I BRAKE FOR BAD BOYS by Lori Foster

I BRAKE FOR BAD BOYS by Lori Foster

Some men are mad, bad, and dangerous to know. But who would want them any other way?

Drive Me Wild
New York Times Bestselling Author Lori Foster

Erica Lee is used to having the upper hand in work and in love. But most men are intimidated by her. When friends dare her to find a sex slave to fulfill her every whim, Erica sets her sights on handsome, mischievous Ian Conrad, who’s about to turn the tables on her…

Touch Me
New York Times Bestselling Author Shannon McKenna

Massage therapist Tess Langley prefers to down play her beauty and focus on her work. Until gorgeous Jonah Markham offers her an outrageous sum of money to tend to guests at his mountain hideaway. Though he’s promised to be a good boy, she has no idea just how good he can be…

Something Wilde
USA Today Bestselling Author Janelle Denison

Jill Richardson vowed never to mix business with pleasure. But that was before devastatingly handsome Eric Wilde and his promise that at work they’ll be professional–but after hours, anything goes…

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Book Excerpt

Drive Me Wild

She'd gotten herself into a pickle this time.

Too distracted to work, Erica Lee slouched back in her office chair and blew her bangs out of her face. Who would have thought that uptight Asia and ultra-shy Becky would have followed through on the dares? Erica sure hadn't. But with only a little prodding both of them had traipsed right over there and done the unexpected.

It boggled the mind, it surely did.

Now her turn had rolled around and hey, it wasn't that she had anything against porn shops or fantasies or the like. But where the hell did they expect her to find a man who wouldn't be a pain in the patoot?

Of course, for them it had turned out great. That is, if one considered marriage great. Erica was still undecided on that particular point. Then again, footloose and fancy-free wasn't really working for her either.

She winced over that sad truth.

In the next second her office door slammed open with startling force. She jumped a foot and almost fell out of her rolling chair. She was alone in the office, and in fact, the entire floor was deserted while employees attended some meeting that she'd managed to opt out of. She'd been so lost in thought she hadn't even heard anyone approaching.

Holding a hand to her heart and ready to blast the noisy offender, Erica looked up - and up some more until she fell headlong into the mesmerizing midnight gaze of none other than Ian Conrad.

Oh boy. Her heartbeat didn't calm with recognition. Nope. If anything, it tripped even faster. Ian was just so... so male.

Hot around the collar and sweaty, clad in blue jeans, a dirty cambric work shirt and scuffed lace-up black boots, Ian epitomized all that was man. He wasn't particularly handsome, at least not in the classical sense, but that didn't lessen his impact one bit.

His features were bold with a strong straight high-bridged nose, a powerful chin, and high, harshly carved cheekbones. His eyes were the darkest blue and piercing in intensity - the type of eyes that froze a woman to the spot whenever he directed his attention on her. His dark brown hair was more straight than not, a little shaggy and unkempt.

Bracing his long thick legs apart, he filled the doorway - and then some.

Well well. Quiet, masterful, impossible-to-ignore Ian. Erica raised a brow, wondering what had put him in such a temper when in the past she'd never seen him so much as frown - even when she'd deliberately provoked him.

Unlike most of the men she knew, Ian was always calm and always firmly in control - of himself and everyone around him.

Not that she'd ever let him control her. "I've witnessed more polite entries."

She'd meant to be a smart-ass, of course, but her attitude got snagged in her throat when Ian took two long heavy strides to her desk, braced strong, lean hands flat on the surface, and bent down - way down - until his nose nearly touched hers.

Good Lord, she could see every eyelash surrounding those mesmerizing eyes, feel his warm breath against her lips and smell his raw, potent scent.

"I know exactly what you're up to, Erica."

Her eyes widened over that gravel-deep voice that seemed to sink right into her bones. Combined with the heat of his gaze, his rough tone was impossible to misunderstand. It was that man to woman tone, and sexual awareness rolled over her. Feeling helpless, she asked, "You do?"

"Damn right." His mouth appeared tight with annoyance, but still sexy. "Your buddy George was more than willing to spell it out."

Her gaze snapped back to his. "George spoke to you?" With Becky as a best friend, and George as Becky's fiancé, she supposed he could be considered a buddy. That is, unless he'd done something to irk her - and given Ian's unusual mood, it sounded like he might have.

