The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:03:56 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Full Contact (The New York Nighthawks #15) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/full-contact-the-new-york-nighthawks-15-read-online-fiona-davenport Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:03:56 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/full-contact-the-new-york-nighthawks-15-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Forbidden, Insta-Love, Novella, Sports, Virgin Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)

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Micah Daughtry knew he was done for after one smile from the tired, stubborn waitress at The Tight Line. And the linebacker wasn’t subtle about what he wanted. He just started showing up for Rylin Curtis like she already belonged to him.

Except Rylin has strict dating no customers, no bosses…and definitely not a pro football player with a panty-melting smile.

She doesn’t have room for distractions while juggling double shifts, overdue bills, and a sister Rylin is desperate to protect. But Micah’s steady, quiet pursuit is impossible to ignore—and even harder to resist

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1

MICAH

Idragged myself through the early August heat. Preseason or not, Coach had decided today’s practice should feel like fourth-quarter trench warfare—Oklahoma drills until somebody threw up, then red-zone install on dead legs. My body was built for collisions, but by the time we broke huddle and hit the showers, fatigue had snuck up behind my shoulder pads and started gnawing.

The ride from the practice facility out on Long Island blurred as I piloted the SUV on muscle memory more than anything else. By the time I reached Manhattan, I had one mission—food. Eating at The Tight Line would kill two birds since I liked to personally check in at least once a week at the delicatessen Raiden and I opened.

The moment I stepped through the glass doors, the fatigue eased, the way it always did when I walked into the place my best friend and I had built from scratch.

Stainless counters gleamed, fresh turf-green booth cushions waited beneath framed jerseys, and a huge chalkboard play diagram covered the back wall above the pass-through.

STACKED.

PRESSED.

ALWAYS IN FORMATION.

The scent of hot rye bread, roasted brisket, and a hint of garlic butter clung to the air. My stomach growled loud enough to punch through the rock music piping from the ceiling speakers. The perfect soundtrack for a linebacker who’d just spent three hours flattening rookies in the summer humidity.

The lunch rush had thinned, but plenty of tables remained filled. I meant to do the usual owner’s circuit—handshake the line cooks, eyeball ticket times, and sign whatever delivery slip got missed. My gaze made a lazy sweep, a habit from a lifetime of reading offenses, but everything in me braked hard when I spotted someone new.

She shot out of the kitchen doors, balancing three steaming plates on her forearm, a fourth in the other hand. Tall enough to catch my eye, maybe five-eight. Thin, but with subtle curves. She wore one of our cheap black aprons and a stubborn little smile. It was the kind that said the world might be heavy, but she could carry the weight.

When she turned my way to take another order, I noticed the fatigue that shadowed the skin under her hazel eyes. A sign of too many late nights and not enough sleep.

Strands of brown hair, kissed by the sun so they were the color of dark honey, had escaped a ponytail and kept sliding forward across her cheek. She blew at a wisp, laughed an apology to a customer when a french fry skidded, then tucked the strand behind her ear without breaking stride. Then she leaned to set a Reuben in front of a tourist dad who murmured something I couldn’t hear, making her laugh again. The sound floated over the room like a note from a song.

My first thought wasn’t poetic. It was primitive. Mine.

I was thirty years old, six-five, and two-sixty pounds of controlled violence. I was paid an obscene amount of money to diagnose plays in half a heartbeat, but one sunshine-sweet server almost dropped me to my knees. The reaction was so sudden, it hit like helmet-to-helmet contact, rattling my ribs and echoing between my ears. Immediate, visceral, and undeniable.

Whatever fired inside my chest while I watched her hustle across the floor didn’t feel temporary. It was a bone-deep certainty that this was the woman who would end the long stretch of nothing that had encompassed my love life. My heart didn’t race for just anybody. And every other part of my life—football, family, friendship, and business—was plenty full.

I wasn’t chasing random thrills. I wanted forever, same as my parents back in Alabama. Same as Raiden and Marissa, Prentice and Naomi. I wanted the Sunday-morning coffee, argue-over-paint-colors, hold-my-hand-when-we’re-ninety partner.

In the past few years, I’d figured maybe that wasn’t in the cards for me. Too picky, the guys said. I didn’t see it as picky. I was just refusing to settle.

They loved to bust my balls about it, calling the women I considered dating Mrs. Right Now, but I didn’t mind. Better than lying to a woman about interest I didn’t feel. It only took one conversation or the occasional dance at a club for me to bail because the spark just wasn’t there. No need for second chances when first impressions already answered the question.

I hadn’t even made it to a first date in years. Hell, I was starting to think my radar was busted. Then the new server rounded the corner with a tray balanced like a gymnast, and every circuit in my body lit up at once.

Yeah…my radar works just fine.

I took a slow breath, rolling sore shoulders and grounding myself in the floorboards so I didn’t move on instinct. Linebackers weren’t subtle, and we couldn’t exactly float across a room without notice, so a pair of tourists recognized me. A raised hand and a quick grin bought me privacy.

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Tight End (The New York Nighthawks #14) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/tight-end-the-new-york-nighthawks-14-read-online-fiona-davenport Sun, 07 Dec 2025 21:11:41 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/tight-end-the-new-york-nighthawks-14-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Novella, Virgin Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)

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Raiden Shaffer never cared about press conferences…until a gorgeous reporter caught his interest with a single question. One night with Marissa Crane wasn’t enough, but she slipped out before sunrise—leaving behind a note and an obsession he couldn’t shake.

