Something Sinful This Way Comes [McQueen Was My Valley 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)
Authors: Karen Mercury
Tags: #Romance
McQueen Was My Valley 1
Something Sinful This Way Comes
Xandra McQueen has a whole new lease on life after inheriting the Triple Play Lodge in Utah. Rid of an abusive crime lord boyfriend, she revels in her new relationships with the former commando Nathan Horowitz and the gentle game warden Julian “Fresh Air” Longtree.
But a stalker upsets her bucolic existence, breaking into her suite to steal photographs. Nathan, running from the nightmare of his most recent African mission, puts his heart and soul into tracking down the blackmailing pervert. But he just lost a beloved partner. He BASE jumps from desert spires to help himself forget. Why does he want to add not one but two more loves to the mix?
Xandra knows she has fallen for two damaged, broken spirits in Nathan and Julian. Together, they race to unmask the stalker, piecing together the crimes as well as the mysteries of their ménage.
Genre:
BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length:
48,847 words
McQueen Was My Valley 1
Karen Mercury
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED:
Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device.
You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book.
This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
SOMETHING SINFUL THIS WAY COMES
Copyright © 2013 by Karen Mercury
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-174-9
First E-book Publication: January 2013
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
If you have purchased this copy of
Something Sinful This Way Comes
by Karen Mercury from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
Regarding E-book Piracy
This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.
The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.
This is Karen Mercury’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Mercury’s right to earn a living from her work.
Amanda Hilton, Publisher
SOMETHING SINFUL THIS WAY COMES
McQueen Was My Valley 1
KAREN MERCURY
Copyright © 2013
Bird in Hand, Utah
“Mazel tov,” said Sol, raising his wine glass on high.
Alexandra McQueen toasted her lawyer. They had just accomplished a shit storm of tedious and piddling paperwork—weeks of deeds, inspections, appraisals, and taxes—and had emerged the other side, unscathed. Xandra was more than happy to clink wine glasses with Sol Greenspan.
Three months ago Xandra had never been to Utah. She knew Utah as the place where Robert Redford and Mormons lived, and something about a film festival and skiing. If someone would’ve told her that in three months’ time she’d be sitting on the deck of her very own ski lodge near the rim of a dazzling red rock canyon, Xandra would have thought that her drug-addled ex-boyfriend was concocting a prank.
Now here she was. Peaceful and serene, all the papers signed, safely away from Javier “Slippery Fish” Santana. The i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed, the deck overlooked a wonderland of stone spires and natural stone pinnacles, and she was toasting with her very own lawyer.
Clink.
“Dude.” That was Doug’s toast. A very casual sort of guy, Doug Ostrovsky was Xandra’s stepbrother a few times removed. It had taken Sol and Doug days to figure out how Doug and Xandra were related, sitting around the long table in the lodge’s ballroom, hand-drawing organizational charts with Doug and Xandra’s ancestors’ names scribbled in the boxes. They’d finally decided to leave it at “stepsiblings.” Doug had actually been closely acquainted with the lodge’s recently deceased owner, Wanda Burns. Doug had worked at the Triple Play Lodge for years, now elevated to General Manager. But because Doug wasn’t related to Wanda by blood, only by his father’s marriage, ownership of the lodge had fallen to Xandra, Wanda’s next of kin. “You’re coming with us to The Inkwells, right? You need to learn the terrain beyond the borders of the lodge.”
The Inkwells was apparently a series of connected swimming holes, enormous depressions rubbed smooth in the red rock by millennia of rushing water. There were some vaguely naked connotations to these Inkwells that Xandra wasn’t entirely comfortable with. She was from Charleston. People in the west were a lot more relaxed than easterners.
“Bring your swimsuit,” said Cassandra. “If you brought one.”
“Oh, I have one, all right,” Xandra said, chipper. She started gathering her things as if to leave. “I just wanted to stop by and see Lucretia about those bed sheets. And Leif. I wanted to see Leif about the chanterelles.”
