Well, Aflame’s blog tour is officially a wrap! What a fun month. Now, it’s time to get down to business. I have three new stories in the works. Aglow, book two of the Apotheosis series, How to Kill the Ex-Wife, and Truck Stop Tango.
How To Kill Your Boss – An Erotic Love Story releases in little over a month. That one pulled me through the ringer and I’ve had a hard time getting back into the writing groove after an excruciating couple months of edits. I’m not complaining though, because Franklin and Tate are near and dear to me and I can’t wait to share them with the world.
So, I’m off to write my little heart out, but before I go, here’s a fun excerpt from How To Kill Your Boss. Enjoy!
Franklin tossed his cell at my feet, rolled down his window, and took a deep breath.
Classified? “Who are you?” I swiveled to face him.
His grim expression softened. Barely. “You know who I am.”
“Who are you?” I asked again, more a demand than a question.
“The man who keeps saving your ass.” He looked my way, and I got my first glance at his face. The skin surrounding his eye boasted several shades of purple and blue. His nose definitely didn’t look right, and three large scratches stretched from his left eye to below his cheekbone. Not bad for my first shot at kicking someone’s ass. Instinct urged me to reach over and offer comfort. I tucked my hand under my leg to keep it from such betrayal.
“Why were men shooting at you?” I asked, unable to cloak the seething anger in my tone.
“Now you’re not making sense.”
“You have to trust me.”
“How in the world can you ask me to do that? Why is there a collage of me on your wall?”
Franklin’s lips drew into a tight line. The muscles in his jaw protruded.
“Classified?” I asked, fed up with the way the conversation was going.
My pressure gage blew. I buried my face in my hands and screamed. “Take me back to the police station. I can’t be near you. I’d rather rot in a cell.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” His voice remained calm.
I pulled on the door handle. “I’ll jump out if you don’t start talking. Why were men shooting at you?”
“They weren’t aiming for me, Killer. You were the target.”