Marissa wasn’t supposed to fall for the Nighthawks’ tight end before leaving the country for a month. Now she’s back in New York, exhausted and carrying a secret that could change everything. But Raiden isn’t the kind of man who lets go. He’s all in for her and the baby she never expected

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1

RAIDEN

The lights in the damn media room were too bright. They glared off every surface, turning the whole place into a sweatbox of tension and flashbulbs, like we were under interrogation instead of celebrating a Super Bowl win. I sat off to the side of the elevated dais, legs spread, forearms braced on my thighs, watching the shit show unfold with my usual silence.

Reporters lined the rows like vultures, cameras flashing and voices overlapping, all of them salivating for a headline. I kept my face unreadable as Saxon took the heat up front. He didn’t need backup, but a few of us had shown up for him anyway.

Lennox leaned against the wall near the door. He was the owner of the New York Nighthawks, the football team I played tight end for.

Micah, my best friend and one of our linebackers, was farther back. Brady, Rhodes, and Nixon sat with me.

I kept my focus on Saxon, my jaw locked tight, already feeling the start of a headache crawl across the base of my skull. My muscles were coiled with restless energy that had everything to do with this circus.

I hated this shit—the lights, the fakeness, and the need to explain what shouldn’t need explaining.

But Saxon was holding the line like he always did—calm, stone-faced, his voice low and steady. PR had called this presser to kill the rumors about him and the new hire. She stood up front in a sleek dress, eight months pregnant and glowing, with a diamond ring the size of a marble on her finger.

That should’ve been enough to shut it all down. No fuel left for the fire. But the media couldn’t help themselves.

I was tuning it all out when the door opened again and something shifted in the room. A woman entered in a rush, breathless, juggling a laptop, recorder, and what looked like a press pass she was clipping on mid-run. She whispered something to a PR assistant, her blue eyes wide with apology, then made her way down the side aisle to an empty chair in the third row—one of the seats reserved for reporters from Empire Sports Network. Someone must have been sick or flaked because I’d never seen her before.

She kept her head down, slipping into the seat quietly, trying to disappear.

It didn’t work.

I saw her, and everything slowed down.

Blond hair tied back in a messy bun like she hadn’t had time to do it right. Soft tan skin, lean muscle under tight black jeans, and a black sweater that hugged her curves. Her movements were smooth, balanced, controlled, and athletic. Her posture gave her away. Shoulders back and head high, with the kind of confidence you couldn't fake. I was willing to bet my next paycheck that she was an athlete or used to be one.

Her eyes scanned the room, alert and focused, not flustered by the noise or the pressure. She wasn’t some rookie. Even late, she didn’t look thrown. She was there to do a job, and she meant business.

She crossed her legs, the shift of her hips making me notice the exact way her jeans fit. My gut tightened and my cock swelled at how damn perfect they looked.

My blood went hot the moment she walked in, and now I felt it settling low and coiling with the kind of heat I hadn’t felt in a long fucking time. I couldn't remember when a woman last sparked my interest, let alone made me feel this damn turned on. I was shocked to find myself as hard as a fucking rock just from looking at her.

I wondered who she was and why she was here when this wasn’t her regular beat. I knew all the reporters who covered the Nighthawks, especially in smaller pressers like this one.

But I didn’t give a fuck why she was here. There was just something about her that fascinated me. I had a very strong feeling that she wasn’t just attractive. She was interesting. Rare.

My gaze stayed locked on her. I didn’t even try to hide it because I was kind of curious to see what she’d do.

At first, she didn’t flinch or squirm, but she definitely felt me watching. Her chin tipped slightly, and she turned her head, not directly toward me, but enough that our eyes caught for the briefest second. The moment she caught me staring, her breath hitched. Just a tiny flicker. Her throat moved as she swallowed hard. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, kept her eyes forward, and adjusted her recorder like she wasn’t melting under the weight of my attention.

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Touchdown (The New York Nighthawks #13) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/touchdown-the-new-york-nighthawks-13-read-online-fiona-davenport Wed, 19 Nov 2025 18:28:45 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/touchdown-the-new-york-nighthawks-13-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)

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Saxon Powell was focused on catching passes, not women. But when the grumpy football player met Ivy Fisher, he knew the sunshiny stylist was his end game.

Ivy never expected the Nighthawks’ star wide receiver to actually remember her name—let alone show up in her salon. Between long hours and a packed schedule, she doesn’t have time for distractions. But Saxon is relentless in a quiet, steady way that makes resistance impossible…until gossip threatens to tear them apart

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1

SAXON

The morning light bled slowly across the eastern edge of Manhattan, turning the glass of the Chrysler Building into a slick metallic rose gold blade. It was a stark contrast to the Empire State Building, which was darker, more hulking, and immovable, as though it were the spine of the entire city. The view was one of the reasons I’d purchased the penthouse apartment in this building at 55th and Fifth. However, it didn’t bring the calm I normally found when staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. I couldn’t settle my pulse long enough to sit still.

I paced across the heated planks of engineered walnut flooring, switching my coffee from one hand to the other. When I did take a sip, I barely registered the taste because my whole system was too keyed up to really absorb anything. The temperature in my apartment was just right for a cold, February day. But my body acted like it was trying to burn holes through muscle and bone from the inside out.

An electric current ran along my nerve endings, the same kind that hit me when I stepped onto the field and saw a coverage gap that nobody else had noticed yet. When I could already see the touchdown forming forty yards before the ball even left the quarterback’s hand.

Except this had nothing to do with football and everything to do with a woman.

I paused in front of the glass wall again, and my forehead tipped forward to rest against it, letting the chill from the window cool my skin.

