New York’s hottest fireman just got hotter.
As a top journalist, I’ll do anything for a story.
The hotter the story, the better.
And hot’s just what I get when Stone Black from the Fire Station 128 came into my life.
Love wasn’t part of the plan, but those gorgeous green eyes and a hose big enough to put out my fire won me over.
I try to keep it physical, my career allowing no time for romance, but I soon learn there’s more than meets the eye with Stone.
He’s not just one of New City’s finest fireman, he’s a loving single father.
Now, he’s ready to tear down my professional boundaries, to take what he wants.
Soon I’m dangerously close to my story, and only Stone can protect me.
And when I find out I’m carrying his baby, it’s clear that if I’m not careful I just might get burned.
Maybe…that’s just what I want.Books in Series:Hot Boys Series by Olivia RushBooks by Author:Olivia Rush Books
"Are you kidding me" You really want me to write an article about a bake sale""
I sat back in my office chair and shook my head. My fire-red hair fell in loose curls around my electric blue eyes, and a puff of air from the side of my mouth only served to bounce the curls around a bit before they fell right back onto my face.
"It"s not just any bake sale"it"s the fourth annual autumn bake sale," said Meg, my pretty blonde coworker. "And if that wasn"t enough, it"s for one of the most expensive private schools in the city. Look."
"Am I supposed to be impressed by that or something" I mean, what"re the odds that these Pilates moms actually made any of that stuff""
"I wouldn"t say "impressed" is the right word. And you never know about the cooking skills."
"Am I a bad reporter or something"" I asked. "No, there"s no way that could be it. But why am I having such a hard time finding a damn story""
I stood up from my desk and walked over to the windows of the New York Weekly offices, the magazine where I"d been working as a reporter for the last few years. I spread my arms out like wings in front of the sweeping view of midtown Manhattan, the view that had never failed to inspire some of my best work.
After I"d gotten my fill of the gorgeous city vista, I turned back to the bustling office space.
"I mean, seriously," I said. "We live in the center of the universe! How hard can it be to find a story""
"You tell me," said Meg. "I"ve got my work lined up for the next month."
"Yeah, well, you"re doing social calendar stuff," I said. "There"s never any shortage of rich people having charity balls or whatever."
Meg raised her eyebrow at me.
"Are you suggesting that covering the lifestyles of the exceedingly rich and painfully famous isn"t heartwarming work""
I let out a laugh.
"I don"t know," I said. "I just don"t know how I"d be able to write stories about the kind of people who have walk-in closets bigger than my entire apartment."
"Someone"s jealous," said Meg, that raised eyebrow still arched. "Maybe you need to actually get back out there into the dating world and try and land one of these guys."
"No way!" I said. "Can you imagine dating one of those guys" They come in two flavors: Agro-Alpha Finance Guy, or More-Sophisticated-Than-Thou Rich Kid. All the money in the world couldn"t make me date one of them. Again."
Then I waved my hands in front of my face, my curls bouncing wildly.
"OK, enough of this," I said. "You"re getting me distracted. I need to find a new story"something with hooks, something with drama, something that"ll catch the eye of the businessman or woman grabbing their morning coffee at their newsstand."
"Don"t forget the human touch," said Meg.
"That too," I said, raising a slim finger toward Meg. "Gotta have the human angle."
"So, you basically want to write the best story of all time"" asked Meg.
I snapped my fingers as if she"d just said the most brilliant thing possible.
Meg"s green eyes went slightly wide.
"Um, I was kind of joking."
"Maybe you were," I said. "But I"m not. I"ve been turning in passable stuff for the last year, like I"ve been coasting on autopilot. But the thing is, I haven"t been challenging myself. I need to write something amazing, something that"ll define my career."
"And you"re sure the bake sale isn"t it"" asked Meg, her mouth twisting up slightly into a smirk.
I swatted her on the shoulder, then plopped my feet on my small, cluttered desk and flicked on the little TV in the corner that I occasionally watched for story ideas.
The image on the screen captured my attention instantly. It was a close-up of a fire, the orange flicks of flame darting out into the air like a dragon"s tongue. Smoke billowed from the building, and the clear, blue sky provided a sharp contrast to the chaos of the blaze.
"Holy crap," I said, crossing my arms on my lap and leaning forward. "What the hell is that""
"You haven"t heard about th""
My eyes still locked onto the TV, I held up a finger toward Meg. I pressed the "unmute" button on the remote and listened carefully.
""footage last Friday of the raging fire in Williamsburg. Luckily, no one was on the floor at the time of the fire, the offices occupied by Waterford Financial Services, a thirty-man holdings company. Firefighters were easily able to take care of the blaze. A local crewman from Brooklyn"s Ladder 128 had this to say about the fire."
A man appeared on the screen, and I don"t think I would be exaggerating if I said he was the best-looking man I"d ever seen in my life. His hair was as black as lacquer, his eyes were a gorgeous, emerald green, and his jaw was so strong and wide it looked like it was carved out of granite. His nose was slim yet masculine, and his red lips had a charming sensuality to them. And though the shot on the TV was only from the neck up, it was easy to see that there was a strong, built body hiding just off camera.