Clean Reads Novels & Stories

My name is Elvira Rossi, daughter of Don Rossi, head of the Itavelle mafia family. Three months ago, my father was killed. Our operations were stripped bare, nothing left. The accounts were draining fast, and the family still had mouths to feed. Then a DNA report surfaced out of nowhere. According to it, I was the LaRosa family's long‑lost true heiress, missing for eighteen years. Money, at last, had found its way to me. For the sake of my people, I was willing to set aside my pride and play the part of a sheltered heiress. The car sent to escort me back to the estate broke down halfway up the mountain? I steadied it with one hand and carried it the rest of the way to the hilltop manor. The fake heiress dissolved into tears, accusing me of pushing her? I answered by striking the century-old tree in the courtyard, splitting it clean through. She went silent immediately. My fiancé sent bodyguards to "teach me self‑defense"? My two friends politely introduced them to the concept of being permanently embedded in a wall. As my so‑called "family" shook in fear, my knuckles cracked softly. After all, before inheriting the mafia, I inherited my father's favorite rule: "If violence can solve it, don't waste words."

Amanda Gordon, my girlfriend, could never get quantities right. She always purchased one extra of everything. On our dates, she always ordered for three. “Oops, I ordered too much. Why don’t we invite Kevin too?” On my birthday, she bought two gifts. “Oops, I bought one too many. Why don’t we give it to Kevin?” After a while, I grew used to it and simply accepted that as my new normal. On the day of our wedding attire fitting, Amanda suddenly reached out and stopped me. “Leigh, the suit I designed for you is over there. This one is for the best man. I had it made for Kevin.” I looked up at the best man’s suit in front of me. It was sharply tailored, with clean, structured lines and tiny silver crystals set into the collar. The groom’s suit she had left for me, meanwhile, was plain, wrinkled, and stained. I finally decided to leave her at that moment. She had given the only bespoke suit she could commission to Kevin Burg. There was nothing left in this relationship worth holding on to. I quietly looked at my phone and sent a message to my former professor, Lawrence Hindle, who lived far away in Westmere. [Dr. Hindle, does your institute still have an opening for me?]

Zara Torres has three rules at Harlow University: no athletic dorm drama, no boring elective classes, and absolutely, under no circumstances, no hockey players. She's broken all three before October. Now she's stuck writing a semester-long profile on Declan Mercer — starting center, criminally good at skating backward, and the most inconveniently interesting person she's met since arriving at Harlow. He's easygoing where she's structured, instinctive where she's methodical, and somehow always exactly where she isn't expecting him to be. Which, as it turns out, is a problem. Zara knows how to land on her feet. She's been doing it since the fall that broke her wrist and her confidence in one clean moment two years ago. She doesn't need a hockey player dissecting her skating footage at midnight or texting her things that are too honest for seven AM. She definitely doesn't need him to be right. But just as something real starts forming between them — something unscripted, something she didn't prepare for — a single email pulls the assignment and threatens to take everything with it. Some edges are sharper than they look. And some falls are worth the landing.

I'm the human shield Daniela Falcone—the underworld queen—personally chose to protect her first love, Luca Bianchi. We're three years into our marriage, and this is already the eighth time her rivals have kidnapped me. Daniela arrives with her men to rescue me, but we're not even five minutes into negotiations when Luca calls. "Dani, I lost at Truth or Dare. I'm supposed to kiss some woman here, but I want to save my first kiss for you. Can you come over?" The second Daniela turns and walks away without a single backward glance, a knife plunges deep into my stomach, and blood splatters everywhere. Just like the last seven times, her right-hand man, Carlo Marino, tosses some cash around to clean up the mess. Then, he has me sent to the hospital. In the ambulance, I hear Daniela's men guessing whether I'll live long enough to see Luca stand on his own two feet. They roar with laughter. I'm the only one crying. The mission to save the underworld queen has failed, which means the System will wipe me out soon. I think to myself, "Daniela, I won't live to see that day."

For eight years I was Ethan Black's right hand, his ride-or-die. Then I finally married him and became Mrs. Black. Three months into the marriage, I deliberately shredded one of his contemporary art pieces, a million dollars gone in a few clean strokes, all because his eyes had lingered a second too long on the new intern. Before Ethan could lose his temper, lines of text bloomed in the air in front of me, telling me I was nothing but the villainess in someone else's novel. [This woman's completely lost it. Does she really think Ethan married her out of love?] [He keeps his old buddy around as a human shield to protect his real love. Once she's served her purpose, he ships her off to a psych ward.] [Watch, the male lead's about to slap her.] I stared hard at the man coming through the door. But when Ethan reached me, he didn't even glance at the ruined canvas. He grabbed my hand instead, his voice almost pleading. "Babe, does it hurt? Did it feel good, ripping it up? If that wasn't enough, there's another hundred of them in the storage room."

