“She turned on the radio. Christmas music filled the car. She turned it off with a groan. “It’s not going to turn you into an elf if you listen,” he promised and liked the smile that played at the corner of her lips, wiggling the small mole that kept drawing his attention. She glanced at him. “Do you believe in Christmas?” “I do,” he said without hesitation. “Even after all you’ve seen and done overseas?” “Especially because of that…”
— Dana Marton
“I learned from a tough Philly cop, Carmen Morales. She taught me the rules.” “What rules?” “Rule #1: Trust no one. Rule #2: Miss nothing. Rule #3: Reveal nothing. Rule #4: Question everything. Rule #5: Eye on the clock. Rule #6: Get lucky. Rule #7: Trust your instincts. “Good rules to live by. The army has rules too.” “I bet.”
— Dana Marton
“He smiled. “I bet the paper ran something about you once your hiring was confirmed. A new cop is big news in a small town. People were probably admonished to make you feel at home.” She shook her head with some amusement. “I would have felt more at home if they shot at me,.”
— Dana Marton
“I hope we’ll be friends.” His grin was pure sin…. She stuck with the truth. “I hope we won’t be enemies.”
— Dana Marton
“The man’s gaze hesitated on the four-inch cut on Joe’s left cheek, courtesy of the log that had slapped him in the face on the river. With twenty-some stitches sticking out, the wound looked like a giant red caterpillar was crawling across Joe’s face. “Well, that’ll disappoint the ladies.” But then the captain grunted. “Never mind. With you, they’ll probably like it, think it’s all manly.” He peered behind Joe. “Anyone naked in there?” Joe stepped aside. “I’m having an off morning.”
— Dana Marton
“Her grandmother used to say there were men the devil put on earth to test good women. Clara was tempted to ask the guy whether he’d just zip-lined in from hell. “Go away,” she said instead. His smile was worth a thousand words, most of them dirty. His voice dipped. “How can I, when your eyes begged me to come over?”
— Dana Marton
“His last encounter with Wendy… Hell, she’d been the one to hurt his feelings. The best sex of his life, and she’d kicked him out as soon as it was over, told him not to bother with calling because it was strictly a one-time thing. Told him, actually, while he’d still been inside her. He groaned at the memory as he slipped behind the wheel, turning on the heat the second he had the engine started. His day was shaping up to be an ass kicker. Which was saying something, considering that the day before included his arrest, a concussion, and a near drowning.”
— Dana Marton
“He tsked. “No tits, no manners.” He shook his head. “You should try to have at least one or the other. A pair of great tits covers a multitude of sins.”
— Dana Marton
“His phone rang just as he set his evidence kit on the ground. He glanced at the display and took the call. “Hey, Mom.” “I ran into Cindy Jenners at the store today.” “No.” “She’s such a nice young woman.” “Not interested.” “Your sisters abandoned me.” “They didn’t abandon you. They got married.” “They moved to other states. I don’t have a single grandchild. within driving distance. How can they be so curel?” She gave a guilt-laden pause. “Mrs. Ottmann said she saw you talking to some blonde with Massachusetts license plates by the feed store yesterday.” Chase closed his eyes and brushed his thumb and forefinger over his eyelids. “I was giving her a speeding ticket…”
— Dana Marton
“She wasn’t entirely sure if she was being rescued or kidnapped.”
— Dana Marton
“He updated his report, doing his best to tune out the two men who staggered into the police station, dragging each other. “I want you to arrest this idiot bastard,” the taller one shouted, face contorted with rage. “He shit on my front porch!” Your dog shits all over my yard every day,” the other one countered shoving. Calm down, please,” Leila said when they reached reception. The tall one thumped a fist on the counter. “I want to make a police report. I stepped in that shit!” Chase checked out the floor behind them, the questionable footprints. Made a mental note to walk around them when he left.”
— Dana Marton
“Something dropped on her shoulder, but even as she screamed, her heart stopping midbeat, the next oncoming branch swept the tarantula away. Aww! Ick! She manically brushed her shoulder with her free hand, every inch of her covered in goose bumps. “When running from people who’re trying to kill you,” Walker advised as he kept dragging her, “it’s better to stay quiet. Generally speaking.”
