Doing It Right Read online

  “I’ve never done it in a backseat before.”

  “Because you’re such a goody-goody,” he smirked.

  “Not anymore. Not for years and years.”

  He smelled her hair, and got another intoxicating whiff of leather. She shifted until she was spearing him with her black gaze. “Tell the truth,” she said. “Do you love me because of my car, or do you love your car because of me?”

  “Uh …” Too late, he realized it was a fatal pause.

  “Well, I’m not going to marry you then,” she said with terrifying finality.

  “What?” He would have leapt off her in a panic, but there was nowhere to go.

  “Nope. Everybody in my family gets married and settles down.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m not sure your family will approve of me.”

  “Eh. You’re a cop.”

  “A scruffy undercover cop who spends way more time pretending to be a bad guy than trying to be a good guy.”

  “Yeah,” she said, satisfaction unmistakable in her voice.

  “You’re still marrying me.”

  “Nope.” She paused, long enough for his heart to stop. “But we’ll date for the rest of our lives.”

  “Date?” he cried, outwardly aggrieved, inwardly relieved.

  “Well, you know. Until you knock me up.”

  “Oh, your family’s gonna love that.”

  She laughed so hard, she nearly dislodged him onto the floor. “Argh, stop it! I’m slipping!”

  “You’re damned right you’re slipping,” she said, still giggling. “You slipped the minute I put you on citizen’s arrest.”

  “Marry me.”

  “Date me.”

  “Done,” they said in unison, and the long struggle to get back into their clothes began.

  If you liked this MaryJanice Davidson book,

  try some of her other titles

  available from Brava …

  Hello, Gorgeous!

  They Want Her To Save The World. As If.

  One minute I’m out with my sorority sisters; the next there’s a terrible accident (beyond my friend Stacey’s outfit) and I’m waking up in some weird clinic transformed into a human cyborg—with a mission: to stop evil and stuff. Uh, hello? I’ve got a beauty salon to run.

  Granted, it is cool to run faster than a Ford Mustang when I need to, even if it’s totally hard on my shoes. But then I have to bring in another human cyborg on the run? One who happens to be male, totally gorgeous, smart, funny—and, um, his “enhancements”?—as if!

  Drop Dead, Gorgeous!

  Fast. Powerful. Deadly. With Bitchin’ Highlights.

  Ah, weddings—every single woman’s reminder that she’ll probably die alone, covered in cat hair and dressed in unflattering sweatpants. And as far as bad wedding experiences go, my friend Stacy’s could take the cake. 1) I’m dateless 2) I’m a bridesmaid, and 3) Someone just attempted to whack the groom (known, no kidding, as The Boss) in the middle of the ceremony. Whoa … hang on. I might not relish reception food or doing the Electric Slide, but anyone who tries to ruin a girlfriend’s big day by bumping off her true love will have to go through me first.

  So now I, assistant hairdresser Jenny Branch, am helping to hunt down a real-life bad guy, and the prime suspect is Kevin Stone, who claims to be working undercover for a group called Covert Ops Protection. Riiiight. All of this is hard to believe—my new role as spy-in-training, the fact that I’m surrounded by people with freaky superhuman powers, and most of all, the way that this unbelievably sexy villain/double agent/whatever Kevin is makes every (and I mean every) nerve-ending tingle the second he comes into view … and it appears to be mutual. Living with flying bullets and constant danger is a long way from sweeping up hair at the end of the day. But if it means being around Kevin, a girl could get used to it …

  MaryJanice Davidson’s sequel to Hello, Gorgeous! is a nonstop thrill-ride of secret agents, wickedly seductive superspies, and deadly weapons, where a fearless, funny heroine and an irresistible hero could find themselves saving the universe … and setting each other’s worlds on fire …

  The Royal Treatment

  In a world nearly identical to ours, the North won the Civil War, Ben Affleck is the sexiest man alive, and Russia never sold Alaska to the U.S. Instead, Alaska is a rough, beautiful country ruled by a famously eccentric royal family, and urgently in need of a bride for the Crown Prince. But they have no idea what they’re in for when they offer the job to a feisty commoner … a girl who’s going to need …

  The Royal Treatment

  The Princess-To-Be Primer,

  Or, Things I’ve Learned Really Quick, As Compiled by Her Future Royal Highness—Yeah, Whatever—Christina. That’s me.

