A Needful Heart (22 page)

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Terminally addicted to romances, thanks to
finding her aunt's stash of 'Harlequin Presents' years ago during a
sleepover, Jennifer loves any and all good love stories. Most
particularly her own. She has two beautiful children and a husband
who always keeps her on her toes.

Jennifer was a Deputy Sheriff in Ohio for
nine years, until hubby moved the clan to Kentucky. When not
chasing the family around, she's at the computer reading and
writing, trying to perfect her craft. She occasionally takes breaks
to feed her animal horde, and is trying to control her
office-supply addiction, but both tasks are uphill battles.
Happily, she is unemployed right now, so it's given her a chance to
seriously jump into writing full-time. She has several projects in
the works and loves to hear from readers.

The Awakening
Society
: Book 1

Wet Dream
-
(Part of the 1NightStand Series)

Urban Moon
- anthology

Second Time
Around

Book 2 of The Awakening Society - Coming Soon!

Wet Dream

For the first time in four years, awareness
flowed through his body at the sight of a woman. Her gaze scanned
his face then drifted down his rangy body, settling on the scars on
his neck, and he waited for an expression of disgust to
materialize. God, how could he have forgotten? His heart clenched
and his breath paused in his lungs. But it didn’t happen. Instead,
her painted red mouth broadened into a full smile.

“Hello,” she said.

Cock hardening instantly, he struggled to
remember their surroundings. They were in the Castillo bar, not in
his suite. Her voice was surprisingly smoky, and he wondered if it
was that way naturally or as a result of the alcohol. Either way,
he wanted to hear more. She personified sex, and his damaged body
wanted to participate. His cheeks heated as he remembered the
dog-eared security manual lying on the floor beside his bed, open
to her ad.

How mortifying to be staring into the face of
his wet dream. Literally. The pose in the magazine was professional
in the extreme. She wore a plain black suit with a narrow skirt,
her hair rolled up in a bun. Something about the look in her eyes,
though, made him think sex.

She blinked up at him, quirking a dark brow
in question. Her expression gentled as heat washed over his cheeks.
He was relieved when the drink suddenly became fascinating to her.
“Sorry,” she whispered.

Ridiculous. Thirty-eight years old and an
attractive, intuitive woman could knock him off guard. It never
used to be that way; years ago, he did the flustering, and he had
never gone without female companionship for any length of time.
Until the accident that blew his world apart. Four years after his
return from Iraq, his confidence with the opposite sex had pretty
much tanked.

Concentrating, forcing himself to be
personable, he held his hand out. She didn’t hesitate to clasp it
strongly. Intrigued in spite of himself, heat surged up his arm
from the point of contact. “Cameron.”

The woman smiled sweetly and gave his hand an
extra shake. If she noticed the warmth, she didn’t give any
indication. “Ginger.”

A thrill went through him as she confirmed
her identity. One of the most photographed and recognizable forces
in the security world, she had officially retired from the FBI
years before. High-end corporate issues were her forte now. A
couple of years ago she had made the papers for rescuing the
four-year old daughter of a Fortune 500 CEO. He’d snipped the piece
and pored over it repeatedly during his months of recovery. When
he’d finally been released from the hospital, he’d tucked the
threadbare clipping in his underwear drawer.

“Ginger,” he asked, “mind if I sit with you a
minute?”

Interest lightened her unique hazel eyes, and
his ego thumped. Didn’t his appearance bother her? If she
was
interested, he would seriously try to work up the balls
to acknowledge it.