Kira Duval, US Army Special Forces, never expected to fall in love with any man while she worked with an A-team in Afghanistan. But she did. And she never let anyone, not even Weapons Sergeant, Garret Fleming, know what lay in her heart for him.
She didn’t know if it was reciprocal because every man on the A-team treated her like their favorite sister. They treated her as an equal and they trusted her without question. Kira knew that if there was any hint of intimacy with Garret, it would fracture the team. And there was no way she was going to do that.
But Fate has a way of intervening and their worlds explode on them during a Taliban attack. Kira saves Garret after he is wounded. In the end, they lose track of one another for three years. Broken by PTSD, Kira is out of the Army and trying to find a job at a Wyoming ranch. And again, her life turns upside down.
EXCERPT from Chapter 1, Wind River Cowboy by Lindsay McKenna:
Sergeant Kira Duval’s earpiece rang with the warning from Army Captain Aaron Michelson, the Special Forces A team leader. The night was black and an RPG exploded right in between the two Humvees they were riding in. The twelve-person team halted and all hell broke loose. Kira exited the vehicle, hearing the hollow thunk of another RPG being fired in their direction. She heard more orders in her earpiece as she threw herself on the muddy Afghan ground, hands over her head, mouth open.
The night erupted into red, yellow and orange flames as the second RPG hit the first Humvee, which Aaron was in. She wanted to scream, but the blast lifted her off the ground, hurling her several feet, and she started rolling to minimize the impact. Keeping her mouth open to equalize the pressure between her lungs and the outside air so they wouldn’t melt into jelly, Kira had the M4 strapped in a harness across her chest. She fell hard on her side, the weapon jamming into her rib cage, making her cry out.
Another explosion erupted. Her eardrums were pounded. The pain in them caused her to grunt. The shouts, screams and orders roared into her head. She saw dark shadows exiting her Humvee, the other four men trying to escape and run for cover.
Someone jerked her up by the shoulder of her uniform harness, dragging her along, heading for a group of shadowy rocks. Gasping, Kira struggled and then lunged to her feet with the help of Sergeant Garret Fleming, who was at her side. He was screaming into his mic for the four operators, ordering them to get to the safety of the rock fortress just ahead of them.
Another RPG was fired. AK-47 fire was like a fusillade slamming into the escaping Special Forces survivors. Kira didn’t have time to cry. The first Humvee was twisted metal, flames roaring into the dark sky, sending long, dancing shadows across the muddy soil. She slipped, but Garret kept a tight gloved hand on her uniform, keeping her on her feet as they raced three hundred yards to safety. They had to get cover or they were all dead.
Her mind spun. There had been six men in that first Humvee. Had any of them made it out? She heard Garret yelling into the mic for Captain Michelson, but there was no answer from their leader. Oh, God! She’d lived with this team for three years. Each of these men were like beloved brothers to her. They couldn’t be dead. The just couldn’t!
Sobbing, tears burning in her eyes, Garret suddenly went down. She heard him curse. He released her shoulder, sending her spinning and falling to the left of him. Bullets were digging up mud all around them, geyser spouts flung into the air. They were not only ambushed but surrounded on half of the area where they were scrambling to find cover. Landing hard on her knees, she twisted around, the mud making everything slippery. Kira saw the shadows of two other A team members running in their direction.
Bullets mowed them down. Screaming, Kira lunged for Garret, who was grabbing his left leg, blood spurting from his calf.
Just as she reached Garret on her hands and knees, a second bullet struck him in the head. He suddenly collapsed, lifeless, on the ground.
No! I love him! You can’t kill him! You can’t!
Kira grabbed Garret’s shoulder. The man was six foot two inches tall, two hundred and twenty pounds without counting the seventy pounds of gear he wore on his body. Jerking at him, she managed to get to her feet. Adrenaline gave her the strength of two men and she hauled Garret behind the rocks that stood five to ten feet tall in a semicircle around them. She called for their 18 Delta medics.
No answer from either of them. There were two on each team. Were they both dead?
