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Wild And Dirty

Wild And Dirty

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Wild And Dirty

161 pages
2 heures
Apr 6, 2017


From USA Today Bestselling author Elle Boon comes a second chance at love story in this heart wrenching tale that has readers on the edge of their seats from beginning to end. Batter up!

Traumatic heartbreak at the tender age of eighteen had Wren Mikaels avoiding love and focusing solely on her education. Now, years later, a car accident finds her with not one, but two heroes coming to her rescue—including the very man who left her without a word of explanation all those years ago.

When Donovan Lowes and his friend, Alex, stop at an accident site, he's shocked to find Wren inside the wrecked car. The last time he saw her—naked, in his cousin's bed—he left without a backward glance. But Van realizes it's past time they worked through old hurts. Because the more he gets to know the woman she's become, the more he understands his attraction to Wren never died…and Alex feels her allure, too.

But happy-ever-afters are rarely so easy. It seems Wren's accident wasn't so accidental after all. Someone is out there, watching…waiting…and determined to snatch Wren's newfound happiness away—permanently.

Apr 6, 2017

À propos de l'auteur

Elle Boon lives in Middle-Merica as she likes to say…with her husband, two kids, and a black lab who is more like a small pony. She’d never planned to be a writer, but when life threw her a curve, she swerved with it, since she’s athletically challenged. She’s known for saying “Bless Your Heart” and dropping lots of F-bombs, but she loves where this new journey has taken her. She writes what she loves to read, and that is romance, whether it’s erotic, Navy SEALs, or paranormal, as long as there is a happily ever after. Her biggest hope is that after readers have read one of her stories, they fall in love with her characters as much as she did. She loves creating new worlds, and has more stories just waiting to be written. Elle believes in happily ever afters, and can guarantee you will always get one with her stories. Connect with Elle online, she loves to hear from you:

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Wild And Dirty - Elle Boon


Chapter One


Wren sighed as the last customer left. Working at two clubs, plus working on her master’s degree, was starting to wear her down.

Why don’t you head out? I’ll finish up behind the bar. Ron, the other bartender at Diamond Dolls, jerked his head toward the door.

She ran her hands through her hair, freeing a few tangles that had resulted from the curls she’d put in it before her shift. You sure? God, she really wanted to take him up on his offer. A glance around the now lit bar let her see it was almost all cleaned up.

Ron snorted. Yeah, you go on. I have a date waiting for me. He grinned, showing off his killer smile.

Thanks. I’ll pay you back, she promised, then held up her hand. Don’t ruin a good deed with any stupid remarks. The other bartender was hot as hell, but she never dated someone she worked with. At twenty-five, she’d learned to never mix business with pleasure, unlike Ron, who had no problem with it.

Right on cue, the back door opened. One of the new dancers came out wearing more than she’d worn onstage, her hips swaying back and forth in a way no man could ignore as she swayed to the bar.

I wouldn’t dream of it, doll, Ron assured her, his eyes already on the blonde bombshell heading their way.

I’ll see you next weekend. Have fun. She heard him murmur something about always, but her tired mind was already thinking about the paper she had to finish. Grabbing her purse from under the end of the long counter, she waved goodbye then left out the back exit.

Her car was parked under a streetlight. Her mama hadn’t raised a fool, after all. After glancing around the empty lot and seeing only a few cars that had to be the new dancer’s, Ron’s, and another she didn’t recognize, she quickly got into her car. The night was a bit chilly with the promise of spring in the air, but a light drizzle made it seem colder, and she wished she was already home. Wearing her black leather jacket over a white tank top with the club logo scrawled on her chest, and a pair of jeans, she was ready for spring to hurry and get there.

Pulling out of the lot, Wren headed for the highway. The empty streets gave her the heebie-jeebies every time she drove home at three in the morning.

