"Not In My Wildest Dreams" (Jamie Hollins) ★★★★ BOOK TOUR with GIVEAWAY!!

It really sucks to be in love with someone 
who sees you as nothing more than a friend. 

NOT IN MY WILDEST DREAMS

McKenna Series #2

Jamie Hollins

Releasing Feb 7th, 2017

It really sucks to be in love with someone who sees you as nothing more than a friend. Darcy Owens knows this from personal experience. From the moment she met Sean McKenna as a wary ten-year-old, he’s owned her heart. So when he asks for her help with an important construction project, she can’t say no.

Building a boutique hotel on Boston’s waterfront is a career-making opportunity, and Sean needs Darcy’s interior design expertise. She’s incredibly talented, and there is no one he trusts more. He knows he can always count on his childhood friend, but doesn’t know why he’s thinking about her tight skirts and blue eyes instead of tight deadlines and blueprints.

When Sean and Darcy’s excitement about their work turns into an entirely different kind of excitement, it’s a sexy surprise. But they soon realize that building a new relationship is more challenging than building a new hotel, especially when life-long habits and old insecurities create cracks in the foundation.

EXCERPT

She felt the wheels of their plane lift off the ground and watched out the window as the ground got farther and farther away.

“Nervous flyer?”

Her head jerked over and she found Sean watching her with amusement. She ignored him and looked down at her magazine.

“What are you reading?”

He was just like a gnat that wouldn’t leave her alone!

She wasn’t planning on answering him but felt him lean toward her over the armrest to look at the page. When she read the title of the article, she nearly gasped. Of all the articles to be reading next to Sean, she had to open her magazine to this particular one.

“Picking the Right Lingerie for Your Body Type,” Sean read aloud.

Before she could respond, he flipped the page. Both sides of the magazine had four different pictures of women in lingerie. Some were modest and some could be classified as nonexistent. Darcy’s eyes scanned the page, taking in the various and rainbow selection of lacy, satiny outfits.

An incredibly thin woman wore a red bustier and garter set. A pale blonde posed with thin straps of sheer neutral fabric covering her tiny breasts and the triangle between her legs. A buxom brunette lounged in bed in a silky camisole and nearly painted-on boy shorts. It was a smorgasbord of scantily clad woman, and she couldn’t help but cringe.

“Hmmmm,” he said, scanning the two pages. “I’d pick that one.”

He pointed to a dark-haired woman wearing a black lacy bra-and-panty set. She stood with one knee kneeling against a chair, a satin black robe draping off her shoulders. The top consisted of a lacy demi-bra, which hoisted the model’s cleavage up into plump mounds below her collarbone. The bikini bottoms were the same lacy material as the bra and sat well below her smooth, toned stomach.

The ensemble’s simple color and lines made it sexy, but the flowing satiny fabric of the robe made it romantic. There were other lingerie sets that were much more vixen than this one, and she was surprised at Sean’s choice.

“You’d pick that one if you were a woman, huh?”

            “No, I’d pick that one if I were you.”

            Jerking her gaze away from the magazine, she stared at him with wide eyes. She couldn’t believe he’d gone there. It was bad enough she had to sit next to him, the source of her torment and embarrassment. But he crossed into territory that she wasn’t ready to talk about. Wouldn’t be ready to talk about for at least another year. Maybe more.

            He looked up, must have seen her bewildered expression, and grinned.

            “What? It’s true. You have these perfect—” he started, cupping his hands in front of his chest.

            “Stop!” That single word left her breathless as she stared at him.

            He smiled. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I was just about to say that—”

            Darcy squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head quickly, trying hard to ignore the warm contentment that settled in her chest over hearing Sean call her breasts perfect. “No! Just stop. We are not having this conversation.”

            After a moment, he sighed loudly. “All right. I’m just gonna say this because it needs to be said. We had sex. Big deal.”

            Darcy snapped her eyes open in time to see the man sitting in front of them turn his head to where his ear was in the middle of the two seats.

“Jesus Christ. Shut up.”

            “We’re two consenting adults, and we had sex,” he said, ignoring her. “It changes nothing.”

            “It changes everything,” she hissed. “And if you don’t shut your fucking mouth, I’m going to shut it for you.”

