Date: 2011-09-24 21:01:18+00:00
Keywords: Contemporary; Romance; Novella; Christmas; Paranormal Romance; Action & Adventure; Paranormal; Fantasy; Holiday; Superheroes; Fiction; Collections & Anthologies; Short Stories; Urban Fantasy
Description: It's Christmas time in Bigtime, New York, but society reporter Carmen Cole isn't in the mood to celebrate since her husband, Sam, has to go on a business trip and might not make it home for the holiday. But Carmen has plenty to keep her busy, since she moonlights as Karma Girl, a member of the Fearless Five superhero team. On Christmas Eve, Carmen, as Karma Girl, is assigned to guard toys, clothes, food, and more that are intended for needy children and their families. But an ubervillain also has his eye on the toys and plans to steal and then sell them to the highest bidder. Carmen will have
Rights: © 2007, 2008, and 2011 by Jennifer Estep

A KARMA GIRL CHRISTMAS
by

JENNIFER ESTEP

An e-story in the

Bigtime paranormal romance series

Sexy superheroes. Evil ubervillains.

Smart, sassy gals looking for love.

A KARMA GIRL CHRISTMAS

Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer Estep

Excerpts from KARMA GIRL, HOT MAMA, and JINX

Copyright © 2007, 2008, and 2011 by Jennifer Estep

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to fictional characters or actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The fictional characters in this story have no relation to any other fictional characters, except those in works by this author.

All rights reserved by the author.

DEDICATION

To all the fans of the Bigtime series who wanted more stories, this one’s for you.

A KARMA GIRL CHRISTMAS

“You want me to babysit a bunch of toys?”

“It’s not just a bunch of toys, Carmen,” Henry Harris said. “They’re the toys for Oodles o’ Stuff’s annual Christmas charity drive—the biggest holiday event in Bigtime. Here, I’ll show you.”

Henry leaned forward and started typing away on one of the computer keyboards surrounding his chair, along with three monitors and twice as many servers. He hit a final button on the keyboard, and a film screen dropped down from the ceiling at the opposite end of the room.

We sat at a round table in an enormous library containing every sort of book, magazine, and encyclopedia one could possibly imagine. Volume after volume filled the floor-to-ceiling shelves, while maps dangled from the walls and globes gleamed in the corners of the room. Thick rugs covered most of the floor, giving only a glimpse here and there of the beautiful hardwood that lay underneath. Just strolling through the library, you’d never realize it was located deep underground—and that it had another function besides being a place to relax with a good book.

A second later, images began to flicker on the film screen. I leaned back in my chair and watched the montage, which had been set to a medley of cheery holiday tunes.

The first image revealed a humongous pile of toys. Dolls, stuffed animals, trains, building blocks, basketballs, jump ropes, art supplies—every conceivable kind of toy flashed by on the screen. The next few showed volunteers putting the toys into boxes, wrapping them, and handing them out to kids. After that, there were shots of the kids tearing into the colorful paper, pulling out the toys, and playing with them. And finally, a little girl hugged a doll to her chest, a huge grin on her tiny face, before the screen went black and the music faded away.

“See? Isn’t it heartwarming?”

Henry beamed at me. The light from the monitors made his dark hair and mocha skin take on a faint silver tint, while his glasses gleamed on his face. The monitor’s glow also brought out the white polka dots in the red bow tie he wore over his green-plaid sweater vest. Just looking at him sitting amid all those keyboards, monitors, and wires, you’d probably peg Henry for the computer geek that he was—but you’d never guess that he was also Hermit, a technological whiz of a superhero.

“You want me to babysit a bunch of toys?” I asked again.

Maybe I was being dense, but usually, things were a little more life and death in the superhero business. And that’s what I was these days—a bona fide superhero. I even had a costume and everything.

By day, I was Carmen Cole, a society reporter for The Exposé, one of the biggest newspapers in Bigtime, New York. By night, I was Karma Girl, the newest member of the Fearless Five, the city’s most powerful and popular superhero team. The Fearless Five, along with the city’s other superheroes, spent their nights fighting crime and foiling the schemes of the many ubervillains that called Bigtime home.

My being a superhero was more than a little ironic, because not too long ago, I’d used my skills as an investigative reporter to expose the real identities of heroes and villains. But getting dropped into a vat of radioactive goo will change a girl’s perspective on a lot of things—and give her superpowers.

A delicate sniff interrupted my thoughts, and I looked at the woman sitting across the table from me. Fiona Fine was a tall, leggy blonde with long, flowing hair and intense blue eyes, the perfectly gorgeous sort of woman that men tripped over themselves to talk to. The perfectly gorgeous sort of woman that made every other woman around her feel exceptionally dull and plain, including me.

Most folks knew Fiona as one of Bigtime’s premier fashion designers with a flair for bold colors, bright patterns, and dramatic styles. But to me, she was also Fiera, a member of the Fearless Five with incredible strength and the ability to shoot fire out of her fingertips.

Fiona had just returned from an evening patrol of the city, and her orange-red spandex Fiera outfit left little to the imagination, although she’d taken off her flame-shaped mask, because it was just us superheroes here in the library. Sexy fashion designer or sultry superhero—I never could decide which persona fit her better.

“It’s not just toys,” Fiona said. “I happen to have donated some fabulous children’s clothes for the charity drive. Some of my best designs done in a variety of spectacular colors and hip styles. Bella donated a bunch of stuff too. Of course, she decided to give the kids coats, boots, and winter gloves, instead of great sweaters and jeans like I did. But we all know how practical she is that way.”

The Bella she was talking about was Bella Bulluci, another Bigtime fashion designer and the sister to Fiona’s fiancé, Johnny Bulluci. Fiona liked Bella, but she just couldn’t understand why the other designer seemed to prefer a muted, black-and-white color palette over Fiona’s more flamboyant fashion choices.

Fiona sniffed again, then reached down and picked up a triple bacon cheeseburger—the fifth one she’d eaten since entering the library an hour ago. That wasn’t all that Fiona had inhaled. She’d also polished off three bags of onion rings, a tub of fries, and five cherry pies, along with the two peppermint milkshakes she’d used to wash it all down. It looked like she’d stolen all the burgers and fries from some fast-food restaurant and had decided to eat all of the evidence, leaving nothing behind but empty wrappers, flattened ketchup packets, and crumpled napkins.

Fiona’s fiery superpowers made her metabolism burn at an incredible rate, meaning she could eat whatever she wanted to, whenever she wanted to—and never gain an ounce. Really, Fiona had to constantly eat to keep up her strength; I still envied her more than a little for that particular superpower. I could have put a hurt on some milkshakes myself, if they wouldn’t go straight to my hips.

Sighing, I looked at the man sitting beside Fiona. He had the same blue eyes that she did and a kind, middle-aged face.

“And let me guess,” I said. “The Bigtime Police Department is involved in the toy drive as well.”

“That’s right, Carmen,” Chief Sean Newman, aka Mr. Sage, said in his Irish brogue. “The police department chipped in a nice sum of money to help buy toys, clothes, food, and even some school supplies to benefit needy kids and their families.”

“I get what a great cause it is, but I still don’t understand where I fit into all this,” I said.

“The owners of Oodles o’ Stuff ask the Fearless Five to safeguard the toys every year,” another male voice cut in.

My gaze went to the fifth and final person sitting at the table, a gorgeous man with black hair and the most beautiful gray eyes I’d ever seen. Sam Sloane, aka Striker, the leader of the Fearless Five—and my husband.

Sam’s eyes softened as he looked at me, and I knew I had the same sort of dreamy expression on my face. We’d been through so much together, and I still couldn’t believe how much I loved Sam—and was even more amazed that he loved me just as much in return.

Fiona noticed us gazing at each other and snorted. “Oh, give it a rest, you two. You’ve been married for months now. It is definitely time to get over the honeymoon phase. Or at least stop doing it where anyone can walk in on you. I so do not need to see Sam’s naked ass again.”

Sam winked at me, and a hot blush spread across my cheeks as I remembered exactly what we’d been doing when Fiona found us in the upstairs living room last week. Heat filled Sam’s eyes, making them gleam bright silver, and I knew he was thinking what a shame it was that she’d interrupted us.

Henry cleared his throat. “Anyway, it’s only three days until Christmas, which means all the toys and other donations have come in and are on display inside Oodles for everyone to see. Every year, we take turns watching over the toys on Christmas Eve to make sure that everything’s there when the kids and their parents come to the store on Christmas morning to get their presents.”

Fiona stuffed the last bite of cheeseburger into her mouth, then balled up the empty wrapper with one hand. A second later, her fist erupted into flames, and the paper disintegrated into ash. Fiona dusted off her hands, then pointed her finger at me.

“And since you’re the rookie superhero on the team, you get to guard the toys this year,” she said. “Especially since I covered for Sam last year when he wanted to spend the night with you instead of doing his job.”

Sam shrugged and gave me a guilty, slightly sheepish look.

“I’m not a rookie,” I muttered. “I’ve been a member of the Fearless Five for more than a year now. Besides, do we really need to do this? Because stealing toys from a bunch of needy kids would be pretty low, even by ubervillain standards.”

The other superheroes just looked at me.

Right. Dumb question. There was nothing that ubervillains wouldn’t do, and the more outrageous and over-the-top their scheme was, the more maniacal pleasure they derived from it. Ubervillains were exceptionally creative, in an ultimate evil, city-leveling, world-domination sort of way.

My eyes dropped to the F5 insignia carved into the wooden table. The overhead lights made the symbol gleam with a soft golden glow, until it almost seemed like an eye staring steadily at me, reminding me that I’d decided to become a superhero to serve the greater good and make up for my past mistakes. Even if the job wasn’t always fun or glamorous.

I sighed again. “All right, all right. I guess toy patrol is a job for Karma Girl after all.”

Fiona gave me an evil grin. “You’d better believe it, rookie.”

#

Our evening briefing over, Fiona, Henry, and the chief headed back into the city to their apartments for the night, while Sam and I turned off the lights and closed the doors to the underground library that served as the Fearless Five’s supersecret headquarters. Then, we rode the hidden elevator up to the wine cellar and went into the part of the house that was aboveground—if you could call Sublime a mere house.

Sam’s mansion on the outskirts of Bigtime looked more like a museum than a place where someone actually lived. Paintings, sculptures, suits of armor, and other art objects could be found in every room, along with antique furniture in a variety of styles. Gilded mirrors hung on the walls, all the better to reflect back the soft white light cast out by the glittering crystal chandeliers high overhead.

I’d been living here ever since Sam and I had gotten married back in May, and I just couldn’t quite get used to all the grandeur. Every day, I found something new to take my breath away, and I still wasn’t comfortable sitting on most of the furniture, no matter how many times Sam told me that’s what it’s there for.

Sam and I ate a quick dinner of five-cheese lasagna, garlic bread sticks, and a garden salad we’d had delivered from Quicke’s restaurant, then went upstairs to our bedroom.

I lay on the king-size bed and watched Sam carry his suitcase out from one of the closets. We each had our own walk-in closet, but the clothes inside couldn’t have been more different. Sam was all about his business suits, while I went for faded comfort with my jeans and T-shirts.

Sam put the suitcase on a settee at the foot of the bed, then went back into the closet and started carrying out shirts, socks, ties, and everything else he would need for his trip.

“I wish you weren’t traveling so close to Christmas,” I said.

“Me too,” Sam said. “But it can’t be helped. I want to get the merger done before everything shuts down for the holidays.”

In addition to being a superhero, Sam happened to be one of the richest men in Bigtime, with business interests all over the world. One of his London-based companies was in the process of taking over another, smaller company, and Sam needed to be on hand to make sure the deal went through without a hitch.

This wasn’t the first time he’d gone away on business, but with Christmas only a few days away, there was a very real chance he wouldn’t make it home for the holiday. I’d thought about going with Sam, but hadn’t been able to get any time off, because everybody on the Bigtime society circuit had decided to throw their holiday party, fundraiser, or music gala in the last few days. Today alone, I’d covered two food drives and a charity art auction.

Oh, I knew that I could have just quit my job when I married Sam. In fact, I still got questions as to why I hadn’t, from the more nosy society types like Joanne James. Despite the fact that Sam was a billionaire and could give me anything I ever wanted, I liked working. It gave me a sense of accomplishment and purpose, even if I was just covering the society beat these days, and not exposing heroes and villains like I used to.

Still, the thought of missing Christmas with Sam made me frown, especially because this would be our first one as a married couple. Sam must have sensed my melancholy; he stopped packing, sat down on the bed, and gathered me into his arms.

I knew what he saw when he looked at me—auburn hair, blue eyes, a nice smile. Pretty enough, but nothing special. Still, whenever I was in Sam’s arms, I felt like so much more, like I was the most gorgeous woman in Bigtime, instead of just Carmen Cole, lowly society reporter and newbie superhero.

“Don’t worry,” Sam said. “I’ll be home for Christmas, just like the song says. No matter what.”

“Promise?” I whispered.

“Promise.” He gave me a sexy grin. “And you know as a superhero, I always keep my word.”

My heart warmed with love for him. Sometimes, it was still hard to believe that Sam and I were actually married. We wouldn’t have even gotten together in the first place if Malefica, the leader of the Terrible Triad ubervillain team, hadn’t threatened to drop me into a vat of radioactive goo if I didn’t discover who Striker—who Sam—really was. Of course, I’d gotten doused in radioactive goo anyway, but Sam and I had fallen in love along the way—something I was grateful for every day, but especially at Christmas time.

Sam leaned over and pressed a kiss to my lips. “What I really wish is that I didn’t have such an early flight. There’s nothing I’d love more than to spend the morning in bed with you.”

I looked at him, at his handsome face, his quicksilver eyes, and the black hair that flopped over his forehead—and a different kind of heat filled my veins.

“Well, why don’t we make the most of tonight then,” I murmured, slipping his suit jacket off his muscled shoulders. “And just think, this time, Fiona’s not around to interrupt us.”

Answering heat flared to life in Sam’s eyes, turning them a stormy shade of gray that made me shiver with anticipation. His arms tightened around me, and I leaned back on the bed, drawing him down with me. His lips captured mine, desire sparked between us, and we both promptly forgot all about his trip and everything else.

#

Just before nine o’clock on Christmas Eve, Henry pulled the Fearless Five van up to the sidewalk outside the Oodles o’ Stuff department store.

Calling Oodles a mere store was like saying that Sublime was just a really big house. Oodles soared into the Bigtime skyline and featured every consumer good you could possibly need or want, from the economical to the outlandish, with the prices to match. Jewelry, makeup, shoes, clothes, electronics, books, music, movies, housewares, and more filled the store’s many levels, with every item seemingly featured in a larger and more elaborate display than the last.

Light from the store spilled out into the street. Through the glass windows, I could see a crowd of shoppers inside, all needing to get a few last-minute presents before the store closed for the night.

I sat in the passenger’s seat next to Henry, with Chief Newman riding in the back of the van. We were all in costume tonight—Hermit in his checkered, black-and-white outfit; Mr. Sage in his green-and-white costume; and me in my silver spandex. While I was guarding the toys, Hermit and Mr. Sage were going to do one last patrol through the city, making sure no one was stranded and that folks got home safely from their holiday celebrations.

“Now, just remember to call us if you have any problems,” Mr. Sage said.

I leaned down and patted the side of my right boot, where my cell phone was hidden in a special pocket. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you guys programmed into my speed dial just like always.”

“Have fun,” Hermit said. “And try not to play with too many of the toys, okay?”

I grinned at him. “I’ll do my best. Although I need something to do to while away the hours.”

I got out of the van and shut the door behind me. I waved to Hermit and Mr. Sage before turning, crossing the sidewalk, and pushing through the revolving doors that led into the store.

For a moment, I stood by the entrance, looking for telltale splashes of color among the shoppers, but I didn’t see any bold blues, plummy purples, or outrageous oranges that would indicate there were any other heroes and villains here tonight. Oodles might have acres of merchandise, but what made the store really unique was that it was one of the few places in Bigtime that was considered neutral territory. Both superheroes and ubervillains could shop for whatever they needed at the store without fear of being hauled off by the police or worse—attacked by their fellow heroes and villains.

And the Oodles owners made sure to cater to their powerful clientele by carrying a wide selection of spandex, boots, capes, and masks, all in a variety of neon, sequined, and pastel prints, colors, and patterns. The Oodles owners knew that heroes and villains had cash to spend just like everyone one else and having them in the store attracted even more customers. Folks like those in Slaves for Superhero Sex, a group devoted to scoring with the city’s various heroes and villains, even if they had to put themselves in ridiculously dangerous situations to get noticed.

Yes, superheroes and ubervillains were a common sight at Oodles, but that didn’t mean people didn’t notice me as I walked deeper into the store.

“Hey, look! It’s Karma Girl!” someone said.

Murmurs and excited whispers rippled through the throngs of holiday shoppers, and it took me a second to realize they were actually talking about me. I’m still not used to everything about this superhero gig, especially strolling around in skintight silver spandex for everyone to see. Let’s just say that I’ve started paying a lot more attention to my diet and exercise routines since I’ve become Karma Girl. Not that it helped much, especially when Sam kept getting barbecue flown in from this restaurant called the Pork Pit down in Ashland, but a girl had to try.

I stopped a minute, struck a pose, and let everyone who wanted to snap a few photos with their cell phones. It didn’t take long, because I wasn’t nearly as popular as Fiona was as Fiera. The fanboys absolutely loved her long blond hair and big blue eyes, not to mention the oh so impressive way she filled out her costume. Me? Well, let’s just say my physique isn’t nearly as pinup-worthy as Fiera’s.

Once I’d smiled for the cameras, I walked to the center of the first floor, where the toy drive had been set up. From the photos Henry had shown me, I’d expected a simple bin crammed full of toys—but it was so much more.

A series of glass and metal balconies in this part of the store let shoppers on the upper floors look all the way down to the first level. A massive metal Christmas tree had been erected in the middle of the open-air space, stretching all the way up to the store’s top floor. But it wasn’t your traditional Christmas tree, because instead of ornaments, toys dangled from its many branches.

Trucks, cars, model tanks, board games, baseballs, miniature tea sets, coloring books, action figures, chemistry kits, bikes, skateboards—all that and more had been hung on the tree. Mixed in with the toys, I saw some of the clothes that Fiona and Bella had donated. Underneath the tree, Chief Newman’s boxes of food and school supplies had been wrapped in bright paper and stuffed into red Santa sacks. Sparkling red and silver velvet ribbons had been wound through the toys, tightly securing them to the tree, and crystal stars shimmered here and there on the branches. Another, larger star topped the tree, sending out sparks of rainbow color in every direction. All put together, it was one of the most dazzling displays I’d ever seen.

My breath caught in my throat in wonderment, and for a moment, I felt like a kid again, giddy with excitement about what might be under the Christmas tree or hidden in my stocking.

“Pretty cool, huh?” a soft, feminine voice murmured.

I turned to find Abby Appleby standing beside me. Abby was a pretty woman, with brown hair and pale green eyes. She also was an event planner known throughout Bigtime for her ability to get things done—no matter what.

I liked Abby. She planned lots of the society events that I covered for The Exposé, and I found her to be smart and funny, if a little tightly wound. According to Henry, Abby had been hired to plan the toy drive this year, and it was on track to be the biggest success ever, thanks to her tireless efforts.

