Title:
Abiding Ink
Author: Ranae Rose
Series: Inked In The Steel City (#4)
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Publisher: Self Published
Release Date: Nov 25 2013
Edition/Formats Available In: eBook & Print
Blurb/Synopsis:
Tyler DeHaven may look like a bad boy, but there’s got to be
more to the tattoo artist who volunteers at the hospital during the holiday
season. Inviting him to a work Christmas party seems innocent enough … at
first. Problem is, he’s just as irresistible as he looks and falling fast is
more than Mallory bargained for. After all, she’s reminded every day what a
gamble love can be, and there’s no question that with him, the stakes are high.
It may be cold outside but Mallory Stephens is the hottest
nurse Tyler has ever laid eyes on. To top it off, she also likes ink and wants
him to be her holiday party date. He’s not going to say no, and when things get
rocky, he’s not going to let their passion frost over, either.
Can a brand-new romance survive the chill as snow falls in
the Steel City?
Book Links
Author Information
Ranae
Rose is the author of over a dozen adult romances and counting. She calls the
US East Coast home and resides there with her husband, child, German Shepherd
dogs and overflowing bookshelves. Writing and reading are lifelong passions
that consume most of her time, and she's always working on bringing her latest
love story idea to life for readers.
Her latest release is Abiding Ink, Book 4 in her Inked in
the Steel City Series.
Author Links
CHAPTER 1 (Excerpt)
“Any new tattoos?” Beneath a helmet of blue-rinsed curls,
Ms. Sherwin’s eyes sparkled as she sat up in her hospital bed, leaning toward
Tyler.
“No, Ms. Sherwin. Just the same old ink I had yesterday.”
“Tsk tsk. I told you yesterday – call me Ruby! If we’re
going to be seeing each other every day, we can at least be friendly.” As he
pushed the meal cart forward, she giggled, sounding more eight than eighty or
however old she was.
“I’m only volunteering here for a week, Ms. – uh, Ruby.” Six
more days, counting today.
She ignored his comment, leaning forward as he approached
with her lunch tray. “Ooh!” Gripping him by the wrist, she pushed up the sleeve
of his thermal tee, exposing half his forearm. Her tiny, pale hand looked and
felt like a child’s in comparison to his. Then again, she was maybe five feet
tall, and he was over six.
“Thought I saw something new,” she said, giving his arm a
surprisingly strong squeeze. “Silly me. My eyesight’s not what it used to be,
you know.”
“Would you like me to hand you your glasses?” He eyed the
pair sitting on the tray beside her bed, thick plastic frames with even thicker
lenses.
Letting go of his wrist – but leaving his sleeve pushed up –
she waved one hand. “I only use those for reading.”
A novel rested on the table, too – a thick paperback with a
woman in an old-fashioned dress posing with a ripped, long-haired guy in a kilt
on the cover. Tyler slid the meal tray onto the table, careful not to knock the
glasses or book off the side.
“Don’t like to wear them when I don’t have to,” she continued.
“They make me feel like an owl.”
“I’m sure you don’t look like an owl, Ms. Sherwin.”
“Ruby.” She tittered. “Now what did you bring me for lunch?”
Peering down at the tray, he tried to think of some way to
put a good spin on the food he’d just delivered. Unfortunately, the crown jewel
of it all was a cup of green gelatin with little chunks of something suspended
in its depths. Pear chunks, probably… At least, he hoped so. “Just what the
doctor ordered,” was his eventual reply.
A lot of the hospital patients had special dietary
restrictions, and apparently Ms. Sherwin was no exception.
“Well, I hope you haven’t been naughty – you know I’ve got
to watch my sugar.” She poked the dessert cup, making its contents jiggle, then
smiled up at him like they shared some sort of private joke.
“I’m sure it’s sugar-free.”
She raised her thin, white eyebrows like she was about to
say something else, but the sound of sneakers against tile filled the room
before she could get another word out.
“Ms. Sherwin.” A clear female voice resounded. “How are we
today?”
Tyler turned and felt immediately as if he’d been
sucker-punched in the gut.
