#ForeverHis #HistoricalRomance

Forever His by Christine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 

Book Heat Level:

August 30, 1895

Near Buffalo Creek,

South Dakota

Buy at Amazon

REVIEW: Forever His

Christine Young has done it again in this historical romance. The blizzards, betrayal, deceit and a ruthless bandito like Chavez made this a great romance.

Melinda for Night Owl Romance     5 out of 5

BLURB: Forever HIs

Struggling to come to terms with the part she played in Jacob St. John’s death, Etta Barringer resigns from Pinkerton Agency and seeks peace and solace in a Rocky Mountain Cabin.

Jacob has vowed to discover the reason Etta has betrayed him, sold him out to his enemy and left him for dead.

Isolated in their cabin, they discover their love for each other and learn to trust. But the trust is shattered when Jacob learns she is married to his sworn enemy; the man who left him in the desert to die.

EXCERPT: Forever His

The sun beat down. Searing heat waves hit the hard packed earth, blistering, charring everything, even the dry prairie grass. Jacob St. John, his arms stretched overhead and bound to a whipping post, no longer counted the lashes tearing into his back, no longer felt the horrific agony. 

More than a half-dozen men and one woman were gathered in the sage-patched backyard of the run-down shack. So far not one person made a sound as they watched Chavez wield the whip, stripping the flesh off his back.

If Chavez weren't so angry and seeking revenge of his own, he would probably have just had him shot. Revenge was a powerful motive. Chavez wanted Jacob to suffer, to yell before he died. It seemed Etta Barringer did too. So far Chavez was toying with him, taunting and teasing him, cutting an inch here, ripping an inch there, not doing much damage but making mincemeat out of his back.

Jacob hadn't made a sound yet, not even a sharp, indrawn breath. He wasn't about to even though he knew Chavez would get impatient and start slashing. There was no hurry. Chavez had as long as he wanted. No one save Etta knew where he was, no one would come looking for him, at least not until the sun went down. By then Chavez would be done with him, and he would either be dead or buzzard-bait. For the life of him, he couldn't figure why Etta would hand him over to Chavez. She had always been Pinkerton to the core, yet she had betrayed him once before. If he survived this, he meant to have answers. He'd move heaven and earth to search out the lying Etta Barringer and find out exactly what she had against him.

The pain of betrayal at the forefront of his mind, and vows of revenge against the instigator of this kept him going. He focused on the woman's laughter and the scent of lemons that permeated his soul.

He had been taken by surprise. Still, he didn't go down easily. It took all of Chavez's men to get him bound securely to the post in back of the shack. And of those men, not one came away from the encounter without a scratch. Blood from the multitude of small cuts Chavez had inflicted ran in rivulets from his back, pooling on the parched thirsty ground, soaking into the dirt, staining it. 

He stood, his head proudly erect and that seemed to draw anger from Chavez. The grip of his fingers curled around the top of the post, the only sign of Jacob's pain--and fury.

The first real stroke of the whip felt like a red-hot branding iron searing across his back. Jacob didn't flinch, nor would he as long as he could hear her laughter or smell lemons floating languidly on the breeze. He wished he could see her, stare into her beguiling, green eyes until she knew he'd never stop hunting for her. Fury at his own weakness rose, and the anger he felt deep inside simmered, because she'd always attracted him. Ever since she showed up in a small town in Oregon, seduced him then drugged him and left him to sleep off the opium-laced whiskey, she'd fascinated him.

Concentrate on her--on what you're going to do when you find her again . . . 

Christine Young has done it again in this historical romance. The blizzards, betrayal, deceit and a ruthless bandito like Chavez made this a great romance.

Melinda for Night Owl Romance     5 out of 5

#FoolishForPiper #HistoricalRomance

Title: Foolish for Piper

Author: Christine Young

Genre: Historical Romance/Regency

Book Heat Level: 

Buy at: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple, Kobo, Google Play

Read first chapter

TAGLINE

When Piper picks Brett MacLachlan’s pocket, she has no idea her life is going to change forever. 

BLURB: Foolish For Piper

The pickpocket...

