A Maggie Mae Misadventure #1
Rearranging your cheating boyfriend’s family jewels isn’t a crime—unless your boyfriend is an Arizona state senator. And he happens to have a bullet in his chest.
Caught at the scene of the crime, Maggie Mae Castro is the only suspect, and the only one who saw the senator’s real killer—the skank ho he was cheating on her with.
FBI Special Agent Clive Poole has been shadowing the senator’s every move for nearly a year. He’s wanted Maggie from afar and knows she didn’t kill the senator, but with temptation close enough to touch, it’s now his job to protect her from danger.
Maggie finds herself falling for a man who knows everything about her, from her juvie record to her shoe size. But when they learn the senator was not what he seemed, and Maggie becomes the target of not one, but two killers bent on hiding their secrets, keeping Maggie safe is going to be even more difficult for Clive than sticking to his “hands off” policy.
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~Excerpt from Wake Up Maggie~
I pulled out my cell phone and tried to turn it on. Dead. Great. How was I supposed to get home?
“Need a ride?”
I looked up into the dark eyes of a very large man in an ill-fitting suit who seemed to know not only who I was but the predicament I was in. I was already mentally undressing him and redressing him in something that would be worth stripping back off him. Too bad I could smell the cop on him.
“Yeah, no. That’s okay. Is there a pay phone around here?”
“Down the hall, but you wouldn’t want to use it without a hazmat suit.” His voice rumbled through me like a commuter train making all the stops—Hot Guy City, Interested Town, and Turned-Onville. “Here.” He held out a spiffy-looking phone that looked like it could control the space station. “Use mine.”
“Would you mind switching it on? And setting it to ‘phone’…you know, with the number-pad thingy?”
His lips kicked up at the corner, revealing a rather charming dimple. Damn it! I loved dimples on a guy.
“Sure. Here you go.”
The tips of my fingers slid across his palm. There was a snap and I got a little jolt. Yeah, not sparks. Just plain old static electricity.
“It’s…ah, dry in here I guess.” I laughed, but it wasn’t an aren’t-I-witty chuckle, it was a crazy-psycho-lady kind of cackle. My flirting skills had been seriously ground to nubs by Chuck Puckett. I’d better shut up before someone decided I should be put on a psych hold.
He watched me with his dark eyes, assessing. Probably thought I’d pocket his phone. Who was this Duane The Rock Johnson lookalike? And why was he being so generous with his cell phone minutes?
I kept my eye on him—like that was a hardship—and dialed my friend Tabitha, thinking she might be home, but then I remembered it was Tuesday and she had rhombus…no zima…no, that wasn’t right…she had some kind of dance-fitness thing so that was a no-go.
I handed tall, dark and disturbing his phone back. “How do I go back to the number part?”
“How about you tell me the number and I’ll dial it for you?”
“Yeah, sure.” I rattled off Xavier’s number. Hot Cop punched it in and then handed me back his phone.
Hot Cop and I eyeballed each other while I waited for Xav to pick up. I got the feeling I’d seen him before, but couldn’t place him. Maybe I’d seen him at the department store where I worked. He didn’t look like someone who’d step foot in the cosmetics department unless he’d been dragged there by a girlfriend. And why I found the thought of him with a girlfriend so depressing was beyond me. I really needed to get out of this room before Hot Cop’s pheromones caused my ovaries to explode like confetti cannons.
“Finally,” I said when Xav answered.
“Maggs?” He squealed like he was the one who’d been given a cavity search. “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s one phone call. Holy mole, Chiquita, you’re famous. It’s all over the Internet and TV. You’re YourVid famous. A hundred and fourteen…no, a hundred and twenty-one thousand hits on your Walk of Shame. Great mug shot, by the way.” That Xavier. He was nothing if not a big fat boost to my insecurities.
“Gee, thanks. Can you manage to pull yourself away from my humiliation long enough to give me a ride?” I told him where to pick me up, promising to fill him in on the stuff that wasn’t already on the Internet.
I gave old Chocolate Eyes his phone back. “Thanks Mr.… Detective…”
Yeah, I could see the “special”. “What? Was Super Agent already taken?”
I got the full-tilt, crinkly-eyed smile. “Special Agent Clive Poole…FBI.”