The Trouble with J.J. Read online

  Dear Reader,

  I’m often asked how I got my start as a writer. When I tell people that my first novels were romantic comedies for Bantam’s Loveswept line, they’re usually quite surprised. In fact, The Trouble with J.J. is actually my very first novel! Although this genre may seem completely different from the suspense I write now, the two have more in common than it appears.

  For me, every good story has two essential elements to it: characters to fall in love with and root for, and a mystery to figure out—whether it’s an unsolved crime or that baffling and bewildering emotion that puzzles us most of all—love. Even the most intricate murder plot can’t compare to the complex inner workings of the human heart.

  In The Trouble with J.J., Genna Hastings can’t stand at first sight her new next-door neighbor: football star and local heartthrob Jared Jay Hennessy. His winning smile and overt flirting are lost on Genna as she fumes about his tacky yard decorations (flamingos!) and nonstop stream of guests. J.J. is determined to break through the barriers that Genna has constructed, however, convinced that she’s the woman meant to help him change his life from playboy to respected public figure, and learn how to open himself to true love. Genna never says no to a challenge, but isn’t looking to play games; could J.J. be as serious about her as he claims?

  Genna and J.J.’s story was the first to capture my imagination years ago, and I hope that you’ll enjoy this book as much today as I enjoyed writing it at the very beginning of my career.

  All my best,

  Tami Hoag

  PRAISE FOR THE BESTSELLERS OF

  Tami Hoag

  THE ALIBI MAN

  “Captivating thriller … [Elena] is a heroine readers will want to see more of.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Hard to put down.”

  —Washington Post

  “A superbly taut thriller. Written in a staccato style that will have readers racing through the pages … Will leave readers breathless and satisfied.”

  —Booklist

  “A suspenseful tale, with a surprising ending; the author once again has constructed a hard-hitting story with interesting characters and a thrilling plot.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Elena Estes [is] one of Hoag’s most complicated, difficult and intriguing characters …. Hoag enhances a tight mystery plot with an over-the-shoulder view of the Palm Beach polo scene, giving her readers an up-close-and-personal look at the rich and famous …. The Alibi Man is her best work to date.”

  —BookReporter.com

  “An engrossing story and a cast of well-drawn characters.”

  —Minneapolis Star Tribune

  “[Hoag] gets better with every book. One of the tautest thrillers I have read for a long while.”

  —Bookseller (UK)

  “Hoag certainly knows how to build a plot and her skill has deservedly landed her on bestseller lists numerous times.”

  —South Florida Sun-Sentinel

  “Hoag has a winner in this novel where she brings back Elena Estes …. Hoag is the consummate storyteller and creator of suspense.”

  —Mystery News

  “Tami Hoag weaves an intricate tale of murder and deception …. A very well-written and thought-out murder/mystery. Hoag is able to keep you guessing and you’ll be left breathless until all the threads are unwoven and the killer is revealed.”

  —FreshFiction.com

  PRIOR BAD ACTS

  “A snappy, scary thriller.”

  —Entertainment Weekly

  “Stunning …Here [Hoag] stands above the competition, creating complex characters who evolve more than those in most thrillers. The breathtaking plot twists are perfectly paced in this compulsive page-turner.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “A chilling thriller with a romantic chaser.”

  —New York Daily News

  “A first-rate thriller with an ending that will knock your socks off.”

  —Booklist

  “An engrossing thriller with plenty of plot twists and a surprise ending.”

  —OK! magazine

  “A chilling tale of murder and mayhem.”

  —BookPage

  “The in-depth characterization and the unrelenting suspense are what makes Prior Bad Acts an outstanding read. Gritty and brutal at times, Prior Bad Acts delivers a stunning novel of murder, vengeance and retribution …. Riveting and chilling suspense.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  KILL THE MESSENGER

  “Excellent pacing and an energetic plot heighten the suspense. …. Enjoyable.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “Everything rings true, from the zippy cop-shop banter, to the rebellious bike messenger subculture, to the ultimate, heady collision of Hollywood money, politics, and power.”

  —Minneapolis Star Tribune

  “Hoag’s usual crisp, uncluttered storytelling and her ability to make us care about her characters triumph in Kill the Messenger.”

  —Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel

  “A perfect book. It is well written, and it has everything a reader could hope for …. It cannot be put down …. Please don’t miss this one.”

  —Kingston (MA) Observer

  “[A] brisk read …it demonstrates once again why [Hoag’s] so good at what she does.”

  —San Francisco Chronicle

  “Action-filled ride … a colorful, fast-paced novel that will keep you guessing.”

  —Commercial Appeal

  “High-octane suspense … Nonstop action moves the story forward at a breath-stealing pace, and the tension remains high from beginning to end …. Suspense at its very best.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “Hoag’s loyal readers and fans of police procedural suspense novels will definitely love it.”

  —Booklist

  “Kill the Messenger will add to [Hoag’s] list of winners …. This is a fast-moving thriller with a great plot and wonderful characters. The identity of the killer is a real surprise.”