“I thought we’d do something special with the toys this year, instead of just piling them on top of each other or wrapping them up and hiding them from sight,” Abby said. “This way, everyone can enjoy them, especially the kids when they come into the store in the morning.”

My eyes traced over the tree again, and I realized that it had to be made out of solidium to support the weight of all the toys, clothes, and other items. The metal glistened underneath the red, green, and silver holiday lights wrapped around the branches.

I shook my head. “It’s amazing. Absolutely amazing. You’ve outdone yourself again, Abby.”

She frowned a little. As Abby and Carmen, we were friends, and I realized that I’d spoken to her that way instead of being the mysterious hero with the supersecret identity. She looked at me a second longer, obviously wondering at the familiar tone in my voice, but shrugged it off. Abby was used to dealing with superheroes and their quirks at the events she planned. Besides, she knew as well as I did that more than one well-to-do businesswoman on the society circuit moonlighted as a hero or villain in her spare time.

Abby pulled a cell phone out of one of the pockets on the khaki mesh vest she wore over her green sweater and black pants. She tapped a few buttons on her phone. “And you are right on schedule. I like that about you, Karma Girl. I’m glad you’re here tonight and not Fiera. She’s never on time for anything, and she always ends up melting something before the event is over. Her temper’s as fiery as her fists.”

I hid a grin at Abby’s rather apt description of Fiona.

“Anyway, I’m out of here for the night,” Abby said. “We’re locking the doors in five minutes. I don’t think you’ll have any problems, but you never know. Obviously, you can take care of yourself, and of course you can always call in the other members of the Fearless Five if anything happens.”

“Of course,” I murmured.

I didn’t tell Abby that everyone else was busy tonight. Sam was away on business, Fiona was spending some time with the Bullucis, and Henry and the chief were doing their sweep of the city. Besides, I didn’t plan on contacting the others unless I absolutely had to. I didn’t want to give Fiona any more excuses to keep ribbing me about being a rookie superhero, and calling in the crime-fighting cavalry on Christmas Eve would give her ammunition for weeks. I might be relatively new at this superhero gig, having only been wearing my silver spandex a little more than a year, but I still had my pride.

“Don’t worry,” I said in my most confident, earnest, sincere, authoritative superhero voice. “I’ll take care of the toys. I want those kids to have a great Christmas just as much as you do.”

Abby nodded, satisfied. She gave me a final smile then strolled down the store’s center aisle, heading for the front doors.

My eyes swept over the tree one more time, enjoying the colors and lights, before I started walking a slow circuit around the entire display.

Time to go to work.

#

The next half hour passed uneventfully. An announcement was made that the store was closing for the night, and all the shoppers drifted toward the exits. The security guards escorted everyone outside, then locked the doors and left as well. Normally, a few guards would stay behind in the store, but the owners had decided to give them the night off because I was here. What did you need with guys with guns when there was a real, live superhero on the premises?

Actually, I’d probably take the guys with the guns myself. Guns almost always worked the way that they were supposed to, whereas superpowers had a tendency to go on the fritz.

Either way, it looked like I was in for a long, silent night locked in the store by myself, with only the twinkling lights of the toy tree brightening the scene. Still, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. My inner voice, the one I always listened to, was whispering to me. I just couldn’t quite figure out what it was saying—or what kind of trouble might appear before the night was through.

My inner voice was part of my powers as an empath, my ability to tune into the emotions and feelings of others and sense their thoughts and future actions. All my life, I’d had these little twinges, vibes really, about things that were going to happen, sort of like knowing who was on the other end of a ringing phone before you ever picked it up.

According to Chief Newman, I’d always had a bit of a latent talent, but the radioactive goo—the freezeterium—that Malefica had dumped me into last year had cracked open that part of my brain and amplified the ability a hundred thousand times over. Now, not only could I sense other people’s emotions, but I could actually see the psychic energy that surrounded them—and tap into that power and use it anyway I wanted.

As Karma Girl, I basically squinted at ubervillains until I saw the colorful waves of energy radiating from their bodies. Then I could mentally reach out and grab that energy, and use the villains’ own powers against them. That’s how I’d defeated Malefica, along with Frost and Scorpion, the other members of the Terrible Triad. Maybe my power wasn’t quite as photogenic and impressive as Fiera’s fists continually bursting into flames, but it worked for me—

A faint tap-tap-tapping sound snapped me out of my thoughts.

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart leaped up into my chest. What the hell was that? I glanced at the tree, wondering if perhaps one of the toys had come loose, hit the floor, and was rolling around.

But there was nothing there. No toys, no clothes, nothing on the floor except the presents sitting in their sacks ready to be handed out in the morning.

The tap-tap-tapping came again—low, slow, and steady—and I knew I wasn’t alone.

I immediately reached for my empathic ability and scanned the area near the toy tree, turning in a slow circle and looking for the waves of psychic energy that would tell me someone was near—and exactly where he was.

But I didn’t see any waves—no blacks, no reds, no blues, no greens. There was simply too much stuff in the department store for me to easily zoom in on the mystery person’s location.

So I decided to go about things the old-fashioned way. I closed my eyes and listened—really listened—to the tapping, trying to determine exactly where the sound was coming from. Then, I opened my eyes, slid into the shadows cast out by the racks of clothes, and headed in that direction.

I crept through the clothes, careful not to brush them as I passed. Up head, the tap-tap-tapping grew louder, and I spotted a figure weaving through the glass makeup counters. I picked up my pace, moving at an angle and getting ahead of the figure. I stopped beside the last makeup counter and slid behind an oversized, smiling cardboard cutout of Swifte, Bigtime’s speediest and most flamboyant superhero. Apparently, Swifte had come out with his own cologne just in time for the holidays—Eau de Swifte.

The cardboard cutout had been spritzed with the cologne, which smelled fresh, like pine needles mixed with a faint citrus note. It made my nose twitch, but it was far more restrained than what I’d expected, given Swifte’s boisterous, showboat nature and rampant love of publicity. I shook my head, held back a sneeze, and focused.

My plan was simple. As soon as the mystery figure walked by my hiding spot, I’d sucker-punch whoever it was, grab her psychic energy, and use it against her. When I had the ubervillain secure, I’d fish my cell phone out of my boot and call the cops to come haul the evildoer off to jail.

I let out a breath and flexed my gloved fingers a few times, before curling them into a tight fist. I didn’t have superstrength like Fiera did, but I’d been working out, and I could throw a punch when necessary. Besides, the element of surprise was the key thing here. You could take almost anyone down—superhero and ubervillain alike—as long as you had that.

The tap-tap-tapping grew louder. I frowned, and my inner voice chattered at me again, but not in warning this time. No, for some reason, that sound seemed … familiar to me now.

But I didn’t have time to figure out where I’d heard it before, because a shadow appeared on the floor, creeping closer and closer to me as the mystery figure neared my location. I sucked in a breath, drew back my fist, and got ready to strike—

A second later, a woman stepped into view—one I recognized.

High-end, Fiona Fine jeans and a red pullover made by Bella Bulluci covered her slender body. She also sported colorful streaks in her black, spiky hair. Normally, the streaks were blue, but she’d dyed them red back during Thanksgiving in honor of the holiday season.

I was so shocked by her appearance that I just stood there, mouth open and fist hovering in mid-air.

She must have sensed me hiding there, waiting to punch her, because she glanced over at me, cursed, and stumbled back in surprise. Her feet got tangled up in her cane, which slipped out of her hand, and she barely managed to grab one of the makeup counters and catch herself before she hit the floor. The backpack that she’d had looped over one shoulder fell off and went sliding across the floor, along with her cane.

I stepped out from behind the perfumed Swifte cutout and stared at the woman in front of me. Why was she here? More importantly, how had she gotten into the store past all the security?

Lulu Lo looked up and gave me a sheepish grin. “Hi, there, Sister Carmen.”

#

“Lulu?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

Lulu grinned, her dark eyes gleaming in her face. “Why, backing you up, Sister Carmen. Henry told me you were on toy duty tonight, so I thought I’d come by and keep you company.”

I just stared at her, my mouth still open. Some superhero I was—I’d almost punched one of my best friends.

Because she was a computer whiz, hacker, and all-around information trader, Lulu knew everyone who was anyone in Bigtime—especially when it came to things that weren’t exactly on the up-and-up. She used to slip me information about Bigtime’s heroes, villains, and various criminals in exchange for my writing newspaper articles on Yee-Haw!, a therapeutic riding center that she helped fund.

These days, Lulu was one of the people who knew that I was really Karma Girl. She also knew the identities of the other members of the Fearless Five, because she was engaged to Henry. Lulu might not have a superpower, but she’d helped us with her tech skills more than once when we were chasing down the latest, greatest ubervillain.

“Um, a little help here, please?” Lulu asked, struggling to pull herself up onto her feet.

I snapped out of my daze. “Sure. Let me.”

I put my arm under Lulu’s shoulder and helped her stand. Then, I bent over and picked up the cane she’d dropped and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” Lulu said. “I’ll be glad when I can get around without using this thing. Although I can’t complain too much. I’m doing better now than I was this time last year.”

Lulu had once been caught in a battle between the Fearless Five and the Terrible Triad, and she’d been paralyzed as a result and forced to use a wheelchair. Then, earlier this year, Lulu had been in the middle of another battle. Only this time, she’d been struck by a massive energy ball, thanks to an ubervillain named Siren. Lulu’s heart stopped, and she’d almost died, but the electricity had actually done some good in the end because it had kick started all of the dead nerves in Lulu’s spine.

Since then, Lulu had been undergoing physical therapy with the goal of walking on her own—and she was slowly getting there. I was happy for my friend and all that she’d accomplished. In her own way, Lulu was tougher than any hero or villain.

I offered to help Lulu, but she insisted on walking over to the toy tree by herself. Still, I picked up the backpack she’d dropped and carried it, despite her protests that she could get it herself.

We stood there in front of the tree, staring at all of the toys, lights, presents, and ribbons, and Lulu let out a low whistle.

“Damn,” she said. “I never had a Christmas tree like that when I was younger. Makes me wish I was a kid again.”

I grinned. “Me too.”

I grabbed a couple of chairs from a nearby lawn furniture display and dragged them over to the tree so we could sit there in comfort. Lulu unzipped her backpack and pulled out a solidium thermos and two cups. She unscrewed the top of the thermos, and the rich smell of hot chocolate filled the air.

“Hot chocolate?” she asked. “I even brought those mini marshmallows shaped like the F5 insignia you like so much.”

My grin widened. “You’d better believe it.”

Lulu fixed us both a cup of the steaming hot chocolate, which she’d generously laced with a delicious raspberry syrup. I held the cup in my hands, just letting the warm, sweet aroma fill my lungs. We sat there in companionable silence for several minutes, sipping our sugary treat and enjoying the way the gleaming lights cast out a kaleidoscope of colors and star-shaped shadows everywhere.

“So you want to tell me how you got past the store’s security system?” I finally asked. “Because apparently, it’s not as foolproof as it’s supposed to be.”

Lulu shrugged. “It was easy. All I had to do was hack into the store’s security network and tell the system to unlock one of the side doors. Nothing to it.”

I raised my eyebrows and looked at her.

Lulu sighed. “But I was a good girl. I made sure the door was locked and shut behind me, and I reset the security network while I was at it. I think that’s enough to get me on Santa’s nice list this year. Besides, we don’t want any ubervillains crashing our holiday party and making off with the tree, now do we?”

“No, we don’t,” I said.

Once again, my little voice murmured in the back of my mind, and I didn’t know why. Everything was still and quiet, and there hadn’t been so much as a whisper of trouble so far, except for Lulu sneaking inside the store and scaring me half to death.

So why did I feel like we weren’t alone? And that the worst was yet to come?

We sat there sipping our hot chocolate and talking for a while, but eventually, Lulu got up and started wandering around the first floor, saying she wanted to see what was left on the racks for the after-Christmas sale. I got to my feet as well. It was almost midnight now, which meant it was time for me to do a walk-through of the store.

I headed to the front of the building and made sure the revolving doors were secure and the bars and shutters were in their proper places over the plate-glass windows. Then, I went around to all the various exits on the first floor and did the same thing. Everything was locked up tight, but my inner voice kept whispering to me, warning of danger … danger … danger ...

I walked back to the windows at the front of the store and stood there, peering out through the bars, but all was calm, all was quiet. The entire city had shut down for Christmas, and not even a taxi could be seen driving down the street. A light snow had started to fall, coating the street lamps and sidewalks in a powdery coat of crystalline holiday cheer.

Still, my inner voice kept right on murmuring.

I shook my head and turned away from the door, ready to head back to the toy tree—and that’s when I first heard the smash-smash-smash.

Uh-oh.

#

I froze, wondering what the noise was and where it had come from.

Smash-smash-smash!

It took me a few seconds, but I realized the sound was someone very determinedly breaking the glass on one of the building’s side doors. I stood there, waiting for the store’s alarms to start blaring—but nothing happened.

No alarms, no sirens, no flashing red lights—nothing.

Whoever was forcing their way inside must have disabled the security system just as Lulu had earlier. Now, no alarms would be tripped, and nothing would alert the police or the Fearless Five that someone was breaking into the department store.

Which meant it was up to me to stop them—and for Karma Girl to come to the rescue.

I hurried toward the toy tree as fast as I could, running through racks of clothes and then past the makeup counters. I got back to that same cardboard cutout of Swifte, stopped there, and slowly peered around the side of the superhero’s grinning face.

A man stood in front of the Christmas tree, staring at all the toys just as I’d done, but instead of wonder, an expression of disgust curled up his lips. He wore a pale green costume, with matching boots, gloves, and a utility belt. A long, flowing white cape swirled around his rather thin, bony body. His mask also was white, with a faint, sparkling sheen. A symbol shimmered in dark green sequins in the middle of his chest. I squinted, trying to make out what it was in the glow from the tree’s lights.

Was that—could it be—a spearmint leaf?

Weird. Even for Bigtime.

I quickly flipped through my mental dossier of all the male ubervillains in the city, alive, missing, and presumed dead. Captain Sushi, Frost, Scorpion … it was a pretty long list, and it took me several seconds to figure out who he was—the Mintilator.

That made things even weirder. The Mintilator was a germophobe more than anything else. Usually, he lurked outside of public restrooms and either berated or physically dragged folks back inside to make them wash their hands if they hadn’t already. Occasionally, he’d make them floss too. Which, really, weren’t bad things, especially compared to what the city’s other villains cooked up. Every once in a while, he’d hatch some elaborate plan to kill Halitosis Hal, because the superhero’s exceptionally bad breath went against all the minty goodness that the Mintilator stood for. But overall, the Mintilator was pretty low on the threat level list when it came to ubervillains. So what was he doing here tonight?

A movement across the aisle caught my eye, and I spotted Lulu waving at me. She must have heard the glass breaking because she’d hunkered down behind several female mannequins dressed in bright, colorful, shockingly skimpy negligees that I recognized as Fiona Fine originals.

The Mintilator was still busy staring up at the tree, so I took the opportunity to quickly cross the aisle and slide into the shadows next to Lulu.

“Is that the Mintilator?” Lulu whispered, peering around the mannequins. “I thought he was harmless, except for the whole forced hand-washing thing.”

“Apparently not,” I whispered back.

“I don’t even know what kind of power he has, do you?”

I shook my head. “No, but there’s one way to find out.”

I reached for my empathic ability and looked at the ubervillain, doing my best Clint Eastwood squint. Sure enough, pale green waves pulsed around his body. Everyone’s energy had a slightly different feel, but the sensation was always amplified when it came to heroes and villains. Usually, I could tell what kind of power someone had just from looking at their energy waves. The reddish ones around Fiona were always hot, given her fire-based power, while the ones around Sam were a cool, soothing, sapphire blue, given his regenerative abilities.

To my surprise, the waves of energy pulsing around the Mintilator felt hot, rough, and caustic, like I’d suddenly scrubbed my skin raw with harsh lye soap.

“I think he has some sort of acid-based power,” I told Lulu. “That’s what it feels like to me. What he can do with it exactly, I don’t know, but he’s not using it to destroy the toy tree. Not on my watch. I can probably take him out myself, but you stay here out of sight. Just in case the Mintilator has some tricks up his sleeves.”

“Like what? Squirting you in the eye with some of that super-strength hand sanitizer he always carries on his utility belt?” Lulu asked.

She snickered a little at her own bad joke, but she nodded her head. Despite how harmless he appeared to be, the Mintilator still dressed up in a costume and tried to make life miserable for other people, which meant that he had a few screws loose somewhere.

Then again, here I was lurking in the shadows wearing silver spandex in a department store on Christmas Eve. Maybe the Mintilator wasn’t the only one with some loose screws.

I scanned the area, but I didn’t see anyone else on either side of the tree, and I didn’t sense any more energy waves indicating there was another ubervillain on the premises. It looked like the Mintilator was alone, so I stood up and walked toward him. Maybe I could talk him out of whatever crazy plan he’d hatched. Heh. That would definitely be a Christmas miracle. Really, it would probably be a waste of breath, but I had to try. Superhero etiquette and all that.

Sometimes, I thought it would be so much simpler being a villain—they never, ever had to play fair or take stupid chances like this. Plus, they almost always got to blow something up. Yeah, villains totally had more fun.

The Mintilator stiffened at the sound of my boots clacking on the floor, and he slowly turned around. I stopped about ten feet away from him, still holding tight to my empathic ability. If he tried to use his power on me, I was ready to reach for it myself and turn it back against him. Ubervillains could dish it out, but they could rarely take it.

“Karma Girl.”

“Mintilator.”

We stood there facing each other, hands clenched into fists and our bodies tense, despite the cheerful holiday trappings around us. Up close, I could see that the Mintilator’s mask was a narrow strip that just covered his eyes. Deep lines creased into his forehead and around his mouth, as though he was always frowning. He looked to be about fifty or so, with thin, wispy white hair that had a few faint streaks of gray. His eyes were green, though—as bright and green as his costume.

“What brings you to Oodles o’ Stuff this late at night?” I asked.

“I suppose I could lie and say I needed one last present, but we’d both know that’s not true. Fact is I’m here to take all of the presents—every last one.” He had a pleasant, if slightly scolding voice, one that made me think of a teacher constantly chastising a student.

The Mintilator turned back toward the tree, making the sequined spearmint leaf on his chest sparkle and gleam. He seemed content to just stand there and stare at the toys, so I took the opportunity to creep a little closer.

“But why steal a bunch of toys?” I asked. “Especially when they’re supposed to go to needy kids? That’s pretty harsh, even for an ubervillain.”

He turned back to me and gave me a triumphant smile. “Exactly. In fact, that’s rather the point of my whole little endeavor here tonight. Tell me, Karma Girl, what do you know about me?”

“I know you’re really, really, really into hand-washing,” I said, creeping forward a little more. “You like to steal delivery trucks full of hand sanitizer, mouthwash, and toothpaste, and Halitosis Hal is your archenemy.”

He gave me a thin smile. “And that’s it, right? That’s all you know about me?”

I didn’t know what he wanted me to say, so I just shrugged.

He sighed. “That’s the problem, you see. No one thinks of me as a real threat, as a real ubervillain, despite the fact that I’ve been kicking around this town for thirty years now. I’m just some kooky guy who goes around Bigtime forcing people to practice good hygiene. I’m not even a B-list ubervillain. I’m barely even D-list.”

