Duke of Tudor Series by Amarie Avant – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Duke of Tudor Series by Amarie Avant – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sun, 09 Oct 2022 12:19:25 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Duke of Tudor Series by Amarie Avant – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Deviant Royal (Duke of Tudor #1) Read Online Amarie Avant http://www.ilovenovels.com/deviant-royal-duke-of-tudor-1-read-online-amarie-avant Sun, 09 Oct 2022 12:19:25 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/deviant-royal-duke-of-tudor-1-read-online-amarie-avant Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Authors: Amarie Avant Series: Duke of Tudor Series by Amarie Avant
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >71

Victor Tudor, a man wrapped in mystery and temptation, gets everything he desires.

And for the moment, he craves… me.

I fought. It was a losing battle.

I ran. His relentlessness ensnared me.

I'm a token. A trinket. A toy for Victor's amusement.

He's seductive. A dangerous deviant.

Although I can't stop the madness, staying is lethal.

**

Luxury Whitson, a young beauty with a heart of gold, never catches a break.

And for a brief time, she will be mine to possess.

She's cheeky. I'll train her mouth.

She's defiant. That kink will be straightened.

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

PROLOGUE

LUXURY WHITSON

Twenty-eight days ago, his eyes captivated me. Tranquil blue pools transformed autumn in Manhattan into a warm, sunlit day.

I saw light in them.

In him.

Turns out, Dr. Victor Finch was nothing but a beguiling devil.

Now, steam emerges from my brick-and-chrome bathroom as I open the door, creeping across the darkened bedroom. My heart pitches into the pit of my stomach. I’d turned on every light after coming home from our disturbing date and scrubbed the blood off my skin.

Throat contracting, I stare at the monster I ran from. A dim glow from the dresser lamp spills over my beautiful nightmare’s marbled features while he dominates the reading chair by my bed.

Acrimony pours over my clammy, freckled skin. Mouth stiff, I enunciate, “Get out of my home.”

An alpha on his throne, Victor scrutinizes me like a fat gazelle ambling through the Sahara. His intense stare sends an irrational drum to the pulse between my thighs.

“Bollocks, Luxury.” A tantalizing British accent holds a consolatory note while fingers fork through dark hair, creating the only disarray in the otherwise immaculate beast. “Everything went balls up. It’s not what it seems.”

“What part of us screwing in Central Park, less than an hour ago, followed by you murdering random strangers is not what it seems? I texted you—”

“Never to call?” Reigning in his demons, Victor smooths the lapel of his suit, tailored over raw muscle. Oh, God. I’d thought his all-black attire was alluring, but realization hits. It hides the blood.

With aching tenderness, his eyes follow my curves. “You’re in shock. That’s to be expected—”

I widen my stance, gritting out, “You know my past. You friggen retraumatized me. The second you snapped; our relationship ended!”

Tone ignited in fury, Victor warns, “Allow me to remind you, Luxury, you and I are under a binding agreement—I own you.”

The claim plows into me. He did own me.

While flipping me

Left to right.

Up and down.

But he doesn’t own me. “Dick was involved,” I gasp.

“Wrong answer. You gave your word. The rights to that luscious cunt are mine.”

In the company of a madman, I take a tentative step toward the door. A split second later, I’ve opened it and dashed down the stairs.

“Dad—Daddd!”

“Lux!” My father, who spends his downtime watching old sitcoms, pops up from his seat. One might think living at home with their father at age twenty-three is pathetic, but I also own a failing floral shop, so there’s that.

Standing before me, my father is a solid five-foot-five, and I’m an inch shy of five feet. What am I doing? Neither of us are a match for the madman in my room.

Descending the steps, Victor grits out, “Luxury, listen to every word I tell you.”

Disappointed, Dad removes his prescription glasses. “Luxury, we have an agreement. If you’re inviting company—”

Curly hair dashes in my face in a quick decline.

Victor gives a nonchalant chin jut. “I came through the front door. You were amused by the telly.”

Further enraged, Dad exclaims, “Dr. Finch, I’m calling the po—”

A bullet blazes through the window. Cold dread zaps through my veins as glass skitters across the floor. Bits of brick break off the wall, inches from Dad’s head.

Eardrums ringing, I find my body crushed beneath the steel of Victor’s dominating frame.

“Get down, Dr. Whitson!” he commands.

My father conceals himself behind his La-Z-Boy. “What the heck?”

