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Sneak Peak at S*x on the Beach!
Friday, September 7th, 2018


S*x on the Beach

In Cabo San Lucas, Navy SEAL Carson “Beach-boy” Walsh is ready to live the good life. After surviving fifteen deployments in ten years, he bailed on the SEALs, figuring this cat had run out of lives. The only danger he faces now is choking on an oyster or drowning in beer—and then he meets her.

Gina Tripp is the Calamity Jane of bounty hunters, enjoying an unexpected vacation. She’s the stand-in for an absent groom on her girlfriend’s honeymoon in Cabo when she meets a cute guy with a nothing but sex on the beach in mind. As her luck would have it, her best friend winds up kidnapped, and now Gina’s embroiled in a dangerous rescue that deepens her attraction Carson.

Just when she thinks she can settle in and enjoy a few days of sin, an opportunity to prove herself to her boss lands in her lap. Now, she has her sights set on scoring a huge bounty—an ex-pat skip, hiding out in Mexico. What follows is a wild ride that leaves her feeling pretty relieved she hijacked a Navy SEAL to help her with the job.

**S*x on the Beach** is part of the Montana Bounty Hunter series. It is also in the SEALs in Paradise connected series. Each book can be read as standalone. They do not have cliff-hanger endings and do not have to be read in any particular order.

Get your copy here!

Six months ago…

Carson “Beach-boy” Walsh pulled his dog tags from under his shirt, and then exposed the small medallion that rested against one rubber-clad tag, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed it.

So, Saint Christopher wasn’t actually considered a saint anymore, and Carson wasn’t Catholic, but his aunt had given him the medallion the first time he’d shipped out. Kissing it for luck before a fight had become a ritual.

After tucking the medal back inside his shirt, he raised his MK17 to hold it crosswise in front of his body as he continued the march into the valley. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth to calm his heart and head. Another part of his “pre-game” ritual.

He was on his fifteenth deployment, and he’d lost count of how many missions. He’d just hit his ten-year mark as a SEAL, and he was one lucky guy. Everyone said so. Other than a little shrapnel and splinters, he’d never been seriously injured.

Sure, he’d had a moment during his thirteenth deployment, when he thought maybe he’d run out of luck—when he’d stepped on a landmine. But the second his boot had landed on the metal plate buried in the sand, he’d known exactly what was happening, and had pitched himself over a stone wall a split-second before it exploded, a luckily delayed reaction, which had showered him with dirt. His buddies had rushed to him, certain they’d be picking up pieces of his body, but he’d sat up, shook his head, and grinned.

“Goddamn, Beach-boy,” his best buddy Fischer had said as he slapped his back. “You are one lucky bastard.”

Yeah, that had been his closest call, but he didn’t take his luck for granted. He trained hard, kept alert to his surroundings, and trusted the men on his team. They were the source of his real luck.

He’d lost friends along the way, to death and career-ending injuries. He knew, someday, his streak would end, but it wouldn’t be today. Not this early morning when the sun was painting the prettiest dawn as it climbed over the rim of the valley. Bright yellow at the edge, a pale purple and orange just above it. While he preferred a bit more greenery, the sparse bushes and trees dotting the rocky valley below looked almost lush compared to the countryside they’d been quickly moving through. The walled compound below looked like a crumbling castle from some ancient tale. A castle they hoped contained their current target, an insurgent leader who’d escaped a series of raids, and who’d publicly mocked his would-be captors.

The team was eager to capture Ahmadi, who’d become a kind of superstar, even among those who wanted to see an end to the Taliban’s reign of terror, once and for all. They admired the fact he’d managed to survive, always staying one step ahead of his American pursuers.

When they reached the outer wall of the compound, Carson paused as his team moved past. Every one of them reached out a hand to rub his helmet, their own lucky ritual, before they took positions along the wall. Carson was on point. He’d be the first inside the compound—after he blew the thick plank door set into the wall.

Fischer rubbed his helmet then took a knee beside the door. “Don’t get killed.”