            “We’ve been friends forever. I’m not going to let what happened between us change that. That’s why I’m here. I gave you the time you wanted to think through this, but I’m impatient, and I decided it was in our friendship’s best interest to force you to spend time with me. The more time we spend together doing normal things, the easier it’ll get. It’s time we got back to being Darcy and Sean again.”

            It was a valiant speech full of sincerity and feelings. For just a second, she forgot about being uncomfortable and just floated in the wonderful sensation of being wanted. And by Sean, nonetheless. But she wasn’t going to be able to flip a switch and go back to the way things used to be before they’d slept together.

            Yeah, she could probably get over the embarrassment. Eventually, she could smile at him again and laugh at his jokes. But there would always be that part of her that loved him and wanted more. She wanted his love, to share his dreams, to feel his passion. They’d already given the passion part a try, and although it’d started out promising, the ending had ripped out her heart and torn it into tiny pieces.

And it still lay broken.

Sean’s blue eyes studied her as she thought through the emotional roller coaster she was still riding. He leaned toward her, his shoulder resting against hers.

“Please, Darce. Can’t we just try? I miss you.”

She closed her eyes as his soft, deep plea swam around in her ears. She tried not to think about how good it made her feel. She tried not to notice he wore her favorite cologne and that his shoulder was burning through her cotton shirt. She tried not to think about how much she missed him too.

Damn Sean McKenna, his honeyed tongue, and his goddamn manly cologne.

DON'T MISS ANY OF THE 

MCKENNA SERIES

CAT'S REVIEW

"Not In My Wildest Dreams" by Jamie Hollins.  What a fun story that made me smile and chuckle and cheer for our delightful couple.  Sean and Darcy have been friends forever and, unbeknownst to him, she has been in love with him that long. Sean is a playboy of sorts, rightly so.  He's a sexy, hardworking independent man that pretty much has it all, well, except his soul mate (although he doesn't realize that yet).  Darcy is quick witted and that friend that is always fun to hang with.  Inside though, she is a bit insecure and vulnerable and longs for her best friend, Sean, to see her as a desirable woman.   It was so enjoyable to watch Sean's eyes open up to what has been in front of him all along.  Their journey is not always an easy one and Ms. Hollins certainly takes the reader through their ups and downs.  This is a light and easy read that is uplifting and simply, a real feel good tale.  (received copy from NetGalley for honest review)

★★★★

Jamie Hollins was born and raised in rural Northeast Ohio.  After graduate school, she embarked on a perilous career in Human Resources where she met plenty of real life characters.  When she’s not writing or chasing after her toddler, she enjoys reading and golfing.  Jamie lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, son, and their dog, Winston.

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"Draw the Line" (Kim Carmichael) SALE BLITZ!

The performance artist and con artist come together 
for the ultimate marriage of convenience.

DRAW THE LINE

Kim Carmichael

Kindle Press

The performance artist and con artist come together for the ultimate marriage of convenience.

Performance Artist, Argyle Brink, lives his life as one big art exhibit. No matter if he is hatching from a gilded egg to show his emergence as a new persona, or donning a suit of mirrors to reflect reality back to his audience, he never misses an opportunity to take a chance and stand by his convictions. Only one thing has eluded him…fame.

In order to save her family’s estate, Malone Summersfield must never return to England. After conning an art critic into taking her across the pond as his fiancée, she thinks her life will be smooth sailing. However, when the man’s wife enters the picture, she realizes the con is all on her, and she needs to get married now. When the strange, yet handsome, performance artist offers to marry her for the price of co-starring in his reality show, she figures she’ll give it a go and become a living art piece.

The show takes on a life of its own, gaining ratings from the sparks between the two stars. Airing everything from their dirty laundry, to public sex in an abandoned zoo, and even living off the grid in a micro house, nothing is off limits. However, when the INS decides to investigate their marriage further, and Argyle uses their predicament to broaden his art, Malone wonders if she will ever come first in his life.

With their marriage, their show, and her citizenship at stake, the two must decide if the ultimate truth lies in the art or in their love.

ONLY .99 CENTS FOR LIMITED TIME

EXCERPT

“Does everyone want a bagel?” While Judy was trying to not pay attention to the cameras, she spoke with an over exaggerated tone and nodded.

