Magic – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Magic – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.booksnovels.com Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:15:12 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.4 http://www.booksnovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Magic – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.booksnovels.com 32 32 One Shattered Crown – Grimm Bargains Read Online Rebecca Zanetti http://www.booksnovels.com/one-shattered-crown-grimm-bargains-read-online-rebecca-zanetti Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:15:12 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/one-shattered-crown-grimm-bargains-read-online-rebecca-zanetti Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Rebecca Zanetti Advertisement

Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)

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Set in a steamy, neon-lit, high-tech world of magic, money, and explosive desire, this sultry, dark fairytale retelling offers a dystopian romantasy twist on Cinderella.

ELLA
It’s the wedding of the year—a lavish union of two powerhouses. But I’m only here for vengeance against the woman who stole my position as sole heir to my late father’s company, TimeGem Moments, and shipped me off to boarding school. I’ve only made more enemies since. Tonight is my chance to reclaim control. Tonight, TimeGem’s diamond-powered servers are this girl’s best friend. Unless he ruins everything. Justice Beathach, the groom’s unbearably hot brother, with hands built for war and a mouth that spells destruction. He’s lethal, unyielding, and now has me in his crosshairs . . .

JUSTICE
Ella Rendale almost killed my brother once. Now, at his own wedding, she’s almost done it again. I don’t care if he’s forgiven her or if she’s been wronged. I care about one thing: the locked flash drive she leaves behind, spelling my destruction. She can run, she can hide, but when I find her, she’ll give me what I want. But someone else wants her even more than I do—they want her dead. When our enemies close in, I’m forced to protect her, turning the fire between us into an uncontrollable weapon. Now, she’s not just my quarry—she’s my obsession. And I’ll kill anyone who even thinks of taking her from me . . .

*** DELUXE SPECIAL EDITION HARDCOVER with stenciled edges, reversible dust jacket, foil stamping, and designed endpapers! ***

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

ONE

Ella

Justice … yeah, he looks dangerous. Jet-black hair, broad shoulders stretching the seams of his suit, gaze constantly scanning the room. I feel a little sorry that I tried to kill his brother not too long ago. Thorn survived—barely—and the only reason I’m still breathing is because he’d bend reality to keep Alana safe, and she loves me. My death would hurt her, so I get to stay alive.

Which is a good thing, because there are more guns in this opulent pavilion than actual people.

I tear my gaze away from Justice and take a sip of champagne. The expensive brew is a crisp, floral, bubbly delight that tickles the roof of my mouth as I try to count how many bodyguards are lurking around the place. I give up after twenty. This is ridiculous.

Then I purposefully avoid looking at Justice and glance over at Alana. My best friend. The newly crowned Mrs. Thorn Beathach.

Her beauty practically fills the whole room, like light refracting off a diamond. She has sparkling eyes, thick, dark hair cascading down her back, and cheekbones that are sharp yet feminine. She’s glowing. Literally. Maybe it’s the chandeliers catching her earrings, or the champagne catching up to me. Could go either way.

Her man is danger in a suit with a scar across his face that’s a clear warning sign.

They’re a striking couple: beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. Like a rose with steel thorns and a body count.

She holds up her phone and makes a post, probably on her family’s social media platform, Aquarius Social. She’s the biggest influencer in the country, with a platform that allows people to share emotions. Considering she’s radiating happiness, she’s spreading a lot of love right now.

Soft music winds through the air that sounds like delicate and expensive strings. My shoulders roll back, irritated by a persistent, uncomfortable itch down my spine. My quite bitchy stepmother must be nearby. And, bingo. There she is with the stepsisters, loitering near the buffet where most of the bachelors are filling their plates. My stepmother and sisters are just pretending to pick at things. Performance dining.

I shake my head.

“You really could smile a little,” Rosalie says beside me, her voice warm and dry with amusement.

I half turn to take her in. Rosalie wears a deep sapphire gown that hugs her like it was sewn on by angels. The color makes the impossible blue of her eyes even more shocking. Ethereal, but in a way that says she could still stab you with a heel if it came to it.

“I am smiling,” I tell her.

We match tonight in the same gown, same shade. Except I’m many inches shorter, and mine doesn’t quite flow as gracefully. But my blonde hair is curled just right around my shoulders, and my makeup’s on point. I feel acceptable. Like I might belong here. If I squint. “I can’t believe you’re here talking to me all by yourself.”

Rosalie rolls her eyes. “Don’t be silly.”

I scan the room again. Glittering gowns brush the marble floors, and tuxedos prowl past like sleek predators. Laughter hums just under the music. I catch sight of Alexei Sokolov by the bar. He’s partially turned, but his gaze flicks in our direction. Direct. Calculating. Possessive.

“Oh, there he is,” I murmur. “I’m surprised he let you out of his sight for long.”

Rosalie laughs, soft but rich. “He is a mite overprotective.” Right. Like the leader of the Russian mob is just a bit protective.

“How many guns does he have on him, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” she says.

I glance toward the exits, from doorway to doorway, cataloging shadows and broad shoulders. I count at least two mafia guys at each exit. The Russian half are Alexei’s, and the Irish ones are Thorn’s. Then a few more are scattered throughout.

Yeah. Glitter, music, silk, and enough firepower to start a small war. Just another Saturday night.

Alexei and Thorn own two of the most powerful social media companies in the world and also run mafia-like organizations with enough reach to make FBI agents cry into their keyboards. Charming, really. Alana’s family owns the third out of four major companies.

Technically, I should own the fourth. Should. But my stepmother’s still clinging to it with her clawed fingers and Botox-smoothed smugness. That’s temporary, though. The clock’s ticking, and she doesn’t even hear it. Unless she finally succeeds in getting me killed, and then she wins.

