Available June 15th at Ellora’s Cave: http://www.jasminejade.com/m-683-cindy-jacks.aspx

Blurb:

For ten years, Kathryn has struggled to survive in a war-torn region that used to be part of the United States. Her country ripped apart and her husband presumed dead, she and her son need a miracle to find safe passage to the West. She’s not expecting that miracle to come in the form of Captain Brett Logan when he stumbles, injured, onto her front porch.

A privateer for the Republic of Texas, Logan keeps one eye on the horizon and one hand on his sidearm, knowing the life of a modern-day pirate is often short. When an enemy bomb nearly ends him, Kathryn nurses him back to health. Against her better judgment, she’s drawn to the enigmatic man with his tattoos and battle scars.

Kate finds shelter in Logan’s arms””and his bed. The captain navigates her body with the same skill that he sails the seven seas. The heat of their passion gives way to deeper currents. But with danger surrounding them, they must struggle to stay together and survive.

Excerpt:

The sound of someone scraping his way up the gravel path roused Kathryn.

“Roy?” she called out.

Someone uttered an unintelligible response, but it wasn’t her neighbor. The silhouette backlit by a full moon was too tall and too broad to be Roy.

She jumped up and went to get the shotgun in the gun safe. Her eyes took a second to adjust to the darkened house. Stubbing her toe on an end table, she did her best not to shout a stream of expletives. Her fingers fumbled with the key she wore around her neck and the lock fought with her. When it finally gave way, she grabbed the gun and a box of shells.

With the barrel of the shotgun, she nudged the door open. The disheveled man swayed, almost toppling over a few times. She made a show of loading and cocking her weapon.

“I don’t want any trouble,” she said, filling the doorway with her body as best she could. “Just turn around and go back the way you came.”

“Help.” The man wheezed and coughed into a dark cloth. “Need help.”

She took a few steps closer, grabbing the lantern and holding it up to inspect the stranger. A wave of shock darted through her. Bloodied face, bloodied clothes. He more closely resembled a gore-covered zombie than a man.

Again, he pushed out the word, “Help,” then promptly doubled over. He gagged and heaved to no avail.

Lowering the gun, she held out her hand. “I guess you do need some help.”

With slow steps, she helped the big man up the stairs and into the swing.

“Stay right here,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Jonas’ old medical bag would have most of what she needed to help this guy out. But why should she waste her most precious supplies on a total stranger? She broke into them only when absolutely necessary. Of course, common human decency dictated that she do something in this situation. She couldn’t turn him away, not in his condition. Then again, if he’d made it on his own steam from wherever he’d been injured to her neck of the woods, he’d probably be okay in the morning. Or maybe she could summon Roy and he could see to the injured man.

A thud like a sack of potatoes thrown to the floor broke into her racing train of thought. She grabbed the bag from the mud room and trotted out front.

Great. All two hundred plus pounds of man had collapsed facedown on her porch.

“Now why’d you go and do that?” Her question fell on deaf ears.

The last thing he needed was another head injury. She knelt beside him, pulled him onto his back and opened the medical bag. Once she cut open what was left of his shirt, all doubts about helping him fled her mind. He’d been in some sort of explosion. Bits of wood and metal stuck in his chest, throat and face. One large scrap had sliced into his abdomen, making a gash several inches long.

Everything she’d helped Jonas study in med school flooded back. She took the man’s vitals””his breath was a bit shallow but his pulse was strong. Blood pressure a little low, but not bad. As best she could in the limited light, she checked his ears and nostrils for blood. He had at least one burst eardrum. The wound to his torso concerned her most. She couldn’t tell if it’d hit any major organs or blood vessels. If it had, this poor man was screwed. Gauze sponge at the ready, she pulled out the sharp fragment. The wound bled but didn’t gush. A good sign. She applied pressure to stave off any further blood loss.

His eyes fluttered open but he didn’t seem to understand what was happening.

“Do you know where you are?” she asked.

He licked his lips but didn’t answer.

“What’s your name?”

“I-I can’t.” He blinked a few times. “Logan.”

“Okay, Logan. My name’s Kathryn, you can call me Kate. I’m fixing up the cut on your belly. And I think you have a concussion. Do you know how you got hurt?”

“Bomb.”

“Just lie still then, so I can help you.” She secured the gauze sponge over the gash and took out sterile saline solution and more dressing to clean the rest of his cuts and bruises.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured.

“Huh, now I know you’re concussed.”

He continued to drift in and out of consciousness as she worked on his multitude of cuts and burns. Picking out as much shrapnel as she could, the work seemed to go on forever and she knew she’d missed a lot because of the poor lighting. Finally, she checked on the wound to his gut. The blood flow had eased to a trickle. Time to stitch him up.

“Hey.” She shook him lightly.

“Hmm?”

“Can you stand up and walk inside?”

He took her offered hand and struggled to get to his feet. Leaning against her, he hobbled inside the house. The sofa seemed as good a place as any. After she settled him, she fetched all the lanterns in the house, a washbasin full of soapy water and some clean linens.

“Hope you aren’t the modest type. I gotta clean you up more before I can sew you up,” she said.

He clutched on to a cowboy hat and she had to pry it from his fingers to get him to release it. After stripping off his sidearm, she helped him out of his boots, pants and underwear. She tried not to look at his penis as she extracted bits of wood and metal from his torso and legs. Instead she studied his muscular arms and chest, which were peppered with tattoos, many nautical in theme. “You a sailor?”

“Mm hm.”

A sailor who’d been in an explosion. And judging from his clothes he wasn’t affiliated with any military organization. Did she have a privateer naked in her living room? She couldn’t worry about that now. She’d already jumped in neck-deep. There would be time for a question and answer session once his brain was less scrambled. But after she turned Logan around to wash his back, her feelings toward him didn’t grow any warmer or fuzzier. Emblazoned over his left shoulder blade was the image of a flag””one red block, one white block, and a lone star in the middle of a field of blue.

Oh God, he’s a Texan. Her upper lip curled in contempt. This night kept getting better and better.

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June 15th at Ellora’s Cave: http://www.jasminejade.com/m-683-cindy-jacks.aspx