Final Notice is up for sale!!

She's serving up mayhem in the Magic City....

 Dishing out bad news is Jackie Parker's job. So when her boss grabs her assets one time too many, she serves him her notice and hopes he chokes on it. There must be a better way for a certified process server to make a living in Miami than working for a lousy lecherous lawyer. Whatever Jackie decides, her number one priority is to spend time with her husband, Luke, preferably without his brother Logan--AKA the Dark Prince.

Despite Logan's objections, Luke asks her to join forces in their own property management team, Damaged Goods. Drawing the line between professional and personal lives proves challenging, especially when Logan serves her an ultimatum--tell Luke the truth about what really happened the night they first met, or he will. Sexual harassment is looking better and better.

Fester Gomez is three months behind on the rent for his pricey South Beach condo and Damaged Goods is on the job. Either they convince the tenant to pay up or he'll face eviction. The simple task turns deadly when the team discovers Gomez missing and a Jane Doe slowly decomposing in his bathtub. Serving a killer up to justice, wrestling family secrets--it's just another day on the job for Damaged Goods.

Print edition also available 
  • ISBN-10: 1499516592
  • ISBN-13: 978-1499516593

Excerpt from Final Notice: By Jennifer L. Hart

 That creep had grabbed my ass for the last time.
 I raised the clipboard I’d been holding up over my head—ready to smash it down on the booty grabber’s cranium—when Marcy Regan snuck up behind me and snatched my makeshift weapon out of my hands.
 “Don’t, Jackie. He’ll file an assault charge.”
 “Then I’ll file the sexual harassment charge.” I seethed.
 “Think of the paperwork,” Marcy hissed. “And the lawyers.”
 It was not an idle observation. Marcy worked for the Miami-Dade County Clerk’s office and she spent her days up to her eyeballs in paperwork. And I was currently employed by Stan Cunningham, the ass grabbing lawyer. Neither of us wanted to bring the job home with us.
 Ugh. She was right, I knew it but as I glowered at my still smirking boss seated behind his ostentatious mahogany desk, I wanted him to suffer. Boils and sores were too good for this hump. “Dude, what part of ‘I’m married so keep your paws to yourself,’ don’t you understand?”
 His face went blank “I didn’t do anything.”
 As I stared into his doughy face, one thing became clear. No job was worth such crap, especially not the peanuts I’d been paid.
 “Give me the clipboard, Marcy.” My voice remained steady.
 “What are you going to do with it?” Her tone was wary, but she handed it over.
 I flipped over the case we’d been going over, scrawled I quit, you big tool, and dropped it on his desk. Terminating my employment on a notice of termination—how appropriate. “Cough up what you owe me or I’ll send my husband for it. With his entire marine platoon.” Their version of collecting was of the turn your head and cough variety. I doubted the pervert liked them apples.
 The smarmy grin slid right off Stan the Shyster’s face. “Take it out of petty cash.”
 “Gladly.” After backing away slowly, I pivoted on my heel and made for the front office, cleared out the petty cash and moved to the glass door.
 I gestured to Marcy. “Let’s go, lunch is on me.”
 We headed down to our favorite little Panini cafe where I ordered a Piña Colada the size of a fishbowl—a reward for my restraint. Though I offered one to Marcy as well, she declined.
“Some of us have to go back to work,” she groused.
 “I’ll make it up to you this weekend.” I owed her, big time. If I had hit Stan the Stain and he took me to court, I could’ve lost my process serving certificate. Then I’d really be out of luck.
 I slid my oversized sunglasses up and took in the scenery. A cloudless blue sky, palm trees swaying hither and yon. Pedestrians in micro dresses, short-shorts and swimsuits strolled by. Oh, to be able to loll around and enjoy the sea breeze.
 “So, what are you going to do now?” Marcy took a delicate bite of her mozzarella and tomato Panini.
 “Tell Luke I quit. After I throw him a bang, of course.” My husband was always so much more agreeable while basking in post-coital bliss.
“Did he find a job yet?”
“He’s doing security with his brother.”
 Marcy’s big blue eyes got even bigger. “Logan’s back? Why didn’t you tell me?” She fanned herself. Apparently the wind off the water wasn’t enough to contend with her heated thoughts of my brother-in-law.
 “Sorry, I didn’t think you cared.” The lie scalded my throat. Truth was, I’d done my best not to think about Logan Parker for the six years Luke and I had been married.
 “He’s the hottest guy on the face of the planet.” Marcy fluffed her blonde hair as though just mentioning the Devil’s name would draw his notice. “Is he seeing anybody?”
 “A therapist, I hope.” I drained my drink. “I should get home. Do a little feminine maintenance before I break the big news.”
 Marcy grinned. “Or you could look for another job.”
 “Oh you and your zany ideas.” The thought of going to work for another sleazy lawyer made my skin crawl. We had some money saved up and I could afford to take a little while to consider my options.


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