Cover Designer: PopKitty
Months and months have passed, and I have tried to crawl my way out of the depths of hell. I’ve tried to return to the land of the living, and be the man you need me to be; the pillar of strength you deserve. But, broken hearted and beaten down, I’m a pathetic excuse of a man. There is no glass half full, or the possibility of sunshine after the rain. There’s only darkness. Strangling me from the inside out; there will only ever be darkness.
With your tiny breaths filling the room, I watch your body rise and fall while you sleep. I allow myself to notice how much you’ve changed and let the blame seep into my pores. My eyes rake over your body. Small and petite, you curl yourself around a pillow; the pillow that has become the stand in body, to hold, hug and provide comfort. The dark circles under your eyes, the way your collarbones protrude, I’ve pushed you to look the exact same way that I feel. Lifeless.
I’ve sunk into the depths of hell, plagued by an eternity of nothingness, I am painfully aware that if we continue this way, I will drag you down. The emptiness that consumes me, will consume us, and the love we shared will be a distant memory. With time, it will fade and you and I will be hollow, dull versions of the people we once were. Passing like two ships, we won’t touch, we won’t talk and we will forget how to live. This hole in my heart is big, slicing me in two. Each rip, more painful than the last. The pain is crippling and my God is it constant. Like dead weight, I carry it around with me every fucking day and I can’t do it anymore. I thought I could survive the destruction, that together we would heal, but here and now, it’s just like a knife digging deeper into my wounds every damn day and I don’t know if I can handle it any longer.
Watching you last night for the millionth time, I realized this was the end. The end of us, and the end of me. I can no longer stand to see you sneak off into our daughter’s room when you think I’m asleep. I know you hide your pain from me, and it does nothing but make it worse that I can’t make it better for you. There’s nothing left of me, and my heart doesn’t know how to deal with watching your body shake as you try to stifle the sobs. With her clothes and toys scattered all over her handmade quilt, I watch you; my wife, break down, and I watch your heart shatter into a million more pieces than the night before. And the piece of shit that I am can’t do anything. Won’t do anything? I’m not even sure of which one it is.
What I do know is that my beautiful, courageous and loving Evie is falling apart, and I can’t save you. I can’t hold you, I can’t wipe your tears and I can’t tell you it’s going to be better. Empty. Void. Exhausted. I’m a shell of the man I used to be, I’m no longer me. I’m no longer a father, and I’m no longer a husband. I am a failure. And for that, I am so, so sorry.
You are more than my first love. You are more than my last love…
You are my GREAT love.
Evie, My Love. My Heart. My Soul. My Everything.
Forgive Me. Remember Me.
Marley Valentine comes from the future. Living in Sydney, Australia with her family, when she’s not busy writing her own stories, she spends most of her time immersed in the words of her favourite authors.
From New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis comes her first women’s fiction novel—an unforgettable story of friendship, love, family, and sisterhood—perfect for fans of Colleen Hoover, Susan Mallery, and Kristan Higgins. Don’t miss the amazing excerpt below and pre-order your copy today!
They say life can change in an instant…
After losing her sister in a devastating car accident, chef Quinn Weller is finally getting her life back on track. She appears to have it all: a loving family, a dream job in one of L.A.’s hottest eateries, and a gorgeous boyfriend dying to slip an engagement ring on her finger. So why does she feel so empty, like she’s looking for a missing piece she can’t find?
The answer comes when a lawyer tracks down Quinn and reveals a bombshell secret and a mysterious inheritance that only she can claim. This shocking revelation washes over Quinn like a tidal wave. Her whole life has been a lie.
On impulse, Quinn gives up her job, home, and boyfriend. She heads up the coast to the small hometown of Wildstone, California, which is just a few hours north, but feels worlds apart from Los Angeles. Though she doesn’t quite fit in right away, she can’t help but be drawn to the town’s simple pleasures…and the handsome, dark-haired stranger who offers friendship with no questions asked.
As Quinn settles into Wildstone, she discovers there’s another surprise in store for her. The inheritance isn’t a house or money, but rather something earthshattering, something that will make her question everything she thought she knew about herself, about her family. Now with a world of possibilities opening up to Quinn, she must decide if this new life is the one she was always meant to have—and the one that could finally give her the fulfillment she’s searched so long for.
