Operation Sizzle by Darcy Lundeen

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  • What's a girl to do when her boyfriend leaves her because she lacks sizzle? Vow to develop some, that's what. In a desperate bid to attain everything she lacks, Betsy Kincaid turns to her gay buddy's new and oh-so-willing roommate for assistance.

    Matt Pollard is still recovering from his latest romantic debacle. When a beautiful woman offers him the chance to help her improve her sultriness quotient and in the process enjoy some no-strings-attached bedroom action, there's no way he can refuse. Operation Sizzle is born. But somewhere along the way, their simple arrangement changes from impersonal to something deeper.

    Then Betsy discovers Matt isn't gay, and her sense of betrayal at being deceived is matched by his resentment at being blamed for an innocent mistake. But their anger could cost them something they both want: a chance at true love.

    Rating: Spicy
    Page Count: 300
    Word Count: 75205
    978-1-5092-2304-6 Paperback
    978-1-5092-2305-3 Digital  


    Chapter One


    Betsy Kincaid held her nose and slurped down her third tequila shot in the last forty-two-and-a-half minutes. God, she hated the taste of booze. Even the drink she held in her hand, diluted until most people would think it was just funky water, still tasted like hundred-proof petroleum sludge to her. But if you were in the worst depression of your life, it was the only way to go. And that’s just what she was in…the worst depression of her twenty-six-year existence.

    It was all because of her best friend. If not for him she wouldn’t have met Tyler. And if she hadn’t met Tyler, she wouldn’t be going through this fit of terminal gloom. She wouldn’t have had to struggle to find a way through it, either. Sadly, her choice had been a tossup between drowning her sorrow in watered-down tequila or smothering it in several thousand calories worth of the chocolate-truffle-mousse cheesecake she had in the fridge.

    A coin toss had chosen the tequila, so there she sat choking on vile-tasting alcohol instead of obsessing about the five unwanted pounds of extra fat the cheesecake would inevitably deposit on her hips.

    And it was all her best friend’s fault. So she’d get him for it.

    Betsy released her nose, thumped the empty glass onto the coffee table, and picked up her fourth drink.

    They were lined up in front of her like bowling pins ready to be knocked off en masse. Or in her case, guzzled down sequentially until she was so smashed she forgot about Tyler. But not about her best friend. Him she was definitely going to curse out.

    Of course, when you were on the verge of reading someone the riot act, the least you could do was warn him about it. After all, it was the polite thing to do. And she was nothing if not polite, even in the face of terminal despondency. So she pulled out her cell phone and tapped his speed-dial key.

    There was a buzzing on the line, then a click sounded, signaling pickup at the other end, and she immediately let go, snarling out just what was on her mind. “Rob McConnell, I’m gonna get you.”

    “Then I’m glad I’m not Rob McConnell,” someone answered.

    Betsy cut a quick glance at the number in case she’d made a mistake and accidentally called her Uncle Robley or her GP, Doctor Robards. But she hadn’t. It was definitely Rob’s number, but the guy who’d answered was right. No way was he Rob McConnell. Different voice entirely.

    “Unless by ‘get,’ you mean something other than hurt.” The Voice paused for a moment, then deepened suggestively. “Something nice and friendly. Then I think I’d like to be him.”


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Operation Sizzle

Operation Sizzle

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