UPDATE: The winner is…Steph!
*~*~*

On September 12th, the next book in my new We Are Dead Horse, MT, series, Hard Knox, releases! So, I thought it was time for you to meet my main characters. I’ve included a snippet below for you! In the opening, we’re treated to a bit of Carleen Crossley’s mindset. She’s a woman on a mission to capture the one man she can’t have: Knox Ramsey. Carleen has no inhibitions or shame when it comes to her pursuit, much to the town’s enjoyment.

If you’ve read the books in the Montana Bounty Hunters: Dead Horse, MT, you’ve seen Carleen in some of the later stories in the series. Plus, she appears in Book #1 of the new series, Cold Hard Cash. Let’s just say, Carleen knows how to make an impression.

Meet Carleen…

Knox Ramsey was a man most folks in Dead Horse, Montana, shied away from. His tall, burly frame was imposing enough. Add the dark eyebrows that seemed perpetually lowered over his nearly black, piercing eyes and his huge, meaty fists, and he made most folks shiver with dread whenever his gaze swung their way.

However, Carleen Crossley wasn’t “most folks.” When she looked at Knox, she shivered the same as anyone, but for a very different reason. To her, Knox was The One.

She’d known it since she was a teenager, working after school to earn money for her cheerleading outfits. Knox hadn’t been the one to hire her—his mother, Dorothea Ramsey, had for no other reason than to annoy her son. Plus, she’d placed Carleen in the front office, doing little tasks that didn’t really need doing in a rough and tumble place like the Ride or Die Body and Repair Shop—like filing (who needed paperwork unless you wanted the grease-grimed fingerprints for a forensics audit), janitorial work (again, years’ worth of engine oil and grease couldn’t be wiped away with a little or a lot of degreasers), and making coffee (she had never mastered making the sludge Knox thought of as an actual beverage).

Even when she’d been sixteen, she’d recognized his appeal by the way her ovaries cramped in his presence. As she’d grown older, she’d noted other “proof,” like how her nipples beaded hard and her cheeks and groin got hot just being in his presence. She could feel him the moment he came into her vicinity. The air hummed with electricity. Her sex gave her warning, too, instantly softening and getting wet. When she turned and met that black gaze, her heart would stutter and then pound. Whatever she was doing, whatever thought was flitting through her mind, ground to a halt as she took him in. Looking at him was like downing a shot of whiskey—bracing and exhilarating.

Knox, with his deadly glare and biker’s windswept hair, was a bad boy through and through. And she had a mighty thirst for the biggest, baddest boy in Dead Horse, Montana.

Too bad the man didn’t feel the same way about her. After years of flaunting her body and seeking ways to slide up against him to tempt him, he still managed to deflect her affections.

Not that Carleen was ready to give up…

*~*~*

If you haven’t already pre-ordered your copy—here’s the link: Hard Knox

Contest

For a chance to win your choice of story in the Montana Bounty Hunters series or a copy of Cold Hard Cash, let me know if you’ve read any of the stories, and if you have, which was your favorite?

I’m on a few Facebook reader groups. I’m also a user of the Tiktok books tag, #Booktok. At regular intervals I see someone post the plea “I’m way behind on my reading goals. What are some SHORT books?” or “I have a three-hour road trip this week. What’s a short audiobook you recommend?” or even “My teen struggles to concentrate over the length of whole long novel. What are some SHORT books?”

While some readers take pride in their ability to conquer a massive tome like The Plains of Passage by Jean Auel (335,000 words) or A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth (591,000 words!) many of us at least occasionally prefer a light meal over a feast. No matter what your preferred genre or category, below are some short reads to help you fill a few hours or catch up on your reading challenge goals.

Literary Fiction

Small Things Like These by Clair Keegan (c. 20,000 words/about 2 hours in audio), an intimate, but rather delicate peek at the dark history of the Magdalene Laundries for unwed mothers in Ireland. Affecting, frustrating, but an excellent pick to those who are dipping their feet into literary fiction from other more accessible genres.

