I have a special treat for you today, my lovelies! My dear friend Kimberly Kincaid is back, this time with her summer sizzler, Down Deep. Before we dive into the super tasty excerpt she brought, let’s get to know a bit more about Kimberly.
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would that be?
I would love to live in a cabin, somewhere in the mountains…as long as I could visit lots of cities, too J But for day-today, give me the open air and the cool weather!
What do you do in your downtime?
I hang out with my husband and our three girls—we love to cook together (yes, all of us!), explore new restaurants, and check out fun movies. I also practice a lot of yoga, and of course, I read!
What type of music do you listen to?
I have very eclectic taste. I have a giant artist-crush on Matt Nathanson. I mostly go for a lot of acoustic stuff, and I am a sucker for really smart lyrics. Occupational hazard of being a writer!
What was the last film you saw that you absolutely loved?
I’m way more of a read-the-book girl than a see-the-movie girl. That said, I was very entertained by Oceans 8, and I loved Black Panther.
OMG, yes. Finish this thought: You gotta love a hero who… is smart. (Smart is sexy, baby!)
Okay, here’s a fun game. This or that? Here we go! 🙂
Leather or lace? Leather
Long or short hair? On me? Long? On a guy? Short
Fruity cocktail or glass of wine? Wine
Heels or flats? 😉 How is this even a question?! (heels!)
Ha! I know, I know. Jeans or skirt? I like both (just not together…)
Coffee or tea? Tea
Glam girl or girl next door? Glam! Usually.
Of course! Picky eater or adventurous? Totally adventurous, but picky about clean eating.
Full makeup or au naturale? Full makeup. Even to the mailbox!
I totally believe that, lol. Sexy bed-head or sophisticated coif? Okay, I do love me a good messy bun, though…
Thought so! What can readers expect from you next? I have to be cagey and say my next project is still Super Secret! But it will feature familiar faces and new situations, and it will be as hot as ever (heh).
Oooo! Sounds intriguing. Can’t wait to hear more!
Ian Gamble has a past he’d rather forget—which is exactly what he’s doing at The Crooked Angel Bar and Grill when the place catches fire. Between his active duty in the Marines and his experience as a firefighter, his instincts get him and hot, headstrong bar manager, Kennedy Matthews, to safety. But those same instincts kick into high gear when the fire is ruled an arson, and he discovers Kennedy’s got secrets of her own.
The only thing that matters more to Kennedy than her bar is her brother. When she finds out he’s in over his head with a dangerous arsonist, she’ll do anything to keep him safe—even if it means teaming up with Gamble, who’s too sharp-eyed and hard-bodied for his own good. With every step, their attraction flares hotter and the risks grow more dangerous. Can Gamble and Kennedy face their fears—and their secrets—to catch a terrifying enemy? Or will they go down in flames?
************************EXCERPT (Mature Readers Only) ***********************
He dropped his gaze to his forearm, where her fingers still pressed gently over his skin, and her eyes went round as she followed his downward stare.
“Oh. I shouldn’t…I mean, I didn’t…ugh, sorry,” she breathed, shifting to pull her hand away. But instinct collided with the desire already pumping through his veins, and he covered her fingers with his free hand, not hard enough to keep her from moving if she wanted to, but with enough intention to let her know he didn’t mind her touch.
In fact, he wanted it. Badly.
“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Gamble said, his heart beating faster as—instead of pulling away—Kennedy leaned in even closer.
Her fingers tightened, her pupils darkening her stare. “Then what do you want?” she whispered.
He erased the space between them in one swift movement. But she’d moved, too, pressing forward to meet him at the same time he’d leaned in to slant his mouth over hers. Her lips were soft, yet full of purpose, quickly parting to give him better access, and fuck yeah, he took it. Sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips, Gamble tasted her once, then twice, before deepening the kiss. Kennedy was far from a passive participant—and didn’t that just make his cock stand up and pay all sorts of attention—angling herself closer despite the constraints of the Nissan’s front seat. A low sound rose up from her throat as he swept his tongue further into her mouth to let it tangle with hers. Her moan prompted him to drop the hand that had been covering hers in favor of reaching out to cup the back of her neck, hauling her closer for another hot, deep taste.
Christ, she gave even better than she got, and before Gamble could process the movement, she’d curled her fingers around the front of his T-shirt to grip the cotton by his shoulders and hold his body in place against her chest. His heart slammed against his sternum, each beat sounding off in his ears and daring him to kiss her harder, touch more of her, to not stop until she begged him for unspeakable things with that sharp, sultry mouth. Kennedy edged her teeth over the sensitive skin on the inside of his bottom lip, applying just enough pressure to send a bolt of dark, dirty want all the way through him, and the last of his already shaky common sense snapped.