Piper has spent her life surviving the streets of St. Giles Parish in London, a den of iniquity and crime. Masquerading as a boy she escapes the whorehouses the young girls are sent to as they come of age. The day she encounters Brett MacLachlan begins the same as every other one. When she picks his pocket, she has no idea her life is going to change irreversibly. 

...and the mark

Handsome aristocrat Brett MacLachlan has come to London for his amusement only to find his world turned upside down by a thief and her dog. From the moment he spots her, Brett knows there is something intrinsically wrong. In his arms, Piper discovers passion and joy. Yet secrets of her past haunt her, and a scar will tell the true tale as well as her identity.

EXCERPT: Foolish For Piper

“Mrs. Pickery!”

Good God, but he couldn’t take his gaze from her perfectly formed figure. Her tight butt was nothing like the women he bedded, his mistresses. In a flash, his body hardened with a desire he couldn’t control. “Mrs. Pickery!”

“Yes, sir.” His cook poked her head in the door. “What is it?”

“He’s a she.”

“What did you say?”

“Get her in the bath. If you need anything, ring for me and I’ll be here even though she’s naked. Don’t let her leave.” Well, that was stupid. He really didn’t think she’d run out the back door stark naked.

His gut rolled. He’d never forcefully disrobed a girl, ripped her shirt. He rubbed his face then roughed his hands through his hair. Trying to make excuses, and attempting to convince himself, he truly believed Piper was a boy. He inhaled a long deep breath, wishing he could take the last few minutes back and do them over.

“It’s alright, sir. You didn’t know. None of us knew. I’ll take care of her now.” Mrs. Pickery touched him on the back. “Don’t you worry about her.”

“That’s just it. I should have known. Every instinct I possess was telling me there was something wrong, but I didn’t listen to my gut.” He berated himself then before he strode through the kitchen door. “Don’t give Mrs. Pickery any grief. You’ll rue the day you were born if you do.”

“I’ve already done that too many times to count,” she told him, looking over her shoulder, her breasts visible to him.

His hands fisted tight, he strode through the house and out the front door. For a few seconds he thought to get his horse. A good ride might ease the tension radiating across his shoulders and throughout the rest of his damn body. The site of her naked evoked a powerful sensation through him.

He stopped himself when he rounded the corner of the house and saw the back door, the entrance to the scullery, reminding him of the girl soaking in his tub. A young lady who’d had one hell of a life. He decided to find out more about her.

Swiveling on a heel, he walked back to the house, entering through the front door. Brandy seemed to call his name. At the sideboard, he poured a full glass and thought to sit down and wait for the outcome of the bath. He didn’t hear anything emanating from that direction and decided that was a good thing.

“Ah.” He swirled the amber liquid in the crystal, mesmerized by the changing colors or thoughts of Piper, he wasn’t too sure. What was he going to do with the lass? And what about Jocko and the scarred man? If anything, she said held a hint of truth, her life might be in danger now that she was out of their fold.

The alcohol burned an enjoyable path down his throat. She would need clothing, everything a woman likes as well as a position in the house. 

The downstairs maid perhaps. 

Short Blurb.

The pickpocket... Piper has spent her life surviving the streets of St. Giles Parish in London, a den of iniquity and crime. ...and the mark Handsome aristocrat Brett MacLachlan has come to London for his amusement only to find his world turned upside down by a thief. Secrets of Piper's past haunt her, and a scar will tell the true tale.

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#TellTaleTuesday #WildIrishRogue

Title: Wild Irish Rogue

Author: Genie Gabriel

EMAIL: genene@genenevalleau.com

Genre: Mystery/Romance

Buy at: Amazon, Barnes and Noble

TAGLINE

Can a hot-tempered Irish rogue become a loving dad, a heroic cop, and a small town legend?

BLURB: Wild Irish Rogue

After a series of tragedies, Bernie O'Shea turns his Irish stubbornness to becoming a loving dad, a heroic cop, and a small-town legend. He doesn't plan on finding a woman who becomes his courageous life partner or enemies among those he thought were his friends.

EXCERPT: Wild Irish Rogue

Bernie's heartbeat stuttered as his old pickup topped the gentle rise of land that marked the boundary of his grandparents' farm. The burned out remains of the old house slammed memories as hard as a fist into his gut as he braked to a stop.

