This month we’re giving away one autographed print copy of Detour Ahead. The giveaway lasts all month – of course, you can always read it free at Kindle Unlimited! Contest details after our Sunday Snippet.
Book Four in our Riders Up series is the story of Cassie’s best friend, Tracy Steele. Mourning the recent death of her father and unable to concentrate in her job as a top county prosecutor in Chicago, Tracy gives in to Cassie’s pressure to take a break—for two months, in a time share north of San Diego. Following a harrowing drive on a winding detour, Tracy finally pulls in at the resort.
When Traci wakes the next morning, she dons her robe and heads out to the balcony to sit with her coffee, her banana, and a book…
EXCERPT
Cocking her
head to the left, Traci
was puzzled by sounds coming
from up the street—a steady bop, bop, bop.
Curious, she stared as the noise came closer
and closer.
“Oh, damn,”
she muttered. Below her balcony,
not fifty feet away, came the wrangler she’d
seen the afternoon before, only
now he was astride a black horse followed
by three
other horses and riders. The sound of horse hooves
rhythmically hitting the pavement
was steady and loud.
Quickly, before
he could
notice her staring at him,
Traci ducked her chin and focused
on her
book while watching him out
of
the corner of her eye. Up close, he was more
than she’d imagined. Many women
would think he was a heartthrob
for
sure. His body displayed that natural toned
and muscled look, a product of
hard work rather than
the often exaggerated look acquired
in a gym. She swore his
full brown mustache twitched
when he passed by. He moved
with the horse as if
they were of the same body.
Hot-shot Chicago prosecuting attorney Traci Steele works tirelessly
keeping rapists off the street to prevent other women from suffering the hell
she’s endured, so she resists her friends’ insistence that she take a two month
R&R in their California Live Oak condo—until they persuade her to help
their rancher friend as a private investigator.
Though he runs the stables at Live Oak, well-muscled mustached wrangler Scott McCord much prefers working with the racehorses he trains at his ranch, and he can’t believe his old friends have sent a greenhorn female to help him with horse troubles.
The improbable dance between this mismatched pair barely fits in around
the escalating suspense of whoever’s after Scott’s horses. Traci is as
tenacious in her sleuthing as she is terrified about her inability to ever love
a man. Can Scott succeed in gentling her – like he does his horses – before she
flees in panic?
Night Owl Reviews Top PickThis is a story about letting go of
your past so you can move on to your future…Add into this touching story of
recovery a mystery that will keep you guessing to the very end, and you’ve got
a story you won’t be able to put down. Angi
Welcome to Book Hooks, a Wednesday offering by members of Marketing For Romance Writers to share a little taste of our work and entice you into wanting more! Click on the links at the end to travel to other Book Hook posts, and enjoy!
Our monthly giveaway for February is an autographed print copy of Detour Ahead (Riders Up, Book Four). Contest details after the excerpt! Of course, you can always read Detour Ahead for free on Kindle Unlimited.
Detour Ahead is the story of Cassie’s best friend, Tracy Steele. Mourning the recent death of her father and unable to concentrate in her job as a crack-shot county prosecutor in Chicago, Tracy finally gives in to Cassie’s pressure to take a break—for two months, in a time share north of San Diego.
EXCERPT
Traci Steele
peered through the rain-splattered windshield of her rental
car trying to focus
on the
taillights ahead. She’d climbed the
foothills east of San Diego
for
nearly an hour.
Abruptly, the traffic slowed to
a snail’s pace.
Why so
slow? The rain was letting
up some.
Traci loosened her grip on
the
steering wheel to
rub first one forearm and
then the other.
She squinted
trying to read the orange
road sign. Damn. The sign
grew clearer with each
few feet she advanced: Detour Ahead.
A lanky deputy sheriff leaned down to answer her unasked question. “Sorry, ma’am, the road is closed. We had an oil tanker jackknife and roll on the slick pavement. This road likely won’t be reopened until sometime tomorrow.”
“I’m headed for Buteo. To
the Live Oak Resort.”
“No problem. Just stay on
this route we’re sending traffic
over.” The deputy gestured
toward the narrow road to
Traci’s right. “About a mile down
that road you’ll have
an option
to come
back to the main road
you’re on now. Don’t take
it.
This detour is actually a short cut to Buteo,
and the views can be
spectacular. Just don’t try going
too fast.”
“Thanks.” Traci
nodded, raking fingers through her
hair. “I won’t be rushing
on
these roads.”
