Book One of the Karma Series
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?
Frat boys, bad boys, and a Mafia principessa on campus…
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.
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