“Yes, that is why we are sitting here. Get to it.” Sam lifted his fork and pointed at his wife.

Malone noticed no one touched the huge pile of fresh bagels. Though her stomach rumbled, she waited.

Bubbie stacked all the plates in front of her. She cut a bagel, put the cream cheese on it and then passed the dish to Judy.

Judy then unwrapped some brown paper holding a smoked fish. She peeled back the skin and proceeded to stick her fingers in the fish, squeezing each piece before placing it on the bagel.

Once the bagel was layered with the fish, she handed the plate to her husband. “Here it’s all squeezed.”

“It’s only good after it’s been squeezed.” Sam lifted his bagel half. “L’chaim.”

Judy then proceeded to do the same with Argyle’s bagel.

Malone could only stare at the scene before her. Not only did Argyle not complain, he bit into the bagel as if it were some great delicacy. Well, she made a lousy wife—she never squeezed any of Argyle’s food before he ate it. Maybe she needed to pre chew it as well.

Judy went to plate three and began her bizarre ritual of squeezing the fish. “Ah ha!” She held up the thinnest of bones. “Look, this is why I have to squeeze the fish.”

Everyone around the table grunted or nodded.

“This could get stuck in your throat, God forbid.” The fact the woman found a bone caused her to really put effort into the last few squeezes before handing Malone her plate.

They all echoed the God forbid.

Malone looked down at her bagel and over at her husband. The irritation of having his art interrupted seemed quelled by a bagel with squeezed fish. She only wished her mother could witness what just transpired. The woman would probably faint or drop dead, no God forbid required. Well, for better or worse or for squeezed fish, she was one of them and she took a bite. Smokey deliciousness coupled with the creamy cheese all delivered on a perfectly chewy bagel filled her mouth. Unsure if the taste sensation was due to the fish squeezing or not, all she knew was she would never take the chance to have fish that wasn’t squeezed. Maybe it made the flavors meld together or something.

Before she had the chance to finish her bagel, another half was put on her plate as well as a scoop of fruit. She supposed that made it healthy. In a show of solidarity, she lifted her bagel. “Long live squeezed fish.”

Judy and Bubbie both beamed at her.

“So tell me about the graphics for the hospital newsletter.” Sam polished off a second bagel. “I have to get it on press.”

“Must we talk about this right now?” Argyle shoved nearly a quarter of a bagel in his mouth.

“You said to act normal. This is my normal question.” Sam shrugged.

Before she had the chance to shoot Argyle a look, show Sam the pictures she drew for the piece, or even say a word, another knock came at the door.

Her body trained, she tensed at the sound.

“In a day of everything being electronic,” Argyle said in his performance voice, “it is refreshing to see a human touch now and again.” Argyle pushed back from the table and went to the door.

“Registered letter for Malone Summersfield Brink.” An official voice interrupted her squeezed fish and her heart seized.

Sam threw down his napkin and twisted around in his chair. “Shouldn’t she be Malone Feinstein?”

The cameras turned toward the door.

Argyle signed for the letter and shut the door and held the letter up. “Mother, you asked about cameras before?”

On automatic and with her body heating, she stood. What did a registered letter mean? The good news was with a letter she would have time to react, plan properly.

“Here’s proof that everyone, everything, every action is under scrutiny.” Argyle held his hand out to Malone.

She reached for her one lifeline. “What is it?”

With his normal drama, he managed to open the letter and give it a quick scan. Before she even had a chance to blink, he crumpled the page in his hand. “The Department of Immigration and Naturalization Services needs Malone and I to file more forms.”

At the mention of the feared agency, her stomach tumbled. The squeezed fish threatened to reappear in a not fit for film moment.

“Forms.” Argyle dragged her over to the scale. “Applications, signatures. The world has this need to make things official. My wife and I got married, we have a license, and we will not be part of further red tape meant to complicate something so very simple.”

What did the INS want? What form? What happened if they didn’t fill it out? What happened if they did?

“Balance!” He tossed the letter on the scale and slammed one of his weights on top of it. The dish slammed to the floor. “There has to be balance, and my wife and I are going to get that balance.”

