by Gem Sivad
The company worked most of the last three months on the West Coast. The situation there has reached monster fire proportions and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit, that just like Megan and Harley-Jane, I spend a lot of my time worrying. But, it’s what Marty does and I suck-it-up.
My gaze settled on the turkey whisperer across the table. He winked, nodded toward the denuded bird, and mouthed the words, I told you so.
I’d Googled recipes online to find out about the stuffing and almost opted for a separate casserole. I’d found some of those stories about poisoning guests with undercooked dressing intimidating.
Once Marty assigned himself my cooking assistant, he’d urged me to do the right thing, and fill that baby. He spends a lot of time grinning and talking to himself these days. I’m not sure he hasn’t regressed into childhood. If he has, I’m right there beside him, doing my share of head talking as well.
Last night, while we were trying to make each other go to sleep, we’d talked.
“Do you think about Kit a lot?” I’d asked him. Probably none of my business but I knew he did, and shallow me, wanted some part of him in that too.
“All the time,” he’d answered promptly. “I talk out loud to her. Shit, she seems more real to me now, than she has for the last six years.”
“Yeah?” I thought about that, understanding. Sometimes I have discussions with various members of my family, just to get feedback in a strange kind of way. Like we’re having a powwow in my head. After we’d zoned out and gotten quiet on that for a while, I switched topics.
“I feel like I’m supposed to be humble at the good fortune we’ve received,” I’d confessed, not feeling particularly humble.
“Fuck that shit, babe,” Marty had barked immediately. “Between the two of us, we’ve had enough bad luck for forty people. This is our time now and I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries to piss on our parade.”
I agreed. But I sure didn’t see it coming when I managed to finally buy back Grandpa’s house. Sometimes I stare at the old hardware in the sink and shiver. If I’d never coveted the new Kohler faucets that are currently waiting to be installed, I might not have gone to the dance-a-thon, I wouldn’t have met Marty, and … Yeah. I shiver.
My earliest vision of Thanksgiving dinner had been me, Roger, Maxine, and Megan clustered around the kitchen table having mashed potatoes and turkey together. Once the Smoke, Inc. crew got involved, the dinner became an event and grew… and grew.
I stared at the dirty plates and cutlery soiled by thirty plus people. When I’d suggested that having a meal in the basement would add extra clean-up work, since everything would have to be hauled back upstairs, Marty had offered a brilliant suggestion.
With my permission, he’d expanded the plumbing downstairs and added a kitchenette in the utility room. It was a sweet set-up I wouldn’t have thought of. I’m still waiting on my kitchen remodel upstairs, but I’m not complaining.
I looked around. My girlfriends were busy. Elaine, using the rolling cart she’d brought for the occasion, stacked dirty dishes and cutlery to be wheeled to the new dishwasher.
Janie and Megan were parceling out leftovers in take-home bags for anyone who’d accept. I’d just finished cleaning out the refrigerator upstairs, and no way did I want it glutted with aging food.
It was good to see Elaine and Jack speaking again. As soon as they’d discovered the house next door for sale, they’d gotten into a bidding war and if Marty hadn’t intervened, they would have jacked the price up sky high.
They’d bought it together and were turning the old house into a duplex, with Elaine taking the main floor and Jack remodeling and living in the basement.
Both names were on the deed, since Jack claimed Elaine couldn’t be trusted to not gamble it away, and she swore he didn’t have enough sense to manage his own affairs.
Cowboy and Teague folded up the long tables, clearing the floor for dancers, Church pushed a broom, removing the detritus from our first Thanksgiving together, and the H/K pumped out a heavy bass sound, making my shoulders sway and my hips skitter sideways on the stool where I sat.
Marty’s cell pinged, and I felt my stomach muscles tense in dread. No, not yet. This is our first… He caught my eye and shook his head in a nothing to worry about here move, and I relaxed.
But as soon as he quit talking, I willed him to me, to share. “Who was that?” I asked, as soon as he reached my side.
