The Naughty Nine
Stop in the Name of Love by Nina Bruhns
When an undercover cop must cozy up to a suspect’s pretty
neighbor, things don’t go as smoothly—or seductively—as he’d hoped when she
tells him she hates cops and wants nothing to do with him or his damn
assignment.
Red Rock Rises (The Red Rock Series, Book 1) by Taylor Lee
A fiery former undercover agent, as tough as she is beautiful ,
fiercely independent, she is the Rock. Few see the vulnerable woman beneath. No
one messes with Red Rock until she meets the handsome Police Chief.
Dirty Little Secrets by Julie Leto
Marisela's sexy ex lures her into a treacherous underworld of arms
dealers, hit men & sinister double-crosses. Has she descended into hell or
finally found kick-ass heaven? It’s the perfect setup to break her heart.
Again.
Saved by Lorhainne Eckhart
Growing up I had dreams that one day I'd fall in love, marry &
start a family. Then one night I was taken. I survived, escaped, I was saved.
Eric didn't see me as damaged. He didn't see my baby as a monster. He protected
me, kept me safe ... he saved me.
Everything He Never Wanted by Mary Leo
Billionaire, Antonio Milani, came to London to recover what is
his: a rare, signed copy of Oliver Twist. Instead, finds himself falling for
the woman he suspects is involved in an international ring of book thieves.
A Girl, A Guy and A Ghost by Patricia Mason
A sexy psychic private eye could help her find a ghost... or turn
her into one.
Deathblow by Dana Marton
Former small-town football hero turned cop, Joe Kessler never met
a linebacker, perp, or a woman he couldn't handle. Then a troubled single mom
walks into his life, & the only place this hot jock will ever see 'easy'
again is in the dictionary.
One Night to Kill (Seven Nights, Book 1) by Rita Herron
A military man must use his leave to play bodyguard to the
General’s sexy daughter!
Snowbound (The Protector Series, Book 2) by Karen Fenech
FBI Agent Mallory Burke, injured and on the run for her life, is
stranded in a snowstorm with a reclusive and secretive cop she's not sure she
can trust but is falling in love with.
BONUS Novella: Secret Identity by Jill Sanders
Carter always had a thing for his best friend Eve. He hired her to
boost his business & it’s never run more smoothly. When an opening presents
itself, he takes a chance at happiness that could end up destroying their
friendship.
SNOWBOUND: The Protectors Series
Book Two by USA Today Bestselling Author
Karen Fenech
What was that? Gage Broderick turned away from the frozen dinner he was nuking. Sounded like a knock at the door. Impossible. It was a blizzard outside, and he was in the middle of nowhere.
But the sound nagged. Ignoring the beep from the microwave signaling that his meal was done, he made his way across the rough-hewn plank floor of the cabin to the equally rough door and opened it.
A woman fell into his arms. Gage caught her against him as a cold gust of wind blew inside. Snow swirled in the air, the crystal flakes dancing then landing on the wood floor and instantly becoming puddles of water.
The woman was unconscious, wet, and so cold, goose bumps rose on Gage’s own flesh from merely touching her.
The last thing he wanted was company. He felt a surge of anger at the intrusion. He had an instant—a flash—of just leaving her where he’d found her. He went still. He closed his eyes. It was a near thing but he wasn’t that far gone. He hadn’t completely lost his humanity. Yet.
He lifted the unconscious woman into his arms and carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind him. With the door closed, the wind was gone. More than the absence of cold, the cabin was again quiet other than the sound of the clock on the mantel ticking and the groans and squeaks of the old wood as he made his way into the living room.
He placed the woman on the leather couch and checked her pulse. Slow but steady. There was blood along her hair line. He parted her thick, brown hair gently and found a long gash at one temple that looked raw, enough to hurt but not severe enough to be life threatening. He probed further, but found no other cuts. He thumbed open her eye lids. Pupils were normal. Not concussed, then. He’d clean the head wound, but that was no longer his first concern.
Her hair was tucked in the collar of her T-shirt. Oddly, she wore no coat. Her face had little more color than the white shirt. He had to get her warm.
The snow on her skin was melting and droplets of water glistened on her face and in her hair. He got a towel from the linen cupboard and gently dried her skin, then moved on, drying her hair as best he could with the cloth.
