It started with a lie. An innocent, white lie. Okay, it wasn’t so innocent. I’d hit rock bottom. No career, no boyfriend, and I had accidently moved into a fifty-five and up community where my best friend was a short seventy-year-old white haired Italian grandmother with big hips and an even bigger mouth who was constantly trying to set me up with her grandson. When I was offered a job as a private investigator working with the hottest man I’d ever seen, I may have fibbed a little and told my new boss that I’ve got the right experience. Tiny problem. I don’t actually know what investigators do. Googling corporate espionage and taking my seventy-year-old neighbor on stings while drunk on Limoncello probably isn’t in the job description. Neither is falling for my assistant, the gorgeous Green-Eyed Luca, who is either trying to take me down or take me out. I absolutely, positively cannot date Luca but with sparks flying, how could something so wrong feel so right? And will he still want me once he discovers the truth?