Hot Shots
by Anne Marsh, Lynn Lafleur, Stacey Kennedy
ISBN-13: 9780758288950
Publisher: Kensington Publishing
Corporation
Publication date: 2/25/2014
Sexy as sin and hot as hell, these
firefighters smolder with passion and burn with desire. . .
"Fired Up" by Anne Marsh
Hannah Green watches for wildfires from
an isolated fire tower in Sequoia National Park by day and radios Cajun
firefighter Cole Henry at night to share carnal fantasies hot enough to start a
forest fire. . .
"Sizzle" by Lynn LaFleur
When photojournalist Maysen Halliday
arrives in Lanville to take calendar pictures of the sexiest firefighters in
Texas, red hot Fire Chief Clay Spencer makes her want him for her own personal
centerfold...
"Five-Alarm Masquerade" by Stacey Kennedy
With her home destroyed in a fire,
Abby has only the muscular arms of a rock hard firefighter to hold her up and
the dream of blazing hot nights of pure erotic pleasure to keep her going. . .
This book contains adult content
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About the Authors:
Anne Marsh
A
professional technical writer, Anne discovered that getting laid off was
actually A Very Good Thing. While looking for her next writing gig, she picked
up her pen (well, okay, she used her writing as an excuse to buy a new Apple
laptop) and started writing. She soon discovered that writing was uncomfortably
similar to sit-ups: add a few more crunches each day, wake up sore, but, by
God, you will fit into that bikini. Or finish the book (she’s still
working on the bikini). Now she cranks out software manuals during the
daylight hours– and writes about alpha shapeshifters the rest of the time.
Connect with Anne:
Lynn LaFleur was born and raised in a small town
in Texas close to the Dallas/Fort Worth area. Writing has been in her blood
since she was eight years old and wrote her first story for an English
assignment.
As well as writing at every possible moment, Lynn enjoys reading, scrapbooking, photography, and learning new things on the computer. She’s a software junky and loves to try out new programs, especially anything to do with graphics.
As well as writing at every possible moment, Lynn enjoys reading, scrapbooking, photography, and learning new things on the computer. She’s a software junky and loves to try out new programs, especially anything to do with graphics.
After
living on the West Coast for 21 years, Lynn now lives 17 miles from her
hometown in Texas. She’s a romantic at heart and can’t imagine ever writing
anything but romances. A full-time writer, she spends her days creating stories
of people who find their happily-ever-after, sometimes with the help of an
alien or psychic or vampire.
Connect with Lynn:
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USA Today Bestselling Author, Stacey
Kennedy is an urban
fantasy lover at heart, but she also enjoys losing herself in dark and sensual
worlds. She lives in southwestern Ontario with her husband, who gave her a
happily-ever-after. Together, they have two small children who can always make
her smile, and who will never be allowed to read Mommy’s books. If she’s not
plugging away at a new story, you’ll find her camping, curling up with the
latest flick, or obsessing over Supernatural, True Blood, Lost Girl, and Sons
of Anarchy.
Connect with Stacey:
EXCERPT from Fire-Alarm Masquerade by Stacey Kennedy:
On
her tulip-lined pathway, Abby Hill stood, unable to move, barely able to
breathe. She stared in horror as harsh smoke drifted through the air and fire
licked out of the bedroom window of her Federal-style row house.
Firefighters
passed by in a blur, portraying a sense of calm in the chaos. Though she’d
heard things like possible electrical fire discussed among the men, the voices
around her were distant. She wrapped her arms around herself, tears dampening
her cheeks.
“Miss,
you need to back up,” a low, smooth voice said.
“This can’t be happening,” Abby managed
through her tight throat.
Firm
hands gripped her arms and turned her to face warm green eyes with hints of
brown around the irises. The firefighter, decked out in full work uniform with
a 4 on his black hat, had dark soot
on the right side of his squared jaw. His brows drew together with his frown.
“Is this your house?”
Abby
never thought of herself as a person who showed emotions to a stranger. Now,
she could hide nothing. “Oh, God . . .” Hot sickness rolled through her and the
world got dizzy, real fast.
His
grip on her arms tightened. “I’m taking that as a yes.”
Before
she could drop to the cement below, she found those firm hands belonged to
strong arms as the fireman tugged her into his powerful body. He lowered her to
the ground, settling her between his legs.
Abby
pressed her head against his rough coat, which smelled richer with smoke than
what lingered in the air. She held on tight to the coarse material, unable to
let go.
