Quick reads you can finish in 10-30 minutes
Found 32 short novels in Billionaire Romance
The leather was cold under my palms and his shirt was a mess. Forest Jorgensen sat back on the sofa like a man who had broken the weather for himself. I smelled whiskey and something like iron on his collar. “Stop,” I said, and my voice sounded steadier than I felt. Forest blinked, a deep, slow blink. “Why?” “I need you to read these.” I tapped the stack of folders on his desk. “Before anything else.” He laughed once, low and surprised. “You’re serious.” “I’m your secretary, not...
"I won't be anyone's shame," I said, and slammed the door. The glass rattled. Rain hit the marble like drums. I kept my jacket tight, my hair wet, my eyes empty. I did not look back at the hotel. I had no right to look back. "Marie?" a voice called. "You okay?" "No," I said. "I'm not okay." "Then come home," my father's voice had sounded that night. "Go meet Mr. Crane. Fix our money. Fix us." I had walked into a room I did not know and found a man who smelled like whiskey and...
"I can't—" I gagged into my palm on live TV. "Joanna, are you okay?" the host leaned closer with a fake smile, the camera cutting to my face like a blade. I saw the red light. I saw the chat flood. I saw my agent's hand in my pocket shaking. I tasted metal and fear. "Pregnancy," I said, and the word popped out loud on its own. My thumb hit like a fool on a stupid tweet—an accident, a stupid tap—and the world exploded. "You're joking, right?" Felicity hissed in my ear in the green...
"I found her on the curb," I said before I could stop myself. The two-year-old's small fingers curled around my index, sticky from ice cream. She blinked up at me with eyes like dark marbles and said, "Daddy?" in a voice that was all hope. A four-year-old boy beside her shrugged, serious as a little judge. "No. She can call you Mama." "I am not your—" I stopped. I wasn't used to being called anything like that. I wasn't used to the tiny body leaning against my leg, or to someone...
I opened my eyes and the man beside me still smelled like cigarette and hotel soap. "I need to get out of here," I told myself, then used my hands to push the blanket away. He stirred, blinked, and the sunlight on his face made him look calmer than he had any right to be. I scrambled for my phone on the floor, heart stuttering. "Good morning," he said, low and steady. My throat tightened. "We shouldn't—this was a mistake." He smiled in a way that made my cheeks hot. "You said the...
"I hit him full on." I say it out loud because my head is spinning and saying it makes it real. "Did you mean to?" a low voice asks. I lift my face and see him. Cyrus Mori is taller than every picture, darker-eyed than every ad, and he smells like soap and cold air. He lets me fall into the wall and doesn't move to help. He only watches, like I am a small quake. "Watch where you're going," Katelyn Perry, his agent, snaps from behind him. "This is not a place for drama,...
“Get your hands off him!” I heard myself yell as I lunged forward. “Imogen, wait—” Graydon Sherman’s voice cut in, steady and low. He moved faster than I expected and wrenched the man away from Jayden. The stranger staggered and hit the table. People in the hotel lobby stopped and stared. I held Jayden to me. His little face was flushed, forehead damp with sweat. He blinked up at me, enormous dark eyes full of trust. I breathed as if I could breathe for both of us. “Is he hurt?”...
"I stubbed it out." I pressed the cigarette into the ashtray like I could press the whole mess away. "You did that fast," Cillian said from the doorway. He stood there in a towel, water beading at his hairline, looking nothing like the man who had left at dawn. He looked like trouble that could afford a suit. "Fast is cheaper," I said. "And cleaner." He watched the smoke curl. "You should stop." "I stopped when you said 'stop' once," I said. "You don't get to order me like a...
"We'll toast to the end of exams." "We did it. Freedom at last." "I'll miss Mr. H, though. Weird, right?" We clinked plastic cups and laughed like kids who had cheated a test. "I'm fine," I said, and smiled too big. Brittany nudged me. "Emi, you're red. You sure you're okay?" Dyer laughed. "Drunk? We're drinking soda, genius. You're fine." "I just—" My head did a small, traitor spin. My knees went soft. "I'll go to the bathroom," I whispered. "Okay," Dyer said. "Don't...
"Open the door." I fumbled with the deadbolt and then the world tilted as a tall man shoved inside and shut it behind him. "Leonardo—" I tried to step back, but his hand was already on my wrist, warm and steady. "You're home late," he said. His voice had a small edge I hadn't heard before. "I'm fine," I lied. My throat felt dry. He let go and patted my shoulder like I was a child. "Don't stay out alone." I laughed, the sound small and tight. "I'm twenty-three, Leonardo. I can...