She took the right-hand turn. A small paint-chipped sign read “Buteo Canyon Road.” Another stated “Open Range.” What did that mean?
Three miles farther the road climbed sharply. It twisted and wove its way through deep ravines and across a dried-up creek bed. A bright yellow sign proclaimed: “Dip Subject to Flooding”. Easing closer she looked up and down the ravine as far as she could see and then sped across. Safe, for the moment, anyway.
BLURB
Threatened race horses, city slicker attorney, sexy California wrangler—what can possibly go wrong?
Hot-shot Chicago prosecuting attorney Traci Steele
works tirelessly keeping rapists off the street to prevent other women from
suffering the hell she’s endured, so she resists her friends’ insistence that
she take a two month R&R in their California Live Oak condo—until they
persuade her to help their rancher friend as a private investigator.
Though he runs the
stables at Live Oak, well-muscled mustached wrangler Scott McCord much prefers
working with the race horses he trains at his ranch, and he can’t believe his
old friends have sent a greenhorn female to help him with horse troubles.
The improbable dance between this mismatched pair barely fits in around the escalating suspense of whoever’s after Scott’s horses. Traci is as tenacious in her sleuthing as she is terrified about her inability to ever love a man. Can Scott succeed in gentling her—like he does his horses—before she flees in panic?
This month we’re giving away one autographed print copy of Detour Ahead. The giveaway starts tomorrow, February 2, and lasts all month – of course, you can always read it free at Kindle Unlimited! Contest details after our Sunday Snippet.
Book Four in our Riders Up series is the story of Cassie’s best friend, Tracy Steele. Mourning the recent death of her father and unable to concentrate in her job as a top county prosecutor in Chicago, Tracy gives in to Cassie’s pressure to take a break—for two months, in a time share north of San Diego. Following a harrowing drive on a winding detour, Tracy finally pulls in at the resort, unaware that Scott McCord—the man Cassie wants her to help—is watching her.
Here’s Scott’s reaction:
EXCERPT
No doubt
the
woman was Traci Steele. She
fit Cassie Travers’s description. Hair as black
as night
falling below her shoulders, and tall.
She might
only be a few inches shorter
than him, and he was
six one even. And there weren’t
a lot of single women in
and out of Live Oak.
It was
a nice enough resort, but it
wasn’t Club Med.
The Chicagoan
was a looker, all right. Very
nicely proportioned. Yep, Traci
Steele looked as attractive
as Cassie
had bragged her up to
be.
But he
wasn’t interested in a woman—no matter
how attractive or how intriguing. And he
definitely was not interested in a lawyer. It could
be fatal
to trust
a woman, and it damn near just about had to be fatal to trust a female
lawyer.
Hot-shot Chicago prosecuting attorney Traci Steele works tirelessly
keeping rapists off the street to prevent other women from suffering the hell
she’s endured, so she resists her friends’ insistence that she take a two month
R&R in their California Live Oak condo—until they persuade her to help
their rancher friend as a private investigator.
Though he runs the stables at Live Oak, well-muscled mustached wrangler Scott McCord much prefers working with the racehorses he trains at his ranch, and he can’t believe his old friends have sent a greenhorn female to help him with horse troubles.
The improbable dance between this mismatched pair barely fits in around
the escalating suspense of whoever’s after Scott’s horses. Traci is as
tenacious in her sleuthing as she is terrified about her inability to ever love
a man. Can Scott succeed in gentling her – like he does his horses – before she
flees in panic?
Night Owl Reviews Top PickThis is a story about letting go of
your past so you can move on to your future…Add into this touching story of
recovery a mystery that will keep you guessing to the very end, and you’ve got
a story you won’t be able to put down. Angi
The ball and the book both drop on New Year’s Eve!
New Year’s Eve. Times Square. I booked the room over a year ago, with the view of the ball dropping. I’ll propose to Charlotte and drop to my knee at the stroke of midnight.
At least, that’s the plan.
But nothing in my life ever goes as planned. Between a last-minute gig that takes me away from her, a blast-from-the-past boyfriend of Charlotte’s, and the resurrection of Esme the blow-up doll, I have to fight for my right —
To make her my wife.
Charlotte. Not Esme. Because that’s just gross, man. What’s wrong with you?
Liam is finally ready to pop the question to Charlotte after years together, but a last-minute gig and a heaping dose of fate in the form of Darla makes the road to marriage a little bumpier than expected.
