Jarod's Heart Sneak Peak
Dear Readers,
I wanted to share with you a special sneak peak of Jarod's Heart, the second book in the King Brothers Series.
Please feel free to leave your comments either here or on my Facebook page!
Sincerely,
Elise
Chapter One
He looked up at the dark sky feeling a kinship with the clouds. The oncoming storm reminded him of those chaotic, black days when she’d broken his heart, scattering the pieces to the four corners of the universe. He coughed up a disgusted laugh at such melancholy thoughts and turned the key in the ignition.
Sheriff Jarod King drove his cruiser out of his parent’s palatial family home in the high Sierra desert, the sweet tang of wet sage billowing through the air vents in the dashboard. The aromatic flavor was much better than the crusty funk coming from the backseat, where drunks and petty criminals had left a little something of themselves behind. He’d call the detailer to have the cruiser cleaned out today if the weather held out. The forecast was for ice and possible snow in this freak October storm, so the chances weren’t good that he’d have it freshened up anytime soon, as the wrecks would keep him busy.
He was the oldest son in the King family, who were prominent in this little corner of Nevada. His father built his construction company from the ground up before Jarod was born. King Construction was now one of the leading outfits in the state. But Jarod had eschewed his birthright, handing over his legacy to Jason, the second of three brothers who he loved dearly. He preferred law enforcement, working with and helping the people of his community.
After a bitter divorce from Miranda, his high school sweetheart who’d left him for her drug dealer five years ago, he’d moved back home to the King estate. For the past five years, every morning was a carbon copy of the last, making this morning number 1,802 since she’d left him for her drug dealer.
Rain was falling pretty hard, the wipers having a hard time keeping up with the deluge, when the car in front of him blew a tire.
Might as well start protecting and serving.
Sighing out loud, he pulled his cruiser over behind the disabled vehicle and called it in to dispatch.
An hour later, he made it to the county offices, drenched to the bone. It wasn’t too cold yet but the weatherman expected the temperature to fall in a few hours, dropping the snow level to the valley floor, just in time for the afternoon commute. He expected plenty of traffic problems tonight that would keep him and his deputies putting in some long hours.
He sloshed through the doors, hoping no one would make eye contact with him.
Today just wasn’t his day.
“Good morning, Sheriff!”
“G’morning, Marguerite,” he replied and shut his office door. The last thing he needed at the moment was to get caught up in a gossip session with the town cryer. Oh, she was pretty enough and she had impeccable office skills, but there was something about that woman that rubbed him the wrong way.
Not that Jarod was interested in conversing with any woman. He had been-there-done-that, and he’d found they were only good for one thing; making sure his office ran smoothly.
Ok, they were good for more than that, but he was only interested in impeccable office skills. If he got the “itch”, he went out of town and gave a fictitious name…
And a fictitious number.
Closing his office blinds, he changed into the extra uniform he kept in the armoire that his mother insisted he install in his office. There was a small locker room in the building for his undersheriffs to use, but he seldom went down there. Once he was dressed, he sat at his desk and began the report on this morning’s incident; as it turned out, the driver of the car with the flat tire also had a bench warrant for his arrest. He was being booked downstairs now.
Finishing the report, he shoved his chair back. He needed coffee in a bad way, but in order to reach the break room, he had to enter the main reception area, which was one big room that had been partitioned off with glass walls that separated his office from the main reception area. Marguerite ran the long counter that divided the room from the public. In order to get to the much needed coffee pot, he would have to cross paths with her.
He kept his head and eyes down as he made his way to the break room. Lucky for him, Marguerite was helping someone at the counter and didn’t see his reappearance. He sighed in relief when he pushed his way through the break room door unnoticed. He reached into the dishwasher for his favorite mug only to discover that it hadn’t been run yet. Sighing, he grabbed a soap cube from the box under the sink and added it to the dispenser in the door of the washer, closed the door and pushed the “short-cycle” button. He reached in the cupboard and got lucky. There was one plain mug left. All the rest had either vulgar sayings, flowers or were holiday themed. He would rather drink straight from the pot than use one of those.
He put his mug next to the coffee pot and grabbed the empty carafe.
Son of a …
Reaching deep down inside for a calm that was practically nonexistent, he swished some water in the carafe, dumped it out and refilled it. Then he poured the water into the reservoir, added a new filter and coffee grounds and, out of sheer spite for his lazy co-workers, added two extra scoops.
He smiled and pressed “brew”.
He was leaning against the counter, whistling a jaunty tune, when Lauren Lockwood crashed through the door. She was his secretary, but she preferred the title of administrative assistant. She also happened to be best friends with his baby brother, Josh, and his soon to be sister-in-law, Julie. Lauren was beautiful, smart and perfect for the job. She was also a huge pain in his ass when her temper was up.