I can’t let that happen.

A couple dances past us, the woman’s golden gown billowing out and catching innocent ankles like a weaponized fabric storm. Strings hum from somewhere above like music’s just floating down from the cosmos, or a luxury sound system pretending to be heaven.

I’m ready to get out of the gown and into my yoga pants. Even though I grew up an heiress in one of the wealthiest families of all time, my stepmother shipped me off to a boarding school in the middle of nowhere, with no fancy celebrations or even cake. I’m more comfortable by myself in comfy clothes with a computer in front of me. But I know my role, so I smile for anybody looking or filming. “I’m still surprised Thorn agreed to have the wedding reception on Alana’s father’s property.” The pavilion’s gorgeous, sure, but Thorn doesn’t exactly scream let’s compromise. The man radiates control-freak energy in his sleep.

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Found Objects Read Online Mary Calmes http://www.booksnovels.com/found-objects-read-online-mary-calmes Sun, 16 Aug 2026 18:11:35 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/found-objects-read-online-mary-calmes Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Mary Calmes Advertisement

Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)

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Merritt Baker is older than he looks. Quite a bit older, in fact. He knows all about the woods and where one should never wander at night, but the fact of the matter is, sometimes men are the scariest creatures of all, and Merritt makes it his business to protect the innocents caught in their wake. In the small town of Coille, West Virgina, where he makes his home, he takes care of quite a few people, and that’s always been enough. Or has been. Lately though, he’s felt a bit lost, as though he’s forgotten what it means to really live rather than simply exist.

Change arrives when a pack of shifters buys the land that borders his. He doesn’t think twice about them until his simple rules are ignored, and suddenly there’s conflict. One of the wolves, Cole Swann, is very interested in him, and surprisingly, Merritt can’t seem to get the man out of his head. But things aren’t what they seem, and between other packs, ghosts, and worst of all, love, Merritt might be in over his head. That’s the thing about being lost—it can be wonderful when you’re finally found, but is it worth the risk of losing yourself?

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

EARLY…

Iwasn’t sleeping. I hadn’t been lately. And really, I didn’t much anymore, not like I used to when the world was quieter. But I missed it, noticed it, and could say with absolute conviction that usually, not being able to rest signaled a change. Normally, there were small shifts, nothing seismic, not anymore. But because my restlessness could either be good or bad, I was anxious. My roommate, Ondine, was gone, so there was no one at home for me to talk to, and another friend who occasionally haunted my sunroom when it got colder, wasn’t around either, so I was out, alone, first checking the edges of my property before moving farther toward town.

It was early in the morning, somewhere between one and two, so the screaming caught my attention immediately. It was easily half a mile away, but sounds traveled strangely in the woods, especially when most in our small town were sleeping.

When I reached the trailer, which was a mile down the road from my property, I saw that all the lights were on. I headed around the side to the window and saw Missy Harrington, who worked days at the local market while her daughter was in school, sitting in the front room, hair mussed, lip split, nose bleeding, eye bruised, rocking her daughter and a small black-and-white puppy in the chair with her. The way she was clutching them tight told me that either the child, the puppy, or both could be the target of the man who was pacing back and forth in front of her, yelling.

The little girl—her daughter, Katey, who I knew from all the times she’d bounced into my restaurant for a cinnamon roll after school—was trembling and crying. The puppy was watching the man, shivering, but not making a sound.

“What did I tell you I was gonna do to that dog if he pissed in the house again?” James Harrington growled at his wife.

“He’s just a puppy,” she whispered. “He has to be trained.”

He charged toward her, and he would have hit his wife, but Katey cried out in terror.

“You want something to cry about?” he roared at his daughter. “How about I give you somethin’ to cry about.”

Missy put her hand over her daughter’s head and turned her face toward her. “Just me, Jimmy,” she begged. “Please.”

He clenched his fist, and I moved to the porch and knocked.

“What the hell?” he yelled, charging across the floor. I couldn’t see him from my angle, of course, but I could hear every step. The man had a distinct sound to his gait when he was drunk—his work boots on the wooden floor made a scratching noise—and he was very drunk. I could hear it in the slur of his words, but more importantly, unless he was at work on the road crew, picking up dead animals struck by cars or clearing debris, he was nearly always drunk. Many a time I had covered groceries for Missy when beer or whiskey had been purchased instead of milk or cheese or hamburger meat.

The door flew open, and it took him a second to process me standing there.

“Merritt?”

“James,” I said flatly before I grabbed him by his jacket, yanked him off his feet and out the door, then shoved him over the railing of the porch.

The fall wasn’t far, but he was winded even from hitting the sliver of grass around the trailer. Farther down the hill they lived on were various cars and cages that used to have dogs in them before the state police came and shut down his backyard breeding operation six months ago. That had been me as well. Other people were afraid of James, as he had a mean temper and more than a few equally mean friends, but no one in their right mind was messing with me, so the duty to protect the dogs had fallen to me. I had not failed them.

“Merritt, you son of a whore!” he yelled. Or tried to yell. It came out raspy, all the air having left his lungs.

“Hey,” I greeted the woman, the little girl, and the puppy. “You have bags packed, yes?”

Missy just stared at me.

I crossed the room and crouched down in front of her. “Dear, do we have bags packed?”

She nodded quickly.

“Let’s grab them, and I’ll help you put them in the car.”

“I… Merritt, what are you doing here?”

I never understood the need to clarify the why of something in the middle of emergency situations. Why was it important why I was there?

“I wanna go with Mere,” Katey said shakily, on the verge of tears. We were old friends with how many times she’d been in my restaurant. “Daddy’s gonna kill Lucky.”

“No, he’s not,” I murmured to the little girl, who turned and dove into my arms. “But we do need to go.”

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