Best friends James Lessor and Skip Moore are still stuck in
dead-end jobs, still living in their ratty apartment in
Carol City, Florida, and still dreaming of hitting the big
time. It seems those dreams are finally within reach when
James lands a job to install a state-of-the-art security
system for Synco Systems. There's a huge commission - and
plenty of strings - attached.
To collect on the cash, James will have to
provide "additional services" by assuming the role of
pretend boyfriend of Sarah Crumbly, an employee who's
having an affair with Sandler Conroy, Synco's married
president.
When Sandler's wife offers James a tidy sum for the dirty
details about what's going on at Synco, James and Skip
resurrect their entrepreneurial dreams and go into the
business of being spies.
The spymobile - their beloved, rattletrap of a boxtruck -
is on its last legs, and they'll have to spend a small
fortune on spy equipment, but there's no business like spy
business.
In this spy game, James and Skip may be the ones who get
played - or worse.
Excerpt I ripped the cardboard from the ο¬rst box,
ο¬nally making a
tear wide enough to pull out the second box. This was the
one with the printing on the side. But the envelope inside
was what caught my eye ο¬rst. I yanked it out of the
box and shoved it in stuff to spy for
my shirt pocket. By now I was ready to put a match to all
the paper and cardboard and tape.
I looked up and James was staring at me. βWhere did you get
the package, Skip?β
βSpecial D, James. No problem. Conο¬dential to Skip
Moore.β
His eyes were wide, and he froze as I took the box knife to
the tape that sealed the box.
βSkip.β
βWhat? Canβt you just leave it alone?β
He leaned down, grabbing the box from my hand as my box
knife went ο¬ying. James started down the hall,
package under
his arm, running as fast as Iβve ever seen him run. I
struggled to my feet, charging after him, hitting my pace
and in seconds feeling winded and weak.
βJames. Where are you ββ Eden Callahan yelled as she jumped
back from her post, and Andy Wireman staggered on his ladder
as James ran by. Wireman held on as James hit the glass door
with his shoulder and plowed on through, racing into the
parking lot.
I got to the door as he heaved the box twenty feet in front
of him, fell to the ground, and buried his head under his
arms.
I stood in the doorway trying to catch my breath. The
burning in my lungs wasnβt going away anytime soon. My
roommate lay there for at least sixty seconds and I just
kept gasping for air, thinking I was probably going to throw
up.
I watched him pull himself to his feet, staggering as he
walked back to the building. As he got closer I could see
him sucking in oxygen. We were a real pair.
Finally he reached the door, and I pushed it open for him,
barely able to move the heavy metal and glass. James walked
in, leaning against the inside wall, eyes closed and his
hand over his heart. I knew exactly how he felt. Finally he
slid to the ο¬oor, slumping over, and breathing heavily.
Start Reading STUFF TO SPY FOR Now
 Stuff STUFF TO DIE FOR
#1.0
β’ September 2007
 STUFF DREAMS ARE MADE OF
#2.0
β’ September 2008
 STUFF TO SPY FOR
#3.0
β’ November 2009
 DON'T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF
#4.0
β’ December 2010
 TOO MUCH STUFF
#5.0
β’ December 2011
 HOT STUFF
#6.0
β’ November 2012
HOT STUFF
#6.0
β’ November 2012
 REEL STUFF
#7.0
β’ December 2013
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