Excerpt

“I’ll deal with you when we get back to the house,” Bear snapped, his words loaded with so many different meanings I trembled with both fear and anticipation.

“You’re going to deal with me?” I asked. “How are you going to deal with me?” My attitude and confidence faded with each word until the last was merely a whisper.

“Yes, DEAL with you,” Bear warned, suddenly pausing to take in my appearance. Slowly, from top to bottom, like he’d only just realized I was standing there. His eyelids hung heavy over his sapphire blues as he licked my body with his eyes, drinking me in like he was thirsty.

No, not thirsty.

Hungry.

When he licked his lips I could have sworn he was about to eat me alive.  I tingled all over.  The awareness of him in such close proximity after so long washed over me.  Angry or not, my body didn’t care.  I didn’t care.  I wanted to reach out and touch his face, reassure him that he had no reason to be angry, but part of me liked that I could draw that kind of reaction from him.  He came alive when he was pissed, and something inside me loved that he became this primal possessive beast out to remind me who it was I belonged to.

Bear clenched his jaw and the muscles in his neck tensed and strained. He looked as if he were ready to either kill or fuck.  All I knew was that, one way or another, I was about to de devoured.

I pressed my thighs together, trying to manage the pulsing between my legs, but the contact only ignited it further. Bear chuckled and glanced down to where my ankles were crossed. He closed the gap between us in two short strides, taking me off guard. I stumbled backward, tripping over a lose rock in the road. he reached out and roughly grabbed my arm before I could fall, pulling me flush into his hard chest. His warm skin radiated through my thin dress. I bit my lip, suppressing a moan. My legs grew weaker and weaker as he lowered his head, inching closer and closer, until I was sure his lips were going to meet mine, when without warning he released my arm and spun away. “Get in the fucking truck, Ti,” he called back to me.

I stood there, unable to move, and trying to catch my breath while he headed over to King’s truck like that moment never passed between us. When he noticed I wasn’t behind him he growled and stalked back over to me. He grabbed me by the waist, his fingers digging into my skin.  He lifted me up, my short dress bunching up over my butt cheeks and slung me over his shoulder like I was a rolled up rug.

Wack.

He slapped my ass with his open palm. Hard. The bite of the smack stung where I was sure he’d left his mark. He tossed me into the truck with a caveman grunt and slammed the door behind me.

I was confused as all hell.

I was so angry.

I was also elated.

I was in lust so hard that I was in physical pain.

I was really fucking angry.

I was head over heels in love.

Motherfucker.

Bear & Thia’s epic finale releases on February 23rd!

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Lawless

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About the Author:

T.M. Frazier is a USA TODAY bestselling author. She resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and young daughter. When she’s not writing she loves talking to her readers, country music, reading, and traveling. Her debut novel, The Dark Light of Day was published in September of 2013 and when she started writing it she intended for it to be a light beachy romance. Well…it has a beach in it!

Stalk Her: Website, Facebook, Twitter, Amazon, and Goodreads.

Just another one night stand…

Ryann despised the thought, but it was the only one she could draw when she woke up in an empty bed. Tired of being let down by everyone she cared about–aside from her brother–Ryann begins taking her life back, pushing back at all the bad and ugly life tosses at her.

Ryder knew the moment he left Ryann alone in bed he’d made a mistake. Running and hiding from his family for years, Ryder didn’t want to pull her into that life. She deserved more than constantly moving from place to place.

Ryann just can’t push again. Life is winning and she just wants to lay down and give up. Now, she must make a decision: to run from the truth, or step up and admit what she’s known all along. And Ryder… nine months later and he can’t get Ryann out of his head. He wants her more than he wants to run.

But there’s a terrible truth he has to face: it might be too late for Ryann to give Ryder his second chance.

AMAZON

Rebecca lives near the shore towns of New Jersey, with her husband and two kids. When she’s not writing she loves reading and watching SOA and TrueBlood.

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Are you ready to meet Rhys & Fi in the newest romantic

stand alone by S.L. Jennings?

INK & LIES IS NOW LIVE!

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Blurb

From International Best Selling Romance Novelist, Hope Hughes, comes a gripping, heartfelt tale of two lovers, fighting for the freedom to…

No. Scratch that. Too cheesy.

…two people, torn apart by the tumultuous tides of life, only to discover refuge in…

WTF? What does that even mean? DELETE.

