Find your Dream Marine's Name and Specialty here #marines #romance #sniper #excerpt

My dream Marine lover is Titus "Devil Dog" Varley and he's a sniper. Just like Jared in my book, Marriage, Mobsters and the Marine.

Please tell me the name of yours.

Buy links

Amazon USA          https://amzn.to/2tNvYVd
Amazon UK             https://amzn.to/2KeBT0o
Amazon Canada     https://amzn.to/2tD2sC4
Amazon Australia    https://amzn.to/2yXYSYG

Blurb
Abigail Montgomery, a small-town schoolteacher with zero self-confidence, longs for the loving family she never had. 
Each month she attends a masked BDSM club, but her next visit will be her last. If she doesn’t marry within the next year, her military brother won’t inherit Montgomery Hall. Desperate, she advertises for a husband.
Jared Armstrong, a former Marine sharpshooter and occasional Dom, needs $125,000 to get his family out of a hole. His solution - to marry Abigail Montgomery for her money. His only regret is his wife won’t accept his spanking lifestyle.
Soon, Abigail dreams of making their marriage real, but she promised Jared a divorce two-years after their wedding. Can they share some Christmas magic as their relationship faces extortion threats, a kidnapping, and an attempted murder? Or will Jared walk away and break her heart?

Excerpt

Hooded and bound, Abigail sobbed in the trunk of the car. When the engine roared to life, she tried to gauge the route by the number of left and right turns but failed miserably. The longer she lay there, the more her fears consumed her. Her stomach churned, but if she threw up, she’d choke. Her mouth dried. She’d sell her soul for a sip of water. The nylon rope around her wrists dug into her flesh. She felt stupid and weak for letting them take her so easily.

The way the vehicle bumped and bounced meant they’d gone off road. She prayed a stray rock would damage the car’s underbelly and bring them to a halt, but they kept going. Every bump threw her around like a leaf in a storm. Assuming she survived the next couple of days, her body would be a mass of bruises.

The engine stopped, and she heard a car door slam. She needed out of the trunk, but no one came for her. What if they abandon the car and leave me? I don’t want to die trussed up in a car trunk. A fresh wave of fear washed through her, along with a spike of adrenaline. Her body trembled, but time slowed and her thoughts cleared. She needed to take things one step at a time.

Step one—get her arms free. She wriggled around, hoping the rough ride had dislodged something she could use to cut the rope. Bingo. Her fingers touched a metal box. Maybe it held tools or a knife. She almost wept when she couldn’t open it. The hinge stuck out from the box, so she twisted some more, running the rope against the hinge. Periodically, she stopped and tensed her wrists in an attempt to pull the nylon strands apart.

She’d no idea how long she worked at her bonds. It seemed like hours until the rope finally gave way. Relieved tears filled her eyes. Rather than rub her wrists, she tugged off the hood and pulled the gag from her mouth. She’d never been so thirsty. She’d give anything for a cold beer right now.

Step two—find the release mechanism the law said every car should have in the trunk. She felt claustrophobic, so scared she could barely move, but she forced herself to concentrate. There, in the corner, a glow-in-the-dark lever beckoned. Wriggling like a maggot in a fisherman’s box, she kicked it for all she was worth, and the trunk lid popped open.

The air smelled wonderful, if slightly musty, but silence and utter darkness surrounded her. She listened a while, decided her captors had left, and slipped out the trunk. No lights shone through the darkness. Using her hands rather than her eyes, she found a lug wrench and flashlight alongside the spare tire beneath the space she’d just escaped. She grabbed both, quietly shut the trunk, and headed into the darkness.