Welcome to Amber Lea Easton who brings news of her next release,
Colonel Michael Cedars is a wounded marine returning home from Afghanistan. He’s partially paralyzed with his left leg, unsure how to fit into civilian life again after being career military and questions whether or not he’s fit to be married to his wife, Hope.
Hope Shane is a natural wild child. She met the Colonel while working as a war correspondent, watched him get blown up and returned to Denver, Colorado to bring him home. She’s an investigative reporter who becomes tangled up in a human trafficking story. As far as Michael wanting a divorce and giving up on life, she’s not one to surrender the fight. That goes for the helpless victims in the story she’s chasing...nothing will stop her until she has truth and justice.
As the danger of Hope’s story intensifies, Michael is tested more than he ever imagined. Is he capable of being the husband she needs? Will he hold her back or, worse yet, get her killed? Is Hope and her penchant for finding trouble a liability he can’t risk? Or is he still the hero she claims him to be?
Heroes come in many forms--soldiers who fall and rise, women who battle for their marriage, reporters who fight for truth and justice, and men who would put it all on the line for the women they love.
An adult excerpt from Reckless Endangerment...
“What do we know about being married?” she asked, her gaze focused on a distant spot on the tiled floor. “Maybe you’re right. I’m a mess. You’re a disaster. Neither one of us is being honest.” She met his gaze. “We’re just a couple of liars who enjoyed the danger of sneaking around in a war zone. We’re the good story without a happy ending that we’ll think about when we’re old and alone.”
He winced. He deserved that. Hell, he’d been singing the same song. It felt like a boulder crushed his chest as he waited for the final blow.
“I understand,” he said. “You don’t need to make any apologies. I’m a lot to handle. A disaster, like you said. Just give me the divorce papers and that will be that. End of our story.”
“You never really loved me, did you? Look how easily you’ve discarded us, everything we were.”
“I’m sure you weren’t lonely. A woman like you doesn’t stay alone for long. If you need someone’s shoulder to cry on, I’m sure you’ll find a willing guy in a few hours.”
Nothing he said anymore made sense, even to himself. Frustrated, he left her alone in the bedroom. All those months--after all of those notes postmarked from around the world--all of those images of her on television--he’d imagined the men drawn to her. He had imagined her lonely and hurt by his silence seeking comfort from another lover. Hell, maybe it had been easier to imagine that instead of believing his actions hurt her.
“You don’t have any faith in me at all, did you?” She stood behind him. “Not one ounce of faith.”
He flinched. Needing more space, he moved to the kitchen and preoccupied himself with looking into the refrigerator. What to eat, what to eat...
Arms folded across her chest, she stared at her feet. “God, I’m an idiot. A big fool, that’s what I am.”
“I have faith in you. It’s me that I’m not so sure about these days,” he said to the orange in his hand. He peeled the orange without looking at her but knew she paced next to him in the small kitchen. He chanced a glance up at her and winced at the distant expression on her face. He hated looking up at her. Hated it. He had once been able to lift her up and screw her against the wall if he wanted, but now...now he peeled an orange and wondered what the hell to say next.
It would be easy to let her back in, as easy as breathing. Talking to her felt like a much needed shot of normalcy. He dropped the orange to the counter. “You said we don’t know anything about being married and you’re right. We don’t. So what do you want?”
She perched on the counter, her dress rising up her thighs again. “I’d like to eat the Chinese I brought. Devon’s picking me up in a few hours...We’re meeting a source in the park at midnight. There’s someone we need to find...anyway, I needed a break and, for some reason, I thought you’d be a nice change of pace.”
He grinned without looking away from the skin exposed between the hem of her skirt and the top of her boots. “You dress like this for a source?”
Her fingers touched his forehead. “I never really got to dress sexy for you, except in Greece.”
He dragged his gaze over her body before looking in her eyes. He had no idea what to do with her. “Who’s Devon?”
“My producer slash photographer. She’s good...annoying at times, but I like her.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and stared at him.