“Eazy. Said Gertie sends her love.”
“Ohhh, she is so sweet. What did Eazy want?” I had no doubt that more than holiday good wishes had transpired.
“Gertie’s got trouble,” Marty said.
“Wife making claims again?” I asked sympathetically. I hadn’t met Eazy’s other half, but from Marty’s description, she was a force to be reckoned with. Mackenzie Sierra, FBI. Hey, I was intimidated just by her title.
“Nope. Not Mac. It’s Gertie. Eazy blames you by the way. Remember the last time they visited?”
“Of course, I remember.” Gertie had snuffled her muzzle over my tummy, then stood in front of me, her eyes closed and her body still, as if listening to the baby inside me. Then she’d climbed into the swing and we’d leaned, communing with each other and nature.
“Apparently she favors your condition.”
He lost me. I tilted my head, puzzling over his words. “My condition? You mean pregnant?”
He nodded, his smirk beginning to show. “Eazy says she took off for a week after their visit with us. Says she spent her time away, carousing. He doesn’t know what canine or other she might have been familiar with, but the vet checked her out and Gertie’s…”
“Pregnant,” I whispered, thinking about her impeccable pedigree. “Has Eazy shared the news with his wife?”
“He’s still alive so I’d guess that would be a negative. He called to make sure we know we’re getting a pup. I said I’d ask around and help him find homes, but he says nope. He’ll interview and select his own prospective pup parents.”
“A puppy will be nice.” I pictured a baby and puppy rolling on the floor together and yawned, suddenly exhausted. I needed a nap. “There’s still too much work to do down here. I’m going up. Maybe I’ll sit in your recliner and look at my feet.”
Upstairs, I didn’t make it to the front room. Instead, I stood in front of the kitchen window, listening to the happy sound of Alesso & Anitta drifting up from the basement. Marty wandered into the room and stood behind me as I gazed outside and bounced to the music. “Full circle,” I muttered, having a flash-back to Thanksgivings here as a kid.
“What are you muttering about now?” he growled.
“Pinch me. I need to make sure this isn’t a dream,” I answered.
“How about this?” He moved, hugging me against his big frame as he wrapped his arms around me and squeezed my pregnancy enhanced boob.
“Are you awake,” he teased, nibbling on my earlobe.
His other hand rested on my no longer flat belly, stroking the baby bump I carried before me. “You okay?” His breezy question masked his underlying worry.
“Define, okay,” I answered. “I did a job for Maxine, connected with a dancing mob-boss, survived a stalker, got knocked-up…” I turned around, my belly jutting between us. “Look at what you did to me,” I playfully snarled. “My ankles are swollen, my back aches continuously, the kid in my stomach never stops kicking, and…”
Before I’d even gotten a good start on my list of complaints, Marty caught my hand and carefully spooled me out, then pulled me back into his embrace.
“Wanna dance?” A familiar, wolfish, gleam twinkled in his eyes, promising decadent fun.
I held tight to his hand and grinned up at him. “Of course.”
The End
Taboo Frequency, Smoke, Inc. Book 1
When ultimate impulse collides with maximum control…
It’s all about taking charge. Luke Danvers has his future planned to the nth degree—until he steps on an
IED in Afghanistan. Bitter, angry, and emotionally adrift, he returns to the States, ready to spend the rest of his life pissed off at the world.
Kiley Endicott has never been a poster child for moderation. Married and widowed young, she’s raising twins on her own. Since impulse has always ruled her life, it’s not easy being a sedate parent under the critically watchful eye of her family.
A Friday night moment of insanity, leads Kiley to a hook up with Luke Danvers. Even in the cab of a truck, he’s an awesome lover. She wants more. But she’s got to be circumspect, nobody can know.
Luke hasn’t had fun in—forever. But he can’t stop grinning after he meets Kiley Endicott. It’s more than her being a totally uninhibited lover, but God knows he can’t get enough of that either. She makes him laugh.