Science Fiction

Who else? Murderbot! The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells starts with four novellas, each about 30,000 to 40,000 words long (3-4 hours in audio). What can I say about Murderbot that hasn’t already been said? These page turny novellas are funny, poignant, scary, thoughtful, queer as f**k and neurodivergent all day. READ THEM.

Fantasy

The publisher of Murderbot, Tor Books, is a leader in speculative novellas and that includes a bunch of great fantasy ones. I’m a fan of A Dead Djinn in Cairo by P. Djèlí Clark, which like a lot of Tor novellas is part of a series that includes both novellas and full-length novels. This one is a gripping murder mystery set against the rich and detailed world of early 20^th century Cairo.

Romance

Romance is something of a leader in short reads, due to the preponderance of indie authors publishing eBooks and thus unfettered by such pedantic things as minimum page counts. I’m partial to our very own Delilah Devlin’s Once in a Blue Moon, but you will also find short and spicy offerings from Bibi Rizer, Delphine Dryden or Courtney Milan,  and others, many of them tastes of longer series.

Historical

If serious (but short) historical tales are your thing, why not try a novel in verse. Novels in verse, written as they are in the form of poetry, pack a lot of meaning into fewer words and there are several that explore the historical periods often covered by fiction authors, but in a new way. A few examples are: Audacity by Melanie Crowder (30,000 words), a story of Clara Lemlich and her struggle for women’s labor rights in early twentieth-century New York; Margarita Engle’s The Lightning Dreamer (11,000 words), which examines the slavery abolition movement in 19^th Century Cuba, and Blood Water Paint (29,000 words) by Joy McCulloch which is based on the true story of the iconic painter, Artemisia Gentileschi.

Murder mysteries

Murder mysteries are famous for being long and dense (cough Robert Galbraith cough) but if you want something shorter, and you don’t mind a speculative element, try John Scalzi’s fun novella series The Dispatcher. The, story of a kind of hired killer, who prevents people from dying, except when he doesn’t, these are particularly great in audio, narrated by Star Trek actor Zachary Quinto.

Children and teens

When it comes to kids, there are many places to look for short reads. The novels in verse mentioned above are all aimed at teens as are many contemporary novels in verse such as my own Audacious and Capricious. Graphic novels for kids and teens are hugely popular, and they’re not all superheroes (not that superheroes are bad!). Heartstopper by Alice Oseman is a sweet gay romance series, Smile by Raina Telgemeier is a funny and poignant coming of age memoir, and there are graphic versions of popular or classic novels such as the charming and faithful adaptation of Lucy Maude Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables adapted by Mariah Marsden and Brenna Thummler.

Finally there are short novels designed especially for reluctant or struggling readers. One of my publishers, Orca Book Publishers, puts out a dozen a year. My recent trilogy The Faerie Woods is one, with three books of about 15,000 words each.

If you’re behind on your reading, just getting started with reading, struggling to concentrate on reader (who isn’t these days?) short books can help you get back on track. I hope the above suggestions will give you some ideas and provide you with just a few hours of enjoyment.

About the Author

G.S. (Gabrielle) Prendergast is the bestselling author of numerous books for children and teens. She studied writing at the University of New South Wales in Australia, at San Francisco State University and the University of British Columbia. After years of working in the music industry, in social welfare, and the film industry, Gabrielle began writing books when she became a mother, so she could work from home. Her books have received nominations for the White Pine Award, the Canadian Library Association Award, the Vancouver Book Prize and several other honors. She won the BC Book Prize for her YA sci-fi Zero Repeat Forever and the Westchester Award for her YA novel in verse Audacious. Born in the UK and both an Australian and New Zealand citizen, Gabrielle now lives in East Vancouver in a permanent state of  “under-construction”.

The winner is…Kerry Pruett!
*~*~*

I bought this little brainstorming tool years ago at some writers’ conference. “Story Cubes” is a brainstorming game. You roll the dice and whatever pictures appear face-up are the ones you use to riff off a story.

Now, I’d like you to tell me a story based on what you see on the cubes. Do any of these symbols tell you anything? You can pick some of the images or use all of them.

