Second Chance Ranch Series by Annabeth Albert – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Second Chance Ranch Series by Annabeth Albert – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:14:15 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Second Chance Ranch Series by Annabeth Albert – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Need You Close (Second Chance Ranch #3) Read Online Annabeth Albert http://www.ilovenovels.com/need-you-close-second-chance-ranch-3-read-online-annabeth-albert Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:14:15 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/need-you-close-second-chance-ranch-3-read-online-annabeth-albert Genre: Angst, Contemporary, M-M Romance Authors: Annabeth Albert Series: Second Chance Ranch Series by Annabeth Albert
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Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)

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Need You Close is book three in beloved author Annabeth Albert’s small-town Colorado cowboy romance series with Yellowstone meets Schitt’s Creek vibes. This return to the ranch features an unlikely friendship between a highly capable horse veterinarian and a newly injured military vet turned ranch hand. Hurt/comfort, new friends-to-lovers, mature main characters, disability rep, mental health rep, found family, and big feels with a standalone HEA guaranteed!

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

Chapter One

Carson

“I’m not sure I like this plan.” My older brother frowned at me over his coffee cup.

Colt needed to move along to the sheriff’s office and stop worrying about plans he’d come up with. I was here to be a ranch hand on the spread he now owned with his husband, and I fully intended to do the damn job I’d agreed to.

“Your plan,” I reminded him. We’d had a long drive back from Denver the day before, and I’d slept like shit in Colt and Maverick’s guestroom. My voice was even thicker than usual, like each word cost a buck and I didn’t have a five to spare.

“Yeah, but you’re still not one hundred percent,” Colt stated the obvious. Perhaps he’d expected more out of the rehabilitation program I’d undergone in Denver. Whatever the case, he was doing a shit job of hiding how disconcerting he found my new normal.

Join the fucking club, brother.

“Not gonna be.” Short, clipped sentences were easiest for me, but the truth really was that simple. I’d been found unfit for duty. Permanently disabled was stamped all over my discharge records. If anywhere near a hundred percent was a possibility, I’d be on a plane this very minute, returning to my personnel and the job I’d left unfinished. Instead, I was here, back in Lovelorn, Colorado, and the one thing I’d learned the past six months or so was that I might as well accept my new reality.

Colt, however, had yet to come to the same conclusion. His expression turned earnest. “If you keep up with the PT and exercises…”

“Colt.” I held his gaze, man to man. He’d seen me when I’d first arrived back stateside, knew what rough shape I’d been in. And Colt was a sheriff, same as our dad before him. He’d seen his fair share of gnarly accidents. He knew damn well there were some things a body didn’t come back from.

“I know.” His wide shoulders sagged. Colt leaned against the nearby fridge. “I hate this for you.”

When had his temples gone gray? And when had those lines around his mouth and eyes deepened? I didn’t like thinking that I might be the cause. He was eight years older than me to start, and then we’d lost our dad in the line of duty when I was a toddler, making Colt that much more parental toward me. I’d never much cared for Colt making himself responsible for the rest of us and the messes we got ourselves into.

However, I also knew when to keep the peace, so all I said was, “Thanks.”

“I do wish you’d consider staying with us instead of in the bunkhouse.” Colt took on a “be reasonable” tone.

I snorted. “Full house already.”

“Always room for you,” Colt said, as if he and Maverick didn’t also have two teen girls and Maverick’s sister living with them. Besides, he and Maverick were newlyweds. The last thing they needed was Colt’s little brother underfoot.

“Gonna earn my keep.” I made my voice firm but added an approximation of a smile to soften my refusal. My facial muscles didn’t always cooperate, so I had to hope my effort was close enough.

“Stubborn.” Chuckling, Colt shook his head.

“Learned from the best.” I grinned at the ribbing, but also at how easy the retort had come out. Words were fickle things these days, so I’d learned to celebrate when they worked as I wanted.

