Excerpt from EVER SINCE








She didn’t want to see him. Scratch that; she did. She wanted to stab him in the eye with a candy cane, string him up on the mantle by a necklace of garland, stick him in the snow and hose him down until he became an ice sculpture. Or scream and rant and rave, and maybe even get in a few good punches.

Why did he have to come back to America? Why, why, why? Eventually she was going to come face to face with the only man she’d ever loved, the only one who knew her inside and out.

The only one capable of breaking her into a thousand pieces all over again, and right now so little held her together.

Cora couldn’t stop searching for him. Not in the living room. Not in the library. She peeked into the sunroom. There he was. Leaning on the glass, looking out over the snowscape where the horse barn floodlights fanned their warm beams onto the unspoiled mounds, turning everything into soft shades of gold and gray-blue. He wore his full Scottish regalia, complete with sporran, that round male purse hanging low from his hips. She hadn’t seen him dressed like this in years and took a moment to absorb the sight. His white button-up came crisply to his neck, held tight by a black bowtie and matching vest and jacket. His family tartan of blue and green striped plaid came almost to his knees, with little matching flags called flashes tucked under the hem of his tall white socks. His sgian dubh, the small decorative knife, peeked out over the flashes on his right calf.

He’d trimmed down since she last saw him. Started growing a shadow beard. He looked more focused, more determined, and Cora wondered how she’d come to that conclusion. His raven-black hair had grown longer, but even from this angle she could see his eyes glowed with their usual jade-green intensity.

She took in the measure of his shoulders, the small span of his waist, the muscles flexing under his white hose as he tapped his foot to a beat he probably heard in his head. He always did that. As a teenager, she used to think him impatient, but now she knew everything with Matty was music. Her eyes flew to his fingers and noticed they didn’t tap, but fingered notes as they rapped away on the wooden window muntins.

Was it possible for a man to get more gorgeous as he aged? Was that even fair? Or allowed?

Reviews from some really cool people!


IMPENETRABLE: LET NO ONE IN

5 STARSWow! Fast-paced page turner!
By WyspAerre on September 21, 2015
Format: Kindle Edition
I was given an ARC prior to publication and let me say that I devoured this story in a single setting. Callahan creates an atmosphere of tension and romance that is completely engrossing! When Maggie encounters a "break in" to her security system, only to discover the hot hunky alpha wasn't testing her system, she is immediately on the defensive. Though Quinn is a hero worthy of investigating things complicate when a dangerous fringe group is hell bent on stealing Maggie's tech (even if they have to kill her to get it) and she must trust a hired gun to keep her and her secrets safe. With a heroine who has walled herself off to protect herself and a hero who must choose between honoring a contract and his conscience, IMPENETRABLE is a fast-paced, sexy ride of emotions. Would you give up everything to keep your secrets safe? Or would you take a chance on love? Callahan has crafted well-rounded characters who face challenges that will leave you breathless and tingling. Highly recommended.


IMPENETRABLE: LET NO ONE IN
5 STARS A mixture of sexiness and edge of the seat suspense that is a perfect blend. You will fall in love with these characters.
By Emma Leigh Reed on September 21, 2015
Format: Kindle Edition
Impenetrable: Let No One In is a must read.

I started reading this book and couldn't put it down. I fell in love with these characters and I would highly recommend this book to anyone that loves romance, adventures and edge of the seat suspense.


IMPENETRABLE: LET NO ONE IN
5 STARSI LOVED this book
By Amazon Customer on October 27, 2015
Format: Kindle Edition
I LOVED this book! I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. I will be recommending this to everyone I know.



TAMING THE STALLION Book Reviewed by CozyReader (reviewer)
 Courtesy of The Romance Reviews.  


The storyline was thoroughly sweet, heart-warming and pleasant.

Ms. Callahan had a way with her descriptive writing and with warming my heart with Ashton. He truly loved his horses and his pain was felt.