The flames licked greedily up the brick chimney, consuming the tinder dry wood siding, and lighting up the night sky. Bernie bellowed in helpless rage, dunking himself in the water trough used for livestock before plunging into the flames and toward the bedroom his grandparents had shared since their marriage decades earlier. 

Fury fueled his strength as he cradled his grandmother in his arms and carried her outside, then returned for his grandfather. He laid them side by side on the cool, damp grass, searching frantically for a pulse. But he knew it was futile. They were already dead. 

Tallie laid her hand over Bernie's whitened knuckles. Through the sheen of his tears, he saw the mirror of his sadness in her eyes. He turned his hand over and clasped hers tightly.

Together, they would rebuild. A house. A family. A legacy this town would never forget. 

Bernie lifted his foot off the brake and drove the pickup a short distance past the site of the old house.

"Is the barn safe?" Tallie asked. "Perhaps we could set up the tent near there so the boys would have a place to play if it rains?"

"Good idea." Bernie smiled at her. "I married a woman who is both beautiful and smart. We'll check it out."

~ * ~

Bernie pushed open the door to the general store and stepped inside, pausing to fill his lungs with the remembered smells of ripe cheese, pickles, cured meats, leather, and tobacco smoke that had permeated the building's walls since the store opened over a hundred years before. 

Even the old pot-bellied stove remained in one corner, flanked by several wooden chairs that once invited pioneers to sit a spell and swap stories. 

However, shelves once crowded with treasures that fascinated Bernie as a boy now held only a few sparse items.

"Well, Bernie O'Shea. I heard you were back in town." A white-haired old man with a curved back limped slowly toward him with the assistance of a knobby cane.

"Mr. Haroldson." Bernie walked across the plank flooring and stretched out his hand in greeting. "I need a few things to build a house on my grandparents' place."

"So it's true?"

"Yessir."

"Took you long enough to come back, boy."

"I have a wife and two boys now. We plan to make our home here."

A slow smile curved the older man's mouth. "The hell you say."

"Think you could order some lumber, nails and roofing for the house?"

"Might need some plumbing supplies and paint too."

"That we might. I can give you the cash up front."

The old man grinned and clapped Bernie on the shoulder. "Welcome home, boy. Welcome home." 

~ * ~

A satisfied feeling settled in Bernie's gut as he drove back to his grandparents' property. The feeling lasted until he topped the rise of land from where he could see the site of their future home—and a police car parked in the driveway. 

Bernie pulled his shotgun out of its rack as he drove the pickup around the cruiser. He stopped beside Tallie and the boys, opening the door so it shielded her. When he stepped out of the pickup, the shotgun was pointed at Randall Weston's chest. "You're trespassing, Weston."

The chief of police eased back toward his cruiser. "Just checking out a report of squatters at your grandparents' property."

"My property. My wife. My kids. Get off and don't come back."

"Well, that's not very neighborly—"

The metallic ka-ching of Bernie cocking a shell into the barrel had Weston back-stepping quickly. He slid behind the wheel of the police cruiser and sped away.

#MysteryMonday #Unmasked

Title: Unmasked

Author: Maggie Mundy

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level:  4

BUY AT:  AMAZONBARNES & NOBLE

TAGLINE

Corrupted magic is hard to fight when you’re the only one who believes something is wrong. Daria faces a battle to save her world.

BLURB: Unmasked

Six hundred years of peace are destroyed when Daria’s settlement is attacked. It is the start of problems for the land of Majura. Daria saves people with magic and must join the magic wielding Mask wearers who rule the land. Her dreams have warned if she became one it would be the end of Majura. Are the Mask wearers keeping secrets or is she the only one who can see the power in the land is changing. A Mask wearer called Alenze believes her and offers to go on a quest with her to fix the Essence where the magic comes from, but he is keeping secrets from her that could be the death of them all. 

REVIEW: Unmasked

UNMASKED

by Maggie Munday

Five Stars

Reviewed by G. Lloyd Helm

Maggie Munday has  written a complicated dense story that will keep lovers of fantasy literature happy for hours.