For three days, I’d thought about nothing besides Ivy Fisher. I met her at a barbecue hosted by Cole O’Hara, one of my coaches, and had been figuratively knocked on my ass. It was a good thing our season was over because I hadn’t been able to dislodge the image of her from my mind since then. It kept replaying like a highlight loop that refused to end.

Her laughter had burrowed itself under my skin. Warm, feminine, and husky at the edges to the point that it was intoxicating.

There was also the way her long, silky strands had caught sunlight like a black satin ribbon when she had brushed her hair over her shoulder.

She had looked up at me with deep brown eyes that were expressive and open, but also intelligent. And her mouth—fuck. The wide shape and magnetic red color…it looked sinfully soft, like her lips had been made specifically to be kissed until they were swollen and wet.

Every detail flooded my mind like a rush through a wide-open lane. Her curves were stunning and unapologetically feminine. Full breasts that would fit perfectly in my hands, hips with enough to grip onto, and thighs that would wrap firmly around my waist.

I pictured dragging my hands up along her thighs and felt the phantom slide of her skin under my palms. Imagined pulling her hips against mine and driving into her while her nails clawed into my back. Making her scream my name as she was swept away in bliss.

She’d feel so fucking incredible around me.

These thoughts speared through me over and over, explicit and undeniable, until my jaw flexed as I let out a controlled breath. I needed an ice-fucking-cold shower.

I’d gone so long without feeling this level of attraction that I’d started to believe something in me had calcified. And I’d never felt an obsession like this for anything besides football. I’d channeled everything into discipline, focus, and control. I’d accepted it as the price of the game, the price of greatness.

Then she walked into my line of sight, and everything in my body had lit up like she’d flipped a switch I didn’t even realize had been turned off.

However, it wasn’t just Ivy’s sexy body and beautiful face that had me ensnared in her web. Throughout the night, I’d seen her sassy humor, compassion, and intelligence. She was grounded and thoughtful—the kind of woman whose inner world didn’t get tossed by every gust. I knew she’d be able to handle the whirlwind of the football season and the media circus that came with my fame.

It had taken a couple of days to accept it, but my brain had finally registered what my heart and body already knew.

Ivy was mine.

I pushed off the window and resumed pacing because I couldn’t be still. My body wanted action, needed to keep moving. I scrubbed a hand through my hair and shook out my shoulders to relieve some of the tension coiling in them.

But pacing wouldn’t completely eliminate the restlessness. I had a feeling that until I saw Ivy again, I’d be twisted up into knots.

The problem was how to accomplish the goal without freaking her the fuck out. If I came on too strong, I might scare her away before I had a chance to show her that she was meant to be mine.

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Calling the Play (The New York Nighthawks #12) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/calling-the-play-the-new-york-nighthawks-12-read-online-fiona-davenport Mon, 25 Mar 2024 04:51:00 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/calling-the-play-the-new-york-nighthawks-12-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Insta-Love, Novella, Virgin Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)

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All it took was one look for Cole O’Hara to know that Lorna Dunigan was meant to be his. He loved his job as the offensive coordinator for the New York Nighthawks, but that didn’t stop him from risking it all by threatening one of his players to stay away from the younger beauty in a nightclub.

Lorna was immediately swept off her feet by the sexy football coach, but she had no idea what he’d done the night they met. Or how much being with him would change her life.

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1

LORNA

Being hired to do hair in a fancy salon in New York City had been my dream when I was a little girl. I used to style all of my dolls…to the point where my mom had to take the safety scissors away from me when I was four because I’d chopped some of their hair way too short. In hindsight, I totally blamed how blunt the edges were on those disastrous looks.

Thanks to cosmetology school, my skills had increased along with the sharpness of my scissors.

It was hard to believe I was living that dream—at least to a certain extent. The salon where I worked was great, but there were better ones in the Upper East Side that were my goal now. And I paid for my chair, which came with advantages I had no idea about when I was younger. Like the flexible schedule that had allowed me to take the next week off.

“C’mon, Lorna,” Ivy called from the living room of our cramped Soho apartment. “If we don’t hurry up, they’ll give away our table at the club.”

My roommate was another perk since we met because we started to work at the salon at the same time. Although we got along great and had a lot in common, she liked to go and do stuff more than I did. When I came home after a long day, all I wanted to do was throw on my jammies and get cozy with a book or show. It was probably good that we lived together since we tended to balance each other out. I made sure she didn’t stay out too late when Ivy had clients booked in the early morning, while she talked me into trying out new restaurants. And a club tonight since we were celebrating my twenty-first birthday.

“Almost done!” Luckily, my mascara was already applied when I rolled my eyes at her excuse for wanting to get out the door so quickly.

Ivy was excited to hit up a club she’d never been to before, especially since she just turned twenty-one a few weeks ago and had only been out for drinks with friends a couple of times since then. But she was in such a rush tonight because one of her clients had gotten us bottle service at The End Zone, which came with a guaranteed table. Since the Nighthawks had their last preseason game tonight at home, her client had warned us that the place would be packed. Apparently, the owner was friends with the quarterback, and the team liked to celebrate their wins at the club.

When a few of Ivy’s childhood friends heard where we were going, they invited themselves to my birthday party. I didn’t know Jen, Stephanie, or Darla very well, but I figured the more the merrier tonight. Especially since we’d have enough people to watch our drinks while the others hit the dance floor. If it’d just been Ivy and me, we really would’ve run the risk of losing our table when she eventually talked me into dancing.

Ivy cracked open the bathroom door and met my gaze in the mirror. “You look great. Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” I asked as I tucked my favorite lipstick into my purse.

She rolled her eyes. “You could arrive in yoga pants and a tee and still look gorgeous.”

