Valentine Smith H-A-T-E-S the month of February. The constant jokes about her name and comparisons to the chubby guy with arrows are enough to make her want to run and hide for the entire month.
But, this Valentine's Day, the ultimate joke is about to be played on poor Valentine. She's supposed to choke on a chocolate heart and die. You'd think that would be bad enough. But when she misses her chance to die, she finds herself running from an overly ambitious angel and a sexier-than-hell devil named Abbadon. In the race between good and evil it's no contest. Hell has sexy green eyes, lots of yummy muscles, and a truly decadent pair of lips to ease her pain!
Praise for Devil May Care
Night Owl Reviews Top Pick
"Sam Cheever adds a terrific twist to the holidays with this sweetheart of a short! Valentine Smith is a fabulously complex heroine…Abbadon is larger than life, and excuse the cliché, but sexy as hell!"
-- 5 Stars from PaulineMichael, Night Owl Reviews
Holidays are Hell: Devil May Care
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2013 Sam Cheever
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
"Valentine Marie Smith, you come out of there!"
"I'm not coming out until the holiday from Hell is over!"
Another round of pounding on her locked door had Valentine covering her head with a pillow. "Go away!"
"Honey, it's just a party with friends. I promise you'll have fun."
Valentine snorted into her pillowcase. "Fun is not a word I ever associate with Valentine's Day." She cringed when her roommate screamed in frustration.
"Okay. Have it your way. Stay here all alone in your pajamas and pout."
"I will. Thanks. Have fun."
"I refuse to have fun without you."
Valentine smiled. She knew better. Her beautiful, lighthearted roomie would be in her element at the Valentine's party. Surrounded by doting men and women who wanted to be her friend in the hope that some of her perfection would rub off on them, Aimee would have enough fun for both of them.
Still, as Valentine lay there on her bed and listened to the sound of Aimee leaving the apartment, she couldn't help feeling a little sad. Part of her -- a tiny part -- wished she could go to the party and have fun too. But the stupid holiday was the bane of her existence, and she'd sworn off all celebration of it.
She refused to buy or accept cards or gifts, and she'd turned down all invitations. She'd even said no to a date with a cute guy she met the previous week at her favorite club. She was determined not to contribute to the stupidity that was Valentine's Day.
Still, as the apartment throbbed with silence, the window glass crackling as an evening chill replaced an unseasonable warmth, she couldn't help feeling a little lonely.
Restless and bored, Valentine got out of bed and headed into the kitchen, looking for something to eat. Her stomach rumbled as she opened the refrigerator door and looked inside. It was filled with food, but it might as well have been empty. Aimee was a health nut and only bought stuff that was good for them.
Valentine was in the mood for comfort food. Which for her meant junk food. Fifteen minutes later, she had to settle for a bowl of sugary cereal that Aimee hadn't been able to talk her out of buying. She headed back to her room with the cereal, intending to send some emails and then settle into bed to watch a movie.
Setting her cereal bowl on the nightstand, Valentine carried her laptop to the bed and climbed under the covers. She clicked the television on and spent the next half hour visiting her favorite online spots and responding to emails from family and friends.
A chat message popped up and Valentine grinned. Artcritic1 had taken the bait.
Good evening, StolenHeart.
Hello, critic. Have you given any thought to my proposition?
I have. I'd like to discuss it over dinner tonight.
Valentine frowned. She really didn't want to go out. But she'd been trying to cultivate that particular client for months. She stared at the blinking cursor on the screen, unsure how to respond.
Sighing, Valentine made the only decision she could. Where and when?
Nourrir le Cúur, eight o'clock.
Valentine glanced at the clock. She had an hour to shower, dress, and catch a ride across town. It would be a stretch, but for the chance to steal the famed Walk Along the Seine, she'd manage it. She typed I'll be wearing a red dress and shut down her computer, heading for the shower.