Cayce Poponea is from southern Georgia. Where the days are hot and the nights are even
When Cayce isn’t writing, she enjoys time with her husband. Riding around on the back of her husbands motorcycle, most of the time with no destination in mind. Reading has always been a passion for Cayce. She discovered early the secret world it has hidden in its pages. From dragons to princesses with knights in shinning armor. Now that she is older, men with perfect bodies and words that make your heart melt. Women who know what they want and are willing to go after it.
Event planning, dealing with demanding clients and defusing situations before they get out of hand are all in a days work for Christi O'Rourke. But when a mystery man seems to appear at every turn will she have the ability to handle him as well?
Power and wealth are staples in the world of Patrick Malloy. But when family obligations dictate his future, a future involving a certain spirited young woman, will Patrick have what it takes to win her heart or will his lifestyle place her in more danger than he ever dreamed of?
I turned quickly in the direction of the voice. Standing there in all of his glory and entourage was Patrick Malloy. His grey shirt had the top two buttons undone and his blazer matched his pants. His hair was in this incredible disarray, on any other man it would have looked unkept, but on him, it was sexy. His eyes, however, were black and his face was absent of emotion. The room seemed to grow very quiet as he waited for Kevin to answer his question. He then turned his attention to me.
"Legs, care to elaborate?"
I didn't know if it was the alcohol or because I was really pissed that Kevin was taking up air at the moment, but the fact that he couldn't say my name really pissed me the fuck off.
"Okay, first of all, my name is not Legs, it's Christi. That shit just pisses me off to no end. I have a fucking name, Patrick, and I'd appreciate it if you'd fucking use it when you address me."
The look on his face changed as I proceeded to stick my finger in his face, well more like his chest as he was considerable taller than myself. I watched as a tiny smirk began to form at the corner of his mouth.
I didn't let him speak as I continued my word vomit.
"This waste of fucking skin here is the father of my beautiful niece, Abigail, and the fucker knows it, too. He hasn't seen her in years and he refuses to pay one goddamn dime of court-ordered child support. So yes, Mr. Malloy, you have a low-life motherfucking dead-beat father working for you."
His expression changed from the cocky smirk to now one of anger. I should have been afraid of this quick change, but in reality, I was starting to get turned on.