Bestselling author, Patricia Green, is a full-time fiction writer specializing in erotic romance. She provides the reader with love stories that emphasize fun characters with quirky personalities. Patricia is the author of more than 20 published novels and novellas as well as an ever-growing collection of short stories.
In her personal life, Patricia is married and the mother of twins. When she’s not being the angel of domestic harmony and a semi-crazed creator of fictional friends, she loves to read, crochet, knit and watch hockey.
Let's check out her newest release.
Jase Striker, police detective and gritty noire aficionado, doesn't want a partner on the job. When saddled with a sexy new colleague—a rookie in the Homicide division—he's at first irritable. Over time that irritation slowly morphs into a blistering passion, taking their partnership to a new, erotic level that includes a bare-bottomed spanking when needed. But he fears what mixing work with pleasure will do to his crime fighting abilities.
Rookie homicide detective, Angelica Piccolino, is tired of being treated like a kid though her diminutive size and grunge look add to that impression. But she's 26, and no stranger to the street or the bedroom. A real woman can take a spanking now and then...as long as it's from a man she respects.
Forced to work together as a team, Striker and Piccolino investigate a heartbreaking case involving three young women, murdered and left like human garbage, except for a single white rose. The detectives need to discover the identity of the white rose murderer fast--before another victim turns up
Donati and I both sat. “What’s this about, Striker? Problems with the case already?”
“Not exactly, sir. More like with the partner you’ve given me. I’ve been operating pretty well since Smitty retired. I don’t need a wet-behind-the-ears rookie to babysit.”
He leaned back in his chair and looked at me, his eyes inscrutable. Perhaps five seconds passed. I began to think I was supposed to say something else, but finally, he spoke. “Piccolino is qualified, Striker, or I never would have assigned her to you. She was one of the best detectives on the Vice Squad, an undercover operative who pulled in the bad guys like nobody’s business. But she became a known quantity on the street. Crooks had a habit of getting put away when she was around, and it seemed wiser to give her a different assignment where she could be herself.”
“She looks like a teenager, sir. She even dresses like a teenager. Since when does a pink hoodie and a miniskirt qualify as professional clothes? How does that reflect on the department?”
“Yeah, I already talked to her about that. She’ll be more business-like in the future.”
I had my doubts, but kept them to myself. “How old is she? Twenty? How’d she get promoted so fast? Was she that hot with Vice?”
“She’s twenty-six, but you could have asked her yourself. Piccolino just looks like a teenager. It’s gotten her pretty far, but she’s done her time on the team. I think you’ll find her knowledgeable. The only thing is…”
Oh, great. There was a but in there. “Yeah?”
“She’s a little bit of a hotshot. Takes chances when maybe she shouldn’t. When she was out on the streets with punks on her case, she had to be sharp and steady working on her own. It got her used to risky police work.”
Honest to God, I tried not to grit my teeth. My dentist would have caught me, but Donati didn’t. “So, I’m supposed to keep her in line, while training her for the Homicide Division, and solving crimes. Piece of cake,” I said, scowling.
“Damn it, Striker. Stop whining and get to work. You have a partner. She’s talented. You have experience and will be perfect for showing her the ropes. Now, get outta here.”
Maybe I was whining. The thing is, I enjoyed working on my own. When my partner retired, it was like I’d been freed from lock down. I could handle the cases the way I wanted to, following a logical progression, rather than following hunches and guesses. Sure, sometimes a hunch can lead you to an answer, but just as often they waste your time. Maybe Piccolino was meticulous, too. I wouldn’t know if I didn’t give her a chance.
“Okay,” I said as I rose and turned toward the door.
“Oh, and Striker—”
“Don’t fuck it up.”
What could I say to that? I twisted the doorknob and made my silent exit.
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You can reach Patricia Green in the following ways:
Email: pig (at) patriciagreenbooks (dot) com
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Patricia-Green/e/B002RCB0IK/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
Goodreads Author Page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4541511.Patricia_Green