Quiet Love Series by L.H. Cosway – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Quiet Love Series by L.H. Cosway – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Thu, 01 May 2025 18:18:11 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Quiet Love Series by L.H. Cosway – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Quiet Yours (Quiet Love #3) Read Online L.H. Cosway http://www.ilovenovels.com/quiet-yours-quiet-love-3-read-online-l-h-cosway Thu, 01 May 2025 18:18:11 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/quiet-yours-quiet-love-3-read-online-l-h-cosway Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Contemporary Authors: L.H. Cosway Series: Quiet Love Series by L.H. Cosway
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)

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Ada Rose never expected to find herself homeless in her thirties. Then again, she also never thought she’d encounter a man as heartless as Jonathan Oaks. Her job managing a care home for the elderly is a struggle and the sudden death of her father and stepmother—who she had been living with— has thrown her world into disarray. The house is left to Jonathan, her stepmother’s estranged son, and he wants Ada gone ASAP.

In fact, he’s given her a week to pack her things and move out.

As a resident in the home, Ada knows she has certain rights but her pride gets the better of her. If Jonathan wants her gone then she’ll go, and finding herself out of options, resorts to sleeping in her car. But she’s a survivor and has gotten through a lot worse.

After a week and still finding no apartments in her price range, Ada is getting desperate. She receives a call from Jonathan requesting she come collect some of her late father’s belongings. She doesn’t expect him to be there when she drops by, and after he takes one look at Ada’s possessions stuffed into her car she’s filled with a sense of shame. Resentment, too, because he’s the very reason her life has been upended.

Being a wealthy investment banker, Ada anticipates Jonathan’s disdain for her situation but it never comes. Instead he mentions a vacant apartment he owns and offers to rent it to her for a reasonable price. Not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, Ada accepts his offer. But what she doesn’t realise is that the apartment is right next door to Jonathan’s, and becoming his neighbour means getting to know him a whole lot better.

Quietly Yours is book #3 in L.H. Cosway's Quiet Love Series and can be read as a standalone

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

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

– The Old Astronomer to his Pupil, Sarah Williams.

1.

Ada

I didn’t expect a painting on the wall of an investment firm to make me feel so overwrought. Just looking at it had tears trickling down my cheeks.

I was normally very self-composed in public places, but I was still reeling from the news of my father and stepmother’s passing. Grief had me acting out of character. Sniffling, I pulled a tissue from my bag and dabbed at the wetness beneath my eyes.

The painting wasn’t anything like the sterile, abstract images you normally saw in places like this. Meaning practically radiated from the canvas. It could’ve been the setting from Wuthering Heights, a vast and moody landscape depicting a rolling countryside akin to the Yorkshire Dales. It made me remember Dad so keenly.

He was a voracious reader and used to say I was made to be a heroine in an Emily Brontë novel, while my sister, Frances, stepped right out of the pages of Jane Austen.

When we were children, the comparison irked me. Why was I the one who ran across the Moors in bare, muddy feet and knotted hair destined for a miserable ending while Frances sat in elegant parlours having tea, taking turns about the room while dancing joyously towards her happily ever after?

It was only years later I truly understood what Dad meant, how well he saw me back when I was too young to truly see myself. I was a Brontë character through and through, prone to bouts of emotion, my personality stubborn and my looks intense, mainly due to my untameable mop of brown hair and my dark, bottomless eyes.

My dad and I had been through our share of issues, but in the end, he was the person who knew me best, probably because we were alike in many ways. And now, he was gone. It felt like thorns were cinching around my heart, pricking the tender organ and squeezing tighter and tighter until I couldn’t stand the pain.

Up until two days ago, I’d been fine—albeit—working long hours managing a care home for the elderly and living in my dad and stepmother’s spare bedroom. In exchange for low rent, I kept the house clean, did all the grocery shopping and tended to the garden. It was hard work, but it was a good deal, especially considering I didn’t want to live on my own. I’d always hated being in an empty house or apartment. I needed the comfort of knowing someone else was nearby doing their own thing. Someone who would hear me cry out if there was an emergency, for instance.

