by Jill Shalvis
She was waiting on a great job with benefits to come along first.
The house sat across the street from the beach, all sprawling stone and glass. Beautiful, though she found it odd that it was all one level, when the surrounding homes were two and three stories high. Even more curious, next to the front steps was a ramp. A wheelchair ramp. Grace knocked on the door, then caught sight of the Post-it note stuck on the glass panel.
Dear Dog Sitter,
I’ve left door unlocked for you, please let yourself in. Oh, and if you could throw away this note and not let my brother know I left his house unlocked, that’d be great, thanks. Also, don’t steal anything.
Anna
Grace stood there chewing her bottom lip in indecision. She hadn’t given this enough thought. Hell, let’s be honest. She’d given it no thought at all past “Easy Job.” But she was thinking now, and she was thinking that walking into a perfect stranger’s home seemed problematic, if not downright dangerous. What if a curious neighbor saw her and called the cops? She looked herself over. Enjoying her current freedom from business wear, she was in a sundress with her cute Payless-special ankle boots and lace socks. Not looking like much of a banking specialist, and hopefully not looking like a breaking-and-entering expert either…
But what if this was a setup? What if a bad guy lived here, one who lured hungry, slightly desperate, act-now-think-later women inside to do heinous things to them?
Okay, so maybe she’d been watching too many late-night marathon runs of Criminal Minds, but it could totally happen.
Then, from inside the depths of the house came a happy, high-pitched bark. And then another, which seemed to say: “hurry up, lady, I have to pee!”
Ah, hell. In for a penny… Grace opened the front door and peered inside.
The living room was as stunning as the outside of the house. Wide open spaces, done in dark, masculine wood and neutral colors. The furniture was oversized and sparse on the beautiful, scarred, hardwood floors. An entire wall of windows faced the Indian summer sky and Pacific Ocean.
As Grace stepped inside, the barking increased in volume, intermingled now with hopeful whining. She followed the sounds to a huge, state-of-the-art kitchen that made her wish she knew how to cook beyond the basic boxed mac and cheese and grilled cheese sandwiches. Just beyond the kitchen was a laundry room, the doorway blocked by a toddler gate.
On the other side of the gate was a baby pig.
A baby pig who barked.
Okay, not a pig at all, but one of those dogs whose faces always looked all smashed in. The tiny body was mostly tan, with a black face, crazy bugged-out eyes, and a tongue that lolled out the side of its mouth. It looked like an animated cartoon as it twirled in excited circles, dancing for her, trying to impress and charm its way out of lockup.
“Hi,” she said to him. Her? Hard to tell since its parts were so low as to scrape the ground along with its belly.
The thing snorted and huffed in joyous delirium, then hopped up and down like a Mexican jumping bean.
“Oh, there’s no need for all that,” Grace said, and opened the gate.
Mistake number one.
The dog/pig/alien streaked past her with astounding speed and promptly raced out of the kitchen, and out of sight.
“Hey,” she called. “Slow down.”
But it didn’t, and wow, those stumpy legs could really churn. It snorted with sheer delight as it made its mad getaway, and Grace was forced to rethink the pig theory. Also, the sex mystery was solved.
From behind, she’d caught a glimpse of dangly bits.
It—he—ran circles around the couch, barking with merry enthusiasm. She gave chase, wondering how it was that she had multiple advanced degrees and yet she hadn’t thought to ask the name of the damn dog. “Hey,” she said. “Hey, you. We’re going outside to walk.”
The puppy dashed past her like lightning.
Dammit. Breathless, she changed direction and followed him back into the kitchen, where he was chasing some imaginary threat around the gorgeous dark wood kitchen table that indeed had two twenty dollar bills lying on the smooth surface.
She was beginning to see why the job paid so much.
She retraced her steps to the laundry room and found a leash and collar hanging on the doorknob above the gate. Perfect. The collar was a manly blue and the tag said TANK.
Grace laughed out loud, then searched out “Tank.” Turned out, Tank had worn off the excess energy and was up against the front door, panting.
“Good boy,” Grace cooed, and came at him with his collar. “What a good boy.”
He smiled at her.
Aw. See? She told herself. Compared to account analysis and posing nude, this job was going to be a piece of cake. She was still mentally patting herself on the back for accepting this job when right there on the foyer floor, Tank squatted, hunched, and—
“No!” she cried. “Oh, no, not inside!” She fumbled with the front door, which scared Tank into stopping mid-poo. He ran a few feet away from the front door and hunched again. He was quicker this time. Grace was still standing there, mouth open in shock and horror, little Tank took a dainty step away from his second masterpiece, pawed his short back legs on the wood like a matador, and then, with his oversized head held up high, trotted right out the front door like royalty.
Grace staggered after him, eyes watering from the unholy smell. “Tank! Tank, wait!”
Tank didn’t wait. Apparently feeling ten pounds lighter, he raced across the front yard and street. He hit the beach, his little legs pumping with the speed of a gazelle as he practically flew across the sand, heading straight for the water.
“Oh, God,” she cried. “No, Tank, no!”