“Meeting a source at midnight sounds dangerous.” He smiled because he knew it probably was and that she’d always tempt Fate. People like her ran in when others ran out. His smile faded at the memory of her running back into the line of fire to save him. “I thought we were fighting a minute ago, now you want to eat Chinese with me?”
“Yeah, well, I’m unpredictable like that.” She broke the gaze and reached for the bags he hadn’t noticed sitting next to her hip.
His hand smoothed up her thigh. Her skin felt like heaven beneath his hands. His thumbs pressed against her inner thigh. Both hands moved up her leg. He wanted to undress her. Taste her.
She opened her knees...just a little...enough. He pulled her close and kissed her knee. She tasted even better than heaven. Fingers moved over red silk panties.
“I don’t want to hurt you and am afraid I might. I hear stories of men turning on their wives in the middle of the night, being lost in a nightmare and--” he said against her skin.
“I can handle you.” She pulled his hair. “Have a little faith.”
“Do you really want to deal with me? Isn’t your life complicated enough?” Damn, she felt good. His hands curved over her hips.
“Not really. I’ve been a little bored.” She slid toward the edge of the counter.
He didn’t know what he was doing. Stay. Go. Fight. Flee. But he did know that this felt right. Being with her was the only thing in months that felt real, that felt natural. His fingers slid beneath the panties and pulled them down. He met her gaze, thumbs pressed against her wetness.
She bit her lip, eyes alive with a dare.
“This is crazy,” he whispered without looking away from her. “You and me together again. It’s not realistic.”
“We’re unconventional, remember? A colonel and a reporter falling in love in a war zone was pretty unrealistic, too, yet we did it. We couldn’t get enough of each other, that’s what I remember.” She slithered her hips closer to the edge of the counter, the heels of her boots resting on the arms of his wheelchair. “You want to touch me and guess what? I want you to touch me, too.”
Oh, yeah, he wanted to touch her. Taste her. Bite her. Fuck her. But if he did any of the things he wanted to do, that would seal the deal, reunite them, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be anyone’s husband.
“You’re bad for me.” He bit her knee while his fingers slid down the zipper of the boot. “You’re gonna send me over the deep end. Is that your plan? To have me committed?”
“I never tell my plans.” She drank from the bottle of oozo and he briefly wondered when she’d grabbed it.
He removed first one boot and then the other until her legs were bared and open in front of him. He’d always loved her shapely legs, the way the muscles curved, the way her skin felt beneath his fingers. He ran his hands over them, always so smooth, and cherished her compliance.
She held the bottle down to him and he took a drink without looking away from her face. He loved that she was equal parts naughty and nice, half badass and half angel. The liquor burned his throat, reminded him that he had most definitely survived.
“I can’t make you any promises,” he said before licking the inside of her thigh.
“I wouldn’t believe them anyway.”
He grinned against her skin and inhaled the heady scent of her. His fingers slid inside of her as he closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her closing around him. Her hands were in his hair, her ankles linked behind his neck. He pushed the skirt up higher with his free hand before grabbing the liquor bottle and pouring oozo between her legs. He licked her, sucked, delighting in the combination of tastes. His fingers moved in and out, faster and faster. She poured more alcohol for him as if feeding him from above. He sucked it up, unable to get enough of her.
She wiggled her hips closer, hands gripping his hair, feet pressing against the backs of his shoulders. When her thighs pressed against his ears and her buttocks clenched, she moaned, “I’ve missed you so much.”
And then she was sliding down and over him until their mouths were clinging to each other like two people long starved for the other. He pushed the dress up even farther, the palms of his hands molding her breasts over her bra.
“You’re the best medicine a guy could ever dream of having,” he said when she broke away to breathe.
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Her current novels, Riptide and Kiss Me Slowly, are available at Amazon, Amazon UK, iTunes, Barnes and Noble and Bookstrand.com. Links are available on her website, http://www.amberleaeaston.com