Praise for
kayla perrinâs
Getting Even
âThis story of exquisitely plotted revenge will have
every woman who has ever been âdone wrongâ quietly cheeringâ¦This is sexy erotica.â âLibrary Journal
âWell plotted and with an appealing chick-lit sensibilityâ¦
thatâs not to say it lacks heatâit definitely doesnât.â âRomantic Times BOOKreviews
âGetting Even is one wild ride!â¦Perrin is an author who belongs on your must read list. Donât miss Getting Even!â
âRomanceReaderAtHeart
âFans of contemporary girl loves boy, boy mistreats girl,
girl avenges mistreatment tales will want to read this hot, spicy novel.â âHarriet Klausner
â[A] writer that everyone should read.â
âEric Jerome Dickey
One
Samera
Sometimes, lifeâs a bitch.
And when I say a bitch, I mean that literally. Like life is some crazy woman hovering over the universe, dealing with a bad case of PMS. She could let you be happy, but sheâs got killer cramps at the moment, and if sheâs got to suffer, youâre damn well going to suffer, too.
So instead of giving you easy choicesâlike a clear path thatâs right, versus one thatâs obviously wrongâlife is gonna mess with you. Present you with two paths you can see yourself taking, but you must choose one of them. And no matter which one you choose, youâre going to feel bad.
Hell, I know what Iâm talking about. I just chose Path B, which is the path my heart told me I was supposed to take. I should feel a sense of resolve right now, a sense of peace. I should have a smile on my fucking face because Iâm taking fond memories with me from my vacation, but instead I feel like shit.
I just left a guy who likes meâno, adores meâprobably completely heartbroken in Costa Rica.
âMiguel.â I say his name out loud, and his image pops into my mind. His beautiful, bronzed body and smoky eyes. That gorgeous smile of his, which is both sexy and sweet at the same time. My face flushes as I remember other things about himâlike how eager he was to please me in the bedroom, to give me one mind-numbing orgasm after another.
Is it possible Iâve made a mistake? I wonder as I stare out the small plane window, craning my neck for one final glimpse of the beautiful country where I spent the last two weeks of my life. Have I made the wrong choice?
Choosing to leave Miguel and get on a plane heading back to the States was the hardest thing I ever had to do. One minute Miguel and I were moving full steam ahead to what I thought would be a serious commitment. The next, my fucking louse of an ex showed up claiming he still loved meâand I bought his lies, effectively changing my destiny with Miguel forever.
Reed, my ex, actually tracked me down in Costa Rica, like he was Brad Pitt showing up at the end of the movie to claim his girl. He complicated the shit out of my relationship with Miguel. But even though I got wise to his gameârealizing that Reed hadnât changed, he just didnât want to lose meâ I had to accept one very certain fact: clearly, I didnât love Miguel the way a man deserves to be loved. If I did, Reed couldnât have walked back into my life so easily. And I care too much for Miguel to let him settle for half of my heart.
Knowing that, however, doesnât make my decision any less painful. I really like Miguel, and Iâll always have a soft spot in my heart for him. But Iâm just not ready to make the big Love Commitment with himâor anyone for that matterâso it was far better that I leave him now than that I stay and break his heart in a couple months.
I had to be fair to Miguel. If I didnât ultimately want what he wanted, I had to let him go.
Still, I wonder if Iâll ever meet another man like Miguel. When I told him I had to leave him, he was so frigginâ understanding. Iâm used to guys punching holes in walls and cussing a blue streak when I break up with them. But Miguelâdespite being sadâsimply told me that I had to do what my heart told me I should.
Right now my heart is aching. Iâm not sure what that means.
Moaning softly, I bury my face in my hands. Suddenly I wish I were back in my hotel room at the gorgeous oceanfront Marriott resort, Miguelâs body on top of mine, his cock deep within me, and my legs wrapped around his waist. I want him whispering words of passion to me in Spanish as he did for much of my two weeks in his country, making me scream his name as I come.
Thatâs what I should be doing. Instead, Iâm sitting in coach class on a Delta Airlines flight, staring out the window like a lovesick fool, with the worst case of melancholy gripping my heart.
I glance to my left. The guy beside me, probably early sixties, wriggles his eyebrows when he sees me look his way. I roll my eyes and look past him, behind me. And thatâs when I notice a dark-haired man who reminds me of Miguel. Heâs with an attractive blonde, and the two appear to be totally in to each other. I watch them for a moment as the man whispers something into the womanâs ear. Her face flames and she laughs, and thatâs all it takes for my brain to open the door holding back all my memories of Miguel and the time we shared.