But Tank dove into the first wave and vanished.
Grace dropped the purse still dangling off her shoulder to the sand. “Tank!”
A wave hit her at hip level, knocking her back. She stepped out again, frantically searching for a bobbing head.
Nothing. The little guy had completely vanished, having committed suicide right before her eyes.
The next wave hit her at chest height. Again she staggered back, gasping at the shock of the water as she searched frantically for a little black head. Because she was concentrating, wave number three washed right over the top of her. When she came up sputtering, she shook her head and then dove beneath the surface to search there.
Nothing.
Finally, she was forced to crawl out of the water and admit defeat. She pulled her phone from her purse and swore because it was off. Probably because she kept dropping it.
Or tossing it to the rocky beach to look for drowning puppies.
She powered the phone on, gnawed on her lower lip, then called the man who’d trusted her to “be on time, responsible, and not a flake.” Heart pounding, throat tight, she waited until he picked up.
“Dr. Scott,” came the low, deep male voice.
Dr. Scott. Dr. Scott?
“Hello?” he said, his voice that same calm as before, but there was an underlying impatience now. “Anyone there?”
Oh, God. This was bad. Very bad. Because she knew him.
Well, okay, not really. She’d seen him at the diner a few times; he was good friends with Mallory’s and Amy’s boyfriends. Dr. Joshua Scott, II, was thirty-four—which she knew because Mallory had given him thirty-four chocolate cupcakes on his birthday last month, a joke because he was a health nut. He was a big guy, built for football more than the ER, but he’d chosen the latter. Even in his wrinkled scrubs after a long day at work, with a stethoscope hanging around his neck, his dark hair tousled and his darker eyes lined with exhaustion, he was drop-dead sexy. The few times that their gazes had locked, the air had snapped, crackled, and popped with a tension she hadn’t felt with a man in far too long.
And she’d just killed his puppy.
“Um, hi,” she said. “This is Grace Brooks. Your… dog walker.” She choked down a horrified sob and forced herself to co
ntinue, to give him the rest. “I might have just lost your puppy.”
There was a single beat of stunned silence.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
More silence.
She dropped to her wobbly knees in the sand and shoved her wet hair out of her face with shaking fingers. “Dr. Scott? Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
She waited for the rest of his response, desperately gripping the phone.
“You might have lost Tank.”
“Yes,” she said softly, hating herself.
“If that’s true, I owe you a big, fat kiss.”
Grace pulled her phone from her ear and stared at it, then brought it back. “No,” she said, shaking her head as if he could see her. “I don’t think you understand, I lost Tank. In the water.”
He muttered something that she’d have sworn sounded like “I should be so lucky,” but that couldn’t have been right.
“I’m two minutes away,” he said. “I got a break in the ER and was coming home to make sure you showed.”
“Well, of course I showed—”
But he’d disconnected. “Why wouldn’t I show?” With a huff, she put her phone back in her purse and got up. Two minutes. She had two minutes to find Tank.
Also by Jill Shalvis
Simply Irresistible
The Sweetest Thing
Heating Up the Kitchen (cookbook)
Christmas in Lucky Harbor (omnibus)
Small Town Christmas (anthology)
Head Over Heels
Lucky In Love
“Jill Shalvis is a total original! It doesn’t get any better.”
—Suzanne Forster, New York Times bestselling author
Praise for
Jill Shalvis
and Her Novels
Head Over Heels
“[A] winning roller-coaster ride… [a] touching, character-rich, laughter-laced, knockout sizzler.”
—Library Journal (starred review)
“Healthy doses of humor, lust, and love work their magic as Shalvis tells Chloe’s story… Wit, smoking-hot passion, and endearing tenderness… a big winner.”
—Publishers Weekly
“The Lucky Harbor series has become one of my favorite contemporary series, and Head Over Heels didn’t disappoint… such a fun, sexy book… I think this one can be read as a stand-alone book, but I encourage you to try the first two in the series, where you meet all the characters of this really fun town.”
—USAToday.com
“The writing is, as always, very good. Shalvis makes her characters seem like reflections of ourselves, or at least our relatives. She also makes the scenarios real, not too sweet or too violent. Definitely a good choice for a rainy afternoon.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A Perfect 10. A truly fun and engaging tale from beginning to end… readers will not be disappointed… Be sure to put this one on your book buying list and get ready to snuggle down for some hot reading.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Chloe and Sawyer are my favorite couple of the series… These two set the pages on fire!… It’s entertaining, sweet, steamy, and one of my favorite contemporary romances of the year!”
—GoodReads.com
“5 stars! A truly delightful read that had me chuckling while reading it… a nice blend of romance, humor, and drama. Definitely going on my keeper shelf. I highly recommend this one.”
—SeducedByaBook.com
The Sweetest Thing
“A wonderful romance of reunited lovers in a small town. A lot of hot sex, some delightful humor, and plenty of heartwarming emotion make this a book readers will love.”
—RT Book Reviews
“A Perfect 10! Once again Jill Shalvis provides readers with a sexy, funny, hot tale… The ending is as sweet as it is funny. Tara and Ford have some seriously hot chemistry going on and they make the most of it in The Sweetest Thing. Trust me: You’ll need an ice-cold drink nearby.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Witty, fun, and the characters are fabulous.”