Currently, she was soaked to the bone, her clothes sticking to her perfect body and looking like she could commit a homicide if pushed in just the right direction. Right now, he felt like pushing.
“Nice outfit,” he deadpanned.
Frosty beams of anger bore through him from her baby blue eyes. She still wasn’t speaking to him. It had been over a month ago since he forced her into the back of his cruiser in an effort to keep her safe from Julie’s crazy ex-boyfriend. They’d all been in danger, as Billy tried to enact vengeance on his brother, Jason. Thankfully, Billy had been apprehended, but at the time of their fight, he couldn’t help worry that Lauren might be kidnapped to be used by Billy to get at Julie. He hadn’t been willing to take that chance, and Lauren hadn’t appreciated his efforts to keep her safe.
Whatever.
She shoved a soggy, brown paper sack into the refrigerator before moving to the cupboard to grab the mug that said, “HAVE A NICE DAY” on the front. Slamming the mug on the counter, she reached over for the carafe before she realized it was still brewing. She narrowed her eyes at him again.
“It was empty when I got here,” he said, showing her his empty mug. “So, I made a new pot.” He grinned evilly.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she went back to the refrigerator for the artificially, over-sweetened creamer. She slammed it on the counter next to her mug.
She tapped her perfectly manicured fingernails on the counter, staring daggers at the pot. He knew how she felt. She was in the same mood he had arrived in over an hour ago.
He frowned. She should’ve been here before him this morning.
Genuinely concerned by her soggy appearance, he asked, “Run into any trouble on the way in?”
She took another deep breath through her nose, probably working out how she could get out of actually answering his question without speaking aloud. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Just a flat tire.”
That explained the wet cat fashion statement. “Why didn’t you call for road assistance? One of us would’ve come out to help.”
She grabbed the now full carafe off of the burner and poured a small amount of the very strong, black coffee into her mug. He watched, mesmerized, as she measured in a healthy amount of creamer and four packets of stevia. She mixed her concoction, turned to face him and very deliberately took a drink. As she tipped up her mug, the image on the bottom was hard to ignore; a hand flipping him the bird.
He glared at her.
She smirked back with a raised eyebrow, turned back to the counter to fill her mug with more of the bitter brew and stormed out of the break room. He watched the sway of her perfectly rounded hips, as she sashayed to her desk before the door closed in his face.
I wanted to share with you a special sneak peak of Jarod's Heart, the second book in the King Brothers Series.
Please feel free to leave your comments either here or on my Facebook page!
Sincerely,
Elise
Chapter One
He looked up at the dark sky feeling a kinship with the clouds. The oncoming storm reminded him of those chaotic, black days when she’d broken his heart, scattering the pieces to the four corners of the universe. He coughed up a disgusted laugh at such melancholy thoughts and turned the key in the ignition.
Sheriff Jarod King drove his cruiser out of his parent’s palatial family home in the high Sierra desert, the sweet tang of wet sage billowing through the air vents in the dashboard. The aromatic flavor was much better than the crusty funk coming from the backseat, where drunks and petty criminals had left a little something of themselves behind. He’d call the detailer to have the cruiser cleaned out today if the weather held out. The forecast was for ice and possible snow in this freak October storm, so the chances weren’t good that he’d have it freshened up anytime soon, as the wrecks would keep him busy.
He was the oldest son in the King family, who were prominent in this little corner of Nevada. His father built his construction company from the ground up before Jarod was born. King Construction was now one of the leading outfits in the state. But Jarod had eschewed his birthright, handing over his legacy to Jason, the second of three brothers who he loved dearly. He preferred law enforcement, working with and helping the people of his community.
After a bitter divorce from Miranda, his high school sweetheart who’d left him for her drug dealer five years ago, he’d moved back home to the King estate. For the past five years, every morning was a carbon copy of the last, making this morning number 1,802 since she’d left him for her drug dealer.
Rain was falling pretty hard, the wipers having a hard time keeping up with the deluge, when the car in front of him blew a tire.
Might as well start protecting and serving.
Sighing out loud, he pulled his cruiser over behind the disabled vehicle and called it in to dispatch.
An hour later, he made it to the county offices, drenched to the bone. It wasn’t too cold yet but the weatherman expected the temperature to fall in a few hours, dropping the snow level to the valley floor, just in time for the afternoon commute. He expected plenty of traffic problems tonight that would keep him and his deputies putting in some long hours.
He sloshed through the doors, hoping no one would make eye contact with him.
Today just wasn’t his day.
“Good morning, Sheriff!”
“G’morning, Marguerite,” he replied and shut his office door. The last thing he needed at the moment was to get caught up in a gossip session with the town cryer. Oh, she was pretty enough and she had impeccable office skills, but there was something about that woman that rubbed him the wrong way.
Not that Jarod was interested in conversing with any woman. He had been-there-done-that, and he’d found they were only good for one thing; making sure his office ran smoothly.