— Dana Marton
“Okay, more disclosure. I’m not a fugitive at the moment, but I might become one. I don’t know if I’m going back for a trial. I can’t go to prison and leave the twins alone. We’ll leave before it comes to that. I don’t want to get you in trouble.” Hilda waved off the words. “I’m an old woman. They ain’t gonna take me out of here in shackles. I’ve seen most of the local officers run around in diapers.” Luanne was pretty sure that didn’t mean immunity. She’d seen Chase naked, and that hadn’t stopped him from arresting her. She didn’t tell that to Aunt Hilda.”
— Dana Marton
“Bra already forgotten, he was working on her pants, and he kissed every inch he bared, from her waist to her knees, then to her ankles, then her toes, one by one. he laid a path of kisses down on leg, then up the other, then he placed a long, lingering kiss at her center, through her panties, She was already wet for him. Not that he hurried. All the impatience he’d shown earlier seemed to have evaporated. Doris could have crocheted a pair of panties in the amount of time it took Hunter to remove Gabi’s. She squirmed under him. “I thought they teach speed in the military.” “When warranted. There are times that call for careful deliberation.” “You’re going to deliberate me to death,” she warned, just as he finally parted her hot flesh, a move that immediately silenced her. But he didn’t touch her further. He blew on her clit. She nearly jackkifed off the couch. He pushed her knees up until her heels touched her butt, then he pushed her knees out until she was spread wide open just inches from his face. And then he just looked. Good grief. What was there to look at? “Touch me!” she snapped when she couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “Touch me, you torturous bastard. That’s an order.” He laughed deeply and heartily. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?” “I’ll arrest you.” “I think that’s what they call an abuse of power.” His eyes glinted darkly. “But the idea of handcuffs does have considerable merit.”
— Dana Marton
“I’m a patient man, but I’m not going to wait endlessly.” “But…,” She stammered. “But what?” “It’s so fast.” He growled. “When I went slow, you wanted fast. Now I’m going fast, you want slow. Luanne Mayfair, are you trying to drive me crazy on purpose, or is it just a lucky side benefit as far as you’re concerned?”
— Dana Marton
“Have you found your Christmas spirit yet? he asked as they drove by Broslin Square. The decorations were out of control. “This place would make Liberace feel underdressed.”
— Dana Marton
“The town , wrapped in red and green, greeted him, welcome him home as he drove down familiar streets. Driving his old truck filled Hunter with pleasure. He didn’t have to look for IEDs on the side of the road. He grinned all the way to the apartment, enjoying the ride, the peace of the nigh, the old brick buildings on Main Street, the holiday finery, the palpable presence of town spirit. He parked his truck in front of the apartment building that Ethan owned as a side business, and suddenly couldn’t wait another second. He hurried up the front stairs, down the inside styaircase, then just about ran down the hallway to his basement-level unit. He had his key in his hand, but the doorknob turned easily as he put his hand on it. Cindy had left the door open for him. He grinned like a fool as he walked in. The loose floorboard in the middle of the living room creaked a familiar welcome as he passed his army duffel bag on the floor where he’d dumped it earlier. Cindy’s little pink purse sat on his brown leather couch like a cupcake on a tray. “Cindy?” He strode toward the bedroom in the back, his smile spreading as he anticipated a private party. If she was waiting for him naked in bed, the proposal would have to wait a litt. “Honey?” But she wasn’t waiting for him naked. She was waiting for him dead.”
— Dana Marton
“A dangerous glint came into his eyes. “Gabi, if I ever show up in your bedroom in the middle of the nigh, believe me, it won’t be to give you a morality lesson.” She felt the promise of that through her body down to her toes. But she said, “If anyone showed up in my bedroom in the middle of the night, I’m likely to shoot them.” He laughed as he shook his head at her. “Of course, you would.”
— Dana Marton
“She was hot, he was a man; not being attracted would have been impossible. That gleaming dark hair tempted a man to find out what it would look like released from its tight bun. She had toned, endless legs. Her li8ps were distracting, especially that teasing mole in the corner. She could give a dead monk a boner.”
— Dana Marton
“He kissed her dizzy, then lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waisst as he kissed his way down her neck. “Make love to me,” she whispered. “Like I’m a full-grown woman.” He pulled back to look at her. “As opposed to…?”