“Be careful,” Gamble ground out against her mouth, his cock throbbing behind the fly of his jeans. “I bite back.”
I want you to make me come so hard that I forget my name, then I want you to do it again, to be sure I remember yours.
“Show me how pretty you are when you come undone. I’ll be right here to help put you back together.”
The raw hunger on his face made Kennedy realize the truth.
Gamble might be making all the moves, but she still had just as much power as he did.
And it was the hottest thing she had ever seen or felt in her fucking life.
Everything you want to give to me, I want to give it back even more.
And right now, as crazy and mindless and impulsive as it was, Gamble didn’t just want her or need her.
From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, he fucking craved her.
“I am really mad at you for scaring me like that.”
“I know.” Unable to hold himself in check, Gamble gripped the denim she’d just finished unbuttoning and yanked it from her hips. “Now are you going to take off those panties, or am I going to rip them off of you with my teeth?”
“Please. Please, please.” Kennedy arched into his touch. But she was crazy if she thought he could deny her—Christ, he had a hard enough time not blowing his control when she was sassy and sharp. When she begged for his mouth in that velvet-covered, make-me-come voice?
Yeah, he wasn’t saying no. Ever.
Watching the two of them head back toward the pool table, he couldn’t help but shake his head a little at the idea of a relationship that deep. Sexual attraction, he got. A couple of hot-sex hookups here and there to satisfy said attraction? He got those, too. But the sort of no-holds-barred love that McCullough and Capelli and a few other members of Seventeen had tumbled into lately seemed as alien to him as little green men, complete with flying saucers and moon dust.
People swore they saw that shit; hell, they believed it in their bones. But as far as he was concerned, they were all fucking crazy.
“Well, well. Lieutenant Gamble. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
The throaty, feminine voice hit Gamble point-blank from the business end of the bar, and God damn it, he must have more of a beer buzz than he’d thought. He was almost always hyper-aware of his surroundings—especially when they involved someone as sexy as Kennedy Matthews. Yet, here she was in front of him, wearing a form-fitting red top and a brash, brows-up stare, and for a fleeting second, he wondered if her smile tasted as tart as it looked.
“If you say so,” he told her, while snuffing out the unbidden thought. Not that he hadn’t entertained it dozens of times before, or thought about tasting Kennedy in places other than her mouth. But as the manager and head bartender of their regular hangout, she was almost as much a part of his inner circle as his fellow firefighters, and—like his rookie—Gamble knew far better than to muddy that water with a good, fast fuck. “Can I get another beer, please?”
Kennedy’s darkly lined eyes widened for just a heartbeat before narrowing over the frost-covered bottle in his hand, the piercing in her eyebrow glinting in the soft overhead light of the bar.
“That one is nearly full.”
“Not for long.” He was already on his way to a decent beer buzz, courtesy of the bartender who had been working this section of the bar before Kennedy had come out of the back. He’d stick to beer for now to keep a low profile. Once everyone from Seventeen started heading home in a little while, he’d kick his night into high gear.
Kennedy paused. She was tougher than she looked, which was saying something since she had as much ink and even more hardware than Gamble did, with a watercolor tattoo that spanned from the middle of her bicep to her shoulder and the top of her chest, and tiny silver studs and hoops marching all the way up her left ear to match the piercing in her eyebrow. But he returned her calculating stare with one of his own, until she lifted one sleekly muscled shoulder and let it drop.
“It’s your liver, tough guy.”
She reached into the cooler built in beneath the bar, popping the cap off the beer she’d unearthed and placing it over a napkin on the glossy wood in front of him before turning to saunter off. Gamble watched her go, his eyes lingering on the way her ass filled out her jeans like a fuckable version of an upside-down heart. He couldn’t deny being tempted. Shit, he’d have to be pulseless not to be. But even if he did decide to break his personal protocol and see if Kennedy was up for blowing off a little steam between the sheets, it wouldn’t be tonight.
Tonight wasn’t about anything other than him, a bottle of Patrón Platinum, and the ghosts he’d never shake.
Kimberly Kincaid writes bold, sexy contemporary romance and sizzling romantic suspense. When she’s not sitting cross-legged in an ancient desk chair known as “The Pleather Bomber”, she can be found practicing obscene amounts of yoga, whipping up anything from enchiladas to éclairs in her kitchen, or curled up with her nose in a book. Kimberly is a USA Today best-selling author, two-time RWA RITA finalist, and GRW Maggie finalist, who lives (and writes!) by the mantra that food is love. She resides in Virginia with her wildly patient husband and their three daughters. Catch up with Kimberly online!