They call us the devil twins - a fallacy and unfair assumption on everyone’s part.
My name is Luke Hart, and I’m the oldest of identical twin boys. Although I may be responsible for the ‘devil’ in our name, I have no urge to set the record straight and exonerate the innocent half of our pairing.
There’s no point letting the truth get in the way of a good story.
Turns out, a judge can get twitchy when you arrive at court with a ‘can’t touch this’ attitude.
Despite my mom’s best efforts, I’ve been served a tidy little sentence that I’ll have to do behind bars, unless I complete my community service and satisfy court orders.
I have until Christmas to finish, but if I fail, I’ll be spending the holidays avoiding the mistletoe in the shared showers in lockup.
It all sounds so easy. So straightforward.
Do the hours, avoid jail.
That is, until Allyson Moore walks in.
Now court orders are the furthest thing from my mind, and decades long family friendships go completely ignored, because I can’t stop looking at Ally’s enchanting green eyes, or her dark red hair the colour of Snow White’s poisoned apple.
The temptation to take a bite is simply too much.
Ally is a rule follower. A goodie-goodie who refuses to bend. Which, to me, is the ultimate challenge.
I want to know what’s burning beneath the surface. I want to see her passion, her fire, her attitude. And not the professional façade she’s so good at putting up.
It’ll be a battle of the wills. My devil, versus her obsession with being perfect.
I mean, rules were made to be broken, right?
Breaking them is how I met her in the first place.