L.A. psychologist Christina McMullen’s relationship with Detective Jack Rivera is heating up—until a client threatens to put a damper on their sparks. Chrissy has been counseling Micky Goldenstone to face the secrets from his past, but she had no idea that they would lead to a dangerous confrontation with a criminal even the police can’t protect her from. To make matters worse, Chrissy’s best friend, Hollywood starlet Laney Butterfield, has started getting creepy mail that’s turning stalker-ugly. And Chrissy’s neighbor desperately needs her help to rescue her runaway sister from an abusive husband. When it comes to swimming in a sea of crazy, Chrissy is a pro, but she’ll need more than a few clues to keep her head above water.
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|Title of Mystery & Detective eBook: Not One Clue||Series: Chrissy McMullen, , #6|
|Release Date: 04-27-2010|
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This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||Not One Clue|
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|Note||ePub, short for electronic publication is one of our favorites and should be yours for a couple of reasons. ePub offers reflowable text giving you flexibility to manipulate how the content is presented. Moreover, lots of cool features are now being developed for the reader like advanced video and audio. ePub is now an industry standard, so all of the "non-propreitary" hardware manufacturers are now supporting it.|
Not One Clue
Give me ice cream or give me death.
—Chrissy McMullen, during an ongoing bout of teenage angst
I had just drifted into the feathery nest of Sleepdom when the phone rang. Cracking one aggravated eye, I glared at my bedside clock. Eleven-seventeen. Okay, eleven-seventeen may not exactly be the wee hours of the morning, but I have a deep and abiding affection for sleep and tend to get somewhat miffed when I and my beloved are separated. I happen to consider REM to be the next best thing to chocolate, which is the next best thing to . . . damnit. I couldn’t remember anything that beat the cocoa bean for sheer unadulterated bliss, and that wasn’t a good sign. I was pretty sure there had once been something rather titillating.
The phone blasted my eardrums a second time. I gave it a jaundiced glare, but it remained unrepressed and rang again. Cheeky bastard. Snaking an arm across Harlequin, a dog who disguises himself as a hundred-pound door?stop, I hauled the receiver from its cradle, dragged it into my lair, and rumbled an impolite salutation.
There was a moment of silence followed by, “Jesus, McMullen.” Rivera’s smoky voice sizzled through my system like cheap wine. “Did your larynx have a run-in with a sander or are you just on a bender?”
Meet Lieutenant Jack Rivera, LAPD down to his cotton boxers. He and I go back a ways. When Bomber Bomstad, client and ex–football star, dropped deader than kibble on my overpriced berber, Rivera was the first on the scene. Irritating, smart-mouthed, and preposterously hot, he’s as tempting as truffles. He is also equally restricted, because although a little dark chocola...