Tossing the towel aside, he made short work of one boot, dropping it onto the floor, but as he tried to remove the other, it held. He ran his fingers gently over her lower leg and felt swelling in her ankle. Broken? He needed to free her leg. He estimated that the woman had been inside with him for about three minutes. She hadn’t stirred in that time. Better that she hadn’t. The way her boot had molded to her ankle, when he forced it, it was going to hurt.
With her boots off, he saw that her white socks were soaked through. He peeled them off carefully. Her right ankle was swollen, all right. Swollen but not broken, he judged and on its way to getting one hell of a bruise. He figured she’d had enough ice on that foot, thanks to the snow. Nothing he could do for it.
Her jeans were wet. Her T-shirt soaked through. No help for it, he was going to have to remove them. By the time he’d taken off the garments, he’d broken into a sweat. Not the result of shifting her slight body weight the few times needed to remove the clothing, but from what had been revealed to him. A tight, sexy body now clad only in a lacy bra thing and matching bikini panties.
Gage rubbed a hand, that was no longer steady, down his face. Her underwear was also too wet to leave on and would have to go as well . . .
What was that? Gage Broderick turned away from the frozen dinner he was nuking. Sounded like a knock at the door. Impossible. It was a blizzard outside, and he was in the middle of nowhere.
But the sound nagged. Ignoring the beep from the microwave signaling that his meal was done, he made his way across the rough-hewn plank floor of the cabin to the equally rough door and opened it.
A woman fell into his arms. Gage caught her against him as a cold gust of wind blew inside. Snow swirled in the air, the crystal flakes dancing then landing on the wood floor and instantly becoming puddles of water.
The woman was unconscious, wet, and so cold, goose bumps rose on Gage’s own flesh from merely touching her.
The last thing he wanted was company. He felt a surge of anger at the intrusion. He had an instant—a flash—of just leaving her where he’d found her. He went still. He closed his eyes. It was a near thing but he wasn’t that far gone. He hadn’t completely lost his humanity. Yet.
He lifted the unconscious woman into his arms and carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind him. With the door closed, the wind was gone. More than the absence of cold, the cabin was again quiet other than the sound of the clock on the mantel ticking and the groans and squeaks of the old wood as he made his way into the living room.
He placed the woman on the leather couch and checked her pulse. Slow but steady. There was blood along her hair line. He parted her thick, brown hair gently and found a long gash at one temple that looked raw, enough to hurt but not severe enough to be life threatening. He probed further, but found no other cuts. He thumbed open her eye lids. Pupils were normal. Not concussed, then. He’d clean the head wound, but that was no longer his first concern.
Her hair was tucked in the collar of her T-shirt. Oddly, she wore no coat. Her face had little more color than the white shirt. He had to get her warm.
The snow on her skin was melting and droplets of water glistened on her face and in her hair. He got a towel from the linen cupboard and gently dried her skin, then moved on, drying her hair as best he could with the cloth.
Tossing the towel aside, he made short work of one boot, dropping it onto the floor, but as he tried to remove the other, it held. He ran his fingers gently over her lower leg and felt swelling in her ankle. Broken? He needed to free her leg. He estimated that the woman had been inside with him for about three minutes. She hadn’t stirred in that time. Better that she hadn’t. The way her boot had molded to her ankle, when he forced it, it was going to hurt.
With her boots off, he saw that her white socks were soaked through. He peeled them off carefully. Her right ankle was swollen, all right. Swollen but not broken, he judged and on its way to getting one hell of a bruise. He figured she’d had enough ice on that foot, thanks to the snow. Nothing he could do for it.
Her jeans were wet. Her T-shirt soaked through. No help for it, he was going to have to remove them. By the time he’d taken off the garments, he’d broken into a sweat. Not the result of shifting her slight body weight the few times needed to remove the clothing, but from what had been revealed to him. A tight, sexy body now clad only in a lacy bra thing and matching bikini panties.
Gage rubbed a hand, that was no longer steady, down his face. Her underwear was also too wet to leave on and would have to go as well . . .
Jill Sanders
Secret Identity
She
could hear talking, but every time she tried to focus, she would slip back into
the darkness. One voice stood out, however; it was constantly there. Its
richness warmed her. She felt hands on her, cold hands. They came and went,
lifting her, moving her, but she didn't respond. It was almost as if her mind
was locked in a room, unable to respond to anything.