In that case, Erica would have George's hide.

"No, he didn't speak to me. And that's most of the problem right there."

Ian's disgruntled scowl was dark enough to make grown men tremble. No wonder he kept it under wraps in polite company. Not that Erica intended to tremble in front of him. Later, when she was away from him and remembering how close he'd gotten and how delicious he smelled, she might shake a little. But no way would she let him know he affected her that much.

"Well, if George didn't speak to you, then..?" She let the sentence hang, waiting for him to explain.

"He didn't. But he did tell a couple of other guys what you have planned at that damn porn shop."

Erica's mouth fell open. It took a lot to shock her, and this definitely qualified. She sputtered a moment before finding her voice. "Why, that miserable rat!"

Ian straightened, studied her a second more and then waved away her indignation. "Forget that. Hell, the whole factory knows what you and Asia and Becky have been up to so it's hardly a secret."

She'd just gotten her mouth shut when it dropped open again. "They don't!"

"You're not naïve, Erica. You know something like that can't be kept quiet. Hell, I'd be surprised if all of Cuther doesn't know about it."

Erica shot out of her chair to pace. She, Asia and Becky had made a deal when the new porn shop, Wild Honey, had opened up in their miserably quiet hometown of Cuther , Indiana . They were each to visit the somewhat titillating establishment with a specific fantasy in mind. As soon as they spotted a man shopping for wares that indicated a similar interest, they had to ask him out.

Asia had gotten off easy when Cameron overheard the initial discussion as well as the fantasy she'd claimed. Without letting on, he'd visited the shop on the right day at the right time and he'd specifically purchased items that would draw Asia to him, as per the dare. Since Cameron had already been half in love with Asia , one thing had led to another and they'd quickly advanced from making love to making wedding plans.

Then Cameron had played big brother and helped set Becky up so she got exactly what she was looking for too - in both her fantasy and her male choice. George had been something of a surprise, but Erica liked him. Or at least she had before he let the cat out of bag. Now she wasn't so sure.

Becky and George were currently shopping for engagement rings while Asia and Cameron had just tied the knot. As the only unattached female still in their circle, that left Erica out in the cold. Not that she wanted to be married, because she didn't. No sir. Huh uh.

It didn't matter that George and Cameron made it look so damn appealing with the way they catered to Becky and Asia and kept them both smiling like lovesick saps. Hell, these days it was downright nauseating to be around any of them, they all walked around in such a vacuous fog of romantic bliss.

Fuming, Erica whirled around to face Ian. "Who did George tell it to?"

"I don't know and I don't care."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" She didn't exactly mean to screech, but there were only around two hundred workers at the factory and everyone pretty much recognized everyone else. "What department do they work in?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I didn't see them, Erica. I was in the ceiling wiring the lights when they walked in. They didn't even know I was there and I didn't care to announce myself."

"Never mind then." She started to go around him. "I'll find out." And when she did, she'd...

Blocking the door, Ian crossed his massive arms over his wide chest and glared at her. "It doesn't matter who they are because you're not meeting up with either one of them."

Erica drew to an indignant halt. She hadn't planned to go anywhere with either of the men, but oh boy, Ian's tone was guaranteed to get her back up. She knew him well enough since they worked in the same company and their paths often crossed. They chatted regularly, too, especially when he'd rewired her office, but then, she chatted with all the men.

Unfortunately, she was more aware of Ian than the others. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something about him just really got to her - and she didn't like that. She didn't want to be drawn to him, but how could she not? When Ian was around, his personality was so quietly dominant that every other guy faded into the woodwork.

Regardless of all that, there was no way in hell she'd let Ian or any other man dictate to her.

Holding his steady gaze, she stalked closer toward him, her stride as long as her leather mini skirt would allow. "I'll see them, and a dozen other men, if that's what I want to do."

"No." He stared down at her from his lofty height. "You'll see me."

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UNWRAPPED by Erin McCarthy, Donna Kauffman, and Kate Angell

UNWRAPPED - A Christmas Anthology

From the streets of Chicago to the back roads of Kentucky to the wild dunes of a Scottish isle, mistletoe and mischief are this season's hottest gifts...

