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Command Performance by SaraJane Stone

By Barb Drozdowich 7 Comments

Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!

Subject: Chief Warrant Officer Hunter Cross

Mission: Keep Margaret Barlow distracted…using any means necessary!

Ranger Hunter Cross is the army poster child—excitement, danger and no strings in sight. And he’s been in town exactly three hours before a curvy blonde named Maggie flashes him a look that says “You belong in my bed.” It’s a night of wicked satisfaction. And it’s a night they can never repeat….

All Professor Maggie Barlow wanted was orgasm—or three—from the dead-sexy Ranger. Having him as her official army liaison while she works on her new book? That wasn’t in the plan. Especially when she learns that Hunter has orders to “control” her. Little does the army know that when it comes to their deliciously naughty nighttime activities, Hunter is at Maggie’s complete command….

Why do you need to read this book? Another Blaze book…they are short, hot and easily read in a couple of hours. Command Performance was super hot and well worth the read!

Command Performance can be purchased: Amazon

Excerpt:

“Goodbye, control,” Maggie muttered, her hands trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves. “Hello, fantasy.”

She stepped into the car show refreshment tent and paused, her fingers playing with the clasp on her purse. Fans blasted, but she still feared she might break into a sweat. And wouldn’t that be attractive?

She forced her fingers to still. Sexy women, the ones who left men desperate to touch, possessed confidence, not anxiety. If she kept playing with that clasp, her bag might fall open and expose the box of ribbed-for-her-pleasure protection Olivia had given her in the car. Turning red with embarrassment wouldn’t help her confidence.

Why shouldn’t she feel confident? She was a careeroriented author and professor. And she knew she looked good tonight. She had big breasts and a trim waist—both of which were on display thanks to the backless green shirt Olivia had chosen. Wearing it meant Maggie had been forced to leave her bra at home.

She glanced down at the full D-cups pressing at the front of her shirt as if screaming to the room look at me! Had anyone noticed? Had one of these men caught sight of her and said, “Wow! I bet she would look great topless and bent over the hood of my car”? She scanned the tent and spotted a couple of men staring at her, their eyes never drifting above her chest.

“The shirt. It’s working,” Maggie murmured to her best friend.

Olivia stood half a step behind her, blocking the exit as if she feared Maggie might bolt at any moment. “Of course it is. Now all you have to do is walk to the bar and order a drink.”

Maggie nodded, squared her shoulders and wobbled to the bar, silently cursing Olivia for insisting she wear the four-inch heels. Her feet ached for her sensible, everyday flats. But she needed the height advantage. Without the stilettos, all five foot three inches of her would be lost in the sea of towering males.

And there were definitely Men here. Capital M. At the tables, on the folding chairs, leaning against the makeshift bar—muscular, don’t-mess-with-me Men. The type of guys she’d always admired from a distance, as if they were part of a display with a little sign that read Look, But Don’t Touch.

Tonight she wanted to touch.

Some wore uniforms, but most were dressed in civilian clothes. Still, their military-issue haircuts gave them away. They might be wearing jeans and T-shirts, but they were soldiers. Not that this was surprising. It made sense that a car show near a military academy would be overrun with soldiers and cadets. Most men liked cars. The guys in this tent probably spent 50 percent of their free time rebuilding their engines.

Not Maggie. She’d never even changed a flat tire. Not once.

Her nerves kicked into gear again. Her fingers drummed against her thighs as she picked her way through the crowd. She fought to quiet them and focus. She was on a mission. And it had nothing to do with car parts and everything to do with hard-bodied males.

When they reached the temporary wooden counter, Maggie signaled the bartender. “Vodka tonic, please.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything before adding a glass of white wine to the order.

Their drinks arrived and Maggie took a long sip from hers. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ordered hard liquor. She rarely drank the stuff, always afraid she might have inherited her father’s love of booze, and when she did have a drink, she generally preferred a glass or two of wine, or a beer on a hot summer afternoon. One sip of vodka and she was feeling warm and a little tipsy, which was surprisingly pleasant. It even dulled her desire to drive back down to Manhattan and hurl something at her ex. A few more of these and she might have the guts to follow through with Olivia’s crazy plan.

“Liv, you do realize most of these guys are soldiers. Probably half either teach at or attend West Point.” Maggie noticed she’d downed half her drink. “What if I end up having to deal with one of them while researching my book?”

“Relax, you won’t.” Olivia shook her head. “Anyway, I thought the men you were interviewing were based in Tennessee.”

“They are, but the generals are in town.”

Olivia reached over and patted her hand. “I promise I’ll make sure he’s not a general.”

“But I could never date a soldier.”

“It’s only for one night,” Olivia reminded her. “Why should you care what he does for a living if you’re not planning on seeing him beyond tonight? Maybe you’ll get lucky and find a mechanic. This is a car show.”

Maggie drained the rest of her drink. “What if I pick a guy and he turns me down?” Her nerves—and the vodka—sent her stomach into somersaults. “What if I make a complete fool of myself? It’s not like I have a lot of experience with men.”

