From NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY Bestselling and Award Winning Author Selena Kitt - Over a Million Books Sold!
Do you love fairy tales? Then don't miss these happily ever afters! A BRAND NEW Modern Wicked Fairy Tales series from Selena Kitt!
In this modern version of the fairy tale classic, Pinocchio, marine Levi Woodyer—known as “Woody” to his special ops team—is on a medical discharge, a man with a haunted past, a painful present and an uncertain future. His father watches, powerless to help his son, as Levi slips further between the cracks, and troubled Levi doesn’t seem to be too interested in helping himself. But when his father’s simple bribe finally gets Levi out of the house to a physical therapy appointment, his encounter with former high school sweetheart, Linnea Fey, just might put him on the path to wholeness again.
“Linney.” He sighed, shrugging his jacket on. She was a tall girl, and when her chin was set high and defiant like that, she seemed even taller. He was six feet tall and she almost met him eye to eye. “I told you—hope is the enemy.”
“No, Levi.” Her hand on his upper arm, the tattoo of a cricket underneath. She stopped him, disarmed him in a way no one had in years. “You’re the enemy. You were always your own worst enemy.”
He couldn’t deny that. “I have to go.”
“I want to see you again,” she urged, stepped between him and the exit, standing on tiptoes so they were, indeed, eye to eye.
“I told you…” He sighed, reaching around her for the doorknob.
“I can come to you.” She leaned back against the door, keeping it closed.
“Linney…” They were close now, closer than they’d been. Close enough he could have closed that gap and kissed her like he used to, ending whatever argument had been about to erupt.
“I want to.” She pressed her fingers to his lips, quieting whatever words he’d been about to say. It clearly crossed the line from professional to personal but he was still stuck on the words I want to half-whispered from those glistening pink lips. He felt the press of her fingers but imagined her lips, the sweet surrender of her mouth under his.
“My number’s on that slip of paper,” she whispered. “Call me if you want me.”
Not “call me for an appointment,” or “call if you want to see me,” but “call me if you want me.”
And he did want her. More than he was ready to admit and certainly more than he had any right to.