The Chain of Lakes Series by Jewel E. Ann – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

The Chain of Lakes Series by Jewel E. Ann – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:50:36 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png The Chain of Lakes Series by Jewel E. Ann – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 The Muse (The Chain of Lakes #2) Read Online Jewel E. Ann http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-muse-the-chain-of-lakes-2-read-online-jewel-e-ann Tue, 16 Jun 2026 12:50:36 +0000 https://www.ilovenovels.com/the-muse-the-chain-of-lakes-2-read-online-jewel-e-ann Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Funny Authors: Jewel E. Ann Series: The Chain of Lakes Series by Jewel E. Ann
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)

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Flynn Morley has spent his life getting by with as little as possible. No girlfriend. No real home. No money to speak of. Raised in the system, he learned early not to trust people who seemed to have everything. So when he takes a job as a “muse” for a wealthy Minneapolis couple, it feels like crossing a line he never thought he would.

Then he meets June.

June is a bike tour guide with a quick smile, a calm confidence, and a way of making Flynn feel seen without being judged. Their connection is immediate and playful, built on shared humor, quiet moments, and a mutual longing for a simple life.

As Flynn adjusts to his bizarre new job, he starts encountering something he never planned for: kindness without strings attached. It challenges everything he believes about money, power, and who gets to be comfortable in the world. And falling for June only complicates things, especially when it turns out she’s carrying secrets of her own.

When June’s past surfaces, Flynn has to decide what scares him more: becoming someone he’s always sworn he’d never be or letting her see his darkest secrets. If he can’t let go of his fears, he might lose the one person who finally feels like home

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

Playlist

“Wi$h Li$t” | Taylor Swift

“Complicated" (Triple J Like a Version) | GRAACE

“Iris” - Live Sessions | Josh Ross

“Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major Prélude” | Johann Sebastian Bach, Yo-Yo Ma

“Serenade” | Franz Schubert, HAUSER, Robert Ziegler, London Symphony Orchestra

“Dangerous Woman” | Power-Haus, Tom Evans, Future Cello

“Nothing Else Matters” - Cello Version | Jodok Cello

“Moon River” | 2CELLOS

“Tired” | Sarah Proctor

“Hellos On The Loose” | Bo Staloch

“Everywhere, Everything” (With Gracie Abrams) | Noah Kahan

Maybe the journey isn’t about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about unbecoming everything that isn’t really you, so that you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.

—Paulo Coelho

Chapter One

Flynn

“My wife doesn’t like sex, so keep it in your trousers. I’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.”

Dude …

What’s happening?

First: Nothing about my “it” is embarrassing.

Second: What does it say about him if his wife “doesn’t like sex?”

Third: Who calls jeans trousers?

I force a tight smile and nod because, this morning, I took Rupert Rawlings’ cypress green Chevelle convertible for a joyride after giving it the platinum mobile detail service. He said he was golfing. I thought that meant four hours at a golf course, not thirty minutes with a simulator in the basement of his old mansion overlooking a lake just outside of downtown Minneapolis—a hub for outdoor enthusiasts, owners of designer dogs, and anyone who shops at Whole Foods.

I’ve been sitting in this same spot for forty minutes while he’s dicked around on his computer and stepped out of his office, twice, to make calls. At least he’s finally explaining the job he’s offering me in lieu of going to jail for grand theft auto—which it was not.

I inhale the scent of lemon furniture polish and musty old books. “What exactly are you hiring me to do besides keeping it in my trousers?” I ask, sprawled out on the cool, tufted brown leather sofa in Rupert’s office. The value of this single room exceeds that of any place I’ve ever lived. The arched doorway and floor-to-ceiling windows open to a view of the lake beyond the trees. Custom walnut cabinetry and shiny brass fixtures. Must be nice having money to burn on stupid shit.

“Do you know who you remind me of?” he asks, reclining in his cushy desk chair, hands laced behind his full head of black and gray hair.

“Yup, because I read minds.” I tear my gaze away from the wood-paneled ceiling to observe his reaction.

Rupert smirks. “You remind me of myself at your age.”

“Are you implying you were awesome or I’m destined to be a gazillionaire?”

“You’re the mind reader, so you tell me.”

I roll my eyes and sit up, running my hands through my hair. Maybe a ride in a police cruiser is the better option. “If your wife has to get herself off,” I say, “then awesome is off the table. Guess that means I’m gonna be a rich fucker.” I twist my lips. “They say money can’t buy happiness, but everyone I know thinks that’s bullshit. Personally, I hate rich people. They’re so out of touch with reality.”

This rich guy clears his throat, lifting an eyebrow at me.

I shrug. “Prove me wrong. I don’t think money buys happiness. I think it’s a burden. Money makes it too easy to become an entitled asshole.”

“Like me?”

“Dunno yet. I’ll let you know.” I scratch my chin. “But blackmailing me isn’t helping your case.”

He eyes me for a second before gripping the arms of his chair to stand. “I don’t need a case, because I have nothing to prove to anyone. I believe it’s called FU money. And no, it doesn’t buy happiness. Happiness is a fleeting emotion—at best.” The top of his crystal decanter clinks on the marble counter before he pours half a glass. Just one. This guy could work on his hospitality.

“Are you a shrink or something?” I ask. “Sounds like something a shrink would say.”

Rupert chuckles, facing me while leaning his backside against the edge of his desk. He sips the alcohol, dark eyes trained on me. I’m not afraid of much, but this guy could turn a simple joyride into a grand theft auto charge.

