Well, most kids are back at school here in the States. But that doesn’t mean us adults can’t take a stay vacay and enjoy a pool or a lake or the mountains. So be sure to pick up Loving The Small-Town Hero or Loving The Small-Town Preacher’s Son in ebook or paperback. Remember they have different covers (ebook vs paperback). They are spicy and for ADULT only.
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I’ve included in this newsletter excerpts of the two books. A side note about the complete books: If you plan to read both books, I suggest reading Preacher’s Son first and then Hero. They are standalones, but there are some of Hero’s backstory in Preacher’s Son.
Loving The Small-Town Preacher’s Son two chapters:
Chapter Seven
Mary sighed. The clock on her nightstand read eleven-eleven and she still couldn’t sleep. Earlier, when she crawled into bed, she’d wanted to think of anything but Las Vegas and the phone call that morning. Dreaming of Luke had been the best foil. Lean back muscles and long runner’s legs. She wanted to pull the white T-shirt off dream-Luke and lick every dip between each muscle, to taste his straight serious lips as she encouraged the corners to lift in a smile. She wanted to see that dimple again.
The clank of the backyard gate brought her out of bed, scrambling for her robe.
Please. Please. Please. Don’t let it be anything but the wind.
Her heart began to pound faster with each hurried step down the stairway. Surely, it would be days before men from Las Vegas showed up. Every nerve itched like ants beneath her skin. The old sick feeling from eighteen months ago returned in full force.
An outside brightness glimmered through the curtains. Good. Her motion lights worked. She checked the wall near the garage door. Someone had turned off the security alarm. Or wait…had she remembered to turn it on?How could she make a mistake like that? She couldn’t remember. Likely, she’d gotten lax.
Call 911.
Then tell them what? That she received a scary misdialed call from Las Vegas and her motion lights work? Even if Jorge Lazaro, Vincent’s old boss, had sent someone, they’d already be inside, convincing her in ways she’d rather not imagine to hand over the information.
So calling the police was out.
She still needed to protect herself as she checked it out. Probably a wild animal caused the light to come on. She glanced up the stairs toward her and her mother’s bedrooms and shook her head. No time to waste. Only thing to do was to grab the metal baseball bat from behind the kitchen door and go into the backyard and see what opened the gate.
Yeah, sure.
Many horror movies started with the same premise. Stupid girl hears noise outside and goes to investigate. The only difference was she carried a baseball bat and knew how to use it. Vincent had taught her several tricks of his trade.
Who else would go? Her mom? Sending out a sixty-year-old woman made little sense when her daughter was quite capable. In times like these, she really missed having a man around. The image of dark-blue eyes filled with sadness contrasting with a sinful grin and dimple brought her to a halt.
Thinking about Luke would be better saved for another time. She needed to keep her attention on the danger and any thought of asking her neighbor for help had to be forgotten. Probably the wind pushed the gate open.
Leaving the light off in the kitchen, she eased opened the back door and stepped onto the patio with the bat raised high. One step to the side brought her into the shadows. Crickets and tree frogs chirped. Nothing moved. Even the breeze had stopped.
Then she saw him. He charged toward her from the pasture fence. She screamed and swung at the dark form.
“Mary,” a deep male voice shouted behind her.
At the same time, arms came around her and jerked the baseball bat out of her hands. Then her mother stepped into the light. Oh, my God. She’d almost knocked her mother senseless. On that thought, she spun around, stepping between her mom and whoever had taken the bat.
“Luke?”
He stood a couple of feet away, holding the bat by the wrong end.
“What are you doing out here with my mom?” she asked. He looked dangerous, glaring at her from beneath the lights.
“Lacy wouldn’t come when I called and I thought I heard her meowing at the house across the pasture,” her mom said before he could answer. “I hurried back home to see if she’d returned.” She shivered in the night air, wearing only her cotton pajamas.
Heart in her throat, Mary shook her head. “Mom, Lacy died last year. Remember?”
Her mom wrinkled her forehead and looked around.
Seeing her confusion, Mary knew her mom had experienced another episode. She exhaled and shut her eyes for a second. After taking a few deep breaths, she regained her composure and looked at Luke. He appeared to be studying the older woman closely as most people did after she had done something odd.
Mary turned to grasp her mom’s shoulders with a light touch, drawing her attention. “Please go into the bathroom and wash off your feet. I’ll be with you in a minute to check on you. Okay?”
