Mimi grimaced in the mirror. “That’ll drag your face down. As we get older, we need to make sure our faces don’t drag.”
Who was this we? Mimi was a pert, perpetual twenty-nine-year-old with lively black hair, wood-nymph brown eyes, and unlined skin. Without opening her mouth, Roberta skimmed the bottom of her ears with shaky fingers.
Mimi beamed. “Perfect.”
Then she started snipping, clipping, drying, and poofing. Roberta squeezed her eyes shut amidst the cacophony of voices, laughter, running water, and blow dryers.
“You can open them now.”
A scintilla of the hysteria she’d felt under the dryer tingled along Roberta’s nerve endings. Then she looked in the mirror.
“Oh my.”
Behind her, Mimi bounced with expectation. “Whad’ya think?”
Roberta didn’t recognize the face framed in silky red hair just brushing the tips of her ears, hugging her nape, gently curling across her forehead. Her hazel eyes looked greener, lush, like new spring grass. Her lips looked fuller. And the tired lines pulling at her mouth seemed to have vanished.
“It makes you look like you’ve lost weight. I think you need to buy a new outfit to celebrate.”
The woman in the mirror needed a whole new wardrobe. Business suits and tailored blouses just wouldn’t go with that face. That face needed vibrant colors and short skirts. Four-inch spike heels.
The hand in the mirror touched the full lips. Lipstick. Something overstated. “Maybe I need some new makeup, too, Mimi.”
“I’ve got just the thing.” Mimi disappeared from the mirror, click-clacking across the linoleum.
Yes, she needed new makeup. Because fixing your whole life couldn’t be accomplished simply by changing your hairstyle.
No, that new hair needed new makeup, new clothes, new shoes. And a new name. Like Bobbie. Bobbie Jones. Without the Spivey, which had always made her think of the word spineless. Spineless Spivey. Warren? Or herself?
And Director of Accounting would never do for Bobbie Jones. Bobbie needed something...exciting. A job where she’d meet new people every day. Doing something she’d shine at. Where she couldn’t help but be noticed.
Where there were no Mr. Winklemans pointing their fingers and saying, She did it. Fire her.
God, could she really do it? Could she really quit, try on another career like a new outfit?
What on earth was standing in her way? There was no Warren. And there was money in the bank to tide her over until she found just the right job.
Could she? Would she? She stared at the familiar yet changed woman in the mirror. That woman could do anything she set her mind to. That woman would find a new goal in life.
Roberta sat straighter, squared her shoulders, put a hand to the brand new curls that overflowed the top of her head. Bobbie Jones wouldn’t have to worry about negative impacts on a man’s sex drive. Bobbie Jones would have her pick.
Roberta Jones Spivey could stick with a job she hated and grovel at the feet of the Winklemans of the world. Roberta Jones Spivey could have panic attacks under a hair dryer because she’d decided to change the color of her hair. Bobbie Jones had better things to do. Important things to do. One all-important thing.
Bobbie Jones was going to Cottonmouth to show Warren what he’d thrown away when he drove off into the sunset to find the Cookie Monster.
Oh yeah, and one more really important thing. Bobbie would have sex for the first time in...much too long.
* * * * *
Bobbie Jones—she’d tossed out Roberta along with her job, her tailored suits, and her frilly blouses—tapped her brilliant crimson lip with the tip of a matching manicured nail. A new woman with a new attitude. And no ugly, painful thoughts.
“I must have that cottage.” No, no, we can’t possibly do this. Bobbie quashed another annoying little Robert-whine. She was getting so much better at doing it, since that day in the salon, a little less than a month ago, when she’d decided every page of her life story needed revising.
Top selling real estate agent and self-proclaimed Cottonmouth maven, Patsy Bell Sapp’s mouth opened so wide, the wrinkles marring her tanned face vanished. Almost. “You don’t want that.”
Bobbie smiled. “Yes. I do.” No, we don’t. Buzz off, Roberta.
The house, little more than a cube tucked into a postage-stamp lot, was the antithesis of the pristine residence on the stately San Francisco street. Warren had chosen the property over having children, a plan she’d, no, Roberta had gone along with because being a parent was too awesome a responsibility.
“But the serial killer lives right across the street.” Patsy hacked out a cough, her penciled-in eyebrows disappearing into the fringe of her bouffant hairdo. With a vigorous shake of her head, multiple shades of gray sparkled in the sunlight.
“Excuse me?” Was the woman serious? Probably not. If she was, why would she even bring Bobbie by the rental?
Still looking at her, Patsy pointed at the shaded, two-story house across the street. “He’s a serial killer,” she mouthed.
The title had a ring to it, even if it was most likely a town joke. Serial killer. Didn’t that fit her mood to a T? Her mood, not Roberta’s. She itched with a mixture of danger, disbelief, and anticipation. Heavy on the disbelief part. But still, he must be a real bad-boy type to fuel such rumors. Back home in Head Hunters salon, she’d sworn to herself she was going to have sex with someone. And sex with an alleged serial killer sounded risky. Edgy. Exciting.
Just the kind of thing a Bobbie Jones, not a Roberta Spivey, would do. It would tweak Warren’s nose right out of joint.