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“Mick?” she whispered.
“Are you feeling something?”
“You could say that,” he murmured. “You?”
She licked her lips and he nearly groaned. “I think so,” she whispered.
“Are you going to kiss me?”
He cupped her face, let his thumbs trace her jawbone, his fingers sinking into her silky waves. “No,” he said quietly. “And not because I don’t want to, but because when I do, I want to know you’re ready. That you’ll feel it.”
She sighed. “Guys do whatever they want all the time, no emotions necessary. I want that skill.” Another shaky breath escaped her, and since they were literally an inch apart, they shared air for a single heartbeat during which neither of them moved.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “Okay, so I’m definitely feeling things.” She hesitated and then her hands came up to his chest. “Maybe we should test it out to be sure.”
God, she was the sweetest temptation he’d ever met, and he wanted nothing more than to cover her mouth with his. Instead, he brushed his mouth to her cheek.
“Please, Mick,” she whispered, her exhale warming his throat.
He loved the “please,” and he wanted to do just that more than anything. But when she tried to turn her head into his, to line up their mouths, he gently tightened his grip, dragging his mouth along her smooth skin instead, making his way to her ear.
“Not yet,” he whispered, letting his lips brush over her earlobe and the sensitive skin beneath it.
She moaned and clutched him. “Why not?”
It took every ounce of control he had to lift his head and meet her gaze. “Because I want to make sure you’re really with me, that you’re feeling everything I’m feeling. That there’ll be no doubt, no regrets.”
“You sure have a lot of requirements.”
He laughed. And she was right, it was all big talk for a guy who didn’t do relationships anymore. Still, he forced himself to step back and shut the passenger door.
As he rounded the hood to the driver’s side, he tried to remind himself of all the reasons she was a bad idea. He lived two hundred miles away and he was hoping to move his mom up by him and never come back here. Not to mention that Quinn lived an equal two hundred miles in the opposite direction and she was in a deeply vulnerable place. No way would he even think about taking advantage of that.
But when he slid behind the wheel and their eyes locked, he realized that while his mind could stand firm, the rest of his body wasn’t on board with the in-control program.
They say life can change in an instant …
From New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis comes her first women’s fiction novel—an unforgettable story of friendship, love, family, and sisterhood.
Pre-order your copy in any format and receive an exclusive crossover Heartbreaker Bay meets Wildstone bonus scene, featuring Archer and Elle going to Wildstone, CA, the town in which Lost and Found Sisters takes place – read about their night in a haunted B&B!
Simply enter your order number OR upload a screenshot of your proof of purchase. Entries must be received by June 25th and you will receive content via email on June 27th!
About Jill Shalvis:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jill Shalvis lives in a small town in the Sierras full of quirky characters. Any resemblance to the quirky characters in her books is, um, mostly coincidental. Look for Jill’s sexy contemporary and award-winning books wherever romances are sold and click on the blog button above for a complete book list and daily blog detailing her city-girl-living-in-the-mountains adventures.
Release Date: February 13, 2018
Designer: Rachel Connolly
Photographer: Sara Eirew
Add To GoodReads Here
I’m Noah Weston. For a decade, I’ve quarterbacked America’s most iconic football team and plowed my way through women. Now I’m transitioning from star player to retired jock—with a cloud of allegation hanging over my head. So I’m escaping to the private ocean-front paradise I bought for peace and quiet. What I get instead is stubborn, snarky, wild, lights-my-blood-on-fire Harlow Reed. Since she just left a relationship in a hugely viral way, she should be the last woman I’m seen with.
On second thought, we can help each other…
I need a steady, supportive “girlfriend” for the court of public opinion, not entanglements. Harlow is merely looking for nonstop sweaty sex and screaming orgasms that wring pleasure from her oh-so-luscious body. Three months—that’s how long it should take for us both to scratch this itch and leave our respective scandals behind. But the more I know this woman, the less I can picture my life without her. And when I’m forced to choose, I’ll realize I don’t merely want her in my bed or need her for a ruse. I more than love her enough to do whatever it takes to make her mine for good.
This book is the third in the More Than Words series. The books are companions, not serials, meaning that backstory, secondary characters, and other elements will be easier to relate to if you read the installments in order, but the main romance of each book is a stand-alone.