Oh, for crying out loud, you’re a big girl. She turned the radio up, listening to her favorite mix on CD, and sang along to Just Like Fire by Pink. She was definitely surrounded by clowns and liars, as the lyrics said; hell, most of the clients who came into Diamond Dolls were. One day she wanted to be running free—another line from the song, and one she sang at the top of her lungs.

She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel along with the beat, belting out the words as her exit sign came into view. The wipers swished furiously with the now pounding rain, making it hard for her to see. She turned her signal on, then pressed the brake to slow down.

When her foot went to the floorboard, she panicked.

Sweat instantly beaded on her forehead. Fingers gripping the wheel till they turned white, Wren tried to remember what her Driver’s Ed teacher had said to do in such a situation.

Shit! Her mind whirled as her exit passed. With her foot off the gas, she continued to move forward. Her car was slowing, but not enough to make the next turnoff.

Up ahead, she could see another exit, and after that, an intersection. How lucky could she be that there would be no traffic? If she blew through a red light, she’d take a ticket—or maybe another vehicle would be coming from the side. Getting T-boned wasn’t a prospect she wanted to face.

Shifting down to a lower gear hit her as an option. At the speed she was going, it would likely screw up her transmission, but getting hurt in a crash, or worse, dead, were the only other alternatives.

Downshifting had the car jumping—and the speed lowering. Yes, she gasped. One gear lower and her little Honda was down to twenty miles an hour, slow enough she felt she could make the next exit.

Tears gathered in her eyes as she turned—then realized her mistake. The twisting road had a steep drop, and the wet conditions, mixed with her inability to brake, made it impossible for her to make the twists and turns. With the guardrail getting closer, and neither side looking any safer, she held her breath and struggled to stay on the road.

She sent a prayer up to the heavens as she gained speed again, her car skid out of control then collided with the unforgiving metal at the side. The trees came closer hitting her car, making the wheel spin out of her hand. Her head hit the driver’s side window, and then blessed darkness overtook her.


Holy fuck, man. What’s that? You think there’s an alien shipwreck down there? Alex Summerston pointed down the steep cliff to his right.

Donovan, or Van to his friends, snorted. Dude, I knew you’d had too much to drink tonight.

Alex shook his head. Seriously, pull over. The closer they got to the steepest part of the exit, the more he could see the guardrail had been broken. A sick feeling hit his gut that had nothing to do with the whiskey and beer he’d drank. No, look at the railing.

Ah, shee-ot. Let me call 9-1-1. Van pulled to the side, his cell in hand.

Not waiting for his friend to make the call, he hopped out when the car had come to a stop and looked over the edge, whistling between his teeth. A small, sporty little red car sat below, looking as if it had slid off the road and rolled until it came to a stop on the driver’s side. He wondered how many people were inside and if they were alive.

Ignoring the steady downpour, Alex inched his way down the hill, grabbing onto a couple of branches that stuck out of the embankment. Once down, he made his way around the vehicle and looked in through the windshield. He used his cell phone as a flashlight and could see a young woman, her hair covering her face, but couldn’t tell if she was alive or not.

Yo, Alex, the cops are on their way. What we got? Van asked, coming around the front end of the car.

They both stared at the young woman. Neither wanted to think she wasn’t alive. Alex put his hand on the windshield. I’m going to tap on this, see if we get any response. Damn. He looked up at the sky, praying someone was shining down on them, before he tapped the glass. Can you hear me in there?

Be careful. Are there any cracks in the glass? We don’t want to shatter it, too. Van walked around the front. Nah, it looks good. Yell louder. Fear was in his friend’s tone.

Alex took a deep breath, squatting down to get a closer look, tapping a little harder, and then doing as Van suggested. He hollered, loud enough to wake the dead, or at least his mother always accused him of it when he was yelling. The slight movement from inside made his stomach clench. She moved. Booyah, she’s alive, man. Elation flooded him.

Van hurried next to him. That’s great. Tap on the window again. Let her know she’s okay and not alone.

