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About the author:
I love writing alpha hotties in any genre.
What inspired you to write your book?
Honestly reading kristen ashley books who I love just inspired me.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Rusty popped her bubble gum as she sat in her taxi out front of the casino, hoping to pick up a paying customer. She tapped her nails on the armrest, looking at them as she blew another big pink bubble. The new thing was to have all your nails done in one color, but have one nail on each hand different and tricked out to the max. She’d even seen glued-on nail studs walking out of the nail salon. But she’d splurged on neon blue with yellow French-cut tips, and they looked—
“Fabulous,” she mused. This is what a girl spent her spare time on when her bestie was all tangled up with a new man. And her best friend Tess had found her quite a hunk of man too—he was Vincent Whitehorse. Rusty so approved. Vincent treated Tess like she was all woman, and all his.
Rusty sighed again over her friend. “Brat’s so lucky.”
The sudden opening of the back door of her taxi, on the driver’s side, startled Rusty out of her daydreaming. She hadn’t even noticed a passenger approaching.
Rusty grabbed the rearview to point it toward the new rider, then she gasped under her breath. Brown eyes, the color of dark maple, that made her want to look twice, looked back at her in the mirror.
“Ah … hiya, Cabe,” she said, then she nervously popped her gum. She had reasons to be nervous—she didn’t know Cabe very well; only knew him since Tess and Vincent had hooked up and they’d been around each other on occasion. She knew his wife even less. But she knew Cabe’s wife enough to know she’d picked her up with another dude who was not Cabe, and then she’d driven them to—
“Tell me where you took them,” Cabe demanded.
Rusty had always thought Cabe was a handsome guy, in a bit of an edgy way, because of his shoulder-length streaked blond hair. He definitely wasn’t a suit or a cowboy. All pluses. But he wasn’t the new type of man she was set on picking, if any picking came about. She remembered when Tess had imagined them getting together. If Cabe were her new style of guy, his hair would be trimmed and his chin shaved and not looking like a cliff with a shadow. He’d be wearing collared shirts and not jeans with holes in them. He’d look more like an up-and-coming businessman, not like a down-and-out, cheated-on man. And he’d look nothing like any of the men in her life she’d chosen thus far … because she was beyond determined to change her tastes.
Of course, she’d never been able to help but notice how hot Cabe was. She’d not be able to call herself female if she didn’t acknowledge that. Tess had told her about Cabe and his wife. After that, Rusty had placed him with what some of the town gossips were saying and then she’d been wondering what kind of an idiot his wife had to be for looking anywhere but at the very masculine Cabe Santos.
“Don’t even know you well enough for you to ask me that question, babe,” she shot back at him.
Really feeling for him because she’d had an old man (not married but they’d supposedly been committed) who had stepped out on her one time. That one time had felt like an arrow shot into her heart. So she could just barely imagine Cabe’s pain, because the rumor mills she’d heard around town was that Vega was two-timing him, and doing it way more than just once.
Before Cabe could answer, Rusty added some extra incentive to not use her as his find-a-wife-cheating service. “If you’re not paying to go somewhere, you need to get out of my taxi. I have pressing bills to pay and no time for customers not paying.”
“Fuck,” he cursed, and it was like a roll of thunder.
Rusty got a bit edgy, wondering if he was going to stay a gentleman or explode. Then she remembered that Cabe freely worked with troubled girls and young women, so he probably wasn’t going to haul her out of her taxi and shake the answer out of her.
She smelled his cologne before she knew that he’d leaned up on the back of her seat. Piney sandalwood scents smacked her pretty nicely when his hand thrust forward. Rusty managed to stifle a yelp after she saw the greenbacks in his hand.
“Then, babe”—he said the endearment “babe” very sarcastically—“take me where you took them. Here’s the fare, then some.”
The bills tickled her chin and his warm hand was braced on her shoulder while they locked gazes in the mirror. His eyes could lift an entire cheerleading squad’s skirts with their intoxicating and melting brown qualities. She squirmed, definitely not immune to the effect as much as she needed to be. Damn Vega Santos; the woman was an idiot.
“Cabe,” she whispered, pleading with him not to ask her.
“Please,” he whispered back, with a deep voice that melted through her just like his irises did.
“God!” she expelled fiercely, snatching the bills. “I don’t want any trouble!”
His hand cupped her bare shoulder, next to the bright yellow tank top she wore that had “Blondes Can Kiss My Ass” printed across her boobs.
“Cut you loose the second you drop me where they are,” he said, and his tone was so solid she believed him, but then he added, “I’d never let trouble touch you.”
Well, that just wowed through her entire body and made his hand cupping her shoulder feel all kinds of different than some random man’s hand cupping her shoulder into a very hot hunk cupping her very bare shoulder.
“Um, thanks,” she whispered, reaching forward to start her taxi.
She had twenty minutes to convince Cabe not to go where he was so determined to go. She chewed on the inside of her lip, wondering how she was going to do it, because she really wanted to help him.