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Stepping up to the plate will put him in the line of fire…
For Drew Kiley, married life isn’t what he had in mind. Driven to “I do” by a sense of familial responsibility, he assumes the role of husband to his brother’s wife, Alyssa…and the role of father to his nephew, Luke. It seems to be the logical solution in light of his brother’s abandonment. But Drew doesn’t know the whole truth about his brother’s past. A rescue from a canine companion sets Drew and Alyssa on a perilous course of extortion, kidnapping and secrets unveiled. United in their determination to protect Luke, Drew and Alyssa learn to depend on each other. But as tensions escalate, so does a deep undercurrent of desire that casts their marriage in a different light.
“Don’t,” Drew said, snapping her out of her painful memories. “Don’t say things you don’t really mean.”
There was an undertone of something in his voice that made her breath stop. A tightness, an edge, something.
Heat. That, too. In his voice, and in his eyes as he looked at her.
“But I do mean it,” she said softly. “I’ve only just realized I’ve meant it for a while now.”
“Lyss—”
She put a hand on his chest, over his heart, and his words cut off as if her action had sucked the very air out of him. She could feel the thud of his heart, felt a skip in her own heartbeat as his accelerated at her touch.
Dear Reader,
I never grew up with a brother. I had one, but he died as an infant before I was born, so I never had that kind of sibling relationship with a male. Perhaps that’s why it fascinates me so. Or perhaps it’s because it’s so very different from the sister/sister relationship I do know. But my husband had four brothers, and a son and daughter, so I’ve had great opportunity to observe and learn. And I have a niece and nephew who are playing out that growing up together right now. Right about here is where I should say the story in this book is not a representation of any of those relationships!
If you grew up with brothers, I envy you. It’s something I missed, and although I suspect I would not have appreciated it every step of the way, that it intrigues me is obvious since they keep cropping up in my work. And to those of you who would say, “If you’d had one, you wouldn’t feel that way!” I can only say I’m the victim (grateful recipient?) of that writer’s curse…the words What if?
In a previous book (Operation Reunion) I explored that brother/sister connection. In this book, it’s two very different brothers, one long dead but still affecting the other, in fact shaping his entire life.
I hope you enjoy it!
Justine
Operation Unleashed
Justine Davis
JUSTINE DAVIS
Justine Davis lives on Puget Sound in Washington state, watching big ships and the occasional submarine go by, and sharing the neighborhood with assorted wildlife, including a pair of bald eagles, deer, a bear or two and a tailless raccoon. In the few hours when she’s not planning, plotting or writing her next book, her favorite things are photography, knitting her way through a huge yarn stash and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadster—top down, of course.
Connect with Justine at her website, >justinedavis.com, at >twitter.com/justine_d_davis, or on Facebook at >facebook.com/justinedaredavis.
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MAX
I was used to female German Shepherds, so when Mandy died, I immediately sought out another Shepherd. A woman invited me out to see her dogs; she had at least 7 Shepherds. When I got there, I asked, “Which one is mine?” She pointed to a smallish brown and white male dog, with floppy (not pointy) ears. So I said, “What’s that?” And she said, “That’s Max. He’s part Brittany, part Pointer. You can have him.” I wanted a Shepherd. Female, not a male mutt. But the thought of having fur to pet and cuddle led me to lead him to the car. By the time I got home, I was in love! Max had eyes the color of sherry, he craved salad, and he was my constant companion and faithful guy for 13 years. The night my mother died, he went into my mother’s room and walked around her hospital bed, as if to say, “Goodbye.” And less than a year later, Max became suddenly, catastrophically ill—and I was having to say “Goodbye” to him. It is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. He died in 1995, and I still miss him every day. Max the wonderful dog—I still love you.
—Binnie Syril Braunstein
This is the latest in a series of dedications from readers who have shared the pain of the loss of a beloved dog. For more information visit my website at www.justinedavis.com.
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