“You can have my helmet if I do,” Carson said with a quick, tight grin. Then he reached out, stuck the small explosive charge next to the lock on the door, set the timer, and then took cover.

He counted the seconds and covered his ears. As soon as the C-4 exploded, he pushed up and ran quickly through the opening, heading toward the side of the mud-stuccoed house in the center of the open compound. As he moved, the only sounds were the quiet crunches of boots behind him. Not a bleat from a goat, not a bark from a dog, not a shout. “Too damn quiet,” he said.

“Damn, I hope he hasn’t already slipped the noose,” the mission commander said in his earpiece. “Breach the door, but keep your eyes peeled.”

“Anyone tell him that never sounds good?” Fischer muttered.

Hunkered down with his weapon raised, the buttstock snug against his shoulder, Carson kept close to the wall as he moved toward the alcove shading the front door. He checked the dirt around the concrete porch but saw no signs of recent digging, so no mines, he hoped. Then he ducked into the alcove, Fischer right behind him, his back to Carson as he continued to scan their surroundings.

Carson moved to the door, reached out with his left hand, and pulled down on the latch. He heard a snick, but also a snap. His heart thudded, and he turned to Fischer, “Go, go, g—”

An explosion sounded behind him, a millisecond before the door slammed into his back and pushed him ahead of a blast of fire and air that picked him and Fischer up. When he landed, he scrambled toward his buddy. Fischer lay face down, his arms spread.

Sounds around him were muffled—pops of gunfire, distant shouts. He crawled to Fischer and gently rolled him over. His face was covered in sand and grit…and blood, seeping from beneath his helmet. No, his ear.

“Fisch,” he shouted close to him, but Fischer didn’t stir.

“Man down. Fisch is down,” he said into his mic, but couldn’t hear a response. Sounds faded. He knelt, knowing he couldn’t do a thing—not remove his friend’s helmet, not move him again. He swayed on his knees and nearly fell, but more of his team arrived, pulling him away, running their hands over his back.

He sucked a breath between his teeth when he felt a sudden sharp pain on the right side of his back. More muffled voices shouted into his ear. “Lie down, Walsh! Helo’s coming!”

At that moment, Carson realized his luck had just run out. Too soon to save Fischer. Maybe too soon to save himself.

 

Three months ago…

The sky was blue, the temperature was in the mid-seventies, and a light breeze filtered through the leaves of the cottonwoods. It was a gorgeous, glorious Montana day, and Gina Tripp was pumped. Her boss, Fetch Winter, had finally let go of the tight leash he’d kept her on since he’d hired her after she’d left active duty where they first met. Before he’d mustered out, he’d given her his number and told if ever she needed a job…

She’d accepted his offer and moved to Montana from her home in San Diego. So far, she loved the climate, the mountains, the people she worked with, and, especially, the job. Bounty hunting was damn fun, and from listening to the stories of the more experienced hunters, she was eager to experience the occasional adrenaline rush she’d grown addicted to in the Army. But she was the “new girl” and had to prove herself before they’d trust her with the scary shit.

The past two weeks, Fetch had finally let her take solo baby-steps—rounding up druggies who’d missed their court-ordered drug tests, picking up an old Buick from a seventy-year-old woman who’d signed away her car to bail out her deadbeat son, only to have him skip his date with the judge.

Nothing big. Nothing dangerous. She’d performed well on other tasks, working the phones to give the other hunters leads. At last, Fetch was trusting her to serve as part of the team going after Harland Oates, a once-convicted felon, who hadn’t been seen since he’d met his bail for a DUI offense that he’d compounded by assaulting the arresting officer.

Gina had “geared up” along with two other hunters from the Kalispell office, Sam Meacham and “Kid” Hagerty. They were armed with handguns, a rifle, and a pellet gun. She’d been given beanbag rounds for her shotgun, something non-lethal because the men were nervous she’d shoot them by mistake.

She’d snorted at that assumption, but they’d taken her new nickname “Trip” to heart. So, she’d faceplanted on the drive outside the office during an ice storm. And once, she’d slid like surfer across a sheet of black ice during a coffee run, only to hit hard snow and somersault. After managing to save one lidded drink, she’d thought that would count for something.

