Not The Marrying Kind
Chapter One
West Village, Manhattan
Some things in life are better left alone.
Harriet P. Smith fingered the black and white surveillance photograph of Jake Porter emerging from a Sunset Strip club eight days—or to be more precise, nights—earlier. She studied the flash of a smile, the dark eyes she could paint in her sleep, the quirk in his nose caused by a basketball injury, the protective way he held his arm around the shoulders of the pint-size blonde who walked beside him. Not that the woman mattered one way or the other. For better or worse, it was Jake Porter who held her attention.
And darn it, that had always been true.
And that despite the almost sixteen years that had passed since the last time she had been within arm's reach of Jake Porter.
It was funny how she always thought of him with both his first and last names. Harriet shoved the photo into the thick envelope supplied by Gotham Investigations, wishing she could discard her dilemma over the man as easily. To be honest, she'd shoved the situation into the recesses of her brain f ... read full excerpt from: Not The Marrying Kind ebook