  —Somerset (PA) Daily American

  “Engaging … the triumph of substance over style … character-driven, solidly constructed thriller.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Hoag upholds her reputation as one of the hottest writers in the suspense genre with this book, which not only has a highly complex mystery, multilayered suspense and serpentine plot, but also great characterizations … an entertaining and expertly crafted novel not to be missed.”

  —CurledUp.com

  DARK HORSE

  “A thriller as tightly wound as its heroine … Hoag has created a winning central figure in Elena …. Bottom line: Great ride.”

  —People

  “This is her best to date …. [A] tautly told thriller.”

  —Minneapolis Star Tribune

  “Hoag proves once again why she is considered a queen of the crime thriller.”

  —Charleston (SC) Post & Courier

  “A tangled web of deceit and double-dealing makes for a fascinating look into the wealthy world of horses juxtaposed with the realistic introspection of one very troubled ex-cop. A definite winner.”

  —Booklist

  “Anyone who reads suspense novels regularly is acquainted with Hoag’s work—or certainly should be. She’s one of the most consistently superior suspense and romantic suspense writers on today’s bestseller lists. A word of warning to readers: don’t think you know whodunit ’til the very end.”

  —Clute (TX) Facts

  “Suspense, shocking violence, and a rip-roaring conclusion—this novel has all the pulse-racing touches that put Tami Hoag books on bestseller lists and crime fans’ reading lists.”

  —Baton Rouge Advocate
Magazine

  “Full of intrigue, glitter, and skullduggery … [Hoag] is a master of suspense.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Her best to date, an enjoyable read, and a portent of even better things to come.”

  —Grand Rapids Press

  “A complex cerebral puzzle that will keep readers on the edge until all the answers are revealed.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “To say that Tami Hoag is the absolute best at what she does is a bit easy since she is really the only person who does what she does …. It is a testament to Hoag’s skill that she is able to go beyond being skillful and find the battered hearts in her characters, and capture their beating on the page …. A superb read.”

  —Detroit News & Free Press

  BANTAM TITLES BY TAMI HOAG

  The Alibi Man

  Prior Bad Acts

  Kill the Messenger

  Dark Horse

  Dust to Dust

  Ashes to Ashes

  A Thin Dark Line

  Guilty as Sin

  Night Sins

  Dark Paradise

  Cry Wolf

  Still Waters

  Lucky’s Lady

  The Last White Knight

  Straight from the Heart

  Tempestuous/The Restless Heart

  Taken by Storm

  Heart of Dixie

  Mismatch

  Man of Her Dreams

  Rumor Has It

  ONE

  HOME. NO FOUR-LETTER word had ever sounded better, Genna Hastings thought as she maneuvered herself, careful of her sprained ankle, and her crutches out of her car. She stood up and took a deep breath of hyacinth-scented Connecticut air. Whack! Something hit her smack in the back of the head with the force of a Titan missile. Rubbing her head with one hand, she turned and stared down at the football that rocked harmlessly on the driveway beside her loafer-clad feet.

  It was an appropriate ending to a thoroughly miserable vacation.

  “Look out, Miss Hastings!” came the belated shout of one of the two boys pounding up the street toward her.

  “Jeez, Miss Hastings, I’m sorry,” said Brad Murray, stooping to scoop up the ball.

  “Yeah, sorry, Genna,” Kyle Dennison chimed in. Kyle was the chubby ten-year-old son of Genna’s best friend, and so he felt entitled to call her by her first name. To Brad, she would always be his ex-kindergarten teacher. He would call her Miss Hastings for the rest of his life.

  Kyle shrugged. “We didn’t see you.”

  “That’s a comfort,” Genna grumbled to herself, wincing as she felt the goose egg rising on the back of her skull.

  “Mom said you weren’t coming home till Monday, and it’s only Friday. Why aren’t you still on vacation? We’ve been using your driveway for long-passing patterns. Hey, how come you’re on crutches?”

  “All that in one breath,” Genna said with a teasing smile as she looked down at Kyle. “Vacation was a bust. I sprained my ankle playing tennis.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Really.”

  “We’re waiting for J.J.,” Brad said.

  “Who’s J.J.? New kid on the block?”

  “J. J. Hennessy,” they said in unison, staring at her expectantly.

  Genna stared back at them. Was she missing the punch line of a joke, or what? “Am I supposed to gasp here, or scream or something? Who’s J. J. Hennessy?”

  The boys made sounds of disgust and rolled their eyes. Kyle collapsed onto the driveway and writhed around, holding his head.

  “He’s only the most awesome quarterback in the universe!” Brad raved.

  “He’s so excellent!” Kyle exclaimed, lying spread-eagled, flat on his back.

  “And he’s moved in right here!”

  Genna looked at the lawn and house adjacent to the property she rented and felt suddenly as if someone had punched her in the stomach. The yard she had so admired had been cut in diagonal stripes. A dozen pink plastic flamingos lurked in the shrubbery, their long, craning necks poking up through boxwood and around juniper. Sitting in a lawn chair on the front porch of the lovely Federal-style house was a busty blond mannequin dressed in shorts and a tight pink T-shirt, one arm raised as if waving.

