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Only he stands between her and a hired killer.
When Kenzie discovered a toxic truth that harms military personnel, the international corporation where she worked put a hit on her. Desperate to survive, she escapes to the Crazy Mountains to hide out at a deserted cabin she recalls from childhood.
Lucas owns the property now. As a former Ranger and sniper, he’s never met a more terrified young woman. Yet despite her fear, she’s determined to bring her former employer to justice.
Not without his help.
Fearless, honorable, and sexy as sin, he’s the hero she’s always needed.
There’s no turning back as they surrender to their mounting passion for each other and meet danger head on to bring a criminal enterprise to justice, saving those service members most at risk.
She couldn’t chance him knowing who she was if his buddies were looking for her. It didn’t seem likely, given his easy-going personality and what he’d already revealed about himself. However, risking anything at this point wasn’t wise. “Why is my name important?”
“Are you a movie star or some kind of internet sensation?” He worked his mouth to stop his smile. “Afraid I’ll recognize you from your name rather than how you look at this point?”
A drowned dog probably had her beat in the beauty department. Hardly caring, she rubbed the blanket over her lenses to dry them but left thick smears instead.
“This might work better.” He pulled a rag from his back pocket. “It’s clean.”
After taking it, she worked on her glasses, uncertain whether to feel bad for treating him like a criminal or to maintain her caution as to what he might do next. Vigilance won out. “Anything else you can tell me about yourself?” She pushed the rag in her jacket pocket. “Like why you’re up here alone— You are alone, right?”
He scratched his stubbled cheek. “If you’re asking if I have a wife and kids, it’s a firm no on both counts. There’s no long-term girlfriend in my cabin either. How about you? You running from an ex-husband, ex-lover, or a current one in those two categories?”
“Why are you in the middle of nowhere?”
New muttering beneath his breath. “Because I like it?”
“Easy.” He used the same voice on her that he had with Caesar.
For some reason, it didn’t piss her off but made her tired instead. “I can’t tell you how much it’d help if you gave me some details as to who you are.”
Understanding and kindness rose in his eyes. “Fair enough. I’m former military, Army.” He lifted his slicker. Beneath it, he wore a Ranger sweatshirt. “When I left the service, I came home to Montana. Had a chance to get this property and took it.”
That didn’t make sense. “You’re so rich you bought this place and don’t have to work any longer?”
He grinned, his smile wide and inviting. “Don’t I wish, but no. Even if I had the funds, I’d still want to keep busy and offer my assistance to anyone who needs it. I’m in security, so to speak. I work on assignment. When each ends, I return here to wait for my next call.”
Sincerity rang in his voice and showed on his
luscious face. More importantly, he wanted to
help people. Still… She’d been cautious for so
long, her misgiving lingered. “What did you
mean by ‘so to speak’. It’s either security or
it’s not. Which is it?”
“Do you always ask so many questions?”
She bounced in place. “I don’t know you.”
“Hey, I gave you my blanket, I’ve offered to call
for help to get your car out, and I don’t know
you either. Not even your name. Is it a secret?”
She looked to the side. “Kenzie Caltrane.”
“Was that so hard?”
His softened tone and big body called to her as
few things had. She was fucking weary and
scared, and simply wanted to melt into his arms
and beg him to make things better. Which he couldn’t. One man who worked security didn’t have that power. Damn, getting involved in her problems might get him killed, too. “You shouldn’t have stopped to help.”
“Because you can’t.” The tears she’d held back for weeks poured out, turning into hitching sobs. “You’ll get hurt.”
“Hey, hey.” He gathered her to him in a protective caress. “Nothing’s that bad. No one’s that powerful. If your current or ex, or whatever, is after you, I can get you to a safe place and—”
“You can’t stop the entire government.” She pushed away. “You can’t stop an assassin.”
His features slackened. “What?”
She put out her hand, warning him to keep his distance. “Go back to your cabin. Pretend you never saw me. Forget my damn name.” A new sob caught in her throat. “You can’t help.”
“Calm down, please.” He lifted his hands but didn’t to touch her. “I’m not going anywhere. I sure as hell don’t intend to leave you out here alone to face whatever—”
“You. Have. To.” She edged back.
“There’s no choice. If you think you can call 9-1-1 and fix , this, it isn’t possible. The federal government is involved. They’ll bury you.”
Alarm sparked in his eyes then faded, resolve replacing it. “Involved in what? What are you talking about? Who are you?”
For once, she got in his face. “I’m a toxic truth to the feds and others. They don’t want me around. That’s why they’ve put a hit out on me.”
