Showing posts with label Ellora's Cave Blush. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ellora's Cave Blush. Show all posts

Monday, January 21, 2013

BLIND FORTUNE by Joanna Waugh

BLIND FORTUNE by Joanna Waugh

When what a lady hears isn’t always the truth, she must learn to see with her heart and trust the rest to... Blind Fortune

They say love is blind, but Lady Fortuna Morley doesn’t believe it. Sightless since birth, she can think of only one reason a gentleman would wed her—for the dowry and three thousand a year her father will provide.

She’s in London the spring of 1814 to help launch her younger cousin into society, but prefers living quietly in country with her music. The last thing Fortuna wishes is to cross swords with the arrogant Marquess of Granville. Charles Lowden, Lord Granville, has decided to take a wife. The bride he’s chosen is thirteen years his junior, but meets all criteria.

What he won’t abide is interference from the girl’s impertinent cousin, the outspoken and opinionated Lady Fortuna Morley. The woman is determined to thwart the match. Charles is just as determined to charm Fortuna out of her disdain for him.

What neither expects in the ensuing battle of wills is to fall in love.

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An Excerpt From: BLIND FORTUNE

Copyright © JOANNA WAUGH, 2008

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Golden light spilled across the terrace to highlight her freckled nose and rosy lips. It turned Fortuna’s captivating green eyes an eerie light brown. Disconcerted once again by the gold flecks in their depths, Charles stepped back and clasped fists together beneath the tails of his coat.

“Are you feeling more the thing, my lady?”

No reply. Just that dazed expression on her face. It took a moment for Charles to remember she couldn’t see the polite concern he’d pasted on his own. With a critical eye, he studied the gown Fortuna wore. What modiste had risked her reputation fashioning such a thing? Rows of small, green, leaf-shaped appliqués ran in vertical lines down the gauzy half-skirt. The scooped bodice sported off-the-shoulder sleeves in a style that seemed altogether too girlish for its wearer.

“Shall I fetch you a glass of punch?”

Fortuna shook her copper curls as if coming out of a dream. The flowered bandeaux in her hair shed a few petals and, without thinking, Charles reached out to lightly flick them off her shoulders.

Coloring under his touch, she shied away. “I’m quite all right, my lord.” Her voice was wary. “Just give me a moment to catch my breath.”

They’d both been left breathless by that waltz, Charles wryly observed. Fortuna’s acquiescence on the dance floor had startled, then aroused him. Now he rued the spectacle they’d made. Gossip would be rife upstairs, especially with the two of them out on the terrace, unchaperoned. Charles frowned as he pondered how to extricate himself politely from a situation that was becoming more ticklish by the second.

“Shall I fetch Miss Ashford?” he asked.

“I’d prefer to return to the ballroom.”

Then Charles remembered the reason he’d asked for this tête-à-tête in the first place. It was time to make that apology. Just a few words and all would be forgiven. They could part ways in charity.

“Before I do, Lady Fortuna, I’d like to beg your pardon for that callous remark I made the other day.” When she didn’t respond, he lamely added, “I had no idea you were blind.”

Inwardly, Charles cursed himself for admitting such stupidity.

“I accept your apology,” she replied in a tight voice but her words lacked conviction. “Now, take me back to my cousin.”

He frowned. That imperious attitude again. He’d never met such an overbearing woman. “Not until I’m certain you’ve recovered.”

Fortuna bristled. “I’m no invalid, my lord. Neither am I a helpless female.” She started for the French doors with hands groping before her. “I can find my own way, thank you.”

Charles grabbed her upper arm before she could take three steps. “Are you daft, woman? You’re like to trip over your own slippers and break your neck.”

With an indignant yank, Fortuna freed herself from his grasp, then batted at his hand as if fending off an attack. “I don’t need help from you!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the couples disengage from the shadows and scurry toward the house. The lady’s head was bent low and her eyes were averted but the gentleman hesitated as if to speak. Charles leveled a challenging look on him and the fellow beat a hasty retreat, as did another pair of lovers a moment later.

This was pure insanity. If he wasn’t careful he’d be leg-shackled to the Morley chit, or forced to meet one of her male relatives at dawn on Wimbledon Common.

Drawing up with dignity, Fortuna stood in the middle of the terrace with light streaming around her. She looked like a religious icon, Charles wryly noted, Joan of Arc at the stake.

