Find Me Maggie

by Beth Yarnall

  “And you’re sure you’d never seen Trinh Pham before? Maybe in the senator’s office or home?”

  “Keep saying her name and I’ll do to you what I did to Chuck Puckett.”

  He clamped his legs together. “Sorry, it’s just that you’re the only one who’s ever seen her.”

  “And more of her than I’d ever want to.” My thoughts skidded to a halt and rewound. “What do you mean I’m the only one who’s seen her? You know I don’t have a cat and probably know what movie I was watching when Chuck Puckett called, but you don’t have any surveillance footage of Slutzilla?”

  Embarrassment tinged his cheeks again. I’d never thought a guy blushing could be so sexy, but Super Agent was making it work for me…big time.

  “No. And you’ve seen her twice. That makes you an exception we think she’ll want to rectify.”

  “Rectify as in…?” I made a slicing motion across my neck.

  He nodded. “We don’t know who she is or how she fits into the equation. Our best guess is she’s a hired assassin who went rogue, but we’re just not sure. We think she might not have known you’d be there the night she killed the senator.”

  “How do you know she killed Chuck Puckett? What about Thug and Boston?”

  “Who?” He shook his head. “Never mind. You. You’re a fairly reliable witness since we know you weren’t involved in any of the senator’s activities, and you told the police you’d seen her there. By the way, next time you’re arrested, maintain your right to remain silent until your attorney arrives.”

  “You say that like you think there’ll be a next time.”

  “This wasn’t your first arrest.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “What don’t you know about me?”

  “I don’t know why you put peanut butter and jelly on a bacon cheeseburger.”

  “Try it and you will.”

  “Not a chance. I’m a vegetarian.”

  His squinty-eyed grin did interesting things to the parts of me that Chuck Puckett had long left to gather dust. Under normal circumstances I would have been half in his lap by now, but even though we’d fogged the windows, the knowledge that other agents were out there watching us kept me firmly in my seat.

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  I blinked innocently up at him. “Like what?”

  “Like I’m a bacon cheeseburger slathered in PB and J.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Agent Poole.”

  “God, you have a smart mouth.” His gaze dropped to my mouth.

  My lips parted and my breathing sped up. His did too. The steamed-up car windows suddenly felt intimate, as though we were all alone in the world. He reached for me, grasping the back of my head, and pulled me to him. Our lips met on my low groan. This felt right, his body up against mine. It felt right and hot and oh, so intense, I thought I’d melt right there in a puddle of need and want. He made a deep-throated sound and bent me back to lie down.

  All the years I’d had my old Pontiac, I’d never been so grateful for bench seats. I pulled Super Agent down on top of me. He was heavy in a really good way. It had been so long since I’d had a man on top of me. And he knew what he was doing, tracing my jaw with kisses, his hand creeping up under my shirt. Wrapping my arms around him, I brought him closer. He fit me so well I let out a purr of pleasure and wriggled closer, rubbing my pelvis against his.

  He gripped my hip to still my movements and rose up to look down at me. “Keep doing that and it’ll be over before it starts.”

  “Are we starting something? ’Cause it feels started to me. In fact, I might already be halfway finished.”

  He grinned down at me, that cheese-eating grin I now associated with his being inordinately pleased with me. His gaze traced every inch of my face and I felt the longing mirrored in his expression. “You’re so crazy beautiful.” His words were barely audible, almost as though he was speaking to himself. “If I had you I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

  Love turns up in all the wrong places…at just the right time.

  Ten Reasons Not To Date A Cop

  © 2012 Amie Louellen

  Growing up a police chief’s daughter, Kaylee Stephens saw firsthand how arrogant cop attitudes affect a marriage. Not for her, no sir. But when a priceless, pre-Columbian statue comes up missing, the day-school teacher finds herself in the middle of a police investigation. And face-to-face with sexy Detective Lucas Blackfox, her brothers’ old high school chum.

  She had nothing to do with the crime, despite the fact that she—up until very recently—was engaged to the number one suspect. Once that’s cleared up, she plans to return to her peaceful, cop-less life.

  Luc can’t seem to keep Kaylee out of his thoughts, and it’s not just because every time he and his partner turn over a new stone in the case, Kaylee shows up. She’s grown from the pig-tailed tagalong he once knew to a woman he’d like to know better.

  His quest to convince her he’s not just a typical cop is right on track toward making her a permanent fixture in his arms…until the missing statue’s legendary curse drops an emotional bomb that could destroy everything.

  Warning: This book contains steamy love scenes between a cop and a woman who refuses to date men in uniform. Clear your schedule, readers, you’re gonna want to get out the cuffs after this one.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Ten Reasons Not To Date A Cop:

  Luc sat for a moment in the cool interior of the Beemer and watched the woman shift from one pretty leg to the other. He made no move to get out of his car. He wanted her to wait. Or try to run. She shifted again.