The chemistry that Ashton and Raylie had was instant. From the moment they laid eyes on each other, you knew that Ashton was going to pull all his strings in order to get her even if he didn't like her at one time.

TAMING THE STALLION is a wonderful read, perfect for the person that loves helping animals in their time of need and making sure that they are safe. Pick up this book today and enjoy.

Full review here: http://www.theromancereviews.com/viewbooksreview.php?bookid=8163


LOVING OUT OF TIME REVIEW by Lototy at Coffee Time Romance and More


To make a story like this really work, you have to have a character as wonderfully intuitive as Cody Bell. His curiosity, intelligence and gentlemanly nature are the perfect attributes for someone in his position. Anya, however, does not always make it easy for Cody, often having to be cajoled like a cranky child. In my opinion, this makes their relationship work in a way that the reader gets a real feel for how they fill a void in each others' lives.
http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/lovingoutoftimebydorothycallahan.html#.Un2MDnA0TTo


THIRD EYE'S A CHARM
 "A hold-your-breath suspense story--sexy, warm, and poignant, with aching loss and a desire for miracles. Callahan's best book yet. " USA Today Best-selling author Mary Buckham 

"This is one of the best manuscripts I’ve read. You have a truly unique narrative voice and the ability to blend humor, sass, romance and action into one story which is smart and very appealing to a savvy reader.  That’s a feat!" JC, Editor at Crimson Romance 
 


WARRIOR WOMAN WINMILL REVIEW OF:

A Decade For Darius
By Dorothy Callahan
★★★★★
I loved this story, but it is very hard for me to describe it without giving spoilers.
Seventeen year old Darius is at a ball given by his American uncle Oliver. He spends a wonderful evening showing a young girl the antiques that he loves in the house. When his father ruins everything by dragging him away from the worthless wench.
Jess has built up a thriving business.  From that fateful night ten years ago when a handsome boy introduced her to the world of beautiful antiques.
Those ten years have made a lot of changes to both their lives. Now since uncle Oliver's death, and surprising last will, they must face each other and come to terms with difficult decisions.
A lot of humour and exciting danger. And I certainly did not see that ending coming.

http://petulareadsromance.blogspot.com.es/2015/05/shades-of-desire-10-sweet-spicy.html?m=1


Shades of Desire: 10 Sweet and Spicy Romances

http://romancing-the-book.com/2015/06/review-shades-of-desire-10-sweet-spicy-romances-anthology.html


Review:  My favorite part about boxed sets is not reading the blurbs ahead of time so every story is a surprise. With Shades Of Desire: 10 Sweet & Spicy Romances anthology, I discovered some “new to me” authors and got hours worth of reading fun.

Author Dorothy Callahan gets top marks for her second chance at love romance in A Decade for Darius. It was a beautiful story featuring interesting characters with a strong emphasis on antiques. It strongly reinforced the idea that love can conquer anything, even the passage of time.



4 of 4 people found the following review helpful
★★★★★ EXCELLENT writing!
By Amazon Customer on June 11, 2015
Format: Kindle Edition
Wow! I often purchase box sets only to allow them to languish on my Kindle, but not this one! I was enticed by all of the book descriptions and eagerly dug in. There's something for everyone in this set, and I'm thrilled to have discovered some amazing new authors. I look forward to seeking out more work from each of them.
While I loved EVERY SINGLE STORY in this set, I have to say that Ms. Callahan's book has stuck with me the most. The characters absolutely leapt off the pages. When I had to stop reading to run around with the kids or to go to work, they kept demanding that I return to their stories. Ms. Callahan integrated humor, wit, and a quiet intelligence in all of the characters and in the writing itself. I found myself enjoying even the characters I didn't "like" (storywise.) The story was engaging, complicated enough to keep me guessing, and passionate enough to have me fanning myself and thinking back to that first love.
Thank you to all of the authors for putting together a set full of everything I'd ever look for in a romance! I look forward to reading more from each author!


