Don’t get involved with your target.
I repeat: Don’t get involved with your target. It’s the first rule of the trade.
What’s the trade? Part of it is cleaning up and taking out the trash. I don’t mean sweeping things under the rug or scrubbing out the laundry. I clean up the mess when things have gone so badly off the rails there is no other option. I make the problems go away, no questions asked.
The other part? I find things. Lost things, stolen things or those belongings of your wealthy banker buddy that you covet but can’t afford. Anything is available for a price, pay me what I ask and its yours by whatever means necessary.
One of those things was Emma Jones. The client paid me handsomely to find her, no questions asked.
I never imagined what would happen next.
Bullets and Blackmail. Some secrets should remain hidden.
Targeted Audience: LGBT, contemporary, romantic thriller, erotic, series, adult, steamy, mystery
Mish Daniels lives in the heart of Texas. She likes to drive fast, listen to loud music, and do things different than everyone else.
She has always enjoyed escaping into a good book and now enjoys writing her own. Mish mainly writes contemporary lesbian erotica and erotic romance. She has a strong belief in tolerance and equality. She thinks everyone deserves a happy ever after.
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I grew up reading mysteries and romance. It seemed like a no-brainer to combine the genres when I started writing.
Read more, including a sample from the book
Sample from Book:
Bliss, the biggest and most prevalent escort service in Savanah’s seedy underworld sat dark and foreboding in the wee hours of the morning. The tall glass building reflected the empty streets and the traffic lights beyond. The closest stop light changed, lighting the face of the building with an eerie red glow.
“Welcome to hell,” I muttered as I parked my motorcycle beneath the awning out front.
I saw myself reflected in the shiny glass. Tall, dark headed, walking with deadly purpose. I wasn't one to fuck around. Tonight, I needed to be on my toes. Lack of sleep made me irritable and I was running on the last dregs of caffeine in my system. It was past time to crash and burn.
“One more job,” I reminded myself. The call had come in just as I was pulling off my clothes and crawling into bed. The pay was good and I couldn’t refuse.
No sane person should be up at this hour, certainly no fine, law abiding citizen. Good thing I wasn’t one of those.
Most of Bliss’ escorts were probably with clients or had gone home by now. Dottie’s black Mercedes was parked out front and a silver Audi sat next to it. All Dottie had said over the phone was that she needed to speak to me about an urgent matter and to come quickly.
I didn't usually jump and run like this, but something about the urgency in her voice piqued my curiosity.
My right hand instinctively went to the weapon on my hip. The Walther’s solid butt against my palm calmed me somewhat, but I knew one of Dottie’s goons would probably demand that I leave it at the door. It didn’t matter. I always carried a backup.
Just as expected, I was met by Charles, her right-hand man. We despised each other. He used to give me a lot of hell back when he was a cop. I was younger and stupid then. I’m pretty sure he’d been on the take even then.
“I know you’re armed. Why don’t you make it easy? Hand it over.” The dude could’ve given a gorilla a run for his money on size alone. Charles held out his hand expectantly and narrowed his gaze on the Walther. He wiggled his fingers expectantly. “Don’t make me take it from you.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I popped the clip out then handed it over, butt first. To say I felt naked without it was an understatement. I lifted my arms and assumed the pat down position. “That’s all I got, Chuckles. Do you want to check?”