Welcome to the Random series, where people propose to chickens, snakes fall in love with blow-up dolls, cell phones become medical devices, and love conquers all, in tune and with three-part harmony.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling
Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to
BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every
contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after
dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She
lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the
toilet seat is never, ever, down
Especially when it’s resting inside a velvet box in your
front pocket.
My fingers slipped into the top of my jeans, sliding over
the denim seam, slipping through the white cotton pocket, and stroking the
velvet. Was I obsessive? Yes.
Did I have a right to be? Hell, yes.
Charlotte came back into my life four years ago. We’ve been
through hell and back, and she’s still here.
Time to make her permanently here.
Did I need a ring to make that happen? A wedding vow and a
piece of paper that says we’re partners? No.
This May/September romantic suspense follows the teenage waif from
the group home where Cassie worked in Book One. No longer a teenager,
Daisy is carving a life for herself in spite of threats from her past.
Today’s excerpt comes immediately after last Sunday’s, where Daisy asked the stranger what he’s doing in her Arlington Park barn.
EXCERPT
Daisy knew how to protect herself from males — she’d been doing that for years. That wasn’t the problem. The guy was probably old enough to be her father. But he was dangerous; she just didn’t know how, yet. “And do you have a name? Who let you in here? You know you got to have a pass to be back here.”
“Good God
kid, do you always welcome
people by putting your dukes
up first?” The
man dug a visitor’s badge out
of his
pocket. “Will this help?” he
asked, handing it to
her. “The name’s Nicholas Underwood.
My friends
call me Nick.”
Riders Up
Book Three:
Willow Smoke
BLURB
When the chips are down, there’s nobody there. Willowy blonde Daisy Matthews has survived the Chicago streets with this mantra, but she’s unprepared for the much older Nick Underwood’s urgent pursuit. The wealthy businessman receives a thoroughbred in payment for a bad debt and is thrust into Daisy’s world. She teaches him about horse racing; he teaches her about love. When Daisy’s seamy brother-in-law threatens Nick’s safety, she doggedly tries to stop him by herself, but flees to the familiar streets when he attacks. Can Nick find her in time – and if he does, will she still want him?
This May/September romantic suspense follows the teenage waif from
the group home where Cassie worked in Book One. No longer a teenager,
Daisy is carving a life for herself in spite of threats from her past.
Today’s excerpt comes immediately after last Sunday’s, where a strange man frightened the horse Daisy was working with in the Arlington Park barn.
EXCERPT
The man
frowned and sputtered before speaking.
“Sorry, kid, I didn’t mean to
put
you in danger. Don’t know
a damn thing about horses. I’ll be the first to admit that.”
Daisy exhaled slowly. “Okay, so why are you here?” She shifted her weight from foot to foot. An odd sensation swept over her—one she didn’t like. This man, although ignorant as hell about horses and barn etiquette, had an air of confidence that suggested he knew he belonged—whether in the board room, on a sailboat, or even in her barn. His staring made her uncomfortable, and she didn’t like being uncomfortable.
Riders Up
Book Three:
Willow Smoke
BLURB
When the chips are down, there’s nobody there. Willowy blonde Daisy Matthews has survived the Chicago streets with this mantra, but she’s unprepared for the much older Nick Underwood’s urgent pursuit. The wealthy businessman receives a thoroughbred in payment for a bad debt and is thrust into Daisy’s world. She teaches him about horse racing; he teaches her about love. When Daisy’s seamy brother-in-law threatens Nick’s safety, she doggedly tries to stop him by herself, but flees to the familiar streets when he attacks. Can Nick find her in time – and if he does, will she still want him?
When you’re born without a trace, no one knows you’re a weapon.
Book Blurb:
The
future isn’t real.
The past
isn’t real, either.
Only the
present is, solid and full, flying at our faces, our bodies, our hearts and
souls at breakneck speed as we work to take it all in.
As we
work to protect others.
And, finally
– ourselves.
We’ve
started to break the bonds of Stateless, a system as rotten as the one it seeks
to destroy. But systems are organisms with one brutal goal: to survive,
whatever it takes.
Kina has
to do the unfathomable to save a different system, one she created out of
empathy and love for children we rescued from the only home they know.
She’ll
use her mind, her body, her spirit — and her ultimate weapons: love, and —
Me.
Fateless is the final book in USA Today bestselling author Meli Raine’s newest trilogy.
“I love
you,” I say, watching as his fingers halt, two buttons undone, a sprinkling of
chest hair showing from his open shirt.
