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

Novella – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.booksnovels.com Sat, 10 Oct 2026 20:15:06 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.1.3 http://www.booksnovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Novella – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.booksnovels.com 32 32 Jekyll Read Online Zoe Blake http://www.booksnovels.com/jekyll-read-online-zoe-blake Sat, 10 Oct 2026 20:15:06 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/jekyll-read-online-zoe-blake Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Novella, Paranormal Authors: Zoe Blake Advertisement

Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)

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HE CREATED A MONSTER.
NOW THEY BOTH WANT THE SAME WOMAN.

Jekyll loves Catherine. Hyde is obsessed with her. And neither is willing to let her go.

HYDE
I am the shiver up your spine.
The movement in the shadows.
The monster stalking you through the night.

Catherine is my reason for existing.
My obsession.
No locked door, chain, or cage will keep me from her.
She may fear the darkness now, but soon I will make her crave it.
And nothing will stop me from claiming her as mine.

JEKYLL
I know it is wrong.
Each time I take the formula, he grows stronger.
And so does his obsession for Catherine.
I should protect her from the monster I’ve unleashed.
But I cannot stop him, because we both want the same thing… her.

JEKYLL is a Dark Gothic romance novella from USA Today bestselling author Zoe Blake—a twisted reimagining of the classic tale of obsession, duality, and the monster hiding within

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

CHAPTER 1

CATHERINE

Imoved my arm and heard the rattle of a chain.

Forcing my eyes open, I blinked against the bright sunlight filtering through my lace bedroom curtains. I stared at the delicate pattern of twisting, turning shadows the light cast through the lace as my mind tried to focus.

A dull pain in my shoulder once again had me trying to lower my arm, to no avail.

A chain rattled against the bedpost.

This time, the sound jolted me fully awake. I stretched my neck to gaze at my shackled wrist.

Flashes from last night bounced around my brain.

A nightmarish kaleidoscope.

Cruel scenes of sex, violence, and fear.

With my heart clawing to escape my chest, I looked around my bedroom. It appeared to be empty. My gaze fixated on the closed bathroom door. Was he inside? My lower lip trembled as I waited, straining to hear even the slightest sound.

Seconds passed.

Fear closed my throat when I thought I heard the scuff of a boot heel on tile.

I waited.

I could barely hear over the pounding of my heart and my own erratic breathing.

Several more seconds passed by.

My eyes watered as I stared at the bathroom doorknob without blinking, waiting to see even the slightest turn.

Nothing.

I sucked air into my lungs as a lightheaded rush made the room blur and swim before my eyes.

Without thinking, I pulled on my wrist in an attempt to rub my forehead.

The chain rattled again as my wrist remained shackled to the bedpost.

I cast a glance over to where the bedroom door had been. It was now hanging by only a few screws from its last remaining hinge, a pile of splinters scattered on the floor nearby. I waited to hear heavy footfalls on the steps beyond.

Silence.

I lived in a small two-story flat in London. My bedroom and the attached bathroom were the only rooms on the second floor, with just a tiny landing at the top of the stairs. If he was still here, he must be downstairs where he wouldn’t hear the grate of the metal chain against the wooden bedpost. Hopefully.

Locked around my wrist was one end of a pair of handcuffs. It had a longer-than-usual chain in the middle and the other bracelet was attached to the bedpost.

A hiss escaped through my teeth as I tried to turn my body and rise up on my knees. Every muscle screamed in protest. I glanced down at my naked form. My vintage-inspired nightgown with the pretty pink flowers was gone. On the top of my left breast was the faint red outline of a bite mark. Finger-shaped marks marred my inner thighs. Never in my life had I been taken so brutally. It was as if I had let a wild animal into my bedroom.

There wasn’t an inch of my body he hadn’t touched, kissed… bruised.

And he had pushed himself inside my…

No, I wouldn’t think about that now. I needed to get these handcuffs off. I desperately wanted a long, hot shower. I needed to wash the depraved, lust-filled night off my skin. If only it could have been so easy to also erase it from my mind.

Clenching my jaw against the pain, I shifted my hips and rose up onto my knees. I gripped the bedpost for purchase as I looked down at my wrist. Thankfully, there weren’t any red marks from the handcuffs. No visible ones at least.

I lifted my left hand to my throat as I glanced at my reflection in the glass covering the peony print hanging over my bed. There were several round marks encircling my neck where his mouth had sucked and bitten at the soft skin of my throat. Never mind that now. A scarf would cover it. I needed to focus on getting free.

I gripped the handcuff chain and yanked it upward, intending to pull it up and over the end of the bedpost. It didn’t budge. The handcuff bracelet was tightly secured around a decorative indentation in the bedpost. I yanked again. The chain rattled but didn’t move.

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Snowed Read Online Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward http://www.booksnovels.com/snowed-read-online-vi-keeland-penelope-ward Sat, 10 Oct 2026 20:14:42 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/snowed-read-online-vi-keeland-penelope-ward Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Novella Authors: Penelope Ward, Vi Keeland Advertisement

Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)

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New York Times Bestselling Authors, Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward, bring you three new, sexy short stories to heat up your holidays!

Merry Inkmas
When my boss got fed up with the constant bickering between me and another tattoo artist, she decided a company retreat was in order. But when Cade and I wound up snowed in alone at the cabin, things took a turn. There’s a reason they say there’s a fine line between love and hate, and we had no idea which way things were going to turn out.

The Christmas Card
When my ex got engaged pretty quickly after we broke up, I did something stupid. I made up a new boyfriend. How would anyone ever know? They wouldn’t. Unless my fake boyfriend showed up at my ex’s annual Christmas party.

