Dylan: The Sons of Dusty Walker

by Redford, Jodi

  Excerpt:

  Stepping back out into the sunshine, he pulled his hat down to shade his eyes. Making his way across the yard, he wondered where the poker game would be held. Probably in the building he’d just left. He smiled, seeing that the accommodations were small log cabins. Whoever had designed the place hit the nail on the head with rustic appeal. Coming to his door, he started to put the key in – and noticed it was unlocked, ajar a couple of inches. With a gentle shove, he pushed it open and stepped in to the generous sized suite. His eyes roved the room, taking in the big recliner, the heavy desk – but when he came to the focus of the room, he froze. “There’s somebody in my bed,” he mused under his breath.

  Walking quietly toward the big four-poster, Rogue felt like one of the three bears. The only difference was the riot of curls lying on his pillow were sable brown locks instead of gold ones. A velvet bedspread was thrown back to the foot, the only cover over the curvy female body was a thin sheet. He could see every dip and curve and the outline of a very intriguing heart-shaped bottom.

  Glancing down at his keycard, he noted the number 9, stepped backwards and verified that he indeed was in the right cabin. “Well, this beats a mint on my pillow any damn day.”

  A sweet female sigh came from across the room and Rogue returned to it like a rope had been dropped around his shoulders – the tug was strong. Heaven was smiling on him, because when he drew near, Sleeping Beauty rolled over and it became apparent she was sleeping in the nude. A pair of scrumptious round breasts with rosy pink nipples were winking at him like cherries topping an ice cream sundae. A delicate creamy arm was thrown over his little bedmate’s face, but Rogue didn’t mind, there was plenty of other good stuff to see. With a cute little kick, she pushed the sheet farther down and now he was seeing a flat tummy and a narrow waist. If he didn’t do something fast he’d be treated to a centerfold peek at her feminine treasure.

  Should he awaken the fair maiden with a kiss?

  Probably not a good idea. Damn, sometimes he wished he wasn’t so gallant.

  Turning his back, he crossed his arms with a smirk. All of a sudden, he was feeling better. The worry of Dusty and his brothers seemed faraway. Clearing his throat, Rogue announced, “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to barge in but the door was standing open. I do believe you’re in my bed.”

  His bit his lip and smiled when he heard a gasp, the snap of a sheet and bare feet padding on the floor, coming across the room toward him. Bowing his head, Rogue closed his eyes, counting under his breath, preparing himself for a blushing kissable vision voicing her abject apologies.

  Five, four, three, two…

  Not what he got.

  Wham! A pillow came crashing down on his very expensive beaver-skin cowboy hat. “What do you think you’re doing in my cabin, you pervert?” He held his hands up, defending himself from the crashing satin covered weapon she was wielding quite ably. “Give me your key!” she demanded with a hiss. He held the plastic card out like a peace offering, his eyes still tightly shut. When he heard his small attacker moving away, he carefully opened one eye and had to laugh at the sight. Long dark hair hung down in corkscrew curls to butt level and the sheet trailed behind her like the long train of a bridal gown. “Follow me!” Miss Priss marched out the door and across the yard, gesturing to another cabin. “This is #9! Mine is #6, the damn numeral spun upside down on the screw.”

  Rogue followed the sexy husky-from-sleep voice. Why was he feeling an odd sense of déjà vu? “I’m certain I can’t be held accountable for malfunctioning hardware and like I said before, your door was standing open.” His argument sounded good to him. “My name is Rogue Walker and I’d like to apologize for waking you from your cat nap.”

  A horrified gasp met his ears. “Rogue Walker?”

  Rogue had never heard his name said with that same degree of distaste before – but when he finally got close enough to lay eyes on the face that went along with the incredible body he’d ravished with his eyes – he understood.

  Standing before him in all of her glory was Kit Ross, the woman who’d been his partner in what had to have been the worst blind date in the history of mankind.

  Both of them stared at one another, their own memories crashing down on them like an unwelcome downpour...

  FIND ROGUE HERE on my website http://sablehunter.com/ and on Amazon.

  Naughty Girls Do

  Copyright © 2014 Jodi Redford

  Lexie Winters is on a mission—to lose her good girl image and tempt resident bad boy, Ash Bodry, into her bed. Tired of being treated like his kid sister, it’s past time for her to play dirty. She has her work cut out for her though when it comes to the sinfully sexy yet incredibly frustrating man.

  As far as Ash is concerned, Lexie is strictly off limits. Not only are they friends, her dad just happens to be the sheriff, and years ago the man steered Ash away from a life of crime. No way is he repaying that favor by giving into his wicked fantasies of Lexie. But when the little vixen strolls into his tattoo parlor and requests a very naughty piercing, Ash’s honorable intentions are tested to their limits.

