Author: Cindy Skaggs
Publication Date: Dec. 12, 2016
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Vicki Calvetti made it out of the mob—or so she hoped. But when the old family hitman, the FBI, the Justice Department, and a smoking hot man from her past crash land on her doorstep, she learns she’s not quite done.An undercover cop chasing revenge, Blake Reilly gets the shock of his life when Vicki walks back into his life and into his club full of more drug dealers than a pharmaceutical convention.
Catching up doesn’t take long, and their undeniable chemistry is full-speed-ahead until someone ends up dead, putting both their lives at risk unless Vicki can remember the secrets she paid to forget.
Cindy grew up on stories of mob bosses, horse thieves, cold-blooded killers, and the last honest man. Most of those stories were even true. She has ten siblings, some of whom are older than her mother, has nieces and nephews older than her, and once went to a horse auction with John Wayne. Well, with him in the sense that he was there, and she was also… there. She was the munchkin in line for his autograph with tangled hair and bruised knees that liked to dance on her daddy’s dusty cowboy boots and listen to his tall tales.
With her love of storytelling and heroes, it’s no wonder she turned to books and stories after her father died. She skipped most of the eighth grade to bury herself in books while hidden in her closet, because she was still looking for the perfect story and the last honest man. Her search took her around the world with the Air Force as well as around the world with her education. She’s visited more countries than she can remember, nearly every state in the U.S., and has more degrees than the Tin Man.
As a single mom, she’s still gambling, betting on herself for the first time in her life, turning her lifelong love of storytelling into the one thing she can’t live without: writing. She writes 10,000 words a week in cafes and coffee shops, and some of those 10,000 words are even worth reading. She has an MA in Creative Writing, is working towards her Master of Fine Arts, and has three jobs, two kids, a Pushcart Nomination, more pets than she can possibly handle, and more works in progress than the crew filling potholes after a long Colorado winter.
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This wasn’t a kiss. It was an incendiary device.
“Blake.” Even she heard the begging in her voice. And she was too wound up to regret it.
“Mmm.” He nipped and kissed his way up her neck. “What, darlin’?” His tone lowered on the second syllable, and the roughness was the tinder lighting her whole body on fire. She was hot, achy, and angry. “Let me use my hands.”
He chuckled against her throat. “Not a chance.” He pulled her hands behind her back, manacled them together. The move arched her back, exposing her to his touch. There was no rushing like they’d done the first time a million years ago. The heat was there, the alchemical reaction of skin to skin, but he took the time to explore. He was relearning her, telling her with each stroke, each kiss, each nibble, that he had missed her.
He caressed up her side, the underside of her breast, teasing her nipples into hard pebbles. Anticipation radiated from his touch. When she arched her breast into his hand, he released a hot breath on the spot behind her ear. Delicious tingles shimmered on her skin.
Nostalgia blurred her vision, destroyed her thoughts, and sent flutters to her chest. She didn’t want to feel. “Why?” she asked, pulling her hands against his grip.
“Because you want to rush it, and if you lay your hands on me, I’ll let you win.”
“Problem with that?”
“I warned you.” With his free hand, he rubbed his thumb under her jaw, nudged her face up to meet his gaze. “I like the chase.”
Her brain was numbed by the ache he built inside her. “Are you talking foreplay?”
He ran his tongue over her lower lip, then sucked it into his mouth before releasing it on a bite.
A spark of electricity shot through her chest. She took his response as a yes. “Baby, I excel at foreplay. Let my hands go.”
“You excel at making a man wild, stirring him so he’ll do anything you want.” He went back to the spot behind her ear and nipped. Another flash of desire zapped straight to her core.
“Seriously? Why is that a problem?” She wanted her hands on him so she could turn the slow smolder into a blaze.
As if he knew, he moved a hand between them, rubbed over her clit through the jeans while his mouth bit down on the tendon joining her neck to her shoulder. Her traitorous body bowed back. She was so aroused she could come by the friction of his hand on her jeans.
“I’m not a boy anymore. And I won’t be controlled.”
“I don’t want to control you.”
Another gritty laugh. “Liar.”
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