Rae and her family arrived at the church at fifteen minutes before four o’clock. The spring sun hovered over the mountains, burning, still an hour or more away from the cool relief of sunset. They all stood outside in the dirt parking lot, withering under in the sunshine and waiting for others to arrive to provide the needed peer pressure to force them into that stifling wooden box of a church.
Rae watched the dusty road for Wulf’s car, even though she wished he had not come to Pirtleville. It meant too much to people here when a girl brought a guy home.
Rae had changed back into the long skirt and white blouse, even though the outfit made her feel like she was sliding backward into a gaping hole. The long skirt swished around her ankles, hobbling her. Her hair was still long enough to twist into a red-striped bun on the back of her head but so short that it stretched the skin on her face to do so. Tendrils curlicued around her face no matter how many hairpins she stuffed into it.
Her mother had silently loaned Rae a white mesh bonnet to cover her hair because all of Rae’s had been crushed in the backs of her drawers. The stiff bonnet reached around almost to her cheeks and pinned Rae’s ears to her head, smushing the crease behind her ears. Her own bonnets had been the more modern kind, sweeping in back of her ears, but her mom was more conservative.
Her momma walked the walk, and Rae respected that. When Momma did speak, it was something important and she meant it, but she otherwise went about her work quietly. She held no truck with idle gossip or idle hands.
In the dusty parking lot, her father grinned and handed his car keys to Rae. Her mother never brought a purse to church, saying that she didn’t want any distractions from the sermon, so her father had given Rae his keys to hold since she was fifteen rather than let them jingle in his pocket. He must have missed that while she’d been at college these last couple of years.
Rae stood between her mother and her oldest brother, waiting. For a moment, she relaxed. Belonging filled her. She felt still and quiet and at peace in this gritty parking lot, surrounded by her family. Her brothers didn’t fidget. They knew better.
Rae stood straight and wished she could play a game or check her email on her phone, but phones were always turned off when they went to church. Maybe it was just her lack of cellular reception, but she felt cut off from the outside world, which wasn’t altogether bad. She felt fine where she was.
More cars pulled into the dirt parking lot, rooster-tailing dust.
Rae’s maternal aunt, Alana, flushed her brood from her minivan. She had bought it cheap when an insurance company had totaled it because it was pockmarked with hail damage.
Alana’s youngest son, Daniel, flopped to the ground. He stared at the sky, wincing, like crows were dive-bombing him. His hands flapped in the air like he was trying to ward them off.
Alana, ever patient, stood Daniel up and tried to pierce the autistic cloud around him with her voice, telling him they needed to go into the church.
Rae had babysat for Daniel when she was in high school for an hour a day for four years to give Alana time to get other things done, unpaid because they were family. Daniel probably didn’t remember Rae because, even though she had been down on the floor with him the whole time, peering into his face and searching his wild eyes, she wasn’t sure he had ever noticed her. He had needed better care than Rae knew how to give him.
Rae waved to Alana, but Alana was too busy battling Daniel to notice her.
Hester’s old Chevy sedan pulled in next to Rae, and Hester and her mother, TracyJo, emerged. Aunt TracyJo’s expression when she looked at the old wooden church turned lovelorn. Her weak gray eyes misted over.
Rae watched the road for a lone black Porsche or a couple of black SUVs.
A gleaming black pick-up truck painted with flames cruised in. Its rear tires spun, throwing gravel. It skidded into a spot near the front, and Jim Bob Mulligan slid out of the driver’s seat. The lift kit jacked the truck up so high that Mulligan dropped the last couple of feet to the gravel.
Mulligan must have a pull-out step to climb back into his truck, or else he must swing up using handles like a ginger chimpanzee.
Rae turned back to her family and watched the county road that led past the Dairy Queen and the Sonic and then out to the vindictive desert, which would swallow up any blithe car or person that taunted it.
A big, brown SUV lumbered into the parking lot, and Mayor Harding emerged with his wife and their three teenage daughters. People said that he was the only beanpole in that garden of voluptuous butternut squashes. The ladies all wore traditional clothes like Rae’s family: long skirts, long sleeves, and bonnets on their hair. Mayor Harding grinned and waved at everyone like he was in a parade passing by the grandstands, and Rae couldn’t look at him for fear that she would burst out laughing at his hypocrisy or punch him for slumming around on his pretty wife. May would be devastated if she ever found out, and May had always put aside one of her brownies for Rae after church, every week, because she knew that Rae’s mother only cooked hearty food. Maybe it was better that Harding utilized The Devilhouse rather than having an affair where he might fall in love and leave his girls.
