Bulletproof Princess
Chloe awakened with an elbow in her ribs.
She turned over and found herself nose to nose with Jack Quaid, the man she'd been crazy about since the summer she'd turned sixteen but had only connected with days ago when the mob had pegged her for assassination.
Within hours of a drive-by shooting attempt, the press had dubbed her the Bulletproof Princess. Laughable, because all she had done was duck. Yet if she hadn't, it'd be her funeral as well as Marcus's that half of New York City attended today.
Jack's soft snoring stopped, but his eyes remained closed. She stroked his face, his black hair curling on his neck, the seemingly perpetual five o'clock shadow stubbling his strong jaw, and pressed gentle kisses to his wide brow. He didn't rouse, and she looked beyond him to the clock on the bedside table. Marcus's funeral wasn't until two, but she and Emma Bosworth had a meeting with Renee at the Gotham Rose Club at ten.
Chloe crawled out from beneath the luxurious covers and walked to the bath, freshened up, then stepped into a closet that was half the size of her enormous bedroom and wondered. "What does one wear to one's fiancé" ... read full excerpt from Bulletproof Princess ebook
