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Authors: Dixie Lee Brown

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“Because you feel sorry for me?” The last thing she wanted was his sympathy.

“Heaven forbid. I’ve never met anyone who’s less pitiable than you, especially when you get that mouth of yours going.” A devilish arch formed in his brow.

She opened her mouth to prove him right, but the twinkle in his eyes started her laughing instead.

He leaned forward. “I love you, Alex Morgan.” His lips hovered so close they tickled hers as he spoke.

Giddy happiness washed over her, and her smile spread. She wanted to hold him close and snuggle, but without full use of her hands, she would have to ask for what she wanted and take what he decided to give. Hmm . . . that didn’t sound all that bad. She hid a mischievous grin, then laughed out loud at his inquisitive expression. She loved this man, and she’d just opened her mouth to tell him when a commotion broke out in the hallway outside her room.

“Young man? Young man, stop right there,” one of the nurses yelled from somewhere down the long hall as footfalls scurried in the direction of Alex’s room.

“Uh-­oh.” Nate jumped up and strode toward the door.

Alex craned her neck to see what was going on, but no one but Nate was in view.

“Um . . . I’m just going in to see Alex Morgan.”

Alex sat up a little straighter. That was Jimmy’s voice. What the heck was going on?

“Not with that . . . you’re not.” The nurse was indignant.

“It’s okay, Nurse Perkins.” Nate disappeared outside the door.

Alex heard quiet conversation, just low enough she couldn’t make out the words. Darn it. She was dying to know what kind of trouble Jimmy was getting into.

The next instant, he appeared, complete with sheepish grin and twin dots of red on his cheeks.

“Jimmy? What’s going on?”

“Hey, Alex. How are you feeling?” Jimmy smiled broadly and strode toward her.

She crossed her arms—­feeling ridiculous with matching bundles of gauze on the end of each limb. “Why won’t you tell me what’s happening out there?”

Jimmy lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “It’s a surprise, Alex, and it’s not my place to tell you.”

Alex fixed him with a hard stare. “A surprise, huh? You know I don’t like surprises . . . and apparently Nurse Perkins doesn’t much care for this one either.”

“You’ll like it, so put a cork in it, would ya?” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll go see if I can make nice with Nurse Perkins.” He left as quickly as he’d come.

Suddenly, a blur of white caught her eye. Two seconds later, a ball of fur with brown button eyes and a coal black nose stood with front feet against the side of Alex’s bed, tail wagging in circles, and a cute little face begged for permission to come closer.

Apparently, Alex’s delighted laughter was all the permission the pup required. The fuzzy thing hopped gently onto the bed, surprisingly respectful of her injuries. The dog cuddled close to her leg and let Alex scratch her ears.

She looked up as Nate reentered the room. “She’s so cute. What a nice surprise. Who does she belong to?”

Nate leaned against the foot of the bed. “She’s yours . . . if you want her. A buddy of mine on the force raises them. He says they live to protect everyone and everything. I want you to be protected, but if you had something else in mind, we’ll keep looking.”

Alex was trying hard not to cry, without much success. This had to be the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. Every time she opened her mouth to tell him how much it meant, she broke up again.

Nate stepped around the side of the bed and laid one hand on her shoulder, petting the puppy with the other. “She’s a Great Pyrenees, and you should know she’ll weigh about a hundred and sixty pounds. Of course, half of that is hair that she’ll shed on everything we own.”

Alex laughed. “Stop. Look at this face. Who could say no to this face?”

“She’ll need a name.”

She studied him as she smoothed the fuzz over the pup’s head. “Why did you do this, Nate?”

His gaze darted to her and a grimace flitted over his features. “I wanted you to have a reason to stay.”

“I
have
a reason to stay, and it’s not this dog. I love
you
with all my heart. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Detective. I guess you can take this little girl back where she came from.”