Finally, it was quiet and she slept. Then
there was a bright light and she squinted as she raised her arms up to shield
her eyes from the light.
“Eve?” The deep voice said just above her.
“Eve?” She opened her eyes and saw a
dark haired man leaning over her. She blinked a few times, trying to get
his face into better focus. Her eyes refused to focus at first; she looked up
at him as if seeing him through a haze. Finally, he came into focus and she
noticed his chocolate eyes hovered just above hers. There was a thick covering
of stubble on his chin, and it was obvious that he hadn't shaved in a while.
She ran her eyes slowly over the nice shape of his jaw and wondered how it
would feel if she reached up and ran her fingers over it. His hair was messed
up, like he'd run his hands through it. Would it be as soft as it looked? His
shirt buttons were open and she saw dried blood spots around the neck.
She went to move, to try and wipe her eyes.
“No, sweetie,” he said in the rich voice she'd come to know. “Don't move. Your
wrist is sprained.” He held her other hand and for the first time, she noticed
a dull pain radiating from her left wrist.
Someone else spoke from across the room. He
looked up, away from her, to answer them. When he looked back down at her, he
smiled. “Mitchell and Sandi are here. Sandi's going to go find a doctor.” She
watched a tear slip down his cheek. Raising her good hand, she wiped it from
his face. The wetness on her fingertips felt warm.
“Hey there.” Another head leaned over her.
This one was blond and the man had sea green eyes. He too looked like he could
use a shave. The worry in both their eyes matched.
“I…” Her throat felt sore. She cleared it
and tried to talk again, but just as she opened her mouth this time, the doctor
walked in.
“Hi, good morning. I hear our patient is
up.”
“Yes,” the men said in unison.
“Good.” An older, gray haired man
leaned over her now. His face was wrinkled and he had kind, blue eyes. “How are
you feeling? Mrs. Taylor?”
She blinked a few times and fear crept into
her mind. “I…Where am I?” She didn't know what to say. She had so many
questions, but this one seemed to be the most important at the moment.
“You're at University Hospital in Chicago.”
Then the older man looked up, away from her. “If you don't mind, I'd like to
examine her. Maybe you can run downstairs for a cup of coffee?” She heard
people leaving the room and the click of the door being shut.
A young, blonde nurse leaned over her now.
“Here, would you like to sit up?” The bed began moving and soon she was looking
at a small, empty hospital room. She could see her feet tucked under a large
green blanket. She wiggled her toes and saw the blanket move.
“Good. I see you moving your feet.” The
nurse smiled at her.
“Can you tell me, what's the last thing you
remember?” The doctor flashed a light at her face and her head exploded. She
shut her eyes and grabbed her head with her good hand. Pain spread from her
left temple down her jaw, through her neck, and into her entire body.
“I'm sorry, dear. I know your eyes are
sensitive to the light, but I have to check your pupils. Can you open your eyes
for me?”
She shook her head slightly. The pain was
almost too much to bear.
“Okay, we can try again later. Can you tell
me how many fingers I'm holding up?” She slowly opened her eyes and looked. It
was blurry, but she could see three fingers.
“Three.”
“Good. How's your vision? Can you see the
clock on the wall there?” He pointed across the room. She could just make out a
dark circle, but wouldn't have known it was a clock. She shook her head.
“Okay, that's okay. Sometimes a bump on the
head like the one you took will play havoc with your sight. It may take a few
days until everything is back in focus.” She watched him write something down.
“Can you tell me the last thing you remember?”
She thought about it. The last thing she
remembered. Everything was blurry. She was in a hospital room in Chicago. There
was a dark haired man whose voice was familiar to her, a blond man named
Mitchell and someone named Sandi. Looking up at the doctor, she shook her head,
no.
“No? No, you can't tell me what happened?
Or no, you don't remember what happened to you?”
“I don't remember anything.” She felt the
bedspread under her fingers and gripped the cotton. She felt short of breath
and found it difficult to swallow. “I can't remember anything. Who I am. Who
those people were. Why I'm in Chicago. I can't even remember what I look like
or my name.”
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