Thank you so much for having me at your lovely site today, Delilah. I’d like to introduce my new romantic suspense, Lapses of Memory, and tell you a little about the background.
My traveling life began at the age of six months, when my family moved from New York to North Carolina. Soon after we were winging halfway across the world to Turkey in a Boeing Stratocruiser, just like my hero Elian and my heroine Sydney did. Since then I’ve lived or traveled in Europe, the Middle East, Africa, the US, Central America, and South America. Like Sydney and Elian, I’ve seen the Golestan Palace in Iran and walked the Hamra in Beirut. Like them, I’ve ridden a bus down the switchbacks of the eastern Turkish mountains past Mount Ararat. I’ve even begged for cigarettes from the sailors on a battleship in the Port of Tangier—just like Sydney and Elian. It’s been an adventure.
Sydney Bellek first meets Elian Davies in the 1950s on a Boeing 377 Stratocruiser when she is five and he is seven. They run into each other every few years after that, but while he knows from the start that she is his true love, she does not. Later, as rival journalists, they vie for scoops on international crises from the Iranian revolution to the Lebanese civil war. The handsome and intrepid Elian beats her out at every turn, even while keeping his love for her secret. Only after years of separation does she finally realize they are meant to be together, but this time, in a twist of fate, it is Elian whose memory of her is gone. Will he remember her before she loses heart or will their new love be enough to replace the old one?
By luck or accident, Eddie’s parents had chosen the hotel next to Sydney’s apartment building, so they saw him every day. She and Eddie spent hours scouting the beach for what Eddie dubbed valuables—shells and sharks’ teeth and interesting flotsam. They kept their treasures in a shoebox under Sydney’s bed. Life seemed as good as it would ever be, or so Sydney told her diary.
The day before he had to leave for Marrakesh, Eddie met her at the front door of the hotel. “Let’s go down to the port. Ali says he has a surprise.”
They made their way to the bustling docks. Dwarfing the usual jumble of fishing boats and ferries at the wharves, a huge gray destroyer lay at anchor, its American flags flying proudly. “Wow, what’s that?”
A sailor passing by them said, “It’s the USS John Paul Jones of the Sixth Fleet. She’s come in for a weekend’s leave. See that little kiosk over there? You can get tickets for a tour if you like.”
Sydney started to head toward the kiosk, but Eddie held her back. He pointed at a gaggle of local kids standing near the ship pointing and yelling. “There’s Ali. Let’s see what’s going on.”
They ran along the pier, gawking at the sailors in their brilliant white uniforms who stood at attention on the decks. A couple of the other kids waved their arms, calling the sailors. Eddie grinned at Sydney. “You wanna jump in and see if they’ll throw us something?”
“No, it’ll be fun. Ali says he and Yusuf do it all the time.” He took a flying leap and landed butt first in the oil-ringed water. He came up spluttering and waved at her. “Come on in, the water’s disgusting!”
When you’re thirteen years old and in love, you sometimes do the darndest things. Holding her nose, Sydney dove off the pier. She made the mistake of opening her eyes before she surfaced and was nearly blinded by a silt soup thicker than the Nile at flood stage. Something nipped her toe. She shot up out of the depths, kicking frantically at whatever slimy sea creature lurked in the muck. Together they swam over to a couple of brown-skinned boys and waved and shouted along with them. “Hey, sailor! Throw us sumpin’!”
Pretty soon, they had a crowd of uniforms hanging over the railing, tossing cigarettes to them. Sydney wondered what her mother would do if she saw her little Pollyanna screeching and spitting out scummy water while she fought over soggy Winstons. To be on the safe side, she yelled in French. That way the headlines wouldn’t read “Underage American girl caught fraternizing with the Sixth Fleet.” One sailor leaned far out, pointed at her, and sent his Dixie cup hat floating out. She lunged for it, but instead her head slammed into Eddie’s. Dazed, she threw her arms out hoping to find something to grab on to and hit a bare chest. Two arms went round her, and before she could struggle out of them, two lips came in contact with hers. A moment later, they were gone. A hand took hers and guided her to the dock. “You okay?”
