No Limits

He’s going home to take care of business. His enemies have other plans.

Simon Baptiste’s latest SG-5 mission just went off the rails, meaning it’s a good time to take care of some business at home. He’s got old enemies in Bayou Allain, Louisiana who won’t exactly roll out the red carpet. But Simon’s first night back is more than he bargained for. Not only has the homestead gone to hell but there’s a half-naked woman hiding inside—a woman whose face Simon knows all too well. It’s Michelina Ferrer, the sultry spokesmodel for her family’s Ferrer fragrance empire—and Simon’s been staring at her picture on a billboard outside his Manhattan apartment for weeks.

Micky Ferrer came to Bayou Allain looking for her old college friend, only to discover that Lisa Landry has been missing for days. As soon as Micky starts asking questions, someone runs her car off the road. She’s hiding out in the old Baptiste place when Simon shows up—and he’s the hottest thing she’s laid eyes on since she got to town. Simon agrees that something strange is going on and that Lisa’s disappearance may be tied to it. As he and Micky search for answers, the sweltering heat makes it hard to keep their heads straight or their hands off each other… even as they unravel the small-town secrets that some people are willing to kill for.

“OMG! You just have to love Simon. I couldn’t wait for Simon to have his story. Can’t say I’m disappointed. Loved it!” — Curly, Goodreads

“This was a great book. The main characters were great, the romance was sexy, and the action nonstop! Loved it.” — Michelle, Goodreads

“Fast-paced, adventure-packed novel. I zipped right through.” — Holly, Goodreads

He was checking out the warped porch and the fit of the screen door’s frame when he heard a noise inside. The back door opened into the kitchen, and he knew critters enjoyed burrowing into cupboards, beneath old appliances, even under the floorboards of rooms with more hiding places than most.

Except how many of those critters had figured out how to pump the well handle to bring water up to the sink?

He slid the Smith & Wesson M&P .357 he wore at his waist from its holster, took hold of the door knob and slowly turned, pushing inward until he saw movement, then slamming it all the way open and swinging his hands up, gun at the ready.

“Who the hell . . .?” was all he got out before realizing he knew exactly who his trespasser was.

He’d just never seen her like this . . . standing at a sink, one hand on a pump handle, her dark hair caught on top of her head with a John Deere cap, a sheer push-up bra and a pair of rubber waders the only clothes she wore.

He engaged the safety and holstered the semiautomatic, chuckling under his breath with as much humor as disbelief. If only the guys from Page Six could see their favorite pair of tits and ass now.

“Well, if it isn’t Michelina Ferrer, heiress to the Ferrer Fragrance empire.”

Her lips trembled in response, the pallor of her face nearly the same shade as the shocked whites of her eyes.

He sobered, taking a closer look at the bruise on her right cheekbone, the scrape on the same shoulder, the gash on her forearm she’d duct-taped closed.

Then he remembered the accident he’d passed.

And he swore.

“It wasn’t an accident, was it?” he asked, and she crumpled to the floor, shaking her head as a sob filled with fear shook her body.