Pressure Point (Point #2)

by Olivia Luck

  The first time he suggested that I take Ryan’s job at the Chicago Center, I balked. I wasn’t qualified to work there and certainly didn’t want to be accused (rightfully so) of nepotism. He wouldn’t relent, reminding me that he worked on the player side of things and that Ryan’s boss at the Center adored me.

  I got the job. Now we work together, but don’t see each other too often in the office. We spend most of our time together in our home. It took less time for Blake to convince me to move into his place than to work with him. I’m preparing my condo to rent and living happily with the man of my dreams.

  There’s nothing but goodness in my life.

  Tonight, I’m snuggled against his broad chest, a few blinks away from sleep. We’re in New Point, staying with Miles and Zoe in their new place. They moved into Miles’ house a little while ago, and Zoe decided to put her house on the market. It’s become a monthly tradition, us visiting them or them visiting us. Blake and Miles are good friends and Zoe’s back to being my best friend. She’s even gotten to know Violet, and they’ve hit it off, too. Everything I’ve ever wanted is within my reach and it’s exhilarating.

  Blake’s running his fingers through my hair and I’m in heaven. Couldn’t ask for anything more to be happy. “Love you,” I whisper. His touch is hypnotic, calming me into a state of bliss. I’m asleep before I hear his response.

  Blaring from a cell phone jerks me awake sometime later. I sit up with a start, grabbing the bed sheet to my chest. Blake grumbles something unintelligible and leans over me to pick up the offending device. Apparently, it’s my phone.

  “Yeah?” he asks sharply into the phone, not happy someone woke us up.

  I glance at the clock. Two in the morning. What on earth could be this important?

  And then I know.

  Blake’s entire expression falls and tears well up behind my stoic man’s eyes. He’s muttering into the phone, but I’m not listening because deep down there’s only one reason why someone would call us in the middle of the night. He quietly hangs up and collects me against his chest. It’s then that I realize I’m already crying, tears streaking down my cheeks.

  “Was there a fire?” I ask unnecessarily, my throat raw with emotion.

  “Stella…”

  “Tell me!” I cry, shifting backward and staring at him through the mess of salty tears.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, but Max didn’t survive. He was trying to a rescue a little boy…and he’s gone.”

  VIOLET’S STORY

  POINT OF NO RETURN

  I had it all: an adoring husband, supportive friends, thriving career, a homey condo in the city.

  Amend that. I had it all except for the support of my family. But life was fine because I had him. Max was everything I dreamed a husband could be and somehow he loved me just as wildly as I loved him.

  Until one cruel night he was stolen from me.

  Then I had nothing but a vicious battle ahead of me. There’s a struggle so treacherous, I’m not sure if I’ll make it out on the other side. But on the other side of that brutal war waits the most wondrous prize.

  If only I’ll open myself to his love.

  AN EXCERPT FROM NEW POINT, MILES AND ZOE’S STORY.

  At first, balancing on the pale blond arm of an Adirondack chair to retrieve an extra set of house keys hiding above the sliding glass door on the deck seemed like my best shot at getting inside. Now, while my fingers blindly seek out the metal, I realize I’d be better off throwing a rock through the door and unlocking it from the outside, because there’s no way my short arms will find the key before I tumble to the ground. In an email the caretaker had mentioned an extra set up keys hidden up here, but they are nowhere to be found.

  “New Point isn’t known for much breaking and entering, but I have to admit, this looks mighty suspicious,” an unmistakably Midwestern accent drawls from behind me, effectively scaring the sweat off my bare shoulders.

  A shriek escapes from my lips as I teeter preciously on the wood chair and my hands lose their grip on the white doorframe. The rubber of my flip flop doesn’t provide much traction, and my body pitches sideways. In just a second I’ll crash against the deck floor and spend my summer recovering physically instead of gaining back my old–

  Sturdy muscular arms slide around my waist and yank me against an equally firm chest. “Whoa, there. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The masculine voice has a smile behind it.

  “Probably shouldn’t go sneaking up on someone then,” I mutter once I catch my breath and untangle myself from his grasp. He chuckles at my retort, a rich baritone that almost sends a shiver down my spine.

  When I’m a step or two back, I’m nearly breathless again, but this time for completely different reasons.

  Sturdy was one way to describe his muscular grasp, but now that I have a full frontal view of him, I see my mistake. He’s perfect. Thick arms with nicely defined muscles that don’t bulge too aggressively beneath his white t-shirt, a broad chest, and trim waist with low riding blue exercise shorts. And that’s just his body. Bright white teeth gleam at me from behind a broad smile. Thick, dark brown curly hair begs to have fingers run through it, and he has coffee-colored eyes framed by long lashes that most girls would envy.

