by Lexi Ryan
Table of Contents
Title Page
Other Books by Lexi Ryan
Dedication
Acknowledgments
About Dirty, Reckless Love
Prologue
Part I. Now
Levi
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Part II. Before
Ellie
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Part III. After
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Part IV. Before
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Part V. After
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Part VI. Before
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Part VII. After
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Levi
Ellie
Levi
Part VIII. Before
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Part IX. After
Ellie
Part X. Before
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Part XI. After
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Ellie
Levi
Ellie
Epilogue
Contact
Copyright Notice
The Boys of Jackson Harbor
The Wrong Kind of Love (Ethan’s story)
Straight Up Love (Jake’s story)
Dirty, Reckless Love (Levi’s story)
Wrapped in Love (Brayden’s story) – coming late 2018
Crazy for Your Love (Carter’s story) – coming spring 2019
If It’s Only Love (Shay’s story) – coming summer 2019
The Blackhawk Boys
Spinning Out (Arrow’s story)
Rushing In (Chris’s story)
Going Under (Sebastian’s story)
Falling Hard (Keegan’s story)
In Too Deep (Mason’s story)
LOVE UNBOUND: Four series, one small town, lots of happy endings
Splintered Hearts (A Love Unbound Series)
Unbreak Me (Maggie’s story)
Stolen Wishes: A Wish I May Prequel Novella (Will and Cally’s prequel)
Wish I May (Will and Cally’s novel)
Or read them together in the omnibus edition, Splintered Hearts: The New Hope Trilogy
Here and Now (A Love Unbound Series)
Lost in Me (Hanna’s story begins)
Fall to You (Hanna’s story continues)
All for This (Hanna’s story concludes)
Or read them together in the omnibus edition, Here and Now: The Complete Series
Reckless and Real (A Love Unbound Series)
Something Wild (Liz and Sam’s story begins)
Something Reckless (Liz and Sam’s story continues)
Something Real (Liz and Sam’s story concludes)
Or read them together in the omnibus edition, Reckless and Real: The Complete Series
Mended Hearts (A Love Unbound Series)
Playing with Fire (Nix’s story)
Holding Her Close (Janelle and Cade’s story)
OTHER TITLES
Hot Contemporary Romance
Text Appeal
Accidental Sex Goddess
Decadence Creek (Short and Sexy Romance)
Just One Night
Just the Way You Are
For Sam. My favorite fangirl turned dear friend. I’m so proud of you!
With every book I write, I’m more surprised by the number of people I rely on to get me through it. I’m so grateful for my village.
First, a big thanks to my family. My husband, Brian, makes it possible for me to write so much and bring so many books to my readers. Thank you for believing in me and my stories, babe. Thank you for always knowing I can figure out a plot even when I’m convinced I’m doomed. Your faith means everything. To my kids, Jack and Mary, you are so awesome. Thank you for inspiring me to be my very best. To my mom, dad, brothers, sisters, in-laws, aunts, uncles, various cousins and cousins-in-law, thank you for cheering me on—each in your own way.
I’m lucky enough to have a life full of amazing friends. Thanks to my writing friends who sprint with me and critique my blurbs or coach me through career decisions. A huge thanks to Mira Lyn Kelly, who does more than her fair share of hand-holding. I’ve gotten a lot of amazing things from this career, but her friendship tops the list.
I owe a special thanks to Indiana State Police officer Sergeant Kris Fitzgerald for answering the countless procedural and crime-scene-related questions as I drafted this book. Any errors are my own.
To everyone who provided me feedback on this story along the way—especially Heather Carver, Samantha Leighton, Tina Allen, Lisa Kuhne, Dina Littner, and Janice Owen—you’re all awesome. Rhonda Edits and Lauren Clarke, thank you for the insightful line and content edits. You both push me to be a better writer and make my stories the best they can be. Thanks to Arran McNicol at Editing720 for proofreading. I’ve worked hard to put together this team, and I’m proud of it!
Thank you to the people that helped me package this book and promote it. Sarah Eirew took the gorgeous cover photo and did the design and branding for the whole series. A shout-out to my assistant Lisa Kuhne for trying to keep me in line and for putting in random extra hours when I need her most. Thank you to Nina and Social Butterfly PR for organizing the release. I’ve loved working with you and your awesome assistants! To all of the bloggers, bookstagrammers, readers, and reviewers who help spread the word about my books, I am humbled by the time you take out of your busy lives for my stories. My thank you isn’t enough, but it is sincere. You’re the best.
To my agent, Dan Mandel, for believing in me and staying by my side. Thanks to you and Stefanie Diaz for getting my books into the hands of readers all over the world. Thank you for being part of my team.
Finally, a big thank-you to my fans. Because of you, I’m living my dream and have to pinch myself daily. I couldn’t do it without you. You’re the coolest, smartest, best readers in the world. I appreciate each and every one of you!