Once more he lifted the letter, now crumpled mess, and tore it into a ton of little pieces. “We will remain balanced in our marriage because we are together.” He took her hand, led her to the window and tossed the pieces out. “Balance. That is art.”

Malone watched the pieces float away. She prayed her husband didn’t just risk everything for the sake of his art. Balance was one thing, but they were anything but balanced.

Kim Carmichael began writing twelve years ago when her love of happy endings inspired her to create her own. She has a weakness for bad boys and techno geeks, and married her own computer whiz after he proved he could keep her all her gadgets running. When not writing, she can usually be found slathered in sunscreen trolling Los Angeles and helping top doctors build their practices.

"At Close Range" (Laura Griffin) ★★★★★ BOOK TOUR with GIVEAWAY!!

BOOK INFORMATION

At Close Range
Tracers #11

By: Laura Griffin

Releasing January 31, 2017
Pocket Books

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BOOK SUMMARY

New York Times bestselling author Laura Griffin “delivers the goods” (Publishers Weekly) again with the eleventh title in the gritty, heart-pounding Tracers series.

When a lakeside tryst ends in a double murder, police detective Daniele Harper arrives on the scene determined to get answers. Clues are everywhere, but nothing adds up. Dani turns to the Delphi Center crime lab for help, but soon regrets it when her secret attraction to their chief firearms examiner threatens to distract her from the most important case of her career.

As a ballistics expert and former Navy SEAL, Scott Black knows firearms, and he knows he can help Dani unravel her case. Scott has managed to hide his interest in his best friend’s younger sister for years, but when her investigation brings them together, the sparks between them quickly get out of control. Scott resolves to keep his hands off Dani and his eyes on the goal—identifying a killer. But when that killer zeroes in on Dani, all bets are off. There isn’t a line Scott won’t cross to convince Dani to trust him so that he can help her take down a ruthless murderer who has her in his sights.

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EXCERPT

Dani watched him. Scott stood beside the car, his back to the victim as he skimmed his flashlight over the ground. The firearms expert was tall and broad-shouldered, with the super-ripped body of a former Navy SEAL. Instead of his usual tactical pants and combat boots, he wore jeans and a leather jacket tonight, so maybe he’d been out when he’d gotten the call. Dani knew from experience that his jacket had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the Sig Sauer he carried concealed at his hip.

Something glinted in the grass, and Scott crouched down to tag it with a numbered marker. Two minutes on the scene and already he’d discovered a piece of evidence. He stood and squared his shoulders, and Dani felt a pang deep inside her as he approached.

He stopped and towered over her, and for a moment they just stared at each other.

“Was the passenger door closed when you got here?” he asked.

“That’s right.”

“Where’s the girl?”

“No sign of her.” She nodded at the woods. “One of our officers is searching near the lake with Travis.”

He watched her for a moment with those cool blue eyes. His gaze shifted to the woods. “You need a K-9 team.”

She bristled. “I know.”

He strode over to his truck and opened the toolbox again. He took out a metal detector, which would help him locate shell casings or bullets, and maybe even the second victim if she was wearing jewelry or a belt.

Then again, the killer might have taken her somewhere else. Dani glanced back at the road and got a queasy feeling in her stomach. Where was she? She turned her attention to the lake, visible just beyond the trees. It was a scenic spot, usually--a tranquil little oasis for couples. But not tonight.

She glanced at Scott again, and he was watching her closely--so closely it made her wonder what he was thinking.

“You coming?” he asked.

She nodded at the body. “I’ll stay with him until the ME shows.”

Scott walked off, and Dani let her gaze follow him until he disappeared into the woods.

The medical examiner’s van rolled up, followed closely by Ric, and Dani’s stomach tightened as she thought of everything she didn’t like about this case. And it wasn’t even an hour old yet.

Ric walked over, his expression grim as he took in the scene. “The media has it.”

“That didn’t take long.”

“It was all over the scanner,” he told her. “I give us ten minutes, tops, before they roll in here with their cameras. We need to barricade the road.”

“Daniele.”

She turned toward the sound of Scott’s deep voice calling her from the woods. He was a tall silhouette at the edge of the trees, and from his tone Dani knew it was bad.