Yep, everybody who Rae really didn’t want to see had arrived.
Down the road, two black SUVs flanked a Porsche. All three vehicles turned into the church parking lot and picked their way to a slow stop at the end of the row.
Rae trotted to meet them.
Wulf peeled himself out of the low car, and his staff guys climbed out of their SUVs without looking like they were surveying the perimeter too much. All of them now wore black suits and sunglasses, and it looked like the government men in black had descended. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see sleek black helicopters in the sky above their church’s runty steeple, which would have affirmed all her family’s conspiracy theories.
Indeed, her father had lifted an eyebrow when the SUV entourage pulled up. His hand hovered near the back of his pants, and Rae wasn’t sure what would happen if he pulled his handgun around these guys.
Actually, she was pretty sure what would happen and she wanted to warn him, but surely her dad wouldn’t unholster his piece for no reason. He wasn’t the shoot-first type at all. Indeed, there had been several situations that he had talked everyone down when shots might have been fired in anger.
The parking lot went silent around Rae just as she reached Wulf. The whole congregation was staring at her back. She just knew it.
Wulf smiled and inclined his body toward her but didn’t reach for her in any way, thank goodness. Inappropriate behavior at such a somber occasion and under everyone’s scrutiny would have caused an uproar, and any behavior might be seen as inappropriate.
“Um, hi,” Rae said. Wulf’s blond hair was so light and short that he fairly glowed in the unforgiving sunlight. “I’m glad you came.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Wulf said. He glanced behind her at all those staring eyes. Rae could practically feel all that staring tapping her on the back of her head and shoulders.
When there was no hullabaloo, people began to file into the tiny church. Rae waited with Wulf until her family turned to walk, then motioned with her head for him and his entourage to follow.
Wulf’s staff fell in around them.
When they reached the single door to the church, a subtle negotiation ensued for who took point, who took the rear guard, and whether Rae should walk in before Wulf or after. Wulf cocked his head toward the door and she stepped forward, but Friedhelm squeezed her elbow and tugged to pull her back. Wulf lifted one pale eyebrow at Friedhelm, the subtlest of sharp looks, and Friedhelm released her arm so she could walk into her own family’s church.
Jeez. That was just entering a small, backwater church. Rae could only imagine what these guys must be like in real public situations.
The congregation crowded in the hot aisle, jostling to their accustomed pews. The window air conditioners jammed in the first two windows fought a losing battle with the sun above and the hot bodies within. Perfume and industrial-strength antiperspirant combined into a simmering chemical smog.
Rae turned to follow her family into their pew, but this time Wulf touched her elbow and tried to maneuver her across the aisle and into an unoccupied section near the cramped windows. Wulf’s low voice reached her ears. “Sit with me.”
“No.” She stared at the knot-holed floor and whispered, “I have to sit with my family.” She didn’t look up because she didn’t want people to know they were having this conversation. “It was dicey to walk in with you. It means something if I sit with you instead of them.”
“I understand being the object of scrutiny, when one’s every act is interpreted. Sit with me.”
“You don’t mean what they will think,” and they would all think it, and every one of seventy or so people in the church would ask her about it later.
His voice lowered further, and Rae could just hear him say, “Mulligan must think it so.”
“Oh.” She would have to bear the brunt of the congregation’s questions when Wulf never came back, but that was later. At least right now, surely Jim Bob wouldn’t try anything, not at a Celebration of Life for his own aunt. She scooted into the pew and found herself wedged between Dieter and Wulf.
In the far aisle, Friedhelm dipped like he had tripped, and his hand touched his forehead. Hans grabbed his arm and whispered near his head. They slid into the pew on the far side.
Whispering hissed around them like a bucket of rattlesnakes.
Rae sat straight, crossed her wrists and her ankles, and didn’t let her spine touch the wooden back of the pew. She stared straight ahead at the cross that towered over the pulpit up front. Hot stage lights threw cruciform shadows on the walls.
Wulf’s thigh pressed against her hip, and she remembered his hands on her skin just a few days ago. This hard pew reminded her of the wooden battle throne in the rope room.
