He's a Special Ops mastermind. Nothing gets under his skin...until a street-smart heartbreaker in a pink sweater and black leather takes him for the ride of his life. Dylan Hart knows better than to take the bad girl of his fantasies on his latest mission, but Skeeter Bang is the only one who can keep him safe. When the bullets fly, two hearts are on the line, and all bets are off.
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October 13, 2012
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Excerpt from Crazy Love by Tara Janzen
CHAPTER 1 Pink. Sweater. Short. Skirt. Long. Legs. Dylan Hart flipped his cell phone shut and rubbed his hand over his forehead, trying not to stare at the girl on the other side of the office. She was out to slay him, his nemesis, the bane of his existence--Skeeter Bang, five feet eight inches of blond bombshell leaning over a computer. Jail. Bait. She knocked a cigarette out of the pack of Mexican Faros on the desk and struck a match off her belt. "Put that out," he ordered. She knew there was no smoking in the office. "Make me," she said, then stuck the Faro between her lips and inhaled, holding the match to the end of the cigarette. A billow of smoke came out of her mouth when she exhaled. Make me? Dylan was the boss of 738 Steele Street in Denver, Colorado, second in command of Special Defense Force, SDF, a group of tough-as-nails black ops shadow warriors who specialized in doing the Department of Defense's dirty work. Make me? "Put out the damn cigarette, Skeeter," the man working at the last computer said. "And if you bend over that desk one more time, I'm going to paddle you." Thank you, Superman, Dylan thought. The girl was out of control, but Superman, a.k.a. Christian Hawkins, had kicked more ass and taken more names than most men alive. He could handle Skeeter Bang, and honest to God, they had bigger problems, much bigger, like the phone call he'd just gotten from General Grant--and of course, there was still that little problem of the death sentence he'd picked up on his last mission. Wouldn't want to forget about that now, would he? Yes. Actually, he would, but forgetting about it wasn't very goddamn likely. "Skeeter," Hawkins warned her again. And the chit put it out, just like that, without batting an eyelash or missing a beat. Though who the hell would know if Skeeter batted her eyelashes? The girlalwayswore sunglasses, and a damn ball cap Dylan was about ready to burn, literally, put it in a trash can and blast it with a flamethrower. He was hardly ever at Steele Street to see her, and then even when hewasthere, he couldn't actually see her--which was all for the best. Just the way he liked it. Except now he had this walking time bomb thing happening, and if it turned out that things weren't going to go his way and the whole damn shooting match was about to be over, well, maybe he should tell her how he felt. Or maybe not. Shit. He was such an idiot. He shouldn't have come home. He should have just toughed it out in Indonesia. "So what did General Grant want?" Hawkins asked, gesturing at the cell phone Dylan still held in his hand. General Richard "Buck" Grant was SDF's commanding officer at the Department of Defense, DOD. He deployed them, paid them, and made sure damn few people beyond the secretary of defense had a clue what they did for a living. They trained at Quantico and Fort Bragg, lived in Denver, flew out of Peterson AFB or Buckley, and were the only group of special forces operators in the world with a twenty-year-old girl on their team, even if she was only the office manager and their computer tech. She also just happened to be one of the best auto mechanics they'd ever had at Steele Street--which was saying a lot, considering that most of SDF was made up of a bunch of former juvenile delinquent car thieves who'd stolen, chopped, and rebuilt more cars than anyone else in the history of Denver. To the cops and the gangs, the short alley called Steele Street in lower downtown was still synonymous with grand theft auto, no matter that none of the guys had stolen a car in years. Guys--that was his point. Every teenage thief at Steele Street had been a guy. General Grant had started SDF with those same guys, until th