Rules of Lying (Jane Dough Series) Read Online Free PDF

didn’t realize I’d said it aloud until Mark patted me sympathetically on the back.
    “We like you too much to shoot you,” he said, chuckling at my mortification. “And if you want to take off your top and serve the rest of this tequila, we won’t complain. But I will say that now you’re starting to sound like a degenerate.”
    “But it’s so unfair. If only someone had asked me I could have told them I wasn’t topless. Only the dancers were.” I always explained that to people, but no one ever believed me. They just stared at my breasts.
    “That has to be the worst of it, surely,” I said.
    And it pretty much was. The rest was about my relationship with Pete. How he’d been a quickly growing phenomenon who proceeded to waste his money on drugs and good times, and that while he’d been out partying, I’d been at home writing and climbing the lists.
    I grabbed the paper and studied it as best I could, considering the words were blurring. The article was the main feature on the local page, complete with pictures of Pete and me backstage at one of his concerts plus the cover of Dark Scoundrel, my fourth historical romance, the book that put me on the bestseller list.
    I cringed as it hit me that I’d been outed. No one at work was aware of my former life, and I couldn’t hazard a guess as to what my co-workers would think, especially my conventional boss. Facing him would be embarrassing, if not humiliating. I wondered if he would let me go; reputation meant everything in business. I pushed that thought out of my mind. I could only handle so much.
    I scanned the rest of the article. The last paragraph was about my present situation, and though it made the homeowners’ association sound like the bad guy, it also made me sound pathetic. I mean, was it possible for any female to be forced to marry someone for the manual labor he could provide and yet still be un- pathetic?
    I took another shot of tequila and tried to put together some words. “I sound patetic.” I sniffed, thinking one of us should be crying for me.
    “Pa te tic?” Mark repeated with a smile.
    “Shut up,” I said.
    “Well, I don’t see whas wrong wif the maids swiping the coocumbers,” Sue said, her slurred words somehow managing to sound miffed. “If there wasn’t enough dukes wif big peckers to go ’round …”
    I tried to laugh, but I choked instead. Sue, who also read historical romances, knew that all dukes were young, rich, handsome, and hung like stallions.
    Lord, how I wished I knew a duke.
    *****
    It was no surprise that I yearned for a good historical romance that night, and so I pulled out my dog-eared copy of Dark Scoundrel and read it straight through. Again.
    The next morning I forced myself out of bed after too little sleep. I’d been thinking about an idea for a new novel. Well, mostly I’d been thinking about the hero. I’ll admit my handsome neighbor might have had something to do with my train of thought. There were certain parts of him that were very intriguing. I won’t say which parts.
    I hadn’t heard from my agent, Rose Feldman, in a couple of months, so we were due to hook up. We stayed in touch just in case I managed to turn out a saleable manuscript. It wasn’t that I couldn’t write. I could write just fine—as well as I ever could anyway—but Rose couldn’t sell it. She said I’d lost the romance. Not a good thing to hear when you’re a romance writer.
    “Jane,” came Rose’s raspy voice from my speaker after my line connected with hers. I heard the inevitable click of her cigarette lighter. “I was just thinking about you,” she said.
    “Really?” Gee, how nice. She’d been thinking about me.
    There was a beat of silence then, “No, not really. I always say that when I hear from someone out of the blue. Makes them think we’re on the same wavelength. Like anybody’s ever on the same wavelength. They don’t usually call me on it, but since you asked … I know how you feel about