Today is the last day to get I Do. . .or Die for $1.99 at Amazon. After that it returns to full price, which is actually $4.99, although previously Amazon had it listed for $3.82. I'm not sure which of those prices the 'Zon will choose. I'm also not sure WHICH midnight it will choose to end the sale -- I'm guessing Pacific time, but it's truly a wild guess.
Anyway, thank you to everyone who's bought I Do. . .or Die, both before and during the sale. I hope it's made you laugh and made you fall in love with Shelby and Ryan.
If you haven't bought it yet, here's a little teaser, to hopefully make it easier to decide. The heroine, Shelby, has had a rougher day than usual. She's been a bridesmaid for her best friend Alexa (for the fourth time), only this wedding ended with gunfire. The Detective investigating the case is driving Shelby home, while Alexa stays at the hospital due to a minor wound:
Detective Nichols drove the speed limit through the bustling downtown area of Eastboro, which was filled with boutiques and family-owned stores and numerous bistros, not to mention a fair number of tourists.
It was impossible to miss the signs promoting the local TV station’s “Who Will Be the Next Eastboro Epicure?” contest. I’d briefly considered trying to compete for the plum job of mystery restaurant reviewer, because I knew I’d be perfect for it.
If only “the okra incident” hadn’t shot my career all to hell.
“Can you think of anybody who might want to hurt Alexa?” Detective Nichols asked.
“No, I really can’t. I know the spouse or loved one is usually the prime suspect in these things. But Gusher is more likely to shoot at me, not Alexa.”
“Gusher?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you notice how he gushes every time he opens his mouth? It’s like he escaped from some 1940s melodrama and doesn’t know he got stuck with the crappy dialogue.”
Detective Nichols fought off a grin, but I could tell he secretly approved of the nickname. “And Jordan would want to shoot at you because—”
I swept my hand down the front of my mascara-and-blood-stained dress, like I was a game show hostess demonstrating what the lucky contestants could win. “Because I’m the visible reminder of Alexa being a former bride. Not just once, but multiple times—wait, that’s my street. You need to turn left.”
He spun the wheel in an expert fashion, taking the turn easily, and a few minutes later he slowed the car, pulling it to the curb across the street from my apartment. I was glad he had a boring, ondescript late-model sedan so my neighbors wouldn’t gossip for a week about why I was being brought home in a police cruiser.
He shut off the car, draping his arm over the steering wheel. He’d given me his jacket as a cover-up when we’d left the hospital, so now I could admire his tanned forearms where he’d rolled up his sleeves. I even sneaked a peek at the sexy spot where his tie was loosened.
I was reluctant to say goodbye, but all of a sudden, a yawn erupted, like those annoying popup ads on the Internet. “I guess I better go. Thanks for dropping me off.”
After today’s events, I knew I would fall asleep as soon as I tumbled into my bed. I was just un-tired enough to wonder what it would be like to have this hunk of a guy there with me.
Not that I had the energy to do anything with him if he was in my bed. It was just nice to fantasize for a minute. I could feel the bliss consume me as I considered the delicious possibilities.
“Shelby, you need to wake up.”
Detective Nichols jiggled my arm, doing his best to rouse me from my impromptu coma.
I sat up, blinking, completely mortified. “I am so sorry! It’s been such a wild day—”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. I understand.” His green eyes were twinkling, and I felt warmed by his expression. Who knew police detectives could be so cute?
“Oh, and tomorrow,” he continued, “I’ll pass everything along to whoever ends up in charge of the investigation. I’ll make sure they’re up to speed before I leave.”
“Leave?” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as forlorn as I suddenly felt. “Where are you going?”
“On vacation. I just took the initial call at the hospital since I was nearby.”
“Oh.”
They would probably assign an aging, rumpled—but brilliant—cop to take Detective Nichols’ place, someone who was eager to clear his caseload before he retired at the end of the month. Why didn’t that news make me happier? After all, it meant I didn’t have to worry about hiding my unseemly attraction to this detective. Nor did I have to fret about spilling my deep dark secrets to him during a marathon interrogation session.
I sighed. If only I could have left him with a better impression. Hopefully we’d have a chance to meet up some other time, so I could show him that I truly was a sane, intelligent woman—as long as I didn’t have to dodge flying bullets.
“Well, thanks again.” I reached for the door handle. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Here’s your jacket—”
The next thing I knew, the window next to me exploded.
“Always a bridesmaid, never a bride” is Shelby Atwood's personal credo. She’s managed to avoid commitment all her life - no pets, no plants, not even a long-term lease. Heck, she’s had colds last longer than her romantic relationships. How could she be any other way when she has a gigolo for a father?
But then gunfire erupts at the latest wedding she’s agreed to be in, and it ends up being the best thing to happen to Shelby’s love life. Detective Ryan Nichols is assigned to the case, and when the shootings don’t stop, he becomes her 24-hour bodyguard. Shelby wouldn’t mind except Ryan is too appealing, too sexy, and too happy to remind her of the raucous bachelorette party when she mistook him for a stripper.
Shelby’s plan is simple: find the shooter, have a fling with Ryan, and return to her non-committal life. Unfortunately, the shooter is very elusive. Shelby’s feelings for Ryan are way more than adrenaline-fueled lust. And returning to her normal life is now impossible since, despite her lifelong resistance, she’s managed to put her heart smack dab in the line of fire.
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