Title: Accounting for it All
Category and Genre: Adult, Romantic Suspense
When porn-star-turned-accountant Robin Whethers becomes the target of an IRS audit, she figures things can’t get any worse. She’s unwittingly been at the center of a vast money laundering scheme, and to top it off, she has no real accounting knowledge.
Still, somehow the audit is the least of her problems.
Hanging over her is the impending death of her terminally ill mother to whom Robin is estranged. Then there’s the accounting instructor she enlists to help her survive the audit: against her better judgement, she can’t manage to contain her blossoming feelings for him.
Oh, and the woman Robin considers to be the love of her life? She’s back in town, finally ready to try to make things work.
Robin may think she can confront her greatest challenge by learning to juggle numbers, but if she’s to ever be whole, she’ll have to learn how to juggle much more than that… before she winds up in jail, her mother passes without the two of them reconciling their differences, and the woman she loves disappears from her life once more.
First 250 Words:
Thursdays are my favorite days at Pornucopia.
For starters, it’s payday. Seconds, it’s in-house filming day, which means I finally get to work as a talent consultant.
It really is the simplest of things that make Thursdays the best of days, and there isn’t anything more predictable than the Thursday morning safe-looting operation.
I keep quiet and enter the back office—my office, technically—and plop to my knees at the base of the filing cabinet. The bottom drawer slides out with a terrible squeak—Jerry still hasn’t lubed it up with that WD40 like he promised—and I remove the tiny safe from it, turning it over in my hands.
As the combination flows from my fingertips, I imagine the conversation I’ll have with Jerry once I empty the safe and round the corner from my own office and into his.
“Hey, Jer?” I’ll say.
“Only got a few thousand in the safe this week. Still want me to—?”
He’ll throw his hands up, looking all exasperated. “Always. Go. To. The. Bank. Every Thursday. No matter how much or how little is in there. Always. Go. To. The. Bank.”
I’ll repeat “always go to the bank” with him as he says it for the second time. “Right. How could I forget?”
Back in the real world where I’m kneeling in my office, the safe beeps open and I get to counting the fat stack of cash inside. If Jerry’s makeshift receipt can be believed, we’re a tick under sixty-two hundred bucks.