The Twelve Dates of Christmas
I somehow got roped into my matchmaker best friend’s holiday dating event, The Twelve Dates of Christmas. The only part I actually enjoyed was shamelessly flirting with her brother, who had a front-row seat to every disaster from behind his bar. Four-years-younger Tucker was infuriatingly hot and always off-limits. It turned out while I was looking for holiday sparks in all the wrong places, Tucker was the one lighting me up

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

CHAPTER 1

* * *

Daria

“You two need to cut the shit!” Billie pulled the door closed behind her and stepped into the reception area where Cade and I were arguing—yet again.

I wasn’t about to say it, but this time it was sort of the boss’s fault, since Billie had put us both on decorating duty after we finished our last appointments of the day. It was taking forever because we couldn’t even agree on how to hang garland or decorate a tree.

“We can all hear you bickering. The clients included,” she said. “Even over the sound of the tattoo machines.”

My shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Billie.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just figure out how to be friends already. Okay?”

She waited until we both nodded to go back into the studio. As soon as the door shut again, I looked over at Cade and whispered, “It’s still crooked, you idiot.”

“It’s not freaking crooked.” He climbed down from the ladder, slapping dirt from his hands. “And who cares if it is? It’s good enough.”

“I do. Billie does. It’s only a little more than a week until Christmas. Maybe dig deep for some holiday cheer.” I brushed past him. “Just get out of the way. I’ll fix it myself.”

Cade McMahon and I had both started as tattoo artists at Billie’s Ink two months ago, one week apart. We hadn’t gotten along since my second day, when I’d unknowingly tatted one of his long-time clients. Things had gotten worse the last few weeks. If whoever makes those Grinch movies ever needed a new actor, Cade would be a shoo-in. No acting required. The man was grumpier by the day as we slid toward the twenty-fifth. I could tell Billie was at her wit’s end. She probably wouldn’t admit it, but I was certain the team-building retreat we were all required to attend this week up in Vermont was mainly because of me and Cade.

I climbed the ladder, removed the star from the artificial Christmas tree, and bent the top branch a little to the right before replacing it and leaning back for a look. “There,” I said. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Cade frowned but said nothing for a change. I picked up the paper with the funky snow scene Billie had sketched. She wanted us to paint something similar on the shop’s front window.

“I’ll do the snowman and the snow,” I said. “You paint the scenery in the background and then tat up Frosty.”

He shrugged. “Whatever.”

It took us another hour, but at least we didn’t bicker—though that was probably only because neither of us ever said two words while we worked on art. I finished my part a few minutes before Cade, which gave me a chance to watch him in action. He held two thin paintbrushes between his teeth, and his head bopped along to whatever he had playing in his earbuds. It was really a shame the guy was a giant asshole, because he was also phenomenally good-looking. At least when he wasn’t talking. Chiseled jawline, a perfect, straight nose, and plump lips that women paid big money for. What a waste.

Deek, another tattoo artist at Billie’s, walked his last client of the day out from the back. The two shook hands.

“Merry Christmas, man.”

Deek waved. “You too. I’ll see you next month for the color fill-in.”

The extra bells I’d hung at the top of the front door jingled as it opened and closed. Deek looked around the now-decorated reception area. “Nice job. And no blood shed, from what I can see. Maybe there’s such a thing as a Christmas miracle after all.”

He walked toward the door that separated the lobby from the studio. “Oh, I almost forgot. Change of plans for the trip up to Vermont tomorrow morning.”

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Vicious Rival – Steamy Espresso Reads Read Online Whitney G http://www.booksnovels.com/vicious-rival-steamy-espresso-reads-read-online-whitney-g Sat, 10 Oct 2026 20:14:09 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/vicious-rival-steamy-espresso-reads-read-online-whitney-g Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Novella Authors: Whitney G. Advertisement

Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 28810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)

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Have you ever met a man who thinks he knows everything?

A guy so arrogant and cocky that he actually believes he's God's gift to women?

Hell yes?

Well, in that case, I'm willing to bet his name is Adrian Sinclair. (His middle name is Sebastian, so his initials are fittingly “A.S.S.”)

This man is the billionaire CEO of a company that every romance reader loves—Sinclair Street Books—the massive bookseller chain that keeps them addicted with new releases, special signed editions, and exclusive author book tours.

And me?

I'm the owner of the indie romance bookshop across the street that he's months away from crushing once his newest location opens.

Of course, I had no idea who he really was when we first met, but that's a chapter for another day…

Alas, I may have to work a part-time night shift in his paperback warehouse to keep my lights on.

And with every passing day, I'm learning that there's no such thing as “friendly” competition in the book business, and Adrian Sinclair is the most vicious rival I've ever had

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

THE CEO

ADRIAN

Barnes & Noble Booksellers was officially two years away from regretting the day it didn’t accept my buyout offer for all seven hundred of its bookstores.

Just like Waterstones in the United Kingdom and every other brick-and-mortar book chain that dared to compete with me, their downfall was inevitable.

Their only advantage was that they hadn’t realized it yet.

Sinclair Street Books, the company I’d been building since I was twenty years old, was bound to become the biggest bookselling empire in the country. Whether everyone else liked it or not.

I pulled into my designated space at our Manhattan location an hour before the doors opened, taking a moment to admire the ten-story building that carried my name.

As always, a small line of loyal readers had already formed outside the entrance, some clutching coffee cups, others reading books beneath the glow of our storefront.

They were the reason I came in early.

Swiping my key against the security pad, I opened the doors and motioned for them to step inside ahead of me.

They deserved it.

I took the glass elevator to the top floor, watching the store come to life beneath me as the staff straightened displays and double-checked the walls of new releases across all ten levels.

The moment the doors opened, I switched on the main lights and waited for my favorite part of every morning.

“Welcome to Sinclair Street” illuminated the ceiling in brilliant green, casting its glittering reflection across the glass storefront.

“Good morning, Mr. Sinclair!” Mariah, my personal assistant, waltzed into my office with a tray. “Today is the perfect day to pen a new chapter in your life!”

