Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Not if I'm lucky #MFRWHooks

Dangerous Heat (Men of Fire Trilogy Book 1)
by Sloan McBride 

The onset of fire season should be the hottest thing about interviewing smokejumpers for Whitney Storm—until she sees Tom MacKenzie. The firefighter set her heart aflame ten years ago, then disappeared. As an emapth who doesn’t need emotional turmoil, this six-foot tall dark and dangerous memory has no place in her life.

As a smokejumper, Tom’s job keeps him face to face with danger and he thought he knew how to handle heat. But the uncontrolled burn whenever he’s near Whitney is hotter than he remembers. He’s ready to face the past and make amends. She’s made it clear she wants nothing to do with him.

A life-threatening problem flares when a killer’s greedy obsession threatens everything. Can Tom and Whitney learn to trust each other again and protect all that they hold dear, or will their world turn to ashes around them?

~A page turning, couldn't put it down paranormal romantic suspense by author Sloan McBride~
~Ten years ago, Whitney Storm said yes to Tom MacKenzie in more ways than one.~ 


“After all, there is an election coming up, and I’ll want to make sure you cast a friendly vote for the mayor.”
She shifted slightly. “Speaking of which, I called to make an appointment with the mayor, and his office never got back to me.”
“I can’t understand why they’d be avoiding an interview. I’ll make it happen for you.”
Whitney glanced at his sharp profile in the twilight. His straight nose, square jaw, and short brown hair looked sinister in contrast to those same features in daylight.
“I’ll want to see the list of questions you intend to ask.”
“So you can prepare the appropriate responses.”
“It’s customary practice to review questions prior to an interview.”
She sighed. “Fine. Where do you want them sent?”
Dylan pulled out a business card. “You can email them to my office.”
Whitney took the card, doing her best not to touch the man, and put it in her daybook.
A couple of miles later they passed the welcome sign and pulled onto Oak Valley’s main street. Townsfolk were gathering in the square around a bonfire to start off the Elk Run Festival. The locals used the annual event to bid farewell to summer and greet the early fall. Heavenly smells of barbeque chicken, grilled corn on the cob, and hot apple cobbler floated through the open window, making her empty stomach growl. She could use a beer too. First, she needed to call her mom and let her know of the unfortunate mishaps. The Storm family internal communication network began transmitting the minute the tire blew and she crashed into the ditch. Her mother, the commander and chief of the family empaths, would be expecting a report.
Gotta love genetics.
Not being able to reach Whitney by phone would have sent her mother into worry mode. The trip had taken much longer than originally planned. She hated having to tell her son the horse he’d set his heart on had gone to a higher bidder. “Drop me here, please.”
“Sure.” Dylan stopped the car. “I can take you to your house though.”
“That’s okay.” She didn’t want him anywhere near her house. She unbuckled her seat belt and threw open the door.
“How about a dinner meeting with me and the mayor? We can discuss the upcoming election, maybe a few personal tidbits. It would be an exclusive.”
“That’s very generous.” To her knowledge, the mayor hadn’t been giving anyone exclusive anything. “I’ll speak with my editor about it.”
“I hope we’ll see each other again soon, Whitney.”
Not if I’m lucky.
“I look forward to receiving those questions.”
She watched Dylan leave, then headed toward the center of activity. Since her brother, Adam, owned a bar, he always had a booth at the festival. Family would inevitably be there.
Her eldest brother had no knack for humor or tact. “Whitney, you look like shit. Where the hell have you been?” Adam scolded when she strolled up to his booth.
“Don’t start,” she snapped. 


  1. Interesting bit here. Nice tension between the two

  2. Makes me wonder what she's sensing from Dylan.

  3. She's juggling a lot of heavy things, it seems. No wonder she's curt with her blunt brother.