Saturday, July 20, 2013



She makes his motor run.
Blaine Haeferle drives fast and lives on the edge. He’s not afraid to risk it all for the win—unless his heart is in the mix. He loved once, but things ended in disaster. Can he accept the woman who holds his heart, despite all their jagged past?
Mallory Sweet never intended to leave Blaine without a word. But one night changed everything for her. Instead of facing her past, she ran.
Is coming to terms with her past the key to winning the love of her life back?


His breath caught when he spotted the black and scarlet 33w tattoo on her sculpted ankle. His number. He didn’t need to see the rest of the woman to know who sat on the truck seat. His hands itched to hold her. Blaine surged to the truck cab. “Mallory?”
The late day sunlight light spread across the interior of the truck, making her eyes shine and her skin the perfect shade of peaches and cream – like unblemished porcelain. She took his breath away with nothing more than a smile.
Mallory patted the seat. “I needed a soft place to sit. These heels are killing me.”
His gaze slid down her sculpted calves to her shoes. His shivered. His cock pressed against his fire suit. Damn. He gave in to a quick fantasy and envisioned Mal in nothing but those high heels.
“They’re killing me too.”
Realizing he verbalized his thoughts, his attention snapped back to her face with a quick meander over the way her black miniskirt hugged her curves and blood red halter cupped her breasts. He folded his hands over his crotch to hide the growing erection. “I mean…What are you doing here?
Aren’t you supposed to be shooting a cover for something?” On the inside, he groaned. Way to sound intelligent.
“I probably could be shooting a cover for something, as you put it. But I’m not.” She toyed with the thick silver ring on her middle finger. “Did you hear me sing?”
“I did.” He had to pay attention to something besides her body and it’s effect on his. He should, but he couldn’t, not when she looked so good. He leaned on the tool chest and crossed his
ankles—anything to hide the tent in his pants. “You sounded good.” Unlike his answer, which sounded moronic and bland. He tapped his toes on the packed dirt beneath his feet and hooked his thumbs on the waistband of his fire suit.
Mallory stilled his hand. “I saw you race. You did well.”
Her touch sparked the feelings he’d long since buried. So much for getting over her. “I had motivation.” Her picture in his pocket and the memories of her on his heart.
Her cheeks paled and her eyes widened. “Motivation?” Her brows knotted. “I see.” She straightened her blouse. “Well, good luck tonight.”
Blaine took a step back. Something happened between them, but fuck if he understood what. “Don’t tell me you came here for small talk. You hate making conversation for the sake of wasting time. What’s going on?” He touched her cheek. “You aren’t even smiling. What’s wrong?”

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