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Frankie Petrovic is in over her head. Her one night stand is showing up all over the place, breaking into her trailer and offering her weird propositions. As if that's not enough, she is kind of dating Adonis-like, baseball star who has a strange tendency to peek though other people's windows. The two men she is involved with are incredibly handsome, but are very secretive. That is until she stumbles upon a dead girl and they start opening up. Now one claims to be an FBl agent, while the other claims to be a private investigator. Can she trust either of them?

Chapter 1 How it started

The most important thing you need to

remember about me: I'm impulsive.

Which, I have to admit, doesn't always

make for the greatest decisions.

The biggest amount of trouble I've gotten

into has to be the time when I worked

as a flight attendant. I had a deranged

couple in the first class who fought

through most of the tiresome long-haul

flight. It escalated without a warning

when he smashed his champagne glass

and pressed it against her throat. Instinct

took over and I was on him in a flash.

I rammed him with my beverage cart

before I attacked him with Chanel No.

I may have saved her life, but I had also

gotten fired.

Granted, not fired in an old fashioned

sense, but in a new, modern way. Which

translates into me being rewarded by

getting a paid leave of absence for a

remaining year of my contract. And an

unspoken promise that there would

never be another contract again.

Devastated that I had to leave my dream

behind, I pulled a Frankie Petrovic

classic. I acted on spur-of-the-moment,

bought a trailer and be the rest of the

year on the road.

I glanced out the window of Mary's Diner

just in time to see four friends stumbling

out of a bar from across the street. They

were laughing, having the time of their

lives. I couldn't remember the last time I

had tumbled out of a bar.

I grabbed a tall glass from the table I sat

at and took a sip of water, wishing the

diner offered wine. Cracking a smile as

an idea occurred to me, I pushed away

my half-empty plate of grilled vegetables

and fries. I waveda waitress over, paid

for my dinner, left a generous tip and

said goodnight.

Walking across the street, I let my hair

down. Thick blonde waves fell on my

shoulders and cascaded down my back.

A few turquoise highlights could be

seen- yet another consequence of my

I-got-fired breakdown. I ran my fingers

through it, trying to tame the lion's mane

look I rocked.

I inspected my clothes critically. Browwn

boots, worn-out jeans, and a form-fitting

green top. Nothing fancy, but my

lucky top would help me pull it off as

a going out outfit. I rarely wore it out

of superstition that its magical powers

wouldn't work if I wore it all the time.

With some difficulty, I pulled the

ridiculously heavy doors of the bar open

and stumbled in. Right at the entrance, I

halted to let my eyes adjust to the dark

and foggy room. The smell of cigarettes

was heavy and the smoke slowly weaved

through the thick air.

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