“I may be blind,” she said, “but my ears work perfectly. I hear what people say about you.”

“Indeed,” Charles drawled, much diverted by an image of her tied to a post with flames licking at her feet. “And what, pray tell, is being said?”

“That you’re arrogant and cold. Incapable of tender feelings.” She hesitated for a moment as if gathering courage, then lifted her chin. “And that you keep a mistress, a French émigré by the name of Mimi.”

That last statement surprised him. Charles blinked in astonishment. “Hardly a topic for the ears of gently bred young ladies, I should think,” he muttered.

“How ironic,” Fortuna continued in an acerbic tone. “So-called gentlemen can squire around the lowest form of female but a lady can’t even mention them in polite conversation.”

Annoyed, Charles raked the fingers of one hand through his hair. “Rather say it’s the way of the world.” He sighed.

“The word ‘hypocritical’ comes to mind, my lord.”

“And ‘impudent’ comes to mine,” he snapped back. “I find this conversation unseemly and offensive.” The warning tone he used was one that never failed to cower servants.

Yet the chit seemed oblivious to the threat. In a prim tone she said, “I’m very much concerned about your attitudes, my lord. Especially with regard to marriage.”

Charles was dumbstruck for a moment. Then, in a tight voice, he asked, “And why should my philosophy on the wedded state matter to you?”

“If you intend to marry my cousin, it matters a great deal. I’ll not see Juliana bound to a man who refuses to honor his marriage vows. She deserves the love and respect of a devoted husband.”

“What curious notions you have,” Charles drawled with deliberate sarcasm. Her air of moral superiority was starting to grate. “Respect is something one earns, Lady Fortuna. For women, it means remembering their place.” He allowed those words to hang on the air. Then, in a derisive voice, he asked, “But tell me, what has love to do with marriage?”

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Thursday, January 5, 2012

SUPERNATURALLY KISSED by Stacey Kennedy

SUPERNATURALLY KISSED by Stacey Kennedy

Ghosts harass and annoy Tess Jennings to save their souls. Sometimes she helps them. Other times she ignores them. But one ghost will give her no choice.

Kipp McGowen, a cop with the Memphis Police Department, will stop at nothing to gain her help, including using his ghostly charms to seduce her.

Tess must help solve the five year old cold case of Hannah Reid, because solving the case will save Kipp. But a bigger problem presents itself. Tess is falling in love with a ghost. Now she must decide. Keep Kipp forever or find the killer…

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An Excerpt From: SUPERNATURALLY KISSED

Copyright © STACEY KENNEDY, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One

An icy wisp of air swept in behind me, causing my heel to twist as I stumbled. To the other pedestrians striding along the downtown Memphis street, the sensation would be brushed off as a cold breeze.

They were wrong. A spirit lingered here.

“Can you hear me?”

From the intrigue rolling in his voice, he hadn’t expected me to acknowledge him. Shit! I’d already given myself away. A mistake I’d rectify.

Without hesitation, I righted my stance and strode forward with purpose, forcing myself to remain deaf to the voice. If I ignored ghosts long enough, they moved on and searched out someone else who held the same irritating ability, whom I had yet to meet.

Much to my annoyance, the ghost stayed right on my heels and his presence remained strong behind me. The cold air at my back remained a contrast to the warm morning air in front of me. Every hair on my neck stood up and goose bumps pimpled a trail along my skin. If only I could rub them away, but I didn’t dare. Ignoring him would make him go away.

“You can hear me, can’t you?” the ghost asked again.

Spirits were typically harmless, but annoying. I’m dead, what’s going on, why am I a ghost—yada, yada, yada. I quickened my steps and made my way down Peabody Place in hopes he’d leave me alone.

“Wait.”

He sounded desperate, which meant a big headache for me. If I hadn’t worn my damn slingbacks, I would’ve tried to run and hide. But the three-inch Manolos and the tight, tailored gray skirt restrained my movements.

I passed Miss Polly’s Soul Food Café, and the delicious aroma of bacon and eggs drifted along the air. My empty stomach complained. My only thought after I woke had been caffeine. Now I wished I’d grabbed a muffin with my latté at Starbucks. With ten minutes to get to my desk, I couldn’t worry about such things.

My boss, Event Manager Dylan Cobb, would hand me my ass if I stepped into the office a minute late. Sadly, there’d never been a day I didn’t cater to his every need.

