Des and I are launching our bi-monthly bit we call OLDIES BUT GOODIES. Yep. We're pimping out the books you may have missed!
OUT OF CONTROL is one of my very favorites of hers.
Why?
A hot and believable romance has got to have a solid background. This one is not only an accurate view of the Hill Country of Texas (Des's and my home territory) but also a bang up job of characterization of a serial killer's only surviving attemtped victim. Yes, this woman is damaged but has rehabilitated herself enough so that we can see the trauma and the recovery.
A must read!
Here you go:
Twenty five years ago Carrie Nolan was
the only victim to survive the killing spree of a pedophile. Her life has been
frozen in time, and not even a move to a distant city or a name change has
healed the wounds that left her emotionally and sexually scarred. Determined
finally to reclaim her life, Carrie returns to High Ridge as multi-published
crime novelist, Dana Moretti, in hope of asking the questions that would lay
her nightmares to rest. Sheriff Cole Landry, came to High Ridge to escape the
horrors of Iraq and Afghanistan, but soon after the sexy author arrives and
starts poking her nose into matters best forgotten, his town once again becomes
the hunting ground of a ruthless killer. She's sure it's the same man, and he's
not all that convinced she's wrong. Keeping Dana safe means keeping her
close—very close—under his protection, under him. Between her sexual need for
Cole and the danger lurking behind every stranger's face, her world is spinning
out of control.
“Can I help you?”
The deep voice that spoke to her sent
shock waves through her. She whirled, her knees shaking. Oh, hell. It was him.
The man in the truck. Wearing a uniform, for god’s sake.
“I have to say,” he went on, “you look a
lot better when you aren’t soaked through by the rain.”
Dana’s legs were shaking, keeping time
with the butterflies doing the rumba in her stomach. The first thing she
thought was cowboy. He had the easy,
relaxed yet alert stance she’d seen on men around horses and cattle. And his
feet were shod in square-toed Western boots. She was sure his hat would be a
Stetson.
But the way his eyes assessed her, the
analytical gaze…military. Some kind
of covert ops.
A dangerous combination in a man.
Dangerous to women. And to people who were
misled by his friendly smile.
He was somewhere in his mid-thirties. At
least six-four, broad shouldered, and lean hipped, the khaki of the sheriff’s
uniform looking as if it were custom tailored for him. His face was all angles
and planes, with deep-set, whiskey-colored eyes framed by dark brows and lashes.
Even in her state of high anxiety, she couldn’t miss the sexuality that
radiated from him.
The ultimate alpha male.
And trouble.
I’ll
bet he has to beat the women off with a nightstick. Well, for sure he won’t
have to worry about me. Oh, wait. After last night, he probably thinks I’m a
nutcase anyway.
She wet her lips. “I gave my card to
your…to the woman at the window. I’m Dana Moretti.”
“I know who you are.” His smile, like John
Garrett’s, was professional and didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve been expecting
you. Come on.”
He swung the door wide, the muscles in his
tanned arms flexing with the movement.
“If you’d identified yourself last night,”
she told him, trying to keep the acid out of her voice, “I might have been more
willing to accept a ride. I don’t make it a habit of jumping into trucks with
strange men.”
His body brushed hers as he let the door
swing shut, and lightning shot through her. What the hell? She knew what
unexpected lust was. She often wrote about it, but it wasn’t a feeling familiar
to her personally. Certainly not in a situation like this. Maybe this was a bad
idea, after all.
“So, what kind of men do you jump in trucks with?”
www.desireeholttellsall.com
Twitter: @desireeholt
Facebook:
/desireeholt
And now an App for all Apple device
No comments:
Post a Comment