His voice was calm and pleasant, but I could hear the cold anger in his clipped tone. No, definitely not harmless.

“So you what?” I asked. “Decided to come here and steal the toys from the charity drive so people would take you seriously?”

He shrugged. “It was the most evil thing I could think of. Besides, do you know how much some of those toys cost? I can make a fortune selling them on the Internet. Not to mention the solidium the tree is made out of. Do you know how valuable that metal is? I can make several million breaking up the tree and selling off the branches. More than enough to fund my long-awaited retirement. And that’s exactly what I plan on doing. Taking the money and running. I hear Cypress Mountain is especially nice this time of year.”

Sadly, it wasn’t the strangest or most bizarre ubervillain plan I’d ever heard. Truth be told, it was pretty damn clever—not to mention profitable.

I shook my head. “We both know that I can’t let you do that. If you won’t be reasonable, then at least be logical about this. Even if you could knock me out or even kill me, how would you get all of the toys out of here? Not to mention the tree itself? There’s no way you could get them all out the door before the store opens in the morning.”

“That’s something else no one knows about me—the fact that I always come prepared,” the Mintilator said.

He pushed back his white cape, and for the first time, I realized there was a holster clipped to his utility belt, one holding something far more deadly than hand sanitizer—a gun.

The Mintilator pulled the gun out of the holster and held it up where I could see it. The gun was an overly complicated-looking thing, with lots of little buttons, switches, and most worrisome, a glass tube filled with a strange green gas. In my experience as a survivor of radioactive goo, any gas, liquid, or pill that was neon-colored never, ever did anything good.

“What’s that?” I asked, wondering which way I should dive when he decided to point that thing at me and pull the trigger. Right, I’d dive to the right and put the sacks of presents between us.

“Oh, it’s just a little something I found in one of Frost’s old labs,” the Mintilator said. “You’d be amazed at what you can find in abandoned ubervillain hideouts. I’ve found more goodies there than I could create in a decade on my own. In a way, I suppose I have you and the rest of the Fearless Five to thank for this particular gem, don’t I?”

He was closer to the truth than he knew, because I was the one responsible for Frost’s disappearance. During my fight with the Terrible Triad, I’d used my new empathic power to open the cages where Frost had kept the poor critters he’d experimented on with his freezeterium. The mutated animals had wasted no time tearing into Frost with their genetically altered teeth and claws. That was the last anyone had seen or heard from the cold-hearted ubervillain.

“I’m not sure what Frost called it, and honestly, I don’t really care. As for what it does,” the Mintilator said. “How about a demonstration?”

“No! Don’t—”

Before I could stop him, he turned toward the tree and pressed a button on the gun. That strange green gas shot out of the end of the barrel and hit the trunk.

For a second, nothing happened. Then, the gas solidified into a liquid that started oozing over the entire tree, leaping from one branch to another and somehow going up as well as down. In less than a minute, everything on the tree—all the toys, all the clothes, all the lights, all the ribbons—was covered with a thin layer of glistening green goo.

And then, it all started to shrink.

Down … down … down ...

The tree seemed to draw in on itself, taking all the toys and everything else with it. I felt like Alice who’d just drunk the wrong potion in a Christmas-themed Wonderland and was watching everything around her suddenly get so much smaller as she grew and grew and grew.

In less than a minute, it was over. The tree stopped shrinking, and the green goo evaporated like fog off the solidium branches, dissipating into the air. The Mintilator walked over and stood beside the tree, which was now only ten feet tall—and easily transportable.

I’d seen some strange and amazing things since coming to Bigtime, but this was definitely up there in terms of sheer weirdness. I shook my head, pushing away my confusion. Shrinking tree or not, I couldn’t let the Mintilator leave with the toys—even if I didn’t know exactly how I was going to get them back to their correct size in time for Christmas morning.

“All right,” I snapped. “You’ve had your fun.”

The ubervillain smirked at me. “Why, I’m just getting started in the fun department.”

His green eyes looked past me, and he gave a sharp jerk of his head. Quick footsteps sounded behind me, and my inner voice started to wail.

Too late, I realized that the Mintilator wasn’t alone. I’d just started to turn my head when a fist plowed into my face, and everything went black.

#

I woke up with a start.

One second, everything was dark. The next, I had a migraine that was bigger than Fiona’s appetite. A bright, steady glow filled my vision, hammering against my closed eyelids and adding to the pounding misery in my head. I cracked open my eyes, squinted against the harsh glare, and realized the glow was the Christmas tree the Mintilator had stolen from Oodles o’ Stuff—and that it was the right size once more.

Somehow, all the toys, all the clothes, and even the tree itself had been returned to their normal, original size. I supposed the gun the Mintilator swiped from Frost’s lab had a reverse switch on it somewhere. Despite my migraine, I let out a sigh of relief. Well, that was one problem solved.

Now on to the next—figuring out where I was and how I could get out of here.

I was sitting in a metal chair, my arms and legs securely shackled to it. I rattled the chains, but unless I missed my guess, the cuffs and links were made out of solidium. I wouldn’t be getting out of the chains without help. The good news was I still had on my costume, and my mask still covered my face, so I didn’t think my real identity as Carmen Cole had been compromised yet. It also didn’t seem like much time had passed, although I couldn’t be sure; I didn’t see any clocks on the walls.

My eyes flicked over the rest of my surroundings. I seemed to be in an abandoned warehouse, judging from the smushed cigarettes, crushed soda cans, and other trash littering the dingy concrete floor. The windows had been boarded over, no doubt to hide the glow from the Christmas tree, and a pair of double doors off to my left were shut and probably locked.

I sighed. Sometimes, I wondered if there was any other kind of warehouse in Bigtime besides abandoned ones. You’d think the city planners would raze them all to the ground, because they made such great ubervillain hideouts—

“Well, it looks like Sleeping Beauty is finally awake,” a low voice murmured.

Footsteps slapped on the concrete floor, and a man shuffled into view in front of me. Despite the December chill in the air, he wore only a loose, one-shoulder, toga-like garment done in a garish, black-and-white, zebra-stripe pattern. The only saving grace was that he had the hard, muscled body to actually pull off the look. His hair and eyes were both a light brown, and a black mask covered his face, although his hands and feet were bare. An ebony club dangled from a slot in the leather belt cinched around his waist. Like the Mintilator, he looked to be middle-aged.

My head might be pounding, but I still recognized him—Caveman Stan, another one of Bigtime’s ubervillains, one known for his incredible strength. Actually, the Caveman moniker was a bit of a misnomer, because Stan was quite articulate, hip, and urbane—except for his old-fashioned views when it came to women. Caveman Stan thought the female race had been created specifically to feed him peeled grapes, massage his hulking shoulders, and sing his praises—literally, like sing about how awesome he was.

Stan attracted his share of willing women, but what he really liked to do was kidnap female heroes and villains and make them serve him. I supposed it made him feel even more powerful than he already was.

Supposedly, Stan had been buried in a cave-in the last time he’d battled Fiera, but reports of his death had obviously been greatly exaggerated. They always were when it came to ubervillains. No matter how sure you were that they were dead, no matter how impossible it would be for them to survive something like, say, getting pushed into a wood chipper and spit out the other side in bloody pieces, ubervillains always found a way to survive. Cockroaches could learn a thing or two from them.

Caveman Stan stepped forward and curled a lock of my auburn hair around his finger. “Normally, I prefer blondes, but I guess you’ll have to do.”

“I’ll have to do for what?” I asked in a guarded tone.

He grinned at me. “Why, to be my newest slave girl, of course.”

Slave girl? Seriously?

“It’s getting harder and harder to find good help these days,” he continued. “Women are so uppity now, with their power suits and fancy high heels and careers. You girls need to remember what life was like back in the good ole days, when you lived to serve your man and see to his every need. And I do mean every need.”

He winked and wet his lips with his tongue, telling me exactly what he was thinking.

Somehow, I managed not to shudder, even though my inner voice was wailing at me that I was in big, big trouble. Yeah, I didn’t need my empathic powers to figure that one out.

The ubervillain smoothed back my hair and walked around me. “First things first. We’ll have to get you some extensions. Your hair is way too short. I like long, flowing locks on my ladies. We’ll have to get rid of all that silver spandex, too, and get you something in a nice animal print. Leopard, I think, in a pink-and-black pattern. And slim you down a bit. Slave girls should be svelte, and you, my dear, are definitely not svelte. Not to mention your regrettable lack of oomph up top.”

I rolled my eyes. If he wanted svelte and oomphy breasts, he should go after Fiera again. All the slimming down in the world would never give me the supermodel figure and perfect boobs Fiera had.

“So you’re the one who decked me inside Oodles o’ Stuff,” I said. “Why are you working with the Mintilator?”

Caveman Stan shrugged. “Old Minty makes some good points about us not being taken seriously as ubervillains. I mean, folks still talk about the Terrible Triad, and no one has seen or heard from any of them in more than a year now. But me and Minty? We’ve been around since before most of today’s so-called villains were hiding their pimply teenage faces with their very first masks, but we get never get any press. No calendars, no photo shoots, no video games, no action figures, nothing. And we’re out there every single day, pounding the pavement and doing bad things. But do we get any recognition? Hell, no. Well, that’s all going to change now. You gotta admit, stealing the tree and all those toys was a stroke of genius. It’s the kind of crime that people will be talking about for years. Why, me and Minty will go down in the annals of ubervillain history for this heist alone.”

What was this? D-list villains unite? I felt like I was trapped in a really bad, really cheesy holiday special. All we needed now were some evil singing elves, and the bizarreness would be complete.

More footsteps clacked on the concrete, and the Mintilator stepped out from behind the Christmas tree, striding across the warehouse toward us. Now, the ubervillain’s lips were turned up instead of down, and he was positively beaming with delighted evil.

“Ah, Stan, I see you’ve been entertaining our guest,” the Mintilator said. “I’m sorry we wound up with Karma Girl. I know you were hoping that it would be Fiera guarding the toys this year.”

Fiera, Fiera, Fiera. What was I? One of the Invisible Ingénues compared to her?

Stan shrugged his massive shoulders. “Oh, she’ll do, I suppose. In the end, one girl’s just like another.”

“That’s the spirit.” The Mintilator turned to me. “Well, Karma Girl, what do you think? Does my plan sound so outlandish now?”

I sighed, knowing what he expected me to say. “You’ll never get away with this,” I muttered the cliché line.

The Mintilator threw back his head and laughed. “But I already have. Come on, Stan. You can play with your new doll later. Right now, we need to get to work. We don’t have long before the Fearless Five will come looking for her and the tree.”

The Mintilator and Caveman Stan both moved over to the Christmas tree. While I’d been unconscious, the ubervillains had apparently been hard at work stripping the toys off the branches. Dolls, trucks, clothes, and more were stacked on a nearby metal work table, while others had already been packed into shipping boxes. The ubervillains walked around the tree and started discussing how best to go about getting the remaining toys off the branches and which ones they wanted to put up for Internet auction first. They focused in on a few video game consoles and laptop computers. Stan started ripping off the ribbons that secured the items to the branches and passed the electronics over to the Mintilator, who snapped a photo of every item with a digital camera before labeling it and placing it either on the work table or in a shipping box. I had to hand it to the ubervillains—they were nothing if not organized in their larceny.

The villains were so busy talking and working that they didn’t notice the faint tap-tap-tapping that whispered through the warehouse—but I did. My eyes narrowed, and I slowly turned my head to the left to see Lulu peering at me from around the corner of a stack of shipping crates.

The computer hacker grinned and waved at me. Somehow, she’d managed to track the Mintilator and Caveman Stan, following them to the warehouse.

My cell phone, I thought. I could feel it resting in the hidden pocket in the side of my boot. With her computer skills, it would have been easy for Lulu to use my cell phone to pinpoint my location. No doubt she’d alerted the others, which meant that Fiera, Mr. Sage, and Hermit were probably on their way here. I might have wanted to handle the ubervillains by myself, but right now, I’d take all the help I could get. All I had to do in the meantime was get free and make sure the Mintilator and Caveman Stan were still here when my teammates arrived—and that Lulu and I were still alive.

Lulu started to creep forward, but I shook my head, telling her to stay put. There was just too much open space for her to cover to get to me, and the ubervillains were bound to see her if she tried. Lulu stayed where she was, but she didn’t seem happy about it. Instead, she started looking around, probably searching for a metal pipe or something to help me get out of these chains—but I already had an idea about that.

I started squinting at Caveman Stan, who was still pulling toys off the tree. It took only an instant for me to see the black waves of energy pulsing around his muscular body. The waves felt like raw, brute force, and I reached out for his energy and grabbed it for my own.

Immediately, this unbelievable power filled my body, like I had the strength to do anything—even break the solidium chains that held me down. I kept focusing on Caveman Stan, grabbing more and more of his energy, his power, and making it my own.

It took a few seconds, but the ubervillain finally felt what I was doing, felt his strength being siphoned away. He staggered back a step and turned around and glared at me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing—”

But it was too late. By that point, the energy had built in my body. With a roar, I unleashed that energy, ripping the chains off the chair arms and legs and causing the whole thing to collapse. I kicked away the pieces of the chair and scrambled to my feet. I wasn’t completely free, because the metal cuffs and links still dangled from my arms and legs, but at least I wasn’t tied down anymore.

“Get her!” the Mintilator hissed at the other ubervillain.

Caveman Stan let out a loud bellow, thumped his chest a few times, and ran in my direction. But I was still holding onto those black waves of energy that pulsed around him, still holding onto his power, which meant I was still as strong as he was.

Caveman Stan swung his fist at me, but I was able to avoid the blow. Stan drew back his fist for another pass, but I whirled around, building up enough momentum to raise the heavy chains and smash them into his face.

One of the links hit him just right, breaking his nose underneath his black mask. Blood gushed out of Stan’s nose, adding garish red drops to his horrible, zebra-striped toga.

“You’ll pay for that, slave girl!” Stan bellowed.

“I’m not your stupid girl!” I yelled back. “And you could at least be politically correct and call them slave women!”

The ubervillain reached for me again. Once more, I dodged his blows. Only this time, one of my boots got caught in the dangling chains. I stumbled back, and Stan came after me. The ubervillain swung at me again, and all I could do was hold up my arm to ward off his blow—

“Duck!” I heard Lulu yell behind me.

I ducked.

WHACK!

Her cane arced through the air where my head had been a second before. Lulu timed her blow just right, her cane slamming into the side of Caveman Stan’s temple. The Baseballer himself couldn’t have executed a more perfect swing.

The ubervillain’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he stumbled away. I chased after him and smashed the chains into his face again. Stan took three more steps before he crashed to the dingy floor. He moaned once and twitched, like he was going to get up, but then, his whole body went limp. The ubervillain was out cold.

I hurried over to Lulu, who had gone down on one knee. She’d put everything she had into that swing, and I helped her get to her feet. I eyed her cane, which she still clutched in her hands. It looked simple enough, with a shiny black finish, a silver tip, and a curved silver handle, but I was willing to bet there was more to that cane than met the eye.

“That’s a sturdy little device,” I said. “Want to tell me where you go it? Or do I even have to ask?”

“It was an early Christmas present from Jasper,” Lulu said, grinning. “It’s painted to look like ebony, but really, it’s made of pure solidium. He also included a few extra features for me. There are some special buttons hidden in the handle.”

By extra features, Lulu no doubt meant explosives, because her friend Jasper was Bigtime’s most notorious bomb maker.

I shook my head and started to ask her where Fiera, Mr. Sage, and Hermit were, but Lulu’s dark eyes widened.

“Duck!” Lulu shouted.

I ducked again.

That weird green gas sprayed through the air over my head and hit a metal table. Once again, the gas turned into a shimmering goo that immediately started shrinking whatever it came into contact with. By the time I got up on my feet, the table looked like it belonged in one of the dollhouses on the toy tree.

“Drat!” The Mintilator cursed, shaking the gun he’d taken from Frost’s lab. “Empty already. But no matter.”

The ubervillain threw away the gun. The glass tube on top of it shattered against the concrete floor, and a last bit of green gas puffed up into the air. Well, that was one less thing to worry about.

But I had another—a ball of green acid coming my way. I ducked for a third time, and the acid whooshed past my head and slammed into the crates on the far side of the warehouse. The wood on the crates immediately disintegrated, dripping all over the floor like liquid splinters. Smoke boiled up from the crates, and the smell of spearmint filled the air, so sharp, clean, and fresh that it burned my lungs to breathe in the aroma.

I scrambled to my feet and whirled around to find the Mintilator standing behind me, forming another glowing green ball with his hands. I’d been right before when I’d thought that the ubervillain had an acid-based power. Apparently, he was so minty-fresh that he’d melt the skin right off your bones.

The Mintilator threw another acid ball at us, and I shoved Lulu out of the way. I rolled to my right and managed to pull myself back up onto my feet. I headed toward the ubervillain as fast as I could, my chains clanking like those attached to Marley’s ghost. I put myself in between the Mintilator and Lulu, who was struggling to crawl over to where her cane had fallen.

“It’s over,” I said. “Stan’s down already, and the rest of the Fearless Five will be here any minute. Give up now, before I have to hurt you.”

The Mintilator’s eyes narrowed with rage, his gaze just as green and glowy as the acid ball in his hands. “I don’t think so. I’ve worked too hard and come too far to let you ruin this for me now. This is it. My big score, my last hurrah, my retirement fund—and I’m not going to let some newbie superhero stop me now.”

Newbie superhero? Anger pulsed through my body at the casual way he dismissed me. I’d show him exactly what a newbie superhero could do. I reached for the green waves shimmering around his body, even as the ubervillain drew back his hand to throw the acid ball at me.

This time, I was quicker.

I grabbed hold of the Mintilator’s power and used it to form my own ball, and we both threw acid at each other at the same time. But instead of tossing it at the ubervillain’s chest as he did with me, I aimed lower, going for his knees, hoping to take him by surprise and make it harder for him to avoid it. I ducked out the way of the acid he hurled at me, but the Mintilator wasn’t expecting the quick counterattack, and he wasn’t nearly so lucky—the acid hit him square in the balls, eating right through his costume.

Needless to say, having acid sprayed all over your, ah, sensitive regions is a bit painful, even for an ubervillain.

Make that excruciatingly painful, given how the Mintilator howled and howled and howled, dancing from one foot to the other. The ubervillain stumbled back, and his white cape wrapped around his legs. That was the proverbial straw. The Mintilator teetered back and forth, trying to find his footing, cursing and howling all the while. His boot caught in a crack in the concrete floor, and he slammed face-first into one of the solidium branches on the toy tree. I heard the crack of the impact all the way across the warehouse.

The Mintilator slumped to the floor without another sound.

I stood there, hunched over, my hands on my knees, trying to get my breath back. Taking on ubervillains was tough enough to start with. Doing it with thirty pounds of metal weighing me down hadn’t made it any easier—

Bang-bang-bang!

My head snapped up, and I wondered if there was yet a third ubervillain I’d somehow missed in all the confusion—one who was on his way to kill me right now.

Instead of another ubervillain, the double doors leading out of the warehouse rattled, like someone was trying to get inside. Then, one of the doors caved in, sporting a distinctive, fist-like dent. The person on the other side drove a fist into the door again, this time punching right through the metal. Gloved fingers curled around the opening and then—

SCREECH!