Her face heated beyond the stifling warmth that pressed her skin.
Rae tried to focus on something else, anything else, because surely these Godly people could see such depraved thoughts running through her tight-bunned head, like how he had muscled those ropes wrapping her body.
Wulf’s leg jostled a little, and all her flesh rippled as he moved.
She tried to remember all the Bible verses that she had memorized as a girl, but none of them distracted her from Wulf’s hard body pressing her leg and, now that he shifted, her arm. Verses from The Song of Solomon came to her mind, which she had read even though her Sunday School class had skipped over that Old Testament book.
Mayor Harding walked by and caught her eye for just a moment. He looked between Rae and Wulf, but he didn’t so much as raise his ragged eyebrows as his gaze passed over them and he grinned at the people in the next pew.
“It is four o’clock,” Wulf muttered to her. “Why aren’t they starting the service?”
Rae said, “Aunt Enid’s older son Amos isn’t here yet. He’ll be along any minute.” Rae saw a friendly face and waved two fingers at her cute but crazed cousin Craigh, the one with whom she had a facetious pact to marry when they were forty so they could spawn three-headed babies before their biological clocks ran out.
Craigh waved back and winked at her, then pointed to the pretty girl beside him, his date. Craigh was sitting with the girl in church, in front of his parents and everybody. Must be serious between them. Rae gave him a surreptitious thumbs-up.
Rae glanced at Wulf, who was glaring at his phone.
Wulf said, “If they do not start at four, the schedule will not hold.”
“Yep. Sometimes that happens.”
“I suppose we must accommodate.” He jerked his chin up and sat ramrod straight, resigned to the lack of punctuality.
When Wulf pulled himself upright, his black suit shifted on him, and the scent of his clean male flesh, soap, and faint spice of his cologne escaped his white shirt. He must have showered when he changed clothes.
Every time Rae inhaled, she could smell him as clearly as if her nose were pressed against his neck. She could almost taste him. She inhaled deeply and tried like mad to think of anything other than how Wulf tasted and smelled and the feel of his mouth on hers.
Two weeks from then, when Wulf moved to wherever he was going, Rae was going to have a hard time of it.
Rae glanced around the church and noticed that Wulf’s staff guys were also surreptitiously checking watches and phones and fidgeting.
“Do you guys need to be somewhere?”
“No. It is now four-oh-five.”
“Yep, it is.”
Behind her, Daniel grunted and made some kind of commotion, stimming by flapping his hands. Aunt Alana frantically hushed him, lest someone say something.
Rae knew that her Aunt Alana had done her best with the therapies that the pediatrician had told her to do, Sonrise- and Floortime-based ones, but that other therapies out there might have helped Daniel more. Real therapists might have helped him more than his untrained mother and a pathetically stupid high-school babysitter. Trained therapists utilizing modern therapies might have drawn words out of him, taught him language, and broken through the transparent haze that he flailed against every minute. Guilt caught in Rae’s throat.
Sunlight glared through the church through the open doors at the back, and more people came in. Rae stole a glance back there and saw that Otis, Aunt Enid’s oldest son, had indeed entered with Minister Stoppard. Otis was in his seventies and kept scratching at his shirt collar and patting down the few strands of hair that crossed the top of his head. He led his doddering wife up the aisle and to the front pew.
Minister Stoppard, who was in his late thirties, climbed to his place at the lectern and bowed his head, waiting for the Holy Ghost to move him to speak. His dark hair swayed like fringe around his face. The congregation quieted.
Rae watched the minister. The frown lines around his mouth and between his eyes had dug deeper into his sharkbait skin than the last time she had seen him, just a few months ago at Christmas.
Stoppard braced his arms on the pulpit and pushed until his arms shook. Sweat beaded his nose and forehead.
Rae clutched her hands together. Just like always, she tried to open herself up to the love of Jesus and the fellowship of the congregation. All she could think about was Wulf’s leg pressing her thigh, his body next to hers, and that delicious smell that occasionally wafted from his clean, white shirt.
Minister Stoppard raised his head, and his crazed, black eyes filled Rae with dread.
Stoppard said, “Sister Enid Harding deserves to burn in Hell.”
