By
USA Today Bestselling Author
Leslie Kelly

Is This Player Ready for a New Game?

KILLING TIME IN A SMALL TOWN is the name of a new TV show, but it also describes how bad boy Mick Winchester has been feeling about his life. He supposes he deserves his reputation as the Big Bad Wolf, considering his infamous tattoo, but he’s a little tired of his wicked lifestyle. Maybe it’s time to stop trying to heal a broken heart in the arms of so many women and find just one.

But then a TV show crew rolls into his hometown. The producer is none other than Caroline Lamb…Mick’s college lover. Caroline has changed. Gone is the nice southern girl with big-city dreams. This Caroline is a Hollywood hotshot all wrapped up in a thousand-dollar power suit and killer spike heels. And Mick wants her more than ever.

She’s Desperate for a Hit

Caroline–Caro–Lamb isn’t the barracuda she pretends to be. She’s just desperate to make her murder-mystery show a hit. She can afford no distractions…and her former lover, playboy extraordinaire Mick Winchester, is one huuuuuge distraction.

Then there’s the little problem of a real corpse turning up on the set.

Whoops.

The network bosses are ecstatic. Think of the ratings! But actual murder is way too much reality, even for Caroline. Especially when all clues point to someone very close to Mick Winchester.

With her career on the line, her heart completely vulnerable, and a murder to solve, Caro can’t possibly get involved with the sexiest man she’s ever known–again! And no way would the consummate ladies’ man fall for a woman whose whole lifestyle means she’ll be leaving his world very soon.

Love is out of the question.
If only their hearts remembered that.

NOTE:
This is an updated/modernized/expanded reissue of the original book Killing Time published by Harlequin.**

While this is a standalone book, I do recommend you read the first book of the series ‘Just About Perfect’ first. There’s a lot of crossover especially with the Winchester family.

This book opens with realtor Mick Winchester being threatened by an old friend Louise Flanagan at gunpoint. She wants him to be naked and her rumbled when her father shows up. She would save Mick’s reputation by forcing him to marry her. Ironically it while this interaction is occurring that his morning appointment shows up.

Caroline ‘Caro’ Lamb is the producer of the reality show ‘Just Killing Time in a Small Town’ that will be filmed here. She needs to rent a room, since the rest of the cast and crew will be filling up the Bohemie Inn and she wants to distance herself from them a bit. She’s not sure what she just walked in on as she approaches Mick’s office, but she does put an end to the scene. Just not in a graceful way.

We also get to see Sophie quit her job at the church in a confrontation with Miss Hester. Unfortunately, more than couple other people hear it at the same time. We also learn at this time Miss Hester has a secret.

Sophie’s house is one of the places Mick shows Caro, unfortunately for Mick she can’t live there, due to her severe allergy to cats. It’s the next place she decides is perfect and Mick doesn’t enlighten her on who owns the home. The bedroom suite is perfect as is the rest of the house. She thinks a lovely older woman is the homeowner when in reality it was just Mick’s mother stopping by his place to bake.

Mick and Caro have history and they are both fighting the attraction. Caro is avoiding Mick as things get under way with the show.

This is a favorite scene.

SURPRISINGLY, NO ONE in the cast—or the crew—was killed on the set of the reality show the first day. Even more surprisingly, Mick wasn’t either.

He’d expected Caroline to come after him with both barrels—or a meat cleaver—after his parting shot in her trailer that morning. He still didn’t know what impulse had made him give her that salacious look as he’d left her so-called office.

Because she thought the worst.

Yeah, that was probably it. Because just like in the past she’d accused and found him guilty in one snap judgment. He’d let her think his comment about the couch was a come-on. It hadn’t been. At least, he didn’t think it had been. Considering his brain had been pretty mushy since Caroline’s surprise return to his life, he couldn’t be entirely sure. Could be the big bad wolf on his ass had been in control of that conversation.

Tonight, when Caroline had returned from the Little Bohemie Inn a few hours earlier than she had all week, he was prepared for fireworks. But she seemed to have forgotten all about what had happened this morning. One glimpse of her pinched, weary-looking face, and he knew the arrival of the cast had been less than auspicious.

“Beer,” she said the minute she closed the front door and dropped her briefcase on the floor in the foyer.

“Porch,” he replied, just as succinctly.