The door was torn off its hinges. A second later, Fiera strode inside in all her flaming, orange-red spandex glory, followed by Hermit and Mr. Sage. Fiera, who was holding the door with one hand, casually tossed it across the warehouse like the heavy metal weighed no more than a paper clip. To her, it didn’t.

Fiera marched over to me and stopped, staring at the unconscious forms of the Mintilator and Caveman Stan. Then, she looked at me. “Aw, you’ve had all the fun already. You should have at least left me one ubervillain to take down.”

“Yeah,” I wheezed, still trying to get my breath back. “I had that very thought while I was dodging balls of acid.”

Fiera sniffed and tossed her hair over her shoulders. “Rookies,” she muttered.

I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to wrap the chains hanging off my body around Fiera’s neck.

Teammates. Can’t live with them, can’t choke them unconscious.

#

Using her superstrength, fire-based powers, and some explosives from Jasper that Lulu had stashed in her backpack, Fiera was able to blast the solidium chains off me. Meanwhile, Mr. Sage arranged for the police to transport the still-unconscious Mintilator and Caveman Stan to a secure ubervillain prison. Which, of course, they would no doubt escape from in a few months. But at least they wouldn’t be bothering anyone else—at least not before New Year’s.

But all I could do was stand there and look at the toy tree. The sun had come up while we were getting everything squared away, and it was now past seven in the morning. Oodles o’ Stuff was supposed to open at nine sharp so the kids and their families could get their Christmas presents and other goodies.

“How are we supposed to get the toys all the way across town in time for the store’s opening?” I asked, a sick feeling filling my stomach, eating at me like the Mintilator’s acid had him. “Not to mention the tree? All those kids and their parents. They’re going to be so disappointed, so heartbroken, and it’s my fault—all my fault.”

Mr. Sage put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not your fault the tree got stolen, Karma Girl. Don’t worry. We’ll get everything back in time. I have a good feeling about this.”

I eyed him. “Is that what your psychic powers are telling you—”

The air whirled violently through the warehouse, drowning out the rest of my words and causing the remaining toys on the Christmas tree to sway back and forth. My head snapped right and then left as I wondered once again what new ubervillain had come out of the woodwork to wreak havoc on my holiday, but it wasn’t an ubervillain at all.

One second, there was only empty air in front of me. The next, Swifte was there, striking a cocky pose in his shimmering, opalescent costume. He stood like that for a second, making sure that we all got an eyeful of him in all his shimmering glory. Then, the speedy superhero turned to me and grinned.

“Karma Girl,” he chirped in a cheery tone. “You’re looking well, all things considered. Love the silver spandex, by the way. Have you been working out?”

Well, at least someone noticed my efforts. I started to ask Swifte why he was here, but my inner voice whispered, and I realized exactly who had called him. I looked at Lulu, who shrugged.

“Once I saw how many toys the villains had taken off the tree, I put out a citywide call to the other superheroes,” Lulu said. “I figured we’d need all the help we could get.”

“And naturally, I was the first one here,” Swifte said, striking another heroic pose, despite the fact that there weren’t any cameras around to capture him strutting his stuff. “Good thing too, because those toys aren’t even close to where they’re supposed to be.”

I shook my head. “Even you’re not that fast—or strong enough to carry everything across town in time for Oodles’s opening.”

Swifte just grinned at me. “Nope, but my friends are—and they should be getting here any second now.”

He turned toward the open warehouse door, and sure enough, one by one, they started trickling inside.

Granny Cane. Black Samba. Halitosis Hal. Pistol Pete. Wynter. The Invisible Ingénues. Okay, so I couldn’t exactly see the Ingénues, since they were, well, invisible, but they called out a cheery hello so I knew they were here.

Practically every superhero in Bigtime walked through the warehouse door. Even Debonair popped! in using his teleportation superpower. In minutes, I had an army of heroes standing before me, ready to make sure the kids of Bigtime and their families got the Christmas they deserved.

“All right, everybody, listen up,” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “We’ve got some toys to deliver.”

#

With Swifte’s superspeed, Black Samba and Granny Cane commandeering several city buses, and everyone else’s assorted powers, we managed to get all the toys and decorations back over to Oodles o’ Stuff. Using his teleportation power, Debonair was even able to transport the solidium tree back into its spot inside the store.

Just before nine on Christmas morning, I once again found myself inside Oodles o’ Stuff. The Mintilator and Caveman Stan had managed to strip hundreds of items off the tree, and I was trying to put everything back where it belonged—but not having that much success, because all the superheroes kept talking at once, offering their suggestions.

“I think the tea set goes over here, dear,” Granny Cane said, pointing her cane at a spot on the tree.

Wynter shook her head and hefted the box in her hands. The motion made the giant snowflake pulse like a strobe light in the center of her ice-blue costume. “I don’t think so. That branch is too small for this big box.”

“I’d say put it a little higher on the tree,” Swifte chimed in, zipping around both of them.

And on and on it went, until my head was pounding just like it had been after Caveman Stan had hit me. I was just about to step in and tell them that it didn’t matter exactly where the tea set went, when Fiera shoved her elbow into my side.

“Incoming,” Fiera muttered under her breath.

I rubbed my side and turned around, wondering what she could possibly be talking about. A second later, I realized it wasn’t a what, so much as a who.

Abby Appleby marched over to me, a stony expression on her face. “Do you care to explain this—this mess, Karma Girl?”

I sighed. Abby had every right to be upset. Thanks to me, a couple of ubervillains had stolen the toy tree and almost ruined everything. Even as it was, the kids wouldn’t get the picture-perfect Christmas they were expecting. But Abby deserved an explanation, so I filled her in on everything that had happened.

I finished my story, and Abby looked around, her eyes going from the tree to the toys scattered around it to all the superheroes milling around. After a moment, her face softened.

“You did the best you could, Karma Girl,” she said. “The best anyone could do. You got the toys back here for the kids to enjoy. That’s the most important thing.”

Her features hardened once more. “But I’ll not have them digging through this disaster area. Swifte! Get your scrawny ass over here! Debonair! You too! Now! Now! Now!”

Abby’s voice roared through the store. The event planner started barking orders at the superheroes, telling them where she wanted the toys, the clothes, the decorations, and everything else to go.

Swifte raced around the store, stringing up lights and ribbons, while Debonair used his teleportation power to pop! things into place. Mr. Sage used his telekinesis to lift the heavier toys back where they were supposed to be, and the rest of the superheroes pitched in to help as well.

At nine o’clock sharp, the front doors opened, and the kids and their parents streamed inside Oodles o’ Stuff. For a moment, they all stood there, staring up at the toy tree, expressions of absolute wonder on the kids’ faces, and gratitude and more mingled together with the tears on the parents’ faces. Then, everyone started clapping, yelling, and jumping up and down in glee and sheer excitement.

The cheers made me smile—and I knew it would be the perfect Christmas after all.

#

The kids spent the next hour playing with the toys, trying on the clothes, and checking out the school supplies and other goodies while their parents watched. Then, everyone headed over to the store’s food court to dine on the ham, turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pies, and other holiday fixings that had been provided by Quicke’s restaurant.

No one noticed when Karma Girl slipped away from the crowd—or that Carmen Cole took her place a few minutes later to cover the event for The Exposé. And I wasn’t the only reporter in attendance. Kelly Caleb with SNN, the Superhero News Network, was on the scene to film a piece for the evening broadcast.

I talked to half a dozen kids and their parents, getting quotes for my story. I also made sure to interview Abby, because I wanted to highlight all of the hard work and long hours she’d put into the event. Finally, I talked to the superheroes who pitched in to help at the last minute.

Once I was done gathering material for my story, I stood off to one side, watching the kids, parents, and superheroes mingle, along with volunteers like Piper Perez and Roberto Bulluci who’d come to help with the event. Even Jasper, Lulu’s bomb-making friend, was here, along with Joanne James. Apparently, they’d both donated their time and money to the charity drive.

Johnny Bulluci, Fiona’s fiancé, had also shown up to lend a hand. Johnny was keeping his distance from Fiona while she was still in her Fiera costume, but the two of them exchanged more than one lingering look. And Fiona thought Sam and I were still in the honeymoon phase. Please. It was a wonder Johnny didn’t spontaneously combust with the hot glances she was sending his way.

I was happy that everyone was enjoying their Christmas—really, I was—but I couldn’t help but miss Sam and wish that he was here with me. It would make the day that much more perfect. With everything that had been going on, I hadn’t had a chance to call him, but Sam had left a message on my voice mail saying that the merger had taken longer to wrap up than he’d thought. My heart ached at the idea of spending the holiday without him, but it looked like that was what was going to happen—

A pair of arms snaked around my waist, and a low, sexy voice murmured in my ear. “Guess who?”

My breath caught in my throat, and I whirled around. “Sam! You’re home!”

My husband grinned at me. “I told you I’d make it.”

“But how?” I asked. “In the message I got, you said your meetings had gone too long, and there was no way you could fly back in time for Christmas.”

He jerked his head at Debonair, who was standing next to Bella Bulluci. The two of them were showing a little boy how to mix the paints in the art set he’d gotten.

“When I realized I wasn’t going to make it back to Bigtime by plane, I called in a favor with Debonair,” Sam said.

“I didn’t know he could teleport so far,” I murmured. “But it doesn’t matter. The important thing is that you’re here with me now.”

All around us, the kids and their parents smiled and laughed, while the superheroes and volunteers watched. But I had eyes only for Sam, and him for me.

“Merry Christmas, Carmen,” Sam said.

“Merry Christmas, Sam,” I whispered back before I pulled his lips down to mine.

EXCERPTS

Read on for excerpts from KARMA GIRL,

HOT MAMA, and JINX

in the Bigtime paranormal romance series

by Jennifer Estep

Excerpt from KARMA GIRL,

Book One in the Bigtime paranormal romance series

PART ONE—BEGINNINGS

Chapter One

My wedding day.

It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. A time of joy and celebration and new beginnings. The day every girl dreams of from the time she’s old enough to play dress-up in her mother’s clothes.

It wasn’t that sort of day at all.

I stalked up and down the narrow hotel room. My hellish high-heeled shoes poked holes in the thick carpet and rubbed hot blisters on my aching feet. My white tulle dress rustled with every step I took.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

I’d had the feeling for weeks now that something just wasn’t quite right between myself and my fiancé, Matt Marion. He’d been distant lately, distracted. We’d been together over two years now, and I loved Matt with all my heart. But his odd behavior was enough to make the most trusting woman suspicious. I’d asked Matt many times if anything was wrong, if he had cold feet and wanted to postpone the wedding, but he’d assured me repeatedly that everything was fine.

Matt had been working lots of overtime at his construction job and had all sorts of unexplained bruises and scratches on his body. He’d blamed his frequent absences and injuries on work, but I couldn’t quite shake this feeling, this cold sense of dread deep down in my stomach. Doubts whispered in my mind. I’d learned long ago to listen to my inner voice. Following my instincts was the reason I’d become the top investigative reporter at the Beginnings Bugle, the town newspaper.

I wasn’t about to ignore my instincts now. I couldn’t get married with this doubt hanging over me. I had to ask Matt one more time what was bothering him.

I slipped out of my hotel room and made my way to the elevator. It had been Matt’s idea to get married at Forever Inn, the most romantic hotel in all of Beginnings, Tennessee. Weddings took place on a daily basis at the four-star hotel, and no one batted an eye when I crowded into the elevator in my billowing dress and sparkling diamond tiara.

I rode up to the next floor and walked to Matt’s room. It was bad luck—bad karma—for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding, but I had to talk to Matt. My inner voice wouldn’t shut up until I did.

I raised my hand to knock. A low, muffled moan escaped through the thick wooden door. Was Matt hurt? I frowned and put my key, the one I had in case of an emergency, in the lock. The door opened, and I stepped inside.

“Yes, Yes, YES!!!!” a woman screamed out from deeper in the room.

Oh. That’s what that sound was. Someone was having a little afternoon delight. Good for them. I turned to give the enthusiastic couple their privacy when reality hit me.

Why was someone having sex in Matt’s room? He should have been in there, getting ready for his wedding, which was only thirty minutes away. His wedding to me.

I froze. A ball of ice formed in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t going to like what I was about to see, I just knew it, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking. I tiptoed up to the doorframe, still hidden from view, and peeked into the bedroom.

Karen Crush, my best friend since the fourth grade, was straddling Matt, my oh-so-faithful fiancé. Karen’s pale-blue bridesmaid’s dress bunched around her waist, exposing her lean legs. Matt’s pants pooled around his ankles. A lacy thong sat crumpled beside the bed, along with some other pieces of blue and red fabric.

Karen flipped her black curls over her shoulder and threw her head back in pure bliss. The ecstatic look on Matt’s face told me he was thoroughly enjoying himself as well. The bastard.

My world spun around. I felt as though someone had stabbed me in the chest with a butcher knife. Twice. Hot tears welled up in my eyes and trickled down my face. My knees shook. My legs threatened to buckle. Now, I knew what had been so wrong. Why Matt had been so distant. This one moment, this horrible sight, made it all so clear. So painfully clear. Love, friendship, humanity in general. My faith in those was now gone. Obliterated by the two people I loved most in the world.

Matt and Karen let out more cries of pleasure, oblivious to me. To my pain.

The sounds shattered my heart into a thousand sharp, jagged pieces. Each one cut me like a razor. I wanted to run out the door, to cry my eyes out, to sob and scream until I was hoarse from both. But a flash of bright blue underneath Matt’s unbuttoned shirt caught my eye. I squinted through my cascading tears. It looked like ... spandex.

Spandex?

“Oooh, I love it when you kiss my neck like that.” A giggle escaped from Karen’s perfect, heart-shaped lips.

I loved it when Matt kissed my neck like that too. Anger bubbled up in my chest like a volcano about to explode. I swiped away the rest of my hot tears and straightened my spine. I wasn’t going to run away. Not from the two of them. Not until I had some answers.

Karen ran her hands down Matt’s broad chest. Her long nails zipped along the fabric like scissors. She ripped his shirt open the rest of the way, revealing a blue spandex suit with a giant red M in the middle of it.

My mouth dropped open.

“Oh, baby. You drive me crazy!” Matt yanked Karen’s dress down to her waist, exposing the lingerie-like red bustier she wore beneath. A yellow C stretched across her heaving chest.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. But it was real—I would have known those costumes anywhere. Molten lava flowed through my veins, burning away everything but my all-consuming rage. My bubbling volcano of anger erupted with a scream of epic proportions. “Sonofabitch!”

Matt and Karen froze. Their heads snapped around to the doorway. Matt swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Karen’s eyes widened. For an instant, I wondered what they were more upset about—that someone had caught them cheating or discovered their other precious secret. I didn’t care either way. They’d both betrayed me.

My anger roared back, stronger than before, and I marched into the room. My hands balled into fists. My body rattled with rage. Even my wedding dress twitched with fury.

“Carmen! I … I can explain—”

I threw my hand up, cutting off Matt’s pitiful attempt. “You’re the Machinator?”

Matt sighed. He ran his fingers—the ones that weren’t latched on to my best friend’s exposed ass—through his blond hair. “I didn’t want you to find out this way, Carmen.”

“Oh no? When were you going to tell me you’re Beginnings’ own personal superhero? After we said I do? Maybe on our first anniversary? Or perhaps when our kids were in college? Or maybe right after you told me about sleeping with my best friend. On our wedding day.”

“It’s not his fault, Carmie,” Karen said, her brown eyes big and earnest. “He wanted to tell you. We both did. About everything.”

Carmie? I glared at my former best friend. She still had the nerve to call me that childish nickname even when she had her legs wrapped around my fiancé like he was a race horse and she was a jockey. The bitch. I wanted to rip her limb from limb. After I finished with Matt. “And you’re his archenemy, Crusher? The ubervillain of Beginnings?”

Karen nodded.

I rubbed my fingers over my throbbing temples. It was all too much to take in.

Sure, every town in the world had its own personal superhero, someone who showed up whenever the train ran off the tracks and wouldn’t stop. Or whenever there was a natural disaster that threatened to kill hundreds of people. Or even whenever little Timmy fell down a well and needed rescuing. Naturally, every town also had its own personal ubervillain, someone who wanted to rule supreme.

Beginnings was no different. We had the Machinator, a man who could control mechanical objects with his mind. The town’s ubervillain was Crusher, a woman of unbelievable strength who could break metal bars with her teeth and crush diamonds in her hand. The two were constantly at odds, with Crusher continually coming up with some wild scheme to either (a) take over Beginnings, (b) kill the Machinator, or (c) both. Usually, the Machinator would be put in grave danger before miraculously escaping to foil Crusher’s latest scheme. But Crusher always got away, or soon broke out of whatever high-security, supposedly inescapable ubervillain prison the authorities stuck her in. She’d come back to Beginnings, and the cycle would repeat itself, ad nauseam.

And the whole time, I’d never known the two of them were my fiancé and my best friend.

Never even suspected. Never had the slightest clue.

I’d been such a complete, total fool.

Some reporter I was. All the classic signs had been there. Matt’s many bruises and injuries, his late nights and odd hours. Karen’s long, strange absences from town and uncanny ability to open any jar, despite her petite size. The pieces clicked together in my mind like a jigsaw puzzle. The two of them must have spent hours laughing at my stupidity and nivet and trusting nature. When they weren’t having hot, superhero sex, that is.

My fiancé and best friend sleeping together and hiding their secret identities from me. I didn’t know which betrayal hurt worse. Or which one made me angrier.

“How long has this been going on? I would think given your ... extracurricular activities that sleeping together would be out of the question.” I spat out the words. They left a foul, bitter taste in my mouth.

“Well, it’s actually a funny story.” Matt laughed in a vain effort to lighten the mood.

I crossed my arms over my chest, and his half hearted chuckle died on his lips. Too bad he didn’t follow suit.

“Anyway, we were down at the old abandoned mill a couple of months ago, doing the usual epic battle, you know, explosions and danger and stuff, when Crusher, er, Karen, reached out and grabbed me. All this radioactive waste was leaking everywhere, and it was making us both feel really strange, and we just sort of kissed and ...”

His voice trailed off under my red-hot glare. If I had the ability to shoot lasers out of my eyes, the two of them would have been extra-crispy by now. Too bad I didn’t have my own superpower.

Matt still sat on the bed, Karen straddling him. They made no move to disengage body parts or hide their costumes. I knew at once they were actually relieved I had caught them, not only doing the nasty but exposing their secret identities as well. Relief filled their treacherous eyes, and tension oozed from their pores as if a weight had been lifted off their shoulders. They were happy they’d just ruined my life with their lies and deceit and betrayal. It made me ill.

I took a step back. I had to get away from them. From both of them. My heart couldn’t take any more. I whirled around to dash out of the room.

My high heels snagged on the thick carpet, and I went down in a pile of white tulle. My tiara slipped off my head and rolled across the floor, and my hair tumbled out of its pearl-studded clips. I struggled to stand, and my eyes fell on a bagful of disposable cameras on the floor. They, too, had been Matt’s idea. We would use disposable cameras at the wedding so guests could take their own photos, and we could save the expense of a photographer. Except now they would go to waste.

Or would they? The volcano of anger inside me cooled and congealed into a large, black lump of hate. Matt and Karen had had their fun at my expense. Now, I was going to do something about it. Something to even the score. The pieces of my broken heart twisted in my chest. Something to hurt them like they’d hurt me. Only worse.