And that’s what this whole excursion to Cottonmouth was about. Right?
If you enjoyed this excerpt, also look for Fool’s Gold, Cottonmouth Book 2
Other Books by Jennifer Skully
Baby, I’ll Find You
Try a sample of Jasmine’s Prescott Twins series!
Double the Pleasure
Prescott Twins, Book 1
Copyright 2011 Jasmine Haynes
Cover design by Rae Monet Inc
Previously published in 2005 in the Twin Peaks Anthology
One night, one chance, but will she have the courage...
Hitting the big 3-0 birthday like a brick wall, shy, reserved Kristin Prescott just has to break out of her sensible shoes and buttoned-up blouses and find herself a man. And the only one who will do is Ross Sloan, her sexy boss. The problem is, she isn't Ross's type; he prefers sensual, seductive women like her identical twin. But, Kristin isn't sure she can let go of her inhibitions.
Unless she pretends to be her sister.
Ross Sloan has lusted after his secretary, Kristin Prescott, since the moment she walked into his office. When she seduces him while playing the role of her twin sister, he sees through her masquerade immediately. But Ross wants both sides of Kristin: the prim, efficient woman who runs his office and the passionate woman she exposes in the guise of her sister. Forcing Kristin to release her inhibitions and claiming the desirable woman beneath the facade becomes his ambition.
But will the pleasure cost them their business relationship? Or can they have both?
Excerpt
Ross saw her the minute she entered the hotel bar. Miss Prescott. His Miss Prescott. In an exceptionally short red dress with an unbelievably gorgeous pair of thighs to match those calves, better even than he’d imagined. Reality certainly surpassed fantasy. Damn. That red dress...
It didn’t matter. In the morning she’d still be his secretary. And he needed her.
She turned, and her gaze traveled over the cluster of tables flanking the small dance floor. The bar was by no means full, and if she’d been looking, she couldn’t have missed him sitting at the far end of the counter.
She never even looked.
Just as well, it allowed him to observe every curve revealed by the brevity of her skirt. Her hair cascaded over shoulders covered only by the thin red straps of her dress. Oh, yeah, her
hair was exactly the stuff of his fantasies, rich shades of reds and browns, curling softly over the tops of her breasts. Speaking of breasts, if he’d seen her like this in his office, he’d never have been able to keep his hands off her.
His heart stopped as she touched the red-and-black beaded choker at her throat. Just a brief caress. His eyes tracked the brush of her fingers down the slender line of her throat, leading his gaze to the soft swell of a plump breast. Magnificent. His smart, efficient secretary was sexy as all get-out.
His temperature rose by degrees as she moved to the bar and slid onto a free stool, crossing her legs. Endless legs. The red dress rode up her thigh. She signaled the bartender, and the man jumped to attention as if she’d handed him twenty bucks. Ross understood the feeling; he’d jumped to attention himself.
She ordered and, when her wine came, lifted the glass to her lush red lips. She raised a finger and slid it across her bottom lip, trapping a droplet. He barely suppressed a groan, closing his eyes briefly just to keep his sanity.
This couldn’t be his Miss Prescott. He opened his eyes.
Oh, but it was. Beneath the chatter of voices, the laughter, and the thrum of elevator music, the soft chink of her nails against the glass floated down the length of the bar. His groin tightened. God, there was something about that sound. It sent him into orbit.
He forgot his boredom of late. Miss Prescott in a sexy red dress was a breath of fresh air from the stuffy executive offices he’d been inhabiting, both professionally and personally.
If you enjoyed this excerpt, look for
Double the Pleasure, Prescott Twins, Book 1 and
Skin Deep, Book 2
More Erotic Romance by Jasmine Haynes:
Invitation to Seduction, Open Invitation, Book 1
Twisted by Love, Reincarnation Tales, Book 1
Revenge Sex, West Coast, Book 1
Submitting to the Boss, West Coast Series, Book 2
The Boss’s Daughter, West Coast Series, Book 3
Anthology: Beauty or the Bitch & Free Fall
Take Your Pleasure
Take Your Pick
Past Midnight
What Happens After Dark
The Principal’s Office
Yours for the Night
Hers for the Evening
Mine Until Morning
The Fortune Hunter
Show and Tell
Fair Game
More Than a Night
About the Author
Jasmine Haynes, Rita Finalist for Somebody’s Lover, plus two-time Holt Medallion and National Readers Choice Award winner, is the author of over 30 classy, erotic romance tales. Look for the final book in her popular DeKnight series, The Principal's Office. In 2013, she'll be starting a sexy new series for Berkley Heat, and there will be more in the West Coast series and her Reincarnation Tales. Of course, she’s also the author of the award-winning Max Starr psychic mystery series. And don’t miss her writing as Jennifer Skully, KOD Daphne award-winning author of contemporary romance, bringing you poignant tales peopled with hilarious characters that will make you laugh and make you cry. Visit her website at www.jasminehaynes.com and her blog at www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com
Connect with Jasmine Haynes & Jennifer Skully online
Jasmine’s Website: www.jasminehaynes.com
Jennifer’s Website: www.jenniferskully.com
Max Starr Website: www.jbskully.com
Blog: www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/jasminehaynesauthor
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