“Eddie!” Then she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He grinned at her. “We’d best get back.” He pulled her out of the water.
They picked up their towels and walked home. Sydney kept her mouth closed, the better to savor the tingling feeling the kiss left on her lips. At the door to her building, he stopped. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning early. I’d…I’d like to see you tonight. Can you get out?”
She shook her head. “I’ve used up my three late nights. I have to stay in.” She hoped the tear that welled up wouldn’t fall.
Eddie’s face fell instead. “I don’t want to say goodbye, Sydney. What happens if…”
“If we never see each other again?” A sudden weight crushed her sternum, reminding her of that first climbing ascent in a plane when she was five. Never?
“Look, I’ll figure something out.” He checked the sun. “I’ve got to go. I promise, I’ll see you tonight.” Before she could move, he bent forward and kissed her again, then threw his towel over his shoulder and strolled jauntily away.
Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the seven continents, the last thirty years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. After many years in academia, she worked for the U.S. Senate, the U.S. Department of the Interior, in several library systems, both public and academic, and at the Torpedo Factory Art Center.
Ms. Spencer has published ten romantic suspense novels, and has two more in utero. She has two fabulous grown children and an incredible granddaughter. She divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.
My daughter is in Italy attending a real estate seminar. She is also a coach, just like I was for several years. She works for the same mentor I loved, and who trained me to be a great saleswoman. Without his backing, I knew I was going to be trampled to death with the highly competitive field of knife-throwers-in-the-back. I felt I was too nice to sell.
I learned so much, and laughed so much, hearing all the mistakes people make in that business. I laugh about all the mistakes I’ve also made in writing. Some of the naïve views I had about writers and the writing process.
So Christen dropped the bomb that my mentor told a story about me in the seminar today. I’m just a bit obsessive about these sorts of things. I’m dying to know what the story is. Was it the bathing suit story? Or the time I sold a condo to a couple who looked like they were both women, and the title company informed them California (at that time) didn’t allow them to take title as husband and wife. And when one of them stood up, grabbed the back of her pants and said, “But I am a man,” we thought we were going to see the full Monty, but she got out her driver’s license, proving she was in fact, a man.
One of my old pals reminded me that I used to sleep under the stage at these big events, before I was one of the ones on stage. That way, I got a front row seat! Or the fact that I taught a whole bunch of agents I was training how to ride the service elevators so we didn’t have to wait to be part of the crowd waiting for one and running out of time to pee.
I also remember my son, who became a Navy SEAL, was 5 and spoke to my mentor at that time. “You know my mom, Sharon Hamilton?” And of course he did. “I think she’s a great Realtor,” Mike answered. My son replied, “Yes she is. She’s the best Realtor in the whole world. Did you know that?” He walked out of the ice cream store without looking back, satisfied he’d laid the proper facts on him.
Our past makes up so much of our stories. All the people we met, the families we raised, the seminars we went to, and churches we attended. Strange family gatherings. It’s all soup and it goes into the writer’s toolkit, right?
UPDATE: The winner of the free download is…Charlotte!
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My alarm went off today (yes, I do still use one on occasion to push my ass out of bed!), and I had the horrible thought, Jesus, can I call in sick? For a second there, I thought I had a day job. Next thought was, God, do I have something to wear I don’t have to iron? It was only after I’d sat on the edge of the bed to swipe my cellphone screen that I remembered—Oh, yeah! My job’s waiting for me in the next room!
For a chance to win your choice of one of these Cowboys on the Edge stories, answer me this!
Do you set alarms? Do you have to set more than one?
(Click on a cover if you’d like to learn more!)
Don’t know what you’re missing in this cowboy series? Read a sexy excerpt…
When love is on the line, a cowboy will risk everything…
Texas Lawman, Cain Whitfield, has been burned before by a beautiful brunette with dark doe eyes. He won’t be fooled again. But fate has a rotten sense of humor when he discovers the latest stranger to arrive in his small Texas town is a former mob enforcer’s girlfriend–something he learns when the cabin she rented goes up in flames and her boyfriend tries to run them both off the road. Now, he’s got to keep her alive and under wraps long enough to arrest the bastard. Resisting his attraction to the drop-dead gorgeous brunette proves impossible when they’re forced to share a safe house while the sheriff and the other deputies double patrols to keep her safe.
