âYouâre observant â¦â
âI like watching you.â Trevor brushed a strand of hair off Shelbyâs forehead in a surprising, quick and intimate gesture that made her mouth go dry. âYou stand out in a crowd.â
âYou, too,â she managed to whisper.
His penetrating stare unnerved her nearly as much as his proximity.
He was related to her enemy.
He shouldnât fascinate her. She wasnât one of those women who went after bad boys, hoping to change them. She wasnât intrigued by danger or darkness.
And more turmoil she certainly didnât need.
But she didnât step back. If anything, this endeavor of justice was about standing her ground, standing up for her parents, who couldnât endure alone.
She wasnât about to retreat now â¦
Dear Reader,
Much as the South is my home, my cultureâreally, my worldâI LOVE New York City. At the first step on the pavement, I was astounded by the lights, crowds, sounds and smells. After a few visits, I began to appreciate the mix of cultures, the organised bustle, the glory of the back alley restaurant, and the utter, complete realisation that this is where everything happened.
So what better a place to explore the illusive concept of justice.
The romantic notion of Robin Hood has been a mythical dream of a variety of cultures for several hundred years. The idea of the oppressed and powerless being triumphant over the establishmentâno matter how corruptâis an idea with Blaze-worthy sexiness.
So, here we are.
Shelby and Trevor will introduce you to my little Manhattan gang trying to mix romance and justice. Shelby wants to bring the man who swindled her parents out of their retirement savings to justice, and her best buds are eager to help her. Unfortunately, her enemy is her new loverâs brother. Is getting revenge worth risking the love of her life?
I hope youâll join me for the entire FLIRTING WITH JUSTICE trilogy. Be sure to look for Victoriaâs story, Breathless at the Beach.
Happy reading!
Wendy Etherington
WENDY ETHERINGTON was born and raised in the deep Southâand she has the fried chicken recipes and NASCAR ticket stubs to prove it. The author of nearly thirty books, she writes full-time from her home in South Carolina, where she lives with her husband, two daughters and an energetic Shih Tzu named Cody. She can be reached via her website, www.wendyetherington.com. Or follow her on Twitter @wendyeth.
âThere is no such thing as justiceâin or out of court.â
âClarence Darrow, 1936
The New York Tattletale
April 12
Financial Finagling?by Peeps Galloway, Gossipmonger(And proud of it!)
Hello, fellow Manhattanites! As tax day approaches, all the corporate yuk-yuks are frantically lining up numbers in neat little columns. Yawn. You and I know what really matters in this townâpower and popularity. And it seems tycoon wannabe Maxwell Banfield finally has it clutched tightly in his overly tanned hands.
Heâs now the proud owner of The Crown Jewel, a popular luxury hotel on West 42nd Street in Midtown. Presumably, heâll offer the usual glamorous offerings in the hotelâs restaurant, Golden.
But the real jewel in the Crown isnât the four-star eatery, itâs the thirtieth-floor lounge, where itâs rumored â50s movie star Teresa Lawrence once tossed her drink (a very stiff martini) into legendary singer Paul Castonoâs face, bringing an end to their tumultuous two-year marriage. In a fit of nostalgia (or perhaps the convenience of the notorious private elevator), the high-flyers of stage and screen still occasionally flock to the joint.
Letâs hope Mr. Big Talker Banfield can keep his lucrative clientele happy this time.
After all, there were some rumors a few years back about a bit of book-diddling that the IRS wouldnât necessarily approve of. Even if that story was proved unsubstantiated, thereâs nothing wrong with repeating it here, is there, kids! Besides, Max has a social cushion and cache many of us would sell our designer bags and shoes for in a heartbeat.
Heâs heir apparent to his powerful father, the Earl of Westmore (thatâs the title of nobility held by the Banfield family of England and Wales). According to my compats in London, however, the future earl hasnât exactly lived up to his respected family name, given all his appearances in the tabloids. (And, oh, dear, thereâs yet another one!) Itâs rumored dear ole Daddy has cut his son off financially. But here he is, doling out cash for a luxury hotel.
Makes one go hmm ⦠huh?
Certainly members of the peerage slithering away from a sticky situation has never happened before in our just and pristine land. So Iâm sure those rumors about Max were, well ⦠fraudulent. Wink, wink.
I, your humble squire, just write and wonder. Maybe Max has suddenly got savvy? Maybe he miraculously found thirty million dollars under his sofa cushions? You be the judge, Urbanites. I know Iâll be hitting the streets to find out more.
Keep your ears tuned and your gums flapping!