Have fun with this! Don’t overthink! Here’s the roll… 

To make this fun, I’ll offer a prize—a $5 Amazon gift card—good for purchasing one or two stories…

Almost everyone has heard stories of employees gathering around the water cooler or coffee machine to gossip and/or socialize. But not all places of employment have such gathering spots—especially since the pandemic when social gathering was prohibited. Although social distancing and other pandemic precautions have been lifted for most businesses, it still remains in others. I begin this post with a business that has neither a water cooler nor a coffee machine and that still enforces pandemic precautions. I mentioned this because it seems to be relevant to today’s topic.

As August began, parents geared up for back-to-school and the anguish of locating (and paying for) all the items on the dreaded school supply list. It also included the pride of posting first-day photos on social media. Since the people who inspired me to write this post work adhering to previously mentioned guidelines, they rely heavily on social media interactions with each other. In other words, not only are they coworkers, they are on each other’s social media contacts and friends lists. To put it into perspective, since no one is gathering, employees spend their spare minutes or downtime scrolling each other’s social media.

Now one may question why this is a big deal or how it is any different than what anyone else is doing. Well, it comes down to the quantity. Pre-pandemic, a person may show one or two, or even half a dozen photos of a vacation or a newborn on his/her cell phone. But social media allows access to hundreds of photos. Not only that but when gathered to look at photos on a phone, there usually is a time limit. For example, a break may only be five or ten minutes. How many photos can be shared in that time? Furthermore, it’s at work. Thus, the person sharing is present. However, social media transcends work and can be viewed anywhere. Additionally, when gathered in an employee lounge, usually only one or two people have time to share. Yet, on social media, employees have access to everyone they are friends with. This becomes an abundance of material.

In May, a supervisor’s youngest child graduated from high school. For the first time in twenty-four years, she found herself not doing either of these things and felt left out of the “parent club.” (Psst… One never stops being a parent no matter how old the child.) However, she was scrolling through the photos and had nothing to share. You may be wondering, “What about the first day of college?” Well, for her, it was sort of a non-thing for two reasons. First, her son decided not to go away to college. That meant no room to decorate, moving in stories, or real shopping to do. The local joke about this community college is that it is grade thirteen. So many local students go there that literally it is like being in the same high school. Everyone already knows everyone. The campus is small and familiar. Every local school has at least one event at the college per year. And there’s not much to the landscape. Since the campus is condensed, there’s not much greenery—just six or seven buildings for classrooms all stacked atop each other and a few more on the backside that serves as dormitories for out-of-town students.

Second, her son did what a lot of local students do their senior year. I don’t know if it is common across the country or just in this area, but by the time most local students become seniors, they only lack one or two credits from graduating. That means, some of these students only go to class for an hour a day. For others, they take “dual credit” courses in which they receive both high school and college credit. He had done just that. But there’s more. He wasn’t interested in pursuing a college degree but felt pressured by his family to do so. In an effort to dissuade (or persuade depending on how one views it) the family that college wasn’t the right path, he enrolled in summer courses. So, come August, he already had his first semester under his belt. Thus, it genuinely wasn’t a “first” day, although, one could technically argue it was the first day of a new semester. However, the problem with that is that he’d enrolled in online courses. I guess she could have taken a photo of him in his room.

The point of all this was that this saddened her. Additionally, she hadn’t taken a summer vacation and didn’t have anything exciting happening in her life. As she began to reflect on the past months, she felt that she had missed out on summer entirely. And when she decided to try to make late summer plans, she discovered it was harder than she thought. Most places had already stored away summer inventory (e.g., bathing suits, sandals, pool toys, etc.) and stocked the shelves with fall. Summer rentals were booked, and soaring temperatures closed some events prematurely (e.g., the zoo). With each passing hour, she grew more depressed, and it persisted each day. Barely a week into the month, she was sobbing almost consistently at her desk. I knew it had to be more than about not having photos to post on social media. That was just the catalyst that brought the deep-rooted problem to the surface. She was mourning loss—an empty nest that wasn’t really empty.