I approached Beale Street and sighed in relief, relishing the warmth surrounding me. Not only from the sun above—the spirit’s cold presence at my back had vanished. Pleased my dodge of him had worked, I took a sip of my energy in a cup and smiled. Coffee’s fantastic, the ghost is gone—life is good.

Another block passed under my heels before I reached the historical red-brick building. Randall Marketing, written in black block letters, decorated the striped green-and-white awning.

I opened the door to the office and strode in, greeted by a bubbly voice. “Good morning, Tess.”

“Mornin’.”

“Give me a moment here.” Doris shuffled paperwork around her desk, her auburn curls bouncing on her shoulders. The receptionist had always been messy, yet somehow organized. “There were a few messages on the voicemail for you.” She raised her head and held out the pink slips of paper. “A lovely day today, is it not?”

“Sure is.” So I lied. The ghost hadn’t kicked off my day on a high note. Not as if I’d tell her about my interaction with spirits. My ability to converse with spirits remained on a need-to-know basis, and as far as it concerned me, no one needed to know. I grabbed the messages from her hand. “Did your weekend treat you good?”

“I spent the entire weekend knee-deep in my garden.” Her cocoa-colored eyes lit up. “My best year ever, I’m hoping. You’ll have to come out and have a look-see.”

“I’d love to.” Doris treasured her gardens, so I tried to appear interested, even though my green thumb looked black.

Her smile brightened, but when the phone rang, she waved a goodbye and answered the call. “It’s another beautiful day here at Randall Marketing, how may I direct your call?”

Leaving her behind, I strode down the hall toward my office and sipped my coffee. The warmth slid down my throat and provided an immediate rush to my energy levels. At the third door on the right, I entered my bleak workspace with its pale-blue walls, closed the door behind me and approached the desk. I dropped down into the black leather chair and flipped through the messages. None were urgent enough to worry about now.

I powered up my computer, but a knock at the door had me glancing up. Before I got a word out, the door swished open and I cringed, fully aware of the looming trouble.

Caley, the officer manager and my best friend since the age of four, looked like a typical Barbie. Perfect skin, long flowing blonde hair and a body men drooled over. I might have been jealous of her perfection since I couldn’t pull off her looks even with a makeover—so maybe a little envious—but her appearance had always been a front. She was the devil in disguise.

She scowled, shutting the door behind her with a slam. “Do you mind explaining where you were all weekend?”

“At home.” I batted my lashes. “Why? Did you try to call me?”

She pointed her finger, narrowing her eyes at me. “Don’t you try that shit on me. I called you all weekend and your phone went straight to voicemail.”

“Hmm…” I pretended to ponder. “The battery must have died.” She had enough gall to just come over, but the little hint had been a subtle way of telling Caley to leave me alone.

“Liar.” She plopped down in the seat across from my desk. “Where were you? I wanted to go out.”

“Nowhere. Honestly, I vegged on the couch.”

Caley snorted. “You lead such an exciting life.”

My mouth parted to offer a snappy retort, but a cold wisp of air brushed across my skin, causing my lips to snap shut. Damn! I thought I’d got rid of him.

“Hello.” Caley snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Leave the aliens behind and return to Mother Earth.”

I blinked, trying to force my attention back to her, yet failing. The ghost knelt right beside Caley—not kneeling, of course; more like floating, since ghosts were never able to obtain physical contact with the world around them—and my focus held strong on him, unable to stop myself from ogling. He stared intently, with one crystal-blue eye, while the other was a chocolate color. His strong jaw, the muscles clenching along his cheeks, all spoke of power. But as he ran his hand through his untidy sandy-colored hair, his expression showed playfulness. His black tank top left his arms exposed and muscles upon muscles layered those arms.

“Anyways,” she said, dragging my gaze back to her. “I had to go out with Susanne because you left me high and dry.”

I laughed. Caley’s horny, twenty-year-old stepsister had the body that men chased after. “You did have the option to stay home, you know.”

Her eyes widened. “On a Saturday night?”

“Yeah, you know, get some popcorn, watch a movie and relax.”

She frowned. “If you don’t stop your grandma behavior, your va-jay-jay is going to shrivel up and die.”

The ghost chuckled.