She turned right around, and yanked the door open again. Somehow, she managed to kick off both her high-heeled shoes midstep as she walked onto the porch. He heard the fridge open and close, then the hiss of a bottle being uncapped. She was pulling a deep draught of it by the time she walked back into the house. “Ahh,” she said, wiping off her lips with the back of her hand.

Totally non-Caroline. Somebody had had a bad day.

“I wasn’t expecting you so early.” He didn’t approach her, never leaving the kitchen counter where he’d been chopping up some veggies for dinner. He’d planned a dinner for one, since she had never returned from the set before 9:00 p.m. this week. Without asking, he grabbed another handful of mixed vegetables and tossed them in the colander.

She walked toward him down the narrow hallway, then through the archway into the kitchen. “Food.”

Amused by her one-word grunts, he replied, “Ugh. Hunting not good today, Captain Caveman.”

She didn’t even react to the joke.

“I’d give my Vera Wang gown—the one I bought for last year’s Emmy’s by taking out a second mortgage on my condo—to be sitting in a mud bath at the Casa de Helena spa in San Diego.”

He glanced toward the back door. “It hasn’t rained for a few days, but the garden might still be a little muddy.”

“Oh, don’t I know that it hasn’t rained,” she said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. She sipped again from her bottle. “Renauld was cursing Mother Nature all afternoon.”

Without being asked, he scooped up a big bowlful of tossed salad and walked it over to her.

“Bless you.”

Remembering it was her favorite, he grabbed a bottle of French dressing from the fridge and put it beside her salad. Then he returned to chopping vegetables. “Why did he want it to rain?”

“Atmosphere. He wanted a rainy, gray day when the contestants arrived. Forecast called for it today, which is why he brought them in instead of waiting until tomorrow, when they were supposed to come. Everything was thrown off to take advantage of the rain.”

Mick tossed the vegetables into a pan to stir-fry them, distributing them over the hot surface. “But the rain didn’t show?”

“Right.”

Remembering the leaf-painting issue, Mick asked, “Tell me he didn’t try to create rain.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.”

“Is this guy a fool or what? How does he keep his job?”

Caroline shoved a big mouthful of salad in her mouth, cooed a little, then dug in again before answering. “He’s been around forever. I think he must have something on the head of the studio. They keep him busy, but always away from L.A. where they don’t have to deal with him.”

“How’d he make rain?”

She ate a few more bites before answering. Then, with a roll of the eyes, she explained, “He had the crew pull a tight shot of each person getting out of the limo and doused them with a sprinkler.”

He grinned, picturing the scene.

“Only, he didn’t know the hose was hooked to a well.”

Mick knew where this was going. “Oooh, Derryville well water always smells like rotten eggs.”

She nodded. “Yep. The first woman who got out, a redhead in a white dress, started shrieking first about her clothes, then about the smell of the water.”

Mick wondered where Jared had been during this whole fiasco. Or Gwen’s Aunt Hildy. The old woman had been front row center, he’d lay money on that. If there was excitement to be found anywhere near the inn, she was sure to be part of it.

“He had one of the sound guys flipping a big piece of flat aluminum to make storm sounds, but the aluminum got slippery from the sprinkler, flew out of the sound guy’s hands, and nearly decapitated another contestant.”

This time Mick snickered out loud. She shot him a look that said she didn’t appreciate his laughter.

“Come on, Caroline, you gotta admit it sounds pretty funny.”

She shook her head. “Yeah, so funny that one of the other contestants burst into laughter. Which made the nearly decapitated one shove him. And, since the ground was wet…”

Trying to keep a straight face, Mick said, “He fell?”

“Oh, he completely wiped out. We’re talking Three Stooges stuff here.”

Mick bit the inside of his cheek this time.

“He took-out four other people along with him, until nearly a carful of our enthusiastic, energetic contestants were throwing mud into each other’s faces.” She finished off her beer in one long pull. “My God, if they’d been naked we could have charged money and sold drinks.”
Leslie Kelly. Just Killing Time (Kindle Locations 1577-1621). Kindle Edition.

The show takes center stage and there is plenty going on. A side romance with one of the contestants and the lead camera person is just one.

Then there’s a real murder that comes into play.

Suspense and laughter abound in this delightful simmer to sizzle romance.

5 Contented Purrs for Leslie!

Leslie Kelly

When I’m not chained to my keyboard writing, I’m enjoying my life with my husband of 25 years and our three daughters. Let me tell you, raising three girls has been way more challenging than publishing fiction!I write sexy novels for Harlequin, and also write dark romantic thrillers as Leslie A. Kelly.