Cass sighed. “Alexandra. You’re micromanaging everyone to death again.”
“Yeah,” agreed Sol. “Leif doesn’t need chanterelle advice when he’s busy designing”—he rattled the cardboard menu—“a caramelized rack of doves and kiln-roasted Peruvian enoki.”
“Enoki
are
mushrooms,” Doug pointed out, popping a shrimp deviled egg into his mouth. That boy could certainly eat. And somehow managed to remain as skinny as a toothpick.
“I don’t think,” Cass reassured Xandra, “that Leif
really
cooks a rack of doves. Sol is just trying to point out that sometimes you can be…”
“Irritating,” Doug filled in, reaching for another Asiago potato wedge.
Xandra froze, halfway standing. “Irritating!” she gasped. “Why, I’m the new owner of the Triple Play! Of course I’m a bit nervous, seeing as how I’ve never run a lodge before.”
“You’ve
been
to a lodge before,” Sol said wearily. He’d quoted her asinine remark a dozen times by now. She’d been so naïve when she first came here! How she wished she could take that comment back. Yes, she had been to a resort in Myrtle Beach once. And Javier had taken her to Vermont once to ski. The trip had mostly consisted of them posing in the lounge wearing trendy ski jackets, clacking their unused skis together while Javier made transactions with other businessmen who didn’t ski, either.
Xandra hadn’t even noticed there
was
a McQueen Valley, Utah, on a map until her father’s lawyer had informed them three months ago. Even if she had noticed it, she wouldn’t have assumed it had to do with her family. She would’ve thought it had to do with Steve. That was logical, since he’d made at least one movie with Robert Redford.
Sol continued wistfully. “Enoki seduced with a misting of clarified ox oil.” He reached for a deviled egg, too.
Xandra frowned at her lawyer. “I get the picture. I’m bothering Leif—”
“And Lucretia,” Doug inserted.
“—with nitpicky crap. But today isn’t the day for me to learn horseback riding. The charity fishing event starts tomorrow so I don’t think we should be gallivanting around swimming. I mean,
you
guys can. I’m going to get with the event director and make sure the ballroom is ready. Last time we had that quilting convention, the podium was misplaced.” Xandra slung her enormous shapeless purse over her shoulder and hugged her clipboard and notebook to her chest to let everyone know she meant business.
Sol asked, “Fishermen make PowerPoint presentations?”
“They sure do,” said Xandra.
Doug goofed, “About which kind of worms they want to use?”
Xandra ignored her stepbrother. “Sol, you’re flying out tonight?”
This apparently reminded Sol to gulp down the rest of his wine. He smacked his lips. “Yup. I’ve got to get back to Provo. Believe it or not, I’ve got other clients.” He chuckled, but everyone else looked at him blankly. Apparently no one believed he had other clients. He cleared his throat and stood, too. “You should be all set, Xandra. You’ve got Doug here to run everything, and Cass handles all the daily inner workings of the entire machine. Theoretically you shouldn’t even have to worry about piddling things like worm presentations. Theoretically you should be able to lie around in the mud bath all day long. Write a romance novel, eat chocolate bonbons.”
Xandra frowned. “Like Wanda did?”
Wanda McQueen Burns had not lounged around in the mud baths all day. From Doug’s accounts, Wanda had been a spitfire until her final days, zipping about the lodge attending to every detail. And no one had accused her of micromanaging. They all seemed to have welcomed her “interferences.”
Sol waved a dismissive hand at Xandra. They started walking together toward the breezeway that led to the main lodge. “You just steer clear of that Slimy Weasel fellow like we talked about.”
Xandra corrected Sol. “Slippery Fish. And Javier isn’t that bad. He’s just a meth kingpin, not a…” She was about to say “not a criminal” until she realized how incorrect that was. “He’s not a crazed maniac. Thank God we were never married, and I doubt I’ll ever have any dealings with him again.”
