A Mighty Good Man
By- Rebecca E. Neely
Genre- Contemporary Romantic Suspense
‘Hank’ Jerry…Her personal and professional life on the skids, a family emergency forces her to return to the small town, and the aunt, she left behind.
Jack ‘Gent’ Darcy…Fresh out of prison, he’s bent on cutting ties with the Creds, but when you're a war counselor in a national gang, they don't let you just walk away.
Injured and on the run, Jack lands on Hank's doorstep, and makes her a proposition she can’t refuse: write his story about life inside one of the most powerful gangs in the country. It’s simple – she’ll get her career groove back, and he’ll bury the gang, then disappear – his version of freedom.
Only problem is, they can’t help falling for each other, and they’ve both got something to hide that could blow up in their faces. With time running out and gang enforcers closing in, will the trust they’ve forged survive the ultimate test?
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About the Author-
Rebecca E. Neely was born and raised in a small town in western Pennsylvania. Her father, an English teacher and a writer, instilled in her a love of words, and literature, especially short stories, at a young age. Her mother, a voracious reader, gave her Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild as a Christmas gift when she was nine, and Rebecca’s been hooked on reading stories of all stripes ever since.
Rebecca enjoys finding, and reading new authors via her Kindle. Live music inspires her, as do the family and friends she’s blessed to have in her life.
In a former life, she earned a B.S. in Accounting, and worked in that field for about a decade. Since 2001, Rebecca has freelanced, writing a wide variety of copy for local magazines, and businesses all over the country. She is a PRO member of Romance Writers of America (RWA), the Western Pennsylvania Romance Writers (WPRW), and is honored to serve as a judge for several writing contests each year.
He cocked his head, as though he wanted to say something else. “We . . . have a lot of work to do.”
“I know.” She waved the obvious aside. “Why should I believe you? Or trust you?”
“Well.” He spread his hands. “I don’t suppose you need to do either.”
“Oh, hell.” She sighed, defeated for the time being. “All right, you can stay. But just for this morning,” she clarified. “Then you have to go.”
He gave her a quick flash of a smile she guessed might make another woman melt, like ice cream on hot apple pie.
“Thank you. Hank,” he said, as if trying it out. “Okay.” He snapped to attention and spoke to himself. “I saw the cubed potatoes for home fries in the cooler. Bacon, sausage, milk,” he continued, to himself.
Hank watched him move through the kitchen whistling under his breath, handily assessing, gathering and preparing with a trained eye. “So, where’d you learn your way around a kitchen?”
He stopped. Still whistling, he hesitated only a second, then turned and met her eyes.