Chasing Karma Release Day Blitz
My
name is Karma Gallo. If
you’ve heard of me, I am sure you're
remembering a story about a police raid, missing person report,
or an
FBI probe into my family. My father is a Chicago mob boss, and
I’m his
little principessa—the heir apparent with no life of my own.
But in
twelve days my life will change. College will do that to a
girl. So will
the frat boy and the bad
boy—two panty-dampening guys throwing around
the
testosterone.
They both want to help me
with my panties, but what
else do they want? And do I care?
novels since I was in
high school. The happy endings and endless
possibilities are alluring and addictive. I currently reside in
Texas
and when I am not thinking up my next bad-boy character I am
working in
the community rescuing dogs while being a wife and mother to my
wonderful family.
I invite you to ask me any questions, keep up to date with my latest books and give me your feedback.
I invite you to ask me any questions, keep up to date with my latest books and give me your feedback.
I need to get laid more. First day in my new place
and I am already trying to hump the local eye candy. Down girl!
He stares at me with interest. Once again, my
internal alarm is warning me to be careful, so I nod yes, and keep my gaze on
the building in front of us instead of looking up into his face
. With one arm looped around my waist, he takes on the majority
of my weight while flinging my bag over his other shoulder. Once positioned, he
helps me hobble across the street and into my building.
Shooting out a few general directions while ignoring
the quizzical stares from other students wandering in my corridor, he carefully
deposits me in front of my dorm-room door. I take deep, steady breaths while
gaining my balance, which is not easy to do, with the heat of his firm body
pressed against mine. Several people scrutinize us as they pass by. No doubt,
most are from females checking out Mr. Hot Stuff. The thought of them ogling
him makes me pissy for reasons I refuse to acknowledge.
Gripping the doorknob tight against my hand, I reach
around and take my bag from—shit, what is his name?
“You forgot to give me your name,” I say, breaking another of
my dad’s rules, “Always know who you are dealing with and what their weakness
is.” I am so glad I am on my own now. At least I am far enough away that he
can’t watch my many failures. He would no doubt be disappointed in my lack of
judgment. Mr. Cocky is back in full force as a smirk tips up from the corners
of his lips. Handing me my bag, he bends down and places his mouth against the
shell of my ear. I start to pull away, but stop as his arm encircles my waist
and holds me immobile against his chest—the very chest I have been dying to
feel. I was right; it is strong and taut, catching my attention.