“Aw, thanks.” I beamed a smile at her. “And I appreciate you helping me choose an outfit. I wasn’t sure what would work best for a place like The End Zone.”

“Lucky for you, I could put my extensive barhopping experience to good use.” She winked at me before we both started to giggle at her exaggeration. “But seriously, Naomi told me that we’d be fine in just about anything we picked. It’ll run the full gamut from normal to jersey chasers wearing as little as possible in the hope that they can catch the eye of one of the football players.”

“I still can’t believe the wife of the Nighthawks quarterback comes to our salon.” My brows drew together as I shook my head. “Doesn’t she live all the way out in Long Island?”

“You know how women are when it comes to their hair. They’ll drive over state lines—or the East River, in this case—for a good cut and color if they have to.” Ivy tugged me out of the bathroom so she could nudge me out of our apartment. “And Catherine said she was the first stylist to cut Naomi’s hair back when she first moved to the city before she hooked up with the hottie, silver fox quarterback.”

I stuck my tongue out at her as we stepped into the lift. “Owner’s pet.”

“Am not,” she grumbled, not arguing too hard because she knew I was right. Catherine let Ivy get away with a lot more than any of the other stylists who rented booths in our salon. They’d just clicked since day one, which had been great for me since I sometimes benefited from the preferential treatment because I was Ivy’s friend and roommate. Like our chairs being in the best spots.

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Spread Offense (The New York Nighthawks #11) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/spread-offense-the-new-york-nighthawks-11-read-online-fiona-davenport Sun, 03 Mar 2024 19:18:56 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/spread-offense-the-new-york-nighthawks-11-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love, Sports Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)

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Gage Ledger didn’t know Rory Abernathy beyond her online gamer tag, but he still couldn’t get her off his mind. Although he’d never met her in real life, he had a feeling he’d finally met his match in the quirky and intelligent woman who he’d looked forward to talking with every day over the summer.

Rory hadn’t expected to come face-to-face with her favorite professional football player on the first day of her internship for the New York Nighthawks. Or to discover he was the gamer she’d fallen for. As her two worlds collide, she just has to hope the coincidence doesn’t cause problems for her at work.

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

PROLOGUE

GAGE

Igrinned as the miniature Gage Ledger on my gaming system ran into the end zone.

“Fuck yeah!” I shouted, throwing my hands into the air like a ref calling a touchdown.

“Calm down, slugger. That only puts you six points ahead,” a dry female voice said into my ear.

I chuckled as I sat down and adjusted my headset. “First of all, nerd, slugger is baseball. And second, don’t be bitter because I drafted Gage before you could get your grubby little hands on him.”

AllAboutTheStats gasped overdramatically. “Luck of the coin toss, geek. If this were real life, Gage would definitely have signed with me.”

I held back a belly laugh at her statement. She had no idea she was playing a football video game with the real Gage Ledger, starting running back for the New York Nighthawks. However, even if I could tell her my real identity, I was having too much fun being just another gamer with this chick.

My boss, Lennox Madison, had decided that he wanted to create a new multiplayer football game. One that incorporated requests his team had been gathering from all the fan sites and social media sites for other popular NFL games.

AllAboutTheStats was one of the gamers who’d been offered a chance to beta the game before Lennox’s designers made the final changes. Everyone on my team had been given a copy of the game as well because it helped to have feedback from actual players. But we had to agree not to reveal our real identities.

“You just might be right, stats chick,” I teased.

After playing head-to-head with her in Beaumont Football—named after our head coach, who was a legend in the sport—for the past several weeks, I’d come to crave our time together. She was a complete nerd, which I respected since underneath the big, tough football player, I was one too. She was sharp as hell and really talented. One of the major changes Lennox’s team made was allowing the gamers to play offense or defense. I knew football as well as I knew myself, but to be fair, my instincts tended to lean toward offense—hazard of the job. AllAboutTheStats had given me a run for my moment…if we’d been betting any…when playing defense. Which was why, until a few minutes ago, we’d been tied.

“You know, SpreadOffense…”

She trailed off, but since we were both gearing up for the next play, I figured she’d just lost track of what she was saying.

Then she shocked the shit out of me when she quipped, “You might want to rethink your gaming handle.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s just that people might not take you too seriously.”

“What’s wrong with SpreadOffense?” I asked curiously. It had been my own little inside joke since I was a running back.

“It sounds kind of dirty.” Her voice was low and sultry. It always sounded that way, so it was to my utter disbelief that my body sat up and took notice. What the fuck?

I hadn’t met a woman in a very long time who had sparked enough interest in me to even ask them out for coffee. But after hearing this chick I’d never met say the word “dirty” in that sexy voice, all of a sudden, I was hard.

I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

“Sorry, was that inappropriate?” she blurted after the silence had turned awkward.

I tried again to reply, but this time, laughter erupted from my chest. This girl…she was fucking adorable, and a part of me wanted to ask if we could meet. But Lennox would probably bench me for the season if I broke the rules he’d laid down for testing out the game.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I lied when I finally caught my breath.

“But…you didn’t do that on purpose?”

“No,” I muttered, another small chuckle slipping out.

“But you’re a guy—I mean—you are a guy, right? Not some girl with a really masculine voice and the mouth of a trucker?”

I almost fell over laughing again, and when I heard her giggle across the line, I went rock hard, making my amusement fade. “Most definitely a guy, nerd,” I responded as flippantly as possible. Then I bit back a very filthy comment that popped into my head. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, and I also didn’t want her to pick up on my level of interest. Not when this relationship would never go beyond a virtual friendship. “I guess my mind just wasn’t in the gutter the day I picked my handle.” I grinned. “That sounded dirtier than I meant it.”