“Look at me.” Olivia leaned closer. “You can do this. Now. Tonight. If you don’t, then duty, responsibility, your need to be the best at your job—it will smother you.”

Maggie held on to the bar with one hand as Olivia’s words sank in. Her sense of duty had started smothering her years ago when her father began drinking. This was her chance to escape. If she didn’t act now, she might lose the part of herself that craved orgasms. The part of herself that wished she’d told her fiance she wanted wild sex on his desk and so much more.

“You’re right,” Maggie said softly.

Olivia smiled and signaled the bartender for a second round. “Now, look around. See anything you like?”

Feeling the vodka pulsing through her, Maggie boldly scanned the refreshment tent. What was she looking for? Muscles. The kind that came from the hard work required to transform a man into a soldier or from lifting engine parts. But four out of five guys in here looked like they could bench-press her one-handed. And thanks to her breasts, she wasn’t one of those hundred-pounds-soaking-wet women.

She took a second look and mentally eliminated about half of them. Too young. She wanted a man who knew things about sex. She wanted an orgasm that left her breathless, boneless and begging for more.

Her gaze landed on a green polo, tight but not too tight. And those biceps? They shouted touch me. Her eyes drifted over his shoulders to his face, framed by straight brown hair. She’d always liked brown hair. Staring at his profile—he was deep in conversation with an equally handsome but not quite as sexy man across the table—she could see his mouth curving upward in a half smile. Those lips. He had the type of mouth that begged a woman to say kiss me lower down, please.

Maggie clutched her drink and drew her gaze away from his face. Twelve months of unfulfilling sex had driven her mad if she was thinking about his lips kissing her therebefore she’d even said a word to the guy. She blinked and took in the rest of him. She could see the endless length of his legs stretched out beneath the table.

Her body tingled as she drank in the sight of him. With a long, sculpted body like that he must know how to do things, deliciously sinful, wild things that previously only existed in her fantasies. He turned and looked right at her, and then smiled. She tightened her grip on her nearly empty drink. Those eyes. That mouth. She’d bet her inheritance that man knew ten ways to give a woman the best orgasm of her life. If he looked at her like that much longer, she might come right here. Her thighs tightened at the thought. This man would say yes. He wouldn’t turn her down. Not after that look.

Maggie blinked and turned to the bartender. “Cancel the vodka tonic. Just water, please.”

The liquor had made her bold, maybe even a little reckless, but if she wished to remember every detail about tonight, she needed water. “Do you remember George Clooney when he was young? When he was on ER?”

“Oh, yeah.” Olivia took her wine from the bartender. “He was on the show when we first started watching it in high school.”

“Green polo, blue jeans at eight o’clock.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “He’s not your usual type.”

“He has George Clooney’s eyes. Bedroom eyes.” Maggie reached for her water and drained half the glass. “Tonight, he’s my type.”

Chief Warrant Officer Hunter Cross knew a come-on look when he saw one. A look that said, I want you naked in my bed. Tonight.

He leaned back on his rickety wooden folding chair and let a slow smile spread across his face, a move he’d perfected at sixteen to get the captain of the debate team into the backseat of his mother’s car. He’d always had a thing for supersmart girls. Of course, he’d moved beyond sex in the backseat since high school, but not much.Commitment was a dirty word in his mind, and long-term made him shudder. Not even the woman at the bar with her soft shoulder-length curls or touch-me breasts would tempt him to change his mind.

Across the room, the blonde pursed her lips, unsure if she should proceed with their unspoken dance. That expression. It was a mix of bold and innocent, an intoxicating combination that went right to his crotch. He let his eyelids lower slightly.

“I know that look isn’t for me,” Riley, his friend and former team leader, said from across the table.

“The blonde at the bar. She just gave me a green light.”

Riley chuckled. “You’ve been in town for less than three hours and you’ve already found a woman.”

“Hey, I’ve been laid up in a hospital for two months.” Before that, he’d been in Afghanistan. He would have left unscathed if his team hadn’t been ordered to rescue three female aid workers traveling to a remote clinic. And thanks to a teammate’s mistake, he’d taken a bullet in the process.

“How’s your arm?” Riley asked, his expression serious.

“Fine.” Hunter rolled his shoulder. It still ached. Nothing the blonde couldn’t fix.

“Logan feels awful about how it all went down.”

Hunter started to say it wasn’t Logan’s fault, but stopped. They both knew it was. His friend and teammate had been distracted after losing his young wife to cancer before they shipped out, and as a result he’d messed up—and Hunter had been shot.

“Any thoughts about getting out? Resigning your commission?” Riley asked.

“Hell, no.”

“I heard one of those private security companies offered you a job,” Riley said quietly.

“Yeah, but you know me. I live for being a Ranger. Hell, I’m hoping they’ll give me your old job.” With Riley bowing out as head of their team, Hunter was in line for the job he’d always dreamed of and a pay hike. A small one. “I could sure use the extra cash.”

“Trust me, the pay bump is so small you’ll barely notice. It’s nothing compared to what those private companies pay.” Riley pulled out his wallet. “But I can help you out tonight. The beers are on me. I need to be getting home.”

“Curfew?”