I got to my feet, dusted myself off, and stalked over to the camera bag. Something crunched under the toes of my torturous shoes. I looked down. I’d just smashed my cubic zirconium tiara to bits. It, too, was fake, just like everything else in my life.

I snatched a plastic camera out of the bag.

“What are you doing?” Karen asked.

“Just giving the two of you what you so richly deserve.” I squinted at the traitorous, spandex-wearing pair through the viewfinder. “Say cheese.”

#

The next day, the headline in the Beginnings Bugle screamed MACHINATOR UNMASKED! CRUSHER UNCOVERED! IDENTITIES REVEALED! Find out the truth behind town’s superhero, villain. Story and photos by Carmen Cole.

My story described in honest, if painful and humiliating detail, how I had uncovered the pair’s real identities. A photo of Karen and Matt, their spandex suits visible beneath their rumpled clothes, stretched across the front page of the newspaper. When they’d realized I was taking pictures of them, they’d tried to talk me out of it. Fools. They should have saved their breath. I would never listen to a word they said. Never again.

When asking nicely hadn’t worked, Karen had tried to stop me, tried to yank the camera out of my hands and squeeze it to bits. But Matt, being the valiant, noble, oh-so-faithful superhero he was, intervened. As I’d coolly backed out of that hotel room, they were rolling around on the floor, punching and kicking each other. I wasn’t sure if they were fighting or engaged in some sort of kinky, rough form of foreplay. Perhaps it was all the same to the superhero-and-villain set.

Not even stopping to change out of my wedding gown, I’d gone straight to the Bugle and told the editors what I had. It had been one of the most embarrassing, mortifying, downright degrading things I’d ever done, but I squared my shoulders and held my chin up. Page One had been cleared.

I’d spent the rest of the day at the newspaper, digging up all the information I could on Matt and Karen, aka the Machinator and Crusher. Matt’s supposed accidents at work always occurred the day the Machinator engaged in some big battle. Karen’s long absences and sudden arrivals in town coincided perfectly with Crusher’s stints upstate. Dates, times, places, injuries. It was all there. How stupid, how blind I’d been. I was ashamed to call myself a journalist.

When I didn’t show up for the wedding, Matt’s mother called the paper. I told her everything.

She didn’t speak for a moment. “What about the flowers? And all the food? Everything’s already been paid for. I can’t eat a hundred chickens by myself.”

“Didn’t you hear me, Matilda? I just told you that your son is a superhero.”

“Oh, I know that. Who do you think makes his costumes?”

“And did you know about him and Karen too?”

“My boy is special. He gets tons of fan mail. You didn’t think he’d be happy with just one woman, did you?”

I hung up on her. The old bat. She’d never liked me anyway.

An hour later, the local news blared onto the television set. Matt and Karen had made quite a mess at the Forever Inn, and part of the historic building had collapsed. Some things just aren’t made to last forever. Or to withstand a superhero-ubervillain battle. I sent a photographer to get pictures.

A couple of friends called, trying to get me to calm down and give Matt a chance to explain. I told them to have fun eating Matilda’s precious, already-paid-for chicken and went back to work.

The next morning, the Bugle sold out in minutes. The press guys came back in to print an extra ten thousand copies. Phones rang off the hook, as the wire services and national media picked up the story. The Bugle’s stock soared. Management had never been happier. As for Karen and Matt, the two of them vanished once the story broke. No one could find them, or their alter egos.

I collected as many copies of the newspaper as I could and posted them all over my tiny cubicle. Everyone and his brother stopped by my desk to congratulate me on the big scoop. The publisher himself even came out of his office to give me an atta-girl speech. A few of the sports guys cracked jokes about how I’d gotten the story, but a heated look from me sent them scurrying for cover. I was in no mood to be made fun of.

After spending almost twenty-four hours at the newspaper, I went home. I opened the door to my apartment, tossed my keys onto a nearby table, and flipped on the lights. Piles of cardboard boxes greeted me. After our honeymoon in Hawaii, I was supposed to have moved in with Matt, and most of my things had already been packed away.

My thoughts turned to Matt. Where was he? Had he seen the story? Was he sorry he’d lied to me? Or was he with Karen? Picking up where they’d left off?

Had he ever really loved me?

My eyes traced over the boxes. Hearts and other silly cartoon figures wearing lacy veils and diamond rings decorated the cardboard. The jagged pieces of my heart scraped against each other. The wedding, the honeymoon, the happily ever after. All gone. A few tears leaked out of my eyes, but I smacked them away. I’d done my crying on the way to the newspaper. I wouldn’t do any more.

I dug through one of the boxes, found some wrinkled sweats, and walked into the bedroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the dresser. My auburn hair stuck out at funny angles. Dark purple circles ringed my eyes. Hurt and anger burned in the blue depths. I looked more than a little crazy. I felt that way too.

To top it off, I still wore my wedding dress, although I’d chucked the unbearable shoes hours ago. I smoothed down the ruined gown. The wear and tear of the day had turned the snow-white fabric a bland beige. The diamond in my engagement ring sparkled in the dim light. I’d been so happy the night Matt had given it to me. So sure of my love for him, and his for me. Now the ring just reminded me of broken promises, shattered dreams, and my own blind stupidity.

I yanked the ring off my finger, marched over to the dresser, and pulled open a door on my jewelry box. I stared at the ring a moment, then stuffed it in the back of the drawer, and shut it. I turned a key, locking it away.

I won’t be fooled again, I vowed. Not by anyone. Never again.

Chapter Two—Karma Girl

From that day forward, I was on a mission.

A mission to unmask every single superhero and ubervillain in the entire world. Oh, I wouldn’t get around to all of them, but I was determined to out as many as I could, as fast as I could.

No one would be deceived as I had been. No woman would come home to find her boyfriend slipping into a neon pink codpiece. No man would be puzzled over why his wife had a strange collection of whips and an odd affinity for black leather. No mother would wonder why her son could never be on time for anything. Not if I could help it.

I started out small. After work and on the weekends, I traveled to neighboring towns and cities on my crusades, learning all I could about their respective superheroes and ubervillains. I looked at their Web sites and promotional materials. Read their poorly written autobiographies and rambling manifestos. Even bought a few plastic action figures for research purposes. Naturally, all of the superheroes and ubervillains had colorful names like Killer and Slasher and Halitosis Hal. The only things more flamboyant than their names and personalities were their costumes. The two groups never met a skin-tight, spandex outfit studded with rhinestones they didn’t love.

All the superheroes and villains had strange, sometimes frightening powers, like the ability to move objects with their minds or shoot red-hot flames out of their fingertips. Since the goals of the heroes and villains were at odds, they often engaged in long, lengthy battles that destroyed bridges, overpasses, and municipal buildings. Some of the bigger cities had several superheroes and ubervillains all battling it out for supremacy and leveling skyscrapers right and left. And they all wore masks to hide their true identities and thus avoid paying for the public property they decimated on a weekly basis.

I had plenty of time to spend on my mission. My dad had died in a car crash when I was a kid, while my mom passed away from breast cancer a few years ago. I didn’t have any other family, and Karen had been my only real friend. Everyone else had been Matt’s friend before they were mine. They all drifted away like smoke after my story came out. In a week, I went from the belle of the ball to an outcast. I preferred it that way. There was no one left to lie to me, no one left to hurt me.

I perused police reports, scouted out battle sites, and examined torn bits of masks and costumes. I worked up flowcharts of people kidnapped and saved by villains and heroes. I even recorded powers and weaknesses and costumes and symbols in a color-coded journal. I’d always had a knack for organization and a good memory, and both helped me immeasurably as I sifted through mountains of raw data.

In the end, it was ridiculously easy. There was always someone the superhero saved over and over and over again, whether it was a wanna-be girlfriend or a boyfriend or a kindly widowed aunt. All you had to do was find that special person and see who was closest to them. Then, bada-bing, bada-boom, you found your superhero.

As for the ubervillains, their hunger for money and power tripped them up. Most villains had buckets of cash gotten in less-than-legal ways and were often involved in shady, land development deals.

Accidents involving radioactive materials also raised a big red flag, since radioactive waste was a great way for heroes and villains to get their powers. So were magic rings, bites from rabid or otherwise altered animals, and the old-fashioned, natural, genetic mutation.

I soon learned that I had a knack for uncovering secret identities. All you had to do was dig long enough and hard enough and deep enough, and you’d uncover that one piece of information that would solve the riddle. I’d find a scrap of evidence, something seemingly inconsequential, and everything would fall into place. The dots connected. The picture cleared. I’d always loved puzzles, from crosswords to jumbles to word searches. Uncovering the identities of superheroes and ubervillains was the ultimate human jigsaw puzzle. And I was rapidly becoming a master.

Six months after my botched wedding, I left the Beginnings Bugle for a larger newspaper that wanted me to uncover the identities of the resident superhero and ubervillain. Three months later, the Kilted Scotsman and the Blue Berserker woke to find their faces splattered all over the front page. The public found out what the Scotsman really wore under his kilt, while the Berserker went, well, a little berserk over the whole thing.

A few months later, I went on to another newspaper.

And then another ...

And another ...

And another ...

I left a trail of unmasked superheroes and ubervillains in my wake. Of course, not everyone was happy about my private vendetta, my endless exposés. The superheroes begged me to stop my activities or retract my stories, while the ubervillains tried to bribe or threaten me. But nothing could match the righteous fervor that had awakened in me. Not threats, not money, and especially not tearful pleas.

Nothing satisfied me more than a good unmasking.

#

Three years after my first superhero unmasking, I hit the jackpot.

The editors at The Exposé in Bigtime, New York, hired me to uncover the identities of the Fearless Five, a group of superheroes, and their enemies, the Terrible Triad.

The Fearless Five and the Terrible Triad were legends, not just in Bigtime, but throughout the world. They had the strongest powers. They waged the biggest battles. They engaged in the most amazing escapes and the most elaborate schemes. They were the crème de la crème of superheroes and ubervillains.

What made the puzzle so tempting, so intriguing, was the fact that little was known about any of them. Oh, countless stories had chronicled their escapades, but no one had a clue as to their real identities. They would be tough puzzles to solve, but I was up to the task.

After all, I was Carmen Cole, reporter extraordinaire.

The job proved harder than expected. I worked for three months and came up with nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. I started with the superheroes like I always did, because they were easier to unmask. Ubervillains were naturally more conniving and not shy about killing people to keep them quiet. But the Fearless Five had covered their tracks well. I pored over police reports and mocked up flowcharts galore, but nothing linked the heroes to anyone. They were ghosts who showed up, battled evil, and saved the world before bedtime.

Then, one day, I got a break. A kid called in and said he saw a man in a tuxedo transform into Tornado, a member of the Fearless Five. Such tips were not uncommon, and most of the reporters at The Exposé hung up on the crackpot callers. Not me. I visited the kid, who gave me a description of the man in the tux. I had a sketch artist work with the kid, then took the drawing and compared it to the men I thought might be Tornado. I narrowed my list down to three suspects, then dug deeper until I unmasked my superhero.

Tornado was Travis Teague, a wealthy businessman specializing in wind power. How clichéd. But I was sure. I could feel it deep down in the pit of my stomach. A couple of weeks later, I verified my suspicion by capturing Teague turning into Tornado through the use of a hidden camera. My inner voice crowed with pride and victory. I notched another superhero exposé on my belt.

Carmen 1, Fearless Five 0.

#

The day the story ran, the entire newsroom gathered around to toast me with champagne and pizza. Even the newspaper’s publisher, Morgana Madison, attended. In a way. She took in the rowdy scene from the windows of her office, which overlooked the newsroom. She was always up there, overseeing her massive media empire, while we slaved away earning her more millions.

I spotted the publisher and raised my glass. Morgana smiled and raised her own glass in response. Superhero exposés were terribly good for the bottom line, and there was nothing Morgana Madison cared about more than that. She was in the newspaper business to make money, and she didn’t hide her ambition.

Normally, I would have waited until I’d uncovered all the heroes’ and villains’ identities and written one big exposé about everyone, but my editors insisted we run the story about Travis aka Tornado Teague right away. I went along with the plan. I was, after all, the golden child. I’d uncover the others’ identities soon enough.

Now, I was reaping the rewards of my clever brilliance, and so was everybody else. Everyone except Henry Harris, the newspaper’s technology reporter. He was the only person not joining in the festivities. Instead of drinking, he crouched at his desk near the back of the newsroom and stared at his computer screen. His fingers stabbed the keyboard with rapid strokes. Henry was a bit of an odd duck, with his nose always glued to his computer or buried in some book about the latest, greatest, technological advances. I liked him, though. He was nice, polite, and always helped me unfreeze my computer when it freaked out.

I grabbed an extra glass of champagne, strolled over, and plopped it down on his desk.

Henry blinked like an owl. “Oh thanks, Carmen. I didn’t realize it was time for the toast already. I guess I just lost track of things.”

“No problem, Henry. Come on, join the rest of us. We’ve got free booze and pizza, courtesy of the company.”

“Well, I really should finish this story—”

I pulled Henry out of his chair and into the middle of the newsroom. I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. This was one of the best days of my life, and everybody was going to share in it, whether they liked it or not.

“Speech! Speech!” one of the junior reporters shouted.

“Yeah, Carmen. Tell us why you do the things you do,” someone else asked.

“It’s like … karma,” I said, espousing my unmasking philosophy, which everyone had heard many, many times before. “We all know that villains cheat and steal and lie, but the heroes do it too. They lie to their friends and families. They make excuses and let down those closest to them time after time. That’s bad karma. One day, all that lying is bound to catch up with them. I just make sure it happens sooner rather than later. What goes around comes around. It’s karma.”

“Hear, hear,” Henry said in a quiet voice.

I clinked champagne glasses with Henry and the rest of my drunken colleagues. I’d never felt so exhilarated in my entire life. I was floating, flying, soaring. I was on top of the world. Now that I’d unmasked Tornado, the rest of the Fearless Five would soon follow. After that, I’d tackle the Terrible Triad.

My phone rang, jarring me out of my smug, self-satisfied reverie. “Carmen Cole.”

“Carmen, it’s Chief Newman,” a deep Irish voice rumbled in my ear.

“Hey, Chief. What’s up? Calling to congratulate me?”

I’d spent many hours going through files with Bigtime’s chief of police, and the two of us had developed a good working relationship. The chief also wanted to learn the identities of the Fearless Five and the Terrible Triad. Both groups had destroyed their fair share of Bigtime, and Newman wanted them to foot the bill for the cleanup and repairs. Not to mention all the unpaid parking tickets they’d accumulated with their souped-up supercars and vans.

“Not exactly.” He paused. “I’ve got some bad news, Carmen. It’s about Travis Teague. He’s dead, Carmen. He committed suicide.”

My champagne glass slipped from my fingers. It shattered on the floor.

Excerpt from HOT MAMA,

Book Two in the Bigtime paranormal romance series

PART ONE—WEDDING BELLS

Chapter One

My wedding day.

It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. A time of joy and celebration and new beginnings. The day every girl dreams of from the time she’s old enough to play dress-up in her mother’s clothes.

It was exactly that sort of day.

Joy. Hope. New beginnings.

But it wasn’t mine.

Carmen Cole twirled in front of the full-length mirror. Her white satin wedding dress swung out in an arc then gathered back in on itself. Thousands of crystals dotted the fitted bodice and full skirt, giving the dress a shimmering, ethereal air. A matching crystal necklace sparkled like a ring of stars around her neck.

“How do I look, Fiona?” Carmen turned her blue eyes to mine.

I hated to admit it, but Carmen looked fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. A rosy flush tinted her cheeks. Excitement brightened her eyes. Even her auburn hair glistened underneath her simple lace veil.

“You look fabulous. After all, you’re wearing a Fiona Fine original.”

Carmen frowned at her reflection. “I know it’s one of your more subdued designs, but I still think it’s a little much.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. An errant spark flew from my thumb and landed on the beige carpet. I squashed it with my stiletto. A little much? Please. If Carmen had gotten her way, she would have worn holey jeans, worn-out sneakers, and a ratty T-shirt with some cutesy saying on it to the wedding.

Luckily, hotter heads had prevailed. Mine. Then again, it was easy to get your way when you had the ability to shoot fire out of your fingertips. Getting my way was one of the prime benefits of being a superhero. My favorite benefit.

Just because I moonlight as a superhero doesn’t mean that I can’t be a little selfish—or enjoy the perks of having superpowers. Usually, I’m perfectly happy just being Fiera, one of many superheroes in Bigtime, New York, fighting evil, cracking skulls, and making life miserable for all those pesky ubervillains who want to take over the city, then the world. But every once in a while, I enjoy showing off my fiery skills, especially when it’s for the greater good, such as making sure Carmen didn’t look like a bag lady at her own wedding.

A knock sounded on the door, the knob turned, and Lulu Lo zipped her motorized wheelchair into the room. A royal-blue dress covered her slender form, bringing out the smoothness of her porcelain skin and the cobalt streaks in her spiky black hair. Since we were both bridesmaids, I wore a matching gown, but with a few modifications—a lower bodice, a tighter fit, and a higher slit up the side.

“Nice dress, Sister Carmen.” Lulu whistled. “That’ll make Sam sit up and take notice.”

Carmen grinned. Another spark shot out from my thumb. Sam had already taken plenty of notice of Carmen, despite my efforts to the contrary. The two of them were always sneaking off to have wild sex in some corner of the manor house.

“Of course Sam will notice,” I snapped. “I designed the dress. Ours too, if you’ll remember. They’re all fabulous.”

“Well, you do look very hot, Fiona.” Lulu laughed.

I glowered at Lulu. Just because I was a member of the Fearless Five, one of the most esteemed superhero teams in the world, didn’t mean that I didn’t get snarly from time to time—or that civilians like Lulu had the right to poke fun at me.

Of course, none of this would be happening if Carmen, aka Karma Girl, hadn’t insisted that we tell Lulu our secret, superhero identities. Carmen had argued that Lulu deserved to know the truth, since she’d helped save us from the Terrible Triad, a group of ubervillains. Lulu was also the main squeeze of Henry Harris, aka Hermit of the Fearless Five, and he’d wanted to tell her the truth as well. The other two members of the Fearless Five, Sam “Striker” Sloane and Sean “Mr. Sage” Newman, had agreed with Carmen.

So the four of them told Lulu everything, despite my protests. Once the shock wore off, Lulu ingratiated herself with the rest of the Fearless Five. Now, everybody else treated her like one of the gang. She even had her own room in the top-secret, underground compound with the rest of us.

I ignored Lulu whenever possible. It was bad enough that she knew our real identities. I didn’t want to invite her any more into our lives. Lulu was a computer hacker. She did all sorts of highly illegal things, like breaking into the FBI mainframe and swapping corporate secrets, but nobody cared except me. Not even my father, the esteemed police chief of Bigtime, as well as a member of the Fearless Five.

In return for my blatant hostility, Lulu zinged me with heat-related puns whenever we crossed paths. Fiona’s hot. Fiona’s smokin’. Fiona’s on fire. Like I hadn’t heard them all a hundred thousand times before. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Lulu could have at least come up with something original, if she was going to mock me on a daily basis.

My eyes fixed on Lulu’s hair. I could turn those blue streaks red in a heartbeat. Heat pulsed through my body. My fingers twitched. Just one little spark . . .

“Fiona,” Carmen warned. “There will be no flare-ups today. You promised Sam.”