“Hmm,” she said.

I smirked and changed the subject. “Ready for me to keep kicking your ass?”

“You won’t get anywhere near my ass, geek.”

I had no idea what she looked like, but something told me that was a real fucking shame.

“Did you see the new update?” I asked, smiling as I picked up my controller and began to sift through my draft options.

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Illegal Touching (The New York Nighthawks #10) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/illegal-touching-the-new-york-nighthawks-10-read-online-fiona-davenport Tue, 27 Feb 2024 19:57:28 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/illegal-touching-the-new-york-nighthawks-10-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Virgin Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)

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As an offensive lineman for the New York Nighthawks, Rhodes Channing was too focused on his career to have time for dating. But when he saw Finley Madison at a charity gala, he knew she was meant to be his. Unfortunately, she was the team owner’s niece…and he warned Rhodes to stay away from her.

Finley wanted nothing more than to be with Rhodes, but she didn’t want to risk the team’s playoff chances by causing drama. Their only choice was to keep their relationship a secret. A choice that could blow up in their face if her uncle found out.

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1

FINLEY

Although most people would never guess, getting all dressed up to go to a big event wasn’t really my thing. Being the niece of a billionaire who’d taken me under his wing, my closet was full of designer gowns, red-soled heels, and jewelry, but I was much more comfortable hanging out in my apartment in leggings and a sweatshirt with my hair in a messy bun. Which was probably a good thing since I’d spent the past two and a half years with my nose buried in textbooks so I could finish college three semesters earlier than most students. But now that I’d graduated, I couldn’t use a paper or exam as an excuse to get out of attending something with Uncle Lennox and Aunt Brie.

“Oh my,” my aunt sighed as she stepped into my bedroom in their penthouse in the Plaza overlooking Central Park. “You look so beautiful, Finley.”

She had tried to talk me into taking the floor-length mirror with me when I moved into my apartment in Greenwich Village a few years ago so I’d be closer to where most of my classes would be held at NYU’s School of Business. And to give them more privacy as they built their life together since they’d quickly gotten pregnant with their first child. I wanted them to bond with baby Justice without me getting in the way. After everything my uncle had done for me, he deserved the perfect home life with his growing family.

I hadn’t been able to picture myself needing the mirror often, so I’d chosen to leave it here. Which came in handy at times like this since it allowed me to appreciate the result of the effort that I’d put into attending the charity gala tonight. Between the floor-length black gown paired with ankle-strap black sandals with a three-inch stiletto heel, total glam look makeup, and updo for my hair, I looked nothing like the grungy, recent college grad who’d walked in their door a few hours ago.

Meeting her gaze in the reflective surface, I smiled. “Thanks, you did an amazing job picking out my gown and shoes.”

“I could’ve put you in a potato sack, and you still would have been gorgeous.”

“I’m going to be the luckiest man at the gala tonight,” Uncle Lennox murmured as he came up behind his wife and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Since I’ll have the two most beautiful women in attendance on my arms.”

Brie rolled her eyes, her hand moving to cover her round belly. “I look like I’m about twelve months pregnant.”

“Which only makes you even more stunning as far as I’m concerned. You’re sexy as hell when you’re carrying my babies.” Lennox placed his hand over hers. “But if tonight turns out to be too much for you, just say the word, and I’ll whisk you back home so you can get comfortable again.”

Brie beamed a smile up at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. The twins have been on their best behavior so far today.”

Watching my uncle bend low to murmur to his unborn babies brought happy tears to my eyes. I got a lot of flak from my classmates over my lack of interest in dating, but I wanted what my aunt and uncle had found together. I hadn’t really believed in happily ever after until my uncle had met Brielle at my cousin Gabe’s destination wedding. He’d fallen head over heels for the stunning woman who’d been the bride’s best friend and maid of honor, and I’d never seen him happier than he was when she agreed to run off to Vegas to marry him only days after they’d met.

Unfortunately, I’d never met a guy who piqued my interest enough to talk me into a date, let alone anything more. But maybe now that my education was behind me and I didn’t have an easy out when attending events with Lennox and Brie, I’d actually socialize enough for that to happen.

Feeling an unusual anticipation for tonight, I suggested, “With Baylor down for the night and Justice distracted by the nanny, we should probably head out.”

“That’s a good call,” Brie agreed with a wistful look toward the nursery just a few doors away from my room.

“C’mon, baby.” Lennox guided her down the hallway with his palm on her lower back as I followed them. “The kids will be fine while we’re gone. We’ll go, dance a little, enjoy some dessert, write a big fat check, and then when we get home later, I’ll—”

Brie’s cheeks turned pink as she pressed her palm against my uncle’s mouth. “Finley might’ve recently turned twenty-one, but I’m sure the last thing she wants to hear about are your plans for me tonight.”

“Yup, I can wholeheartedly confirm that is true.” I shook my head with a soft laugh. “This is why I plan to head back to my place instead of returning here with you two later. So please, feel free to dip out early. Don’t let me keep you there longer than you’d like.”

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Pump Fake (The New York Nighthawks #9) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/pump-fake-the-new-york-nighthawks-9-read-online-fiona-davenport Sun, 09 Jul 2023 00:33:40 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/pump-fake-the-new-york-nighthawks-9-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Sports, Virgin Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)

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Brady Summers thought there wasn’t anything he wanted more than the starting quarterback spot for the New York Nighthawks. Then Talia Finch needed him to play fake boyfriend to rescue her from a persistent creep, and all he could think about was how to make the pretty brunette his.