I break the water and cough my first ragged breath. "Where am I?" I say. A cold boat of panic pushes through my chest. I wipe river water off my face and stare at my hands. They are smooth, not scarred like the hands that dug traps and handled venom in the valley where I grew up. Memories slam in like a stampede. I died. Then I woke up inside someone named An Mengqing. She is the rich daughter of a top family in the capital. She married a man named Landon Bruno — the city’s coldest...
I wake to the smell of disinfectant and a small warm head against my ribs. “Don’t move,” a low voice says. “Stay still.” I keep my eyes shut. The voice is calm, colder than the winter light through the curtains, but it is steady. A child’s breath, small and wet, ghosts my cheek. “Mallory,” the voice says softer now. “You’re awake.” I let the name sit. It is new and it fits. I taste metal and pain and the old thinking that breaks like thin ice underfoot. “Where am I?” I manage, my...
"Cut!" the director shouted, and the set exploded into noise. "I think we did it," I said, wiping sweat off my neck. "June, you were perfect," Mina said, hugging me hard. Tristan stood by the equipment cart, smiling like he always did when the cameras were off. He stepped closer and said, "Congrats on the wrap." I laughed. "Congrats on surviving me." He pulled out his phone. "Photo?" "Photo," I agreed. We took three. He sent one to me and posted the other with, "Congrats to...
"I can kiss you, can't I?" I said it and felt stupid for saying it first. He smiled once, small and private. "Yes." I laughed, then whispered, "Your body is amazing. Can I—" He cut me off with a grin. "Of course you should try." My face went blank. "What? No—" "I mean, try learning from me," he said, then pulled me close. I scrambled, words spilling out in a panic. "Wait, wait—I'm only asking about gym tips. I didn't mean—" He tightened his arms and mouthed the words I...
"I woke up because someone pushed me." I slammed my eyes open and my heart jumped into my throat. My hand met cool sheets, then warm skin. My fingers froze. "Who are you?" I whispered. A man rolled over. He didn't look at me. He breathed like he was sleeping. The room smelled like cigarette smoke and expensive soap. "I—" I stopped. My mouth was dry. I sat up and saw the blanket slip away. I was naked under it. "Oh my God," I said. "What happened last night?" He yawned and...
"Get in the car," my father said. I walked slow and looked at him. He smelled like cologne and money. The city lights burned above us. I kept my hands folded in my lap so they would not tremble. "Are you sure you want this?" Pavel asked quietly from the front seat. "I have to," I said. "I am ready." Sterling opened the car door for me like a gentleman in a movie. Andres pretended not to smile, but his hand landed on my shoulder. "Don't worry," Andres said. "If anyone bothers you,...
"I hit him." I remember the lamp flying out of my hands and cracking across his skull. "He won't move," I whispered, my voice small in that white room, the lamp handle slick in my palm. "You killed him!" Greta's voice cut through like a blade. "No, I didn't," I said. "I didn't—" "She did it, Father. She killed him," Benedict shouted, and then he slapped me so hard my teeth hurt. They all moved like they had practiced this. Marcus Durham stood in the doorway with the calm face...
"I need the healer in City A." I said it into the phone while I climbed out of the racing car, one hand on my suitcase. "Great. I'll come as soon as I'm done," my brother Carver said. "I said no," I replied coldly, and shut the door on him. I don't need pity. I don't need an escort. I need a cure. When I landed in A City, Dean Sanchez — my loyal driver-bodyguard — was waiting like a worried ghost. "Boss, you're finally here," he said. "Where's my place?" I asked, taking the...
"I want him," I said, and the whole room turned toward me. People froze. Glass chimed. A man laughed like it was a joke. Then Cooper Jordan looked up from his birthday seat, slow and calm, and his smile sharpened. "Katharine Charles," he said, with that half-amused, half-mean tone he used to have even in high school. "You really know how to make an entrance." "Where is my brother?" I asked. My voice was small and fierce. Rain had soaked my hair. My palms were cold under my coat....
"I want this city to breathe again," she shouted, then ripped open her shirt. I froze on the leather chair and watched petals fly like an accident. Security moved like a blade. My assistant Eamon Reid looked at me, eyes wide, and mouthed, "What do we do?" "Let her," I said. Eamon didn't let her. He lunged forward and the scene became a bad movie: men in suits, a white mask on a young woman, a banner that said STOP THE FACTORY in felt-tip strokes, and a handmade knife flashing in her...
