That Voodoo You Do

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To Dave. For all the years of love and laughter. And putting up with me more times than I can count. Love you always, sweetheart.

Also to my wonder woman of an editor, Sasha, who is simply the best. And last but never least, to all the wonderful readers out there who make it possible for me to do this job that I love.

Griffin Trudeau didn’t know it, but he was about to have his bones jumped.

Bumping her car door shut with her rear end, Jemma Finnegan resituated her corset top, strategically plumping her cleavage to maximum overload. Satisfied her best assets were properly displayed, she strolled toward the log home nestled in the thick stand of white pines. The butterflies that’d taken up residence in her belly for the past hour started doing a drunken version of the Macarena. Sure, she’d taken this walk hundreds of times, but never with the end goal of seducing her best friend.

Hell, one of them had to get the ball rolling. If she left it to Griff to act on their mutual attraction, her vagina would shrivel up.

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