…two people, confused as shit as to where they should be and who they should love and none of this means a damn thing because it’s all lies!

Lies.

I’m not Hope Hughes. I’m not some fierce woman romance machine. Hell, I’m not even a woman.

I’m a liar.

And while I refuse to believe my own BS, deceit masked in heartfelt phrases of love and devotion, I want to make her believe them. Because maybe—just maybe—if she can find the soul within my words, she’ll also be able to find the truth scribbled on my heart.

You see, I once lived for the perfect plot twist.

I just never expected to actually live it.

This is my story. Well, maybe her story. I just wish I could make it our story.

The one I’m still writing.

Excerpt

“Yeah, but…” Her eyes grow wide and glossy as she tries to sift through all the reasons why that theory shouldn’t apply to her. In the end, she relies on her heart. “You said I wasn’t like those other women…that those other women weren’t me.”

I should tell her she’s right. I should put her out of her misery and reassure her that the last ten years were as real and meaningful to me as they were for her. That even though I may sling gift-wrapped bullshit for the general public, only she knows the true, honest parts of my heart. But with my tongue possessed by the taste of her rejection, I play the petty card, and do just the opposite.

“I guess I was wrong, especially considering yesterday’s events. Maybe you’re no different from them. And maybe you were right about me…that I do sabotage with sex to keep people at arm’s length. Because in the end, that’s all I want anyway, right?”

“You don’t mean that.”

I nod. “Yeah. I do.”

“So what are you saying?” The hurt is so thick in her throat that I can barely hear the words.

I suck in a breath, and scrub a hand over my forehead. “You were right about me. About us. We shouldn’t have done…what we did. And we can’t move on and pretend that it didn’t change us. What’s done is done.”

“I agree,” she nods, with a tinge of hope in her voice.

“So, maybe we should just see this for what it is—the end. You’re starting your life with Joshua and moving away, and I’m going on with mine.”

“Wait, August. No, that’s not—”

“You didn’t actually think we’d be able to keep this up, did you? What, you thought we’d turn out to be the modern day Cathy and Heathcliff? I’m not some swoony, literary hero, Fi. I’m not here to rescue you from your shitty love life that stems from your shitty childhood.”

“I never said you were—”

I’m rambling, spewing verbal diarrhea all over her blue cashmere, but I can’t stop. I can’t shut off the bile that has been choking me since this morning when she disclosed her impending nuptials. “You have Joshua. He’s the one you chose. He’s the one you want. You made that perfectly clear. So what the fuck do you need with me?”

“I thought we were friends, August. I thought you and me were—”

“Well, I guess you were wrong. Friends don’t fuck each other and then five minutes later get engaged. And why would you want to be friends with some empty, misogynistic prick like me anyway?”

“I-I didn’t mean,” her voice cracks, and the first tear escapes. She quickly dashes it away, refusing to let me play witness to her weakness. But I’ve already seen it. I share that very same weakness that has her bottom lip trembling. I’m just too much of a coward to show it.

“Look, I’m sorry. I think we just need a break.”

“A break. Yes,” she nods, dashing away tears. “You’re right. We both said things we shouldn’t have. Let’s just take a few days to…”

“No. A break from this,” I clarify, gesturing between us. “From us. This isn’t working anymore.”

“You’re being melodramatic, August. We’ve had fights before. We’ve said things we didn’t mean, and we always were able to work it out.”

I shake my head and look away, refusing to acknowledge the dejection on her face. “But I meant everything I said.”

About the Author:

S.L. Jennings is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance, reality TV junkie, obsessive coffee drinker and collector of crazy.

Stalk Her: Website | Facebook | Twitter |Goodreads

GIVEAWAY

Mystery Box w/Signed Paperback

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Nathan Cross is a struggling actor waiting tables at a local restaurant to make ends meet while he attends endless auditions. Though his hopeful career moves at a slow pace, Olivia is the strength and sunshine in his life… until she leaves him. One day, he is offered a contract with a modeling agent, leading him to work for Knight Fashion Magazine—a dream job he never imagined would become a reality.

Olivia swore she would always put her career first and that’s precisely what she did when she left Nathan. Having a deadbeat dad and watching her mom work two jobs to make ends meet have been her driving force. When she is offered a modeling career, she drops everything—even the love of her life—and moves to New York.

