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Look for these titles by Kate Johnson

Now Available:

The Twelve Lies of Christmas

I, Spy?

Coming Soon:

A is for Apple

Cosmos, gays and guns, it’s murder on a girl’s love life.

A is for Apple

© 2007 Kate Johnson

Coming Fall 2007 from Samhain Publishing

Book Three in the Sophie Green series.

Cosmically inept spy Sophie Green is dispatched to the Big Apple on the trail of an invisible man. What she finds is an artist, a conspiracy, and some very large men with guns.

Meanwhile, her gorgeous partner, Luke, is getting worryingly intimate. Can it really be time for him to meet her parents?

Sophie, spy extraordinaire, isn’t overwhelmed just yet. Until she’s informed of the new terms of her assignment. No longer Sophie Green: Spy, now she’ll become Sophie Green: Teenager.

Yep, she’s being sent to the scariest place on earth. Back to school.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
A is for Apple
:

Karen was waiting for me, looking her usual immaculate self even in the middle of the night. “Good trip?” she asked curtly.

“Yeah, great,” I said. “Really relaxi—”

“Good,” Karen said. “Now it’s back to work.”

“I haven’t even got home yet!”

“This is not an issue. You are aware, are you not, Four, that Five is currently working in America, tracking a businessman with bad connections?”

Five was Macbeth, who started at SO17 the same time as me, and fast-tracked his way to Competent Agent in about half a day. I, on the other hand, still usually need someone to baby-sit me. “What kind of bad connections?”

“Mafiosi. His name is Don Shapiro—short for Donald, but not many people know that. He’s actually British and we’re trying to, shall we say, discourage him from coming home.”

She looked up at me and I, feeling something was needed, nodded seriously.

“Where do I come in?”

“Bait.”

Oh, Jesus. I hate being bait. Luke is always making me do this. Just because I’m blonde and have big boobs, I’m always the decoy. We never seem to investigate women. Or gay men. I would so love to see Luke making a fool of himself the way I usually do.

“The case is in Five’s hands, but I presume you know the drill by now?”

I nodded disconsolately and she handed me a file. “I suggest you familiarise yourself with this.”

“Now?”

She gave me a penetrating look. “Do you have a more pressing appointment?”

Yes, with my bed.
I was knackered.

“No,” I sighed, and took the file out to the outer office, kicked off my sandals and flumped down in the desk chair to read.

Don Shapiro was of Italian-American descent. He had been brought up in the UK. His wife and his son were British. Well, actually, she was his ex-wife. They’d been divorced for ten years and the kid only saw his father in the school holidays. He went to boarding school in Scotland.

Mr. Shapiro was officially in the import/export business. I say officially, because I once had to shadow a banker who turned out to be trying to rule the world. People are never what they seem.

I can personally vouch for that.

I read the file through about four times, but I hardly absorbed any information. My brain was broken. Words were swimming. By the time Karen breezed through the office, on her way home, the sky was getting light and my eyelids were getting very heavy.

“Shouldn’t you be on your way?” she said, and I blinked.

“Yes. Tired. Very tired.”

“Not home,” she said. “To the airport.”

I stared in horror.

Karen flipped to the last page of the report. There was an airline ticket tucked in there. British Airways, Heathrow to JFK. In two hours.

“Best get a move on,” she said briskly. “Don’t want to miss the flight.”

Wouldn’t that be a tragedy?

I’d like to say that my job is all about glamour. Fast cars, slinky dresses, lethal cocktails… But in reality here I was, trundling down the M11 in the skinny hours of the morning, wiping sleep from my eyes and shivering in the cold. Ted’s heater had never been particularly efficient, and since I crashed him a couple of months ago, keeping warm has meant wearing a jumper. Or a boyfriend.

And right now I was a bit short on both.

I was halfway round the M25, trying to remember how to get to the hell that is Heathrow airport and suspecting I’d gone the wrong way, when my phone started bleeping and buzzing in my lap. I jumped, nearly swerved into the middle lane and managed to get the hands-free extension in before I answered with a very sleepy, “Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?”

I blinked tiredly at the road signs and started the overcomplicated procedure of changing lanes. Well, it’s complicated for me, anyway. I’m not terribly bright.

“Hello, Luke,” I said.

“Where are you?”

“On my way to the airport.”

There was a pause. “You’d better not mean Fuerteventura airport.”

“Of course not.”

“Oh, good.”

“I mean Heathrow airport.”

Another pause. “
Why
are you on your way to Heathrow?” Luke asked wearily.

“Because that’s where my flight’s going from.”

“What?
From
? Sophie, you’re not making any sense.”

“I’m going to New York.”

This time the pause was longer. Then the man I’m sleeping with asked me, “Are you on drugs?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why are you going to New York?”

“Karen sent me.”

“Something wrong with Macbeth?”

“Apparently Don Shapiro isn’t partial to fifteen stone black men.”

