Read Online Books/Novels:

Hold Me in the Dark

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Helena Newbury

Language:
English
Book Information:

From the author of Mount Mercy and The Double, a standalone, scorching romantic suspense that will leave you breathless. He believes he’s beyond redemption. She believes she’s beyond loving. Apart, they’re broken. Together, they’re unstoppable.

As an FBI agent, I’ve seen a lot of evil. But I’ve never seen anything like this. A serial killer whose victims have nothing in common, who covers the crime scenes in equations even our best people can’t solve. Only one person can help: a mysterious, reclusive genius. When I track her down, her fragile beauty and amazing mind take my breath away. All she wants is to be left alone but to catch the killer, I have to drag her back into the world.

As we work together, something starts to happen.

I don’t have friends. But she starts to feel like a friend.

I don’t have a partner. But she starts to feel like a partner.

I don’t fall in love. Not after what happened. But….

I look into her eyes…and I can’t look away. I glance down at her lips and I find myself leaning forward. There’s a soul-deep longing neither of us can fight. We might be the only people who can fix each other. But I have to resist. If she knew the secret I’m hiding….

When the case turns dangerous, all I want to do is protect her. But she’s as stubborn as I am. She’s the bravest person I’ve ever met. And she leaves me no choice.

This case could destroy us both but the only way we’re solving it…is together.

Standalone Romantic Suspense with guaranteed HEA

Books by Author:

Helena Newbury Books

1

Yolanda

WHEN Sam Calahan hammered on my door, I was deep.

Deep is something my brother came up with to describe how we get when we’re thinking about math. Your mind sinks down into warm blackness, leaving your body far above. There’s no time, no space, and no difficult, complex people. You fly, gliding and swooping around equations that unfold like elegant origami.

My brother and I used to spend hours like that, sitting facing each other with our eyes closed, muttering our progress as we raced to solve a problem. Deep is a comforting, peaceful place to be. But it’s like descending into a well with no bottom. Go deep enough for long enough, and there’s a danger you might not come back.

Boom. I was so deep, it took a few seconds to recognize it as a knock on my door. It made no sense: I don’t get visitors.

Boom. A confident, aggressive knock. An open the door knock. And I felt myself slipping upward, pulled back to the real world like a bug sucked by a vacuum cleaner. I clawed at the blackness, at the smooth, reassuring numbers. No! Please! I want to stay!

Boom. And I was gasping and blinking in harsh daylight. Reality fell on me, crushing and smothering me like a blanket made of cold lead.

My brother was dead.

And I wasn’t flying, anymore. I was—

I looked down at my useless legs.

I screwed my eyes shut and tried to will myself deep again. When I’m deep, I can kid myself it never happened. I can pretend I’ve somehow turned back the clock and my brother’s still alive, and I can still walk.

A voice from outside my door. Not just a yell, a full-lung bellow. “FBI! Open up!”

My eyes snapped open and cold sweat prickled between my shoulder blades. All of us have a singular, gut-wrenching fear. For hackers like me, it’s being raided.

I’d been sitting in front of my chalkboards. One quick spin and a hard shove on the wheels and I was shooting across my apartment, braking to a stop just as my wheelchair reached my desk. I flipped up a plastic cover and put my thumb on a big, red button.

My computer system isn’t actually in my apartment, only the monitors, keyboard and mouse are. The computer itself hangs from a steel cable at the very top of the building’s lift shaft. If I pressed the button, the cable would release. By the time my computer hit the bottom of the shaft, forty stories below, it would be doing over fifty miles an hour. Good luck recovering any evidence from that.

“I’m not here to arrest you!” yelled the man outside.

Yeah, well, you would say that. My finger tensed, ready to press.

“Lily sent me! She says: don’t hit your button!”

I froze. Lily—Lilywhite, to give her her hacker name—is the closest thing I have to a friend. Together with another hacker, Gabriella, we’re a three-woman hacker group called The Sisters of Invidia. We hack the computers of human traffickers, getting evidence the authorities can use to bring them down. And… yes, okay, while we’re in their systems, we empty their bank accounts. It’s not like they’re going to need the money in jail.

No way would Lily give me up to the FBI. So just maybe this guy was telling the truth and he wasn’t here to arrest me.

For the first time, I focused on his voice. Back when I’d had a regular job, I’d worked with a few feds and he didn’t sound like any of them. They’d all had sticks up their asses, their voices smarmy and smoothly clinical. This guy growled, a low, throaty rumble that vibrated right through me. A blue collar voice, rough as denim and fiery as whiskey. It wasn’t refined or polite. But it was a voice that would never, ever bullshit you.

My thumb lifted slightly from the button and I switched on the security camera in the hallway outside. The guy looked like a dockworker someone had forced into a suit at gunpoint. He was tall: the camera was mounted level with the top of the door, but his head was scarily close to it and his frame seemed too big, too animal, for a suit. His white shirt was stretched tight across broad, curving pecs and his jacket hung from shoulders more suited to a quarterback. His tie was loose and askew, like he was halfway through tearing it off. And his dark hair was tousled, as if someone had been running her hands through it, or he’d been in a fight, or both. I’d never seen someone suit an outfit less.

And yet…the shirt hugged those hard pecs in a way that made you want to run your palms over them. The cut of the suit showed off the glorious X-shape of him, wide shoulders, narrow waist and muscled quads. It had molded to him until it fit him like a favorite pair of jeans and the smartness of it set off his roughness perfectly. I’d never seen someone suit an outfit more.


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