Yes, her child still lived in her home but not as a child. He was now an adult, independent, and capable of residing on his own. Aside from being in college, he’d gotten a job (although it didn’t pay enough to support himself) and spent much of his time away from home. All of her children had been active in sports and activities while in school, and now that was gone. Even in church, her children had been the reason for much of her involvement. And like so many other businesses, the pandemic had affected her church in that many of the events they used to host were indefinitely canceled due to resource shortages. For example, they were unable to obtain the necessary materials to repair their recreational center; therefore, no activities could be held there. She now had spare time and no idea how to fill it.

Her husband’s job (as well as being a part of the Army National Guard Reserves) required him to travel, and sometimes, he was away for months on end. His current full-time job didn’t pay as much as his previous job (he’d quit due to disagreements with his employer), and he worked longer hours to make up for some of the difference. It also should be noted that she married her husband shortly after graduating high school and began having babies two years into the marriage. In short, she has never been on her own. There have always been parents or siblings, or children or her husband filling her space. But now, she was beginning to feel the vacancy.

Her story is not much different from many others and is a sharp reminder to not lose self or one’s identity in life. It is important to carve out a piece of life that is devoted to oneself and that is apart from everything else. Aside from occasionally reading, this supervisor has no hobbies or interests that do not involve her husband or children. She admitted that she was not used to spending prolonged periods alone and felt antsy.

I pondered her dilemma for a good while before posing the question to other friends. How can situations like this be avoided?

1. The first step (and perhaps the most important) is to acknowledge where the sadness stems from. On the surface, it seemed like the supervisor was merely upset to not have content for social media. However, the problem was rooted much deeper. She was grieving the changes in her life and a loss of feeling purpose.
2. Recognize that you are not alone. If your sadness is great, consider joining a support group or seeking assistance from a mental health professional. This is 2023, and there’s no disgrace in asking and/or seeking help. Besides, mental health professionals are bound to uphold confidentiality. Thus, no one has to know. Plus, there are many options for therapy, including online counseling. There are also flexible pay scales to fit almost any budget, including some free services and services covered by insurance. Some jobs offer counseling services to employees as a free, confidential services that does not require filing on insurance. Mental well-being is important, and it’s better to begin when issues are small as it’s far better to tend to a scrape before it becomes infected.
3. As mentioned previously, develop hobbies and interest just for you that doesn’t revolve around or depend on family.
4. Make friends that do not require you to be coupled off. For example, the supervisor spoke of having many friends. However, the only interaction she had with those friends was with her husband or family. Her only one-on-one interactions with these friends were brief—usually while awaiting their children finishing practice of some sort.
5. Take a class. One never is too old or too knowledgeable to learn something new. If going to class isn’t your thing or makes you feel uncomfortable, enroll in an online course.
6. Go for walks and take in nature. It doesn’t have to be long or some treacherous hike—just something to get you out of the house and moving about. Studies have shown that motion increases endorphins which may lessen feelings of sadness.
7. Get involved with the local theatre. It’s a good way to make new friends and increase social interactions. And speaking of…
8. Reduce time on social media. While it’s fun and interesting to peep what family and friends are doing, it also can be destructive. The saying “all that glitters isn’t gold” is true. Social media sometimes make ordinary events look more glamorous than they really are. Sure, the designer shoes on your coworker looked amazing, but the photo didn’t indicate how they pinched her toes and or caused blisters. And that fabulous vacation photo wasn’t tagged with how it had maxed out the credit card. Additionally, some photos are 100 and/or photoshopped. Using social media as a reference to other people’s reality is a bad idea.
9. Revisit the past and reconnect with old friends whom you may have lost touch with. Chances are, they may be experiencing the same feelings as you and would like someone to go out to lunch or have a drink with you.
10. Create a bucket list of things that you want to do and that make you happy. But don’t just create the list. Do it.

Read the rest of this entry »

Welp. This card isn’t helping me decide how my week will go, or am I wrong?