It hurt to see the confused look in those eyes she knew so well. Would she ever get used to seeing her mom like this? A woman who’d survived a first husband dying of cancer in his twenties, and stood up against a second husband’s abuse. Later, she’d tracked down her teenage daughter to Las Vegas and apologized for not believing her. The same woman who’d cleaned restrooms and mopped floors so her daughter could have decent clothes and a place to stay.
As the screen door clacked behind the older woman, Mary held her hand out to Luke.
Chapter Eight
Luke glanced at her hand and then at the bat, handing it to her small end first. Once Mary clasped it, he thought she looked weary and unsure of what to do with it.
The shadows half hid her face. Her sadness made him wish he could pull her into his arms, to comfort her.
“Alzheimer’s or dementia?” When he was younger, he helped his dad during his church visitations with the sick and elderly, so he understood the signs and the difference.
“Alzheimer’s. Thank you.” She cleared her throat and lowered the bat to her side. The pain in her eyes clearly warned she’d rather talk about anything else. “You kept me from hurting my mom. She’s never left the house at night before.” Her bathrobe had fallen open, revealing a short cotton gown with small, hot pink flowers that reached just above her knees. Not the sexy negligee he’d always imagined she wore to bed.
The girly gown made her more real. Touchable. His cock took notice too and began to swell in appreciation.
“What are you doing out so late? In my yard?” Her questions brought him to his senses. He pulled his gaze up to her heavy-lidded eyes.
She glanced away and tugged her robe closed.
Did she think he was a pervert hanging around her house, peeking into the windows? Of course. Why should she be any different? Though it went against the grain to explain, he wanted her to think better of him than the rest of Sand City.
“When I can’t sleep, I sit on the fence behind the house and stare at the stars.” He refused to admit to staring at her house and wondering about her bedroom.
They were alone. For the first time since they’d met, no one to watch their every move.
She appeared relaxed compared to yesterday. He stepped closer. A barely there grin softened her face. The light fragrance of honeysuckle mixed with a fresh breeze engulfed his senses as she drew nearer. He touched her arm. The robe prevented him from feeling her silky skin. He lifted his other hand and touched her cheek. Yeah. Silky, and oh so soft.
He shifted from one foot to the other, bringing her within reach. Their bodies brushed against each other. She whimpered, in need, not in protest or disgust. A tilt of his head brought his lips down within a breath of hers. Her body swayed into his. He kissed her, his touch light to assure her all was okay.
She tasted of mint toothpaste and heaven and he wanted more.
He pressed his mouth harder to hers, and her lips parted. Heat tightened his skin and filled his cock as his tongue slid along hers. Desire to taste more of her increased with each thrust of her tongue meeting his.
A vibrating clank exploded behind Luke. They jumped apart. The metal bat rolled off the patio.
“Oh. I forgot I was holding it.” Her breathless voice brought a grin to his face.
His kiss had made her forget herself. He liked that. A sophisticated woman like her lost in a kiss with him. Go figure.
He wanted to kiss her again. Maybe another time.
“You better go inside and check on your ma,” he said gruffly, fisting his hands to resist grabbing her again.
She licked her upper lip. Was she tasting his kiss? Just the thought made him harder.
“You need something better than a bat to protect you,” he said as she stooped to pick it up.
Dark round eyes peered up at him. “What? A gun?”
“Yeah.” He held out his hand, but she stood without his help.
“Instead of someone taking a bat out of my hands, it would be a gun? Or I could possibly shoot my mom instead of knocking her on the side of the head.” She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind for sure.
“I believe you have enough sense to double-check before shooting.”
“Maybe so. Doesn’t matter. I’ll use whatever I feel comfortable with.”
“So you played baseball?” He couldn’t resist teasing her. Any chance of being alone with her again, teaching her to shoot a gun, tempted him at every turn.
“Softball. You don’t have to have a license for that.” Her half grin almost pushed him to take a kiss from her once more.
“I’ll bring one of mine over for you tomorrow and show you how to shoot it.” He knew of a secluded area in the large pasture near a creek perfect for shooting practice.
“You have guns?” She hugged the bat to her chest.
He’d never been so jealous of an inanimate object in his life.
“I live in the South, don’t I?” His drawl stretched the last two words.