By
NY Times Bestselling Author
Leslie Kelly

She’s living a secret life

Sophie Winchester is the all-American small-town girl–except for her secret life creating mayhem as horror writer R. J. Colt. Nobody in her small town suspects she’s anything except the nice church administrator. And she desperately wants to keep her secret!

He’s a Cop Who’s Sworn to Protect

Chief of Police Daniel Fletcher thought his new job in a small town would be a nice change from his big city past. But when notes about a murder land on his desk, and the target appears to be Sophie, he has to go right into protective mode. Fortunately, stcking close to a woman he’s wildly attracted to–both day and night–isn’t exactly a tough assignment.

But if Daniel learns the truth, can Sophie trust him to love the real her and not the sweet girl he thinks he’s getting to know?

NOTE:
This is an updated, modernized and expanded edition of the Harlequin story Thrill Me.

Sophie Winfield is a quiet, sweet small town girl, at least that’s what everyone thinks. My night she’s a best-selling horror fiction writer going by the name RF Colt. Nobody in this small town knows that fact, not even her family. Her day job is the administrative assistant in the office of the United Church of Derryville. Pastor Bob and his sister Miss Hester who acts as his hostess when required would be horrified if they knew where her thoughts wandered during the day.

Sophie carries a small notebook with her as she plans her next novel, this one is just beginning so it’s nearly empty except for her thoughts on the actual killing and body disposal and the person who finds it. She’ll need to do some research on some of her planned methods though.

Daniel Fletcher is the new Chief of Police in Derryville. He moved here from Detroit, tired of the crowded, crime ridden city. Now he’s trying to adjust to small town living. It’s not really a hardship. He’s having breakfast at Al’s diner when he sees Sophie pull into the church lot and wonders why she’s just sitting there.

When she does leave the car her steps are careful as she’s carrying a large box. The box is why she doesn’t see the dog heading for a collision. This is when she meets Daniel for the first time in person.

This is a favorite scene,

Then the chief really surprised her. “I’ve seen you before. Outside the drugstore, two days before Christmas.”

“It was Christmas Eve,” she replied. She cursed her tongue for the admission.

He looked pleased by it. “You remember.”

“Um…sure,” she said. Then she hurried into a reasonable explanation, which was nowhere near the truth. “I remember because of the Grady twins. They got arrested for shoplifting. But the store owner dropped the charges when he found out they’d been trying to get a present for their baby sister since their mother couldn’t afford anything.”

He nodded, looking slightly disappointed that she’d remembered for no other reason. She didn’t correct his assumption. Truthfully, she’d never forgotten her first glimpse at the man every woman in town had been talking about. He was one fine looking specimen.

“Is his name really Cujo?”

She tilted her head in confusion, not sure what he was talking about.

“The dog. You called him Cujo.”

Uh-oh. He’d heard her less than sweet-natured mutterings to the big mutt. “No. I was kidding.”

“Oh. Because, I mean, probably a lot of St. Bernards are named Cujo because of the Stephen King book.”

She raised a brow, trying to look artless and innocent. “Book? I wouldn’t know about that, but I saw part of the movie once, on cable.” She shivered delicately. “Scary.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Probably not your thing.”

If only you knew.

The chief finally rose to his feet, almost slipping again on the ice before planting his feet in the snow instead. “They ought to salt this sidewalk.”

She frowned. “Miss Hester slashed the budget for salt. It’s only spread on the front sidewalk used by the parishioners.” She shook her head in disgust. “And, of course, the one between the residence and the church. Heaven forbid she slip and fall.”

At his raised brow, Sophie cursed her own tongue and gritted her back teeth. “Oh, that wasn’t nice, I’m sorry. Miss Hester’s a dear old thing. She just worries so much about keeping the church money to help the poor.”

He gave her a quizzical look, as if confused by her sudden change in tone, but didn’t press her. He extended his hand. “Let me help you.”

She stared at it for a minute, that big, masculine hand. He wore no gloves for protection against the cold. Nibbling her lip, she slipped her gloved fingers into his and let him pull her to her feet. Once standing, she was about to extend her thanks when her shoes skidded again. She reached out for the closest thing to grab. And because fate had a cruel sense of humor, immediately found something.

His shoulders.