UNMASKED is a story about the breakdown of what I would call a Magical Society. The world has been run by a group of people connected to some living crystals. Those at the top of this basically feudal society are called Masks because they connect to the power of the crystals via masks which are carried until need and then worn when in communication with the power. But things are not going well for the Masks. There are internal jealousies which have festered to the point of one Mask having gathered an army made up of humans as well as non-human creatures to over throw the ruling Masks.

This is not my first encounter with Maggie Munday and I must say I am impressed with her. She writes strong, complex, interesting stories and UNMASKED is another of those.

EXCERPT: Unmasked

If most of the other Masks were like Alenze, then she was never going to fit in. He didn't have a hair out of place. His clothes were grey but of the highest quality, with a beautifully fitted long tunic and breeches and well-made knee-high leather boots.

"During the travelling, you'll be placed in a trance. This is done so you're not alarmed by the experience. I'll be in control, and you'll not be aware of what's happening around you."

He spoke to her as if she were a child. The fact he was at least a head taller than her didn't help matters as he peered down.

"I assure you growing up here has made me resilient." Daria crossed her fingers behind her back at the lie.

"Many people struggle with the experience. I myself was glad I wore brown britches the first time. I agree though. I sense you'll not be alarmed easily," Alenze replied.

For a second Daria saw a smirk on his face. He had a sense of humor, who would have thought. He even almost looked handsome when he smiled.

"Traveler Quatrome, the sun is setting," her father interrupted. "The Chamber is ready." He bowed his head to both of them.

Alenze offered his arm to escort her into the Travelling Chamber. Daria stared at his hand as her heart pounded in fear, but knew she had no choice but to eventually take it. Pell stopped outside the Chamber and smiled at her, then looked to Alenze.

"Take care of her, and warn your fellow Masks to watch out for her temper; she didn't inherit her mother's green eyes and red hair without reason," Pell warned.

"You have my word, Master Gallo," Alenze replied as he shook her father's hand.

Atia and Chelle hugged her with tears streaming down all their faces.

"It won't be long, and I'll be back, especially if they don't want me, which is highly likely," Daria soothed them as she tried to get her tears under control.

Alenze coughed and Daria couldn't delay any more. Again, his arm was offered and this time she accepted. He escorted her into the chamber and as the doors shut behind them, she could hear Rumus howling and her breath caught in her throat.

Alenze let go of her arm and walked into the center of the circular, windowless room. With the doors closed, there was an oppressive feel to the space, with the only illumination coming from the oil lamps placed about the walls. The floor was covered with a beautiful painting. The tales were that the settlement had been built around this place.

Alenze was studying the markings on the floor. Daria's breath was catching in her throat and the room was getting smaller. She couldn't go through with this, they couldn't make her go. Her chest was getting tight as her panic increased. She ran to the door of the chamber and raised her fists, thumping hard again and again. The yells coming from her throat blanked out the pain as her fists started to redden and bleed.

"Let me out."

A hand touched her shoulder, causing her to spin around screaming, her clenched fist aimed at Alenze. Placing his hand over hers, he brought her fist down. He stared intently at her with his dark grey eyes as he spoke.

"When I went to the Domain in Denarius, I believed no one would want someone like me. Those who came with me at that time were filled with a confidence I never had. I didn't feel I'd ever belong, but now I do. Becoming a Mask has given my life meaning beyond what I would ever have thought possible. I've grown to love what I've become. You must trust me, and believe you'll feel that, too." He paused. "Are you ready?"

Daria nodded as he let go of her hands and walked over and stood over the open mouth of the winged serpent painted on the floor. She stood on the outside of the circular floor painting and thought her eyes must be playing tricks on her. The painting was starting to move as the serpent's coils began to entwine one upon another hypnotically.

"We can delay no longer. Stand on the mark of the moon." Holding out his arm, Alenze beckoned her to move forward.

She took the step, her breath coming in gasps. The outer circle had symbols of the sun, moon, stars and the Goddess Ikrar. The Goddess stood with her hands clasped around a crystal.

Alenze removed a small, plain brown mask from a pouch hanging around his neck and put it on his face. It had no hooks or fastenings, but melded to him on contact.

