Blurb:
Burning up inside? Feeling that fire down below?
Call The Hot Line…
...Dial 555-HEAT
It’s The Hot Line, an on-call service
that dispatches totally authentic, fully equipped firemen to explore the
secret fantasies of women in need. What
an irresistible dare for three best friends feeling the heat…
Reporter Sara Jack has the Fever
to do a story on The Hot Line. There’s no better man to help with
research than Mitch Adams. The solid stud is all pro, but in Sara he’s
met a woman willing to fulfill one of his fantasies—if they’re ready to
accept what comes next.
The Siren has sounded and shy lingerie designer Jenna Powers is finally
ready for a real man to tamp her desires, break through her inhibitions,
and show her the naughty side of love. Enter Dean Beckman—again and
again.
For sous chef Megan Wagner, a Flash Fire has the sparks to change her
life—especially with someone like Brady Wade to put it out. In and out
of uniform, he’s driving her wild, but her fear of commitment could
drive him away…
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Excerpt:
The shrill of their special phone pulled him from his
musings and helped marshal his thoughts. “I got it.” Welcoming the
distraction, he jumped to his feet and pushed away from the card table.
Without haste, he made his way across the room.
Fuck. Maybe tonight he’d take the call. Although it had been a long time
since he’d participated in The Hot Line, perhaps a soft bed and even
softer woman would help take the edge off and get his mind off Sara.
When he glanced at the caller ID, his heart raced, his blood pressure
soared. Jesus H. Christ. Everything in him reacted to the name displayed
in the small glass window. Tension rose in him as his cock urged him to
answer the phone, along with the sexual demands of his body.
What the fuck was he supposed to do now?
Despite his rock hard cock screaming at him to pick up that phone and give
Sara exactly what she wanted, he took a measured step back, but not far
enough that he still couldn’t reach it. If he wanted to. But he didn’t
want to. Okay, he wanted to, but he wasn’t going to.
He was not going to pick it up.
No way.
No how.
Walk away, Mitch. Just walk away.
Before he could stop himself, his fingers closed over the receiver and
squeezed until his knuckles turned white.
Just then Dean poked his head around the corner. Grinning like the crazy,
intuitive son-of-bitch he was, he asked, “You want me to get that?”
The image of Sara with another man curdled his blood. “No,” Mitch growled
and ripped the phone from the cradle. He pressed it to his ear and said
gruffly, “Hello.”
Sara’s soft sexy voice sounded on the other end. “Mitch?”
“Yeah?”
Foregoing pleasantries and getting right to the point, she said, “My kitty
stopped purring. I think it needs to be resuscitated.”
Sweet Mother of God! Mitch slapped his hand to his forehead and drew a
steadying breath, working overtime to tamp down his roaring libido.
He failed.
Lust ripped through him like a raging forest fire, making him tremble with
pent up need. He growled low in his throat, unable to tame the primal
animal rising up inside him, crumbling his resolve to keep his distance.
Despite knowing better, he had every intention of breathing life back into
her kitty, over and over again, using every means possible, if he had to.
If she expected anything less, she’d called the wrong guy, on the wrong
night.
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