XOXO,
Lexi
I’m in love with a man who tried to kill me. At least that’s what they tell me . . .
Six weeks ago, paramedics found me unconscious in my own home. Beaten. Bruised. Hardly breathing. When I woke up, I couldn’t remember the last three years or anything about my life in Jackson Harbor. They tell me my fiancé, Colton McKinley, is on the run for what he did to me. They tell me I’m safer if I stay away.
I don’t care if my memories ever come back. I want nothing to do with those missing years . . . until a sexy stranger with angry eyes shows up on my doorstep and demands I stop ignoring him.
Levi Jackson is my fiancé’s best friend, but seeing him sparks something inside me. As the truth unravels in my mind, I know they’re wrong about Colton. My own secrets are far more dangerous than the man I was engaged to.
I return to Jackson Harbor to search for answers and find myself running from a faceless boogeyman and seeking refuge in Levi’s arms. And in his bed.
I can’t deny my feelings for Levi. But as th
e pile of lies between us grows, I realize that sometimes the truth can’t set us free. Sometimes, it’s the very thing that can destroy us.
Levi
February 20th
Two and a half years ago . . .
I prefer my parties loud, crowded, and a little dangerous—the kind where I can find a girl, a couple of shots, a dark corner, and fucking enjoy how good it is to be alive.
The biggest crowd at this party is currently gathered around the martini bar. The fake laughter and artificial kindness feel like poison in the air.
I’m only here because I’m expected to be. My family’s business, Jackson Brews, is sponsoring this fancy little fundraiser, and I’m doing my part to show my face.
“Hey there.” The greeting comes from a leggy brunette who’s leaning against the wall beside me.
I blink at her. I’m tucked into a back corner of this party for a reason—I needed a place to watch rather than participate—and I didn’t even see her walk up. At my kind of party, I keep tabs on the hottest chicks in the room. At my kind of party, I’d have already been watching every move of a girl like this. She’s a fox with her tight dress that’s cut low in the front and that cradles every curve, from her tiny waist to where it stops just above her knees. Her sultry smile is the cherry on top. The fact that I didn’t notice her before proves that the uptight idiots at this party are rotting my brain.
She’s mimicking my posture, leaning against the wall, a beer dangling from her fingertips. A beer. The other women here are drinking champagne or cosmopolitans. I like her already.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re prettier when you smile?” she asks.
“Did you just say I’m prettier when I smile?”
“Yep.” She laughs and tosses her hair. “It’s my new thing—stealing ridiculous pickup lines guys have used on me and unleashing them on unsuspecting men.”
I arch a brow. “And now you’re coming on to me by telling me I’m pretty?”
“In reality, I’m just entertaining myself.” She laughs, and the sound is so light and carefree it lifts some of the tension from my shoulders. “But now I wish I’d used a different line, because you kind of are pretty. Do you know how much women pay to have eyelashes like that?”
I grunt. “I can’t decide if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
“It was definitely a compliment.” She flicks her gaze over me. “Definitely.”
I groan, the magnetic force field of attraction already pulling me in. “Okay. Redo granted. Try another one of your lines on me.” I can’t resist, though I probably should.
“Are you religious?”
I frown. “What kind of line is that?”
“Because you’re the answer to all my prayers.”
I laugh. “Shit. That’s bad.”
“How about this?” She slides her gaze down to my shoes and slowly back up. “That outfit looks terrible on you. Let’s go somewhere and take it off.”
“Guys really say this shit to you?”
She takes a sip of her beer and scans the crowd as she nods. “Oh, yeah. Most guys treat a come-on like a gift a girl should cherish. As if we’re all so desperate for attention that we should be thankful, even if the effort is half-assed.”
“And yet here you are, trying to get mine.”
She shrugs. “Just because my date stood me up and you are so obviously my type. I couldn’t resist.”
I blink, taking a beat to unpack that simple sentence. Part one, her date stood her up, which means he’s a fucking idiot—then again, most guys are when it comes to beautiful women, and this one is over-the-top gorgeous. And part two? “Why do you say I’m your type? What’s your type?”
“Tall, dark, and bad for me,” she says cheerfully. “I really like them bad for me.”
“You’ve known me two minutes but you already know I’m bad for you?”
“Oh, yeah.” She rakes her gaze down my body like she did before, but this time there’s so much intensity behind the look that my dick is hard before she even makes her way back up to meet my eyes. “You have that dark-and-brooding look about you. You know, like you’re too busy being pissed at the world to enjoy the little things. A real asshole.” She presses her palm to her chest. “It just so happens that I’m a sucker for assholes. I’ve spent the last eight years of my life collecting them.”
“You collect assholes. That’s . . . different.”
She grins, unashamed and sexy as fuck. “Obviously, I’m good at it, too, since I’m at this stupid party alone when I was supposed to be here with a guy I thought liked me.”
