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Ten short stories by some of today’s hottest authors, including Ava Stone, Jane Charles, Lori Handeland, Deb Marlowe, Claudia Dain, Jerrica Knight-Catania, Susan Gee Heino, Caren Crane, Dee Davis, and Michelle Marcos

In each entry, the author finds a way to kill her Larry—whether it’s in the depths of Germany’s Black Forest during WW2, Regency England or any of today’s most exciting locations–from Caribbean beaches to a Connecticut college, New York City, Florida, North Carolina and more. There is something for every reader–historical, suspense, contemporary and paranormal. Join us to discover Fifty Ways to Kill Your Larry.

About MICHELLE MARCOS’s short, Sinnocence; or How I Learned to Kill My Boss and Get Away With It
Gracie can’t help fantasizing about ways to off her boss.  After all, Mr. Perfect and his British accent stole her promotion.  But just when she thinks her humiliation can’t get any worse, she finds herself in a business meeting with Larry–stark naked!  Amid the shambles of her pride, she finds exactly the weapon she needs to put an end to Mr. Perfect–and make a clean getaway with the man of her dreams.

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Reviews | Excerpt

Reviews for 50 Ways to Kill Your Larry

“This fun, flirty and hilarious story is full of tension and absolutely refreshing! I could not stop laughing.”
—Books I Love a Latte

“When I want a great historical romance, I’ll reach for anything by Michelle Marcos!” 
LISA KLEYPASNew York Times bestselling author


That’s it! Gracie had had enough of the man.

Beneath the conference table, Gracie activated a hidden button in her right Nine West pump. A Rosa Klebb-style poisoned blade shot out of the black leather toe. She aimed a surreptitious kick to the shin under his Armani trousers, and his pontificating speech in that posh English accent ended in mid-benchmahk. His bright blue eyes widened as he clutched his heart, and he fell forward over his copy of her Product Launch Strategy Report. Gracie smiled at the look on his face. Clearly, his death had come as a quite a shock to him.

“Grace? Are you listening?”

Larry’s voice razzed through her delicious reverie like a ringing telephone during an orgasm.

“What? Sorry, I…uh…what?” Mentally, she filed “Poison Shoe” away in her imaginary 50 Ways to Kill Larry Manual.

He pursed his lips like a schoolmaster at a boys’ school. “I asked if your sales projection figures were factored by customer demographic.”

“Oh. No, for the purposes of concision, I indicated only cumulative sales projections.” Plus, she forgot to do that.

“Right. Well, notwithstanding Grace’s omission, I think, ladies and gentlemen, that we’re finally ready to introduce Sinnocence to the market. The client has already started shipping the fragrance to major retailers. In two days, we’ll organize their product launch at Macy’s in Manhattan. Jack has confirmed our celebrity appearances, and Fareed has set up the live feed into all the other Macy’s locations to make it seem like a nationwide gala event. I’ll be on the plane to New York tonight. Lots of details to sort out for the launch. Jack, you’re with me in New York. Everyone else, well done.”

Wait…what? Gracie couldn’t believe what was happening. A dozen people rose from their leather swivel chairs and wended their way back to their offices.

“Excuse me, Larry. Can I talk with you a minute?” She’d like to kill Larry again, this time more elaborately, but there wasn’t time.

The stern lips bit down again. Risen to his full height, this time, he really did look like a schoolmaster.

“I’ve told you before, Grace. My name is Hilary, not Larry.”

“Right. Sorry.” What the hell kind of man insists on being called Hilary? “Anyway, I was wondering if you were sending anyone else to New York for the event.”

“No need. Jack and I will handle things on the ground.”

“I’m sure you could, but I was really hoping to be there as well. Just to make sure that all the major matters are seen to.”

“That’s what we’re there to do.”

“Yes, but I’m the one who spearheaded this campaign. I’d really like to be there.”

“Your place is here, Grace, at the helm of the ship. Who else would I leave in charge?”

It was the kind of thing you tell an eight-year-old when her big sisters get to go out to see an R-rated movie. “Sir,” she said, tamping down her anger, “I coordinated the launch of Sinnocence. I directed the social media campaign. I oversaw the scent-strip ad designs and the placement in Cosmo and Vogue.  For goodness sake, the name ‘Sinnocence’ was my idea! The client was going to call the perfume ‘Booty’! I think I deserve to be there when EMG finally launches the perfume.”

He folded his arms at his chest, giving her a whiff of both his cologne and his authority. “Grace, let me speak candidly. You are without doubt a highly skilled marketing assistant. I am confident that Sinnocence is going to have explosive sales its first year in large part because of your work. But while your work is unparalleled behind a computer, I’m afraid that personally it is less than stellar. Your creative mind, while brilliant, sometimes leaves you distracted. I need someone with me who is sharp, focused, and represents our brand well.”

She didn’t know whether to be pleased or hurt. It was a caress on one cheek and a slap on the other.


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