A stream of blood drips from his ear. My eyes glide from the look of fear one never expects to see in their own father’s to searching the dark blue depths of Victor’s eyes. “I have to check on—”

“No, no, I’m fine, honey,” Dad reassures, bewildered.

“That sniper’s here for you, Whitson.” Victor’s calm tone, which once made me mad, frustrated, even euphoric during sex, envelops me now. “Lux, I saved your life tonight.”

My life?

Victor’s mouth lowers, devouring my worries.

A stunned silence falls over me, and more glass showers over us. Victor captures my bottom lip in his mouth, tugging softly, and his tongue swipes over the agonized flesh. Once I’m a mess of moaning need, fire lights in Victor’s voice. “Lux, right now, I need you to be that cheeky, confident young woman I first met. No fear.”

1

VICTOR TUDOR

THIRTY-THREE DAYS BEFORE . . .

“Three-thousand nine hundred and fifty-two meters of bloody fucking perfection,” I murmur. With a keen gaze, I stare the lengthy distance through the scope of my rifle. Approximately two and a half miles away, a man’s enjoying libations with a few members of his militia. He’s dead and doesn’t even know it. The blistering Arabian sun pours down over me as I lie on my stomach on top of a clay building at a higher vantage point. A white towel covers my head to deflect the heat, and beige tactical gear camouflages me from head to toe.

Amongst the hubbub of cars, bikes, and pedestrians, the dead man raises a bottle in a toast. I’m aware of the precise second the blood in his veins will stop pumping. Although the wanker will never know he’s on the receiving end of my three thousand, nine hundred and fifty-two meters. A bloody fucking world record. A phenomenon I’ll not boast about either because this is what I live for.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >71

Advertisement
Possessive Royal (Duke of Tudor #2) Read Online Amarie Avant http://www.ilovenovels.com/possessive-royal-duke-of-tudor-2-read-online-amarie-avant Sun, 09 Oct 2022 12:19:24 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/possessive-royal-duke-of-tudor-2-read-online-amarie-avant Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Authors: Amarie Avant Series: Duke of Tudor Series by Amarie Avant
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >79

Our first encounter, ended with me hot and bothered.
Our first date, I wouldn’t wish on my worst of enemies.
That is until the ruthless beast tempted me with a side of Victor I never saw.
On day twenty-eight, I broke the compulsion and my heart. Victor Tudor simply doesn’t have a heart.
And I thought he was gone for good. But Victor groveled. I conceded. The process repeats.
He tastes like power, sin, and an unbreakable addiction.
While I’ve become Victor’s to possess, I can’t help the finagling feeling that I can’t have Victor Tudor, the man himself.
***
On our first encounter, I bloody saved the beauty, or so I thought.
The cheeky Luxury Whitson said she needed no savior.
And while my greatest trait is taking lives, she brought out a side of me I never knew.
I decline my next mark—who I soon learned is her father.
I revived her.
She still hates me, even after I’ve concede to a new challenge–keep both Whitson’s safe, and tame Luxury.
Luxury tastes of innocence, honey, and pure rain.
While I’m captivated with her, I can’t bloody have her. I’m not just an assassin, I’m a Royal. Duty bound to my Queen.

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

PROLOGUE

Victor

Arlington, England

Present

* * *

My fist beats against the towering doors of the stone-walled estate. The flesh of my callused knuckles pulls back. With each hit, I leave a bloody trail.

The door cracks open, and I set my sights on Lake Russell, the pasty wanker, dressed in boxers and a white undershirt. Sleepy eyelids peel open.

“Victor, it’s not yet five in the morning. Why—”

My fist slams into his right eye. Lake stumbles on his toes. A wall assists the tosser in gathering his bearings.

“Ars-Arsehole!” Lake stammers. “I’m telling your grandmum!”

“You’ve given yourself too much credit. You’ll not survive this.” The power punch to Lake’s flat stomach shuts him down. Shoving up the sleeves of my blazer, I plant my legs wide. My large thigh muscles press against the confines of bespoke pants. I grab Lake’s collar with my left hand, crunching his nasal bone with the right.

I revel in carnage.

“Every tender word, every affectionate caress. All hinged on a lie.” Luxury had said those words in a subdued, bloody palpable tone. The devastation I caused her hadn’t moved me in that moment.

Now, adrenaline pumps a heart I long ago assumed had stopped ticking.

Fury fueled by the instances Lake flirted with Luxury.

His eyes loll.

Those fucking eyes locked onto my lady.

Desired what belonged to me. Belongs to me.

I come alive.

Knuckles wash in the heat of his blood.