“Fine.” Colt set aside his coffee and hefted my large army duffel bag up from where I’d dropped it near the back door. “Let’s get you settled then.”

“Don’t need an escort.” I gave him the hardest of glares and reached for my bag, but Colt being Colt, he resisted giving it back.

Thank fuck, his husband chose that moment to wander in. Husband. I’d had about nine months to get used to the idea of Colt having one of those. Never would have figured on that possibility, and with Maverick Lovelorn no less. I’d been a little kid when Colt and Maverick had been high-school best friends, too oblivious to notice much beyond my video games and remote-control car obsession.

Maverick, though, had grown into a decent dude. He’d been with Colt when I’d arrived at the medical center in DC and had visited a few times during my Denver program. I’d come to appreciate that he could get Colt to see reason, so I shot him a pleading look and added a smile for good measure.

“Colt. Stop hovering.” Maverick easily plucked my bag away from Colt and handed it to me. “Let Carson walk to the bunkhouse on his own if he wants.”

“Not a kid.” I glowered at them both, grateful for Maverick’s assistance, but frustrated that I’d needed it. And the two of them negotiating like I was a teen asking for an extra hour past curfew rankled.

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Keep You Safe (Second Chance Ranch #2) Read Online Annabeth Albert http://www.ilovenovels.com/keep-you-safe-second-chance-ranch-2-read-online-annabeth-albert Sat, 16 Aug 2025 22:25:23 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/keep-you-safe-second-chance-ranch-2-read-online-annabeth-albert Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Authors: Annabeth Albert Series: Second Chance Ranch Series by Annabeth Albert
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)

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What happens at the swimming hole, stays at the swimming hole…

When Adler arrives at Second Chance Ranch, I know he’s trouble. Adler gets under my skin like no
one else and threatens my quiet, orderly, ranch foreman life.

In fact, my body’s reaction to his presence is something of a surprise. When I have the chance to
explore the chemistry between us while secretly skinny dipping, I go for it because I know all too
well that city slickers never stay long.

Except Adler comes back…

And I’m tasked with training him to be a ranch hand. No matter how tempting Adler’s easy smiles
are, I can’t risk a repeat encounter for several

I’m his boss.
I hate gossip, especially when I’m the subject.
And doing my job right will always be my top priority.

Adler challenges all of that with chaos, rescue dogs, and an attraction that refuses to quit. As the
weeks pass, our connection deepens into a secret fling. My rodeo days taught me how to handle a
rough ride, but Adler has me falling fast.

Landing in the dirt is going to hurt, but I can’t bring myself to end things. Alder’s everything I never
knew I wanted, but he won’t be content with staying in the shadows forever. Can I be the cowboy he
needs and deserves before he’s gone for good?

Keep You Safe is book two in beloved author Annabeth Albert’s small-town Colorado cowboy romance
series with Yellowstone meets Schitt’s Creek vibes. This return to the ranch features a stoic foreman
and a younger city slicker turned ranch hand. Grumpy/sunshine, fish out of water, age gap with
mature main characters, reluctant coworkers, sensual exploration, hurt/comfort, found family, and
big feels with a standalone HEA guaranteed

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

Chapter One

Adler

Late August

“I’m hot.” I sat on the back deck with Maverick, one of my best friends, sipping iced coffee and marveling at August in Southwestern Colorado. The earth itself seemed to heat up, a dry desert warmth that found us mid-morning, before the sun even reached its peak.

“Yeah, you are.” Maverick laughed knowingly. “And you enjoy hearing it.”

Was I that predictable? I twisted my mouth, not sure I liked how widely known my love of praise and attention was. I was over thirty, well into my aging twink phase, and undoubtedly needed to get beyond my youthful neediness.

“I meant temperature-wise. I’m broiling.” I tried not to sound as testy as I felt. Maverick had had a heck of a week and didn’t need my one-third life crisis. “You didn’t warn me it would be hotter than LA.”