“I like to be in bed with my wife before she falls asleep,”

Riley replied with a smile. “If you ever settle down, you’ll understand.”

“I think I’d take another bullet before relinquishing my freedom.”

“Someday you’re going to eat those words. When the right woman comes along, you’re going to fall so hard you’ll give up everything to be with her. Everything.”

“Did they brainwash you when you made those vows?” Hunter joked. Riley didn’t know he’d already sacrificed everything he had for his sister. He had nothing left to provide for a wife and family of his own.

Riley laughed.

“Listen, I think it’s great what you’ve got,” Hunter said. “But I’m committed to the army. I’m dying to get back to active duty. Married life? It’s not for me.”

“If you say so.” Riley set a twenty on the table and stood. “Think you can catch a cab back to the hotel if things don’t work out with your green-light girl?”

That’s no girl, Hunter thought. She has “woman with needs” written all over her. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll find my way to bed.”

Riley slipped his wallet into his back pocket. “If you end up sticking around the area for a while, give me a call and I’ll drive down for another drink.”

“Will do. But next time I pick the venue. Not that I didn’t enjoy picking out replacement parts for your wife’s truck.”

Riley patted him on the shoulder, his good one. “Deal.”

Hunter’s gaze shifted to the cash on the table as his friend headed toward the exit. In the past, he’d have insisted on paying for his own beer. But right now, his cash flow situation was pretty dismal. If he hadn’t been ordered to fly up here when he’d been released from the physical therapy center, he would be crashing on one of his teammates’ couches until they were deployed again. With his sister back in rehab and all the bills coming to him, he could barely afford the beer in his hand.

Hunter took a long sip. In his book, family came first. Always. His sister was the only family he had left. He refused to lose her to a meth overdose.

“Mind if I join you?”

The soft words yanked Hunter away from his thoughts. The woman from the bar stood with one hand on the chair next to his, her blue eyes wide and uncertain. Her other hand maintained a death grip on her glass. Nerves, he guessed. She might be playing the part of the brazen blonde tonight, but he’d bet his next paycheck that casting come-hither looks at strangers wasn’t a habit.

Hunter smiled and stood to pull a chair out for her. “Please.” He extended his hand. “Hunter Cross. And you are?”

“Maggie.” She shook his hand and then slipped into the chair. He’d noticed the smooth expanse of skin exposed by her backless shirt when she’d been at the bar, but seeing her up close made him want to touch, to run his hand over the place where her bra line should be, but wasn’t. He moved back to his chair to admire the view from the front. Little Miss Maggie’s taut nipples strained against the thin fabric.

God help him, he loved breasts. And full braless breasts? They drove him wild.

The woman who now stood beside him looked as if she’d gotten lost on her way home from a cruise ship. “Three questions and then I’ll leave you two alone.”

Little Miss Maggie’s friend had rushed over to “help.”

Great. But he didn’t try to send her back to her ship. He merely nodded, prepared to face the interrogation. “Okay.”

“Are you married?” she demanded.

“Fair question.” He didn’t take his eyes off her face. He could understand a friend looking out for her own. “No, ma’am.”

“Are you a soldier?”

Hunter hesitated. He knew lots of women picked up soldiers. As a rule, he tried to steer clear of them. Women on the hunt for a hero wanted commitment no matter how much they pretended otherwise. Marriage might be perfect for Riley, but the last thing Hunter needed was another person to support.

He glanced at Maggie. The brazen blonde who’d approached him sat biting her lower lip, her brow furrowed as if she was trying to decide whether she should punch her friend or turn tail and run. He lowered his gaze to her chest. Hunter wanted her to stay. Badly.

“Yes, ma’am.” He met the friend’s challenging gaze.

“Army.”

His interrogator frowned and turned to Miss Maggie. “He’s not a mechanic.”

A mechanic? Seriously? He’d never heard of women trying to pick up mechanics. Maybe New York ladies were more practical. Why snag a soldier when you could have someone around to fix your car?

But he couldn’t let Miss Maggie walk away because he didn’t take apart engines for a living. He smiled. “I’m not. But I know how to change a tire.”

“Great,” Maggie said, her brow relaxing.

“Are you a general?” her friend demanded.

He let out a bark of laughter. A general? What the hell?

Sure, some women went after navy SEALs. Maybe some even wanted army rangers. But autoworkers and generals? “No, ma’am.”

Mission: Seduction by Candace Havens

By Barb Drozdowich 11 Comments

Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!

Subject: Marine Lieutenant Rafe McCawley

Mission: Seduce the woman who saved him. But does he have the right one?

A breathtaking island resort is perfect for Rafe McCawley to relax, recover…and enjoy the woman whose emails kept him sane during his previous tour. But instead, Rafe is greeted by her stunning sister, Kelly Callahan—pro surfer, resort owner and (God help him) hot enough to set the ocean itself ablaze….

But Rafe doesn’t know the whole truth. Kelly had been the one behind the emails. And she’ll tell him…as soon as she can get her libido under control!

The heat between them is immediate. It’s red-hot. And wrong or right, it won’t be denied….

Uniformly Hot!