“Can you please stop speaking in motivational quotes?” I asked. “You’ve been at it for three months.”

“I will, once you agree to start living a life outside of your job,” she said. “It’s not normal, and it’s why you don’t have any friends.”

“I don’t need any friends,” I said. “They get in the way of success.”

“Success is nothing without anyone to share it with.” She placed her hand over her heart. “A man who only possesses money is poorer than a man who has a family.”

Jesus Christ. “Mariah…”

“Don’t be so busy making a living that you forget to make a life.” She stretched out her arms like she was about to start an interpretative dance.

I blinked.

“Are you done now?”

“That depends.” She tapped her chin. “Can I have this Friday off?”

“For what?”

“My boyfriend and I want to⁠—”

“No.” I didn’t need to hear the rest. “Save it for Saturday or Sunday.”

“Brace for more quotes at lunch, then.” She walked over to my tray and adjusted a few things.

“I added extra cream to your coffee, highlighted the notable books on this week’s bestseller lists, and printed out an advance copy of a column that’s going to make you seethe.”

“Which paper and journalist?”

“Sandra Ross at The New Yorker,” she said. “Want me to spoil her words for you?”

“Yes, please.” I crumpled it and tossed it into the bin across the room.

“You’re a spoiled little rich boy who wants to own every bookstore in the country,” she said. “You’re the only person in this world who could make her vote ‘no’ to throwing Jeff Bezos in the wood chipper if it meant you would take his place.”

“I’m actually flattered by that.” I smiled. “Reprint it in poster size and have it framed for my office.”

“Will do,” she said. “You want it here at this office or at your upcoming Brooklyn location?”

“The Brooklyn one.”

“Consider it done.” She walked away, and before I could take a sip of my coffee in peace, a group of interns rushed into the room and placed stacks of books onto my side table.

I waited for them to leave and brought the cup to my lips, but then my literary director stepped into my doorway.

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Worth Your Wild Read Online Jessa Kane http://www.booksnovels.com/worth-your-wild-read-online-jessa-kane Sat, 10 Oct 2026 20:14:02 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/worth-your-wild-read-online-jessa-kane Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Novella Authors: Jessa Kane Advertisement

Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)

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Deke Decker is a country music superstar that has seen better days—one that is wholly unprepared for his new assistant to walk in and rearrange his life for the better. But that appears to be what this red-headed vixen, June, is hell-bent on doing. Too bad Deke doesn't like change. He's more than satisfied to trade his fame for bitterness and whiskey. If only June would let him. And if only she'd stop driving him crazy with hunger when she's only half his age. When Deke finds out June has been a super fan her whole life and always imagined Deke as her first, however, resistance might just be futile.

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

ONE

June

Never meet your heroes. That’s what they say.

My first thought upon seeing Deke “Daddy” Decker sprawled out shirtless in his dressing room with a bottle of Jack Daniels dangling from his famous fingers?

I should have listened.

My uncle Sandy has been working as Deke’s personal assistant for two decades. Over the years, they’ve become friends, but even Sandy warned me the country music superstar is not what he used to be. From my place in the doorway, I can see exactly how true that is. Deke’s face is currently hidden beneath the brim of a black cowboy hat, but I know from recent television interviews that it’s no longer young and boyish.

At forty-two, his countenance is hardened and cynical. His blue eyes no longer twinkle. They’re mean and impatient.

That physique of his must be one hundred percent natural, however, because it hasn’t disappeared along with his charisma. His six-foot-five frame is still as powerful as ever. Sure, the muscle definition isn’t as prominent and there is more meat on his bones, but his overall thickness is what I’ve always found appealing. Even when I was way too young to moon over attributes like thigh sinew. Or a happy trail. Or the way the zipper of jeans always seemed on the verge of bursting open.

Just like it does now.

Deke’s eyes are covered. That’s probably why I look at it longer than I should.

When a familiar quickening in my tummy starts to take hold, I force my gaze down to the ground and take a deep breath. I thought I’d gotten control of my infatuation enough to cover for Sandy for a few days. Was I wrong?

Maybe this crush I’ve had since I was ten years old will never truly go away.

Deke gives out a low grunt and shifts on the dressing room couch, his hips lifting just slightly, that bulge on full display…and my temperature rises. Rapidly. Much to my irritation.

Honestly. I’m twenty years old.

I shouldn’t be turning red over the mere presence of male genitalia.

Although, Deke’s is somewhat…famous. For being large and in charge.

Apparently, they don’t call him “Daddy” for nothing.

As a virgin, I know nothing about such things. How big is big enough to earn a nickname? I have no idea. Unfortunately, I have thought about Deke Decker’s penis a lot. From the moment I hit puberty in middle school, I swore up, down and sideways that Deke would be my first. He was going to sweep into town with his flurry of tour buses. One of them would break down on the side of the road. I would happen by on my bike and invite him over for lemonade and we’d make slow, sweet love under the shade of my elm tree in the backyard of my house.

Obviously, in this fantasy, I didn’t have parents.

Or a functioning brain.

This man is more than twice my age.

Standing so close to him now, that mathematical fact is inescapable. He’s all weathered skin and faded tattoos and rough, calloused hands. I’m on summer break, about to begin my third year at Vanderbilt. My life has barely begun while Deke seems hell bent on putting an early end to his.

My disappointment is just beginning to sink in when Deke lifts the bottle of Jack to his lips and takes a hearty swig. “Is it time to go on yet?” rumbles in that scratchy baritone. The one that has sold millions of records and made women around the country scream their heads off for the last two decades.

I clear my throat lightly, check my watch. “You have twenty minutes before you go on stage, sir.”

A handful of seconds ticks by, before Deke Decker flicks up the brim of his cowboy hat, taking in my presence through eyes narrowed against the light. “Who the fuck are you?”