BLUE CHRISTMAS by New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy

While a blizzard blankets the world outside, Blue Farrow burrows into the arms of her highway hunk at the No Tell Motel. The road might be closed for dangerous conditions, but the couple navigates their own Kentucky Christmas curves. Nice and oh-so-naughty, Blue and her man open up to each other as they keep the Yule log burning.

SANTA IN A KILT by USA Today bestselling author Donna Kauffman

The wind-whipped December sands of the isle of Kinloch invigorate Kira McLeod as she sets out to tame rugged Shay Callaghan, a Scottish bachelor as wary of a wedding ring as a snowman is of the hot sun. It'll take all the wiles of the canny islanders to weave a perfect Celtic Christmas for all.

SNOW ANGEL by National bestselling author Kate Angell

Snowed under in Chicago, free spirit Allie is trapped in Dutton's department store on Christmas Eve when the lights go off and the holiday romance heats up. Our snow angel finds herself face to face with the dashing Aiden, the heir to the retail riches and her host for a night of winter wonder.
 

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Chapter One

"Santa can suck it." Blue Farrow kept an eye on the highway and tried to hit the buttons on the radio to change the station. She was going to grind her teeth down to nubs if she had to listen to Christmas songs for another twelve hours. It was like an IV drip of sugar and spice and it was making her cranky.

Was she the only one who thought a fat dude hanging around on your roof was a bit creepy? And why were those elves so happy in that Harry Connick Jr. song? Rum in the eggnog, that's why. Not to mention since when did three ships ever go pulling straight up to Bethlehem? She wasn't aware it was a major port city.

Yep. She was feeling in total harmony with Scrooge. "Bah, Humbug," she muttered when her only options on the radio seemed to be all Christmas all the time or pounding rap music.

Blue had never been a big fan of Christmas, never having experienced a normal one in her childhood since her flaky mother (yes, flaky considering she'd named her daughter after a color) had done Christmas experimental style every year, never the same way twice, disregarding any of her daughter's requests. The trend on feeling tacked onto her parents' Christmas had continued into Blue's adulthood, and this year she had been determined to have a great holiday all on her terms, booking herself on a cruise with her two equally single friends. She had turned down her mother's invitation to spend the holiday with an indigenous South American tribe and her father's request to join him with his barely legal wife and their baby girl, and instead she was going to sip cocktails in a bikini.

Maybe.

The road in front of her was barely visible, the snow crashing down with pounding determination, the highway slick and ominous, the hours ticking by as Blue barely made progress in the treacherous conditions. Planning to drive to Miami from Ohio instead of flying had been a financial decision and would give Blue the chance to make a pit stop in Tennessee and visit her old friend from high school, but the only thing heading south at the moment was her vacation. It was Christmas Eve, her cruise ship departed in twenty hours, and she'd only made a hundred miles in six hours, the blizzard swirling around her mocking the brilliance of her plan as she drove through the middle of nowhere Kentucky.

She was going to have to stop in Lexington and see if she could catch a flight to Miami, screw the cost. Not that planes would be taking off in this weather, but maybe by morning. If she flew out first thing, she could be in Florida in plenty of time for her four o'clock sail time. All she had to do was make it to Lexington without losing her sanity from being pummeled with schmaltzy Christmas carols or without losing control of her car in the snow.

When she leaned over and hit the radio again and found the Rolling Stones she nearly wept in gratitude. Classic rock she could handle.

But not her car. As the highway unexpectedly curved and dipped, she fishtailed in the thick snow.

Blue only managed a weak, "Oh, crap," before she gripped the hell out of the wheel and slid sideways down the pavement, wanting to scream, but unable to make a sound.

She was going to die.

If there hadn't been anyone else on the road, she might have managed to regain control. But there was no stopping the impact when she swung into the lane next to her, right in the path of an SUV. She wasn't the only idiot on the road and now they were going to die together.

Blue closed her eyes and hoped there were bikinis and margaritas in the afterlife.


Santa was the man. Christian Dawes sang along to the radio at the top of his lungs, the song reminding him of his childhood, when he had listened carefully on Christmas Eve for the telltale sound of reindeer paws. Tossing the trail mix out for the reindeer to chomp on, putting the cookies on a plate for Santa, the magic and wonder and awe of waking up to a ton of presents, those were some of his best memories.