  Telling jokes you picked up from the guys on the fishing boat doesn’t go over really well at a fancy ball.

  Must learn to curtsy, stifle burps, and tell the difference between a salad fork and a fruit knife.

  Must not keep thinking about Prince David’s amazing eyes, lips, hands, shoulders, uh … wait, can I start over?

  Becoming a princess is a lot harder than it looks.

  Falling in love is a whole lot easier …

  In this dazzling, delightfully wacky tale from Mary-Janice Davidson, a tough commoner and a royal prince are about to discover that who they truly are … and what they desperately desire … may both be closer than they ever dreamed …

  The Royal Pain

  In a world nearly identical to ours, the North won the Civil War, Ben and JLo got married, and everyone dresses well to attend the Grammys. Oh, and Russia never sold Alaska to the U.S. Instead, Alaska is a rough, beautiful country ruled by a famously eccentric royal family, including oldest daughter, Princess Alexandria, whose acid wit and bad case of insomnia have turned her into a tabloid darling, a palace problem, and overall …

  The Royal Pain

  Marine biologist Dr. Shel (“Never Sheldon”) Rivers has a problem. Some princess expects him to wait on her, hand and dimpled foot. His boss is taken with the royal redhead—brunette, whatever, it’s not like he keeps track of that stuff—and nobody realizes that he just wants to be left alone in his lab. All alone. All the time. Weekends, holidays … it’s all good.

  Now here’s Miss Royalpants, insisting that he escort her around the marine institute, explain what he’s doing, kiss her until her toes curl … no, wait, that was his idea. She’s not even apologetic about being born into a royal family! Says it’s his problem to overcome, not hers. Which leaves him with one option: to kiss her again. And again. And …

  So she’s nothing like he expected. In fact, Dr. Rivers can see that this fantastic, exasperating woman has problems no princess should ever have to deal with. And he has an idea to help her get some much-needed sleep. Of course, it involves getting very, very tired beforehand, but if she’s up to it, then so is he …

  In this delightfully madcap sequel to The Royal Treatment, the Baranov family is back and as unpredictable as ever, and a prickly princess and cranky Ph.D. are about to discover that love conquers attitude every time …

  The Royal Mess

  In a world nearly identical to ours, the North won the Civil War, flannel is the new bling, and Russia never sold Alaska to the U.S. Instead, Alaska is a beautiful, rough-and-tumble country ruled by a famously eccentric royal family who put the fun back in dysfunctional. And the tabloid darlings are about to get more ink once the King’s “royal oats” come back in the form of a surprise princess, landing them all in, well …

  The Royal Mess

  Jeffrey Rodinov is descended from one of the oldest families in Alaska, and a Rodinov has been protecting a Baranov for generations. It’s a job Jeffrey takes VERY seriously. Six feet four inches, 220 fat-less lbs., black hair, and blue eyes; weapon of choice: the 9 mm Beretta. In a pinch? His fists. IQ: 157. (Yes, crossword puzzle, in ink, just after taking out the guy behind you. No thanks necessary.) No one ever sees Jeffrey Rodinov coming, and no one—not even a mouthy, il
legitimate princess—is going to keep him from playing bodyguard when his king decrees it.

  Right. But no Rodinov ever had to protect Princess Nicole Krenski. Her credentials? Hunting guide in the Alaskan wilderness. Smart. Stubborn bordering on exasperating. Five-seven. Blue eyes. Very kissable mouth. Very kissable neck, back, legs, wrists, earlobes. The lady says she doesn’t need a bodyguard, but that’s where she’s wrong. Someone needs to watch her and show her the royal ropes (and cuffs … and scarves …). Someone who can make her feel like a queen—in and out of bed. And that’s a job Jeffrey Rodinov takes very seriously as well …