Though Nathan and Olivia try to steer clear of one another, working for the same fashion magazine causes their paths to cross again and old emotions are awakened. Can Nathan forgive Olivia or will he take the next step with the woman he is currently dating? Will Olivia do everything she can to break them apart? Or will she choose her career over her heart… again?

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Something Great FREE, Book 1

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Twas the Knight Before Christmas

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International Bestselling Author Mary Ting/M. Clarke resides in Southern California with her husband and two children. She enjoys oil painting and making jewelry. Writing her first novel, Crossroads Saga, happened by chance. It was a way to grieve the death of her beloved grandmother, and inspired by a dream she once had as a young girl. When she started reading new adult novels, she fell in love with the genre. It was the reason she had to write one-Something Great. Why the pen name, M Clarke? She tours with Magic Johnson Foundation to promote literacy and her children’s chapter book-No Bullies Allowed.

Meet Maverick “The Avenger” Cage in Legend, the newest stand alone in the REAL series releasing February 9th!

AVAILABLE NOW

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Blurb

Maverick “the Avenger” Cage wants to rise to the top and become a legend in the ring. Though he keeps his identity well guarded, he’s known on the fighting circuit as the new kid with a chip on his shoulder and a tattoo on his back that marks him as trouble. He’s got a personal score to settle with the Underground’s one and only Remington “Riptide” Tate.

As Mav trains, he meets a young girl—the only other new person in the town–and sparks fly. When things get heated between them, he finds out she’s none other than Reese Dumas, the cousin of Remington Tate’s wife. A girl who’s supposed to root against him and a girl he’s supposed to stay away from.

But Maverick fights for the woman in his heart, and the monsters in his blood. The world’s eyes are on them and the victor will go down in history as the ultimate fighting champion; the ultimate LEGEND.

* LEGEND is the 6th and final installment of the REAL series, but it can also be read as standalone or after the three Remington and Brooke books (Real/Mine/Remy.)

Check out our 5 smooches review HERE.

EXCERPT

It’s midweek already, and I’m halfway through my workout when I get a text from Brooke:

Hey! Huge line at the Underground registration, might pick up lunch on our way back home. Don’t wait for us – lunch home w/Diane

Me: Got it ☺ Will take Racer to park and meet you home ltr

I set my phone aside and scan the gym again. Some otherworldly impulse has me walking past the weights section. I cross the treadmills, bicycles, toward the mats at the end and the boxing bags. I scan the area where Maverick always works out. There are several guys at the bags now. None of them are as big, or mysterious. Or hot.

He’s gone.

Disappointment washes over me. I wait a bit, checking the time. Five minutes to leave for Racer.

Reese, you’re acting stupid.

“You’re looking for your friend? The one you come in with?”

“I . . . ah . . . yeah.”

“He hasn’t come in.”

“Right. Thanks.”

I head to pick up Racer from day care, meet Pete there with the stroller and our snacks, then sit Racer inside and push him to the park. There’s this spot I like under the shadow of a tree. I head there. “How was day care, Racer?”

“Okay.”

He’s scanning the park for dogs, I know.

“This is nice, isn’t it?”

I pull out his fruit bears and open them. He dives in.

“Racer, I ran extra hard today and I’m suddenly hungry. If I tell you an extra story tonight, would you give me one of your fruit bears?”

“Two stowies,” he negotiates.

“Okay, two stories, for two bears?” I shoot back.

He hesitates, then nods and lets me pull out two bears, examining my hand thoroughly. I let him open my palm.

“See? Two?”

He grins a dimpled grin that I could eat up, and then continues eating.

I shove them in my mouth and start to set up my blanket and stop in my tracks when I spot the figure doing pull-ups on the tree.

His T-shirt is riding upward due to the lifted position of his arms, and I can see the concrete-like squares of his abs perfectly.

His extraordinary eyes blaze and glow when he spots me a few feet away, not far from the tree. He drops himself to the ground, lithe as a cat and surprisingly quiet, and as he stretches to his feet from the crouched position he landed in, his eyes are direct and interested and warm. No, not warm. More.

There’s a flip in my stomach when his lips curl a little. He ambles over and I have the oddest sensation that he was waiting for me. But . . . was he?

“Maverick.”

“Mavewick!” Racer repeats, and puts out his fist.

He bumps fists with Racer. “Dude. Cool cap.”

