Vicious (Sinners of Saint Book 1)

Break up with him,” he repeated, curt. “Make it stop.”

“Make what stop?” I frowned.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Emilia,” he warned.

About what

Not only did she paint me (and arguably gave me a better nose than the one I was born with), but it was also what I was doing in the painting that made me smile like a sleaze ball. I was holding a joint and laughing into a non-existent camera—though my eyes were still mine, kind of sad and dark and fucking scary—and I wore a simple black T-shirt that said “Black” in white. The background was stark, stupid pink.

Not only did she paint me (and arguably gave me a better nose than the one I was born with), but it was also what I was doing in the painting that made me

I hummed Kravinsky’s “Nightcall” because it finally dawned on me, albeit out of nowhere, that Emilia liked the song because it was about me.

We’ve waited a long time for this. I want the real thing. Not the watered-down version. And the real thing is not only beautiful. It is also ugly. I want your truth.”

The One With The

Be wise. Let your heart lead the way. And when you find someone who’s worth it—never let them go

“I wouldn’t upset my girlfriend, unless I was eager to get out of here in several pieces.”

“So you’re taking her to a spa,”

“I’d rather you break up with her,”