Ronnie has the job any entry-level angel or demon would sell their soul for—she’s a retrieval analyst for the largest search engine in the world. Ubiquity is a joint initiative between heaven and hell. Because what better way to track all of humanity’s secrets, both good and bad, than direct access to their web browsing habits?
She might appreciate the position a little more if a) she could remember anything about her life before she started working at Ubiquity, b) the damned voice in her head would just shut up already, and c) her boss weren’t a complete control freak.
As she searches for solutions to the first two issues, and hopes the third will work itself out in performance reviews, she uncovers more petty backstabbing than an episode of Real Housewives, and a conspiracy as old as Lucifer’s descent from heaven. On top of all that, if she forgets the cover sheet on her TPS report one more time, she’s absolutely going on final written warning.
Now Ronnie’s struggling to keep her sanity and job, while stopping the voice in her head from stealing her life. She almost misses the boredom of retrieval analysis at Ubiquity.
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“I’m wounded you didn’t remember me,” Gabe’s low voice rumbled against my neck as his chest pressed into my back. His hand rested at my hip, holding me close.
Every new touch sent a jolt of desire pulsing through my veins. How could I have forgotten something that felt like this? I leaned back into him, memorizing the texture of his shirt against my bare shoulder blades.
“If I had a choice, you’d be the last thing I forgot.” Why had I said that? This moment, each sensation, it was all incredible, but there was a lot implied in that statement.
“Hmm…” The vibration tickled my skin. “You do have a choice.”
“If that’s true, why hasn’t someone told me?”
His hand slid over my tank top and rested on my stomach. “I’m telling you now.”
“You could have told me before.”
“I didn’t feel like I had your full attention.” His fingers wrapped around my wrist, and he spun me to face him. Dark hair, clean-shaven, it was Michael—not Gabe—who stared back.
He rested a hand on the small of my back, the other cupping my cheek. “I swore I would move mountains for you if I had to.” His mouth sought mine, and the feather light kiss sent a rush of euphoria through me. It was gentle, undemanding, and all-consuming.
He broke away enough to trace his thumb over my lips. Each new caress summoned a pleasant tingle under my skin. His tone was low and kind. “That I would surrender everything—eternity, glory, all of it—for you.”
His voice shifted to a quiet snarl. “I lied.”
About The Author
Loralie Hall is a full time corporate geek and a fuller time writer. Her spouse is her muse and their cats are very much their children. When they’re not spending way too much time gaming, they’re making the world more good by vanquishing one fictional evil at a time.