Nope. They’d taken the security camera footage and posted it on YouTube. Now, she was known as the Calamity Jane of the bounty hunting world, at least here in Montana.

Fetch had told her to stop trying so hard. Relax. She’d eventually find her feet in the job. She’d rolled her eyes, and he’d laughed at his joke. He predicted, that in the end, she’d be a hell of a hunter.

But her training was taking a little longer than she liked. Like most of the people he’d hired, she was ex-military. She’d seen action as a driver in Iraq, driving in convoys transporting supplies across huge expanses of open desert. She’d had to bail out of a 5-ton truck a time or two to set up a quick defense against attacks from ISL forces. She’d even shot her weapon. Not that she’d ever hit a thing. Didn’t matter. She’d done her job. Had been prepared for worst case scenarios. She knew how to solider, how to follow orders, and she didn’t lose her nerve when things got grim.
She reminded herself of all these things as she trudged behind Sam and Kid toward a house, of sorts, deep inside the woods. The structure had begun its life as a school bus but had been “renovated” with wood-framed offshoots that sat on piers that looked like a stiff wind would shift them right off their foundations. This was Harland’s “hunting cabin” or so his buddies back at the bar in Bozeman had said.

Gina’s Kevlar vest was a little large, and the top rubbed the underside of her chin. She reached for the bottom edge and tugged it down to just above her hips, and then hurried to catch up with the guys on the trail.

They both turned and shot her harsh glares, but she gave them a smile. Kill them with kindness; that was her motto. They likely thought she was a bit of a snowflake she smiled so damn much.
Kid had already asked her on a date, but she’d told him she didn’t think it was a good idea—at least not until she was off her ninety-day probation. She had to be all about the job. Still, turning him down had been hard. The man was beautiful, although she was sure he wouldn’t like being described that way, but he did have the dreamiest gray-blue eyes, soot-black wavy hair that he kept cut short, and a body that any breathing woman, and probably a lot of men, would sigh over.

But it was better to keep her mind on the job, not the way his Levi jeans hugged his ass. When she headed back to California for her best friend’s wedding, she’d be sure to scout out a booty call to take care of any unrequited urges Kid inspired.

“Trip!” came a harsh whisper in her earpiece.

She glanced up and caught Sam’s signal. They’d circled to the back of the ramshackle cabin, and Kid had his back to the siding as he edged closer to a window to peek inside.

“He’s inside. Kitchen,” Kid whispered then ducked down.

Sam caught her glance, pointed toward the back door, and made some sort of hand signal. Not strictly military, so she wasn’t exactly sure if he was telling her to guard it or open it, but she nodded and moved toward the rickety back steps. When he disappeared around the front of the structure, she guessed she was supposed to wait, because he’d likely be the one to breach the front door. She edged quietly up the wooden steps to stand at the back door.

“Harland Oates, Fugitive Recovery Agents!”

Gina winced at the shout in her ear, but then almost snickered at the way Sam had said the felon’s name. It had sounded like “Hall & Oats” and, not for the first time, she was tempted to break out in song. “Maneater” came to mind.

“We have your place surrounded! Come out with your hands up!” A moment passed. “I’m goin’ in!” Sam whispered.

A crash sounded in the distance. Footsteps pounded through the bus, striking metal then wood. Then the knob on the door in front of her twisted. She only had a second to jerk back into the tiny space behind the door as it slammed open. When a man began to emerge, all she saw was wild hair, a wilder beard, and bare muscled arms.

Has to be Harland. Fuck! She pushed the door back as hard as she could against the large body hurtling out onto the porch.

She caught him, sort of.

Harland Oates slammed against the railing. “What the fuck!”

The porch shuddered then teetered to the side. She grabbed for Harland, caught his grubby wifebeater in her fist, but he fell through the rail, taking her with him. They landed on the ground, her body bouncing against his back, her shotgun banging against his head. When she scrambled to her knees, she was straddling him and fighting to get her shotgun turned in the small space between their bodies, when he bucked upward, sending her to the side.