With Dad and Leonora gone, I was no longer fine. The house was disturbingly quiet without them, and it heightened my grief while also exacerbating my phobia of living alone.

Over the years, I’d become a fearful person in certain ways, and I wondered if I hadn’t been bestowed the fate I had, if my accident had never occurred, would I be better equipped to survive alone? Would I be able to sleep alone in a house without worrying about the worst happening?

“Miss Rose?” the receptionist called, breaking me from my inner turmoil.

I glanced up, hoping she was about to tell me Mr Oaks was at long last ready to see me. I’d been waiting for over an hour, and my leg was beginning to cramp. Not to mention I felt incredibly out of place in the waiting area of the shiny corporate office building that belonged to my stepmother’s estranged son. I’d tried getting hold of him over the phone all day yesterday but was informed he was unavailable. I hadn’t wanted to come in person, but he needed to know what had happened to our parents.

He needed to know his mother was gone.

Emotion welled in my throat once again.

Two nights ago, I’d received a call from an official in Thailand. The worst call of my life. My father and stepmother had been there on holiday and embarked on a private boat tour when a storm had hit. The boat had capsized, and everyone on board had perished, except for the tour guide, who was in serious condition in hospital. Honestly, I felt like I was in a waking nightmare. It was the sort of thing that happened in movies, not real life. I was in a state of shock, but arrangements needed to be made, and I was the only one around to make them. Those arrangements included informing Jonathan of his mother’s passing.

I’d seen countless photos of him that my stepmother, Leonora, kept around the house. Through those pictures, I’d observed his evolution from an adorable little boy to a slightly gangly teenager and finally to a handsome grown man with a stern, serious sort of face. The adult pictures were well over a decade old so who knew how he’d changed since. Most likely, he’d become sterner and even more serious, if his mother’s description was anything to go by. We’d never met in person. I was pretty sure Jonathan didn’t even know I existed. He hadn’t been a part of his mother’s life for a long time, which was something I could never get my head around.

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Quiet Longing (Quiet Love #2) Read Online L.H. Cosway http://www.ilovenovels.com/quiet-longing-quiet-love-2-read-online-l-h-cosway Wed, 30 Oct 2024 13:04:06 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/quiet-longing-quiet-love-2-read-online-l-h-cosway Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic Authors: L.H. Cosway Series: Quiet Love Series by L.H. Cosway
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Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)

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When she agreed to spend her last summer before college at her cousins’ house in Ireland, Charli Moretti never expected to meet anyone like Rhys Doyle. He was the first boy to ever make her heart flutter, and though their lives followed different paths after that fateful summer, she always remembered him as her first everything.

Sixteen years later, after a tumultuous divorce from her abusive husband, Charli is returning to Ireland a shell of the woman she once was. Life has tried to break her many times over, and now all she wants is a fresh start and an even keel. She’ll be working as an accountant at her uncle’s hotel, but what she doesn’t know is that Rhys Doyle works there, too. He’s the head of security, in fact, and he’s no longer the teenage boy she once knew.

With the rumours flying around that he and his fiancée just broke off their engagement, Charli decides it’s best to give Rhys his space. She knows personally how hard it can be when a relationship ends. The problem is, she can’t seem to stop running into him, and the more she gets to know the man he’s become the more those old feelings start to return.

Tropes &
~Second chance~
~Workplace romance~
~Protector hero~
~Summer fling~
~Tragic past~
~Starting over~

Quiet Longing is book #2 in The Quiet Love Series and can be read as a standalone.

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

Part One:

The Past

1.

Charli

Sixteen years ago.

I was nervous.

Not surprising since it was my first time away from home. It was also my first time stepping foot in another country. I was completely out of my element, had never even been on an airplane before, and was flying solo.

I gripped the straps of my backpack while waiting for my suitcase to appear on the carousel at Dublin Airport. It was late evening, and my flight from Boston had just arrived. I was spending the summer with my cousin, Nuala (pronounced Noo-la), at my aunt and uncle’s house.

Uncle Padraig (pronounced Pod-rig) was my mom’s brother and the big success of the family. He’d made his fortune by becoming the owner of two five-star hotels in Dublin. One was in the city while the other was closer to their family home on the coast.

