The Base Branch Series and Paige Tyler's DALLAS FIRE & RESCUE Series Team Up |
RELENTLESSLY MINECaught between the past and the woman he loves but can't have...
Combine, Texas, labeled Gannon Lee a ruffian by age ten. If only they saw him at twenty-eight; a nomad who followed the fight wherever it took him, an untamed extinguisher of lives. He never intended to give them the chance. Too bad his brother, the only guy in the backwoods town who outranked him in delinquent behavior, landed himself behind bars…again. For the first time, Gannon doesn’t think his blood committed the act of arson in question. Gannon’s sole focus had been his brother’s extraction and the evasion of his previous life—until he learned that Margo Foster had been the victim. She was the only one in the god-forsaken place to know him, understand him, love him. Tragedy ripped them apart decades ago, but Gannon’s love for her never faltered. Before he can put the past where it belongs, a thousand clicks back in his rearview mirror, he must find out who tried to hurt the woman he loves and cannot have. Margo Foster works her ass off as an EMT for Dallas Fire & Rescue to prove she is nothing like her family. She is a modern woman who takes care of herself, and her sister who’s too busy clinging to the past. Margo’s father had blown the family fortune long ago, but her stubborn little sis lived off the name and Margo’s good will. When a crappy arsonist threatens to destroy what Margo has worked so hard for, she’s ready for battle. Against anyone but Gannon Lee. His presence in her carefully constructed life sends her for the hills. However, once he reveals the perceived arson was really an attempt on her life, she’ll cling to the only ally she has, even if his touch breaks her heart. |
ISBN: 978-1-941899-33-5
Release: May 11, 2017
Length: 100 pages
Release: May 11, 2017
Length: 100 pages
Excerpt
Always biting off more than she could chew. Her mother always told her one day she’d choke. Well, mother knows best. From the backside, thirty feet away, Margo’s palms sweated. Up close … her heart threatened to implode and suck her entire being into a black hole with it. She’d be a medical mystery. The first of her species to go that way. Why had she thought she could confront Gannon Lee? Since the last time she’d laid eyes on him, he’d grown a foot taller and probably sixty pounds of work hardened muscle broader. As a teenager, he had been overwhelmingly gorgeous. As a man, he simply overwhelmed.
Too late to turn back now.
“Have you come to finish the job?” Margo’s voice held out, landing her well-placed words around his kidneys. The wall of testosterone and muscles flinched. A small, hollow victory.
A tan T-shirt clung to his body like she had a lifetime ago. Desert digital camouflage pants hugged an ass and thighs that put her firefighter buddies to shame; something damn near impossible for all the gear they hauled on a daily basis.
Gannon pulled in a deep breath, expanding his width and height an inch or so more, making her hate and envy his shirt. Then his boots did an about-face.
No amount of prep could have fortified her.
Gannon Lee, the man, devastated.
His tender lips were still full and too kissable, his nose proud, and his cheekbones made to be captured on an artist’s masterpiece. Gannon’s jaw had thickened to the point it no longer seemed capable of hosting a smile. Yet it looked perfectly suited for crushing bone. Those eyes … The always expressive and deep blue windows had frosted over into an unreadable visage.
Margo clenched her fists, summoning the strength to keep from running away or throwing her arms around Gannon and refusing to let go.
“What are you doing here?” His sweet voice had been swapped for that of a drill sergeant.
Good. It irritated the shit out of her and chased away those stupid, youthful notions of happily ever after and unshakable love.
“I live here.” Her hands found her hips. “What’s your excuse? Your brother tried to kill me. Have you come to finish the job?”
The calm unreachable blue of his irises ignited into an inferno too intense to look at directly. Large hands clenched into white-knuckled battering rams. His full lips pressed into a line. Margo fought the urge to step back. She couldn't help but gulp the saliva that pooled.
“You were in the house at the time of the fire?”
“Yes.” She tried for confident, but the word left her lips as a whisper.
“Motherfuck.” Gannon turned away.
The symbolic gesture cut deep. Margo wrapped her arms across her chest and hugged tight, willing the strength she’d cultivated over the years to hold her together for a few more minutes.
He walked toward the house and leaned in, as though examining the structure. “Is this still your room?”
She didn’t want to answer. It would sound pathetic, but if the blood pressure cuff fit. “Yes.”
“Does Elise live here too?” He asked the next question almost immediately after she answered the first. As if he’d known the reply before she’d given it.
“Sometimes.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means if she has a steady boyfriend, she’s at his place.”
“Does she have one now?”
Heat scaled Margo’s neck. Why was he asking all these questions? Better yet, why was she entertaining them?
“Yes,” she growled.
“Do you?” Gannon chose that moment to remember she existed. He turned and poured all his intensity on her.
“Why do you care?” She dropped her arms, puffed out her chest, and glared.
“Have you fought with anyone lately? Have any enemies?” The son of a bitc-- No, she would never call him that. Never. The jerk ignored her question. He looked over her head, surveying the area around the house.
“What are you getting at?” Despite her need to self-preserve, she took a step forward to draw his attention.
Begrudgingly, he gave it over. “I’m trying to find out who would want to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” Her right eyebrow stretched her face and probably offered him a glimpse at the newly forming wrinkles at the center of her forehead. Great. “Nobody wants to hurt me.”
“You said my brother tried to kill you.” One hand hiked to his thickly carved waist.