Talia doesn’t know the reason the hunky quarterback gave her for extending the pretense was just an excuse. Or that Brady is playing for keeps when it comes to her.

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

1

BRADY

It was just a scrimmage, but I wasn’t looking at the defense as members of my team, the New York Nighthawks. I was in the mindset of a real game because I needed to play at my peak if I was going to impress the coaches and offensive coordinator.

We took our spots on the line of scrimmage, the offense forming a spread shotgun formation, with four of our receivers on the field—two on each side—and a halfback in the backfield. We were on our second down after losing four yards on the defense’s thirty-six-yard line.

When the whistle blew, the center, Huck, snapped the ball to me. Then I handed it off to Gage, one of our running backs. He headed for the inside hip of the left guard while I executed a QB keeper fake, running to the backside of the play to keep that end occupied.

The offensive linemen moved downfield, blocking the first defender to come into their assigned zone. All four wide receivers worked to leverage inside their corners and block defense to the outside, away from the play.

Gage saw that I’d sold the trick play and accelerated downfield. He made it another five yards before Micah—one of our biggest linebackers—tackled him, ending the play.

“Fucking hell,” I grunted. Seeing as this was a practice game, I knew Micah had taken it easy, but still, that had to hurt.

I wanted a touchdown so badly, I could taste it. But we were at third and nine, so I was running out of time. The end zone was fifty-nine yards away, which meant I needed a long fucking pass. I was exhausted from a grueling practice but wasn’t about to show weakness and risk not achieving my goal. I had the skill and power to complete it, as long as my wide receivers had my back—which they always did. This team was a well-oiled machine.

Rhodes, an offensive lineman and my best friend, shot me a look, silently telling me to go for it.

I might not have made the same call in a real game, but I needed to showcase my skills if I wanted to snag the spot as QB while our starter was on the injured reserve list.

So I called a passing play, and we lined up. When the ball was snapped to me, the offensive line formed an upside-down U to keep me protected while I looked between Dempsey, Saxon, and Clay—our fastest wide receivers.

Nixon—one of our defensive linemen—was bearing down on Clay. Dempsey was clear, but Saxon had outrun him by a few yards.

Drawing my arm back, I inhaled deeply, then exhaled as I threw the football with precision and the last of my remaining strength. It spiraled through the air, sailing right into Saxon’s hands as he bolted the last seven yards into the end zone.

“Fuck yeah!” I heard shouted, and my head twisted to see our starting quarterback, Prentice, exclaiming as he pumped his fist. He winced when the movement shifted his other shoulder but grinned at me with pride.

Prentice had been the QB with the New York Nighthawks before I was drafted, and as a second-string, he’d been my mentor. After he hurt his shoulder and ended up on the IRL, he’d been all over my ass to step up my game and take his spot.

I wasn’t the only one vying for the position, and he tried to be unbiased in public even though, in private, he was determined to help me earn it. But his reaction to my touchdown wasn’t exactly subtle and had Kellan, an assistant coach, whacking him on the back of the head.

I laughed at Kellan’s scowl because his eyes were full of amusement. Prentice shrugged, then winced again, but smiled as I jogged over to him, my helmet dangling from my fingers.

“You killed it today,” he said, slapping my back.

“Learned from the best,” I grunted, shooting him a tired grin. “Now I need ice and a fucking bed because I am dead on my feet.”

“Looking good, Summers,” Kellan murmured as he wrote something on his clipboard. “Keep that shit up, and we’ll be wearing rings at the end of the season.” He nodded at Prentice, then walked over to talk to the head coach and Lennox Madison, the team owner, who’d stopped by to watch practice.

Lennox came to as many games as he could and frequently stopped by during the practices. He was a hands-on owner—smart and business-minded but with a love for the game—and a dedicated family man. Everyone respected him and enjoyed working for him.

He was one of the many reasons I’d signed a six-year contract two years ago. I’d been drafted straight into the Nighthawks with a four-year contract, and when it was up, I debated trying to get a starting QB spot with another team…for about thirty seconds. But the Nighthawks were my home, and when Prentice retired, I intended to fill his shoes.

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False Start (The New York Nighthawks #8) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/false-start-the-new-york-nighthawks-8-read-online-fiona-davenport Sat, 24 Jun 2023 21:47:49 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/false-start-the-new-york-nighthawks-8-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Sports, Virgin Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)

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The last thing Ames Yarrow expected when he went to dinner with his best friend was to pretend to be someone else. Then Dakota Sharpe told the hostess that all she knew about her blind date was that he was tall, and he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get to know her.

Dakota’s romance with Ames started with a false play, but that didn’t stop her from falling for the hot offensive lineman.

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

1

DAKOTA

“I can’t believe I moved back in with my parents.” I dropped my head back with a groan as I set my margarita on the ground next to me.

“Hey, now. I resemble that remark.” Charmaine twisted in her lawn chair and narrowed her eyes. “And I’ve been living with mine for the past two years while you were still away at school.”

“You know I didn’t mean it that way.” I heaved a deep sigh. “It’s just going to be weird having them all up in my business after being on my own for so long.”

My best friend lifted her frosty glass and quirked her brow. “If your mom’s nosiness comes with freshly made cocktails, then I’m all for her meddling as much as she wants.”

“It is a nice change from the wine coolers she used to let us drink when we were in high school,” I conceded, picking up my glass to take another sip.

“We thought we were so sophisticated every time she let us do that back then.” She laughed and shook her head. “But seriously, it’s not as though staying with your mom and dad will cramp your style. You literally never give guys a chance to ask you on a date, let alone go home with them and do the walk of shame the next morning.”

