By Kyra Jacobs
by Kyra Jacobs
Book 2 in the Hometown Heroes series (though can be read as a sequel or standalone novel)
Look, touch, but don’t fall in love.
Massage therapist Liz Williams lives by one rule: never date a client. A rule she’s never had trouble following until she lays hands on fireman playboy Torrunn MacKay. Trouble is, Liz’s sexy new client is dating her arch-rival at work…and has a strange habit of appearing just before the fire alarm sounds.
Firefighter Torrunn MacKay has got it made: killer job, downtown condo with a view, and hot blonde girlfriend with no more desire to tie the knot than he has. But the surprise attraction he feels toward his new masseuse is threatening to change all that. And what’s with the string of fires that seem to follow her everywhere?
Can Liz mind her table manners and keep Torrunn at arms’ length? Will Torrunn put his commitment fears aside to keep Liz safe? More than hearts will be in jeopardy when the two start Flirting with Fire.
Beware of darkened rooms, delicious firefighters, and desperate pyromaniacs.
Kyra Jacobs is an extroverted introvert who writes of love and mystery in the Midwest. When this Hoosier native is not pounding out scenes for her next book, she's likely outside, elbow-deep in snapdragons or spending quality time with her sports-loving family. Kyra also loves golf, Guitar Hero, and thinking through plot twists while out on a good run. Be sure to stop by her Website for links to connect with her on social media. Kyra lives in northern Indiana with her husband and two children.
Connect with Kyra;
I stepped inside, closed the door quietly behind me, and shifted my gaze to the massage table. A long, still figure lay prone upon it, covered from the waist down by a single, white sheet. And for just a moment, I forgot to breathe.
The body before me was, in a word, beautiful.
With his face hidden in the headrest, I freely drank in the view. Torrunn had thick dark hair, kept short yet stylish. Muscular arms lay relaxed by his sides, a dusting of dark hair on their lower halves visible from where I stood. His legs were parted slightly, the small mounds of his heels giving way to the straight lines of lean legs.
My eyes roved along his long, lean legs toward the next swell of the sheet—a squeezable butt if I ever saw one. And trust me, I’d seen enough in my day to know which were worthy of squeezing. Not that I ever would. No, not ever with a client.
But no one said I couldn’t enjoy the view, and this was a massage therapist jackpot.
It took me another moment to register why he looked so much different than all of my earlier clients, even aside from the amazing physique. And then it hit me—the table’s slate blue blanket, which usually sat atop the thin white sheet and served to blur the outlines of my clients, was missing. A quick scan of the room found it neatly folded and set upon the room’s small side chair beneath what clothes my new client had been wearing.
Apparently, Torrunn ran hot.