Lucky Me

 Book #1

He’s lucky as sin, and we’re playing for keeps.

For sixteen years, I’ve lived unlawfully among humans, supporting myself by playing poker. But concealing my fae identity isn’t easy. When a high stakes game goes terribly wrong, only one person stands between me and lifelong servitude—Seven.

Seven Delaney runs his corner of Dragonfly Hollow with the insufferable arrogance you'd expect from someone born lucky. Not only did the sexy fae billionaire break my heart, he’s responsible for the most humiliating experience of my life and is the reason I fled that fairy realm.

Returning to Dragonfly Hollow is my only way out, but there's a price. Seven requires my help, and my pixie talents, to solve a case that threatens fae society's tentative relationship with humans. I promised myself I'd never get involved with him again, but his dark charms prove hard to resist. The closer we get to solving this mystery, the harder it becomes to keep my distance. And the clearer it is that if we don't learn to trust each other again, our luck might just run out.

From award winning and USA Today bestselling author Genevieve Jack comes a world where fairies are real, luck is the new magic, and the unexpected awaits you on every page. Perfect for Dark Fever and Hidden Legacy fans.

★★★★★ “Secrets, surprises, lies, betrayal, romance, bigotry and a murder mystery. All I can say is WOW.” – Paranormal Romance Guild

★★★★★ This story was amazing. There were twists and turns and such amazing writing that once I started reading I was hooked and couldn’t put it down.” –Sassy Southern Book Blog

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No, no no no. Not him. My breath hitches. Of all the people Godmother might have sent to meet us, why oh why did it have to be him?

Spotlighted by a thousand fireflies, Seven Delaney is casually leaning against the stone arch of the moon gate as if he’s been waiting for us the entire time. His legs are crossed at the ankle, and the crooked grin he shoots my way is heart-stopping and oh so infuriating. How dare he smile at me after what he did? How dare he come within striking distance?

This man is as close to a nemesis as I’ve ever had and as much the reason for me fleeing Devashire as anything else. On the outside, he’s wrapped in a scrumptious package of long, lean muscle and uncanny grace. His shoulders strain the material of his dark dress shirt, and corded forearms, scandalous in their musculature, extend beyond his pushed-up sleeves. With a hand resting lightly on abs as tight as chiseled marble beneath the material, he winks one emerald eye at me, the other twinkling in the moonlight as if he finds our circumstances amusing. His perfectly tailored trousers are a work of art, as are his handcrafted leather loafers.

In one word, Seven is stunning. I’m stunned. Arden is stunned. Likely at least half the fireflies flitting around us are stunned (at least the female ones). He is overtly sexual, undeniably handsome, and as charming as they come. In other words, a dangerous menace to all womankind.

Leprechauns have a reputation for being short and ugly in the human world. I laughed the first time I saw the University of Notre Dame’s mascot. Nothing could be further from the truth. Jealous rivals and political enemies started those rumors to tarnish the reputations of the leprechaun dynasties they hated, anything to get a jab in at the luckiest fae. I can understand the sentiment. Of any of our kind, they have the most inherent luck. That translates into all aspects of their existence, including their physical forms. Leprechauns are beautiful—always beautiful.

Pixies like me, we’re designed to blend with nature in our natural forms, but leprechauns stand out. They sparkle. And if their physical perfection weren’t enough to make you hate them, they are also rich—the type of rich that’s only possible through generations of wealth—a wealth that almost always leads to a power and a superiority complex.

In short, a leprechaun is a caramel-covered Adonis in couture. They’re almost irresistible. Even knowing that Seven’s soul is as rotten as a maggot-infested peach, his physical presence leaves me breathless.

“Seven.” His name hisses through my teeth.