“What is it?” she yelled back.

“I found her.”

##

Copyright 2017 by Laura Griffin

CAT'S REVIEW

"At Close Range" by Laura Griffin is an intense and gripping tale that has a sprinkling of love that creates the perfect story.  Danielle, a detective investigating a murder, has loved Scott from afar for a very long time.  I liked Danielle.  She's independent and strong, yet, the reader sees her vulnerabilities and insecurities.  Scott, whew!  I love a Hero that is tough yet tender and gruff yet sweet.  Scott is all that and more.  The plot was wonderful too.  It was filled with twists and turns and had my heartbeat racing.  Ms. Griffin sure knows how to hook the reader and keep them hanging with each turned page.  I couldn't put it down.  Just a note - while this is book 11 of the Tracers series, it can easily be read as a stand alone.  I have not read the entire series nor have what I read, been in order but followed along without a problem.  I do want to read them all - just not enough hours in the day!  Guess I'll have to lock myself up in a room one weekend and read, read, read!  (received copy from NetGalley for honest review)

★★★★★

AUTHOR INFO

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author LAURA GRIFFIN started her career in journalism before venturing into the world of romantic suspense. She is a two-time RITA Award winner (for the books Scorched and Whisper of Warning) as well as the recipient of the Daphne du Maurier Award (for Untraceable). Laura currently lives in Austin, where she is working on her next book.

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"The Ten Club" (Mimi Jean Pamfiloff) RELEASE BLAST with GIVEAWAY!

Can she find a way to bring back the man he once was, 

or will she have to send him back to hell?

THE TEN CLUB

King Series #5

Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Released Jan 31st, 2017

From New York Times Bestseller Mimi Jean Pamfiloff…
Book #5 and the FINALE of the King Series

HE WANTS TO OWN HER. King doesn’t recall dying and he definitely doesn’t recall this feisty woman Mia who claims to be his wife. But he’s happy to make her his if she’ll be obedient and loyal. After all, a king needs a queen, and now that he’s back from the dead, this evil billionaire has big plans.

SHE WANTS HIM DEAD. Mia Turner made painful sacrifices to save the love of her life from his cursed hell. So when he promised to love and protect her always, she believed him. But after he trades his life to save his brother, she’s left all alone with a baby and a broken heart. Until he returns. Evil, more powerful, and with absolutely no memory of her.

Can she find a way to bring back the man he once was, or will she have to send him back to hell?

EXCERPT

PROLOGUE

MIA

I rolled out of bed, feeling unrested and sore and out of my mind with grief. It had been another rough night for me, one of many to come, I assumed. But what else could I do?

You’ll find coffee. Then you’ll try to find a way to keep breathing. Because that was what widows did.

As I stumbled toward my bedroom doorway to go check on the baby, the phone rang on my nightstand. The caller ID said Mack.

“Hello?”

“Mia, I don’t know how to say this, but he didn’t stay dead. He’s back, but he’s not him anymore.”

“What?” I blinked. “Could you repeat that?”

“King is back, Mia. And he made it clear he’s not letting me end 10 Club.”

“I’ll call you,” I started hyperventilating, “back,” and passed out.

CHAPTER ONE

KING

Tonight calls for a celebration. No, it is not a birthday nor an anniversary. Men like me do not give a dark fuck about life’s shitty little milestones. We care only for power or money—same fucking thing. And after tonight, I will have enough of both to break the fucking world.

“Hey, baby,” says the topless bleach blonde rubbing her ass on my cock over my black slacks to the beat of the music, “I’m free after work.”

“Shut up and keep dancing.” Women like her don’t come close to doing it for me, but she is the hottest, most expensive stripper in this private bar. A thousand dollars a minute. It’s pocket change to me; however, everyone here tonight now wonders why I’m treating myself.

Just as I hoped.

My eyes sweep the smoky, dimly lit bar filled with 10 Club members sitting at little tables, whispering in the shadows, making their deals and bartering for whatever sadistic crap will get them off tonight—sex slaves, drugs, torture, murder, whatever. Anything goes. Of course, they’re all talking about me, as well.

