Dana experienced moments, often at night, when a nightmare reminded her of those horrifying seconds when she’d pitched over the cliff. Marshall’s arms always sheltered her, giving love and comfort.
As she breathed in the cool air, she knew she’d found a home here in Macon. A sanctuary where she could write and live and love Marshall until they both turned old and gray.
“Dana, you’ll never guess who is here,” Aunt Lucille said as she burst onto Marshall’s patio like a whirlwind. “And he’s bought friends.”
Dana grinned as her aunt flounced over to the hammock.
“Let me guess,” Dana said, standing and putting her arm around Aunt Lucille. They headed for the sliding glass doors. “Is it the big law man?”
“The one and only. And he’s brought Eric, Tabitha and Eric’s fiancée.”
Dana stopped. “His fiancée?” When her aunt just smiled, Dana stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “Who—you don’t mean—”
“She means me,” Kerrie said as she walked in with Eric, Tabitha and Marshall not far behind. “You didn’t think I would let you get one up on me, did you?”
Dana squealed…all the females screeched and rushed toward each other for a group hug.
Marshall and Eric gave a collective groan.
After the ladies parted, and congratulations filled the air, Aunt Lucille rushed into the kitchen to make drinks for them.
Marshall walked toward Dana, a tender smile on his mouth. A rush of love and lust hit her right in the stomach. He slipped his arm around her and kissed her forehead. Marshall looked so handsome with his baseball cap and flannel, all topped by a satisfied smile. She wanted to eat him up, right there and then.
“Excuse us a moment. I’ve got to talk to Dana,” Marshall said.
Eric snagged Tabitha and Kerrie and headed toward the kitchen. “Come on ladies. Let’s leave them alone.”
Tabitha protested, but she grinned. Kerrie winked.
Dana slipped her arms around Marshall’s neck, and before she could say a word, he kissed her in a no-nonsense fashion that made her knees weaken. The embrace went on until she thought she’d drown. When he released her she let out a gasp. Somewhere during the kiss his hat had slipped off his head.
“Oh, boy,” she whispered, dazed. “Think the ghosts in Aunt Lucille’s basement would mind if we visited them?”
He laughed and kissed her nose. “I think they’ve finally gotten satisfaction.”
She giggled. The horny ghosts hadn’t been heard from since the night she and Marshall had shown them how it was done. Dana had played back the tape recording of the ghosts and discovered it was blank. Nada. Nothing. So they had no evidence the horny ghosts had ever existed.
Lightning brightened the room. She flinched. Marshall tightened his hold on her and she reached up to grasp her father’s ring.
He looked at the jewelry. “All right?”
She nodded and smiled. “I still find it ironic that lightning saved my skin.”
Darkness moved through his gaze. “I still can’t think of that night without being thankful you’re here with me.”
“Me too.” She gazed at this strong, wonderful man and knew he’d be with her, be by her side all her life.
He kissed her forehead and brushed his fingers over her cheek. “I love you.”
When she managed to pull away from another bone-melting kiss, Marshall held her tight with one arm. With the other hand he reached in his front pocket and brought out a red velvet box. “It’s ready, sweetheart. The jeweler called this morning at the office.”
Dana let out a yelp as she released him and latched onto the box. “Oh, Marshall.”
She sighed as she looked at the princess-cut diamond solitaire sparkling with a thousand prisms of light. Marshall took it from her and slipped it on her ring finger then he kissed her hand. His dark gaze spoke of sweet love and forbidden pleasure.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Marry me.”
She laughed. “You’ve asked me that how many times now?”
He flashed her a boyish grin. “I’m going to ask you every day until we’re in that church and we’ve signed on the dotted line. I’m going to ask once a day for the rest of our lives.”
Slipping into his arms, she whispered against his lips, “Yes, Brennan Marshall. I’ll marry you. Every day of our lives.”
Dana savored the thought that in less than a month she would be Marshall’s wife. Life didn’t get any better than this. She also knew she’d learned many lessons from what had happened on the cliff. She wondered more than once how fate, destiny and her own determination had brought her to this happy point.
Thunder rolled over the mountains. Although Dana would always be cautious about storms, she had found a new peace.
About the Author
Suspenseful, erotic, edgy, thrilling, romantic, adventurous. All these words describe Denise A. Agnew’s award-winning novels. Romantic Times Book Review Magazine called her romantic suspense novels “top-notch” and her erotic romance Primordial received a TOP PICK from Romantic Times Book Review Magazine. Denise’s record proves that with paranormal, time travel, romantic comedy, contemporary, historical, erotic romance, and romantic suspense novels under her belt, she enjoys writing about a diverse range of subjects. The fact she has lived in Colorado, Hawaii and the United Kingdom has given her a lifetime of ideas. Her experiences with archaeology and archery have crept into her work, as well as numerous travels through the UK and Ireland. Denise lives in Arizona with her real life hero, her husband. Visit Denise’s website at www.deniseagnew.com
Look for these titles by Denise A. Agnew
Now Available:
Male Call
Unconditional Surrender
Private Maneuvers
Close Quarters
First impressions can be dead wrong.