http://www.amazon.com/Shades-Desire-Sweet-Spicy-Romances-ebook/dp/B00VQYVU1M/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1434295726&sr=1-1&keywords=shades+of+desire



                            Excerpt from Crazy Little Fling









    

        "Let's go this way.” Gunner rested his hand on the small of Carla's back as he turned her north. The intimate contact both electrified and terrified her. She shouldn’t let him touch her like that. She was practically engaged, or could be. But Phil never touched her in public. Well, really, how often had they gone out anywhere? Six? Seven times? Still, she should pull away.
     That hot hand burned through her clothes, and Gunner seemed to have no intention of moving it. He smiled down at her and said, “Whatever you want will be on Duval Street, so let’s start there.”
     Duval. She’d researched as much as she could and interrogated everyone else for the rest. Duval was the main drag, an East/West street of shops stretching from the Atlantic to the Gulf and encompassing everything that Key West had to offer. “Perfect, I’m in,” she replied, and they left the beach and headed toward the sidewalk. She stopped when she noticed a line. “Oh, it’s the Southernmost Point! We have to get a picture.”
     Quite possibly, Gunner simply condescended to her touristic mood, but he joined her amiably in line. She took a few selfies of them with her phone, then asked the next person in line if they’d be so kind as to snap a few of her and her fully-dressed, non-Romanian-cabana-boy sidekick.
     As soon as Gunner joined her side, Carla struck a pose, leaning back against the giant gumdrop-shaped buoy, wrist over her head, knees bent, and before the camera shuttered she impulsively snatched Gunner’s shirt at his chest and hauled him close.
     He didn’t react in outrage or shock. He didn’t even seem to mind that she publicly embarrassed him. What he did do was pin her between him and the landmark, cheek to cheek, and smile for the camera.
     She couldn’t believe she did that to him, a virtual stranger.
     However, he looked fantastic rumpled.
     “I’ll get you for that,” he muttered on a grin, but Carla only grinned in return and collected her phone, thanking the family for taking their picture as she smoothed down her shirt.
     Damn. He really felt great slammed up against her like that, his hard chest pressing her breasts flat, his hips cradled between her knees, his minty breath mingling with her own.
     A good man might be hard to find, but a hard man was great to find.
     Based on that brief contact, Gunner was hard. She couldn’t help sliding him a hot glance, inspecting him under lowered lids as he shielded his face and scanned down the nearest side street. Her nipples strained against the thin fabric of her bra as she watched him, her heartbeat kicking up a few notches. Damn. She could still feel him on her skin.
     Everywhere.


Excerpt from To Catch a Star










   "Heaven,” he said as he flopped back. “Tell me I’ve died and gone to heaven.” He moved on the couch, then arched and hissed from his shoulder pain. 