“I would, but someone I love very much asked me if we could get a dog.” Nate leaned over with tenderness in his eyes, and she met his warm, soft lips eagerly. She giggled as the puppy crawled forward and licked his neck.

“Aghh! You little monster! It’s up to you, darlin’, but I think we should keep her. It won’t hurt for you to have
two
reasons to stay.” He stroked Alex’s cheek gently.

“Thank you, Nate.” She’d never been so happy, and a lone tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

“You should probably know that all the doctors and nurses think you’re my fiancée.” Nate shrugged when she pinned him with a glare. “They wouldn’t talk to anyone but family, and I needed to know how you were.”

“Oh, I see. It would have been too much of a commitment to tell them I was your wife?” Alex strove to keep a straight face.

He gripped her waist and pulled her toward him. “We’re never going to get a handle on that smart mouth, are we?”

She kissed him, letting her tongue explore the edges of his lips. “Nope.”

“Good. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He found the open edge of her gown and slid beneath, his hand leaving a trail of warmth down her side to her stomach, and grazed across her center.

She inhaled in surprise.

“Just remember. I give as good as I get.” He raised his brows and winked.

Alex laughed as she reached for him. “I’m counting on it.”

 

Are you caught up on Dixie Lee Brown’s thrilling Trust No One series?

Keep reading for an excerpt from

If You Only Knew

Available now from Avon Impulse

 

H
E LEANED CLOSE.
“Goddammit, Rayna. You could have been killed.” He breathed the words, and the anger in his expression morphed into fear as he grabbed her forearms and gave her a shake.

The deep emotion playing across his face tugged at her heart. His tortured gaze held her transfixed. She searched for the words to fix everything, starting with the way she’d botched their relationship, but some things couldn’t be fixed.

She hooked her fingers in his belt loops and drew semicircles on his firmly toned abdomen with her thumbs until she found her voice again. “But I wasn’t . . .  thanks to you and Ribs.”

Ty straightened and glanced upward, away from her face. “I thought I was going to lose you. I
won’t
lose you, Rayna.” His piercing gaze fastened on her again, and he raised one hand to caress her cheek. “Don’t you get it? We’re a team. I
need
you, and whether you’ll admit it or not, you need me too.”

Hope flared within her at his words, followed almost immediately by a spark of anger. “If you truly believed that, you wouldn’t be trying to keep me out of the hunt for Andre. If we’re such a good team, why not act like one?”

Ty swept a hand across the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to keep you . . .” He stopped and looked away from her. “Shit. You’re right. I wanted you out of it so you’d be safe, and so I could do my job without worrying about you. I still want you to be safe . . .  but I’m fairly certain Joe was going to side with you anyway.” He swung his gaze back to her, and amusement quirked his lips. “Besides, if he takes you home, you’ll just spend all your time worrying about me.”

“Oh, you think so?” Rayna raised a quizzical eyebrow. Did he mean it this time? Would he let her help take Andre down, or was he simply putting her off again?

Ty grew serious. “Stay with me, Rayna, and we’ll get this guy. He won’t know what hit him.”

His soft words and the sincerity in his eyes melted her heart and filled her with sadness at the same time. It sounded like he was asking her to stay with him forever, but he’d already made it clear he wasn’t returning to Montana. So, where did that leave them? The smart thing to do would be to ask, but her courage failed in the face of what his answer could be. For right now, she wanted to believe he meant forever, but the truth was, she wanted him for however long he would have her, and she’d convince him later that he couldn’t live without her. Did that make her desperate? So what if it did? She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer as she shook her head slowly. “Try getting rid of me.”

A genuine smile lit his eyes and his head lowered slowly, his lips touched hers in a lingering kiss, warm and promising more. His arms slid around her waist, pulled her in tightly, and he rested his chin on top of her head. She inhaled a deep breath, and her wild heartbeat began to slow. The safety and comfort of his embrace was exactly what she needed, and it was surprisingly easy to surrender herself to his care. Of course, there were still things to do. They had to get Ribs back and his wounds treated, but for now—­for just a moment . . .

