HACK, Covington Heights Crew Book Two, by Deana Birch is now LIVE!!!
Add it to your TBR list on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/HackTBR
An online criminal craves real-life danger, but her flawed instincts may cost her new crew everything.
Rafael Santos didn’t get the nickname ‘Goldie Locks’ for his shimmering blond curls. His hair is as black as his criminal heart. No, it’s his Midas touch. His ability to earn—coupled with a love for theft and technology—has gained him the coveted Number Two position in the Covington Heights crew. The problem is…after a murder that sent their regular clients packing, even his numbers are down. Now, finding new sources of illegal income is his number one priority.
Marigold Pfeifer is the fairy princess of online deceit. She can slip her computer viruses into a system at the blink of an eye and steal personal information in a twinkly flash. And that’s exactly what she does when screen name ‘GoldieLocks’ slides into her instant messenger. What’d he expect? A gift card?
But when the naïve hacker rides the train uptown to check out mysterious Covington Heights, she’s approached by the leader of the crew and forced to think fast on her feet. A hate-filled rivalry sparks between her and Rafael—and with it a deviously sinful attraction.
Will real-life criminals and the danger they breed be enough to wise up the goth-pixie with zero street smarts when she must navigate dark waters—or will her flawed instincts burn all she’s worked for to the ground?
A crack of thunder made me jump.
Rafa peered at me with one eye closed. “You afraid of the storm?”
“No. Don’t be ridiculous.” I crossed my arms and sat down then pulled a blanket around me.
He studied me. “Did you ask me in not to be alone or because you want something else?”
Both. It was very much both. I brought my fist to my mouth while I contemplated sharing the truth. But there was no need.
A dangerous understanding twinkled in his eyes and a smug grin formed on his otherwise flawless face. He crawled over to me until we were nose to nose. I blinked several times. It was a fruitless attempt to deny the pull he had on me. His confidence, his danger, his body… It was all overwhelming. So what if I’d just met him? He’d already discovered more truthful things about me than any other guy I’d ever kissed. And that was basically nothing. Besides, those lonely nights in the basement of my parents’ house had left me hungry for attention. I should have yanked the emergency brake, but I was already spinning out of control.
His warm breath tickled my neck, and, in my ear, he whispered, “Do you know the best cure for fear?”
I closed my eyes, already surrendering to him. One day? I’d lasted one stupid day. Pathetic.
He trailed a gentle path up my arm and neck with his fingers. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and his way-too-soft lips brush against my jaw. I shook my head.
“No, you don’t know? Or no, you want me to stop?” Rafa cupped my neck and I shuddered. I had a spot just below my hairline that was a direct line to my arousal and that gorgeous shit had brushed it with his thumb. It would have been impossible for him to know about it. He really was a lucky bastard. With his other hand, Rafa drew me closer to him.
I dropped my head back, giving him more access to my neck. Need pooled inside me as the energy around us swirled and created our own perfect storm.
“No. I don’t know.” My words were more of a moan. The trance he’d put me in so quickly with just a breath and a touch was alarming, risky and enslaving. He’d reeled me in masterfully and I didn’t care.
I allowed him to push me to my back and I searched his eyes before they closed and he went back to my neck. I would have given all the money in my bank account for him to have kissed me right then.
“You have to forget fear, M. I can help you. I can make you forget.”
MEET THE AUTHOR
Born and raised in the Midwest, Contemporary Romance and Erotica writer, Deana Birch, now lives with her family in Europe. She can be found teaching yoga, ruining her children’s French homework, cleaning up dog vomit, writing her next book, or reading someone else’s.