Okay, the votes were almost two to one in favor of excerpt # 2 from my HQN release HERE COMES TROUBLE which should hit stores THIS WEEK! (Wahoooo!)
Early sales are sooooooo very important and I can’t tell you all how much I’d appreciate your support on this book. I hope everyone likes it. It’s very sexy, with lots of wild characters, raucous jokes, cuckoo clocks, an unsolved murder, two deadly old ladies, an attack poodle, lost treasure and just outright silliness. (FYI: This is not exactly a book with a serious, plausible plot…but I just had a total BALL writing it!)
Aircraft ID: TA631
Status: Terminally Single
Temp: Smoking
Altitude: Falling Fast
DEPARTING: LOS ANGELES
Former air force pilot Max Taylor has gained something of a reputation with the high-society ladies he shuttles around on his charter airline service. And the rumor mill has been out of control since he’s become a chapter in the tell-all book written by a late congressman’s widow! Looking to lie low while the courts restore his good name, Max has decided to hide out with his grandfather in the tiny town of Trouble, Pennsylvania.
ARRIVING: TROUBLE
Sabrina Cavanaugh isn’t the sultry, mysterious heiress she’s pretending to be. In fact, she’s a junior book editor who happens to be on a mission—to nail Max Taylor for the womanizing creep he is. Having worked hand in hand with the loose-lipped widow in writing her memoirs, there’s no way Sabrina’s going to let some spoiled (and hot) flyboy kill her career-making project with a lawsuit.
It looks as if the love of a lifetime is on the horizon.
And now, the excerpt you chose…”Butch, sic kiwis!”
Max wasn’t entirely certain who the pregnant girl getting out of the white sedan in front of the Dewdrop Inn was, but he had no doubt she knew Sabrina. Because right at the moment he’d thought for sure the beautiful blonde was going to tell him why she’d gone from molten angel to aloof stranger, she went pale. Her whole body jerked and her jaw worked, opening and closing, no sound coming out. She stepped completely out into the open, staring in shock toward the street.
Once he’d gotten his body back under control, he joined her. Watching the newcomer, he heard Sabrina’s tiny groan. He couldn’t resist reaching out and grabbing her hand, knowing that whoever this girl was, Sabrina was not entirely thrilled to see her. She squeezed back, giving him a quick look of appreciation out of the corner of her eye before turning her full attention on the newcomer. Interesting. She’d been icy cold toward him a moment before, yet she now seemed grateful to have him by her side.
Which gave him hope that she might want him to stay there.
After what they’d just shared, Max knew he was not going to be satisfied with a stolen interlude in the bushes. He wanted to make love to her, to take all her clothes off and fill his senses with that delicate body. To stare at her soft skin and the perfect breasts he could still taste on his tongue. To smell the musky scent of her arousal and the flowery scent of her hair. To caress her arms and stroke her thighs and slide his tongue inside her. Then bury himself in her tight body and lose his mind completely.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sabrina said, interrupting his heated memories of what had happened—and more heated fantasies of what was yet to come.
The young woman waved at the people in the car as they drove away. Struggling with a suitcase and a dog leash, she walked up the uneven driveway. Max instinctively stepped forward and grabbed the luggage.
When she flashed him a grateful smile, he pegged her as a family member right away. The smile was the same. So was the sparkle in the bright blue eyes.
Her hair was much darker, her face more round. She looked young—not much beyond her teenage years. And she was obviously very pregnant. But he’d be willing to bet he was looking at a sister or a cousin of the woman he’d been about to make love to in the shadows.
Then he focused on the dog at her feet and figured he was at last meeting the infamous Butch. So, this had to be the sister.
“Hi,” she said, her smile fading as Sabrina continued to stare. “I guess you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”
“You could say that.” Sabrina frowned. “How did you…”
“Jane told me where you were.”
“She wouldn’t have done that.”
“I had something on her.”
Ahh, blackmail. He began to like this girl.
“You strong-armed my assistant?” Sabrina asked. Then she quickly glanced toward him, her lips rounding into an o of surprise, as if she’d forgotten he was there.
“I’ll get out of your hair, I guess you’re going to be busy this morning.” Smiling, he added, “Too busy to go…flying.”
“Flying?” the girl said, sounding like a kid being offered a ride on an elephant. “You’re going flying?”
“No. We’re not,” Sabrina said. “You’re going to explain what you’re doing here. You followed me? You have got to be kidding me. What were you thinking?”
Max didn’t hear anger in Sabrina’s voice, more a confused disappointment. A resignation that he absolutely did not like.
In the time he’d known her, he’d seen Sabrina Cavanaugh in varying moods. Friendly and helpful at the carousel. Snappy and caustic when they’d walked to the house. Flirtatious with his grandfather. Thoughtful and concerned at the tavern. Even suggestive on occasion. And oh…absolutely sinful in his arms.
But he hadn’t seen this. This weariness that seemed to pull her shoulders down and put a stark sadness in her eyes.
Her unhappiness made him instantly stiffen. Where this protective instinct had come from, he had no idea. He hadn’t felt protective toward a woman in years. If ever, considering what his first wife, Teresa, had been like.
“And Giorgio? You brought the dog on this wild game of hide-and-seek?” Sabrina asked.
Ahh, Giorgio the Doberman stuck in a poodle’s body. Max smiled, looking at the dog, who was jumping up onto Sabrina’s leg, looking for attention. She crouched down to scratch him beneath his fuzzy beige chin, rubbing her nose against his and burying her face in his fur.