  His informant had been quite specific in his description. Their target was a female, very short with arrow-straight, platinum blond hair. She wasn’t reported to be armed, nor was she considered to be particularly dangerous. She drove a beat-up blue Nissan and wasn’t above using her feminine wiles to get what she wanted. But Matthias hadn’t told Luc she was a memory, all grown up and prettier than ever.

  Little Kaylee Stephens. My, my, my. She was the last person he had expected the K. Stephens to be. When he’d heard the name, she hadn’t even crossed his mind. It had been what…? Ten…fifteen years? He mentally did the math. Sixteen. It had been sixteen years since he had seen her. And she’d looked a sight different now. Back then she had been the awkward, tag-a-long sister of his two best friends. All pigtails and braces and now…well, now she wasn’t.

  She checked her watch, then cast a frustrated glance in his direction. She had to be smothering in that raincoat. The temperature was at least a hundred and three. She looked as if she had something to hide, bundled up the way she was. The statue? A weapon?

  Luc had glanced into her car while he wrote her citations, but the interior of the Nissan looked like a twister had recently blown through. He would have to search it if he was going to find what he was after. Damn what a day this was turning out to be.

  She whirled around as he opened his car door. Her silvery hair contrasted starkly with the black of her raincoat, and he wondered how it would look splayed against his chest. How it would feel.

  Luc quickly steered his thoughts from that direction. He needed to keep his mind on the business at hand, a priceless, pre-Columbian statue. Terribly ugly, reportedly cursed, definitely stolen.

  “Amarillo PD has reason to believe you have stolen property in your possession. Would you mind if I take a look inside your car?”

  “Stolen? I—is this some kind of joke?”

  “Not at all.”

  She shifted in place and eyed him suspiciously. She opened her mouth, then obviously thought better of it and closed it again. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “Are you saying you’re not going to let me search your vehicle?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling the coat even tighter around her. “Not without a warrant. Do you have one?”

  He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “No.”

  She nodded her h
ead as if to say, So there you go.

  “But I can get one.”

  Her satisfied smile faded. “But it’s Sunday, and that might take—”

  “All day,” he finished. “I thought you were late.”

  “I am, but—”

  “I’ll go make the call.” He had only taken three steps toward his car when her musical—but clearly annoyed—voice stopped him.

  “Fine. Search the car. But hurry.”

  Luc opened the passenger side door and resisted the urge to close it again on the chaos that ruled inside. No matter how messy she kept her car, he still had a statue to find.

  A bright yellow envelope lay on the passenger seat next to a headband with a pair of furry white rabbit ears attached. He picked up the headband and almost tossed it aside.

  Rabbit ears?

  He cast a glance back at Kaylee.

  Her nervous fingers played with the lapels of her coat, keeping it closed almost to her throat. A trickle of perspiration ran down the side of her face.

  Luc looked back to the ears, then tossed the headband to the driver’s side seat.

  The floorboard of the passenger side revealed nothing out of the ordinary, except for a set of pom-poms and a lasso.

  “Yee-haw,” he muttered under his breath and redirected his attention—and fantasies—back to the search at hand.

  Full-blown helium balloons secured to a small gift box filled the back seat. Luc opened the box. Inside was a crystal paperweight of a large mouth bass. Expensive, but a far cry from pre-Columbian.

  “Hey,” Kaylee protested. “That’s for—Oh, never mind.”

  Aside from a paper sack containing finger paints, an unopened package of Oreos and a large cardboard box piled high with someone’s castoffs, the back seat of the Nissan held nothing suspicious.

  “Will you open the trunk, please?”

  She rolled her pretty blue eyes heavenward, perhaps praying for the rain she obviously expected, but did as he asked.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “A statue.”

  “Statue?”

  “A very valuable statue,” he said as he ducked under the trunk lid. “Cursed pre-Colombian. Want to tell me about it?”

  “Seems like you know all there is to know.”

  Luc grunted and turned his attention back to the search.

  Surprisingly, the trunk had been spared from the catastrophe that reigned inside the car. He made quick work of his search, but the statue wasn’t under the spare tire or in any of the nooks and crannies the space harbored.

  There was only one place left it could be.

  “Kay—Ms. Stephens, I have reason to believe you may be hiding the statue on your person. We’ll need to go down to the station and request a female officer conduct a search.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not going to the station with you.”

  “If you won’t come to the mountain,” he muttered. “I’ll radio down and have an officer meet us here.” He paused. “If you’d rather do this on the side of the interstate.”

