Booked for Murder
(Vigilante Magical Librarians #1)
Publication date: August 18th 2020
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy
Life as a bodyguard and driver for the rich, famous, and powerful is dangerous on a good day, and after sustaining a crippling injury while on duty, Janette’s left with few options. Having signed a ‘for life’ contract but unable to work, she uses her skills to disappear.
Her new life as a librarian suits her. Nobody cares she limps and sometimes requires a cane to walk. She’s wanted for her knowledge, not her lethal magic. She’s surrounded by books, a woman’s best friend.
But when her former employer’s best friend is murdered on the steps of her library, old loyalties and secrets might destroy her—or set her free.
Teaming up with her co-workers to find the killer might keep her from being booked for murder, but unless she’s careful, she’ll find out exactly how far her ex-boss will go to reclaim what is rightfully his.
Her. For life.
Fool that I was, I’d screwed myself over with my cover story, which offered me the ability to avoid detection from the very man I’d once guarded. Along with a partial name change and a move back to my old haunts, I’d taken the hiding in plain sight thing a little too far. But what sank me was registering my magical aptitude rating at 17.2%, too high to count as a pure mundane but too low to use magic at all.
Had I gone for a saner 30.5%, I could have visited a doctor for a renewal of my prescription without having to tap out enough of my magic to maintain my ruse. To tap my magic, I needed to manipulate someone’s blood, circumventing their heart or adjusting their personal chemistry to suit my needs.
Opportunities to use my magic came few and far between, and I didn’t have access to cadavers to practice on, nor was I willing to inflict misery on some random stranger to drop my reserves to dangerously low levels.
There was only so much I could do with my own blood before I ran the risk of death.
I cursed the sports car and its idiot driver for making even more of a mess of my morning.
I didn’t need any more damned problems in my life. I needed my cane, but if I turned around and limped home, I’d be late for work. Being late for work couldn’t happen, not without a damned good reason, and forgetting my cane didn’t count. Once at the library, I could figure something out—or bribe one of my co-workers to run down the street to my apartment. If I had owned anything worth stealing, I might’ve been concerned, but my apartment did a good job of representing my bland life. With my salary, I skipped luxuries, and the little extra money I didn’t shove into a savings account went down the drain trying to rehab my foot.
Spiting the damned doctor who had sworn I’d be wheelchair bound for the rest of my life amused me. The last time I’d gone to his office, I’d done so without my cane, earning a scolding over it. I’d gotten him to finally admit I might one day walk without my boot.
My new doctor had faith in me and my mangled foot. Even on the days I faltered, she believed. With enough hard work and a few more surgeries, I might even manage without a limp.
I even understood that after successfully rehabbing my foot, I wouldn’t return to my once upon a time. Those days were gone, and for the most part, I didn’t miss them.
Okay, I missed them. I missed having a hotter than hell boss with a sense of humor, I missed driving luxury sports cars better than anyone else, and I longed to take the latest and greatest to the race track so I could play with them, as they were banned from the road for being too fast and glorious to be street legal.
Bradley Hampton liked rewarding his minions for good behavior, and he’d figured out how I’d ticked within months of hiring me to be his for life bodyguard.
I fucking loved cars.
RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.
In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until satisfied
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