Con Artist. Temptress. Siren.
Detective Will Furey’s kryptonite.
I wondered from which parent I’d inherited this tilted desire for recklessness, and decided on my father. He didn’t even stay long enough to see me born, just a few ultrasounds taped to the refrigerator. He rode in a motorcycle club and it had been far too easy for him to blow through town, impregnate my mother, and blow on out–endlessly on the move, like a tumbleweed.
There was something inside of me that felt a similar tug, that craved to press my body against an open road and weep with relief.
My mother, however, taught me an entirely different lesson–that men thought with their dicks and were good for absolutely nothing. If I learned manipulation from anyone it was sure-as-shit her. The walls of the trailer we lived in were thin, especially since I slept on the couch-that-was-also-a-table and she and her menagerie of lovers took the one bedroom.
They wouldn’t stay long, though she had them twisted around her finger tight as a wedding ring.
But Detective Furey was making me careless.
(Cuffed comes out in just eight days, September 17th! Check back for links to buy via Kindle Unlimited on Amazon.)