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4.4 on Goodreads!!!! Whoa, there. Stop right now. You don’t want to read this. Trust me: you really, really don’t want to read this. So back away slowly, hands up, and I won’t have to kill you. They might, though. They might be willing to warm my bed, but I wouldn’t say I trusted them. Just a bunch of psychos, really. My three f*ckboys, my three psychos. Alexei Grove. God, what could I possibly say about him? How the mighty have fallen. Neurotic, violent, germaphobe. He hates to be touched; he hates the people who brought his family down even more. Next, there’s Widow. Traumatized, edgy, unpredictable. Never have I seen a man so twitchy yet so alpha. Just … don’t make the mistake I did: don’t touch his f*cking car. Lastly, there’s Bohnes. Oh, Bohnes … He’s the shadow of Prescott High. If you have enough cash, he’ll do anything. Literally anything—even bury a body. Also, he gave me severed fingers as a present. That must account for something, right? Then there’s me. I’m a bos