I smile and take a long victory drag off my cigar, ceremoniously blowing the smoke into the air above. I want them all to see me gloating. I want them talking to the other degenerate 10 Club fucks and speculating what I am up to. Because regardless of what it is, they’ll all want to steal it from me. They’ll all want a piece.

I’m counting on it.

“That’s enough.” I push the blonde’s ass forward, rise from my seat, and straighten my blood red tie. I’ve done what I came for and can already hear the phones vibrating with speculation around the world at the hundred other 10 Club establishments like this one. “King is here.” “Something’s going down.” “What do you know and what’s the price?” they’re all saying.

They’ll never guess. Not in a million years.

I toss a thick roll of hundreds at the stripper, who goes on her hands and knees to fetch it from the floor. I can feel her lust-filled eyes on me as I step over her like the dog she is. After all, she’s 10 Club property, not even human in my eyes. But she made her choice. We all have. No one is part of this debauchery by accident. That’s not to say some aren’t backed into impossible corners, forced to choose between things such as death or becoming part of our secret society comprised of two levels—the powerful and the powerless.

Make that three levels. Because there’s me. At the top.

I stroll toward the set of heavy iron doors and make my exit into the dark alley. It’s raining and windy. Typical for a January in San Francisco. Personally, I like the somber feel of this weather—fits my mood. Dark as fuck.

I am ten steps from my sleek black Mercedes when I hear footsteps splashing through puddles behind me. From the sound of the short strides, I know it’s a woman.

Fucking idiot. Doesn’t she know I despise desperation? And I definitely don’t pay to fuck strippers who are owned by 10 Club. God only knows where that pussy’s been.

I shake my head, pulling my keys from my pocket, and hit the unlock button on the remote. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not interested.”

“You’re King, right?”

The soft voice is unfamiliar, so I turn my head. She’s petite, blonde, and mildly interesting to look at; however, it’s hard to tell just how interesting since she’s wearing a garish yellow raincoat.

“Who’s asking?” I say.

“Yes or no,” she replies with a hint of a growl in her sweet voice.

My, my. Aren’t we a demanding little thing? I decide to play along. Of course, she has no clue I can snap her neck with the twitch of my fingers.

“Let us pretend for a moment that I have replied with a yes. What’s in it for me?” I ask.

She steps closer, which definitely draws my attention. Most people fear me. They don’t know why, they often don’t even realize it, but they definitely fear me. This one doesn’t seem afraid.

Either that or she’s too desperate to notice she’s in the presence of something black hearted.

“They say you are the man who can find anything or anyone for a price,” she says.

I like the way this conversation is moving. It means she wants something, and now that the streetlamp above has given me a better look at her luscious little lips, I’m fairly sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.

I cock a brow, silently urging her to continue.

“I-I need help finding someone.”

Someone very important, I hope. Because I think I might like to add you to my collection. I collect many things, including people, although usually not for sex. I can get that without having to take on the responsibility of ownership. But for her, I might make an exception. Her wavy, shoulder-length blonde hair and wide blue eyes are at the top of my list when it comes to turn-ons, but what really gets me off are naivety and fearlessness. She has plenty of both.

“Go on,” I say.

“I want you to help me find my husband.”

Tonight just got a whole hell of a lot more interesting. Because I love taking things that don’t belong to me, and I sure as hell love breaking a person’s soul.

I dip my head to give her a good look. She should see the face of the man who will be fucking her for the next few years until I grow tired of her and trade her away to another club member, likely one of those sick fuckers who enjoys making lampshades from women’s legs and breasts. Like I said, anything goes in 10 Club, just as long as you’ve got ten billion in the bank and money to pay your dues—one billion a year—which buys you complete immunity from any government anywhere in the world. Of course, we own all the governments. How do you think so many sadistic pricks make it into office? Power and money are everything.

I lean down and let her drink in my dark features. Yes, look into my eyes, sweetheart. See the promise of suffering in their cold gray depths. But as I stare back at her, there’s nothing. No fear in her eyes. No sadness or desperation. She’s void of all emotion.

Tonight just got a whole hell of a lot less interesting. It’s no fun for me if they’re already broken.

“Sorry. I’m busy.” I turn away and pop open the driver-side door.

“Wait. Aren’t you going to help me?”

