Blondes Have More Felons
THERE’S NOTHING LIKE DECEMBER IN FLORIDA…
December Vaughn is tired of her roots. Not the ones in her hair—she is a real blonde after all—but her life in Ohio as a corporate attorney. She’s used to turning heads, but now it’s time to turn her life around. And what better way to prove all those dumb-blonde jokes wrong than by opening up her own practice in Florida? She’s going to take the Sunshine State by storm…
Soon, she’s hired by a man whose wife was killed by defective insulin. Now, the drug company and its ruthless lawyers are doing anything in their power to derail the case—and December. It’s enough to give a girl split ends.
Luckily her over-the-top office manager, a card-sharp housewife and a drop-dead gorgeous P.I. are on her side. Because December Vaughn may have parted ways with her old life, but she’s not about to give up her new one without a fight…
“As a brunette lawyer myself, I generally take exception to the old adage that blondes have more fun. However, if they’re all like Ms. Holliday’s new heroine, then I might have to rethink my opinion. “Fun” is certainly the perfect way to describe Blondes Have More Felons. Fortunately, the next book will be released in October 2006, so readers won’t have to wait too long to get their fill of December.”
—5 kisses, Romance Divas
Nobody ever tried to stab me when I did corporate work.
“Hey! All I did was suggest that your neighbor have his property surveyed.” I shoved my desk chair between me and a hundred and ten pounds of angry senior citizen. “I never told him to bulldoze your lawn shed if it crossed over the property line. You need to calm down, Mr. Ellison, or I’m going to have my assistant call the police.”
I eyed the distance between my desk and the door. Surely I could outrun this guy, even in my heels. He had to be ninety years old.
“Don’t even think about it, girlie. I’ve got pepper spray, and I ain’t afraid to use it. Those self-defense classes down at the senior’s center were good for something.” The little white-haired troll brandished a menacing-looking can in the air with one hand, while still pointing the knife at me with the other. If I hadn’t been in imminent danger of being filleted, I would have laughed.
My name is December Vaughn, and I’m a lawyer. That means that I’m usually the most annoying person in any room, even when I don’t have PMS. Not this morning, though.
I tried reason. “Look, you have a claim against him for the shed. He has to pay to replace it, OK? The shed and any tools he may have destroyed. Now, put that knife down before somebody gets hurt.”
Ellison lowered the knife, but it was still pointing at me. This was not how I generally liked to start my Mondays, being chased by somebody’s rabid, weapon-toting great-grandfather. Especially not before coffee.