Blurb:
Teacher Angela Munso has
lost control—of her spiraling life. She can control the fallout of recent news
from whose loins she sprang as easily as she can her heart’s pitter-patter. To
have feelings for a man who is everything she now wants to hate? That’s the last straw!
Lt. Brock "Chance"
Alexander’s arrogance baits Angela. And—he knows it. It’s never so obvious to
him as when she lobs that insulting phrase at the side of his head. She pushes
all of his hot buttons. But, there’s one he dares her to touch—the one that
pushes him out of her life.
Excerpt:
Angela
enjoyed the refreshing taste of her favorite cherry flavored ICEE on the walk
home from the corner store several blocks away. Secretly keeping tabs on
Chance’s motorcycle, relief flooded her being when she peeked and it no longer
took up space at the curb. The absence was enough incentive for her to treat
herself and get out of the house for a walk to boot mainly in an effort not to
dwell on the difficulty encountered when practicing her viola.
Her
thong sandals gritted on the sandy concrete broadcasting her position to all
within hearing distance. The empty street was hers alone. The sky shed its
grayness as daylight waned; coloring the atmospheric canvas a sea-blue
sprinkled with floating cotton, sun-kissed and striped a feathery red.
Marveling at the beauty, she sipped her drink, taking her sweet time in
climbing the stone steps to her yard.
“How
are you this evening, Angela?” Mrs. Thatcher called. She and Chance sat
comfortably in the swing, keeping a constant back and forth motion, satiated
after their light supper.
Initially
unaware of their presence, she was startled to learn of her mistake. She wasn’t
alone after all. “Fine, thank you, Mrs. Thatcher,” she lied. “And you?”
“Muddling
along for an old lady.” Chastising her relative, “Don’t be so impolite, Brock.
Speak.”
“Miss
Munso.” His mind drifted to the music he heard coming from her upstairs window,
a hauntingly melodious tune she had difficulty completing—pausing at the same
spot after each try. Not to be outdone, he assumed, she finished the song by
singing the notes in melodic crystal clarity.
“Lt.
Alexander.” Angela decided to make her exit calling over her shoulder as she
advanced on the door. “See you later, Mrs.—” The remaining words dwindled to a
gurgle and the cup fell in slow motion from her hand. A smoky cheroot scent
assailed her olfactory senses in competition with her sense of hearing just as
one foot crossed the threshold. Alarm painted her features as she spun to look
dead at Chance, eyes silently screaming for help.
The
fine hairs on his arms snapped to attention across the distance launching his
ascent from the swing like a rocket booster, landing him beside her in a flash.
“What is it?” He heard it, too, while she backed away. Someone moved inside her
home. “Were you expecting company?”
All
she managed was a negative headshake.
The
exchange of places allowed him to feel the delicate bones in her soft hands.
“Stay out here. I’ll come for you once I’ve cleared the house.” She looked
panicked. “Understood?”
She
silently nodded her assent.
She
watched him cautiously enter on cat’s feet, his expertise in such matters
clearly exhibited. Now and again, she caught a hint of his movement as he
materialized from one room to disappear into the next. How fickle could she be to
put his life in jeopardy when she scorned him previously? Angela’s conscience
whipped up on her. So much so that she tiptoed up the stairs behind him,
against his express wishes.
The
bottom floor proved empty sending him up to the next level, senses attuned and
gun drawn. He whirled after hearing the slightest movement, leveling the weapon
stiff armed and double-fisted. She gasped. Chance rapidly raised the barrel to
the ceiling. He noted how in her flustered state she crashed backwards, bumping
her head on the descent.
“Ow-w-w,”
she groaned, vaguely aware of the swaying meadow grasses enveloping her before
the light receded and he completely disappeared.
“Cra-ap!”
That was as close to an expletive Chance could come to since turning over his
new leaf. He knew the culprit had escaped through the door to the rear of the
house for it was wide open. Yet, it was a precautionary measure to do a check
of the upstairs, just in case. “Angela? Can you hear me?” Thumbing the safety
and holstering his gun, Chance huddled over her on all fours.
How emboldened would you be to a
man with a badge...and a gun?
My novels are available
at:
Bio:
I'm a cruise-loving, people-watching,
picture-snapping baby boomer with time on her hands. So, I write sweet and
spicy relationship-based mainstream contemporary romantic love stories.
Find me:
www.blurbsinbloom.com Open for
submissions
Thanks,
Lindsay, for allowing me to share with your visitors.
Mickie Sherwood
~~Sweet,
spicy romance – a heartbeat away!~~
2 comments:
Tweeted this for you, Mickie! I wish you many sales!
Thanks for showcasing Like Slow Sweet Molasses, Lindsay.
Readers, get a real feel for Lt. Brock "Chance" Alexander of the NOPD. Enjoy Chance's character interview at Mickie's Mutterings http://mickiesherwood.com/blog/2013/01/26/character-interview-with-lt-brock-chance-alexander-nopd/.
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