Sadly, I wasn’t going to be staying at either hotel, but I would be working in one of them. My uncle had invited me to visit before I started college in the fall. He’d meant it to be a vacation, but Mom had refused to let me go unless I paid my way. So, I was going to be working as a kitchen porter, which I guessed was similar to a busboy. Still, I only had to work part-time. The rest of my time would be my own, and I was eager to explore and experience the country where my mom grew up.

I was also excited to spend time with my relatives.

My cousin, Nuala, was supposed to be meeting me at the airport. I hadn’t seen her or her brothers, Tristan and Derek, since they were little. The whole family used to visit the States when we were kids, but then Mom fought with Uncle Padraig, and things turned frosty between the families after that. They only started to thaw about two years ago when my father passed away and Uncle Padraig reached out to Mom.

Anyway, I was pretty sure this trip was his way of mending whatever bridges had been broken between them. Mom never told me what they’d argued over, but I had a suspicion it was about money. Padraig probably offered some to Mom since we were always struggling, and she was too proud and mulish to accept.

At long last, after most of the other passengers on my flight had collected their luggage, my suitcase appeared. I grabbed it hastily, made a quick trip to the bathroom then walked to Arrivals, hoping my cousin was there already, and I wouldn’t have to hang around waiting.

Nuala was seventeen, a year younger than me. Her brother Derek was the eldest at nineteen, and Tristan was also seventeen since he and Nuala were twins. I remembered her as this gorgeous, blonde, freckle-faced eight-year-old with long, willowy limbs and brown doe eyes. I’d been her opposite with my dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and chubby cheeks. Even now, I was still a little chubby. I’d always been self-conscious about it despite my attempts to love myself no matter what I looked like.

It didn’t help that Mom prided herself on being rail thin without ever really having to try. I took more after my dad’s side of the family, the Italian side, and like them, I’d always been a big foodie. I loved fast food, convenience food, healthy food, luxury food. You named it; I was probably going to eat it. I liked to think of myself as a sensualist in that respect, though really, I just loved to eat.

Nuala and I had connected over email a few weeks ago. I told her a bit about my life: just finished high school; headed to college to study Business and Accounting in the fall; no boyfriend; two close BFFs, Lydia and Gwyn. And she’d filled me in on hers: about to start senior year of what they called secondary school at the end of summer; also no boyfriend (or girlfriend); a small group of friends, but no one she’d consider a BFF.

I felt a little sorry for her hearing the last part, but who was I to judge? Maybe not everybody needed a best friend.

We’d exchanged pictures so I knew what she looked like all grown up. She was still blonde and willowy; only now, she could add ethereally beautiful to the list.

I spotted her right away. She wore a pale yellow sun dress paired with a white cotton wrap, ankle boots, and tortoiseshell glasses. She looked fresh and glorious while I felt like death warmed over after the long flight.

I’d been stuck sitting between a couple who at first wanted me to switch seats with them so they could sit together then proceeded to get into an argument and wanted to switch back again. I obliged them both times, mainly because I wasn’t an experienced flier and didn’t have the confidence to say no. Then the person sitting in front of me decided to put their seat back while I was leaning forward to take a sip from my water bottle, causing my head to bump harshly against the seat.

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Quiet Types (Quiet Love #1) Read Online L.H. Cosway http://www.ilovenovels.com/quiet-types-quiet-love-1-read-online-l-h-cosway Sat, 11 May 2024 14:57:10 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/quiet-types-quiet-love-1-read-online-l-h-cosway Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary Authors: L.H. Cosway Series: Quiet Love Series by L.H. Cosway
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Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 111775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)

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Maggie Lydon rides the bus to her cleaning job every day. It’s an ordinary existence until she notices him sitting just two rows behind her. She doesn’t know his name, nor anything about him. All she knows is that he watches her and it’s the most exciting part of her week.

Shay Riordan notices her the very first time he takes the bus. She’s captivating, a beauty who moves through the world like no one else can see her, but she’s far from invisible to him. He wants to sit next to her, introduce himself, but it’s hard to do when you can’t speak.

