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Book info:
Jaxon is the guy she’s supposed to
avoid. K.C. is the girl he won’t let get away....
K. C. Carter has always followed the rules—until this year, when a mistake leaves her the talk of her college campus and her carefully arranged life comes crashing to a halt. Now she’s stuck in her small hometown for the summer to complete her court-ordered community service, and to make matters worse, trouble is living right next door.
Jaxon Trent is the worst kind of temptation and exactly what K.C. was supposed to stay away from in high school. But he never forgot her. She was the one girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day and the only one to ever say no. Fate has brought K.C. back into his life—except what he thought was a great twist of luck turns out to be too close for comfort. As they grow closer, he discovers that convincing K.C. to get out from her mother’s shadow is hard, but revealing the darkest parts of his soul is nearly impossible.
Excerpt:
K. C. Carter has always followed the rules—until this year, when a mistake leaves her the talk of her college campus and her carefully arranged life comes crashing to a halt. Now she’s stuck in her small hometown for the summer to complete her court-ordered community service, and to make matters worse, trouble is living right next door.
Jaxon Trent is the worst kind of temptation and exactly what K.C. was supposed to stay away from in high school. But he never forgot her. She was the one girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day and the only one to ever say no. Fate has brought K.C. back into his life—except what he thought was a great twist of luck turns out to be too close for comfort. As they grow closer, he discovers that convincing K.C. to get out from her mother’s shadow is hard, but revealing the darkest parts of his soul is nearly impossible.
Excerpt:
“So, how did this happen?” I asked, holding the gauze on
his skin, under the cuts, to catch the saline.
His abs flexed, probably from the cold fluid, since saline
didn’t sting, as I poured it over the cuts, cleaning them.
He sucked in air through his teeth. “Some of the science
kids have greenhouses on the roof,” he grunted, and I almost laughed out loud.
“Masters asked me to go up and make sure the roofs were closed, but I slipped
coming back down the stairs. Scraped myself on some bolts.”
Ouch.
I used the rest of the gauze to wipe up the solution, and
then ripped open a package with a wet wipe and made sure the blood was cleared
up.
“You should be using gloves,” he pointed out. “You know? Blood
and all.”
“I thought any girl was safe with you,” I shot back,
tearing open bandages. “Isn’t that what you told me?”
Jax was silent for a minute, narrowing his eyes farther and
watching me as I placed three rectangular bandages on his stomach.
“I said any girlfriend of mine,” he finally clarified. “But
you shouldn’t be so careless. Use gloves next time.”
I ignored him, feeling weird on the occasions he acted like
this. Jax had a habit of scolding me, sometimes acting as though he was
protecting me, and then following it all up with being an asshole. I finally
figured out condescension was his way of gaining superiority. Making others
feel stupid.
I sat back, looking him in the eye and changing the subject.
“Is anything else hurt?”
He hesitated only a moment. And then folded his arm back,
lifting his right elbow to reveal the scratches I’d noticed earlier.
Repeating the same procedure, I stood up and leaned over
him, catching the saline wash as it cascaded over his wound and into the gauze.
He hissed, and I blinked.
“Blow on it,” he ordered.
“It doesn’t sting,” I scoffed, knowing damn well that
saline didn’t hurt.
“K.C., Jesus,” he barked, wincing.
I rolled my eyes but gave in. Holding the underside of his
arm—his hard triceps—I leaned down and released a slow, cool breeze over the
scratches. Jax’s scent wafted over me again, and I desperately wanted to close
my mouth so I could breathe him in through my nose.
But I didn’t. I could tell his eyes were on me.
“Why are you watching me?” I asked, wiping up the rest of
the solution and blood.
I didn’t look at him, but I heard him swallow.
“This is just the first time you’ve ever made me feel good,
is all,” he replied in probably the most candid way I’d ever heard him speak.
I pinched my eyebrows together.
The first time I’d ever made him feel good.
I didn’t know what to say to that. Hell, I had nothing to say to that.
Keeping quiet, I finished applying his bandages as fast as
I could and didn’t meet his eyes again. He’d tried to be nice to me in high
school. He’d tried to be a friend. Maybe friends with benefits but still a
friend. Now here I was, forcing my attention on him, and he probably had no
patience for me anymore.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ventured.
“What?”
“That night you drove Liam home . . .” I swallowed, smoothing
my fingers over the bandage I’d fixed to his arm. “You said you had tattoos. Too
many.” I repeated his words, my eyes fixated on his forearm. “What did you mean?”
I pressed, because clearly Jax didn’t sport any tattoos. His statement hadn’t
made any sense.
Even though I hadn’t looked at him, I noticed his head turn
away as he inhaled a slow, deep breath. Kind of as though he was getting ready
to dive deep underwater and knew he wouldn’t be up for air for a while.
“Sorry,” I said quietly, straightening up and crumpling the
bandage wrappers in my fist. “I just . . . I don’t know . . .” I
trailed off. “I just want to understand.”
I finally met his eyes, and he studied me silently. I didn’t
know if he was trying to figure out what to tell me or if he wanted to tell me
anything at all. Funny thing was, I’d thought about what Jax said that night a
lot over the years, and while I was curious, it wasn’t until I’d overheard his
conversation with Jared today that I knew it had something to do with his childhood.
And I realized that I didn’t know Jaxon Trent at all.
He rubbed his forearm and narrowed his eyes briefly before
relaxing. “If you could get a tattoo, what would it be?”
I blinked, shocked by his question. “Um.” I laughed softly,
thinking. “I thought about a set of angel wings, I guess. With one of the wings
broken,” I admitted.
“It has something to do with your past?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And it’s something you want to remember?” he pressed.
“Yes.”
“That’s why I don’t have any tattoos,” he concluded. “People
get tattoos for all kinds of reasons, but they’re always badges of what has
made them who they are. I don’t care to remember what and who made me this way.
The people that gave me life. The people that brought me up . . .” He
shook his head, defiant. “The places I’ve seen or anything I’ve done. It’s all
in my head, anyway. I don’t want it on my body, too. I don’t care about
anything that much.”
Series in Order:
Click on the caption below each picture to be taken to its Goodreads page.
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| 1 |
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| 2 |
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| 4 |
Author info:
Penelope Douglas was born in Dubuque, Iowa and has a Masters
of Science in Education from Loyola University in New Orleans. She lives with
her family in Las Vegas.
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