Rae looked down at her hands in her lap. Her knuckles knotted together hard on her dark calico skirt. She knew where the sermon was going—that we were all sinners and only redeemed by Divine Grace and never by good works—but it seemed wrong to say that about the woman who, before dementia had taken her, had run the poor barrel and ferried everything that she could spare or beg down to the truly destitute people in Mexico. Enid’s life these last few years would have been more comfortable if she hadn’t tithed twenty percent of her Social Security income to this church and given more than that to the poor. She hand-knitted baby blankets that she took down to Mexico and smuggled starving kittens the other way across the Border. Everyone had at least one of Enid’s undocumented cats.
Rae stole a glance at Wulf. He had jinked up one eyebrow but hadn’t otherwise moved. She turned back to the sermon.
Stoppard railed for forty long minutes on Aunt Enid’s shortcomings: her sharp tongue, the paltry sums she contributed to the church and charity, her constant foisting of mangy cats on everyone, and anything else that he could make sound sordid.
Sweat dripped from Stoppard’s nose and flew from his black hair.
Wulf shouldn’t have seen this harsh side of Rae’s family.
From the back, someone shouted “Amen!”
From the front pew, Enid’s elderly son Amos sniffled and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief.
After fifteen more minutes of Stoppard railing on Aunt Enid, if Rae hadn’t known better, she would have agreed with him that Aunt Enid was a miserable excuse for a human being and deserved to rot in Hell.
But Rae did know better.
Sweat trickled through Rae’s hair. Her fingers cramped around each other, and her heart constricted with anger.
Minister Stoppard said, “And yet, as sinful and black-hearted as Enid was, as much as she was caught up in worldly things, we are all sinners just as terrible as she was.”
He began to harangue the congregation for their sins: sins of deeds, sins of thought, sins of omission, and sins of spirit.
“And there are those among us,” Stoppard shouted, “those among us who go out into the world and acquire worldly things, to shovel offal into their minds so that they will not be as little children who come to Jesus as pure and innocent as a white sheep!”
The congregation rumbled around Rae, shifting in their hard pews. Overhead fans stirred the stifling air.
“And the worst of it is that some of these gatherers of excrement are the women among us, the women who are charged with raising up the next generation in fear of Lord!”
This was how it started when they had cast out Rae’s friend Guadeloupe last year after she got pregnant out of wedlock. No one talked to her now. None of the other churches would have her. Loupe had finally moved away to have her baby and live apart.
Beside her, Wulf leaned toward her, pressing his arm against hers, as near to a touch of support as could be offered in this church.
Stoppard thundered, “Women going out into the world! Women subjecting themselves to the advances of predatory males who would take their innocence and corrupt them!”
Rae heard a commotion behind her.
She turned to glance back there, despite her bonnet’s brim poking her cheek.
Aunt TracyJo had stood up, apparently about to witness. Her hand waved in the air like a palm frond in the breeze.
Beside her, Rae’s cousin Hester held her mother’s other arm and tried to drag her down, obviously pleading. Hester’s bonnet had slipped back and was in danger of falling off her tight bun.
Aunt TracyJo announced, “Reagan Stone is working in a tavern! She has been serving alcohol and associating with drunkards and persons of low morals!”
Gasps whooshed through the congregation.
Hester said, “Momma, no!”
Oh, no. Rae shouldn’t have told Hester anything at all. Rae snatched up her purse from the floor to hold it in front of herself, as if that would ward off what her aunt accused her of.
Wulf frowned and glanced at Rae’s family, but they didn’t budge. Rae’s mother didn’t even turn her bonneted head to look at her.
“And that man with her!” Aunt TracyJo shrieked and pointed to Wulf. “That man is a barkeeper! He works at the same speakeasy as that tramp, and he serves the liquor to the predatory males who come to ogle the young women!”
Rae’s family stirred. Their necks loosened, and their heads bobbed as they decided whether to turn toward Rae or toward the accusing congregation.
Confusion shaped her brothers’ faces.
When Rae’s eyes met her mother’s, tears overflowed her mother’s eyes, and she buried her face in her hands.
Fury and hot blood filled her father’s face, and when his glance met Rae’s, anger twisted his mouth.
Beside her, Wulf stretched his leg to pull his cell phone from his pants pocket. His thumbs swiped the screen as he texted.
Aunt TracyJo screeched, “And she’s working there for money for college, which is all just a Godless way to justify sin!”
