Carly Phillips - Lucky Streak

The second book in the Lucky series, 2009

Dear Reader,

The wait is over! I am thrilled to bring you Lucky Streak, the second book in a trilogy featuring the sexy, charismatic Corwin cousins, men who are dogged by a centuries-old family curse. According to legend, any Corwin man who falls in love is destined to lose his love and his fortune.

So what does fate have in store for cousin number two-Boston cop Mike Corwin? An impromptu trip to Las Vegas for his partner’s wedding takes him on a wild ride of his own, including winning a fortune, marrying a woman he met the night before and waking up alone-no wife, no cash. The family curse has hit him hard. Or has it? Amber Rose isn’t my typical heroine, as Mike quickly finds out.

I can’t wait for you to read this fun story! The series concludes in October 2009 with Jason Corwin’s story, Lucky Break, and if you missed Derek’s story, Lucky Charm, it’s still in stores now.

Visit www.carlyphillips.com for release dates and so much more. You can write to me at P.O. Box 483, Purchase, NY 10577 or e-mail carly@carlyphillips.com.

As always, thank you for buying my books, and happy reading!

Best wishes,

Carly Phillips

I N THE LATE nineteenth century, in the small village of Stewart, Massachusetts, 1.5 miles west of Salem, site of the now-famous witch trials, fear of curses and witchcraft ran rampant. During this time, William Corwin fell in love and eloped with a woman who was already betrothed to another. The man William wronged, Martin Perkins, was the oldest son of the wealthy Perkins family from the neighboring village of the same name. To William Corwin’s misfortune, Martin’s mother, Mary Perkins, was a witch.

And she immediately sought revenge on her son’s behalf with this curse: Any Corwin male who falls in love will be destined to lose his love and his fortune.

No male Corwin has walked away unscathed…

A MBER R OSE WANTEDout of the con-artist life. Counting cards in Vegas high-stakes poker games was not the way she wanted to live-even if it did bring in money she desperately needed to pay for her Alzheimer’s-stricken father’s medical bills and keep him in a top-notch nursing home. But now she’d saved enough to find another way. She glanced around the crowded, smoke-filled casino, where she’d arranged to meet Marshall Banks, her soon-to-be ex-partner. The Bellagio was his favorite hotel on the Strip and she hoped the atmosphere would put him in a good mood for when she delivered the news.

Amber glanced at her watch. Though it felt like hours, only five minutes had passed since she’d arrived. Relax, she ordered herself, when she finally caught sight of Marshall across the room.

She couldn’t help but notice many appreciative female eyes followed him as he cut through the crowd. With his black slacks and colorful striped dress shirt, and dark, slicked-back hair, he epitomized Vegas glitz and studly Andy Garcia-like appeal. Women had always been drawn to Marshall. As a young, impressionable teenager, Amber had been one of them. How could she not have a crush on her father’s top protégé?

Sam Brenner had been a gambler extroaordinaire, a man Amber had been in awe of. He was everything Vegas-big and large, dynamic and exciting. He’d adored his daughter and he’d seen to it she had everything she’d ever needed. Since he was often traveling the gambling circuit, leaving Amber with his parents, she’d extended her awe and love to her dashing father to her hometown, Vegas. She reveled in the glitz and glamour that emanated from it in waves.

The shine had long since come off Marshall, though, and these days she saw her soon-to-be ex-partner for the man he really was. A middle-aged con who made his living by gambling and cheating, simply because he could. Amber’s reasons for getting into the life had been less self-serving, yet she couldn’t deny they shared a mutual investment in their partnership.

“Hey, beautiful.” Marshall stepped up beside her and pressed a cool kiss to her cheek. “How are you this morning?” he asked, interrupting her introspection.

“I’m just fine.” She pressed her fingers together to keep from fidgeting or tipping her hand before she was ready.

“Can I get you a drink?” Marshall asked.

She frowned at his question. “Isn’t noon a little early for cocktails?”

“Come on, babe, relax. It’s Friday. The start of the weekend.” He flagged down a waitress. “Johnnie Walker Black for me. And a chardonnay for the lady.”

Chardonnay was Amber’s drink of choice when she and Marshall were acting the part of gambler and his bimbo. Amber didn’t want anything to do with the charade now.

She waved her hand in the air. “Nothing for me.”

With a nod, the cocktail waitress turned and walked away.

Marshall immediately cocked his head to one side. “Something wrong?” he asked Amber.

She shook her head. “No, it’s just that it’s awfully early in the day.” Even for a Friday.

He pinned her with his astute stare. “What’s your problem? You usually don’t give a damn what I drink or when as long as we have a gig planned that’ll bring in some cash. And I already told you we’re set for tomorrow night. Relax.” He reached out a hand to smooth her long curls.

She forced herself to release a calming breath. He was right. She’d never questioned him about his drinking before. From the moment she’d asked him to join her in her mission to raise big money by revisiting the tricks her father had taught her in her youth, she’d always let him do his own thing. Amber didn’t want him drinking now because the more alcohol he downed, the more volatile he could become when he heard her news.

She might as well get it over with. “About tomorrow’s game.” Amber clenched and unclenched her fists. Her palms were damp and she resisted the urge to wipe them on her dark dress.

His wary gaze turned his irises coal-black, but Amber wasn’t afraid. He usually possessed enough charm to cover his explosive temper. Usually.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again.

“I won’t be there.”

“That’s a bad joke.” He frowned, the scowl marring his features. “You know I can’t win without that photographic memory of yours. What could be more important than the game?”

How to explain honesty, morality and guilt to a man who didn’t worry about those things? Amber bit the inside of her cheek, wondering how to phrase things so he’d understand.

She met Marshall’s unnerving gaze. “I’m not coming tomorrow because I’m finished with card counting. With this life.”

She’d always loved the highs and challenges that high-stakes gambling offered, but she also needed to like the person she viewed in the mirror each morning. And she had, until she was forced to leave the career she loved to look after her father. As a concierge in Beverly Hills, Amber had had a legitimate job that offered her enough challenge to satisfy her reckless streak. She’d found the best in life and she wanted it back. And since she’d saved enough money to take time and find another way to pay for her father’s care, she intended to do just that.