Title: Detecting Autumn
Series: Granite Lake Romance
Author: Jody A. Kessler
Genre: Contemporary Romance - Rom/Com
Release Date: January 15, 2019
“All’s fair in love, war, and romance novels.”
Bestselling author, Autumn Alex Monroe, lives and works by her misguided credo. She’ll do anything in the name of book research, including dating Gabe Moretti, a well-known member of the mafia.
Confirmed bachelor and private investigator, Shane Everett, is selling his detective agency and moving to Granite Lake to open Black Bear Brewing with his brothers.
When Gabe Moretti asks Shane to investigate the stunning and eccentric author, Alex Monroe, he says, no, but blackmail and mafia persuasion convinces him to take the case.
Shane quickly learns that Alex is a witty, sexy, and secretive woman... and she needs his protection from Gabe, the sociopathic goon who claims to be her boyfriend.
After a kidnapping and a forced marriage—while dealing with Alex’s bizarre sleep disorder— not to mention her multiple personas—Shane discovers that detecting Alex is exhilarating and dangerous.
...But most shocking of all, he finds that Alex’s unpredictability and hilarious antics have managed to capture his heart.
**A steamy, hilarious, and drama-packed romance with a happily ever after.
**Contains mature language and romantic scenes.
**Detecting Autumn is a stand-alone novel. However, some of the characters in this book are also in the other Granite Lake Romance novels.
COMBINING DRUGS, ALCOHOL, AND PARASOMNIA is a volatile cocktail in any circumstance. Throw in a good old-fashioned kidnapping, a pitch black closet, and a misogynistic psychopath, and Autumn found the pot of fool’s gold at the end of a black rainbow. She groaned, rolled over, and threw up.
“Wow. That’s—” The male voice shifted away from her in the dark. “That’s a potent odor.”
Autumn wretched again. Acid burned her esophagus and she knew she’d never drink bourbon again. Not even to save her life.
“I aim to impress.” Her voice croaked like a bullfrog with laryngitis. She spat into the mess, trying to clear away the rank taste.
“You’re succeeding,” he said. “Autumn Alex, the girl with two names and two boyfriends.”
It was Shane who spoke. She recognized his voice. Or, more like, she recognized her body’s response to the appealing timbre of his voice. A tiny involuntary moan rose from her chest. How was that possible? With a raw throat, the sound came out as more of a garbled belch than a seductive whimper.
“I don’t have a boyfriend—or two of them, either—you yank wanker,” she said. Autumn didn’t deny having two names. Actually, she currently used four names plus a corporation name, but Shane didn’t need to know that right now. “How long was I out?” she asked.
“Less than an hour, I think,” he said. “There’s no clock in here.”
Fuzzy recollections of the previous forty-eight hours slapped around inside her head as she scooted across the carpeted floor. Memories mingled with the distorted and incomprehensible dreams she’d been having and increased the churning nausea inside her stomach.
With arms outstretched, Autumn searched for anything in the absolute dark. She found smooth walls and the floor beneath her and nothing else. Autumn breathed deep, trying to clear her mind and settle the roiling upset inside her gut. Her thoughts cleared, but the sick feeling remained. She understood that Gabe Moretti was the source of her stomach clenching and overwrought nerves more so than the drug he’d slipped into her bourbon.
“It feels like I slept for hours,” she said.
“No. Although, I think you’re part feline. You take short naps and lash out with uncalled-for attacks. You’re all teeth and claws for no reason at all,” he said.
“What did I do this time?” Autumn found Shane when her fingertips brushed against his leg.
He grunted for an answer.
Autumn stopped searching their makeshift prison. “No one has ever compared me or my sleeping problems to a cat before, but I see the resemblances. I’m independent, but occasionally need the company of others. I’m athletic, but a little finicky.”
“And a psychotic man-slayer,” he said, interrupting her cat analogy with his own.
She sat back against the wall and laughed. Shane may not be joking, but his remarks eased the knots of tension that had taken up residence along her spine and between her brows.
“Think what you will about me, but I’m not a man-slayer,” she said.
The sound he made was somewhere between another grunt or clearing his throat. Either way, she got the impression that he blamed her for their current predicament of being locked inside Gabe Moretti’s secret room.
“Wow. That’s—” The male voice shifted away from her in the dark. “That’s a potent odor.”
Autumn wretched again. Acid burned her esophagus and she knew she’d never drink bourbon again. Not even to save her life.
“I aim to impress.” Her voice croaked like a bullfrog with laryngitis. She spat into the mess, trying to clear away the rank taste.
“You’re succeeding,” he said. “Autumn Alex, the girl with two names and two boyfriends.”
It was Shane who spoke. She recognized his voice. Or, more like, she recognized her body’s response to the appealing timbre of his voice. A tiny involuntary moan rose from her chest. How was that possible? With a raw throat, the sound came out as more of a garbled belch than a seductive whimper.
“I don’t have a boyfriend—or two of them, either—you yank wanker,” she said. Autumn didn’t deny having two names. Actually, she currently used four names plus a corporation name, but Shane didn’t need to know that right now. “How long was I out?” she asked.
“Less than an hour, I think,” he said. “There’s no clock in here.”
Fuzzy recollections of the previous forty-eight hours slapped around inside her head as she scooted across the carpeted floor. Memories mingled with the distorted and incomprehensible dreams she’d been having and increased the churning nausea inside her stomach.
With arms outstretched, Autumn searched for anything in the absolute dark. She found smooth walls and the floor beneath her and nothing else. Autumn breathed deep, trying to clear her mind and settle the roiling upset inside her gut. Her thoughts cleared, but the sick feeling remained. She understood that Gabe Moretti was the source of her stomach clenching and overwrought nerves more so than the drug he’d slipped into her bourbon.
“It feels like I slept for hours,” she said.
“No. Although, I think you’re part feline. You take short naps and lash out with uncalled-for attacks. You’re all teeth and claws for no reason at all,” he said.
“What did I do this time?” Autumn found Shane when her fingertips brushed against his leg.
He grunted for an answer.
Autumn stopped searching their makeshift prison. “No one has ever compared me or my sleeping problems to a cat before, but I see the resemblances. I’m independent, but occasionally need the company of others. I’m athletic, but a little finicky.”
“And a psychotic man-slayer,” he said, interrupting her cat analogy with his own.
She sat back against the wall and laughed. Shane may not be joking, but his remarks eased the knots of tension that had taken up residence along her spine and between her brows.
“Think what you will about me, but I’m not a man-slayer,” she said.
The sound he made was somewhere between another grunt or clearing his throat. Either way, she got the impression that he blamed her for their current predicament of being locked inside Gabe Moretti’s secret room.
Jody A. Kessler is a USA Today bestselling author and winner of the Readers’ Crown Award. She writes contemporary romance, historical time travel fiction, and paranormal romance.
When she isn’t navigating the terrain of her imagination and writing it down, she can be found exploring the wilderness of Colorado with her family and three dogs, teaching Hatha yoga, or in the kitchen baking cookies & brownies – and trying not to eat them all.
Jody invites you to stop by her website and see what’s new at: www.JodyAKessler.com. Subscribe to the newsletter and receive a FREE eBook.
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