Pounding Lake’s mouth, eyes, and chin, my brain only registers one stream of thought.

I woke in the bed I shared with my Little One—and that bed was void of her presence.

This here wanka abetted Luxury.

Helped her leave.

I’m a relentless, possessive bloke. After he’s dead, I will scour the ends of the earth and return my lady to her rightful place—at my side. And I’ll stop breaking her lovely heart.

1

Luxury

Early November

Cool air stroked my heated flesh as my ass rested against the side of a bench in Central Park. Victor stole the space between my thighs. A mouth created for sin crashed into mine. Depraved lips swept over mine while a single finger pumped my core, and a thumb toyed dangerously with my clit.

“Vic!” I teetered on the brink of agony.

A stunned silence fell over me as Victor licked his finger. “Tastes like you were on the verge of cumming.”

My fists curled around the lapels of his blazer, and I released a declaration that I felt in my soul—one I’d never in a million years contemplate vowing. “Fuck me, or I’ll murder you, Victor.”

A vicious mouth concealed my threat. Victor unzipped his pants, threw my thigh over his shoulder, and shoved aside my thong. In one agonizing sweep, he’d rammed into the depths of my pussy. Victor moved us away from the bench, fucking me roughly. Victor’s arms flexed, pumping me up and down. I glanced over at a dark, covered bridge and a stand of trees obscuring the street. I groaned, “This is soooo bad. We’re screwing in the park.”

“Are you . . .” A voice tugs me out of a sultry nightmare. Seven whole days ago, my knight in shining armor transformed into Satan right before my eyes.

Hellllll no. “I’m okay.” I’m not.

I nail the perfect smile while glancing up at Brick, the more outspoken of the private security team hired for my father’s protection and subsequently my own. By way of outspoken, he actually says a few words—occasionally.

With an understated nod, Brick pauses at the door to my father’s hospital room, taking in the area in one quick sweep. The other guy on his team, a guy whose red hair makes my copper curls look more like a dull brown, removes himself from the chair near the door. Dad is seated in his wheelchair, placing items into an overnight bag.

Conquered by the past, my gander flickers toward the glass wall lining the corridor. Down below is a playground for the families of patients. Sheesh, laughing kids are playing tag. How was that triggering, Luxxie, c’mon.

“Worthless,” Dad hisses as the redheaded bodyguard assigned to him slips out of the room.

“They can hear you,” I grit, pulling the door flush behind me.

“Are you positive he’s not deaf?”

I stalk over to my father’s wheelchair, planting myself in front of the tiny wraith. “Ah, I see. He wasn’t a sounding board for any of your medical drivel?”

At his lack of response, I snort. “Hmmm, I’ll take your silence and that frowny face as a yes; your bodyguard lacked interest.” I focus all my attention on happiness for his sake. “Dad, after seven solid days of mushy-ass hospital food, are you ready to count your blessings?”

Pulling off wire-rimmed glasses, Dad looks around the cream walls of the sterile room. “Shit, you have a point there, Lux. If I could get up and run, I would.”

I let off a practiced chuckle, heart lacking the follow-through. Luckily, Dad’s too busy carting himself around in his wheelchair, searching for missing reading material. I throw away a few pots of dead floral arrangements from Dad’s employer, Greco Technologies. I pick up the Rubik’s Cube his ex-best friend, Uncle Red, brought. The colorful puzzle had gotten pushed behind larger bouquets and cards.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >79

Advertisement
Redeemed Royal (Duke of Tudor #3) Read Online Amarie Avant http://www.ilovenovels.com/redeemed-royal-duke-of-tudor-3-read-online-amarie-avant-2 Sun, 09 Oct 2022 12:19:22 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/redeemed-royal-duke-of-tudor-3-read-online-amarie-avant-2 Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Authors: Amarie Avant Series: Duke of Tudor Series by Amarie Avant
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >67

There is no greater fear than the loss of love.
I’ve buried the woman I once wanted to spend my life with.
Lost the son that I should be teaching to play rugby now.
To lose Luxury Whitson is a pain worse than death.
As a duke and a billionaire, I’ve always gotten what I wanted.
She was always meant to be mine.
Mine to own.
Now, all I own are my bloody tears, and I’m not ready to let those fall yet.

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

PROLOGUE

Victor

Arlington, England

Blood dries along the jagged scars, tightening the torn flesh across my knuckles. With my fists tightened around the steering wheel, I look to Burt, who’s kept mum in the passenger seat.

Though, he knew it.

Bloody hell, I knew it, too.

