Protector
for Hire
Front and Center #4
Front and Center #4
By: Tawna Fenske
NOW AVAILABLE
Entangled: Lovestruck
ABOUT THE BOOK~
Haunted
by his time in Iraq, former soldier Schwartz Patton goes off the grid,
retreating deep into Montana’s untamed wilderness. Now, ten years into his
self-imposed solitude, his brother tracks him down and asks for a favor. A
woman is in danger, and she needs help...and Schwartz is the only one who can
protect her.
Designer-loving
city girls like Janelle Keebler don't belong in the wilderness. Unless, of
course, they're witnesses to a murder by their psycho drug-trafficking
ex-husbands. Still, Janelle can't help the immediate physical response she has
to her sexy-as-sin protector that leaves her wanting more than she could have
ever imagined. Even if he does make terrible coffee...
Every
word, every touch, every kiss ignites a need Schwartz thought he’d lost
forever. He can't stop the desperate attraction simmering between him and
Janelle, even if he wanted to. Even if it means it could get them both killed.
LINKS~
GOODREADS SERIES
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Tawna Fenske is a romantic comedy
author who writes humorous fiction, risqué romance, and heartwarming love
stories with a quirky twist. Her offbeat brand of romance has been praised by
Booklist as “A tame Carl Hiaasen on cupid juice,” and RT Book Reviews nominated
her debut novel for contemporary romance of the year. Tawna is a fourth
generation Oregonian who can peel a banana with her toes and who loses an
average of 20 pairs of eyeglasses per year. She lives in Bend, Oregon with her
husband, step kids, and a menagerie of ill-behaved pets.
AUTHOR LINKS~
“You
saw something brutal and bloody and awful,” Schwartz murmured. “That sort of
thing can mess with your head.”
He
spoke like a man intimately familiar with the experience, and Janelle wanted to
ask how he knew. But something told her not to. She might be lying half clad in
his bed, but he was still a stranger.
A
stranger who felt really, really warm.
She
sighed, enjoying the heat seeping from his palm through the thin cotton of her
cami top and the elastic waist of her satin sleep shorts. “I thought I was
doing okay, you know?” she whispered. “I mean, I’m safe here, right?”
“Right.”
“So
why do I feel like a scared little girl?”
His
palm curled tighter around her waist. In the darkness, the lines in his face
shifted to something resembling a grimace. “You most definitely do not feel
like a little girl.”
She
laughed, snuggling closer to all that heat and strength. “Thanks. I think.”
Her
shifting under the covers made his palm drop from her hip to the small of her
back. She might have been imagining things, but she could have sworn she felt
his fingertips stroke the top of her sleep shorts, dipping ever so lightly
under the waistband. Probably shouldn’t read too much into that.
She
wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, and found herself awkwardly folding them
against her chest. That felt weird. She unclasped her fingers, hesitating.
To
touch or not to touch?
Touch.
She
slid her hands forward a few inches to splay them across his chest. He
stiffened at first, then relaxed beneath her fingertips.
Better.
Much better.
He
wore no shirt, and there was a soft dusting of fur across his chest. His
muscles were taut and massive beneath her palms, and he didn’t move to push her
hands away. Good
Lord,
what did this guy do for exercise? Wrestle bears? Bench-press fallen trees? Do
bicep curls with boulders?
She
tipped her head back to look at him, and found him studying her with an
expression of frank interest. “What?”
“I
sleep alone. Always. This—this is new.”
She
bit her lip. “I can leave if you want.”
“It’s
okay. You can stay for a minute. You’re still shaking.”
She
was, but it had nothing to do with fear anymore.
She
hesitated, wondering how rude it might be to ask the question that was on her
mind. It was probably much too intimate.
You
just crawled into bed with him. That’s not intimate?
“Schwartz?”
“Yeah?”
“You
said you sleep alone. And you’re way out here in the middle of nowhere. I was
just wondering—”
“If
Sherman starts to look sexy to me every now and then?”
“What?”
She laughed and swatted his chest. “No, that’s not what I meant. Well, not
exactly.”
“You’re
wondering if I’ve taken a vow of celibacy out here in the Montana wilderness.”
“Well,
yeah. Kinda. If it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer.”
“Honey,
you’ve been rubbing your thigh on my hard-on for the last five minutes. I think
we’re past the point of personal.”
She
gasped and started to pull back, mortified. “I thought that was your hip bone.
Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t
be. This is the most action I’ve seen since the night Sherman and I—”
“Okay,
okay, stop. Anyone ever tell you you’re crude?”
He
grinned. “Nope. The benefit of living alone.”
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