His smooth laugh hit me like a cup of warm cocoa, causing my insides to melt. Nothing amused me. First off, Caley had been so wrong—maybe a little right—but I’d never admit to her accuracy aloud. Second, reacting in such a heated way to a ghost definitely didn’t hit my to-do list today.

“Excuse me.” I spoke not only to Caley, but also to the irritating ghost. “My va-jay-jay is just fine.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve still got some spunk.” She stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Because we’ve got a double date tonight.”

“A what?” Dear God!

She grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, my dearest Grammy, we’re going out.”

“With who?”

“Two guys I met on Saturday night. You’re coming with me, either willingly or unwillingly, so suck up your hesitations, babe, because saying no isn’t an option.”

“But it’s a Monday night.” Not saying a date didn’t sound like fun. A month had passed since my last attempt at dating—which failed miserably—but a man Caley chose while drunk? No thanks. My sex life might have been as dead as the sexy ghost in front of me, but I’d still search for a way out. “I have to work tomorrow.”

She wagged her finger in classic Caley fashion. “You’re a grandma.”

Most times, I respected her persistent personality. She never backed down, always dreamed big and went for the gold, but her grit hadn’t been all rays of sunshine. Her determination made her annoyingly tenacious. I had to agree or she’d never give up, and getting her out of my office sounded all too good. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, stop looking so pissy. We’ll have fun. Promise. I’ll come to your place at eight.” She opened the door, glanced over her shoulder and winked. “Leave the granny panties at home.”

* * * * *

The day came and went. My head pounded, not because my boss had been as demanding as any two-year-old, which he did often, but because the ghost hadn’t shut up. The past hours, even after I returned home to get ready for tonight,he’d tried his best to gain my attention. Good thing I’m great at tuning people—ghosts—out, or I would’ve caved after hour two.

“I’m not leaving until you admit you can hear me,” the ghost said.

With a flick of my shag-cut brown hair—that actually didn’t give me any trouble tonight—to dismiss him, I strode next to Caley, heading back toward the downtown core. Dressed in my low-riding, dark wash jeans and blue plaid three-quarter-length-sleeve top, tied to leave my midriff exposed, at least I looked half decent while I suffered through the embarrassing blind date.

The ghost’s tone came a little louder and more abrupt. “Dammit, woman! Will you stop ignoring me? It’s annoying.”

I’m annoying him? I nearly laughed at the ridiculous notion, but did not intend to give myself away. I’d held strong for nine hours. Soon, he’d catch the drift and piss off.

Caley knocked my arm. “Will you stop looking so tight assed?”

I glanced away from the sidewalk and smiled at her. “My ass is tight.” Okay, not eighteen-year-old tight, but only twenty-five now, I worked hard to keep things tight.

She chuckled. “You’re…”

“Damn right, you do, sweet cheeks,” the ghost said.

Caley stopped dead in her tracks, which caused me to stumble. “What’s got you blushing?”

I righted my stance, raised my hand to my face and, to my horror, my cheeks were warm. “I’m not blushing. I‑I‑I’m hot.”

“Unless you somehow turned into a lesbian and have fallen for your best friend,you’re acting weird.”

“I do love you.” At her widened eyes, I laughed. “But I don’t want you in the sack. Seriously, I’m just hot.”

The ghost’s voice deepened. “Ah, a way to grab your attention, I see.”

The little purr hanging off his tone made my stomach flip-flop. Clearly, I craved some attention and needed to get some in a bad way if I reacted in such a heated way to a non-living person.

I shoved the ridiculous reaction away and focused back on Caley, falling into stride with her. “Who’s the guy I’m hooking up with tonight?”

“He’s just your type.” She wiggled her brows. “You’re going to thank me later.”

“What do you mean my type?” I liked men, all types of them, and I’d never confine my options into a little box. Caley had apparently taped the box shut and shipped the package.

“He’s a pro baseball player and is home visiting his family for a couple days.”

“A pro, huh?” Maybe I had fooled myself into believing I didn’t have a type, because hearing baseball player made my interest rise. Images of skintight white pants and a scrumptious ass filled my mind.

“Yeah, he’s got the looks too.” She nudged her shoulder into mine. “And the money.”

“Women,” the ghost muttered.

I ignored the ghost like the ghost he was, turned onto Beale Street and Coyote Ugly Saloon appeared. A line of people outside meant an hour of waiting. Not as if I thought we’d have to wait. I had Caley with me, after all.