Crashing into him, until they were chest to chest, separated only by the padding of her thick parka and his leather jacket, she found herself staring up into those chocolate-brown eyes of his. She caught a whiff of spicy aftershave from his smoothly shaven cheek. She was also close enough to notice the most incredibly kissable lips she’d ever seen on a man.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “I’m awfully clumsy today.”

He gave her a slight smile. “My pleasure.”

She didn’t pull away. Not because she couldn’t easily stand on her own, but rather, because it felt so very nice to lean against his long, hard body. They stood there, right outside the church, in broad daylight. Two strangers, practically wrapped in each other’s arms, just staring at each other.

It had been a long time since she’d been in a man’s arms. A long time since a lot of things. And she’d missed those things. Particularly missed being kissed with deep, wet intimacy. Right now, she suspected she wanted that from this stranger more than she wanted to hit number one on the Times list.

She licked her lips. “I’m not usually this clumsy.”

“It’s slippery,” he replied in a low voice.

“Slippery,” she repeated, wondering why her body felt so weak all of a sudden. Now she leaned against him out of necessity because her legs felt too weak to support her.

“The ice,” he clarified. “It’s slippery.”

She swallowed. “Yes, slippery. Dangerously slick.”

He tightened his grip on her hips. His fingers curved around her with gentle possession that confirmed they were both playing a sensual word game having nothing to do with the ice.

Some devil made her add, “And hard.”

Sophie heard a soft sound that might have been a groan from deep in his throat. His jaw tightened and he closed his eyes briefly, as if needing to regain control of himself. He finally said, “Do you need me to carry you inside?”

She felt hot blood rise in her cheeks as she ordered her feet to move. Stepping back, she said, “No. I, uh…needed to take a second.” Struggling to find a reason for clinging to the man like a helpless, twitty female, she mumbled, “I just hurt my, I mean, I fell on my butt.” Oh, God, shut up, Sophie! “I mean, I’m fine now.” Fine, hell. She was a babbling idiot.

Though it didn’t spill from his lips, she saw the laughter in his eyes. He kept a hand on her elbow. “Think you can walk?”

She nodded, clenching her teeth to keep any more stupid words from coming out of her stupid mouth.

“My name’s Daniel Fletcher.”

“I know who you are.” Then, grudgingly, she added, “I’m Sophie Winchester.”

“Winchester…”

“Yes. That family.” Her family was very well known in Derryville, having lived here for more than a century. Her grandfather had been the chief of police for years.

“There are pictures all over the walls of the station of your grandfather doing good deeds.”

She nodded. “And my uncle, too, I’d imagine.” Her uncle had followed her grandfather in the role of chief.

They’d fully expected one of the members of the current generation to follow in their footsteps. Her cousin, Jared, had gone into law enforcement for a while—working with the FBI—but had left to become a writer. Not fiction, like Sophie, but true crime novels.

Carefully bending down, she began to gather up the pieces of clothing that had fallen out of the box she’d been carrying from the car. “For the rummage sale,” she explained when he bent to help her. “I cleaned out my closets.”

She spied a glittery pile of red fabric and reached out to grab it, but he beat her to it. Sophie scrunched her eyes shut, hoping he wasn’t paying attention to the clothing he picked up.

No such luck. “Hmm. This doesn’t look quite like the typical Derryville church social dress.”

Shoot.

She couldn’t believe she’d been foolish enough to leave the sequined red halter dress in the box.
Leslie Kelly. Just About Perfect (Kindle Locations 198-258). Kindle Edition.

Now that he’s helped her and knows she works at the church, Daniel is even more curious about Sophie.

They meet up outside of town, and she seems to be a different person altogether. A mystery for him to solve. However, another mystery pops up first when a notebook seemingly targets Sophies to be killed. Not on his watch, not at all.

A fun comedy of errors ensues as Daniel tries to find the non-existant killer before Sophie comes to harm. Sophie tries to tell him but things keep getting in the way.

Laughter, fun, romance and a bit of sizzle as these two work their way into a relationship neither thought they wanted.

5 Contented Purrs for Leslie!

Leslie Kelly

When I’m not chained to my keyboard writing, I’m enjoying my life with my husband of 25 years and our three daughters. Let me tell you, raising three girls has been way more challenging than publishing fiction!I write sexy novels for Harlequin, and also write dark romantic thrillers as Leslie A. Kelly.