  Now that Lexie’s hammered the first chink in Ash’s defenses, and he’s sweating bullets, there’s no chance in hell she’s settling for his hands off policy. Even if it means some flirty strip tease action and late night skinny dipping to convince him that this newfound naughty girl will do whatever it takes to get her man.

  http://www.amazon.com/Naughty-Girls-Do-BOOM-Story-ebook/dp/B00KOFZG1E

  Please enjoy the following excerpt:

  A massive case of jittery nerves twisting her stomach into a knot, Lexie Winters hesitated outside the entrance to Shores Ink. Tearing her focus from the intricate black and white tribal graphic stenciled on the door, she gave her best friend and co-conspirator, Grace Jennings, a panicked look. “Why can’t I just get a tattoo?” Granted, she’d have to get it somewhere discreet. She didn’t want to completely scandalize her coworkers at the library. Of course, not much chance of that not happening if it ever leaked out what she was intending to get done at Ash Bodry’s tattoo parlor.

  Grace indulged in a long-suffering sigh. “We’ve already discussed this. A tattoo won’t get Ash’s attention.”

  “What if I get it on my butt? Or boob?”

  “Puh-lease.” Grace rolled her eyes. “Can you imagine the amount of asses and boobs Ash likely sees on a daily basis? Not gonna impress him.”

  Grimacing, Lexie readjusted her tortoise frame lenses before inspecting her cleavage. “I’ve never gotten any complaints about the girls before.”

  “Of course you haven’t. They’re the freaking Eighth Wonder of the World.” Grace gestured to the front of Lexie’s pink halter-top. “I wasn’t referring so much to your attributes as the tattoo in general. If you’re going to prove to Ash that you’re not a goody two shoes, you’re going to have to pull out all the stops. No relying on the miracle twins there to get the job done, Toots.”

  Lexie swallowed hard. “I don’t know—”

  “Yes, you do. Now pull up your big girl panties and get your ass in there, Wussarella.”

  With that encouraging endearment ringing in her ears, Lexie sucked in a deep breath and ducked through the doorway. Heavy metal music drifted from the central sound system, its bass-loaded beat vibrating the floor and amping the nervous tension prickling beneath her skin. It wasn’t the first time she’d stepped inside Ash’s shop. God knows she’d invented plenty of excuses for dropping by over the years. Still, the pretense of bringing him lunch was far less stress inducing than her present plan.

  Stalling, she deliberately dragged her feet, feigning a renewed interest in the photos grouped on the nearest wall. The images depicted various shots of Ash’s one of a kind custom ink designs. She leaned in for a closer scrutiny of her favorite out of the bunch—a gorgeously detailed mermaid. Each scale appeared so vividly real, she swore the mythical creature would leap to life with the tiniest flick of its jewel-toned tail. Lexie chewed her bo
ttom lip. Maybe...

  A loud rap rattled the front door, and Lexie instinctively jumped. Heart knocking in triple time, she tossed a guilty look toward the entrance. Sure enough, Grace was giving her the stink eye. Gusting a resigned exhalation, Lexie abandoned her post in front of the tattoo gallery and approached the unmanned appointment desk. Dalton—Ash’s assistant—was nowhere to be seen. Thank God for small favors. Because the less witnesses she had for this, the better.

  She rounded the corner of the studio, and struggled to kill her lusty sigh as she took in her first Ash sighting of the day. A bounty of muscles flexing in his colorfully inked shoulders and upper arms, he hefted from his seat and leaned over the sketch pad propped open on his work station, his strong, masculine features set in fierce concentration. Dark eyebrows slashing low toward the bridge of his nose, he switched out his blue pen for a red one and continued free handing his creation on the paper. Taking advantage of his complete absorption with his task, Lexie drank up every ounce of his gorgeous perfection.

  No, perfection wasn’t the right word when describing Ash Bodry. He was no pretty boy, by any means. His nose bore a slightly off kilter slant thanks to participating in one too many brawls back in the day, and the faint remnant of a scar still christened the spot above his biceps where he’d been stabbed in a knife fight. For some women, those lingering battle wounds of his past might have been a turn off. Then of course there were the braver, wilder girls who were drawn to Ash’s not-entirely-redeemed bad boy side. In Lexie’s case, her feelings for him ran more than skin deep.

  She was one hundred percent hopelessly in love with Ash. Had been for nearly twelve years, ever since the fateful day her dad busted Ash in the act of hotwiring the mayor’s pristine ’68 Corvette Stingray. Rather than pushing to have Ash thrown in juvie, her dad had volunteered to personally oversee Ash’s probation. As the sheriff of a small lakeside community that quadrupled in residency and potential crime rate during peak summer season, taking on the role of Ash’s sponsor had been no small commitment on her dad’s part. But he’d set Ash on the—mostly—straight and narrow, and in the process inadvertently sealed Lexie’s lovelorn plight by arranging for Ash to help her that entire summer at her grandpa’s campground. Despite Ash having two years on her in age—and an infinitely higher amount of years on her when it came to street smarts—they’d formed a close bond that’d remained unshakable throughout the years.

  Sending up a silent prayer that she wasn’t about to destroy that record, she steeled her spine and took a tentative step forward.