Vengeance to the Max (45 page)

Bobbie Jones was going to Cottonmouth to show Warren what he’d thrown away when he drove off into the sunset to find the Cookie Monster.

Oh yeah, and one more really important thing. Bobbie would have sex for the first time in...much too long.

* * * * *

Bobbie Jones—she’d tossed out Roberta along with her job, her tailored suits, and her frilly blouses—tapped her brilliant crimson lip with the tip of a matching manicured nail. A new woman with a new attitude. And no ugly, painful thoughts.

“I must have that cottage.”
No, no, we can’t possibly do this
. Bobbie quashed another annoying little Robert-whine. She was getting so much better at doing it, since that day in the salon, a little less than a month ago, when she’d decided every page of her life story needed revising.

Top selling real estate agent and self-proclaimed Cottonmouth maven, Patsy Bell Sapp’s mouth opened so wide, the wrinkles marring her tanned face vanished. Almost. “You don’t want
that
.”

Bobbie smiled. “Yes. I do.”
No, we don’t
. Buzz off, Roberta.

The house, little more than a cube tucked into a postage-stamp lot, was the antithesis of the pristine residence on the stately San Francisco street. Warren had chosen the property over having children, a plan she’d, no,
Roberta
had gone along with because being a parent was too awesome a responsibility.

“But the serial killer lives right across the street.” Patsy hacked out a cough, her penciled-in eyebrows disappearing into the fringe of her bouffant hairdo. With a vigorous shake of her head, multiple shades of gray sparkled in the sunlight.

“Excuse me?” Was the woman serious? Probably not. If she was, why would she even bring Bobbie by the rental?

Still looking at her, Patsy pointed at the shaded, two-story house across the street. “He’s a serial killer,” she mouthed.

The title had a ring to it, even if it was most likely a town joke. Serial killer. Didn’t that fit her mood to a
T
?
Her
mood, not Roberta’s. She itched with a mixture of danger, disbelief, and anticipation. Heavy on the disbelief part. But still, he must be a real bad-boy type to fuel such rumors. Back home in Head Hunters salon, she’d sworn to herself she was going to have sex with someone. And sex with an alleged serial killer sounded risky. Edgy. Exciting.

Just the kind of thing a Bobbie Jones, not a Roberta Spivey, would do. It would tweak Warren’s nose right out of joint.

And that’s what this whole excursion to Cottonmouth was about. Right?

Other B
ooks by Jennifer Skully

Blog:
www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com

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Twitter: @jasminehaynes1

Jasmine Haynes
, Rita Finalist for
Somebody’s Lover
, plus two-time Holt Medallion and National Readers Choice Award winner, is the author of over 20 classy, erotic romance tales. Look for more in the
West Coast
series coming soon.
Of course, she’s also the author of the award-winning
Max Starr
psychic mystery series. And don’t miss her writing as
Jennifer Skully
, KOD Daphne award-winning author, bringing you poignant tales peopled with hilarious characters that will make you laugh and make you cry.