Savages Series by Jessica Gadziala – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Savages Series by Jessica Gadziala – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sat, 16 Jul 2016 13:57:33 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Savages Series by Jessica Gadziala – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Savior Read Online Free Books Jessica Gadziala (Savages #3) http://www.ilovenovels.com/savior-3-read-online-jessica-gadziala Sat, 16 Jul 2016 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/savior-3-read-online-jessica-gadziala Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Biker, Erotic, MC, Romance, Suspense Authors: Jessica Gadziala Series: Savages Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 87756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Savior (Savages #3)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Jessica Gadziala
Language:	English
Book Information:
Elsie has a problem. She has a mystery she is bent on solving, a mystery that led her to run for her life down the streets of Navesink Bank until she found herself rescued by a sexy stranger. Paine has a past. He’s done everything in his power to move on from it, to distance himself from the things he has done. But then one night he finds himself saving a woman whose naive dabbling in matters she doesn’t understand threatens to drag him right back into the world he had done unspeakable things to escape from in the first place… * This is a stand-alone with an HEA, but features secondary characters from "Monster" and "Killer".
Books in Series:	Savages Series by Jessica Gadziala
Books by Author:	Jessica Gadziala Books

One

Elsie

Thank God for charity 5ks and the heavy layer of guilt people slathered on to get you to agree to do such a thing in the first place.

Those were thoughts I never thought I would think. See, I hated running. I hated running the way most people hated clowns. Meaning with a fiery passion. People who thought sweating through their makeup and clothes and chafing in unmentionable areas would be a jolly good time were seriously whacked.

That being said, thank God for all those pre-dawn mornings I was dragged out of bed to train before my mind was awake enough to object to the absurdity of it all. After all, anyone with a fully functioning brain would know sleep was much more preferable to going out in the freezing cold and running along the empty streets.

Because, well, that training was paying off.

In the way that I was running for my life. Sort-of. I was pretty sure anyway. See, I was being chased by two men. Now perhaps all they wanted was to tell me I had a pretty smile. But I seriously doubted it seeing as A- I didn't smile at them and B- they just caught me snooping around some kind of warehouse they were obviously in charge of protecting and C- men didn't chase you down street after street to compliment you. So yeah, I was sticking with the 'running for my life' idea.

My lungs were burning no matter how much I tried to control my breathing and my leg muscles were screaming in objection. And, well, running in jeans wasn't fun. Then there were my feet. Ballet flats were cute and all, but they weren't meant for running and the ones I was wearing had been rubbing at the backs of my heels well before the running started. I half-expected to, when I took them off later, assuming I lived, that there would be some nice cuts that would ensure there would be nothing I could put on my feet for a week that wouldn't hurt except for flip flops. It was January.

But, if I got out of this, I figured cold feet were a relatively small price to pay.

Behind me, the guys were keeping pace, but not gaining on me. I said a silent 'thank you' to my dead mother for the long legs I inherited from her.

I was out of the slums. Crap. 'Slum' was probably not the P.C. way to phrase it. But every other word that came to mind seemed even worse: projects, ghetto. Okay. I was sticking with slum. It was a slum, meaning it was a really really crummy part of town that there was no way that I should have been in at twelve o'clock at night, alone, ever. But I had my reasons. I had to be there. I had to see if I could figure out what happened...

"Give it up, Barbie, you ain't getting away!" one of them called behind me, annoyingly in control of his breath. I'd caught one good glance of him before I started running and didn't look back. He was the kind of built that came from endless hours in a gym and a very likely heavy use of steroids. He put my thrice-weekly normal workouts and my once weekly hot yoga classes to shame.

The road split ahead and I heard one tell the other to go up some other street to head me off. I needed to lose the guy behind me. Even if it was just for a couple seconds, a couple seconds to find a place to dip into and hide, call the cops, call my father, call someone.

When I heard only one set of feet behind me and, judging by the huffing, it was not the gym rat, I threw everything I had into it and sprang forward, turning the corner with every bit of strength and determination I had in me.

I had just barely made it around the corner when I found myself snagged around the waist. A hand clamped down over my mouth as the arm around my waist held tight and hauled me off my feet, pulling me backward and inside some building.