The Few. The Proud. The Sexy as Hell.

Why do you need to read this book? I love these Uniformly Hot books! This one was great – Rafe needs to come to terms with the fact that the woman he thought he was writing to when he was injured is not who he thought he was writing to.

Mission: Seduction is available on Amazon

Excerpt:

The bullet zinged past marine lieutenant Rafe McCaw-ley’s ear. Instantly, he went into defense mode. “Jeep!” he yelled to the doctor and the ambassador as he shoved them toward the vehicle.

“Sniper,” he told his men, but he knew they were already on it. As part of the rescue mission, they’d been trained for moments like this.

Buck and Meyers fired toward the hills.

Murphy had the car door open and helped the civilians in as fast as he could. Rafe used himself as a human shield.

Fire tore into his hip. He’d been hit.

He didn’t falter.

He was the only thing between the sniper and the civilians, and it was his duty.

Pain scorched his right arm. Another bullet. He was a sitting duck, but it didn’t matter. He had to get these people to safety.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion then. A series of bullets pounded his back. His vest kept them from penetrating. The force knocked the breath from his lungs. He lunged forward in a final effort to protect the ambassador, half throwing the man into the vehicle so that Murphy could shut the door. As he did, blood stained Murphy’s neck.

Rafe placed his hand at the wound to stop the blood flow, but he was losing blood, too, and he could feel himself getting weaker.

“Man down. Man down,” Rafe heard himself utter as he slid into the darkness.

“Mister! Hey, mister! Wake up. Bad dreams, man. Bad dreams.”

A groggy Rafe tried to open his eyes. It was as if someone had pulled him up out of quicksand.

“Mister, you okay? Wake up already.”

Blinking his eyes open, Rafe took in his surroundings. A taxi. The driver, who had deeply tanned skin and a thatch of bright white hair, stared worriedly at him in the rearview mirror.

Rafe was in Fiji. Safe.

“Thanks,” Rafe said to the driver. “Sorry for falling asleep.” He must have passed out in the cab. The flight to Fiji had been brutal on his still-healing body, and he hadn’t gotten much rest. Rafe scrubbed his face with his hand.

He was finally here.

Sun. Sea. And a woman.

Rafe figured that was all any man ever needed to heal wounds of the physical or mental variety. While he’d been in recovery for the injuries he’d suffered he’d thought of little else. The letters from Mimi were what kept him going through the intense therapy. Her sweet encouragement and kind words were the elixir his soul used to heal. And were exactly what his mind needed to help forget. Now he would see her in the next ten minutes.

The long hours on the plane here had been torture. His hip, arm and shoulder, which had suffered the brunt of the bullets in the firefight, were still sore. Even with his pain meds he couldn’t get comfortable on the plane. He’d been awake for almost forty-eight hours straight. But he hadn’t grumbled or even worried about it. The only thing in his mind was the image of the gorgeous five-eleven dark-haired beauty he was about to see. It had been eighteen months. He’d kicked himself for not kissing her at the end of their one and only date.

They met at a New York fashion show where Rafe had been duped into modeling some jeans that put him in hot water with the Marines. But it had been worth it to meet Mimi. After the fashion show, she’d taken him to a party with a lot of famous people. At the end of the evening, he’d walked her to her apartment but refused to go up. He was a gentleman, which seemed to surprise her. They hugged, and he left. The next day she flew out of town for a gig in London, and he hadn’t seen her since.

She began writing to him six months ago. That first letter from her was a surprise. He’d written to her six months prior to that and when she hadn’t answered, he thought that despite a great night she had moved on. In her first letter she told him that she traveled so much his letter must have slipped through the cracks.

They wrote back and forth frequently. He tried to get her on Skype or the phone, but things never appeared to work for Mimi when it came to electronics. She said it was one of her many faults. A few days before he’d been shot, he’d received a letter from her saying that as soon as he was free they should meet at her sister’s new yoga and surf camp in Fiji. The time he was ordered to take off for rehab gave him the perfect excuse to accept her offer.

“Almost there,” the taxi driver said as he swerved to miss a cyclist. Rafe’s shoulder hit the side of the car and he winced. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever be back to 100 percent. Every day he worked his muscles hard to make sure they didn’t atrophy, but nothing moved quite as well as it should. And yet he needed to be ready for anything if he were to return to active duty one day.

The farther they drove away from the airport, the greener and more lush the surroundings. The cab’s open windows allowed the smell of exotic flowers to permeate the air. The car stopped in front of iron gates covered with vegetation.

This was it.

The past year had been hell, and Rafe had to admit hanging out in paradise for a few weeks didn’t sound too bad. Sure beat the hospital and his last three tours.

The driver pushed a button on the console at the side of the gate and the gate swung open.

The what-ifs plagued him. What if Mimi didn’t recognize him? What if she was merely doing this to be nice?

For months he’d imagined swinging her in his arms and kissing her senseless when he saw her again to make up for the lost opportunity on their date.

Play it cool. Get a read on the situation.

He took a deep breath, then another.

