Synopsis
Casey Montgomery’s lifelong addiction to “bad boys” has
brought her nothing but heartache. Just as she swears off alpha males forever,
a brief, torrid encounter with one of the hottest, Harley-riding,
leather-jacketed hunks she’s ever seen leaves her reeling---and worse,
jeopardizes her carefully laid plans to meet and fall in love with a nice,
dependable nerd.
Jake Benedict has been around the block enough times to
recognize his mate when he meets her, a gorgeous werewolf with a case of latent
genes who doesn’t have a clue about her true identity. Jake is just the were to
teach Casey about her ancient heritage and coax her feral side into revealing
itself.
While Casey can’t resist the intense physical attraction she
feels for Jake, she’s determined to freeze him out emotionally. Can Jake break
through Casey’s defenses and prove to her once and for all that he’s one bad
boy who’s playing for keeps?
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Excerpt
Casey Montgomery snapped to attention, her gaze darting
toward the street, as the snarling roar of a motorcycle engine ripped through
the tranquil morning. There were two things guaranteed to make Casey sit up and
pant like a puppy. One was the deep musky scent of well-worn leather, and the
other was that sound—the sound of speed and power that had her blood sizzling
like hot oil and a wicked vision of vibrant, seductive man shimmering in her
brain. It was a conditioned response she didn’t seem to have any control over.
Casey’s
gaze latched onto the bike, and the broad, leather-jacketed back of the guy who
guided it deftly through traffic as though he and the bike were one. She ached
with the need to see him better, to learn something about him…where he’d come
from and where he was headed. To climb up behind him and hang on tight, feel
the warm wind caressing her face and whipping through her hair.
Heaving
her purse into the back of her lime-green VW convertible, Casey slid behind the
steering wheel, cranked up the engine, and squealed backwards out of her
parking spot. It was fortunate that someone was waiting to pull in behind her,
slowing the flow of traffic on the busy downtown Manhattan Beach street.
What
madness spurred her to dash in and out of traffic for the next half-mile or so
until she was directly behind the motorcycle, pursuing it down the coastal road
out of town, she would never know. But pursue it she did, as if every last
brain cell she possessed had turned to rot. For as long as Casey could
remember, she’d had a weakness for bad boys. Her affliction went beyond mere
feminine curiosity, or even a fascination with what some might call the
masculine mystique. No, what Casey suffered from was a serious case of throw-your-good-sense-out-the-window-and-jump-right-in
syndrome when it came to this particular brand of men.
The
stranger sat the bike with the confidence and poise of a man certain of his
place in the world. He had an aura around him, something indefinable, some kind
of mysterious X factor that filled Casey with a wild, reckless yearning to be
near him.
When
the road widened, she hit the gas and swung out into the left lane, drawing
abreast of him just as a red light up ahead forced them both to slow to a stop.
All she wanted was a look at his face. She willed him to turn and look at her,
and when he did her breath got all balled up in her chest. His eyes were hidden
behind mirrored sunglasses, but what she could make out below the line of his
helmet—lean cheeks and a strong, masculine jaw—Casey had to bite her lip
against a raw, almost feral surge of attraction.
The
light turned green, and he shot Casey a smile as he revved the powerful engine
and took off. She was so rattled by the brief encounter, it was all she could
do to keep the VW in her own lane as she stomped on the gas pedal and shot
forward after him.
Dear
Lord, what was happening to her? She’d suffered through enough disastrous
relationships with alpha-male types that she’d long since sworn off anyone who
could even remotely be classified as a bad boy, a maverick, a renegade. A man
whose inbred machismo blinded him to any other needs but his own. Even at her
lowest point, she’d never behaved quite this irrationally.
Releasing
her death grip on the steering wheel, one shaky hand at a time, Casey dried her
sweaty palms off on her skirt. As she did so, she spotted a place to pull off
the road in a secluded little turn-out and regroup. With her heart still
careening along like an out-of-control bobsled, she steered the tiny
convertible over into the right hand lane and off the road.
After
bringing the car to a too-sudden stop, Casey turned off the engine and flipped
down the sun visor to squint into the small rectangular mirror. Sure enough,
her cheeks flamed as bright as a blood-red sunset. What a mortifying turn of
events. Dare she hope the man hadn’t observed her chasing him down like a wild
beast?
Casey fanned her face with one hand, while taking a
surreptitious glance around. She was parked in a shady nook across the road
from a popular local beach. The lure of the ocean and the warm Southern
California sun had drawn the usual crowd out to enjoy the early summer day.
Ripples of laughter could be heard from across the way, mingled with the occasional
bark of a dog and the ever-constant roar of the surf tumbling against the
shore.
Casey’s
pulse rate had almost returned to normal when her stomach leapt at the familiar
purr of a fine-tuned Harley coming from over her left shoulder. The powerful
machine came to a halt about fifteen feet away in a rolling cloud of loose
dirt. Casey wet her lips as she watched the most gorgeous man she had ever laid
eyes on swing one denim-clad leg over the leather seat and dismount. Her mouth
fell open as he ambled toward her, pulling off his helmet to reveal a healthy
head of sable brown hair highlighted by an occasional streak of gold. The
streaks in his hair and his deeply tanned skin testified to what she already
knew—he was accustomed to spending a lot of time outdoors.
“You
all right?” he asked, casually dangling his dark blue helmet from long, lean
fingers.
He
stood not three feet from her car, hip cocked to the side, tall and solid and
so strikingly handsome Casey thought he must be a mirage.
Easy
enough to find out, she thought, opening her door and stepping out. She’d come
too far. There would be no retreat from this humiliating predicament, so she
might as well bluster her way through. She reached up with the intent of
removing his sunglasses and quickly found her wrist caught in a firm, yet
gentle grip. The sharp sound her breath made as it got stuck in her throat
echoed loud in the silence.
“I just
wanted to see your eyes,” she said, her voice nothing more than a faint puff of
air.
One dark
eyebrow rose above the thin metal rim of his shades. “Yeah? I was wondering why
you nearly ran yourself off the road back there.” He punctuated his teasing
comment with a deliciously sexy grin.
Who
cared about his eyes? That smile was enough to turn her insides to pureed
squash. That and the aroma of leather that jumped out and blind-sided her as he
moved in close. Leather and something even more feral. Whatever it was invaded
her bloodstream and set every cell in her body on fire.
He
let go of her wrist to cup the side of her face. Casey was ridiculously touched
by his
gentleness even as her desire to be as close as humanly
possible to this man raged out of control.
His
need suddenly seemed to rear up and collide with hers. Yanking her into his
arms, he
pressed close, close enough that she could see every
minuscule line and tiny freckle on his face.
Then his mouth crashed down over hers.
Vicki Crum writes both contemporary and paranormal romance.
She lives with her husband of 40 years in a small, enchanted seaside community
in Southern California. She has two grown daughters and two adorable
grandchildren, Bella and Jackson, whom she loves to distraction. Vicki loves to
talk to her readers.
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