Laura Harner is visiting today to talk about Prevailing Winds. She's also included an awesome excerpt and an amazing giveaway!
After another deadly tragedy touches both their lives, the men say what they believe must be their final goodbyes—only to have their worlds collide once again. This time they end up in Las Vegas, one man for work, the other to try to mend a very personal pain.
Although Jamie and Remy once excelled at mixing business with pleasure—this time, the stakes are much higher—they’ve got forever on the line. When they discover Jamie’s case has an unexpected connection to Remy’s son, they must put everything aside to find Toby before the young man makes a decision that will change all of their lives. One thing is positive, time is running out.
Cover Artist: Laura Harner
Publisher: Hot Corner Press
About the Author:
Raised in California, Laura likes it hot, which explains why she ended up in Arizona via such diverse places as Japan, Maine, and Florida, and many more places in between. After retiring from the US Navy, she found a niche working for land management agencies, including the National Park Service and the Bureau of Land Management. Though she has held many jobs around the world, her favorite was working and living in Grand Canyon National Park. Working (and eating) in New Orleans was a close second. You will find many of her books are set against the rich backdrops provided by coastal Louisiana and northern Arizona.
When asked how she started writing, Laura tells of waking on Boxing Day a few years ago, with a woman named Elena MacFarland yammering in her dreams, demanding her story be told. Despite never attempting to write fiction before that morning, Laura ignored all of the holiday visitors and the Highland Destiny series was born. She doesn’t believe it was a coincidence that the great grandmother who died when Laura was just a baby was named Elena MacFarland. Destiny does play a hand.
Laura became a full-time writer in 2012, and now she spends her time writing, watching her Arizona Diamondbacks, and working on her very own version of the Willow Springs Ranch in northwestern Arizona. She is a multi-published author of erotic romance, mystery, and urban fantasy and her books can be found at all major online retailers.”
“I don’t know if I can do this, cowboy,” Jamie whispered. Even while his heart was busy trying to put on the brakes, his traitorous hands slid to Remy’s waist. He leaned up to steal another kiss. The slide of slick tongue, the wet heat, familiar taste all insistently telegraphed the same message. This is right.
Jamie arched toward Remy, tugging at his shirt, sliding hands along the hot flesh, pulling him closer. Returning the kiss, Remy made a noise halfway between a groan and a growl, then took a commanding control, forcing his head back, their tongues dancing in an addicting blend of white-hot urgency.
Just like the first time they’d kissed, the effect of Remington’s kiss was like no other. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was an assault on his senses that left his head spinning and his lungs desperate for oxygen. Even his toes tingled. Intense. Passionate. Perfect. They fit together in a way he’d never been able to duplicate with any other man. Yin and Yang. Black and Tan. Fish and Chips. Breaking their kiss, Jamie nearly snorted with laughter.
Immediately, Remy dropped his hands to his sides and took a giant step backward. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I didn’t mean to—” His eyes were heavy, the lush lips swollen from their kisses, the dress shirt untucked and rumpled. Jamie wanted to finish undressing him, to use his mouth to ravish that beautiful body.
Trying to focus, Jamie said, “No—it’s not that. I was thinking—”
“Always dangerous with you,” Remy interrupted.
Jamie laughed again. “Too true. I was thinking about how perfectly our kisses seem to fit together. The things you do to me are like no one else…then I lost the thread.” He repeated his thoughts.
“Like fish and chips? Seriously?” Now Remy was laughing, too. “How do I go from being your best kiss to being compared to a piece of cod?”
Jamie shook his head. “I don’t know. Nerves, maybe?”
Remy nodded. “I’ll go back to my room.”
“No,” Jamie practically shouted. Remy tilted his head and blinked. The man probably thought him mad. Maybe he was.
“Jamie, help me out here. What can’t you do? How can I help?” Remy took Jamie’s hand and started to lead him toward the couch. Jamie tugged him to the bedroom instead.
“I don’t want you to leave, Remy. Really, I don’t. Let’s go to bed.”
“Jamie, you don’t have to do this. In fact—shit, I can’t believe I’m saying this—but I’d rather we not do anything if you’re not sure.”
“That’s just the trouble, Remy. I’m sure I want this.” He used two fingers to point back and forth between them. “What I’m afraid of is what happens afterward. I’m not sure I can…survive watching you walk away again. And God, I’m so sorry. I know it’s way too soon for both of us—too soon after Miggy—too soon for this to be something you can commit to. That’s what scares me.”
Remy pulled Jamie so they both sat on the edge of the bed. Their hips touched, but Remy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the position he always assumed when he needed a bit of self-protection. “I get that. I’m scared, too, you know. It nearly killed me to watch you walk away in Phoenix. And you’re right, it’s too early to search out Elvis and put on wedding bands. But Jamie, I don’t think it’s too soon to say we can try.”
Jamie’s stomach twisted, and his heart thudded erratically. Remy turned his head, and gave him a half smile. “Miggy…his death was ugly, beyond senseless. It was a fucking bomb, set two years ago by that asshole Cortez. And we never knew. We all went about living our lives—never once considering we were running out of time. All of us, Jamie—not just Migs. But here’s the thing…I don’t regret the journey, even if I hate the ending. But I have to wonder, what other time bombs are waiting for us? What regrets would we have if one of us died tomorrow?”
The words released the binds around his heart. As if someone opened the starting gate, Jamie surged forward, knocking Remy back onto the bed with an oomph. Like the crazed man he was beginning to suspect he was, he fumbled until he managed to get Remy’s shirt and slacks open. He was making splendid progress until he was distracted by the warmth of the big hands that slipped under his shirt and the roll of Remy’s hips. Even through their remaining clothes, hard length pressed against hard length.
“Jamie,” Remy said his name like some sort of incantation, weaving a spell with his voice. Jamie cried out when he was flipped over, his back landing on the mattress with a thud, and he was pinned by the weight of Remy’s body. His mouth was plundered as Remy tasted and pulled back before tasting again. So much like their first time.
Breaking their kiss, Remy rose to his knees and tugged his shirt over his head, then stood and gave Jamie a long look. Jamie remembered the taste of those finely pebbled brown nubs, the scrape of the coarse brown chest hair, the heat of the golden skin. Still Remy waited, thumbs hooked inside his waistband, the zipper unfastened, more than a hint of cock showing, since he’d obviously gone commando. Jamie licked his lips and glanced up to meet Remy’s heavy look. Only then did Remy finally let his slacks drop to the floor. Jamie unfastened his own pants, but Remy pushed his hands aside and finished undressing him, adding his clothes to the growing pile. Then they were pressed naked together and Remy’s mouth found his once more.
“Say my name,” he demanded.
Jamie smiled. “Remy,” he mumbled against the warm lips that branded him as claimed. “Remy. Remy.”
“Fuck, Jamie. I love the way you say my name,” Remy whispered.
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