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It’s a time-tested truth that the best-looking men are always the absolute worst.
“I’d rather have that than your annoying-and-mouthy disorder, Notebook. An hour alone with you and even the sanest man would be looking for the nearest cliff to throw himself off.” Even when he was insulting me, he was attractive. The jerk.
Oh, except for the fun fact that any woman who fell in love with a Rousseau man was doomed to a tragic death. So that was perfect. Nothing says “great idea” like falling for a man who might be my own personal grim reaper.
“What you’re asking for, smart-ass, is a spanking.” A jolt of lust rocked my body. Wide-eyed and breathless, my heart pounding, I stared at him. Spanking? Yes, that sounded like an excellent idea.
She tasted like sweet dreams and bad decisions. And I was already in too deep.
The little psychopath was actually bewitching.
Petra hoisted Luce into her arms and cradled her like a baby, scratching under her chin. “I thought you said this cat was allergic to people.” “She is,” I answered, totally confused. “She hates everyone.” Petra smirked at me again. “Like her daddy. You know what I think this means?” Glowering, I muttered, “Can’t wait to hear it.” “I think it means this was meant to be.” “This?” “You. Me. The furry demon in my arms. It’s fate, Sunshine. So you have to tell me about the curse, because fate always wins, whether you like it or not.” Under the bandage on my wrist, the tattoo of her name began to
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when she looked at me like she couldn’t decide whether to kiss me or wrap her hands around my neck and choke the life out of me, every ounce of control I’d been so tightly holding on to snapped. What can I say? I’m a sucker for feisty women.
It figured I’d fall for a witch. My taste in women always ran toward the feral ones.