   With a refuting noise Tori said, “Not heaven, but actually, you can’t get much closer.”
   “Oh, no? Where am I, anyway?”
   She shrugged. “We’re in the Kapu Nahele Reserve. Paenapalaua is the nearest known gulch. We’re smack-dab in the middle of a big stretch of wilderness out here.”
   He looked at her, and Tori reflexively dipped her head to hide her facial scars.
   “Where’s here?”
   “On Molokai. We’re the middle of the eight Hawaiian Islands. The rectangular east-west one. This whole side of the island is a reserve.” 
   “How far are we from Kaho’olawe?”
   She shrugged, frowned at him. “I don’t know, maybe fifty miles? No one goes there.”
   His lips twisted at her words, his voice came out as a low growl. “I did.”
   “What were you doing there?” Oops, that came out wrong.
   He heaved a deep breath and didn’t answer. “May I use your phone?”
   She got up and grabbed her satellite phone off the table and handed it to him. “Not the greatest reception out here when it’s raining. I’ve been trying to call out for you since yesterday with no luck. It’s best if you stand on the porch.”
   His hand lowered. “You have?”
   She nodded, and watched his features soften.
    “Thank you. Truly. For everything you’ve done for me.” When his fingers brushed hers for the phone, Tori felt an electric jolt from the touch. Although it had been five years since a man had touched her intimately, she’d tended to many lost and wounded hikers in that time, but none had made her nipples stand in attention. The local villagers knew she chose to live in this hard-to-access reserve after the accident on the mainland. Her med-student boyfriend had cracked open her chest to save her after the truck had jackknifed their car in San Fran, and two months in the hospital recovering from the multiple surgeries made him reevaluate their relationship.
     Her facial scars, she was sure, helped solidify his decision. The one on her right forehead she could live with, even the one that lanced through her hairline and into her right ear and skimmed off the tip. It was the four-inch one that eviscerated her earlobe and tugged the right corner of her mouth that she really hated. It was long and raised and ugly and drew everyone’s attention as surely as if she had painted it on with mascara.
   While her shaggy guest adjourned to the porch, Tori opened her fridge and pulled out the fish she just caught, some bread and butter and her homemade sweet potato chips, wondering about her mystery man. Kaho’olawe? What was he doing there? He certainly wasn’t part of the cleanup crew; not in those clothes. She wondered if he was on an archaeological dig or something. These islands had tons of sites that drew many for enlightenment.
   Dinner was almost ready. She watched him, waiting cordially for him to come in so she could serve him. After a few more fruitless minutes he gave up, his back still to her, and she watched him brace his hands on the open windowsills facing the back yard and shake his head. Watched him wipe his face with one hand. He stayed there for a long minute, not moving. Then the storm blasted through, the wind rippling through his long hair, the spray of the rain brushing along his upturned cheeks.
   Yeah, he’d definitely been caught out to sea. He’d probably want a nice cool shower on his damaged skin. It was healing already though, she noted with satisfaction. She watched him run his fingers through his hair like he tried to rinse off. He needed help, and Tori was there to help him, like she always helped people. She rapped on the window for his attention.
   He opened the door, and the wind gusted from behind him, knocking her sunhat off her head. She cried out and snatched for it, but her guest grabbed her arm and stared at her, his gaze roving over her awful face.
   “Your—”

  “Scarred and disfigured, I know.” She tried to wrench free, but his grip tightened and drew her closer. She detected a minute head-shake of negation, but his eyes never left hers.
   “Your eyes."

   She watched his expression falter, like he was awed, or maybe unsure. She felt his hand on her arm gentle and tug her closer, and his expression shifted. She no longer felt like she was in control of the encounter, more like a patron in a movie. His other hand cradled her free elbow, drew her even nearer. This close, she could smell the soap and shampoo on him, the fresh mint of her toothpaste. He must have availed himself to the guest bathroom in her absence, and the familiar scent of her toiletries had never smelled as delectable as they did on him.

   His bare chest muscles tautened and flexed, and Tori felt her gaze alternating between the breadth of his power and the gentleness in his eyes. His gaze focused on her mouth, her lips. For the first time, Tori thought a man didn’t notice her scars. She needed to say something, even though she felt breathless, and asked, “What about my eyes?”

   Her guest let out a deep minty breath, like he’d been snorkeling too deep. “They...” He pulled her closer, almost chest to chest, making Tori’s nipples harden at his proximity.

  Her breathing hitched at the heat of his skin; her voice wavered. “They what?”
  Now he shook his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing... or saying. “They make a man realize what he wants in life, and what he’s willing to do to get it.”


