The Ultimate Spicy Powertools Bundle - Books 11-20

Powertools Bundle Look Inside – Rebel on the Run

~Chapter One~

Kaelyn DuChamp kicked the flat tire of her Maserati then hopped around, cursing her likely broken toe. The heel of her stiletto stuck in the mushy ground. A half-dozen windmills of her arms couldn’t stop her from face-planting. On the bright side, the field her car had careened to a stop in was lush. Spitting blades of grass from between her teeth, she attempted to dust off the skirt of her Chanel suit. No use.

When she spotted long, streaked stains on the periwinkle silk, she surrendered to the will of the universe. She flopped onto her back in the wildflower-dotted meadow, trying to appreciate the late-summer blooms and the cotton-candy clouds overhead. An insect of some sort skittered across her thigh. Without looking, she pretended it was a ladybug, since with her luck it probably was a tarantula. Or a millipede. Definitely something poisonous.

Aaaacccckkk.

Forget communing with nature. She should have stayed in the sweltering car. After two hours baking while staring at her dead phone, she’d thought maybe she should try to expand her horizons. Nope. Never mind.

Good thing there was no one within a five-mile radius of her crash site, on the fringe of a podunk town. Her awkward slapping and lurching would have convinced a passerby she was having a seizure.

Somehow, Kaelyn ended up on her knees. Butt on her heels—one shoed, one not—she searched frantically for bugs or snakes or Bigfoot or whatever the heck else might be lurking in the vegetation surrounding her. The bucolic landscape now felt ominous instead of serene, as it had appeared while she coasted past, singing along to the radio in a failed attempt at levity. Her heart pounded as she considered crawling onto the backseat of her busted ride and taking a nap instead of exploring to alleviate her boredom. At least sleep might take her mind off the thirst that had turned her mouth into a fair imitation of the Sahara desert in the couple hours since her tire had detonated.

Why hadn’t she packed a bottle of water?

This is what happened when you tried to fly free.

Who was she kidding? A caged bird like her would never cut it in the wild.

Kaelyn took a deep breath. Then another. Life beyond the invisible crystal bars on her not-so-perfect mansion windows might not be as carefree and exhilarating as she’d imagined while trapped inside, strangled by miles of bureaucracy and endless decorum. Both of which had been unpleasant inheritances bestowed on her as the daughter of an aristocratic politician.

Well, crap.

At least the creepy guy who’d tried to lure her into his pickup a while ago had left with a promise to dispatch a tow truck. Though disgustingly dirty, his ride hadn’t seemed nearly as soiled as his oily leers when he’d invited her to tag along rather than wait for roadside assistance.

She figured the chances of him pocketing the last of her cash without a glance in his rearview mirror had to be at least fifty-fifty.

Proud of her vanishing naiveté, Kaelyn still regretted her recently tarnished outlook on the universe. She sighed.

The deep inhale that followed sucked pollen into the far reaches of her lungs. A sneeze ripped through her. It loosened more hair from her usual chignon, flinging platinum tendrils into her face.

She might have addressed the mess if the rumble of an engine hadn’t caught her attention. Hobbling on mismatched legs—one now five inches shorter than the other—toward the road, she waved her arms and bounced like an insane castaway who’d been stranded on a deserted island for a decade.

Her effort wasn’t necessary. Flashing amber lights crested the hill, followed by a monstrous tow truck decked out in chrome and metallic onyx paint. Enormous fireball graphics exploded over the hood, as if the vehicle plowed through an inferno. Its driver seemed proportionally huge behind the wheel. Either that or the company had a grizzly bear for a mascot and allowed the thing to respond to emergencies.

Darn. Please don’t let this guy be sketchy too, she prayed.

A lifetime of etiquette instruction took control and Kaelyn attempted to groom her disheveled hair, fix her suit, haul her shoe from the muck and school her face into a calm mask of indifference all at once. Illusions were the only source of power she had left.

Instead she only managed to turn in circles, put some color in her cheeks and propel her heart rate from elevated to a ridiculous, extra-nervous thumping that pulsed in her fingertips while she began to perspire.

Fantastic.

Kaelyn deflated, admitting to herself that her great escape had more in common with a fledgling tumbling out of a nest than a majestic eagle learning to spread its wings and soar. She stared at the long, broad shadow her unlikely savior cast as he rounded the hood of his behemoth machine. Please, let him be decent.

Did such people exist? She wouldn’t bet on it anymore.

The clomp of his boots on the tar and gravel of the road was sure and steady as he ate up the distance between them with the immense length of his strides. Laying her shaky, sweaty palms against her thighs, she forced herself to lift her chin.

Kaelyn prepared to do something she rarely did. Okay, never had done before.

Ask for help.

Beg for charity from a stranger no less. Humbling.

Usually she was the one organizing benefits for those less fortunate.

Except, when she scanned from his leather boots to his ripped jeans, which hugged his tree-trunk thighs, to a grease-stained T-shirt that showcased his impressive chest and broad shoulders, everything she’d rehearsed—about how she’d work off her debt, or leave an IOU behind—stuck in her throat.

Or maybe that lump was her heart.

Heaven knew that worthless thing had stopped cold.

Because her savior seemed awfully familiar. He was what her best friend might have looked like if she’d seen the kid grow into an unapologetically sexy man. Instead, his rebellious teenaged urges had led him to a life roaming Europe as some reclusive rich playboy, who’d forgotten about the girl next door by the time his father’s private jet touched down across the pond. She glanced at her inherited Maserati and swallowed around the pain that still lanced her when she indulged in memories of Bryce Ellington IV.

If he hadn’t abandoned her, maybe everything could have been different.

Wishful thinking, she knew from endless experience, didn’t change what had happened. But it could ease the pain for a moment. She thought of him—drawing on the strength he’d embodied before he’d gone completely selfish—to get her through this, like other rough times.

It must be a sign that this man was Bryce’s spitting image. Part of her relaxed.

Unfortunately, she must have whispered his name.

And that’s when the world went insane.

“Yeah, Kae. It’s me.” The grim set of his mouth didn’t make him seem happy to see her either.

Spicy romance novels where love comes in every combination.

Powertools: Hot Rods
The mechanic cousins of the Powertools started off as a ragtag collection of foster kids. They’ve grown into misfit mechanics looking for a stronger bond with each other. The crew provides sexpert guidance to help the Hot Rods navigate their new poly relationship.

Powertools: Hot Rides
The motorcycle sister-shop to Hot Rods is chock full of sexy men who enjoy sharing their women, and each other. Check up on your favorite Powertools universe characters too.

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