Novels by hello

I glance at her and force my thoughts back to safer ground.“Hey,” I say, voice low, casual—like I’m not trying to keep from reaching over and tracing her thigh with my fingertips. “You remember when we first met? I think I was fifteen, and you were what—thirteen?”“Yeah,” she beams at me, eyes catching the soft glow of the dashboard lights. “It was a cold winter night. Trent brought you home with your two little siblings—Jack and Dory. How could I ever forget that night?”I nod, letting the memory tug me back.“My dad had been on another drunken rampage,” I say, the words falling heavier than I mean them to. “He’d already been going at me and Mom, and then he turned on the twins. Jesus, they were only five. He’d have put them in the hospital or worse. I couldn’t let that happen.”She doesn’t interrupt, just listens—eyes soft, hands folded in her lap, like she’s hearing it for the first time even though she already knows every beat of the story.“I wasn’t some strong kid back then. Ju

“Looks like my ride bailed,” Margo says, glancing around the near-empty reception hall with an exaggerated pout. “Mind giving a girl a lift home?”“Sure,” I say, maybe a little too fast. She flashes me that impish smile and damn if my heart doesn’t do a full somersault like I’m back in boot camp getting screamed at. Only this time, I like it.“Lemme just grab my jacket.”I turn toward the coat check, giving myself a moment to breathe—because holy hell. When exactly did Margo Warner stop being Trent’s awkward kid sister and morph into this?Because this?This is a full-blown woman in a dress that should be classified as a controlled substance. That satin number clings to her like it’s terrified of letting go. Her red hair’s twisted up all elegant and messy, with those stubborn little curls slipping free—like even her hair refuses to behave.She used to trail after us at backyard barbecues, all skinny limbs and braces, asking a million questions and trying to keep up with the guys. And

"Are you sure it won’t be too much trouble?" I ask, tilting my head just enough to sell the innocent act. “I mean, I don’t want to derail your night with all my emotional fireworks. Unless, of course, you’re into drama queens in bridesmaid dresses.”“Hey, not at all,” Colton says with a warm smile, those deep dimples making a surprise cameo and sending my ovaries into a standing ovation. “We’re old friends, Margo. If you’re in trouble, I want to help. Consider it part of the job description as Trent’s best man.”Old friends.Oof. Right in the girlhood crush.The word hits like a Nerf dart dipped in rejection and launched straight at my heart. So much for that little fantasy where he suddenly realizes I’m not a kid anymore and declares his undying lust. Apparently, I’m still wearing the invisible sign that says Property of Big Brother. Look but do not touch.Still, I rally. Because if there’s one thing I do well, it’s fake cool confidence.“Well, I hope that adorable bridesmaid you wer

I melt into Colton’s arms like butter on a hot skillet. His lips crash into mine with a ferocity that robs me of air and, quite possibly, common sense. My hands greedily explore the rigid terrain of his chest—hello, rock-hard pectorals—and he lets out a low, primal growl that vibrates against me. The sound goes straight to my lower half like a promise whispered by the devil himself.“Margo,” he rasps, his voice so gravelly it should come with a warning label. “You’re so damn beautiful. So soft.”A strangled gasp slips out of me. “Careful,” I murmur. “Say stuff like that and I might start believing it.”His hands trail up my thighs, strong, commanding—like he just signed the deed to my body and intends to claim the property. He grips my hip with an authority that’s frankly inappropriate unless we’re already married... or doing very married things.He grinds against me with a slow, sinful roll that makes me see constellations. Not stars. Full-on celestial alignments. Orion’s Belt and th