Publisher: Evernight Publishing
African American socialite and bestselling crime writer Cayden Young returns to her high school stomping grounds to solve a cold case. Unfortunately, her hot business partner is in her way. In love since high school, they couldnât work out their rich-girl, poor-boy differences. While she attempts to put the past to rest, she ends up unearthing a more than a decade-old secret that could get her killed.
Former Marine Levi Scott is ready to take over his familyâs resort fulltime. The only problem is he needs to buy out his partner, who he happens to be in love with. Always on unsure footing with the wealthy beauty, he is determined to get her out of his life for once and all, and decides the best way to do so is offering to help her solve a thirteen-year-old cold case. Soon, they figure out the murderer may still reside in their posh resort town â¦ and Cayden could be next on their list.
Since the third step always creaked under foot, he counted to ten before he flipped on the lamp and loosened his tie.
âHoly shit, Levi! What the hell?â She jumped while he bit back a chuckle.
âIsnât that my line?â Beads of water from her shower gathered on her skin. She wore a pair of barely-there yoga shorts, and Levi could see straight through her tank top. Round, full breasts were easy to make out beneath her stretched-too-thin material.
âThereâs no way that event ended this early,â she scolded him.
âForgive me for ruining your heist â¦ should I leave and come back to let you finish?â Everything about the woman turned him on, starting with her messy bun and black-framed glasses.
No rich-girl representative or spoiled brat came to steal time in his shower spa. Instead, the real girl next door stood in front of him. âMy shower was one thing, Ms. Young, but my last bottle of wine?â
She held onto a bottle of Riesling, shipped from the Italian vineyard that wanted the resort to use them exclusively. âDo you not remember telling me to stop taking wine from the resort?â
âThereâs this thing called inventory, and if a bottle is missing,â he spoke slowly as if talking with a child, âit is considered stolen. Much like what youâre doing right now.â He pointed to the contraband in her hand.
âI beg to differ. You donât even like Riesling, Mr. Scott.â She smiled innocently. âSo what happened? Did you forget something?â
âNow that you mention itâ¦â Taking off his tux jacket, he threw it off to the side. âWhat do you think about this couch?â
Cayden shook her head, probably not following his line of questioning. âHeirloom? It doesnât really go with the dÃ©cor.â
âExactly! I worked my ass off to make this place look â¦ whatâs the word?â
âModern,â she offered.
âManly. But weâll go with your term. Look at this craftsmanship â¦ dark, hardwood floors, straight lines, and that kitchen is a work of art. I made that farmhouse table by hand,â he bragged, glad she didnât interrupt. âThen thereâs this monstrosity â¦ a red velvet Victorian. And letâs not forget the piano. No one plays that shit. Why the hell do we even have it? My mother claims itâs too valuable to put in storage, so she leaves this crap here.â
âIâm guessing you want to get rid of it?â
âOf course, but you know Lydiaâs weapon of choice is guilt,â he complained while rolling up his sleeves. âI was thinking if I changed or altered it in some way, then maybe I could tolerate it.â
âHmmm.â She tilted her head to the side while she relaxed her stance. âWhat do you have in mind?â
âFor starters, Iâm going to put you on top of it, and eat your pussy until your head explodes. After that, we can wing it.â Levi didnât know if she would accept his proposition, but he didnât anticipate the smile that slowly graced her pretty lips.
About the Author:
Amber Malloy dreamed of being a double agent but couldnât pass the psyche evaluation. Crushed by despair that she couldnât legally shoot things, Amber pursued her second career choice as pastry chef. When sheâs not writing or whipping up a mean Snickers Cheesecake, she occasionally spies on her sommelier. Amber is convinced heâs faking his French accent.
Amber loves to talk to her readers and can be found at www.ambermalloy.com