Second Hope

by J. B. McDonald

  Jack gave his fiancée a fond smile. “You’ll look beautiful in whatever you wear, my dear.”

  The obvious affection her father felt toward his future bride touched Jocelyn. He deserved some happiness in his life.

  Aunt Earlene shook her head in apparent wonder. “My word, child, I remember when you used to make clothes for your dolls on my old sewing machine, and they were good, too. And you have a fancy name to go with all that success. Did you choose your pseudonym for your mother?”

  Jocelyn nodded. “I wanted to honor her memory.”

  Aunt Earlene smiled, her head bobbing up and down in her apparent approval. “You always were such a thoughtful girl. Mei would have been so proud. I’m sure she’s in heaven watching over you. I’m so glad you realized your dream. “

  “Thank you. That means a lot.” Her mother had died from breast cancer when Jocelyn was five but the connection she’d felt to her was still strong.

  “I’m not sure if I should ask for your autograph. I’ve never been in the presence of a real celebrity before,” Decker teased.

  Jocelyn squirmed in her chair, slightly embarrassed with the praise, especially with Cade shooting daggers her way from the other end of the table. “I’m just happy I’ve been able to make a living doing something I love.”

  “And so modest. I always knew you’d be someone special,” Earlene continued.

  “Jocelyn was always something special. We’re all very proud of her accomplishments. She’s done us proud.” Her father beamed, his green eyes twinkling. “Earlene is right you know. Your mama would have been so pleased, gal.”

  Jocelyn’s eyes moistened. “Thanks, Daddy.”

  In an abrupt movement that caught everyone off guard, Cade pushed away from the table and stood so quickly he shook the table. “What the hell is wrong with you people? Am I the only one who’s sickened by this? How can you all sit around pretending like everything is all right?”

  Jocelyn’s mouth fell open. He’d been stewing for the past few minutes, but she figured he’d keep quiet. This outburst however, was beyond anything she expected. Though Cade’s words were directed at everyone, his gaze was firmly fixed on her. And he was pissed. His face was red to the root of his blond locks and his nostrils were flared.

  “Cade, sit down,” Stone barked at his brother.

  “Yeah, you’re being an ass, Cade,” Decker yelled.

  “Hell no! You all might want to sit around and act like everything is hunky dory, but how can you forget how she turned her back on all of us, claiming we weren’t good enough for her. Lavern, I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you about that dress. She’s good at changing her mind. Jack, hasn’t she broken your heart enough already? How do you know she’ll stick around long enough for your wedding and if she does, when she’s gone again, how many more years will it be before she comes back?”

  Jack’s mouth firmed to one thin line. “She’s my daughter, Cade. And I’d appreciate it if you watch your tone when you speak of her.”

  Cade snorted. “Exactly. She’s your daughter. For all that seemed to matter to her! While she was off leading the glamorous life, she couldn’t be bothered to visit when you had your heart attack.”

  Jack stood up and glared at the younger man. “I don’t care if I work you, but you will not talk to my daughter that way!”

  Lavern grabbed his arm. “Jack, don’t get worked up…your blood pressure.”

  Jocelyn’s hand flew to her mouth. “Daddy? What’s he talking about?”

  Cade’s glare intensified. “Don’t pretend you didn’t get the calls or the emails. The rest of you can sit around and make believe we’re a big happy family because Jos Song, oh Queen of the high fashion world, decided to grace us with her glorious presence, but I want no part of it.” He turned on the heels of his leather boots and stormed out of the living room, the thundering of his footsteps giving away his mood.

  If the earlier silence had been uncomfortable, this was downright awkward. This scene was exactly what she hadn’t wanted. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to do her meal any justice and not wanting to be a further distraction, she threw her napkin on the table and stood up. “I think I’ll head back to Dad’s house, if you guys don’t mind. I’m not really feeling well. I sometimes get these migraines that come on suddenly. I believe once I’ve lain down for a while I’ll feel better.”

