Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Enough kink to start a three alarm fire.
Lia:
Here’s what I know: Firemen are nicer than cops.
More predictable. They have that same hero desire but it burns brighter.
They’re not quite as power-hungry or controlling. Except for the captain.
They call him Blaze and he’s got a streak of controlling cop for sure.
It’s a trait that unfortunately makes my knees go weak in a boss.
Especially a beefy fire captain boss.
Blaze:
Having smoking hot Lia Burke in my firehouse might be the death of me.
I can’t stand the other guys ogling her. They are not exactly PC.
It’s locker room talk around here twenty-four seven.
I swear I’m going to have a sexual harassment claim on my hands in less than a month.
And I'll probably be the guy who crosses the line first.
Publisher's Note: This book was originally published with the title Blaze (Hard n' Dirty #4).
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Lia
With four brothers—all cops, not firemen—I’m not afraid of any guy. Especially not guys like these.
Even if their, I mean our, captain doesn’t want a female on the crew.
“What are you playing?” I ask my new teammates innocently as they deal another round of poker to kill time at the station.
Rocket—the friendliest, but possibly dorkiest—grins. “Poker—know how to play?”
I twirl the end of my dark ponytail around my finger. “Yeah, I think so.”
James, who is the least friendly of the guys—not counting the captain—folds his arms over his large chest. “We don’t play for money, though.”
I know what’s coming and I’m not afraid. “Oh yeah?” I’m pretty good at playing innocent. “What do you play for?”
“Have you heard of strip poker?”
Rocket flushes slightly, clearly thrilled by the suggestion. “Yeah, it’s just for fun,” he leers. “That way if we get a call, the person who took off the most takes the longest to get ready.”
Uh huh. Right.
I pull a chair up to the table. “Okay. I’m in.”
“You are?” Rocket’s eyes pop, like he can’t believe how lucky they got.
James still looks like he tasted a lemon, but he starts shuffling and deals the cards.
I sit back, hold my cards and hide my inner smirk. If these asshole firemen believe they can haze me into taking my clothes off and becoming their wet dream fire maiden, I’ll let them harbor that impossible fantasy—for at least another half hour.
See—here’s what I know. Firemen are nicer than cops. More predictable. They have that same hero desire but it burns—heh—brighter. They’re not quite as power-hungry or controlling. Except for the captain. They call him Blaze—I’m guessing because of a temper. He’s got a streak of controlling cop for sure. It’s a trait that I hate in my brothers, but unfortunately makes my knees go weak in a boss. Especially a fire captain boss.
The rest of these boys were the football stars in high school—good-looking, rigid thinkers, slightly chauvinistic, but generally nice guys. No one’s gonna actually get naked here and they know it. Oh, they probably think they’re gonna get an eyeful of my bra and panties, maybe even harbor hope of seeing some boobage—not that there’s much to see—but they don’t know who they’re up against.
If anyone knows how to play poker, it’s me.
Again—four brothers.
What my brothers don’t know is that I also know how to play dingy sex kitten and make stupid would-be poker champs think I’m in over my head.
Which means, at the end of this game, these boys are going to be the ones sitting in their boxer briefs, and I’m going to be using my phone to take pictures I can forever hold over their heads.
“So, Lia,” Scott, my thirty-something hot but ignorant new colleague drawls, “It’s you.”
“We need a better name for her,” Rocket says.
“Yeah, too bad Rocket’s already taken,” I say drily.
He grins good-naturedly. “How about Sparks? She’s definitely a little spark plug, plus she’s always lighting matches.”
Damn, they noticed that. I just burned a few outside between fires to let off steam. I’ll have to be more careful.
“It’s your bet, Sparks,” James says without a smile. “Let me guess, you’re starting with your boots.”
“Nope.” I make a show of slowly peeling my red FDNY t-shirt over my head. “I’ll open.” All three of the other firefighters on duty tonight stare. “Let’s start with the shirt. That way you guys can get a nice look at what’s not coming off tonight.” I squeeze both my breasts through the very chaste, full-coverage pink sports bra.
Scott’s hand drops under the table, presumably to rearrange his junk. “I see.” He clears his throat. “Didn’t expect that from you.”
I hide my triumph. They thought they’d force me to admit I can’t claim to be just one of the guys. Cock-teasing is my surprise rebuttal.
He, too, peels his shirt off, revealing a perfect pair of pects on a gleaming dark-skinned chest. Not that I’m looking. Every guy here is ripped. Being physically fit is part of the job requirement. But I’m used to guys like these from the CrossFit gym. “I’ll see your shirt.” He stands up and unbuttons his Nomex pants. “And raise you a pair of pants.”
“Ooh,” James and Rocket croon, looking for my reaction.
I can’t hold back my smirk. If they think showing me their boxers is going to fluster me, they have a shit-ton of more thinks coming. I can give it as well as they do.
I completed my fire training. I worked three summers as a hot-shot for the Forest Service in Arizona. No female is in better shape than I am right now. And still I had to apply and reapply for thirty-two months to get this job. No one will say it, but I guarantee it’s about their bias against my small size and gender.