He wants her soul. Too bad she already sold it.
Family is everything to gambling den darling, Teresa Valentini. Blood comes first, especially before men. So when her brother lands himself in hot water, she’s willing to do whatever it takes to save him. And showing up topless in her unwitting savior’s motel room is turning out to be the furthest thing from a hardship…
Will Caruso is the bad boy of New York’s financial scene…and he just found out the very thing that drives his success is a damn lie. Now, he’s exchanged his high-stress life for the open road, no one but his Great Dane…and half a million Instagram followers to keep him company. When a mysterious beauty arrives, her secrecy prods his suspicions, even while she tempts his lust to the breaking point.
Teresa met Will under false pretenses, but the bond consuming them is real. They’re strong enough to overcome a little betrayal…aren’t they?
Tits. There are tits in my room. Really fucking nice ones.
I’m so distracted by their unexpected appearance—any red- blooded man with working testicles would be—that I don’t take in their owner right away. And all the other equally amazing shit that’s going on. The sexy brunette has one foot propped on my bed, her hands paused on her calf where she’s been applying lotion, before I so rudely interrupted her by walking into my own room.
A gruff bark from Southpaw prompts me to double check the door. But I do it fast—we’re in the right place—because as I mentioned, there’s a really fucking nice pair of tits in my room. Sue me for wanting to memorize the shape and color of her tight, rosy nipples before she screams and covers herself.
Which she doesn’t exactly seem inclined to do. “Can we help you?” Up until now, a big waterfall of dark hair has been hiding the woman’s face from me. But at my greeting, she tosses that thick mane back…and reveals features that accomplish the impossible. It nudges her tits into second place for most incredible body part in the room.
Hearing male voices approach in the hallway, I kick the door shut, surprised by the fact that I already don’t want anyone else looking at her. “You going to tell me why you’re in my room, woman? Or just stand there looking hot?”
Tessa Bailey is originally from Carlsbad, California. The day after high school graduation, she packed her yearbook, ripped jeans and laptop, driving cross-country to New York City in under four days. Her most valuable life experiences were learned thereafter while waitressing at K-Dees, a Manhattan pub owned by her uncle. Inside those four walls, she met her husband, best friend and discovered the magic of classic rock, managing to put herself through Kingsborough Community College and the English program at Pace University at the same time. Several stunted attempts to enter the work force as a journalist followed, but romance writing continued to demand her attention. She now lives in Long Island, New York with her husband of ten years and six-year-old daughter. Although she is severely sleep-deprived, she is incredibly happy to be living her dream of writing about people falling in love.