The first book in the Weatherboro Mysteries is out in KU and paperback on amazon.

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Jack Tomlins was six feet four inches of muscled goodness. He had dark green eyes, dirty blond hair, and a short, well-trimmed beard shot through with a little silver. His tanned skin made his green eyes look at once deeper and brighter. He was always impeccable, whether in his civilian clothes or what I liked to think of as his detective's uniform, which consisted today of a dark green shirt and black pants. That never distracted me from how handsome he was or his delightful body. He brought out my evil side, and I would love nothing more than mussing his neat look.

 

He always smelled heavenly, at least to me, his aftershave mixing up with warm sunshine and all male. Not that I made a habit of sniffing him. I had an inkling he would take offense. I was always gravitationally challenged, and the most spectacular occurrences had the tendency to happen around him. In the past two years, I had bumped into him more times than I could count.

 

"Oopsy daisy. Detective, if all you wanted was a hug, you could ask. Trust me, I am all for it. Anytime, all the time," I said with a cheeky smile.

 

I looked up as he took a step back. He towered over me, as I was only five feet seven to his six-feet-four-inch frame. And here was the almighty scowl. I still hadn't figured out if it was a default setting or if I was the special person bringing it out.

 

"Mr. Abrams. I would say it's a pleasure, but then again, lying is not my thing."

 

Another impressive start.

 

"Thibault, Detective. Mr. Abrams is my dad. I think after two years, you are allowed to use my first name. What more needs to happen between us before you do?"

 

"You moving out of my way would be a brilliant start. My morning has been bad enough without you making it any worse than it needs to be."

 

Hell, Detective, who pissed in your cornflakes this morning was on the tip of my tongue. I bit it back. It wouldn't help, not that being nice ever did either. But there was no point fueling the fire.