Synopsis

For Claire Matthews disguise now comes as easily as piano performances once did. When a letter shatters the illusion of safety, will she turn to her cop and firefighter roommates for protection, or will she disappear into the winter night as she’s done before?

When his best friend threatens to make a move on Claire, Sean Dalton figures he’d better get over the notion that she’s off limits before he has to stand in line. After a night of blazing passion, he’s surprised to discover he doesn’t mind sharing the woman of his dreams—or himself—with his best friend, Max.

Max Devon warily gives into his desires for his two roommates. This time he vows, he’ll know when to leave the ménage, especially as Sean is on the cusp of getting everything the hero deserves. He’ll stick around long enough to see his two roommates get together.

Purchase Links

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1GJbsCE
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1zp5V2G
iBooks: http://bit.ly/13rEvyk
Kobo: http://bit.ly/13rEE55

Excerpt

Claire Matthews paused in the doorway of Guns ‘N’ Hoses’ back room, taking in the dozen cops and firefighters who’d been recruited to pose for a fundraiser calendar. Despite the abundance of bare-chested men, only her two roommates interested her—far more than she was willing to admit.

Sean Dalton posed in front of a cardboard fireplace, a pair of short-skirted “elves” flanking either side. Stripped to the waist of his bunker gear and wearing a red and white felt hat, Mr. December likely made every girl there want to start a fire someplace.

Claire had met him and his best friend, Max Devon, six months ago when she answered their ad for a roommate on the bulletin board in Northwestern’s student union. Her attraction to both guys had been growing ever since. Unable to choose between them, she’d kept her feelings under wraps. Now, with the news from home, it seemed as if fate had yanked that decision away from her.

While she’d been fixated on one roommate, she hadn’t seen the other approaching. Max wrapped a thick arm around her, pulling her in for a kiss. This wasn’t any friendly peck on the cheek either. His mouth moved against hers, warming her from her lips, which were answering his demand to open and let him plunder deeper, to her toes curling inside her boots. When he finally broke the kiss after several seconds, she blinked up at him.

“Mistletoe,” he answered, holding a sprig over her head. Then he shot her one of his trademark bad-boy grins. At six-three and with dark hair and chocolate eyes, everything about him screamed trouble, right down to the sinful things he did to a pair of jeans and biker jacket. Tonight he wore his policeman’s uniform, which he filled out very nicely and made her wonder what it would be like get a good frisking from him.