“But I thought . . .” She obviously didn’t want to finish the sentence. Her deep breath parted the robe enough for him to see the four small buttons down the front. He hadn’t noticed them earlier, only one was undone.
“Humph.” For some reason, he wanted to be the one to show her how to shoot, and the hell with the consequences. “You want to know, why do I have guns while on parole? Let’s say they don’t always check, and they’re in my dad’s name. And like I said, I live in the South.”
“Thanks. I’m not sure I’ll feel any safer, but, okay, I’ll take you up on your offer.” On hearing the doubt in her voice, he felt guilty about taking advantage of her fear as an excuse to be around her.
When she turned to go back to the house, he asked, “Why do you feel you need protection? As long as you stay away from the mill on the other end of town, you don’t have to worry. People still leave their doors unlocked around here at night and when they go to the store.”
A flicker of fear shone in those beautiful eyes as she looked at him.
“Why? Don’t you know? It’s the South and every God-fearing woman needs to become a proficient shooter. You know to keep varmints out of the backyard,” she said in an overdone southern accent.
“Varmints? Right.” He stood next to the back door. “I’ll wait until you’re inside before leaving.”
Chuckling, he waited until she closed the door, and he heard a bolt click before heading back to his house. Though she pretended to joke, he’d heard the seriousness in her tone about needing protection. She must know she had nothing to fear from him. Someone had placed a deep-seated fear in her eyes, and he wanted to find out why and then he could take care of whoever it was scaring her.
At least her lie had eased his hard-on.
Loving The Small-Town Hero two chapters:
Chapter Four
Maybe J.T. had it right.
Molly shifted in the driver’s seat and glanced into the back. Maybe she was stupid when it came to her brother. Her dad had made her promise to keep an eye on Devlin now that he was out of jail on bond. Lord knows, her brother didn’t have the sense of a billy goat. The boy would drink mouthwash to get drunk if she didn’t watch him. No one had to worry he would jump bail. He was too falling-down drunk most of the time. For the last week, he’d done nothing but drink booze and howl at the moon.
When she heard snoring coming from the studio sleeper, she relaxed. Finally, he was asleep. As soon as the sigh escaped her lips, someone knocked on the door and she scrambled to stop the offender.
She stepped out on the metal step into the late-afternoon sunshine. Her heart stopped. Sheriff J.T. Rogan stood in the alley behind Bill’s Diner looking up at her with his white cowboy hat shading his eyes. She shook her head in an attempt to clear her lust-filled thoughts. No man should look so good in a uniform.
“Is Devlin in there?” he asked.
“Yeah, he’s sleeping. He somehow found a bottle of Jim Beam and downed it before lunch.” She remained on the top step, hoping her brother hadn’t stolen the whiskey.
“I’ll need to see for myself. He didn’t check in today.” J.T. placed a foot on the bottom step.
“What if I say no?” Some deep urge to irritate the sheriff kept bubbling to the top whenever he was around. Surely she’d gotten over her resentment of how boys treated her growing up, even the one in front of her, though he was no longer a boy. Pure hard-core man.
“Then I’ll have to take you in for obstructing justice, and aiding and abetting.” He wrapped his hand around the grab handle and took the top step, crowding her. Heat radiated wherever his body touched hers. She looked up and could finally see his eyes. The anger shooting out of their depths chilled her to the bone. “If you’re covering for your brother—”
“Yes.” The next second, she amended, “No! I mean, you can come in. He’s asleep and I didn’t want you to wake him. Please just peek inside but don’t wake him.” She moved out of the way and jumped to the ground.
The sheriff ducked inside after taking off his hat and kneeled on the driver-side seat, leaving the door open, and then leaned over to look into the back. He stared for a few moments and turned his head, checking the rest of the studio sleeper before stepping out, closing the door softly behind him.
“Okay. Be sure to tell your brother not to miss another check in. He needs to lay off alcohol.” J.T. put his hat back on and headed toward his marked SUV. “And tell him he needs to stay at his dad’s place. He’s too close to the Sandbox and some of the regulars would like nothing better than to catch him in an alley.”
If Molly didn’t know better, she swore he acted as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Was he afraid she’d attack him?
She sat down on the bottom step, and once again watched as he drove away. Why was she constantly seeing the tail end of his SUV? What was it about the man that made her heart flutter after twelve years?
