I don’t know what happens. One moment I have my fingers on the corner of his wallet, and the next my wrist is up high behind my shoulder blades, face smashed against the bathroom wall. “You steal from me, I break your arm.” His voice is low and gravelly in my ear and coming from somewhere deep in his chest. A chest that is plastered hard against my back. And that’s not the only thing that’s hard—a broad chest and muscular stomach. He’s not as soft as I expected underneath all those expensive clothes. “I’m sorry, mister, please don’t hurt me.” I use my pathetic whiny voice which isn’t much of a stretch. “Stop the act.” He shoves my arm higher this time, and I really believe he’ll break it. If he does, I’m through. No way I can support myself, hustling pool or pickpocketing dudes, with a broken arm. He starts to search me for other wallets. “No. Stop.” I struggle, but it’s too late. A few pats to my behind, then a “What the…” A hard cup to my breast and my cover is blown. He releases me and steps back. “You’re not a guy.” I turn to face him, rubbing my wrist while realizing my entire night’s work is wasted because this joker is playing his own game. “And you’re not drunk,” I fire back. “Guess we’re both liars.” "Just WOW!" "Best book I've read in a LONNNNNNNG time!!!" "Unputdownable!!!!!!! Mesmerizing!!!!!!!! YOWZA!!!!!!!!!!!!!" "The storyline instantly lures me in like a snake charmer that sends me straight to the edge of my seat..." "Absolutely loved it!'!!!!!!"