The taxi stopped on the circular driveway in front of the resort. Well, it was more like a mansion than a hotel. Mimi said that her sister had worked hard to make it feel like a home away from home.

He grinned. It wasn’t like any home he’d ever lived in. Mimi promised this was a great place to relax and rejuvenate and that was exactly what he needed.

As he glanced up, he realized there were several thatched dwellings along the beach on both sides of the house. They were probably the private bungalows Mimi mentioned. She was setting him up in one, all expenses paid.

He’d been hesitant about that, but she’d insisted, relaying to him that her sister had given her a great discount, since it was for a friend.

Grateful to stretch his legs again, he stepped out of the cab and was assaulted by the salty air coming off the sea. Surrounded by brilliant green foliage, it looked and sounded like a jungle. Birds chirped and there was even a monkey swinging in a nearby tree.

Yes, this was total bliss.

“Rafe?”

He turned and was expecting to see Mimi, but this woman didn’t look anything like her. She was about the same height, but her hair was long and blond. And Mimi had looked as if she’d never been in the sun, whereas this woman was the color of golden honey.

She had a California girl-next-door quality that would normally be very appealing to him, but he was here to see Mimi.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m Rafe. Are you a friend of Mimi’s?”

She frowned and looked down at her toes for a second before glancing at him. “I’m her sister, Kelly. She’s actually been delayed a few days. She had a shoot in Canada of all places, and she asked me to look after you.”

Rafe’s heart sank. He knew it was silly to be so disappointed, but he’d been looking forward to seeing her.

“Oh. Hi.” He wasn’t sure what to say to this woman. “Uh…should I find someplace else to stay until she gets here?” He could probably find another hotel on the island. His friends told him the lodging and food in Fiji was usually pretty cheap, except at some of the larger, fancier hotels.

“No, no. How can I look after you if you stay somewhere else? No, I have you set up in the Blue Bungalow. Everything is done by color here. Your surfboard is blue, the instructions and times for your classes are in blue. Even the room is decorated in blue.”

She paused and then gave him a worried glance. “You don’t mind the color blue, do you?”

He chuckled. “No. It happens to be my favorite color, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble. And what do you mean by classes?”

The taxi driver cleared his throat, and Rafe pulled out his wallet. “Sorry, man. Here you go.” He gave the driver the money for the fare plus a generous tip. Then he picked up his pack and followed Kelly down a path.

“You asked about the classes,” she said as they tracked along another path, clearly leading to the bungalows on the beach. “There are yoga and surfing classes. I also have Pilates, ballet bar, regular and Bikram yoga classes. They’re popular with our usual clientele here at Last Resort.”

From the looks of the surroundings that usual clientele must be pretty highend. While it had a wild feel to it, the bungalows and the mansion or main building, which had to be at least ten thousand square feet, were very well maintained.

“I don’t do any of those things,” he said.

“I kn— Uh, right. Mimi said that she didn’t think you’d go for it, but I also know that you are getting over some injuries. Surfing might be a little rough on you right now, but yoga could do you some good. And Pilates would help lengthen those muscles and relieve your pain.”

He felt like a jerk for being so blunt. “You know what, I’m here. I might as well try whatever you have.”

Turning, she smiled at him, her blue eyes shining with happiness.

Rafe’s breath caught, and his lower regions responded so strongly he had to position his pack in front of him.

What is wrong with me?

She’s a beautiful woman, but you are dating her sister.

Well, technically they weren’t dating. But he’d flown halfway around the world to see her and that counted for something.

“I’m glad that you’re so open-minded. I find that most women who come here are ready to try new things, but a lot of men are sometimes worried about looking ridiculous. And that’s kind of ridiculous when you think about it. Tons of athletes from football players to track stars do yoga and Pilates. It’s great for stress relief and it helps to clear your mind. We had a hockey team here about a month after I took over. Those guys were up for anything.” Laughter colored her voice.

Clearing the mind was something Rafe needed desperately. The more Kelly talked, the more entranced he became with her. She was like a beacon of light and he was the ship in need of safe harbor. He snorted.

What you need is some sleep.

That was it. He was punch-drunk and slightly delirious. With his defenses down, he didn’t have a chance when it came to Kelly, with her charm and beauty.

“So here we are.” She waved a hand at the bungalow before him. The doors stood wide open, allowing the breeze to cool the large room, which was done in shades of light blue and white. Calming. It was nicer than any place he’d ever stayed. As a marine, he learned to fall asleep anywhere, and when he traveled he usually picked cheap motels. All he usually needed was a bed.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me staying here?” Rafe asked as he ditched his shoes at the door and followed her inside.

The floor was cork or close enough by the soft feel of it. His aching joints relaxed their protest three steps into the place. There was a king-size bed on the left. To the right was a seating area with a huge flat-screen TV on the wall in the center, which could be viewed from both the bed and the sofa.

“Of course I don’t mind. I wanted you to come, when, uh, Mimi told me what you’d been through. I mean, not to make a big deal out of it—your bravery—well, you’re so darn heroic,” she said, and ducked her head as if she were embarrassed. “Sorry. It’s just that Mimi has told me so much about you that I feel like I know you. I’m normally kind of shy, which is why it’s weird that I can’t seem to stop talking around you.”

