The
Closer You Come by Gena Showalter
(The
Original Heartbreakers #1)
March
31, 2015
Blurb:
Just
released from prison, Jase Hollister has a dark and twisted past.
And now, he has only one goal: stay out of trouble. Strawberry
Valley, Oklahoma, sounds like the perfect place for him and his two
brothers-by-circumstance to settle down and live a nice, simple life.
But model citizen isn’t exactly this rugged bachelor’s
default setting—especially when it comes to a certain hot-blooded
Southern beauty…
Brook
Lynn Dillon has always been responsible. Not that it’s done her
much good. The down-on-her-luck waitress is broke, single and
fun-deprived. Until Jase comes along. He is dangerous, stunningly
protective, breathtakingly sexy and as tempting as sin, and the
passion sizzling between them is undeniable. But can it melt her
resistance? After all, the right kind of trouble might be just what
they both need.
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EXCERPT:
She
scanned the yard—and finally found the source of the banging. Jase,
with a hammer. Shirtless
Jase. Muscles honed from intense manual labor bulged as sweat
glistened and trickled down tanned skin and more tattoos than she’d
realized. One of his arms was fully sleeved, the colorful ink
wrapping over his shoulder and covering his pectoral. On his other
side, his ribcage and torso were etched with intricate designs. A
handful of what looked to be letters rose above the waist of his
shorts.
Am
I drooling? I’m probably drooling.
Wow. Just wow. He was major man-candy. Gourmet. The house specialty.
He radiated the most sublime sex appeal, the kind that shattered the
most ingrained resistance and battered the staunchest inhibitions,
and he would definitely satisfy even the most intense sweet tooth. He
worked the hammer with masterful expertise, like he could fix
anything, anywhere, anytime, and she had to admit it was total girl
porn.
How
she longed to close the distance and study every inch of him more
closely. Study, yes…
Perhaps
touch…
He
paused to wipe his face with a rag, and she almost
moaned at the increased deliciousness of him. If almost
was the new word for loudly.
He
looked up and stilled.
“Brook
Lynn.” His sunglasses were light enough that she was able to watch
his gaze travel over her slowly, leisurely.
Her
body reacted as though physically caressed, tingling and aching in
her most intimate places. Heat flash? Maybe. Probably.
“Good
morning,” he said, his voice a husky rasp just as sexy as the rest
of him.
“Morning.”
She gulped and wiped her hands on the side of her wrinkled shorts.
Don’t
gawk at his chest.
Certainly don’t
glance lower.
“My phone. My keys. Shoes.” Making
words should not be this difficult.
“Do you know where they are?” Better.
“Phone
and keys are in the kitchen. Shoes are in your car.”
She
must have been too focused on the noise—and then the food—to
notice the phone and keys. “Well, then. Thank you. For everything,”
she added, only to hesitate. “But, uh…I’m a little confused
about why you didn’t just take Jessie Kay and me to our
home.”
“Two
reasons.” He set the hammer aside. “I didn’t have permission to
enter your residence, and Jessie Kay had had too much to drink. She
needed to be monitored, so…” He shrugged.
So
he’d acted like the gentleman he’d once claimed he wasn’t.
“Well, thank you. Again,” she said, and turned to retreat inside.
Only then, with her gaze off him and a little distance between them,
was she able to breathe.
How
did he affect her so strongly? And how could she make it stop?
“You
didn’t eat,” he said, coming in behind her.
Her
eyes widened as she rounded on him, her breath hitching when she
discovered he was close enough to touch. Close enough to press
against, male hardness to female softness, if only she leaned forward
the slightest…little…bit. No!
Bad Brook Lynn! Bad!
Then
his words hit her. “That feast is for me?”
His
nod was slow, and his gaze hot on her, as if he’d sensed the
direction of her thoughts. “Your sister, too.”
Needing
no further encouragement, she sat at the table and dug in, soon
caught up in a whirlwind of different tastes and textures, moaning
with rapturous delight. Yes, she would have added a few other spices
to take the flavor to a whole new level, but all in all the meal
rocked her socks.
When
she finished, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. Oh, now I’m
ladylike? She looked up to find Jase had removed his sunglasses, but
hadn’t pulled on a shirt…and he was staring at her as intently as
she’d stared at him. It was disconcerting. Especially since his
features were blank, and she couldn’t read him.
A
blush burned her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. “Don’t judge
me.” Or
my new food baby.
He
arched a brow. “Is that what I was doing?”
Surely.
“Well.” She cleared her throat again. “Anyway. My compliments
to the chef.”
“That
would be Beck.”
Never
would she have guessed the pretty boy had a skill that didn’t
involve a mattress and a panting partner. “Did he train at the
Institute of Divine Cuisine and Hellish Addiction?” Jessie Kay had
often accused Brook Lynn of sneaking into classes.
“More
like the Institute of That Was Fun, But Now It’s Time For You To
Go.”
Nice.
“You guys and your one-night stands,” she said, and rolled her
eyes.
“Is
that judgment
I hear, angel?”
Angel?
The endearment proved a thousand times more personal and tantalizing
than “honey,” shocking her to the core. Of course, he’d meant
nothing by it. She figured he probably used the words interchangeably
with every female he encountered—even with her sister. But…
I’m
still reeling.
“No
judgment,” she said, and stood. “And now it’s time for me to
jet.” Before I do or say something more stupid. “I’m late for
work, so…this is goodbye.”
His
gaze still locked on her, he stepped closer to her, too close for
comfort. She should have backed up, if only out of a sense of
propriety, but she remained in place. He crossed his arms over his
massive chest, those green eyes heating, burning. A sign of…arousal?
The
provocative scent of him filled the air between them; it was
masculine, sultry and heady, and it fogged her thoughts. It must
have. Why else would she have continued to gaze up at him instead of
running away?
“Jase?”
“Brook
Lynn.”
Her
heart must have heard music her ears couldn’t pick up, because the
treacherous organ whipped into a frenzied beat, perhaps even doing
cartwheels. Her breaths began to come faster, and shallow. I’m
panting. I’m freaking panting.
She shifted from one side to the other. He took another step toward
her, as if compelled, then another, the last whisper between them
vanishing.
He’s
the predator, and I’m the prey.
About
Author
Gena
Showalter is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of
over thirty books in paranormal and contemporary romances, as well as
young adult novels. Her series include White Rabbit Chronicles,
Angels of the Dark, Otherworld Assassins, Lords of the Underworld,
Alien Huntress and Intertwined.
Her
novels have appeared in Cosmopolitan Magazine, and Seventeen
Magazine, and have been translated all over the world. The critics
have called her books "sizzling page-turners" and "utterly
spellbinding stories", while Showalter herself has been called
“a star on the rise”.
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