ALL JACKED UP by Desiree Holt

ALL JACKED UP by Desiree Holt

On his fortieth birthday Jack Manning had his own private pity party until a pixie showed up and he was soon "all jacked up".

Jack Manning had carried an image with him all of his adult life of the woman he planned to marry. She'd be every man's ideal - slender with masses of blonde curls and sapphire blue eyes.

Darcy O'Connor has been the odd-girl-out all her life. Barely five feet tall, she wears outrageous clothes, styles her short black hair in spikes and has developed a smart mouth to cover her insecurities.

When she walks into Eli's, the favoured neighbourhood hangout, and meets Jack on his birthday, it's like a collision of the planets. Instantly they rub each other the wrong way. But very hot sex keeps drawing them together.

Will they burn each other out before they realise what their feelings really are?

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Copyright © Desiree Holt, 2011
All Rights Reserved, Total-E-Ntwined Limited, T/A Total-E-Bound.

Excerpt From: All Jakced Up


Forty and fucked.

Actually, fucked up is more like it.

Jack Manning leaned against the bar, sipping his drink and indulging in his own private pity party. Friday night and all around him in Eli’s, their favourite bar, his friends were celebrating his fortieth birthday. A death knell that had crept up on his rapidly dissipating youth. Not that he didn’t appreciate the cheer and good wishes—it just sucked that everyone was coupled-up except him.

"Still looking for the perfect woman?"

A hand clapped his shoulder and he turned to see his closest friend, Mike Moreland, grinning at him. Jack just shrugged and took another slug of bourbon.

"She won’t find you if you stand there glaring at everyone," a musical voice said.

Carly, Mike’s wife. Great. They were double-teaming him.

"It’s my birthday," he told them with an edge to his voice. "I can glare if I want to."

Carly stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, "Loosen up a little, will you? Lose the jacket and tie. Forty could be just the beginning for you."

Yeah, right.

"Come on, buddy," Mike urged. "Let’s have a little cheer here."

Jack did his best to stretch his mouth into a smile, but the effort was obviously so bad Carly burst out laughing.

"Okay, okay. I think the glare suits you better."

One by one his friends settled up their tabs, wished him a happy birthday and drifted out, off to their homes or whatever couple of activities might be on their calendars.

How the fuck did everyone else find the right person and I’m still going home to Mr Big?

Mr Big was a cat of indeterminate heritage who had adopted him a couple of years ago and seemed to be the only housemate in his future. He wasn’t a bad catch. His friends told him that all the time. He owned a one-man financial services business that did well. A house that was small but well-furnished in a good neighbourhood. Had no really bad habits to speak of. Considered himself fairly intelligent. He worked out regularly and kept himself in good shape. He might’ve liked to have been a couple of inches taller but it wasn’t a game changer.

So where was the woman for him? At forty, surely he should have found her. Instead he was a single man in the coupled-up crowd of his friends. With no change in that status in the foreseeable future. When people asked him why he wasn’t married yet he wished he had some other answer to give them other than he hadn’t yet met the right woman.

But that was a big part of it. His friends told him he was too picky. Had expectations that were too high. That there were plenty of women right under his nose who were perfectly acceptable.

Trouble was, he didn’t want an ‘acceptable’ woman. He wanted one who would make his friends look at him with envy. One who would validate him as a babe magnet, something he’d never been able to lay claim to.

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ALL JACKED UP by Lorelei James

Pulling off the ultimate con...if they can keep from pulling off their clothes.

ALL JACKED UP Rough Riders, Book 8 by Lorelei James

Keely McKay knows Jack - and Jack Donohue is a certified pain in her Wranglers. The lone girl in the prolific McKay family, Keely needs another man giving her orders like she needs a hole in her boot. What she does need is a restoration specialist so she can open her physical therapy clinic - and prove she's left her wild-child days behind. That means dealing with buttoned-down, uptight Jack.

Jack is this close to securing a career make-or-break project, until he learns his lack of marital status puts him out of contention. When the notoriously hot-tempered and hot-bodied Keely begs him for help, he proposes a crazy idea. He'll oversee her project - if she acts the part of his loving fiancee.

Their sizzling lust makes it all too easy to go from butting heads to knocking boots - but outside the bedroom they're as mismatched as ever. The McKays remind Jack of the humble upbringing he left behind, and cowgirl Keely feels she doesn't measure up to Jack's big-city lifestyle.

When the dust settles, Jack and Keely must face the fact they're not fooling anyone but themselves - or they'll risk losing the real deal.

Product Warnings: This book by Lorelei James contains one hot-blooded cowgirl and one cool-headed businessman in a stripped-down, revved-up game of sexual truth or dare.