I felt hysteria flood my system, making me flail out wildly, having no clue what I was actually doing, but knowing I needed to do something.

"Shh," a voice hissed into my ear as I was pulled deeper into the store.

I was pretty sure quiet wasn't something I should be either. I was pretty sure I was supposed to scream. But seeing as there was a very strong hand across my mouth, that was pointless anyway.

"How many of them are there?" the voice asked and I noticed two things at once: it was a very nice voice, smooth, sexy and it was not the voice of one of the guys who had been following me for the past ten or fifteen minutes. I made some kind of noise, muffled by the gag. "Don't scream. You scream, babygirl, and they'll find you. Got it?"

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Monster Read Online Book Jessica Gadziala (Savages #1) http://www.ilovenovels.com/monster-1-read-online-jessica-gadziala Sun, 22 May 2016 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/monster-1-read-online-jessica-gadziala Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Romance, Suspense Authors: Jessica Gadziala Series: Savages Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 82824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Monster (Savages #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Jessica Gadziala
Language:	English
Book Information:
Alex has had one mission since she was sixteen: destroy the man who destroyed her life. And all was going to plan until one night, a huge mammoth of a man breaks into her apartment and kidnaps her, holding her hostage for the very man she was bent on bringing down. Breaker has one rule: he doesn't deal in women. But when he's conned into a job for the city's most ruthless crime lord, he finds himself in charge of a fiery-tempered hacker who he can't seem to keep his hands off of. When passions ignite and feelings emerge, will Breaker be able to reconcile his loyalties before it is too late or will their shaky foundation of trust start crumbling beneath their feet?
Books in Series:	Savages Series by Jessica Gadziala
Books by Author:	Jessica Gadziala Books

One

Breaker

I'm not a fuckin' monster.

Though I am pretty sure you could find at least three dozen people who would disagree with me on that.

You see... my name is Breaker. Partly because it's my last name. And partly because that's that I do. I break people. People who need to be taught a lesson. People who need to be bent to someone's will. People who pissed off the wrong men.

I break them.

And then I get paid for it. Well.

I'd like to say it bothered me. That I had a moral compass that fought against always pointing south. Fact of the matter is, I couldn't give a fuck. You don't want your kneecaps broken or your teeth knocked out, then don't stick your nose in the kind of business where that's a possibility.

I guess that makes me a heartless son of a bitch.

But, coming where I came from, yeah there really wasn't much of a chance of being anything else.

I charged back up the stairs and paced around the warehouse. Long abandoned by the the railway back in the eighties. Three stories of red brick, mostly broken windows with the train doors long sealed shut.

“Fuck,” I growled, wearing out the leaf-covered cement floor, kicking a green beer bottle and watching it crash against the far wall.

You see... I had rules.

I'd fuck up any man who crossed my path. Any man I got paid well enough to rip open. To beat down. To silence forever when the occasion called for it.

I didn't mess with families.

I'd bust your face in, but no way I'd take your kids to scare you into doing what someone wants. That wasn't how I operated. There were plenty of sick fucks out there who'd do that. For half what I charge. But that was somewhere I drew a line.

And I did not, under any circumstances, deal in women.

I didn't kidnap them.

I didn't hold them hostage.

I damn sure never put my hands on them.

See, the problem was, I had a woman one flight below me locked inside an old gutted train car.

A woman I kidnapped.

A woman I was holding hostage.

A woman I could be commanded to put my hands on at any time.

And I didn't have much of a fuckin' option either.

God damn mother fucking Lex, man.

Shoulda turned and ran the other way when I saw it was him who had summoned me. I knew better than to get involved with that evil bastard. Made a name for himself by spilling as much blood as necessary to ensure no one dared to think of him as the skinny, sniveling gutter rat he had always been. Unfortunately for all of his enemies, he was a smart fuck. It took him under five years to completely take over the streets. If there was illegal activity going on, your organization best be cutting him in or he'd be sending men after you.

Men like me.

I had successfully avoided dealing with Lex from the day I went into business. Mostly because I was always moving around, taking whatever job came at me no matter how far away it was. But also because I tried to stay under his radar. Stay anonymous. Stay out from underneath his thumb.

