(MSRP: 4.5000)
Available in Print
Available in Audio
Detective Samantha Colby’s sole focus is her career, and her job is basically the only thing she's good at. So, when she lands the high profile murder case of a celebrity television judge, she’s determined to solve the crime quickly. Not only to stop a killer, but it might just earn her that promotion she’s worked so hard for.
Medical Examiner Dexter Hawkins is a Harley riding, smooth-talking, bad boy. One look at him raises all sorts of red flags for Samantha. Long ago, she learned all she needed to know about his type, but it took a painful divorce to drive the lesson home.
Even though she knows better, Samantha finds herself growing more attracted to Dex each day. She soon learns that summoning the willpower to stay away from him might prove as difficult as catching a killer.
Rosebud
130 Pages Sensual
Print ISBN 1-60154-337-9
Excerpt:
He slid his helmet off and walked toward Sam. He wore a black, button-up shirt tucked into well-worn Levis and his longish, dark blonde hair was tousled from the ride.
"Hey, Detective," he said, giving a flash of white teeth as he stopped at the bottom of the steps.
Sam's lips tightened. For God's sake, the least he could have done was shave. "Doctor," she returned primly.
"You look kinda pale. If I didn't know better, I'd swear your body was the one I was here to examine."
Although his eyes never left her face, it felt as though they raked her from head to toe. If they had, she was sure he'd have found her lacking in comparison to the voluptuous, empty-headed types he no doubt dated. Sam wasn't sure why she was stereotyping him like that, but it made her feel marginally better to do so.
Ignoring his comment, Sam said, "Do you really think a motorcycle is appropriate transportation to a death scene, Dr. Hawkins?"
He turned and glanced at the bike, his arm making a sweeping gesture toward it. When he looked at her again, his eyebrows were raised, his expression that of someone who'd just heard a joke, or was speaking to a dim-witted child. "That's a Harley."
Sam let her lips curl into a contemptuous smile. "Sorry. I'd forgotten how sensitive boys can be about their toys. Do you think a Harley is appropriate transportation to a death scene?"
He stepped closer, until they were almost nose to nose, even though Sam stood three steps above him. She was fairly tall for a woman, just over 5'7, but Dexter Hawkins towered over her, his broad shoulders making his 6'4 height even more intimidating.
Sam flinched, and then went still, as if that would keep him from noticing she smelled like sweat and death. It didn't keep her from noticing he smelled of fresh air, some manly, musky soap, and mint.
"The only women I strive to please," he said softly, "are my mother and my sexual partners. So far, you're neither."
