USA Today Bestselling Author Traci Douglass writes fiction bursting with romance, usually mixed with a healthy portion of snark. Her stories feature sizzling heroes with quick wits and troubled pasts and smart, independent heroines who always give as good as they get. Her books are published with Harlequin/Mills & Boon, Entangled Publishing, and Tule Publishing.She’s an active member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), Indiana Romance Writers of America (IRWA), and the International Thriller Writers (ITW), and holds a Master of Fine Arts Degree in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University.
Mel wouldn’t be in this pristine mess now if her older brother’s best friend had slept with her the night she’d propositioned him eight years ago. But no. Adam had to be all noble and heroic and told her she was special and should wait for the right guy to come along.
“…and what you need to do is get rid of this good girl image you’ve got looming over you like a shroud.” Lilly’s words jolted Mel back to the present. Perhaps her best friend was right. She’d been good until now. Maybe it was time to temper the sweet with a bit of spice.
Then again, he might’ve been trying to rile her up. She and Gus weren’t on the best terms lately since she’d chewed him out last week about getting his library card then not using it. Still, her reproductive activities, or lack thereof, were none of his business.
A tall order, but not impossible, given Adam was back in Point Beacon following two tours in the Army. Mel had stopped by his body shop under the guise of scheduling maintenance for her car, to see if Adam still looked the same. He had—all tall, dark, and tantalizingly unavailable. But he hadn’t so much as glanced her way. Then she’d ended up missing her bogus appointment at his garage because of a delivery snafu at the library. She’d yet to speak one word to the guy since his return, even though he lived just down the road. Still, each night she’d hear the sound of his motorcycle, rumbling past her house after he’d gotten off work, and her knees went wobbly picturing gorgeous bad boy Adam with all that roaring power between his thighs.
Mel ended the call without saying goodbye, tossed her phone on the coffee table, then headed down the hall toward her front door, doing a quick check of her reflection in the foyer mirror. Same petite figure. Same long brown hair. Same big brown eyes. Tonight, though, her gaze sparkled with new determination. She wasn’t the besotted, naive girl Adam had left behind eight years ago. Now, she was a successful woman with a good job and a home of her own.