To save Darien's life his brother asks, "Can you walk in high heels?"
Erika Bailey, owner/manager of a drag queen club in Bangkok, Thailand has happily settled into all aspects of her new life, except for her lack of a love life. When a new diva auditions, Erika is bewildered over her instant attraction to the blond God, Apollo.
Darien Scott is on vacation after a world tour and mistakenly figures the safest place to be is at The Black Dragon with the head of a Triad. When the club is hit, Darien is the only person to get out alive. Now he's running from the police and a Triad. Mistake number 1.
Disguised as a drag queen, he's hired by Erika, but falls hard for his new boss, then struggles with not coming clean with her. Mistake number 2.
Can he fix his mistakes and find a life filled with love or is he headed straight for mistake number 3?
Erik leaned on the balcony railing and stared down at the crowd of patrons partying in her club. They were laughing, and buying over-priced and watered-down booze, just the way it was supposed to be. The strobe lights bounced off the glitter and tinsel, adding blinding sparkles to the atmosphere. Overhead, four massive disco balls turned, spitting out flashes of light, randomly illuminating either patrons or the leopard print wallpapered walls. And best of all, Bangkok was a half a world away from home, which couldn't be more perfect.
She'd made it through her second year. She hadn't expected to jump straight into an owner/managerial position, but the opening was there and she grabbed it. The learning curve had been steep at first, although she now felt like she had her feet on the floor and her head squarely on her shoulders. Life wasn't perfect, but it was good. She took a deep breath and enjoyed a sense of calmness.
"Hey, Boss Lady."
She shifted to look at Sebastian, her stage manager. His chest muscles bulged under his white t-shirt, the rips in his jeans hinted at strong thighs, and the ever present headset rested on his scruffy brown hair. He sat on one hip and flipped a hand to point behind him. "It's just cray cray back there. Shangri-Lay's havin' a hissy fit."
Stifling the urge to pound her forehead on the brass railing, Erik asked, "What's the little diva's issue this time?"
"Well, she's screamin' somethin' 'bout Ra-chell took her pink scarf and the new eye shadow that matches it. Ra-chell says she didn't. She bought 'em this afternoon when she was out shoppin'. You know Ra-chell 'n shoppin'. She gets a paycheck and it's gone. But no way Shangri-Lay's gonna believe her. She's threatenin' to rip out her hair extensions."
Erik placed her palms on the cool railing and pushed upright. "Lead on."
She followed the harassed stage manager through the club, the pounding bass drowning out anything more he might have said to her. In the evening gown laden, makeup strewn topsy-turviness of the dressing room chaos ruled. Two partially dressed people rolled on the floor, entangled in each other's arms and legs, with fingers gripping hair and voices screeching. The other performers stood by and watched, cheering their favorite.
Erik grabbed a nearby glass, tossed the contents in the sink and filled it with cold water. She pushed her way through the crowd and flung the contents on the fighters.
"Ah! My makeup."
"Excuse me?" Erik lifted an eyebrow.
Daryl Devore lives in an in old farmhouse in Ontario, with her husband, a black cat named Licorice and some house ghosts. Daryl loves to take long walks up her country road, or snowshoe across the back acres or kayak along the St. Lawrence River. Yoga is her non-writing passion. She has touched a moon rock, a mammoth and a meteorite. She's been deep in the ocean in a submarine, flown high over Niagara Falls in a helicopter and used the ladies room in a royal palace. Life's an adventure and Daryl's having fun living it.
Where can fans find you?
Twitter - http://twitter.com/daryldevore
GoodReads Author Page - http://www.goodreads.com/DarylDevore
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