But that all came crashing down when I walked into that damn alley a week before and saw him leaning against a building, lighting a cigarette, looking like some nineteen-thirties wise guy in a trench coat and shiny black dress shoes.

I should have run.

But, in the end, I couldn't.

“Breaker, Breaker,” he started, his voice oily, “we meet at last.”

“Yeah, this ain't gonna work,” I said, shaking my head, moving back toward the mouth of the alley.

“Oh, but I have something of yours.”

I felt my spine straighten, my body frozen.

No.

There was only one thing in the world that meant anything to me.

And if he had him...

“You fuckin' serious?” I asked, my voice ice as I turned back to him, my hands curled into fists, every inch of my body tight. I wasn't hot. My anger never ran toward red. It was cold. It was frigid. Lethal.

“I'll give him back to you without a scratch,” he said, blowing smoke around himself, “if you take this job.”

There really was no choice.

“What's the job?”

“I need you to find, pick up, and hold onto someone for me.”

As far as jobs went, it was tame.

“Who?” I asked, mentally figuring it was one of the heads of the families or some dealer who forgot to cut him in.

“Alex Miller.”

“Who the fuck is Alex Miller?” I asked, knowing there was no player in town with anything close to that kind of name. No, it was all about the street names. Alex Miller sounded as government as possible.

“Someone I need to have a conversation with. Has thus far eluded my men. So I figured I would call in some outside help.”

“Lucky fuckin' me,” I said, shaking my head.

Lex shrugged a shoulder, reaching into his pocket and handing me a piece of paper. “That's the address. Middle of the night is probably best. And, not to tell you how to do your job, but you're gonna want to be fast. Shit apartment above some shit Chinese restaurant, but it's got all kinds of makeshift security.”

Great.

Makeshift security.

“And for this, I'll get...”

“Ten thousand for the grab. Two grand each day after until I take care of things once and for all.”

Well, at least I wouldn't be the one doing the killing for a change.

“And?” I prompted, brow raising.

“And you'll get him back in the same shape I got him in.”

“Fine,” I said, moving toward the mouth of the alley. “You know where to drop the money,” I yelled, not even bothering to look over my shoulder.

Only thing was, I never caught sight of Alex Miller. Whoever the fuck lived in the (shit) apartment above the (shit) Chinese restaurant didn't come out for three days in a row. The shades were pulled. The lights kept low. No noise. No nothing from inside.

I couldn't see any of the supposed makeshift home security I was warned about, but that wasn't to say it wasn't in place.

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Killer Read Online Book Jessica Gadziala (Savages #2) http://www.ilovenovels.com/killer-2-read-online-jessica-gadziala Sat, 21 May 2016 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/killer-2-read-online-jessica-gadziala Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Romance, Suspense Authors: Jessica Gadziala Series: Savages Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 84928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Killer (Savages #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Jessica Gadziala
Language:	English
Book Information:
Shooter I ran away when I was fifteen and never looked back. I built a new life: good friends, wild adventures, and an endless parade of gorgeous women. But then I got a call that changed everything; a call that told me it was time to go back and face my demons. Amelia He was the absolute last thing I needed in my life: someone incapable of taking anything seriously, a notorious ladies' man, oh, and did I mention... a killer? As in, he shot people. For a living. Yeah, definitely someone I had no plans on letting in. Except, he set his sights on me and, well, when a man like him laid on the charm, he did it thick and in a way that made you never want him to stop. My only saving grace was that he was only in town for a few days.
Books in Series:	Savages Series by Jessica Gadziala
Books by Author:	Jessica Gadziala Books

One

Shooter

My dad was dead.

'Least that was what my meema was on the other end of the phone tellin' me. Now, I was browbeat in my respect for elders growing up, but it was takin' everything in me not to tell my grandmother to get a grip on the blubbering as if my father was a sainted human being, like he was up in Heaven getting fitted for his shiny halo and downy wings. The man was the biggest piece of shit I had ever met in my life. And given that I spent my life dealing with criminals, that was really saying something.

He was down in hell getting beat to shit if there was any kind of justice in the afterlife.

"Don't ya'll worry about the money," I said, wincing as the drawl slipped back into my voice. Took me a fuckin' year to lose the damn thing and five minutes on the phone with her and it was slipping back. "I'll overnight more than enough to you for the arrangements."

