This book seems like a whole lot of fun!
The book is Her Deception by M.M. Mayfield, a romantic contemporary, suspense.
Raised one step up from the gutter in Macon, Georgia, Patrice worked her way through college as Joy Love, stripper.
Now she’s a CPA and has a wealthy husband who treats her like a princess. When she overhears her husband order a hit and make threats to kill other men she knows she must find evidence to take him down with his associates. Since he deals in drugs and human degradation, she goes to the world where she earned her college money and learned even more that she did living in the slums. She becomes Angela White, Stripper. She has secrets, but his are bigger.
Can she stay ahead of Hugh and his associates? Can she stay ahead of his enemies?
Excerpt: This is the man Patrice left with no notice. How do you think he will take it when he learns she left on her own?
Hugh took no pleasure in his study, with its authentic masters’ paintings and fine wood moldings. Twice today he had picked up his phone to call Patrice at her office. She couldn’t be staying away from him but going to work, could she? He’d look like a fool calling to ask for her only to learn she was out of town working with a client. Somehow he didn’t think she was.
He wanted to smash his expensive oak desk and more. Jeffery had threatened to spill his guts and take Hugh down with him. He had helped Jeffery by offering loans and acting as a silent partner in his business. The poor slob hadn’t the brains to handle a real business. Leaving the women’s bodies where they could be found had been stupid. Leaving both alive had been even more stupid.
Handling business from his home office wasn’t his preference but he wanted to be here if someone called with information about Patrice.
The young lawyer he had hired for Jeffery looked ready to run. What the hell had Jeffery told the damned man?
“Mr. Prior said the DA offered him clemency if he provided evidence to charge the other people involved in the club.” The young red haired man wrung his hands.
Hugh had been kind to the wimp, saying he had known the club owner from the past and knew he wouldn’t be guilty of such a horrible thing.
“Prior is weakening his resolve that he will be found innocent of all charges. If you are named you will be investigated. If there is evidence, you’ll be charged.”
“Did he implicate me in his problems, Mr. Craft?” Hugh lowered his glasses and gazed over the tops. “I don’t understand his attitude. Did you get the idea he wanted to put the squeeze on me? I thought he needed your help. Maybe he’d prefer to hire his own representation or ask for a public defender.”
“Well, sir, I …”
“You’ll be paid, anyway.” Hugh stood and the man took a small step back. The poor guy’s a scared rabbit. How could he survive a court trial? Was he scared of his client or of the man paying him? Why?
Did my stupid partner kidnap Patrice to use as pressure against me, even after I rescued him? Why haven’t I heard anything about her or even a threat? Can’t afford to be connected with an accused killer. Can’t let him drag me down with him.
“Please keep me on top of things.” Hugh stood and led the way from his study toward the front door, then held out his hand, offering an envelope stuffed with cash. “Remember, I’d prefer people didn’t know I’m paying for Prior’s defense.”
With a quick nod, George Craft took the envelope and left.
Anger snaked through Hugh so quickly he swiped an entry table clean of its vase and lamp. He strode past the mess back to his office. None of the elegance in his home mattered worth a damn without his wife.
Grabbing his liquor glass, he drained it, feeling the burn down to his roiling stomach, then threw it across the room, hitting a painting. The ringing phone stilled his tirade.
A glance at the caller ID showed the number of his lead investigator. “It’s about time.” He tried to keep his voice normal. “Have you learned anything about my wife, anything at all?”
“No, sir. I have someone watching her office building, in case we jumped to the wrong conclusion and she goes in to work.”
“My men combed the area bars. Anyone took her isn’t bragging. No police reports show accidents involving anyone with her description or her car anywhere for two hundred-mile radius. She hasn’t shown up on any hospital admissions lists.”
Mary Marvella has been a storyteller for as long as she can remember. She made up the “Let’s pretend” or “play like” settings and story lines. The arrival of the book mobile was more exciting than hearing the music of the ice cream truck. Her parents didn’t buy ice cream from that truck, but her mama did let her check out books. Mary ‘s daddy, a truck driver, went college at 29. She helped him study, or she thought she did. Her thirst for knowledge grew.
Retired from teaching classic works of the masters, Mary plays let’s pretend with her characters. She presents editing workshops, edits, coaches writers, and tutors one-on-one
Mary has published novels, novellas, and short stories. Her genres include paranormal romance, romantic suspense, women’s fiction, and sweet romance. Georgia raised, she writes stories with a Southern flair. Mary write as Mary Marvella and M.M.Mayfield. She writes steamy romantic suspense and women’s fiction. M. M. Mayfield writes more erotic and gritty books
Her newest release, Her Deception, is her 10thpublished book.
Follow Mary Marvella on Twitter @mmarvellab