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MACK'S WITNESS
MACK'S WITNESS
By Myla Jackson
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Blurb
Tired
of eating sand and dodging bullets, Marine Captain Mack Magnus is ready to
relax and enjoy his brother’s Dublin wedding. If that involves a few pints in a
quaint Irish pub and getting laid by a pretty Irish lass, all the better.
Instead
he winds up getting ordered around by the cousin of the bride. Fed up with her
mouthy attitude, he kisses her to shut her up. Now he has a new mission: get
into the sexy redhead’s panties.
Busy
international model Deirdre Darcy knows the six-foot-four Marine’s type:
hit-and-run sex and off to the next port. Fall into bed with an arrogant
bastard like Mack? No thanks. When she stumbles upon a couple of Irish gypsies
leaving a murder scene, she must go into hiding or become their next victim.
His
protective instincts kicking into high gear, Mack whisks Deirdre away to a
small town where it’s easier to keep her safe. Except there’s no escape from their
growing attraction—or from the one thing neither of them thought they wanted.
Love.
Warning:
Battle-hardened, ready-to-cut-loose Marine teams up with a stunning Irish lass
who thinks she can handle him. You’ll need the luck of the Irish to hang onto
your seat for this sexy, suspenseful race across the Emerald Isle.
Excerpt
Lead in: Mack is waiting at the airport for his ride to
show, Fiona's cousin.
A woman stepped into the terminal wearing a white,
calf-length trench coat, sunglasses and a scarf over her hair. The little bit of legs Mack could
see below the coat were trim, smooth, well-defined and gorgeous. He couldn’t tell what
color hair was beneath the scarf, nor the color of her eyes beneath the sunglasses. The manner
in which she carried herself was enough to make Mack look twice. She could be a runway
model the way she strode across the floor, one foot in front of the other, the trench
coat in no way disguising her tiny
waist and slim hips.
A woman like that had to be high-maintenance and completely
full of herself, and most likely boring in bed. Basically, an ice princess. Though she
was wonderful eye-candy, Mack was not the least interested.
He glanced back at the entrance, wondering when his lift
would show up, starting to think he might have to find his own way there.
“Excuse me, sir,” a lilting Irish voice said. “What is yer
name?”
Mack’s insides tightened, and he turned to face the woman
with the voice that tugged at something primal. The ice princess stood in front of him, her full, lush red
lips pressed into a thin line.
Then she snapped her fingers in his face. “Are you addled?”
“Addled?”
“Do you not speak English?” She stood so close Mack could
see several wisps of deep auburn hair sneaking out from beneath the scarf.
He wanted to reach out and yank the scarf from her head and
let the dark red hair free.
“Yes, I speak English.”
“American, eh?” The woman drew herself up on her heels
almost but not quite eye to-eye with him. “Perhaps you could help me. I’m looking for an
American named Mack Magnus.”
So she was his ride…er, lift. A thrill of annoyance and
desire speared through him. Her attitude was beginning to get under his skin along with the
desire to pull her into his arms and kiss the lush red lips until he smudged her lipstick.
“Silly name, if you ask me.” The ice princess glanced around
and back to him, her head dipping as if she was looking him over from head to toe.
“You sort of fit the description I was given, but I assumed he’d be a bit more…”
“Handsome?” Mack fought the smile pulling at his lips.
Her brows lifted above the rims of her sunglasses. “The word
I was looking for was intelligent.”
Copyright © 2014 Myla Jackson
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. Publication
ORDER NOW!!!!!
ORDER NOW!!!!!
For more information:
To learn more about Myla Jackson visit her website at http://www.mylajackson.com.
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