In the St. Nick of Time

customer@thewildrosepress.com (The Wild Rose Press, Inc.) — Fri, 26 Oct 2012 11:12:16 -0400

(MSRP: 5.0000)

Available in Print

The Sullivan Boys: Book Five

All the Sullivans are good cops… The last Sullivan is a girl. Can she stack up against the boys?

Kay Sullivan Lynch, reinstated to the Chicago Police Department after two years as a widowed mom of four, not only plans to excel on the force, but to show her brothers—who opposed her return to “the job”—that she’s up to the challenge.

Captain Flynn Dowd, battling demons of his own, empathizes with Kay’s struggles—but Sidewalk Santas collecting for the hungry are dropping dead all over Chicago. No apparent motive, no identifiable MO. It’s up to Kay and Flynn to stop the "Santa Slayer."

As they race against time to stop the killer, Kay’s grief-deadened senses awaken to Flynn's overwhelming sexual magnetism. But when he becomes more than just her partner, will her hkids' opposition force her to choose between motherhood and her man?

Rating: Spicy
Page Count: 210
Word Count: 52932
Print ISBN: 1-60154-903-2

Excerpt:

“You must be Kay.”

She jumped at the masculine voice.

“Your brothers have been waiting for you.” The stranger leaned against a half-painted post, his face hidden in the shadows. “Need help with the cookies?”

“No, thanks.” Kay admired the rippling muscles across his back as he bent to drop the paintbrush in the pan and turned, advancing toward her. His crystal green eyes twinkled, snug jeans rode low on slim hips. Bare-chested, he strode with athletic grace. Very nice. She shivered, an unexpected, lustful surge zipping through her.

Adjusting the foil that covered the tray, Kay said, “How did you know I had cookies?”

“Every five minutes or so, one of your brothers yells, ‘Where is Kay with the cookies?’” The laugh lines around his eyes deepened with his genuine smile.

“Nice to be wanted,” she grumbled. Shifting the tray on her hip, she gripped the screen door’s handle.

“Hey, I bet my sisters never looked at their watches and wondered, ‘Where’s Flynn with the Guinness and chips?’” His infectious smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “My brothers-in-law, maybe, but definitely not my sisters.”

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In the St. Nick of Time