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Jail-bait. Delinquent. Handsome as all get-out.
Those were goody-two-shoes Ginny Harper’s first impressions of her step-brother, Michael Blackheart. Luckily the marriage of their famous parents was over in a heartbeat. It did produce a mutual half-brother. Now, fifteen years later, a big-city girl and a reclusive man are forced to come together to raise their teenaged brother and share the same farm.
It is a clash of strong and very different wills. Michael makes it clear that he doesn’t want her or Jake in his life. Weird nocturnal things are happening on his side of the farm. The more she confronts him, the more attracted Ginny and Michael become. Will their stubborn attraction lead to danger? Or an abiding love and a whole new life as a family?
"I’m singing in the school Remembrance Day assembly tomorrow. You want to come?"
Michael set down the post digger he was using and frowned. "Is Ginny going?"
"Of course she’s going. You should have seen her get all weepy because I was picked to do it. It was brutal. I wanted to get down on my knees and beg her to stop praising me."
He laughed. "I can see the scene quite clearly."
"What are you doing lately? Avoiding her? You didn’t even get out of the car when you dropped me off yesterday."
Michael lifted his hat and wiped the sweat from his face. Jake was right. He hadn’t seen Ginny closer than ten feet away for weeks. They had a routine going now. He’d drop off Jake on Tuesday and Thursday nights after his band practice, would give her a smile and a wave out the truck window if she came out on the porch and that was about it.
Every encounter was capped by the same gnawing hunger in the pit of his gut. Every time he saw her it was hours until he could wipe the picture of her out of his head. Last time she’d looked so irresistible he’d wanted to flop her over his shoulder and carry her away. She’d gone back to her editing job and was doing some freelance writing. She had come to the door with hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed in days, tortoiseshell glasses, skin-tight flared black track pants and his tee shirt.
His shirt: the faded one with Pepe Le Pew that he’d loaned her the day of the famous pie incident. She’d never returned it to him and he’d often wondered why. Maybe she didn’t have any that were large and comfortable like that. But maybe she just kept it because it belonged to him. The thought of her curled up in it with her laptop, sleeping in it, naked beneath it, and maybe thinking of him as she stripped it over her head to take a shower, made him nuts.
Ginny Harper seemed to be his first thought when he woke and his last thought at night. And that was bad.
So why didn’t he do something about it?
If she didn’t come to him soon...
It had to be her call. That was the way it had to be.
At least the visits from the ‘old-fashioned girl’ had stopped. She’d just taken to writing occasional letters to his post office box telling him what a dirty bad boy he’d become and how the love of a God-fearing woman could straighten him out. He just turned the crap over to Maggie, who said they were computer printed letters, mailed from different places, some as far as Canada. Maggie said that was nothing. People could get friends from the Internet to do that stuff. There was not a lot to go on.
Kerry had called him just this morning, but he hadn’t mentioned anything to her about it. For now Maggie was just telling him to hold on, that it might peter out if the person got a new obsession. He wasn’t in the magazines this month and that was a good thing. The public was only interested when your face was out there.
"I’m taking the driver’s test tomorrow to get my learner’s certificate," Jake said. "Scored perfect when I took the sample test on the Internet."
"It’s still a year before you can drive legally. What you do on paper’s a lot different."
"But you said you’d let me drive on this property all I wanted."
Michael squinted at the sun. "Supervised. Yeah, Jake, I said that I’d teach you to drive."
"I swear I’ll be responsible, dude. You can take that to the bank."
Michael laughed. "You know who you look like when you put on that upright, serious face?"
"Me when I was sixteen telling the headmaster that I wasn’t going to sneak out of the dorm ever again. I was one hell of a great actor. A credit to the family legacy."
"What did you do? Visit chicks?"
"Yeah, sometimes I did that."
"Do you even have sex nowadays?"
"Well, I don’t ever see any women over here. You’d better do something before it petrifies."
"Thanks. I’ll take that under advisement."
AUTHOR'S BIO: B. G. McCarthy has dreamed of writing since reading Ivanhoe at twelve, mainly because she thought the hero ended up with the wrong girl. Still suffering an irresistible urge to rewrite other peoples’ stories, B. G. started writing Internet fan-fiction for a television spy show. Encouraged by fans of the storyboards, she decided to leave that realm and weave her own stories where the right girl gets the guy and there is always a happy-ever-after. She loves quirky heroes, slightly snarky heroines with issues and swears that the ubiquitous secret baby plot will never show its diaper in her own fiction universe. She walks, gardens, paints, is addicted to the BBC channel and Food Network and is raising two almost-perfect teenage girls, a neurotic Jack Russell Terrier and a husband who races sports cars.
Book Publisher: Wings e Press
No. of Pages: 332
Paper Weight (lb): 13.8
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