Slow Hands
"Our stepmommy dearest is about to buy herself a gigolo."
Madeline Turner, who'd been signing a foot-tall stack of documents at her desk, dropped her pen, leaving a blot of black ink on the second quarter Profit and Loss Statement from a major local firm. Looking up, she could muster no surprise when she realized her sharp-toned visitor was her older half sister, Tabitha, looking as enraged as she sounded.
Enraged…but beautiful, as always. The stunning fashion plate had inherited all her mother's tall and slender genes, blond hair and elegance, which suited her lifestyle to a T. Madeline, meanwhile, had been gifted with their father's more short and round frame, plus her late mother's nearly black hair; dark, laughing eyes and dimples. Which did not suit her lifestyle as a nose-to-the-grindstone bank manager to an R or a squiggly S, much less to a T.
Tabitha tossed her designer handbag onto an empty chair and kicked the door shut with the heel of one pointy-toed, five-hundred-dollar shoe. "Maddy, did you hear me?"
"I think the construction workers twenty floors down heard you," Madeline mumbled, wondering why Tabitha always had to be so damned melodramatic. ... read full excerpt from: Slow Hands ebook