Still turning the weapon, her finger got stuck in the trigger housing and a round went off, pounding into the ground beside his head, and he froze.

They both turned their gazes to the expended round. The lead-filled red “pillow” was disintegrated.

“Bitch, you almost shot me in the fucking head!” Harland whined.

It took everything not to blurt that it had been an accident. Instead, she gave him her meanest stare. “You gonna give me any more trouble?”

“Trip, what the hell?” Sam shouted from the back door.

She glanced up to see him tip back his cowboy hat. He couldn’t step out because the porch had collapsed. “We’re good, Sam,” she said, then dragged the muzzle of her shotgun closer to Harland’s belly. “Ain’t that right?”

Harland groaned and wilted against the dirt just as Kid strode to her side.

Sam shook his head and disappeared back inside, his feet clomping through the cabin.

Kid offered his hand. “Not exactly graceful, are you, Trip?”

She squinted up at him. “If you ever want that date, you better take that back. I got him, didn’t I?”

His mouth stretched into a huge grin. “Wish I’d had a camera. You should have seen your face when that porch fell out from under you.” He glanced down at Harland who’d reached out his hands, showing he was ready to surrender.

“Can ya get off me now?” Harland asked.

Kid cupped her elbow and grabbed her shotgun, holding it well away as he helped her to her feet. “I got this. Don’t want you to get those fingers stuck again.”

“They weren’t stuck,” she lied, her cheeks feeling as though they were on fire.

“Sure, and you meant to knock him out with the door, right?”

“I don’t suppose you could keep the after-action report to ‘Trip took down the target’, could you?”

He gave her a sly wink. “Oh, that’s exactly what happened, wasn’t it?”

Her shoulders fell. No way in hell would either of the hunters let her live this one down. She’d be stuck relieving grannies of their prized possessions for the rest of her days.

“Make yourself useful and get him cuffed before Sam gets here,” he said.

As she drew her handcuffs from the pocket on her web belt, Kid pulled out his cellphone from under his vest.

While he took pictures of the collapsed steps, she helped Harland to his feet. The man wasn’t very tall. She probably could have taken him from behind if she’d let him climb down the steps first. Instead, adrenaline had been her bitch.

As she led him back through the woods to their SUV, she heard laughter following her every step of the way.

Elle James: Brotherhood Protectors
Wednesday, July 18th, 2018

Out with the old in with the…well not so new?

With the closing of Kindle Worlds, authors have been scrambling to get their books back up. Many authors and readers didn’t want to see the books in the Brotherhood Protectors World go away. So I created a publishing company to allow authors to continue to write in my world (including my lovely sister, Delilah Devlin!)

TwistedPage.com will be the website for the publishing company. It’s a work in progress and will be live soon. But the books are back up!!! Get your copies if you haven’t already. And they are available in Kindle Unlimited! We’ll also be publishing more books in this year so stay tuned!

Here are the books in Brotherhood Protectors World. Read all of them! They are wonderful and the authors will love you for it! Happy Reading from Elle James and all the authors of the Brotherhood Protectors World.