Despite preparing myself for Deke’s bad attitude, my heart sinks down to the floor, though I smile through the ridiculous hurt. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Decker. I’m⁠—”

“I swear to God, you groupies get more aggressive every show.” He tosses the hat onto the nearby dressing table, upsetting a row of empty beer bottles. “Have to say, you don’t exactly fit the description of my usual admirer. More like one of their daughters.” He shakes his head at me. “You’re a baby. Go home.”

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Hat Trick Kisses – Houston Lonestars Read Online Loni Ree http://www.booksnovels.com/hat-trick-kisses-houston-lonestars-read-online-loni-ree Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:52:58 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/hat-trick-kisses-houston-lonestars-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Novella, Sports Authors: Loni Ree Advertisement

Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 67(@300wpm)

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The Houston Lonestars are used to owning the ice. Fast. Fierce. Unstoppable. But off the rink, their plays are about to be rewritten. One by one, bold, wickedly confident women stride into their lives and flip the game hard and fast. Sparks fly at first sight, chemistry ignites into fire, and the players discover they don’t stand a chance against love that hits like a slap shot.

Instalove, intensely steamy, and packed with heart, the Houston Lonestars series delivers high‑octane passion, locker‑room tension, and women who know exactly what they want. Get ready for romance that scores every time

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

CHAPTER ONE

HARRISON

I push my way into The Sin Bin bar and glance around. Above the bar, a Lone Star blazes, painting everything in a glow that’s half gold, half electric blue. Friday night after a win, it’s a fucking madhouse. The place shakes with jukebox bass and voices shouting over one another.

I walk up to the last booth in the back. “Look at this motherfucker!” Bouch roars and walks over to sling his forearm around my neck, squeezing so tight the edge of my vision starts to go black. “Three goals, all his teeth still in his mouth. Success!”

“Let the man breathe before we have to do CPR on his ass,” Liam Fichtner, our left defenseman, grumbles, lifting his beer to his mouth.

“You have to do the rescue breaths ‘cause I’m not kissing his ugly ass. I’ll do the chest compressions!” Chance Scott yells from the far side, his chair somehow already backward, one leg up on the next table.

Phoenix Michaud is the only one in the booth not immediately drunk or shouting. He’s methodically picking jalapeños off a plate of loaded nachos and pretending to listen, but I can see the edge of a smile ghost his mouth.

“Hopefully, you do compressions better than you defend shit,” Phoenix says, voice so low I’m not sure anyone else hears it. “Was watching your D get undressed in front of the crease all goddamn night.”

Chance grabs his chest like he’s been shot, nearly toppling his own beer. “Jesus, that’s cold.”

I’m wondering how soon I can cut the fuck out of here when something catches my eye. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I glance around. Holy fucking hell. The second my eyes land on her, my cock goes rock hard. She’s maybe five-two, in dark jeans and a black tee that’s one breath from being illegal, her dark chocolate hair up in a sleek, no-nonsense ponytail.

Fuck me with a stick. She’s goddamn stunning. The beautiful brunette cuts through the crowd with the kind of precision that parts people without asking. She doesn’t look where she’s going; she already knows.

The air shifts. The hair on my arms is standing up, and my chest is tight for reasons that have nothing to do with the dirty hit I took in the third period. I try to play it cool, but my eyes keep tracking her as she weaves from table to table, unfazed by the crowd or the way every head turns as she passes.

She’s headed for us now, tray stacked high, moving fast and not slowing down for anyone. I feel my stomach go tight and low, adrenaline spiking all over again.

Everything else in the fucking room disappears as I stare at her.

She stops in front of our booth, one hip canted, tray up, and fixes me with a look so flat and unhurried I almost miss it. There’s not even a flicker of surprise in her eyes, no “Oh wow, it’s you!” She just registers us, in order, and says, “You guys need anything?”

I open my mouth, something cocky wanting to come out, but my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. Every thought in my goddamn mind disappears.

Rowdy Bouchard saves me, which is humiliating on multiple levels. “Yeah, we’ll take another pitcher, couple whiskey sours for my friends here,” he says, all in one breath.

She looks at Bouch like she’s met a hundred of him and is completely unimpressed. “You want a specific whiskey, or just surprise you?”

He grins wide. “Surprise me.”

She nods and turns to leave, but I have to say something to make her stay.

I open my mouth, and some stupid ass shit escapes. “I scored a hat trick tonight. That means I get a hat trick kiss, right?”

Did I really just say that? I’m not sure who’s more shocked, the guys or me.

The waitress rolls her eyes. “I saw the game. The hat trick was nice, but let’s be honest, you only got the last one because of dumb luck.”

Rowdy’s howl of joy almost knocks the glasses off the table. He slaps his palm down so hard the pitcher jumps, then points a beefy finger right at me. “Damn. She’s a tough nut.”

The stunning brunette flashes him an actual smile, which transforms her face for a split second, then returns her focus to me. “And don’t you forget it.”

She winks at me and walks away, not even a stutter in her stride, tray tucked under her elbow and ponytail swinging like a metronome set to kill.

For a second, I can’t breathe. Goddamn. The excitement from scoring my first career hat trick pales in comparison to meeting my soulmate.

Ryan Walker, our starting goalie and the only person in this entire booth who can read a room better than he can read a puck, leans forward and raises his own beer in a gentle, almost mournful salute.

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Motion to Dismiss (Verdict Trilogy #3) Read Online Whitney G http://www.booksnovels.com/motion-to-dismiss-verdict-trilogy-3-read-online-whitney-g Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:52:24 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/motion-to-dismiss-verdict-trilogy-3-read-online-whitney-g Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Contemporary, Novella Authors: Whitney G. Series: Verdict Trilogy Series by Whitney G
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Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >29

I refuse to say that I regret meeting this woman.
I don’t.

I just regret falling for her and letting her become something I never intended her to be.

But I’m not chasing after her.
And I’m certainly not groveling or begging her to come back.

She’s already distracted me enough, and I’ve come too close to winning it all to lose focus now.