“She’s sending you out there as bait?” Luke asked incredulously, and I scowled at the Mondeo in front.

“That’s the impression I got.”

Luke was silent a bit. Then he said, “How long will you be?”

“I don't know.” I hoped not long. I wanted to see the Big Apple, but something told me I’d not have much time for sightseeing. I’d been bait before, and it had never ended well. “Not long. Probably Macbeth just wants to get Shapiro out of the way so he can scope out his hotel room.” I yawned and nearly missed my exit. “Shit!”

“What?”

“
Four Weddings
moment.”

“Tell me you didn’t just reverse into the traffic?”

“Do you want me to? I think Ted could take it.”

There was a longer silence. I could imagine a lot of expressions on Luke’s face, none of them very complimentary.

“I’ll let you concentrate on your driving,” he said eventually. “Call me when you get there?”

“I will,” I said, touched.

“Just so I know you’re not in Johannesburg or something.”

I wrinkled my nose, less touched.

“I’ll speak to you later.”

“You better.”

When I first met Luke Sharpe, he gave me a false name and pretended to be Italian. It wasn’t really his fault—he was undercover at the airport. He was sexy Luca from Roma, and everyone fancied him.

And then I found out who he really was, he washed out the dark hair dye and took away the coloured contact lenses and there he was, my blue-eyed boy, sexy as hell, the image of the man I’d always wanted.

Five days later we had sex in the rubble of an abandoned building site. It probably wasn’t the best way to start our relationship, but there was a nice quality of drama to it. We bounced around for a while (no, not like
that.
Well, okay, yes, a lot like that), trying to figure out how we felt about each other, if we felt anything at all. I think a large percentage of what I feel for Luke is pure lust. The jury’s still out on what he sees in me.

I don’t mean that masochistically. There are days when I look in the mirror and think, damn, I’m hot. And there are days when I look in the mirror and it breaks. Luke must have caught me on a good day the first time he saw me, because the main SO17 hypothesis is that he hired me because he wanted to shag me. That’s really the only explanation anyone can think of. I’m a rotten spy. I make mistakes, I forget things, I’m quite terrified of my gun— Dammit, my gun! It was still at home. I was going to New York and I didn’t have a gun. That’s like going to church without a hat, isn’t it?

I picked up my phone again as I navigated the complex route Karen had told me would take me to the staff car park, and called Macbeth. The line wasn’t good, and I could only hear about half of what he said, but I told him my ETA and asked, somewhat hopefully, if he had a gun I could borrow.

He laughed. “Darlin’,” he said, “I got plenty.”

I ended the call hoping he’d been talking about what I’d been talking about.

Life is just a series of events with consequences. On their own they wouldn’t add up to much, but when you put them all together you never know where they’ll end up taking you, or what the outcome will be once you’re there.

Thirty Lessons

© 2007 Mary Eason

The last thing Paige Wilder is looking for at thirty-eight is another bad-ending relationship. Paige believes she has it all—good friends, a challenging career in publishing and the perfect little companion named Sammy.

Unfortunately from the moment Paige meets Jude, even before she realizes he is going to be one of those bad-ending relationships, she knows her life will never be the same again after the lessons he has to teach her.

Jude Martin has made some promises to himself. He will never return to New York City, never work for his father and never, under any circumstances, will he fall in love again. So why is he here, in New York, running his father’s publishing house and trying to convince a woman who is just as determined as he is to give him a second chance?

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Thirty Lessons
:

When I walked into my office the following morning, I knew only one thing for certain. I wasn’t keeping my eight o’clock appointment with Jude and didn’t care what it cost me.

When Ralph pointed out the obvious, at exactly eight-oh-five, I only rolled my eyes and shook my head. No way—not going to happen in this lifetime.

When my nine o’clock meeting arrived in my office, I pretty much figured
okay, I’d done it
. I’d pissed him off completely, and I’d never see him again, except for when he fired me, maybe.

At exactly nine-fifteen, those words were proven wrong when my office door was thrown open and the object of my fantasies walked in, startling all three people seated in my cramped space.

Behind the obviously angry Jude, even though, to his credit he did seem to be trying hard to control his anger, dear old Ralph was busy waving his hands at me, trying to convey he’d at least tried to prevent this disaster from happening.

But nothing short of tackling the guy would have stopped Jude from accomplishing this quest.

“Where the hell were you last night?” While Jude might be doing his best to control his anger, those words didn’t hold back any of what he was feeling at that moment from the people watching our little drama unfold.

“I’m in a meeting,” I ground out, sounding a whole lot more in control than I felt. I trembled in my new cinnamon suede boots.

“Leave us alone,” Jude told them all very calmly. No one seated in my office was going to come to my defense and disobey a direct command from the boss. Three people scrambled over themselves to do as he asked.

“How could you do that? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This little scene will be all over the building by lunch.”

“I don’t care. Get your things. We’re leaving. Since you’ve refused to do this the easy way, we’ll continue to play games. But I’m warning you, Paige—don’t go too far. You can come with me now willingly, or you can just come. It’s up to you.”

