"Yeah, from my boyfriend.” She smiles, walking over and giving me a kiss.
"So you're okay with this?" I ask, somewhat surprised, pulling away from her.
"Well, I don't know about okay, but if I'm going to go undercover, this is just going to be the tip of the iceberg when it comes to lying, right?"
I nod.
"I like the way you think, girl.” I lean in for a kiss.
36
Jacqueline
I could see it by the expression on his face that Dante's apprehensive. I'm not mad at him for altering my resume.
God knows that I'm going to be expected to do a lot more than that soon. But I am a little concerned as to why he did it behind my back in the first place.
We're still just feeling each other out, the things that we're okay with, the things that we aren't.
I had agreed to take this investigative job but in order to do that, I first have to get the position. And if Vasko doesn't hire me, I'm out of luck.
Dante kisses me again and again and his hand makes its way up my shirt.
"Let's go upstairs," he whispers.
I want to resist, but I'm leaving today.
It's early morning and I don't have to leave with Allison for hours. Dante continues to kiss me over and over again but suddenly my phone rings.
I have it in my pocket on vibrate, I'm about to turn it off and make it go to voice mail but then I see that it's Mom.
As soon as I connect, she clicks over to video chat and I see her swollen eyes and her pasty skin, like she's been crying.
"Mom, what's wrong? What happened?"
"I got a letter," she mumbles through the tears.
Shaking her head, she pulls the screen away from her face and flips it over onto the counter.
The phone shakes in her hand and I can't make out the words.
"I can't read it, it's shaking too much."
"Okay, hold on.” She tries to straighten the letter.
"Can you just tell me?” I yell into the phone.
"It's about Michael," Mom mumbles.
"What about him?"
"His death wasn't an accident.. he was murdered."
Thank you for reading DARK INTENTIONS! I hope you enjoyed Jacqueline and Dante’s love story. Their story continues with DARK SINS …
When I saved her mother’s life, I didn’t do it with my own money. I took out a debt. Now I have to go back to my old life.
I have certain skills that people are willing to pay a lot of money for.
Everything has a price, and Jacqueline was worth it.
But what happens when I make mistakes? What happens when the debt I have to pay becomes too great and the darkness that envelops me becomes too much?
For bestselling author Charlotte Byrd comes an intense romance about debts, lies and secrets and the extent to which people go for love.
A letter arrives.
It was not an accident. It was murder.
But who did it? Why?
The cops think it’s a false lead. There’s no other evidence, but I have to do everything to find out the truth.
My brother’s death is no longer a tragedy to get over, but a wrong to put right. It becomes my obsession.
What happens when I start to uncover the lies?
1-click DARK SINS now!
Can’t get enough of Jacqueline and Dante? Grab the FREE BONUS scene now!
Grab the FREE BONUS scene now!
Sign up for my newsletter to find out when I have new books!
You can also join my Facebook group, Charlotte Byrd’s Reader Club, for exclusive giveaways and sneak peaks of future books.
I appreciate you sharing my books and telling your friends about them. Reviews help readers find my books! Please leave a review on your favorite site.
I am thrilled to offer a sneak peak of Tangled up in Ice, a bestselling full-length dark contemporary novel about a reclusive billionaire and the lengths that people are willing to go for love….
Her small, delicate mouth parts in the middle.
She licks her lower lip and my body burns for her. I lift my chin to hers. Our lips collide.
I bury my hands in her hair.
It’s soft and damp with an earthy scent that doesn’t come from any shampoo bottle.
She is soft and snug in my arms and she pulls away only far enough to utter, “I love you, too.”
I clutch her closer, wrapping her arms around mine.
Her breaths become mine and mine become hers.
Her hands are ice.
She slips them under my shirt, and my back recoils for a moment before welcoming her in.
I’m restless and hungry for her.
All of her.
Right now.
That’s what she does to me.
One touch and I have to have her.
Another touch and I morph into a beast who can’t control his impulses.
With her chin tilted toward the ceiling, her long hair moves in waves.
I run my hands down the contours of her body. I know every curve and every dip.
The more I feel, the greedier I become.
I hate this city.
I hate the grime.
I hate the sad and angry faces that people make as they walk down the sidewalk.
I hate the rush.
I hate that everyone has somewhere more important to be than the person next to them.
I hate the way the poor kids from the projects look at rich kids with personal drivers.
And I hate the way kids with drivers look at everyone else, like they are specks of dirt beneath their feet.
I hate that a family of five has to cram into a one-bedroom apartment and pay two-thirds of their income in rent for the luxury of a two hour commute.
I hate that I live alone in a twelve thousand square foot, five-story mansion with a view of Central Park from practically every window.
I hate the summers with their hordes of tourists taking pictures of every mundane and uninteresting thing.
I hate the fall and the spring, with its torrential rains which chill you to the bone and make the city gray and gloomy for weeks.
But most of all, I hate those five weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year’s that everyone else seems to find so magical.
It’s the time of year that people spend hours gawking at window displays designed to dazzle and make you forget that you really can’t afford anything there.
I hate the blinding lights that twinkle all day and all night without a moment’s peace. But mostly I hate the cheer that fills the city, which only has one real purpose - to sell more crap.
I hate people and I hate that I’m alone.
I hate that I haven’t left this house in almost four years and I hate how much I like being alone.
I hate that all I do is work, but without work, I’d have even less than I do now.
I hate my money, and I hate to imagine a world in which I don’t have it.
But mostly I hate myself.
I hate the scars that cover my body.
I hate that every time I look at them, my mind is flooded with memories of that day.
I hate that the person I used to be is gone and I hate that I can’t imagine my life without all of this hate.
Want to read more? One-Click Tangled up in Ice now!