This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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About Richer Than Sin

They say a Riscoff and a Gable can never live happily ever after. Not with a family feud that is the stuff of legends.

I used to believe that—until I caught a glimpse of a woman who took my breath away. I didn’t know or care what her name was.

Like any man who sees and knows what he wants, I went after her. I certainly didn’t expect her to be Whitney Gable.

We burned like a flash fire until everything went sideways, and she married another man.

She hates me now, and she should.

I objected on her wedding day.

She was out of my reach for years, but now she’s home again—and there’s no ring on her finger.

They say a Riscoff and a Gable can never live happily ever after… but I’m not done with Whitney Gable.

I’m getting my second chance, and this time I’ll do whatever it takes to prove them all wrong.

Prologue

Lincoln

“I object.”

Every head in the entire congregation swung toward the double doors I’d flung open.

My vision was fuzzy, no doubt from the two fifths of Scotch I’d used to try to drown out the fact that she was marrying someone else today.

Because a Gable and a Riscoff could never be together.

But that didn’t mean I was going to watch Whitney Gable marry someone else and not say a goddamned word.

“You asshole. How dare you?” Whitney was dressed in white, looking like the perfect bride, aside from the militant look on her face as she stomped down the aisle toward me.

I might have miscalculated in my drunken haze.

“You can’t marry him.” I was pretty sure my words slurred, but I didn’t care.

“I don’t know why you think you get to have an opinion, but get the hell out of here.”

“I can buy and sell him.” More slurring.

Whitney’s eyes burned with anger. “I. Don’t. Care. Because you can’t buy me.”

Two sets of arms grabbed me from behind and dragged me back toward the doors.

“Don’t do this—” My words were cut off as I was shoved down the front steps of the church.

“If you ever look at my sister again, I will fucking kill you myself. I don’t care how much fucking money your family has.” Whitney’s brother loomed over me, and I didn’t doubt his promise, especially not while he was wearing his army dress uniform and green beret.

Next to him was the groom. The man who’d sold Whitney the biggest crock of shit I’d ever heard in my life. I’d told myself there was no way she’d ever go through with it. No way her brother would let her.