Close Quarters
© 2008 Denise A. Agnew
Hot Zone, Book 4
Neena Williamson is positive the man who just walked into her favorite café is all wrong for the local charity’s new hot male calendar. For starters, he’s wearing the most butt-ugly Hawaiian shirt on the face of the earth. He doesn’t fit anyone’s image of a smokin’ hardbody, even if her friend insists he’s perfect for Mr. December.
When a gunman robs the café, Mr. December proves that underneath his bad taste in clothes, he knows how to bring it.
Clarksville, Wyoming is the perfect place for Mitch Gilroy to hide in plain sight. He enjoys his low-key handyman job, and no one pries into his former life. But in an instant, Mitch is forced to remember everything he’s tried so hard to forget.
Thrown together by sudden violence, Neena and Mitch quickly discover how tangled their emotions can become. And the only way to banish the monsters that haunt them is to do the one thing they fear most. Become vulnerable—to each other.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Close Quarters:
Mitch unlocked the screen door and front door, eager to lead Neena inside and discover how quickly he could bring her into his arms and taste her delicious skin under his tongue. He ached; his cock had been hard as a rock for what seemed forever.
Rain pounded on the porch as thunder rolled and tumbled. Another flash of electricity followed close behind. Mitch fumbled with the keys before he jammed the right one into the lock. He couldn’t remember the last time nerves had caused him uncertainty with a woman. Last time he’d been nineteen and losing his virginity. God, why did he think about that now? Neena probably wasn’t a virgin—she’d kissed like a woman who’d experienced passion before, and although her responses had been hesitant at first, once she did respond, she’d heated like a firecracker ready to ignite. He wanted her in his arms again. If he’d thought they wouldn’t get caught, he would have taken her there in his car. He would have unfastened his pants, tore away her pantyhose and panties and found her heat and wetness. Would have allowed her to slip down over his cock until she swallowed him whole. He almost groaned imagi
ning it, and his erection got even harder, if that were possible.
No. He didn’t keep condoms in his truck, and he never had sex without a condom. Never. He wouldn’t take that risk.
“Fuck,” he murmured softly as he wrestled with the doorknob.
She squeezed his shoulder. “Having problems?”
“Yeah.” He finally opened the door and they went inside. He relocked the door.
He tossed his keys on a table beside the door and turned to her. Her hair, once artfully arranged atop her head earlier in the evening, lay in tumbled disarray across her shoulders. One thin strap of her red velvet gown had slipped down her shoulder. He almost groaned remembering what her nipple had felt like against his fingers. Tight. Aroused. Ready for the lash of his tongue, the sucking heat of his mouth. The curve of her bust, the smallness of her waist, and the roundness of her hips called to him on the most primitive level. Her gentle smile held questions. Her dusky eye shadow gave her eyes a mysterious allure.
His cock hardened a fraction more. He had to get inside her or die. Plain and simple. Yet the last thing he would do was frighten her. She looked too much like a woman who hadn’t committed to the next move. A woman on the threshold of deciding, of reversing the confident answer she’d given him in his car not so long ago. He burned to make love to her, but he didn’t want her hesitation and uncertainty.
He started undoing his clothes, slowly. He tossed his tux jacket on the same table where he’d placed his keys. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No. I’m good.” Her voice was gentle and soft.
She walked toward him, and to his surprise, helped him undo his shirt buttons. She stared into his eyes and he allowed her to open his shirt and bare his chest. Her eyes widened a bit, and her attention glided over his muscles. She licked her lips, and his cock throbbed.
Screw subtlety.
“If you look at me like that…” he started to say.
“What?”
“I’ll have to do this.”
He leaned down and did away with his shoes, tossing them aside. They skidded across the foyer. As she propped her back against the closed front door, he placed his hands down on either side of her about shoulder-width apart. Neena’s pupils dilated a little, and he smiled. Oh, yeah. She was still interested. But would she admit it?
“Do you…?” She swallowed hard. “Do you still want me?”
He laughed softly, and because he couldn’t stand it any longer, he drew her hand to his cock. Through the fabric he was still hard as granite. Her fingers moved under his, caressing his length. Oh, Jesus.
Her lips parted. “I guess that was a stupid question.”
A wounded cop. A frightened woman. A desperate race to save a child in danger…
The Midnight Effect
© 2009 Pamela Fryer
In a single phone call, Lily Brent’s entire life—past and future—becomes foggy with confusion and danger. Her estranged sister is dead, and the body is lacking one definitive mark: a surgery scar from the kidney Lily thought she’d donated to her sister long ago.
There’s more than a mystery on her hands. There’s a niece she never knew she had, and a madman on her trail who’s hell-bent on getting the child back.
When a beautiful woman crashes her car into his remote mountain gas station, followed closely by a man with a silencer-equipped pistol, three years of inactive duty fall away as Miles Goodwin springs into action. He saves Lily and her golden child, but nothing can save him from the painful reminder of the family he lost. Retreating to his emotional coma, however, isn’t an option; they’re far from safe.