Someday when he had his own kids, he'd create all of those special moments for them, but right now Christian was content to play awesome uncle, arriving on Christmas Eve loaded down with presents for all his nieces and nephews. His trunk was stuffed with spoils, and he'd brought enough candy to earn glares from his two sisters and potentially make someone sick. But it wasn't Christmas until a kid stuffed his face with candy then hurled after a session on the sit and spin. That's what home videos and infamous family stories were made of.

Unfortunately the lousy weather was slowing him down on his drive from Cincinnati to Lexington. He'd left work later than he'd intended anyway, then by the time he'd hit Kentucky, he'd been forced down to thirty miles an hour because apparently the road crews had taken the holiday off and had decided not to plow. He hoped his family wasn't holding up dinner for him at his parents' house.

If he wasn't gripping the steering wheel so hard he would call someone and let them know he still had a couple of hours ahead of him, but he had no intention of reaching for his phone. A glance to the right showed a car next to him, but other than that, he could barely see the road in front of him. He needed Santa to dip down and give him a lift in his sleigh or it was going to be midnight before he arrived.

What he didn't need was a car accident.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the car next to him slide, spinning out so fast that Christian only had time to swear and tap his brakes before he hit the car with a crunch and they went careening towards the guardrail. When his SUV stopped moving a few seconds later, despite his efforts to turn the skid, he had the other car pinned against the railing.

"Shit!" Christian turned off his car and leaped out, almost taking a header in the thick snow, but terrified that he'd injured someone. "Are you okay?" he asked, yelling through the howling snow as he peered into the driver's side window.

The major impact of his SUV's front end had been in the backseat and trunk, so he hoped if there was an injury it wasn't serious. But with the snow smacking him in the face and the window plastered with wet flakes, he couldn't really see anything.

He knocked on the glass and when it started to slide down, he sighed in relief.

"Are you okay?" he said again now that the person in front of him could hear him.

"Are you okay?" she said simultaneously.

He nodded.

She nodded.

And Christian became aware that he was staring at the most strikingly beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his whole life.



Chapter Two

Blue sat in her car chest heaving, nodding rapidly to the man staring at her in concern as she tried to calm down. She was alive. Not dead. Everything on her body was intact and she had no pain.
"I'm fine. God, that was scary. I'm sorry, it was my fault, I skidded."

He leaned forward into the window, his face coming inches from hers. "Say that again, the wind is really howling."

"I said I'm sorry," she repeated loudly, suddenly aware that the guy she'd collided with was damn cute.

Wearing a knit winter hat and a camel colored jacket, he looked very rugged and outdoorsy, his chin sporting some scruff that matched the color of his coat. He had deep brown eyes and when his mouth spread into a grin, he had a warm, crooked smile.

"Well, you don't have to yell at me," he said, tone teasing.

Blue felt her heart rate returning to normal and at his words she felt her shoulders drop in relief. She laughed. "Okay, I'll leave that to your wife."

It was a comment she would have made to any man under the circumstances, but she had to admit she was a little curious what his answer would be.

"No wife. No girlfriend. No one at all to yell at me."

Yes. Not that it mattered. At all. But she could hear the flirt creeping into her voice. "Then I guess this was a thrill for you."

He laughed. "Totally. I'm going to move my car then we'll just have to back yours up, okay? Let's see if we can get you back on the road."

Right. The car accident. The fact that he was standing in the middle of a blizzard. Her crunched vehicle. Those were relevant. Not his dimples or broad shoulders.

"Okay."

"Wait for me to move before you try to back up."

Blue became aware that her teeth were chattering. "Got it." As soon as he walked away, she rolled her window back up and turned up the heat. She wasn't wearing a coat and it was finger-numbing, nipple-raising cold outside.

For a split second as he pulled his SUV back onto the road in front of her, heading in the correct direction, Blue wondered if he would just take off and leave her there. But her cynicism, while well honed, didn't even last a full minute before it was obvious he was walking back to her car, pulling gloves onto his hands. His bottom half, which hadn't been visible before, was just as hot as the top. Those were nice jeans, hugging in the right places.

Blue hoped there would be a multitude of smoking hot guys on the cruise because her sex drive had kicked into high gear for whatever reason.