She grinned sheepishly. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

Rafe couldn’t help but smile at her nervousness.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry about that with me. I spend most of my time with men who only communicate by grunting. It’s nice to hear a friendly voice that isn’t barking orders.”

Her soft chuckle was like a gentle caress. They stared at each other expectantly for a few seconds before he quickly peered at the ocean as though he was interested in the view.

“I bet you’re exhausted,” she said. “The bath is through there. There are robes and a selection of swim trunks if you need them. Dinner is at seven, but there are snacks in your fridge, which is under the television console. You have a butler, whom you can contact by pressing two on the phone. If you need maid service, that’s number three. If you’d rather dine here instead of at the main house, you push four and they’ll deliver the meal for you.

“So, that should be it. If you need me, push six and then seven, seven. We have several guests arriving, but practically everyone who comes to Last Resort is looking for solitude and waves to ride. It’ll be quiet around here for you.”

“Thanks,” Rafe said. “I mean, really. This is way more than I expected.”

The hopeful look in her eyes confused him. It was almost as if she’d worried he wouldn’t like it here. How could he not? The place was mind-blowing.

“Right. If you need help unpacking, you can call the butler. I’ll get out of your hair.”

She sprinted from the bungalow.

He watched as she tripped slightly on the path and then carried on as if nothing had happened.

The two sisters couldn’t be any more different. Mimi never had a hair out of place, and the night they went to the party she had dressed in pricey heels and a fancy dress that barely covered her thighs.

But if he were honest, he much preferred Kelly’s casual white shorts and bikini top.

“You aren’t going there,” he murmured to himself. “Mimi. You’re here for Mimi.”

Right. What’s it to be, then—a cold shower or a nap?

Nah.

Rafe glanced at the ocean and went in search of his board shorts.

A good hard swim would help ease his tension and get his mind off one very pretty resort owner.

Free Fall by Karen Foley

By Barb Drozdowich 10 Comments

Welcome to Sugarbeat’s Books – The Home of the Romance Novel!

Subject:
Lt. Commander Jack Callahan

Mission:
A high-flying maneuver…with tantalizing perks!

Being stationed at a naval base on Whidbey Island is a dream come true for Navy pilot Jack Callahan. But when a late-night encounter on a beach with a stunning woman turns scorchin’ hot, Jack’s dream starts resembling an X-rated fantasy….

Three weeks in her hometown is nothing short of torture for photographer Maggie Copeland. The town hasn’t forgotten she was dumped at the altar by an aviator, and neither has she—until her naughty rendezvous with the oh-so-scrumptious stranger! But then Maggie learns that Jack is a pilot. Can she resist the force of their sexual chemistry…or will she find herself falling for another flyboy?

Why do you need to read this book? I loved the real feeling of this book. Not a rose-colored glasses romance, but a real one with real people – at least my impression. I enjoyed this book!

Free Fall is available from Amazon

Excerpt:

Magnificent.

There was simply no other word to describe him.

“Oh, man, you are so freaking gorgeous,” Maggie Copeland breathed in appreciation. “So strong and sleek. C’mon, show me what you’ve got…give it to me, baby.”

It had been years since she’d seen a male specimen as thrilling as this one, and she’d almost forgotten how the sight could make her heart race and her blood sing. As if sensing he had an eager audience, the orca breached, lifting his entire body out of the water and twisting upward in a glorious show of strength and grace, before falling back into the waves. Maggie gasped in admiration. Shamu had nothing on this beauty.

Her fingers worked quickly on the shutter release, snapping pictures in rapid succession. High overhead, she could barely hear the traffic on the twin bridges that spanned the narrow strait known as Deception Pass and connected Whidbey Island to the mainland. But she knew if she looked up, she would see the tiny shapes of hundreds of tourists who had pulled off the road to glimpse the killer whale as he frolicked in the frigid waters below the bridge.

Maggie almost hadn’t bothered to stop, but her curiosity had gotten the best of her. Well, that and the fact that she’d been looking for any excuse to delay reaching her destination. After pulling over, she’d attached a telephoto lens to her camera and had made her way along the pedestrian walkway of the soaring bridge. Her first peek over the edge had made her head swim, and she’d pulled quickly back, her heart racing. The drop was dizzying, and it had taken several moments before she’d had the courage to take a second look, telling herself she wasn’t afraid of heights. But when she’d glimpsed the orca some two hundred feet below, she’d forgotten everything except her desire to capture the magnificent animal on film.

She’d been a teenager the last time she’d navigated the steep, rocky trail that twisted its way beneath the bridge to the water’s edge. Even then, with her brother beside her, she’d been terrified of falling, but tonight she’d managed the descent effortlessly, despite the fading light and the weight of the heavy lens bumping against her hip. The fragrant scent of crushed pine needles underfoot, combined with the salty ocean air, had been so familiar that for a brief moment she’d felt a wave of nostalgia. She hadn’t been back to the Pacific Northwest in almost ten years, and she’d forgotten how good the Puget Sound air smelled. Now she crouched on a high rock overlooking the turbulent waters of Deception Pass, with an unobstructed view of the orca. If only she had more daylight!