So, she can walk away from me.
I’ll watch her until she disappears.

Because whatever we had isn’t worth sacrificing my winning record—or breaking the law for.

Case dismissed.

The final installment in the spicy & thrilling Verdict Trilogy!

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

PLAYLIST

Hate That I Made You Love Me by Ariana Grande

Ur Heartbeat by Jessie Reyes

Tread Carefully by SZA

Shabang by Drake

I Don’t Wanna by Aaliyah

Shut It Down by Drake

Often by The Weeknd

Needy by Ariana Grande

HARASSMENT (N.):

THE ACT OF SYSTEMATIC AND/OR CONTINUED UNWANTED AND ANNOYING ACTIONS OF ONE PARTY OR A GROUP, INCLUDING THREATS AND DEMANDS.

JAMESON

There are certain clients who make me wish I’d never become a lawyer.

They honestly make me wonder what would’ve happened if I’d pursued a life penning crime novels instead of spending endless hours coming up with ridiculous theories on how they’re “not guilty.”

Then again, someone has to do it…

“I swear, I did not do this, Mr. Tate,” my latest client, a college student named Paul Reaves, says. “I can prove it to you.”

“The cameras caught you walking into the aquarium empty-handed,” I say, sighing. “Then they caught you walking out with three penguins.”

“No, the penguins were following me.” He crosses his arms. “I felt bad since they got lost, so I placed them in my backseat.”

“Where you just so happened to have a full tank of ice waiting?”

“Yes.” He nods. “Because I was heading to a frat party afterward, remember? I was planning to take home a lot of beers.”

“What about the bags of penguin food you had in your front seat?”

“That was for my sister,” he says. “She likes to pretend like she’s an arctic animal. Polar bear, penguin, seal, you name it… She’s willing to testify to that.”

I give him a blank stare.

“What am I saying wrong?” His face reddens. “These were your ideas!”

“I didn’t realize how stupid they sounded when they weren’t on my paper…”

“I’m saying exactly what you told me to, Mr. Tate. If these aren’t working, how else can I prove my innocence?”

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” I say. “We just have to convince one member on the jury.”

“One?” He arches a brow. “I thought I had twelve jurors.”

“You do,” I say. “But we only need one of them to be dumb enough to fall for this bullshit.”

“Oh. So, you think it’s possible?”

Sadly, yes. “We’ll see.” I stand up from my chair. “Head down the hall to Rachel and ask her to walk you through the cross examination. I need to make a few phone calls.”

“No, wait.” He moves toward me. “My mom is paying you quite well for this defense.”

“Okay. And?”

“And despite the fact that you seem rather off lately, she assured me that you’ve never lost a case,” he says. “So, you better not lose this one. Or else.”

“Are you threatening me, Paul?”

“I’m just saying that my family has a lot of huge contacts and influence in this city, Mr. Tate.” He narrows his eyes. “And if this is the case where your winning streak is finally broken, there will be severe consequences. Clear?”

I blink.

“Are we clear, Mr. Tate?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, and I suggest you get the fuck away from me before I drop your case.”

“What?” His face pales. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

“I should’ve done it the moment I signed on to represent someone dumb enough to steal from the New York Aquarium in broad daylight.” I glare at him as his eyes widen. “But I guarantee you—unfortunately—that we won’t lose this case. Now, get the hell out of my office.”

He immediately rushes away, and I wait until the door shuts.

Sighing, I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts, stopping when Scarlett’s name appears.

Today is the first day in weeks that I’ve managed to wake up without thinking about where she is and what she’s doing, but visions of her face and memories of her laughter still haunt every corner of my mind.

“How many guilty-ass people do you need to get off before enough is enough?”

My chest aches as I remember some of her final words to me.

“Nine hundred sixty-seven, Scarlett,” I mutter to myself. “I’m only a few away from my goal…”

I know better than to call—especially since she hasn’t attempted to reach me once, but I can’t help myself.

I’ve had enough.

Her line rings once.

Twice.

Three times.

I keep my finger hovered over the disconnect button in case it goes to voicemail.

“Hello?” She answers. “Hello?”

“Hello, Scarlett.”

She sucks in a breath. “I could’ve sworn I blocked your number, Jameson.”

“I obviously have more than one.”

“I won’t be saving it.”

“That hurts my feelings.”

“You don’t have any of those.”

“How have you been?” I ask. “Have you landed any roles lately?”

She says nothing.

“I’ve had better times, but I’m okay,” I say. “Thank you so much for asking.”

Silence.

“I’ve decided that you don’t have to give me an apology for the way you walked out on me,” I say. “We can have a make-up dinner, spend the night at my place, and go back to how things used to be.”

“Are you on drugs, Jameson?”

“Never.”

“Then are you just now waking up from a coma?”

“If I say yes, would that make you consider dinner?”

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The Enforcer’s Obssession – Houston Lonestars Read Online Tory Baker http://www.booksnovels.com/the-enforcers-obssession-houston-lonestars-read-online-tory-baker Wed, 23 Sep 2026 18:52:09 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-enforcers-obssession-houston-lonestars-read-online-tory-baker Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Novella, Sports Authors: Tory Baker Advertisement

Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >25

Jett and Rowdy's story

The Houston Lonestars are used to owning the ice. Fast. Fierce. Unstoppable. But off the rink, their plays are about to be rewritten. One by one, bold, wickedly confident women stride into their lives and flip the game hard and fast. Sparks fly at first sight, chemistry ignites into fire, and the players discover they don’t stand a chance against love that hits like a slap shot.