Then she said six words I never wanted to hear: You need to come home, Johnnie.

It had been years since I heard that name.

I hadn't adopted the name Shooter because I was good with a gun, though I was. I didn't even adopt it because I was a sniper for hire, though that was definitely the case.

I did it because I never wanted to be that Al'bama redneck with the shitty dad in the trailer park anymore.

I never wanted to be Johnnie Walker Allen ever fucking again.

Johnnie Walker. Yes, like the god damn scotch whiskey.

I did mention that my dad was an asshole, right? It wasn't bad enough that everyone knew growing up that my dad was a boozer; he had to go and name me after his favorite kind of poison.

"I can't come back, ma'am," I said, squeezing the bridge of my nose, slumping forward in my chair. If I knew anything about my grandmother, it was that the woman was five feet of concrete and butting my head up against her never got me anything other than a headache.

And then she launched into a thirty minute crying rant about how she was too old, her heart too broken, her blood pressure too high, and her arthritis too bad to do something as strenuous as sit inside the funeral home and look through a book of caskets and flowers.

"You don't see any reason it shouldn't be me making the plans?" Like, say the fact that I would be just tickled if they stuck him in a pine box in the city plot beneath three John Does with an unmarked grave. "Yes, ma'am, I know he's my father." I sighed. I was losing; that meant I was going back there. It meant I had to bury my fucking father. "Right, okay. Yes. Yes, ma'am..."

I looked up when I heard footsteps and saw the blond I had brought home the night before- on the short side with impossibly thick thighs, trim waist, and just a bit more than a handful-sized breasts. Curvy, that was how I liked them. This one also had the advantage of a delicate little doll face and huge blue eyes that made her look sweet and innocent. Though, I had learned the night before when she rode me hard and fast while reciting a running monologue of dirty talk that'd make a porn star blush, that she was anything but sweet and innocent.

I brought my hand to my lips in a shushing motion and crooked a finger at her. She gave me a small smile and climbed up on my lap wearing nothing but the sheet she had draped around herself. I ducked my face into her neck and listened to my grandmother for another minute.

"Yes ma'am. Yeah... I'll be there. Right... tomorrow."

I hung up feeling an unusual heaviness weighing on me.

"You have an accent," Molly, the girl sitting her sweet round ass on my lap said with a big smile, revealing one overly pointed eye tooth that gave her perfect face a little bit of character.

"You like that?" I drawled into her neck, running my nose down the soft skin.

"Mmmhmm," she whimpered, already breathless.

"Well, let's see how much you like it when it's drawlin' dirty things in your ear while I'm inside you, babygirl," I suggested, lifting her up and walking her back to my bedroom. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest way to deal with a death in the family, but well, a little slap and tickle seemed to lift the heaviness for a few minutes and that seemed like the best kind of therapy to me.

–

"The fuck you mean, you're going home?" Breaker, my best friend, my mentor, one of the few people in the world (along with his girl, Alex and our friend and my tattoo artist Paine) who meant much of anything to me.

Breaker was tall and a giant wall of muscle with blond hair and a blond beard. Everything about him screamed intimidation which was good in a job where he pretty much busted faces for a living.

Alex was perched on the couch, a giant laptop sitting open on her lap. She was gorgeous in her tall, thin, dark-haired, classic kind of way and the best thing that ever happened to Bryan fuckin' Breaker, even if he did have to go toe-to-toe with the worst crime lord in the area to get her. Along with, ya' know... having to kidnap her while I rotted in said crime lord's basement for a spell. Good times.

"Dad died and my grandma is being too hysterical to deal with the arrangements."

"You have other family," Breaker reasoned, knowing better than anyone how much I did not want to go back. Breaker found me sleeping against his building when I was fifteen and had finally had enough of the hunger, the beatings, and the bullying from the hicks in town and ran the fuck away. I never went back. I never planned to.

"No one is stepping up."

"You don't owe him shit," he shrugged, getting up and getting us each another beer. "You don't owe any of them shit."

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Savior (Savages #3)

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Monster (Savages #1)

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Killer (Savages #2)

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English