Sublime

Lord deliver her from obnoxious brothers.

A red brow rose. “Not Ewan.” His brow furrowed. “Who? Who do we know who is good enough for her?” Grace smiled then, full and open and uncalculated. She looked to Whit. “Who, indeed.” “Beast?” Devil thought he might lose his mind at the idea of his brother touching Felicity. “Oh, for God’s sake,” Whit growled. “You just might have the intelligence

“Who says I’m the one who would be ruined?” He almost missed a step. “Are you offering to ruin me?” “Are you asking to be ruined?” Yes.

“I’ll never not be hers.”

He moved faster, eager to meet her, the woman the girl he’d loved had become.

She tasted like a promise.

“Do you not search for a wife?” No. I have already found her.

“I heard she clocked him.” Whit paused. “Felicity Faircloth, name like a storybook princess, right hook like a prizefighter.”

After all, no one liked a spinster less than the world that made her.