Perilously Fun FictionA Bundle
Pauline Baird Jones
Contents
Two heroines. Two heroes.
The Spy Who Kissed Me
Note from the author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Do Wah Diddy Die
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Do Wah Diddy Delete
Foreword
Do Wah Diddy Dead
Do Wah Diddy Die Already
Deleting Dennis
More Books by Pauline Baird Jones
About the Author
Copyright
Two heroines. Two heroes.
Twice the romance and adventure!
The Spy Who Kissed Me
Her mom had been hoping a man would fall in her lap, but this wasn’t what mama had in mind…
A murder in the suburbs puts children’s author, Isabel “Stan” Stanley directly in the path of CIA agent Kelvin “Kel” Kapone. A cute smile can help—but not hide—the ominous name or the hail of bullets. But it does help as they try to survive mayhem in the suburbs.
Do Wah Diddy Die
He’s either going to kiss her or kill himself to get away from her…
New Orleans Police detective Mickey Ross thought knew every variation of weird.
He was wrong.
He didn’t know Luci Seymour. Until now.
Neither he—nor New Orleans—would ever be the same again.
Do Wah Diddy Delete
Lucy and Mickey’s adventures continue in two short stories. And as a final bonus, an editor must clear her name when her nasty colleague is found “deleted” with her letter opener.
Mayhem has never been so much fun! Grab this bundle while you can!
If you like offbeat humor and outrageous situations, you’ll love Pauline Baird Jones’ action-packed bundle!
The Spy Who Kissed Me
A comedy romance suspense novel
Her mama has been hoping a man would fall in Stan’s lap. But when a handsome spy dives through the sunroof of her car, Isabel “Stan” Stanley’s pretty sure this wasn't what momma had in mind.
A cute smile can help with—but not hide—the hail of bullets. And that name? Oh my that name.
CIA agent Kelvin Kapone-with-a-K has managed to survive and thrive in the big bad world, but the ‘burbs and the wannabe romance author could be his greatest challenge in getting out alive, not to mention heart whole…
Note from the author
Dear Reader,
The Spy Who Kissed Me (originally titled Pig in a Park) was the first, whole novel I finished. Everyone told me that first books don’t get published, but I couldn’t give up on it. It was set during the first Gulf War (in 1990-91), fueled by Scarecrow and Mrs. King reruns and seeing a war on television (scud stud anyone?). It was also written in first person, which was the kiss of death in publishing at the time. I tried to give up on it, but the book wouldn’t give up on me. Eventually I opted to digitally publish it with a small, online-only press. You can’t imagine my shock when it was nominated for a Romantic Times (now RT Book Reviews) Reviewer’s Choice award for 1999 and in very stellar company: six New York Times best-selling authors. It also garnered a Dorothy Parker Award of Excellence and some thrilling reviews.
I always planned to write a sequel, but between the trouble finding a publisher, and other projects calling my name, I postponed a sequel for too long. But when I moved my Spy to a new publisher in 2011, I did add an epilogue to the story, for my readers and yes, for me. I wanted to check on Stan and Kel, see how they were doing.
I’m glad I didn’t give up on my very first book and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :-)
Perilously yours,
Pauline
1
I’d never have gotten mixed up in the first murder if Mrs. Macpherson hadn’t caught the flu, but I can’t blame her for capricious fate rolling the “who’s shall I smite today?” dice and my name—Isabel Stanley—coming up.
Isabel. Picture someone petite, fragile and blonde, done in soft pastels, lusciously formed—and you’ll know how I don’t look. Most people find it less stressful to call me Stan when faced with a reality that is tall, lots of leg, and colored with crayons in brown and pasty white. Don’t get me wrong. Being darn near invisible isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you. Ask my twin sister Rosemary about her ex. Just be sure to do it from a safe distance. Calling her spitting mad isn’t an exercise in the theoretical.
I used to be a safe distance from her and my mother until six months ago when my instinct for survival got swamped by guilt. Since my livelihood is done with computer and sketch pad, I was able to make the move from New Orleans, Louisiana to Arlington, Virginia almost painlessly. Painless isn’t possible with my mother in the mix. She’s a fundamentalist Baptist who wanted me to give her more grandchildren, not give the world children’s books featuring a cartoon roach named Cochran. That it pays very well only adds insult to her imagined injury.
My mother’s unhappiness with my roach didn't matter when significant part of the country separated us, but my dad died and Rosemary's husband, Dag had a mid-life crisis, with lots of gold chains, a Mercedes-Benz, and a twenty year old secretary. Dag moved out. Mother wanted to move in, eager to help. Rosemary was in shock or she would have considered the consequences of introducing into her nineties household a woman who still lived in the fifties. I tried to warn Rose, I tried to reason with our Mother, but they didn't listen to me. They never do. Nor did they admit I'd been right when they called me. They just indicated in their differing ways that a move back to Arlington would be for my best good.
My mother believed that I’d never have stooped to writing about