This book contains lines that may make you laugh, events that may make you cry, and scenes that will probably have you squirming in your seat. Don’t worry about cliffhangers. HEA guaranteed! (Does not contain elements of BDSM or romantic suspense.)
More Than Want You, Book 1
More Than Need You, Book 2
Releasing June 13, 2017
Shayla Black is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than fifty novels. For nearly twenty years, she’s written contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances via traditional, independent, foreign, and audio publishers. Her books have sold millions of copies and been published in a dozen languages.
Raised an only child, Shayla occupied herself with lots of daydreaming, much to the chagrin of her teachers. In college, she found her love for reading and realized that she could have a career publishing the stories spinning in her imagination. Though she graduated with a degree in Marketing/Advertising and embarked on a stint in corporate America to pay the bills, her heart has always been with her characters. She’s thrilled that she’s been living her dream as a full-time author for the past eight years.
Shayla currently lives in North Texas with her wonderfully supportive husband, her teenage daughter, and two spoiled tabbies. In her “free” time, she enjoys reality TV, reading, and listening to an eclectic blend of music.
The Line, an all-new standalone from Amie Knight is available now!
The Line by Amie Knight
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publication Date: May 23rd
I was a thief.
The invisible girl only he could see.
The woman who wanted to be more.
He was the mark.
The extraordinary cowboy who stole my sixteen-year-old heart.
The damaged man who still owned it, even four years later.
The Line was where we began.
Where fates collided.
Where truths derailed.
The place where our love story ends.
How could it be so damn hot at seven in the morning? I wasn’t sure, but it was. Even in a thin tank, cut-off shorts, and my boots, I was melting. I stood at the top of a ladder Cole had placed against a tree so that we could reach the peaches up top. I used the rubber band on my wrist and tied my hair into a knot at the top of my head, hoping that it helped.
Cole climbed up behind me on the ladder and stood a couple of rungs below, but still, he towered over my small frame.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yep,” I answered, even though I wasn’t okay. He was so close, and that familiar earthy, smoke smell I loved almost as much as rocky road invaded my senses.
“Good.” He looked at the peaches. “Alrighty. You see the ones that have that pink color?” He motioned to a cluster of fruit in front of us.
I nodded, trying not to breathe in too much. Because Jesus, he smelled delicious.
“Those look ripe and done. The paler ones behind them don’t look ready yet.”
I nodded again, and Cole grabbed my hand. He pressed his fingers in, wrapping both of our hands around a peach. He pushed the tips of his fingers into mine at the top of the fruit, near the stem.
“Feel the give, how it feels soft there?”
I squeezed my fingers around the stem again without his help and said, “Yep. Feels softer there.”
He smiled down at me. “Good. That’s also a sign it’s ripe for picking. But be gentle. They bruise easily.”
Cole’s front pressed closer to my back, and I shivered. The way Cole taught me to do things here was pure torture. It was also outright ecstasy. I lived for these moments as much as I loathed them. Because the man was a damn tease. He’d sent me back to the big house a sweaty, panting mess more times than I could count, my panties drenched.
He gently squeezed our hands around the peach and twisted and pulled. The peach came free, my tiny hand gripped it and his big, rough hand wrapped around mine. He brought our hands to my face and pressed the peach closer to my nose.
“How does it smell?” he asked in my ear.
I wanted to say, “I don’t know. I can’t smell a damn thing but your smoke and leather, and I don’t want to.”
Instead, I closed my eyes. I pressed my nose right up against the peach and concentrated on the smell.
“Sweet,” I said, my eyes still closed.
Our hands moved, and I felt the peach at my lips. My heart hammered and fire raced across my skin, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the weather.
Cole positioned himself even closer, and it seemed, in that moment, that every breath he took sucked up every bit of air in the atmosphere.
My own breath quickened, and a growl rumbled low in Cole’s chest.
“Taste it,” he whispered in my ear, his lips so close that I was sure he could taste me on them.
I opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around the fruit, the fuzzy skin tickling my lips. I bit down, and that rumble I heard from Cole made an appearance again. I moaned as I pressed my teeth to the fruit, the juicy sweetness of the peach sliding over my tongue.
“So good,” I groaned as Cole pulled our hands and the peach back. A little juice rolled down my chin and I attempted to lift my free hand to wipe it.