Even though she knows they’re all wrong for each other, Carina Black can’t help her attraction for the proud lawman. She’s done with the glitz and glamour of her former life, but can she convince Cain to look beyond her past to trust she’s ready for life in a small town? As her former boyfriend closes in, she worries too that her poor judgment could bring harm to a decent man.
The longer they’re together, the hotter their passion burns…
She tugged her hand away then straightened her shoulders. “I’ll go. I know it’s the smart thing to do, and you’ve already done so much. But, I have to know…”
Cain felt his belly tighten in rejection, because if she asked, he’d tell her. And God help them both.
Her gaze dropped to her hands, which were curved into fists on her thighs. “Do you… could you ever…see yourself with someone like me?”
“Dammit, Carina,” he said, his voice rasping. “You’re so damn young.”
Her chin shot up, and her eyes flashed. “Too young for you?”
“Fuck, you deserve better than me.” His jaw clenched.
“If you’re looking for excuses for me to go, that’s not the best one to use. I’ve had money. I wore clothes that I would bet cost more than you make in a month. But, I wasn’t happy. And I didn’t like me.” She dipped her chin. “I feel safe with you.”
“I can’t be your bodyguard. Not forever.”
“I’m not talking about that. I feel safe—I know you won’t hurt me. That you won’t hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” She lifted her gaze, locking it with his. “I can’t imagine letting anyone else touch me.” She stopped short and turned away her head.
Cain sat beside her, not breathing. She’d imagined him touching her. She’d flirted. Outrageously, but he hadn’t taken her behavior seriously.
She’d imagined being with him.
Cain straightened. What he should do was tell her she’d find another man. Someone good. Someone who could give her things. But his nobility could only stretch so far. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back again, so he gripped her by the waist and pulled her over his lap.
Her body shivered against him. Her palms pushed against his chest.
He kept his arms around her, loosely. She could escape if she wanted, but with every second that passed, he watched her grow calmer. Watched rose creep across her cheeks, her tight lips relax.
When she leaned toward him, letting her ripe nipples scrape across his chest, only then did he move. He laid his palm against her cheek and rubbed his thumb across her plump bottom lip. “Stay with me.”
Carina made a noise, something between a sob and laugh, and pressed closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and pushing her breasts against him, because she needed to feel his hardness. She craved so much more. Had since she’d lain alone that first night with the sounds of him walking circles around the house, knowing he would keep her safe. Alone with the smell of his lovely, manly musk on the sheets, she’d let that feeling grow over the past days, wondering whether this was how being in love felt. His care for her was as close as she’d ever experienced to being cherished. But since he hadn’t acted on any of the many invitations she’d offered with her eyes and “accidental” peeks at her ass, she’d begun to wonder if he considered her damaged goods—because of whom she’d lived with and what he’d done.
But there wasn’t any mistaking the look he gave her now with those clear blue eyes. No misunderstanding his raw tone. Stay with me. Before she’d let him reconsider, she reached for the hem of the tee she’d ruined with paint and pulled it over her head.
His gaze fell to her full breasts. “Jesus.”
“They ache, Cain. I ache. For you.” She felt breathless. Her heart skittered wildly.
Slowly, he raised his hands to palm her flesh, and she closed her eyes, loving the heat, loving his gentle caresses.
He bent his head and trailed his mouth across her shoulder, then lower, pushing her back so he could kiss the tops of her breasts. The moment he latched onto a tingling nipple, she cried out, so joyous was the feeling flooding her body with warmth.
Suddenly, he drew back. His hands gripped her bottom, and he rose.
She wound her legs around his waist as he walked to the bed. “I’ll get paint on your sheets,” she whispered.
“We’ll both get dirty, sweetheart. I’m not worried.” He set her down beside the bed then knelt to open her jeans and slide them down her legs.
Nude, she held her breath as he glanced at her sex.
