Description
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About the author:
By night I'm a bartender at your local dive, but by day I'm at the library with a gallon of coffee, typing away, trying to exorcise all these great stories I've witnessed over the years.
I live in the woods with my husband and my two Rottweilers and love trail running, cold beer and writing hot steamy books about motorcycle clubs and mountain men.
What inspired you to write your book?
This book was inspired by a need I had to write something fun, light, and "tropey" for a change! I had so much fun writing the story of "Tucker" and Molly. When I first proposed the idea of Vagrant to my friends I thought they would laugh at me, it's kind of ridiculous in retrospect, but everyone was so supportive. Apparently I'm not the only person that thinks this world needs more mountain men with amnesia and free-spirited heroines who live life on their own terms.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Wait a minute, I think. Something isn’t right here.
My ankle is throbbing and I feel sunburned from head to toe. My mouth is dry and my stomach is growling. I blink open my eyes and assume I must be hallucinating.
Standing before me is a mountain of a man. He’s got that sun-kissed skin that looks like he works outside all day, and his shirtless torso is covered in tattoos that do very little to hide his ripped abs. He crouches down beside me and my heart skips a beat.
“I don’t have any money on me,” I try and stutter, but the look in his piercing blue eyes tells me that’s not what he’s looking for. He looks… gentle almost, sensitive. Concerned. His face is covered in a long blond beard, a true mountain man, with long, dirty blond hair that looks like something I wouldn’t mind running my fingers through. He smells like fresh cut grass and something citrusy, like a breath of fresh air just breezed into my life.
He puts his hands up in the air. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says. “I don’t want anything.”
I try to stifle a gasp as I read the tattoo on his hand.
Vagrant in bold black letters.
He’s one of them.
But his teeth are so white, so straight. He’s so clean. He doesn’t look like some dirty bum that lives on the streets. He looks like the male stripper version of a lumberjack.
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