Coming in January to Amazon/Kindle Unlimited!

Slumming It by Sabrina Stark

Now Available for Preorder!

Amazon USA * Amazon UK * Amazon AU * Amazon CA

Desperation. It makes people do funny things, which is why Emily Quinn shouldn't be shocked to find herself pretending to be something she's not – the new bed buddy of Reese Murdock, the billionaire bigshot himself.

The plan isn't just crazy. It's beyond reckless. The guy practically screams danger – the scary kind and the good kind, meaning the kind that makes nice girls go bad in spite of their very best intentions.

Payback. Served hot or cold, Bad Boy Developer Reese Murdock always gives as good as he gets, which is blazing bad news for Emily Quinn and all she holds dear. He's rich, ruthless, and never bluffs. He wasn't always this way. But these days, he has the power to build and the power to destroy, which makes all of this a game he'll never lose.

Sure, there might some collateral damage along the way, but the school of hard knocks has taught him a lesson he won't soon forget. People are disposable. Replaceable. Forgettable.

And yes, this includes Emily Quinn.

Until it doesn't.

Sneak Peek

Chapter 1

From under the bed, I hissed into my cell phone. "I need help."

On the other end of the line, Vivian paused for a long, dreadful moment before mumbling, "Sorry, what?" She sounded distracted.

I almost envied her.

Me? I was focused like a laser on the sight of male shoes within grabbing distance. The shoes were black Oxfords – maybe Italian, definitely pricey – not that I cared about the cost.

No, what I cared about was the fact that the shoes weren't empty, and the guy wearing them was standing so close, I could smell his cologne, faint but woodsy with a hint of sage.

It was nice. Or at least, it would have been nice under any other circumstance.

I winced, making my cheek rub against the carpet.

This was bad.

From my hidden vantage point, I couldn’t see the guy's face. I couldn't even see his knees. But I could see maybe an inch or two of his dress slacks, also black and surely expensive.

This was Reese Murdock after all. The Jackhole Billionaire Himself. Or at least, it was probably him.

I mean, this was his room, even if he was slumming it.

I clutched my phone tighter and tried again, forcing a whisper when I wanted to scream. "I said I need help."

Vivian sighed. "If this is about the towels, I already told you, they'll be done in twenty."

Oh, for God's sake. "Forget the towels," I hissed. "I need a distraction." A shot of vodka wouldn't hurt either.

From somewhere outside, the sounds of a lawn-mower grew just a little louder, edging closer to the room's only window.

Thank God. The noise – it was my only saving grace.

On the phone, Vivian asked, "What kind of distraction?"

Today, Vivian was working the front desk of the little hotel we hoped to buy. The desk was located just down the hall – a five-minute walk, maybe less – not that it mattered.

I couldn’t walk anywhere until after he left.

The thought had barely crossed my mind when he strode closer to the bed, pivoted on his pricy shoes, and sat directly above me, making the bed springs creak under his shifting weight.

My gaze shot upward, and my nose wrinkled as I tried not to sneeze. When was the last time we'd vacuumed under here? I frowned. Had we ever?

The carpet hadn't looked dusty, but now that I was up close and personal, my nose told a different story. I gave a hard swallow and then another.

If I sneezed, I was so busted.

Normally, I wasn't the sneezing type, but today I was doing a lot of things I didn't normally do, which is how I'd ended up down here in the first place.

But in my own defense, none of it was illegal or even the least bit immoral. Of course, it was doubtful he would see it that way.

My gaze drifted back his shoes, facing away toward the door. His feet were still in them, so that was good. Maybe he was just popping in for a moment, like to wash his face or grab a forgotten whatever.

I gave a silent plea. Just get up and go already.

But did he? Nope. Instead, Mister Billionaire Bigshot reached down with one hand and untied both shoelaces one by one before removing one shoe and then the other. His feet disappeared upward as he settled himself onto the bed. 

My heart hammered, and I sucked in a breath. Oh, no. Was he about to go to sleep?

No way.

He couldn’t.

After all, this was the middle of the day. Didn't he have nefarious business to conduct?

I'd heard rumors – disturbing rumors – along with a whole bunch of speculation. The way everyone talked, Reese Murdock was about to buy up the whole town, this place included. The bastard. To think, I was only down here because I was trying to do him a favor – not that he realized it.

If I was lucky, he never would.

On the phone, Vivian's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Emily? You still there?"

I forced a whisper. "Uh, yeah."

"Where are you, anyway?" Funny, she didn't sound distracted anymore.

"Um…" How to put this?

She gave a little gasp. "Oh, my God. You're not in his room, are you?"


Her voice sharpened. "You already said that."

Vivian was two years my senior. Growing up, she'd been my favorite nemesis in hide-and-seek, which went a long way in explaining her very next words. "Just tell me. Are you in the closet or under the bed?" She gave another gasp. "Oh, crap. Don’t tell me you're in his shower."

Oh, please. I wasn't a pervert. Unlike some people, I wasn't even a spy. I was just…well…unlucky, that's all.

Just then, the hum of the lawn-mower abruptly stopped, leaving the room deadly silent except for the thudding of my heart. Again, my gaze drifted upward. My heartbeat – he couldn’t hear it, could he?

On the phone, Vivian muttered, "You are so gonna owe me for this."

Well, she was right about that. But I didn't dare tell her so, not now when the guy above me would surely hear. So instead, I ended the call and said a silent prayer that Vivian would save my bacon -- much like I'd saved hers this past Fourth of July.

Long story there. But let's just say her oh-so-nice boyfriend had earned a permanent place on my shit-list – even if they had made up afterwards – a mistake that Vivan would surely regret.

I was still mulling that little incident when the bedside telephone began to ring – nice and loud, too.

I let out a long, unsteady breath.

Vivian. It had to be.

(End of Sneak Peek)

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