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Karma is a bitch—but then again, so am I.
Ten years ago, a group of men murdered my mother and thought they had killed me. I’ve spent every day since planning revenge against the man behind the attack—my father. As the head of a powerful crime family, he won’t be an easy target, but nothing matters more than making him pay for what he’s done.
Now, I return in disguise, only to end up on the radar of the Quad—the four most dangerous men in the city…men I’ve been desperately in love with since I was a teen. I have no idea if they were in on the plan to have me killed, but I can’t stop myself from craving their taste, their bodies and their rough, domineering touches. Even though I know the risks, I keep falling deeper into our twisted relationship.
My plan is simple—find and get rid of the people who carried out the attack, kill my father…and don’t fall in love with the men who might have betrayed me.
This world already killed me once—let it try again.
Read an Excerpt
“Oh, nice try,” Dane said with a mocking tone, as if he’d already won.
“Don’t add the notch on your belt until you get inside the girl,” I responded. “You’re terrible at bank shots and that’s exactly what you’ve got in front of you.”
In all the years we’d played before, Dane had never managed to sink a shot like this. He’d over-correct, never hitting the right spot.
I’d as good as already won.
He came closer, standing just in front of me, so close I could smell him. He smelled the same, just as he had before, like cloves and cinnamon, something deceptively sweet.
I lifted my head, struggling with the difference between then and now, between the past and the present. I felt a little like the girl I’d been before, when I’d chased behind him, behind the others, looking for their attention. How badly I’d wanted this, wanted him to look at me with this sort of passion, and he’d always denied me that.
He leaned down, then dragged his tongue over my bottom lip. It wasn’t a kiss, not really, but managed to light a fire inside me larger than the one at Lucky’s house. That tiny spark roared to life, consuming me, and he pulled back far too fast.
Dane gave me a smirk full of confidence. “Well, you pick your whiskey well, at least.”
Before I could say anything, he bent forward next to me, aimed and took the shot. The eight-ball rolled into the pocket he’d nodded at, sinking the shot he’d never been able to do.
“I win,” he said, then crossed his arms, staring down at me, far too pleased with himself.
About the Author:Jayce Carter lives in Southern California with her husband and two spawns. She originally wanted to take over the world but realized that would require wearing pants. This led her to choosing writing, a completely pants-free occupation. She has a fear of heights yet rock climbs for fun and enjoys making up excuses for not going out and socializing.
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