Undone by Moonlight. Wendy Etherington

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       “I woke up naked …”

      Calla’s face turned pink. “I thought you’d be more comfortable out of your clothes.”

      Devin did more for a black T-shirt and jeans than anybody she knew, but the view beneath the cotton was exponentially better. Not that she’d looked. For long.

      And he was still caressing her hand. She inched toward him. Yes, he was worried—even if he didn’t want to admit he was. It would be wrong, very wrong, to take advantage of him in his current state.

      And yet her libido was also needy and it was whispering seductively about the possibility of this being her one and only opportunity to be with him.

      Before her conscience could talk sense to her, or he could think quickly enough to shove her away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

      Desperate as the move was, it was worth the reward.

      He crushed her against him, bracing his hand at the back of her head to hold her in place as he drove his tongue past her lips. Her senses ignited, and he fanned the flames, consuming her like a man starved for air.

      Finally, was all she could think.

      Dear Reader,

      So our Robin Hood gang is back, and this time the tables are turned. After two adventures, two solved cases and two loving relationships, a new threat has invaded to exact its own brand of justice—on Devin, our hero.

      I had always planned Calla and Devin’s romance this way. I wanted the friends—Calla, Shelby and Victoria—to experience success by taking the initiative at righting wrongs, by making a positive difference in their lives and the lives of others. But the concept of what’s right and wrong with society, and who gets to decide, isn’t as simple as it often seems.

      Challenging one’s moral code—in real life or fiction—brings out the best and worst in all of us. And that’s exactly what Calla and Devin are faced with before they, too, can find their happily-ever-after.

      Happy reading!

       Wendy

      About the Author

      WENDY ETHERINGTON was born and raised in the deep South—and she has the fried-chicken recipes and NASCAR ticket stubs to prove it. An author of nearly thirty books, she writes full-time from her home in South Carolina, where she lives with her husband, two daughters and an energetic shih tzu named Cody. She can be reached via her website, www.wendyetherington.com. Or follow her on Twitter @wendyeth.

      Undone by

      Moonlight

      Wendy Etherington

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To law enforcement everywhere.

      Your sacrifice and dedication are appreciated.

      “The law condemns and punishes only actions within certain definite and narrow limits; it thereby justifies, in a way, all similar actions that lie outside those limits.”

      —Leo Tolstoy, What I Believe

       1

       The New York Tattletale

       October 12th

       Lions and Tigers and Scandal Among the NYPD by Peeps Galloway, Gossipmonger (And proud of it!)

      Oh, Dear Reader, one of our own has fallen.

      And fallen hard.

      Detective Devin Antonio (highlighted in this column last spring and summer!) has been mysteriously suspended.

      Apparently (Oh, my, don’t you just love that word?) he found himself at the scene of a robbery last night. The suspect was apparently (there it is again) escaping as the detective arrived, so he apparently (oh, joy!) felt the need to not only slap on the handcuffs, but also use his size and prowess to subdue and control the situation.

      I’m shocked and downtrodden. I’m horrified and sympathetic. I’m literally unable to get out of bed.

      Kidding!

      Though, NYPD, I’m, of course, on your side. I stand for truth and justice above all.

      Apparently, there are some secrets in the great detective’s past he failed to share with those most important in his life. Will this derail his flirtations with a certain travel writer he’s been seen around town with? Will this get him (gasp) fired?

      As documented in this column, he’s helped solve some high-profile crimes over the last several months, including the Jenkins Scandal and the Rutherford Theft. But those triumphs are unlikely to sway the D.A., who’s apparently tired of explaining to the attorney general about why corruption is so prevalent on our beloved island of Manhattan.

      Maybe a hotel heiress or two will do something more scandalous next week … though I’m not counting on it. (Kidding again! I so am!)

      Stay tuned for more apparently bad behavior and (please, oh, please) more hot cops,

       —Peeps

      I dream of you day and night.

      “YEAH, YEAH,” CALLA Tucker muttered at the text message she’d received nearly a month ago and had yet to erase.

      She couldn’t imagine brooding detective Devin Antonio had actually meant the words. And if, by some miracle, he had, he probably hadn’t meant them for her.

      Of course her sarcastic response, Are you feeling okay? hadn’t helped matters. He hadn’t responded to that question at all, and when she’d tried to talk to him about the message, he’d acted as if he hadn’t known what she was talking about.

      Yet she’d left her best friend’s wedding reception early because he hadn’t shown up as he’d promised and now she was scooting around Manhattan in a cab, racking up a fare that she was going to need a loan to pay for, simply because she was worried about him.

      “You want me to wait again?” the cabbie asked as he pulled up to the police station.

      She glanced at the amount, winced, then handed the driver a wad of cash. “No, thanks. I think this is my last stop.”

      She’d already called Devin’s cell phone and sent half a dozen text messages, checked his apartment and phoned Paddy’s bar across the street from the precinct house—his usual haunt—all with no results. If he wasn’t at work, she was out of ideas.

      Wearing a full-length, navy blue taffeta bridesmaid’s dress and a sprinkling of white flowers in her hair, she got a number of stares and two whistles before she yanked open the door and strode inside.

      “I need to see Detective Antonio, please,” she said to the bored-looking clerk, snapping gum as she lorded over the small, dingy waiting room from behind a high, faded-wood counter.

      The clerk tapped on her computer, then announced, “Antonio’s off duty.”

      He certainly promised to take the day off, Calla thought peevishly. And if a luxurious and wildly romantic wedding didn’t get him to finally make a move on her, she wasn’t sure anything would