The Devil She Knows. Kira Sinclair
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Heaven help her...
Willow Portis tries extra hard to be the good girl of Sweetheart, South Carolina. But the night of the Fall Masquerade, she steps out of her well-behaved shoes and into a supersexy angel costume. And when she’s tempted by a stranger, she gives in!
Devlin Warwick has returned to Sweetheart, determined to show up the busybodies who ran him out of town ten years earlier. Seducing Willow probably isn’t the best way to prove them wrong....
And there’ll be hell to pay when the masks come off and she realizes he’s a devil she knows!
Willow wanted to shake up her life, to be daring. At least for one night…
The perfect partner-in-crime was watching her with bedroom eyes, his face partially hidden by a red devil mask.
In the middle of the dance floor, his arms tightened, leaning her off center. He made a sound deep in the back of his throat. And then he was kissing her.
There was no easing into the moment, not with him. He devoured her, his mouth hard and demanding. Heat and need twisted through her, sharp and unexpected. Then his tongue slipped in, sliding deliciously against her own.
Tearing them apart, he brought her upright.
She clung to his shoulders, afraid that if she let go she’d topple to the ground.
“Why’d you do that?” she asked breathlessly.
“Because I could. Because I enjoy shaking things up.” His deep blue eyes flashed dangerously. “And because I would have kicked myself if I let you go without knowing how your mouth tasted.”
Dear Reader,
Long before I met Dev and Willow I knew I wanted to write a story centered around a masquerade. There’s something so liberating about donning a mask. It frees you to act wild, be daring and maybe step out of your comfort zone…even if only for a few hours.
I come by my love of costumes honestly. I’ve been traipsing across the stage since I was a little girl, first as a dancer and then as an actress. My local community theater was a home for me, a place where I belonged. I grew up there, discovering myself as I tried on different personalities and roles to see if they fit.
Though it’s been quite a while since I’ve been in a show, I have managed to find another outlet for my dramatic tendencies. Each year my local Romance Writers of America chapter holds a murder-mystery dinner. And let me just say, we totally embrace the experience. We take on completely different personas…and sometimes even genders. We laugh until we cry and, more often than not, don’t even bother solving the mystery.
I hope you enjoy Willow and Dev’s story. Maybe they’ll inspire you to don a mask and act a little crazy every now and again. I’d love to hear from you at www.kirasinclair.com or come chat with me on Twitter, www.twitter.com/KiraSinclair.
Best wishes,
Kira
The Devil She Knows
Kira Sinclair
KIRA SINCLAIR is an award-winning author who writes emotional, passionate contemporary romances. Double winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, her first foray into writing fiction was for a high-school English assignment. Nothing could dampen her enthusiasm… not even being forced to read the love story aloud to the class. However, it definitely made her blush. Writing about striking, sexy heroes and passionate, determined women has always excited her. She lives out her own happily-ever-after with her amazing husband, their two beautiful daughters and a menagerie of animals on a small farm in North Alabama. Kira loves to hear from readers at www.kirasinclair.com.
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I’d like to dedicate this book to my amazing, wonderful and brilliant daughters. I’m so proud of the young women you’re both growing into.
I hope that one day you’ll find friends like Hope, Lexi, Willow and Tatum, and like the friends I’m blessed to have in my life. Women who will listen to you whine, let you cry on their shoulders, rejoice at your triumphs and offer a shovel if someone needs to die…even if only in jest. That kind of solidarity is priceless and absolutely necessary for getting through life with your sanity intact.
I love you both!
Contents
1
Sweetheart, South Carolina,
the home of happily-ever-after
DEVLIN WARWICK BLEW past the ornate sign with its elegant gold scrollwork. He didn’t bother to hide his curling scowl. Please. The