Red Handed (33 page)

An Excerpt from

Ribbon Ridge Book One

by Darcy Burke

From a
USA Today
bestselling author comes the first installment in a sexy and emotional family saga about seven siblings who reunite in a small Oregon town to fulfill their brother's dying wish . . .

 

S
ara Archer took a deep breath and dialed her assistant and close friend, Craig Walker. He was going to laugh his butt off when she told him why she was calling, which almost made her hang up, but she forced herself to go through with it.

“Sara! Your call can only mean one thing: you're totally doing it.”

She envisioned his blue eyes alight with laughter, his dimples creasing, and rolled her eyes. “I guess so.”

He whooped into the phone, causing Sara to pull it back from her ear. “Awesome! You won't regret it. It's been waaaaay too long since you got out there. What, four years?”

“You're exaggerating.” More like three. She hadn't been out with a guy since Jude. Easy, breezy, coffee barista Jude. He'd been a welcome breath of fresh air after her cheating college boyfriend. Come to think of it, she'd taken three years to get back in the game then too.

“Am I? I've known you for almost three years, and you've never had even a casual date in all that time.”

Because after she and Jude had ended their fling, she'd decided to focus on her business, and she'd hired Craig a ­couple of months later. “Enough with the history lesson. Let's talk about tonight before I lose my nerve.”

“Got it. I'm really proud of you for doing this. You need a social life beyond our rom-­com movie nights.”

Sara suspected he was pushing her to go out because he'd started dating someone. They seemed serious even though it had been only a ­couple of weeks, and when you fell in love, you wanted the whole world to fall in love too. Not that Sara planned on doing that again—­if she could even count her college boyfriend as falling in love. She really didn't know anymore.

“I was thinking I might go line dancing.” She glanced through her clothing, pondering what to wear.

“Line dancing?” Craig's tone made it sound as if he were asking whether she was going to the garbage dump. He wouldn't have been caught dead in a country-­western bar. “If you want to get your groove on, Taylor and I will come get you and take you downtown. Much better scene.”

No, the nearby suburban country-­western bar would suit her needs just fine. She wouldn't be comfortable at a chic Portland club—­totally out of her league. “I'll stick with Sidewinders, thanks.”

“We wouldn't take you to a gay bar,” Craig said with a touch of exasperation that made her smile.

“I know. I just don't want company. You'd try to set me up with every guy in the place.”

“I'm not that bad! Taylor keeps me in line.”

Yeah, she'd noticed. She'd been out with them once and was surprised at the difference in Craig. He was still his energetic self, but it was like everything he had was focused on his new boyfriend. She supposed that was natural when a relationship was shiny and new. “Well, I'm good going by myself. I'm just going to dance a little, maybe sip a lemon drop, see what happens.”

Craig made a noise of disgust. “Don't ass out, Sara. You need to get laid.”

An Excerpt from

A Billionaires and Bikers Novella

by Cynthia Sax

Belinda “Bee” Carter is a good girl; at least, that's what she tells herself. And a good girl deserves a nice guy—­just like the gorgeous and moody billionaire Nicolas Rainer. Or so she thinks, until she takes a look through her telescope and sees a naked, tattooed man on the balcony across the courtyard. He has been watching her, and that makes him all the more enticing. But when a mysterious and anonymous text message dares her to do something bad, she must decide if she is really the good girl she has always claimed to be, or if she's willing to risk everything for her secret fantasy of being watched.

An Avon Red Impulse Novella

 

I
'd told Cyndi I'd never use it, that it was an instrument purchased by perverts to spy on their neighbors. She'd laughed and called me a prude, not knowing that I was one of those perverts, that I secretly yearned to watch and be watched, to care and be cared for.

If I'm cautious, and I'm always cautious, she'll never realize I used her telescope this morning. I swing the tube toward the bench and adjust the knob, bringing the mysterious object into focus.

It's a phone. Nicolas's phone. I bounce on the balls of my feet. This is a sign, another declaration from fate that we belong together. I'll return Nicolas's much-­needed device to him. As a thank you, he'll invite me to dinner. We'll talk. He'll realize how perfect I am for him, fall in love with me, marry me.

Cyndi will find a fiancé also—­everyone loves her—­and we'll have a double wedding, as sisters of the heart often do. It'll be the first wedding my family has had in generations.

Everyone will watch us as we walk down the aisle. I'll wear a strapless white Vera Wang mermaid gown with organza and lace details, crystal and pearl embroidery accents, the bodice fitted, and the skirt hemmed for my shorter height. My hair will be swept up. My shoes—­

Voices murmur outside the condo's door, the sound piercing my delightful daydream. I swing the telescope upward, not wanting to be caught using it. The snippets of conversation drift away.

I don't relax. If the telescope isn't positioned in the same way as it was last night, Cyndi will realize I've been using it. She'll tease me about being a fellow pervert, sharing the story, embellished for dramatic effect, with her stern, serious dad—­or, worse, with Angel, that snobby friend of hers.

I'll die. It'll be worse than being the butt of jokes in high school because that ridicule was about my clothes and this will center on the part of my soul I've always kept hidden. It'll also be the truth, and I won't be able to deny it. I am a pervert.

I have to return the telescope to its original position. This is the only acceptable solution. I tap the metal tube.

Last night, my man-­crazy roommate was giggling over the new guy in three-­eleven north. The previous occupant was a gray-­haired, bowtie-­wearing tax auditor, his luxurious accommodations supplied by Nicolas. The most exciting thing he ever did was drink his tea on the balcony.

