A Deal With The Devil – Elizabeth Ozark

Who raised these men? How lazy must you be to refuse to type out one or two extra characters? “Have you tried Tinder?” I ask Sam later on. “Everyone under the age of thirty has tried Tinder.” “Why is the spelling so terrible?” I demand, reaching under the bed for my running shoes. “And why do so many people abbreviate words? Like, is it really saving you that much time to use the number two instead of writing “Then I guess you’re dating again,” he says.

His tone is…careful. Not excited, but not unexcited either. I swallow. “Well, no. I was dipping my toe in the water and now I need to soak my toe in bleach.” “Well, sort of on that topic…” he begins, and my stomach sinks. “I’m coming to LA week after next. Will your ogre of a boss give you a night off?” My breath holds. It’s a crossroads. I either step up and tell him I’m not ready to date, or I decide to let things happen.

“My buddy John will be there too,” he adds. I’m not sure if that was always the plan or if my silence freaked him out. “Sure,” I reply. “Just let me know when.” I’m scared, and also, perhaps, a little excited. Sam is cute and an excellent speller. We’d have plenty to discuss. But he would not be casual. Of that I’m certain. 1kitap1.com/en ayes comes home for lunch, and I sit outside with him.

He no longer has to ask me to do it. It’s assumed, and that’s fine. I guess I kind of like the break in my day. “How’s it going?” he asks. I tilt my head. “Good as ever. You’re booked solid for three weeks straight, aside from Tuesday two weeks from now.” I’ve also left a weekend open in three weeks, but I haven’t figured out how to convince him to take a vacation just yet. I expect him to object but he doesn’t even seem to have heard what I said.

“Not work. You. Your desperate quest for an orgasm that isn’t self- induced.” I flush. I wouldn’t call it a desperate quest. More of an ambivalent one, at this point. “Poorly. There are a lot of disgusting human beings on Tinder, and even more who don’t seem all that bright.” He stabs at his salad—I’m pretty sure he’s picking around the vegetables—and looks over at me. “Give me an example.”

Copyright © 2021 by Elizabeth O’Roark Editors: Sali Benbow-Powers, Laverne Clark Copy Edit: Julie Deaton, Janis Ferguson Cover Design: Lori Jackson Photography: Rafa Catala Model: Chema Malavia All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. 1kitap1.com/en CONTENTS 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 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Epilogue The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Acknowledgments About the Author 1kitap1.com/en This is dedicated to my crew, the Badass Middle-Aged Elven Assassins, without whom I wouldn’t have published a single book.

1kitap1.com/en G 1 ood versus evil. Comic books make it look so easy. One guy wants to destroy the world. Another wants to save it. The bad guy has a scar and is cruel to his girlfriend. The good guy has a jawline that could cut glass and gives half his dinner to the stray dog in the alley. Real life is more complex. Sometimes the bad guy is hiding a heart of gold under that scarred exterior. Sometimes they both have a nice jawline and you often don’t know what you’ve signed on for until it’s too late.

Except when you’re invited to work for Satan…then it’s fairly clear what you’re in for. The offer has come over coffee with my friend Jonathan, on a pleasant patio where palms overhead filter Santa Monica’s bright morning sun. “Let me tell you how much it pays before you say no,” he adds, which is exactly the sort of suggestion you’d expect from Satan’s head of personnel. I should clarify that Hayes Flynn, Jonathan’s boss, isn’t technically Satan—as in, he does not rule the underworld or have horns.

While he might own a pitchfork, I assume based on those custom Tom Ford suits he wears that he has a guy for all his pitchfork-related needs. And Satan is my nickname for him, not Jonathan’s, but still an apt one. First, because he’s a plastic surgeon to the stars, which is exactly the kind of job you’d expect of Satan, were Satan for some reason unable to practice law.

Second, because he’s British.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: e46224822129ae37
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 3,219,321 bytes (3.07 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 250
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 417.31 minutes
• Total Words: 83,463
• Total Characters: 443,669
• Average Words per Page: 333.85
• Average Characters per Page: 1774.68

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