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Reduced to waitressing in "German Wenchâ€ attire to pay off her husbandâ€™s gambling debts, Cleo doubts things can get any worse.
When a gorgeous undercover agent, a money laundering scheme, and a lovesick pit boss all collideâ€¦sheâ€™s got worse. And so much to lose.
Her Pride. Her heart.
The car was ditched. One glance in the rearview window and his foot instinctively hit the brake pedal.
From thirty feet away, he could see she was pretty.
Not just the female shape outlined by the dim left light (though that, he thoughtâ€”what he could see of it over the dashboardâ€”looked above average in curve differential) but the cut of her face and the way sheâ€™d lifted it when heâ€™d skidded to a full halt in front of her.
He was a big man. The driverâ€™s seat of the Suburban was positioned to the farthest back setting and still he was cramped every time he got in, or out, of it. At six foot eight, fitting into the world of little people around him was not always easy. Or, comfortable.
Now, it was her turn.
He watched the way her shoulders fell, no doubt relieved that help had arrived.
Letâ€™s just see, Armand thought as he pulled back the handle and set one eel skinned boot down on the peppered gray pavement, how her comfort level adjusted to the fact the her highway assistance came in the form "one big Indianâ€.
~ * ~
The words wafted around her in the dead silent Volvo and she realized sheâ€™d said them instead of only thinking them. Another nagging habit that had surfaced since Lewisâ€™ sudden departure. One she would have to work on.
She was sitting. Maybe that was it. Maybe he just looked bigger thanâ€¦
â€¦no, he was huge. Monstrous. His shoulders, she reasoned with a sudden, smothering dread as he dismissed the distance between the two vehicles with three enormous strides, matched the width of the Volvoâ€™s hood. He was a giant and sheâ€¦
On a deserted road. No phone. No protection. No feeling in any of her appendages.
He raised one opened hand making that "I come in peaceâ€ gesture that translated into every language. Surely serial killers, and roadside rapists, were familiar with the gesture.
A wide, crooked smile nearly undid the menacing impression of his stature as her eyes flickered over it landing, fully, on the rest of his features. A huge smile on a huge face donned with the deepest, darkest eyes sheâ€™d ever seen. He was, she conceded in this state of "hesitation teetering on desperationâ€, not bad lookingâ€¦ for serial killer.
Ellis Hoff has lived in the Minneapolis area all of her life and now resides in a semi-rural town just west of the cities with her husband, children, and a big black dog. Sheâ€™s been writing professionally for ten years and, aside from award winning short stories, has full length works published in trade paperback, large print hardcover and electronically. She is excited to join the ranks of Wings authors with her latest novel, Bingo Boogie, and is busy wrapping up a new romantic comedy and a collection of short stories.
Ellis works as a journalist for a local newspaper and contributes editorials regularly.
Her number one hobby, hands down, is reading. She also enjoys entertaining, live music (is a huge Prince fan) biking, and--oh, yes--the Mall of America.
Book Publisher: Wings e Press
No. of Pages: 334
Paper Weight (lb): 13.8
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