First, just looking at the card, what does it represent? This is the goddess Aphrodite. Her origin story is kind of grisly. Cronus castrated his father Uranus and tossed his testicles into the sea. The foam that erupted produced Aphrodite. You can see her stepping out of the foam. The goddess of Love is the embodiment of feminine beauty, but also the embodiment of all those stereotypical “female flaws” like jealousy, laziness, vanity, and deceit. Lovely, right? What does that have to do with me? Aphrodite is holding one golden chalice—the Ace of Cups. The Ace of anything represents the powerful “first” raw meaning of a suit. So, before I check the book, I think this means I may be looking at an emotional week. One filled with love, or the “eruption” of love, and one filled with events that will have me demonstrating all those feminine flaws. I have the kids heading to school this week, so I’ll lovingly push them out the door with their backpacks prepared and their lunch bags filled. I’ll feel regret that I don’t have them under my roof. I have a ton of work in front of me, and I may wallow a bit in my feelings while I try to tackle the stacked-to-the-ceiling tasks I have in front of me. So, I think that’s what this card means for me. I don’t like it, but I will embrace the positive meaning and hope I can tamp down my “weak” feminine faults to slog through the work.

Now, to the book. It boils it down, saying, it “heralds an outpouring of feeling” although “not yet differentiated” and can often be “overwhelming.” *sigh*

Why do I start my Sunday mornings with a tarot card? I guess I could just dive into my calendar, calibrate how many pages I have to write and how many I have to edit to get to The End, but I like adding an element of the divine to my day, whether drawing a card or placing my hand into my bowl of crystals and gemstones and pulling out whatever my hand finds compelling. The mystical and the pragmatic can reside in the same heart.

Open Contests

1. Saturday Puzzle-Contest: Flea Market Finds — This one ends soon! Win an Amazon gift card!
2. Ava Cuvay: The End of an Era (Contest & Excerpt) — Win a FREE book!
3. Gabbi Grey: Falling Down the Regency Rabbit Hole (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
4. Flashback: Strokes, Vol. 2 (Contest–Two Winners!) — Win a FREE book!
5. Saturday Puzzle-Contest: What’s he doing here? — Win an Amazon gift card!

UPDATE: The winner is…Deb Brown!
*~*~*

It’s Saturday! The Saturday before school starts! The kids are ready! They’ve met their teachers, have all their clothes and supplies. Now, the nerves have set in. They’re planning their first day’s outfits, putting in their orders for their lunchboxes, etc. Our little town is having a “Back to School Blowout” tonight in the town center, complete with bouncy houses, facepaint artists, etc. Hopefully, there will be food trucks, too, for the parents as they herd their kids through the stations.

We’re ready (and NOT) for them to go back to school. Schedules will compress. Timing will be everything. (I’ll get back my quiet “alone time” to write and edit! Woot!) My daughter and I do hate the passage of time. We want to keep them little, but they’re eager to spread their wings. Same ole, same ole, I’m sure for most parents and grandparents.

Today, I had the 19-year-old clean my spaces. It’s such a big help. I can settle in my chair in my clean office and get some s**t done today. I hope. Until the next emergency—hopefully, not a power outage today. I noticed this morning, when I popped into town, that there were new power poles laid out all along the road to replace those splintered old things that keep falling every time the wind blows. I wonder if they’ll give us warning when they have to cut the power to install the expanse. Ha!

Anways, you have a challenge today. Solve the puzzle then tell me what this creature is doing. Or tell me what you would do if you were face-to-face with it! Comment for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card. Enjoy the puzzle and have a great rest of the weekend!

UPDATE: The winners are…Sara D and Theresa Oconnell!
*~*~*

Are you a fan of short stories? Have you ever read one? I love reading and writing them. Good thing, because one of my jobs is “editor” for sexy anthologies, which I used to edit for Cleis Press but now do so independently.

I love writing a short story for many reasons.

• It’s a very short, satisfying journey to THE END.
• I can experiment with genre and see whether I’m any good at writing something different.
• Writing shorts cleans my writer’s palate much like eating bread at a wine tasting.
• It’s just plain fun.