"Enter the circle, Daria."

Daria stepped forward onto the moving picture. Alenze took her hands in a firm grip, and needing something to hold onto, she gripped equally as hard around his wrists. She wondered if he could hear her heart beating. He should, as it felt as if it was going to explode through her chest.

"I don't want to do this. My life is here, Crane is here, I love him and I want to stay." Tears flowed down her face.

"Trust me, Daria, and you'll be safe," Alenze instructed.

"I don't want to trust you. I don't want to go and no one there will want me. They think I'm bringing doom with me because I touched the crystal," Daria sobbed, but Alenze wasn't listening anymore. His eyes were shut and he was chanting strange words over and over. There was a humming noise making her dizzy, and then something touched her foot. She jerked her knee up. Peering down, she let out a scream as the coils of the snake picture on the floor started slithering over her feet and around her ankles - where was the trance Alenze had promised? The Mask was no longer solid on his face; the flat surface was bubbling as though something was trying to erupt. Then the small heads of two snakes broke free from the surface and bit into his temples. If he felt any pain he didn't react.

More snakes oozed from the Mask until the whole of his head was a wriggling mass moving down his back and entwining around his arms. Two vipers separated from the others encircling his arms. The snakes stopped their movements at his wrists and raised their bodies up as though to get a good look at her. They swayed hypnotically. Daria tried to pull free of Alenze's grip, but he was too strong. Then without warning, both snakes struck at her wrists in unison.

"Alenze," his name burst from her mouth as the pain hit her arms and the poison burned into her. His eyes opened, looking first to her face and then at the vipers injecting their venom. She could hear his thoughts.

Forgive me, Daria.

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#RomanceSunday #TigerMine

Tiger Mine

Angela Castle

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 5

Buy at Amazon:

BLURB: Tiger Mine

Licking her wounds after ending a six-year marriage to a serial cheating husband, Julia has run away to her grandfather's house high in the Australian Mountains, hoping to fix the old neglected building up while she contemplates her future, only to discover a huge white Siberian tiger on her door step.
 
Tiger shifter Mohan has escaped, jumped ship and is in hiding from the hunter who has ripped him from his world and murdered those he loved, when a curvy Aussie woman turns up at the old house he’s managed to shelter in these past weeks. He offers his services as a builder by day, returning to her by night as a tiger. Despite the strong attraction he has trouble fighting, what he discovers in Julia is a new kind of warmth and kindness he is in desperate need of.
 
Julia knows her gorgeous Russian handyman is harboring dark secrets, but can her heart stand falling in love and losing again?
 
Can they help each other mend the deeper issues which plague their lives? And bring hope of a new future. Or will Mohan’s past hunt him down and tear the new fragile bond between them?

EXCERPT: Tiger Mine

Desperation was becoming a prevalent emotion in Mohan's life. With each passing moment, he slipped deeper into the unwanted state.

His food supply was limited, and he grew weaker with each passing week. Soon, he would be forced into the situation of journeying back into the human populace. It was dangerous for a creature in his situation.

As long as he remained in animal form, he had a chance of surviving. Yet, with each necessary shift to his human side, he grew weaker. His body ached with a gnawing hunger. Even in the warm climate of this new land, he was cold.

Mohan had been fortunate to find shelter; an old, abandoned farmhouse. It had several rooms and would have once been a comfortable home. Someone had left it to the ravages of time and was in need of much repair.

He would restore it if he had the resources. For now, it was a roof over his head and kept out the chill of the cold mountain nights. Still, even with a full blaze in the solid stone fireplace, it only partially kept the chill from his bones.

He had nothing with which to trade, nothing to barter, and he had limited English. All he would need to do was open his mouth to speak, and they would know he was not of this land. The clothes on his back he had taken from a pile discarded next to a large bin on a seaside street, near where he had come ashore. By day he had walked over many fertile, abundant fields through strange forests. As darkness fell, he had shifted and used the strength of his animal form. He hunted rabbits to help him continue on. As he moved further away from people and higher into the mountains, the safer he began to feel.

Stumbling across the farmhouse had been an answer to an unspoken prayer. He had collapsed in the old building, staying still until his exhaustion had faded.

