Full Throttle
by T. C. Archer
Contemporary Romantic Suspense
Categories: Action/Adventure, Mystery/Thriller,
Sports-Themed
Publisher: Etopia Press
Release Date: July 6, 2013
Heat Level: Sensual
Word Count: 95,000
Available
at:
Description:
Fast
cars and a smokin' hot passion...
Rex intends to own and drive his own car, but that
will cost him millions up front. Last season was a disaster, thanks to a nasty
break up, but it taught him a lesson and helped sharpen his focus on what he
needed to do: Win every race. And stay away from pretty girls. The last thing
he needed was to learn that his new head mechanic, Jimmy James, was the
gorgeous redhead pin-up walking around his pit like it was some kind of dance
floor.
Gail "Jimmy" James is the first female
NASCAR mechanic. As if competing in a man's world isn't tough enough, her
bombshell figure bellies her genius IQ, and the pit is no place for either.
Nothing Jimmy knew about Rex Henderson the driver prepared her for Rex
Henderson the man. But Jimmy has no time to dwell on her feelings as strange
mechanical problems curse Rex's car. Whether sabotage or her own mistakes,
Jimmy must stay one step ahead of trouble if she's going to keep her job, and
keep her driver alive...
Excerpt:
“What the hell happened?” Rex demanded,
yanking off his helmet.
“The car is new and you were pushing it
hard,” Duff said.
Rex tossed his helmet through the driver’s
window. “Something broke out there. I want to know what it was—and why.” Even
as Rex said the words, he knew his mind had been on Gail more than it should
have been. Had he screwed up?
“We’ll figure it out. First, let’s
concentrate on getting the backup ready. We may still get some laps in by the
end of day.”
They crossed the pit to the half wall in
front of the access road where the crew waited solemnly—minus Gail.
“Where is she?” Rex demanded.
Duff looked around. No one spoke or moved.
No shrugs. Not even a blink. Was she angry enough over last night to quit the
team? Maybe that plus the locker room incident had been too much.
Brent cracked a grin. “I think she went to
the can.”
“The can?” Rex repeated.
“Yeah,” Brent said. “She said she’d wait
for you there.”
Rex whipped his glare onto Brent. The idiot
was begging for a broken nose. Rex took a step toward him.
Brent backed up, hands at chest level.
“Don’t shoot the messenger.”
Rex forced his anger down. One crisis at a
time. He vaulted over pit wall and dashed toward the garage. Behind him, Benny,
the jackman, said, “Sorry Duff. We didn’t expect to be on the track for another
hour. If we had known, we would have let Jimmy—”
Rex trotted around the stalls to the back,
where Duff had set up a port-a-potty for Gail. What could she be doing in that
thing for—a muffled cry was followed by a dull pounding. Rex broke into a run.
He rounded the corner and saw a screwdriver bridging the eyelets on the door
and doorjamb of the port-a-potty. Holy cow! How long had she been locked in
there? At least a good twenty minutes, he realized, and picked up speed. An instant
later, he reached the port-a-potty.
Gail pounded again and screamed, “Let me
out!”
Rex winced. Opening the door would be like
cutting into a hornet’s nest. He should make whoever locked her in let her out.
He gripped the door handle and said softly,
“Gail.”
She went quiet.
“I want you to know I had nothing to do
with this.”
“And I’m the Queen of England. Let me out
of here!”
She kicked the door twice. The plastic
bellowed with each blow. Rex blew out a breath. How had the flimsy plastic
contained her for twenty minutes? He gripped the handle of the screwdriver.
Sucking in a deep breath, he yanked the screwdriver from the catch and jumped
back.
The door sprang open. Gail leaped from the
port-a-potty. She shoved at his chest. “You conceited jerk! You think that’s
funny?”
A man couldn’t help but smile a little.
“Gail, I didn’t—”
She snatched the screwdriver from him and
pointed it at his chest. “It’s Jimmy. Get it right.”
Rex sidestepped a swipe of the screwdriver.
“First the locker room, now this!” She stomped
closer. He fell back a pace. “Let’s not forget last night at dinner!” She made
another jab with the screwdriver.
“Gail—” He saw her fingers ball into a
fist.
“Jimmy!” She punched his stomach.
Rex flinched, then sucked breath. He’d been
ready for the punch, but she’d gotten him smack dab in the solar plexus. A
feminine chuckle sounded behind him. He whipped to the side.
Laura Banks, blonde bombshell NASCAR
reporter, smiled. “What’s going on, Rex?” She glanced at Gail, then leveled a
brown-eyed stare at him.
“Nothing.” Rex shot Gail another glare.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your
new mechanic?”
Helluva time for Laura to show up. Sweat
glistened off Gail’s forehead where her hair was plastered to her forehead, and
she still pointed the screwdriver at him as if he were a screw that needed
screwing.
“Not now, Laura.” Rex eyed the screwdriver
and grabbed Gail’s elbow. “We have work to do.” He started toward the garage.
Gail yanked free, but didn’t lower the
screwdriver. “Afraid I’ll steal your thunder?”
He halted. “My car—”
Her brows shot up in a condescending
question.
Rex shrugged. “Laura, this is Gail
James, No. 14’s head mechanic.”
Gail shot him a smoldering glower.
He glanced at the screwdriver. “You might
want to call her Jimmy, otherwise, she’s liable to screw you to death.”
Gail’s eyes widened, and he gave her a let’s
play harder look as he said, “Me, I like living on the edge. Gail, Laura
Banks, official field reporter for NASCAR.”
For an instant, Rex thought Gail might take
another swipe at him, but she dropped her hand to her side and nodded to Laura.
Rex had a sneaking suspicion he would see that tool again, and not in a way he
preferred.
Laura stepped past Rex. “Jimmy, you know
you’re creating quite a stir.” She cast a glance back at Rex and he knew Laura
wasn’t just talking about the media. Damn reporters.
The women started toward the garage.
“Gail,” Rex called.
Her head jerked to the side and her
narrowed eyes met his.
“When you finish with Laura, you might want
to pitch in with the car. I crashed it.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“My producers are screaming for an
exclusive,” Laura said, but Rex didn’t think Gail heard. Her gaze remained
transfixed on him. He almost felt sorry for her.
“Can we go somewhere and talk? I want to
know everything,” Laura said. Gail slowed and Laura said, “Ms. James?”
Rex caught the anxiety in Gail’s eyes
before they turned the corner. A second later, Duff appeared around the garage
headed in Rex’s direction.
Duff halted beside him. “Locked in the
port-a-potty?”
Rex nodded, his attention on the spot where
Gail had disappeared.
“Was she mad?”
Rex turned his attention to Duff. “Mad
doesn’t do it justice.”
About the
Author:
T. C.
Archer is comprised of award winning authors Evan Trevane and Shawn M. Casey.
They live in the Northeast. Evan has a Ph.D. in electrical engineering, and
Shawn is a small business owner. Their collaboration began on a lark with the
post WWII film noir story The Pickle My Little Friend, and has evolved
into over a dozen works, which includes their new series The Phenom League,
and Daphne Du Maurier winner the romantic thriller For His Eyes Only.
Connect with T.C. Archer
Thanks for the awesome giveaway. I would love to read this book., Sounds very good.
ReplyDeleteFull Throttle sounds like an exciting book. Thanks for sharing the excerpt and thanks for the great giveaway.
ReplyDeleteLook forward to reading. Thank you for the giveaway.
ReplyDelete