"Okay, try to back up and I'll guide you," he said when she rolled her window back down.

She did, and her tires just spun in the snow. "Damn." She leaned her head out. "How deep is it?"

"Pretty deep. And you can't rock it because you're halfway through the guardrail. If you accelerate too hard you could go off the cliff."

Yeah, no thanks. Blue frowned at her steering wheel. This complicated things. She tried to reverse again, but her car spun ominously to the left.

"You need to get out of the car. This is looking dangerous. We'll call you a tow."

Leave it to her to screw up a vacation by nearly driving off a cliff. Turning her car off, silencing John Lennon mid-lament, she grabbed her purse and her jacket and pushed the door open. She wasn't wearing appropriate shoes. She had wanted to be comfortable so she was wearing zebra print ballet flats with jeans, a vintage Motley Crue T-shirt and a funky red scarf. Her jacket was a thin black velvet designed for indoor use more so than out. This was going to suck. A lot. Much more than listening to Santa and his ho ho hos.

The wind slapped her in the face as she pulled on her jacket and tried to button it. After a few seconds, she realized it was futile and tried not to whimper as snow cascaded over her mostly bare feet. Her nose instantly froze, her shoulders hunched in revolt, and her jeans decided at that moment to slid down, allowing her midriff to be pummeled by wet fat flakes.

At least her companion was looking at her in sympathy. "Come sit in my car while we call somebody."

By the time they hiked the twenty feet to his car and Blue slid into the passenger seat, her mouth was stuck open as little gasps of horror escaped. Her entire body felt like someone had repeatedly stabbed her with a million sharp pins. Her companion had turned his car off in the interim so it wasn't really any warmer than it was outside, but at least there was no wind and no snow smacking her in the face and torturing her feet. She stomped her shoes to remove the excess snow and tried not to whimper.

He cranked on the car and the heat and looked at her. "Is that the only jacket you have?"

She nodded.

"Shoes?"

"This is it unless I want to change into flip-flops. I'm going on a cruise. I didn't want a bunch of winter stuff with me." Blue touched her nose. It was still there, despite her not being able to feel it.

"Here." He leaned into the backseat and rifled through a bag. He emerged with two wool socks. "Put these on."

They were like crack to the addict, dangling in front of Blue, as tantalizing as a winning lottery ticket. But it seemed really weird to take socks from a stranger. "Don't you need these?"

"They're just socks. I can get more." He gave her a look of amusement. "Just put them on. You look like a Popsicle. But a cute one."

That made a certain body part unthaw slightly. "Thanks." As she kicked her ballet flats off and bent her knee so she could drag on one of the thick socks, she added, "I'm Blue, by the way."

"What?" He looked at her, his expression one of confusion. "Don't worry, you'll warm up. I don't think you're at risk for hypothermia yet."

Blue laughed. "No. I mean, I'm Blue. That's my name." She abandoned the sock for a minute and stuck out her hand to him. "Blue Mariposa Farrow. Pleased to meet you."

Understanding hit Christian and he felt like a first-class idiot. "Oh, shit, sorry. I'm Christian Dawes. Nice to meet you too, though I wouldn't have minded better circumstances."

"No kidding. And don't worry about not catching my name. I'm well aware it's unusual. My mom was going for unique and lovely territory, but she just landed in weird."

Blue went back to struggling with his sock, and as Christian watched her long and elegant fingers, and took in that wide smile below her high cheekbones, he thought that the name actually suited her. She had black hair with blunt bangs, the sides angling down past her chin. Her eyes had dark shadow on them and her fingernails were painted a deep blue. There was something very edgy yet playful about her appearance and her expressions. He'd only spent ten minutes with her and he could already see that she emoted with exaggerated facial expressions. She did the eyebrow arch, the head tilt, and a whole variety of movements with her lips.

Lips that he wouldn't mind being on his.

"It's definitely a unique name, but it's actually very pretty. Mariposa is butterfly in Spanish, isn't it?"

"Yes." Blue finished with the socks and sighed. "Ah, that feels good. And if you think Blue Butterfly is a pretty name for a grown woman you're smoking something and I don't mean a Marlboro. It's a corny name. But I'm used to being Blue." She did a fake drumroll on her knees and grinned. "Ba dum dum."

