Hard-edged fireman Dean Mulligan has never been a
big fan of Christmas. Twinkly lights and sparkly tinsel can't brighten the
memories of too many years spent in ramshackle foster homes. Although he's
established himself as one of the top firefighters at San Gabriel Station 1, he
doesn't think he's good enough for someone like gorgeous Lizzie.
Lizzie Breen is used to fighting-from her alpha
male brothers, who try to smother her in the name of safety, to the
life-threatening childhood illness she overcame. She knows what she and
Mulligan feel for each other is a lot more than a fling, but she can't get him
to see that. The only gift Lizzie wants to give him this season is her love,
but he's not willing to accept it.
When Mulligan is trapped in the burning wreckage
of a holiday store, a Christmas angel arrives to open his eyes. But is it too
late? This Christmas, it'll take an angel, a determined woman in love, and the
entire Bachelor Firemen crew to make him believe … it is indeed a wonderful life.
“You shouldn’t be flirting with the new probie. If Fred was here, he’d tell you.” Mulligan looked very sure of that fact—arrogant, even. She assessed the bump in his nose, the way his biceps bulged from the sleeves of his T-shirt, his air of absolute assurance. Another girl might be intimidated, but Lizzie had grown up with four brothers who’d become soldiers and a firefighter. She’d outgrown intimidation by the age of six.
“Why are you so suspicious of Ace? He’s part of the brotherhood, isn’t he?”
“Not yet,” Mulligan said with decisive finality, as if everything had now been settled. “You stay here, and I’ll tell him to get lost.”
“You will not!” She grabbed his arm as he brushed past her. It felt like grabbing a log, that’s how thick and strong his forearm was. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is my business. Freddie’s my business. We’re tight.”
“If you were that tight, you’d know that his only involvement with my love life is feeding me ice cream after a breakup,” she snapped. “Stay out of it, Mulligan. You have some nerve, you really do. I’ve never even met you before, and you’re trying to tell me who to sleep with.”
He stopped dead. She kept her hand on his arm because it felt so good. His tendons tightened under her touch, and she saw his jaw flex.
A quick flick of his wrist, and suddenly she was pressed against him, chest to chest, thighs to thighs. Sensation poured through her; it felt like standing next to a volcano. “I’m not telling you who to sleep with. I’m telling you who not to sleep with.”
“Oh, really?” she snapped, furious. “Who should I not sleep with?”
“Anyone but me.”
Jennifer Bernard is a graduate of Harvard and a former news promo producer. The child of academics, she confounded her family by preferring romance novels to … well, any other books. She left big city life for true love in Alaska, where she now lives with her husband and stepdaughters. She’s no stranger to book success, as she also writes erotic novellas under a naughty secret name not to be mentioned at family gatherings.
Visit her on the Web at:
Website: www.JenniferBernard.net
Twitter: jen_bernard
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