His gaze dropped to her feet, and he held down her pant legs as she stepped out, leaning on his shoulders for balance. Then he stood, and she went to work on the chambray shirt he wore, unsnapping the buttons down the front, and then parting the sides to get her first look at his broad chest. He had far less hair than Joey, and it was brown and silky. She raked her fingertips through it, plucking. When he gave a little groan, her mouth curved. So, she nuzzled his nipple, loving the way he gently cupped the back of her head and rubbed her scalp. Lord have mercy, she loved the taste of his skin, the soft texture of his flat brown nipple. With her teeth, she teased it into a point then fluttered her tongue against the tiny bead.
“Witch,” he muttered.
She glanced upward, her gaze snagging on his hooded eyes. “I want you, Cain. All of you.” She backed away, sitting on the edge of the bed before lying full-length and stretching, her gaze going to his still-clothed body.
He didn’t need another hint. His clothing flew off. And then he was climbing over her, his large, long body inches from her skin, but still warming her, breast to toes.
He held still, braced on his arms as she raked his body with her searching gaze. Everywhere her gaze touched was tanned and hard. His stomach was firm, muscled, his arms and thighs bulged. Sweet heaven, his cock was lovely—reddened and engorged, straight with a plump, round head.
Her pussy clenched. Fluid rushed to wet her channel. She squeezed together her legs to hold it inside.
“I don’t want to scare you, baby.”
“I’m not a baby, Cain. And Joey humiliated me, but he didn’t leave me damaged. I swear, I want this. I want you.” Slowly, caught in his intense gaze, she inched apart her legs and raised her knees. Then she reached downward and wrapped her fingers around his cock. “Come inside me, Cain Whitfield,” she whispered. “Fill me.”
I’m fascinated by medieval history and enjoy books and media releases that focus on events of this timeframe. I loved the movies Braveheart and Rob Roy, and more recently the TV series Vikings.
After a couple of years of research for my latest series, “The Forbidden Series,” focusing on the dissolution of the Knights Templar, you can imagine my happy surprise to learn of the upcoming TV series, “Knightfall,” which surrounds the last days of the Knights Templar. I’m anxiously awaiting the release of this new Templar series.
Regardless if hundreds of years have passed, questions remain of where the Templars fled, what treasure they took, and how so many valiant knights were able to disappear without a trace. As a major plotter, I’m enjoying weaving in my character’s journey, where they face challenges and in the end fall in love, around these mysteries and more along with my speculation as to where their fleet and many of the Brotherhood could have escaped to prior to the arrests beginning in France on the 13th of October, 1307.
A Knights Templar, Sir Stephan MacQuistan desires no bride, only vengeance for a family lost and a legacy stolen. A profound twist of fate tears apart the brotherhood he loves, but offers him an opportunity to reclaim his legacy – Avalon Castle. Except to procure his childhood home along with a place to store Templar treasures, he must wed the unsuspecting daughter of the man who killed his family. To settle old scores, Stephan agrees aware Katherine is but a pawn in a dangerous game, not a woman he will ever love.
There is an intruder in the woods near King Robert Bruce’s camp, but when Sir Thomas MacKelloch comes face-to-face with the interloper, he is shocked to discover his assailant is a woman. The fair lady is skilled with a bow and arrow and defiant in her responses. The wary Knight Templar dare not allow her beauty to lower his guard. Irritated by his attraction, he hauls her before his sovereign to expose her nefarious intent.
To be entered in a drawing for a coffee mug and a bag, please post a reply to the following question:
What is your favorite historical book, movie, or TV series?
*One name will be drawn as the winner. The contest ends midnight the 28th of March 2017.
Thank you so much for stopping by, and I wish you the best.
AGC(AW) USN, Ret.
International Best-Selling Author
About the Author
A retired Navy Chief, Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Books in her award-winning MacGruder Brothers series have been translated in five languages. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC, and appeared in Woman’s Day, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happy Ever After,” MSN.com, Atlantic County Women Magazine, and Texoma Living Magazine.
