Authors: Lola Drake
Evernight Publishing
Copyright© 2012 Lola Drake
ISBN:
978-1-77130-051-3
Cover Artist: Sour
Cherry Designs
Editor: JC Chute
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
No part of this book may be used or
reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of
fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
DEDICATION
To
my grandfather, Morris Madian, who remains forever in my memory. You inspired
in me a love of stories, and the first ones I told were during those summer
days when I played in the yard with you. From Queen Leora the Bumble Bee to
this, my first published novella, I owe it all to you.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First I’d like to thank Seleste DeLaney, an amazing author
and true friend. If not for her, this series would not have been created, and
this book would never have been published. Her constructive criticism is harsh,
which makes it invaluable. Seleste, I’m so grateful to you for everything.
You’re a beautiful person.
Special thanks also goes out to Sandi Gibbons, Director of
Communications at the Los Angeles District Attorney’s Office, for patiently
answering all of my questions about trial procedure, gang-related homicides,
and investigations. Furthermore, I’d like to thank Ken McDaniel for teaching me
about guns, ballistics, gunshot wounds, and witness protection. Finally, a warm
thank you to my uncle, Ethan Feldman, for his helpful advice about court and
criminal procedure. Any mistakes in the text are mine alone. These three people
generously gave their time to help me get the facts right.
Last but certainly not least, thank you to my parents,
Gloria and David, and my sister Karen for their unwavering support over the
years. Without their constant encouragement and belief in me, I would have
given up writing a long time ago. I love you all and I hope you know how much I
appreciate you.
PURSUIT
OF A KISS
Cupid’s Conquests
Lola Drake
Copyright © 2012
Prologue
She didn’t belong. He noticed that the moment
she entered the bar, inspiring even more pity, since he knew the disaster she
would soon face. She held her shoulders back a tad too rigidly, kept her
posture a little too perfect, and her simple black tailored suit and red silk
blouse stood out in sharp contrast to the far more casual Venice, California
crowd. She must have come directly from work––at least he hoped she had, since
other than her attire, she had definite potential. Men gave her a second look
as she passed by, staring at her rich brown hair falling in soft wavy curls
around her shoulders. They certainly had to notice those big blue eyes
projecting such innocence. Not to mention that incredible ass.
“See something you like?” purred the luscious
blonde beside him, pressing her generous breasts against his arm, effectively
diverting his attention from the brunette.
“Erato,” Eros exclaimed, before noticing the
fearsome man beside her. “And… Father.”
Ares inclined his head in regal acknowledgement
of his son’s greeting.
“What brings you two here?”
Erato drew lustful gazes everywhere she went,
particularly leaning against the bar with cleavage spilling out of her tight
black top and endless, tanned legs on display beneath her miniscule skirt. But
Ares kept all the patrons at a distance with his roiling eyes and tightly
clenched jaw. The women all turned to admire him, yet none dared approach.
Seeing Ares had no intention of answering, Erato
flicked her hair back. “I was in the area, attempting to inspire one of the
boardwalk poets, but couldn’t get through the haze of pot smoke.”
Eros chuckled. “I thought that stuff made it
easier for you Muses to slip into their thoughts.”
“In some artists, yes; in others, most decidedly
not.” She shrugged, indifferent. “They have to want to receive my inspirational
gifts for them to work. Now, Ares here joined up with me on behalf of Zeus.”
Eros rolled his eyes. “So Zeus had you intercept
me at a bar…”
“You have been here a lot lately. He says you
aren’t making enough progress on your mission. You’re here to bring true love
back to the humans, not to get yourself laid by simpering mortals.”
“I haven’t had much luck at that, in this
disguise Zeus forced me to assume,” Eros grumbled. The normally alluring god of
love now inhabited the body of a short, pudgy, bald man.
Ares shot his son a stern look. “Your mother
misses you. If you ever want to return to
can still thrive in this world.”
“Ironic sentiment, coming from you.” There was
no love lost between Eros and Ares. Although, to be fair, there was rarely love
lost between Ares and anybody. Only their devotion to Aphrodite kept the two
gods from shedding each other’s blood.
A streak of dry lightning cut through the night
sky like a hot knife through butter, thunder rolling so closely on its heels it
felt as though the bolt could strike the bar where they stood. Conversations
stopped as nearly every patron turned in shock to peer out the windows at the
cloudless night sky.
“All
right, all right, tell Zeus to calm down. I’ll get back to work.”
Ares nodded, satisfied, and swept out of the bar
without another word.
“Is he always so chatty?” Erato laughed.
Eros made a face at her, his good mood destroyed
by his father’s visit.
“Cheer up. I brought a surprise for you.”
Eros’s brothers, Himeros and Pothos, emerged
from the shadows to join them at the bar. They looked enough alike to pass for
twins. As the god of lust and sexual longing, and the god of yearning and
desire, their looks provoked intense reactions – women began to crowd around
the bar, jostling (and in some cases outright shoving) each other to get closer
to them. Eros felt a flash of resentment at seeing his alluring brothers, stuck
as he was in his corpulent body, but he had missed them.
At that moment, loud shouting erupted across the
bar, distracting them all. The rigid brunette Eros had been studying slapped
the man before her as silent tears slid down her face. The man attempted to
grab her arm but she jerked free and pushed through the crowded room,
frantically trying to get outside.
There goes
another couple
. Eros groaned in frustration while
Himeros laughed.
“He might not know my name, but that one has
worshipped me in abundance.”
“Inspiring lust in anyone is easy,” Eros
complained. “And look where lust just got that guy. He lost a great girlfriend
over it.”
Pothos shook his head. “No, I’m quite familiar
with that woman. She’s yearned for something more for years. She’s just been
too scared to admit it to herself. And you may need Himeros’s help with her –
she never lets herself get carried away by passion, unfortunately.”
Eros studied the woman thoughtfully as she ran
out of the bar. A woman nervous about passion? Longing for true love? This
sounded like a mission he would thoroughly enjoy.
His eyes gleaming with anticipation, Eros barely
noticed when Erato kissed his cheek.
“I’ll leave you to it, Eros. It looks like you
have your work cut out for you.”
Chapter One
Shot Through the Heart
Juliet breathed a sigh of relief as she entered
the bar. After the dressing down her boss had given her and the bumper car
rally otherwise known as the
Angeles
and some time to relax with her friends. Feeling a prickling sensation at the
back of her neck, she turned to find a bald man’s eyes boring into her as
though he knew every thought in her head. For a moment, Juliet froze at the
intense sensation. Then the man smiled, his pudgy face transforming into
cherubic innocence. She must be more stressed than she thought, imagining
anything sinister in an expression that kind.
Shaking it off, Juliet spotted her friends at a
table not far from the door and hurried towards them.
“Sorry I’m late. I didn’t notice your text
changing the party to this place until I was halfway downtown.”
Carly waved it off, too drunk to care. A white
veil attached to a tacky tiara rested on her curly red hair, and she slurped
her drink through a penis-shaped straw. “As long as you’re not late for the
wedding.” She hugged her friend affectionately.