I had promised Sam. And my father. And Henry. And even Carmen. Three times each. I let go of the fire coursing through my veins and banked it deep inside me. It didn’t matter anyway. Carmen would have just done her empathy thing and used the ambient energy in the room to buffer Lulu and herself from my heat. Carmen had the ability to tap into other people and use their own energy against them. I hated her power, mainly because I hadn’t figured out a way to counteract it yet. Most of the time, I either punched or flambéed my way through danger. But I couldn’t do that with Carmen, because she gave just as good as she got.

Lulu smirked at me and motored away. She’d probably max out my credit cards or do some other devious, identity-theft thing as soon as the wedding ended. I didn’t know what Henry saw in her. Maybe he was just glad that he’d finally found someone who understood all the techno-babble he spouted on a daily basis.

Lulu left the door open, and classical music drifted in, along with the murmur of distant conversations. I eyed the clock on the wall. Five minutes to go. Good. The sooner this spectacle was over with, the better. I wasn’t in the mood for a wedding today. Not any day. Not anymore.

Carmen picked up on my dark thoughts and stared at me in the mirror. “I know this has been hard for you, Fiona. The engagement, the wedding, everything. I’m sorry. I wish things were different. I wish Tornado was still here . . .”

Her soft Southern twang trailed off under my hot gaze. Hard for me? She had no idea.

It’d been over a year since my fiancé, Tornado, had been murdered. Carmen had exposed the superhero’s secret identity as Travis Teague to the world, including our arch-enemies, the Terrible Triad. The ubervillains had killed Travis and used Carmen to get to the rest of us. We’d been captured, stuffed in glass tubes, and almost sucked dry of our superpowers, before Carmen had saved us by getting dumped into a vat of radioactive goo and developing superpowers herself.

Sometimes, I couldn’t believe the irony of it. Carmen exposing superheroes, becoming one herself, and now marrying one. Things never seemed to turn out the way you thought they would, especially in Bigtime.

Mostly though, I still couldn’t believe that Travis was gone. Forever. My heart twisted, and the burning fire inside me flickered and dimmed. My eyes dropped to the square, diamond engagement ring on my finger. Travis had given it to me a week before he’d died. I hadn’t taken it off since.

“Fiona? Are you okay?” Carmen asked.

I wasn’t. Not even close. But this was Carmen’s big day, and I didn’t want to ruin it for her.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “In fact, I was thinking that it’s time for me to get out and start dating again. I’ve done the men of Bigtime a cruel, heartless injustice, depriving them of my fabulous company all this time.” I tossed my long, blond hair over my shoulder for effect.

Carmen’s face lit up like I’d just hit her with a fireball between the eyes. “That’s wonderful, Fiona! Just wonderful!”

Her blue eyes grew cloudy and distant, the way they always did when she was listening to the strange whispers in her head. Carmen called them her inner voice, her instincts. I thought she had more than a few loose rocks rattling around in all that empty space.

“Maybe you’ll meet somebody at the reception,” she murmured.

I huffed. Please. I’d been active on the social scene ever since I’d moved to Bigtime some fifteen years ago, and I knew everybody invited to the wedding. There wasn’t a man among them that I’d date, let alone sleep with.

I twisted the ring on my finger. The silver solidium band heated up on my hot hand, and the diamond glowed like a tiny moon. Still, I would like to find somebody. It’d be nice to be part of a couple again. To laugh and talk and have dinner with someone who wasn’t a relative or an employee or a fellow superhero. To find somebody who looked at me the way that Sam looked at Carmen.

Plus, I liked sex. A lot. It sucked to go without.

My hand stilled. Maybe that’s what I should do. Get drunk at the reception, have a one-night stand with some anonymous guy to take the edge off, and then start looking for someone suitable. Someone more long-term. The only problem with my plan was that it would take an ocean of champagne to get me drunk, given my fast-burning metabolism. Well, it was a good thing Sam was richer than almost everyone else on the planet put together. He could afford a couple hundred thousand dollars’ worth of bubbly if it meant me getting lucky.

The music quickened and swelled, and the conversations faded away. The air hummed with energy and anticipation.

“Time to go.” Carmen smoothed down her billowing skirt. Her hand trembled just a bit.

I picked up her long train, careful not to singe the fabric with my fingers. I’d spent too much time sewing the damn thing to ruin it now. Carmen turned and grabbed my arm.

“Do you think this is the right thing to do? Do you think we should go through with it? Do you think we’re ready? You know how badly my last wedding turned out.” Panic filled her blue eyes.

Badly was the understatement of the century. Right before the wedding, Carmen had found her fiancé boinking her best friend and discovered that the two were her town’s resident superhero and ubervillain. That, of course, had set Carmen off on her little mission to expose the identity of every superhero and ubervillain who crossed her path. Which, of course, is how Carmen had met Sam and the rest of us. Karma, she called it. Destiny, kismet, fate. I just thought of it as bad luck on our part.

But I bit back the sarcastic retort I’d been ready to let loose. The nosy reporter had grown on me, despite my best efforts. And she had saved my life and everyone else’s. I owed her for that. Plus, it was my solemn duty as a bridesmaid to support the bride—even if Carmen occasionally made me want to put my fist through a wall.

“Do you love Sam?”

Carmen nodded. Some of the tension left her body. “With all my heart.”

“Then, it’ll be fine,” I said. “Sam loves you, and you love him. You’re going to have a fabulous wedding, a fantastic honeymoon, and a wonderful life together. Plus, you’re wearing a Fiona Fine original couture gown. And what could possibly be better than that?”

Chapter Two—Hot Mama

After Carmen calmed down, we made our way through Sublime, Sam’s mansion on the outskirts of Bigtime. Roughly the size of a small country, the manor house contained just about every antique and art object known to man and superhero. Polished suits of armor, colorful paintings, detailed sculptures, exquisite tapestries. Even though I’d been prowling the halls for years now, the rich furnishings still impressed me. And it took a lot to impress me.

Carmen tiptoed her way through the manor, struggling to stay upright in her towering heels. I stalked along behind, holding up the train so it wouldn’t get snagged on a piece of furniture, and wishing the bride-to-be would move a little faster. I could always zing Carmen with a hot flash. That would get her moving. But I couldn’t risk ruining the gown. Not now. I’d already had to redo it twice because of some temperamental flare-ups on my part.

Carmen stumbled on the edge of an Oriental rug and almost fell on her face.

“Stupid shoes,” she muttered, glaring at me.

Her three-inch strappy sandals had been another hotly contested point between us. Carmen had wanted to wear these ugly, flat, ballet slippers that had gone out of style twenty years ago. I’d told her point-blank that she wasn’t wearing those monstrosities with a Fiona Fine wedding gown. She wasn’t ruining my hard work with her fashion faux paus. Of course, I had to roast most of Carmen’s wornout tennis shoes before she agreed to wear the sandals, but the important thing was that I, and designer fashion, had triumphed yet again.

“I don’t see how you walk in these things,” Carmen said, tugging on one of the white straps wrapped around her ankle.

“It’s easy,” I snapped. “Millions of women do it every day. Now quit whining and walk. You’ve got a superhero to marry.”

Carmen gave me another annoyed glance, but she shuffled forward. Despite Carmen’s time covering the Bigtime society beat, fashion wasn’t her forte. That was my domain. And I knew, like all good designers know, that no outfit is complete without a pair of killer shoes, preferably stilettos. The higher, the better.

After a couple more stumbles and a string of curses, we stopped in front of a pair of doors that led outside. Lulu sat there waiting, along with Chief Sean Newman. Sunlight streamed in through the glass, warming the alcove where we stood. The ceremony was taking place in the luscious gardens that surrounded the enormous estate, as befitting a traditional May wedding.

I peeked through the doors. Henry Harris, the best man, and Sam Sloane, the anxious groom, had already taken their places in front of the minister at the far end of the long aisle.

“Carmen, Fiona,” Chief Newman rumbled in his deep Irish brogue. “You both look beautiful.”

“Chief.” I kissed my father on the cheek.

I’d always called my father chief, ever since I was a little girl and had first seen him in his police uniform. It was a habit I continued out of necessity. Nobody knew about our family connection, except the other members of the Fearless Five and now Lulu. It was safer that way. Since people, and more importantly ubervillains, didn’t know about our relationship, they couldn’t kidnap and use us against each other, either in our real lives or as our superhero alter egos, Fiera and Mr. Sage.

The first notes of the classic wedding march sounded, and the hundreds of guests outside rose to their feet.

“Here we go,” Carmen whispered, her face pale and slightly sweaty.

“Heaven help us all,” I muttered.

Two ushers stepped forward, and the double doors creaked open. The chief took Carmen’s arm, while Lulu motored out. I waited for her to get halfway to the end before stepping outside and strolling along the rose-covered aisle.

A thick white carpet stretched three hundred feet toward a raised dais, which stood beneath an enormous trellis strung with silver roses and purple pansies. Oak and elm trees hovered in the background, providing splashes of green to the scene. Men and women dressed in dark tuxedos, sparkling gowns, and flashing jewels stood on either side of the aisle, adding even more color to the gardens. The sweet, thick scent of the flowers mixed with the men and women’s spicy colognes and heady perfumes. A full orchestra sat on one side of the dais, but their instruments couldn’t quite drown out the low, steady drone of bumblebees in the distance. The sun hung like a ball of orange sherbet in the evening sky, and a faint breeze ruffled my long hair. Late spring was a perfect time for a wedding.

My blue eyes traced over the area, drinking in the sights and sounds. Everything that I’d wanted for my own wedding was right here. Everything except Travis. I clutched my bouquet of roses and turned my engagement ring around.

I took my place next to Lulu and winked at Sam, trying not to look as sad as I felt. I was happy for him and Carmen, truly I was. But I couldn’t stop the pang of longing and jealousy that stabbed my heart with every beat of the soaring music.

The businessman-superhero gave me a nervous grin and tugged on his sleeves. With his dark hair and light, grayish eyes, Sam looked like he’d just stepped out of a men’s magazine.

So did Henry, for once. His glasses gleamed in the late-afternoon sunlight, looking like two silver coins against his mocha skin. He flashed me a shy smile and yanked on his tie. Like Carmen, Henry would have worn his usual attire to the wedding—a rumpled sweater vest, plaid pants, and a polka-dot bow tie—if I hadn’t intervened. I’d had to melt a couple of the wires attached to his precious computers, but Henry had eventually seen things my way. Most people did, sooner or later. Especially when I turned up the heat.

The music swelled to a thundering crescendo, and Carmen stepped into view. Sam’s face grew soft and dreamy and dopey at the sight of her. I smiled. Too much? Please. Score another one for Fiona Fine Fashions.

My father escorted Carmen down the aisle. She beamed like a neon light. If she got any happier, she’d blow a bulb. A few people tried to catch her gaze, but the only one Carmen acknowledged was her friend Jasper, Bigtime’s resident mad bomber. Then, Carmen turned her attention to Sam, and the rest of the world fell away. She only had eyes for him, and he for her. The two of them couldn’t stop staring at each other. Cold envy frosted over my aching heart.

The music faded away, and the minister stepped forward.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today . . .”

#

Thirty minutes later, Carmen and Sam professed their true and undying love for each other. They kissed, everyone cheered, and the wedding ended. I half expected to see white doves and fluffy bunnies stampede down the long aisle, but thankfully, people just blew soap bubbles at the happy couple.

The blushing bride, handsome groom, and other members of the wedding party stayed in the garden to pose for the all-important, post-ceremony pictures. Meanwhile, the rich, distinguished guests drifted out onto the mile-wide lawn where hundreds of tables, gallons of champagne, and thousands of pounds of chicken cordon bleu and other choice foodstuffs waited. Waiters and caterers zipped through the crowd, dishing up food and drinks as fast as they could.

I spotted Kyle Quicke among the caterers. I’d gone to Bigtime University with Kyle, and his family owned Quicke’s, one of my favorite restaurants in Bigtime. I watched Kyle cut a slice of chocolate cake and hand it to a waiting guest. My stomach rumbled. I could use some food. A lot of food.

“Come on, Fiona. It’s time for the pictures,” the chief murmured in my ear, dashing my hopes of a stealthy getaway.

I rolled my eyes and turned back toward the dais.

#

Forty-five minutes later, I tapped my fingers on my arm. “How many pictures are you going to take?” I snapped at the photographer. Patience was not one of my virtues. In fact, I didn’t think it was any sort of virtue at all.

The short, fat man wilted under my hot gaze. Most everybody did. My eyes went to his digital camera. One little flare-up, and it would look like something that came out of a kiln. There’d definitely be no more pictures then . . .

“Fiona.” The chief’s blue eyes narrowed in warning.

I shot him a sour look and dampened my temper. That was the problem with your father being a psychic superhero. You could never get away with anything.

“Actually, I’m done with the wedding party. I just want to get a few more shots of the bride and groom,” the photographer said.

“It’s about bloody time,” I muttered.

I stomped out of the garden and onto the lawn. My stilettos sank into the damp earth, but I yanked up my feet and kept going. Another benefit of having superstrength. Henry, Lulu, and my father followed at a more sedate pace.

Most of the male guests had settled down at the tables and were busy stuffing themselves with chicken, spring vegetables, and fancy sourdough rolls baked in the shape of curling vines and flowers. Not so for the women. Every woman under sixty gathered around the wide, long bar, downing glass after glass of champagne. Some stared at nothing in particular. A few snuffled into their crystal flutes, while others dabbed at their runny mascara. They weren’t tears of joy. Quite the contrary. Three hundred women’s dreams of becoming Mrs. Sam Sloane had just been dashed by a lowly society reporter. It was more than enough to make the stoutest society matron weepy, depressed, and drunk as a skunk.

I shoved my way through the crowd, zapped a few people with hot flashes to make them move, and grabbed the biggest champagne glass I could find. Bubbles fizzed up in the golden liquid. I drained the glass and twitched my nose to ease the sudden tickling sensation. I didn’t need to sneeze flames in front of a thousand people.

“Fiona! Fiona Fine!”

I turned at the sound of my name and spotted Joanne James fluttering her hand at me. Joanne was a tall, skinny woman with a rather large chest and too-smooth features. Hair blacker than shoe polish brushed her slender shoulders, contrasting with the ropes of pearls that encircled her gaunt neck.

Oh boy. I was going to need something a lot stronger than champagne. I ordered a gin and tonic from one of the bartenders and downed two doubles before Joanne sashayed her way through the crowd to my side.

“Fiona, darling!”

“Joanne, darling!”

We airkissed the way that society women are supposed to. My eyes raked over Joanne’s outfit, a gunmetal-gray halter dress with a slinky, sequined skirt. Not bad, but it wasn’t one of mine. Joanne also sized me up, her gaze critiquing everything from my shoes to my chandelier earrings. Standard operating procedure among the women in Bigtime. Once that was out of the way, we made polite chitchat about how fabulous and thin we both looked before Joanne got down to business.

“I’m getting married again next month. I was wondering if I could come in and talk to you about another gown.”

I almost choked on my drink. “What will this one be? Number five?”

Joanne James went through husbands like they were tissues—she used one up and then tossed him aside for another.

“Six actually.”

“Who’s the lucky fellow?” My lips only twitched a little. It was amazing the things you could say with a straight face.

“Berkley Brighton, the whiskey billionaire.”

“Of course.”

Joanne James didn’t waste her time on small-time fish. She only went after the big, big catches. She was Bigtime’s resident black widow, but she didn’t kill her husbands. Instead, Joanne bled her hubbies dry, added their money to her own considerable fortune, and somehow managed to wiggle out of paying for anything—even her own divorce attorneys. In a way, it was her own personal superpower. Joanne was a legend in Bigtime, and more than a few society mamas urged their daughters to emulate her marriage merry-go-round.

“I thought you would have asked Bella Bulluci to design your gown. She did your last two, didn’t she?” I couldn’t resist the dig. Joanne had gone to Bella after complaining that my services were too expensive. As if. Fashion genius like mine was priceless.

Joanne swallowed some champagne. “To be honest, I did ask Bella first, but she turned me down.”

“Really? Why?”

Joanne waved her hand, and I squinted at the sudden glare. The diamond boulder on her finger could easily feed the people of a third world country for years. “Oh, she said she was taking some time off to concentrate on family affairs because of her father’s death. I think she just didn’t want to bother with it.”

Bella Bulluci was one of Bigtime’s most popular designers, next to me, of course. Bella had plenty of talent, but I’d always thought her creations were a bit conservative, tame even. Bella was very fond of solid colors and subtle pinstripes. I was more of a polka-dot, plaid, and leopard-print girl. All rolled into one. With neon sequins and a feather boa to match.

I signaled the bartender and ordered another drink. I didn’t like being anyone’s second choice, but my eyes strayed back to Joanne’s ring. That thing had to be at least ten flawless carats.

Being a superhero had plenty of perks, but there was one major drawback—it was a pricey occupation. We all had to pitch in to keep the Fearless Five out and about fighting crime. Carmen and Henry didn’t contribute much to our annual budget. They couldn’t with the pitiful paychecks they earned as newspaper reporters at The Exposé. My father wasn’t much better off. Even though he was the chief of police, his salary wasn’t what it should be, mainly because most of the city’s budget went to repairing the municipal buildings, bridges, and overpasses that us superheroes and ubervillains obliterated during our epic battles.

That left Sam and I to shoulder the monetary load. With his various business interests and billion-dollar bank balance, Sam gave the most for the greater good. But I chipped in at least five million every year. Sometimes more. Outfitting Joanne James with wedding gown number six would keep us all in black leather and orange-red spandex for the foreseeable future.

“Have your assistant call the store, and we’ll set something up for later this week,” I promised and downed my third gin and tonic.

Joanne smiled, her lips lavender against her pale face. “Fiona, darling, it’s always a pleasure doing business with you.”

We airkissed again and exchanged more meaningless pleasantries. Then, Joanne strutted back through the crowd to Berkley Brighton, a short, square man who’d made his fortune selling Brighton’s Best whiskey. Joanne latched on to his arm, and the pretty young things who’d been clustered around the boisterous billionaire scattered like minnows fleeing a hungry barracuda. Joanne wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with—especially when she was husband hunting. Berkley actually beamed at Joanne, happy to see his honey.

I snorted. Poor guy. He might as well just sign over his family’s secret whiskey recipe to Joanne right now. It would save him a lot of trouble and hefty lawyers’ fees down the road.

While I’d been talking to Joanne, Carmen and Sam had joined the festivities. They walked from table to table, greeting the wedding guests and basking in the afterglow of the ceremony. After paying their respects to the bride and groom, people finished their dinners and drifted out onto the tile dance floor that had been planted on the lawn for the grand occasion. A twelve-piece band to one side of the floor played a loud, brassy version of “The Right Thing To Do” by Carly Simon, Carmen’s favorite singer.

My eyes scanned the glittering crowd. Joanne and Berkley. Carmen and Sam. Henry and Lulu. Even my father was dancing with one of Bigtime’s rich, lonely widows. Couples, couples, everywhere. But no Travis.

No Travis.

The happy society scene and all the couples burned me out. I needed some peace and quiet. Now.

I shoved through the crowd, wrenched open a side door, and stomped inside the manor. The usual rich, shiny trappings greeted me, but for once, I didn’t pay attention to them. Sam wouldn’t like it if I accidentally melted some ancient knight’s suit of armor or fried another one of his Monets. The mood I was in, they’d go up like dry newspaper.

