M.A. Grant

“And what if I need something?''Find it yourself.'Connor tsk-ed. 'Where did all the niceties go?''You're not a guest. You're family. Find your own fucking towels.”

“Flynn?’Without thinking, she took a small step toward the wolf.Its ears cocked forward at the sound of the name, and it too took a step forward. Then froze. She shook her head. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘You look like someone I know.’The wolf regarded her closely.‘That sounds stupid, huh?’No response. Just that intense stare.‘You aren’t going to eat me, are you?”

“That was why he still hadn’t called her. He wasn’t sure what the hell he was going to say if she picked up. Evie, I’m really sorry about acting like a complete dick to you. Would you be willing to go out for lunch again? This time somewhere where my brother can’t kill anyone, and my fucked‐up father won’t take revenge for my letting it happen by trying to kill you?”

“But there was something different about Flynn, and it wasn't just the way he was looking at her. His grip tightened on her wrist--not painfully, but possessively. His other arm went up as he leaned against the shelving, effectively boxing her in with his body without making any further contact.To her horror, she felt herself go warm and liquid in places she shouldn't. "Let go of me." Evie whispered.His eyes were green. A bright mind-blowing green. And they were staring into hers intently, daring her to lean in closer, to taste those sinful lips...”

“If Flynn hadn't known his older brother for the addicted, lying sack of shit he was, he might have believed the pain he saw in that gaze, might have trusted that Connor had finally seen the error of his ways and was going to change his life and step out of their father's shadow. But Connor usually only had an epiphany if it got him laid, increased his bank balance, or severely pissed off Rupert.”