by Mikell, Beth
“All clear, Lady Bug?” Harry asked.
She looked up, and ticked the last box, signing the checklist. “Go flight.” Brooke handed the clipboard to Harry with apprehension drowning her.
She drew a deep breath and found Damon beside the aircraft, ready to board without an expression on his handsome face.
She smiled, not brightly, but in a pleasant business-casual way. “Please board the aircraft, Mr. Sinclair.”
With ease, he climbed into the basket with sleek elegance and he was now close enough she could smell his delicious scent. Her body went haywire. She wanted a taste test.
He still did not speak to her, and unease flourished. “Welcome aboard and please enjoy your flight.” Within moments, Brooke gave the thumbs up to her ground crew and they released the aircraft’s tether. With her hand on the gauge, they lifted off.
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Shawn Angel Mystery Series
Do you love mystery, a snarky detective, and suspense to rattle your nerves?
Check out On Paid Leave…
Suffering from PTSD with a snarky view of life, Detective Shawn Angel is forced to face her internal demons before she loses her job. When she heads out of town, she plans to conquer fears with a little rest and relaxation, but she’s a trouble magnet. She swears it’s not her fault. It’s almost as if someone is purposefully tormenting her.
Confronted by her past love, Shawn must surrender her pride and work with Leo Grayson. He yanks Shawn out of her safe bubble, complicating matters in his sexy way, yet finding a killer proves to be easier than rekindling their romance. As the intrigue climbs dangerous levels, Shawn tugs on her badass, fully prepared to handle things her way. She’s supposedly on vacation, but now, she’s out to catch a killer…
“Get ready for a funny, emotional, action-packed mystery with a sassy lead female with a hilarious inner monologue!”
“A page-turning suspense filled read, I could not put it down!”
“This story was impossible to put down; it evoked real emotions as you walk through Shawn’s issues with her. Absolute 5-star must-read.”
Excerpt
“Not so fast, Ms. Angel,” Leo said. “I have some questions.” He flipped open his black notebook, posing his pen.
He looked all cop mode and hot. My synapses fried and my mouth watered at the sight of him. His jeans were just the right fit, encasing his firm thighs. His badge was displayed on his belt, right next to his gun. His white T-shirt hinted at the muscular angles underneath, though his black leather jacket cut a biker image too. He seriously needed to consider posing for one of those calendars with men in uniform. He hit all the right sexy points.
“Were you aware that firing a weapon and injuring someone via a gunshot, without reporting it, is a felony offense in Livingston? Punishable by up to a year in jail.”
I frowned. Was he kidding me? “What?”
“Yes. I happen to know that you fired your gun at Hernandez—”
“That little pipsqueak ratted me out?” My attitude shifted from mad to indignant in a heartbeat. “Wait until I get my hands on him!”
“Is that a threat too?” Leo shook his head, tsking under his breath and jotting down some notes. “Bad move, if you ask me, threatening someone in the presence of a police officer. I’m prepared to take you into custody.” He looked up with a smirk riding his lips. “Do you know how harsh cops have it in lock up? I hear it’s torture, and the food tastes like shit.”
“Leo!” God, this could not be happening. “It was an accident. I’m sure Hernandez explained.” Or I hoped he had, and if not, he had the IQ of peanut because giving him credit for the intelligence of a rock would be too generous. “Just give me my clothes, and I’ll—”
Leo pocketed his black notebook and pen, grabbed my duffel, and offered it to me with something close to a Cheshire grin. I knew that look. He was up to something. Leo had a way of looking at me through his lashes and smiling right before he executed a plan. A devious plan. Something I was not necessarily going to enjoy. I just had to figure out what he wanted without giving away my interest.
My eyes narrowed. Yeah, I’d show him.
Crossing my arms, I made no move to grab my duffel, although the chill of the tile floor seeped through my bare feet and up my calves. I was slowly freezing with only a wisp of a gown covering my nakedness. I could envision what it was like to be a stripper right before they ripped off their tear-away clothes, but there was no sexy music and no way would I shake my tush on the hospital bed for a few bucks. Even I had to draw the line somewhere.
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