Ok, they were good for more than that, but he was only interested in impeccable office skills. If he got the “itch”, he went out of town and gave a fictitious name…
And a fictitious number.
Closing his office blinds, he changed into the extra uniform he kept in the armoire that his mother insisted he install in his office. There was a small locker room in the building for his undersheriffs to use, but he seldom went down there. Once he was dressed, he sat at his desk and began the report on this morning’s incident; as it turned out, the driver of the car with the flat tire also had a bench warrant for his arrest. He was being booked downstairs now.
Finishing the report, he shoved his chair back. He needed coffee in a bad way, but in order to reach the break room, he had to enter the main reception area, which was one big room that had been partitioned off with glass walls that separated his office from the main reception area. Marguerite ran the long counter that divided the room from the public. In order to get to the much needed coffee pot, he would have to cross paths with her.
He kept his head and eyes down as he made his way to the break room. Lucky for him, Marguerite was helping someone at the counter and didn’t see his reappearance. He sighed in relief when he pushed his way through the break room door unnoticed. He reached into the dishwasher for his favorite mug only to discover that it hadn’t been run yet. Sighing, he grabbed a soap cube from the box under the sink and added it to the dispenser in the door of the washer, closed the door and pushed the “short-cycle” button. He reached in the cupboard and got lucky. There was one plain mug left. All the rest had either vulgar sayings, flowers or were holiday themed. He would rather drink straight from the pot than use one of those.
He put his mug next to the coffee pot and grabbed the empty carafe.
Son of a …
Reaching deep down inside for a calm that was practically nonexistent, he swished some water in the carafe, dumped it out and refilled it. Then he poured the water into the reservoir, added a new filter and coffee grounds and, out of sheer spite for his lazy co-workers, added two extra scoops.
He smiled and pressed “brew”.
He was leaning against the counter, whistling a jaunty tune, when Lauren Lockwood crashed through the door. She was his secretary, but she preferred the title of administrative assistant. She also happened to be best friends with his baby brother, Josh, and his soon to be sister-in-law, Julie. Lauren was beautiful, smart and perfect for the job. She was also a huge pain in his ass when her temper was up.
Currently, she was soaked to the bone, her clothes sticking to her perfect body and looking like she could commit a homicide if pushed in just the right direction. Right now, he felt like pushing.
“Nice outfit,” he deadpanned.
Frosty beams of anger bore through him from her baby blue eyes. She still wasn’t speaking to him. It had been over a month ago since he forced her into the back of his cruiser in an effort to keep her safe from Julie’s crazy ex-boyfriend. They’d all been in danger, as Billy tried to enact vengeance on his brother, Jason. Thankfully, Billy had been apprehended, but at the time of their fight, he couldn’t help worry that Lauren might be kidnapped to be used by Billy to get at Julie. He hadn’t been willing to take that chance, and Lauren hadn’t appreciated his efforts to keep her safe.
Whatever.
She shoved a soggy, brown paper sack into the refrigerator before moving to the cupboard to grab the mug that said, “HAVE A NICE DAY” on the front. Slamming the mug on the counter, she reached over for the carafe before she realized it was still brewing. She narrowed her eyes at him again.
“It was empty when I got here,” he said, showing her his empty mug. “So, I made a new pot.” He grinned evilly.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she went back to the refrigerator for the artificially, over-sweetened creamer. She slammed it on the counter next to her mug.
She tapped her perfectly manicured fingernails on the counter, staring daggers at the pot. He knew how she felt. She was in the same mood he had arrived in over an hour ago.
He frowned. She should’ve been here before him this morning.
Genuinely concerned by her soggy appearance, he asked, “Run into any trouble on the way in?”
She took another deep breath through her nose, probably working out how she could get out of actually answering his question without speaking aloud. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Just a flat tire.”
That explained the wet cat fashion statement. “Why didn’t you call for road assistance? One of us would’ve come out to help.”
She grabbed the now full carafe off of the burner and poured a small amount of the very strong, black coffee into her mug. He watched, mesmerized, as she measured in a healthy amount of creamer and four packets of stevia. She mixed her concoction, turned to face him and very deliberately took a drink. As she tipped up her mug, the image on the bottom was hard to ignore; a hand flipping him the bird.
He glared at her.
She smirked back with a raised eyebrow, turned back to the counter to fill her mug with more of the bitter brew and stormed out of the break room. He watched the sway of her perfectly rounded hips, as she sashayed to her desk before the door closed in his face.
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by
Tony
(new)
Dec 25, 2014 10:46AM
Nice teaser. Just one comment: She tapped her perfectly manicured fingernails on the counter, staring daggers at the pot. He new how she felt. She was in the same mood he had arrived in over an hour ago. [change/He knew how she felt.]
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That's it. You definitely have to be my editor from now on, Tony! :D