According to Cyndi, the new occupant is a delicious piece of man candy—­tattooed, buff, and head-­to-­toe lickable. He was completing armcurls outside, and she enthusiastically counted his reps, oohing and aahing over his bulging biceps, calling to me to take a look.

I resisted that temptation, focusing on making macaroni and cheese for the two of us, the recipe snagged from the diner my mom works in. After we scarfed down dinner, Cyndi licking her plate clean, she left for the club and hasn't returned.

Three-­eleven north is the mirror condo to ours. I straighten the telescope. That position looks about right, but then, the imitation UGGs I bought in my second year of college looked about right also. The first time I wore the boots in the rain, the sheepskin fell apart, leaving me barefoot in Economics 201.

Unwilling to risk Cyndi's friendship on “about right,” I gaze through the eyepiece. The view consists of rippling golden planes, almost like . . .

Tanned skin pulled over defined abs.

I blink. It can't be. I take another look. A perfect pearl of perspiration clings to a puckered scar. The drop elongates more and more, stretching, snapping. It trickles downward, navigating the swells and valleys of a man's honed torso.

No. I straighten. This is wrong. I shouldn't watch our sexy neighbor as he stands on his balcony. If anyone catches me . . .

Parts 1 – 8 available now!

An Excerpt from

A Save the Date Novel

by Dixie Lee Brown

Dixie Lee Brown concludes her thrilling
Trust No One
series with the fast-­paced tale of a damaged hero and the sexy fugitive he can't help falling for.

 

S
he pursed her lips and studied him. “That's deep, Brady.” A crooked grin gradually appeared, erasing the worry wrinkles from her forehead. Then, without any encouragement from him, Mac took a step closer and leaned into his chest, sliding her arms around his waist.

He hesitated only a second before wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close. A groan escaped him.

She shifted her head to glance up. “Do you mind?”

A soft chuckle vibrated through him. “Sugar, I'll hold you anytime, anywhere.”

Mac snuggled closer, and he tipped her head with his fingers, slowly covering her mouth with his, giving her plenty of time to change her mind. When she didn't, he drank of her sweetness like a man dying of thirst. Again and again he kissed her, his tongue pushing into her mouth, swirling and dancing with hers. He couldn't get enough of her full, soft lips, her sweet taste, and the bold way she pressed against him.

Brady couldn't say which of the day's events was responsible for her change in temperature where he was concerned, but it wasn't important. They were taking steps in the right direction, and he wasn't going to do anything to screw that up. He wanted her warm and willing in his hands, but he also wanted her there for the right reasons. The decision was hers to make.

When he lifted his head, there were tears on her eyelashes, but her smile made his heart grab an extra beat. He let his fingers trail across the satin skin of her cheek as he kissed her neck tenderly and breathed in her sweet scent.

“God, you smell good.” He kissed each of her closed eyes, then leaned his forehead on hers and took a deep breath. “I'd love for this to go on all night. Unfortunately, Joe wants us to meet with Maria.” He steadied her as she straightened and took a step back.

Mac's gaze was uncertain. “We could meet later . . . if you want to . . .”

“Aw, sugar. If
I
want to? That's like asking if I want to keep breathing.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and brushed his lips over hers. “I've wanted you since the first time you lied to me.” Brady chuckled as her eyes lit up.

She punched his chest with a fisted hand. “Hey! That was the only time I lied, and I had a darn good reason. Some big galoot knocks me down, pounces on me, and then expects me to be truthful. Nuh uh. I don't think so.” Her eyes sparkled with challenge.

“Galoot
, huh? No more John Wayne movies for you, sugar.”

She sucked in a big breath, and he could tell by the mischief in her eyes that she was getting ready to let him have it. He touched his fingers to her lips to silence her. “Let me say this, okay? There's a good chance we'll go in and meet with Maria, and sometime before, after, or during, you'll think about us—­about me—­and decide we're not a good idea. I want you to know two things. First . . . it's the best idea I've had in a long time. Second . . . if you decide it's a mistake or that you're not ready to get any closer, that's okay. No pressure.”

He stepped back and gave her some room. It struck him that he'd just lied to her. What he said would have been true for any other woman he'd ever known, but he damn sure wasn't going to give up on Mac that easily.

A grin made the sparkle in her eyes dance as she slipped her hand into his. “Obviously you're confusing me with some other woman, because I don't usually change my mind once it's made up, and I'm a big girl, so you can stop worrying that your charm, good looks, and sex appeal will bowl me over. As for thinking about you—­yeah.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice to a silky whisper. “You might cross my mind once or twice . . . so let's get this meeting over with.”

“You got it, sugar.” Brady couldn't remember when he'd been so contented—­or when he'd ever used that word to describe himself before. Whether or not tonight ended with him in bed with this amazingly beautiful and brave woman didn't really matter. The last few minutes had made it clear that his interest in her went way beyond just the prospect of sex. He wanted everything she had to give.
Shit!
She'd turned him upside down and inside out until he doubted his own ability to walk away . . . or even if he wanted to.

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Excerpt from
White Collared Part One: Mercy
copyright © 2014 by Shelly Bell.

Excerpt from
When Good Earls Go Bad
copyright © 2015 by Megan Frampton.

Excerpt from
The Wedding Band
copyright © 2015 by Lisa Connelly.

Excerpt from
Riot
copyright © 2015 by Jamie Shaw.

Excerpt from
Only In My Dreams
copyright © 2015 by Darcy Burke.

Excerpt from
Sinful Rewards 1
copyright © 2014 by Cynthia Sax.

Excerpt from
Tempt the Night
copyright © 2015 by Dixie Brown.

RED HANDED
. Copyright © 2015 by Shelly Bell. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.