He taps Racer’s Yankees baseball cap. Then his eyes lift to meet mine.

My stomach feels unsettled, but it’s not from hunger, more like from nerves or something like . . . anticipation.

“Didn’t see you at the gym today,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I talked to Oz.”

“You did?”

He gives me this quiet, perfect smile and simply nods.

“That’s great.”

“Yeah.”

We smile for the most delicious few seconds.

“So you’re fighting during the inaugural?” I ask excitedly.

He pulls out a page from his back jeans pocket. “That’s me.”

I take and scan the page. It indicates his accepting the Underground terms and rules of engagement, states his coach’s name, and then his name. A dangerous little chill runs down my spine when I read:

Maverick “the Avenger” Cage

And Maverick “the Avenger” Cage is watching me read this paper, studying my reaction.

My palms are sweaty all of a sudden. “Well . . . wow.”

My stomach is quaking upon seeing his name, I don’t know why. Maverick Cage. His name is a conundrum. Maverick means “rebel,” and cage . . . But it looks like this maverick is coming out of his cage.

He tucks the page back into his jeans. “I had to tell someone.”

“And you came to tell me?” If I sound bewildered, it’s because I am.

He stares into me, a liquid look coming to his eyes. “It wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for you.”

“That’s totally not true.”

He glances down at the stroller. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t tell my buddy here.” He fist-bumps Racer again and Racer giggles at the attention.

“Mom and Dad are busy, so I get to keep him for an extra while,” I tell Maverick.

He stares at me. He has a very stubborn, arrogant face, but when he smiles, pleasure softens his granitelike features. And he’s smiling right now. Dear me. “So he’s not yours,” he says.

“God, no. I wish!”

I can’t think straight when he looks at me. I feel naked. As if he knows that I’ve missed him. As if he knows that just looking at him makes me feel odd. Odd and oddly sensual inside. Responding to him.

I open my blanket and bend over to smooth it on the ground. Then I realize my butt is sticking out, the Himalayas of butts out there for him to see. In tight exercise gear. Fuck.

He kneels on his haunches at the edges of the blanket and opens his hand. “Share the blanket with me?”

His knuckles are still scarred. I can’t decide why I keep looking at them. I get a gut squeeze of empathy every time I see the bruises. His hands are huge. He plants them on the blanket, then shifts to lean back on his arms, stretching out his legs before him. Other couples are nearby on blankets. It feels intimate when I set my stuff down, and I feel myself go hot when I sense him watching me settle down next to it.

He spreads out just a little more and squints up at the tree, then looks at me in silence.

I search the picnic bag. “Want some . . . kid food? Or I’ve got . . .” I pull out my emergency Snickers bar, which I’m proud not to have touched yet, and I hand it over. “Plus one water and a drinking cup with a lid.”

I pass the drinking cup to Racer and hand Maverick the water. He takes it. “I’m good.” He opens the water bottle and hands it to me.

I shake my head. I’m not hungry, really. Or thirsty. My stomach feels full of butterflies again and it makes no sense, since I don’t even know him.

He shifts up higher on his arms, the flex of his torsal muscles visible through the cotton of his shirt.

“I almost thought you’d arrived to the gym and got yourself kicked out,” I try.

“Not yet. There’s still tomorrow.” He smirks.

And there’s a tinge of merriment in his eyes.

“Wee, and the ducks?”

I jerk my attention back to Racer and my pending business with him. “Right. I promised we’d feed the ducks today.” I quickly pack our stuff and then push the stroller toward the lake. He walks beside me.

I feel him watching me as I stop at the dispenser to fill up a cup of duck food.

“Mavewick, get me out,” Racer commands.

Maverick sweeps him up and sets him on his feet.

“Don’t go in the water, Racer, just stay on the edge, and don’t let them bite your finger. Do it like this. . . .” I show him how to cup his hand. “Or throw it in the water and watch them pick at it.”

He nods and starts throwing all over, sending the ducks after the nibbles.

I sit on the ground, the scent of damp grass surrounding us as Maverick sits beside me.

“Hey, I want to do something for you.”

“What?”

I can’t remember how to breathe.

I give him a moment to explain, but he’s not helping me out, only smiling. His face is open, friendly, his smile captivating. But his eyes are guarded, careful. I try to keep my voice indifferent.

“You mean for the gym?” I ask, a puzzled frown on my face.

