Sniper Fire












ISBN Digital: 978-1-62830-473-2
ISBN Print: 978-1-62830-472-5
Page Count: 258
Word Count: 69325
Rating: Hot (R)


Love in the Crosshairs

After nearly losing his leg to sniper fire, Kyle Fagan knows his days in special ops are over. All he wants to do is hole up in his house and ignore the rest of the world. But ignoring Dr. Farrah Hastings is something Kyle is finding difficult to do, especially since being alone with the good doctor might just be the medicine he needs.
 
Farrah can’t stand the thought of Kyle giving up. When her warm affection for him ignites into something much hotter after just one kiss, she finally understands why. Now nothing will stand in her way of prying Kyle out of his depression, not a forest fire, not an escaped criminal, not even Kyle himself.
 

Rating: Hot
Page Count: 258
Word Count: 69325
978-1-62830-473-2     Digital
978-1-62830-472-5     Paperback

Excerpt:

“Why in the world, when the stakes are so high, would you decide to give up now?”

Kyle ran a hand over his face, feeling the frustration leak out of every pore along with his sweat. “Farrah…I’m not giving up. I just…I’m trying to be realistic here.”

He sucked in a deep breath and looked away. The silence stretched between them, broken only by Farrah’s quiet sniffles. It took all his strength to meet her wounded gaze again.

“Look, I understand you want to make things better. I appreciate it. I really do. But you have to accept there are some things you can’t fix. Trying to force the issue won’t accomplish a damn thing. You don’t know what I’ve been through, what I’m still—”

“I was there, remember? I’m a doctor, I know—”

Her words cut off as he moved into her personal space, forcing her to step back until she bumped against the fender of her car. He didn’t stop until their bodies almost touched. Deliberately, he reached down and pressed a hand against her thigh, applying just a hint of pressure. The material of her gray dress pants kept him from touching skin, but the heat of her still seared him. He held her watery gaze as he slowly leaned to the side, moving his hand down, sliding his palm over her knee, then trailing searching fingers back up, up and around, until he stopped just shy of cupping her deliciously firm ass. Her heavy breathing matched his, their breaths mingling in the hot, August air.

“I don’t feel a brace on your leg, Dr. Hastings,” he said softly. “I don’t feel any twisted muscles or hard scars. So how can you stand here and say you know what I’m going through? You can’t.”




Copyright © 2017 The Wild Rose Press, Inc.