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PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF
kayla perrin
“[A] writer that everyone should read.”
—Eric Jerome Dickey
“…[a] fun diversion.”
—Publishers Weekly on Gimme an O!
“This is not just a story of female bonding and friendship but a skillfully written combination of romance and mystery.”
—Booklist on The Sisters of Theta Phi Kappa
“…a delicious cocktail with a lot of zing…secrets, lies and alibis.”
—Essence on The Sisters of Theta Phi Kappa
“…start this book early in the day—this one won’t rest on your nightstand until it is finished!”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub on If You Want Me
“Kayla Perrin has her finger on the pulse of male/female relationships and she does an excellent job of examining it.”
—Literary Times on Again, My Love
“This is a story you will read in one sitting. Superb!!”
—Rendezvous on Everlasting Love
“The character development is stellar…[it] enthralls to the last page.”
—Romantic Times BOOKclub on The Delta Sisters
This one’s for my single friends—some divorced, some never married. Mary and Marissa in Atlanta, Nicole in Hamilton and Allette in Toronto—to name a few. Keep standing proud and never settle for less than you deserve!
And it’s also for you—my loyal readers. In particular, this is for my readers who have given their hearts in love, and had them trampled on in a serious way. I know how much that hurts, that the pain can be overwhelming.
Sometimes the only thing that makes you feel better is the thought of revenge. Often tricky to execute in real life, but in fiction everything’s game. So if you’ve had your heart broken (especially in a low-down, dirty way), here’s a little vicarious revenge to help ease the pain—to make you laugh, and perhaps cry, but most of all to help you realize that life without the jerk is oh, so much better.
Trust me, I know.
Now, enjoy!
Getting Even
kayla perrin
MILLS & BOON
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Chapter One
Claudia
They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but if you ask me, that’s a load of bull. Hands down, that gold-lined path travels through his libido.
I should know. Right now, I’m practically dying of embarrassment as I sit in a north Atlanta restaurant with the man of my dreams, Adam Hart. I’m trying to look nonchalant beside him in our booth, sipping a margarita through a straw, while Adam has his hand between my legs. His fingers tickle my skin as they inch farther up my thighs.
“Adam,” I admonish playfully as his fingers skirt my panties. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”
“Don’t I look serious to you?”
He does look serious—which is exactly the problem. He is entirely too serious about this naughty bit of foreplay. “Sweetheart, you know how much I love this, but—”
“What, this?”
My eyelids flutter as he strokes my nub.
“Mmm,” I moan softly. Then look up in horror as the waiter appears at our table. My face flames, and I wonder if my pale brown skin registers any blush of my embarrassment. I squeeze my legs together, but that does nothing to stop Adam’s fingers.
“Have you decided what you’d like?” the waiter asks. I’m not sure if there’s a knowing glint in his eye. If not, he must think Adam and I are so in love that we can’t bear to be physically apart from each other. Why else would we be sharing the same side of a booth, practically glued at the hip?
“Um,” I begin. I haven’t even looked at the menu. “I think we need a few more minutes.”
“I know what I want,” Adam says. He’s looking at me though, not at the waiter, and I want to smack him. No, that’s a lie. I want to take him outside and get busy with him in the back seat of his Mercedes SUV. I really do enjoy Adam’s obvious lust for me. I’m just not comfortable with how much he likes to display it in public.
“New York steak,” Adam continues. “Rare. I like it red.”
“I’ll have the same,” I say, hoping to hell that I’m not blushing. “Medium well.”
“Rice or baked potato?”
“Rice,” both Adam and I respond.
The waiter scribbles notes on a pad. “That comes with soup or salad—”
“Two house salads to start,” I interject, cutting off the waiter. “And an order of garlic bread. Also, a half liter of Chardonnay.”
“Make it a bottle,” Adam says.
My eyes meet his in surprise. His gaze is smoky, and as he bites down on his bottom lip, I feel an excited shiver dance across my shoulders. I know what he wants. To get me drunk so I’m more likely to be less inhibited.
I wonder what he wants me to try this time.
“That’s everything?” the waiter asks.
I have all but forgotten about the waiter. I look up at the college kid and grin. “That’s plenty.”
Thank the Lord, the waiter turns and walks away. He doesn’t know me, but still I let out a relieved breath.