I write short stories for the collections I edit, but I also love to write them for other people’s collections. I get rejected the same as anyone else, so it’s still a rush to make the cut when a story is accepted. And because I normally retain all rights for the stories, I like to bundle them up occasionally into my own little self-pubbed volumes of Strokes (filled with super-sexy short stories!). I’ve published four: Strokes, Vol. 1; Strokes, Vol. 2; Strokes, Vol. 3; and Ultra Strokes. Today, I’m giving away a copy of one of those volumes to two lucky commenters. 

If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered
to win a free download of a Strokes anthology!

Strokes, Volume 2

From New York Times bestselling author, Delilah Devlin, comes another naughty collection of seven bedtime stories—a week’s worth of nighttime reading pleasure.

Ride along with two soldiers, just returned from war, who find sweet release in “The Long Ride Home.” In “Tailgating at the Cedar Inn,” a woman has one last fling with two sexy construction workers. A cowboy kidnaps his “Runaway Bride” to get some sweet satisfaction. A woman travelling alone in Europe enjoys a hot steamy sauna in the “Textile Free” zone. In “Love in Bloom,” a florist tempts her high school crush. A naughty nooner with an office colleague ends in a “Quick Draw.” A dispatcher kicks inhibitions to the door when she seduces a younger truck driver in “Drive Me Crazy.”

Four of the stories have appeared in separate Cleis Press anthologies. Two of the stories were featured in Penthouse magazine! All the stories are featured in one sinfully hot collection…

Excerpt from “The Long Ride Home” which was featured in Duty and Desire, published by Cleis Press, and which Penthouse magazine also published…

White-hot sun beat down on the tops of our helmets. Sweat pooled between our shoulder blades and dampened the necks of our t-shirts. However, it was a hot, humid East Texas heat—so unlike what we’d endured for the past eleven months that none standing in formation really minded. We were home.

I watched it trickle down the side of one particular soldier’s neck as he stood in the row in front of me. Not for the first time, I thought I’d like the chance to lick it away.

Not that Staff Sergeant Mason Haddox had a clue how I felt. We’d been part of the same platoon—played volleyball and shot hoops, drove trucks over long, barely paved expanses of desert and mountains, and cleaned our weapons, side by side—but he hadn’t seen me as anything but another private who needed looking after.

And yet, his tall, muscled frame, black close-cropped hair and wintry blue eyes had made quite an impression. I’d lusted after him since the first time he’d shown up drill weekend, a month before we’d deployed. His steadfast calm during the most nightmarish day of my life had only cemented his attraction.

My nose started to itch, and I wrinkled it, hoping formation would break soon so I could scratch it. My feet were roasting in the boots sticking to the black pavement.

True to his word, our commander kept his speech short. A good thing, since SSG Haddox fidgeted, hands tightening and easing, swaying slightly on his feet as though waiting to spring into action. I knew he scanned the crowd seated in the bleachers from the corners of his eyes, hoping she’d show, that she’d changed her mind. I’d looked too and knew she wasn’t there—and wouldn’t be coming. I felt bad for him, but was also secretly hopeful he’d be ready to let go, that he wouldn’t do something stupid now we were back.

Just a month before we began preparations for our unit’s return from Afghanistan, Haddox had gotten the Dear John letter from his girlfriend, informing him she’d moved his belongings from their apartment into a storage unit. She’d included two keys taped to the page—one for the storage unit and one to his Mustang. She’d written she was sorry, but had he really expected her to wait all those months?

Had I been in her shoes, I would have. But then, I knew the feeling of being so far from home that Skype and email couldn’t fill the loneliness. I’d survived it once. However, my husband’s second tour had severed our connection—that and the emails I’d discovered when I’d hacked his Gmail account. Ones he’d sent to a female corporal stationed in another province who was planning a little R&R rendezvous. As quick as that, my love for him dried up like a closed tap. I’d forwarded the email to my account, then sent it to him along with a request for a divorce.

