Twelve Lies of Christmas [MultiFormat]
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eBook by Kate Johnson
eBook Category: Mystery/Crime/Romance
eBook Description: On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love lied to me. Nate Kelly is a spy. At least, he is until Christmas, when he's retiring to take up something more peaceful, like alligator wrestling or bomb disposal. Because while he's tired of being shot at, he's also not sure he really wants to live the life of a civilian. First, of course, he has to finish his current case, complete with arms dealers, mobsters, and celebrity parties. Not to mention the glamorous Russian femme fatale who's hacking into the same computer files as Nate, lying to the same people, and incidentally has the worst Russian accent he's ever heard. But just because she's his enemy's enemy, doesn't necessarily mean she's his friend. Take a peek into the fabulous world of the Sophie Green mysteries, a new series coming from Kate Johnson to Samhain in March 2007. Warning, this title contains the following: graphic language, violence, severe sarcasm. Only joking. It's quite moderate.
eBook Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd., Published: 2006, 2006
Fictionwise Release Date: June 2009
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"London calling, eh, Paddy?" Anatole clapped me on the back as the plane bumped to a landing. "Is good to be back home?"
"Ah, sir, sure it's not my home," I said, upping the Irish a notch or two. Why, I wasn't sure, since neither Anatole nor his right-hand man, Yuri, had any clue what an Irish accent sounded like. Still, the more t'be sure I put into it, the thicker they thought I was, the more they let slip when they talked in Russian.
Paddy didn't understand Russian. But I did.
London was cold, but a normal, bearable sort of cold, not the blood-freezing chill of St. Petersburg, where after fifteen minutes your jaw was locked and your breath had frozen in your throat. A heavy drizzle fogged the tarmac as we stepped off the private plane, and I had to physically restrain myself from crying with joy. All right, crying at drizzle is a little extreme, but come on. It really had been ages since I'd been home.
And now, please God, I was home for good.
Anatole laughed and tossed his fur hat into the air. It skittered away under the plane and I winced, because my basic airfield training--not to mention Luke's snooty RAF know-how--told me that any foreign objects or debris on the tarmac could destroy a plane's engine or cause a crash on take-off.
But I kept quiet and plastered a grin on my face. The grin of the stupid. Paddy's grin.
London was decked out for Christmas, dressed up like a little girl going to a party. Such a different city from St. Petersburg. It felt like a party. People looked happy. Lights twinkled in every shop window, festooned every house, stretched across every street. It was madly tacky, but for once I didn't mind. Christmas cheer and all that. Every time I saw a street sign in English I smiled. Well, until I saw the ones which said "road closed" and had to remember m