He nods. “For that. And Oz.”

“Oh.” I shake my head, laughing softly. “It’s nothing, really.”

When he looks at me, he looks curious, and unsatisfied somehow. But a genuinely appreciative smile touches his eyes. “Trust me. It’s not nothing. It’s something, and I appreciate it.”

His open gratitude makes me so warm. He makes me feel impulsive.

“I’m in a healthy-living boot camp this summer. You’re meeting the new Reese,” I hear myself blurt out.

Wow. Did I just spew it out like that?

I’m so desperate for him to share bits of himself that I’m just totally baring myself to him without his even asking. Thank god he takes it in stride with an attractive little dance in his eyes.

“What was the old one like?” he asks easily.

I shrug and shake my head, not really wanting to get into that.

When he does nothing to fill the silence that settles between us, it leaves me with nothing to do but look up at him. I lift my lashes, and he’s staring at me with a look of total intrigue in his eyes. Wisps of hair tease my face, and I push them away, feeling really restless under that stare.

“Help me kick my own ass, and we’ll call it even,” I suddenly suggest.

He shakes his head with playful stubbornness. “We’re not even. I still owe you.” His eyes grow thoughtful, and he reaches into his pocket and extracts something. “Open your palm.”

He looks so intense that I open my palm and watch him drop something in it. “What’s this?”

“My IOU.”

I stare at the penny in my palm, then look up at him in confusion.

His voice sounds a little more harsh and textured all of a sudden. “I don’t have a lot right now, but I got this.”

“For a rainy day?” I ask.

“For any day.”

Real (Book One) The Real Series

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Mine  (Book Two) The Real Series

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Remy  (Book Three) The Real Series

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Rogue  (Book Four) The Real Series

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Ripped  (Book Five) The Real Series

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About the Author:

Hey! I’m Katy Evans and I love family, books, life, and love. I’m married with two children and three dogs and spend my time baking, walking, writing, reading, and taking care of my family. Thank you for spending your time with me and picking up my story. I hope you had an amazing time with it, like I did. If you’d like to know more about books in progress, look me up on the Internet, I’d love to hear from you!

Website: www.katyevans.net

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Email: authorkatyevans@gmail.com

THE CONSEQUENCE OF SEDUCTION

By:  Rachel Van Dyken

Page Numbers Source ISBN: 1503953017

Publisher: Skyscape

Publication Date: February 9, 2016

From New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Rachel Van Dyken.

Reid Emory has never had reason to question his luck with the ladies. As the owner of a lethal set of aqua-blue eyes and a devastating grin, this Hollywood heartthrob always brings his A game…but lately his luck seems to have run out. The actor is in need of some help, and there’s only one person he can trust to take his love life—and his career—to an explosive new level.

Jordan Litwright’s newest client is trying her patience. As a publicist, she’s more than content to stay in the background and let others shine. But when a publicity stunt backfires, she suddenly finds herself thrust into the spotlight—as Reid’s new love interest. And while other men usually overlook her, Reid is focusing in with laserlike intensity. There’s no denying they have serious chemistry.

But once Reid breaks into the big time, can they turn their made-for-the-media romance into a forever love?

Check out our 4.5 smooches review HERE.

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ABOUT RACHEL VAN DYKEN:

Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she’s not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.

She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers!

Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866!

You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken  or join her fan group Rachel’s New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com .

Links

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Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Rachel-Van-Dyken/e/B0054TW5AA/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1407369649&sr=8-2-ent

Jordan’s body responded to my every single touch and caress.

“Now I know why you’ve never had to ask a girl on a date.” She hooked her legs around me and wrapped her arms around my neck, her tongue intertwining with mine, sucking, so. Damn. Hard that I couldn’t help but keep moaning. The things that woman could do with her mouth.

I deepened the kiss, my hands reaching for the clasp of her bra. I flicked it off. Jordan immediately froze. Her hands quickly covered her breasts.

“What are you doing?” I tried prying her hands free.

“Too fast.” She nodded, her cheeks staining with color. “You know for our, uh, date night.”

“Move your hands.”

“No.”

“Jordan.”

“Reid.” She laughed nervously.

“Fine.” I nodded. “I didn’t want to have to do this.”

Jordan frowned.

I raised my hand.

She frowned harder.

I flipped her onto her stomach and slapped her ass. Hard.

“What are you doing?” she yelled.

