Spicy Little Curses (Scared Sexy Collection, #3)

by J.T. Geissinger

Unfortunately, I’m a sucker for the tall, dark, and devilish type. The more red flags and pitchforks they’re waving, the better.

If there’s one thing I really hate, it’s when someone underestimates my intelligence. Especially when that someone is male and inconveniently hot.

“How’d you know my name?” The same way I knew her face. Knew her scent. Knew the husky-sweet sound of her voice, though I’d never met her before this moment. I’d been seeing her in my dreams for months. Not that I was about to fucking tell her that.

A new line of ink, bold, fresh, and burning white-hot like a brand, had appeared on the inside of my wrist. It was her name. And I knew without a doubt that this woman who walked out of my dreams and into my shop on a rainy October night was always meant to show up. Because, somehow, she was part of the curse too.

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. Not that I was falling for him,