— Dana Marton
“Bing tightened his fingers around hers….”I know what I want.” She raised an eyebrow. “What is that?” “Only you.” And as he said the words, he felt a tremendous weight lifting from his chest. “It’s always been only you…” “All right.” She narrowed her eyes. “But if you break my heart, I’m going to have Peaches have words with you.” “That’s threatening a police officer. Technically.””What are you going to do?” She flashed him a teasing smile. “Arrest me?” He bent his head to hers, all the way to her ear. “Stick with me and there might just be some handcuffs in your future,” he whispered. She laughed out loud. “I’ll take that as an incentive to speedily recover.”
— Dana Marton
“He glanced around, his eyes widening a little when he looked toward her bedroom. She winced, but resisted the urge to jump and close the door. He was staring at the poster above her bed, an image of Annie Oakley with the quote “I ain’t afraid to love a man. I ain’t afraid to shoot him either.”
— Dana Marton
“He stepped closer with an intense, thoughtful look on his face. “We shouldn’t do this.” Her heart gave a hard thud. “You probably can’t kiss.” Another step closer. “What does the doctor say?” “We never kissed,” she deadpanned. “Dr. Pratt and I are not interested in each other that way.” The sound of his deep laughter broke the tension between them. He moved a little closer still. “Dr. Pratt says intimacy is all right, unless the other person is sick.” She couldn’t believe she just said that. Why not put a neon sign on her forehead? DESPERATE FOR SEX. “This isn’t going to work.” He leaned his forehead against hers, the skin-to-skin contact jolting. “This isn’t the right time for either of us.” His hands slid up her arms. “I shouldn’t kiss you,” he said. And then he did. Holy heaven.”
— Dana Marton
“His voice still had the rasp of desire as he asked, “If I disappear, will you come and find me?”
— Dana Marton
“Okay,” she said, breathless. “But just be quick about it. Please.” He looked up from her breasts to her face. “Stamina is usually considered a good thing in a man.” She tried to catch her breath. “It’s… uncomfortable. I’m not good at this,” she confessed. “I don’t like to drag things out.: His eyebrows slid up a fraction, his voice deepening to a silky smoothness. “Is that so?” And then ever so slowly, ever so carefully, he licked a lazy circle around her nipple. A small moan escaped her throat, taking her by surprise and embarrassing her. His lips twitched. Then he licked the nipple itself. She moaned again, started by the pleasure. Then he took her nipple into his mouth, sucked hard suddenly, and she felt moisture gather between her legs. When he moved to the other nipple while rubbing the first between his thumb and index fingers, she reached down to run her hands over his back and wide shoulders, over his hot, smooth skin, wanting to touch him as much as wanting to hold him in place. He looked up. “For someone who’s not good at this, you’re amazingly responsive.”
— Dana Marton
“She sighed. “You’re not without fault, but you’re not rotten. Although you’re very disorderly. You’re pigheaded, cocky beyond bearing, arrogant.” She stopped when she realized she’d just said the same thing three times over. “You have a troubling obsession with vigilante justice.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m sure there are things you don’t like about me.” “You’re not naked, and you’re not under me.” His voice was thick with passion.”
— Dana Marton
“It’s all messed up,” she said. “What is?” he asked quietly from behind her. “Us.” “We’re doing okay.” “I didn’t set out to trap you or anything.” Keith had accused her of that a hundred times. “I don’t feel trapped.” “Why?” “I’m a simple guy. I have a beautiful woman in my arms. What’s there to complain about?” “I’m hardly beautiful. I look like an eggplant.” “Purple is my favorite color.” “There’s a really annoying dinosaur you might want to watch with Justin over breakfast.” But she smiled into the darkness.”
— Dana Marton
“If we were in a spreadsheet, we’d be in different columns.” She’d be under uptight/nerdy/homely girls, and he’d be under badass men with bodies of..um..Navy SEALS. He grunted. “Just so you know, I hate spreadsheets with a hot, burning passion.”
— Dana Marton
“Wendy Belle wasn’t the type of model foreign princes married. Yes, tall and graceful, but she didn’t radiate a Grace Kelly-like cold beauty. Her lips were too sensuous for that, her eyes too mysterious. Her face was beautiful and perfect in its own way. More than beautiful – interesting. She was the type of woman a man could look at for a lifetime and not get bored.”
— Dana Marton
“She sashayed into the kitchen like she lived there, and grabbed two glasses from the counter, rinsed them in the sink, all very domestic. His eyes strayed to her breasts. “You came to do dishes?” “I came to come.” She winked, smiling from ear to ear. “Gotta appreciate a straight-talking woman.”
— Dana Marton