Marry me and give me an heir. Soren Lancaster said in a cold raspy voice. That's all he wants. A womb to bear his child — the only way he could keep his crown and remain the rightful head of the Lancaster empire. A deal sealed in misery. A marriage of convenience, stripped of love, a secret to the outside world, to Soren. Delilah Harper sold her body and soul in exchange for her mother's debt. A fatal mistake. One unforgettable night, a near death encounter and Soren left, leaving Delilah lovestruck. Delilah loved him quietly, believing she could earn his heart, make him see her the way she has always seen him. But to Soren, rules were sacred. Unbreakable. Only cold silence and a space Delilah mistook as a home. She was nothing but a rebound. A woman who couldn't give him the one thing he wanted the most. A baby. And still, he did not cast her aside. He kept her. Delilah held on to that tiny hope. But that hope dies off clean when Soren brings another woman home— pregnant. Not just any woman. Ashley Garcia. Her highschool bully, and the woman who left Soren at the alter. His first love.

She was in love with him. That, she was certain of. He was her first love and the one who had written the inscription on her arm twelve years ago. But what could she do when her best friend who had been heartbroken so many times told her she was in love with the same man? Lillian loved her best friend and would want nothing for her than her happiness. So, she decided to give him up and started pretending like she did not care about him since he was even unable to recognize her after they departed twelve years ago. The only way for him to remember her was to see the inscription on her arm, which she was never going to show him. What was going to be her fate when she eventually find out that her best friend had been lying to her all along? How would she be able to come clean with the man of her dreams when she had given him the impression that she hated him? How would she be able to reveal to him that she was the Lillian he had been searching for? Read this book and dive into the ocean of Lillian's selfless love story and find the answers to these questions.

I married Don Matteo in secret. Every time he fucked his childhood sweetheart, he promised me a real wedding，in front of the Five Families. For five years, Matteo promised me ninety-nine times. And ninety-nine times, he left me at the altar. The first time, Cecilia’s prize-winning show cat died. To comfort her, he postponed the wedding for three months. I stood at the altar alone, eyes red, trying to calm down the family elders. The second time, Cecilia threw a tantrum at a casino and shattered a hundred-million-dollar antique vase. He diverted the private jet meant for their wedding and rushed through the night to clean up her mess. And every time, right before our wedding, his childhood sweetheart would have some kind of emergency. I cried. I screamed. I even held a gun to his head. But Matteo would just pin me against the wall and shut me up with a cold, hard kiss. “She’s just a fuck. You are Mrs. Falcone. Have some goddamn class.” After the ninety-ninth time, I was finally done. I slid the papers across the table. The ink was still wet, the Falcone family seal stamped at the bottom. “Our marriage, our alliance—it’s over.”

“You murderer!” No A resounding slap followed those words from Katrina’s Mother-in-law. The entire extended family gasped in shock but no one made a move to help. Not even Katrina’s husband, Damon Winchester. He just stood there, watching lazily, like he always did while his mother berated her for every little thing. But this wasn’t little, no. This was more than the fine china dishes that were one of the family’s heirlooms which Katrina broke last thanksgiving and earned her harsh insults from her mother-in-law. This was nothing like the family dinner she made last Christmas that caused half the kitchen to catch fire, needing a renovation. This couldn't be compared to that afternoon in summer, when she knocked over an antique vase while dusting, freezing as it cracked clean down the middle and her mother-in-law murmured that Katrina’s touch spoiled anything of value. No. This was the death of the only woman who loved someone as unlovable as Katrina. The woman who raised her. The woman who constantly fought for Katrina’s place in the Winchester Family even when she didn’t belong. Alana Winchester, Damon’s grandmother. Like every other thing, it was all her fault. Everything Katrina touched turned to ashes.

Good and evil are just words. I don’t pretend to be the misunderstood hero—I’m the monster who tells the truth even when I shouldn’t. And the truth is, I should’ve walked away the moment she stepped into my bar. Bowen Fox cleans up other people’s messes for Boston’s most dangerous men. He kills, he hides, he buries—and he never feels a damn thing. Until a runaway with cherry-red hair and a fake name walks into his world, turning his carefully controlled life into chaos. Ripley Beretta—now Harley Beaumont—escaped the gilded cage of her mafia family and the arranged marriage that would have sealed her fate. Desperate to disappear, she takes a job at The Fox Hole, never expecting her new boss to be as infuriating as he is irresistible. But Bowen’s past and Ripley’s lies are bound by blood. He was hired to clean up her family’s mess… and she’s the one who made it. When desire turns to obsession, and secrets turn deadly, love becomes the most dangerous game of all. He was sent to destroy her. She might be his only salvation. And when the truth comes out—he’ll wish her hell.