Instalove, intensely steamy, and packed with heart, the Houston Lonestars series delivers high‑octane passion, locker‑room tension, and women who know exactly what they want. Get ready for romance that scores every time

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

PROLOGUE

JETT

One Week Earlier

The reflection staring back at me through the steam-fogged mirror looks familiar though slightly worse for wear after all the traveling I’ve been doing—and will be doing in the coming weeks ahead. My signature dark bob is flipped over in a dramatic side part to add volume without having to rewash, blow dry, and style it. The winged eyeliner and mascara that usually take me less than a few minutes to apply now requires careful precision in order to salvage my second attempt. It’s official: my days and nights are completely flipped and today is not my day, even with the early morning light filtering through the small window in my bathroom.

“Ugh, this is a disaster,” I mumble, leaning in and trying to resurrect not only my makeup but my hair with a whole lot of texturizing spray. Adding insult to injury, I catch the golden hoop earring I’ve just put in with my fingers, nearly yanking it out and causing me to let out a harsh breath.

This is me, Juliette Monroe, better known as Jett to friends, family, and in the digital arena, with a skill set as a content creator and social media manger known for polishing up-and-coming artists, rebranding businesses, and taking broken public images and creating a spin until they’re trending for all the right reasons.

On the tiled countertop, my laptop sits precariously balanced between my bottles of skin care and coffee mug. The sound is on, and a local sports podcast is playing a recent interview. This is what I do: I study my job, backward and forward, coming up with a plan and how to spin a narrative.

“Joining us today is the enforcer for the Houston Lonestars, and honestly, he’s been in the spotlight of the gossip magazines more than on the ice. Rowdy ‘Bouch’ Bouchard, everybody. Rowdy, thanks for coming in,” a popular host who gets national coverage—good, bad, or indifferent—says way too enthusiastically for this time of the morning.

“Yeah, sure. It’s what I do,” a deep, raspy voice replies. Rowdy Bouchard, the man whose image is currently a disaster, and my priority number one. The interview is a standard fanfare. He answers questions about being a Houston Lonestar, saying all the right things the host wants to here, but I can hear the resistance and clipped indifference in his tone when asked something he doesn’t want to touch on.

I dip my brush into my eyeshadow palette, tap it on the lid, and sweep it along my lash line. My goal this week is to find a way to put a spin on this guy on every social media platform imaginable. Hockey players, athletes period, aren’t my usual clients, which means I have a lot of work ahead of me.

Rowdy isn’t his nickname. It’s his name and should also come with a damn warning label.

His last season with Houston, he racked up more penalty minutes than points, dropped the gloves every time an opposing player crossed the line with one of his teammates, and earned a reputation for turning cheap shots into full-blown fights. He’s the guy who steps in when someone takes a run at the team’s stars, finished every hit with enough force to make an opponent think twice, and never backs down.

Needless to say, he was on the brink of a suspension, and the managers of the Lonestars’ patience was wearing thin, so the surgery he needed after an injury came at the right time. It should have taken the limelight off him. He should have been laying low, rehabilitating himself. Instead, he’s been galivanting all over the globe, being seen with one celebrity after the other, and some of those celebrities didn’t mind the pictures that surfaced with white substances on a mirror.

“You had shoulder surgery after the season ended,” the host says, leaning into the microphone. “The recovery has been, shall we say, scrutinized. Social media is having a field day with videos and pictures of you leaving a club last weekend. Some reporters are even claiming you aren’t focusing on rehabilitation for the upcoming season. Rowdy, what’s the real story?”

I pause before tossing my eye shadow palette into the sink and grabbing my mascara, then opening the tube and pushing the spooly in and out to get a good amount on it. I look from my reflection to the clip, the one that saw me hired me for damage control.

“The surgery is done.” Rowdy’s voice is calm, almost bored, totally unfazed by the media storm. “I’m doing the work. Physical therapy every day. This injury isn’t going to keep me down. I’m putting in the work, in this for the long game.”

“Yeah, maybe ‘putting in the work’ in a completely different kind of physical therapy,” I murmur, carefully applying the first coat to the top lashes. His tagged photos are littered with blurred shots of him stumbling out of VIP lounges. His idea of rehab clearly involves late nights out, bottle service, and very few early mornings. “Putting in the work,” I snort, examining my lashes in the mirror. “Right. The work of giving me a migraine before eight in the morning.”

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Librarian and the Rockstar – Book of Love Read Online Nichole Rose http://www.booksnovels.com/librarian-and-the-rockstar-book-of-love-read-online-nichole-rose Thu, 10 Sep 2026 17:30:13 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/librarian-and-the-rockstar-book-of-love-read-online-nichole-rose Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Novella Authors: Nichole Rose Advertisement

Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >38

Being rescued by a rock god only happens in books...right?!

COMING SOON!

Good girls need spicy books. At least, that's the philosophy at this small-town bookstore. But the group of bookish friends who call the store home never planned for the feral men willing to fall at their feet...or for the lengths they'd go to secure their own happily-ever-afters.

Now, they're up to their elbows, in over their heads, and the only experience they have with navigating love comes from the books they read.

What could possibly go wrong?

Book of Love is a small-town rom-com series set in Wine Country that's high on heat and laughter, and low on drama

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

Chapter One

Loralei

"Put the penis back on the wall, Olive," Lilah says without even looking up from the register where she's seated, a pencil tucked behind her ear and a furrow between her brows. "It isn't a lightsaber."

Olive smirks, whipping it through the air exactly like, well, a lightsaber. "I don't know," she says, her green eyes shining with humor. "It could be. It even lights up like one. Look." She presses a button on the side. Only, I don't think it was the one she intended to press, because it vibrates so hard, she squeals, nearly dropping it.

I feel the air from Lilah's exasperated sigh all the way across the counter. "I'm going to murder Jazz for ordering that," she grumbles under her breath. "Literally no one asked for a vibrator that lights up, spins around, and will launch your uterus into the next century."

Sarah clamps a hand over her mouth, trying to choke off a laugh. When Lilah looks up at her, she loses the battle. "Sorry!" she squeaks before darting into the back room with a stack of books, still giggling.

