Therefore, he was trying to be a good neighbor and maybe even a friend.
“I’m with you,” I whispered.
He came closer and when he spoke his voice dipped lower. “That mean you’re gonna knock on the door tellin’ me you’re makin’ pizza sometime soon?”
“My barbeque chicken pizza takes planning and preparation,” I explained. His eyes flashed and I finished, “It’d have to be this Saturday, when I have a day off.”
He got even closer. I pulled in a breath because he was now really close. His head had to tip down really far, and if I moved up on my toes, just a tiny bit, I could actually touch my lips to his.
I felt another belly whoosh.
“Works for me,” he murmured.
Oh. Wow.
“ ’Kay,” I breathed.
He stood where he was. I stood and started drowning in his eyes. He didn’t move. I didn’t either. I felt my body lean toward his a centimeter, such was his hot-guy magnetic pull, at the same time I licked my lip. His eyes dropped to my mouth but not before I saw them get even darker and more fathomless. My heart started to beat in my throat. His cell rang.
Then his eyes closed and the spell was broken as he moved a bit away growling, “Fuck.”
He pulled his cell out of his back jeans pocket, hit a button and put it to his ear as his gaze came back to mine.
“Lawson,” he said into his phone, and I moved farther away, thinking distance was a good thing. He was a good neighbor. He didn’t need to be being neighborly and have the person he was being neighborly toward throw herself at him. That would be wrong. “Yeah, right,” he continued. “I said I’ll be there, I’ll be there. I got somethin’ I gotta do. When I’m done I’m on my way. Yeah?” He paused and kept hold of my gaze. “Right. Later.”
He shut down his cell and shoved it back in his pocket.
“Work?” I asked.
“Love it most the time, hate it right about now,” he answered.
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled like I understood what he meant when I didn’t. Changing a doohickey wasn’t the height of entertainment that you didn’t want to be torn away from to do work you loved.
“Gotta get this done, Mara,” he told me.
“Okay,” I replied.
He stared at me and didn’t move. I did the same.
His grin came back and he repeated, “Gotta get this done.”
“I know,” I said. “You have to get to work.”
“Yeah and I gotta get this done.”
I blinked then said, “So, um… can I help?”
“You can help by lettin’ me get this done.”
What did he mean? I wasn’t stopping him.
“Please,” I motioned to the sink, “carry on.”
His grin became a smile. “Sweetheart, what I’m sayin’ is,” he leaned in, “you’re a distraction.”
I was?
Oh God! He was saying he didn’t need me hanging around chatting with him.
I was such a dork!
“I’ll, uh… go make dinner.”
“Good idea.”
I nodded. “And thanks, um… for, you know,” I motioned to the sink again, “helping out, especially when you’re so busy.”
“Any time.”
“Well, I hope it doesn’t happen again,” I pointed out the obvious. “But thanks anyway.”
A sound came from deep in his chest. I realized it was an immensely attractive chuckle, and he said, his voice deep and vibrating with his chuckle, “Mara.”
There were many things I wished in my life. Many. Too many to count.
But the top one at that moment in time, scratched at the top of that list in a way I knew it would stay there a good long while, was that I wished with everything that was me that my life would lead me to a new life. One where I would hear Detective Mitch Lawson say my name in his deep voice that vibrated with his laughter time and time and time again.
“I’ll just go,” I whispered and turned to leave.
“I’ll show you the valve to turn off the water another time,” he offered to my back.
“Thanks,” I said to my bedroom.
Then I was out the door.
Detective Mitch Lawson left not ten minutes later. He was carrying his toolbox. He lifted a hand in a wave as he walked through my living-room-slash-dining-room space. But he stopped at the door, his eyes leveled on mine and he said two words.
“Saturday. Pizza.”
Then all I saw was my closed door.
THE DISH
Where Authors Give You the Inside Scoop
From the desk of Roxanne St. Claire
Dear Reader,
Years ago, I picked up a romance novel about a contemporary “marriage of convenience” and I recall being quite skeptical that the idea could work in anything but a historical novel. How wrong I was! I not only enjoyed the book, but Separate Beds by LaVyrle Spencer became one of my top ten favorite books of all time. (Do yourself a favor and dig up this classic if you haven’t read it!) Since then, I’ve always wanted to put my own spin on a story about two people who are in a situation where they need to marry for reasons other than love, knowing that their faux marriage is doomed.
I finally found the perfect characters and setup for a marriage of convenience story when I returned to Barefoot Bay to write BAREFOOT BY THE SEA, my most recent release in the series set on an idyllic Gulf Coast island in Florida. I knew that sparks would fly and tears might flow when I paired Tessa Galloway, earth mother longing for a baby, with Ian Browning, a grieving widower in the witness protection program. I suspected that it would be a terrific conflict to give the woman who despises secrets a man who has to keep one in order to stay alive, with the added complication of a situation that can only be resolved with a fake, arranged marriage. However, I never dreamed just how much I would love writing that marriage of convenience! I should have known, since I adored the first one I’d ever read.