The music and laughter and happy sounds faded away, replaced by the thwack of my heels on the hardwood floors. I walked into one of the many game rooms that populated the manor and sank down onto the smooth leather couch. A big-screen TV took up one wall, while a pool table crouched in the middle of the floor. Dart boards and various other sportslike contraptions filled the rest of the area, but I didn’t really see them. I didn’t see any of it.

I twisted the ring on my finger. It wasn’t nearly as big as Joanne James’s was, but it meant the world to me, even now. Travis. My heart squeezed like a dishrag being wrung out.

“A beautiful bridesmaid alone by herself. What a sad, sad cliché,” a low, cultured voice called out.

I looked up. A man stood in the doorway. He topped out at just over six feet, with a mane of tawny blond hair that curled around the collar of his impeccable tuxedo. Flashing green eyes contrasted with his golden skin, making him look like a sleek lion in the gathering shadows. He strode into the room, his black suit flowing with easy grace around his perfect figure. It fit him well. Then again, just about anything would have looked good on him.

My eyes widened. If Sam resembled a male model, then this guy was the Goliath of male models. Yummy.

The man stared at me, and his eyes crinkled in amusement. The merriment dancing in his sharp gaze made him look that much better, even if he seemed to be making fun of me. I didn’t like people making fun of me, and I especially didn’t like being looked down on. I got to my feet and tossed my long hair back. With my stilettos, he only had half an inch on me.

“I’m not a cliché,” I snapped.

“Really? You were one of the bridesmaids, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sitting here all alone.”

“Yes.”

“And you certainly are beautiful.”

“Oh, yes.”

Modesty is another one of my nonexistent virtues. On a scale of one to ten, I’m a solid eight and a half. With my blond hair, blue eyes, and up-to-there legs, I’ve got the Barbie look men love down pat. The only problem is they think I’m as dumb as one of the plastic dolls. The same thing goes for my alter ego, Fiera. But more than one ubervillain had gotten badly burned by underestimating me.

Still, the compliment pleased me. Every woman likes to be told she’s beautiful, but coming from Mr. Model, it sounded . . . better. Truer. Sexier.

“If all that’s not a cliché, then I don’t know what is.” His voice was deep with a hint of an accent I couldn’t quite place. White teeth gleamed in his tan face, adding to his already staggering sex appeal.

I crossed my arms over my chest and flipped through my mental Rolodex of Bigtime society players. No match. He must be new in town. I certainly would have remembered him. My eyes drifted over his suit, which draped perfectly over his broad shoulders and chest. Oh yeah. I would have remembered him.

I suddenly realized that I was twisting the ring on my finger. Bloody hell. I’d gone from pining over Travis to ogling a complete stranger in the space of a minute. I really did need to get lucky before my hormones made me have a total meltdown. Literally.

The man continued. “You certainly looked sad and lonely sitting there, staring into space.”

“I was doing nothing of the sort.”

I couldn’t tell him that I’d been looking at the ring my murdered fiancé had given me before he’d died. My pain was my own. I didn’t go blabbing about it to strangers. Besides, no one except the Fearless Five had even known Travis and I were engaged. It was another little secret we’d decided to keep to ourselves.

“I was just taking a break from the festivities,” I replied in my best, cool, bored society voice. “All that happiness can be a bit grating after a while.”

“Really? You know we could create our own festivities, you and me.”

I stifled a laugh. That was one of the lamest lines I’d ever heard. “Really? And how could we do that?”

“Let me show you.”

He flashed me a devilish grin, pulled me into his arms, and planted his lips on mine.

Excerpt from JINX,

Book Three in the Bigtime paranormal romance series

PART ONE—I HATE SUPERHEROES

Chapter One

Dinner with superheroes.

It’s an interesting experience—and one that I rather hate.

The empty wine glass floated past me, sailing along as though carried by a steady, invisible hand. I tried to pretend it wasn’t there. That I didn’t see it. That the glass was as invisible as the force propelling it forward. But that was hard to do since it landed on the table next to me.

I further tried to pretend I didn’t see the crystal carafe beside my elbow rise up, tip itself over, and pour ruby-red sangria into the waiting glass. I even tried to convince myself I didn’t really see the glass float back across the table.

I failed miserably at all three.

The other people gathered round didn’t pay any attention to the floating glass. Didn’t slow their conversation or ignore their food for an instant.

Unfortunately, floating glasses had become a normal sight around the Bulluci household these days—no matter how I wished otherwise.

“Is that really necessary?” I asked, my voice a little snappish. “I would have been happy to pour you some more wine.”

Chief Sean Newman held out his hand, and the glass drifted over to him. “There was no need to bother you, Bella, when I could do it for myself.”

“But you could have just asked,” I persisted. “You didn’t have to use your powers like that.”

“Please,” Fiona Fine cut in, turning her blue eyes to me. “What’s the point of having superpowers if you don’t use them?”

Fiona grabbed the bread basket and waved her hand over the top. A few red-hot sparks shot off the ends of her fingertips, and the delicious smell of warm, cheese bread filled the air.

“Lighten up, Bella,” Fiona continued, putting the entire loaf on one of the dozen plates in front of her. “We all know each other here—alter egos and otherwise. It’s not like there are other people around to catch us in the act.”

No, they weren’t any other people around. No normal people anyway. Just me, Fiona, Chief Newman, my brother, Johnny, and my grandfather, Bobby.

I’d barely touched my whole wheat ravioli, but I put my fork down. I wasn’t hungry anymore. I never was when there were superheroes around.

But Fiona and Chief Newman weren’t just any superheroes. There were plenty of those in Bigtime, New York. No, they were Fiera and Mr. Sage, members of the Fearless Five—the most powerful, elite team of heroes in the city. In addition to being stronger than five people put together, Fiera could also form fireballs with her bare hands, while Mr. Sage had all sorts of psychic powers, including telekinesis, or the ability to move objects with his mind.

And now, they were part of my family.

Fiona had gotten engaged to my brother, Johnny, a couple of months ago after she’d saved him from two ubervillains who were trying to enslave the city. During all the commotion, Fiona had revealed her secret identity as Fiera to my grandfather and me, and got us to help her rescue Johnny. And Chief Newman was Fiona’s father, as well as her teammate.

But they weren’t the only superheroes in the family these days.

The Fearless Five were a package deal. In addition to Fiera and Mr. Sage, we also got Karma Girl, Striker, and Hermit. Or Carmen Cole, Sam Sloane, and Henry Harris. That’s how I thought of them. As nice, regular people who were mostly normal. Never as their alter egos. I tried to pretend those other people didn’t exist.

I tried to pretend a lot of things didn’t exist.

Especially my own supposed superpower.

My grandfather, Bobby Bulluci, clapped his hands together. “Come! Let’s talk of other things.” He turned to Fiona and Johnny. “Are the two of you packed for your trip?”

Johnny had some business to take care of in the overseas divisions of Bulluci Industries, so he and Fiona had decided to make a working vacation out of it. The two were leaving tomorrow on a month-long trip to explore the Mediterranean.

“Of course,” Johnny answered, flashing Fiona a grin. “Although I don’t know how we’re going to get all of Fiona’s clothes onto the plane.”

Fiona reached over and punched my brother. Johnny flexed his bicep, which took on a hard look—like his skin had suddenly morphed into metal. Fiona’s fist smacked into his arm, and she frowned and shook her hand. Even with her great strength, it hurt to punch my brother when he formed his superhard, supertough exoskeleton. It made Johnny immune to just about everything. Kicks, punches, explosions, Fiona’s flare-ups. That was good, since my brother had an annoying tendency to dress up in tacky, formfitting, black leather, zoom around town on his motorcycle, and fight ubervillains.

Instead of an exoskeleton, I’d gotten something far less useful from the mutated family gene pool—luck. As if that was any kind of superpower. Superannoying was more like it.

Fiona sniffed and tossed her blond hair over her shoulder. “I’ve told you a million times you can never have too many clothes, especially when you’re going on vacation. Besides, we’re taking Sam’s private jet. There’ll be more than enough room for my things.”

Johnny gave Fiona another wicked smile. “But, baby, you know I think you look fine in whatever you wear—especially when it’s nothing at all.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Please. There’s nothing sexier than a well-dressed woman. Right, Bella?”

“Of course,” I murmured.

Fiona and I knew a few things about well-dressed women, since we both worked as fashion designers. Fiona fronted Fiona Fine Fashions, while I ran the design portion of Bulluci Industries. Fiona and I had completely different styles, and we’d been friendly rivals for years. She created garments that screamed Here I am! Look at me! I’m fabulous! with their bright colors, wild patterns, and mounds of sequins and feathers. I preferred simpler styles, with muted hues, clean lines, and absolutely, positively no sequins. Ever.

Don’t get me wrong. I liked Fiona just fine. Her father too. And I was glad Johnny had found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

But there was nothing I hated more than superheroes and ubervillains. Dressing up in those silly costumes. Calling themselves absurd names. Plotting and scheming and planning elaborate ways to take over the city and rule the world. It was all so dramatically ridiculous.

C’mon. Who would want to rule the world, really? It’d be nothing but a giant headache, with everyone constantly whining and crying at you. Not to mention all the paperwork and demands on your free time. But the ubervillains always tried to reign supreme, and the superheroes always stopped them. The cycle was endless.

Unfortunately, I had lots of experience with superheroes. Or rather pseudo heroes. All the men in my family masqueraded as Johnny Angel in their youth, riding around Bigtime on a tricked-out motorcycle, getting into trouble, and taking on ubervillains when the mood hit them. Masquerading as Johnny Angel was how my brother had first met Fiona a few months ago.

And how my father, James, had died.

I was happy for Johnny, but I couldn’t help shuddering at the fact he’d added another superhero to the family tree. Five of them. Six, actually, if you counted Lulu Lo, the computer hacker who was engaged to Henry Harris.

Oh, I liked Fiona, Carmen, Sam, Henry, and Chief Newman just fine when they were themselves. It was their nightly habit of turning into Fiera, Karma Girl, Striker, Hermit, and Mr. Sage that had me concerned.

And knowing the Fearless Five’s secret identities was sort of like being in a mob family—once you were in, you were all the way in whether you wanted to be or not. And you couldn’t get out, no matter how hard you tried. Whenever we had any of the heroes over for dinner, all they talked about were their latest epic battles and daring escapes. Or the new equipment Henry Hermit Harris had purchased for their underground lair. Or the current ubervillains populating Bigtime. Or a dozen other superhero-related things that made me grind my teeth. Last week, Fiona had even asked me if I thought her costume needed a redesign. Sheesh.

My power flared up at my dark thoughts. I didn’t know how the other superheroes felt their power, but mine was sort of like standing in a ball of static electricity. My skin hummed. My fingertips itched. And worst of all, my caramel-colored hair frizzed out to alarming proportions. There wasn’t a conditioner on the market that could tame it. Believe me, I’d tried them all. Together. At the same time.

The overall sensation wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was aggravating. Because the static, the power, the energy, built and built until it had to be discharged. And when it did, well, watch out. More often than not, whatever was around me either exploded, shattered, fell from the sky, or spontaneously combusted. Sometimes all at once. My luck was like some sort of supercharged telekinesis I couldn’t control. Stuff just happened, whether I wanted it to or not. And here’s the really annoying thing about having luck as a superpower—it can be good or bad.

Sometimes, if I thought about something, wanted it to happen, willed it to be, I’d get my heart’s desire. I’d catch the subway a second before the doors closed. Snag the last seat in a crowded movie theater. Find the only dress in my size. I even won five hundred dollars in a sweepstakes as a kid just by staring at my entry form before I sent it in and wishing I could win.

But just as often, my luck turned on me. I’d catch the subway, but rip my jacket on the doors. Get the last seat, but sit down in a puddle of sticky soda. Find the perfect dress, but forget my credit cards. Win the lottery, but lose my ticket.

Luck, the most capricious thing in the world. That was my supposed power. My curse was more like it.

My jinx.

I always felt the static energy around me and did my best to keep it clamped down and under control. But the sudden surge told me that it was time for it to let loose—and for something to happen. I could never tell whether that something would be good or bad, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

I slowly, carefully, calmly pushed my chair back from the table, making sure I was clear of the tablecloth, candles, bread basket, wine glasses, plates, silverware, and anything else I could drag down or knock off or upset in any way. Then, I stood.

With small, thoughtful steps, I backed around the chair until I stood five feet away from the table—and out of range of everyone and everything. Now, nobody else would get caught in the crossfire if something crazy happened, like the chandelier above my head plummeting from the ceiling, despite the ten or so bolts that held it in place.

“Bella? Are you all right?” Chief Newman asked, his eyes flashing a brilliant green. “Is your power bothering you again?”

Chief Newman had offered to work with me, to try to find some way to help me control my power. I’d refused. You couldn’t control luck. I’d long ago given up hope of ever taming it, along with my hair.

The doorbell rang, saving me from an explanation.

“I’ll get it,” I said. “It’s probably more trick-or-treaters.”

It was late October and still several days before Halloween, but little ghosts and ghouls and goblins had already started showing up asking for candy. Or else. Halloween was a two-week-long event in Bigtime that wouldn’t wrap up until the night of the thirty-first. The extended holiday gave everybody, kids and adults alike, a chance to go around town all dressed up, instead of just the heroes and villains.

“What are you giving them?” Fiona asked, her eyes gleaming at the thought of Halloween candy. “Snickers? M&Ms? Chocolate Twinkies?”

The only thing Fiona loved as much as Johnny was food. With her fire-based superpowers and high metabolism, Fiona could eat whatever she wanted to, whenever she wanted to, and never gain a pound. Besides her nighttime gig as a superhero, that was the only other thing I really hated about her. Well, that and her sky-high legs. I was just a couple inches over five feet. And her perfectly smooth blond hair and gorgeous baby blues. My tawny locks resembled a bush more often than not, while my hazel eyes just sort of faded into my bronze face. All right, so I really hated a lot of things about Fiona.

“Hardly. I’m giving them apples, fat-free trail mix, boxes of raisins, and bags of unpopped, butter-free microwave popcorn.” I pointed to the far end of the long table, where I’d put the plastic bowls of goodies.

“What’s the fun in that?” Fiona said.

“Not contributing to the American epidemic of childhood obesity, for one,” I snapped.

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Your house is so going to be covered in toilet paper in the morning.”

Bobby cleared his throat. “Actually, Bella, I took the liberty of buying some candy bars on my way home today. Just in case you ran out of apples.”

“Chocolate? Where?” Fiona demanded.

I put my hands on my hips and glared at my grandfather. There was a devilish twinkle in his green eyes I knew all too well.

“And how many did you eat before you put them away?”

His lips twitched. “Bella, you’ve told me many times I shouldn’t eat candy. I didn’t have a single one.”

Right. And I looked good in a thong.

“Grandfather,” I warned.

Bobby’s heart, cholesterol, and blood pressure weren’t the best in the world, something I was trying to change. With little success. My grandfather still ate like he was twenty-three, instead of seventy-three, despite doctor’s orders and my constant nagging. And don’t even get me started on his other bad habit—motorcycle riding. Bobby had broken his leg two years ago gallivanting around town, and I’d moved back home to take care of and keep an eye on him.

Bobby ignored me. “They’re in the kitchen, Fiona, if you want to hand them out.”

Fiona snapped to her feet. “Count me in.”

Bobby’s eyes sparkled. “Try to leave some for the kids.”

Fiona sniffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder again before disappearing into the kitchen.

I grabbed the bowls of apples, raisins, and popcorn, and carried them to the front door. The static crackled around me like an invisible force field, but it seemed to be holding steady. For the moment. Fiona come out of the kitchen and fell in step beside me, candy bars in hand. She opened the door, and I smiled, ready to greet our visitors.

“Trick or treat!” the kids shouted, holding out plastic orange pumpkins.

There were five of them, of course. Each one dressed like a member of the Fearless Five. A girl clad in reddish-orange spandex was supposed to be Fiera, and one in silver represented Karma Girl. One of the little boys sported an Irish green cape as Mr. Sage, while the other had on black leather and two long swords made out of aluminum foil for Striker. The man with them wore black-and-white goggles, representing Hermit.

Superheroes. More stupid superheroes. What happened to the good old days when kids dressed up as princesses and cowboys and monsters?

My smile faltered, but I held out the bowls. “Who wants some apples?”

Silence. Dead silence. I didn’t even hear crickets chirping in the front yard.

The kids looked at me, then each other, then at the man. No one said anything.

My power surged again. The static discharged.

And the plastic bowls in my hands shattered.

You would have thought I had some explodium in the containers instead of healthy snacks. Raisins and popcorn showered us all, while bits of pulverized apple pelted my thick, curly hair and face. The few apples that survived the explosion intact bounced down the long driveway and out of sight. The pieces of the splintered bowls zipped through the air, embedding themselves in the stone steps like daggers around my feet. In a perfect circle, no less.

I sighed and wiped a bit of apple juice off my nose. I’d long ago grown used to my power—and the embarrassment that went along with it.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, scooping raisins and popcorn into my hands. “I have more inside. Let me get that.”

I’d been prepared for such a disaster. In fact, I always bought five of everything, whether it was candy or jewelry or clothes. Years of bad luck had taught me that my jinxed power would find a way to trash even the safest, sturdiest object. In the last six months, I’d gone through seven purses, dozens of shirts, and more shoes than I cared to admit. And two cars.

“Um, I think we’ll just try the next house,” the man replied, drawing the kids close to him.

Fiona not-so-gently shouldered past me. “Don’t worry. I’ve got some Hershey bars right here. They’re a little melted, but they’re still good.”

“Yeah!”

The kids stepped forward, and Fiona gave them each a chocolate bar. The girl in the Fiera costume got two. Naturally.

Satisfied, the kids headed back down the driveway in search of more Halloween goodies to rot their teeth and drive their sugar levels through the roof.

Fiona smirked. “See? I told you the kids would want candy.”

I sighed again. I should have known better. After all, it was almost Halloween.

And the perfect time of year for my power to play tricks on me.

Chapter Two—Jinx

After cleaning up my unwanted goodies and picking most of the apples out of my hair, I went back to the dining room, where I said my goodnights to everyone and wished Johnny and Fiona a safe trip.

“Call me when you land, and remember to check in every other day,” I said. “I want to know how you’re doing and what you’ve seen.”

Johnny gave me a tight hug. “Don’t worry, Bella. Nothing’s going to happen. We’ll be fine.”

“Of course, we will,” Fiona added, unwrapping her third candy bar in as many minutes. “No work, no ubervillains, no city to save. Just fun, sun, and food. Lots of food. We’re going to have a fabulous time, and that’s all there is to it. Relax, Bella. I’ll bring Johnny home in one piece. Don’t I always?”

I started to remind her about the incident two weeks ago, when the two of them had run into Yeti Girl, who’d almost removed Johnny’s head from his body. But Grandfather cut me off.

“Of course, you will,” Bobby said, winking at her.

I bit my lip. Everyone thought I was a silly worrywart who saw danger lurking around every corner. Well, it did. You could never be too vigilant or too careful. Not only did you have to worry about superheroes and ubervillains in this city, but there were ordinary things to be cautious of too—muggers, car accidents, paper cuts, carbs. Add all that to my capricious luck, and you had a recipe for disaster.

