Pretty When You Cry
That’s the thing about showing a mouse to a cat. He wants to play. And it’s terrifying, even for me. Because the only thing darker than my past is his.
Caught for Christmas
If he catches me, he might not let me go.
Description:
Release Date: July 18th, 2016
Pretty When You Cry:
A new dark romance novel from the New York Times bestselling author of Wanderlust and Prisoner…
I came from a place of dirt floors and holy scriptures. They told me the world outside was full of sin, and the first night I escape, I find out it’s true. Ivan saves me, but he does more than that. He takes me. He makes me his own girl.
My conditioning runs too deep. Ivan sees what I am.
That’s the thing about showing a mouse to a cat. He wants to play. And it’s terrifying, even for me. Because the only thing darker than my past is his.
Caught for Christmas
I’ll be home for Christmas…
The plan is simple. Break into the club and steal the money I need to save my father. The ex-military bouncer isn’t going to stop me, even if he is hot as hell.
If only in my dreams…
Except he has a curious knack for knowing my next step.
And there’s something dark underneath his desire, something dangerous. If he catches me, he might not let me go.
EXCERPT
Caught for Christmas
I’m two feet away from the men when my hands come out of my pockets. I feel them moving with a kind of muscle memory, bile rising in my throat at what I’m about to do. They’re just a bunch of rich bastards. They don’t give a fuck about anyone but themselves. You’ll be doing them a favor, stealing from them, bringing them down a notch.
That’s what Maisie would tell me, but what does she know? She’s the reason I’m in this mess.
There’s only the slightest jostle, the faintest tug of fabric. Then the wallet’s in my pocket, not his.
He won’t even think I took it. He’ll head back into the restaurant to check the table first.
Poor rich bastard. I’m the one who doesn’t care about anyone but myself.
I walk for five blocks, past where I would normally turn off. When the coast looks clear, I duck into a dark alley and check my haul. I’m not going to bother with the credit cards or ID. All I want is cash, and I find two crisp hundred-dollar bills and a few random twenties and tens.
Jackpot.
I fold them into my bustier through the lapels of my coat and toss the wallet into the dumpster. This means dinner tonight and a few more hot, melty meals besides. They won’t scratch the surface of the larger debt, but my goals are small now. Something buttery with a hint of garlic.
A hand lands on my shoulder.
My heart knocks against my ribs, and I whirl to face my attacker. There are a lot of people who might have followed me in here. The guy whose wallet I stole. Or just some random asshole who wants to take what I won’t give him. I’m prepared for a fight.
I’m not prepared for West.
His dark skin blends into the shadows, highlighting his eyes and the white of his teeth when he speaks. “What the fuck, Bianca?”
His shock mirrors mine. How did he follow me without me noticing? He must have kept pace from the club. I’m losing my touch, and at the worst possible time. “Can I help you?” I say coolly, stalling for time.
He rolls his eyes and reaches for me. I have a second’s panic as his hand comes closer—is he going to hurt me? Is he going to touch me? Then his long fingers pluck the thin wad of cash from my bustier. He holds it up to the faint light. Somehow he managed to do that almost without touching my skin.
That can’t be disappointment I feel, can it?
“Stealing,” he says flatly.
I hate the judgment in his tone, the censure. “What’s it to you?”
About the author:
Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of dark romance. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely tender.
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