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No not my birthday, my husband’s.
For six months, he’s older than me and I enjoy every minute of it. We’ve been married since we were 18. When he turned 20 he called me a teenybopper for six months. BIG mistake. This girl never forgets. Here’s a sample of yesterday’s (his actual birthday) conversations.
Me: You look good for your age.
DH: Thanks, that helps.
Me: You don’t look a day over 56.
DH: That’s because I’m not a day over 56.
Me: Do you feel old?
DH: Yes, so stop asking.
Me: I don’t think you heard my question a minute ago, your hearing must be going.
Me: Walmart has a sale on geriatric vitamins.
DH: You’re not making this any easier.
Me: You know what they say… Age is a matter of mind. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.
DH: A 20 year old wrote that.
Me: Thank God I love older men.
DH: That’s supposed to make me feel better?
Me: I promise I’ll love you when you’re old and gray.
DH: I’m already old and gray.
Me: See. I keep my promises.
Happy Birthday to the sexiest old man I know!
Book 5 in the Hotter Than Hell Series is out.
Each book is a standalone but they are so much better if you read in order and know all the players.
Here’s a snippet from Ignite:
The men watch me around the clock. Getting my hands on a cell phone is a fluke and I still can’t believe my luck. I need to send a text and get out of Peter’s room quickly.
I don’t have much time to think about what I send, but I need to be smart. I can delete the history after sending the text. This opens up a new set of problems. If Peter notices his missing messages, he’ll check his phone account online and trace the text. If that happens, it won’t be just me in danger. Fear travels through my veins and makes my already rapid heartbeat speed up even more. I put myself into this mess and now I’m endangering someone else. I shake off the fear and look back down where my fingers clench the phone.
Shakily, I type his number followed by my message.
This is Beth Hoffman, Nick’s sister.
I’m in trouble and being held by Angelo Gimonde
Camp Springs, Montana
I take a deep breath and click Send. The trembling in my fingers doubles as I delete the text history. I’m so screwed. It’s little comfort that Angelo won’t immediately kill me. He’ll hunt Rack down and kill him first. I’ve endangered Rack even if he checks Angelo’s name on the Internet and decides I’m not worth saving. If only I were more intelligent in the beginning and never stepped into this mess.
I don’t know Rack well. He was my brother’s best friend in the military. Seeing Rack through Nick’s eyes really doesn’t count. Nick told me more than once if I ever needed help and he wasn’t around, to call Rack. A shiver passes through me. Did Nick somehow know that he wouldn’t be around, that an IED would take him out only a few months before his return to the States?
I only met Rack once. It was a few months before my first wedding date. My fiancé delayed the first one and then the second. I squelch the stupidity I feel that there was ever more than one. The last few years of my life are one bad decision after another. When Rack visited me his expression had none of the carefree qualities my brother described. Oh, I expected the dangerous undertone, just not the dead eyes. His gaze held a complete lack of humanity. And still, my body betrayed me. Rack is a force of nature and like nature, he’s raw and compelling. His insanely green eyes turned my insides to jelly. His muscles stretched his polo shirt to near bursting. His square jaw spoke of strength and determination. His dark hair with its closely cropped military cut took the danger he radiated up a notch. Everything about him made me think of silk sheets and hot sex. I swear, by the way his luscious mouth smirked he was reading my body like a map. He didn’t miss the shortness of breath, sweaty palms, or my accelerated heartbeat. He couldn’t have. God, I actually wondered if he could smell the desire my body exuded via wet panties. His eyes literally changed color to a deeper green and his nostrils flared as I came undone at his proximity. The experience was mortifying and made worse by my engagement to another man.
I held so much guilt over that one meeting. Or at least I did until I discovered my fiancé in bed with my best friend the night before our third calendar wedding date. Now my ex-best friend and ex-fiancé. I hope the two of them spend eternity together making each other miserable.
I sigh into the quiet room. Even with all the trouble I’ve brought down on my head, I’m a vindictive bitch and I’m not ready to forgive and forget. I check the time on the phone. Angelo will return shortly and I need to get out of Peter’s room.
If Angelo finds out about the phone, he’ll kill Peter for this. Peter is a young fool. He’s infatuated with Angelo’s lifestyle. The lifestyle of a mobster where kidnapping is just another walk in the park. I have absolutely no reason to feel sorry for Peter. Like me, he’ll need to live with his decisions.
I rest the cell phone back on the nightstand and walk to the door. There are cameras in the hallway. I’m carrying one of Peter’s long-sleeved flannel shirts, which is the reason I entered his room to begin with. I need Peter to pocket his phone when he returns and keep his mouth shut about leaving it behind this morning. My only chance is that Peter knows Angelo will kill him for the mistake. I still can’t believe my luck in discovering it.