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You Don’t Know Jack

 

Series: Denim & Spurs ~ Book 3

Publisher: Twisted E Publishing

March 2015

ISBN #:

Genre: Contemporary/Interracial/Western

 

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Gwen Franco hadn't time for anything other than work and her daughter. Taking a chance one night to fill in for a friend at a party, she met a man who could change all of that. If she didn't run away.

Jack Martin, widower, was instantly intrigued by the woman he met at the masquerade ball. When she slipped away, he was determined to find her. Once he'd accomplished that, he wanted nothing more than to take care of her and her little girl, giving them a life with him in Branchwater, Texas. If Gwen thought he was like other men, she didn't know Jack.

 
   
Excerpt  

Content below is not suitable if under 18.

 
   
Grateful for the mask covering two-thirds of her face, Gwen watched the festivities going on around her. Rich folk sure did throw their money away at weird things. She smiled as two women, both dressed as Marie Antoinette, exchanged their empty glasses for champagne filled ones from the tray in her hand. Then she moved on.
The costumes ranged from royalty to fictional characters and historical ones. They both mingled around her and spilled outside beneath the white silk tents and beyond to the night sky. Gods and goddess as well as ones she couldn’t identify.
I bet some of them don’t know how they came either, some are so intoxicated. The free alcohol flowed with abandon.
She glanced discreetly at her watch. Time for her to take an hour lunch. Turning for the kitchen, she made her way over the highly polished floor and pushed through the French doors. Once the tray rested upon a stainless steel countertop, she walked out the back door, sighing in relief as the noise fell to a muted rumble.
The night was heavy with humidity and the promise of an upcoming storm. She strolled along the smooth path, down toward the stables, past couples sneaking some alone time, ones who took advantage of the masks covering their faces. She went by satyrs, gladiators, and flappers.
Shaking her head, she walked into the first stable she came to, sighing as familiar whickers reached her ears. Her heels clicking on the cement, she made her way down the center.
“Oh, yes,” a woman moaned.
“Call me Caligula,” the man replied.
“Oh, god, Caligula.”
“That’s right, baby,” he moaned. “That’s me, the emperor. Again, call me Caligula.” A small squeal. “I said, call me Caligula.”
She did with a panting breath, which turned into more groaning.
Sexual pervert and sadist was more like it.
Then came the sounds of flesh on flesh.
Covering her mouth to hold in her laugh, she hurried out the back and leaned against the nearest fence. She wasn’t hungry and had no need to be in there eating something. Out here was preferable.
“Hiding from Caligula?”
She jumped and turned to see a man striding into view. Tall and lean, he moved with grace. With a shrug, she said, “I try to stay away from sexual depravity and cruelty that he’s known for. Thought I’d give it a shot this year of being good. What about you, Phantom?”
He touched his mask that announced he was the Phantom of the Opera. “I try to stay away from that with him as well. But even if he wasn’t depraved, I’d still avoid him since he’s not really my type.”
She smiled, wishing she could see him without the mask. Even so, it wasn’t hard to tell he was a rider. All the ones she’d met moved with this inherent sinewy grace.
He paused next to her, resting his arms along the top rail, without any apparent concern for his tuxedo. “Who are you supposed to be?”
Christ, that voice was temptation itself wrapped up in a blanket of invitation to sin. The deep drawl, Texas, if she was correct, flowed over her and heated her in ways the muggy night never could. It also reawakened parts of her untouched since her daughter was born. “No one of importance,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound so thready.
Two seconds in this man’s presence and she was ready to toss her skirts up over her head and let him have his way with her. I have to get a hold of myself. The air was a warm compilation of horses and his cologne. Almost as if she’d been drinking, he made her tremble. Grab a guy and have your way with him. Sally’d whispered as she’d headed out the door to come here tonight.
Perhaps it was advice she should take.

 

   

Copyright © Aliyah Burke, 2015.

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