Drug runner Emilio Morales is one deal away from being the sole runner from Earth to the upper planets—until his partner attempts a double-cross. Now, Emilio’s stuck in a disabled spaceship with an unpredictable, attractive female who’s willing to help him out if he’ll assist her in retrieving her ship from an impound facility.
Antonia ‘Toni’ Smith is sick and tired of being beholden to men. The only way to guarantee freedom is to get back her bootlegging ship to run her own business again. When Emilio kills her ticket out, she’s forced to rely on him for assistance. Emilio, the most wanted and annoying man in the solar system, is a sexy-as-hell means to an end.
But every plan the duo makes falls apart and every day they spend in each other’s company increases the tension between them.
With the death toll rising and their defenses low, can Emilio and Toni get the happy ending they want, without falling for each other in the process?
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-talent-for-trouble-landra-graf/1129943733;jsessionid=82B255EBC5E6D8B4128C49C5F8125C5C.prodny_store02-atgap01?ean=9781786864413&st=AFF&2sid=Draft2Digital_7968444_NA&sourceId=AFFDraft2Digital
Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/book/a-talent-for-trouble
He poured himself a glass. Turning it slowly, spreading the liquid up the sides and back down, he noticed he wasn’t alone. “Can I offer you a drink?”
“No,” a sultry feminine voice responded. “There’s nothing over there isn’t made in the still or fermented in a barrel.”
“Suit yourself.” Emilio turned and took in the view. Mother Mary.
The woman, a vision of sin, stood angled toward the fancy window display where three floor-to-ceiling panels showcased the twinkling view. She wore a glimmering red dress, which sparkled even more as she turned toward him. Her hair was a pale-white blonde, short and framing her face, giving it a distinct diamond shape. She’d be labeled gorgeous, more than the word could construe, with her eyes the color of whiskey—and not the cheap stuff in his glass. No, the full-bodied swirling amber and caramel colors.
“What brings you to Casa Manolo?” He swallowed a little more whiskey than he intended and did his best to sound suave, but the words came out more like a croak.
“Nothing that concerns you.” The dismissal paired with a smile, a little thing revealing flawless teeth. He glanced down at her one note of defiance—boots. Grav boots to be exact, black and fierce. A deep, soul-encapsulating need clamped onto his brain, a need he’d waited years to experience. This was the woman he’d been waiting for. The type he’d always wanted. The one he’d call his.
He walked closer, eager to see if she took a similar interest in him. “Oh? Well, I’m happy to make this visit less business and more pleasure. Your name is?”
The words escaped his mouth as he glanced at her lips—expressive, full and waiting for his kiss, even when those same lips uttered, “Too expensive for you.”
Emilio watched her like a hawk. “How the hell do you know how to do that?”
“I captain a ship. Most people don’t just get to run a vessel because they win it gambling.”
“So, you’ve heard of me?” He winked at her.
She groaned. “Yes, by reputation alone.”
“All good things?”
“If you call being a ladies’ man who attracts desperate, scar-loving station-clingers a good thing.” She left out the rumors of his bedroom prowess. Because she’d turned over a new leaf. No sex, no men and definitely no crazy stuff.
“I can tell from your expression you’ve heard other things.”
How easily he’d read her since the moment they’d faced off on Casa Manolo bugged her as well. She focused on the piloting. “Maybe that you won a fancy ship in a poker game.”
“Better to win one than lose one,” he replied.
The words stung, the sharp pain taking up residence somewhere in the center of her chest. Why am I attracted to him again? “You know what they say on Mars…can’t win big if you don’t risk big.”
“Mars girl, eh?”
Toni gave a single nod.
“Makes sense why you’re crazy.”
She wanted to take offense at his shocked tone, dismissive like so many of the men she’d met over the years. The way the upper planets still regarded woman as objects more often than as productive members of society drove her nuts. “Don’t let this dress fool you.”
“It’s doing everything but fooling me,” he retorted with a smirk.
Landra Graf consumes at least one book a day, and has always been a sucker for stories where true love conquers all. She believes in the power of the written word, and the joy such words can bring. In between spending time with her family and having book adventures, she writes romance with the goal of giving everyone, fictional or not, their own happily ever after.
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