Challenge (Harris Brothers, #1)

by Amy Daws

Tequila Sunrise: 1 part Grenadine 3 parts Tequila 6 parts Orange Juice Do not mix. She told us to go home and make them when our shifts ended, and to remember that there is still sunshine above the chaos.

Rather than God answering my virginal prayer with a player, the devil answered it with four.

“Lying about your pain number doesn’t make your dick any bigger,” she mumbles under her breath.

It’s not that the woman did not know how to juggle, she just didn’t have the balls to try.

It was either kissing her or peeing on her so every guy knew to back the fuck off. Indie Porter belongs to Camden Harris.

I’m drowning in deep, dark, delirious destiny. I’m in a place I never want to leave. A place I never want to say goodbye to. A place I never want to let go. Just sinking further and further into a world I’ve never known.

For some bizarre reason, the notion feels like razors in my stomach as it tumbles out of my mouth.

Then, just when I think things can’t get any worse—when I’m certain I can’t possibly feel anything more—he lies down beside me, pulls me into his arms, and softly whispers into my ear, “Thou art mine.”

“Indie, I hurt you because I was angry. But you hurt me because you don’t care enough. One is certainly worse than the other.”

“INDIE,”