His sleep was fitful, filled with nightmare images. The smells and screams in his head plagued him. He would never forget the pain and helplessness of everything he'd been forced to endure.

Why did he fight for survival when he had nothing to live for?

Mohan's natural instincts were more often a curse than a blessing. It was only natural to fight to survive.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the mountain trees. Already the air was beginning to cool.

Counting the days, he knew a few months had passed since he'd come to be here. His clothes were tattered and worn thin. He balanced the heavy load of wood he had collected for the fire. When dusk fell, he would hunt rabbits to feed his hunger then settle for the night.

He was still a distance from his cottage. His feet easily found the track back to his shelter. Deep in thought, he had not heard anyone or anything approach. His hearing was less acute while he was in human form.

He froze at the line of trees surrounding the old house. There was a large dark vehicle parked out front and attached to the back was a covered trailer.

Quietly, he lowered himself into a crouch and set down the wood. His eyes trained on the open door of the house. A figure appeared there. The baggy, pale blue, short-sleeved top and jeans did not hide the fact the wearer was a generously curved woman. A cascade of light auburn hair fell about her shoulders, gleaming in the last of the fading sunlight.

He noticed the old tarp he'd been sleeping on was carelessly tossed out and now lay by the end of the porch, along with a heap of old ruined and unusable furniture.

Mohan's jaw clenched in displeasure. What was he going to sleep on now? He waited and continued his observations.

There was no one else as far as he could tell. The woman proceeded to unpack the trailer, carrying box after box into his current home.

It was clear he had just lost his shelter. There would be no fire to warm his side tonight. He would be forced to move on.

Rising to his feet, Mohan curled his fingers so tightly around the slim tree by his side his whole hand throbbed. He welcomed the pain as he battled to bring his anger under control.

Forced. He was so tired of being forced to do things he did not want to do. He needed to regain some control, take back the little comfort he had managed to claim as his. Mohan faded unseen into the thick of the trees. He would wait until dark. He would not give up his new home so easily, and one lone woman would not stand in his way.

#SciFiFantasySaturday #SweetTalkin'Sugar

Title: Sweet Talkin' Sugar

Author: Christine Young

Email: achristay@aol.com

Genre: Paranormal Romance

Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: Amazon

Kindle Unlimited

BLURB: Sweet Talkin' Sugar

Lyonesse McKenna, was dreaming or was she? Her family of shapeshiters believed in soul mates. She’d always been sceptical yet she couldn’t help but question the way her heart sped when he looked at her.

When Deacon appeared in Las Vegas he knew his first job was to save Lyn from a Sea Demon, but the next order of business was to convince Lyn he would someday mean more to her than she’d ever expected. But her stubborn nature and unbendable spirit consumed Deacon...and he had to chase away all the demons real and imagined in order to win her heart.

EXCERPT: Sweet Talkin' Sugar

In observation mode, he walked through the casino, hands in his pockets, listening and watching, his heart racing. Before the blackjack table at the end of the row, he paused to reflect and decide on a course of action. The air inside was sultry, hot and smoke-filled. He swept one hand through his damp hair, fresh from a summer rain. He forced his mind from the heat and the rancid smell of cigarettes, and with single-minded focus, stared at the table and the cards lying innocuously on the green felt.

The picture of cool calmness, she sat on a bar stool, a drink in hand and cards in the other, her legs crossed provocatively. Her daringly cut emerald V-neck dress didn't leave much to the imagination, but he forced his gaze to the man beyond who stared at her as if he owned her. Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end and a chill slivered down his spine, nerves on edge, muscles tensed. His brows furrowed when the man turned his attention, for one brief moment, his way.

The dealer gave her another card and she tipped one corner up to look at it then let it go. Her body language spoke volumes to him and he wondered if the dealer noticed too. The poker face she so obviously tried for was something she'd never possess.

Deacon McClain paused before settling on a bar stool across the table from her. He waited for the last hand to finish before placing his chips in front of him and nodding to the dealer he was ready to play. His fingers closed around his glass of whiskey as his heart thundered in his chest. She glanced his way, inquisitively cocking her head to one side before slanting him a sexy-as-hell-grin.