Smoldering
eyes meet mine.
“You
were going to say it when I came back, but you never did. I told you I loved
you. Love you.” Boldness makes me confront this head on, the timing bizarrely
perfect. In Stateless culture, clarity mattered. Emotion wasn’t allowed, but being
blunt and direct was prized.
Can we
balance both?
“Do you
need me to say it?”
“Only if
you want to.”
“That’s not
an answer to my question.”
“No. I
don’t need you to. I want you to love me, though. That much I know.”
“Do you doubt it? That I love you?”
Author Bio:
Meli
Raine writes romantic suspense with hot bikers, intense undercover DEA agents,
bad boys turned good, and Special Ops heroes — and the women who love them. Meli
rode her first motorcycle when she was five years old, but she played in the
ocean long before that. She lives in New England with her family.
“The
first book in the False trilogy is a psychological thriller worthy of
Hitchcock, keeping you guessing until the very end.” — Apple Books Editors
“…intrigue
and dark humor on display in this thriller…”
While
the immediate—and more compelling—tension in Raine’s (A Shameless Little Bet, 2018, etc.) heart-pumping series opener
comes from Lily’s constant proximity to her would-be killer, the action takes
place against a backdrop of secret government scandals. The “screwed-up
D.C.-insider scandal,” as it is clumsily summarized early on, is pleasingly
twisty…
Fortunately,
Lily’s voice is captivating, wry, and tough enough to sell this thriller. The
novel ends with a cliffhanger that startles, if only because readers will have
become so attached to Lily.
— Kirkus
Reviews
“Fresh,
riveting, and thrumming with emotion and romantic suspense, False Memory is
absolutely unputdownable. You need this book!” – New York Times bestselling author Meghan March
“I
accidentally lost a day to this trilogy! It is unputdownable. Apparently I’m on
a dark-and-twisty binge, and this book is addictive.” – USA Today bestselling author Sarina Bowen (review for Harmless
series)
The lives of several couples and singles intertwine as they struggle to keep their relationships and careers on track. Set during a hectic three days leading up to the world’s first tourist space cruise launch on New Year’s Eve in White Rock, British Columbia.
BLURB
From Writers of the Future winner Fiona Lehn comes a heart-warming, holiday-themed speculative novella, Lift-Off!
The
world’s first tourist space cruise launches from the International Spaceport in
White Rock, British Columbia, on New Year’s Eve. 100 free cruise tickets are
hidden all over North America. You have three days left to find one. Would
you…
Break
and enter? Risk a billion-dollar inheritance? Betray the love of your life?
It’s
a random universe. While millions around the globe celebrate the Quicksilver
spaceliner’s impending launch, a handful of our heroes struggle to achieve
their most stellar dreams.
One
of them is a methane heiress desperate for a free ticket. Another is a
newscaster digging for a killer scoop. And another is a veteran astronaut who’s
never been in space.
There
are more—tween twins attempt a secret mission, a star is almost born—and
everyone is trying to get to the launch before the Quicksilver, you know,
launches.
A
lot can happen in a random universe. Do-gooders become saboteurs, cowards
muster courage, and loners find love. Who will crash and who will soar? The
clock is counting down to one moment that will change everything: Lift-Off!
The
pipe fly–no, she should address him with respect. After all, he was doing so
with her. Waste Reclamation Worker Starski, then, was a lean five and a half
feet. Wavy brown hair stuck out from his hood, his eyes were light grey-blue,
and his lips were perfectly-formed…rose-tinted…magnetic, smooth, soft,
luscious looking–
“Everything
okay?” Starski asked. “Besides waking up here, that is.”
Estelle
blinked, extra long. She had been staring at his lips. What was wrong with her?
Had he noticed? She took another gander, to prove to her eyes that his lips
were nothing special. They were simply divine…glistening as if painted with
drops of Jupiter–
Stop
that. What was happening? Could the drug her kidnapper used have killed off
hundreds, or thousands of brain cells? She stepped back. Dizziness and nausea
sloshed through her. She clutched at his arm for support. “Sorry. I’m not
usually swoony.”
“You
probably need some food and–”
A
red light above the door starting flashing.
He
checked his watch. “Right on time. They’ll take you someplace worse. Come on!”
He trotted to the mess of pipes.
Estelle
pointed at the door, “Isn’t that the only exit?”
“Yep,
and it’s goon-saturated,” he said. “We go along these pipes. You’ll be safe.
Nobody knows the tunnels down here in the guts of the building, except us.