He looked at his friend. She’s probably gonna freak the fuck out. What do we do? He looked around at the dark night, almost feeling as if someone was watching them.

Hey, you’re okay. The police and ambulance are on their way. Just stay calm, sweets, Van yelled.

The woman inside lifted her right hand, trying to get the hair out of her face. Alex burned with the need to get to her and help. However, he didn’t want to hinder the cops or medical people when they got there. My name is Alex, and this is my best friend Van. Can you hear us? Nod if you can?

Once she’d moved enough hair off her face, Alex sucked in a breath at the beauty staring at them. Even with blood covering her from a nasty cut, he could see she was gorgeous.

Her hand shook, but she nodded, then licked her lips. I wrecked my car.

He smiled. Yeah, I think you did.

My...my brakes didn’t work. I tried...I did what I thought was best, but I didn’t know this exit. She closed her eyes.

Hey, don’t go back to sleep. Stay awake. What’s your name, gorgeous? Alex tapped the glass. The fact she’d tried to take this turnoff without breaks would scare someone who knew the road, let alone someone who’d never been on it.

She blinked up at him. You’re bossy.

Van got closer to the window. That he is. My name is Van. What’s your name?

Wren. Your name is Van, like the Mystery Mobile? I knew a guy named Van once.

Alex laughed at the look of bewilderment on his best friend’s face. He wasn’t sure who this woman was, but he wanted to get to know her. He’s more like Shaggy, while I’m more like Fred.

Wren gave a little laugh, then grimaced. My head hurts. She lifted her hand, running her palm over the back of her head.

The sound of sirens could be heard. Sounds like the cavalry has arrived, Alex said. That sense of being watched hit him again, making him look into the darkness behind him.

You feel that? he murmured to Van. His friend’s face had gone a shade paler but worry for the woman, and over their surroundings, pushed to the front of Alex’s mind.

Van leaned out of Wren’s sight before answering. Yeah. Think there’s some wild animal out there thinking to make us its next meal?

Alex glared out at the night. I bite back.

Too bad we didn’t bring our bats down here. Batter up. I’d knock the fucker into the outfield. Van turned back to Wren.

Shit, when was the last time you hit a ball into the outfield? Now me, I’m a homerun-guarantee kind of guy, Alex assured him.

Van elbowed him in the stomach. Don’t listen to him, Wren. I’m the star player for the Bowie Baysox. Do you like baseball? Van asked as she stared at them both.

I live in Baltimore, of course I love baseball, she assured.

Lights flared down the hill. Alex heard several voices yelling, and then they were being moved aside as emergency workers came along to rescue Wren. An odd feeling of loss hit him.


Van watched as men and women broke through the windshield then carefully extricated Wren from her totaled car. It took all his self-control not to rush over and help.

Shit. Wren Mikaels, the only female he’d loved and lost, didn’t recognize him, and he was staring like a lovesick fool.

He felt the same emotions threatening to choke him as he had all those years ago, the ones that said she was his.

His mama had said his daddy felt the same for her when they’d first met, claiming she was the only one for him. She’d fallen off her horse, and his dad was the one to find and rescue her way back then. Now, over thirty years later, here he was, finding a woman who hadn’t exactly fallen off a horse, but her car had certainly fallen off a hill.

He shook his head at his absurd thoughts and moved back as they loaded Wren onto a stretcher.

You have that look, my friend, Alex said, his Spanish accent heavier than usual. With an Anglicized last name like Summerston, many had no clue until they got to know Alex that his lineage stretched all the way back to some conquistadors on his mother’s side.

He crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to acknowledge Alex’s words. Did you give them your statement yet? Van asked instead.

Nope, they haven’t asked. Which you know, since you’ve been standing next to me the entire time, Alex growled.

They were interrupted by an officer. His face and posture said he wasn’t in the mood to put up with bullshit. I’m going to need you boys to tell me what happened.

Van looked

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