Status Updates From The Mood for Trouble (Agent...

I like the action in this book, and not the sexy kind, cause there isn’t any yet this far. I wanna be a CIA agent and pack heat.

[With] a combination of him pushing & lifting, & me hopping, I got into the seat. Harper grinned up at me, leaning into the cab & helping me fasten my seat belt.
“Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just—”
“Shut up. You know you’re packing too.”
“I am.” But his voice suddenly dropped to a low, velvety pitch, & as I met his gaze, I realized his arm was still around me & his face was just a few inches from mine.

I narrowed my eyes, chomping my pizza. “Well, when the rest of you are standing around looking lost with your thumbs in your asses, we do what needs to be done. And then disappear without a trace.”
“I’m pretty sure you disappeared last night leaving a trail of blood.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, I could only pack so many things in my bra. First aid wasn’t one of them.”

“Hell no. Please. We are not like that.” [...]
“Not buying it. But it’s your vagina. I just hope you remember to use it from time to time. Okay, Chase? I worry about you. It’s probably all dusty and shit up there.”
“My vagina is not dusty!” I exclaimed loudly, glaring.
There was another knock on the door. “Ah…Chase? Everything all right in there?”
My face heated to my hairline. “Yes. Be right out.”

"But you aren’t going to be able to get your wounds wet and you’d run the risk of pulling a stitch. Hell, you could merely lift an arm and pull a stitch.”
“Yeah, no, I get that.” I did a doubletake. Is she blushing? “It’s just, um…”
“I’ll at least help you undress,” I hurried to say, then rolled my eyes. That wasn’t any better.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she snapped. “I have to take a shower. Just—come on.”

My eyes ran up the sleek, shapely leg exposed through a high slit in a black
evening dress to see a woman holding both of the man’s arms up behind him, pushing them forward [...].
“Oh, hey. Nice timing, Special Agent.”
The voice drew my gaze to her face & familiar blue-gray eyes met mine, plump, red lips curved into a smirk.
I couldn’t help smiling back. Not the damsel in distress I expected. I’ll be damned.

“And what does Mrs. DEA Special Agent think about it?”
I glanced at her briefly again. Am I being interrogated? “There is no Mrs. DEA Special Agent. Anymore.”
Chase nodded, her expression impassive. “Oh. I see.”
“And you? Is there a Mr. Nosy[...]Spy?” I couldn’t picture Chase being
married, or if she was, the type of man she’d be married to. He’d have to have the patience of concrete to deal with her.

*LOL*
.

[She] chopped the side of her hand into the back of [his] elbow, causing him to yelp & drop the gun. She lunged to grab it & he shot past her out the door.
I stared, my body tensing as she raised my Glock, not quite pointing it at me. Her flawless grip told me she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Gonna borrow this a sec.” She turned gracefully in her stilettos. “Catch you later, Special Agent.”
Then she was gone.

I wasn’t expecting him to be that damn sexy.
His clean-shaven face flashed through my mind, as if called up by my suddenly swiftly pounding heart [...].
I’d expected the accent, but not the incredible voice. It was deep and rough like brushed velvet, rich with a posh London influence.
It almost threw me off my game. And I never, ever fell off my game.
“Get your shit together, Moreno,” I muttered.

“Place your bets,” the dealer instructed [...].
“What do you say, Black Beauty?” High Roller asked in my ear. I wrinkled my nose at both the ridiculous nickname and the sour stench of whiskey-laced tobacco on his breath. “Try your luck with me.”
He offered the chip.
The dealer spun the wheel.
“My name’s Chase, first of all,” I said to High Roller. “And second—I make my own luck.”