THE AFTER PARTY
(A BADBOYS BOXSET)
CRUSH
BLOW
SET THE PACE
TURN IT UP
THE THING ABOUT LOVE
COME A LITTLE CLOSER
KIM KARR
The After Party (A Badboys Boxset)
Copyright © 2019 Kim Karr
Compiled by Champagne Book Design
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Crush
Copyright © 2015 by Kim Karr
All rights reserved.
ISBN 978–0-9889419–4-6
Editor: Mary-Theresa Hussey, Good Stories Told Well
Interior Design and Formatting: Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable
Cover designer: Hang Le, By Hang Le
Cover model: Cyril Mourali
Photographer: Brice Hardelin, Brice Hardelin Photography
Blow
Copyright © 2015 by Kim Karr
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978–0-9889419–2-2
Editor: Mary-Theresa Hussey, Good Stories Told Well
Interior Design and Formatting: Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable
Cover designer: Hang Le, By Hang Le
Cover model: Cyril Mourali
Photographer: Brice Hardelin, Brice Hardelin Photography
Set the Pace
Copyright © 2016 by Kim Karr
ISBN-10: 0–9889419–6-1
ISBN-13: 978–0-9889419–6-0
Editor: Mary-Theresa Hussey, Good Stories Told Well
Interior design and formatting: Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable
Cover model: Matt Poeschl
Photographer: Scott Hoover, Scott Hoover Photography
Cover designer: Hang Le, By Hang Le
Turn it Up
Copyright © 2016 by Kim Karr
ISBN-10: 0-9889419-8-8
ISBN-13: 978-0-9889419-8-4
Editor: Nichole Strauss, Perfectly Publishable
Interior design and formatting: Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable
Cover model: Matt Poeschl
Photographer: Scott Hoover, Scott Hoover Photography
Cover designer: Hang Le, By Hang Le
The Thing About Love
Copyright © 2018 by Kim Karr
Cover designer: Michele Catalano-Creative
Cover model: Forest Harrison
Photographer: Wander Aguiar Photography
Editing: Nichole Strauss, Insight Editing Services
Proofreading: Rosa Sharon, iScream Proofreading Services
Interior Design & Formatting: Christine Borgford, Type A Formatting
Come A Little Closer
Copyright © 2018 by Kim Karr
ISBN-13: 9781386094036
Cover designer: Michele Catalano-Creative
Cover model: Bo Roberts
Photographer: Kt Cubb
Editing: Nichole Strauss, Insight Editing Services
Interior Design & Formatting: Christine Borgford, Type A Formatting
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Crush
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Author Note
Blow
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Acknowledgments
For the reader
Set the Pace
About the Book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Author Note
Turn It Up
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Author Note
The Thing About Love
The North Star
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Come a Little Closer
Quote
Sadie Banks
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue
The Yellow Ribbon
Preview: ReWined
Books by Kim Karr
About the Author
CRUSH
KIM KARR
CHAPTER ONE
DAY 8 CONTINUED
LOGAN MCPHERSON
Say you wanted someone eliminated . . .
Killed.
It doesn’t matter who—your mother, your lover, your enemy.
There are guys out there who will do it for you.
It’s a fact.
Not someone from the Mob.
Not someone connected to the Mob.
Not anyone you know.
A hit man.
I’ve heard of ways to contact one. Someone who knows someone who knows someone.
Someone from the old neighborhood. Someone with prison tats. Someone with long hair. Someone with no hair. Who the fuck cares—he could look like Mötley Crüe. Hell, on the other hand, he could be a businessman wearing a two-thousand-dollar suit.
I really don’t give a shit.
What he looks like is irrelevant. It’s what he does that matters.
Sure, there’s a steep monetary price attached to the deed. That’s not what worries me.
I’d give every cent I had if it meant she’d be safe.
It’s what it would really cost me—how big of a piece of my soul it would take—that keeps me from making that call.
I re-read the note, “That E wasn’t meant for Emily.”
One thing was clear . . .
He knows about Elle and me.
Tommy Flannigan, my enemy, my foe, the Mob boss’s son, the one I have been forbidden to make contact with, knows I have someone in my life that I care about. He might even know I love her. And she’s not his sister. She’s not Emily. Because I defied him, because I dared to move on, I know he’ll taunt me, try to break me, try to drive me out of my mind.
For over a decade he’s loomed over me.
Like a shadow.
A black spot in my life that I always knew was there.
In the past he’d threatened me, mutilated a girl I’d dated, scarred me, but that was a long time ago. I hadn’t heard from in years, until just last week when he harmed someone he thought was Elle.
He was back in my life.
