Friday, February 11, 2011

Available Now! A Fated Love


By: Diana DeRicci
Published By: OmniLit / All Romance eBooks, LLC
ISBN # 9781936387298

Word Count: 16493
Heat Index   

Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Microsoft Reader, HTML, Mobipocket, Epub

All Romance Ebooks

About the book

When you crash head-on into love, sometimes it’s hard to escape…

Shortly after Lee’s classic ‘69 Stingray becomes the victim of a hit and run, a gorgeous knight in Armani arrives with proof pointing to the identity of the guilty driver. Being new in town, the last thing Lee needs is a romantic entanglement.

Vince happened to be in the right place at the right time. He didn’t expect to be attracted to Lee. After all, he stopped looking for a lasting relationship some time ago. So what if Lee is his stepbrother’s latest hire and says he’s not interested? Vince has never been one to back down from a challenge.

Can Vince convince Lee that the risk is well worth the reward, for the both of them?

An excerpt from the book

Chapter One

“Wait! Hey, you! Wait!” Lee Volde raced across the parking garage, but the squeal of echoing tires made it clear the person who’d whacked the daylights out of his fender wasn’t hanging around for the finer details, like insurance swapping. “God damn it!” He threw his business jacket over the hood, wishing he had something less valuable than his briefcase that he could pitch in anger.

He grimaced as he crouched, setting his briefcase on the ground at his feet to run a hand over the front of his Corvette Stingray. “Fucking jerk.” He petted the jet black paint like he was soothing a wounded animal. “I’m sorry, baby. I thought parking you up here would be better.”

He was running a thumb over the busted blinker light and the scuff marks in the new dent when the sound of approaching footsteps broke into his silent fuming.

“Excuse me?”

Lee whipped around to peer over and above his shoulder. Holy daylights. Gods do walk the earth. He stood carefully.

The gentleman pointed over his shoulder toward a green H3. “I saw the whole thing from over there.” He held up his cell phone. “Would this help?” An image of a Cadillac appeared on the screen.

“You caught it?” Lee was flabbergasted. This stranger had snapped a shot of the car?

“Well, the culprit,” he joked with a white-toothed smile, the smallest gap between his perfect front teeth. He pointed at the screen. “License plate.” He moved a fingertip with a blunt nail to the other edge of the glowing screen when it flicked frames, showing the Cadillac backing up to get around the Corvette, exposing the damage. “Proof of dent. I think you can work with that.”

“Can you email that to me?” Lee’s heart was lurching and pounding. His car had been violated and a man the likes of which he’d never encountered was saving the day.

“Be happy to.” He held out a hand. “Vince Mulholland.”

“Lee Volde.” When their hands connected, his skin tingled, a pulse sending an already skittering focus farther out into no-man’s land. He shook himself, though when he released Vince, he seemed in less than a hurry to do so. Lee was too shook up to even concentrate on his reaction.

A crunch of molded plastic under his foot reminded him of what he was doing. Searching his splayed suit pockets, he found his cards and gave one to Vince. Without asking again, he immediately sent the images to the listed email, then called nine-one-one.
“Hi, I need to report a hit and run. No injuries.”

Lee all but sagged against his gem, surprised at the amount of help Vince was giving him.

New to the city, he had no close friends yet and honestly hadn’t expected someone to be this outgoing to give him a hand. Least of all someone who looked like a fashion model in Armani.

“So, what is it? A ’67?”

Lee blinked. “A ’69. I restored her and she’s been my baby.”

“I can tell. It’s a beautiful piece.” Vince strolled around the car, nodding and humming in approval. “The exhaust, that’s to the factory specifications?”

“You know Corvettes?”

Vince winked. “Don’t all young boys? You did an incredible job with it.”

“Thanks. I had to get it professionally painted but under the hood was all me.”

“Impressive.” Vince stopped in front of him. “I haven’t seen you in the building.”

Lee shrugged. “I’ve only been in Houston for about three months. A new acquire from Detroit.”

“Ah, so you’re the numbers whiz that Frank was cussing and praising in the same breath.”

Oh crap. He works for Shedwicke too. Fucking figures. “I guess.” Studying Vince, he guessed him to be in his mid- to late-thirties. Manicured hands, pressed Armani, an H3. And someone important if he wasn’t shooting wildly. He managed to put his admiration in a closet, shoving his want to drool in with it. He doubted the man was even gay. Just because he didn’t wear a ring didn’t mean shit. He might be new to Houston but at thirty-two, Lee sure wasn’t new to men who liked to yank chains and drag a male around by their dick.

The sound of an approaching car drew both their attentions. A police cruiser rolled to a stop on the fourth floor of the enclosed garage and an officer stepped out to join them. Lee folded his jacket and opened the door to drop it over the seat, meeting the cop with registration and info in hand.


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