There’s something strange about a six-year-old girl who’s never eaten a hamburger or heard of Tinkerbell—and who seems to be the source of psychic phenomena so powerful, someone’s willing to kill to get her back.
Warning: Contains heart-pounding suspense, a charm-your-socks-off kid, and a compelling romance that may inspire you to combine your DNA with someone you love!
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Midnight Effect:
Miles Goodwin tipped his chair back as he took a slug from his beer. Across the tree line the remainder of the day was a bloody smear on the horizon. The setting sun drifted away mockingly. Another day and you’re still here because you don’t have the courage to put your revolver in your mouth.
He smacked at a mosquito on his neck. The bugs were relentless at dusk, but this was Miles’ favorite time of day. Swallowing darkness was moments away, when he wouldn’t recognize each agonizing minute in the passage of time. Night was limbo in the personal hell his life had become.
It was a chore to drag himself out of bed every morning, painful to endure every endless minute. The mark of each sunset brought him one day closer to the end he longed for. Closer to the end he didn’t have the courage to seek on his own. Suicide was a sin, and if there was a sweet hereafter, he wouldn’t join Sara and Michelle there if he took his own life.
The roar of an engine pulled his attention to the dark tunnel of Northern pine where the highway wound out of sight. The front legs of his chair fell onto the porch with a thunk. He rarely saw a customer at his little gas station after six. By now most of the tourists were already in town at the expensive restaurants, sipping their second martinis.
A classic Mercedes two-seater raced around the bend and went into a drift on squealing tires.
The car fishtailed before regaining traction. Clouds of white smoke poured from the exhaust as though it had blown a head gasket. As it barreled down the highway at breakneck speed, chunks of rubber flapped at the right rear wheel. The car was out of control, but the driver wasn’t trying to stop.
Sparks flew from the rim as the last shreds of the tire disintegrated. The car careened down the embankment on the side of the highway and launched itself off the incline, headed directly for his small station.
“Jesus!” Miles leapt to his feet and dove off the porch, narrowly missing the rusted edge of a twisted bumper as he hit the ground. He scrambled to his feet and ran, still clutching his foaming beer bottle, as the car crashed into the pumps.
A dull whuff pressed on his eardrums as the pumps exploded. For the space of a heartbeat the dusky forest was as bright as high noon.
Miles hit the emergency shut-off lever at the side of the garage and the tanks sealed off, but the car was already on fire. There were no sprinklers at the historic station’s stand-alone island.
Nobody could have lived through an explosion like that. At that horrific moment, he knew there was at least one dead body at Goodwin’s Garage.
The irony hit him—there could have been two. What had made him run? He’d been longing for death for three years, aching for it more with each day that passed. Yet at the first sign of danger he’d been on his feet, preserving his sorry ass. It had been instinct as much as police training.
Dammit to hell.
Momentum had taken the car past the worst of the flames. The windshield was a shattered milky spider web, but still held.
Conditioned by police training, he ran toward the car without thinking, more concerned for the driver than for himself.
Movement shifted behind the white-green kaleidoscope of safety glass. A hand passed over the steering wheel, and Miles knew it was a woman in the car.
She’s alive—there must be a God in Heaven.
The driver’s door opened as flames burst across the hood. She staggered out and fell to her knees.
A second explosion rocked the quiet mountainside. Still running, Miles threw up his arm to block the intense heat.
His heart caught in his throat as he rounded the coupe’s door and saw she had a little girl clutched under her arm.
The woman braced herself on the ground with her other hand as she tried to get away from the burning car. He grabbed her by the forearm and hauled her to her feet. She wobbled unsteadily as he pulled her arm over his shoulder. The child scrambled past him, headed for the backside of his garage.
A conf
using mixture of past and present rocked him like a punch to the gut. She wasn’t his beloved daughter, but the sight of her blond hair tossing as she ran ahead of him sent coherence spinning away.
The woman moaned and her weight sagged on him, bringing him back to the here and now.
“Help…”
He dragged her away from the car. “Jesus, lady, what the hell? Are you trying to get killed?”
He was practically carrying her by the time they arrived at the corner of the building where the little girl waited, shielded from the scorching heat.
“Aunt Lily!” She threw her arms around her aunt’s waist.
The woman knelt and gripped the child by her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, sniffing.
“I’m so sorry.” She pulled the child close. “It’s okay, Annie. We’re going to be okay.”
“Not if you keep driving like that,” Miles growled. “You just blew up my gas station.”
The woman glanced at him. The horror in her eyes made him flinch. A trickle of blood ran down the woman’s temple and spattered her blouse.
“You’re hurt,” Annie said. Her voice trembled with the precursor to tears. She reached out and touched the woman’s face with tiny, hesitant fingertips. The gesture caused his shriveled heart to jerk.
Without removing those wide, brown eyes from his, Lily took her niece’s hand and stood. Only then did she glance past him.
“Is that your truck?”
His mouth fell open. “Lady, you need an ambulance.”
Would the phone still work, or had the destruction of his station knocked out power and phone lines? Services were finicky enough up here without being rocked by a two-megaton blast.
“He’s coming,” Annie whimpered.
Marshall's Law Page 31