“Sorry. You want to come with Hannah and me to the hospital?” Maverick offered. His sister had been in a recent car accident, upending much of the plans for my visit, which was secondary to Maverick’s stack of new worries. “The hospital has more powerful A/C than the ranch house.”

“Nah. You need the time with Faith.” I’d been with Maverick at the hospital the night of his sister’s accident, but to be honest, hospitals quietly made my hands sweat and my stomach wobble.

“I feel like I’m being a terrible host.”

“You’re being an amazing brother and uncle.” My boredom didn’t need to be his problem. Maverick understandably needed to focus on family. “That’s more important. I can amuse myself for a few hours.”

That was a bit of a white lie. I had precious few solitary hobbies. As a born extrovert, this week on Maverick’s ranch, away from my LA social life, had tested my capacity for alone time. Not that it was a bad thing. My social circle shrank considerably after I got sober, and learning how to be comfortable alone was undoubtedly something my therapist would applaud.

“You could always swim,” Maverick suggested idly.

“Swim? There’s a pool?” I gazed at the surrounding ranch—a collection of barns and outbuildings with a large horse facility up on a small hill and pastures and crop land beyond that. I hadn’t found a pool during my explorations.

“No, better. There’s a large pond north of the pastures.” Maverick gestured expansively. “Spring fed. Cold, clear water. Colt and I swam there all the time in high school. Bit of a hike, but I can draw you a map.”

“Absolutely. Getting out and stretching my legs sounds perfect.” Another white lie. I was easing my body back to a place of health and stamina after years of hard living, but the need to accommodate Maverick was greater than any trepidation over a solo hike.

“It’s more than a leg stretch.” Maverick fetched a pad of paper from the kitchen and brought it back out to the small table we were sitting at. He started drawing a rough map of the ranch. “You could grab a dirt bike from the machine shed if you know how to ride.”

I did not. Growing up on the Jersey Shore had not offered many opportunities for outdoor skills like dirt biking and hiking, but my innate need to please won out again.

“I’m happy hiking. Swimming sounds like a great reward for some exercise.”

Shortly after we finished our coffee, Maverick left me with the map. On his way to his car, with his niece Hannah trailing behind him, he reminded me to bring plenty of water and to watch out for rattlesnakes and wildlife, which hardly made me eager to hike. Accordingly, I took my sweet time finding and filling some reusable water bottles and assembling a few snacks. The hall closet yielded a small dusty backpack to hold my supplies and a canvas sun hat to shield my Irish complexion from the sun. I threw some sunscreen in the bag, and running out of reasons to stall, I grabbed Maverick’s map and headed for the hills.

The first part of the walk was hardly wilderness as I passed the barns, waving to some ranch hands working with the cattle and horses. The ranch had both seasonal summer and permanent hands, but neither group seemed particularly eager to make friends despite my efforts to greet them over the past week.

Foreman Foxy was nowhere to be seen, which was a darn shame. Maverick’s foreman was technically named Grayson and was the hottest thing over forty I’d seen in years. Short hair shot through with silver, tats, a perpetually stern expression, and an easy cowboy confidence that made him seem like something straight out of a Hollywood western. Naturally, I’d tried being friendly to him as well, but he was even less inclined to small talk than his ranch hands.

I trudged up the dirt road that wound past the fenced-in pastures. I’d learned earlier in the week that neither horses nor cows were fond of petting. The baby cows in particular looked all adorable and cuddly, but the one I’d managed to get a hand on through the fence had also been a biter, with an overbearing mama cow nearby.

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Want You Back (Second Chance Ranch #1) Read Online Annabeth Albert http://www.ilovenovels.com/want-you-back-second-chance-ranch-1-read-online-annabeth-albert Wed, 04 Jun 2025 21:19:34 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/want-you-back-second-chance-ranch-1-read-online-annabeth-albert Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance Authors: Annabeth Albert Series: Second Chance Ranch Series by Annabeth Albert
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Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)

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When Maverick Lovelorn left town, it almost broke me. I’m determined to not let his return do the same.