That’s why you call us pipe flies.”
Estelle’s
cheeks flushed. “You know that?”
No
response. She could answer her own question. The light above the door stopped
flashing. “We need to go now,” he said. “Trust me.”
Estelle had learned long ago that trust was suicide, but
this wasn’t exactly the corp world, and at the moment she didn’t have much
choice. “Let’s go,” she said.
AUTHOR BIO
Little is known about reclusive writer Fiona Lehn, but legends abound. Some claim she emerged from her mother’s womb singing “We Are the Champions”, a half-written story clenched in her angry fists.
Many believe she is serving life without parole for leading an Ottawa sit-in demanding that cloudberries be made one of the four food groups. Others tell that Lehn daily frolics with Sasquatch in glacier-fed slipstreams. Still more assert that Lehn will only answer to “Hermit FiFi” and wields a bedazzled staff like a weapon, fending off house-size mosquitoes and meteorites with a single blow.
All
we really know is this: Lehn lives in Canada and has ME/CFS. She creates
stories and songs and lovingly serves a Feline in perpetuity. Visit her at https://www.facebook.com/FiFiHermitage/
Dee is giving away an ebook of Only a Good Man Will Do and a $10 Amazon card during the tour. Please use the Rafflecopter below to enter. Remember you may enter every day for your chance to win. You may find the tour locations here http://bit.ly/OWO122019
About One Woman Only:
As one of a set of triplets, Jonah always feels the need to make his individuality known. So where his brother Daniel is serious and completely focused, Jonah shuns commitment. Where his genius brother Mark is hailed in the scientific world, Jonah hides beneath a car, tinkering. Thing is, being different isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It takes a woman—the right woman—to make him see that a “good man” can always be a better man.
Kelly turned at the sound
of Jonah’s voice behind her. Dinner had ended. All three of the boys had given
best man speeches and Eve had even given a very creditable matron of honor
speech, considering she had only known Marilyn and Caleb a short time. Lots of
toasts had been raised and finally the live band had struck up the music. Caleb
led his bride onto the floor for a foxtrot—a dance more than half of the guests
had no idea how to do, including her.
Facing Jonah she sighed
inwardly at how scrumptious he looked. Sure, his face was pretty much displayed
on his brothers’ heads, too, but there was something different about Jonah. His
nose was just a little crooked from when Bobby Hendricks had broken it in ninth
grade and his eyes held an especially bright sparkle when he smiled. Maybe…
Well, she didn’t know what caused the difference between Jonah and his
brothers. Whatever it was, she had never been fooled by the so-called identical
nature of the identical triplets. She’d wanted to be his girl since elementary
school. Thought she would be in high school. And then she’d forced every last
thought of him from her mind from senior year on.
Until now.
“I don’t know how to
foxtrot.”
He shrugged. “Who does
except those over fifty?” He glanced at his folks, still alone on the
dancefloor, although a few couples were wandering out to join them now.
“We can pretend.”
She mentally compared
standing on the sidelines alone now that Mama Rio left the party, or being held
in Jonah’s arms. Smiling, Kelly held out her hands. “Just don’t step on my
toes, Jonah Goodman, or there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Together they walked onto the dancefloor. He took her right hand in his left
and placed his right hand on her waist. Fortunately for them, the music changed
to a slow tempo. Kelly laid her head on Jonah’s shoulder, and he tugged her
closer as they swayed to the music.
“This is nice,”
he murmured.
“Yes it is,” she
replied. So very nice. He smelled good. Beneath the light citrus fragrance of
his aftershave was a slight whiff of pure man with maybe a twinge of motor oil
or something so Jonah it brought tears to her eyes.
He rubbed a path up to her
shoulder blades and gave a squeeze. “You fit me perfectly, Kelly.”
“I do?”
“You sure do. I think
our hearts can feel each other beat.”
Kelly chuckled.
“Smooth talker. Face to face like this our hearts are on opposite
sides.”
“Hey! I’m trying to be
romantic here.”
She sighed. “Keep on.
It’s appreciated.”
“You smell…good.”
She felt his smile. Raising
her head she gave him a mock glare. “Watch it with those pregnant pauses,
buster.”
He used his hand to press
her head back to his shoulder. “You do smell good, though. This isn’t the
same perfume you wore in high school. That was—”
“Lilac,” they
said at the same time. Once more she raised her head to look at him. “How
did you remember that?”
