I'm No Angel

( 3 )

Overview

Top 7 Reasons Why She's No Angel

7. Easily Palm Beach's sexiest private investigator, Angel Devlin always gets her man — and bad boy millionaire Tom Donovan is at the top of her Most Wanted list.

6. Instinct tells her that drop-dead-gorgeous Tom has something wicked up his sleeve, and she's going to get up close and personal to find out just what.

5. Her list of nocturnal activities includes lifting a wallet...

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I'm No Angel

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Overview

Top 7 Reasons Why She's No Angel

7. Easily Palm Beach's sexiest private investigator, Angel Devlin always gets her man — and bad boy millionaire Tom Donovan is at the top of her Most Wanted list.

6. Instinct tells her that drop-dead-gorgeous Tom has something wicked up his sleeve, and she's going to get up close and personal to find out just what.

5. Her list of nocturnal activities includes lifting a wallet while seductively skimming her hands over her victim's rock-solid chest and performing a bewitching lap dance at a seedy underground club.

4. There's nothing sweet or innocent about Angel — she's as sharp as the steel stiletto she wears strapped to her shapely thigh.

3. Her motto is "dress to thrill." A tight skirt, a hint of cleavage, and a pair of kick-ass Jimmy Choos will make a man open up and divulge all sorts of little secrets.

2. Angel is devilish, devious, and sexy as sin.

1. She's the first to admit she's no angel, but it doesn't stop Tom from falling head over heels in love with the mischievous blonde.

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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
Savvy Palm Beach PI Angel Devlin, who wears both stiletto heels and a stiletto knife strapped to her thigh, knows trouble when she sees it, and it's written all over handsome-as-sin Tom Donovan, an ex-alligator wrestler who recently became a billionaire. Tom seems intent on getting to know Angel better, and she soon learns why. Tom wants access to reclusive Holt Hudson, Tom's godfather and the only one who knows what really happened 26 years earlier when Tom's father was fatally shot in Holt's mansion. But despite the incendiary attraction between Angel and Tom, she realizes she must keep Tom from Holt or risk having Holt cancel the charity gala she talked him into hosting at his estate. Though nearly incandescent with sensual heat, Berg's latest (after And Then He Kissed Me) feels like a cross between a soap opera and Alias: Angel slithers into a red hooker dress to go undercover at a strip club, her ex-husband's name is Dagger, and designer dresses and handbags receive enough page space to be minor characters. But the protagonists' affection for their families and the real-life problems they face (such as Alzheimer's) prevent this beach read from succumbing entirely to silliness. Agent, Robin Rue. (July) Forecast: With its electric orange cover, featuring a sexy blonde with angel wings and devil horns, this book should appeal to both chick-lit aficionados and romance readers. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780060544768
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 6/29/2004
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 384
  • Product dimensions: 4.18 (w) x 6.75 (h) x 0.96 (d)

Meet the Author

Always a romatic, Patti Berg spent her childhood dreaming about being whisked away by a knight in shining armor, a devil-may-care swashbuckler, a sheik on a shiny black stallion, or a broad-shouldered cowboy with a Stetson tilted low on his brow. Now she spends her days making up stories in which her heroes do whatever she wants them to. It's almost as good as a dream coming true, she confesses.

Currently working on her next book for Avon Books, Patti hopes she'll have a long career sharing her dreams and fantasies with others.

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Read an Excerpt

I'm No Angel


By Berg, Patti

Avon Books

ISBN: 0060544767

Chapter One

He hadn't aspired to be a cat burglar.

He'd wrestled alligators in the Everglades. He'd charmed water moccasins to entertain tourists, and spent long nights in the swamps, gazing through cypress, palm, and mangrove branches at the distant stars, with not much more than mosquitoes and frogs for company.

But tonight Tom Donovan faced his most treacherous challenge -- breaking into the home of the man he despised. And he was going to be up to his ass in trouble if he got caught.

He climbed cautiously from one branch to the next, each foothold steady, precise. The fernlike leaves of the tall and spreading royal Poinciana shimmered in the moonlight, camouflaging his black-clad body as he made his way toward the mansion's second-story window.

Breaking and entering wasn't his forte. Hell, he had no clue what he was doing, but Holt Hudson had allowed Tom little choice.