My nose wrinkled—and not because my mom had been heavy-handed with the tequila when she mixed this batch of drinks. I’d adjusted to the taste of my margarita by the third sip, but the same couldn’t be said for how I handled it whenever my loved ones brought up my lack of dating. I’d only been back home for a grand total of three hours, and my mom, dad, aunt, and grandma had already asked if I was sure I hadn’t left someone special behind.

“My welcome-home dinner didn’t feel very welcoming. I was hoping to get away from talking about my dating life when you showed up to rescue me from the family inquisition, but here you are, bringing it up yourself,” I muttered.

“Sorry.” She shot me a grin over the rim of her glass. “But you’re the one who brought it up.”

“Brought what up?” my mom asked from behind us.

Before I could tell her it wasn’t anything, Charmaine explained, “Her lack of a dating life.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” I groaned, turning to glare at her. “Some best friend you are.”

My mom patted me on the shoulder. “Be nice to Charmaine. She’s only got your best interests at heart.”

Twisting my neck, I shifted my glare toward her. “That’s the same excuse you used when Grandma asked me why I wasn’t married yet.”

My mom was unfazed by the reminder. “Because she does, too.”

“And when Aunt Jane said that I should at least be engaged since she thought I went to college to get my Mrs. degree?”

She nodded with a motherly smile, and I rolled my eyes.

“Did she really?” Charmaine sputtered out a laugh. “Dang, I’m mad I missed dinner. It sounds entertaining.”

“Only if you like watching your best friend get grilled more than the overcooked steaks that my dad made.” I gulped down the rest of my margarita and lifted my glass for my mom to refill from the pitcher she’d brought out.

“It wasn’t that bad, dear,” my mom murmured.

“Which one—the steak or the inquisition about her dating life?” Charmaine teased.

My mom laughed as she topped off her glass too. “Both.”

“You can only say that because you’re married and used to eating dad’s meat.”

I realized how that sounded the moment the words left my mouth, but there was no taking them back. All I could do was wait out my best friend and mom until they were done giggling—which took longer than I would’ve liked. Not that I was surprised, considering what I’d just said.

“You knew what I meant, Mom.”

“Sure,” she conceded with a smile. “But that doesn’t make it any less funny.”

Charmaine poked me in the side. “She’s got you there.”

There was no denying that my best friend was right, but I didn’t want to lose track of the point I’d been trying to make before our conversation went off track. “Now that everyone has had a good laugh at my expense, I’d like to request a moratorium on questions about when I’ll find a boyfriend. I have enough on my plate with trying to find my first real job. I don’t need the added stress of everyone pressuring me to go out on dates.”

“Don’t worry about all of this now, dear. Enjoy your first night back. Get silly with your bestie.” She brushed a kiss against my cheek and beamed a smile at Charmaine. “There’s plenty of time to find the man whose meat you’ll happily eat.”

I should’ve been used to the inappropriate stuff that came out of my mom’s mouth since I’d been listening to it for years, but she still made me blush.

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Change of Possession (The New York Nighthawks #7) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/change-of-possession-the-new-york-nighthawks-7-read-online-fiona-davenport Sun, 11 Jun 2023 19:41:57 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/change-of-possession-the-new-york-nighthawks-7-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Sports, Virgin Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)

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Rigby Hunt thought he found the woman who was meant for him in Cleo Fox. But then the grumpy punter saw her on a date with another man and figured he had it all wrong.

Cleo couldn't figure out why Rigby gave her the cold shoulder...until she saw how something innocent had been spun by the media. Now she just had to get him to listen to the truth.

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

1

RIGBY

I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up as I stepped outside of my building into the cool November air. After returning home from an away game this afternoon and dealing with team business the rest of the day, I hadn’t had a chance to put in a grocery delivery order. So when I got back to my penthouse, I was starving and had nothing to eat.

In the mood for home cooking, I decided to run to the store and grab the ingredients for a healthy chicken stir-fry.

Keeping my head down, I jogged the block to Butler’s Grocery, mindful that the paparazzi sometimes hung around right after a big win. Not that they took an interest in me very often. Despite being a punter for the wildly popular New York Nighthawks, I wasn’t what people would call “personable.” Is it my fault most people annoy me?

As I strolled through the automated double doors, I uncovered my head and lifted my chin at George, the manager, who returned my greeting with a wave. “Nice win,” he called in a thick British accent. Then he smirked and winked. “I guess you walked into the right locker room this time,” he quipped, referring to a T-shirt he’d bought for me last Christmas that said, “Kickers: Soccer players that walked into the wrong locker room.”

Grinning, I rolled my eyes and snarked, “I’d crush it in either locker room.”

I’d first visited the store the day I moved into my apartment, which I bought early in my first year with the Nighthawks. They’d given me a four-season contract, then a year ago, they signed me for another six when the first was about to expire. So I’d been coming to this store for over half a decade. George, his wife, and kids had become like family to me. His daughter had even lived with my parents in Wisconsin during her first year of college.

He laughed and tipped an imaginary hat. “Touché.”

I grabbed a cart and ambled over to the dairy aisle to grab a gallon of milk before making my way to the produce. I’d put in a full order of groceries later, but for now, I just needed the stuff for dinner and some staples.

When my basket was full, I turned with the intent to head to the register, but I was stopped in my tracks by the sexiest ass I’d ever seen.

The woman was bent over, studying the products on the bottom shelf. I admired the view, and to my surprise, the sight of that heart-shaped ass made my pants fit tighter. It was a foreign reaction because I hadn’t been interested in a woman in a long time. And that had suited me just fine since my focus was on my career.

