Femme Fatale-ish by Misha Bell

My name is Blue—insert a mood-related joke here—and I’m a femme fatale in training. My goal is to join the CIA. Unfortunately, I have a tiny issue with birds, and the closest I’ve come to my dream is working for a government agency that’s disturbingly up-to-speed on everyone’s sexts, rants in private Facebook groups, and secret family chocolate-chip cookie recipes.

I know I’m a spy cliché, that agent who works at a desk but craves fieldwork. However, I have a plan: I’m going to infiltrate the secretive Hot Poker Club, where I’ve spotted a mysterious, sexy stranger who I’m convinced is a Russian spy.

And once I’m in? All I have to do is seduce the presumed spy without falling for him, so I can expose his true identity and prove my femme fatale bona fides to the CIA. I never lose concentration at work, so that’ll be an absolute breeze for me. Oh, and did I mention he’s sexy?

I’m doing it for my country, not my ovaries, I pinky swear.