The reclusive billionaire had refused to see him in spite of a dozen polite and maybe-not-so-polite requests. Didn't the bastard realize that all Tom wanted was for Holt to tell him face to face, man to man, why he'd emptied a .25 automatic into Chase Donovan -- Tom's dad -- twenty-six years before?

It seemed a damn simple request, yet Holt had sealed his lips on the subject the moment the Palm Beach police had closed their investigation all those years ago. No one but Tom believed there was more to the story. No one but Tom believed that Chase had been shot in cold blood.

Money could buy a hell of a lot, Tom realized. It could buy the police; it could buy isolation from the world; it could buy respectability. Money had bought an end to the tragedy for Holt Hudson, and he'd come out of the nightmare completely unscathed.

Chase Donovan had ended up dead.

Tom Donovan had come out of it scarred inside. And angry as hell.

But Tom had his own money now. A ton of it. He'd hoped his recent inheritance could buy him information. Answers to what had truly happened that night so he could put his bitterness aside and move on with his life. But damn it all, his newfound riches were buying him nothing but frustration.

His only course of action now was to go out on a limb -- literally and figuratively -- to find what he wanted. What he needed. Since Holt Hudson wouldn't talk to him or even allow him into his inner sanctum, Tom Donovan hoped and even prayed that somewhere within the gilded walls of I'm No Angel Palazzo Paradiso he'd find the truth that would make his endless nightmares go away.

He had to know that his dad, the man who had been shot inside the palatial mansion and then escaped to the Everglades, where he'd bled to death in his son's scrawny, four-year-old arms, had been framed not only for robbery, but for assaulting Holt Hudson's wife.

Ducking under a branch of feathery leaves, Tom placed one foot in front of the other, cautiously negotiating limbs that fought him every step of the way. The foliage rustled. Twigs splintered.

He wiped his brow with leather-gloved fingers, wishing the night wasn't so damn hot and humid, so calm and quiet. The only sounds around him were the gentle lap of salt water on the beach and the sweet strains of Mozart coming from somewhere inside the mansion.

A man could make all the noise he wanted wading through the towering mangroves and the endless sawgrass in the Glades. But silence was imperative now.

Take your time, he told himself. Don't get caught.

The window ledge jutted out of the mansion's limestone façade. At least two feet deep and four feet wide, it was the perfect platform for a sixfoot- three-inch man to balance on while figuring out the best way to get inside. Unfortunately the glistening remnants of late afternoon rain that had puddled up on the ledge glared at him. If he took a flying leap, he could easily hit the water, slide right off the window edge, and end up on his butt in the prickly bougainvillea below.

That would surely set off an alarm or two; then the cops would come; then he'd be dead meat.

He needed to move a few more feet out on the tapering limb and then, if his luck held out, he could latch on to the ornamental arch and swing onto the windowsill.

His heart thudded as he took another step. It hadn't beat this hard since the teeth of a gator got too close to his balls.

A bead of perspiration coursed down his temple, slipped over his jaw. The tension in his body was palpable, and his eyes and ears were on such high alert for even the smallest unwanted noise around the estate that he could almost hear the drop of sweat hit the ground.

And then he made his move.

Tearing one hand from its hold on the branch above him, Trace reached across the void for the intricately carved limestone archway, but it was still too far away.

The limb beneath his feet wobbled. One foot slipped and he knew damn good and well he was going to fall if he didn't move fast. Without giving his next action a second thought, he ripped his other hand from the branch above, used the limb he stood on as a springboard, and propelled himself through the air toward the window.

His gloved hands slapped against the wall and he grabbed hold of the jutting limestone, digging his fingers into the crevices. The toes of his shoes landed on the very brink of the ledge, all the hold he needed to keep from careening down the side of the mansion. Amoment later, after careful ma-I'm No Angel 5 neuvering, he managed to gain a firm foothold within the alcove.

His chest swelled as he took a deep, calming breath.

He'd made it -- at least to the window.

He was safe -- so far ...

Continues...

Excerpted from I'm No Angel by Berg, Patti Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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First Chapter

I'm No Angel

Chapter One

He hadn't aspired to be a cat burglar.

He'd wrestled alligators in the Everglades. He'd charmed water moccasins to entertain tourists, and spent long nights in the swamps, gazing through cypress, palm, and mangrove branches at the distant stars, with not much more than mosquitoes and frogs for company.