  He’s a combination of sultry sex appeal and mischievous intentions as displayed by the twist of his lips. Less than one minute in his presence and I’m practically swooning.

  “Who are you?” I blurt out.

  With a smirk, he crosses his arms across the planes of his chest. “Shouldn’t I be asking the questions, Ms. Breaking and Entering?”

  “Is it breaking and entering if your family owns the home?” I wonder and take a few steps away from him to gain some much-needed distance. With him standing so close I can’t concentrate—all that raw masculinity is distracting. Suddenly I can’t remember what I’m even doing on the deck. Yes, he’s that hot.

  When I reach the deck railing I lean against it, opting for the most casual stance possible. Meanwhile, my insides are knotted in a chaotic jumble. Unfortunately it’s not only because of the delectable male specimen before me. His surprise arrival ignited a riot of anxious sparklers in my stomach. I despise being snuck up on, to put it mildly.

  I inhale a discreet breath through my nose, forcing my stomach to exhale with the calming skill. There. I’m okay enough to talk. “You should probably be the one explaining why you were lurking around my deck.”

  “Lurking? I prefer keeping neighborhood watch.”

  I raise a brow. “Really?”

  “My sister was once the caretaker of this place,” he admits, closing the gap between us, but not standing close enough to be considered an invasion of personal space. Not that I would mind him crowding me… Shoot. He’s talking. I need to pay attention.

  “She was the one who told me someone finally moved in a few days ago,” he gestures vaguely over my shoulder, probably in the direction of his place. “I was coming back from my run when I saw you from the beach and wanted to introduce myself. Obviously I botched that, but I’ve got a way to make it up to you.”

  His playful smile and the hopeful twinkle in his eyes make it hard for me to be angry or frazzled because he sneaked up on me. “What’s that?” I ask, sliding him a smile.

  “Now that you’re in New Point, you should know we don’t worry too much about locking our doors. That tip has nothing to do with repentance.” He winks at me then strides to the opposite side of the doors where I had been unsuccessfully searching. “But my sister told me where she set the spare key in case of an emergency.” He stretches an arm up to the ledge of the door revealing a sliver of toned lower back.

  I literally gulp –I never gulp over a guy– a breath. Who knew a back could be sexy? And I haven’t even checked out anything lower down. Like, let’s say, his butt.

  When he spins around, keys in hand, I try to hide my obvious perusal, eyes shooting to his. I’m a second too late, and my mysterious neighbor smirks at m
e knowingly.

  “You got them?” I gasp, moving over to his side.

  One flick of his wrist later and I’m catching the small piece of brass as it sails toward me. “Thank you so much! I was considering how much a door repair would cost me.”

  “Don’t tell me you were going to chuck a rock through the glass to get inside,” he groans, though he’s grinning.

  I shake my head in faux self-deprecation. “Did I mention I left my cell phone on the kitchen counter? Didn’t think there were too many options for me except breaking into my own house.”

  Concern flickers across his features. “Promise me next time you have any issues you’ll come knock on my door.”

  “Seriously?”

  “As serious as I’ve ever been.” He’s moved from playful to solemn in an instant. “Don’t like the thought of any trouble coming your way. Promise me.”

  My, he’s demanding. I’d be a liar to say his interest in my wellbeing doesn’t send a thrill through me.

  I lift the hand not clutching my key and curl all of my fingers into a fist except the last one. “Pinky swear.”

  Maybe I didn’t expect him to react to my childish gesture, but he plays along with my silliness. At my request, his grin is back. It may be my imagination, but I think he wiggles his eyebrows at me. When our pinkies interlock, all the reasons I came to New Point—lingering fears and even the appreciation of the sun melting into the night sky that drove me to lock myself out of my home—fade away. Electricity zaps between us, tingles shoot up the length of my arm, and I almost jump. My eyes fly to his and in them I find surprise. His once playful smile has faded a few watts, and he’s staring at me quizzically. I retract my hand, and it falls lamely to my side.

  Whoa. I’m not sure what I expected to happen when our fingers connected, but it certainly was not that zing.

  There’s really no reason from him to linger since he produced my keys, but by some unidentifiable feeling, I can’t help but wish he would stay a little bit longer.

  “What other secrets did your sister tell you about this place?”

  The smile falls from his lips. “Nothing, other than a resident was finally moving in. She’s not the type to tell the whole town where you keep the spare keys. My sister is as neighborly as you can get and insisted I welcome you to our town.”

  Once he says this, I realize I should probably be a bit miffed that the former caretaker shared the location of a spare key with him, but another powerful emotion covers everything else –physical attraction to the man just a few feet away. A man whose name I have yet to find out.

  “Zoe Baker, by the way.”

  It seems like he is cataloguing the details of my face as his gaze lazily travels over every inch. I’m not the only one intrigued.