After her career in the Navy, Diana dove into her passion – writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. After the release of the bestselling MacGruder Brothers series, The Oath Trilogy, and Forbidden Legacy, book #1 of The Forbidden Series, she is now working on book #2, Forbidden Knight which will be released in June 2017.
Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.
UPDATE: The winner of the gift card is…Renee Mulholland!
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Some of you may know, but one of my favorite publishers, Samhain Publishing, closed its doors a month ago. I had 27 titles published with them, and now I have to get every one of those stories refurbed, recovered, and back out in the world. So, I’m starting here. With a story I love about a woman entrepreneur in hot-as-hell West Texas who’s about to fall under the spell of a very special town—Two Mule, Texas. Those of you who love my Lone Star Lovers series recognize that name. Don’t you want to know whether kinkiness is something new the present-day town folk are embracing, or whether it’s been there a while…?
Check out Joe and Honey’s story—but I warn you: Be prepared to laugh and sweat!
Sweeter Than Honey
Honey Cafferty lives a happy but precarious existence as a traveling saleswoman, searching for a sense of belonging. From her colorful wagon she brews decoctions to cure ennui, sleeplessness, hysteria—and after a visit from a mysterious Mexican curandera—she believes she’s found the way to improve a man’s libido. But how can she package her “Elixir of Love” without being run out on a rail from the nearest town for selling something that produces such carnal effects?
Sheriff Joe Tanner is protective of his little town and downright hostile toward anyone who takes advantage of the fine folk in Two-Mule, Texas. When sees the gypsy wagon roll into town, he’s ready to hurry the snake oil salesman on his way, but Honey isn’t what he expected. When the men of the town begin to plead exhaustion and place the blame for their state squarely on the pretty little redhead’s shoulders, he has to investigate.
Finally, they reached his office, and Honey breezed inside and set her bag on his desk. He closed the door behind him and turned to find more faces peering through the window. He cursed under his breath and pointed to the inner room where the jailhouse was.
Her back stiffened, but she didn’t demur and stepped inside. When he had her out of sight and hearing of all the interested folk of Two Mule, he lifted a foot and nudged the door closed behind them.
Honey had her back to him and lifted her slim hand to smooth her hair.
He stayed silent, deciding to let her stew for a minute. When someone got nervous, they tended to talk, and Joe wanted to hear everything the little lady had to say.
At last, she cleared her throat and turned, a small, tight smile pasted on her lips. “Am I under arrest, Sheriff?”
“Should you be?”
Her breath gasped, lifting her gently rounded chest against her staid gray shirtwaist jacket. “You’re angry with me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned his back against the door and tried not to think too hard about the fact they were completely alone. A tantalizing prospect he’d imagined often the past couple of days.
As he watched her standing in the narrow, darkly lit room with the bars of the cell block behind her, his imaginings became disturbingly carnal. He cleared his throat and forced his mind back to business. “I sold you a license to solicit your medicines,” he said, keeping his voice even although the memory of her straddling Paddy Mulligan still burned hot. “Yet I found you rolling on the floor of a saloon, performing surgery.”
She gave a short, strained laugh. “I wasn’t rolling on the floor. Paddy’s a large man, and I couldn’t see into his mouth when he was seated. Besides, I only pulled a tooth. I do have some expertise—”
“I’m getting complaints about possible poisonings—”
“Poison?” Her finely arched brows rose. “I don’t deal in poisons, sir.”
“Then explain why all the married men in town have taken to their beds.”
She opened her mouth but quickly clamped it shut. Her back straightened.
“You don’t deny you’re responsible?”
A blush the color of the pink roses his mama used to grow spread quickly across her cheeks and down her neck to disappear beneath her collar. “It’s not what you think, Sheriff.”
He wondered if the blush extended to her breasts, but didn’t dare let his gaze fall below her rounded chin. “Then tell me exactly what it is.”
She lifted that stubborn chin high. “I can’t. That information is privileged. Meant to remain private between me and the persons I sold the medicine to, like a priest receiving confessions or a doctor—”
“You’re no doctor. Those rules don’t apply.”