Holy hell. It was her. The nurse he’d noticed yesterday, in
the hall. She’d taken his breath away then, walking by and leaving him to
practically suffocate over his cart full of red and green Jell-O, pale yellow
macaroni and whatever else patients like Ms. Sherwin were allowed to eat. He
hadn’t been close enough to read her name badge then, and now, he wanted to,
but it was hard to look away from her face.
She raised a brow at him and a polite smile just barely
cracked her perfectly-glossed lips. He took in everything – her dark brown eyes
and thick lashes, the wet look her gloss gave her mouth and the little sable
curls near her temples that had escaped the bun she’d pulled her hair back
into. And then his gaze dipped lower.
Okay, it wasn’t that hard to look away from her face. Even
in scrubs, her knockout figure was clearly discernible. Above one shapely breast,
her badge told him that her name was Mallory.
“Looks like I got here just in time,” Mallory said, sweeping
past Tyler and side-stepping his cart. “Let’s check your blood sugar before you
eat lunch, Ms. Sherwin.”
“I forgot all about checking my sugar,” Ms. Sherwin said.
“If it’s high, blame him.” She pointed a finger toward Tyler, grinning. “He’s
so sweet, I think it might’ve rubbed off on me.”
Tyler’s gut clenched as Mallory’s luscious lips curved in a
little smirk. “No worries there, Ms. Sherwin. Unless you’ve sweet-talked him
into slipping you chocolate, like you did that poor girl last week…”
“He would never. He’s a perfect volunteer. I think you all
should keep him around for more than a week.”
“That’s not up to me, Ms. Sherwin.”
Tyler gripped the meal cart by the handle and backed away
slowly, wincing as the wheels squeaked. Yeah, being around Mallory was no
hardship, but Ms. Sherwin was sabotaging whatever chances he might have with
the gorgeous nurse. With any luck he’d run into Mallory again … without a
geriatric flirt like Ms. Sherwin around. His heart sped a little at the
thought, and he cast a last, long look at Mallory’s back as he retreated.
Talk about hot. Her lavender scrub pants didn’t mask the
perfect curve of her ass, and the color flattered her smooth, light brown skin.
It was flawless and uninked – not that she needed tattoos, or anything else, to
look amazing.
“Thanks for bringing by Ms. Sherwin’s lunch,” Mallory called
over her shoulder.
Her words caught him off guard, and he guiltily transferred
his gaze to something else – the window, where snow flurries were falling
beyond the half-open blinds. “No problem.”
The meal cart rattled as he steered it right into the
doorframe.
Damn it.
Mallory and Ms. Sherwin both turned to stare at him.
“Need some help?” Mallory asked, arching one finely-shaped
brow again and looking like she might head his way.
“No, no.” He raised one hand. “I got it.” God. He had to
look like such a douche.
“Told you he was sweet,” Ms. Sherwin said, giggling.
Tyler hurried the hell out of the room, managing not to run
into anything else. He made it several steps before realizing that his left
sleeve was still pushed halfway up his arm. Jerking it down, he covered himself
up. In long sleeves, only the very edges of his full tattoo sleeves were
visible, just barely peeking over the edge of his wrist. Ms. Sherwin had spied
them the instant he’d walked into her room the day before – she was bullshiting
him about her failing eyesight, for sure.
Not everyone was such a fan of tattoos, and so, he kept them
covered while volunteering at the hospital. It was December anyway, and as the
snow falling outside attested, it was more than cold enough to justify his
clothing choices.
Not that he gave a shit, in general, what people thought of
his tattoos. He just didn’t want to make any waves while he was helping out at
the hospital. He was here for his sister, and all he really cared about was
keeping her safe. Maybe it made him a jerk, but he never would’ve volunteered
otherwise. And yet…
He couldn’t help but wonder what Mallory thought of his ink
– what little bit she’d been able to see thanks to Ms. Sherwin, that was. He
wouldn’t have minded if she’d shoved up his sleeve and decided to see for
herself, that was for sure. As he wheeled the meal cart into another room, a
vivid fantasy sprang up in his mind, starting there and quickly taking a much
less innocent turn.
* * * * *
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