              Excerpt from IMPENETRABLE: Let No One In    








     


     That fireman stood in the center of her home, in what looked like the eye of a hurricane. Everything around him was overturned, scattered, and downright messy. Before she could stop herself she blurted out, “What the hell have you done?”
      He moved slowly to face her. “You really think I did this? You really think I had the time to upend your apartment when it took me eight minutes to get you and your damned pointy shoes out of here?”
     “Leave my shoes out of this.”
     “Okay, you and your smackable ass out of here."
     Oh, the man was infuriating with a capital I. “Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be evacuating people? For the fire that doesn’t exist?”
     He considered her, his expression bored. “It doesn’t? Oh, good.”
     She looped her arms and cocked out a hip. “As if you didn’t know.”
     “I’m just a lowly firefighter, ma’am. I came in because your door was open and this is what I found. You got enemies?”
     Hell, she barely had friends. “None that I’m aware of.”
     "No death threats? Strange letters in the mail? Horse heads in your bed?”
      He made her lips curl a bit on the last one. “No mob relations, sorry; and no to the others, as well.” Her step-dad was the one with the death threats, but once she changed her name and effectively disappeared from existence, nada. No one, including her parents, knew who or where she was.
      It was better this way. Safer for everyone.
     She took a cautionary step closer. “You broke in again last night, didn’t you?”
     His head turned at that. “Um, what?”
     With her hand she indicated his outfit. “I know it’s you under there. You didn’t fool me.”
     “You’re so full of it.”
      She smiled then. “Okay, maybe for a few minutes. But firemen are inherently good, and you’re anything but.”
      He tore off his black helmet and visor; his long legs closed the distance between them in two strides, making her breath catch with his confidence. “Is that what you think?”
     “How did you get in?”
     “Can’t tell you.”
     “Why not?”
     “It’s a secret.”
     She’d find it, come hell or high water. “Why are you here?”
     “To test the system.”
     “I didn’t hire you.”
     “Someone else did.”
     “Who?”
     “Can’t tell you.” He winked at her. “It’s a secret.”
     Why the hell did he have to wink at her? She tucked her blouse tighter at the neck. “You’re after the algorithms, aren’t you? Well, you’ll never find them here.”
     He peered at her. “So they are here.”
     Maggie narrowed her gaze. “I said you’ll never find them here. That means, genius, they could be anywhere.”
     Now he smiled. Why did he do that? Didn’t he know it made him look rugged, reckless, and
downright irresistible? She pinched the underside of her elbow, then pinched it again.
     “Look, you’ve made me, but I’ll be straight with you; you can’t stay here. Whoever did this will be back.”
     “And you know this how?”
     He didn’t meet her eyes, and his expression darkened, like he didn’t want to say anything. “They left a calling card.”


       Excerpt from A Decade for Darius







    


      A flushed, panting Faith burst into Jess’ office, almost banging the door into the front of her vintage stereo in her haste. “You’ve got to come out here.”                                                                       
     Was she blushing? Jess eased herself up from the chair and eyed her protégé. “What is it?”    
    “Some gorgeous guy is having a conniption out here. He’s really giving Arthur a hard time.”     
     Jess glossed over the ‘gorgeous’ part- based on the boy-crazy source- but no one antagonized her staff. “I’m coming.”                                                                                                                                          
     “You-” Faith indicated the corner mirror taken from an 1800s highboy, “...may want
some lipstick or something.”                                                                                                                            
     “Faith,”she grumbled as she brushed by, swishing her out so she could close the door. When she heard the raised booming voice, Jess squared her shoulders, tossed her long hair from her temples, and plowed right in to the fray. Through the red haze in her eyes, she stuck her hand out at the insanely handsome man and said, “Hello, I’m Jessalyn Swan, proprietor of Phoenix Antiques, and I’ll be your sounding board today. Shall we adjourn to my office for this discussion?”                                                                                                                                                            
     All the anger left his chocolaty brown eyes as he stared at her. His hair was dark brown and tousled, and his gaze held a determination and intelligence that she felt herself respond to on a primal level. He had wide shoulders and slim hips, and that very expensive suit he wore displayed to his advantage all of his masculine grace. But he looked disheveled and rattled with that five o’clock shadow, and she didn’t know what had set him off. He was not an unhappy prior customer; there was no way she would have forgotten this man.                                                        
      Damn, maybe she should have looked in the mirror first.  She wanted to take her time and leisurely peruse the fine male specimen standing before her, making her cheeks heat with the unpredictable turn of her thoughts. But then his face relaxed, taking his color from an enraged red to a ghostly shade of gray and then back to a hint of pink, and Jessalyn felt herself coming to
the same odd revelation as the man.                                                                                                                
     “Jess,” Arthur said, “This man is disputing his rights to the Covington estate.”
    Covington.                                                                                                                                                                   “Jessalyn....” the man said as he stepped near, placing his hand on top of her still-outstretched
wrist and holding it.  “Jess, is it really you?”                                                                                                   
      She’d never once met a Beauregard her age before. But she had once met a young man, as equally gorgeous, with the same cadence of speech as an English knight of yore. Her mind immediately envisioned stone castles and gleaming armor and caparisoned stallions on
battlefields. It couldn’t be. “I....”                                                                                                                        
     "You know me by my middle name.”                                                                                                       
      As his hand slipped around to cradle her fingers, Jessalyn felt herself teetering on a
dangerous brink over a yawning chasm with no visible bottom. She whispered, “Darius.”               