A thousand different answers flew through my mind, but after another look at Jude’s determination, I decided it would be foolish to push him now.

I grabbed my purse and slammed the desk drawer closed hard enough for him to realize my anger, which only managed to provoke a faint smile.

Oh yeah, he knew exactly what my thoughts were and he was finding it very amusing.

I think Jude half expected me to run once we were out of the office because he took my hand and never let go of it.

We made our way past Ralph, who couldn’t look me in the eye, past the subtle sound of doors closing, reminding me everyone on our floor heard our exchange. I cringed at the thought. I wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and never to emerge again.

Inside Jude’s car, I sat silently fuming. His only reaction to my anger was an occasional questioning glance thrown my way as he maneuvered the car through the congested traffic of the streets until we emerged on the outskirts of town heading in the direction of Southampton.

Southampton?

“Where are we going?” I finally forced myself to ask when he showed no sign of cluing me in to this little piece of information.

“Some place where we can talk away from all those prying ears. Some place where you can’t run away from me again. Why don’t you relax, Paige, we’ve got all day.”

“No, we don’t. I have a calendar full of things I’m supposed to be doing today and I’m sure, since you are the
boss
,” yeah I actually emphasized the word to leave little doubt how I meant it, “you must have things to do as well.”

“Not anymore.” He appeared unmoved by my sarcasm. “The only thing I have to do today is you. You’re it. You are all that’s on my calendar.”

Those words, coming a little to close to the place my straying thoughts were wandering, had me embarrassed enough to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the way to wherever it was he was taking me.

Unfortunately, the farther away from the city we went, the more I started to worry. Where exactly were we going? Surely not…

“Tell me where we’re going, Jude?”

Jude smiled at me. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me?”

At the reemergence of his smile, I shut my mouth. It was best this way, really. I was furious with him and needed to stay that way. Jude’s smile made it hard to remember my anger.

I sat quietly watching the light activity taking place along the road leading to the Hamptons.

I kept silent when Jude turned off the shady, tree-lined street onto a deserted cul-de-sac, and then to a private drive leading to an enormous two-story house.

Somehow, I managed to keep from showing Jude how impressed I was with the place. At least, right until the moment we entered the house and I looked around completely captivated by it.

At this point, I tried to counteract my small town girl wonder with some more anger. I stood rigidly in front of him as he closed the door and turned to face me.

“Come. Sit. I’ll make you breakfast?”

Jude watched me a little too closely as I made my decision. I decided it was time to put an end to this mess I’d gotten myself into once and for all.

“Don’t bother. I’m not staying.” I started for the door but Jude was too fast for me. He reached me before I made it to the door. I knew the second he touched me the fight was over. I wasn’t going to refuse this guy anything. I didn’t want to. I was crazy about him.

Before either of us fully realized what we were doing, we were in his bedroom, touching each other as if it was the very first time.

Afterward, as we lay in each other’s arms, exhausted once more, I finally became aware of a few things.

One, I’d just broken my promise to myself. I’d given in to Jude Martin again. I’d let him take me off without as much as a fight and I had virtually no idea where I was. And two, I still wasn’t able to define what was happening between us. I didn’t know what I wanted from him or from this relationship. I didn’t even know if I wanted a relationship with him.

“Come downstairs, Paige. Let me make you breakfast, and we’ll talk about all those things that are troubling you right now.”

Jude didn’t wait for me to consider what he’d said. He simply left me alone.

When I managed to actually get out of bed, I took my time before facing him again. I looked around the room which was decidedly masculine and tried to decide what this meant. I knew Jude had been married and divorced. But that was about all that I knew about my boss-slash-lover, except the fact that he was over ten years younger than me.

Was this house a new acquisition? Or had he shared it with his wife?

Outside the bedroom, a whitewashed deck overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. The view beyond the deck was breathtaking.

I found Jude in the kitchen actually making me breakfast.

The second I walked into the room Jude’s full attention was on me. The look in his eyes told me he was remembering the passion we’d shared with each other just moment before. This man was very dangerous to my self-control.

“Come sit down,” he told me quietly. And me, being at a loss for what to do, did exactly as he asked of me.

I looked through the wall of windows that faced the ocean and thought how lucky Jude was to be living in a house like this with such a spectacular view to look at each day.

Jude handed me coffee and set a plate of French toast in front of me before sliding into the chair next to me. Far too close for comfort.

“Aren’t you eating?” I asked nervously.

He watched me for a minute longer before answering. “No, I ate earlier. And I happen to know you don’t normally eat breakfast, which is a shame since it’s the most important meal of the day.”

“How did you know that?” I asked to cover my embarrassment at him actually knowing this much about me.

Jude gave me a look that told me how foolish he considered my question.

“Paige, I’ve been to your apartment more times than I can remember, and there’s never anything to eat there. Believe me, after… Well, let’s just say, I know.”