“I got it,” Cole said, brushing his hand over my chin, slowly picking the juice up with his finger, and ever-so-Goddamn-enticingly placing his finger in his mouth before sucking it clean like it was the best thing he’d ever put in his mouth.
“Delicious,” he said, his hooded eyes on mine as he popped his finger out of his mouth.
And fuck me. I swayed on that ladder, my own eyes closing as I willed my cowboy to kiss me with every breath I took. I made myself only will this about once a day, so I thought I was doing pretty good.
He brought our hands holding the peach to his mouth. He wrapped his mouth around it, his lips brushing my fingers, and I felt it deep in my core. I pressed my thighs together and swallowed a moan.
“Perfect,” he said, staring into my eyes. He held my gaze for a moment more before shaking his head and letting my hand, which was still clasped around the peach, go. Then he stepped off the ladder like he hadn’t just made sweet, sweet love to that peach with his mouth right here in front of me.
I watched him walk off to another tree, place a ladder against it, and climb up like nothing in the world had happened. I kicked the rung of the ladder and turned back to the tree. Damn peach molester.
(Free in Kindle Unlimited)
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2q9muR6
Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/VCDx2x
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About the Author:
Amie Knight has been a reader for as long as she could remember and a romance lover since she could get her hands on her momma’s books. A dedicated wife and mother with a love of music and makeup, she won’t ever be seen leaving the house without her eyebrows and eyelashes done just right. When she isn’t reading and writing, you can catch her jamming out in the car with her two kids to ’90s R&B, country, and showtunes. Amie draws inspiration from her childhood in Columbia, South Carolina, and can’t imagine living anywhere other than the South.
Connect with Amie:
One touch of his needle sends electricity rocketing between them, and by the time he’s finished leaving his brand on her, he’s doing the unthinkable and offering her a job—and possibly losing his sense of sanity.
Finding forever is the last thing on River’s mind, but one taste of her sweet innocence has him consumed with claiming her.
She’s too innocent, too sweet, too untouchable, and far too good for him. But she has a darkness that claws at her, a crack fracturing her heart that only makes him crave her more.
Warning: From the moment his tattoo gun touches her skin, River is utterly obsessed with his girl. If over-the-top, insta-love goodness with a moody, tattooed alpha is your cup of steam, look no further! River has a talent for pushing all the right buttons. 😉
“So, my hands are in her hair, and I’m fucking close, man. I don’t know what I did to the bitch to make her pull the teeth out, but no shit, I think I almost lost my dick last night.”
The sound of a feminine someone clearing her voice turned both of our heads. Jericho shot up, hand outstretched and that weird half smile he only did for chicks he wanted to bang curling his face.
The guy was a fucking whore, and if I had to live through another one of his one-night stands rehashed, I’d throw my fist through his teeth. I’d already thought about breaking a finger, but fucker needed them if he was going to permanently lay artwork on someone’s body, and the guy had talent.
I’d hired him when he got to page three of his portfolio—a portrait of a someone’s grandpa in a war uniform inked on the client’s bicep. The fucking most beautiful tattoo I’d ever seen in my life, and I knew I had to have Jericho in my shop.
Just a goddamn shame I had to put up with him every day.
“She’s a sweet one.” Jericho turned and winked. “And she’s looking for you. Told her I had more talented fingers, but she wasn’t buying it.”
I arched an eyebrow, irritation pulsing through my gut before I stood, plastering on a blank face for my new client.
I lived for tattooing and creating art. What I didn’t love was dealing with customers. Constantly. It was hard being an artist and not being able to control exactly how you would create on a canvas, since the canvas tended to belong to another human.
I’d learned to put on a reserved face over the years—I wasn’t one of those guys who chatted your goddamned ear off. I didn’t give two fucks about your life story or why this tattoo finally meant so much. In fact, half the struggle I’d had in the two years since I’d opened Aspen Ink was tuning out the dimwits so I could focus long enough to give them what they came for—a permanent piece of art on their skin.
Jericho and Dev busted my balls about my shitty chairside personality in the beginning, but it turns out customers don’t give a shit about manners when you leave them with something they can’t get anywhere else on their arm. I had plenty of repeat customers and was usually booked out months in advance. As a result, most of the clients I already knew, so the fact that I didn’t recognize the name on my schedule today had been a little odd, though not unheard of.