   Excerpt from Third Eye's a Charm






    



     Travis yanks open the door, relieved to finally find me. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere.”
     I’m not myself, but I’m glad he can tell that, too. He joins my side, facing me and not the bartender.
     “Are you all right?”
      I manage the world’s smallest head shake while I stare at my wine. The shaking resumes, and I spread my palms on the counter.
     His gentle hand lands on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he whispers, then leans closer, “I was trying to pull away, you know. I’m not totally to blame, here.” His touch soothes me.
     My lips move in what I hope passes as a smile while I spin the stem of my glass. “I’m not blaming you.” I do manage to glance up at him for that, but then take another sip and pin the base to the counter with both hands.
     “RoseAngel?” I love hearing him call me by name. I suck my lip again, feeling how swollen it is from my ardor. God, I’ve never thrown myself into a man’s arms like that. I’m not even sure what my limbs were doing then; who’s to say I hadn’t wrapped my legs around his hips and gone to town? The heat on my cheeks this time is from the wine; I’m glad I’m sipping more to help hide my shame. “Rosie?”
     I shake my head once, still looking into my drink. “People are trying to kill you, aren’t they?”
     I feel his fingers twitch on my shoulder, an involuntary gesture he didn’t mean to let happen. “What are you talking about?”
     En vino audacia, for my dose of courage makes me face him. “Are they or aren’t they? It’s a yes or no question.”
     He holds my eyes, looking from one to the other, the way people do when they search for lies. “You got all that from a kiss?”
     I slow-blink a yes, and a parade of red flags starts waving before my third eye. What the hell is it with this man? I find myself angling away from him, and the words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them: “Are you dangerous?”
     “Only to the bad guys, RoseAngel. I truly hope you’re not one of them.”



        Excerpt from Loving Out of Time









    

    Anya shook her head, still rubbing her neck as she tipped her head back from her laptop. “Just researching the flu for your niece. Warm weather might be a gift in your favor.”

“Thank you for spending so much of your time for Annabel Lee.”

Warm hands nudged hers off her neck, and Anya relaxed under the probing massage Cody offered her. “Oh my God, that feels so good.”

“Your shoulders are rock hard. How do you even move?”

“Some days I ask myself that very question.”

He patted her back and said, “Here, lean forward. I’ll get your back.”

This was feeling intimate, and Anya felt the forewarning burn of tears. “Cody, you don’t have—”

“Nonsense. You’ve been on your feet all day, and here you are, hunched over the table, to help me. I know what that does to a body. Now,” he leaned forward, arm braced on the table, his voice low, “either you lean over this table or I’m tossing you over my shoulder and putting you on that there couch, where I can rub you down proper.” His green eyes could not possibly sparkle any more than they did just now.

