Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters

What happens when an accountant decides to grab life by the horns and try something new? Apparently a pirate named Dave, a lot of pastel fleece, and blackmail--just to start with. . . Visualize and succeed, Oprah said. I was sure as hell trying, even if my campaign to score a job as the local weather girl had ended in a restraining order. Okay, TV was not my strength. But a lack of talent has never stopped me before. Which is why I've embarked on a writing career. I mean, how hard can it be to come up with a sexy romance? Leave it to me to wind up in a group of porno writing grannies who discuss sex toys and apple cobbler in the same breath. Also leave it to me to leak an outlandish plot idea to a bestselling author with the morals of a rabid squirrel. And only I could get arrested for a jewelry heist I didn't commit--by a hunky cop whose handcuffs just might tempt me to sign up for a life of crime. Maybe I've found my calling after all. . .

A few hard truths. . .Don't bet on Hasselhoff, Bigfoot might actually exist, and searching for the impossible may lead you to your heart's desire. . . It's a big fat hairy deal when I lose yet another bet to my best friend, Rena. Not only do I end up attending Bigfoot meetings with her kooky Aunt Phyllis, I find myself traveling with a band of reality TV, Sasquatch-hunting nut-jobs! Not to mention a suspiciously shady film crew. As if those little nuggets weren't enough to send me on the express-train to Crazytown. . .I stupidly swore off men! Clearly all this would mess up any gal's social life, but the worst part of the story? The minute I send my libido on vacation, I meet Mitch. Yep, Mitch, the sexiest cop ev-ah. The hottest, best kissing, finest tushied, SINGLE guy I've ever laid eyes on. I'd rather be hot on his trail than anything that involves the word Big or Foot. But sometimes what you're hunting for has been right in front of you all along . . .

When you get time off for bad behavior, romance is the last thing on your mind-but good old-fashioned lust is a whole different story... Life undercover isn't exactly one big party-not when you're a DEA agent-but it sure beats a desk job. Except when you screw up big and someone has to go in and clean up after you. In that case, even paper-pushing sounds better than babysitting an erotic romance writer with as many enemies as there are euphemisms for "throbbing manhood." I've been taking down drug dealers for so long, playing bodyguard to a woman named Shoshanna Lehump sounds like nothing more than a giant pain in my ass- and being partnered with the gorgeous egotistical jerk I never should have slept with in the first place just makes a bad situation even harder-especially when he pursues me as diligently as we're supposed to be chasing the bad guys...What's a girl have to do to get a happy ending anyway?