“I remember much more
than you might think.” He turned her and moved her closer to the door onto
the patio. “Each spring when lilacs are in bloom memories come flooding
back. Does that surprise you?”
“More like shocks
me,” she said, grinning. And then she laid her head on his shoulder once
more, finding she liked it more and more there in his arms. She stepped
slightly closer and his arm tightened about her.
“Well, after a while I
thought lilac seemed too girlish. I like the vintage scents, so in college I
wore Wind Song. Then Shalimar was the scent Brad liked me to wear.” She felt
Jonah stiffen when she mentioned her ex, and really she didn’t blame him.
“But when I grew up enough finally to take charge of my own life, I
started wearing Chanel No 5. A complex fragrance for what I hope is a complex
woman.”
“It suits you. Complex
and beautiful.” He kissed her temple. “Want to step outside for a
minute?”
“Sure. It is a little
warm in here.”
On the patio, they could
hear the sounds of the people from the television networks packing up
equipment, chatting and laughing. Stars shone brightly in the clear night sky.
Wood smoke from someone’s fireplace wafted through the air and static
electricity fairly crackled in the crispness of the autumn air.
“This is my favorite
time of year,” Kelly said. “The heat of summer is gone and winter nights
curled up with a hot drink and blazing fire are ahead.”
“Not me. I’m a summer
boy all the way.”
“A hothead you
mean?” she teased.
“Oh, I’m hot all
right.” He waggled his brows at her. Kelly laughed.
“I do seem to remember
that about you.”
“You used to be pretty
hot yourself. Still are.” He leaned in. His eyes flicked down to her lips.
Kelly sucked in a breath. She should stop him, she really should.
About the Author:
A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex. Writing was so much fun Dee decided to keep at it.
That’s how she spends her days. Her nights? Well, she’s lucky that her dream man, childhood sweetheart, and long-time hubby are all the same guy, and nights are their secret. For romance ranging from sweet to historical, contemporary to paranormal and more join Dee on Nomad Authors. Contact Dee at [email protected].
Today we’re thrilled to welcome fellow eXtasy author Maggie Blackbird with a fabulous kinky release just in time for the holidays. You won’t want to miss this one!
He’s got the perfect Christmas present for the community’s chief—vengeance wrapped in a shiny box with a red bow on top.
Joseph Slade Indian
isn’t angry. He’s pissed. Pissed that the man who threw over his love for glory
and money is back, and now leads their Ojibway community as the new chief.
Holding the pain deep in his chest, Slade knows how he’ll celebrate the most
miserable day of the year—opening a gift of recompense after being dumped by
the one man he dared to love.
Gavin
Pemmican is full of regret. He knows he made a big mistake leaving Slade for a
materialistic dream of power and prestige. No longer the poor bullied misfit
but an educated lawyer, he’s ready to put his skills to the biggest case of his
life by brazenly challenging Slade in the kangaroo court of sexual torture he’s
daring to stick Gavin in—and win back the only man he’s ever loved.
Gavin swiveled on his black shoe, glancing over his shoulder. No,
not a glance. His heavy-lidded eyes burned into Slade. Searing him until his
mouth dried.
The napkin fell to the floor.
Reality slapped Slade’s face cold, and fire crackled in his veins.
Who did this asshole think he was, blatantly tossing garbage around while he
stood watching?
Gavin kept gazing at him while he shifted one leg over the other.
The sound of his heels clicking against the floor echoed off the walls.
Slade gritted his teeth. Was Gavin daring him to get mad, going to
throw around his newfound power if Slade told the high and mighty chief to bend
the hell over and pick that damned napkin off the floor?
Gavin’s dark eyed gaze continued to cut into Slade, as if sharing a
secret. There wasn’t a hint of smug satisfaction. Only a potent, seductive
invitation.
A man had needs. Slade swallowed. And he wasn’t about to get laid on
the rez, no matter if the population clocked in at eight hundred members.
With one final lingering peek, Gavin disappeared inside his office.
Slade’s breathing hitched. The lightness in his chest twisted until
his lungs clenched. He ought to leave the napkin on the floor and find out what
Gavin had to say about that. Slade set the mop handle aside. If he ignored the
trash, the band manager would call him out.
He trounced to the washroom door and leaned down, swiping up the napkin, but the plush material melting into his palm didn’t resemble a napkin. Then what the…? He turned the garment over. His throat clamped shut. Underwear. He was holding Gavin’s underwear.
Author Bio
An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful Alaskan Malamutes.
When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush, teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with the people she loves most.