What must his life be like? I bet he has a dozen other suits just as fancy and expensive as the one he’s wearing. A person to shine his shoes before they get a single scuff. Maybe he’s a lawyer, and that’s how he knows he could put me in jail. I’d guess he’s in his fifties, but his hands are devoid of calluses. It’s unnatural. Not a speck of dirt under his trimmed nails. Does he get manicures with his wife?

I glance down at my grease-stained hands folded between my spread legs. Thick callouses. Two knuckles larger than the others from jamming them.

Pins and plates hold me together. I have so many scars from stitches that my friends call me Frankenstein’s monster.

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The Homemaker (The Chain of Lakes #1) Read Online Jewel E. Ann http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-homemaker-the-chain-of-lakes-1-read-online-jewel-e-ann Sun, 12 Oct 2025 20:52:15 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/the-homemaker-the-chain-of-lakes-1-read-online-jewel-e-ann Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary Authors: Jewel E. Ann Series: The Chain of Lakes Series by Jewel E. Ann
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)

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A romance inspired by TS “Fortnight”

I was hers, but she was never mine.

Alice Yates is the hired “homemaker” for the Morrisons, an affluent couple in Minneapolis. For Alice, it’s a dream job to dress up like a 1950s housewife and read romance novels to Mr. Morrison before his afternoon nap.

But when the Morrisons’ only daughter returns home for the summer with her fiancé, Alice comes face- to-face with her shattered past—the only threat to her perfect life.

Eight years earlier, vacation rental owner Murphy Paddon had an impeccable vinyl record collection and did the most irresistible thing before kissing Alice, earning him a five-star rating. Their fortnight love affair was life-altering and ended tragically.

Murphy doesn’t know if Alice remembers him or whether he should tell his fiancée that the hired-help living in the guesthouse is the woman who irreparably broke his heart. He needs closure, but will the lingering glances and silent yearning lead to the end or just the beginning?

Grab your copy of The Homemaker, from USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author, Jewel E. Ann, and lose yourself in this forbidden, high-stakes romance

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

Playlist

“Fortnight” | Taylor Swift

“Crazy” | Patsy Cline, The Jordanaires

“My Girl” | The Temptations

“Dream A Little Dream Of Me” | The Mamas & The Papas

“Old Time Rock & Roll” | Bob Seger

“I’ve Got A Crush On You” | Ella Fitzgerald

“Put Your Head On My Shoulder” | Paul Anka

“Its Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka-Dot Bikini” | Brian Hyland

“How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)” | Marvin Gaye

“Wonderful Tonight” | Eric Clapton

“How Did It End?” | Taylor Swift

“(I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons” | Nat King Cole

“Unbreak” | Camylio

“As the World Caves In” - Cover | Chloe Edgecombe

“Stubborn Love” | The Lumineers

“All I Have to Do Is Dream” | The Everly Brothers

Chapter One

Alice

We’re all here to play a part. Play it well.

“Do not suck my husband’s dick. It’s an old dick that doesn’t need to be sucked, so let’s just get that out in the open.”

I nod with a genuine smile. Wealthy people are the most fascinating creatures with lavish requests and baffling assumptions. The duties of my new position include everything except a blow job.

Got it. That’s not on my CV anyway.

Vera Morrison needs a “homemaker” for her husband. And I need a place to live since my rent just went up, and I lost my job as a personal assistant because my boss died. He was kind enough to add me to a “special list” before he passed.

In Minneapolis, the one percenters have a private network where they share staff recommendations. Everything from drivers and groundskeepers to nannies and sex surrogates.

This position pays twice what I was making, and it includes a well-appointed, rent-free guesthouse that’s nicer than any place I have ever lived.

“More tea?” Mrs. Morrison offers in a raspy tone like she’s losing her voice or perhaps, very Demi Moore. She curls her long black hair behind one ear, exposing a large diamond hoop earring as we politely discuss the duties of the position.

We’re surrounded by flawless white furniture in the glass ceiling sunroom that feels more like a cathedral than a place to discuss the age of anyone’s dick.

“No, thank you.” I clear my throat to hide my impending giggle. I didn’t expect the blow job discussion, but it’s the highlight of my day.

Last week, I met Mr. Morrison at my first interview. He isn’t the guy who needs to pay anyone for sexual favors. If Vera refuses, he’s a fifty-seven-year-old real estate developer turned day trader who works out every morning and lives in a fifteen million-dollar home in the Lake of the Isles, Minnesota, and there’s a long list of women (and probably a few men) who would happily open wide.

“If you decide to entertain, please ask your guests to park on the street. And if we’re not here, you’re welcome to use the pool, but don’t let anyone in our house.”

“Of course. And I won’t be entertaining anyone. Well, there’s this guy I’ve been seeing. But it’s just casual.”

She eyes me with a twinkle of curiosity.

“Sex.” I clarify with unwavering confidence. If she can bring up blow jobs, surely I can mention casual sex. “We get together when he doesn’t have his kids.”

“Sounds like a lovely arrangement.” She offers a wry grin before sipping her tea, maintaining perfect posture and an air of dignity. “This weekend, my daughter, Blair, and her fiancé are arriving from San Francisco. Their wedding is this fall, right before she opens her art studio in SoHo. She’s a ceramic artist. Anyway, they’ll be staying with us this summer. We have lots of details to iron out for the wedding.” Vera sets her cup and saucer on the coffee table. “And come to think of it, if she asks about you, let’s call your position something like ‘house manager.’ My daughter won’t understand why her father wants a homemaker. She’s a feminist and, much to her father’s chagrin, very liberal.”

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