A big welcome to Jay Hogan as part of her blog tour with Eliza Rae for First Impressions from Dreamspinner Press.
Two years ago, I made a mistake, a big one. Then I added a couple more just for good measure. I screwed up my life, but I survived. Now I have the opportunity for a fresh start. Two years in NZ. Away from the LA gossip, a chance to breathe, to rebuild my life. But I’m taking a new set of rules with me.
I don’t do relationships.
I don’t do commitment.
I don’t do white picket fences.
And I especially don’t do arrogant, holier-than-thou, smoking hot K9 officers who walk into my ER and rock my world.
One thing for certain, Dr. Michael Oliver is an arrogant, untrustworthy player, and I barely survived the last one of those. He might be gorgeous, but my daughter takes number one priority. I won’t risk her being hurt, again. I’m a solo dad, a K9 cop and a son to pain-in-the-ass parents.
I don’t have time for games.
I don’t have time for taking chances.
I don’t have time for more complications in my life.
And I sure as hell don’t have time for the infuriating Dr. Michael Oliver, however damn sexy he is.
“Get the paramedics and let the team in the back,” Josh barked. “Paris is after the little bastard who did this, and arsehole number two is in the process of being arrested through there.” He gestured behind. “What a fucking cock-up.” He glared at Michael. “And get this dickhead out of here before I fucking arrest him.”
“No,” Michael protested. “I can help.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Josh eyeballed him. “You’re nothing but—”
“A doctor. I’m a fucking doctor, all right?” Michael snarled, their faces barely centimetres apart. The handler smelled of adrenaline, testosterone, and something maddeningly elusive. “A trauma doctor, to be precise. So how about you get the fuck out of here and go do whatever you need to and leave me to look after him?”
The man’s gaze slid over Michael’s shirtless frame in disbelief. “A doctor? You’re fucking kidding me.”
Two more officers entered through the front door, the first leading with his gun drawn. Both froze in place when they spotted Jackson on the floor. “What the fuck happened?”
Josh held up a hand. “In a sec.” He glared at Michael.
But Michael was having none of it. “He’s pumping blood. You really want to do this shit now?”
Josh’s gaze flicked to Jackson, then back up, and Michael saw the moment he caved.
“Fuck it,” he snapped. “He’s all yours.” He released Jackson’s arm, allowing Michael to take over. “One of you watch this guy like a hawk, and for fuck’s sake don’t let him leave. The other, go help Callum get that cuffed piece of shit outta here.” He threw Michael one last scowl before disappearing through the front doors, leaving him painfully aware of his fully invested dick trapped in his jeans. Christ almighty, it had a mind of its own.
I am a New Zealand author writing in m/m romance, and romantic suspense. I have traveled extensively and lived in the US, Canada, France, Australia and South Korea. In a past life I have been an Intensive Care Nurse, Counselor, and a Nursing Lecturer.
I’m a cat aficionado especially of Maine Coons, and an avid dog lover (but don’t tell the cat). I love to cook, pretty damn good, love to sing, pretty damn average, and as for loving full-time writing, absolutely… depending of course on the day, the word count, the deadline, how obliging my characters are, the ambient temperature in the Western Sahara, whether Jupiter is rising, the size of the ozone hole over New Zealand and how much coffee I’ve had.
Welcome to my world.
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