She brushed a waterfall of bright-pink hair back over her shoulder when she stood. It fell in waves to the small of her back, and I pictured wrapping it around my fist as I pumped into her from behind.

I shook my head, trying to clear away the fog of lust clouding my mind. Now was not the time to think about sex. I’d barely managed to take control of my thoughts when she turned around, and my imagination went wild again.

Her long, pink bangs were swept to the side and tucked behind her ear, revealing striking green eyes surrounded by thick, dark lashes. A subtle sprinkling of freckles dotted the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and her plump lips made my mouth water at the thought of tasting them.

My eyes continued to travel south, taking in a lavender sweater that hugged her high, round tits that would spill out of my palms. The bottom sat just above the waistline of her pants, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of her smooth skin and cute belly button. Her jeans were molded to her curvy hips and endless legs, prompting thoughts about what they would feel like wrapped around me.

I was broken out of my stupor when she crossed the aisle and went up on her tiptoes, stretching her arm up to a high shelf she couldn’t reach.

A grin split my face as I recognized the opportunity for what it was and quickly sauntered over to her. “Hi,” I murmured.

I stifled a laugh when she jumped and whirled around, dropping her head back to look up at me. At six foot, three inches, I towered over her smaller frame, and I found that it made me feel protective of her. Although I suspected her body would fit perfectly against mine.

I put on my most charming smile, and her green eyes darted to my lips before meeting my gaze again. A pretty pink blush dusted her cheeks, and her lips curled up. “Um…hi.”

“Which one are you going for?”

“The vanilla extract,” she mumbled, seemingly a little dazed. I silently cheered because she appeared to be as affected by me as I was by her.

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Hot Receiver (The New York Nighthawks #6) Read Online Fiona Davenport http://www.ilovenovels.com/hot-receiver-the-new-york-nighthawks-6-read-online-fiona-davenport Thu, 10 Nov 2022 23:02:11 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/hot-receiver-the-new-york-nighthawks-6-read-online-fiona-davenport Genre: Alpha Male, Romance, Sports, Virgin Authors: Fiona Davenport Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)

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From bestselling author Fiona Davenport comes a marriage of convenience, age-gap, sports romance with a wide receiver who’s ready to do whatever it takes to permanently catch the woman who crashed into him.

Dempsey Tate was closing in on the end of his career as a professional football player. To make his lifelong dream come true, he needed to secure one final endorsement deal. Only the company wanted a family man, and he hadn’t dated in forever.
Then the perfect solution literally slammed into him—Skye Baird. She thought Dempsey was joking when he proposed after she spilled hot coffee on him. Little does she know their marriage of convenience will last forever.

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

1

Dempsey

My phone vibrated on the top shelf of my locker, and I stopped undressing to grab it. “Hey,” I greeted my agent, Gil, when I answered. I’d been waiting for this call for a week.

“So I got a call from one of the Best Sports reps—a friend of mine.”

“Did they offer?”

Best Sports was a huge chain of sporting goods stores. They started out as one mom-and-pop shop and practically grew into a dynasty. But the company was still family run and owned, which was one of the reasons I loved the idea of being their spokesperson. I knew they wanted the face of the company to have a role model without scandal or anything that would be damaging to the spokesperson or the company.

I’d always been all about my job. I hadn’t even gone on a real date in more years than I could count, so nothing in my past would keep me out of the running. After meeting with the owners, I was confident that I had an excellent shot at being signed for this deal.

It was also a long-term gig, which was exactly what I was looking for. They wanted someone who would represent them long into their old age, who would become a member of the family.

This endorsement would get me what I needed to finish a project I’d had in the works for nearly a decade.

I came from a low-income area of New York City. My parents had me in high school and worked their asses off to make sure I had a good education and kept me out of trouble with community sports. Although the center had some state funding, the teams and equipment weren’t free, so my parents had scrimped for every penny. I’d been lucky to get one of the limited spots those first years. A lot of kids hadn’t been able to afford it, or simply missed applying until they were already full.

Not all of those kids had gone on to have a troubled youth, but more than there should have been. My best friend had joined a gang by the time he was twelve. When he was killed at fifteen during a retaliation shooting by a rival gang, I swore to do whatever I could to help as many kids as possible.

I wanted to build centers that offered more competitive sports options, classes that taught basic skills as well as nutrition, and even some job training. A few places provided similar classes and activities, though not all, but not only were they few and far between, they cost more than a lot of families could pay in those areas.

My goal was to open centers with an alternate funding source so that almost everything they offered was free. And I wanted a lot of them.

I’d been drafted at eighteen, and it hadn’t taken long for my skill to earn me a high salary. But even before I had money to put into the project, I started working on it. Even when I became one of the highest-paid receivers in the NFL, I knew I couldn’t make this happen on my own. Still, I’d kept working on it, buying up land, making deals, finding donors, anything I could do to pave my way toward my ultimate goal. I could have paid to build a few of the centers on my own, but I wouldn’t be able to sustain them long-term on my income, especially after I retired. And though I had a long list of donors, the centers needed a continuous stream of money.

I’d been smart with my money over the years, and I would be able to live out my retirement very, very comfortably. There were other long-term endorsement deals that I’d secured, but when I found out Best Sports was looking for a new face, I was willing to jump through any hoops they wanted. Every penny they paid me was going right into the coffers for the community centers. The signing bonus from the deal would be enough to build and furnish over a dozen, and the income would go a long way in keeping them funded.

Gil sighed, bringing me out of my thoughts. “The rep was doing me a favor and called to warn me. You’re the one they want. They think you’re the perfect fit, except for one thing. And it’s important enough that they might go another way.”

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