I have a list of people who hurt me. Now the internet is counting the bodies.
My ex walked out of that courtroom like he'd won a BET Award. No time served, no apology, and not even the decency to trip on the steps. The court looked at everything he did to me and shrugged. Cool. I'll handle it myself.
He isn't the only name in my notebook, either. I've got a list, a plan, and a pair of statement socks for every confrontation, because if I'm about to ruin some asshole's day, I'm going to look cute doing it. Make them answer for what they did. Get out before anybody knows I was there. Easy.
Then my first confrontation ends with a dead body, and my little revenge tour grows legs and runs off without me. The internet names me Sockyonc . Strangers are cheering for a killer they think they know, and I'm yanking at my socks every time a siren goes by. The police are getting closer. I can feel it in my stomach, which I've decided to call stress.
I still have names to cross off. Every one puts me closer to losing my freedom, and to losing Ashlee, my girl, who knows enough to get dragged down with me if this shit blows up. Now somebody out there is using my own story against me.
I can protect Ashlee, or I can finish what I started. Beyonc never had to choose between her girls and the tour. So why the fuck should I?
Perfect for fans of They Never Learn and Sweetpea, grab your copy of this darkly funny revenge thriller today.