Sunday 13 January 2019

Burning For Autumn - Freya Barker - Exclusive Excerpt









When Autumn McCoy accepted a temporary work contract in Durango, she thought it would be a safe way to add some spark to her existence. She may be getting more than she bargained for when she finds herself the target of impending danger.The outspoken forty-two-year-old isn’t prepared for that spark to ignite flames threatening to engulf every aspect of her life. 

Buried under the weight of responsibilities, all interim Chief of Police, Keith Blackfoot, wants is to get back to good old-fashioned detecting. He gets his chance when an encounter with a feisty redhead seems to incite a wave of arson cases. Although a visit from friend and firefighter, Roman “Chief” Proudfit, provides some direction, he’s left to battle an invisible menace fueling fires that could leave his town—and his heart—in ashes.




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“Could I have another Guinness?” I lift my empty glass to the bartender.

“On me,” my handsome neighbor says when the glass is set in front of me.

“Oh, no,” I protest. No way in hell I’ll let him buy my beer. “I don’t let strange men pay for my drinks, thank you very much.”

His head slowly turns to me and he looks me over again, from the bottom of my flip-flopped feet up. They come to rest on the bright red frame of my glasses. “I thought red was a fashion faux pas for a redhead.” Automatically I reach up and push them back up my nose.

“I wouldn’t know what constitutes a fashion faux pas if it bit me in the ass,” I counter, resisting the urge to smooth the wrinkles I know cover my shirt.

“You don’t say.”

The dry, drawn-out comment delivered with a poker face should probably upset me, but it has me barking out a laugh instead.

“Hey, comfort is the name of my game.” There it is, a little twitch at the corner of his stern mouth, hinting at a smile that promises to be a stunner. “Autumn. My name, it’s Autumn,” I clarify when he looks at me funny at first.

“Hello, Autumn—who sits next to strangers, but buys her own drinks, and lives for comfort—the name’s Keith.” He holds out his hand, and I’m pleased to note the shake is strong, not holding much back because I’m some weak female.

“That’s not the name I would’ve picked for you,” comes flying from my mouth before I can check it. His eyebrow rises sharply.

“No? Why not?” I hear the sharp undertone telling me I’ve unearthed a wee chip on his shoulder, but I ignore it.

“Don’t get me wrong, I like it. It’s a handsome, strong name, which by definition suits you perfectly. I don’t know, I could be wrong, but you strike me as law enforcement. More a rough-and-tumble kinda guy, and Keith almost seems too sedate and proper.”

This time I get a full on grin. “Rough-and-tumble?” he echoes, that dang eyebrow still somewhere up in his hairline, but at least I have him smiling. Sort of.

“Just calling them as I see them.” I shrug, taking a deep swig of my beer. I note he neither confirms nor denies my assumptions around his career.









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