"I heard that!" Jazz's shout floats from behind a shelf on the opposite side of the bookstore.

"You were supposed to hear that!" Lilah shouts back, a self-satisfied curve to her lips. "We're never selling your possessed vibrator."

"Lies!"

"Women want to get off, not get destroyed, Jazz."

"Speak for yourself, Lilah Davis!"

"Olive, tell her that she's delusional," Lilah demands.

"Leave me out of this," Olive mutters, still fighting with the vibrator. "I've read way too many kinky books to pick a side in this argument."

Lilah immediately glances at me for backup.

"No way am I getting involved," I say, covering my face with my hands, trying to contain my laughter.

Had anyone told me a year ago that I'd spend most of my free time in a spicy romance bookstore, listening to three of my best friends argue about vibrators, I would have laughed. But that was before Lilah Davis and Jasmine Knudsen moved to town and turned this place into the Book of Love, the most popular bookstore in town.

People don't just come here for the books. They come for this—the camaraderie, the hilarity, and the absolutely unhinged conversations that are never in short supply when Jazz and Olive are involved.

Believe me, it's a lot less boring than the public library where I work. I wouldn't dream of openly discussing vibrators there. Here, there's a whole wall of them proudly displayed. No one even bats a lash, either. It's just part of the charm of this place.

I love it.

"You could just give it away," I suggest when I manage to compose myself, watching Olive fighting to turn the thing off. She manages to cycle through four new settings instead, each one increasingly more violent than the last. Maybe Lilah is right. That thing is possessed. There's no way anyone actually uses a vibrator that big or powerful…right? You wouldn't be able to walk for days!

Lilah looks at me in horror. "I'd be run out of town if I tried to give it away, Loralei!"

"Make it a quirky pièce de résistance in a dark comedy book box," I say with a shrug. "Someone will find the humor in a giant, possessed vibrator in a box of dark comedies."

"That's…" She pauses and then blinks. "Actually, that's not a terrible idea. I think I know exactly what books to add…" She's already on her feet, hurrying across the store.

I just shake my head, watching her go.

"How the heck do you turn this thing off?" Olive grumbles, stabbing another button.

A loud clap of thunder shakes the building, rattling the large windowpanes all along the front of the store. Olive squeals again, her feet leaving the floor. The vibrator leaves her hands at the exact same moment, flying through the air.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz!

It lands on the floor a few feet away, still happily vibrating away.

"Jesus Christ," Olive whispers, her hand over her heart as she gapes at it. "I thought it shocked me."

I laugh so hard my stomach cramps. And then another loud clap of thunder rattles the windows. "Crap!" I jump to my feet, scooping my bag from the floor beside the stool. "I need to go. I'm supposed to take Mr. Johnson his books."

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Neutral Zone Kisses – Seattle Knights Read Online Loni Ree http://www.booksnovels.com/neutral-zone-kisses-seattle-knights-read-online-loni-ree Thu, 10 Sep 2026 17:30:03 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/neutral-zone-kisses-seattle-knights-read-online-loni-ree Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Novella, Sports Authors: Loni Ree Advertisement

Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >28

No more watching from the sidelines—she’s mine.

Mick

The first time I meet Mia Wells, the sizzling chemistry between us is immediate, and impossible to ignore. Mia draws me in with a quiet confidence that both unnerves and enthralls me. But she makes one thing clear: she isn’t looking for a relationship.

I try to respect her boundaries and bury my feelings deep. Then I spot Mia on a date with someone else, and every carefully guarded line I’ve been skating along shatters. The careful control I’ve been maintaining evaporates and I realize I’m done playing it safe. Done pretending I don’t want her with every fiber of my being.

Now I’m ready to pull out all the stops to convince Mia that these feelings brewing between us are worth taking a chance on. It’s time to move this relationship out of the neutral zone.

Mia

One look at Mick McLinden, captain of the Seattle Knights, and I know I’m in big freaking trouble. He turns my heart inside out and upside down. But I resist the pull because he’s everything I should avoid. So I do the only sensible thing and tell him I’m not looking for a relationship.

I try to convince myself I mean it. I focus on my nursing shifts, my friends, and building a life that doesn’t revolve around a man who looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters. I even agree to a blind date, determined to prove to myself that I can move on from feelings I’m not supposed to have.

But when Mick shows up on my doorstep after seeing me with someone else, every wall I’ve built comes crashing down. He’s done fighting his feelings, and suddenly, so am I. The careful distance I’ve maintained shatters under the heat of his touch, and I realize I’ve been lying to myself all along. The feelings between us are too powerful to keep in the friend zone.

Neutral Zone Kisses is an addictive, fast-burning insta-love hockey romance where sometimes the best defense is complete surrender

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

CHAPTER ONE

MIA

This is the best freaking champagne I’ve ever tasted. Jaxson didn’t spare any expense planning his proposal to my bestie, Harper. I’m three glasses deep and working on my fourth, the stem of the flute cool against my palm. The only person more buzzed than me is Harper, who’s holding out her hand and making sparkly jazz hands every time someone glances at her new ring.

Jaxson is sitting next to her, stoic as a mountain, looking at her like she personally invented the concept of happiness. They’re not even pretending to play it cool.

The table is crowded with empty dessert plates, coffee cups, and the casualties of several toasts. I’m busy cataloguing the disaster zone when the chair to my right pulls out, scraping over the stone floor, and Mick slides in without warning or apology. I don’t need to look up to know it’s him. The size, the quiet, the way the air shifts to accommodate someone who always moves like he owns the perimeter.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just picks up the bottle and tops off my glass, steady and precise. Our hands brush on the stem. Two seconds, maybe less, but it’s long enough to make me forget the punchline of whatever snarky comment I was about to deliver. I freeze. So does he. The contact is nothing. It is accidental and circumstantial, static in the system. But my heart spikes like I’ve been handed a live wire, and from the way Mick’s jaw tightens, I’m not the only one pretending it’s no big deal.