Then, late one Friday evening they both board the bus, and an unexpected occurrence plunges Maggie into Shay’s world, and Shay into Maggie’s.

Quiet Types is a standalone contemporary romance and is book #1 in L.H. Cosway’s Quiet Love Series.

Tropes & Themes
~Strangers to lovers~
~Mute hero~
~Maid heroine~
~Introvert~
~He protects her~

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

“We sit and talk,

quietly, with long lapses of silence

and I am aware of the stream

that has no language, coursing

beneath the quiet heaven of

your eyes

― William Carlos Williams, Paterson.

1.

Maggie

Anyone who’s lived in a busy city has, at one time or another, witnessed someone walking down the street crying their eyes out.

I saw them frequently, these poor strangers, often while I stared out the window of the bus I took to work each day. I’d wonder what had happened to cause such a public display of emotion, walking the streets with stress and grief written all over their faces. I wanted to ask them what went wrong because I sympathised with them, but I didn’t truly understand their plight until I was the person crying as I walked down the street.

I needed to clean myself up before I reached the bus stop; otherwise, he might notice. The man I saw each day, who I thought about often. He was a stranger I knew nothing about, a stranger who always watched me. I didn’t want him to think I was a blubbering mess who let her boss drive her to tears, but that was exactly what I was.

Normally, I could tolerate Mrs Reynolds’ meanness, letting her cruel and stinging words wash right over me, but today was different. Today, those words managed to penetrate my armour.

I cleaned houses for a living, and I liked most of my clients well enough, but she was a different story. By all accounts, Mrs Reynolds had the perfect life: a successful husband, three healthy children, and a large house on Shrewsbury Road, one of the wealthiest neighbourhoods in Dublin.

Despite all this, she still found it necessary to make life harder for the woman who kept her home spotless. That woman being me, Maggie Lydon, the thirty-one-year-old who lived alone in a studio flat and whose picture would never grace the society pages of glossy magazines or news websites like Sariah Reynolds’ picture did.

I was nobody, a scraping-by quiet type who didn’t bother anyone and didn’t blame others for my minuscule lot in life. But that didn’t matter to Mrs Reynolds.

It hadn’t always been this way with her. The first few weeks I worked for her, she was reserved but polite towards me. Then slowly over time, her mask came off, and the needling set in. Her criticisms were never personal, at least. They were always about my performance as her cleaner, but because none of my other clients complained as she did I soon realised I wasn’t the problem. No matter who cleaned her house, Mrs Reynolds would find a way to criticize that person, even if they were nothing but a loyal, conscientious worker for her. Sometimes, I’d wonder why she was like that, but perhaps the answer to that question was simple.

She enjoyed the power.

She found things to critique about the way I cleaned—like spots of non-existent dust I missed or how the end of the toilet rolls I folded weren’t quite sharp and pointy enough. How the couch was a millimetre off when I pushed it back in after pulling it out to vacuum behind it.

I’d come to consider her commentary part and parcel of the job. Mrs Reynolds liked to complain, and I was more than certain she found a perverse sort of release in laying those complaints at my doorstep. I tolerated her because not everyone was lucky enough to have a nice boss. And besides, I didn’t have to deal with her every day because I only cleaned for her once a week.

I used to work for an agency but made the change to self-employed a few years back. It was better in a way because I got to set my own schedule and not work such gruelling hours for less pay, but it also meant I had to keep the people I worked for happy. I no longer had an agency to find me a new gig if someone decided to drop me.

As established, Mrs Reynolds was the toughest client to keep happy. Normally, I was very good at persevering through her tirades. I’d mastered the art of stoicism, taking her passive aggressiveness on the chin, but today was more than I could handle.

I was in the kitchen, kneeling on the floor as I cleaned the oven, when I heard her arrive home with the kids. She had twin ten-year-old boys, Tadhg and Ben, and a seven-year-old girl named Marla. I didn’t interact with the children much, and they typically ignored me, which was fine, but today, I’d neglected to put enough kitchen roll on the floor to catch the brown, watery liquid that dripped from the oven as I cleaned it. I hadn’t expected anyone to come into the kitchen, but then one of the twins appeared and stepped in some of the oven juice.

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