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Excerpt:

Excerpt from All Jacked Up

Copyright © 2009 Lorelei James
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Keely McKay’s lucky cowgirl boots kicked up clouds of dust as she paced across the wooden plank floor.

A mouse skittered in front of her and she jumped like a scalded cat.

So much for maintaining nerves of steel.

Well, at least she hadn’t shrieked like a scream queen from some cheesy slasher flick.

In the last twenty-three minutes and forty-two seconds she’d chewed her bottom lip to the point she tasted blood beneath the cherry-flavored lip gloss. Not only that, her fingers hurt from continually cracking her knuckles. Frogs jumped in her stomach and were stuck in her throat. She’d clenched her jaw hard enough to make her earlobes sting. Given her erratic physical reactions, one would believe she was facing the hangman’s noose. An executioner’s blade. Or a blind date.

She was meeting a man. A man she didn’t know. A man she’d never spoken to. A man who held her entire future in his hands.

And that absolutely chapped her ass, sucked balls and blew donkey dick.

No man ever had that much power over Keely McKay. She’d made sure of it. Even with five older brothers, and a dozen older male cousins, she’d always been the queen bee. Using her stubbornness to get her way, not her feminine wiles.

Not that she was opposed to flashing her cleavage to get a leg up in this situation.

No need. You are a professional, qualified woman. Not a Nervous Nellie. Not a Wild Child. Buck up. Chin up. This is your time to shine.

There were a hundred reasons why good fortune should finally smile on her. She’d done everything right on the business front: secured the funding and found the building to further the cause she believed in. On the personal side: she was a loving daughter, a dedicated sister, a loyal friend, an involved aunt. A proud member of the Wyoming community she’d grown up in and hoped to grow old in. She took pride in her ability to connect with people from all walks of life. She derived great joy from helping people. Heck, she’d chosen her career because she was good at those things.

She wasn’t looking for kudos or glory, just a place where she could do what she loved, help people heal close to home—close to their families.

Now that her dream of giving back to the community—filling a need for rural healthcare—was within her grasp, would this mysterious man help smooth a path to success? Or would he trip her up?

Maybe all this worry was for nothing. Maybe she’d get lucky. God knew if the decision were based on hard work, dedication, knowledge and drive, she’d be golden.

Restless, she wandered through the main floor of the century-old building, originally Moorcroft’s first general store. During the course of its existence, it’d housed the post office and an attorney’s office. For the last thirty years it’d sat empty.

She’d always wondered why no one had renovated the stalwart stone building—an answer she was now learning firsthand. New construction of steel frame structures was easier, cheaper, faster and more efficient. Hence, many historic buildings were lost to the blade of a bulldozer or tumbled by a wrecking ball. A sad situation for a western state with precious few architectural treasures in the first place.

So the State of Wyoming had wisened up and toughened regulations, forming the Wyoming Historical Western Preservation Committee to deal with the lax construction policies and administration of fines. The committee also gauged a structure’s historical merit, determining those to be listed on the official register, as well as overseeing any structural and architectural changes of registered buildings, both on the state level and with recommendation to the National Historic Register.

Talk about a taste of bureaucracy.

After dealing with committees and subcommittees, and tracking down funding sources, Keely discovered the entire house of cards depended upon whether she could convince the certified architectural restoration specialist to oversee the project. The company representative insisted on making a personal appearance to gauge the validity of the proposed project before rendering a decision.

As if the situation wasn’t convoluted enough, she’d inadvertently discovered the restoration company she’d contacted and the company that owned the Sandstone Building she lived in…were one in the same. Western Property Management Services and Full Circle Consulting shared the same PO box in Denver.

If she believed in fate, she’d take that as a good sign.

The door creaked and a shaft of sunlight seared her retinas. Keely blocked the bright ray with her hand, willing her heart to stop racing as fast as a spooked antelope. This was it. Her future. Her destiny.

Please. Just this one time. Let things go my way.

She plastered on a charming smile.

As the form sauntered closer, Keely blinked several times. No way. Had to be a trick of the light. Or a trick of the swirling dust motes. Her eyes—shit, maybe she needed glasses. The male figure with a laconic walk looked like…nah. It couldn’t be him.

Could it?

All six foot four inches, two hundred odd pounds of muscle and grace pulled into sharp focus.

Keely gasped like a Victorian maiden.

Or maybe she had stumbled onto the set of a low budget horror movie.

The man was a stunning example of masculine flawlessness.

And the dead last man in the world Keely ever wanted to deal with.

Her brother’s best friend.

The older brother of the guy who’d dumped her.

The jerk who’d left her high and dry at her brother’s wedding reception three years ago.

Jack Donohue.

That bitch fate had a nasty sense of humor.

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