She says nobody can know. Okay, he’s trained in stealth. He sets up a call system, a taboo frequency, guaranteeing her twenty-four-hour access in every way. But he’s not just waiting for their secret meets. He’s planning a take-over.
An Excerpt:
On the trip back to Doug’s place, Luke’s uninhibited partner sat on the seat, her hands folded primly in her lap. Even though he’d aired out the cab, he still inhaled the erotic mix of sweat and sex.
Other than that, it was hard to believe that they’d both gorged on lust moments before. He couldn’t tell if she was regretting what they’d done or was too sated to talk.
He didn’t have a clue what to say, so he didn’t say anything until they’d almost reached her car.
“I’d like to see you again.” As soon as he said it, he wanted to retract the words. “But, I don’t really have time for a relationship.” The man who had nothing but time on his hands tried to make his life seem busy. “When I’m not working I’m thinking about working.”
That sounded pompous as hell and he floundered, knowing he was blowing the moment and dammit, he didn’t want to. He looked at her sideways, before pulling her closer, sliding his arm around her shoulders so her body rested against his.
Risking a quick glance from the road to look at Kiley, he took in her swollen lips and flushed cheeks. She laid her hand on his thigh, and he liked the feel of her palm there.
“I’m busy, but that doesn’t mean I’m a eunuch,” he amended.
“Noted,” she agreed, patting his leg as she gave him a speculative look. “I’d also like to do this again.” She squeezed his thigh and it didn’t surprise him when his cock stirred, already half aroused and ready for more of her.
“Maybe we can help each other,” she said looking up at him. He didn’t know what she had in mind, but he listened to find out.
“I’m a single mom. I don’t have a steady man because I don’t want one hanging around my two kids who are right now with my mom. She doesn’t babysit often and aside from Marcie, I don’t leave them with anyone else. I have a full-time life that includes a job and no time for a relationship.”
“And?” He squeezed her shoulders, urging her to make an offer he wasn’t going to refuse regardless of what it was.
“And—I have certain biological needs I’d like to satisfy with something other than plastic.” She closed her eyes, her blush denying the intimacies they’d just enjoyed at the same time her hand stroked his thigh, promising more.
“Well as to those biological needs—seems like we can find a way to get them satisfied. When you’ve got the time, I’ll find the place.” He pulled up next to her car and put the truck in park, idling in front of her sister’s house, waiting for Kiley’s answer.
When she remained mute, he decided coaxing was in order. “You do the calling,” he said, switching on his truck’s overhead light to search in the glove compartment for paper.
“I’d just as soon the whole town not know we’re carrying on,” Kiley murmured, her blush turning her pink cheeks to ruby.
“Carrying on?” After the uninhibited fucking they’d just engaged in, her old-fashioned description made him smile.
His quick rummaging turned up no paper, so before shutting off the overhead light, he held her hand and wrote his number on her palm. “If you change your mind and don’t call, it’s okay. I’ll not bother you. If you do call, I’ve marked your number a TF.”
“TF?”
“That’s military speak for taboo frequency—an open line strictly for emergencies. You call when you’re able to get free and I’ll make sure we get together.”
He let her get half out the door before he added his last addendum to their deal. “As to the plastic, you might want to bring it along for a ride or two. No sense in letting it feel neglected.” He liked a little variety in the sheets and he figured he’d let her know up front, he wasn’t all vanilla. He had a feeling neither was she.
End of excerpt
Cowboy Burn, Smoke, Inc. Book 2
Pittsburgh artist, Harley-Jane Arthur plans to sketch herself out of debt. With that in mind, she’s thrilled when she gets a commission for a kid’s party in an upscale part of the city. If all goes well, she should earn enough to pay her January utilities, put a down payment on a new roof, and buy a bottle of Red to toast New Year’s Eve—alone.
