Hot for Hostage

by Maggie Evans

and dying my hair pink hadn’t done anything to build my street cred.

It almost felt like Davian was taking me hostage now, but that was just silly. I was the one with the gun.

Who knew Davian Reed would be attracted to short bakers in pink overalls, pointing a gun at him?

And today had been the most fun I’d had in ages. I couldn’t wait to see where it went next.

A determined scowl pinched her face—more endearing than intimidating—and I swear my goddamn soul floated out of my body.

One minute you’re stopping a group of teenage thugs from vandalizing a dog shelter, and the next you’re imagining doing dirty things with the bad-boy mafia prince you held at gunpoint.

Sadie huffed, then deepened her voice in what I could only guess was a poor imitation of my right-hand man. “‘I was so wrong about you, Sadie. You’re not a distraction or a weakness. You’re a broom-wielding, baking goddess who deserves some respect. Please accept my deepest apologies for being such a grumpy, insufferable jerk to you. You deserve better.’”