Blurb:

Zeke Greer and Diane Marcus have one horrific thing in common. They both lost their spouses. After spending one night together, allowing their combustive chemistry to take control, they discovered the strength they needed to move on. 

A chance meeting reignites the flame.

They are as different as the day is long. She’s a by-the-book accountant, strait-laced and demure, without a single tattoo. He’s an automobile mechanic, talks dirty, and is covered in ink. Despite that, they can’t turn away from each other, accepting they’ve found their match.

Until a secret is revealed and threatens to unravel everything.

 EXCERPT

“I suppose you should ask her.” Her date narrowed his hazel eyes, visibly agitated. Then again, that seemed to be his natural state of mind. “Since she’s making the decisions.”

Did he really want to throw shade? Fine.

“You know what?” She looked at the server next to her. He hadn’t done a single thing wrong and appeared to be a hard worker. His only error was coming into contact with a guest who would never be pleased. An egotistical asshat she’d put up with for long enough. “Can you take my order to the bar? I’ll be there momentarily.”

His eyes widened. Then he struggled not to grin or laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”

She waited until he’d left to face the absolute worst human being she’d ever met. She retrieved her coat and purse, wondering why she’d decided to start dating again in the first place.

Seeing what she was up to, his lips thinned, his fingers curling into fists. “You can’t be serious.”

Never been ditched before? Allow me to be your first.

“I’m not only serious, I have to tell you that you are the rudest person I’ve ever met in my life.” And she’d met some winners, especially with her upbringing. It only took seconds to collect her things and stand. He was not only annoyed, he was also angry. She wondered if his head was going to explode when he turned an infuriated shade of red. She was definitely the first to tell him to go to hell. “I’d tell you it’s been a lovely evening, but I don’t like lying. Considering this was one of the biggest mistakes of my life, I’ll pay for the lesson. Dinner is on me. Goodnight, Jordan. I’ll take care of myself from here.”

Uncaring of what he did with himself, she lifted her chin and marched toward the bar on the other side of the restaurant. He’d been the one to insist on a private table. In retrospect, the location was a good thing. Others hadn’t had to listen to his catty remarks, constant bragging about things he’d seen or places he’d visited, or endure his posturing when he wanted to appear smarter and more worldly than he actually was.

Her husband, Mark, would have called him a poser.

A pang of sadness struck her heart.

Mark would have called him that if he were still alive. Sometimes, during random moments, she could hear his voice inside her head. Often, it was gentle teasing. On nights when she wanted to give up, it was words of encouragement. He’d been gone four years now. She’d reached her thirtieth birthday without him there to watch her blow out the candles. Only this time around, when she made her wish, she asked that she could find someone to love her as much as he had. She missed him, and she’d do anything to have him back, but that wasn’t the way the world worked.

Before she made it to the bar, a hand latched onto her elbow firmly. The heady burn of cologne in her nose told her who she was dealing with. Not only had Jordan never been walked out on before, he obviously didn’t know how to accept rejection with class and grace.

“You’re high and mighty for someone just getting back into the game,” he informed her in a frosty voice, facing her away from the bar, getting in her personal space. That alone was uncomfortable, but it was worse since she’d made it to the center area where people could hear and witness the altercation. “That body and face of yours are about to reach their expiration date. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Let go of me,” she ordered quietly, giving him an opportunity to do so on his own.

The striking visage she’d found handsome not so long ago repulsed her now, the heavy frown turning attractive to terrifying. “I’m going to talk to Peter about this.”

“I’m friends with Barbara. Not her husband. Tell him anything you want.”

“Maybe you won’t be when he finds out how you treat others.”

That was rich. “Let go. I’m not asking again.”

“Or what? Do you—”

His words were cut short when a hand landed on his shoulder, long fingers curving around and gripping so hard the knuckles were white. “Take that hand off her,” a deep, low, and familiar voice ordered, “or I’m going to break it, drag you outside, and rattle your goddamn skull.”

It can’t be. It’s not possible.

Jordan complied, turning to see the one who’d threatened him. As he did, she came face-to-face with a man that haunted her dreams. His dark, shoulder-length hair had been trimmed into an undercut. The sides were short, and the long layers on the top were carefully slicked back. Somehow, that made him even better, bringing attention to his attractive features, revealing the strong planes of his face. He still had the bristle going, a deep slathering of ebony shadow that covered his distinctive chin and perfect jawline. His bright blue eyes flicked to her for a moment, the shade as blue as the ocean. It had been almost two years since she’d spent a single night in his arms.

Zeke.