Something crashed in the woods. Was it a deer? Or something more dangerous? Dagne didn’t
care; she just kept running…
I Heart Book Publishing, October 12, 2015
eBook, 72,000
words, Print on demand, 209 pp
Romantic Suspense, Contemporary Romantic Suspense, Mystery Romance
M/F, 3
flames
Blurb:
Dagne Lonegan, aka Dear Philomena, advice columnist,
hoped that spending a year on the Eastern Shore island of Chincoteague would extinguish any feelings
she had left for Jack Andrews, erstwhile lover and long-time jerk. It’s just her luck that in her first week on
the island she’s entangled in a murder.
Only she doesn’t know it.
Unfortunately, the murderer doesn’t know she doesn’t know. Strange and dangerous things begin happening
to her, disrupting her new romance with Aidan Ellis, the handsome manager of
the National Wildlife Refuge. As if that
weren’t enough, Jack arrives to take charge of the murder investigation.
Will Dagne stick with the tall, cool glass of a Ranger or
risk falling back into the arms of the man who broke her heart?
Assateague, where the Body is found, and where much of the
action in Dear Philomena takes place, is the actual island on which lies
Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge. Chincoteague, just west of Assateague,
is a wonderful small Eastern Shore island, rich in history and adventure and
Chesapeake Bay seafood—the best in the world. Some restaurants, like Pony Pines
and Memories, are gone now. Some soldier on as they have for
generations—Etta’s, where Dagne and Aidan have lunch, and Bill’s, where Dagne
scarfs down dozens of oysters, or Don’s. Then there’s Wright’s, where Dagne and
Jack renew their…acquaintance in an unusual and sensual way.
Excerpt (R)
A
young woman shuffled toward them, stopping to pick up two large, thick menus.
“Anywhere.”
They
took that to mean they had a choice of seating, and picked a table by the
window. Dagne ordered the flounder and Jack chose crab cakes. They gazed out at
the choppy gray water, avoiding each other’s eyes. The waitress brought glasses
of wine. Dagne took a large swig, but still couldn’t think of anything to say.
She didn’t have a clue where they stood or what Jack was thinking, not to
mention how she felt about things. His profile was, as usual, sphinx-like.
Impassive. Unreadable. And so handsome. She could see his long black lashes and
the glint of cyan in his eyes. His scent, always fresh and clean, drifted
across the table. He turned to face her, and she felt the blood rise hotly to
her cheeks.
Sipping
his wine, he studied her. “I always forget how beautiful you are.”
Dagne
waited for her throat to open up, and finally emitted a squirrely “Thank you.”
He
continued to canvass her features.
“Jack…”
“Dagne…”
A
broad face, heavily made up, came between them. The words, “Crab cakes?” came
out along with a puff of Marlborough.
Jack
accepted his plate with a wry grin. The waitress set trenchers of coleslaw and
hush puppies on the table and slid a platter with a fish at least a foot long
under Dagne’s nose. Chunks of crabmeat oozed out of its belly. It smelled
wonderful.
An
hour later, Jack paid, and they walked arm in arm out to her car. Both Dagne’s
stomach and heart were replete. Night had fallen. “The traffic should have
cleared by now. Why don’t I give you a ride back to…I’ve forgotten where you’re
staying?”
“It’s
a bed and breakfast in New Church. Not far. Thanks.” They got in. As Dagne
searched for her keys, Jack’s arm settled on her shoulder. She backed out of
the parking lot and headed down the dirt road. His hand rubbed her neck gently.
She pressed back. It felt so good. She didn’t even mind when his other hand
began to wander down toward her breast, but thought it prudent to suppress the
urge to help him. His breath came huskily in her ear.
“Dagne, I want you. Now.”
“Jack,
we’re in a car!”
“On
a deserted road. Out in the wilderness.”
“It’s
a farm. Somebody’s farm.”
“Yeah,
I know. Perfect. Pull over.”
Anticipation
clouded her judgment. Jack pulled her out of the car, opened the rear door, and
pushed her onto the back seat. His hot breath seared her belly where he’d
pulled up her sweatshirt. A tongue tickled her navel, then licked upwards till
it reached her bra. His hand moved on her back and an instant later, she felt
the sweet release of her breasts from the underwire. They weren’t free for
long. His mouth fastened on her nipple and began to suckle. Dagne writhed in
ecstasy. “Jack, no. You are too bad. No, don’t.”
For
answer, he moved to the other nipple. When he lifted her skirt something cold
and hard ground into her. The seat belt buckle gouged her naked thighs. Fortunately,
his fingers distracted her from the pain as they pulled her panties aside—“Mmm,
silk. You know what that does to me, Dagne”—and pressed inside her. A second
later, they were replaced by a mouth that began to massage her labia, blowing
softly on the engorged lips. She felt his tongue dart inside, licking and
sucking, setting the tender flesh on fire. Her orgasm crackled upward and
sucked all the oxygen out of the tiny space.
“Jack…Jack…oh
my God…Jack.” She fell to earth. As she lay panting she heard the sound of a
zipper. Where his fingers had roamed, a most welcome, rough, hard cock beat up
her thigh and entered her. It moved in and out, hardening with each thrust,
faster and faster. She fell into the rhythm and they rocked, the car rocking in
tandem with them.
Jack’s
voice came urgently, muffled in her hair. “Dagne, come with me, come with me.”
“I
will.” What else could she say? She rose to meet him and in a great whoosh they
met and melded into one perfect creature, undivided. He let his body settle gently
on hers, and they lay quietly. Just as Dagne began to drift off to sleep, a
light hit her eyes and the sound of a truck engine broke the stillness. “Jack,
Jack, get off me! Quick! It’s the tow truck!”
Jack
scrambled to the side, pulling his jeans up. He let out an oath and she heard a
sucking sound. “Damned zipper.” Meanwhile she pulled both her sweatshirt and
her skirt down, scrambled out the door, and dove for the front seat. In the
same moment, the driver pulled off the road behind the Subaru.
“You
the one needing a tow, Lady?”
Dagne
thanked her lucky stars there were no street lights, only a few bright stars
and a sliver of moon. “No, not me. It’s the Miata, back in the restaurant
parking lot.” Oh my God, I’m chirping like an embarrassed gerbil.
Jack
climbed out of the back seat and, shielding his eyes from the truck’s
headlights, called, “It’s my car. She was going to give me a ride home, but
since you’re here, why don’t I come along with you?”
“Sure,
hop in the truck and we’ll go take a look.”
Dagne
could barely see Jack’s outline as he crouched by the window. His lips brushed
hers.
“Gotta see a man about a car.” He turned on his heel and walked away,
leaving behind only the crunch of gravel under his boots.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buy Links:
About the Author:
Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five
continents, the last thirty years have been spent mostly in Washington, D.C. as
a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher,
kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director and parent. She has two fabulous
grown children and a perfect granddaughter, and currently divides her time
between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.
Contact M. S. Spencer here:
Author Pages:
I Heart Book Publishing:
Amazon Author Page:
2015 ©Evelise Archer All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.
