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Heather moves to L.A. and loses her heart to a downed motorcyclist, a look-alike for her executive boss. Heather struggles to understand her dream man, not realizing he is a twin. When the owner and star attraction of the Prancing Stallion Club discovers the girl of his dreams it changes his whole life.
The sound of screeching tires behind her bode another disaster. Heather squeezed her eyes tight, clutching the steering wheel even harder, waiting for the crash. She expected to feel the jolt, to hear the sound of metal crunching metal.
"Hey, lady! Why donâ€™t you learn how to drive!â€ the driver yelled at her as he jerked his car around her.
She gulped. Heather returned the taunt with an icy glare. She fought to steady her hands and clear her head. What if Iâ€™d run over that poor guy? Not that anybody else seems to care. I could have killed him!
Her heart still pounding in her temples, Heather breathed deeply before she realized that somehow sheâ€™d managed to engage her trouble lights. Seeing the flashing signal triggered her from her stupor.
Quaking, Heather took another shaky breath, uncurling her rigid fingers from the steering wheel. She threw open her door, leaped out, and ran to the downed rider.
"Are you hurt?â€ she gasped in a quivery voice as she knelt beside the leather-clad motorcyclist. Her waist length hair blew forward over her shoulders and swept about her face. Anxiously, she clawed her wind-whipped hair away from her eyes. Her concern for the victimâ€™s welfare deepened when he did not reply. She watched him struggle to turn off his engine.
Suddenly noticing that the manâ€™s arm was pinned under the handlebar, Heather reached for the key and turned off the ignition.
Dizzying stabs still prickled the nape of her neck. Her heartbeat still pounded in her ears, and her mouth had gone dry. She crouched beside the helmeted figure, glancing over her shoulder at the swerving traffic, furtively appraising their situation.
At least while her stalled VW blocked oncoming traffic, she reasoned, the man wouldnâ€™t get run over. She had no idea how badly he might be hurt. Obviously, the string of oaths werenâ€™t intended for her ears, she decided. She hadnâ€™t caused the accident.
Finally realizing he was trapped by the weight of the motorcycle, Heather jumped to her feet and threw her slight body against the machine. Her attempt to lift its weight was unsuccessful.
She knelt again to open the face shield. "Hey, Mister, are you all right?â€ she asked. The sight of his penetrating blue eyes captivated her.
Noticing her for the first time, the rider stopped struggling. The stream of oaths ceased. He gazed up into her face as though mesmerized.
"Damn, what beautiful hair. Are you an angel, Pretty Lady?â€ he asked.
"No. Just a good Samaritan.â€
"Samaritan. I stopped to help you.â€
The rider took a deep breath. "I think Iâ€™m in trouble here.â€
"Right,â€ she stammered. "Youâ€™ve had an accident.â€
When the man struggled to unfasten his chinstrap, Heather reached out and pulled the helmet free. The sight of his blond curly hair tumbling loose, his tanned good looks, and his quick brave smile snarled her heartstrings. Geez, just look at those blue eyes! Feeling lightheaded, she blinked and brushed her hand jerkily across her forehead.
"Donâ€™t faint,â€ he pleaded quietly, cupping her face with his gloved hand. "I think Iâ€™ll live.â€
Still kneeling beside him, Heather straightened her back, her knees still shaking. "I donâ€™t see any blood or anything,â€ she gasped, scanning his body. "Do you hurt anywhere?
"Noâ€¦ nothing serious anyway.â€
Without breaking his starry-eyed gaze, he reached for her with his free arm, brushing his hand lightly through her hair, letting his fingers tangle in the curls that now cascaded over his chest.
"You sure youâ€™re not an angel?â€
"Iâ€™m sure.â€ Heatherâ€™s head spun as she drowned in the depths of his bright blue eyes. Finding herself unable to shift her gaze, her heart skipped a beat.
Heatherâ€™s head jerked up suddenly as she caught the motion of a traffic cop pulling his own motorcycle in behind the protection of her car. "The cavalry is here,â€ she quipped gratefully, as she stood. She brushed the road gravel from her knees.
BIO: JoEllen Conger is not one writer, but twoâ€”a pair of twins who have shared their special mind-linking abilities since children. What one doesnâ€™t think to add to a manuscript or story, the other does. They make quite a team. And as they matured and went their separate ways, writing was the one link that always kept them together. Each twin has her own area of expertise, but enjoying their collaboration efforts, they continue to write fiction in several genres and non-fiction articles and books in various topics.
BIO (1): Joan Ellen Powell lives in Santa Cruz, California with her younger daughter, son-in-law, and two granddaughters. She also writes under her married name, Joan C. Powell. Being a long-term member of her community, Joan Ellen is actively involved in many local organizations. She has been a member of Romance Writers of America since 1989, and has served as an officer of her local chapter many times. Over the years she has been called upon to judge RWA writing contests, critique or advise other writers, mentor and review pre-published galleys and published works. She finds it a fulfilling way to make new friends.
BIO (2) Joyce Ann Kennedy lives with her husband, and a yard full of wild birds, two small dogs, and a number of cats in the dessert heat of Bakersfield, California. She not only critiques manuscripts by mail, and served as a writing contest judge for RWA, sheâ€™s accepted a more recent job as submissions editor for a local cyber-magazine, while continuing to co-write romance, fantasy, and adventure tales with her twin sister. Although the twins live miles apart, thanks to e-mail, they are in constant communications.
Book Publisher: Wings e Press
No. of Pages: 338
Paper Weight (lb): 14.2
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