My woman hadn’t disappeared in the middle of the night . . . not for a wanker like Lake Russell.

“Victor, I offered to drive.” Burt’s hesitant tone rouses me out of my musing.

I glare through the gloomy window at the Give Way sign. Bloody hell, I’m stalled at the fork in the road, too consumed with yesterday. I damn well swear the woman who birthed me should’ve received my wrath and not Lake Russell.

“Are we commencing a pity party, Victor?”

I nudge my chin to a vehicle off in the distance. Even if I were playing immortal, there would be ample time to cross. “Yes, a bloody pity party is in order. Find me a new organization like X?”

Finally, I veer across the lane and start up the slope, which leads to the home I’ve come to abhor for many reasons.

“I’ll have to decline,” Burt snips.

“Old chap,” I chuckle contritely, “you’re not in the position to decline. It is I who employ you.”

“And we’ve had this conversation multiple times, Victor. You’ve overcompensated me over the years, signifying I’ve the means to leave when I please. Now, I’m not in the mood to enable you. We must call Luxury.”

The wheels scream, sweeping across wet asphalt. Hardly able to repress the destruction unleashed in my soul, I shout, “Is it not apparent to you, Burt the Butler, that she . . . she left! After cock-up after cock-up on my part, the woman I once referred to as Mother ran Luxury off last night!”

“Rubbish,” he mutters. “No, I’ve more to say. Luxury is with chi—”

“I’ve had it with the ‘I’ve a question,’ or ‘I’ve more to say.’ ” I glare at Arlington Manor as it comes into view.

“Very well. I’ll say everything on my mind, starting from the top.”

I come to an abrupt stop in front of my home and climb out of the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind me. The rebuff hasn’t stopped my butler from stomping out of the vehicle to list off his grievances.

“Yes, it’s all gone pear-shaped, Victor. Nevertheless, you’ve become this beastly, infantile, compulsive—”

“Compulsive?” Halfway to the front steps, I spin around to attack him verbally. “I’ve not gone after Lux, have I? Compulsive, my arse! I’m giving her time to deal—after all I’ve done—all the mayhem Princess Mary has initiated.”

As I grit out my mother’s name, her horrible schemes charge the forefront of my mind. As Her Royal Highness swore Madeline and I were engaged, I declared my love for another woman. The entire duchy witnessed the bloody profession—everyone—except the young lady I literally love.

“Luxury,” Burt stammers, “Luxury is—”

The vibration of my cellular from the pocket of my blazer causes Burt to stop speaking. Truth be told, any time he utters my lady’s name, I am seconds away from finding her.

She’s in New York, obviously.

Is she at her friend’s place, or has she returned to the home she shared with her father?

Shite! I’d forgotten all about Dr. Jonah Whitson. Before answering the ringer, I order Burt, “Find Luxury. Update me, please.”

Sight unseen, I answer on the last ring. “‘ello!”

Kaboom!

Suddenly my two-hundred-pound, all muscle frame soars back as the earth shakes.

I hear a constant ringing in my ears as I’m blown back on my arse. Burt lands a few yards away, face bewildered and suit caked with soot. His leg twists at a ghastly angle.

As debris flies around us, my mind is a rush of vivid images of Luxury. My phone, still clutched in my fist, buzzes again. My previous answer must’ve detonated the explosion wreaking havoc before my eyes—one not intended to kill me but to prompt my attention.

I answer with a growl. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Ah, well, hello, Victor Tudor. Have I finally gotten your attention, friend?”

Older male. Possibly seventies.

Farsi . . . no Arabic. “Who the bloody fuck are you, mate?”

“Al Rafi.”

Blooooody . . . Fuck.

My eyes close as my worst nightmare comes to fruition. He cannot have Luxury. There’s no way. She’s in New York.

She is in New—

“Those little fireworks. Did they cool you down from your current search?”

A liquid-like substance, I haven't felt stream down my face in forever, burns my eyes. “Luxury belongs to me!”

“At one time, I would be inclined to agree. But my hands are tingling as I patiently wait for my newest piece of propert—”

“Property?” I snarl. Every obscenity detonates in my head. However, no matter the promises I made to Luxury, the way this morning has transpired, I've molded back into the conniving bloke who handles his shite.

“You see, I thought to myself. I invited this man to my country. Though, I did not know you were a mutual billionaire, as your association with X-Member offered anonymity. Still, I gave you money to complete an assignment,” Al Rafi pauses, “and you helped yourself to what wasn’t yours. My innocent child!”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >67