NOT WITHOUT RISK by Sarah Grimm

NOT WITHOUT RISK by Sarah Grimm

He has a killer to find and doesn't need a leggy brunette clouding his investigation....She want to know who murdered her friend.

As Paige and Justin try to stay one step ahead of a madman, love comes...Not Without Risk.

Six agonizing months after a slug collapsed his lung, Sergeant Justin Harrison manages to return to the one place where he shines—the San Diego homicide division. Nothing will stand in the way of proving he is fit for active duty. Especially not the long-legged brunette who just stumbled into his crime scene.

Photographer Paige Conroy spent years hiding from her past. Then a late night telephone call brings it crashing back. An old friend is in town and needs her help. When she arrives at his hotel room four hours later, he's dead. Suddenly, she's the target of a madman, and Paige must turn to Sergeant Harrison for protection.

But who is the bigger threat to her... the faceless assailant she fears will steal her life or the dark-eyed detective she knows could steal her heart?

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~Excerpt~

Justin's frown deepened. "I know what you're thinking, you know. And you're wrong."

Paige swallowed past the lump in her throat. "What am I thinking?"

"Making choices that keep you alive does not make you weak. It would be much simpler to just give up and let this bastard win."

"I could stay where I am, refuse to run and face him."

"You could die in the process."

The thought sent a ripple of alarm through Justin. What if she refused? He couldn't hog-tie her, couldn't make her come with him. He understood her ill-ease, for he felt the same stirrings of discomfort as she at the low hum of sensual awareness that circled about them like a hungry shark. Even right now, he had to fight against the urge to haul her into his arms. And not to ease the clawing panic clearly visible in her eyes. No, his motives were not that heroic.

Against his better judgment, he allowed his gaze to drop, to caress the shape of her body outlined by her suit. He knew just what that suit of hers covered for he'd had his hands all over her just the night before. A high, tight rear end, slim hips, endlessly long legs that would pull him deep into her warmth. Desire shot straight to his stomach, swirled there. The palms of his hands begin to itch.

Paige wore her clothing like armor, each piece carefully chosen to broadcast an image, a strength she alone believed she lacked. She'd have chosen this one to disguise the fear he knew filled her. To tell him, in no uncertain terms, that she could handle anything thrown her way.

Anything.

Even the need to turn to him for help.

God, she impressed him. Aroused him, challenged him as no other before her had done. Justin scrubbed a frustrated hand across his face. He focused on the cool green gaze of the woman before him, the woman his brain told him to stay away from. He'd yet to fully recover from his injury. The last thing he needed was to get involved with a woman who screamed commitment. He was a loner. He didn't do commitment.

His body wasn't listening. He wanted Paige. Above him, below him, it didn't matter. He knew it was bad timing, but he wanted her just the same. And he would have her, sooner or later. If he had to keep his hands in his pockets, pants zipped until the threat that chased her was destroyed, he would. He could.

"Suppose I promised not to do anything you don't ask me to do?"

Paige eased out a breath. "What if I said, it isn't you I worry about?"

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HOLD ON by LaVerne Thompson

HOLD ON by LaVerne Thompson 

One phone call changed both their lives.

A real life knight in shining armor--except he isn't in armor, he's in a suit. But the first time Lena Douglas lays eyes on Stephan Grayson that's what he seems to her. He saves her from a violence that still haunts her nights, but at least he's there to hold her should she wake.

But the nightmare's not over; it stalks them both now. A mistake from her past that will not let go. But then, neither will Stephan.

Stephan’s saved her once and he's not about to let anyone, especially Lena, stand in the way of what is happening between them. But will he always be there to shield her from the danger she thought she left behind?

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~Excerpt~

“911 Operator.”

“Hello…listen, I’m at the corner of Broad Street and Denny Way. I’m looking into the second floor of a garden-style apartment opened onto Broad, and it looks like there’s a…a robbery taking place.” Stephan spoke anxiously into the phone, his voice cracking mid-speak.

The emergency operator on the other end replied in a steady tone, “I’m dispatching a patrol car to the area, sir. Stay on the line with me. Are you one of the victims or do you know the people involved?”

“No, no it’s not me and I don’t know them. I’m in my car. Hang on, the light’s changing. I’m going to make a U-turn and park on the street so I can keep watch.”

He ignored the car honking at him because he cut in front of it. The building before him and the woman in trouble his only focus. The sun had been down for awhile now, but the open lighted walkway in the three-story building allowed Stephan a pretty clear view.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to remain in the car,” the operator insisted in a forceful voice. “How many people are involved?”

“Two, I think. A man and a woman, I saw him grab her purse and she tried to run. Hurry!” he cried.

“Help is on the way. Please try to stay calm.”

“My God!” Stephan exclaimed. “He just hit her…she’s trying to fight him off. He kicked a door open and…he’s…he’s trying to drag her in!” His words were coming faster, rushing to get the information out. “She’s fighting back. I can’t just sit here watching this.”

“Sir, please do not leave your car,” the operator stated firmly. “The person could be armed as well as dangerous. Wait for the authorities.”

“I’m sorry. I’m already at the building. Tell the cops, when they get here, it’s the second building from the corner, second floor, the door at the top of the stairs. I’m going to leave my phone on so you can listen in, but I’m putting it in my pocket.”

Without waiting to hear a reply, Stephan did just that.

As he ran up the stairs he heard a woman’s screams. Why isn’t anyone trying to help her? He had seen three other doors with apartment numbers on this floor alone. Surely one of them was occupied. It didn’t matter, he was here and he wasn’t going to do nothing. Too late, he wished he’d taken the time to grab a tire iron from his car. But he had stopped rational thought as soon as he glimpsed the woman in trouble. He’d just have to rely on being in good physical shape. It wasn’t like he was a fighter, in truth he used his mind not his muscle. Now he may have to use both, and so far he hadn’t been using much of his so-called intelligence tonight. An intelligent person would have waited on the sidewalk and pointed the cops in the right direction.

Stephan stopped at the now closed door he had seen the man kick open. A scuff mark near the bottom of the panel confirmed he had the right place. He put his ear to the wood but could hear nothing. Turning the doorknob he found it unlocked, and cautiously pushed it open. He slipped inside leaving it slightly ajar so the cops could enter easily.

Muffled sounds came from the interior of the apartment. Taking a step in the direction of the noise, ragged cries suddenly rent the air. A hallway, probably leading to a bedroom, stretched in front and to the right of him. There were no lights on, but the blinds were partially open, and the glow from a street lamp provided enough illumination to the small room.

Glancing to the left, he spied a kitchen. His already fast beating heart pumped more blood into his system, adding strength to his resolve. Moving quickly, he headed there first for a weapon. As soon as he pulled a knife from the block on the counter, the wail of a siren whined from a distance, at the same time he heard a scream that curdled his soul.

Throwing caution out the window he ran down the short hallway, the direction the cry had come from, fear setting his pace. Stopping in front of the only room, he gripped the open doorframe. The scene unfolding before him chilled his blood.

The dimmed overhead light showed a woman lying face down on the bed, and a man in dark clothing sat on top of her, straddling her legs to hold her down. She kept screaming and bucking to try to throw him off, but he kept laughing, and using one hand to hold both of hers on her head while he ripped her blouse with the other. So engaged in his activity, he didn’t even hear Stephan behind him.

Stephan wanted to stick the sonofabitch with the knife in his hand. But he spotted an empty metal potpourri bowl on a stand near the door. He didn’t want to shed any of the man’s blood on the woman if he didn’t have to. He put down the knife and picked up the bowl. Using all of his strength, fueled by his anger, he smashed it against the side of the bastard’s head.

Like a bowling pin toppling over, the man fell off the bed onto the floor, hopefully out cold for a while. When the weight holding her down disappeared, the woman on the bed flipped over. She raised her tear-streaked face and her eyes momentarily collided with Stephan’s before shifting to the man on the floor. As her gaze returned to his, fear flooded her beautiful chocolate-colored eyes. She gasped, and backed up against the headboard.

Even with puffy eyes, tear tracks on her face, and a bruise on her toasted almond-colored cheek her beauty still shone through. Stephan’s heart, which had been racing before, stopped in mid-beat.

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LUCKY'S BREAK by Jenn Nixon

LUCKY'S BREAK by Jenn Nixon 

Lucky Series Book Two

After almost losing her uncle Phen during the investigation of her mother's murder, Felicia "Lucky" Fascino cut all ties and ran away, hoping her family would move on and forget the promises they made. Putting the past behind her has never been easy, but Lucky knows working as an assassin is slowly destroying her already fractured psyche. Staying away, especially now that her family is in danger, is the only way to keep everyone safe.

Kenji Zinn, determined to locate his ex-lover, tracks Lucky to a small island with her family's help, and finds her in a miserable and self-destructive condition. Their connection is strained after months apart, but his feelings haven't changed, and he attempts to persuade her to come home, to protect her family and keep her promise. But only Phen is able to convince Lucky that the way to get closure is finding an elusive man named Quimby and take him out permanently.

While her family continues to track their target, Lucky returns to work for the network struggling through each job, aware that pushing her family away won't bring anyone the peace they deserve. As she repairs her shattered relationships, her true feelings for Kenji are tested when she almost loses him completely. Before it's too late, Lucky realizes he's her best ally to help her finish what she started and find Quimby before he strikes again.

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Excerpt:

Lucky tried to ignore how great Kenji looked. His hair went down to his shoulders, but he kept it tied back at the nape of his neck. He still hadn’t cut it since she mentioned it to him almost a year ago. The slight shadow on his dark jaw made his ice eyes pop on his face.

“What?” she said.

“I would like to talk to you, Felicia.” He was doing more than staring at her appearance. He studied every move she made.

“And I’d like to be lying on the beach in front of my rented villa, but we can’t always get what we want…can we?” She placed a hand on her hip.

“Perhaps after dinner,” he said.

“I’m back, there’s no need for you to stick around. You did your job, collect your money or whatever it is you wanted to get out of finding me and go.”

He lurched forward, keeping tight fists at his side. “You think I have done this for money? Why are you so…?”

“So what?” she taunted before taking another long drink.

“You have an hour to get your shit out of my room.” She didn’t wait for an answer. Lucky pushed by him, went into her room, and grabbed a towel. When she got to the
bathroom, she paused without turning around. “And you can tell Elizabeth I won’t be having dinner.”

Lucky shut and locked the door behind her. She sat down on the tub, cradled her head in her hands. The only thing she could do on the flight home to keep from screaming at everyone was to remain silent. Realizing she wouldn’t be able to ignore everyone indefinitely, she had to find some middle ground. If she kept Phen and Bet at bay
and just talked business, it may work again.

Long enough to see it through.

Only problem, she had to get rid of Kenji. If he stayed, he’d sidetrack her. She wouldn’t let that happen again. He couldn’t be part of the equation anymore. Her inability to focus while around him had one to many repercussions. Besides, bringing more people into her shitty life was unfair and dangerous.

He’d probably been at the compound since the day she left. Her house became his personal base of operations. That fried her tail. Still, she was more pissed off with Phen for allowing him to stay, and of all places, her room. Lord knows how much Kenji snooped or what he had found. The thought of him going through her photos, letters, or even her sporadically recorded journal sent shivers down her back. Thinking of him sleeping in her bed gave her hot flashes.

Fuck.

Lucky definitely had to stay away from Kenji. He’d try to fix her. Help her. Put the pieces back in order. She didn’t want any part of it. No more distractions. All she wanted was to do her job and leave with a clean slate.

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STEALING THE BILLIONAIRE'S HEART by Melissa Hosack

STEALING THE BILLIONAIRE'S HEART by Melissa Hosack

Nixie Schuler is a jewelry store clerk down on her luck. She is one wrong move away from getting herself fired. Things become grimmer when she accidentally sends the rich, handsome, and famous Nicholas Morgan home without the pricey locket he purchased.

Nixie knows that if she has any chance of keeping her job, she needs to get that locket back into Nick’s possession before anyone realizes it went missing. She devises the scatterbrained plan of breaking into Nick’s home and returning the necklace while he is at a charity event.

Just like most things recently, her plan falls through when Nick catches her in the act. To Nixie’s surprise, even though he believes her to be a thief, Nick doesn’t send her to jail. Instead, he seduces her.

She quickly learns that she can’t keep her hands off of Nick. He is everything she could ever ask for in a man and more. There are two major problems, though. First, he thinks she’s a thief. Secondly, every time she sleeps with him the disastrous events that follow her get worse. Can Nixie survive her bad luck and manage to snag this billionaire’s heart?

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Excerpt:

 

“Find anything you like?”

 

Nixie gave a squeal and jumped in terror. She banged her knee painfully against the nightstand in her frantic attempt to turn toward the owner of the voice. When she was finally able to face the door, she found Nicholas Morgan leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest with one eyebrow arched questioningly.

 

Nixie sucked in a deep breath of relief. It wasn’t the police. Thank heavens. “You scared the crap out of me,” she hissed. “You should make more noise when you creep up on people like that!” She frowned, realizing how contradictory that statement was.

 

“I’m sorry,” Nick said smoothly. “I forgot that I’m to warn the burglar of my presence. How thoughtless of me.”

 

“Burglar!” Nixie cried indignantly.

 

“Besides,” Nick added, “you were making enough noise for the both of us.”

 

Nixie felt a blush creep up her cheeks and quickly forgot about the burglar comment. Had she really been that loud? “Well,” she sputtered, trying to make up for her lack of stealth. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” she accused.

 

“I’m not supposed to be here?!” Nick cried in disbelief. “Excuse me, Nixie, but I live here. You’re the one breaking and entering.”

 

“How do you know my name?” she asked with a gasp.

 

Nick’s lip quivered in amusement and he pointed to her chest. “You’re still wearing your nametag.”

 

Nixie looked down at her nametag in utter mortification. She’d worn her nametag to a crime. Only she would break and enter with her name emblazoned across her chest.

 

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PERFECT STRANGER by Kerri M Patterson

PERFECT STRANGER by Kerri M. Patterson

Left at the alter and crushed, Chloe Burgesse only thought her life was complicated before she embarked on her should-have-been honeymoon, alone. She had no idea how much worse it could get when a Special Forces soldier takes a leap onto her car. She didn’t see the Pandora's box she'd opened for herself by offering aid. She didn’t see the attraction to Jericho coming, nor did she intend to fall in love with a perfect stranger. 

Master Sergeant Jericho Eden is in Brazil doing recognizance work on a suspected terrorist compound when his team becomes scattered. On his way to his execution, a woman unwittingly offers aid. Together they are thrust into a world of duplicity and danger. Nothing new for Jericho, but Chloe's only chance of survival relies on his instincts, skill, and discipline—something he is having a hard time getting a grip on with his new distraction.

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Excerpt:

 

Jericho dropped himself at the base of the twin kauri tree again and patted the spot of forest floor beside him. "Time to rest."

Chloe turned from the little pool, where he had unknowingly left her contemplating what it would be like to kiss him. Her brow pinched as her stare fell on Jericho. She looked him up and down, pausing.

The last time she had been kissed was over Fourth of July weekend at a country club where she and her ex had celebrated their wedding shower. It had been a short peck, over all too quickly. Now thinking back, the kiss had also been slightly cold. She had thought so then, too, she supposed, but had chosen to ignore the tiny pang of hurt.

He had kissed her goodbye at his car. She remembered following him there as he left early, supposedly for a forgotten meeting with a client. After he left her at the curb, she'd watched him drive away and wondered why he hadn't wanted to kiss her more deeply. He is my groom, after all. Shouldn’t he be in love with me? she'd thought.

Chloe snorted now.

She wished her ex's lips had never touched hers. If she had the power, she would erase the entire relationship.

And so, there was something she wanted to do before she died, in case she met her end tomorrow or even during the night.

Chloe hesitated, chewing at her bottom lip nervously. She wasn't even remotely sure how to approach a man she intended to kiss without being invited to do so. She had always let the man lead.

She took a deep, steadying breath and crossed over to the tree, feeling brave as she approached, but grew timid as she sat down.

"Is everything all right?" Jericho asked.

Chloe sighed, shutting her eyes briefly.

Oh, hell, what did she have to lose anyway?

Chloe gathered her nerve.

It wasn't as if rejection would be anything new to her.

Chloe reached out quickly, cupped Jericho's cheek with her palm, and before he could stop her or protest, she tilted her head and claimed his lips in a gentle kiss.

A hot spasm of desire struck her harder than she'd anticipated.

Chloe pulled back to view his surprise, expecting to find astonishment, and she did.

All the blood in her body seemed to rush to her head in an instant as she waited for what seemed like forever for him to respond.

He blinked and shook his head, confused. "What was that for?" he murmured dazedly.

Chloe bit her bottom lip, dropping her stare back to his mouth. "If I die, I don’t want that asshole to be the last man I kissed," she said in a whisper, offering a smile and a nervous little shrug. She started to turn away, but he caught her by the arm.

Jericho chuckled low, the deep richness of his voice sending electrifying quivers though Chloe. He reached to brush the side of her face with his palm, and his hands quickly deepened into her hair, tangling his fingers at the back of her nape as he pulled her to him.

"If that’s the case," he said against her lips, "then we should do a kiss justice." Jericho dragged her body against him, enveloping her in his strength. His lips sealed over hers.

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BARE IT ALL by Lori Foster

BARE IT ALL by Lori Foster

Love Undercover
Men Who Walk the Edge of Honor

A cop’s craving to know more about the woman next door could prove fatal in the steamy new novel from  New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster

As the person responsible for taking down a brutal human trafficker, Alice Appleton fears retaliation at every turn. No one knows about her past, which is exactly how she prefers it…until the sexy cop next door comes knocking.

Detective Reese Bareden thinks he knows what makes women tick, but his ever-elusive neighbor keeps him guessing like no other. Is his goal to unmask Alice’s secrets? Or protect her from a dangerous new threat? One thing is certain: their chemistry is a time bomb waiting to explode. And with no one to trust but each other, Reese and Alice are soon drawn into a deadly maze of corruption, intrigue and desire-and into the line of fire….

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Book Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

 

As she came toward him, Alice’s baby-soft hair hung loose, with silky tendrils drifting over her shoulders. Her big brown eyes, so innocent and yet so aware, watched him intently, the way she always watched him. She smiled and that smile did remarkable things to him. Made him ravenous, when he’d never quite experienced anything like that before. Lust, sure. But such a powerful need? No, never.

 

Only with Alice.

 

Very close now, so close the warmth of her touched him all over, she brushed her nose against his jaw, his neck, his ear.

 

He groaned. Out loud. He heard it, but could barely credit that the sound came from him.

 

From a gentle nuzzle.

 

Against his ear.

 

It was insane, but it took very little from her to get him painfully aroused.

 

“Reese?”

 

He wanted her mouth on him. He turned his face toward her and he felt her breath. Hot. Then her tongue. Wet.

 

“Oh… um, Reese?”

 

She sounded so tentative that he smiled as he reached for her and opened his eyes. His hand encountered dense fur, and the expressive brown eyes staring back at him weren’t Alice’s.

 

They weren’t even human.

 

His dog Cash panted at the sign of life. Delighted to have him awake, Cash barked, turned a quick circle, and… licked Reese’s face.

 

Again.

 

“Shit.” Reese dodged the dog’s sloppy fondness while trying to orient himself. The dream had felt so incredibly real. And so welcome. He shifted – and found himself cramped from head to toe… on a sofa.

 

Alice’s sofa.

 

Lifting his head, he looked down at himself. He wore only boxers, and as was usually the case when he first awakened, they were tented. Hmmm…

 

Where had the sheet gone? Ah, over the side of the couch to the floor.

 

Levering up to one arm, Reese attempted to orient himself – and there stood Alice at the foot of the couch, fully dressed in summer slacks and a sleeveless blouse, her hands locked together in front of her and, yes, her soft brown hair hung loose.

 

But now, with him wide awake, her hair looked tidy, like Alice, not sexily rumpled as it had in his dream.

 

She watched him, but those soul-sucking brown eyes weren’t on his face.

 

They stared with absorbing attention at his morning wood.

 

Great. Playing kissy-face with his dog was bad enough. Scrambling for the sheet now would only make him look more foolish. He wasn’t used to finding himself in tricky, uncomfortable situations. At least, not with women.

 

As a police detective, sure, he’d often found himself discomfited by perps, though usually not in boxers while sporting Mahogany.

 

Alice was many things: a neighbor, an enigma, an irritant and a subtle bombshell.

 

And obviously, based on that ramped up dream, she was also the current focus of his fantasies.

 

He cleared his throat. “Up here, Alice.” Her curious gaze rose to his face. “Thank you. Now if you don’t mind, you could turn around a moment. My modesty is beyond compromised, so it doesn’t really matter to me, but with your face already going pink I’m not sure –”

 

“Of course.” Turning, she gave him her back. Posture stiff. Air uncertain.

 

That lovely fawn-colored hair fell just beyond her shoulders.

 

“Sorry about that.” She strode fast and unsteady to the patio door that led to her small deck. She’d left the door open, allowing in a muggy, late-August breeze that teased her beautiful hair.

 

Given the heat of his interest, air conditioning would have been nice, but since this was Alice’s apartment, and she’d been generous enough to let him crash on her couch, he wouldn’t complain.

Much.

 

“What time is it anyway?” Sitting up, Reese reached for the sheet, but Cash sat on it. The dog watched Reese, his furry ears perked up, his expression hopeful. Reese grinned. After tugging out the sheet and covering himself, he patted the couch beside his thigh. “C’mere, boy.”

 

The dog bounded up with over-the-moon enthusiasm. Because of the undercover sting they’d just wrapped up, Reese had spent as much time away from Cash as with him – and still he and the dog had bonded.

 

“It’s a little after one o’clock.”

 

And she hadn’t awakened him? How long had she been sneaking around the apartment?

 

How long had he lain there without even a sheet?

 

He was generally a light sleeper, so either he’d been really out of it, or she was… stealthy.

 

That thought bothered him, and meshed with other concerns he had about Alice. Her keen observance of everything around her, combined with her cautious air, planted awful background possibilities into his head.

 

Then there was the way she’d come onto the scene yesterday, a big, loaded gun in her hand…

 

“Cash hasn’t been out for a few hours. I was trying to lead him through without waking you, but he saw you there on the couch, and then you made… a sound.”

 

“A sound, huh?” Given the erotic dream, he could just imagine.

 

“Cash sidetracked to you and –”

 

“I thought he was you.” When her shoulders stiffened more, Reese felt devilish enough to say, “And I was having this rather sexual dream.”

 

Wide-eyed with something akin to astonishment, she faced him, stole a peek at his lap, and when she saw he’d bunched the sheet there, she met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

 

“You and me.” He gestured between them. “And damn, but the dream felt real.” Reese scratched under Cash’s furry chin. “You were near me. Breathing on me.”

 

Indignation brought her brows together. “Breathing on you?”

 

Wondering when she’d catch on, he gave a sage, serious nod. “You nuzzled my ear and I felt your hot tongue -”

 

Backing up fast, she bumped into the screen on the patio door and almost fell through it. After an accusatory scowl at Reese for making her stumble, she checked the screen, saw that it remained in the track, and cleared her throat. “I would never –” She searched for a word and came up empty.

 

“Lick me?”

 

To his surprise, she kept quiet, but her mouth – and her expression – softened.

 

“No? What a shame.” He gave the dog a few pets, which encouraged him to shower Reese with more affection. “But apparently Cash would.”

 

Realization dawned. “Oh.” A smile twitched. “You felt Cash trying to wake you, and you thought..?”

“Yeah. Helluva way to start my day. I mean, I’m fond of him, but…” Reese looked her over. “Not that fond.”

 

“He’s adorable!”

 

“Sure he is.” Reese had only recently gotten the dog, and while he’d never considered himself a pet-lover, he and Cash were getting acclimated – with Alice’s help. “I just don’t want you mistaking my…” He nodded at his lap. “Reaction.”

 

Though she covered her mouth, a short laugh escaped anyway.

 

That laugh was as mesmerizing as her smile, and his sheet-covered boner twitched. “Keep it up, and I’ll never get it under control.”

 

Rather than backing up or blushing again, she chastised him. “Really, Reese. It’s not something to talk about.”

 

“Not something to be embarrassed over either.” But he sort of was anyway. What was it about Alice that affected him so profoundly – and so physically? “Not to minimize your appeal, but it happens to most guys in the morning.”

 

“When they awaken, you mean?”

 

“Yeah. It’s called morning wood, or in this case, afternoon wood, I guess.”

 

“I see.” She tipped her head to study him. “But when you knocked on my door this morning, you were wide awake, fully dressed and had just finished working.”

 

He’d also been aroused over the possibility of spending more intimate time with her. Knowing he shouldn’t tell her that – yet – he scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes.

 

“Yet even then,” she continued, her tone mischievous and teasing, “you had a…um…”

 

Having her talk about it wasn’t helping. Reese trapped her gaze with his own. “An erection.”

 

“Yes.” A little too matter-of-factly, she nodded. “You had one then, also.” Though the color in her fair skin intensified, she didn’t look away. “You told me not to worry about it.”

 

“I know what I said.” God, he wanted to kiss her. If she was any other woman, he would.

 

But he hadn’t known Alice that long, and what he did know of her kept him from pushing things. Already, thanks to the fiasco the day before, she’d seen the hazards of his job.

 

Wasn’t every day that murderers and thugs, the very criminals he investigated, showed up on his doorstep. It was even more uncommon for those offenders to get the drop on him. Usually he was great at his job. But yesterday… yeah, he’d suffered a first-class cluster fuck – and Alice had managed to get right in the middle of it.

 

Maybe that’s why he’d been dreaming of her. She’d been helping out by watching his dog while he and his partner closed in on their quarry, and then when shit went sideways, she’d recognized the deadly situation and sent in reinforcements.

 

He eyed her understated, prim façade, which hid so much intuition, bravery, and cunning. “You will never have reason to worry about anything with me.”

 

“Okay.”

 

She was the most curious woman, and that, too, could explain his unaccountable reaction to her. “Just like that, huh?”

 

“I know you’re honorable.”

 

Sensible Alice. Of course she was right – he was honorable, most especially where women were concerned. But in the short time they’d known each other, how could she possibly be that confident about his intentions?

 

She couldn’t.

 

So he’d taken in a stray dog – a dog she now adored. So what? He was polite, mannerly, dressed well and had his own proper persona. It meant nothing, and she should realize that.

 

Yet from what he’d seen so far she had great instincts.

 

The type of instincts usually honed in the field.

 

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BEST I EVER HAD by Wendi Zwaduk

BEST I EVER HAD by Wendi Zwaduk

A Dirty Bits Short Novella

The objective—keep her safe. No one said anything about falling in love.

All she wanted was a pint of ice cream, not to be a witness to a double murder. Good thing Emma’s got not one, but two, sexy men willing to keep her safe. As long as she can keep her hands to herself.

Sam’s mission? To find the man responsible for the murder. He’s not going to rest until the streets are safe, even if it means having his best friend guard his best girl. It’s the best option, right?

Quint never dreamed he’d be attracted to his best friend’s lover…and his best friend. He’s got to keep his hands to himself all while figuring out what he wants from life, even if love equals Emma and Sam in Quint’s bed.

Is love in the cards or are they going to go up in flames before they get started?

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Excerpt

“It’s always hotter than hell right before the sun goes down.” Emma Rhodes tugged the hem of her tank top. No amount of shifting would get the air moving between her shirt and her body.

“I don’t want to be hot,” she muttered. “I don’t want to be in hiding, either.” She turned her back on the sliding doors. “Aren’t you tired of this, Quint? We live together because Sam wants to keep me safe. How crazy is that?”

“Em, it won’t be much longer. Trust Sam. I do.” Quinton Reynolds widened his stance at the front door. “He’s not here, but he does care. We won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Thanks.” Emma threw her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. She loved Quint, but some days being alone with her roommate-slash-bodyguard sucked. She missed her husband, Sam.

“If you don’t behave, I’ll turn you over my knee and spank the sass out of you. Bet Sam would love to watch that,” he said with a wink and released her. “He’d watch and insist I make your ass nice and pink.”

She knew that mischief in his eyes. Sam and Quint always managed to find trouble. Protection or not, she didn’t dare doubt his words. If Quint wanted her over his knee, he’d have her and Sam would enjoy it. Hell, she knew more about Sam and Quint than they realized. Since the night she heard them making love on the couch, she knew they weren’t just friends. Seeing the men demonstrate their love for each other turned her on. Yes, Sam married her, but she’d always known about his bisexuality and the secret affair didn’t bother her. He needed someone else and Quint fit the bill. Great. Maybe someday they’d invite her to play with the both of them. She could only hope and fantasize.

A breeze twirled in through the open sliding glass door and tickled her back. She breathed in the sweet scent of the flowers on her balcony and an idea crossed her mind. She strolled into the bedroom and traded the tank top for her bikini top.

“Might as well be comfortable while I’m cooling down. God knows it’ll give Quint something to look at.”

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HEAT SEEKER by Lucy Monroe

HEAT SEEKER by Lucy Monroe

Goddard Project Series - Final Book

Always ready, always deadly. That’s the motto of the Atrati—a mercenary organization of black operatives who specialize in doing what no one else can.

A former sergeant in the Marine special forces, Kaden Marks dreams of one day having a family. But he’s haunted by the deeds of his past and won’t let anyone get close. Then a new mission comes his way. A fellow operative has had her cover blown—and it’s up to Kaden’s team to bring her out safely. What he doesn’t realize is that the beautiful but stubborn Rachel Gannon has no intention of letting herself be rescued...

Rachel will come out only when she can promise adequate protection for her unwitting informant. As a former DEA agent, Rachel still blames herself for her sister’s death—and is unwilling to let someone else get hurt because of her. But she hadn’t counted on falling for Kaden Marks, and falling hard. Now she must convince him to help her bring down the enemy’s entire organization—without risking the life of the man she’s come to love...

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~Excerpt~

Rachel’s “interrogators” conferred in the corner of the starkly lit room, apparently unaware that one of the four languages she spoke fluently was the Farsi they were using. She understood another five well enough to eavesdrop with effect, but not to converse.

Not that her special affinity for languages was going to do her any good here. Even though she could understand every word they spoke, she couldn’t do anything about it.

The tallest, and coincidentally youngest of the three men, was shocked she had not yet broken. After all, she was only a woman. He was convinced she was what she claimed to be: a simple tourist who had been foolish enough to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

An older man with clear military bearing, and who the other two deferred to, said she had to have training in anti-interrogation techniques. Which meant: he did not believe her overly curious tourist story.

The third man evinced no opinion, simply glancing over at Rachel with unreadable eyes. He was the one who had attached her to the car battery and tightened her restraints by tiny increments every once in a while. They weren’t cutting off circulation yet, but they were close.

And it hurt. A lot.

Not enough to make her tell them the truth though. She was a highly trained operative, but her best preparation had come from life. She knew what kind of pain could break a person like her, but they didn’t have access to the means to do it. After all, she’d already lost everyone that mattered.

Her parents and Linny were dead. Grandma was in a home with Alzheimer’s and hadn’t recognized Rachel in two years. Kadin had left before she ever lost Linny.

There wasn’t anyone left to lose.

And they couldn’t break her with her body. Oh, she’d welcome death when and if it came. The torture was destroying her mind and her perspective, but Rachel would protect her unwitting source of information no matter what they did to her body. Jamila Massri reminded Rachel too much of Linny. An innocent young woman desperate for love caught up with a sadistic man.

It would take more than physical agony to force that name from behind the barriers Rachel had constructed in her mind.

She’d planned her escape route if those barriers started to fail and the idiots in the corner had no clue.
All she had to do was tip her chair sideways when the battery leads were connected to her body.
She’d fall into the puddle of urine and water they’d tossed on it to keep down the smell. The electricity would pass through her heart, but more importantly through her brain.

Instant fried cerebral matter.

And if she was lucky, the cement floor connecting with her head would kill her before the electricity even.

She hadn’t taken her only out yet because the part of her that wanted to do her job wouldn’t let go, the little part of her that still hoped, still believed in good winning over evil. She wanted to know who the top players in this information war were.

And maybe, just maybe...her agency would send someone to extract her in time for her to share that important news.

TGP didn’t leave their agents behind, but time was running out and she wasn’t counting on rescue. She never counted on anyone being there for her anymore.

Another bolt of electric agony jolted through her as she forced her mind to go over the escape plan again and again, even as she screamed the name of the one person she was absolutely sure she would never see again.

#

Kadin could hear the screams through the walls of the facility. His heart stopped in his chest as the agony in that voice paralyzed him.

He’d heard Rachel Gannon’s voice lifted in pleasure, he’d heard it broken with pain, but he’d never heard it scream like this. In that moment, he realized it was the one sound that might well break him.
“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Cowboy asked as he drew level with Kadin.

Kadin jerked his head in a nod and started moving again. He had to be all right, damn it. He couldn’t let himself get distracted. Rachel’s life depended on him keeping his head in the game and hearing the proof of what was happening to her could not get in the way of that.

Not even when it came special delivery with his name on it.

One damn thing he had never expected was for her to call out to him in her time of need. It had to be a mind game she played with herself to keep her real secrets locked inside, but hell if it wasn’t wreaking havoc on his brain too.

#

Rachel was on count seven-hundred and twenty when she realized it had been longer than three minutes since the last shock. She opened her eyes slowly, but even so, it took a moment to focus. Her vision was so blurry at first, the room appeared dark. But it wasn’t. The single light in the ceiling was still on and the stark light cast by it revealed that the men tormenting her were no longer in her cell.
She hadn’t heard them leave.

That was not good. Maybe she was farther gone than she’d thought.

Had the time come to take her escape route?

She took several deep breaths, trying to assess her condition and how close she might be to revealing something she did not want to without realizing it.

As Rachel contemplated her options, limited though they were, the door opened and an old woman shuffled in. She muttered a prayer in Farsi under her breath as she offered a cup of water to Rachel to drink.

Rachel didn’t bother asking for help. This woman was as trapped as she was. The first couple of sips of water were as bitter as the acid in Rachel’s mouth, but then the clear cold flavor of well water took over and Rachel’s eyes stung with gratitude.

The woman helped her drink the whole cup before stepping back.

“Thank you,” Rachel croaked out in Farsi.

With a nod of the cloth covered head, the older woman turned to leave.

“Wait.” The word cost Rachel, coming out of a throat raw from screaming.

The woman turned, her eyes filled with resigned sadness. “I can do nothing else for you.”

“You can tell me where we are.”

Though Rachel could make a good guess based on the way the woman was dressed.

“We are in the mountains, far from any city.”

“In what country?”

“Morocco.”

Okay, that was a lot further from Helwan, the small city outside Cairo she’d been conducting her investigation in than she’d expected. She must have been out a lot longer before arrival than she’d thought, or they flown her here.

Either way, she now understood why she’d been left alone for almost a day after being dumped in this less than hospitable room. The fact the big dogs hadn’t arrived yet made more sense too.

Moving her to Morocco was smart, but hopefully not as clever as the locator chip in Rachel’s hip that Vannie at TGP headquarters had installed.

“Thank you. What is your name?”

The woman shook her head and left without answering.

“Mine is Rachel,” she croaked out as the door closed. Her head dropped, the tiny reserve of energy draining from her.

She had no doubts her people would find her, but she was fairly sure at this point that it wouldn’t be alive.

Moments later, the door opened again - this time silently. Only the shift of air in the room giving the movement away. So, not her captor’s return.

But who? Had her agency sent a rescue team? Hope seared through her as worry rose up to meet it.
A man stepped inside, closing the door behind him with an economy of movement and absolutely no sound. She would not know he was there if she could not see him with her own eyes. Big, both tall and broadly muscled, he wore the newer black digital camouflage. His face was covered by a cotton ski mask, but his eyes were eerily familiar.

She blinked her own, unable to process what her brain was telling her. But her rescuer had Kadin’s eyes.

She knew with every particle of her remaining sanity it couldn’t be Kadin. Not here. Not now. Just her fantasies playing tricks with her mind. This was much worse than losing track of time during her torture. Reality was colliding with imagination and that terrified her.

She had to keep her mental faculties together. It was the only weapon she had left. And apparently, she needed to stop using old memories to fight the horror of the present.

“Kadin,” she whispered almost silently, the fear she’d refused to give into up to this point nearly overwhelming her.

The man heard her. His head jerked, but he didn’t say anything. He moved forward on quick, silent feet, dropping to one knee beside her. He flicked open a lethal looking blade and put it against the zip tie holding her wrists together.

“Wait!” she gasped.

He stopped. “Don’t worry, Rachel. I’m not here to hurt you.”

It was Kadin’s voice. Her mind had snapped.

Even knowing that, she asked, “Kadin?”

“Yes.”

Impossible, but he’d just said he was Kadin. Maybe her rescuer would have agreed to anything; maybe men like him were trained to deal with delusional torture victims like her that way. One thing she was certain of. The man, whoever he was, was here.

“I’m not dreaming.” She said it aloud because she needed to convince herself.

She was fairly confident that she was in too much pain to be dreaming though. Besides, in all her dreams Kadin had never shown up in commando gear.

The Marines had taken him from her; she wasn’t about to have fantasies of him dressed like a soldier.
“No.” He brushed her cheek with a black gloved hand. “You’re not dreaming.”

That voice again. It could not be and yet somehow, her nearly broken mind kept insisting that it was. “It’s you. Really.”

“Yes.” Never one for long speeches, her Kadin.

No, wait. Not hers anymore. Not for a very long time.

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter. We have to get you out of here.”

“No.”

He made a sound a cross between shocked gasp and growl. “Yes.”

“No. Two of the top guys in the organization are coming tomorrow. One of them is an expert on interrogation.” And she was sure she knew which one held that dark claim to fame in his underlings’ eyes. “I know one, but not the other. We need that information.”

So, okay...her brain was still functioning. Which meant this man really was Kadin because she wasn’t so far gone she was turning fantasies into reality in her mind. She hadn’t done that for almost as long as Kadin hadn’t been hers.

“Then get it another way,” he growled in an almost sub vocal whisper directly against her ear. "You are not staying here to be tortured some more."

“They’re finished for the night.” At least she hoped they were.

“Bullshit. They’re giving you a chance to think it’s over before coming back and trying to break you.”

A more experienced interrogator might do that, but these guys? She was hopeful not. “They haven’t broken me yet.”

The sound of plastic snapping came from behind and then Kadin’s big hands were on her arms, massaging them as he slowly allowed them to relax downward. “This is going to hurt like a sonsabitch, but you can handle it, angel.”

The pain started then and she didn’t bother wasting breath on trying to argue or demanding he never, ever use that endearment again. She had to handle this and a lot more quietly than she had her torture. Yelling out Kadin’s name right now could get them both killed.

Once her arms hung at her sides, he made quick work of the ties holding her legs to the chair and then he swept her up into his arms. “They aren’t getting the chance.”

“Chance for what?”

“To break you.”

“And I won’t get the chance to identify the other major player either.”

“I’ll leave a team to do surveillance.”

“There’s no guarantee the bosses will show once it’s discovered I’m gone.”

“Is she for real, boss?” someone asked and Rachel realized Kadin was wearing an earbud communicator.

She wouldn’t have heard the voice except her head was right next to his. He should be carrying her in a fireman’s lift, so he had one hand available.

The fact he wasn’t messed with her head in a way the torturers hadn’t been able to.

“Boss?” the voice asked again.

“Yes.” Kadin didn’t sound happy when he said it either.

“Tell her we’ll take care of it,” another voice, this one with a distinct Texas twang, said.
Another day, another time...Rachel would have demanded to know how, but right now? It was taking every single one of her stay-with-it molecules to keep from passing out, puking or ignominiously doing both.


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RUN THE RISK by Lori Foster

RUN THE RISK by Lori Foster

Love Undercover Book One

When Detective Logan Riske goes undercover to find Pepper Yates, a potential link to his best friend's unsolved murder, he vows to gain her cooperation by any means necessary. But the elusive beauty is more suspicious - and in far more danger - than he expected. And the last thing Logan needs is to start caring for her...

Pepper has spent years dodging the corrupt club owner who will stop at nothing to keep her silenced. She can trust no one, not even the handsome new "construction worker" who's moved in next door. The heat between them is undeniable. But will surrendering to passion bring her the safety she so desires - or will her feelings for Logan draw them both into a killer's crosshairs?

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~Excerpt~

“Let me leave you my number. Anything comes up, or if anyone bothers you –”

“You’re bothering me.”

His gaze zeroed in on her mouth. “That’s why you’re flushed?”

Oh God. More heat rushed to her skin’s surface. “Really, Mr. Stark –”

“Logan,” he corrected softly. “Say it for me. Just once. Then I’ll go.”

He wanted to… seduce her?

So it appeared. And worse, he succeeded just by presence alone. “Logan,” she agreed through stiff lips. “I need to go.” Before I do something stupid – like invite you in.Or kiss you.

Or drag you down to the floor and –

He pulled a card from his pocket. “My number. Seriously. Any problem at all – or if you just want to visit – give me a call, okay?”

“All right.” Not on your life. “Thank you.”

As if he knew her thoughts, he gave a warm laugh and stepped out of the doorway. “See you later, Sue.”

Not if I see you first. “Goodbye, Logan.” She started to close the door.

And he said, “Now that wasn’t so painful, was it?”

She clicked the door shut in his face, then dropped against it.

Painful? Not exactly.

Stirring? She felt like a blender on high speed, all her emotions, all her dormant desires, churning together in a frenzy.

It had been too long – like forever – and she was too deprived to be around a specimen like him without imagining the impossible. She needed to find a way to avoid him, but she’d have to do it without causing suspicion. And there was the rub.

Avoiding him was suspicious.

Pepper turned so that it was her shoulders against her door. Head down, eyes closed, she struggled to come up with a plan.

Maybe, she reasoned to herself, she was going about this all wrong. Any woman would be flattered by Mr. Stark’s attention.

A woman like her, especially so.

Slowly, she lifted her head. Did she have a good reason to engage him in conversation? To get to know him better?

She pressed her hands to her cheeks and fought off a smile.

Yes, that’s what she would do. She would stop deflecting him, and instead – she’d shyly reciprocate. If that didn’t scare him off once and for all, she didn’t know what would.

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PANIC BUTTON: LIGHTHOUSE ISLAND by Gilbert M. Stack

PANIC BUTTON: LIGHTHOUSE ISLAND by Gilbert M.Stack

When Angie Specter won a slot on the Reality TV show, Panic Button: Lighthouse Island, she promised herself she wasn't going to be involved in a showmance. She's a serious contestant and wants that $250,000 prize. Showmance contestants are weak and foolish, and Angie has no intention of being used by some handsome guy. That is, until she meets Hank. Not only is Hank Cross very handsome, he's as strong and capable as Angie.

When the show's crazy host begins using terror to drive contestants off the island, Angie and Hank quickly figure out that if they don't help each other, they may not live long enough to push their Panic Button.

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~Excerpt~

At the bottom of the stairs he turned to look at them and grinned. “Are you coming?” he asked.

Hank was the first to step forward and follow him down the stairs.

“It’s funny, but he’s actually got me nervous about going down there,” Ronnie confided in a hushed whisper.

“It’s just a cellar, right?” Angie said.

“Sure,” Ronnie whispered back. “It’s just a dark and lonely cellar, probably covered with critters—rats and bugs and—”

“Shut up!” Heather snapped before hugging herself.“I hate spiders!”

“I’m waiting!” the Keeper told them.

Angie stepped forward after Hank thinking that—sexist stereotyping or not—it would have been nice if Rook, the other big strong man, had volunteered to take the lead with Hank.

The cellar smelled dank and moldy and it was definitely far too dark with only the one lantern eliminating its very weak light. She moved closer to the Keeper so she could see better. “Can you make the light in that lantern brighter?” she asked. “I can hardly see anything down here.”

The Keeper smiled and Angie immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Of course, not being able to see was part of the atmosphere he was trying to create.

Hank put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and Angie instinctively moved closer to him. His hand slid around her back and pulled her slightly closer yet. It felt good to have that little extra assurance that she wasn’t alone down here.

The Keeper waited, apparently patiently, while the other contestants filed down the stairs. When they finished congregating, he started to speak again. “This is John Lamb’s cellar. When he was alive and in control of this Residence, I’m quite certain that it was packed with supplies and perhaps some of the items he’d scavenged from the wrecks of ships. Unfortunately, the British took everything he had after they murdered the man.”

He angrily shook his head from side to side, then looked up and smiled most unpleasantly. “Well, almost everything I should say.”

He stepped away from Angie and Hank to stand in front of Rook, staring closely at him for several seconds before moving on to Ginny. “Can you imagine what they left behind, Miss Freeze?”

Ginny looked far more frightened than any of the rest of them, and all she could do by way of a response was to jerk her head from side to side.

The Keeper moved on, stopping in front of Ronnie.“In 1752, four years after John Lamb first took up residence on this island, the slave ship, Madrigal, was breached on those evil shoals out there. Somehow—and I really don’t know how it happened since all of the slaves should have been chained in the hold of the vessel—two of those savages actually survived the wreck to wash up on the shores of this island. Lamb captured them, of course, and sold them to a friend in Charleston for a very tidy profit.”

He stopped talking and tried to stare Ronnie down, but she glared back at him so ferociously that he decided to move on to the professor. “But the incident made the first Keeper think about the future. He was alone on the island with only his servants, his wife and his young daughters.

“What if there had been six savages instead of two? What if they were more physically recovered when he had discovered them? What if they hadn’t been broken by their journey in the dark holds of the slave ship? What if they had tried to harm him or his little girls? Lamb decided that it would be prudent to use some of his profit on the savages to make preparations in case he should be blessed with a similar bounty in the future.”

Tobias’s face clearly showed his revulsion at the story, which made the Keeper almost cackle with glee. He stepped away from the professor and went to the nearest wall where Angie could now see a pair of two foot chains had been affixed to the stone floor about two and a half feet apart. At the end of each chain was an ugly iron manacle.

“Oh no,” Ronnie whispered. In the deathly silence of the cellar she might as well have shouted the words.

The Keeper looked in her direction. The lamp wasn’t bright enough to illuminate her clearly, but he could obviously make out her shadowy shape. “Unfortunately, the sea can be a most stingy lover and she didn’t gift Keeper Lamb with any more slaves.” He sighed and shook his head as if this were truly a terrible thing. Then he knelt down beside the chains and picked up one of the manacles. It was a large, ugly, barbaric piece of steel.

“They were quite expensive, you know. They have locks actually built into them. They were made in London and shipped here to help the king’s governor with his constabulary duties, but then items always have a way of going missing from government inventories, don’t they?

“But they remained down here with the rats and mice and no new savages came to require their services. But Keeper Lamb was an enterprising sort of man—gifted in finding uses for all of his resources. And it occurred to him one day when he was beating one of his daughters that this was a much better way to discipline the girl than sending her to her bedroom.”

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BEFORE DAWN BREAKS by Rae Lori

BEFORE DAWN BREAKS by Rae Lori

Alexandra Lyons is a cold, seductive assassin, skilled in the art of killing. Camilla Angelson is a bubbly writer enjoying the quiet life as a recent graduate from college. Both women are the same person. Unfortunately, her former employer, the secret government bureau that hired her, knows this all too well.

Josh Mayer is a former secret service agent looking to pick up the pieces of his life after a messy divorce from a cheating wife and a job of putting his life on the line. Doubling as a restaurateur and an "unofficial" undercover agent, the beautiful female target he is protecting may be the same one he is willing to risk his life and, most of all, his heart to save.

Soon, Josh must put his life on the line to evade an unknown killer that ties them all the way to a money-laundering scheme involving the newest presidential candidate to the White House. Meanwhile, Alexandra's heart is warmed with Josh at her side as she slowly remembers the dark past she left behind.

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An Excerpt from: Before Dawn Breaks
Copyright © 2008 Rae Lori

All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.


By reading this excerpt, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are younger than 18 years old, you must exit this site at once.


Alex pulled up to the five story apartment complex in an unmarked van. She turned off the engine and retrieved the suitcases from the back storage. The larger suitcase held two levels: real plumbing equipment on the top and an unassembled sniper rifle under a foam cover in the bottom. The second suitcase housed another set of plumbing tools. Stepping out of the van, she slammed the door. A dark green shirt and matching shorts covered her curvaceous build, both rolled up to reveal her warm, glowing complexion. She'd lightly covered her body in lavender oil, hoping it would distract her target enough for her to get the job done.

She started toward the front of the complex. Her Browning Hi-Power nestled in her boot and tapped against her leg. This would be a quick job. Get in and get out unnoticed. She pressed the call button next to the typed name beneath the plastic covered panel: BOB DILLAR.

"What?" The voice came from a window on the side of the building.

Alex craned her head and looked up to the third story window. She raised her sunglasses to meet the stranger's gaze. Smiling, she put the charm on full force.

"Bob Dillar?"

His scrunched expression softened once he saw her. He smiled, revealing a set of ragged teeth. Some shone bright silver, clashing with those of an ivory yellow stain.

"That's me, baby. What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to check the plumbing in your apartment. We got a call you were having problems."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. You don't look like a plumber from where I'm standing, though." The man winked and smiled. His charm was definitely on full force.

Alex shrugged to downplay the attempt at sexual tension. "Blame my father for giving me a love for water pressure at a young age."

He chuckled and ran a hand over his slick, gelled black hair. "Well, come on up. I'll give you a little tour."

The door buzzed. Alex collected her items and entered the building. Nice complex. Not a place she'd expected this Bob Dillar character to live, but nowadays, anything was possible. A man stood at the front desk talking to the caretaker. Walking toward the elevator, Alex tried to keep an eye on the pathway to the door, but the visitor kept her attention.

Tall, nicely built, a slight tan with neck-length, silky brown hair. He turned around, and their eyes locked like magnets through stylish, dark designer shades. He removed them, his stance cool and relaxed, his face structured with a strong, defined jaw line. His mesmerizing eyes denoted model-worthy good looks, and those eyes awoke a spirit within her that had been dormant for months. She wanted him, the attraction like an electric storm of fire in the coldness of her heart.

The loud ding of the elevator snapped her back to reality. She shook her head to focus back on the job at hand. There wasn't any time for this now. She couldn't be distracted.

Alex broke the gaze and rushed into the elevator hoping the doors wouldn't stall. Alone now, she exhaled, realizing she'd held her breath the entire time. She was here to do a job, not get sidetracked by a pretty face. Go in as soon as possible and get out even quicker. She inhaled and exhaled a few times and slowed her breathing.

"Easy girl," she said.

Alex tapped the '3' button, and the elevator ascended. She knelt down and began the usual preparations. Retrieving the gun from her black boot, she slipped it into the hidden holster at her hip for easier access. The elevator chimed once again, and the doors opened. She peeked out of the elevator, relieved to see the area devoid of people. A long, slightly dingy oriental throw rug in putrid green, red, and beige lined the hall in front of shiny white doors. She picked up her cases and walked along the hall, keeping an eye on the descending numbers hanging on the doors. 25...24...23.... 22. Bingo.

Alex cleared her mind, took a breath, and knocked on the door. Footsteps pattered on the other side, pursued by loud whispers. Orders were given, and a whispered argument followed. Her adrenaline spiked to full alert as the footsteps approached the door. The light on the peephole eclipsed before the door opened just enough to give her a full view of Bob Dillar, a pale man dressed in a thin, close-cropped tank top and beige pants around three sizes too big. He flashed his tainted smile again.

"Welcome, pretty lady plumber."

She chuckled. "You can show me where the problem is now."

"I would, but you see, it was a problem I reported days ago. A gentleman from Root Plumbing came by with a van much like yours. Only it had the company name on the side with a little blue wave logo under it." He gestured the lines of the design in the air. "So either you guys got your jobs crossed up back there, or you're not really who you say you are. And judging from that van and the call I made while you made your way up here, I'm thinking it's more the latter."

Okay, stay calm. This situation is easily adaptable. Just need a Plan B.

Dillar reached to his side, out of her view. And pointed a pistol in her direction. Alex stepped back and launched a kick, knocking the weapon from his hand. Another kick to his torso sent his body flying across the front room of the apartment. She stepped inside. The click of a barrel sounded to her right, and she turned. A man aimed a large grenade launcher right at her. Quick to retrieve her gun, she fired, knocking the man backwards, but not before he fired off one solid round.

Alex turned and dove outside the door, an explosion of red and orange fire breaking through the apartment, following her into the hall. She hit the side of the wall with a brute force that rendered her body limp. Her eyes grew heavy, and the heat of the explosion rose around her. The last sound she heard was the distant chime of the elevator doors opening and the thumping of footsteps coming toward her.

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A HOALE LOT OF TROUBLE by Declan Sands

A HOALE LOT OF TROUBLE by Declan Sands

A Hoale Construction Mystery - Book 1

Adam Hoale owns a construction company called, predictably, Hoale Construction. When he finds an eye opening surprise in the walls of a house he's flipping, and a libido flaring surprise standing on the lawn, he's willing to do the right thing with the surprise in the wall while entertaining dirty thoughts about the surprise on the lawn.

But as the world finds out what he discovered, and his new boy toy seems to be keeping too many secrets to make a relationship a reality, Adam soon realizes he may just get flipped himself if he's not careful.

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Excerpt:

Bobby’s was an old style gym that smelled like sweat and focused on the basics. There was a pool, but there were no yoga classes at Bobby’s and no spin classes. The closest Bobby’s got to spin was when Zeke the personal trainer decided you weren’t pedaling fast enough on one of the gym’s scarred and ancient stationary bikes and started screaming into your face like a drill sergeant.

Zeke was straight as the edge of an architect’s ruler but he treated Adam the same as everyone else. Brief and brusque. Zeke was even gruff when he smiled. The only softness he ever showed was directed at Walter.

For his part, Walter adored Zeke, which was why Adam knew Zeke was a good guy. Dogs had a great sense of people—much better than their human friends.

The gruff trainer was well over six feet tall and buff, with rock-hard abs and bulging biceps and thighs, and he wore his brown hair short and spiky. He ruled his roost with an iron fist and very little in the way of positive reinforcement. With Zeke you got negative reinforcement and nuclear level negative reinforcement.

He even yelled at Maddy.

Nobody yelled at Maddy.

As soon as Adam opened the door Walter trotted past him and headed straight for Zeke. The big man was all the way across the large, main room, “explaining” to Maddy that she needed to use the incline controls on the treadmill or she was gonna have cellulite bubbles the size of deer shot on her thighs. According to him, the event could occur at any moment because of her general lack of motivation.

Maddy’s pretty pixie face had turned the color of rich cream and she was so “inclined” by the time Adam hit the midway point of the room that she had to work to keep from sliding off the back of the treadmill.

He wondered if he could use the cellulite threat to get her to fill out her design planning forms more completely.

“Hey, Adam!”

Adam glanced up, grinning at the man hailing him with a boxing-glove-covered hand from the ring that dominated the center of the gym. “Hey, Bobby! Lookin’ good. Nice ass.”

Bobby laughed, his ruddy face mostly hidden behind a helmet and his short, sturdy body glistening with sweat. Bobby’s boxing partner glanced at Adam, looking nervous behind his helmet. Adam winked at the man and kept moving, grinning at Bobby’s deep laughter behind him.

“He’s just tweakin’ ya, Peterson. Chill out.”

Bobby and Adam had been friends for years and Adam liked to tease him. Bobby showed every indication of enjoying the playful flirting, though he wasn’t gay. He seemed to genuinely like Adam and knew that Adam couldn’t help trying to get a rise out of the homophobes in the gym. No pun intended. There weren’t a lot of them. Bobby’s was generally a laid back, anything goes, kind of place. But it was one of few old-style gyms left so it still drew its share of testosterone drenched Neanderthals.

Adam had never been able to resist twisting the dicks of the cavemen types.

Zeke was bent over Walter, speaking softly to him to hide the fact that he was talking baby talk as he scratched his floppy ears. Walter’s thick fringe of a tail beat against Zeke’s massive thigh, his brown eyes narrowed in pleasure.

Zeke looked up at Adam as he approached. “I hope you’re ready to work a little harder this week, Hoale.”

Adam grinned. “You didn’t think an hour in the pool was a hard enough workout last time?”

Zeke swore, the very core of his phenomenal work ethic cringing at the thought. “Pansy ass. If you don’t sweat through your clothes you haven’t worked out.” He jabbed Adam in the chest and Adam had to fight to keep from flinching. He was pretty sure he’d have a Zeke digit-sized bruise on his chest later. “I’m all yours today, Zeke. Do with me what you will.”

A strange wheezing noise wafted over them and both men turned to Maddy. She’d attained a strange purple-puce color and Adam was pretty sure she was foaming at the mouth.

She tried to lift a hand in greeting but when she did she skidded backward, almost sliding all the way off the treadmill before she grabbed the handle and saved herself at the last second.

Zeke frowned. “Step it up, Rodgers. I’ve had Sunday afternoon strolls through the Arboretum that were faster than that.”

Adam felt he had to intervene. Maddy was way too competitive for her own good. She wouldn’t push back as long as Zeke pushed her forward. “I’m thinking, from the color of her face, she might be about a wheeze away from 9-1-1, man.”

Zeke snorted. “She’s fine. I’m tryin’ to put hair on her chest.” The poking digit found its way to Adam’s poor, bruised chest again, “Don’t infect her with your pansy-assed work-less ethic, Hoale.” Zeke headed toward the weight bench on the other side of the room.

Adam turned a look of stark terror on Maddy and she wheezed out a laugh, almost falling off the treadmill as she saluted him. Adam slashed a hand across his throat and trudged after the big man. The last time he’d let Zeke guide him in a weight bench workout, he’d barely been able to lift his arms for a week.

Behind him, the treadmill slowed and he heard the whir of the incline dropping back to level. Maddy’s wheezing lessened as she walked out her cool down.

He hoped she appreciated what he’d done for her.

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