend my money on, you ask? Black-market weapons. Nothing gets me more excited than a sleek, intricately designed blade with a matching set of brass knuckles and throwing stars. Fuck, I’m getting hot just thinking about it. It’s like that feeling as a kid when you’ve been begging your parents forever to go to Disney World, and they finally agree.

Shit. There’s truly nothing better.

Scanning over the massive estate, I take in the location of the cameras, though I don’t need to. I already have every last one of them committed to memory, but old habits die hard. I will never stop covering myself in these situations. No job is worth my life. The second my cover is blown, I’m as good as dead.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >111

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Songbird in the Gallows (Grimlock #1) Read Online Alta Hensley http://www.ilovenovels.com/songbird-in-the-gallows-grimlock-1-read-online-alta-hensley Sun, 12 Jul 2026 16:10:42 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/songbird-in-the-gallows-grimlock-1-read-online-alta-hensley Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Suspense Authors: Alta Hensley Series: Grimlock Series by Alta Hensley
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Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)

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From the bestselling author of He Sees You When You’re Sleeping comes a dark romance about a murder-sober retired serial killer and his murder-curious protégé. Perfect for fans of Brynne Weaver, this twisted romance inspired by the Bluebeard folktale is filled with dark humor, sizzling chemistry, and spice.

Murder is their love language…

Five years ago, Saylor Mitchell’s father was brutally murdered in front of her, shattering her world. Now his killers have tracked her down to finish the job. She is unexpectedly saved by her father’s closest friend, the enigmatic Blue. Saylor's savior—and captor— is a reformed, murder-sober assassin struggling to escape the clutches of his own violent history.

Blue’s gothic mansion, perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking a stormy sea in the town of Grimlock, is a labyrinth of secrets. And so is Grimlock, a small town whose residents all seem to have a penchant for murder that they’ve managed—mostly— to overcome.

Saylor soon realizes that Blue holds the key to avenging her father’s murder at the hands of the Crow, a gang of amoral contract killers. Only problem? Saylor has never killed before. Good thing those who can’t kill…teach.

Blue finds Saylor an apt pupil and the attraction between them morphs into a dangerous obsession. Can their love conquer Blue’s final, darkest secret?

Morally grey leadsTouch her and dieDad’s best friendPossessivenessGothic mansionMurder mysteryForbidden loveAge gapForced proximityAnti-heroDark romanceGothic romanceFairytale retelling

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

Chapter One

Saylor

Once upon a time, I believed in right and wrong.

Before I learned the truth. Learned it in the spray of my father’s blood, felt it hot across my face while I choked on the urge to scream. The sound of him dying is still inside me, a metronome to every choice I make.

There’s a bone-deep truth. A blood-written truth . . .

It’s not what you do, but why you do it.

The driving force that lives beneath your skin, pulsing with every heartbeat, whispering justifications in the dark hours when sleep won’t come. When you understand someone’s why—when you relate to it, fall in love with it, cradle it against your chest like a secret—that’s what can turn the villain in any story into the hero.

But maybe this is the real question: Who is the villain?

Can you be the villain in your own story? Can you watch yourself make choices that would horrify the person you used to be, and still believe you’re doing the right thing?

Can you go from rabbit to wolf and convince yourself it was always your true nature, that the innocence was just a costume you wore until the world forced you to shed it?

I think about this now, when my hands are steady and my conscience is quiet. When the weight of what I’ve done settles into my core, and I can look in the mirror without flinching at what stares back. When love means something different than it did before. It’s deeper, more honest, written in a language that most people are too afraid to learn.

* * *

They say you can disappear in New York. Become someone new between one subway stop and the next. I should know—I’ve been Saylor Mitchell for so long now that sometimes I forget I was ever Sara Mitchell.

But here’s the thing about running: You can change your name, dye your hair raven black, build a whole new life, but some things follow you. The phantom weight of your father’s blood on your hands. The sound a throat makes when it’s being cut. The way your real name sits like a stone in your chest, even when no one’s called you that in years.

These nights performing at the White Note are the only time I feel like both versions of myself can coexist. Where scattered applause and clinking glasses create their own kind of percussion, and cigarette smoke curls through the air like visible notes. Where Saylor Mitchell sings jazz for tips, but Sara Mitchell’s rage hums underneath every note.

I’d considered changing my last name too—new identity, clean slate. But Mitchell was my father’s name, and as much as I needed to disappear, I couldn’t bring myself to lose that last piece of him. So Sara became Saylor, but Mitchell stayed. A small rebellion against my own survival instincts.

The cabaret is dimly lit, smoky, a place where secrets thrive in dark corners. I scan the crowd as I slink across the stage, my scarlet-red sequined dress catching the light. My fingers find the compass necklace at my throat—Dad’s compass. Antique brass on a simple chain, the face no bigger than a quarter. It clashes with everything I wear, too practical for sequins and satin, but I haven’t taken it off since that awful night. North still points north, even when everything else in my life points nowhere. I give it a quick touch for luck. Same ritual every night since I started singing here.

As the sultry melody from the band fills the room, I adjust the rose in my slicked-back black hair and take hold of the microphone. It’s time for me to seduce the crowd and lose myself in the music.

I close my eyes and let my body move to the rhythm, swaying my hips and running my hands down my curves. The audience is captivated, their eyes following every movement of my body.

My voice comes out low and smooth as I sing the first line of “Fever,” a classic jazz song that never fails to get hearts racing. It’s not my favorite song—too mainstream for my tastes—but Joey, the club owner, insists I start each set with it. Says it draws in the regulars.

Sometimes I wonder if the regulars would recognize Sara in Saylor. But Sara was an eighteen-year-old girl from Seattle who watched her father die, who ran to New York with nothing but the clothes on her back and a fake ID she bought at Port Authority. Saylor is twenty-three, trying to be confident, and attempting to never look over her shoulder. Sara hid in closets. Saylor owns every stage she steps on. Not that anyone here knows there’s a difference.

The music shifts into something slower, sultrier. My hips follow the rhythm as I work through the standards. Songs that pay rent and keep me invisible. Each performance is a balancing act between being memorable enough for tips but forgettable enough that no one asks too many questions about where I came from.

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