The grin sent a message that nearly catapulted him from his seat. Inhaling a deep breath to calm his splintering nerves, he turned his attention back to the cards he'd just been dealt. Not good, not good at all, he motioned for another, then sat back and gazed at Lyonesse. Lyn McKenna, the woman he'd been sent to find and bring home. He'd never believed this gig to be an easy one, but now he felt sure this might be his most difficult assignment of all. Her easy grin sent his heart into a tailspin and her long shapely legs were hard to ignore. What would happen if she gave him her full attention?

He'd lose all sense of perspective and balance.

#Friday'sFeaturedTitle #The LookOfLove

The Look of Love by Rosemary Indra

Excerpt Heat Level 1

Book Heat Level 3

Buy at Amazon: 

BLURB: The Look of Love

Scott Denton always thinks of Penny Herrington as his best friend, a co-worker in the Forest Ridge Fire Department. She tricks him into helping her with the decorations for the Sweetheart Banquet. During their discussion about love and romance, Scott starts to notice Penny as a desirable woman.

When Penny hurts her ankle, Scott feels responsible and decides to move in with her. Spending time together, they share intimate discussions about love and marriage. Penny, a widow, feels guilty when her relationship with Scott becomes romantic. Devastated after a nasty divorce, Scott no longer believes in love and vows he’ll never remarry. He denies his feelings for Penny until he realizes only she can comfort him after he assist the fire department at a tragic car accident.

EXCERPT: The Look of Love

THE LOOK OF LOVE

The pager on her waistband sounded a moment before Penny heard the city's alarm sound. Her sense of duty and the need to help others pulled her back into the station to answer the call. "One vehicle off the road-milepost two on Oak Knoll Road." Penny read her pager out loud.

Once she put on her turnouts, she jumped into the engine. That's why she was there. After years of working at the bank, she'd gone back to school and became a paramedic. She wanted to help others and make a difference. Joining the fire department was the best way to honor Jim's memory.

Scott got into the officer's seat in front of her. She wondered if she should get out. Catching her reflection in the window, she straightened her turnout and renewed her fortitude. They'd shared a few kisses. Nothing more. The passion his kiss ignited was best forgotten. If he was uncomfortable with the situation, he could get into the other vehicle.

She ignored the usual chatter in the engine cab as other firefighters joined them and they drove to the accident. A pickup truck rolled over in the ditch with one occupant was all she'd heard. She drew a deep breath trying to still her clamoring nerves. Until now, she'd ignored her growing awareness of Scott. For some reason tonight her defenses were lowered and she could no longer disregard her desire for him.

Once they stopped at the scene, Scott asked. "Penny, do you feel comfortable directing traffic?"

Without looking at him, she replied, "Yes." Then she grabbed a flashlight, fluorescent vest and stop sign from the side compartment and hurried to the back of the engine. Red lights flashed around her. She directed the rescue unit and ambulance to the accident a few yards up the road.

"Watch your backside," Scott yelled. Like always, he stood behind her, protecting her.

Guiding drivers wasn't her favorite job in the department, but traffic was light for the middle of the night. She couldn't believe how much time they'd spent in the storage room.

"How are you doing?" he asked a few minutes later.

Penny jumped at the sound of his voice beside her. "You startled me, I didn't hear you." She hadn't been able to get Scott off her mind since they left the station. Now she hesitated to look at him.

"I wanted a chance to talk to you alone." His voice held a serious tone; an I-want-to-clarify-any-misunderstanding-tone.

Red lights from the rescue unit continued their rhythmic flash around them. The colored illumination added a surreal appearance to the worry lines that marked Scott's face. He too appeared shaken by something. In the darkness she couldn't fully read his expression. With his brows lowered, he had a stern look of finality over his features. She guessed their kissing surprised him as much as it did her. Afraid she was losing her best friend, she breathed in deep. She knew and dreaded the subject he wanted to discuss with her.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I…"

"I understand it won't happen again," she said hurriedly. If only she could turn back the clock.

Read and enjoy this one. Overall, this story gave me happy thoughts about life and love.

Seriously Reviewed  19 out of 20