‘Hank’ Jerry - she’s a tough talking twentieth century broad looking for a way to reclaim her writing career.
Jack ‘Gent’ Darcy -he’s a strange blend of gentleman and hood fresh out of prison with a story to tell that could get them both killed.
Forced to return to the small town she left behind because of her aunt’s health, ‘Hank’ will do her own time minding her aunt’s restaurant, then it’s back to the city to do damage control for her career. When Jack lands on her doorstep, injured and on the run from gang enforcers out for blood and hot on his tail, she makes the split second decision to offer him refuge.
As soon as the coast is clear, she has every intention of sending him on his way, but he makes her an offer she can’t refuse. Not only will he fill the open position of cook, he offers her the exclusive of a lifetime: his no holds barred story as war counselor inside national super gang, the Creds. She’ll shoot straight to the top, and he’ll bury the gang, then disappear—a win-win.
But they’ve both got something to hide, and falling for each other wasn’t part of the plan. With time running out and gang enforcers closing in, can the trust they’ve forged survive the ultimate test?
Find out in A Mighty Good Man...3 Days. 2 People. 1 Story.
CHAPTER 1 EXCERPT
Zip. Zilch. Null. Nada. Void. The empty set.
No text. No email. No electronic communiqué of any kind.
Scowling, ‘Hank’ Jerry—a woman who wore the self-made moniker the way some might armor—jammed her smartphone into the front pocket of her cargo pants and sucked a drag off her first cancer stick of the day, exhaling into the predawn behind her Aunt Henry’s restaurant. The fluorescents overhead cast a harsh glow over this particular piece of real estate in Fiddler’s Elbow, Pennsylvania—a throwback hunky mill town where dial-up was considered high tech and people still lived life one pierogie at a time.
From the shadows behind the dumpster, a man emerged and limped toward her, clutching his side, his chest heaving, clouds of his breath hanging in the April air.
“Hide me!” he gasped.
“What the hell?” Heart pounding, Hank retreated a few steps and threw her cigarette to the ground. Blood, bruises, panic—all of it oozed from this man who’d materialized like smoke. Tires squealed on pavement in the alley running the length of the restaurant and hodge-podge of neighboring buildings.
“Will you?” he ground out.
A dozen fleeting impressions swamped her brain. Muscular. Dirty. Unshaven. Murderer? Crazy? Eyes, wild and green, probing and pleading in the artificial light. In the alley, car doors slammed. Feet pounded gravel and shouts cut through the dark. Two people? More?
They locked eyes. No, said her gut. Not crazy. But maybe she was.
Rebecca E. Neely was born and raised in a small town in western Pennsylvania. Her father, an English teacher and a writer, instilled in her a love of words, and literature, especially short stories, at a young age. Her mother, a voracious reader, gave her Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild as a Christmas gift when she was nine, and Rebecca’s been hooked on reading stories of all stripes ever since.
Rebecca enjoys finding, and reading new authors via her Kindle. Live music inspires her, as do the family and friends she’s blessed to have in her life.
Rebecca holds a B.S. in Accounting from Penn State University, and worked in that field for about a decade. Since 2001, Rebecca has freelanced, writing a wide variety of copy for local magazines, and businesses all over the country. She is a PRO member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), the Western Pennsylvania Romance Writers (WPRW), and is honored to serve as a judge for several writing contests each year.
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