“Have you talked to these men? Have any of them made complaints against me?”
“No, but you’re up to something, and I don’t want any trouble.” And she was trouble with a capital T. “I’m thinking you should hitch up your wagon and head on down the road.”
She blinked and, for a moment, her expression faltered. “I had hoped to winter here. Mrs. Sessions—”
“Is an innocent lady. She’s not wise to your ways.”
Her stillness cut him, and he felt heat warm the back of his neck and the tips of his ears. He’d crossed the line between being professional and being cruel.
She jutted her chin higher and fisted her hands on her hips. “You’re implying I’m not…innocent?”
His gaze swept over her, from the tip of her red-haired head to her toes. Another insult. He couldn’t seem to help himself where she was concerned. Something about her had him firing with both barrels blazing. “You travel alone—without a chaperone. What’s a man supposed to think about that?”
She took a step closer, drawing her eyebrows together in a fierce scowl. “Being alone in the world means I’m a whore?” she said, her voice rising.
“A decent woman,” he bit out, “would set roots in a community—seek help and protection from a husband or her neighbor.”
“I don’t need any man to protect me or my virtue, sir.”
“I’ll grant you had me and most of the town fooled. But your charm’s a little too practiced, and you’ve got a slick tongue.”
Her mouth gaped, and her cheeks went from pink to a dark red that clashed with her bright hair. “A slick tongue?”
Her anger goaded him on like a burr under a saddle. “You’re a snake-oil salesman, a charlatan—”
She stepped so close her chest nearly touched his, and she glared up into his face. “Now, you look here, buster,” she said, pointing a finger at his chest and giving him a nudge. “I’m a business woman. I sell cures people need. I haven’t broken any laws, and I sure as hell haven’t poisoned one damn person in this town.” She paused to catch her breath…and that’s when it happened.
Her breasts brushed his chest, and he felt a spark arc between their bodies, igniting a fire as fierce as lightning striking dry prairie grass. It filled his loins with a heavy, pulsating heat and drew his balls tight and close to his groin. He shot out his hands and grasped her shoulders to pull her flush against his body, but he halted, holding her an inch away. What he wanted of her wasn’t very civilized. Best not cross that line.
“Sheriff?” Her plump, pink lips gasped, but she tilted her head back.
Invitation enough. He slammed his mouth down onto hers even while he damned himself for being a fool.
For a chance to win a small Amazon gift card, answer me this…
Have you read my Lone Star Lover stories? Do you love sexy menage stories involving cowboys?
UPDATE: The winner is of the signed book is…Virginia!
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Please don’t miss the give-away at the bottom of this post!
Hi Everyone, I’m Geri Krotow, bestselling author of contemporary romance and romantic suspense. I’m so excited to be meeting all of you on Delilah’s blog. I’ve known Delilah and her sister for a long while, and they’ve both been incredible inspirations to my writing career.
What makes my stories different? The very thing that makes me different—I’m a Navy veteran, former Naval Intelligence Officer and a Naval Academy graduate. I have a more global perspective on romance and life in general, which shows up in my books with characters who have also traveled the globe, but usually (though not always) want to settle down now and enjoy great sex with the love of their life.
Currently I write the Silver Valley PD series for Harlequin Romantic Suspense, where I often use my military background to provide accurate descriptions of weapons or the physicality of doing military-type surveillance ops. Coming in January 2018 is my sexy contemporary series Bayou Bachelors, from Kensington Lyrical Caress. The Bayou Bachelors came to me when I was visiting New Orleans during a flooding rainstorm last year. I kept seeing the hero and heroine in Book One, and their backstories popped up whether I wanted to sleep or not! It’s my sexiest series yet, and I can’t wait to share it with you.
For each comment left by Saturday, March 25th at 6pm EST, I’ll enter you in a drawing to win a signed copy of the first Silver Valley PD book, Her Christmas Protector. The fourth book of the Silver Valley PD series, Secret Agent Under Fire, releases April 1st and is available for pre-order now. Isn’t the cover delish?
It’s been great sharing with you. Thanks for having me, Delilah and friends!