Every woman on the planet thought she was “the one” who could tame the bad boy, but bad boys didn’t change. Smart girls knew that. The reality didn’t douse the attraction. Not that she wanted to. She liked to play with fire.

He pulled a pink bedazzled phone from his hoodie pocket. "Call your friend. Let him know you're here.""This is your phone?""Lady on the bus," he answered.Her jaw dropped. "She sat two rows ahead of us.""We passed her on the way to the back row."He picked a pocket that fast? "What are you?""That's a damn good question. Now call your friend.

They were out of the Army and out of the experimental program that had failed. They were no longer soldiers. No longer whole. They were the walking wounded, each and every man. Mad Dog was the tip of spear. Time could not heal all wounds.

Debi had just asked the world's peppiest hacker to help. What could possibly go wrong?

He wore my ex-boyfriend's cologne, and then tried to kill me." Talk about your bad first dates.

Team Fear was the heartless result of focused recruiting combined with tireless training and a little R&D. They'd sold their souls, each and every man.

No fear. A fitting epitaph, more curse than blessing, the truth of their very existence.

Honey, you can’t call dibs on a human being.” Her tone rose high enough to shatter glass. “Like calling something mine makes it so, because if it did, I’d be driving around town in a Porsche instead of Granddaddy’s broken down Ford. Ain’t nothing here that was yours.” Using the tray, she backed him against the office door. “Anything you left behind is at the DAV thrift store. They put a price tag on things, and let me tell you, yours wasn’t worth much.

Sex and love went together like bad boys and leather, and with Ryder, she couldn’t do one without the other. She could lie to herself and say she just wanted one last night of wild sex, but her heart would surely follow her body.

Put your hands on me Destiny. I've dreamed about it long enough.