Susan Andersen - Playing Dirty

“A smart, arousing, spirited escapade

that is graced with a gentle mystery, a vulnerable,

resilient heroine, and a worthy, wounded hero

and served up with empathy and a humorous flair.”

—Library Journal on Burning Up

“[A] fast-paced, charming romance

with plenty of heat and cool dialogue.”

—RT Book Reviews on Burning Up

“A sexy, feel-good contemporary romance…

Palpable escalating sexual tension between the pair,

a dangerous criminal on the loose and a cast of

well-developed secondary characters make this a winner.”

—Publishers Weekly on Bending the Rules

“Snappy and sexy… Upbeat and fun, with a touch of danger

and passion, this is a great summer read.”

—RT Book Reviews on Coming Undone

“Lovers of romance, passion and laughs

should go all in for this one.”

—Publishers Weekly on Just for Kicks

“Andersen again injects magic into a story that would be

clichéd in another’s hands, delivering warm, vulnerable

characters in a touching yet suspenseful read.”

—Publishers Weekly on Skintight, starred review

“A classic plot line receives a fresh, fun treatment…

Well-developed secondary characters add depth to this

zesty novel, placing it a level beyond most of its competition.”

—Publishers Weekly on Hot & Bothered

1 lb ground turkey

1 onion, chopped

1 green bell pepper, chopped

1 large bag frozen mixed veggies (cook’s choice)

2 cans diced tomatoes & green chilies (such as RoTel)

2 cans diced tomatoes

1 can black beans

1 can white beans

2 packages taco seasoning or ½ cup Costco taco seasoning

1 cup red wine

1 cup/can chicken or vegetable broth

Brown turkey, onions and peppers and toss in a large Crock-Pot. Add rest of the ingredients and simmer all day long. Leftovers can be frozen in ziplock baggies for on-the-go individual servings.

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This is dedicated to my little corner

of the immense Facebook community—

especially the ladies (and occasional gent)

of the SusanAndersenFanPage. You make me laugh,

make me think and—I gotta tell ya—make me

feel much more important than I actually am.

Your collective willingness to open up pieces of your lives

to my voracious curiosity just knocks my socks off.

You all rock.

—Susan

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Virginia Bogert of

Laughing Dog Productions for the fabulous information

and peeks into the world of a working documentary

producer. I so appreciate all the time you gave me,

your wonderful ideas and your patience

with my many questions.

I hope I did your information justice,

but if any inaccuracies arise, they are solely mine.

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

EPILOGUE

Dear Diary,

I didn’t know you could feel such pain and still live.

Country Day School, Upper School building

Thirteen years ago

AVA SPENCER DANCED down the hallway toward the cafeteria, her hips slowly swiveling and her plump shoulders grooving to the Goo Goo Dolls’ rendition of “Iris” playing in her head. She supposed she could’ve picked something faster, but hey. She was in the moment, feeling good.

Really, really good.

“Ava! Wait up!”

Glancing behind her, she saw her two best friends hustling around a group of stragglers who, like her, were running late for second lunch. The music in her head shut down as she waited for them to catch up, only to be promptly replaced by the everyday rhythms of school lunch hour: the squeak of shoes against linoleum, the slam of an occasional locker door, the laughter of little kids out on the Lower School playfield competing with the muted roar of the teens behind the lunchroom door just down the hall.

“What’s up, girly girl?” Poppy demanded, striding up to her. The bangles on her wrist clinked as they slid down the arm she raised to brush back a curl that had strayed from the mass. “You’re looking exceptionally happy.”

“No fooling,” Jane agreed. “It’s not every day we see you boogie down the hallway.”

“I am feeling so fine.” If she felt any finer, in fact, they’d have to haul her down from the ceiling like a bouquet of helium balloons. She beamed at her friends. “I might even go so far as to say I’m feelin’ beautiful.”

And wasn’t that amazing. She felt reasonably attractive most days, pretty on occasion, but beautiful? That was something so rare it was the next best thing to never. Given her constant struggle with weight, it wasn’t an adjective anyone at home ever applied to her. Her parents were more likely to give her grief for not doing enough to lose her “baby” fat.

“Hey, you are beautiful,” Jane protested loyally.

“Yeah, ‘She’s got such a pretty face,’” Ava quoted dryly. “What a shame she’s so plump/heavy/hefty.” That was a conversation she’d overheard more than once.

“You know Janie better than to think she implied that, Av,” Poppy said. “She said you’re beautiful—and you are.”

“I love you both for saying so, but that would be you, Poppy, not me.” With her Nordic blond hair and breezy confidence, Poppy was in a category all her own. She could’ve been part of the popular kids’ clique if she’d given a rat’s ass about that sort of thing. Hell, Ava thought proudly, Poppy could’ve ruled that crowd. She and Janie, on the other hand, would have never made the cut.

Not that Jane wasn’t attractive, but it was a quiet prettiness that sort of snuck up on you. She had shiny brown hair and really great legs, but the clothes she wore made Goths look colorful. Plus, she was a brainiac—something most of the so-called in crowd were too stupid to appreciate.

Ava gave a mental shrug. Neither she nor Janie gave a rip any more than Poppy. The kids in that crowd were mostly asses, and the three of them had something worlds better than winning a high school popularity contest—each other. They were tight. BFFs. They’d met at this very school in the fourth grade and been a unit ever since.

Ava sure wished, however, that she were a size zero—okay, eight—like Janie and Poppy. Usually, in fact, she was fairly green-eyed over the knowledge that, no matter how nice her clothes, she always seemed to look like a sausage that had been packed too tightly into its skin—while her friends wore their Old Navy duds like runway models.