Author: Elizabeth Hoyt as Julia Harper
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 24, 2015
IS THERE A PROBLEM, OFFICER?
Small town cop Sam West certainly doesn’t mind a routine traffic stop: speeding ticket, stern warning, and sayonara. With a whopper of a blizzard closing in, that’s all he has time for. But the lawbreaker he pulls over is anything but typical. From her mile-long legs to her razor-sharp wit, Maisa Bradley is like nothing Coot Lake, Minnesota, has ever seen . . . and she’s about to take Sam on the ride of his life.
BEING BAD HAS ITS BENEFITS
Whoever said blood is thicker than water probably wasn’t related to a former Russian mobster. But an innocent mix-up and rumors of stolen diamonds soon have the Russian mob taking an unusual interest in the sleepy little town—and Maisa facing heated scrutiny from a certain tall, dark, and handsome deputy. Sam’s dazzling blue eyes beg her to reveal all her secrets, but how much should she tell? Getting snowed in with the sexiest lawman in the frozen north may not be the worst way to decide.
Shit. Maisa Burnsey’s heartbeat did a little stumble as the familiar police car halted behind her. She pushed up her chunky black glasses. Every damned time she passed through Coot Lake, Minnesota she got stopped.
In her rearview mirror she watched the tall trooper climb from the squad car. He sauntered toward her Beetle, loose-hipped and long-legged, as if he had all the time in the world. And like the good guy in a black-and-white western, he wore a stupid cowboy hat.
Maisa snorted softly.
He stopped by her car door, his pelvis framed by her window exactly at eye level, as if he was showing off the bulge of his package.
Not that she was looking.
There was an American flag on the left breast of his padded navy uniform jacket, a metal badge on his right, and below that a name tag that read WEST. One gloved hand rested on a lean hip, behind a holstered gun. His upper face, obscured by mirrored sunglasses and the cowboy hat, was stern and intimidating. His lips, though, were wide and almost soft, the top just a little fuller than the bottom. The man had a mouth that was beautiful enough to make a woman ache just by looking.
Maisa straightened her spine and glared at him. Okay, she could do this.
He twirled his gloved finger to tell her to roll down the window.
She opened it, letting in the freezing January wind. “What?”
He nodded. “Hey, May.”
His voice was deep and gravelly, like he smoked, though she knew for a fact that he didn’t.
“Maisa,” she snapped automatically. She wasn’t going to think about the last time he’d called her May. “This is the fourth time you’ve stopped me here.”
“Maybe you should quit speeding.” That beautiful mouth quirked. “Or quit running away.”
“I’m not running away,” she lied, poker-faced.
“Darlin’, you’ve been running away from me since last August.”
Maisa felt her teeth click together. “I’m talking about pulling me over for speeding.”
His wide mouth curved. “I’m not.”
She breathed deeply. Evenly. God damn it, meditation was supposed to make her less angry. “This is entrapment.”
“Now,” he drawled, his small town accent broadening, “I don’t have any fancy un-ee-versity learnin’, but I’m pretty sure entrapment is if I falsely lure you into breaking the law—”
“What do you call a speed trap, then?”
“—which, since I didn’t make you drive well above the speed limit—”
“And that’s ridiculous as well.” She scowled. “The limit’s seventy everywhere else but this stretch of highway.”
He shrugged. “Still fifty-five here.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be. There should be better things for you to do than lie in wait for some poor driver who hasn’t noticed that the speed has gone down so you can pounce.” She stopped to inhale.
He looked at her. “Like what?”
“What should I be doing instead?”
She licked her lips. God damn it. Did he have to stand so close? “Doing your job.”
“This is my job.”
“Following me isn’t your job.” She could feel the heat mounting her neck with her anger. Oh, to hell with it. “Speeding isn’t why you stopped me and you know it. You’re harassing me.”
There was a pause as if she’d broken some obscure rule in their game. The wind whipped icy snow against her car, making the vehicle sway.
He didn’t even flinch, steady as a granite monument to male stubbornness.
“That right. You know, you don’t have to take this route every month when you drive up from Minneapolis.” His voice was terribly gentle, and she had a flash of him straight-armed over her, his mouth wet, his voice a gravel whisper as he’d murmured, Like that? And shoved inside of her, quick and hard and confident.
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