But tonight Tom Donovan faced his most treacherous challenge -- breaking into the home of the man he despised. And he was going to be up to his ass in trouble if he got caught.

He climbed cautiously from one branch to the next, each foothold steady, precise. The fernlike leaves of the tall and spreading royal Poinciana shimmered in the moonlight, camouflaging his black-clad body as he made his way toward the mansion's second-story window.

Breaking and entering wasn't his forte. Hell, he had no clue what he was doing, but Holt Hudson had allowed Tom little choice.

The reclusive billionaire had refused to see him in spite of a dozen polite and maybe-not-so-polite requests. Didn't the bastard realize that all Tom wanted was for Holt to tell him face to face, man to man, why he'd emptied a .25 automatic into Chase Donovan -- Tom's dad -- twenty-six years before?

It seemed a damn simple request, yet Holt had sealed his lips on the subject the moment the Palm Beach police had closed their investigation all those years ago. No one but Tom believed there was more to the story. No one but Tom believed that Chase had been shot in cold blood.

Money could buy a hell of a lot, Tom realized. It could buy the police; it could buy isolation from the world; it could buy respectability. Money had bought an end to the tragedy for Holt Hudson, and he'd come out of the nightmare completely unscathed.

Chase Donovan had ended up dead.

Tom Donovan had come out of it scarred inside. And angry as hell.

But Tom had his own money now. A ton of it. He'd hoped his recent inheritance could buy him information. Answers to what had truly happened that night so he could put his bitterness aside and move on with his life. But damn it all, his newfound riches were buying him nothing but frustration.

His only course of action now was to go out on a limb -- literally and figuratively -- to find what he wanted. What he needed. Since Holt Hudson wouldn't talk to him or even allow him into his inner sanctum, Tom Donovan hoped and even prayed that somewhere within the gilded walls of I'm No Angel Palazzo Paradiso he'd find the truth that would make his endless nightmares go away.

He had to know that his dad, the man who had been shot inside the palatial mansion and then escaped to the Everglades, where he'd bled to death in his son's scrawny, four-year-old arms, had been framed not only for robbery, but for assaulting Holt Hudson's wife.

Ducking under a branch of feathery leaves, Tom placed one foot in front of the other, cautiously negotiating limbs that fought him every step of the way. The foliage rustled. Twigs splintered.

He wiped his brow with leather-gloved fingers, wishing the night wasn't so damn hot and humid, so calm and quiet. The only sounds around him were the gentle lap of salt water on the beach and the sweet strains of Mozart coming from somewhere inside the mansion.

A man could make all the noise he wanted wading through the towering mangroves and the endless sawgrass in the Glades. But silence was imperative now.

Take your time, he told himself. Don't get caught.

The window ledge jutted out of the mansion's limestone façade. At least two feet deep and four feet wide, it was the perfect platform for a sixfoot- three-inch man to balance on while figuring out the best way to get inside. Unfortunately the glistening remnants of late afternoon rain that had puddled up on the ledge glared at him. If he took a flying leap, he could easily hit the water, slide right off the window edge, and end up on his butt in the prickly bougainvillea below.

That would surely set off an alarm or two; then the cops would come; then he'd be dead meat.

He needed to move a few more feet out on the tapering limb and then, if his luck held out, he could latch on to the ornamental arch and swing onto the windowsill.

His heart thudded as he took another step. It hadn't beat this hard since the teeth of a gator got too close to his balls.

A bead of perspiration coursed down his temple, slipped over his jaw. The tension in his body was palpable, and his eyes and ears were on such high alert for even the smallest unwanted noise around the estate that he could almost hear the drop of sweat hit the ground.

And then he made his move.

Tearing one hand from its hold on the branch above him, Trace reached across the void for the intricately carved limestone archway, but it was still too far away.

The limb beneath his feet wobbled. One foot slipped and he knew damn good and well he was going to fall if he didn't move fast. Without giving his next action a second thought, he ripped his other hand from the branch above, used the limb he stood on as a springboard, and propelled himself through the air toward the window.

His gloved hands slapped against the wall and he grabbed hold of the jutting limestone, digging his fingers into the crevices. The toes of his shoes landed on the very brink of the ledge, all the hold he needed to keep from careening down the side of the mansion. Amoment later, after careful ma-I'm No Angel 5 neuvering, he managed to gain a firm foothold within the alcove.