She snatched up my hand, yanking me forward, and hurried her steps. “Brandon,” she called out.

Two men turned toward her, and evidently, Caley knew my type better than I did, since either of the men would have fallen into the fantasy category.

“I’m so glad y’all came,” Brandon said.

Caley gave one of her pageant smiles. “We’re glad you asked us to come.”

“You must be Tess.”

I glanced toward hunk number two. He held the typical all-American look—brown hair, blue-eyed, charming smile, and with his dimple, I suspected he could woo his way into anyone’s bed. Maybe even mine if he played his cards right tonight.

“I’m Trent.”

“Nice to meet you.” I ogled his trim body and handsome face and caught sight of the big white D on his navy-blue hat. “You play for Detroit?”

He nodded. “Both Brandon and I do. We were lucky enough to get a little time off to see the family.”

“Figures, Detroit sucks,” the ghost said.

I smiled, keeping my focus on Trent, ignoring the annoyingly sexy voice by my ear.

“Come on, let’s go get a drink.” Caley wrapped her arm in Brandon’s and approached the bouncer. If one good thing came from her charismatic pushy attitude, she’d always been quite the social butterfly. No one, including me, ever said no to her.

“Did you grow up here in Memphis?” I asked Trent.

“Born and raised.”

Seemed as if he wanted to say more, but Caley interrupted with her typical impatient yell. “Come on, y’all.”

I glanced over my shoulder to find her waving her hands. “We’ve been summoned.”

Trent chuckled.

I strode past the irritated crowd, who didn’t have a Caley in their group to push their way through. Entering the bar, loud country music, accompanied by hoots and hollers, rang out around me. The stench of sweat made my nose crinkle. Caley pointed to a table across the way and I maneuvered through the partygoers, following her.

At the table, Trent held out a stool and gestured for me to sit. He sure played his cards right to a royal flush. I slid onto the stool, and he asked, “What’s your drink?”

“A cold beer sounds great.”

He winked. “My kind of lady.”

The boys headed to the bar. I glanced over at Caley, who bounced up and down on her seat in excitement. “I did good, right?”

I nodded, not at all ashamed to give her props for her choice. “He’s not only sexy as sin, but a gentleman too. You did great.”

The ghost snorted.

I’d forgotten all about him and had hoped he wouldn’t follow me into the bar. Nothing would ruin my excitement now. A long time had passed since I’d met anyone worth meeting. The ghost wouldn’t put a damper on my fun.

Within minutes, Trent and Brandon returned to the table with four beers in hand. I claimed a bottle, took a long sip and sighed in happiness. After the day I had, the beer comforted me. The alcohol refreshed the senses, revived the mood and removed the tension sitting heavy on my shoulders.

Trent grinned. “Looks like you needed a drink.”

I licked the dribble of beer from my lips. “I’ve been craving a beer all day long.” I set the bottle onto the table. “So, tell me, what’s it like to play baseball as a pro?”

I’ve never regretted saying words more in my life. One question led to a twenty-minute conversation I wished I’d never instigated. Caley, the traitor, had vanished onto the dance floor with Brandon, which left me with the pompous stud.

“I’ve grown as a player…” Trent went on.

“This guy is a fucking joke,” the ghost said.

I almost turned my head to nod, but of course refrained. I continued to listen to Trent’s words without truly hearing what he had to say. I merely muttered “yeah” or “cool” when appropriate.

“If I were him, I would’ve skipped the conversation all together and had you back in my bed the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He did not just say that! My stomach leapt up into my throat and my body warmed in places that shouldn’t from a ghost. He’d only said words—not used soft touches to entice me—but the way his voice carried into my soul, the effect had been similar to sweet caresses. “The coach has been pleased…”

The ghost’s tone dropped an octave. “I wouldn’t have wasted the time with small talk. I would’ve used my mouth to learn my way around your luscious curves and used your responses to tell me about the woman you are.”

I squirmed on the stool in an attempt to ignore the soft purr of his voice sending shivers down my spine. I even leaned in further toward Trent and tried to concentrate on his boring conversation.

“After I tasted your sweet skin and saw your desperation for more, I would kiss your mouth until your lips were rosy and swollen. I’d deepen the kiss by tangling my fingers through your hair and holding you close to feel all of me.”

