Police officer Vaden Holbrook and widow Olivia Connor’s chemistry is off-the-charts hot, but incredible sex isn’t enough for Olivia. She wants it all. Will Vaden’s inability to commit push her into the arms of another man? Or can he overcome his past to become the man Olivia needs, the man he’d like to be?
Her mind wasn’t on the road. Or her driving. As usual, it was a million miles away, so when she took the wrong turn, it didn’t register. She followed the road a few miles before she carelessly ran a red light. A faint, Oh shit, I hope there wasn’t a cop hiding behind a bush, flashed through her mind. She made a quick left just in case, then gave her SUV some gas down the old country road.
It was late and it was dark. Hers was the only car on the rutted asphalt road. Her headlights blazed the way until she dunked into a pothole, the depth causing her to bounce and hit her head on the roof. As if to let the pothole know how she felt about that, she glanced angrily in her review mirror. That’s when she saw the headlights of another vehicle rapidly closing in on her.
She bit her bottom lip. Her nerves flared and her belly buzzed. When red and blue lights lit up behind her, her apprehension spiked.
The cop car pulled right up on her, lights blazing. She knew what to do. She looked right, making sure the shoulder was wide enough and not littered with the gaping holes left by the recent rain. She slowed, pulled over and came to a stop, then let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
In her side mirror, she watched the cop get out of his car and say something into his mic before he started toward her window; his tall broad form was silhouetted ominously against his headlights. As the strobes flickered over him, she could tell by his strut he was cocky. But then, most cops were. Nervously, she sat back, folded her hands in her lap and waited.
Anxiously, she bit her bottom lip and hit the window button just long enough for the window to come down a crack.
He stopped at the side of her car. All she could see was his duty belt and his narrow waist that flared into a wide chest. He tapped on the glass with the end of his flashlight.
“Open the window, ma’am,” he commanded.
Despite the nervous flutter in her belly, her immediate reaction to authority was to open the window more. Even if it weren’t, she’d open wider.
Tension sizzled along her nerve endings when he ducked down and they met face to face. Her instinct was to shy away from the dark green eyes shining brightly in the night. Instead, she swallowed hard as her gaze dropped to full firm lips before bouncing back up to the blistering gaze.
He wasn’t classically handsome. He had one of those etched character-filled faces. His angles were blunt, nothing refined about him, but they complemented his olive coloring and close-cropped jet-black hair. There was nothing soft or apologetic about this man. It was his eyes and those bad boy lips that transformed him from average to sinful.
Her nipples beaded when his gaze dropped below her chin. Her chest rose and fell in shallow puffs. Her shirt was classic Anne Klein office wear. Although her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and the buttons didn’t quite make it to her neck, the way she was sitting made the shirt gape open, exposing her cleavage supported by a lacy demi-bra.
He looked back up at her face. Heat flickered behind his hooded lids. An insolent half smile quirked the right side of his mouth before he backed up. She huffed, sinking deeper into the leather seat. It wasn’t like she had intentionally given him a peek. She wasn’t like that. She bet half the women he pulled over took one look at him and did more than show a little skin. He was all smoldering sexy. His subtle snub pissed her off.
A woman scorned, regardless of the circumstances, was nothing to mess with. Frustrated by his assumption, she stiffened and stuck her head out of the window. “Why did you stop me?” she demanded.
He cocked a dark brow at her tone. “You ran the light back there. License and registration, please.” He held out a big hand. Thick fingers with smooth blunted ends, neat square fingernails. A working man’s hand. A single working man’s. No wedding ring.
His other hand rested casually on the butt of his gun.
“What are you going to do? Shoot me if I don’t do what you say?”
His lips quirked. “I’ll use whatever force is necessary.”
Shivers hopped along her spine. She wasn’t sure if she were afraid or intrigued. Either way, she didn’t resist. She took her driver’s license out of her wallet and slapped it into his waiting hand. His big fingers wrapped around hers before she could pull away. His touch was electric. A shock wave went straight to her nipples and banked south to the juncture at her thighs. She tried hard to remain impassive. She tugged her hand out of his grasp, then dug into the glove box for the registration. This time, caution prevailed; she sat back and handed it to him, keeping all but her fingertips inside the car.
He took it and looked at her license. “I’ll be right back, Ms. Olivia Connor. Don’t go anywhere.” There was a hint of amusement lacing his deep baritone.
Did he just laugh at her as he walked away? She stuck her head out the window, to tell him to go to hell, but he had already reached his cruiser. She sat back, her temper flaring. “Damn cops think they’re God’s gift.”
In her rearview mirror, she watched him watch her through his front windshield as he called in her info. After what seemed interminably long, he strode back to her door. He reached inside the car, released the door lock, quickly pulling the door open before she realized what he was doing.
“Step out of the car, ma’am,” he said thickly.
“Why? You can’t arrest me for blowing a red light!”
“Step out of the car, ma’am.”
Her pride screamed “no.” Her reason told her to just do as he said so she didn’t invite any more trouble than she already had. Ultimately, Olivia was good at following instructions.
She stuck her left foot out of the car, her four-inch heel digging into the soil of the shoulder. When she stood, she nearly snapped her ankle. The bad cop reached out to steady her. His long fingers wrapped possessively around her bicep. Her skin flared beneath his chaste touch. When her second heel stuck in the ground, she jerked away from him and had he not grabbed her with both hands, she would have tumbled backwards into the mud. The velocity of his actions brought her chest to chest with him.
The contact was electrifying.
I went a little mad this week and put two books free on Kindle for two days: Jan. 19 and 20
If you’re not familiar with the books, DRAGON BLUES is a gritty paranormal suspense with a hot romance. YOU’VE GOT MURDER is wickedly humorous mystery told in emails, IMs, texts and even a chat room. Already a LOT of books have been downloaded. Because YOU’VE GOT MURDER is so different from the books Karin and I usually write, it hasn’t gotten the love we think it deserves. I hope this brings it to the attention of a lot of readers. And of course I want people to read about my soulful dragon-man (as one reviewer called him).
I sent Mixing It Up to a beta reader and will undoubtedly have to make more changes. 
sending...