Christian laughed. "Well, I guess my parents went for the obvious. My sisters' names are Mary and Elizabeth. I think if they could have gotten away with naming me Jesus they would have."

"See, my mom would have just gone for it. So be grateful."

He was perfectly content sitting in his warm car staring at her, but Blue pulled her cell phone out of her purse.

"I better call someone if I hope to ever get out of here."

Right. Her wrecked car. Christian picked his phone up out of the cup holder, figuring he should call his family and warn them of the delay. Except he had no bars on his cell phone. He tried to call his mom anyway but it didn't do anything. "Is your phone working?"

Blue was frowning at her own cell phone and holding it up in the air. "No. Damn, this could be a problem."

"It must be the hill messing things up." They had slid to a stop nestled in a curve where the highway had been carved out of a steep hill. Given the curve and the incline, it was no wonder Blue had lost control in the piled-up snow. Christian rolled down his window and stuck his phone out, hoping miraculously it would start working. It didn't.

"Where are we? Are we close to an exit? I guess I'll have to walk."

Christian dropped his phone back down and hit the button to put his window back up. Then he shot the woman next to him an incredulous look. "Are you crazy? You can't walk in this. And if you think for one minute that I would let you walk in this, then you have another think coming. It's probably two miles to the next exit and you're half naked."

"I'm not half-naked!" Her face scrunched up. Okay, maybe that had been melodramatic but he was appalled at the thought of her walking in a blizzard with a velvet jacket without gloves and those stupid girl shoes that exposed the tops of her feet. Sexy, yes, practical, no.

"Well, you're certainly not dressed for taking a stroll in a snowstorm. And I would be a complete jerk if I let you do that. I can drive you to the exit, it's no problem."

Her mouth opened like she was going to argue, but then she just nodded. "Okay, thanks, I appreciate it."

"I'm going to run back and grab your suitcase. You might be stuck in town in a motel overnight before they can tow your car." Seeing her about to protest, Christian argued, "And before you say you can do it, just let me do it. I'm wearing boots."

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BAD BOYS OF SUMMER by Lori Foster, Erin McCarthy and Amy Garvey

BAD BOYS OF SUMMER

Lazy days. . .sultry nights. . .and sizzling guys with rippling muscles doing what they do best . . .

Luscious by Lori Foster

Bethany Churchill just quit her lousy job, dumped her lousy boyfriend and moved into a new apartment. She's not looking for love, but her hot new landlord, SWAT officer Lucius Ryder, aka "Luscious," is determined to change her mind. Before long, Bethany is tempted to find out if he's really as delicious as his nickname. . .

It's About Time by Erin McCarthy

County prosecutor Trish Jones has had it with smooth-talking, under-performing suits. And though she's never had a thing for big, brawny guys, one look at Caleb Vancouver makes her think she might have been missing out. One Harley ride later they're back at her place, and she realizes she has been missing out. . .on quite a lot. . .

Wish You Were Here by Amy Garvey

Photographer Mackenzie Pruitt knows exactly what she wants her future to look like, and this summer that means renovating a dilapidated shed into a studio. But when hunky carpenter Leo Dawson shows up, she'd much rather have his capable hands on her than on a hammer. . .

"A Lori Foster book is like a glass of good champagne—sexy and sparkling." -Jayne Ann Krentz

"McCarthy will have you giggling on page one, fanning yourself by page twenty-five and rooting for the hero and heroine the whole way through" -Romantic Times Book Reviews

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Excerpt from It's About Time by Erin McCarthy

“Is there something wrong with me? Do I have a sign on my behind that says Lie To Me?” Trish asked in exasperation.

She pushed the ashtray in front of her to the side and marveled at how morose she was being. This kind of thing didn’t usually bother her. Life went on, with or without men, and thankfully, she’d never actually been emotionally hurt before, just annoyed. But lately she was getting lonely and while good for many things, a computer couldn’t carry a conversation or sexually satisfy her. Okay, if you wanted to get technical it probably could do both in a roundabout sort of way, but it just wasn’t the same. She wanted to hear someone breathing next to her when she had a… conversation, and she didn’t think that was too much to ask, damn it.