A shrill siren screeched in the distance, disturbing the peace of Nate’s uncle’s property. Ty tensed and raised his head, listening, then pulled his gun from its shoulder holster.

 

About the Author

DIXIE LEE BROWN lives and writes in Central Oregon, inspired by what she believes is the most gorgeous scenery anywhere. She resides with two dogs and a cat, who make sure she never takes herself too seriously. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, movies, and trips to the beach.

www.dixiebrown.com

Visit
www.AuthorTracker.com
for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

 

Give in to your impulses . . .

Read on for a sneak peek at three brand-­new

e-­book original tales of romance from Avon Books.

Available now wherever e-­books are sold.

FULL EXPOSURE

B
OOK
O
NE
:
I
NDEPENDENCE
F
ALLS

By Sara Jane Stone

PERSONAL TARGET

A
N
E
LITE
O
PS
N
OVEL

By Kay Thomas

SINFUL REWARDS 1

A B
ILLIONAIRES
A
ND
B
IKERS
N
OVELLA

By Cynthia Sax

 

An Excerpt from

Book One: Independence Falls

by Sara Jane Stone

The first book in a hot new series from contemporary romance writer Sara Jane Stone. When Georgia begins work as a nanny for her brother’s best friend, she knows she can’t have him, but his pull is too strong, and she feels sparks igniting.

 

G
eorgia Trulane walked into the kitchen wearing a purple bikini, hoping and praying for a reaction from the man she’d known practically forever. Seated at the kitchen table, Eric Moore, her brother’s best friend, now her boss since she’d taken over the care of his adopted nephew until he found another live-­in nanny, studied his laptop as if it held the keys to the world’s greatest mysteries. Unless the answers were listed between items b and c on a spreadsheet about Oregon timber harvesting, the screen was not of earth-­shattering importance. It certainly did not merit his full attention when she was wearing an itsy-­bitsy string bikini.

“Nate is asleep,” she said.

Look up. Please, look up.

Eric nodded, his gaze fixed to the screen. Why couldn’t he look at her with that unwavering intensity? He’d snuck glances. There had been moments when she’d turned from preparing his nephew’s lunch and caught him looking at her, really looking, as if he wanted to memorize the curve of her neck or the way her jeans fit. But he quickly turned away.

“Did you pick up everything he needs for his first day of school tomorrow? I don’t want to send him unprepared.”

His deep voice warmed her from the inside out. It was so familiar and welcoming, yet at the same time utterly sexy.

“I got all the items on the list,” she said. “He is packed and ready to go.”

“He needs another one of those stuffed frogs. He can’t go without his favorite stuffed animal.”

If she hadn’t been standing in his kitchen practically naked, waiting for him to notice her, she would have found his concern for the three-­year-­old’s first day of preschool sweet, maybe even heartwarming. But her body wasn’t looking for sentiments reminiscent of sunshine and puppies, or the whisper of sweet nothings against her skin. She craved physical contact—­his hands on her, exploring, each touch making her feel more alive.

And damn it, he still hadn’t glanced up from his laptop.

“Nate will be home by nap time,” she said. “He’ll be there for only a few hours. You know that, right?”

“He’ll want to take his frog,” he said, his fingers moving across the keyboard. “He’ll probably lose it. And he sleeps with that thing every night. He needs that frog.”

She might be practically naked, but his emphasis on the word
need
thrust her headfirst into heartwarming territory. Eric worked day and night to provide Nate with the stability that had been missing from Eric’s childhood thanks to his divorced parents’ fickle dating habits. She admired his willingness to put a child who’d suffered a tragic loss first.

But tonight, for one night, she didn’t want to think about all of his honorable qualities. She wanted to see if maybe, just maybe those stolen glances when he thought she wasn’t looking meant that the man she’d laid awake thinking about while serving her country half a world away wanted her too.

