Daring . . . Sexy . . . Irresistible . . .
They’re the Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel

When fireman Fred Breen rescues a bachelorette party after a construction crane collapses onto their limo, the media labels him the “Bachelor Hero.” But all Fred can think about is the petite brunette with the sexy mane of dark curls who bolted away from him faster than a wildfire after he carried her to safety. And when he discovers she’s none other than Rachel Kessler, the daughter of a tech billionaire, the girl whose kidnapping riveted the nation, he intends to learn every intimate detail about this intriguing woman who sets his pulse on fire.

Rachel can’t deny the lean-muscled firefighter is smokin’ hot. But after having one too many drinks at the bar where she first meets him, Rachel knows she’s made a fool of herself. Yet when he rescues her from the limo, she feels safe for the first time since she was held for ransom as a child. Then her overprotective father insists Fred be her bodyguard—and his close presence kindles a burning desire that only he can extinguish.

No woman could help but notice the two men who strode into the City Lights Grill just after midnight. Not with that amount of pure, knockout maleness walking through the door. One had the broken-nose look of a boxer, the other a more fresh-faced appeal, along with a slight limp. Both moved as if they knew exactly what to do with their bodies at all times.

The two, who happened to be off-duty firefighters, didn’t register the influx of feminine attention, maybe because they were used to it. Or maybe because the rougher of the two firemen was too busy lecturing the other.

“The problem with you, Fred,” said Mulligan, “is that you’re too—”

“If you say ‘nice,’ you’ll be on your ass in two seconds.” Fred Breen was at the tail end of a rough night. “And you know I can do it.”

“Yeah, now I know, since you finally let me in on your big secret. But check it out.” He reached for the trophy Fred dangled from one finger, as if he didn’t even care about it. “Second place, it says here. You know who second place is for? Nice guys. Guys who don’t have the killer instinct. Guys who give kittens CPR—”

“Don’t start with the kittens again. They lived, didn’t they?” Fred flung himself into a chair at a table in the corner, then winced. He’d just spent the evening getting the crap beat out of him at the Southern California Muay Thai Championships. Every bone in his body ached, and his muscles had gone into some sort of traumatic shock. “And did you happen to notice the guy who took first? Jet Li couldn’t have beaten that guy. He’s like a sixth-generation master.”

“Excuses, excuses. My point is, I’ve noticed a theme in your life, Freddie-boy. Take Courtney—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Mulligan.”

Even Mulligan, instigator that he was, backed off from the feral glare Fred aimed at him. “Pitcher?” he asked innocently.

“Yeah, sure.” Beer or a full-body transplant, either would do.

Mulligan headed for the bar while Fred, nearly comatose, slumped further into his chair. He knew that no one at the firehouse liked his ex-girlfriend Courtney, which was exactly why he hadn’t told anyone they’d broken up. He was tired of everyone’s opinions on his life. Including Courtney’s. She insisted on calling their current breakup a “trial separation.” Getting beat up by Muay Thai masters was easier than ending things with Courtney.

Jennifer Bernard is a graduate of Harvard and a former news promo producer. The child of academics, she confounded her family by preferring romance novels to … well, any other books. She left big city life for true love in Alaska, where she now lives with her husband and stepdaughters. She’s no stranger to book success, as she also writes erotic novellas under a naughty secret name not to be mentioned at family gatherings.

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