There’s me: Micah Owens. Tattoo artist at Damage Control. No parents or siblings. A past that still gives me nightmares.
And then there’s her: Evangeline, the girl who saved my life and haunts my more pleasant dreams. Only she doesn’t know who I really am, and telling her might well send her fleeing for the hills. She deserves better than a loser like me. She’s pretty. She’s clever. She’s goddamn sexy and has a heart of gold.
Which is why I can’t tell her. A smile from her and I’ll do all I can to make her mine – including pretending to be someone I’m not, someone worth having.
Isn’t love weird?
This is book 1 in the Damage Control series – a series parallel to Inked Brotherhood, so that you’ll find the boys of Inked Brotherhood making appearances here, too.
MICAH is a stand-alone work. No cliffhanger.
The expected publication date is Dec 16, 2014 in the Red Hot Alphas Boxset, on all of your favorite e-book websites.
I ring the bell again, and when nothing happens, I check the piece of paper. I’m at the right place. Maybe Rafe made a mistake? Or maybe Micah is not in.
Just when I’m about to turn and go, I think I hear footsteps and push the paper into the pocket of my jacket. I lick my lips, my nervousness returning.
The lock creaks and the door slides open. “Yeah?” a hoarse male voice says, and I catch a glimpse of a suspicious blue eye through the opening.
“Micah? It’s me, Ev.” Oh God, this sounds so lame. I shift my weight again, my leg twinging. “I, um. I forgot my walking stick at the cafe…” I feel ridiculous addressing his eye and not even seeing his whole face. “I was hoping maybe you noticed and got it for me.”
“Ev?” His voice cracks. He turns away and coughs, and the worry gently gnawing at my insides morphs into a voracious monster.
“Are you all right?” My voice goes high-pitched, and I wince. Calm down, Ev. “That cold still hasn’t cleared up?”
“What?” He pulls the door open and leans against it, bracing one arm on the frame. One bare, muscled arm. Attached to his muscular bare chest. “Oh, the cold, yeah. I’m fine.”
Fine. “Why did you stay home if you’re fine?”
He blinks at me, a slow sweep of long lashes against high cheekbones, and I have a moment of oh-crap-I’ve-gone-too-far panic.
But he doesn’t slam the door in my face as I think he might. “Rough night,” he mutters. “Ocean said he’d cover for me at work, so I stayed home to sleep.”
Straightforward. Honest. A rough night. I want to ask what made it rough, but I think I’ve already overstepped the boundaries of our… friendship? Acquaintance?
I drop my gaze from his face, and that’s a mistake. My mind blanks a little as I realize he’s shirtless and barefoot, lounging in front of me in only a pair of gray low-hung, draw-string pants. My gaze slides back up his long legs to his narrow hipbones and a spectacular set of abs, complete with sexy divots forming a V line.
My mouth is honest-to-god watering. I tear my gaze off those lickable abs only for it to be caught by his defined pecs and then his amused sky-blue eyes.
“Is there anything I can do for ya?” he drawls lazily, and I swear my panties get wet at the raspy sound.
Which is kind of alarming. No guy has ever had such an effect on me before.
Jo Raven writes New Adult erotic romance. She loves sexy bad boys and strong willed heroines, and divides her time between writing and reading. When not cooking up plots, she putters in her cluttered kitchen and dreams of traveling to India and Japan.