Perfect for fans of Christina Lauren, Emma Chase, and Maya Banks, the anticipated finale in New York Times bestselling author Monica Murphy’s sexy contemporary romance series about three fiery and determined sisters with their own ideas about life and love.
I’m in trouble. Again. And instead of facing my problems head-on, I’ve run away. Far away this time, and no one can catch me—not my two younger sisters, Violet and Rose, not my father, my grandmother, or that witch Pilar who wants to take control of my family’s cosmetics company. Now I’m in Hawaii, enjoying the sun and sand and water, where nobody knows the hot mess known as Lily Fowler. And I’m loving every minute of it.
But someone is watching me. Following me. He’s gorgeous. Soon we’re talking, and against all my instincts, I reveal bits and pieces of myself to Max. It feels good, though I know he can’t be the man for me. These sudden feelings we share are way too complicated, too fraught, too intense.
Then everything explodes and I’m forced to return home. My intentions have always been true, but now everyone’s mad at me. I don’t know who to turn to anymore . . . except to Max. He’s the one I want to trust. But I’m not so sure I should. Maybe it’s worth the risk—what-ifs be damned. . . .
Releases: July 7, 2015
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About Monica Murphy:
Monica Murphy is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the One Week Girlfriend series. She writes new adult and contemporary romance for Bantam and Avon. She also writes romance as USA Today bestselling author Karen Erickson. A native Californian, she lives in the foothills below Yosemite.
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I sneak onto the lanai, holding my breath as I approach the French doors. They’ll be locked, but I can peek through the glass and see if there’s any movement inside. Leaning in close but not touching anything, I do exactly that, squinting against the reflection of the moon off the clean glass, trying to see something, anything that’ll make me turn tail and get the hell out of here.
There’s nothing. No lights on, no movement, no Lily in sight. She’s in her bedroom. She’s asleep.
I can almost guarantee it.
Cursing under my breath, I stride across the lanai, following along the building until I reach the sliding glass doors. One side of the curtains is drawn back, allowing me a glimpse inside the bedroom. The bed is huge, covered in white, and I see the form of a body beneath the comforter, tucked in tight.
Blissfully unaware that I’m watching her.
I reach out and curl my fingers around the handle, close my eyes, and count to three.
One . . . I shouldn’t do this. Two . . . I need to walk. Now. Three . . . My hand tugs on the handle and the screen door glides open, whisper soft. Almost as if I never opened it at all. I take a deep breath and step inside the quiet room, pulling the screen door closed behind me. It doesn’t even make a sound— nothing like the screen door at my parents’ place, which screeches on its hinges like an old witch’s laugh.
The sound of soft breathing reaches my ears and I stand at the foot of the bed, staring down at the figure lying on her side, buried beneath the fluffy white comforter. The air conditioner is on despite the open screen door and it’s frigid in the room. A fan swirls overhead, stirring the ice-cold air, and I shiver, stuffing my hands in my pockets as I stare at Lily.
She shifts, almost as if she knows she’s being watched, and I take a couple of steps back, panic nearly making me run into the dresser. She throws her leg over the comforter, nudging the fabric so it’s tucked between her legs, and I realize she has nothing on.
Lily is fucking naked, just like I described in my fantasy.
I swipe a hand across my face, leave it covering my mouth as I stare at her, contemplating my next move.
Go, asshole. Before you do something really stupid and scare the shit out of her. Next thing you know she’s calling security, they’re calling the police, and they’re arresting your ass for stalking—and you’re fucked for life.
But I don’t leave. Instead, I step closer to the bed, coming around to the side closest to where she’s sleeping, my gaze never leaving her. The moon’s light shines into the room, illuminating her in a soft glow, and I’m fascinated. I watch the rise and fall of her body as she breathes deeply, her parted lips plump and alluring even when she’s asleep. I listen to the sound of her soft, even breathing. Her eyes are closed, thick eyelashes like dark little fans lying across her skin.
She looks peaceful. So beautiful that the urge to go to her, to slip beneath the covers and join her, is so strong I almost do it.
But not yet. I need to rationalize this first. Though it’s nothing close to rational, being in this room with her uninvited. I’m breaking the fucking law. I should leave.