Murder By Design by J.P. Bowie


Murder

Murder By Design by J.P. Bowie
English | 2019 | Romance MM| ePUB |456 Kb

Murder : An unexpected meeting in a bar gives Detective Sam Walker a real chance of finding long-awaited happiness. All he has to do is stay alive. Detective Sam Walker gets a surprise phone call the day he wakes up with the hangover from hell. The caller informs him that his name is Justin and that they met the night before in a gay bar. Not only met, but kissed and traded phone numbers and Sam has no memory of it at all. Intrigued, Sam wants to meet Justin again, but any chance of that is delayed when he and his partner are assigned a murder investigation and told to take care of it ASAP.

Sam has a problem, a deeply personal one that he doesn’t talk about, but when he’s with Justin the problem seems to disappear and he’s convinced he’s been given a new lease on life. His elation is short-lived, however, when the case he and his partner are working on takes a dark turn.

Justin also has a problem…Maria Esteban, a fiery-tempered Puerto Rican who owns the fashion company Justin designs for. Theirs is a volatile relationship and when tragedy strikes, the finger of suspicion points at him. Can Sam save Justin not only from a bigoted detective intent on cracking the case quickly, but from a new and unexpected source, too? Or is their love affair doomed before they can truly savor Sam’s newfound freedom from the past?

“His cell buzzed and he reached for it. Not a number or name he recognized. Robertson, Justin?

“Sam Walker.”

“Hi, Sam.” The voice was nice, but he didn’t recognize it…or did he?

“Hi…uh, Justin? Do I know you?”

“Um, well…uh, you did last night.”

“Last night?” Sam searched his memory banks. I met this guy last night?

Justin laughed lightly. “Well you were kinda drunk, but I’m hurt you don’t remember me. You kissed me. Guess you don’t remember that either.”

I kissed him? He thought harder. After Martin had left—and he did remember that, some of the other guys had split too and he—that was right, he’d taken a cab over to the Blue Bar on Santa Monica.

“Uh…were you at the Blue Bar?”

“Ah, it’s starting to come back.” Justin laughed again…a nice laugh, low and throaty. “I was sitting at the bar, you came in, smiled at me, sat next to me, bought me a drink. We talked. You said you were a cop. Or was that a come-on? Are you a cop?”

“Uh, no, not a come-on. Uh, yeah I’m a cop…detective.”

“Okay, so we talked for some time. I figured at some point it was getting late and when I looked at my watch you said, ‘don’t go’, and you kissed me.”

Shit. Why couldn’t he remember? And what the hell else did he do—or rather, try to do? “Uh, wow, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you don’t remember me or sorry you kissed me?”

“Both, I guess. Hope I didn’t come on too obnoxious.”

That laugh again…so sexy. Why can’t I put a face to it? “No, you didn’t. I said I had to go and you wanted my phone number, so we traded. After you kissed me you said, ‘call me’. So here I am, calling you.”

“And I bet you didn’t expect this kind of response. I’m sorry, Justin.”

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