Tina is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novels were Readers' Choice Award winners. Another three were named finalists in the EPIC competition. One of her erotic contemporary romances was chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for one of her erotic romances. Two of her titles received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Another two won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.
FB Fanpage: https://www.facebook.com/DonahueTina1/
Amazon author page: http://amzn.to/1ChWFkO
My page at TRR: http://bit.ly/1vb7eEc
Kensington Author Page: http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/24772
Sweet ‘n Sexy Divas: http://bit.ly/1ChWN3K
Heat Level: 2
Word Count: 33650
Editor: Karyn White
Over Artists: Jay Aheer
When veterinarian Emily Brownstone, 55, finds a poisoned wolf on the roadside, she doesn’t realize the chain of events that will follow.
Someone is trying to kill off the native wildlife, and Emily’s action in saving the wolf will threaten her life, but will also bring her the man of her dreams.
Tate Collins, 57, can’t believe his luck—he’s finally met his soul mate after all these years. All he has to do is tell her his secret—and it is a big one! He just hopes she won’t freak out when she finds out he spends a lot of his time running around on four legs!
But even if she does accept him, will they find each other only to be torn apart by the danger that threatens the wildlife—and Emily?
"There’s an injured animal on the road, but I can’t lift it by myself. Could you help me please? I want to put it in the rear of my car."
The two men exchanged a look, and Emily felt apprehensive. The look seemed like some silent conversation between them. She didn’t like it, but there was nothing she could do now.
"Injured animal. What sort?"
Another looked passed between them, and Emily felt the hair on the back of her neck stand. They seemed to be communicating with just body language and looks. It freaked her a little. Before she could tell them to forget about it, they pulled their four-wheel drive to the side of the road and got out. Both men quickly went to the fallen animal. They whispered something to each other and turned to her. Emily could see they were extremely worried and upset, rather more than you’d expect.
"Ma’am, it’s pretty dangerous to put a wild wolf in your car. Why don’t you let us take it?"
Suddenly Emily realized these two could be poachers and here she was handing over a beautiful wolf to them. The trade in illegal wolf pelts was still happening and rather lucrative.
Firmly she said, "If you get it onto the back of my jeep, I can check it out and sedate it if necessary. I’m a vet."
Of course, Emily hadn’t practiced full-time for a few years. She’d retired but ran a small practice from her home. Still, she always carried an emergency kit in her car. The taller of the two men seemed to hover over her, and Emily began to back away to the jeep.
"I really think you should let us take it."
His voice was not quite menacing, but it had enough force to make Emily very nervous, but she was determined these two wouldn’t intimidate her and take the wolf.
"No. It needs medical attention."
He stepped very close to her. Regretting her decision to ask for help, she touched the back of the jeep. Casually putting a hand behind her, she groped inside for something heavy in case they attacked her. The shorter of the men leaned toward the other and whispered. The tall one glanced down at her, and he took a couple of backward steps.
A FEW LINKS WHERE TO BUY:
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com
Angus and Robertson: https://www.angusrobertson.com.au
Book 3 - Ash - coming soon!
Bk 2 The Silk Rope Masters
They ooze power, control, natural dominance - and sex.
They are The Silk Rope Masters.
None have ever found love but watch out! When they fall, they'll fall fast and hard!
Jake Nichols, 53, was so tall that Emily Miller, 49, had to crane her neck to look into his face. Muscular - he could pick her up in one hand and yet he held her as if she were a fragile bird.
And that's exactly what she was, a beautiful plus-sized woman with a pain so deep she's buried her emotions rather than face the tragedy that happened just a few months ago.
Jake was assigned to care for her by Master Ash, the head of Silk Rope and what Jake didn't expect was to fall in love.
But she was only in his safekeeping until she could fly on her own then he would have to release her.
Be Warned: BDSM, anal sex, sex toys, voyeurism, flogging, public exhibition
This is an erotic romance. There are explicit sexual descriptions and explicit language used throughout. It will offend some readers.
So here she was.
It was almost eight on Friday night, and Emily sat nervously in her car in the large car park. Would this be the same as either Threshold or The Lair? She hoped it was. If it was a lower classed place she definitely wouldn’t be coming back. Maybe she could find another club somewhere if that proved to be the case. Still she was hopeful. She couldn’t imagine the manager of The Lair, Bevan Fuller, transferring her to a lesser club.
Then she wondered for the hundredth time, “What the hell am I doing here?”
