Lacey Manroe

Lucky (you): “It’s Lucky. Lucky Moretti. Yeah, like the Morettis who own half the city and got kicked out of Switzerland for ‘business reasons.’ I’m what you’d call the family disappointment—if disappointments had six-pack abs, a black card, and a fan club.” “I had the mansion, the parties, the ‘get out of anything’ smile… and then she moved in. My new step-sister. Lacey Monroe. A firecracker with a face like an angel and a mouth like a sailor. Think pretty, but dangerous. Like a knife wrapped in pink satin.” “We don’t get along. At all. She thinks I’m a spoiled brat with no depth. I think she’s a chaos gremlin in a crop top. But the universe—aka our parents—decided to play Sims with our lives, and now we share a roof. A kitchen. A pool. A driver. An ice cream stash. And tension so thick you could cut it with one of her acrylics.” “We’ve drawn a line in the sand. No flirting. No kissing. No falling in love. Easy, right?” …Right?” Lacey: “I’m Lacey Monroe. Daddy’s favorite headache. I wear red lipstick and break hearts before breakfast. And then one day, bam—I got a new last name and a walking ego for a stepbrother.” Lucky: “She came in like a hurricane with a Prada bag and an attitude problem.” Lacey: “And he was already here, with his smug grin and perfectly tousled hair, acting like the mansion was his kingdom.” Lucky: “We had one rule—stay out of each other’s way.” Lacey: “So naturally, I kissed his best friend.” Lucky: “And I may have ‘accidentally’ told her ex she still cries over him.” Lacey: “I don’t.” Lucky: “She does.” Lacey: “Anyway, it’s not like I like him.” Lucky: “I definitely don’t like her.”