So Anya pushed him off, stood up, and walked to the couch. “Let’s see if those hands are as good as you claim.” She lay down on her stomach, grabbed the remote to watch the news, and shivered in anticipation as Cody eased onto the cushion at her hip.

Oh, yeah, he was as good as his claim. His strong fingers kneaded and massaged her shoulders, her back, along her waist. She vacillated on what she would do when his fingers inevitably strayed and had no ready answer. The issue-laden spurned woman within wanted to haul off and deck him, but the lovelorn woman looking to trust thought she might just offer a feeble rebuttal.

By the time Cody was done, Anya’s body felt as liquefied as their grilled cheese sandwiches. Some of the liquid seeped a little south.

She felt so relaxed, in fact, that she had no commentary for the horrible events being portrayed on screen—a first for her. This was usually when her disgust reached an apex.

Right now, her body vibrated a crescendo. One good kiss could make her orgasm.
She looked over her shoulder and willed Cody to meet her gaze.


    Excerpt from Taming the Stallion


    






The phone rang as Raylie stepped out of the shower, so she answered it in her room.  “Hello?”
     A pause.  “Officer McPherson?”
     “Who’s calling, please?”
     “It’s Ashton Lyre, from Star--”
      “How did you get this number?”  Was he a stalker?  Dangerous?
      He seemed tentative, confused.  “I... you gave it... the write-up.  Report.  Whatever you want to call it.  It says ‘Me’ at this number, right at the top.”
     Shit. That was intended for Leann for bowling.  Her free hand slowly cradled her forehead. 
The towel fell.
     “I... I thought... maybe... you know... you had heard of the last fiasco. Wanted to find out more. 
Especially since the case was dropped only two weeks ago.”
     Her body responded to the uncertainty in his voice, the vulnerability that made her originally choose this profession.  His rich timbre vibrated through the phone, making her nipples pebble and a shiver tickle along her spine.
     She was probably just cold.  “What? It was?”
    “Well... yeah.  No evidence.  I told them I never hired the kid. I thought maybe you had some suspects in mind.” 
    Ray snatched up her towel and gripped it to her wayward breasts.  “Mr. Lyre, in my profession, the suspects are always the ones who own the pets.”
    “Damn it, McPherson,” she heard a thud; a palm along a table?  “Doc Schneible was here not two hours after you left.  I’ve known this man for fifteen years.  He was my character witness at the trial, for God’s sake.  He thinks my boys were poisoned.  Now, I want to know, do you have any suspects?”
     Not many men stood up to a woman with a gun.  And, he referred to his horses as his “boys.”  She liked that.  Like they were kin and not commodity.  Something she understood better than
most. 
    Still... in a composed voice she said, “I think you need to call the Louisville Police Department for that, Mr. Lyre.  If you’re talking suspects, it’s really hard for us to put lie detectors on horses.  Hell, even our stool pigeons don’t sing.”
     He grew quiet.  She started shivering again.  “I thought,” he started slowly, “that being an animal cop meant you wanted to help those in jeopardy.  Give voices to those who can’t speak.  See that justice was served.”  He took a deep breath.  “Guess I was wrong about you.”  He hung up the phone.
     “No, you weren’t,” she whispered before replacing the receiver.  Moisture had gathered in a long neglected place, moisture far removed from her shower.  For the first time, a man had unwittingly validated her job, her beliefs, her purpose, and dang it, it felt good.  Her breasts tightened as her nipples strained out of her skin.  His face danced in the mirror of her mind, and she imagined those calloused hands sliding around her waist, drawing her close.
     Humpty Dumpty may be dead, but suddenly Raylie no longer felt like she was.  “He’s my suspect,” she growled at herself.
     But still....
     This was going to be a great case.
     She was completely turned on.