I pulled out a set of clean tools, giving a last glance over my sterile work area before heading to the front counter.
A small little thing, with golden blond hair cascading down to a tiny nipped-in waist, was waiting for me at the front desk. I frowned.
“Hi, I’m River Madden.” I came around the counter, touching her elbow.
She spun, that silky mass of waves brushing across my forearm and sending zaps of fire through my skin.
“I’m Sienna.” Indigo blue eyes nailed mine.
I shifted on my feet, throat already dry before I hooked a finger over my shoulder. “Follow me.”
Red lips pursed for a second, eyes narrowing before she nodded swiftly.
I gnashed down on my teeth, figuring I knew exactly what I was in for with this one. “Let me guess, cute little elephant tattoo on your ankle?”
I held a hand out, gesturing for her to sit in my tattoo chair.
“Not quite.” She plopped down, eyes connecting with mine again.
Fuck, what was it about those eyes? Like she couldn’t keep herself from looking at me, staring into my soul or some shit. Weird as fuck and I hated every minute of it.
“Quote under your tit? That what the girls are getting these days, right?”
“I’m not a girl.” She crossed her arms. She certainly wasn’t. She might be small, but that fire burning in those ocean irises told me she wouldn’t hesitate to give a man hell. Fuck, why did that kinda make me smile?
“Well, safe to assume this is your first tattoo?” My eyes landed on her short denim cutoffs then crawled up her body to the long sleeves that covered her arms. This girl was A-1 vanilla, no doubt about it. I was good at reading people, and this one was just too sweet to have seen anything resembling a hard life.
“You know what they say about people who assume, right?” Her grin crooked to the side. “You make an ass—” she rolled up one sleeve, revealing dark slashes of purple and black ink “—out of mostly…you.”
“Impressive.” I moved closer. “I pegged you for a virgin.” I felt a shiver race through her when I cupped her arm in my palm, inspecting the work. “Where’d you go for this?”
“A few towns over. Got it a few months ago.” She pulled up her other sleeve, inked vines wrapping up her forearms to her elbow. “And this was my first, the day I turned eighteen.”
“Fair to say I am an ass, then.” I was unable to help the small smile pulling at my lips. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
She pulled the hem of her shirt above her head, luscious flesh revealed to my greedy fucking eyes.
Christ, she was beautiful. Creamy, soft, unmarred flesh. My vision swam with thoughts of inking her body, watching her squirm under my hands, sinking balls deep into the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen…
“I want to cover this.” She pulled her shirt up past her ribs, a thick white slash, about two inches long, covering her side.
The rough pads of my fingers dragged across the raised flesh, and a soft sigh pushed past her lips before our eyes met again. “What you got in mind for it?”
“A heart,” she said simply. “Shattered.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard this request, but something about the way she put those two words together sliced me open. I was wrong about her. This girl had darkness behind her pretty blue eyes.
“Got a picture?”
“Do you one better.” She slipped a folded scrap of paper from the back pocket of her shorts. “I want this.”
I unfolded the sheet, surprised to find a bloodied red heart inked faintly with the outlines of a skull. “This is pretty badass.”
“I thought so too.” She shrugged, smiling proudly before lying back on my chair. She stretched her arms above her head, the shirt riding up higher and revealing a hint of neon green bra against her creamy skin.
“Hate to ask, but I need to see an ID.”
She arched one sassy eyebrow before her lips curled up. “Does that mean you don’t think I look eighteen?”
The way she said it made my cock fucking pound behind my zipper. Whatever in the hell had brought this woman into my studio today, I owed a huge debt of gratitude. I’d been inking people in this very chair for over two years now and never gave any fucks about my canvas. Until her. Until now.
I frowned, confused by the way she sucked me in, before I grunted. “I’ll get this sketched for you. Need to see an ID when I get back.”
I shot out of the chair and stalked to the light station as far away from her as I could get.
I didn’t have time for a saucy little girl running through my shop, making my dick hard, and causing me to think all kinds of nasty thoughts. Like what it would be like to bend her over my table. Or fuck her in the piercing room.
Shit. Did she have any piercings?
I’d be a fucking dead man if she did.