“I could,” I say blandly, sliding into the cool leather of the driver’s seat, “however, as you’ve pointed out, I am the man who can find anyone or anything for a price. You don’t have anything I want.”

She wedges herself between me and the car door I’m about to close. “Name it. Name your price, King.” She grabs my shoulder and my groin floods with heated lust. Is it because she’s not the least bit afraid and should be? Probably. Like I said, fearlessness and naivety make my dick hard.

I look up at her, deciding to make an offer though I would probably be better off going home to enjoy a bottle of expensive scotch and prepare for my dinner party. No. I won’t be cooking or cleaning. I have slaves for such mundane bullcrap. This preparation is something else entirely.

“My price is you,” I say, thinking she might make an interesting toy.

She doesn’t bat an eyelash, which is surprising. They usually look a little offended or shocked when I tell them I’d like to own them.

“No deal,” she says.

I shrug and start the engine. “Then I’m afraid we must part ways. Good luck finding him.”

“I have money. A lot of money.”

“Not interested.” I’m already obscenely wealthy and will soon have the kinds of funds that make or break GDPs of first world countries. Whatever cash she’s got is a pittance.

I give her a push and send her stumbling back so I can close the door.

“Wait!” She gets her footing straightened out and comes at me again. I almost admire her persistence. Almost.

“I have a ring,” she announces. “I’m told it can keep a person from dying.”

I push back on the heavy door to prevent it from slamming into her. She’s got my attention. A man like me is always interested in items that bring back the dead or prevent people from dying once I do. Especially now.

I turn off the engine, slowly step from the car, and look down at her as she shrinks back a few feet. That’s when I notice something’s different about her. The light doesn’t quite touch her, but instead reflects off a nearly undetectable sheen of energy surrounding her.

And we’re back to a very interesting evening, indeed. People like her are rare. In fact, they are nearly extinct. I might have had something to do with that, but what can I say? In my younger years, I wasn’t a fan of her people.

“How did you come about such an object?” I ask.

She lifts her delicate chin defiantly. I fucking love it. She’s dancing with the devil and showing such bravery.

“None of your business.”

Such bravado. I chuckle. “All right then, how do you know it works?”

“I just know. Do we have a deal? Yes or no, King.”

That sounds like something I might say, so I appreciate it. “I confess I am intrigued; therefore I will say yes. However, I should warn you that welshers are shown no mercy. If you do not deliver, for any reason, you will belong to me, and I won’t be kind.”

The woman freezes.

Ah, there it is. Fear. My black heart tingles with delight. Now we are getting somewhere.

“I won’t back out,” she says. “And the ring will work.”

“Very good.” I slide a card from the inside pocket of my coat and hand it over. “Be here tomorrow night at eight. I’m throwing a dinner party.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“I’m a busy man. You want me to find your missing husband, then we work when and where I say. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” Of course, that’s a complete lie. I have no intention of helping her, but she will most certainly be useful to me. In fact, she’s exactly what I’ve been needing. Saves me the trouble of having to kill my brother’s woman. For now.

She nods in compliance.

“Very good. And don’t be late. Ever.” I return to my car, close the door, and restart the engine, realizing that she’s simply standing there staring at me and that I’ve forgotten something.

I lower the window. “What’s your name?”

She suddenly looks like someone has punched her in the stomach—a pained stillness in her face, and shoulders hunched forward like she wants to be sick. I’m guessing it’s all sinking in. Yes, sweetheart, you’ve just made a deal with the devil. Actually, I’m worse. A thousand times over. There is no divine creation in my past. No possibility of regaining my wings. I am the sort of man who makes this world a horrible place to live in.

Not even death dares to fuck with me.

I look at the little woman, wondering what the hell she’s waiting for. “Well?”

“Mia. My name is Mia Turner.”

Mimi Jean Pamfiloff is a USA Today and New York Times bestselling romance author. Although she obtained her MBA and worked for more than fifteen years in the corporate world, she believes that it’s never too late to come out of the romance closet and follow your dream. Mimi lives with her Latin Lover hubby, two pirates-in-training (their boys), and the rat terrier duo, Snowflake and Mini Me, in Arizona. She hopes to make you laugh when you need it most and continues to pray daily that leather pants will make a big comeback for men.

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