“Thank you.” I manage to breathe as he lets go. His arm comes to rest on the back of my chair but not touching. Just there, marking territory. I can feel the heat of him even through the layers of my dress and cardigan, which is honestly unfair.

“You’re welcome, baby” Mick breathes, low and under his breath. The sound is oddly intimate, and I look up at him and immediately regret it. He’s staring right at me, head tilted, like he’s trying to read the fine print of my soul.

I take a gulp of the champagne hoping to cool some of the electricity flowing through me.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Mick says, voice pitched for just the two of us. His mouth is so close I can smell the faint trace of whiskey.

“I don’t have anything to say,” I say, side-eyeing him. God. I need to get out of here before I embarrass myself.

He nods and sits quietly beside me. There’s a lull, a beat where neither of us speaks. I’m too aware of how our knees are almost touching under the table. I bounce mine once, then force it flat, crossing my ankles.

Mick shifts, facing me more directly, his shoulder crowding into my space. The cuff of his sleeve is unbuttoned and there’s a fresh scrape on his knuckle. His jaw flexes when he speaks again, and the light from the fireplace throws a thin, pale scar along his chin into relief.

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Tell Me It’s Forever (Seattle’s Most Eligible #4) Read Online Tory Baker http://www.booksnovels.com/tell-me-its-forever-seattles-most-eligible-4-read-online-tory-baker Thu, 10 Sep 2026 17:29:45 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/tell-me-its-forever-seattles-most-eligible-4-read-online-tory-baker Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Novella Authors: Tory Baker Series: Seattle's Most Eligible Series by Tory Baker
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Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 26892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >30

I’ve never been the kind of man who loses control.
I’ve built my empire on knowing when to take risks—and when to walk away.
Until I raise my paddle at a charity auction and win a date with Genevieve.
Gennie is picking up the pieces after being made to feel like she wasn’t enough. But I see what no one else does.
The beauty.
The strength.
The woman she truly is.
One date turns into something I never expected. Something I can’t walk away from.
There’s just one problem…I’m not supposed to want her.
She’s my son’s ex-girlfriend.
And I’ve never wanted anything more

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

prologue

GAVIN

A Few Days Earlier

The air inside the grand ballroom at The Whitmore is thick with the cloying scent of expensive perfume, alcohol, and desperate social climbing. Crystal chandeliers hang low from the ceiling, swags of fabric line the walls, and the floral arrangements are on the verge of ostentatious. Millions of dollars are floating around the room in the form of designer clothing, expensive diamonds, and whoever can outbid the other.

I’d be concerned about this being a guise for childhood cancer research, except I’ve worked with the family who holds this event. It’s rooted deeply in them to help others when their own child couldn’t be helped. They’re good people, and it’s a good cause, even if the event costs a ten grand, not including your bids during the auction.

I lean against the high-top table near the back of the room, adjusting my cufflinks in my Tom Ford tuxedo. I already wrote a check for half a million dollars before I even stepped through the doors tonight. I don’t need to be here. In fact, I hate these events—the fake smiles, the surface-level conversations, the endless parade of people trying to talk business.

Yet here I fucking am.

In my left hand, I hold a lowball crystal-cut glass filled with two fingers of Macallan 25, the amber liquid swirling lazily against the ice. In my right hand, I loosely grip an auction paddle with the number 15 in bold black color.

“You look like you’re about to execute someone, Gavin,” Nolan mutters, coming up beside me, a drink of his own in his hand. His eyes scan the crowd with practiced detachment of a man who deals in high-stakes corporate takeovers for a living. I would know considering we’re one and the same.

“I’d rather be executing a deal,” I grunt, taking a slow sip. The smooth burn of the alcohol hits the back of my throat. “Or sleeping.”

“Relax. It’s for the kids. Plus, my wife promised me if I stayed until the live auction, I’d be well rewarded,” Vik chimes in from the other side, crossing his arms over his chest barely contained by his massive size.

“And that’s a conversation I don’t want to hear about,” Nolan mumbles, tossing back the rest of his drink.

“You’ll get it. One day.” Vik is completely unbothered. “And right now, she’s helping direct the production on the stage.”

My eyes drift toward the elevated velvet-draped stage at the front of the ballroom. The first event the charity is running is an auction with a date for which men and women volunteer, a meeting of sorts type of package to raise funds. It’s frivolous, absurd, and entirely not for me. I have zero intention of participating. I’m just waiting for the main event to wrap up so I can take my private car back to my place and lose myself in work.

“Next up, ladies and gentlemen, we have package number seven!” The emcee’s voice booms over the speakers. Around us, people applaud, and I nearly scoff. Jesus, I’m a bear tonight. “Featuring a date with one of our very own volunteers.”

The curtains part, and she steps out on the raised polished wooden dais. The temperature in the room seems to drop by ten degrees, or maybe all the air is suddenly vacuumed out of my lungs. There stands a woman in a floor-length emerald-green silk gown that clings to every single curve of her body like a secret. The deep jewel tone makes her honey-bronzed skin practically glow beneath the stage lights. Her neckline dips tantalizingly low, revealing the elegant slope of her collarbones and the swells of her breasts. The damn dress has a thigh-high slit on the left side, teasing the length of a smooth, curvy thigh every time she takes a small, hesitant step forward. Her chestnut curls are swept up, leaving the long, delicate line of her neck completely exposed.

She looks breathless. Nervous. Stunning in every way possible.

“Ah,” Vik says, his tone shifting, noticing my intrigue. “That’s Gennie. Sweet girl. Busts her ass for this foundation. She worked for hours setting up the décor along with working at Sterling Capital.

“She works on another floor, not for him,” Nolan adds, his voice low, masculine, and approving as his eyes trace the line of her dress. “Focused. Doesn’t play the socialite games. Good girl.”

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