To purchase and read more books by Rhenna Morgan, please visit her website at rhennamorgan.com/books.
Acknowledgments
I’d be remiss in releasing any book without pausing to acknowledge some very important people.
For my business peeps—Cori Deyoe, Kerri Buckley, and the Carina Press and Harlequin staff. Thank you all so very much for listening and patiently riding out the ups and downs that paint a career in writing.
For my writer tribe and dearest friends—Juliette Cross, Dena Garson, Jennifer Mathews, and Lucy Beshara. I’ve met many people since stepping foot on my writing journey and quest for personal growth, but the four of you have been my guideposts. My constants and my treasured friends. Thank you for standing by me through all the twists and turns of life.
Most importantly, thank you to my beautiful daughters Abegayle and Addison, and the love of my life, Joe Crivelli. The three of you are the brightest lights in my life and the absolute treasures of my heart.
About the Author
Rhenna Morgan is a happily-ever-after addict—hot men, smart women, and scorching chemistry required. A triple-A personality with a thing for lists, Rhenna’s a mom to two beautiful daughters who constantly keep her dancing, laughing and simply happy to be alive.
When she’s not neck deep in writing, she’s probably driving with the windows down and the music up loud, plotting her next hero and heroine’s adventure. (Though trolling online for man-candy inspiration on Pinterest comes in a close second.)
She’d love to share her antics and bizarre sense of humor with you and get to know you a little better in the process. You can sign up for her newsletter and gain access to exclusive snippets, upcoming releases, fun giveaways, and social media outlets at www.rhennamorgan.com.
His world. His rules. Her love.
Don’t miss His to Defend, the heart-stoppingly sexy first installment in Rhenna Morgan’s Nola Knights series.
Though his methods may be rough, when it comes to protecting what’s his, Russian vor Sergei Petrovyh’s heart is always in the right place. That’s never been more true than when the gorgeous Evette Labadie asks him for a job. He knows enough to keep his hands off someone as beloved by the locals as Evie, but there’s something about her that calls to him—no matter how badly he burns to make her his...
Chapter One
$480.
Evette pinched the business-size check from her former employer a little tighter and glared at the cleaning company’s logo in the top corner. On any other Friday, the money would have meant inching closer to some semblance of security for her and her son, Emerson. A step toward unraveling the mess she’d created for her life. Today, the unexpected termination that had come with her weekly pay felt more like a sucker punch to the gut. Yet another obstacle to overcome after too many damned years running the gauntlet and never even glimpsing the finish line.
Maybe she could get a job cleaning at one of the hotels. God knew the French Quarter was packed with them, and she was pretty sure she could count on regular shift work, like the office cleaning crew she’d been on. Though, how she was going to land one by Monday when it was already close to 4:30 on a Friday afternoon was beyond her. And landing something quick was the only way this latest setback wouldn’t force her into dipping into Emerson’s school fund. Plus, there was the hurdle of what would happen if they called her old company for references and found out she’d been fired for a security breach.
Not. Good.
The commuter bus swung onto Tulane headed toward Mid-City, and Evie’s spirits sunk a little lower. If someone had told her when she was growing up that she’d be a single mom living in one of New Orleans’s rougher parts of town at twenty-eight years old, she’d have laughed in their face. She was going to be a fashion retail buyer—or at least have some kind of career in fashion. She was going to travel the world. See things. Know people. Adventure her way through life and suck it dry.
Then her mom had died, and she’d gone off the rails.
She sighed and slunk a little farther down onto the hard plastic bench, the run-down stores, bars and restaurants along the roadside passing in a blur while the vibrations from the bus’s engine rattled clear to her bones.
Get knocked down seven times, stand up eight.
If she had a dollar for all the times her momma had said it and all the times Evie had echoed it in the last eight years, she’d be driving a Porsche toward the Garden District right now instead of a barely livable apartment.
But her momma had made it.
Mostly.
Raised Evette through her tumultuous preteen years after her daddy’s death and made it look easy. It hadn’t been until a year after Emerson had been born and Evie had found the courage to read some of her mother’s journals that she’d realized just how much of a challenge her mother had really faced. How much she’d given up and how alone she’d felt through every second.
Evie understood it now. Knew to her very marrow the sacrifices that had been made on her behalf.
And she’d thrown it all away nursing her grief.
Resolve and a whole lot of stubbornness revved her energy and forced her taller in her seat. Pity was what had gotten her into this mess to begin with, and she’d be damned if she went that route again. Labadie women didn’t quit. Didn’t give up. They faced whatever they needed to face, and they smiled doing it. Eventually, she was going to find a way to give her and Emerson the world. She just might have to scrimp a little longer and get more creative to make it happen.
The bus’s brakes whined, and the older lady seated next to Evie leaned into her.
Evie braced herself enough to keep them both upright and smiled down at her fellow passenger. “You gettin’ off here, Miss Arnold? You know Dorothy’s Friday specials are always the best ones of the week.”
Miss Arnold beamed a smile at Evie and hugged her grocery bag a little tighter to her chest. Her blue eyes might have turned murky in the last few years and the wrinkles lining her pale skin etched a little deeper, but her kind heart was still as strong as ever. “No, no, Evette. Trips to the grocery aren’t as easy as they used to be. Better I get my tired bones on to the home before the sun goes down.”
A smart move. Especially in this part of town, because a woman like Miss Arnold after dark was a mugging waiting to happen.
Once certain the older woman had her balance again, Evie stood, shouldered her purse and took another stab at the same argument she’d been having with the neighborhood woman for the past year. “Seems to me, you could use that fancy shuttle van all the other residents use for your errands and not have half the hassle.”