It was a telling moment. A quiet one, but an interesting one nonetheless. She stayed bent down, hugging the dog like she couldn’t bear to let him go. Couldn’t bear to stand up and finish the conversation she’d been having with the young woman. As if wanting to prolong her freedom for just a little bit longer. He could almost see her mentally dealing with this situation which, he had begun to suspect, was not a happy one.
Sensing she wouldn’t appreciate the attention, Max strolled a few feet away, giving them some privacy. But not too far, because he wanted to keep an eye on the pair. Maybe to lend a hand if the pregnant woman needed it. Maybe just to be a silent support system for Sabrina.
He leaned against the porch railing. Crossing his arms, he feigned a real interest in the stupid sign Al Fitzweather had had painted for the front of the inn—a drop of moisture falling off a rose. Such subtlety. He could hardly stand it.
“We probably shouldn’t talk now,” the girl said. “We’ll talk later. I think Butch has to go. He needs some grass. Why don’t I take him for a walk?”
Max was about to offer to take the dog off their hands when Sabrina’s head jerked up and she rose to her feet. “Huh uh. You and I have some things to discuss. We can let Giorgio in the back yard.” Swinging around, she opened the gate, unleashed the dog and gently shooed him in.
“He’s such a good boy. He’s an angel to travel with.”
“Why is he traveling at all? Allie, why are you here?”
The girl—Allie—continued as if Sabrina hadn’t even spoken. “And he’s smart, too. Very smart. No silly speak or play dead tricks for him. I’ve been teaching him to be a guard dog.”
Guard dog. Right. The fuzz ball could guard against any ants who threatened to invade Sabrina’s kitchen. Or guard against bigger dogs, who’d laugh themselves to death the minute this one tried to act threatening.
“I had to teach him to be a guard dog, you see,” the girl said, her voice growing louder—more shrill. And, Max suddenly realized, a little bit hysterical.
“Because of Peter. In case Peter…”
Even from here he could see the expression of dismay that flashed across Sabrina’s face. She instantly stepped close, putting her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “He’s gone honey, he’s never going to bother you again.”
Max somehow maintained his indolent position leaning against the railing, though every muscle in his body had tensed. He had a sudden suspicion that this Peter character could be the father of Allie’s baby. And given her youth—and obvious fear of him—he had to wonder if she’d been the victim of rape.
God. The girl looked barely twenty. He’d never laid eyes on her until now, but Max still felt like going after the man who’d done this to Sabrina’s sister.
Allie sniffled, hugged her sister back, then glanced at her own feet. “You never know, it’s a small world. Anything can happen.” She opened her mouth, closed it. Hell, even from several feet away Max could tell she was hiding something. He wondered what it was the girl was afraid to tell Sabrina. And how it would affect Sabrina when she did.
Instead, Allie evaded. “So, because of that, I’ve been working with Butch on his attack skills.” She smiled, though the sheen in her eyes remained. “I took that big cardboard standing-poster of Fabio that you got as a gag gift from work last Christmas and tied a string around it, with a banana and two kiwis hanging down between his legs.”
Unable to stop it, Max let out a bark of laughter. He didn’t know what amused him more—the thought of Sabrina having a life-sized Fabio stuffed in her closet, or the image of Butch going after his…umh…fruit.
Allie glanced at him, looking surprised, as if she’d forgotten he was nearby. So did her sister, who nibbled on her lower lip, obviously embarrassed.
Max couldn’t help it. When Allie turned her attention back to Sabrina, he lifted one brow and mouthed “Fabio?”
She shot him a glare.
“When I say sic, well, Butch, he just goes crazy.”
Picturing the rabid little furball, Max couldn’t help smiling. Talk about your ultimate stupid pet trick—he wondered if Butch had a future on Letterman.
A yappy string of barks indicated that the furball had heard Allie’s command. The dog was barking, growling, and practically bouncing off the fence in excitement, judging by the thumps Max heard even from a few feet away.
The thumps were suddenly drowned out, however, by a loud male voice. “What’s that noise? Whose dog is this?”
Max and Sabrina met each other’s stares. The way her eyes flared and her mouth dropped open, she had the exact same thought he did, at the very same moment.
That the mutt wasn’t alone in the back yard…the owner of the inn was there, too.
And it was Sunday. Nudist day.
Before he could so much as call out a warning, the morning air was split apart by a high-pitched shriek. Several more echoed it.
Max didn’t think, didn’t plan. He merely sprinted toward the gate, his hand touching the latch at the same instant Sabrina’s did. They opened it together, burst into the back yard, and were greeted by the kind of sight you just didn’t see every day. Not even in a town called Trouble.
Standing a few feet away, screaming like a young girl being chased by one of the knife-wielding movie psychos Sabrina so loved, was Al Fitzweather. Red-faced, sweaty, and naked. A typical weekend look for the man, or so he’d heard.
Except for one thing: the small poodle dangling between his spread legs, its jaws clamped tightly on the man’s…kiwis.
You know, my hubby kinda liked this cake picture, too…lolol! 
Barbara-Jo - Post #19 
I know there are many days that I feel just like those birds do! 
(c) our butt. It doesn’t matter how shrewd, furtive, or quick the glance is. 
7. A great haircut can give us a new lease on life. A bad one is not to be trivialized, minimized, or joked about. 