They were going to cast her out. When Guadeloupe had been disfellowshipped, Stoppard had started with Hell and moved on to women’s responsibilities with increasing venom, and then the congregation had joined in, condemning her. Rae kept her eyes down on her hands twisting in her lap.
Panic clamped her stomach. If Rae were disfellowshipped, no one in her family would talk to Rae for fear of being cast out, too. Not her brothers. Not even her mother.
Rae stood and called out, “It’s not true!”
Behind Aunt TracyJo and Hester, in the back row, Daniel flopped and grunted. His eyes rolled up, and his body spasmed off the pew. Alana tried to shush him, but he was locked in his autistic world, suffering.
Rae spun back around, and her mouth set a grim line. She wasn’t going to drop out of college, damn it.
A man’s voice shouted, “She’s not a waitress!”
Rae spun.
Jim Bob Mulligan stood among the crowded pews and pointed over all the aghast faces at her. His triumphant face was crimson with shouting. “It’s worse! She’s not working in a bar! She’s a whore!”
Rae glanced at Wulf. He was holding a different cell phone than his usual one and thumb-tapping the screen. Three texts were typed in the bold font that meant they were just-sent, all to different phone numbers.
Jim Bob’s phone chirped, but he ignored it. “Rae Stone is a prostitute! That’s how she’s getting the money for that fancy college! She’s an abomination to this church and her family!”
A phone fweeped near the front of the church.
Jim Bob yelled, “Shun her! Shun the whore!”
At the front of the church, Mayor Harding stood up like a flagstick jutting out of a crowd. He stuck out his long, skinny arm. “You shut your mouth, Jim Bob!”
Everyone gasped and turned back to the front to look at the mayor. Around the edges of the church, some people stood for a better view of the chaos.
Mayor Harding said to Mulligan, “You are a lying sack of bull hockey and deserve no less, yourself!”
Minister Stoppard, up front, waved his hands, trying to restore order. “Brothers and sisters!”
More people stood, and the muttering became shouting. People moved into the aisles, blocking any way for Rae to leave. She held her purse and her arms across her chest.
Mulligan shouted, “She’s a whore! Shun the whore!”
Mayor Harding yelled, “Mulligan, I will not do business with you! Stop this now! Tell them, Brother Horace, how we saw Rae waitressing at the pancake house.”
Angry people came to their feet. Rae heard conflicting shouts of “Stop this!” and “Shut up!” and “Expel her!” and “Whore!”
They would believe the worst accusations. They always did. Her legs trembled.
Horace stood on shaky legs and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Yes. We had breakfast at the pancake house near the university and gave Reagan Stone a nice tip.”
Near the back, Craigh’s dad stood up. His knuckles were white where he clenched his cell phone. “They are right. She works at a pancake house. I saw her last week when I was up in the city. She spilled coffee on me.”
Wulf was still texting, and Rae could almost see the lines of force that he wove even through her congregation, wielding Mayor Harding and Craigh’s father as if they were weapons.
Mayor Harding texted something on his phone. Another phone in the back of the church played Hallelujah, and one on the side barked like a dog.
If her family stood and defended her, they might tip the balance, but they just muttered among themselves. Zeke bounced, almost standing, but Rae’s father reached behind her mother and pressed his shoulder down.
Jim Bob yelled over the commotion, “She is a whore! The Whore of Babylon! The whore of The Devilhouse! And that man Dom with her is the Devil himself!”
Mayor Harding yelled at Jim Bob, “You are only accusing her to distract us from your perversions and business with drug dealers! I cut you off because I will not do business with criminals!”
Wulf stood.
Rae looked through the crowd.
The congregation and her family were all looking between Mayor Harding and Jim Bob, but all the security guys had their eyes trained on Wulf.
She looked up at Wulf just in time to see him nod to them.
The five other black-suited men broke into the aisles, clearing the way. Beside her, Dieter took her arm and propelled her through the men. Wulf held her other elbow as they jogged through the space.
They crashed through the door at a sprint. Sunlight lanced straight across the desert and blinded her. Her eyes teared.
In the parking lot, Rae wrenched herself away from them all and ran to her father’s truck. She snatched the keys from her purse and clambered in. Wulf stood with the other men and, with a hand gesture, sent them running to the SUVs.
She didn’t blame Wulf at all. He had only tried to help her.
She didn’t blame her family. They had done exactly this type of thing in the past and she knew what they would do if they ever found out.