Anne L Parks, Conrad: https://amzn.to/2usPIP8
Christine Glover, Falling For Her Bodyguard: https://amzn.to/2Nkmfhh
Christine Glover, Falling For Her Temporary Bodyguard: https://amzn.to/2NWSAM3
Cynthia D’Alba, Texas Marine Mayhem: https://amzn.to/2Llhcww
Cynthia D’Alba, Texas Ranger Rescue: https://amzn.to/2NmjZGg
Debra Parmley, Montana Marine: https://amzn.to/2JtvTeU
*Delilah Devlin , Big Sky SEAL: https://amzn.to/2zMfdjw
*Delilah Devlin, Reaper’s Ride: https://amzn.to/2JyVdR6
Desiree Holt, Hidden Danger: https://amzn.to/2NngWNW
Donna Michaels, Elite Protector: TBA
Heather Long, Chasing Katie: https://amzn.to/2JrkWe4
Heather Long, Shielding Shayna: https://amzn.to/2moSXCI
Heather Long, Wrangling Wanda: https://amzn.to/2Li4n9g
Ilsa J. Bick, Soldier’s Heart Part I: https://amzn.to/2NTXLMR
Ilsa J. Bick, Soldier’s Heart Part II: https://amzn.to/2uGDrFV
Ilsa J. Bick, Soldier’s Heart Part III: https://amzn.to/2JyVcfQ
Jen Talty, Rough Justice: https://amzn.to/2LkN8nI
Jesse Jacobson, Guardian Ranger: https://amzn.to/2NmPxvM
Jesse Jacobson, Rainhorse: https://amzn.to/2NYIHh2
Jesse Jacobson, Steele Ranger: https://amzn.to/2JuOHKX
JM Madden, Wish Upon A SEAL: https://amzn.to/2NpT9Nr
KaLyn Cooper, Snow SEAL: https://amzn.to/2NmCTNi
Kat Mizera, Catching Lana: https://amzn.to/2Jw3k0B
Kate McKeever, Saving Sidewinder: https://amzn.to/2Jt6IJz
KD Michaels, Montana Gypsy: https://amzn.to/2Lepbi4
Kendra Mei Chailyn, Fear the Reaper: https://amzn.to/2NUXARt
Kris Norris, Carved In Ice: https://amzn.to/2LqUH9e
Kris Norris, Midnight Ranger: https://amzn.to/2L3UtsN
Layla Chase, Ranger In Charge: https://amzn.to/2NWd5IN
Layla Chase, Ranger Loyalty: https://amzn.to/2NruAzA
Leteisha Newton, Protecting Hawk: https://amzn.to/2NmOGLA
Linzi Baxter, Grayson’s Angel: https://amzn.to/2NnI4N5
Margaret Madigan, Broken SEAL: https://amzn.to/2JwuHrz
Mary Winter, Protecting his Cowgirl: https://amzn.to/2NlhGTL
Mary Winter, Roped & Rescued: https://amzn.to/2NixCpQ
Mary Winter, Wild Horse Rescue: https://amzn.to/2L5DqXi
Paige Yancey, Hot Colorado Nights: https://amzn.to/2LtkTQK
Regan Black, Lost Signal: TBA
Regan Black, Moving Target: https://amzn.to/2NSC5Rg
Regan Black, Off the Radar: https://amzn.to/2NWd47Q
Silver James, Montana Moon: https://amzn.to/2Lvm028
Sue Coletta, Fractured Lives: https://amzn.to/2JyHCZJ
Tiffani Lynn, Rescuing Reya: https://amzn.to/2uviazM

Authentic Men… Real Adventure… Cochise is here! (Contest)
Tuesday, June 26th, 2018

The winner of the free download is…Elysian Fields!
*~*~*


The fourth story in my Montana Bounty Hunters series is here!

Cochise centers around a very sexy bounty hunter, who falls for a cop who has a beef with bounty hunters—until she needs their help. The story also catches you up on Jamie & Sky (and their dog, Tessa), and Dagger & Lacey. The story is hot, has plenty of humor, and exciting takedowns! I hope you love it!

If you have time, tell a friend about this story and, maybe, write a review. Readers trust other readers to let them know whether they should take a chance on a their next book boyfriend. If you love the stories, let someone know. And thanks!

Enjoy! ~DD

Cochise

Cochise
Montana Bounty Hunters, Book #4

Former Army sniper, Cochise Mercier, left Denver SWAT under a cloud of controversy, which was why he ended up back home in Montana, and where he heard about the Montana Bounty Hunters. The “cloud” didn’t seem to bother his new boss, so he’s “all in” and finding he enjoys hunting down fugitives for bounties, encumbered by fewer rules.

Sammy McCallister is a by-the-book sheriff’s deputy, who has a beef with bounty hunters. Forced to stand by with her gun in her holster, while hunters take down scumbags, she’s particularly irked by the new guy in town. Cochise, with his long black hair and thousand-yard-stare makes her uncomfortable, itchy in ways she’s never felt before. When she finds herself needing his help late one night, the reason for her irritation becomes all too clear. She wants him. But first, they have to make it out of the mountains alive…

Get your copy here!