Everyone knew he was into drugs as a user, but not many knew he was a cutthroat player in the drug world; not even his old man knew to what extent he was involved. The thing was he was always crazy, but lately he’d been breaking all the rules. Homes. Women. Mothers. Children. Nothing and no one was safe from him anymore—it was like he had nothing left to lose.
With that, breaking the treaty forged years ago when it came to contacting me wasn’t a surprise.
I think I’d been waiting for him to cross that line for a very long time.
The thing he doesn’t get is I’m no longer fearful. That I’ll do the very same thing. As of right this minute, as far as I’m concerned, the rules of the street no longer apply to me. There is too much at stake for me to care about what could happen if I went up against the Blue Hill Gang. I have to think about what has to happen in order to keep Elle safe. And that’s one thing, and one thing only.
Tommy’s threat has to be eliminated.
Somehow.
Some way.
But murder for hire would have to wait.
Paralyzed.
Frozen in place.
I looked over into Elle’s green eyes.
Wide.
Scared.
Still beautiful.
I haven’t even known her for two weeks but she’s a part of me. I can’t—no, I won’t—let anything happen to her.
“Logan,” she whispered quietly.
Escaping from my thoughts, I wanted to say something. Something profound. Something that would make sense. Something that would make everything okay. But there was nothing.
Without hesitation I searched her face. As soon as I did, I saw the once glimmering green in her eyes was now dull, her skin pale, and her lips quivering.
The sight made my chest tighten.
But it was when I saw the apprehension in her body language, the hairs on her arm rise, the unsteady rise and fall of her breathing—the fear she didn’t want me to see, the fear she was trying to hide from me—that I knew what I had to do.
I had to find him.
Now.
I was going to settle the score with Tommy Flannigan once and for all.
Whatever the outcome.
The note crumpled in my fist and I let it drop to the floor. Tugging my shirt on, I once again looked over at her. “Stay here, lock the door, and don’t let anyone in. I mean it, not anyone except me. I don’t care who they say they are.”
“Where are you going?” Fear laced her voice.
“To find Tommy.”
“But the news, they said members of the Flannigan family had been arrested. Maybe he’s already in custody.”
I looked at the note on the floor. I had a gut feeling he wasn’t. This wasn’t something he’d send someone else to do. This was something he’d take too much pleasure in doing himself. “Maybe he is,” I said to help calm her nerves, “but someone arranged to deliver that note to this room, and I’m going to find out who it was.”
“Logan, no.” She reached for me as I slid my feet into my shoes.
I had to shrug away from her.
I had to do this.
On my way to the door, I stopped for just a single moment to look at her. In that moment there was nothing more I wanted than to feel her arms around me, press my body to hers, look into her eyes and tell her we were going to be just fine.
But that would be a lie.
And I
wasn’t going to lie to her.
Not about this.
“Logan,” she pleaded.
I heard the pain in her voice and my heart stopped. Still, I kept moving. I had to do this—for her. For me. For us. The door closed behind me and the sound of the latch told me she’d be safe—until I returned or . . .
My despair was immediately replaced with rage as my eyes fell on the white jacket of the guy who had delivered the note. He was standing in the hallway with his back to me. Unable to control myself, I rushed for him, but came to an abrupt stop when I got a little closer. He wasn’t alone. He was kissing a girl, also in uniform. I waited. She giggled, smiled, and finally gave him a wave before she walked down the hall. As soon as he entered the waiting elevator, it started to close, and I darted for it.
My hands jammed between the panels and the doors flew open.
There he stood.
Lipstick on his lips.
Smiling.
Like he didn’t have a care in the fucking world.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
I lunged for him.
Had his lipstick-stained collar in my hands so fast, I could barely see the fear in his eyes. “Who put that note on the food cart?” I hissed.
He was shaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
With a tug, my grip tightened. “I’m not going to ask you twice, who put the note on the food cart?”
There was a dripping sound on the elevator floor. I think he pissed his pants. “Some dude paid me fifty bucks to slip it onto your tray. He said it was a joke between you and him.”
I slammed him against the wall. “What did he look like?”
Mumbling, words barely cohesive, he answered, “Short, brown hair, piercings, and he had a limp.”
Tommy.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is he?” I asked again through gritted teeth.
The guy was crying. “I don’t know.”
I loosened my grip. “Where did you leave him?”
He crumbled against the wall. “Outside the kitchen door.”
I hit the service level. “Scan your card. Show me.”
Shaking, he nodded. “Look, mister, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. He said it was a joke. I believed him.”
My body went rigid.
A joke!
When I slipped my hand in my pocket, he raised his palms. “Don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Ignoring him, I pulled out my wallet and handed him a fifty. “Just show me where you saw him last. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Visibly relaxing, he scanned his card and the elevator glided down toward the service level.
Within minutes we were just outside the kitchen.