Series: Everyday Heroes #3.5
Genres: Contemporary Romance
Setting: Sunnyville, CA
Also in this series: Cuffed
Also by this author: Driven, Fueled, Down Shift, Sweet Cheeks, Sweet Rivalry, The Player, The Catch, Cuffed, Resist, Reveal, Hard to Handle, Flirting with 40, Hard to Hold, Hard to Score, Hard to Lose
From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author K. Bromberg comes a new story in her Everyday Heroes series…
Control is something Desi Whitman abhors. Why live life in black and white perfection when you can messily color outside the lines?
But when she comes face to face with SWAT officer Reznor Mayne, he’s about to show her just how good control can feel.
**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.**
Control is Desi’s story and I have been curious about her for a long time! We first meet Desi in book 1, Cuffed. She is Emerson’s BFF. Desi is the life of the party-rowdy, wild, and always up for a good time. She is also a commitaphobe.
Reznor is an adrenaline junkie who feeds his addiction by working for the SWAT team. After a take down goes south, he needs to step away and ends up teaching self defense in tiny Sunnyville, CA. Desi meets him on the first night and promptly makes a fool of herself.
These two have more baggage than an entire airline but it works. Desi is afraid to get attached to anyone because in her experience, men always bail. Reznor isn’t sure he wants to give up SWAT for Sunnyville. What Desi and Reznor have, though, is smoking hot chemistry! Holy Moly!
Their story is short but engaging and even in the few pages, I did care for these characters and feel that Bromberg did create dynamic personalities in Control. Fans of the series will love finally getting in Desi’s head but readers who are new to the series won’t feel like anything is missing!
- POV: 1st
- Tears: no
- Trope: police
- Triggers: View Spoiler »Desi is dealing with PTSD after an intruder came into her home while she slept « Hide Spoiler
- Series/Standalone: stand alone within an interconnected series
- Cliffhanger: View Spoiler »no « Hide Spoiler
- HEA: View Spoiler »yes but no epilogue « Hide Spoiler
“That ego of yours is going to be sore tomorrow.”
“Why’s that?” he asks.
“It’s working out right now, flexing its muscles and doing some heavy lifting.” It’s pretty damn hard to be sarcastic when the man still touching you is making you want to lean in and kiss those sexy lips of his and prove just how right he is.
And just how wrong you are.
A sheepish smile paints his lips. “Ah, but you like the muscles.”
I like a whole lot more than the muscles.
“Mmm.” It’s all I trust myself to say.
He leans in closer. I can feel his breath feather over my lips and the look in his eyes—one that says his interest is as strong as mine: hungry and aroused as hell—is enough to make every part of me want to step forward and into him.
But I don’t.
I want to.
But I also want to slow down whatever the hell this is.
“Hey, Desi,” he murmurs as he leans in close enough that both of our eyes flicker down to the other’s lips as we breathe the same air.
“You look gorgeous in that color.”
I just swooned.
Both are things I never do.
“Thank you.” My voice is barely audible when I finally swallow around the lump of desire clouding in my throat.
“For?” he asks, the rumble of his voice a seduction all in itself.
“For fixing my sprinklers.”
“And for the compliment.”
His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “No need to thank me.”
Time feels like it slows as we stand like this in the afternoon sunlight on my patio—me in a bright yellow sundress and him in mud-soaked jeans. The birds chirp above. My heart pounds in my ears. My nipples harden in anticipation.
Jesus, just kiss me already, will you?
Just as I get my synapses to fire and lean in and take the initiative myself, he takes a step back and says, “I need to take a shower.”
I draw in a shaky breath as his eyes remain on mine and their corners crease with his smile.
“It’s a good look for you though.” Nice recovery, Des. At least outwardly it is, because inside I’m kind of a wreck with more want than I care to admit to.
“I don’t need to have mud on me to get dirty.”
He winks, gives me one last once-over with eyes that relay every single thing they want to do to me, before he turns on his heel and heads in the direction of his house.