I gulped, crossed my legs and squeezed them tight. He’s a ghost! Nothing that involved him should arouse me. But the pulse between my thighs declared he held the power to make me undone.

“I’d kiss my way along your jaw while I lowered my hand to trail along your stomach. Then I would seek to discover all those little places that make you squirm.”

He ran his finger from below my ear all the way to my nape. His touch forced my eyes closed. A cold shiver danced along my skin to leave goose bumps in its wake. Wild sensations stole my logical mind. My will to ignore him plummeted.

“Tess,” Caley shouted.

I opened my eyes, and after taking a moment to focus, I discovered not only Caley staring at me, but Trent and Brandon too.

She frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”

I shook my head and released the breath stuck in my throat, which came out in a slow wisp of air. “Nothing—I’m fine.”

“I’d lower myself between those luscious legs of yours, tempting you and teasing you. I’d stare into those pretty green eyes of yours until they widened in pleasure.”

“You’re not fine,” Caley retorted. “Your face is bright red.”

“I’d wait until your hips arched toward me and begged me to take you. Then, and only then, would I give you what you desire.”

I grabbed my beer, took a big swig and a couple more. All eyes stared at me with blatant confusion. Part of me wanted to move away, while the other needed to hear more.

“Ah, Tess,” Caley whispered. “Seriously, are you okay?”

I paid my obvious inappropriate behavior no attention. The fantasy the ghost built in my mind needed to have a conclusion. “Yes. Yes. I’m good.”

“I would thrust against you, demanding you react to my intentions. You’d scream out and I would echo the sound with a moan of my own, as I used all my strength to satisfy you.”

Caley chuckled nervously.

I gripped the edge of the table in front of me and held on tight.

“You’d come into your orgasm because I’d leave you with no other choice. But I wouldn’t stop there.” He ran his finger along my exposed lower back and the coldness against my hot skin made me shiver. “Without giving you the chance to recover, I’d flip you over on your knees,” his tone dipped lower, “and fuck you senseless.”

I shot up from my seat, which caused the stool to slam back into the person behind me, who swore in return. “I have to go.”

Caley nodded. “Ah yeah, I think you do.”

Without another word—or a goodbye to the living men or the dead one who had got me all hot and bothered—I bolted from the bar and ran so hard my calves burned, reminding me of the three-inch heels strapped to my feet.

The ghost didn’t follow me and nothing pleased me more. I needed some space, time to return to reality or to pleasure the need out of me—either would do.

Within only a few minutes, I arrived at my condominium, which appeared more like an old textile factory, but inside were renovated modern apartments. The arousal burning inside me hadn’t vanished. The wetness between my thighs was a constant reminder of the ghost’s words.

I ran up the stairs while I took my keys out from my back pocket. At the thick mahogany wooden door, I raised my key pass to the scanner, grabbed the chrome door handle and swung it open.

Just three doors down, I opened the door to my condo before slamming it closed behind me. I didn’t bother to lock the door and did the only thing I thought of now. I sprinted to the bedroom, stripped out of my clothes and finished the fantasy the ghost had built in my mind.

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Friday, May 6, 2011

SOMETHING IN THE COFFEE by Rose Maybud

SOMETHING IN THE COFFEE by Rose Maybud

Eileen knows her fiancé, Alex, is always feeling sorry for the downtrodden assistants at their law firm - and she's worried that he cares more about them than he does about her. But when Alex plans to spike the office coffeepot with a potion that will make everyone nicer to each other, should Eileen play the supportive future spouse, or tell him he's gone too far?

Eileen is convinced that no amount of hocus-pocus could make senior law partners Ann and Duke stop their noisy quarrels. Or change the way sexy, ambitious executive assistant Zoe thinks about laid-back Kevin, the IT guy. Or help timid Connie get a date with her boss, Roger, who's too shy to admit he's attracted to her.

Then the potion actually works...much too well!

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An Excerpt From: SOMETHING IN THE COFFEE

Copyright © ROSE MAYBUD, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One



They were at it again. Angry treble shrieks and furious bass bellows bounced off the dark wood-paneled walls and pinged against the Chippendale-style reception desk before disappearing into the plush pile of the lobby’s Persian rug.

Alex Poindextre stopped just inside the law firm’s front door and sighed. At least there weren’t any clients around yet. He still had time to do his peacemaking thing.