She still felt numb inside. With every emotion rammed down that hard, Emily couldn’t even cry. She actually knew how foolish she was, knew perfectly well the therapists, her family, were right. Time and again they’d told her she shouldn’t keep everything bottled up, should allow herself to grieve and move on, but she was far too frightened to face her pain.
Her weekly sessions with the therapist consisted of her sitting, staring into her lap or answering in monosyllables and refusing to utter one word about what had happened. In fact, she’d never cried, never shouted, never gotten very angry since that day. As soon as she’d woken in the hospital and given her statement to the police, every emotion, every thought of what had happened—her grief, every single thing, she pushed deep down inside her and refused to look at them. She held them down for so long that now she honestly couldn’t take the chance on remembering.
She was dead, and yet she breathed.
Sometimes in a lighter moment she thought of herself as a zombie. An animated corpse walking amid the living. But mainly Emily thought she was like a well-shaken bottle of soda pop with the lid screwed down tight. A slight twist of the cork and the whole bottle would vigorously explode, its contents scattering everywhere, never to be replaced. She couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk her emotions, couldn’t set them free—the pain would be too great, and Emily knew she couldn’t handle it. She honestly doubted she would survive if at any time she was forced to face her past.
In the back of her mind she knew if she’d grieve, she’d be able to move on and live again, but instead she tortured herself by bottling everything up. This was her only escape now, coming to BDSM clubs—her haven. Sometimes she felt they were all that was left of her life, so at least she could vicariously live through its patrons.
It was strange, but those BDSM clubs now felt more like home than any house possibly could. Inside those doors in front of her she knew what would happen. She knew the rules, and she knew the outcomes. She knew exactly how people would react, how they would be toward her. She could sit and watch and know people would leave her alone unless she indicated she wanted company. No one would expect anything of her, and she could hide in plain sight. It was her secure place, the only one she had, and she knew it would protect her. It really was her safe house—impenetrable, sheltered. All those years she’d spent at Threshold only reinforced the idea. A club was her sanctuary, a place where, even if only for a few hours, she could pretend she was still alive. A place where she could hide among the living.
But at the same time, she wondered, would she ever be able to return to the woman she was?
The one who laughed, who enjoyed life and lived it to the fullest? Or was she destined to remain empty, afraid of showing any sort of emotion, afraid to face her heartache? Terrified of the floodgates she was sure she could never hold back if she allowed one iota of emotion, of agony, of her grief to slip through.
Finally getting out the car, she walked up the stairs that fronted the huge Georgian mansion. Clutching her coat a little tighter, she entered the warm foyer. Behind a desk a large, burly man smiled warmly at her.
“Good evening, Miss.”
“Hello. My name is Emily, Emily Miller. I believe the owner from The Lair, back east, contacted your manager about me transferring from there to here?”
© Suzy Shearer 2018
Opening her eyes, she took in the scene in front of her. A tall, shapely woman, a Domme. Her sub, naked, his wrists bound to hooks on the wall, was standing with his legs well apart, ankles fastened by a spreader bar. The Domme plied a flogger across his chest and then his thighs. As Emily watched, a flick across his testicles. He grunted. Another flick, this time the Domme wielded it upward and over his legs, catching his penis as well. His mouth opened in a silent scream as she landed a second on his cock.
Emily idly wondered what it must be like for a man to have his dick flogged, his balls whipped? Even from this distance Emily could see sweat on his face, the sheen of it glistening across his chest, as his Domme switched to a crop. A few gentle “love pats” on his nipples then thwack!
Between his legs again and this time his scream rang around the area, but Emily noticed, if it was possible, his erection seemed even harder. A few more hits, then the Domme took his face between her thumb and fingers, and she kissed him. A savage kiss that had him begging for another when she stepped away. Instead of a kiss, she grasped his cock, twisting it, pulling at it until he pleaded for release. She shook her head.
“You were a very bad boy, Brian.”
“Please, Mistress. Please.”
His plaintive begging echoed as she hit him with the crop again, and he sagged against his restraints, disappointment radiating from him. She stepped next to him, her lips close to his ears. Emily strained to hear her words, leaning forward to catch them.
“You’ve taken your punishment like a good boy. I shall let you fuck me, but I haven’t decided yet if I shall permit you to come.”
Emily saw how the words affected him. His smile lit up his whole face as she undid the restraints. He fell to his knees, and taking her hands, he kissed them.
“Thank you, Mistress. Thank you.”
The Domme made him stand. Emily could see he was wobbly on his feet, his erection still hard and strong. The Domme didn’t give him a moment to recover, and instead she led him away after making him carry her bag of tricks.
© Suzy Shearer 2018