“Why, sweetheart . . .” I kissed her ear. “I’m taming.”

“The hell you are!”

“You like it.” Another swat. “And I’m barely spanking you, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Cover them up again and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“But—”

I flipped her back around. “But what?” I honestly wanted to know why a girl that gorgeous would cover up.

“It’s just that—” Jordan chewed her lower lip. “I’m the lights-off girl.”

“Lights off?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged a shoulder as more color stained her cheeks. “You know, the girl you don’t really notice right away until you’ve had one too many, then you take her home and have your way with her—in the dark.”

Horrified, I could only stare in shock. “Please tell me that hasn’t actually happened.”

“Reid.” She shoved me away and started to get to her feet. “Look, I’m not stupid, okay? And I’m not even that insecure anymore. I know how guys think, all right?”

“Oh, yeah?” I stood, pulled her flush against my very hard body. “What am I thinking about right now?”

“ESPN?”

“Damn.”

Her shoulders deflated. “See?”

I burst out laughing. “Honey, we have a pretty big problem if ESPN gets me this excited, don’t you think?”

“Hey, sometimes baseball just does it for people.” She gave me a sexy-as-hell smile. “It’s not your fault you like balls.”

“I can’t believe you just challenged my manhood when it’s saluting you like that. Damn, woman, I’m basically giving you the equivalent of a high five and a home run all in one and you’re making jokes?”

Army Strong has a mission….to protect Southern Sassy at all costs.

The directive had been clear: Deeply embed himself in the fair town of Paradise, Tennessee, and keep one Melody Song Reardon from forgiving her fornicating ex-fiancé and keep her safe by any means necessary. Fortunately, Retired First Sergeant Callum Valentine had always been a man that got the job done. Unfortunately, nobody told him that while his ‘job’ might be as pretty as a picture, she could be ornery as a wet cat and had a stubborn streak a mile long. Now, he was battling baristas and dodging would-be assassins in an effort to keep one sultry southern minx safe.

He’d thought the Taliban would be the most dangerous force he ever face. Imagine his surprise when he realized that the radical extremists had nothing on one curvy little woman with a wicked edge to her tongue…. a woman that had somehow tangled herself around his cold heart.

*~*

Melody Song Reardon was done with men. After learning that the man she’d been going to marry was no better than a corporate Casanova in and out of the boardroom and bedroom, she’d decided that love just wasn’t in the cards for her. Which was fine. She was young, smart, and capable… and better yet, she had a dream and a plan: Opening her very own book/yarn store – Hooks & Books. She had the brains. She had the building. And now, she had a freaking bodyguard compliments of her interfering older brother?

She didn’t care how mouthwateringly handsome her so-called savior was; she didn’t need another controlling man in her life telling her what to do. At least, she hadn’t needed one…. until those nerve wracking hang-ups and strange notes took an ominous turn. Now, somebody wants her dead and the only thing standing between her and the Grim Reaper is one seriously gorgeous man named Callum Valentine. Falling in love again in the middle of her own personal apocalypse hadn’t been the plans…then again, the great thing about a plan is that it can change on a dime!

Cal watched her another minute. “You’re a stubborn little ball of fury, aren’t you?” he asked as he watched her try to attach the tool to the lug nut, wincing as the metal slipped for the second time in a row.

Melody took a deep breath before she slowly turned to face her tormenter. “I was brought up believing that a girl should be able to take care of herself. I forgot that lesson for a little while and almost made a mistake I could never undo with a man I’d rather forget. I’m not ever going to repeat that experience again. So, to answer your question, yes, I’m a stubborn little ball of fury. Now, will you please go on your merry way?”

Cal finally gave into the urge and laughed, earning himself a cold look from the woman currently on her knees. “Careful, Princess. I’m gonna get a complex here because it’s beginning to feel like you don’t like me very much,” he taunted her with a wink. Seeing her press her lips together tightly, he knew she was fighting the urge to scream bloody murder at him. Squatting beside her, he met her fiery gaze. “Cat got your tongue, Pretty Girl?”

“No,” she declared with a shake of her head as she looked from him to his jacked up truck. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Ask away, darlin’,” he invited silkily with a ready nod. “I’m an open book,” he declared, holding his muscular arms out to his sides. And it was true. The book on him was open; it just happened to be written in code, he thought to himself as he gave himself a mental pat on the back for his own wittiness.