Chief Newman’s eyes flashed. “Yes, I think you’ll have a wonderful time. And I think I’ll have some more of that delicious sangria.”

The older superhero waved his hand, and his wine glass floated back across the table towards me.

I headed upstairs and went to bed. I’d had enough superheroes—pint-sized and otherwise—for one evening.

#

Early the next morning, I plodded down to the gym in the basement of the Bulluci mansion. I started every day by huffing and puffing on the elliptical trainer for at least thirty minutes. Unlike Fiona, I had to work out like a fiend to stay in reasonably good shape.

In addition to my sun-kissed skin, my mother, Lucia, had also passed down her curvy form to me. While it had looked good on her, I was all hips and thighs. Just staring at food was enough to make me gain three pounds. It didn’t help that I had an unhealthy weakness for carbs—namely mounds of pasta and piles of French fries.

I let myself daydream about a plate of cheese fries from Quicke’s for two whole minutes. Then, I flipped on my favorite James Taylor CD, climbed onto the machine, and went to work. I pushed myself hard, staying on the elliptical trainer for the better part of an hour, until my legs burned and screamed for mercy.

Grandfather and Johnny didn’t understand my need to live healthy. They didn’t know why I worked out so much or tried to get them to eat things that weren’t drenched in oil and butter and salt. I couldn’t control my supposed superpower, but I could control the rest of my body and what I put into it. I had enough things to worry about. My health wasn’t going to be one of them.

I finished my workout with a little yoga and some slow stretches. The static gathered round my body, ready to lash out. My skin hummed with energy, but I ignored the sensation. Sometimes, if I pretended I couldn’t feel the static, I could delay the chaos. For a few minutes.

I headed to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast. My grandfather had built our villa-style house when he came to the States some fifty years ago, and the kitchen was one of my favorite rooms. White cabinets with angel outlines carved into the wood hovered above a tile counter that ran along one wall. A round, maple-colored table sat in the middle of the open area, underneath a crystal, wing-shaped light fixture. A sliding glass door led out to a stone patio, where you could view the orange, fig, olive, and other trees in the orchard in the backyard. More angels decorated the refrigerator magnets, the fresco on one wall, and even the folded dish towels beside the stainless steel sink.

Grandfather lounged at the table reading the morning editions of The Chronicle and The Exposé, the city’s two major newspapers. The remains of a bagel and some fresh fruit littered a plate in front of him. I looked around, but I didn’t see or smell any telltale signs of steak, bacon, eggs, and hash browns—Bobby’s preferred breakfast of choice.

“Anything exciting going on?” I moved over to one of the refrigerators and poured myself some calcium-fortified, low-calorie, low-sugar orange juice.

The kitchen was one of the biggest rooms in the mansion. It needed to be to house all our appliances. Two of everything crowded in here—stoves, refrigerators, microwaves, coffee pots, juicers, blenders, food processors. Not to mention the drawers full of silverware, plates, and glasses. We needed all the backups, since I had a nasty habit of destroying them. You’d be surprised how easy it is to blow up a microwave or snap the handle off a stainless steel pot.

Plus, the extra refrigerator helped feed Fiona and her enormous appetite. Although, when I zapped one of them, she was more than happy to eat everything inside before it spoiled, including some of the condiments. Fiona had a particular fondness for chocolate-flavored whipped cream, a craving I didn’t really understand. She was always grabbing a can of it and rushing off to find Johnny.

“Not much,” Bobby said, rustling the tall pages. “A pileup on the interstate, a purse snatching downtown, a home invasion. Some guy got beat up pretty badly in that one, but Swifte came along and broke it up. He rushed the guy to the hospital.”

Swifte was another one of Bigtime’s superheroes, famous for his speed, public-relations skills, and shimmering white costume. He zoomed around town fighting evil and getting every bit of press coverage he could. Unlike the Fearless Five, who tried to keep a low profile, Swifte loved the spotlight.

I helped myself to some more orange juice, along with a bowl of apple-cinnamon-flavored oatmeal and a banana.

“I’m going to see Joanne James and the rest of the committee about the museum benefit,” I said between sweet, steaming bites. “It’s our last major planning session, so I probably won’t be home until late. What do you have planned for today? Going to have lunch with your lady friend again?”

Lady friend was Bobby’s term for the woman he’d been seeing for the last month. I didn’t know where he’d met her or even who she was, but Bobby had been spending a lot of time with her. Having lunch and dinner together. Walking through Paradise Park. Going dancing at some of the jazz clubs. He’d even stayed overnight at her place a few times.

My grandmother had died years ago, and Bobby had dated plenty since then. But a smile creased his face and his step pepped up whenever he talked about his lady friend that made me think she might be more than just another casual flirtation.

I was thrilled for Grandfather, but a little concerned I didn’t know who she was. I wanted to make sure Bobby found someone who loved him for him, and not for his money or the Bulluci name. I was also a tiny bit jealous. Johnny had Fiona, and now Bobby had a lady friend. I wanted someone special in my life too.

“No, we’re not having lunch today,” Bobby said. “But I’m sure I’ll find something to do.”

“So when are you going to introduce her?” I asked. “I’m dying to meet the woman who’s captivated you.”

Bobby waggled his finger. “Soon, Bella. Soon. She’s busy with her work right now, but once that’s done, I promise we’ll have her over for dinner, and you can grill her to your heart’s content.”

Just because I’d asked Fiona what her intentions were towards Johnny, I’d gotten a reputation for being overprotective when it came to my brother and grandfather’s love lives. I just wanted to keep them safe from everything, including broken hearts.

“Has Johnny called yet?” I asked, scooping up the last of my oatmeal. “Did they get to the hotel all right?”

“He called this morning before you were up.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because everything was fine, and they were on their way out to do some sightseeing. Johnny said he’ll call back in a couple of days. You can talk to your brother then.”

Grandfather stuck his nose in the sports section, reading the latest European soccer news. Unlike me, he didn’t feel the need to know where the members of his family were every single hour of the day. Maybe it was his age or all that he’d seen in his seventy-three years, but Bobby had a very casual, relaxed attitude about life. He could always find something to laugh at or smile about, no matter how bad things were. I envied his carefree nature.

Bobby kept reading his papers, so I finished my breakfast and went upstairs. I took a quick shower, then put on a crisp, tailored, white shirt, fitted black pants, and sensible black pumps. Fiona could wear jungle prints and leopard spots and zebra stripes all she wanted, but nothing was classier and more elegant than basic black with a refreshing splash of white.

I rummaged through my jewelry box until I came up with a short, thin silver chain. I fastened it around my neck, and a small pair of diamond-cut angel wings settled into the hollow of my throat.

Given my male relatives’ propensity for morphing into Johnny Angel, we Bullucis have become collectors and connoisseurs of all things angel-related. From furniture to carpets to light fixtures, if it has an angel or cherub or pair of wings on it, we probably have one. Or thirteen.

In my set of rooms alone, angel and wing and halo carvings decorated the headboard on my bed, the coffee table in the sitting room, and the desk where I kept my sketch pads and art supplies. Clouds puffed across the walls and ceiling in the bathroom, and, instead of claw feet, four small angel heads supported my oversized bathtub.

I looked into the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. My eyes lingered on my necklace. The chain and winged charm had been a present from my father, James, on my sixteenth birthday. I’d started wearing them more often since he’d been murdered. It made me feel closer to him, even though he was gone. I fingered the charm, and my father’s face flashed through my mind.

Sandy hair, dark skin, blue eyes, strong, sure hands. James Bulluci had been a wonderful father. Kind, caring, and never too busy to read me a story or tuck me into bed. After my mother died in a car accident, he’d doubled his efforts to be a good father. He took Johnny and me out at least once a week to spend some quality time together. We’d go to Paradise Park to ride the Ferris wheel, or to the library to listen to tall tales, or even to the art museum to look at all the wonderful paintings and sculptures.

I’d loved my father dearly. Except for one thing—his alter ego, Johnny Angel. A tradition he’d inherited from my grandfather, the original Angel. I’d never understood why the two of them had felt the need to dress up in black leather. They weren’t superheroes. At least, not traditional heroes like the Fearless Five. Neither one had a power. But for years, they’d both ridden around Bigtime on custom-made motorcycles, hanging out with the local biker gangs, and getting into trouble.

And fighting ubervillains.

At least once a week, my father would come home bloody and bruised from some battle. And I’d be waiting to patch him up. I’d help him out of his torn, ripped costume, wipe the blood off his face, assess the damage, and go to work with my needle and thread. I knew as much about cuts and stitches and setting broken bones as any ER doc did. Maybe more, given all the ones I’d treated over the years.

But the wounds weren’t the worst part.

It was the waiting. The wondering. The heavy, crushing fear my father wouldn’t come home. Ever again. That some ubervillain would kill him. Or that he’d get beaten to death in a bar fight. Or the more pedestrian worry that he’d have a motorcycle accident.

Just about every night, I’d sit up with my mother and wait for my father to come home. After she died, I did it by myself. Sometimes, Grandfather and Johnny would wait with me, but most nights, I was alone. They didn’t worry like I did. They always thought my father would come home safe and more or less sound.

Until one night, he didn’t.

Two ubervillains, Siren and Intelligal, had muscled in on territory controlled by some bikers my father was friendly with. They’d asked him to help get rid of the ubervillains. My father confronted them, and Intelligal had launched a couple of explodium missiles at him. He’d tried to outrun the missiles on his motorcycle, but he’d never had a chance. All we’d found of my father had been his watch—without his hand attached.

My brother Johnny had become Angel then, determined to bring my father’s killers to justice. That’s when he’d crossed paths with Fiera and the rest of the Fearless Five. The superheroes had been after Siren and Intelligal as well, and Fiera convinced Johnny to join forces with them. But Johnny had still almost died when the ubervillains kidnapped and held him hostage.

My power pulsed, and my wavy, shoulder-length hair started to frizz, despite the bottle of extra-strength conditioner I’d just used. My luck always got more unstable when I was emotional. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, pulling the air down into the pit of my stomach.

I pushed away my troubled thoughts and fastened a silver watch onto my wrist. At least, I tried to. Bright, blue, static-charged sparks shot out as soon as I touched the metal and sent the watch flying across the room. It landed with a soft thump on the far side of the sofa.

I walked over and picked up the watch, which was embossed with angel wings. Luckily, it hadn’t broken, and I looked at the time. Almost noon. I needed to get going. A chairperson should always be on time for her own called meeting.

Besides, Joanne James would eat me alive if I was late. In her own way, the Bigtime society queen was scarier than even the most feared ubervillain.

#

I grabbed my black leather shoulder bag and headed outside. A beautiful October day greeted me, and I breathed in, enjoying the rich, earthy aroma of the changing seasons. Fall was my favorite time of year. The sun seared my eyes with its brilliance, but the air still felt damp and cool. Puffy clouds zoomed across the sky, pushed on by a steady breeze. The wind stirred the scarlet leaves on the maple trees lining the curving driveway, and a few fluttered down to the burnished brown of the lawn. I made a mental note to make some sketches of the trees before they lost all their magnificent leaves. Everything was showing off a last bit of color before the gray winter took hold, and I wanted to capture the city in all its autumn glory.

Joanne only lived three houses down, but on Lucky Way, the street where we lived, that was more like three miles. So, I got in my car, a nice, safe, reliable Benz, and steered down the driveway and through the iron gate that bordered our property.

I saw Brilliance, the Berkley Brighton estate, two miles before I actually got to it. No trees surrounded Berkley’s mansion to hide it from sight. It would take a whole mountain range to do that. The house sat on a tall rise that afforded the whiskey billionaire a spectacular view of Bigtime Bay from his seventh-story windows. That story was glassed in on all sides, along with the first, third, and fifth floors. The rest of the mansion was constructed of steel and chrome, giving it a very chic, sleek feel. You would never run out of things to do at Brilliance, which featured an Olympic-sized hot tub, three tennis courts, and two helicopter pads. And that was just on the roof.

The Bulluci manor was large, but Berkley’s sprawling, modern-day behemoth made it look like a doll’s house. The only other residence in all of Bigtime that exceeded the size of Brilliance was Sublime, the enormous estate owned by Sam Sloane.

I drove up the mile-long drive and stopped the car at the front door. A tuxedo-clad valet greeted me and whisked away my vehicle to Berkley’s private garage. Another valet scurried to open the front door for me, while still another waited inside to take my black pea coat, brush it, steam it, and hang it in an empty, spotless closet.

Berkley wasn’t into antiques and suits of armor like Sam Sloane was. Instead, his house featured lots of open space with modern, deco-style furniture done mostly in whites, silvers, and grays, with a few black pinstripes. Very minimalist, very modern, very sophisticated. I loved it.

A butler led me to one of the libraries on the second floor. Books and globes and maps galore decorated the room, along with a white-marble fireplace, several tables, and five sets of cream-colored chairs. Gray rugs covered the marble floor, and the heavy black drapes on the windows were open, offering a wonderful view of the dark, dense woods that lined the back of the mansion.

Joanne James waited in the library, with her husband, Berkley, by her side. Joanne was a tall, skinny, almost anorexic-looking woman with black curls that cascaded halfway down her back. Her eyes were a vivid blue, almost violet, and her skin was as smooth and flawless as ivory. Even though it was a bit chilly in the library, Joanne wore a sleeveless, powder-blue suit with square white buttons. A Fiona Fine original, given the amount of leg and cleavage it showed.

Berkley was a short, square, fifty-something man with a mane of blondish hair. He was also the richest person in Bigtime, having turned his family’s secret whiskey recipe into a multi-billion-dollar empire. Brighton’s Best whiskey was legendary for its smooth flavor and hefty price tag.

At the moment, though, Joanne and Berkley didn’t look like the obscenely rich, high-powered couple they were. Berkley leaned over the back of a chair and kissed Joanne’s throat, while his hand caressed her exposed breast. Joanne’s chin was up, her eyes closed, her lips parted. She was thoroughly enjoying her husband’s, um, attention.

Joanne and Berkley had gotten married three months ago during a late-summer ceremony in Paradise Park. They’d pulled out all the stops for the wedding, renting out the whole park for three days. Food. Flowers. Oceans of champagne. Mountains of presents. And that was just for the two thousand invited guests. I could only imagine what Berkley and Joanne had treated each other to in private.

Like Berkley, Joanne had plenty of money of her own. She’d just gotten it a different way. Joanne wasn’t a superhero, but she had a superhero-like nickname—the Black Widow. That’s what Fiona and some of the other society folks called her. Joanne had married and divorced several men over the years, adding to her bank balance every time.

But she truly seemed to care about Berkley, and him about her. It never ceased to amaze me. A pang of loneliness stabbed my heart at the sight of them bonding so, um, vigorously. I hadn’t even been out on a date since before my father was murdered.

But first things first. I had a meeting to attend and a benefit to plan. If I could break up the happy couple.

“Ahem.” I cleared my throat. “Ahem.”

Joanne opened her eyes, but Berkley kept kissing her throat and stroking her chest.

“Oh, hello, Bella,” Joanne said, her voice low and husky. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

I doubted she would have heard a marching band, the way she purred under Berkley’s touch.

“Hello, Joanne,” I replied, staring at the Oriental rug under my pumps instead of at her breasts.

“Hello, Bella.” Berkley straightened, took his hand out of Joanne’s top, and quit kissing her. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

“You too, Berkley.” Normally, I would have shaken his hand. Not today.

“How’s Bobby doing?” Berkley asked, a smile creasing his face. “I haven’t seen him in a few weeks.”

“He’s fine.”

Berkley had been friends with my father and grandfather for years. The three shared a love of motorcycles, and Berkley had convinced my father to build several for him. Berkley had spent many nights in the Bulluci manor, drinking wine and talking about paint jobs and chrome pipes and everything else related to motorcycles. But he was never too busy to speak to me, and he’d brought me all sorts of dolls and stuffed animals and art supplies when I was a kid. I thought of him as an uncle of sorts.

“Well, I’m afraid I have a conference call to sit in on. I’ll leave you girls to your planning,” Berkley said, pressing a kiss to the top of Joanne’s head.

She grabbed his hand. “I’m not sure what time we’ll be done. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll wait up for you. In more ways than one.” Berkley winked at his new bride.

“Just like always?” Joanne asked in a teasing tone.

“Just like always.”

Berkley touched Joanne’s cheek. She put her hand over his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Berkley squeezed back and left the library, whistling a cheery tune.

I sank into a chair on the opposite side of the table from Joanne. I pulled my notes and files out of my shoulder bag, pretending not to notice the other woman buttoning up her blouse. Evidently, Joanne hadn’t felt the need to wear a bra today. I couldn’t help but hope my breasts looked that good when I was her age. Whatever it was. Joanne’s smooth, unlined face made it was hard to tell exactly how old she was, although I would guess she had to be at least forty.

“Sorry if we shocked you, Bella.” Joanne fluffed out her mass of raven-colored curls. “Newlyweds, you know. We just can’t seem to get enough of each other.”

“Of course,” I murmured. “Think nothing of it.”

I didn’t really mind Joanne and Berkley’s open display of affection. After all, it was better than watching superhero-propelled glasses float past me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jennifer Estep is a USA Today bestselling author, prowling the streets of her imagination in search of her next fantasy idea.

Jennifer writes the Elemental Assassin urban fantasy series for Pocket Books. The books focus on Gin Blanco, an assassin codenamed the Spider who can control the elements of Ice and Stone. When she’s not busy killing people and righting wrongs, Gin runs a barbecue restaurant called the Pork Pit in the fictional Southern metropolis of Ashland. The city is also home to giants, dwarves, vampires, and elementals—Air, Fire, Ice, and Stone.

Books in the series include Spider’s Bite, Web of Lies, Venom, Tangled Threads, Spider’s Revenge, and By a Thread.

Jennifer also writes the Mythos Academy young adult urban fantasy series for Kensington. The books focus on Gwen Frost, a 17-year-old Gypsy girl who has the gift of psychometry, or the ability to know an object’s history just by touching it. After a serious freak-out with her magic, Gwen is shipped off to Mythos Academy, a school for the descendants of ancient warriors like Spartans, Valkyries, Amazons, and more.

Books in the series include Touch of Frost, Kiss of Frost, and Dark Frost. First Frost, a prequel e-story to the series, is also available. Halloween Frost, a short story, is available in the Entangled e-anthology.

Jennifer is also the author of the Bigtime paranormal romance series. The Bigtime books feature sexy superheroes, evil ubervillains, and smart, sassy gals looking for love. Books in the series are Karma Girl, Hot Mama, and Jinx. A Karma Girl Christmas, an e-story, is also available.

Follow Jennifer on the following sites:

Web site: http://www.jenniferestep.com/

Blog: http://www.jenniferestep.com/blog/

Facebook fan page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jennifer-Estep/388968186600

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/580315.Jennifer_Estep

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/Jennifer_Estep

Happy reading, everyone!

Table of Contents

A KARMA GIRL CHRISTMAS

DEDICATION

A KARMA GIRL CHRISTMAS

EXCERPTS

Excerpt from KARMA GIRL, Book One in the Bigtime paranormal romance series

Chapter Two—Karma Girl

Excerpt from HOT MAMA, Book Two in the Bigtime paranormal romance series

Chapter Two—Hot Mama

Excerpt from JINX, Book Three in the Bigtime paranormal romance series

Chapter Two—Jinx

About the Author