It’s a comedic case of mistaken identity when construction worker Jason Landers is kidnapped at gunpoint from the local mini-mart by Gina Johnson, the Salvador drug cartel’s deadly hit girl. An erotic strip search leads Jason to a night of scorching passion as he uses his sexual prowess to pacify an insatiable Gina. When his attempt to formulate an escape plan fails, he’s resigned to living life on the lam until he is rescued by none other than the real Rico Perez.
Eden ScottAuthor Bio
Eden Scott is a born and bred Jersey girl which she uses as an excuse to write about crazy gangsters and their ditzy girlfriends. She’s a former military officer, IRS agent, event planner and kindergarten teacher (she’s well-rounded, if nothing else). Her hobbies include reading, more reading and a little writing on the side.
Cover Artist: Dawné Dominique
Word Count: 7387
Formats: EPUB, HTML, LIT, MOBI, PDF
Jason squinted at the sexy brunette who glanced at him for a third time while he waited in line at his neighborhood mini-mart. He thought she was staring at him like he owed her money or something. Damn, she looked good, but he didn’t recognize her. She probably just thought she knew him. People said he had one of those faces.
What did it matter? A love connection wasn’t in the cards tonight, not with the sledgehammer pounding between his temples. He glanced away and stared at the back of the navy pea coat in front of him.
His crew had worked overtime in twelve-hour shifts in an effort to complete a group of over-priced condos before the Christmas holidays, a mere two weeks away. Drywall powder coated his tan skin like he’d been dusted with flour. Despite the freezing outdoor temperature, the black paisley bandana molded around his head, surgeon-style, stood stiff with dried sweat. Gritty insulation granules bit into him like fire ants, making him want to scratch places he shouldn’t in public. God, he needed a shower.
He shifted his gaze to the setting sun in the gray-tinged-with-pink sky. It would be dark soon and even though the holidays were right around the corner, there were no Christmas decorations strewn across lamp posts. No festive wreaths graced homeowner’s doors, and no jolly St. Nicks rang bells on the corner. The deserted streets, dreary houses and abandoned storefronts reminded him that on this side of town, the holiday spirit wasn’t missing; it had run away from fear of being mugged or shot.
The line pitched forward, breaking his reverie, and he caught sight of the chubby-cheeked, teenaged cashier slouched behind the counter. Under a cap of curly black hair, almond-shaped eyes met his as he plopped down his six-pack and shrink-wrapped frozen pizza.
Smacking a piece of gum into submission on her back molars, she hummed “Feliz Navidad,” the Muzak version, as he plucked a twenty from his billfold and handed it to her. “Will that…pop… be all…pop?” She withdrew a white plastic sack from under the counter and reached for his purchases.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he replied. “Save the plastic, querida, I’ll carry it out.”
Chipped-polished fingers strummed the register keys and moments later she slapped a receipt in his palm and was have-a-nice-daying him before he removed his stuff from the counter.
He balanced the awkwardly shaped pizza box and six-pack on one arm and hustled to the automatic exit doors. Barcalounger, here I come.
“Rico? Rico? Hey, wait…I know it’s you!”
Was she talking to him? He stopped and whipped around. It was the woman who’d been staring at him.
Spiky stiletto heels on black leather ankle boots click-clacked across the hard linoleum floor as she closed the distance between them. Curvy in all the right places—tight jeans stretched over generous hips and a red satin blouse rippling over voluptuous breasts—she had a body made for sin. Fingers of her spicy perfume tickled his nose and made the smooth muscle between his legs twitch.