Fair warning, my friends and readers, a promo blitz for Good Girl Gone Bad is coming soon! While I’d always intended to release this book after the New Year, life, mom, writing, the Holidays, and travel kept me a bit busy. At the end of the month, you’ll likely see blog posts featuring my latest Romantic Suspense, as well as a couple of giveaways! So stay tuned and check out an excerpt below!
As such, I thought I’d share a couple of links: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/good-girl-gone-bad-17
https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1493449940
April—Brandt Security—Front Royal, Virginia
Sitting at a conference table waiting for her aunt, Sage tried to figure out what she could’ve done differently the night she’d gone to a male strip club with her friends.
Maybe she could put the blame on too many Fireballs. Or worry over Bailey and Gretchen seeming to be at odds.
She knew better. Everything about that night had been her choice, from how many drinks she’d had to going on stage with a male stripper. But she never once thought someone would make a video of her one and only fifteen minutes of fame with Azrael, much less that it’d go viral on social media, or anticipate the ramifications that followed.
Credit card numbers stolen, her online presence, though limited, completely overtaken by lies, and creating some sort of sick fan who’d begun to plague her real life, threatening the security of her students. A few nights ago, her landline kept ringing in her apartment. Upon turning it off, her smartphone began going off, the ringtones reminiscent of what’d been playing when she’d been onstage.
Of course, she called the police after every incident. They’d taken her statements, advised changing her phone numbers, and promised patrols in her area. It wasn’t that the cops didn’t care. They did and they’d kept their word. She just felt that it was time to reclaim control over her situation that could affect her work as a teacher and anything she wanted to do in the future.
Even so, she didn’t regret going to Baltimore. For a weekend, she’d been able to get away from the responsible image she’d perfected since she’d woken up in a hospital bed, broken and torn and ill, only to discover she’d been the sole survivor of a terrible accident.
Now, here she was sitting in a conference room waiting for Aunt Sara to return from the meeting she’d been in with her boss, retired Colonel Daniel Brandt. Thirty minutes ago, there’d been some commotion out in the main office, the deep, dark, intriguing voice of a man causing her to take notice.
Unfortunately, she never saw who it was and was disappointed when things quieted down. It was possible he’d gone into the meeting, which meant he likely worked for Brandt Security.
What were they discussing, anyway? Her case, if she had one? How long should she sit here doing nothing? The longer she did, the harder it was not to get angry. That’s what she wanted, to get mad and punch the videographer in the face.
Good Girl Gone Bad! That’s what the five-minute video had been titled.
Ha! Nothing could be further from the truth. Those minutes on stage with Azrael had been the closest she’d come to having a sex life since she’d moved to Alexandria, Virginia and started teaching at Hollingsworth five years ago.
Deciding to walk around, she pushed away from the gargantuan oval table and stood. Soon as she did, a cramp twisted her calf muscle, the pain, unrelenting.
Reaching for her cane, she groaned when it crashed onto the floor, along with her chair. Unsure how that happened, she was about to call for help when something changed behind her, a shimmer of awareness telling her that she was no longer alone.
Keeping one hand on the table, she turned, discovering a man standing in the doorway. For a moment, she thought he was a product of her nighttime fantasies. Gorgeous long raven-black hair was swept back in a ponytail, revealing chiseled features that might’ve been carved by gods. Mercy, if Hollywood or a modeling agency signed him, she’d see any movie or buy every magazine he was a part of.
The cut of his suit was impeccable, the splash of pewter beneath the dark gray suit coat fashionable. Despite the polish, everything in her warned he was a certified bad boy who’d be comfortable in jeans, leather, or nothing at all. Yes, please, to the latter.
“Umm, hi, I’m Sage. I’m waiting for my Aunt Sara and Uncle Reed. We’re supposed to have lunch,” she said in a nervous rush, heat flooding her cheeks, her heartbeat doing a crazy little two-step. Whoa, he was a thousand times hotter than any stripper she’d encountered a month ago, including Azrael who’d only left her red blouse stained by body oil.
“I know who you are, Sage Grayson,” he replied, his dark, silken voice matching the one she’d heard a short time ago. Lifting her gaze, she stared into eyes so startling green they could’ve been emeralds.
“You do?”
“Even if I hadn’t been called in to help you, I’d know. You resemble Sara. May I?”
Confused, she frowned, shaking her head. “I’m sorry?”
“May I approach? Promise, I’m one of the good guys.”
“Ah, sure. You seem to belong here more than I do.”
“I tend to work at Brandt Security’s satellite office in Baltimore. Couple times a month, I come to Front Royal for meetings or specific cases such as yours.”
Breaking away from the doorjamb, he walked toward her with the grace of a jaguar, telling her that he could be as dangerous as one if riled. Just the same, she showed no fear, for there was none.
“What’s your name?”
“Kristian Rodriquez and I’m your detail for the foreseeable future.”
Frances Stockton 