Make that seventeen years. She’d been eleven when he spoke to her for the first time. He’d been her white knight, taking up for the gangly girl being made fun of by a bunch of kids at the park.
Four years older, he looked like an action hero with long, black hair, sunglasses, and no helmet as he rode a dirt bike between the picnic tables.
She was one of those girls who started filling out early and her mom had recently bought her a bra. The boys teased her about the undergarment outline beneath her T-shirt and kept snapping her back strap. Almost in tears, she’d blindly swung at the troublemakers. At the same moment, J.T. sprayed gravel on the boys, and then jumped off the bike, hollering threats as they ran away.
When he took off his sunglasses, hooking them in the neckline of his T-shirt, he sauntered over to her. She still remembered what he’d said.
“You okay, kid?”
She nodded.
He touched her cheek. “Don’t cry. Those bastards will regret the day they hassled you.” His grin faded when her tears continued. “Wait and see, you’ll grow into those long legs and they’ll come sniffing. Be sure to make them beg to touch your feet.”
She hadn’t understood what he meant, but she liked his sweet tone. No one talked so sweet to her.
He’d used the corner of his T-shirt to clean the wet streaks off her face. She’d giggled as he chucked her chin before cranking up his dirt bike.
“Thank you,” she shouted over the whining bike noise, her voice cracking.
“It was nothing.” Then a plume of smoke was all she could see of him. Like magic, he was gone and she knew her life wouldn’t be the same.
It hadn’t been nothing to her. Her crush had grown and grown as she matured and filled out. The problem was, the only guy she wanted to kiss her feet, or any part of her body for that matter, wouldn’t give her the time of day.
Chapter Five
J.T. shifted in his seat. Eddie had been right. From what he’d seen three days earlier, the huge RV-like sleeper could easily hold four. Hell, she could hold an orgy in that monster. Not only bunk beds—double-sized on bottom and twin-sized on top—it had a small sink, mini fridge, and stove with a flat-screen TV in one corner above a short counter and what looked like a shower near the back. J.T. shifted again as he watched the semi parked behind Bill’s Diner. He wished Molly had followed his instructions and sent her brother home. This morning, his office had received a call about a disturbance behind the diner. Most likely one of Sand City’s citizens had decided to take justice in their own hands and punished Devlin.
On driving up, he didn’t see anything to be concerned about. So he sat and waited. The sun high overhead had him rolling down the driver-side window. As the minutes passed, nothing but his imagination occupied his time, conjuring up who Molly invited into her spacious sleeper and what they did. With her pretty girl-next-door looks and long legs, he imagined she rarely got lonely. He bet when she unbraided her hair, the mass of golden brown reached beyond the small of her back.
Well, he better check on her. Just to make sure she was okay. He unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed his hat. When he looked at her truck one more time, he shook his head. Who was he kidding? He wanted an excuse to see her again.
He opened his SUV’s door at the same time a scream exploded from inside her truck. Pulling his gun from its holster as he tossed his hat on the front seat, he ran and jerked open the cab door. He slipped between the steering wheel and driver’s seat, aiming his gun at the culprit.
Wide chocolate-brown eyes stared at him from a pale face. She stood near the bunks in a black bra and thong. Yep, her hair reached the small of her back. Every drop of saliva left his mouth.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Was she pulling one of her stunts on him again? He swallowed. “I heard a scream…”
As she opened her mouth to explain, a gray mouse darted from under the bunks and ran toward the cab. Molly screamed again.
“You’re afraid of a tiny mouse?” J.T. locked the safety on his gun and holstered it as he began laughing.
“I hate the filthy creatures.”
She shivered and then looked down at herself. Her face reddened as she turned her back to him. He liked that view too.
“Oh, crap!” With a quick jerk she pulled a blanket off the bunk and then wrapped it around her shoulders. “Quit staring! Get out!” Facing him again, she pointed toward the door.
“I just can’t believe Ms. Molly Hicks, who shoots sheriffs without flinching, is frightened of a small rodent.” He crossed his arms, smiling. The blanket teased him to examine again. One long thigh peeked between the cloth, daring him to touch and see if her skin felt as soft as it looked.
As she opened her mouth to make one of her usual smart-aleck comments, the mouse ran across the floor and over her foot. She screamed once again and jumped into his arms, dropping the blanket.
