Amy Davis—that’s the name I gave her when I broke every FBI rule and put her in witness protection— no longer has to testify against a notorious gangster. She believes he can’t reach her. But as soon as I get to Colorado to handle my brat, she’ll be taking these new threats seriously. There are people who want to find her. Very bad people. She’s no longer eligible for government protection. I have a team to help me—and not the agents I’ve worked with for decades. This team I formed through my membership at a very private club. This team I trust with my life and my “fake” wife.
Can I catch the criminal and convince my wife our relationship is real—before he ends her?
Excerpt from The Handler
No.
I freeze.
My heart rises to my throat.
Tyler stands right outside Katherine’s door. His glower travels the length of the hallway and grips the back of my neck. Fuck. He’s pissed off—at me. Despite his rumpled suit, he still looks like the sexy, powerful Dom who captivated me years ago. His crossed muscular arms help the vibe. I move a few feet closer, trying to ignore the flutter in my belly. Not a streak of gray mars his golden-brown curls, the same as always—long and curly on top and nearly nonexistent on the sides. His bronze skin still looks like he just spent a week on the beach.
“What are you doing here?” I ask before he gets a chance to take control. His forest-green eyes are on fire.
“You didn’t return my calls. That’s not what we agreed to. After forty-eight hours with no contact, I followed protocol.” Tyler’s voice is perfectly Midwest with no accent, but the command in his tone touches me intimately in a way he hasn’t achieved over the phone. Something about him in person—pissed off and growly—takes me right back to the club days.
I shake it off. I talked to him three—okay maybe four—days ago. “I’ve been busy with this wedding. I’m still busy.”
“And with the treasurer’s job for ABBA, too, I assume?”
Crap. He wasn’t supposed to know about that. Enzo’s dead. “It’s a tiny organization. No one’s going to notice.”
“I noticed.”
“You’re supposed to.” At least I guess that’s his job since he seems to be good at it. “Leave or take a seat. I have to take care of this bouquet.”
“I’ll save you a seat.”
Why does that sound like a threat to my ass?
Tropes
Fake marriage, One bed, Secret identity, Forbidden relationship, BDSM
Accolades for The Handler
Finalist in the National Excellence in Story Telling 2024
Best-selling, award-winning author, Jordyn Kross, is an unapologetically naughty novelist who spent years honing her writing skills with tech manuals and marginal poetry before finding her passion for writing sexy, boundary-stretching happily-ever-afters.
When she’s not writing, she’s attempting to garden in the Desert Southwest, hiking with her insane pound posse, and admiring that handsome man wandering around her house who continues to stay.
Jordyn enjoys saucy double entendres, pretending to be an extrovert, and is well-known for having no filter. And when she’s not in social media jail, she can be found on Facebook, Instagram, and BookBub, or hiding in a dark cave peering out at the X file formerly known as Twitter.
Find out about all her books and subscribe to her newsletter at jordynkross.com.