Quick
minutes passed, and soon the wooziness faded. All but sitting in his lap, she
noticed the smoke wasn’t nearly as thick. When her spun around thoughts
centered, that’s when she realized something didn't make sense. “Why is my
bedroom window broken?”
The
firefighter's thick thighs pressed against her, as did his arms. “We needed to
break the window to evacuate the heat and smoke before we put out the fire.”
Somehow,
being in his arms made facing what happened easier, or maybe the shock had worn
off and she could process better. She noticed that no other windows were broken
in her house. “Was the fire only in my bedroom?”
“Yes,
you got lucky.” He shifted on his knees, yet didn't move away. “The fire was
contained to the master bedroom.”
She
gulped. “Lucky?”
He
hesitated, and all the pressure around her faded before he squeezed his arms.
“I’m afraid you can’t enter your house until the chief gives you the all clear.
Do you have someone you can stay with?”
She
gripped his coat, resting her head against his arm, tears trailing over her hot
face. Though she noticed the firefighters coming in and out of house, and heard
the loud conversations going on around her, she didn’t care she sobbed in front
of strangers. “It’s gone.”
He
leaned away and his gentle eyes held hers. “Abby Hill? Is that what I heard the
police say?” She nodded and he waited for the car with the loud muffler to pass
before he added, “What you have is a partial loss, Abby. Yes, your bedroom is
gone. The rest of your upstairs might have smoke and water damage, but your
insurance will cover it.”
She
understood why he looked to her as if she was overreacting. In the scheme of
things, this didn’t seem all that bad. “I don’t care about the rest of the
house.” Her voice cracked. “The photos of my family were in my bedroom.” Ten
years ago, a car accident had stolen away her parents, younger brother, and
older sister. “It’s all I had of them. There’s nothing left.”
He
rubbed her back, giving an understanding nod. “I’m sorry.”
Somehow,
his response was better than, “At least
you weren’t hurt, or it could’ve been worse.” Though there were positives
in her current hell, it didn’t change the fact that every picture she had of
her family was likely destroyed. Nothing else remained that proved they’d ever
existed, except for their gravestones.
A
moment passed as his eyes searched hers. “You have no other family that would
have some photos?” “Both my parents
didn’t have siblings. There are a few friends of the family . . .” Her chest
ached. “Possibly they have some, but it’s not . . .”
“Not the special pictures of you and your
family,” he offered.
Her
chin quivered. “Exactly.”
His
lips pinched with his regard of her. The firefighter excelled at serving the
public, she actually believed he felt bad for her. While she knew she should
let him go, being a complete stranger and all, she couldn’t find it in herself
to tear herself away.
Staring
into his piercing eyes, she had the oddest sense that he didn’t want her to
either. Something so sweet and pure passed in the air between them. A sensation
of understanding that at this moment she needed more than anything. And how did
that make any sense?
Why
was being in a stranger’s arms providing her with such warmth and familiarity,
and more than anything making her feel this safe?
“Where
is she?” a familiar feminine voice snapped. “And if you dare tell me again that
I can’t see Abby, I’ll remove your manly bits, you giant ass!”
Abby
glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of Sierra, dressed in her typical
black skirt and red blouse. Abby didn’t know how Sierra found out about the
fire, but she didn't care; she needed her best friend.
Sierra’s
blue eyes were narrowed and her bright red lipstick covered her frown as she
gave the firefighter a glare promising a painful death. After a good stare
down, the man gestured in Abby’s direction, then Sierra rushed forward. She
yanked Abby into her arms. “Jesus, sweetie. Can you believe they wouldn’t let
me through to see you?”
“It’s
all gone.” Abby rested her head against Sierra’s shoulder, hugging her tight.
“They’re gone.”
Sierra
paused, then heaved a sigh. “Shit, this is awful. I’m so sorry, Abby.”
Of
course, Sierra understood the depth of Abby's despair. Sierra had been there
the night they worked on their high-school assignment together. That fateful
night Abby didn’t go for her brother’s special dinner to celebrate his
touchdown at the football game, and the night where the car carrying her entire
family collided with the transport truck.
Leaning
away from Sierra, Abby looked into her best friend’s teary eyes. “That’s all I
had of them.”
Sierra
gathered Abby’s hands. “You don’t have any pictures in your attic or storage?”
Abby
shook her head. “I kept everything in my bedroom in a memory box. I wanted to
scan them all, keep them safe, but—”
“Don’t do that to yourself," Sierra
interjected with a soft voice. "You’re not to blame for this. It’s a
horrible accident.”
Abby
remembered hearing something similar from her therapist. Not that she thought
she could’ve prevented the car accident that killed her family, but her guilt
for not being with them that night had stayed with her for a long time.