Contest

For a chance to win one of the first three stories in the
Montana Bounty Hunter series, answer me this…

Have you read any bounty hunter stories? Have you watched a bounty hunter movie or TV show?

 Dagger Reaper's Ride
Click on the covers to learn more about the stories!

Making bounty hunting plans…
Tuesday, April 10th, 2018

I should be better at planning stories. I teach plotting. I definitely know how to do it. But for some weird reason, when I sit down to plot out stories in a series, I falter.

Maybe it’s because I’m learning who my story peeps are as I write them. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid if I plot too well, I’ll lose that feeling of discovery, those breathless surprised moments I get as I write. I love for a story to reveal itself as I move through my characters’ lives. And I hate, hate, hate being trapped inside a story that bores me.

I would however like some kind of stratospheric view of where my Montana Bounty Hunters are going.

Do you like the graphic I made? Do you like that catch phrase—“Authentic Men, Real Adventure”?

I know that was jarring, but my mind hops like that. I played in Canva today, making that picture at the top. What was I saying?

Well, at least I know what the next book will be about, or at least WHO it will be about. I have a name. I found a piece of art I though portrayed him well, and my sis made me a cover. Often, that’s all I’ve got when I start writing. I’ll get to know Cochise (Do you like that name?) as I write him, and then I’ll figure out what story he has to tell. I also have a cover and a name for the next story, Hook, but no clue where to start. Hopefully, Cochise will meet him along the way…

 
Anyway, I wanted to share the pretty meme, and remind you that there are three stories already out there for you to enjoy. If you have any ideas for future adventures for my bad boy alpha guys, share. I could use a couple of jumping off points… 🙂

Read a sexy excerpt from DAGGER!
Saturday, March 10th, 2018

I hope many of you have bought and are buried in the pages of my second Montana Bounty Hunters story, Dagger. I love this series. I’m hoping you do, too, because I want to write many, many more! I love the takedowns, love the sparring between the main characters. I love the people they work with and meet along the way—like Butler’s mama and Lila from Dagger. I keep thinking about Lila and her firefighter and wonder whether I need to write something to resolve her love life…

Not everything is roses between Dagger and Lacey—and it shouldn’t be or the story would be pretty boring. They have problems from the past to resolve, and they’re both hot-headed as hell. Enjoy the sexy excerpt below. Lacey disobeyed his instructions and put herself in danger, and Dagger doesn’t know whether to spank her or yell at her. Lacey, as always, takes matters, and something of his, in her hands…

Let me know whether you like the idea of more bounty hunters and what you might like to see happen in future stories. ~DD

Excerpt from Dagger

“Thought so. The issue’s just me.” She lifted a finger and pointed it, and then tapped his chest right over his heart. “The problem is you don’t want me as a partner. Well, you can rest assured, I don’t want you either. But now that I know how this job works, I can hire on somewhere else where my skills will be appreciated.”

He snorted. “What skills? The ability to give a bail jumper’s mom a facial? Quick-change artist?”

“I’m damn good talking to people—better than you.” She tapped him again, and his hand snaked out to grab her finger.

In the next breath, he grabbed her waist and pulled her halfway over the console. His mouth slammed against hers.

Lacey tasted blood. She bit his lip and jerked back her head.

His chest rose fast, his nostrils flared.

Without breaking from his gaze, she unclipped her seat belt and climbed over the console to straddle his lap, bumping into the gear shift and the steering wheel. Read the rest of this entry »

DAGGER is here! Get your copy now!
Thursday, March 8th, 2018

Get your copy now!

