Wow, today is WILD. I'm so glad I canceled tutoring. I kinda wish I'd taken the day off.

First, HOT SHOT RELEASES TODAY. (Not at 5 AM, though ;) )

Second, I'm guest blogging at Marianne’s AND Romance Bandits AND Samhain.

Third, a Hot Shot excerpt is up at
Coffee Time’s Spring Showers Promotion - come talk to me!

And last, I got an email that Where There's Smoke is Joyfully Reviewed! I made the reviewer CRY! (Weird that makes me so happy ;) )



Here's another excerpt of Hot Shot - come see me around the blogosphere!!!

“You’re limping. I want to look at your feet.”

“They aren’t burned.” And she had some defensive issues of her own. Was it him she wasn’t willing to admit weakness to, or herself?

“Blistered, though, aren’t they?”

She stammered, glanced away. “A—yeah.”

“First fire, new boots?”

“I have on two pair of socks,” she said.

Yeah, definitely some defensive issues there. He leaned forward and crooked his finger. “Let’s look at those feet.”

“They just…I…”

Her discomfort amused him. He wasn’t asking her to strip, for crying out loud. Why was she so skittish? “Sit and take ’em off.”

She did, grumbling more now than on the trail. Delayed reactions were fine with him. She’d done what she’d been told, and had done a fair job of it. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t dredge up any resentment.

She thrust her feet toward him and immediately he saw the outer sock, blackened on the top from soot, had been worn through.

“Peel.”

“I can take care of my own feet.”

He couldn’t tell if she was blushing under all the soot, but her jerky movements told him she was embarrassed as she stripped off the socks. He motioned for her to place them in his lap for inspection, which she did with more force than necessary, near a place a man wanted as little force as possible.

He picked up one foot, was amused by the hot-pink toenail polish, amazed by the softness of the skin. Calluses hardened a few places, the rest was city-girl soft. He allowed himself a brief picture of what she might be like on her own turf. Would she wear girly dresses? High heels? Fix up her hair? Hard to tell what she’d be like dressed up, the way she looked now, in her baggy fire gear and covered with ash. But he’d imagine she wouldn’t be too bad.

Of course, sandals wouldn’t be very flattering. He could see some blisters forming, traced a testing finger over the high arch of her foot. She jerked and shouted, the sound startling the girls as it echoed off the cave walls. He grinned.
“Ticklish?”

She scowled and tried to pull her foot away, but he tightened his grip on her heel.

“I have some cream in my pack.”

“So do I,” she said through her teeth.

Stubborn wasn’t as bad as most people made it out to be. It would keep her alive till he could get her back to safety. He wanted to smile again, but her other foot was still free and dangerously close to where it could do damage.

He released her and she scrambled to her side of the cave.

“Fine. Then put your clean socks on and put the dirty ones still in one piece over them.”

He watched to make sure she followed directions, then shut off the flashlight and closed his burning eyes.

Gabe dozed, his head against the wall. How could he relax when Peyton’s heart still drummed a mile a minute? The terror of the past few hours only now hit her. She’d understood it was serious at the time, but the pure audacity of their victory kept her mind churning.

Woman against nature. Considering the huge force she was up against, she felt damned lucky to come out even.

In the dim light of her headlamp, she saw the children were asleep, piled together like puppies. Josie curled against the wall, her back to them. So Peyton watched Gabe.
His strength was apparent in every aspect of his body, his broad shoulders and muscled arms accented in the black T-shirt, his wide callused hands, his stubborn jaw, black with both stubble and soot.

He was handsome, rescued women and children, true hero material.

God help her.