Melody offered him a deceptively sweet smile. “Is it true that men use big trucks to compensate for smaller endowments in, well,… other more intimate areas?” she asked, dropping her voice to a conversational whisper as she gave his crotch a rather pointed look.

Cal guffawed. “Are you asking me if I’ve got a tiny dick, Princess? Because I can tell you with a hundred percent honesty that the size of my cock and the size of my truck are very directly related. They’re both big and bad, but if you don’t believe me, I’d be pleased to give you a private showing.”

Melody’s jaw dropped at his audacity. “You… you just can’t say things like that!” she blustered, blushing furiously as he laughed in her face.

“I just did. Besides, you started it,” he accused, propping his hands on his narrow hips as he leaned forward and stared her down. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t handle having it spoon-fed back to you, Princess.” Damn, Cal privately mused, he hadn’t had this much fun with a woman with her clothes on in years. He couldn’t help wondering how exciting she’d be with her clothes off. He definitely be making it a point to find that out as soon as humanly possible.

“I revert to my earlier statement. You are a pig,” she reiterated with a disgusted shake of her head, her ponytail flying over one shoulder to smack him in the face as she moved.

“Maybe, but you’re just mad that you can’t seem to get one-up on me. Not used to a man that will stand his ground and fight with you?” he asked, fishing for a response from her. He wanted to know just how much she’d reveal about her ex-fiancé in casual conversation. Her brother didn’t think there’d been any kind of physical abuse and based on her reactions to him, he tended to think RJ was right, but he wanted to be sure. Because if he was wrong, she wouldn’t need his protection because he’d simply kill the motherfucker and be done with it.

“My former fiancé didn’t fight. It was too low-class a thing for him to do. He used to call our arguments spirited debates. My ass, they were debates. Freaking moron. A fight is a fight, right?” she asked as she grunted with exertion while she tried to pry one of the lug nuts loose.

“Right,” he agreed with a nod, sighing as her tool slipped again. “Politicians have….what did you call ‘em? Spirited debates? Real men and women fight.”

“See, that’s what I thought, too. But maybe that was the problem,” Melody muttered as she twisted the tire iron sharply, silently cursing the tight bolt. “I always did think Bradley had political ambitions. God knows that it’s what his dear old mommy and daddy wanted for him,” she continued to growl through gritted teeth as she twisted the tire iron violently. “Eureka!” she shouted when the bolt moved a few millimeters. “Did you see that? It moved,” she yelped, as her body made a tiny celebratory shimmy.

Cal chuckled softly at her little dance. “Sounds like this Bradley fella was kinda a douche,” he surmised, carefully watching Melody’s face.

“That is the understatement of the frickin’ year. Heck, maybe the decade, too,” Melody muttered, lifting one hand to take a swipe at her sweaty forehead.

Edging toward her, Cal tried to make a grab for the tool in her hand. “Seriously, babe. Let me do that for you,” he demanded gruffly, afraid she was going to either damage the wheel well or herself with her rough use of the tool.

“I’m about done warnin’ you, Stranger, so I’ll try and be real clear one last time. You try to touch my tire iron again and I’m gonna introduce it to the side of that hard head of yours. Repeatedly,” she informed him grimly while she desperately tried to loosen the second lug nut. “And, for the record, let me just state that I am most certainly NOT your babe,” she huffed, panting with exertion.

He could see her energy waning and shook his head. “You’re completely right, you aren’t my babe,” he agreed, covering Melody’s icy hands with his as she growled fiercely at the tire. “Right now, you’re more of my pain in the ass, woman,” he continued, his hands tightening on hers as he helped her turn the lug nut. “This’d be so much easier if you’d just let me do it,” he stated again, afraid he was going to hurt her hand by squeezing it too hard. “Honest to God, sassy, sweet and stubborn is not the sexy combination I thought it would be on you.”

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Sarah O’Rourke is actually two besties who live three states apart and write at all hours of the day and night! Born and raised in the Southern United States, they are overly attached to their one-click accounts, can’t make it through the day without copious doses of caffeine, and spend way too much time on the phone with each other.

Between them, they have four children and eighteen years of marriage…one to a super soldier and the other to egomaniac engineer. They hate empty chocolate wrappers and writer’s block, love to talk to readers…and oh, by the way, they write about strong, kick-ass women and hot alpha heroes!

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