Principles of Spookology (The Spectral Files, #2)

by S.E. Harmon

It had been a long day of travel, and my only current interest was whittling down the number of obstacles between me and my bed.

Mood

He smiled pleasantly… and then his gaze landed on my pastries. We had a brief battle of the eyes. My steely gaze told him I wasn’t above licking a Danish to claim it. His steady stare told me he wasn’t above eating a licked Danish.

his computer search history was rather innocuous and mostly work-related. I couldn’t say the same. In the event of my death, I expected Danny to throw my laptop on the interstate… in the name of love.

“What kind of name is Dakota Daydream?” “I don’t know.” His expression was placid, but his eyes danced. “Rainstorm.” Touché, motherfucker. Touché.

As I hustled to the elevator, I heard shuffling behind me and the faint call of, “Hold it!” I jabbed the door close button no less than six times.

Danny wasn’t exactly bad looking. He was hot. Really fucking hot. He was the kind of guy you saw at the bar and made a beeline for, using elbows to get there quicker if necessary.

I glanced up at his face and bit my lip to keep from laughing. Blue eyes peered at me from behind a thick, grayish-green clay mask. From the looks of the toothbrush in his mouth, he’d decided to multitask. A bit of the goop fell on his chest. A chuckle escaped. “I’ve never wanted you more.”

He was probably out for an early morning run in the fresh air… all poisonous things to my system.

So relatable