Former Army Ranger, Daniel “Dagger” Renfrew, has been a lot of things—an Army Ranger, a Seattle beat cop, a PI, and now, a bounty hunter, which, so far, suits him just fine. In his job, he doesn’t look for easy takedowns. He likes lying in mud or snow with his binoculars trained on a window, hoping for a glimpse of the dirtbag whose mugshot he carries in his hip pocket. If they’re badasses—all the better. Dagger prefers when assholes try to run, because then he has an excuse to mix it up, get physical, and blow off steam in an all-out brawl—when the situation warrants, of course. One morning when he’s working his side gig, repossessing cars, he discovers the car he’s taking belongs to his old high school sweetheart, and there’s nothing like sweet revenge…

Lacey Jones is furious when she finds a very large, scary dude trying to steal her car. It’s the last straw. She’s lost her job and is about to lose her apartment, so there’s no way in hell she’s letting him take her damn car! When she discovers its Dagger, her old beau, she jumps into the car with him. When she learns how he makes a living, she’s curious…and then determined to become a bounty hunter herself. How hard can it be?

If you want more stories featuring Montana Bounty Hunters,
check out these titles…

Big Sky SEAL
Head Over SEAL
Reaper

Love bounty hunters?
Sunday, June 11th, 2017

First, thanks to everyone who purchased Big Sky SEAL! It’s still in the top ten for Kindle Worlds Romance books this morning! And thanks to everyone who took the time to write a review! I’m really happy to know that y’all are eager for more bounty hunter stories because guess what? I have one inside Blue Collar, which releases this coming Tuesday! It’s a short story anthology, stuffed full with 16 wonderful, blue collar heroes. Best yet, the price of the anthology is only $0.99! Check out the opening of my story and tell me what you think!

Blue Collar

When it comes to love…Blue Collar is better!

It’s time to set aside those sexy billionaires and enjoy stories about the everyday, even sexier bad boys you meet in real life. They may have dirty hands and wear tool belts and jeans instead of Rolex watches, but they’re earthy alpha males unafraid to get down and dirty when face to face with a woman in need–whatever her need may be!

Just a few of the titillating stories inside…

In “Elevation” by Megan Mitcham, an always-in-control policewoman trapped in an elevator shaft gets a sexy rescue from the handsome repairman. A lonely woman drives a thousand miles to meet an oil field roughneck ready for a long night of laying pipe in Mia Hopkins’ “We Drill Deep While Others Sleep”. Jennifer Kacey shows the lengths to which an enterprising gal will go to get the owner of an oil change shop to check her fluids in “The Boss”. And those are just a few of the sexy stories inside this collection about the everyday hero next door.

These are men who’ve built their powerful muscles from hard work rather than inside any gym, and they sure know how to use their hard-earned skills to pleasure a woman…

Pre-order your copy here!

Excerpt from Bountiful Lust

The hunters I work with all have cool, dangerous-sounding handles: Catch, Dagger, Bulldog. My first day on the job, Dagger nicknamed me Buttercup, and it stuck.

Catch, the hunter who’d founded this agency, decided he needed a bounty hunter with “soft” skills. Someone approachable, whom mamas and girlfriends could confide in. Not that he ever expected I’d have to do the “heavier” tasks, like break down a door or take a target to the ground. Bounty hunting’s dangerous work and not meant for faint-hearted dudes—or girls.

I felt lucky when they called me Buttercup, but mostly, they called me “the girl.” Like this morning, when Catch handed out assignments and told Bulldog to take along the girl.

I didn’t make a fuss. PC communications weren’t part of any office handbook. I knew from day one I had to prove myself. Not that I’d gotten a chance, so far, to show them what I had. Being ex-military, and an ex-cop, didn’t earn me any points. I guess it didn’t help I was only five-feet-five and a hundred ten pounds soaking wet. Bulldog figured that with blonde hair and blue eyes, I looked more like a high school cheerleader—not a compliment, since he thought girls like that were stupid as hell.

Maybe I didn’t help my cause with the way I dressed. Ever since they’d named me Buttercup, I’d done my best to dress the part. Sure, I wore denim, tees, and boots, just like them, but my pink T-shirt emblazoned with “Girl Power,” and my purple-calico-lined jean jacket with lace inserts on the pockets, didn’t exactly fit with their leather jackets and black tees sporting bike club slogans. The few times I hadn’t been tied to a desk making phone calls to relatives to track low-lifes who’d skipped their court dates, I’d been relegated to staying in the truck while the guys did the dirty work.

