Born on Friday the 13th, hapless socialite Afia St. John is convinced she is jinxed. She’s lost two husbands, an inheritance, and can’t even keep a job serving pancakes. Hard-boiled private investigator Jake Leeds needs money, bad enough that he accepts a secret payment to hire Afia as his assistant. Believing her only skill is shopping, both are shocked by her natural talent for investigating—not to mention their sizzling attraction to each other.
Will Jake be the good luck charm that puts Afia on a winning streak or, like everything else in her life, will he wind up jinxed?
Excerpt
Jake rose, damning Harmon and his misplaced trust. Well, not misplaced, but certainly inconvenient. A man would have to be dead not to be attracted to Afia St. John. Although two men who had been attracted to her were dead. Good thing he wasn’t superstitious, otherwise he’d have to show Ms. St. John the door, screw the money. Bolstering himself, he zeroed in on the trembling woman, prepared for waterworks. She surprised him with fire.
“You can’t dismiss me,” she said in rush. She glanced down at his appointment book and the blinking light on his message machine. “You’re overwhelmed. I can help.”
Jake eyed the scattered case files. “This is helping?”
“I have excellent people skills,” she continued. “I’m courteous and . . . and I’m a good listener. Your clients will love me.” She glanced around the room, brow creased as though she were in pain. “I’m also organized and have a flair for decorating.”
“Forget it.”
“But—”
“No decorating.”
Hope sparked in luminous sable eyes. “What about the good with people part?”
“I’m fine with the good with people part.”
She smiled, a thankful smile that twisted his gut into a knot. Well, hell. Normally an unforgiving judge of character, he cursed his bleeding-heart reaction. Beautiful, pampered, born and married into money—she was a walking cliché. It was absurd to feel anything for her other than blatant lust.
“So I’m not fired?”
“You were never fired.” He bent over to gather the rest of his files.
“But, I thought—”
“You jumped to conclusions. We’ll have to work on that. I was merely about to suggest that we postpone your start time until you go home and change.”
He felt more than saw her tense. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Nothing. “Everything.” He scanned her petite body—from strappy pointy-toed heels to belted waist to scooped neckline—while rising to place the papers on his desk. Classy. Sexy as hell. Skinny for his taste, but that face . . . huge soulful eyes, lush pink lips . . . Hell. “Unless otherwise notified,” he said, craving a cold shower, “dress to blend. That means no bright colors. No short skirts.” He pointed to her dainty pink shoes. “How the hell do you expect to run in three-inch heels?”
“I’ll be running?”
"You never know. And do something with your hair.”
She smoothed a delicate hand over her loose, sable locks looking as though he’d just insulted her to the quick. “Like what?”
Like shave it off. But imagining her bald didn’t diminish his desire. “Try a ponytail.”
“Anything else?”
“Nix the perfume.” The light, spicy scent would get a rise out of a Eunuch.
“Anything else?”
“Lose the limo.”
Professional Reviews
Nan Ryan, Bestselling author of The Chiefton
"The hi-jinks of Ciotta's charmingly imperfect heroine makes JINXED a hip, witty, fun read!"
Harriet Klausner, Blether-The Book Review Site
"JINXED is an enjoyable private investigative romance that has the feel of the 1930s Hepburn-Grant madcap comedies. . . fans of screwball romantic romps will enjoy the love tale of the socialite and the sleuth. "
Shirine McVey discovers that twenty years of her life have elapsed since she went to sleep in a hotel room in El Paso, Texas. And worse, she is married to a man she doesn't know.