  Aunt Earlene seemed as if she wanted to protest, but thought better of it. “Of course, dear. But I’ll expect you to come for lunch tomorrow.” Though she spoke gently enough, the quiet authority in her tone brooked no argument.

  Jocelyn nodded and then held up her hand when it looked as if Kyla would join her. Right now she needed to be alone. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she mouthed to him before hurrying away before anyone could spy the tears gathering in her eyes.

  Compatible? Never. But the numbers don’t lie…

  A Perfect Match

  © 2008 Shelley Bradley

  Sports reporter Mitch MacKinnon is stuck writing an exposé about a local dating service, and no amount of foot-dragging or complaining will get him out of it. When he gets a look at the sexy blonde owner, things start looking up. He’d love the chance to date Juliette Lowell a time or two. But he’s here to dish the dirt that’ll be his ticket to a big-time newspaper; a relationship is the furthest thing from his mind.

  Juliette’s got Mitch pegged from the word go—he’s an overgrown jock who wouldn’t know a true emotion if it was wrapped in pigskin. Delicious dimples and killer brown eyes aside, the man is incredibly infuriating. All she needs is one chance to prove she can find a perfect match for anyone. Even him.

  Then her “foolproof” database spits out the results. Mitch’s perfect match? Juliette. If she’s right, Mitch will have to eat his words—and the story that’ll take him to the top.

  Warning: This title contains hot, sweaty couch dancing; long, slow, hot, wet kisses that last three days, and toe-curling romance.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for A Perfect Match:

  As she passed a row of tables outlining the dance floor, a familiar voice called out, “Juliette.”

  Mitch MacKinnon.

  She recognized the voice right away by the shiver in her spine. Slowly, she turned. He deserved a Hunk of the Year award for the way he shaped a tuxedo jacket and his drop-dead dimpled smile.

  Juliette inhaled, hoping oxygen would revive her suddenly malfunctioning brain. “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself.” He rose, eyeing the bared shoulders above her rosy gown intently. “Wow. This morning, I didn’t think you could look much better. What an idiot I was.”

  Juliette actually felt heat crawl up her face. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, since you look so good, and I’m all dressed up in this penguin suit, how about a dance?”

  “Aren’t you with someone?”

  “Yeah, but she’s gone to the bathroom.”

  He was asking her to dance when his date had only slipped out for a moment? Though he wasn’t making a play for her exactly, asking her to dance when he was here on a date seemed like a really asshole thing to do. “Don’t you think she’ll mind?”

  “Nah,” he assured, grinning. “My mother has accepted the fact I have other women in my life since puberty.”

  “You’re here with your mother?”

  He nodded, his smile faltering. “She moved out here when Dad died. Part of the deal was that I’d escort her to these fancy wing-ding parties.”

  So he wasn’t a jerk—at least not totally. “That’s…considerate of you.”

  He shrugged. “So how ’bout it?”

  Juliette hesitated. Looking at Mitch was unnerving enough, but touching him and letting him touch her when she was wearing a backless dress… None of that seemed wise.

  “I really should get back—”

  “Oh, come on. Three minutes,” he cajoled, stepping closer. God, he smells fabulous. “I’ll ask you a few questions. It’ll be the second part of our interview.”
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br />   She met his dark stare with a quiver. “You’re difficult to turn down.”

  “Thanks for not trying too hard.”

  Juliette felt his fingertips at her elbow a moment later. His exhalations caressed the tingling skin of her neck. When they reached the perimeter of the dance floor, Mitch turned her into his arms.

  His expression devoured her.

  Juliette swallowed, unable to tear her gaze away. He slid his hand up the length of her arm and around to her bare back. Tingles danced all over her skin, through her body. Oh, wow! Reaching for her other hand with his, he swayed to the music.

  Having Mitch’s strong arms around her felt like an embrace. She responded to it, heard her own breathing roughen in answer to his touch. His scent, teasing, musky, tickled her nose. Every pore opened to bask in his male aura. Every nerve strained toward him.