Rae had made every wrong decision that led to this day of her own free will.
She chose to work at The Devilhouse to stay in college.
She chose to come home for the Celebration of Life even though Jim Bob would be there. She could have made some lame excuse, even though everyone would have called and pressured her to go.
Everything was her choice, and she had tried to gobble up all those worldly pleasures in an attack of gluttony—to have more money than she should and stay in college and open her clinic and no one would find out and no one would judge,—instead of doing the right thing, which would have been to go home and figure out how to do it right.
She needed hot, dry desert air to clear her head so she could figure out what to do.
Wulf stood in the parking lot for a moment, shining in the gold sunlight, as Rae cranked the truck’s engine. The truck belched black, oily exhaust that streamed in the open window and burned Rae’s throat.
The congregation would believe all those shameful accusations and make up other hateful stuff besides, and they would formally strike her name from the book and disfellowship her, leaving her entirely alone.
She had lost her family. They would go along with the disfellowshipping or be cast out, too. If no one from the church would do business with them, they would lose the ranch. She didn’t want them destitute, too.
Wulf was leaving the country to get away from her, which was the deepest cut of all.
The dirt parking lot stretched out in front of her, leading to the small road that ran out of town.
Rae spun the steering wheel, jammed the truck in gear, and sped out to the road.
WHAT COMES NEXT?
One wild quickie with a sexy stranger might destroy Rae.
She should have gone home when she’d had the chance.
No, she shouldn’t have.
Sometimes, life has a way of working out.
Click here to buy the exciting conclusion:
Get free ebooks right away from Blair Babylon!
Including special epilogues and short stories about your favorite characters you can’t get anywhere else!
Click Here to Sign Up for Blair Babylon’s EMail List
Or go to:
https://
On your favorite browser.
A NOTE FROM BLAIR
Thank you so much for reading A Tycoon Undercover (BID #2).
I do hope that if you liked this story, you’ll leave a review. Reviews help authors and other readers.
Make sure you’re signed up for my MAILING LIST so you’ll know when I have a new book out! Mailing list subscribers get FREE access to special epilogues and books that there’s no other way to get. There are a lot of them.
I also have a Facebook reader group, Blair’s Babes’ VIP Room, where we have fun and talk about books. I hang around in there and answer questions. A couple of times per year, we have an “ABA,” or Ask Blair Anything, but I reserve the right to waffle if there are spoilers involved. I also do giveaways. My reader group gets the best prize boxes. We talk about a lot of books in there, and other authors drop in for their giveaways. It’s a fun and positive place.
Wulf’s story is the first in the overall Billionaires in Disguise series. I have loved writing about these guys so much.
If you’re new to my books, the Wulf series is part of the overall Billionaires in Disguise (BID) world. Each individual mini-series stands by itself, so look for the “Book #1” in each set. Some are collected in boxed sets, so keep an eye out for those collections. I’ve written over 40 books in the greater BID universe and have no intention of stopping anytime soon, so you have lots of books to fall in love with!
Here’s a list of the #1 books in each mini-series.
Working Stiff ~ Working Stiff Audiobook - Casimir van Amsberg, Max’s buddy the prince (You just read this one. Go read #2: Hard Work ~~~ Hard Work Audiobook)
Stiff Drink ~ Stiff Drink Audiobook - Arthur Finch-Hatten, Max’s English buddy who is not just an idle, rich nobleman.
Every Breath You Take - Alexandre Grimaldi, Max’s cousin who’s #3 in line after Max, this is his story.
Once Upon A Time ~ Once Upon A Time Audiobook - Flicka von Hannover’s story. Bodyguard romance
Billionaires in Disguise (Wulf and Rae) - The first BID book that I wrote, kind of the lynchpin in the middle.
Falling Hard Do you like your romance a little . . . darker? This one is painted in the darkest shades of grey.
What A Girl Wants - The first of the Rock Stars in Disguise (RSID) series, but there’s a point where the RSID plotline intersects with the BID plotline. You’ll see.
Dragons & Magic - Do you link your romance heroes hot? Like, really HOT? Like, really-really-okay these guys can actually breathe fire. PNR.
The chronological reading list is here at my website, https://
If you want to know when I publish a new book or have a sale, sign up for my newsletter at https://
Thank you so much, and happy reading!
Blair