First Chapter of Play with Me - in the Heating Up the Holidays Trio OUT NOW!

A full 35,000 words in the PLAY WITH ME anthology out NOW!

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Hero inspiration: A 30's version of Robert Downey Jr!

Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/Heating-Holidays-Snowfall-Midnight-ebook/dp/B00EBRUBBG/ref=la_B001ITXMWU_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1382841145&sr=1-5

Barnes

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Play With Me Kali Miller has spent three years reporting fluff stories for a small-town Texas paper, waiting for the opportunity to pen the article that will launch her to new heights. That dream has never felt further away when she suddenly finds herself out of work, forced to take a job as an executive secretary at a Las Vegas casino. But that’s exactly where Kali meets the subject of what will surely be a career-defining exposé: her boss, Damion Ward, the casino’s arrogant and undeniably sexy CEO.   Watching Damion make his cold, calculating business maneuvers, Kali is positive she’s doing the right thing. But after Damion invites her to help him plan a Thanksgiving charity event, Kali begins to see another side of the man. And when she surrenders to the exhilarating tension that’s been simmering between them since day one, Kali becomes part of her own story, which she hopes will have a happy ending. 

Part One

The first meeting . . .

“Ms. Miller.”

At the sound of my name, I hop to my feet in the center of the Las Vegas temp service. Rushing forward, I stop in front of my interviewer, a forty-something woman in a navy suit not so unlike my own.

“Hi,” I say, sounding as awkward and nervous as I feel about being unemployed for the first time in my life.

My greeting earns me a quick up-and-down inspection that has my already rattled nerves swan-diving off an invisible cliff. She levels a stare at me and asks, “Can I help you?” And her prickly tone says I’ve failed her sixty-second assessment.

“I’m Ms. Miller,” I reply, and try to win her over. “But, please, you can call me Kali.”

Her lips twist and tell me she is clearly not charmed, as I had intended. Instead, she looks down her nose, which is as straight as the long brunette hair neatly tied at her nape, and repeats with formality, “Ms. Miller. I’m Ms. Williams, your job-placement counselor. Come with me.”

“Ms. Williams” charges down a narrow hallway and I chase after her, just as I did for the reporting job at the Vegas Heat that fell through before I ever started to work. She disappears into an office and I follow, swiping at a strand of my long blond hair, which suddenly feels as disheveled as the new life I’ve gambled on.

Ms. Williams settles behind a basic wooden desk and motions me to the burgundy cloth-covered visitor’s chair. Claiming the seat that might as well be labeled for desperate, unemployed folks, I adjust my skirt to rest primly at my knees and watch Ms. Williams study my paperwork for what feels like an excruciatingly long amount of time.

She glances up at me, and the skeptical glint in her eyes—real or created by my insecurity—makes me wish she hadn’t. “Let me get right to the point,” she declares. “You were working as a reporter in college.”

“And for a year at the Texas Sun,” I quickly add, afraid she’s missed that line on my application. “I only left for a better offer, which was eliminated while I was en route.”