  Genna sucked in a horrified breath. “Oh, my Lord.”

  “Cool, huh?” Brad said, mistaking her shock for awe.

  Kyle struggled to his feet, nodding enthusiastically and tugging his T-shirt down over his pudgy tummy. “The mannequin’s named Candy. Outrageous!”

  “Oh, my Lord,” Genna muttered again. What sort of cretin would commit such atrocities? she wondered. That house and yard were the epitome, the essence of Tory Hills. Quietly lovely, old, and treasured. Occupying a large lot in the middle of the treelined block, the house was painted a sedate shade of gray, with white trim around the multi-paned windows. The front entrance boasted a pillared portico and a graceful fanlight over the door. It was Genna’s dream house. Now some tasteless moron had bought it.

  The front door of the house swung open and Brad and Kyle went into a trance. They stared transfixed, as if they were awaiting a holy vision. Then J. J. Hennessy made his appearance.

  Genna took one look at the man and despised him.

  He swaggered across the lawn radiating arrogance like a furnace blasts heat. Over six feet of rippling muscle packaged in gray sweatpants that left nothing to the imagination but lewd fantasies, and wearing a torn black T-shirt that proclaimed him to be “God’s Gift to Women,” J. J. Hennessy appeared to be every inch the cocky, overbearing, aggressive male.

  His black hair was sheared off on top in a spiky, grown-out crew cut but trailed down his thick neck in back. Square black sunglasses hid his eyes. His nose was short and straight. The idea of a smile played around the corners of his mouth.

  Genna stared, aghast, as he sauntered across his striped lawn directly toward her. He stopped no more than two feet in front of her, hands on lean hips, a diamond stud glittering in his left earlobe. Then he looked down at her and smiled, and Genna actually felt her knees turn to cottage cheese. Unbelievable, she thought. He was everything she loathed in a man, yet she was trembling in the face of his charisma like some lovestruck teenager just because he had the most wicked Jack Nicholson grin since … well, since Jack Nicholson.

  “Hey, J. J.!” the boys greeted him.

  “Hey, guys, who’s your gorgeous friend?” His voice was warm and rough, like corduroy. He could have read the Yellow Pages and sounded sexy.

  I’m going to faint, she thought as that incredible voice washed over her. Don’t be an ass, Genna. He’s a no-neck, boneheaded athlete who pillaged your dream house and thinks he’s God’s gift to women. Besides, you never faint.

  “It’s just Genna,” Kyle explained with no enthusiasm. “She lives here.” He swung an arm in the direction of Genna’s blue Cape Cod house.

  “Well, well.” J. J. Hennessy smiled once more. “Hel-lo, neighbor.”

  A pained smile forced up the corners of her mouth.

  “Jared Hennessy.” He captured one of her hands and managed to make a simple handshake seem lascivious. “Where were you when I was moving in? I could have used a hand with the decorating.”

  “So I see,” she replied blandly, extricating her hand from his and absently brushing her tingling palm down the leg of her shorts. “I’m Genna Hastings. I’ve been on vacation.”

  “Did you have a nice time?”

  “No.”

  “Have anything to do with those crutches?”

  She gave him a smile that made her look as if she had a lip full of novocaine. “How very clever you are. Mr. Hennessy. I sprained my ankle playing tennis.”

  Jared dropped to his knees and started feeling the ankle she was keeping her weight off. For an instant Genna thought she was going into cardiac arrest. Lightning bolts sizzled through her veins. She couldn’t breathe. Then she realized, with no small amount of astonishment, it was only her body reacting to J. J. Hennessy’s touch as his
one hand gently squeezed her ankle and the other wandered unnecessarily up and down her bare calf.

  This is absurd, she told herself even as she began to get light-headed. He was the last man on earth she should be attracted to. She decided she would give him a scathing remark and jerk her foot away from him, but she found she could do nothing more than stare down at him with her mouth gaping open.

  Jared grinned up at her. “Feels pretty good to me.” His eyebrows bobbed up above his sunglasses insinuatingly. “Alternating hot and cold packs—that’s the way to go.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Kildare,” she said dryly, finally managing to step back.

  “You’re more than welcome to use my Jacuzzi,” he offered, standing and backing Genna into the side of her car. He shoved his sunglasses atop his spiky-haired head.

  Genna gulped. Now you’re really in trouble, Hastings. His eyes were the most beautiful translucent blue she’d ever seen. Mesmerizing. Predatory. Like a wolf’s, she thought. But there was a sparkle in them of … humor? It didn’t quite fit with the bad impression she had formed of him.

  Suddenly feeling off balance, she leaned back against her car. He stepped closer, resting one hand on the roof of the auto, inches from Genna’s shoulder. She felt sweat break out between her breasts as a chill ran up her back. His gaze meandered down her body, seemingly burning off her yellow oxford-cloth shirt and khaki shorts as it went.

  “How about it, Genna?” His voice had dropped to a velvety rumble. “I’d love to have you in my Jacuzzi.” He drew his tongue across his lips and leaned closer, until he was no more than a thought away from pressing his body against hers.

  Genna drew a shallow, shuddering breath.