His chest swelled as he took a deep, calming breath.

He'd made it -- at least to the window.

He was safe -- so far ...

I'm No Angel. Copyright © by Patti Berg. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 3 )
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Sort by: Showing 1 – 6 of 4 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 19, 2006

    Missed out on Angelic Potential

    Angel Devlin is a PI who spies on stray spouses for the Palm Beach elite. In her spare time, she hangs with her rich friends at the hip Jazzz nightclub and plans fundraisers for Alzheimer disease research. Her ex, a knife-throwing houligan named Dagger Zane, traumatized her in the bedroom so badly she hasn't been able to have an intimate relationship since. Tom Donovan is a gator wrestler turned multi-millionaire overnight. He's in search of answers regarding his father's death and the theft of a one-of-a-kind statue. The source of his answers is only accessible through Angel Devlin. The set-up for this novel was intriguing, and the plot line had great potential. Berg took the search for your past scenario and gave it a decent twist or two. Unfortunately, it became predicatable about two-thirds into the book. There were problems with the physical relationship between Angel and Tom. First, and greatest, was Angel's sudden reversal from cold, frightened fish to steamy temptress. One night of gentle attention cannot undo years of trauma. Secondly, even if Angel's 'on' switch could be flipped like that, this couple has unrealistic amounts of sex. One point in Berg's favor was that the sex scenes themselves were enjoyable. There was a lot of missed potential in this novel. The characters, while likeable, could have been better-rounded. Angel seems savvy as a PI, but everything was a little too convenient, especially when she did anything BUT blend in to her surroundings. Everyone in Palm Beach knew her, yet she was able to do her job and get paid the big bucks for it. Tom is charming in his way, but he doesn't seem too smart at times. I kept expecting him to charge in or DO more to dig up his past, or to use Angel's PI skills, but I was left wanting. I am giving this novel TWO stars. THREE stars is average, and this novel, while a fun read, was slightly below average. If you're looking for a slightly suspenseful, steamy story, go ahead and pick it up. If you're looking for something thought-provoking and/or containing a steamy, but realistic relationship between the characters, then move on. -C.W.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 5, 2004

    A great read

    I¿m No Angel by Patti Berg is a sassy, romantic read. Tom Donovan just wants answers to his father¿s death when he was a small child. He sees PI Angel Devlin coming out of his godfather¿s house. Tom decides getting close to Angel will get him one step closer to the man you has the answers, his godfather. That might have been his plan at the beginning but as he gets to know Angel things begin to change. Angel Devlin is a no nonsense woman. She has grown from a bad marriage to become her own woman. Angel at first has all the right moves to get close to Tom. But she is not prepared to have all these complex feelings for Tom. I¿m No Angel handles the complex issues as well as the funny and steamy ones with style. I am looking forward to the books about Angel¿s brothers.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    entertaining romantic suspense thriller

    For twenty-six years he has lived in shame due to the reported actions of his dead father. When Tom Donovan was four, apparently his dad¿s best friend Holt Hudson shot Tom¿s father six times. A few days later, his dad died in Tom¿s arms alone in the Everglades. Holt insisted that his best friend was a cat burglar who assaulted his wife. The police believed Holt, but Tom knows that wealth can buy plenty of silence and is positive that his godfather spread the money around.----- Tom sees private investigator Angel Devlin meeting with Holt. Afterward he follows her, which she observes. They talk and he pleads with her to help him, but she warns him to stay away from Holt as he is sponsoring an Alzheimer¿s fundraiser at his home. As Tom continues to seek the truth, he and Angel begin to fall in love, but his obsession overrides his heart so any future relationship seems impossible.----- I¿M NO ANGEL is an entertaining romantic suspense thriller that centers on the need of an adult to understand the pivotal childhood event that shaped his current needs. The story line contains several delightful support characters including Tom¿s grandfather Pops, Holt, and through their eyes, Tom¿s parents and Holt¿s spouse. However, the tale hinges on the relationship between the lead couple as he struggles between love and a lifetime obsession to learn what really happened when Holt shot his father.----- Harriet Klausner

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 25, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted January 24, 2010

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted June 3, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

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