“You’re now the proud owner of two stuffed frogs,” she said. “So if that’s everything for tonight, I’m going for a swim.”

Finally,
finally
, he looked up. She watched as his blue eyes widened and his jaw clenched. He was an imposing man, large and strong from years of climbing and felling trees. Not that he did the grunt work anymore. These days he wore tailored suits and spent more time in an office than with a chainsaw in hand. But even seated at his kitchen table poring over a computer, he looked like a wall of strong, solid muscle wound tight and ready for action. Having all of that energy focused on her? It sent a thrill down her body. Georgia clung to the feeling, savoring it.

 

An Excerpt from

An Elite Ops Novel

by Kay Thomas

One minute Jennifer Grayson is housesitting and the next she’s abducted to a foreign brothel. Jennifer is planning her escape when her first “customer” arrives. Nick, the man who broke her heart years ago, has come to her rescue. Now, as they race for their lives, passion for each other reignites and old secrets resurface. Can Nick keep the woman he loves safe against an enemy with a personal vendetta?

 

T
he woman at the vanity turned, and his breath caught in his throat. Nick had known it would be Jenny, and despite what he’d thought about downstairs when he’d seen her on the tablet screen, he hadn’t prepared himself for seeing her like this. Seated at the table with candles all around, she was wearing a sheer robe over a grey thong and a bustier kind of thing—­or that’s what he thought the full-­length bra was called.

He spotted the unicorn tat peeping out from the edge of whatever the lingerie piece was, and his brain quit processing details as all the blood in his head rushed south. He’d been primed to come in and tell Jenny exactly how they were getting out of the house and away from these ­people, and now . . . this. His mouth went dry at the sight of her. She looked like every fantasy he’d ever had about her rolled into one.

He continued to stare as recognition flared in her eyes.

“Oh my god,” she murmured. “It’s . . .”

She clapped her mouth closed, and her eyes widened. That struck him as odd. The relief on her face was obvious, but instead of looking at him, she took an audible breath and studied the walls of the room. When she finally did glance at him again, her eyes had changed.

“So you’re who they’ve sent me for my first time?” Her voice sounded bored, not the tone he remembered. “What do you want me to do?”

What a question. He raised an eyebrow, but she shook her head. In warning?

Nothing here was as he’d anticipated. He continued staring at her, hoping the lust would quit fogging his brain long enough for him to figure out what was going on.

“I’ve been told to show you a good time.” Her voice was cold, downright chilly. Without another word she stood and crossed the floor, slipping into his arms with her breasts pressing into his chest. “It’s you.” She murmured the words in the barest of whispers.

Nick’s mind froze, but his body didn’t. His hands automatically went to her waist as she kissed his neck, working her way up to his ear. This was not at all what he’d planned.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” She breathed the words into his ear.

Me either
, he thought, but kept the words to himself as he pulled her closer. His senses flooded with all that smooth skin pressing against him. His body tightened, and his right hand moved to cup her ass. Her cheek’s bare skin was silky soft, just like he remembered. God, he’d missed her. She melted into him as his body switched into overdrive.

“What do you want?” She spoke louder. The arctic tone was back. He was confused and knew he was just too stupid with wanting her to figure out what the hell was going on. There was no way the woman could mistake the effect she was having.

She moved her lips closer to his ear and nipped his earlobe as she whispered, “Cameras are everywhere. I’m not sure about microphones.”

And like that, cold reality slapped him in the face. He should have been expecting it, but he’d been so focused on getting her out and making sure she was all right. She might be glad to see him because he was there to save her, but throwing her body at him was an act.

Jesus.
He had to get them both out of here without tipping his hand to the cameras and those watching what he was doing. He was crazy not to have considered it once he saw those tablets downstairs, but it had never occurred to him that he would have to play this encounter through as if he were really a client.

He slipped her arms from around his neck and moved to the table to pour himself some wine, willing his hands not to shake. “I want you,” he said.

 

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 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 . . .

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