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Blurb:
“It doesn’t matter” is cynical Sophie Fortune’s motto. Then her best friend is killed and Sophie herself is targeted. Can her bodyguard show her the way to love, self-respect and safety?
Genre/theme: Romantic Suspense,
damsel in distress, model, aristocracy, bodyguard, police/cop romance
Copyright © Suz deMello, 2016
Excerpt:
Chapter One
... After word had
got out that supermodel Sophia Fortune was working at Out of the Closet, the
charity shop was inundated with customers, which was fine with her. She wanted
to honor Tink by donating her time, and better yet, she was kept too busy to
mourn more than was healthy. She had cried a river at the funeral and the
inquest, which had concluded that her dear friend Belle Tinker had been
murdered by “a person or persons unknown” when she’d closed up the shop late
one winter evening.
Sophie adored the
shop, a quiet retreat from the bustle of Marylebone High Street outside.
Carpeted in cream pile, lined by racks of designer clothing and smelling of
Chanel No. 5, the long room calmed her the moment she entered, regardless of
the number of customers. The chime of the bell above the door and soft Diana
Krall piano were equally soothing. No
wonder Tink had loved this place.
Tink had mattered.
Out of the Closet mattered.
That Sophie’s
service, if it lasted a year, would fulfill the conditions of her parents’ odd
will was a side-benefit that did not matter. She had more than enough money,
given that she’d been modeling since she was thirteen.
Even the warnings
of the detective investigating Tink’s murder didn’t pierce her serenity. A
tall, well-built fellow in a sombre suit, he’d gathered everyone who worked at
the shop together to warn them. We
believe that Ms. Tinker was attacked because of her association with this
shop... When you leave at night, be sure you’re not alone...
Though he had a
pleasant North Country accent like Jon Snow in Game of Thrones, she’d barely heard what he’d said—she’d been too
occupied imagining him naked. He looks
far too young to be a Detective Inspector. Hazel eyes, dark hair...yum. And
what a body!
That freaks
targeted LGBTQ folks bothered Sophie, but she didn’t think she was in
danger. Not only was she straight, but
she’d been dealing with paparazzi all her life—she knew how to get rid of
unwanted attention. And because no additional attacks had occurred, she figured
Tink’s murder was a one-off.
So one Friday
evening, when the assistant manager wanted to leave early to attend her
daughter’s violin recital, Sophie said, “Sure, go ahead,” without a thought to
her personal safety.
At six p.m., she
locked the front entrance, then set the alarm before leaving via the side door,
which opened into an alley alongside. Night fell early in January, leaving the
little side-street dark, cold and deserted. She pulled the door closed behind
her, double-bolting it. With the shop’s interior lights off, the alley was
completely cast in shadow except for one light above Out of the Closet’s door.
But it didn’t
matter. The High Street, with open shops and taxis galore, was just a few steps
away. After fumbling in her satchel to find her e-cig, she hitched the bag onto
her shoulder and sucked in a pleasurable drag, then turned toward light and
people.
A blaze of pain
shot through her head and she dropped to her knees. “Ow! Shite!” She reached up,
and something whacked her hand, then hit the back of her skull again. She
screamed before falling forward, forehead to the pavement.
*****
She awakened in a
hospital bed, with three concerned faces peering down at her. One she
recognized—her brother Peter. “They must have rung you,” she said faintly. The
woman was a mystery; a doctor, perhaps, judging by her atrocious garb. And the
third was...Detective Inspector Dreamboat.
Love bodyguard stories. Looks like a great one! :)
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