  “Miles, your helpful new neighbor.”

  Miles. Somehow the name fits him. It’s not one that comes up regularly. Unexpected yet pleasing, that’s how I’d describe Miles.

  “Is this a small town thing, checking on the goodwill of your fellow townsman?” I ask.

  “Like I said, in New Point we try to look out for each other.” He glances behind him at the sun that’s setting gracefully into the horizon. “The life of a bartender picks up as the sun sets,” he tells me offhandedly. Miles’ gaze snaps back to me. “Time for work.”

  Disappointment fills me, but I manage to keep my features unexpressive. “Thanks for saving me from a mess of broken glass.”

  “My pleasure. You come find me if you need…anything.” This time I do shiver at his drawl. He’s sex and chivalry rolled into one tempting package.

  With a gentlemanly tip of his head, he crosses the deck to the staircase leading back to the sandy Lake Michigan shore. When he reaches the top step, he pauses to toss a searing gaze my way. “For other people here, being neighborly is a habit of living in a small town, but that’s not what’s happening between you and me. I’m just looking for a way other than happenstance to see you again, Zoe Baker.”

  On his lips, my name sounds like a husky promise. My lips part in anticipation of what I envision with his words –tangled limbs, moans of pleasure…

  “Damn,” I whisper to myself as he disappears down the steps. “I picked the right place to move.”

  In Pursuit

  Eddie Neff needs space. Not the type that country stars croon about, but physical distance from her emotionally distant father and the tatters of a broken relationship. So when the opportunity to relocate her life and interior design business arises, the answer comes easily.

  Adjusting to life with Claire, her gregarious new roommate, is more than simply testing comfort limits. With just one meeting, Eddie finds herself unable to resist the draw of Harris Grant, Claire’s brooding and overprotective older brother.

  Harris doesn’t fit her idea of a safe relationship. He pushes Eddie to face her deepest insecurities and fears of abandonment. And Harris holds on to his own painful loss, unable to overcome personal demons.

  Eddie and Harris must learn to conquer their internal struggles. But as they navigate their new love, outside forces fight to drive them apart.

  Author's note: In Pursuit is the first book in a two book series. Intended for 18+ readers.

  Of Happiness

  Edith Neff relocated to Chicago to capture her own piece of happiness. Now bombarded with more change than she knows how to manage, Eddie struggles to pick of the pieces of her torn heart and decimated friendship.

  Standing in the middle of a sidewalk while her (ex?) boyfriend Harris Grant pleads for forgiveness, Eddie's at a loss what to do next. So when her estranged father provides a lifeline - she has no option than to take his offer.

  But Harris won't let Eddie go without a fight. He'll use whatever tactics necessary to win back his girl. While Eddie and Harris find their way back together, darkness lurks, unwilling to relent on destroying their relationship. Permanently.

  Author note: Of Happiness is the conclusion to In Pursuit. Content intended for readers 18+

  Olivia Luck lives in the middle of America with her loving husband and her obsession with writing. She wrote her first romance novel at age eight. When she’s not reading, editing, or writing, you can find her in the kitchen learning to cook. Olivia loves to travel and spend time with her family.

  Get in touch with Olivia, she adores emails: olivialuckauthor@gmail.com or Connect on Facebook

  First and foremost, I must call out to my eternally supportive and considerate husband. When I ignore our weekends and submerge myself in writing, you encourage me. Without you, there’d be no characters.

  To my family, thank you for asking the right questions and your interest in my writing.

  YD, you are the best part of my week and the most wonderful confidant I’ve ever had. Thank you for keeping secrets and listening without judgment. I’m glad you know about my writing.

  To my author crush, Sigal Ehrlich, there’s not too much I can say except you’re the greatest. Your emails brighten my days and your stock photos keep me up in terror at night. Just kidding. You’re my favorite writer.

  Jenny, you improve my words and make them sound beautiful. You understand my crazy writing and never make me feel bad about comma splices. You are an all star editor and I adore you.

  Christine, what can I say? It’s my pleasure to have befriended you. I love working with you, whether it’s formatting or talking shop, you always know what to say. Your insight is invaluable to me.

  I am consistently blown away by my cover designer Ari. I love working with you and I can’t wait to see what you come up with for covers to come.

  I am indebted to a group of brilliant beta readers who put up with skimpy editing at best and storylines that need massaging. You’re patient and thoughtful and wonderful. I love sharing my work with you and I am so thankful for your comments.

  To my readers, you make me want to write. I love sharing my world with you. Know that I never take you for granted and am thankful for you each and every day
.

  To the community of writers I am part of – you inspire me and make me want to work harder and write better stories. I’m thankful to be an indie author. I love you all!