See No Evil by Ivy Fox is book 1 in The Society Series. It's a NA College Romance. Available for Pre-Order, so what are you waiting for go order your copy today! Keep reading for an excerpt & giveaway!
Title: See No Evil
Series: The Society #1
Author: Ivy Fox
Genre: NA College Romance
Release Date: April 30, 2020
They thought they could get away with it, but they are sorely mistaken.
They have been judged. They have been sentenced. All that remains is their execution. No one goes unpunished. We’ll make sure of it.
We are The Society and all who dare cross us will find their miserable end by our hand. Don’t be fooled. This is not their story. It’s ours.
Finn
As long as I can remember, I’ve played by the rules. On and off the football field, I’ve done everything that has been expected of me.
Until that fatal night. Now my life and the lives of my best friends hang in the balance, hung there by a sadistic sinister shadow forcing us to do their will.
And it’s just my damn luck that I’m the first to be put on their butcher’s block. I must prove my worth by eradicating a certain pebble in their shoe.
The order is simple. To save ourselves, I must ruin another—a life for a life. Meaning Stone Bennett’s life is about to be forfeited in exchange for my own.
The poor girl never stood a chance.
Stone
He’s all American perfection. I’m the poster child for this country’s rejects. He’s old Asheville money and privilege. I’m the Southie eyesore people stay clear from.
He’s caviar dreams and champagne wishes. I’m the trailer trash his momma probably warned him about. I doubt it can get any further away from the elitist’s social spectrum than the two of us.
So why the hell is Finn Walker, Richfield’s football god, suddenly all in my face wanting my attention? Nothing good can come from this. I can feel it.
*The Society is an Enemies to Lovers, New Adult College Romance.
*Each book can be read as standalones. However all four books in this series have an entwined subplot, that will only be resolved in the final book.
*Recommended 18+ due to mature language and situations.
Stone is exactly what I suspected a Southie-born girl to look like—only so much more. Her bluish-black hair is purposely wrapped in a messy bun to proudly showcase her numerous earrings on both lobes and the barbell piercing on her brow.
The way she’s playing with her tongue as she writes down her patron’s order, tells me she’s got more piercings hidden on her body—the only thing she’s probably hiding since most of everything else is on display.
She’s got on a short, ripped-up top, with a cut so deep at the front that you can’t help but stare at the red lace holding up two impressive, creamy breasts.
The black shorts she’s got on barely covers her ass, but I think that’s intentional, so everyone can appreciate the red and black phoenix tattooed on her thick thigh.
All of her is too much. Too loud, and definitely too in your face. She’s nothing like the thin-twig debutant girls I’ve grown accustomed to. Not in the slightest. She’s all luscious curves, huge tits, and an even bigger ass.
It’s like she was force-fed southern-fried cooking all her life while listening to Metallica—big, loud, and mean. Yep, that is the perfect description of Stone Bennett.
Even though she’s probably around five-foot-five, compared to my six-foot-four, she looks like she’d be able to swallow me in and spit me out with a fucking smile on her face. She’s not some wallflower that blossomed in the Southside dirt.
She’s a force of nature who made that rough neck of the woods her bitch. I’m so fucking screwed. She’s cute, Easton has the audacity to say after taking stock of all of her features.
You have got to be shitting me? I bark out, outraged. What? She is. Actually, she’s more than cute. She’s fucking hot. He smirks, going for another once over of all her tempting curves.
I’m tempted to smack him upside the head for his constant staring at her thick thighs and small waist, but I play the indifference card instead.
If I was looking for Marilyn Manson’s bride to be, then yeah, I’m sure she’d fit the bill. Easton stops his flagrant ogling of Stone, snapping his head toward me, his annoyed frown taking center stage on his face.
Stop being such a prejudiced douche, Finn. Even you can appreciate her level of hotness. I’m not being judgmental or anything. I just don’t like being with a girl who looks like she might cut my balls off instead of suck them, I grumble, tapping my foot repeatedly on the floor to show my disgruntlement.
Well, make sure her tongue doesn’t have any sharp objects then, he teases me, cocking a brow, and waving the girl in question over to our table. However, you should be so lucky to have that mouth anywhere near your junk, you dick, he hushes beneath his breath, all the while smiling over at Stone as she heads in our direction.
I stew in my own misery when she waltzes over with that same bored expression married to her lips, but not to her stunning, emerald eyes. As she comes closer, I can’t help the unnerving feeling that I like the color of her eyes way too much.
They are the only light thing about her. Soft, green meadows that resemble cool, spring days. The ones we hardly ever enjoy down south, unique and invigorating.
Tattoos, thick thighs, and pretty eyes. A lethal combination that ensures I’m royally fucked.
The way she’s playing with her tongue as she writes down her patron’s order, tells me she’s got more piercings hidden on her body—the only thing she’s probably hiding since most of everything else is on display.
She’s got on a short, ripped-up top, with a cut so deep at the front that you can’t help but stare at the red lace holding up two impressive, creamy breasts.
The black shorts she’s got on barely covers her ass, but I think that’s intentional, so everyone can appreciate the red and black phoenix tattooed on her thick thigh.
All of her is too much. Too loud, and definitely too in your face. She’s nothing like the thin-twig debutant girls I’ve grown accustomed to. Not in the slightest. She’s all luscious curves, huge tits, and an even bigger ass.
It’s like she was force-fed southern-fried cooking all her life while listening to Metallica—big, loud, and mean. Yep, that is the perfect description of Stone Bennett.
Even though she’s probably around five-foot-five, compared to my six-foot-four, she looks like she’d be able to swallow me in and spit me out with a fucking smile on her face. She’s not some wallflower that blossomed in the Southside dirt.
She’s a force of nature who made that rough neck of the woods her bitch. I’m so fucking screwed. She’s cute, Easton has the audacity to say after taking stock of all of her features.
You have got to be shitting me? I bark out, outraged. What? She is. Actually, she’s more than cute. She’s fucking hot. He smirks, going for another once over of all her tempting curves.
I’m tempted to smack him upside the head for his constant staring at her thick thighs and small waist, but I play the indifference card instead.
If I was looking for Marilyn Manson’s bride to be, then yeah, I’m sure she’d fit the bill. Easton stops his flagrant ogling of Stone, snapping his head toward me, his annoyed frown taking center stage on his face.
Stop being such a prejudiced douche, Finn. Even you can appreciate her level of hotness. I’m not being judgmental or anything. I just don’t like being with a girl who looks like she might cut my balls off instead of suck them, I grumble, tapping my foot repeatedly on the floor to show my disgruntlement.
Well, make sure her tongue doesn’t have any sharp objects then, he teases me, cocking a brow, and waving the girl in question over to our table. However, you should be so lucky to have that mouth anywhere near your junk, you dick, he hushes beneath his breath, all the while smiling over at Stone as she heads in our direction.
I stew in my own misery when she waltzes over with that same bored expression married to her lips, but not to her stunning, emerald eyes. As she comes closer, I can’t help the unnerving feeling that I like the color of her eyes way too much.
They are the only light thing about her. Soft, green meadows that resemble cool, spring days. The ones we hardly ever enjoy down south, unique and invigorating.
Tattoos, thick thighs, and pretty eyes. A lethal combination that ensures I’m royally fucked.
©Ivy Fox 2020
Lover of books, coffee, and chocolate! Ivy lives a blessed life, surrounded by the two most important men in her life, her husband and son and also the fictional characters in her head that can’t seem to shut up. Books and romance are her passion. A strong believer in happy endings and that love will always conquer in the end. Both in life and in fiction.
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