Gable Matthews, a.k.a. Cowboy, has waited patiently for years, hoping Janie will notice him. When she’s stranded during a snowstorm, rescuing her provides an opportunity to finally get her attention.
Snowbound in Gable’s apartment, they wait out the storm. But while they countdown to New Year’s Eve, more danger than a raging blizzard lurks outside.
An Excerpt:
I eased my eyelids open. Ouch. Oh God. My head. I must have moaned.
This is awkward. Stealthily I eased my hand lower, investigating my state of dress. My fingers touched silk camisole, found no bra, but squirming assured me I still wore panties.
“Something wrong?” From next to me, Gable reared up on his elbow.
“Uh. I don’t remember too much,” I admitted, staring at his chest.
“Is that right? Might have been those Moscow Mules you were throwin’ down.” He ran his finger from my arm to my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his.
“You want to ask me something?”
“What did I forget?” I closed my eyes guiltily.
“You don’t remember kickin’ Cheryl’s ass?”
My eyes flew back open. “I don’t know a Cheryl.”
“You called her Yeehaw Girl.” Gable was clearly enjoying my misery way too much.
“I fought her?” I didn’t remember that. I might have poked her shoulder. But…
“You don’t remember downin’ three more Moscow Mules after that, dancin’ until everyone left, then draggin’ me back here to bed?”
“I… I…” I gnawed on my lip, trying to remember.
“You don’t remember strippin’ down and bumpin’ uglies with me until we both passed out?”
Bumpin’ uglies? No. I most certainly did not remember that. Gable didn’t have an ugly spot on his body.
I managed to wrinkle my forehead in a frown and glare at him although the gesture hurt like hell. “None of that happened, did it?”
“Nope.” Wearing knit boxers stretched by a prodigious morning erection, he rolled out of bed and strolled to the bathroom.
I admired his backside and assured myself there was nothing significant about Gable climbing from bed wearing a hard-on.
As soon as he closed the door, I scrambled up and pulled his gray flannel shirt over my New Year’s Eve sexy underwear. I needed coffee. By the time he emerged from the bathroom, I was sipping from a mug and had regained my wits.
He tossed a bottle of aspirin my way, filled his own mug, and said, “Gotta check the furnace.”
I nodded and stared into my cup, avoiding his gaze until he did the chin thing again, lifting my head until I had no choice but to look into his eyes.
“Trust me, Harley-Jane?” he asked.
I took a moment to admire the way my full name sounded when he got serious, then nodded.
“Of course, I trust y
ou.”
Taking the cup from my fingers, he set it on the counter and moved into my space, sucking most of the oxygen from my brain as he covered my lips with his. When the kiss ended, I blinked, trying to reorient myself and find reality.
He brushed his thumb over my mouth as he growled, “Trust me on this, sweetheart. When we do, do it, and that will commence happenin’ soon, there won’t be anything ugly between us, and you sure as hell won’t be forgettin’ what we do.”
End of excerpt
A Note from the Author
Hi. I’m Gem Sivad. Nice to meet you. I live in the southern part of an enchanted kingdom where I enjoy the slow pace of life, study the world, and tell stories about incredible things. Whether my characters live in present day Pittsburgh, nineteenth century Texas, or a paranormal world of witches and shifters, my heroines are always resilient, resourceful, and smart, and my heroes are wickedly dangerous and seriously hot.
Although I have hermit tendencies, occasionally I come out of the writer’s den to meet readers at book signing events. Hope to see you there. But in case we miss each other, you can find me at the cyber locations below.
Happy reading,
Gem Sivad
FACEBOOK AUTHOR PAGE
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GEM’S WEBSITE
GemSivad.com
NEWSLETTER
GemSivad.com/Dreamcatcher
TWITTER
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More Books by Gem
Historical Westerns
Eclipse Heat series:
Quincy’s Woman
Intimate Strangers
Wolf’s Tender
Tupelo Gold
Five Card Stud
Breed True
Trouble in Disguise