He held her tightly as her arms clasped his neck for dear life. Unable to control himself, he laughed so hard tears came into his eyes.
She began beating his chest. “How dare you laugh at me? It’s not funny! They carry diseases.” Her face turned a brighter shade of red but J.T. wasn’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, but you have to admit this is so unlike you. I never thought…” He chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bottom bed and gazed at her. She felt good in his lap. With one hand he caught both of hers. They continued to stare at each other, nearly nose-to-nose. He recognized what was happening between them and she probably did too.
The satiny skin beneath his hands registered. Nothing felt better than a curvy, velvety soft woman in his arms. With each wiggle of her behind, his body demonstrated how much he appreciated her movements.
“Be still,” he whispered with a groan.
“No,” she whispered. Her eyelids dipped and then she kissed him.
She tasted of peppermint, so sweet he wanted more. He released her hands. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Grabbing a handful of her silky hair, he kissed back, his tongue exploring and wanting more. The woman knew how to kiss.
In an effort to regain his breath, he dropped his mouth to kiss the tender spot behind her ear before returning to her mouth. He nipped at her full lower lip and sucked the tender flesh into his mouth.
His hand covered one plump breast, and he liked how there was more to spare. With a jerk of the lace, he exposed one breast, giving his mouth access to a brown nipple. He tongued and drew on the hard nub as she moaned. Lowering the other side of her bra, he took a second to admire the sight of her hard nipples, perfect and more than handfuls. Leaning down he sucked hard on the newly exposed breast as he pinched her wet nipple and she arched into his mouth. Yeah, he liked her in his arms.
When he felt her hands fumble with the buckle of his duty belt, he inhaled, steeling himself for what was about to come. He pressed a kiss to each breast and released his grip of her hair, feeling ashamed of his earlier roughness, then grasped her hands before she could unhook and unzip his pants.
“Molly,” he demanded. She struggled against his hold, pulling her hands away and resumed her task. “Stop! We can’t do this,” he said a little sharper than he intended. He grabbed her wrists.
She shuddered and looked up with haunted eyes. What was wrong with her? Her actions were of a desperate woman. She was pretty enough to catch any person’s attention, and with her luscious body she could easily keep their interest. Did she act like this with everyone she wanted?
“Why not? We’re single and over twenty-one.” Tears began to well up in her eyes.
Damn. The last thing he needed was her crying again. And to have stoic Molly emotional was more than he could handle. He was never good at comforting women. He preferred her mad.
“First, I’m on duty and, second, I’m not going down that road with you again.” He gently placed her on the bunk and stood, tucking his shirt back into his pants, and then buckled his belt. Swiping nonexistent dust from his pants, trying to give her some time to straighten her bra and cover herself with the blanket, he did his best not to look. Again. Plus he needed time to get his body under control, some of the hardness to diminish.
When he felt it was safe, he glanced at her. Her face was pale but no tears marred her cheeks. Instead of a blanket, she’d pulled on a robe and was covered from neck to pink toenails in the material he knew was called chenille.
Forcing his eyes from the lovely sight, he stepped out of the studio into the cab and reached for the door handle.
“By the way, where’s your brother? The locator said he was in your truck.” He was late checking in per his schedule.
“He’s at the diner, waiting for me to meet him. He’s allowed to go there by himself. You might check the GPS location again. It’s probably showing he’s ten feet from my truck. I am parked behind the building.”
He needed to kiss that smirk off her face. Damn it. He gritted his teeth and nodded.
Yeah, her brother could go to prearranged appointments and even to the grocery store and diner, but he’d rather Devlin was out of downtown. It would be safer for all concerned until the trial.
After glancing around for the last time, he said, “I suggest you get someone to trap the mouse. It wouldn’t help your brother any if you got arrested for disturbing the peace, especially if you climb over your next rescuer wearing only bra and panties.”
She squealed, this time not from fright but anger.
Just as he started to close the door a red stiletto shoe flew by his head and landed on the pavement. He laughed. No sooner than he slammed the door closed, he saw the shoe’s mate hit the window.
Hope you enjoyed the excerpts and will buy the books. And remember to tell your friends to buy them too and join my newsletter. Here are the links.
Loving The Small-Town Preacher’s Son
Loving The Small-Town Hero
Carla’s Newsletter
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