Lowering the camera, she glanced toward the horizon, where the sun was rapidly slipping away beneath a breathtaking display of purple-andorange-streaked sky. In another minute, it would disappear completely. The few people who had joined her on the rocky shoreline were already making their way back up to the road, leaving her alone. If she didn’t start back to her car now, she’d have a difficult time negotiating the trail in the dark. She might not be anxious to return to her childhood home in the tiny community of Rocks Village, but neither did she relish the thought of spending the night on a deserted beach.

With a last, longing look at the orca, almost invisible now except for the tall, black fin that sliced through the water, Maggie secured her camera over one shoulder and carefully began working her way to the ground. Almost immediately, her fear of heights returned and she realized that getting down from the boulder was not going to be as easy as climbing up had been. What had earlier seemed a manageable height now seemed like a frightening drop to the rocky beach.

In an instant, she was fifteen years old again, excited that her brother and his friends had allowed her to come with them to Whistle Lake on neighboring Ana-cortes Island. The twenty-foot cliffs were popular with the local kids as a place to prove their bravery and cool off during the warm summer months. But Eric and his friends had craved bigger thrills, and had instead hiked to where the cliffs towered fifty to sixty feet high over the lake. One by one, they had leapt from the rocks into the deep water, and then taunted Maggie when she’d refused to join them.

Nothing could have induced her to leave the security of that rock, but she hadn’t seen Eric’s friend, who had climbed out of the water, make his way stealthily back to where she stood. With a cry of triumph, he had rushed at her. Although later he claimed that he’d only meant to give her a scare, he’d barreled into her, plunging them both over the edge. Maggie knew she’d been fortunate to have only broken a leg, and the boys had been lucky that her mother hadn’t killed them. Maggie had never been back to Whistle Lake and avoided heights whenever she could.

Now, working her fingers into a crack in the surface of the stone, she clung to the side and searched for her next foothold, but there was none. Peering down, she wondered if she could jump, but quickly decided against it. The rocks made the option too dangerous, and she didn’t want to risk breaking an ankle or, worse, damaging her precious camera.

Wishing she was wearing jeans and not a pair of shorts, Maggie stretched her leg downward, feeling blindly for a place to set her foot, and scraped her bare knee against the rough surface of the stone. Swearing softly, she finally succeeded in finding a small sliver of ledge. With her weight now balanced, she groped for a new handhold, dismayed when her camera strap slid from her shoulder and down the length of her arm to her wrist. Nudged off balance by the weight of the heavy lens, she made a grab for it, but it slipped free of her fingers. Instinctively, she stuck her foot out and snagged the strap with her foot. Maggie winced as the camera dangled precariously from the toe of her sneaker, and the telephoto lens bounced sickeningly against the hard stone.

Crap. Now what? She clung to the rock with both hands, balanced on an outcropping no wider than her thumb, with one leg stuck out at a precarious angle and her expensive camera swinging from her foot.

“Do you need a hand?”

Startled, Maggie nearly lost her footing. The voice was deep, masculine and unless she was mistaken, amused. She hadn’t heard anyone approaching, and now she carefully craned her head to get a look at the newcomer. A man stood directly below her with his arms raised as if to catch her. Even from her height, she could see he was young and good-looking, and his voice had a quality that caused something to resonate deep inside her. “Uh…okay.”

He stepped forward, and this time she heard the crunch of rocks beneath his feet. “Here, let me take your camera, and then I can help you down.”

Uncertainty washed over Maggie. She’d spent a small fortune on the camera, and even more on the telephoto lens. These two pieces of equipment were all she had brought with her from Chicago, yet they constituted the foundation of her photography business. If this guy decided to do a grab-and-run, she’d be completely screwed. But the decision was taken out of her hands when he reached up and removed the camera strap from her foot and casually slid it over one shoulder.

“Careful,” she admonished, keeping a sharp eye on him in case he should decide to bolt.

“No worries,” he said easily. “Now it’s your turn.”

To Maggie’s horror and astonishment, he reached up and put his hands on the back of her bare calves, gripping them firmly. Part of her realized that he was only trying to help, but his touch seemed to scorch her skin, and it was all she could do not to jerk away.

“Okay, thank you,” she replied, and her voice sounded high and breathless. “I can manage from here.”

“There’s another ledge about eight inches below you,” he said, ignoring her words. “I’ll help you find it.”

With one hand wrapped around her leg, he eased it slowly downward until Maggie found the small toehold. “Great, I’ve got this,” she assured him, not at all sure that she did. “Thanks.”

“Are you experienced at bouldering?” Now there was no mistaking the amusement in his voice.

“At what?” she asked, momentarily distracted.

“Never mind, I can see that you’re not.” Instead of stepping back, the man slid his big hands up to her hips. “You’ve run out of toeholds, sweetheart. Let go. I’ve got you.”

With both hands gripping her hips, he plucked her from the side of the rock as if she weighed no more than a child. Maggie gave a small cry of surprise as she found herself in his arms, her hands clutching at his broad shoulders. Immediately, she was swamped with sensation.