Then
In high school, Maverick and I were best friends. Inseparable. We shared everything from video games to camping adventures to a first kiss that shattered everything I knew about myself. Our first love was sweet and true and not nearly enough to keep Maverick on the ranch he hated.

Now
Twenty years later, Maverick’s back in town to sell the ranch he’s inherited. As the sheriff, I know losing the ranch will devastate the county. The area needs Maverick to stay. As a single dad with far more than my own heart on the line, I need him gone. Rekindling our friendship would be a Grand Canyon-sized mistake. But then we kiss, and every old feeling comes rushing back.

Now What?
My heart wants Maverick, but my brain knows he’ll leave again. How can I ask him to stay somewhere with so many painful memories? He might be healing day by day, but I struggle to trust in second chances. Is there a way for us to ride off into the sunset together?

Want You Back is book one in a new small-town Colorado cowboy romance series from beloved author Annabeth Albert with Yellowstone meets Schitt’s Creek vibes. It features the return of a ranch owner’s son and the sheriff who never forgot him. Mature main characters, high school friends with feelings to adult lovers, steamy reunion romance, hurt/comfort, found family, and big feels with a standalone HEA guaranteed!

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

“True friendship doesn’t fade with distance—it grows stronger with every trail ridden.”

~sign in the Lovelorn Bunkhouse

Chapter 1

Colt

Now

The black luxury import with California plates was begging for a ticket. I’d spent enough years as a deputy in the Disappointment County Sheriff’s office that I accurately clocked the driver doing eighty in a fifty-five even before I used my radar. As sheriff, I didn’t usually get involved with traffic stops, but I was more than happy to make an exception for the out-of-towner. Honestly, my job was way more meetings and personnel matters than law enforcement, and I missed being out in the field something fierce.

The chance to flip on my lights was a fun novelty, as was chasing down the little import. Clearly a tourist because a sports car wouldn’t make it through a single Colorado winter. I did take a moment to admire the zippy handling as the car hugged the curvy county road. I’d first caught sight of the car coming off Highway 491, and if anything, he’d sped up once free of the area’s main highway. The driver took his sweet time noticing me in his rearview, making my admiration slide right into irritation.

The driver finally got the idea to pull over onto a side road shortly before the turnoff for Lovelorn Ranch. Oh. With Melvin Lovelorn’s death a week ago, chances were high that this city slicker was a vulture here to circle. The family had opted not to hold public services, not entirely a shocker for the town patriarch few would miss. However, the Lovelorn Gazette had a pretty little write-up on the front page, and in a state with ranch land at a premium, more than a few savvy real estate types were known to comb obituaries.

I ran the license plate, but as usual, the system was beyond slow. I called in the stop to our dispatch in case I needed backup and asked Dolores to run the plate for me while I went and talked to the driver.

Well and truly irritated, I didn’t have to work to put on my meanest glare along with my cowboy hat as I strode toward the sports car. Always paid to be cautious, so I approached nice and slow, senses on red alert for potential problems. Dude certainly knew the drill, though, both hands on the steering wheel, window already rolled down, gaze straight ahead behind designer sunglasses. Heck, he even had his wallet out and open on the seat next to him.

I couldn’t wait for Dolores to get back to me on those plates. This guy was likely sitting on a stack of tickets in multiple states. No way was I letting him off with a warning.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” I asked as I approached the driver’s side window. My pulse sped up because this was always a critical moment during traffic stops. If he was armed, inclined to be a runner, or ready to be belligerent, now was when he’d play his hand.

“Reckon I was a smidge over the limit.” The guy had a smooth voice, more Western than the typical California accent. No slur to his speech, but I hadn’t ruled out a field sobriety test. He kept his hands on the wheel, no visible tremor, so I moved my observations to his face. The sunglasses obscured what looked to be a slim, chiseled Caucasian face. Scruffy jawline like he hadn’t shaved since California. Not a kid. Likely somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five, judging by the short brown hair with no signs of gray.

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