“You just intimidate men, that’s all.” Joe turned to deliver the drinks to customers, leaving Trish to ponder that. Intimidation was all about power, something she appreciated.

Intimidation was good in the courtroom, but not the bedroom. She’d never thought her sex life- if she could remember that far back- was lacking in anything. But put in those terms, she wondered if she had ever really had a relationship with a man where they weren’t both scrambling for control.

On nights like tonight, when Trish was alone, and her friends were all cuddled up with their men, she couldn’t help but feel a little tinge of something.

God, she was actually jealous. How small.

Joe bustled back and offered her a glass of wine but she shook her head. “Just a water, please.” She didn’t want an innocent glass of wine. Nor was she certain she could stop at one or two drinks of the hard stuff, not when her defenses were feeling as weak as they were tonight. And getting drunk alone was the adult equivalent of being the last kid picked for the dodge ball team in grade school. Sad. Better to stick to water.

“Shake it off, babe, you know you’re hot stuff.”

The drinks were so-so at Ryan’s Pub but it was nice to see a familiar face, nice to hear Jake’s staunch support. Trish had been wandering in this pub off and on for five years, and hung out with her girlfriends there twice a month after their bowling night. “You know what, Joe? I don’t feel like shaking it off. I want to feel sorry for myself tonight.”

Maybe she wasn’t justified. After all, she had a budding career as county prosecutor of domestic violence, a great apartment, and good hair. But men didn’t seem to appreciate any of those things. She didn’t think she was asking too much. It wasn’t like she expected comfortable pantyhose to be invented. She just wanted a nice guy, loyal, honest, friendly.

She supposed she could get a dog.

But Kindra and Mack’s yappy poodle annoyed the hell out of her. A lizard was more her style.

“If you’re going to feel sorry for yourself, slide on down the bar and join my buddy Caleb there. He’s having a hell of a pity party tonight.”

Without much interest, she glanced over. A guy was propping his head up with a massive muscular arm, and trying to sip his beer without lifting his head. Moisture from the bottle dribbled onto the bar and his arm, and he made a halfhearted swipe at it. A quick count showed six empty bottles in front of him.

Now there was a winner. Hold her back.

“Do you know him?” she asked Joe, hoping she didn’t look that pathetic. This guy looked like he’d set down some serious roots in Loserville.

“Yeah, I’ve known him for more than fifteen years. We played ball in high school together and he’s a good friend.” Joe leaned on the counter, moving closer to her, and kept his voice low. “He never drinks.”

The six bottles hadn’t emptied themselves. “Could of fooled me.”

“I’m serious. But tomorrow his ex-wife is getting married. He’s celebrating by getting shit-faced.”

Trish forgot to clench her toes, and her shoe fell to the floor. “That does not look like a man who is celebrating.”

Joe stood back up. “I know. Looks like he’s feeling sorry for himself to me. But that’s what he said- that he’s celebrating.”

This was not a man who was about a blow a party horn and throw some ticker tape. If he called this celebrating she’d hate to see sulking. “Did you know his wife? Was she a bitch or something?”

Trish would lay down five bucks she was. The ex was probably a busty blonde who had henpecked her mild-mannered husband while weeding the flowerbed in her bikini. And clearly this guy was still passionately in love with her, devastated by the divorce. Sitting in a bar plotting the new fiancé’s murder. Or worse, planning to dash into the wedding ceremony in one of those cringe-inspiring moments and yell, “Bambi, no one loves you like I do! Don’t marry him!”

It was definitely a court case waiting to happen. Public intoxication, disturbing the peace, stalking, assault and battery, one of those was probably in his future. Trish’s whole career revolved around that kind of idiotic behavior.

Joe paused and scratched his light brown goatee. “No, she wasn’t a bitch at all. She was one of those people who’s always smiling, always something nice to say, always dressed like she was on her way to church.”

Well, that didn’t fit Trish’s image of his wife at all. No wonder he’d gotten divorced- he’d been married to the wrong woman.

“He said he has a plan,” Joe said.

Here it was. Poisoning the fiancé, slashing the tires on the limo, kidnapping the bride. Trish leaned closer to Joe. “What is it?” If he was planning something illegal it was her duty to warn him of the ramifications.

“He said he’s not leaving until he finds a woman to sleep with. Tonight.”

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