Title: Legacy of Lies Series: Hell's Valley #1
Genre: Western Paranormal Romance
Garrison Taggart doesn’t have time to deal with touchy-feely junk like “trust issues” or “feelings.” His dad’s health is waning and the family’s Wyoming ranch is being sabotaged. Too bad his supernatural ability to tell when someone is lying has been exactly zero help in ferreting out the betrayer so far. So, when sweet schoolteacher Sara Lopez raises concerns about his son being bullied, who can blame a guy for getting a little testy? The last thing Sara needs is any more attention or gossip after her recent breakup with big-shot rancher Hank Brand. So her attraction to surly but sexy Garrison, Hank’s rival, is entirely unwanted. When she uncovers an insane plot to kidnap the Taggart boy and throws herself in harm’s way to protect him, Garrison must risk his deepest secret and his own life to save the people he cares for the most. But will his heroics cost him everything?
“It’s been a while, so I may be rusty.” His low voice sent jolts of anticipation down her spine.
Her lips waited, just a few cruel inches away from his mouth ... was this some kind of evil torture? Would she have to wait, a millimeter from heaven, while she froze to death?
No thank you.
Never let it be said that Sara couldn’t take charge of an iffy situation when the chips were down. Or help knock some rust off a fellow.
She grabbed his sheepskin and leather jacket lapels, yanking him toward her as she stood on tiptoes. When their lips met, a zap of holy wow shot clear to her feet, then returned to settle in her pelvis, swirling in the most delightful way. The heat from his mouth flowed like warm liqueur through her body. After a moment, her calves protested the height difference, and she staggered back a step. Her hands remained clamped onto his jacket.
She licked her lips, her taste buds instantly craving more of his spicy male essence. A comparison between the taste of his lips and the rest of his body would be fine, too. “Yes, well. So there you go, no more rust. Like riding a bike,” she babbled. When he leaned down, his stubble brushed her cheek, sending ticklish, delicious sparks skimming over her skin. “I might need more practice.” His breath slid up her jaw and drifted over her ear. Rusty? Out of practice? She’d love to bear witness to his expertise when he regained proficiency. Kisses any better than these could kill a woman. Dead.
Jillian David lives near the end of the Earth with her nut of a husband and two bossy cats. To escape the sometimes-stressful world of the rural physician, she writes while on call and in her free time. She enjoys taking realistic settings and adding a twist of “what if.” Running or hiking on local trails often promotes plot development.
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