With
her therapist’s voice in her head reminding her she couldn’t stay in the past
and mourn things she couldn’t change, she pushed off the cement pathway. She
glanced around, seeing that the entire neighborhood was watching from the other
side of the street, and she didn’t want to process the loss of photos under the
scrutiny of onlookers.
Sierra
must’ve read Abby’s thoughts, since she reached up and fixed Abby’s hair. There
wasn’t a day that Sierra had let Abby walk out the door with a strand of hair
out of place. She ran her fingers under Abby’s eyes, clearing away her mascara.
“Let's get out of here.” She gave a small smile, wiggling her eyebrows. “Unless you’d rather stay in
the arms of that sexy firefighter.”
Abby
blinked. “Who’s sexy?”
Sierra
snorted. “Seriously?” She grasped Abby’s shoulders. “When I found you, you were
in the arms of that.”
Abby
spun to face the house and she discovered a man whom she suspected was the fire
marshal, dressed in a blue uniform. “Am I missing something, or are you
suddenly digging older guys?”
“Older
guys?” Sierra stepped in next to Abby, then she frowned. “Ew, not that guy.” She gestured to the
garden off to the right. “That guy.”
Abby
followed Sierra’s direction and her mouth dropped open. Though the
firefighter’s attire made the man look bulky, she wondered how much of that was
the gear, or if his thickness was due to a muscular body.
Standing
near her front window, he chatted to another firefighter, who was slightly
shorter than him. The height difference made the taller firefighter look masculine. He’d clearly noticed them ogling,
since he caught her gaze.
Under
his direct stare, funny things happened low in her belly. Odd, strange
happenings, considering seconds ago, a soul-crippling despair had overwhelmed
her. The fireman’s features portrayed more than confidence, more than strength,
but she thought that came from the sexy, arrogant twinkle in his eye.
The
firefighter broke the connection, and Abby exhaled. He turned to the other man
and exchanged words. Then hotness packaged in firefighter gear approached.
Similar to when she watched her bedroom burn, she froze.
She
knew, with total certainty, her reaction was absurd. Her bedroom was destroyed,
along with precious pictures, but her body flared with a heat so addictive and
intoxicating.
Over
Abby’s shoulder, Sierra whistled. “Holy hell—all he needs is the fire burning
behind him and we’d have one of those perfect calendar shots.”
“No
kidding,” Abby agreed.
On
his way down the pathway, Abby scanned over his black boots, to the thick pants
she knew had suspenders, and images of a shirtless man filled her mind. She
swallowed, forced herself to stop thinking in the gutter, and focused on
appropriate places, like his face.
That
didn't help much—he had a chiseled face with masculine features, all making him
way too noticeable. Lifting her gaze, she looked past his kissable lips that
held a slight arch in the corners, and when his piercing eyes captured hers,
she finally released the breath she’d be holding.
Whoa . . .
He
was drop-dead gorgeous.
Once
the firefighter reached her, he smiled. “You look like you’re feeling better.”
Abby
blinked.
Sierra
elbowed her in the side. “She’s much better, thank you.”
“Glad
to hear it.” His voice wasn’t too deep, but low enough to sound smooth. “Do you
have somewhere to stay, Abby?”
Her
mind stuttered under how he said her name. As if he wasn’t stating a name, but
the one word held powers making her feel like he noticed her, too. A hot shiver
slid right down to her toes. “Um . . .”
“She
can stay with me,” Sierra interjected with a laugh. “Unless you’re offering—”
Abby
jabbed Sierra hard in the side and Sierra cursed.
The
firefighter chuckled, focusing on Abby. “Please give the chief the address and
telephone number where you’ll be staying so he can get in touch with you.
You’ll also want to contact your insurance company right away.”
She
parted her lips to respond, yet closed them a second later.
Eyes
squinting, lit with a twinkle of mischief, he said, “All right, Abby, you’re
good to go.” His eyebrows creased. “Again, I’m sorry about your home.” He
hesitated. “And your pictures.”
He
turned, walking down her pathway.
Abby
stared after him, her mind snapping into focus. On a gasp, she hurried to reach
him. Just as he neared her front door, she grasped his bicep, giving his coat a
tug. “Wait!”
Glancing
over his shoulder, he looked at her hand before his gaze lifted. She nearly
melted into a puddle of goo right there on her front porch. “Thank you for
holding me like that. I know it’s not in the job description.”
He
tipped his hat, giving a soft smile. “Maybe it should be.”
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