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XTC: A Lola Avocado Novel

Lola Avocado

Painted Hearts Publishing

Heat Rating: SENSUAL
Word Count: 54,596
Available Formats
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ePub
Mobi

Witty, wisecracking Lola Avocado is content with her life. She works for a good company, even if her mother disapproves of the products they sell. She lives in a converted firehouse and has a tight circle of friends and family. You could say things have been going pretty good for Lola, that is until Jamie Jones blows back in to town and throws her orderly life into complete chaos.

With his snappy comebacks, sexy, hazel green eyes, and fingers faster than a lizards tongue, James “Jamie” Jones knows how to make Lola do exactly what he wants. Even if what he wants right now is for her to team up with an FBI agent to bring down an embezzler that has been stealing from the company.

Now Lola is torn between two men and being stalked by a third. Join her in this hilarious romp through the cubicles of XTC Toys Unlimited as she works to bring down her ex-boyfriend George Hamilton while trying to decide between the man she left at the altar or Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome.

Filled with drunken karaoke, Drag Queens, racy underwear, and the holy grail of all shoes - the Money Python – XTC is a sure bet to tickle your funny bone and keep you coming back for more.

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Excerpt

“Lola, have a seat,” his voice came from the door.
James Jones.
I froze. I hadn’t heard that voice in years. I felt the blood drain from my face and then a curious ringing began in my ears. Little dots danced before my eyes as I felt myself slipping into the black abyss—or maybe it was just the plush pile carpet.
I came to with a gentle but persistent shake.
“Geez mom, I’m up already,” I grumped as I reached out blindly to hit the incessant alarm clock that kept clanging in my brain.
I became brilliantly aware of two things simultaneously. One, I was not the awkward thirteen year old being shook awake by my mother. Two, the alarm clock I had just slapped soundly was not a clock at all but my new boss’s face. Okay, three things. The third was that I wasn’t tucked safely in my bed but was instead being fondled on the floor of Jamie’s office. Way to go Lola! When I’m good I’m very good and when I’m bad, Calamity Jane has nothing on me.
“Lola, are you okay?” His voice reminded me of warm summer breezes and sweet stolen kisses in the boat shed of my parent’s cabin.
A small smile flitted across my lips as I got lost in the memory and absently snuggled into his strong arms. I hadn’t realized until that moment just how much I had missed their warm silent reassurance.
“Oh God,” he moaned and my eyes flew open as he kissed me.
Not a sweet soft fumble of two teenagers trying to keep from locking braces and unacquainted with the finer art of kissing; no this was a curl your toes, clenched stomach, eyes-crossing kind of kiss that sent liquid fire shooting straight to all of my naughty parts.
Just as I was really getting into it I was dumped unceremoniously back on my bottom on the plush pile carpet.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” he breathed and I could swear I felt the heat from him wash over me.
“Good. I didn’t mean it either,” I squeaked as I ran my tongue along my lips. Mmmm...they still tasked like him, yummy.
“Don’t do that, dammit!” he half shouted, half groaned.
“Right!” I shouted back then launched myself at him.
Somewhere in the back of my brain I heard my small voice of reason being strangled by my lust monster. The choking sounds soon turned out to be those of the secretary trying to get our attention instead of my voice of reason. Damn lust monster!
“And that, Ms. Avocado is how to properly administer CPR,” his voice was cut and dry, all business as if we hadn’t just been caught making out on the floor.
“Um, yes sir. I see where I was wrong before,” I said as I turned my burning face away from the smirking countenance of Jennifer Conch, the gossipy hag who had my old job now.
Great! I would be the talk of the call center before the door even closed.
“Ms. Conch, what can I do for you?” he asked as he stood between us, blocking me from her sight.
I smiled as I discreetly rearranged my slightly skewed clothing. Slightly skewed my ass—he had fast fingers. When had he unbuttoned my shirt?
“The new associate, Logan Maelstrom, is here for your meeting,” Jennifer, aka the office gossip from Hell, replied, trying to look over his shoulder at me.
“Thank you, Ms. Conch. You can send him in.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Jones.” She turned on her cheap knock off Manolos and twitched, yes twitched, her way out of the office.
“Don’t let her fool you, she got those shoes at the Bargain Mart on clearance for twelve ninety-five,” I muttered as I tried to smooth my mussed up hair.
“Shoe snob,” he replied without looking at me.
“Fast fingered Freddie,” I shot back, “I’ll leave you to your meeting.”
“No you won’t. We still have business to discuss, Lola,” he replied as he grabbed my wrist and held me there, his gaze boring into mine.
The years had been kind to James—or Jamie as I had always called him. Gone was the brash youth I had grown up with. Now he was a cool, self-confident man with wavy black hair and deep hazel eyes that changed color with his moods. He had a black mustache and a neatly trimmed Vandyke beard. I could still see the thin scar that bisected his left eyebrow. I gave him that scar when we were kids. I was six and he was eight and we were fighting over a brand new baseball mitt. I lost my temper, imagine that, and threw it at him. It had hit him in the face and he still bore the mark. My fingers twitched, aching to soothe the old wound I had caused. Instead I clenched them into a fist and pressed it into my hip.
“Nice office,” I commented, trying to break the silence while looking anywhere but at him.
“Thanks, I just had it fumigated. We had to burn the furniture.”
His deadpan delivery left me snickering but all too soon I was choking on my laughter when he walked in. My mouth dropped open and there might have been drool involved, I’m not sure. All thoughts of Jamie scattered from my brain as I openly ogled the new guy that Jennifer showed into the office.
Logan Maelstrom was six foot five and a solid wall of hot steamy sex on a plate. His black hair was pulled back into a respectable pony tail. I could tell by the look of him that he was anything but respectable. His brown eyes smoldered intensely. His lithe frame was perfection, chiseled by the Gods to torment us mere mortal women. He wore black jeans that artfully tried to conceal what God gave him. His shoulders invited a woman to cling to them. And his mouth...oh my! His mouth promised sensual pleasures beyond imagining.
Oh my stars. I’m turning into the office harlot!
Here I was standing next to a man I had been sure I would never see again, lusting over a complete stranger. Double damn that lust monster!
“Mr. Jones—James Jones,” Logan’s deep voice purred.
I almost wet my pants.
“Mister is so formal. Just call me James,” Jamie smiled.
At least when I knew him, he was Jamie. Thank goodness he hadn’t gone with Jim. That could have been disastrous with the bunch working in this building.

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