He straightened his tie, the red silk one that Eileen had given him. First things first. He needed coffee before dealing with the two combatants. Part stimulant, part social lubricant, and occasional meal replacement, coffee was the beverage of choice for the staff and attorneys at Sangazure and Poindextre, LLP. A brief flirtation with green tea, championed by Alex himself in an effort to promote the health of his coworkers, was quickly dropped after a near-mutiny by caffeine-deprived personnel. A pity it never caught on, although he had to admit he thought more clearly after his morning cup of joe.

He strode across the muted reds and golds of the rug, heading for the paneled hallway that led to the kitchen area.

In the small kitchen, a woman in a lime green sweater stopped wiping down the counter long enough to send him a friendly smile. Zoe Partlett, Marmaduke Poindextre’s executive assistant. Most of the other lawyers never bothered to learn the names of the support staff. A tactical error on their parts. Human resources experts agreed that employees were happier and more productive when treated as if deserving of equal respect.

To prove his point, Alex smiled back.

Zoe blinked and her smile broadened. Then she bent her head and scrubbed hard at a stain on the counter. There. Just a hint of camaraderie and the employee demonstrated a willingness to do even the simplest task to the best of her ability.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and smiled again at the administrative assistant. “So, Zoe. How’s Uncle Duke treating you?”

She straightened up and ran both hands down the sides of her brown skirt. “Fine. It’s so nice of you to ask, Alex. Aren’t you working on one of your uncle’s cases right now? So in a way, I guess we’re working together—”

Her comment was cut off as Justin Pender, the firm’s star litigator, elbowed his way in front of her. He grabbed the coffeepot, sloshing the black brew into a disposable cup. After downing a swallow, the other attorney flung a cosmetically enhanced smile at Alex.

“Morning, Poindextre.”

Alex nodded curtly. Among the male attorneys in the firm, Pender was known as The Face. Tall, athletically fit, with smooth dark hair and gray eyes set under eyebrows that quirked upward in the middle, Pender used his carefully tended good looks on juries and women and usually got what he wanted.

Zoe beamed at The Face. “Good morning, Mr. Pender. How have you—”

Pender never noticed her hovering hopefully behind him. Caffeine acquired, he turned on his heel and charged toward the door. Alex winced as he watched them collide. Coffee splashed out of the cup and onto the green sweater. She yelped.

“Watch out, damn it,” the litigator growled.

She stepped back, wobbling as she tried to balance on a pair of brown high heels. Pender dodged around her and disappeared down the hall without a backward glance. Alex caught her just before she fell.

“You okay? Asshole practically knocked you on your butt.”

Zoe bit her lip as she brushed at the coffee stain. “Guess he was in a hurry.”

He shook his head. “That’s no excuse.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed someone mistreating a coworker. The lawyers were the worst, but not the only ones. The offenses ranged from the smallest discourtesy to blatant rudeness. A new partner loading his assistant down with extra work and going off to play golf. Paralegals refusing to share important case information with administrative assistants, and then blaming the assistants when deadlines were missed. Employees of all ranks verbally abusing the tech support people. The ill-will was spreading throughout the office, and he was damn sick and tired of it.

“I’ll have a talk with him.”

Zoe caught his arm, her cheeks pink. “No, don’t. I mean, what’s the use? He just didn’t see me.”

He stared at her. “How could he not see you? He saw me.”

“Well, yeah.” She tilted her head to one side. “You’re a lawyer.”

That sucked. Alex put one arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick, impersonal squeeze.

“Feeling better?” Ann and Uncle Duke weren’t going to like this. They had strong opinions about prima donna lawyers in their firm. That was to say, their opinion was that Sangazure and Poindextre already had the full complement of prima donna lawyers, namely, the two of them. He smiled at her. “Don’t worry. He won’t get away with it.”

She still looked upset, so he hugged her again.

“Who won’t get away with it?” A tall, cool blonde stood in the kitchen doorway, wearing a charcoal gray suit that skimmed her elegant curves. Her arms were folded tightly across her breasts, and her finely drawn face wore an expression that could have frozen nitrogen.

Alex’s arm was still draped around Zoe’s shoulders. He removed it. “Morning, honey. That damn Pender practically knocked Zoe here on her ass, spilled coffee all over her. Then he acted like it was her fault.”

Eileen Sangazure’s expression didn’t warm up. Not even by one degree.

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