Today’s #EggcerptExchange is Kryssie Fortune’s erotic romance, Marriage, Mobsters, and the Marine.
When writing my book, Marriage, Mobsters and the Marine, I learned so much about the wonderful men and women who make up the Unites States Marine Corps. The more I learned, the more my respect for them grew.
I was so glad I made Jared Armstrong a Marine. The first chapter of Marriage, Mobsters and the Marine can be read on my website. Also, if you want to know more about Jared, there are a couple of short, free reads about him on my website.
Abigail Montgomery, a small-town schoolteacher with zero self-confidence, dreams of the Dickensian Christmas her family never enjoyed. Each month she attends a masked BDSM club, but her next visit will be her last. If she doesn’t marry within the next year, her brother won’t inherit Montgomery Hall. Desperate, she advertises for a husband.
Jared Armstrong, a former Marine sharpshooter and occasional Dom, needs $125,000 to get his family out of a hole. His solution–to marry Abigail Montgomery for her money. His only regret is his wife won’t accept his spanking lifestyle.
Soon, Abigail dreams of making their marriage real, but she promised Jared a divorce two years after their wedding. Can they share some Christmas magic as their relationship faces extortion threats, a kidnapping, and an attempted murder? Or will Jared walk away and break her heart?
The engine stopped, and she heard a car door slam. She needed out of the trunk, but no one came for her. What if they abandon the car and leave me? I don’t want to die trussed up in a car trunk. A fresh wave of fear washed through her, along with a spike of adrenaline. Her body trembled, but time slowed and her thoughts cleared. She needed to take things one step at a time.
Step one—get her arms free. She wriggled around, hoping the rough ride had dislodged something she could use to cut the rope. Bingo. Her fingers touched a metal box. Maybe it held tools or a knife. She almost wept when she couldn’t open it. The hinge stuck out from the box, so she twisted some more, running the rope against the hinge. Periodically, she stopped and tensed her wrists in an attempt to pull the nylon strands apart.
She’d no idea how long she worked at her bonds. It seemed like hours until the rope finally gave way. Relieved tears filled her eyes. Rather than rub her wrists, she tugged off the hood and pulled the gag from her mouth. She’d never been so thirsty. She’d give anything for a cold beer right now.
Step two—find the release mechanism the law said every car should have in the trunk. She felt claustrophobic, so scared she could barely move, but she forced herself to concentrate. There, in the corner, a glow-in-the-dark lever beckoned. Wriggling like a maggot in a fisherman’s box, she kicked it for all she was worth, and the trunk lid popped open.
The air smelled wonderful, if slightly musty, but silence and utter darkness surrounded her. She listened a while, decided her captors had left, and slipped out the trunk. No lights shone through the darkness. Using her hands rather than her eyes, she found a lug wrench and flashlight alongside the spare tire beneath the space she’d just escaped. She grabbed both, quietly shut the trunk, and headed into the darkness.
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