So I knew what Haddox felt. The searing betrayal. The anger. Maybe she’d been a decent person, but personally, I consigned her to hell. The worst thing the person at home could do to a deployed soldier was abandon him when he was too far away to do a damn thing about it.

I hoped he didn’t plan to go find her now.

“Company, attention!”

I snapped into position.

“Dismissed.”

Cheers from our unit and from the family and friends who filled the armory motor pool rang in the late afternoon air.

Head down, Haddox stomped away, not bothering to share a word with anyone.

My sister waved and made her way through the throng spilling from the bleachers, a wide smile splitting her face. I gave her an answering smile, but couldn’t help darting a glance to watch that broad set of shoulders move toward the open motor pool gates—the only space large enough to hold the formation and the guests who’d come to welcome the Reserve unit home.

The buses that had delivered us from the airport were pulling away. Most of the soldiers and their friends and family were heading inside the armory for the welcome home celebration, but Haddox strode toward the parking lot.

I gave my sister a quick hug. “Go say hi to Shelby—he’s got it bad for you.”

She laughed and blushed. “Where are you goin’?” Then her gaze followed mine. “Seriously? I thought you said he was an asshole.”

“He grows on you. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She gave me a smile and hitched her purse over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. But you better call.”

“Tell Shelby to grab my gear!” Out the gates I sped.

Haddox was already dropping his duffel bag into the trunk of a car—an older model black Mustang.

I halted beside him, trying to figure out what I could say to keep him from driving away.

“You forget something, PFC Hollister?” he asked, glancing to the side as he slammed down the trunk lid.

“Megan,” I said, suddenly breathless. “Thought you might like some company.”

His gaze narrowed. “Did you, now? I’m gonna blow the carbon out of the exhaust. The ride’s gonna be bumpy.”

“I don’t want to get in the way—if you have plans.”

“No plans.” He snorted. “Don’t even have a place to sleep. Didn’t your sister come to pick you up?”

“Yeah, but she’s all right with me leavin’.”

This time, his mouth twisted into something between a smile and a snarl. “Shelby?”

“Yeah. You know they’ve been writing each other.”

His gaze trailed straight down my body, then up again. “Get in.”

I strode quickly to the passenger door, opened it, and slipped into the bucket seat. Then I tossed my hat in the backseat and began unbuttoning my ACU-camouflaged jacket.

When he slid in beside me, one dark brow lifted, but he didn’t say a thing when I threw it into the back as well and sat in my sweat-damp shirt in the musty car.

“Better roll down the windows.” Then he said a little prayer under his breath and turned the key in the ignition. I buckled my seatbelt. The engine rumbled into life. With a quick, tight grin, he jerked the stick into reverse, and then punched it forward. We rolled out onto the street, heading west rather than east into town.

Hot wind whipped through the interior of the car, dispelling the musty air and tugging at my blond hair looped into a clip at the back of my head. I reached back and released it, then laughed as the Mustang roared.

Glancing toward Haddox, I noted the hard edge of his jaw, the hand wrapped so tight around the steering wheel, the muscles in his forearm tensed. I didn’t have to crawl inside his head to know he didn’t want me there, but I was.

Maybe I could help him out a bit. And maybe, he’d see me as more than a fellow soldier who’d shared the bench seat of a deuce-and-a-half truck a time or two. One I’d been driving when he’d had to talk me through a hail of gunfire when our transport convoy came under attack.

I unbuckled my belt, ignoring his deep frown. I turned in the seat and reached for the buttons of his jacket, flicking them open then parting each side.

He didn’t say a thing, but his nostrils flared, his jaw sawed tighter.

I gripped the front of his t-shirt, bunched it in my hand, and tugged it from his ACU trousers.

His stomach jumped, and he sucked it in, making just enough room for me to get my fingers behind the waistband as I unbuckled, unbuttoned and tugged down the zip.

“Dammit, Hollister,” he said, his voice rough as gravel. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

His gruff tone spurred me on. “Not if you keep your eyes on the road,” I said, tilting up my chin. Then I leaned over his lap, folded down the elastic band of his boxer briefs and pulled his cock upright.