Not so today, but only because we were going to reach out to Lenny Holcomb’s mama to see if she wanted to keep her house, seeing as she’d offered her home as collateral when posting his bond.

Bulldog gave me the evil eye as we walked toward the small, clapboard house on the bad side of town. “Shit goes sideways,” he said, “you stand back and let me handle it.”

I offered him a non-committal nod. “Think Mrs. Holcomb will give you that much trouble?”

He snorted and skewered me with a narrow-eyed glare.

“Ooh,” I said in my best little-girl voice and gave an exaggerated shiver, hoping he’d trip over his big feet. Not that I had to pretend my reaction too much. Something about the big burly guy did it for me. His face was too manly to be handsome—square jaw, crooked nose, laser-sharp blue eyes. Thick, gold-brown hair dusted the collar of his jacket. His six-foot-four, heavily-muscled frame made me feel feminine and soft and all those other useless qualities I despised in “helpless” females. Go figure—the thought of those big, hard hands rasping over my skin made me tremble.

At Mrs. Holcomb’s door, I knocked.

No response.

I knocked again. Still nothing.

Bulldog stepped to the left and peered into the window. “Don’t think anyone’s home. And since this is his address of record…” He backed up and raised a booted foot.

“Really want to knock down her door?” I pulled my lock-pick kit from my back pocket and knelt in front of the knob. A couple of twists of my tools, and the lock snicked. I turned the knob and quickly moved away from the door, giving way to Bulldog as he grumbled something under his breath about smartass women and strode inside.

Bulldog’s big frame filled my view, so I was taken by surprise when he cussed and rushed toward a hallway.

A crash sounded in a distant room. Light from an open doorway in the back glared as he ran through it. I followed, watching as our target ran for the chain link fence and vaulted it.

Bulldog cussed again, placed a hand on the top of the fence, but when he swung over his big body, the thin metal running through the top caved, and he fell to the dirt.

I picked another spot farther down the fence, grabbed a post and swung over, landing on my booted feet and shooting down the alleyway.

Behind me, I heard grunts and more curses, and finally, “Dammit, Buttercup, wait for me!”

I wasn’t waiting for shit. Lenny moved fast for a big boy. He was almost at the end of the alley. If I didn’t catch him quickly, I’d lose sight of him, and we’d lose our paycheck. With my breaths coming fast and sweat trickling into my eyes, I sped up, reaching out with my fingertips to snatch a handful of his shirt. With the fabric in my fist, I drew back and swung him.

He went sideways, but he didn’t go down. He twisted out of my grasp and raised his fists, his eyes widening as he looked me up and down, an ugly sneer stretching across his equally ugly face.

He swung.

But I was ready, ducking beneath and coming up to drive my fists into his fat gut, then bouncing back to avoid the next wide swing.

When he didn’t connect, his swing carried him forward, and he turned.

I rocketed to his back and wrapped my arm around his throat, grasping my fist to keep my arm in place, as he staggered then went to his knees, his fingers scratching my arms before reaching backward to pull my hair.

But he didn’t get a hank. His body crashed forward, bringing me with him, because my arm was trapped beneath his thick neck.

Boots pounded the pavement then slowed.

“Buttercup, need a hand?”

I wheezed, trying to drag in a breath as his weight crushed me against the pavement. “Roll him so I can get back my arm.”

Lenny’s body rolled to his side.

Bulldog lowered his boot then bent to offer me a hand up. His gaze went to the thick scratches on my arms.

Blood ran in rivulets from the deep gouges.

“Goddammit.” Bulldog’s scowl was scary as he blew out a deep breath, and then reached behind his neck to pull his T-shirt over his head.

He tossed it at me.

All I could do was stare at the grayscale tattoos covering his shoulders and chest, disappearing into his jeans.

“Wrap this around your arm. You’re gonna bleed all over my truck.” Then he went down on one knee and locked cuffs around Lenny’s wrists. When he stood, he kicked the low-life in the ass.



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