  “I’d rather not do it at all.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not one of your options.” He kept his tone business like and impersonal. Tomorrow he’d be removed from the case, but tomorrow might be too late. Matthias said she was moving the statue today.

  “No.” She said the word with such conviction that Luc had trouble remembering the question.

  “We can do this here or at the station.” He removed his sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose to stay the beginning pangs of a headache. “The choice is yours.”

  “Then I choose not at all.”

  “Will you cooperate, or should I handcuff you for the ride?”

  Seconds ticked by with the speed of ice thawing at the North Pole. Then with a growl of aggravation and frustration, she reached for the belt of her shiny black coat. She removed it with lightning speed and flung it at him. It hit him square in the chest.

  Almost nothing could have prepared Luc for the sight of what she wore underneath the raincoat, and that’s what she wore: almost nothing.

  Car horns honked. Tires squealed. Traffic slowed, and Luc’s breath quickened. He felt himself grow hard.

  Her legs were long for her height, their smooth lines emphasized by sheer black stockings. Lord, he loved black stockings. The remainder of her ensemble was black as well and reached from the apex of her slender thighs to barely cover the tops of her breasts. There it ended in a wisp of white ostrich plumes that only enhanced the creamy satin of her skin. The fabric, slick and clingy from her own perspiration, molded itself to her every curve. Luc could only stare. Had he said something about handcuffs?

  “Hel-lo.”

  “So that’s what the ears are for.” His voice was near a whisper. And if that’s what she did with bunny ears…. His mind wandered to fingerpaints and lassos.

  “You can forget it right now.” She stamped her foot for emphasis, sharply snapping the heel off her left pump.

  “Forget what?”

  “I don’t do parties.”

  Too bad. “That’s not what I was thinking at all.”

  “Sure.” She rolled her eyes, then glared at him. “Are you going to search me, or are you going to stand there and gawk?”

  Gawking sounded like a fine idea. So did a search. A long search that lasted all night and into the dawn. Instead, Luc tore his gaze from her slender form, cleared his throat and began to look through the pockets of her coat.

  Finding nothing, he held it out to her, hooked on the end of his finger. It was obvious she didn’t have anything concealed on her actual person. “You can put this back on now.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to frisk me first?”

  Frisk her? He ought to arrest her. It should be against the law for a woman to look that good.

  “No,” he muttered instead, turning his head in delayed chivalry.

  As she reached for her coat, a car whizzed past, trailing a shrill wolf whistle behind on the fumes of its exhaust.

  Kaylee jerked her coat away from him and hurriedly shoved her arms into the sleeves.

  “I’d like to apologize again for your delay.” Luc tore the citations out of his ticket book and handed them to her without looking her in the eye. Little Kaylee had grown up nicely. “It was good to see you again.”

  He didn’t wait for her nod as he turned and walked stiff-legged back to his car.

  He opened the door, but stopped before folding his length into the luxury interior. He couldn’t leave without knowing. “Where did you say you worked?”

  She flashed him another of her gigantic smiles. “Self-employed,” she replied. Then she reached into her car and placed the furry ears on the top of her head. “I’m the Easter bunny.”

  Find Me Maggie

  Beth Yarnall

  Oh, the hoops Maggie must jump through on the way to getting horizontal…

  A Maggie Mae Misadventure

  Tonight is the night that Maggie Mae Castro and her boyfriend, FBI Special Agent Clive Poole, will finally have thoroughly thought-out, all-options-weighed, completely premeditated, totally intentional sex. There’s just one little problem. Maggie’s twin brother, Miguel, is missing and his girlfriend begs Maggie to find him.

  Having seen Miguel’s rap sheet, Clive is sure this is just another stunt designed to get the con artist out of whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into. But as Maggie digs deeper, she discovers that Miguel swindled a very scary man out of a very large sum of money.

  Maggie strikes a deal with the man Miguel conned—if she brings Miguel back, her brother lives, if the man’s henchmen get their hands on him first, all bets are off. The race is on across state lines. But the con has gone on too long, and even Maggie’s best finagling might not be enough to convince Miguel to give the money back—or keep the man from killing Miguel just to set an example.

  Warning: Contains sex talk
that might lead to something other than sex; a stubborn, sex-denied woman on the edge; a super-protective Super Agent; a pissed-off con who got conned; and a baby-talking baby mama. We’re talking about Maggie Mae Castro here—you never know what’s going to go down.

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

  Cincinnati OH 45249

  Find Me Maggie

  Copyright © 2014 by Beth Yarnall

  ISBN: 978-1-61922-138-3

  Edited by Jennifer Miller

  Cover by Angela Waters

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: July 2014

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  About the Author