“You have me all wrong,” I mutter.
“You’re not an asshole, or you’re not pissed at the world?”
“I’m not—” Oh hell. I’m not sure I can deny either. I fucking love my life, but I’ve definitely indulged in my share of asshole behavior in my efforts to live life large. Though I’m not always pissed at the world—only sometimes and about certain things.
She laughs. “And you suck at simple conversation.” She tips her beer up and drains it. “You are so my type.” She adds something else in a mutter I can’t hear, but I’m pretty sure it’s I need a lobotomy.
“I’ve never been so offended by a woman admitting she’s attracted to me. Kudos.”
“My talents are unique.” She shrugs.
“So the guy who stood you up . . . I’m assuming he’s also your type?”
“Obviously. I’m beginning to think it’s not a type so much as an addiction. But nice guys bore the shit out of me, so . . .”
I know a thing or two about addictions—especially unconventional ones. Like this girl, my addictions come wrapped in an experience and not a powder or pill. I’m addicted to the thrill. The kind of rush so intense that I do crazier and crazier shit to chase it. The kind of addiction that has you scaring the shit out of your family while you’re just trying to feel alive. “Maybe it’s time to go cold turkey.”
Her bottom lip darts out in a pout, then she turns, leaning her shoulder against the wall as she studies me. I didn’t come here to find someone to warm my bed, but she’s tempting the shit out of me.
“You don’t live around here, do you?” I ask.
“Actually, I do.”
I cock my head to the side. “Is that so?” I’ve lived in Jackson Harbor all my life. Once, I believed there was no one in this town I didn’t know, but I’m not home as much as I used to be, and I miss a lot of the new faces.
“I’m new,” she says, “but I like it. Or I did until the jerk who stood me up tonight ruined a perfect start in a perfect city.”
I lift my chin. Now I understand exactly why she started this conversation—she’s looking for me to quiet her insecurities. “So we’ve circled back to him.”
She groans. “Sorry. That was tacky. I hate that I care.”
“Is this jerk a boyfriend or just . . .?”
“Not a boyfriend yet. I don’t know. We’re not so new that it doesn’t sting but new enough that it shouldn’t. Tonight’s important. He was going to introduce me to someone who might be able to give me an amazing job, and . . .” She bites her lip and holds my gaze. “I thought he really liked me.”
“Do you plan to stay and wait for him to show, or are you going to get out of here?” Even as I say it, I’m not sure if it’s an invitation or just a question.
Apparently, neither is she. “I guess that depends on you. Now that you know my type, I’m wondering about yours.”
“I’m not sure I have one.” But I do, and she’s it.
“Everyone has a type.”
“Why don’t you tell me, since you already know me so well.”
She studies me carefully, as if staring at me long enough might reveal the inner workings of my mind, then she snaps her fingers. “Ooh! You’re one of those bad boys who likes good girls.”
I actually laugh. “You think?”
“Oh, yeah. I bet you’re into virgins. Preachers’ daughters. You get off on the id
ea that no one has touched her before you. You love introducing a woman to pleasures she’s never known.”
I smirk. “Trust me, a woman doesn’t need to be a virgin for me to do that.”
“Arrogant, too,” she says, and her gaze lands on my mouth. “I bet you like them quiet. Girls who wait for instructions.”
“Oh, fuck no.” I laugh. I’m too selfish to be with a wilting flower type. I like women who aren’t afraid to speak their minds, who will say it like they see it and call me on my bullshit.
“Then tell me,” she says, sliding closer, “what does a guy like you want?”
You. Against me. Under me. On top of me. I shrug. “A woman who laughs when it’s funny and not when it’s expected, and who doesn’t take life too seriously.” I turn, mimicking her posture with a shoulder on the wall so we’re face to face and closer now, only inches between our bodies instead of the feet between us at the start of this conversation. I dip my head and put my mouth next to her ear. “Beautiful women who prefer fucking over making love, and know exactly what they want in and out of bed.”
She pulls back to meet my eyes and drags her lip between her teeth.
“You know anyone like that?”
“I might. Tell me more, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Bad for Me.”
“You know all you need to.” I bring my mouth back to her ear. “The only question now is: do you know what you want? Are you the kind of woman who’s going to stand here eye-fucking me all night and then go home alone? Or are you the kind who’s going to meet me in the hallway behind the kitchen and let me show you just how dirty I like my women?” I step back so I can see her face—her wide eyes and parted lips—and suddenly, instead of counting down the minutes until I can leave, I’m praying she wants to stay and keep me occupied long after I intended to end this night.
“You’ve met!”
I tear my eyes off the girl and turn to Colton. Great timing, cock blocker. “Nice of you to finally show, asshole.” I look at my watch. “You’re forty-five minutes late.”