He felt solid beneath her fingers, and he smelled incredible, like clean laundry and something spicy. Heat poured off of him, and she could feel it even through the layers of their clothing. She had an almost overwhelming urge to curl herself around him and absorb his warmth. He didn’t immediately release her, and it didn’t occur to Maggie to protest. Even in the darkness, she could feel the intensity of his stare. Was it her imagination, or did his arms tighten fractionally around her?

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, and his voice sounded a little husky.

Suddenly, she became aware of the intimacy of their position. Her arms were still looped around his neck, and their faces were so close that she could feel his warm breath against her cheek. Something tightened inside her, making her feel unsettled and short of breath and, despite the cool breeze coming in off the ocean, much too warm. To her relief, he loosened his hold, allowing her to slide the length of his body until her feet touched the ground.

“Thank you,” she gasped, stepping back. Her equilibrium was off, and she swayed. He put a hand out to steady her.

“Are you okay?”

Maggie nodded as she gaped up at him. He was tall, probably a few inches over six feet, and leanly muscled. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled carelessly back over his forearms and a pair of cargo shorts. His hair was cut short, and there was no mistaking the humor in his expression.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just feeling a little foolish.”

“Why? It could have happened to anyone,” he assured her.

“But not to you,” she guessed, smiling.

“Nope,” he agreed, grinning shamelessly. “Not to me.” He slid the strap from his shoulder and handed the camera to her, using one hand to support the telephoto lens. Once she had it back in her hands, she relaxed fractionally.

“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come along when you did.”

And now that she was no longer in danger of being trapped on the boulder, or lying injured at the base of it, she realized they were alone on the narrow strip of beach, and the earlier glow of the sunset was deepening into the violet of nightfall. Waves washed against the rocky beach, sucking and dragging the stones back into the surf with a loose rattling sound. Maggie knew she should be nervous, but instead she felt oddly safe. Call her crazy, but there was something vaguely familiar about the man, although she was certain they had never met before. If anything, he kept a deliberate distance between them, as if sensing her apprehension.

“Did you get some good pictures?” he asked.

“Of the orca? Yes, I think so.”

“I saw them briefly, from up above,” he continued conversationally, “but by the time I got down here, they were gone.”

“They? “ she asked in surprise, momentarily forgetting her caution.

“Didn’t you see? There were two of them: a male and a female. The first was here, in the strait. The female was headed toward the open sea.”

“What makes you think it was a male and a female?”

He smiled, his teeth white in the darkness. “From the shape of the dorsal fin. The female has a smaller, curved fin. The male’s fin is tall and straight.”

Maggie knew enough about orcas to know he was right. A male and a female. How had she missed the female? Of course, she’d only been scanning the waters of the pass itself, and hadn’t been looking toward the ocean. If a second killer whale had been swimming just beyond the headland, it was no wonder she hadn’t spotted it.

She couldn’t blame the female; faced with the choice of following the male into the narrow bay behind Whidbey Island or making a run for the open sea and freedom, she’d choose the latter, too.

She had chosen freedom, too, she reminded herself.

She’d left Whidbey Island, located north of Seattle in Puget Sound, nearly ten years ago, and she hadn’t looked back. Chicago represented freedom to her, and everything she’d never had growing up on an island in the Pacific Northwest. More importantly, it offered an escape from the humiliating memories of what had happened ten years ago. So why didn’t she feel like she belonged in Chicago? She’d tried to convince herself that the city was where her future lay, but it was times like this that she understood what she’d given up; there would be no killer whale sightings in Chicago, or the scent of salt-tinged air, or the breathtaking beauty of Deception Pass with the sun sinking behind the horizon. With an irritated sigh, she pushed her nostalgia aside, reminding herself that she was only here for three weeks. No way would she allow herself to be drawn back by the local charm and beauty of the area. So maybe Chicago wasn’t where she belonged, but neither was Whidbey Island.

“Well, thanks for your help,” she said politely, and indicated the trailhead that led back to the road. “I’m going to head back up.”

He fell into step beside her, putting one hand beneath her elbow as the terrain grew steep. “You wouldn’t want to fall,” he said in explanation as she looked at him in surprise. “Not with that camera. Of course, I could carry it for you.”

Even with the strap around her neck, Maggie kept one hand on the lens to prevent it from swinging. The result was that her balance was a little off. She considered him for a moment. He seemed sincere enough, and he had helped her. After a moment, she removed the strap from around her neck and handed the camera to him.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind…”

“I’m sure.” He positioned the strap over his body, steadied the lens in one hand and indicated she should precede him up the trail. “After you.”

Maggie clambered gracelessly up the steep path, acutely conscious of the man behind her. Was he checking out her butt? Could he even see her butt? Honestly, it was so dark she had trouble seeing the path. As they climbed higher, the pine trees around them grew thicker, and soon they were in dense woods and visibility was close to zero.

“Hold up a minute,” he called from behind her.

Maggie paused and glanced over her shoulder. He was closer than she realized, and while her breathing was already labored from exertion, he wasn’t even winded.