  Deep within, her matchmaking intuition sparked, a gut feeling signaling that Mitch could be special to her.

  Impossible. He wasn’t even sure love existed and was more interested in seeing the world than raising a family.

  Then why did she feel this…deep curiosity to know Mitch, experience his every facet? Why did she want nothing more than to cast their differences aside and know the taste of his kiss?

  “Nice music, huh?” He mocked the band’s selection.

  Until he’d mentioned the blaring trumpets, she hadn’t noticed. She sent Mitch a shaky smile. “Fine.”

  “Listen, about this morning… My turf is sports, and I’m a little cranky about having to cover ‘Community Happenings’. I’m sorry.”

  Juliette met his gaze. Before she could drown in his dark, smoky eyes, she forced herself to reply, “Does your change of heart mean you believe in my methods now?”

  He smiled ruefully. “No. It just means I could have been more polite in my disbelief.”

  Not what she wanted to hear, but at least he was honest. Still, his write-up would affect her fledgling business. “Aren’t reporters supposed to be objective?”

  “Ah, yes. The ‘impartial observer of life’ theory.” He twirled her around. “I’m an opinionated guy. That’s one reason my beat is sports. You’re supposed to tell it like it is.”

  “All right. What would it take to change your mind?”

  With a shrug, he answered, “It’s just not the kind of stuff I believe in, you know, astrology and handwriting analysis. But I’m willing to meet the Grahams and see your business from their point of view.”

  His hand drifted down her bare back in something dangerously close to a caress. He fit her body closer to his, and Juliette almost lost her reply in the feel of his hard body against her own, in the thundering of her heart.

  “I’m glad you’re keeping an open mind,” she squeaked out.

  Mitch felt steady, substantial, like a thousand-year-old redwood. She allowed her hand to drift up the sleek, solid curve of his shoulder, her fingers pressing into his firm flesh. In his arms, surrounded by his scent, her imagination was beginning to let loose, complete with visions of she and Mitch in front of a roaring fire, naked and—

  “Are you from Santa Clarita?” He spoke in a whisper, hushed as if it belonged among the tangled sheets of lovers. She’d never realized how arousing a man’s voice could be.

  Juliette understood now, when her nipples stood up and all but begged for attention.

  He laid his cheek against hers. His breath fanned into her ear. Shivers raced across her skin. Juliette knew she ought to pull away, and planned to…in a minute.

  “No. Have you lived here long?” she asked, her own voice breathy.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Andrew twirling Kara across the sparsely-populated dance floor. The sight of her almost-fiancé jolted Juliette back to reality.

  She and Mitch were dancing too close for acquaintances. With faces touching and mouths inches apart…what would Andrew think? A glance across the ballroom worried her. Andrew laughed with Kara as he glided across the floor with her, seeming oblivious.

  Okay, maybe the better question would be, why did being in Mitch’s arms feel so good? Why was she so tempted by him? He really wasn’t her type.

  “I’ve only been in Santa Clarita for ten months,” Mitch replied. “Before that, I lived in Vermont, Manhattan and Washington State. I did a brief stint in Birmingham, England.”

  Juliette pulled away. “Did you move that much just to see the world?”

  “You make it sound as terrible as a disease. Moving is exciting, as long as the job is good. Besides, I wasn’t sorry to leave Vermont or Washington. Too cold and rainy. And let’s face facts, it takes a special kind of person to live in Manhattan. I wasn’t special, I guess.”

  “Do you plan on staying here now?” she asked, afraid she already knew his answer.

  “Here?” Mitch laughed. “No. I’ve got an outside shot at a job at USA Today. If I get it, I’ll be packing up again.”

  “And you’re excited by packing boxes, changing phone numbers, moving to yet someplace else where you know no one?”

  “New places and people put adventure in your life.”

  Stability clearly wasn’t the name of his game. Why did she find him so interesting when they clearly had so little in common?

  “Don’t you ever feel…” she groped for a word, “…ungrounded? Like you don’t have any roots, any place to really call home? When you move away, don’t you ever wonder what kind of happiness you may have left behind?”