Throughout most of BAREFOOT BY THE SEA, hero Ian is forced to hide who he really is and why he’s in Barefoot Bay. And that gave me another story twist I love to explore: the build-up to the inevitable revelation of a character’s true identity and just how devastating that is for everyone (including the reader!). I had a blast being in Ian’s head when he fought off his demons and past to fall hard into Tessa’s arms and life. And I ached and grew with Tessa as the truth became crystal clear and shattered her fragile heart.
The best part, for me, was folding that marriage of convenience into a story about a woman who wants a child of her own but has to give up that hope to help, and ultimately lose, a man who needs her in order to be reunited with his own children. If she marries him, he gets what he needs… but he can’t give her the one thing she wants most. Will Tessa surrender her lifelong dream to help a man who lost his? She can if she loves him enough, right? Maybe.
Ironically, when the actual marriage of convenience finally took place on the page, that ceremony felt more real than any of the many weddings I’ve ever written. I hope readers agree. And speaking of weddings, stay tuned for more of them in Barefoot Bay when the Barefoot Brides trilogy launches next year! Nothing like an opportunity to kick off your shoes and fall in love, which is never convenient but always fun!
Happy reading!
From the desk of Kristen Ashley
Dear Reader,
As it happens when I start a book and the action plays out in my head, characters pop up out of nowhere.
See, I don’t plot, or outline. An idea will come to me and Wham! My brain just flows with it. Or a character will come to me and all the pieces of his or her puzzle start tumbling quickly into place and the story moves from there. Either way, this all plays in my mind’s eye like a movie and I sit at my keyboard doing my darnedest to get it all down as it goes along.
In my Dream Man series, I started it with Mystery Man because Hawk and Gwen came to me and I was desperate to get their story out. I’m not even sure that I expected it to be a series. I just needed t
o tell their story.
Very quickly I was introduced to Kane “Tack” Allen and Detective Mitch Lawson. When I met them through Gwen, I knew instantly—with all the hotness that was them—that they both needed their own book. So this one idea I had of Hawk and Gwen finding their happily ever after became a series.
Brock “Slim” Lucas showed up later in Mystery Man but when he did, he certainly intrigued me. Most specifically the lengths he’d go to do his job. I wondered why that fire was in his belly. And suddenly I couldn’t wait to find out.
In the meantime, my aunt Barb, who reads every one of my books when they come out, mentioned in passing she’d like to see one of my couples not struggle before they capitulated to the attraction and emotion swirling around them. Instead, she wanted to see the relationship build and grow, not the hero and heroine fighting it.
This intrigued me, too, especially when it came to Brock, who had seen a lot and done a lot in his mission as a DEA agent. I didn’t want him to have another fight on his hands, not like that. But also, I’d never done this, not in all the books I’d written.
I’m a girl who likes a challenge.
But could I weave a tale that was about a man and a woman in love, recognizing and embracing that love relatively early in the story, and then focus the story on how they learn to live with each other, deal with each other’s histories, family, and all that life throws at them on a normal basis? Would this even be interesting?
Luckily, life is interesting, sometimes in good ways, sometimes not-so-good.
Throwing Elvira and Martha into the mix, along with Tess’s hideous ex-husband and Brock’s odious ex-wife, and adding children and family, life for Brock and Tess, as well as their story, was indeed interesting (and fun) to write—when I didn’t want to wring Olivia’s neck, that is.
And I found there’s great beauty in telling a tale that isn’t about fighting attraction because of past issues or history (or the like) and besting that to find love; instead delving into what makes a man and a woman, and allowing them to let their loved one get close, at the same time learning how to depend on each other to make it through.
I should thank my aunt Barb. Because she had a great idea that led to a beautiful love story.
From the desk of Eileen Dreyer
Dear Reader,
The last thing I ever thought I would do was write a series. I thought I was brave putting together a trilogy. Well, as usual, my characters outsmarted me, and I now find myself in the middle of a nine-story series about Drake’s Rakes, my handsome gentleman spies. But I don’t wait well as a reader myself. How do I ask my own readers to wait nine books for any resolution?
I just couldn’t do it. So I’ve divided up the Rakes into three trilogies based on the heroines. The first was The Three Graces. This one I’m calling Last Chance Academy, where the heroines went to school. I introduced them all in my short e-novel It Begins With A Kiss, and continue in ONCE A RAKE with Sarah Clarke, who has to save Scotsman Colonel Ian Ferguson from gunshot, assassin, and the charges of treason.
