She’s leery of overprotective men—he’s sworn to protect and serve.
When Katie Sheridan’s best friend is blackmailed over an affair with a yoga instructor, Katie stuffs herself into workout togs to help identify suspects. Instead of getting fit, she learns yoga can be a killer when the instructor winds up dead. Worse, Katie is a suspect, and finds herself tangling with the sexy, commanding cop investigating the case.
Detective Dirk Johnson knows getting involved with a material witness—especially one as reckless as Katie—means trouble, but his heart and protective instincts aren’t logical. More than once, she rescues herself just before he arrives to save the day. Dirk’s not sure he can keep up with her, but he’ll go down trying.
Blackmail, murder, and adultery teach Katie and Dirk that love obeys its own laws. With passion as the final reward, they find fighting temptation is highly overrated.
I watched him inhale, like he held in a rant. Shame on me, but pissing off the man held a certain appeal.
He inhaled through his nose, his gaze lifted for divine inspiration, or perhaps patience. “Break-ins are common these days, so maybe you should use the lock.”
“How do you know I don't?”
“The lock didn't tumble before you opened your door.”
“Oh.” It's hard to be sarcastic to a guy whose job is to “protect and serve.” Speaking of serve, those lips could offer… no, I wouldn’t go there.
“So, Detective Johnson, what does bring you by?”
“I have a few more questions. Mind if I come in?”
My brain stopped at the word come. Silly, but have I mentioned it's been awhile since I’ve dated?
He grabbed my arm. “Ms. Sheridan? Katie?”
The sizzle of his touch jolted me back to life. “Um, sure. Sorry, I haven't cleaned yet today.” Or last week, but who's keeping count? And why apologize?
I closed the woman's magazine I'd left open to an article on Giving Good Head and shoved it under a pile of papers, hoping Detective Johnson hadn't noticed my reading preference. His smirk suggested he probably had.
My attention shifted into hostess mode. I might be a slut wanna-be, but my Mama raised me right.
“Something to drink? I have iced tea, bottled water, Pepsi.” I stopped before adding “wine and beer.”
The smirk disappeared and his jaw tightened. “All I want are answers.”
The Wild Rose Press – http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=137&products_id=5360
About the Author
Ashantay Peters loves escaping into a well-written book. Her reading addiction also has her perusing magazines, newspapers, Internet articles and even food labels. The last is often feebly excused as an attempt to maintain health, but her friends know the truth.
She lives in the mountains of western North Carolina, a happy transplant from the much colder (and flatter) Midwest. She loves to hear from readers! Contact her via on the links below and she’ll get back with you as soon as she comes in from gardening or takes a break from writing her next book, Dickens of a Death.
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