  The downward slash of his brows and his blank stare, shouted confusion. Perfect. He didn’t even understand her question. There was no way he’d be able to give her, or himself, an answer.

  “Not really. I mean, there’s a lot of great people I want to meet and a bunch of exciting places I’m dying to see. Why hang around, if you don’t have to?”

  She gaped at him, open-mouthed, for a full ten seconds. “Because life is about security and having your friends and loved ones around you. Having someone to share joys and sorrows with. Knowing you’ll be comforted by the warm and familiar as you get older.”

  He frowned. “You sound like my mom. Don’t you ever think about all the places you’ll never see trapped in this little town? You ever been to Paris? I have. Lived there for three months right after college. I loved it!”

  “That’s what vacations are for,” she bristled.

  He rolled his eyes. “You can’t really get to know a city in a week. Life may be about security for you. Me? I want to see and do it all. Growing up in a town so small that watching the grass grow thrilled the locals cured me of ‘stability’. I don’t want to wake up one day, middle-aged and miserable, and lament about all the things I never did, but always wanted to. That’s a waste.”

  Juliette stiffened in his arms. This conversation was headed nowhere—fast. Mitch, along with his anti-root attitude, only proved that her matchmaking intuition wasn’t one hundred percent right.

  And her gut feeling was wrong in this case. Andrew had to be the perfect man for her.

  Why wasn’t her heart convinced of that fact?

  Either way, staying in Mitch’s arms, inhaling his to-die-for scent and thinking about tangled sheets was just stupid.

  Juliette withdrew herself from Mitch and backed away. “I—uh…need to be going. I see my boyfriend across the room waiting for me.”

  Then she turned and fled.

  Can love tame a jaguar god?

  Treasure Hunting

  © 2008 JB McDonald

  A Hunting Love story.

  A good tromp through the jungle fending off giant bugs and hunting for long-lost ruins in South America is exactly Meg’s idea of a great vacation. She takes the sudden appearance of a wounded jaguar in stride, thinking it’ll make an interesting story. But when she wakes up to find a man in place of a cat, she wonders who’s going to believe it!

  Santiago has learned the hard way that he and human women just don’t mix. When you can change into an animal at will, it tends to upset people. But despi
te his best intentions, he finds himself falling hard for the little blonde who saved his life.

  It’ll take a leap of faith-and of love. Or this treasure will slip through his fingers.

  Warning: This work contains graphic m/f sex, bad language, and terrible humor.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Treasure Hunting:

  “How far is your camp?” Meg rubbed the back of her skull against the headrest, itching at the sweat trickling across her scalp. Santiago’s eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t resting. His muscles were tense, beads of sweat standing out against his chest, along his temples, making his black hair damp. She dragged her eyes back to the road, scolding herself half-heartedly that this really wasn’t the time to ogle him.

  But lordy, he had a nice chest. Simply not looking didn’t mean she couldn’t remember it; all angles and planes, hard muscles and very little hair—just enough to emphasize shadows on golden skin. She thought of his purr, and nearly purred herself. She sighed. The weight of a gaze pulled her eyes back around, and she saw Santiago peering at her sidelong, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth as if he knew exactly what thoughts ran through her mind.

  Clearing her throat, she shifted in her seat, suddenly warm. Okay, she’d been warm before, but now she was downright toasty. “Um. Your camp?”

  “It’ll be a while.” His voice was like rough velvet stroking down her flesh. “A few days.”

  “Oh.” Well, that was unexpected. Damn. “Maybe we should have lunch,” she suggested, and snuck another look at him. He’d grown quieter as the day crept on, lines of pain slowly etching into strong features.

  “Yes,” he rumbled. “That might be good.”

  The nice thing about the jungle, despite bugs the size of small airplanes and heat like a volcano, was that you didn’t have to look for parking when you decided you were ready to stop. Meg stopped, stomped on the emergency break, and declared them parked.