I love Sarah. A woman with an unfortunate beginning, she is just trying to save the only home she’s ever really had from penury, an estate so small and isolated that her best friend is a six-hundred-pound pig. Enter Ian. Suddenly she’s facing off with smugglers, spies, assassins, and possible eviction. I call my Drake’s Rakes series Romantic Historical Adventure, and I think there is plenty of each in ONCE A RAKE. Let me know at www.eileendreyer.com, my Facebook page (Eileen Dreyer), or on Twitter @EileenDreyer. Now I need to get back. I have five more Rakes to threaten.
From the desk of Anne Barton
Dear Reader,
Regrets. We all have them. Incidents from our distant (or not-so-distant) pasts that we’d like to forget. Photos we’d like to burn, boyfriends we never should have dated, a night or two of partying that got slightly out of control. Ahem.
In short, there are some stories we’d rather our siblings didn’t tell in front of Grandma at Thanksgiving dinner.
Luckily for me, I grew up in the pre-Internet era. Back then, a faux pas wasn’t instantly posted or tweeted for the world to see. Instead, it was recounted in a note that was ruthlessly passed through a network of tables in the cafeteria—a highly effective means of humiliation, but not nearly as permanent as the digital equivalent, thank goodness.
Even so, I distinctly remember the sinking feeling, the dread of knowing that my deep dark secret could be exposed at any moment. If you’ve ever had a little indiscretion that you just can’t seem to outrun (and who hasn’t?), you know how it weighs on you. It can be almost paralyzing.
In ONCE SHE WAS TEMPTED, Miss Daphne Honeycote has such a secret. Actually, she has two of them—a pair of scandalous portraits. She posed for them when she was poor and in dire need of money for her sick mother. But after her mother recovers and Daphne’s circumstances improve considerably, the shocking portraits come back to haunt her, threatening to ruin her reputation, her friendships, and her family’s good name.
Much to Daphne’s horror, Benjamin Elliott, the Earl of Foxburn, possesses one of the paintings—and therefore, the power to destroy her. But he also has the means to help her discover the whereabouts of the second portrait before its unscrupulous owner can make it public. Daphne must decide whether to trust the brooding earl. But even if she does, he can’t fully protect her—it’s ultimately up to Daphne to come to terms with her scandalous past. Just as we all eventually must.
In the meantime, I suggest seating your siblings on the opposite end of the Thanksgiving table from Grandma.
Happy reading,
From the desk of Mimi Jean Pamfiloff
Dear Reader,
After living a life filled with nothing but bizarre, Emma Keane just wants normal. Husband, picket fence, vegetable garden, and a voice-free head. Normal. And Mr. Voice happens to agree. He’d like nothing more than to be free from the stubborn, spiteful, spoiled girl he’s spent the last twenty-two years listening to day and night. Unfortunately for him, however, escaping his only companion in the universe won’t be so easy. You see, there’s a damned good reason Emma is the only one who can hear him—though he’s not spilling the beans just yet—and there’s a damned bad reason he can’t leave Emma: He’s imprisoned. And to be set free, Mr. Voice is going to have to convince Emma to travel from New York City to the darkest corner of Mexico’s most dangerous jungle.
But not only will the perilous journey help Emma become the brave woman she’s destined to be, it will also be the single most trying challenge Mr. Voice has ever had to face. In his seventy thousand years, he’s never met a mortal he can’t live without. Until now. Too bad she’s going to die helping him. What’s an ancient god to do?
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Prologue: Wild Man
Chapter One: Fucking Great Actress
Chapter Two: Exit. Stairs.
Chapter Three: Kentucky
Chapter Four: Committed to His Job
Chapter Five: The Light of a Warm, Sunny Day
Chapter Six: Drawback Cancelled
Chapter Seven: Mountainous Swirls of Frosting
Chapter Eight: Wild Thing
Chapter Nine: Dinner at Brock’s
Chapter Ten: You Baked a Cake?
Chapter Eleven: Thanksgiving
Chapter Twelve: The Coolest Move Ever
Chapter Thirteen: Errol Fucking Flynn
Chapter Fourteen: You’re with Me
Chapter Fifteen: Unexpected Company
Chapter Sixteen: When Exes Attack
&nbs
p; Chapter Seventeen: The Nuggets Won
Chapter Eighteen: Somewhat Good for Now
Chapter Nineteen: A Day at Tessa’s Cakes
Chapter Twenty: I Take It I’m Movin’ In
Chapter Twenty-One: Quiet Like
Chapter Twenty-Two: Tell Slim
Epilogue: He Got His Wish
About the Author
Also by Kristen Ashley
Praise for the Dream Man Series
A Preview of Law Man
The Dish
Newsletters
Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Kristen Ashley
Excerpt from Law Man copyright © 2013 by Kristen Ashley
Cover art by DM Ashley. Cover copyright © 2012 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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