Margo licked her lips, praying it wasn’t too obvious that she’d like to have him for dessert, and tried to focus on the conversation. “I was being dramatic. Trying to piss you off.”
“So you don’t think my brother tried to kill you?” The hand dropped from his waist and flipped in question.
“Do you?”
“No.” Gannon’s gaze swung to the charred corner of her house. His wide hand clamped the back of his neck and squeezed. “I don’t know. Griffin has always been rash, but this … If he did …” The muscles in his jaw flexed, defining a jaw that looked like it could deflect a bullet.
“Grif is always nice to me.”
His gaze snapped back to her. “You see him often?”
What was that, jealousy? Margo released the notion without much examination because it was nothing more than wishful thinking. She shook her head. “When I do, it hurts. He seems to know that, and he deals with me … gently.” That earned her a grimace. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about the past, so she steered back on track. “You don’t really think someone meant to hurt me?”
“No.”
The tension in Margo’s traps eased … Gannon’s jaw did that defend the universe thing again, contradicting his answer. He drew a deep breath. She held hers.
“I think whoever set this fire meant to kill you."
Too late to turn back now.
“Have you come to finish the job?” Margo’s voice held out, landing her well-placed words around his kidneys. The wall of testosterone and muscles flinched. A small, hollow victory.
A tan T-shirt clung to his body like she had a lifetime ago. Desert digital camouflage pants hugged an ass and thighs that put her firefighter buddies to shame; something damn near impossible for all the gear they hauled on a daily basis.
Gannon pulled in a deep breath, expanding his width and height an inch or so more, making her hate and envy his shirt. Then his boots did an about-face.
No amount of prep could have fortified her.
Gannon Lee, the man, devastated.
His tender lips were still full and too kissable, his nose proud, and his cheekbones made to be captured on an artist’s masterpiece. Gannon’s jaw had thickened to the point it no longer seemed capable of hosting a smile. Yet it looked perfectly suited for crushing bone. Those eyes … The always expressive and deep blue windows had frosted over into an unreadable visage.
Margo clenched her fists, summoning the strength to keep from running away or throwing her arms around Gannon and refusing to let go.
“What are you doing here?” His sweet voice had been swapped for that of a drill sergeant.
Good. It irritated the shit out of her and chased away those stupid, youthful notions of happily ever after and unshakable love.
“I live here.” Her hands found her hips. “What’s your excuse? Your brother tried to kill me. Have you come to finish the job?”
The calm unreachable blue of his irises ignited into an inferno too intense to look at directly. Large hands clenched into white-knuckled battering rams. His full lips pressed into a line. Margo fought the urge to step back. She couldn't help but gulp the saliva that pooled.
“You were in the house at the time of the fire?”
“Yes.” She tried for confident, but the word left her lips as a whisper.
“Motherfuck.” Gannon turned away.
The symbolic gesture cut deep. Margo wrapped her arms across her chest and hugged tight, willing the strength she’d cultivated over the years to hold her together for a few more minutes.
He walked toward the house and leaned in, as though examining the structure. “Is this still your room?”
She didn’t want to answer. It would sound pathetic, but if the blood pressure cuff fit. “Yes.”
“Does Elise live here too?” He asked the next question almost immediately after she answered the first. As if he’d known the reply before she’d given it.
“Sometimes.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means if she has a steady boyfriend, she’s at his place.”
“Does she have one now?”
Heat scaled Margo’s neck. Why was he asking all these questions? Better yet, why was she entertaining them?
“Yes,” she growled.
“Do you?” Gannon chose that moment to remember she existed. He turned and poured all his intensity on her.
“Why do you care?” She dropped her arms, puffed out her chest, and glared.
“Have you fought with anyone lately? Have any enemies?” The son of a bitc-- No, she would never call him that. Never. The jerk ignored her question. He looked over her head, surveying the area around the house.
“What are you getting at?” Despite her need to self-preserve, she took a step forward to draw his attention.
Begrudgingly, he gave it over. “I’m trying to find out who would want to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” Her right eyebrow stretched her face and probably offered him a glimpse at the newly forming wrinkles at the center of her forehead. Great. “Nobody wants to hurt me.”
“You said my brother tried to kill you.” One hand hiked to his thickly carved waist.
Margo licked her lips, praying it wasn’t too obvious that she’d like to have him for dessert, and tried to focus on the conversation. “I was being dramatic. Trying to piss you off.”
“So you don’t think my brother tried to kill you?” The hand dropped from his waist and flipped in question.
“Do you?”
“No.” Gannon’s gaze swung to the charred corner of her house. His wide hand clamped the back of his neck and squeezed. “I don’t know. Griffin has always been rash, but this … If he did …” The muscles in his jaw flexed, defining a jaw that looked like it could deflect a bullet.
“Grif is always nice to me.”
His gaze snapped back to her. “You see him often?”
What was that, jealousy? Margo released the notion without much examination because it was nothing more than wishful thinking. She shook her head. “When I do, it hurts. He seems to know that, and he deals with me … gently.” That earned her a grimace. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about the past, so she steered back on track. “You don’t really think someone meant to hurt me?”
“No.”
The tension in Margo’s traps eased … Gannon’s jaw did that defend the universe thing again, contradicting his answer. He drew a deep breath. She held hers.
“I think whoever set this fire meant to kill you."