Miss October Bolt Hardin is many things, and comforting ain’t one of them. He’s too hard-edged, too big, too brutal…and too damn sexy for Tavia’s own good. Balancing caution with a frustrating dose of sexual attraction, Tavia takes the rugged stranger home with her. After all, she won’t be alone with him. Not when she has a houseful of construction workers underfoot and a boyfriend coming for dinner. She’s cool, calm and in control—until Bolt sets his sights on gaining what he wants. And what he wants is Tavia, laid out and spread for his pleasure. And then there’s his own special method of nailing a woman to the floor. With nothing more than a sexy saunter and a low-slung pair of jeans, Bolt worms his way into Tavia’s heart. Lucky for her…Tavia’s heart is exactly what Bolt’s after. |
| Cover Art by Willo |
Excerpt Why were men such pricks? Why the hell was she stuck on the wrong side of these doors? A rumble of humor sounded on the other side of the door. “You locked the doors? I can't believe you locked the doors, Tavia. What did you hope to accomplish by that?” He laughed. “Don’t you realize that a guy like me could have them down with one kick?” “You wouldn’t dare!” Tavia backed away from the glossy red doors as her eyes narrowed in apprehension. “Of course I wouldn’t,” he soothed in a gruff voice. Then it got quiet. With her head cocked to one side and her ears scanning for any sound, she held her breath as she listened to Bolt's long stride taking him down the hall. Silence followed. Enough silence that she finally decided she was safe. Slowly, she expelled a careful breath as she sank onto the white bedspread quilted with red stitches. Seconds later, she was holding her breath again as she heard a series of faint tapping sounds. Then a few soft thumping sounds. The next thing she saw was Bolt, standing in the frame of her doorway, lifting the double doors aside. He smiled at her. “The doors open outward,” he told her smugly. He set the wide, double doors against the wall behind him. When he turned, he was swinging a hammer in one hand. He’d used the hammer and a nail to tap out the pins on the doors’ brass fittings. Strolling into the room, he slid the tools onto her shabby- chic white-painted dresser that stood against the wall just inside the doorway. Then he folded his arms over his wide chest as he regarded her quietly. With a curse of exasperation, Tavia made for the bathroom. “That door opens outward too,” he warned her as she slammed the door behind her. Tavia pressed her shoulder against the bathroom door. “Please, Bolt. Just…just leave me alone, okay?” “Where are the shoes?” he asked from the bedroom. “Shoes?” “You promised you’d wear them. Aren’t you going to keep your promise?” “Yes,” she moaned. “Of course.” “Good,” he answered. “Where are they?” “I’m not sure. In the closet. Try the green and silver box. Listen, Bolt. If I wear the shoes will you let me go?” As Tavia frowned at her troubled reflection in the bathroom mirror, she heard a single, heavy thunk. She froze, listening. Two seconds later she heard another muffled crash. Grabbing the door open, she rushed out of the bathroom to find Bolt on his knees at the end of the bed. “Are you all right?” she asked breathlessly, trying to decide if a man falling to his knees would make that much noise. “Did you fall?” He gave her a slow, sensuous smile. “I found the shoes.” She returned his smile warily. “Let me help you get them on,” he told her. “Come here,” he commanded her firmly. “Sit down.” Tavia clenched her teeth. “Bolt,” she gritted, “if I wear the shoes—” “Come here,” he repeated in iron tones. Tavia left her navy pumps beside the bathroom door and crept toward him in her bare feet. Squeezing between the kneeling man and the hand-stitched bedspread, she sat down on the end of the bed and slipped her right foot into one of the black, patent leather high heels. As she watched, Bolt pulled the wide strap around her ankle, fumbling to close the buckle with his thick fingers. When Tavia reached out her toe for the other shoe, she felt Bolt’s big hand wrap around her ankle as he guided her foot to the pump three feet distant. When he’d finished buckling her left foot into the black ankle-straps, Tavia automatically moved to pull her legs together. That’s when she realized the shoes were nailed to the floor. |
| Other Books in the Calendar Girl Series |
madison hayes
Miss October: Calendar Girls
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