—FreshFiction.com
“It is fabulous revisiting Lucky Harbor! I have been on tenterhooks waiting for Tara and Ford’s story and yet again, Jill Shalvis does not disappoint… A rollicking good time… If you have not read the first book yet, this one will certainly compel you to do so… The Sweetest Thing is shiny and wonderful book goodness.”
—RomanceJunkiesReviews.com
“This is a fun and flirty story of past loves, secrets, and three sisters whose lives draw the reader in. For a good-time romance, check this one out.”
—Parkersburg News and Sentinel (WV)
“A fun-filled, sexy, entertaining story… [satisfies] one’s romantic sweet tooth.”
—TheRomanceReader.com
Simply Irresistible
“Hot, sweet, fun, and romantic! Pure pleasure!”
—Robyn Carr, New York Times bestselling author
“4 stars! [I]ntroduces some wonderful characters with humor, heartwarming interaction, and an abundance of hot sex. Readers will be eager for the next story.”
—RT Book Reviews
“This often hilarious novel has a few serious surprises, resulting in a delightfully satisfying story.”
—LibraryJournal.com
“Heartwarming and sexy… an abundance of chemistry, smoldering romance, and hilarious sisterly antics.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Shalvis’s writing is a perfect trifecta of win: hilarious dialogue, evocative and real characters, and settings that are as much a part of the story as the hero and heroine. I’ve never been disappointed by a Shalvis book.”
—SmartBitchesTrashyBooks.com
“One of those books that totally and absolutely encapsulates its title… utterly irresistible. The romance instantly jumps off the page… Jill Shalvis seems to have a golden touch with her books. Each one is better than the previous story.”
—RomanceJunkiesReviews.com
“A beautiful start to this new series. The characters are as charming as the town itself. A pleasure to read.”
—FreshFiction.com
“A Jill Shalvis hero is the stuff naughty dreams are made of.”
—Vicki Lewis Thompson, New York Times bestselling author of Chick with a Charm
“Jill Shalvis has the incredible talent for creating characters who are intelligent, quick-witted, and gorgeously sexy, all the while giving them just the right amount of weakness to keep them from being unrealistically perfect.”
—RomanceJunkies.com
THE DISH
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
From the desk of Cynthia Garner
Dear Reader,
You’ve now met several characters from my Warriors of the Rift series, and in SECRET OF THE WOLF you get to know Dante MacMillan and Victoria Joseph. Dante’s a man with a lot of people depending on him, from his colleagues to his sister, who’s just getting over chemotherapy treatments and an unexpected divorce—as well as three lovely four-legged friends named Big Ben, Studmuffin, and Sugardaddy.
Some of the real events that happened in the Phoenix area while I was writing this book included a huge dust storm called a haboob. The first one that blew through the area shut down Sky Harbor Airport. The monster was around 5,000 feet high when it slammed into Phoenix, but radar indicated it had reached heights of 10,000 feet prior to hitting the city. It was caused by the winds that come with our monsoon season, but instead of a rain storm the Phoenix area got a dust storm.
I think I’d rather have monsters in the form of werewolves and vampires, thank you very much. A 10,000-foot-high wall of dust is too apocalyptic for me. (Come to think of it, I may actually prefer a zombie apocalypse over a haboob. The one we had was very reminiscent of that one scene in The Mummy. Of course, if Brendan Fraser came along for the ride…)
While Dante and Tori didn’t have to put up with monster dust storms, they did have to work
with other monsters while they focused on a special project during their off-duty hours that brought them close in more ways than one.
As with Kiss of the Vampire, I have extras up on my website: a character interview with Tori, some pictures of Scottsdale where the story takes place, and a character tree showing the Council of Preternaturals and their hierarchy.
Look for the next installment, Heart of the Demon, coming soon! Finn Evnissyen may not be all he seems to be.
Happy Reading!
[email protected]
http://cynthiagarnerbooks.com
From the desk of Jill Shalvis
Dear Reader,
A few years ago, my family went camping. We brought our boat, and on the first day there, we launched it on the lake for the duration of our stay. My husband gave me my choice of driving the truck and trailer to the campsite or driving the boat across the lake to the dock. It was windy, and I’m a boat wuss, so I picked the truck. Halfway around the lake, I got the trailer stuck on a weird hairpin turn and had to be rescued by a forest ranger. He was big and tough and armed and overworked, and undoubtedly underpaid as well, but the man helped me out of a jam so my husband wouldn’t kill me. Ever since then, I’ve wanted to write a forest ranger into one of my books as a hero.
Enter Matt Bowers. Big and tough and armed and overworked and underpaid. Like my real-life hero, he also stopped and helped a damsel in distress. Of course, Matt gets a lot more in the bargain than my poor beleaguered forest ranger ever got. Matt Bowers gets waitress Amy Michaels, beautiful, tough, jaded… and in desperate need of rescuing. She just doesn’t know it yet.