Just the idea of little metal barbells piercing her nipples had a ripple of pain coursing through my balls.
I hunched over the drawing table, adjusting my cock, as I started the outline for her tattoo. I caught glimpses of her watching me work, her eyes crawling around my shop and over me as I took my time designing her tattoo.
She didn’t flip through her phone once, which surprised the fuck out of me because girls her age had it fucking glued to their palm.
That shit wasn’t good for your mind, and if I didn’t have to own a cell to stay in touch for the sake of my business, I wouldn’t own one. Worst goddamn invention on the planet, that little mini-computer sitting in everyone’s pocket.
“That looks incredible.” She breathed against my neck.
Fuck. She was too close for comfort.
“Wait, what if we add a few stitches across the crack? Just black slashes, like someone did a rushed job fixing it.”
I frowned as I thought, imagining the final piece in my head before coming around to the idea. “I think that would highlight the skeleton shaded into the background. Good call.” I added a few random stitches to the center of the heart, across the skull of the skeleton.
“I love it,” she whispered, her palms sliding down my forearms and squeezing tightly.
Her touch was like razor blades against my skin.
I wasn’t sure if I loved it or wanted to wrench my arm away.
It’d been so fucking long since I’d let anyone touch me like this. And now this girl was not only all up in my personal space, but in my head too.
“Great. Lie down on the table, and we’ll get you prepped.” I tried to keep my voice clipped and to the point, my only focus on being professional despite the raging hard dick tenting my pants.
I helped her up onto the table, avoiding the gorgeous view of her ass as she turned around. Her shorts were so fucking short I was sure I could catch a glimpse of her pussy if I looked hard enough. Why the fuck was she out in public wearing that shit? Didn’t she know what disgusting men like me thought of her?
“Got that ID?” I grinned down at her.
“Here you go, Daddy-o.” She flipped me her driver’s license, confirming she was of age. Nineteen. So, barely.
“Told you it would,” she sassed back. Goose bumps rippled across her skin when I applied the cool sanitizer to her rib cage. Then I placed the stencil I’d drawn into place, the crack in the heart matching the jagged edges of the scar slashed permanently into her flesh.
I had a mind to trace my tongue along the rough edges, listening to her shudder and come around me as I milked all the pleasure from her body.
I slipped my fingers along the edges of the transfer paper, making sure the ink outline deposited onto her skin. She shuddered when my fingertip drifted across her wrist.
Fuck, she was so sensitive.
I had visions of her spread out beneath me, my hands in her hair, my tongue licking up her silky skin. The thought of burying my head between her legs had blood rushing through my cock.
What the hell was that scent? And sweet fucking lord, did she taste that good too?
I shifted in my chair, and her eyes averted to me before the shadow of her eyelashes fell onto her cheeks. The air vacated my lungs, blood raging through my veins and making my heart pound a tattoo against my ribs. My cock throbbed, aching to push inside her, fuck her until she was breathless and begging.
Christ, what the hell was wrong with me?
Jericho had given me hell about living like a damn monk, but I’d never reacted to a woman this way. But this wasn’t just any woman; this was Sienna fucking Taylor, too young, too innocent, too good. Way too good.
“It’s bigger than I thought it would be.” She spoke up, and I nearly choked.
Her eyes flickered up to me, a smirk turning up those succulent lips. “The tattoo, it’s big.”
“Ah, right.” I cleared my throat, peeling off the transfer paper and focusing on her eyes for the first time since she’d sat down. “I don’t think I could make it much smaller. You’d start to lose detail on the skeleton.”
“Oh, I like it. I just didn’t envision it that big, but I’m ready. I want it.” Her big, round eyes peered up at me, sweet, untouched. Heartbreakingly fucking beautiful.
I turned, opening the black ink and placing it at the table beside me. “Think you can handle the pain? This is gonna take me a while.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Bet I can handle more than you think.”
Who was this girl?
River is just working at his tattoo parlor when Sienna walks in with her indigo eyes wanting a tattoo done. River is booked MONTHS in advance but Sienna wants this tattoo to close a sad chapter in her life so she waits. But she wasn’t expecting hot River to do her tattoo.
River immediately takes Sienna under his wing and determines she’s going to be his. And makes sure she’s safe.
Another hot alpha who I loved!!