samanthahunter.com::Friction

Her resistance

Sarah Jessup is supposed to be taking some R & R. A former hacker, she's now legit as a member of the crack HotWires team, investigating computer crime on Uncle Sam's dime. Taking her first real vacation in years means leaving the laptop--and handcuffs--at home. Or so she thinks.

Led to a lot of friction

After one too many run-ins with sexy Logan Sullivan at the beach, Sarah is ready to indulge in a fling. Until she accidentally discovers he's a renegade cop on leave working a cold case one involving an internet sex scandal.

Is Logan just using their relationship for cover? And how's he going to react when Sarah pulls out her own police badge?

Awards

Book Reviews

A Romance Review, Sandi, "Friction will have readers staying up until the wee hours of the morning as they'll be unable to stop turning the pages."

Romantic Times, January 2006, Page Traynor, Romantic Times, "Friction (4 1/2 stars) is sizzling and intriguing. Sarah is a strong, appealing woman with demons in her past, and her relationship with Logan is highly conflicted."

Romance Junkies, Sarah W., "FRICTION is the second in Samantha Hunter's HotWires trilogy and like its predecessor, it's a complex and tense romantic thriller. This is an amazing follow up to FASCINATION and will guarantee that readers are going to be hungering for the third tale, EJ's story, in FLIRTATION. "

Coffee Time Romance, Kathy, "Samantha Hunter has written an exciting novel full of action, passion, and intrigue."

Reader Reviews

Excerpt from Friction

From Chapter Two of Friction

Logan lay on the sand letting the heat soak into his skin, consciously relaxing his muscles, forcing himself to be oblivious to everything and anything as he sank into an afternoon nap. Focusing on the repetitive wash of waves onto the shore, his tense muscles seemed to loosen, the sand cradling his body like a hug.

Naps were a luxury he almost never allowed himself, but he had to appear to be a committed vacationer. Just a guy trying to decompress from a very stressful time at work. A shuffling in the sand interrupted his meditation and he opened his eyes to see a deliciously curved female bottom clad in the briefest of shorts, the cuffs of which graced the undersides of shapely thighs. Those were some legs. He could just make out the edge of a white bandage that covered her thigh and frowned — she'd hurt herself.

It didn't stop him from admiring the feminine musculature as she braced herself in the deep sand, her bare feet planted firmly as she bent over the task of opening one of the beach chairs that she'd apparently rented from the vendor on the sidewalk. The chair was not cooperating. Logan helped himself to a long, leisurely view of her legs as she held the stance, smiling when she muttered something at the chair while she struggled with it, oblivious to his gaze. He was about to offer assistance when she finally popped the contraption open, the sudden jolt of energy propelling her backwards toward him.

He braced himself for impact, but she regained her balance at the last moment, though the halting action kicked sand up into his face. He sputtered, wiping the grit from where it stuck to his damp skin and fortunately had missed his eyes. She returned to her spot without so much as a second glance, sinking down into the chair, unaware she'd plastered him with sand.

He watched her stretch out and start to read, and figured the show was over. He should return to his own practiced relaxation and forget the beauty that was parked about six feet away. But only moments after he lay back down and started to-reenter that fuzzy stage of napping he'd worked hard to attain, an odd mumbling sound disturbed his concentration.

It was coming from the chair, or rather, from the woman in the chair. He propped himself up on one elbow, was she talking on a cell phone? Sitting up, curious just because, he got just close enough to hear. . . .

". . .and he laid her back, gently, as if she was the most treasured thing he'd ever had in his possession, and stared into her eyes as his long, thick hardness throbbed inside of her. 'I want all of you, Rose, and I want you to take all of me. . . .'"

Whoa! What the heck? Then Logan realized she was reading aloud to herself, a racy novel, apparently. She wasn't speaking loudly, but in a soft, throaty mumble that certainly made him want to hear more. He leaned in and listened a little more closely.

"She felt her inner muscles tightening around him, waves of pleasure crashing through her though she tried to hold back, but Russell wouldn't let her. He thrust himself into her, pushing red-hot pleasure through her like a sword that pierced her completely and took her breath away--"

He didn't realize the comment had actually come out of his mouth until the sexy mumbling ceased. The woman swung her incredible legs over the side of the chair, peering at him over the same stylish sunglasses she'd worn earlier that day when he'd met her by the door of the inn. He hadn't recognized her from the rear view, nice as it had been.

"Pardon me?" The sexy whisper she'd been reading in shifted to a cool interrogative, and he cleared his throat. There was something about when a woman peered over the top of her glasses that was so totally sexy and completely intimidating. Especially when paired with the high-cheekbones and those amazingly shaped lips. She caught his gaze and held it. Not that he was intimidated, even though her tone remained cool and challenging.

He smiled in what he hoped was a friendly and charming manner. "I thought the whole sword piercing thing didn't sound very. . .romantic. Or pleasurable. I wouldn't want a woman to feel like that when I was, uh. You know."

"When you were. . . what?" Her tone was innocent, but suddenly he was feeling like a mouse being batted around the kitchen floor by the house cat. He leaned in a little more closely, softening his own tone, meeting the challenge.

He'd give her credit; she didn't even blink and didn't back down. She looked back down at her book, studying it for a moment, then looked back at him.

"Well, I was sleeping, but you kicked sand in my face when you stumbled back from that chair, and you've interrupted my nap — twice. I couldn't help but listen in, you were reading aloud for everyone to hear, and since I couldn't sleep. . . ." His words were accusatory, but his tone wasn't, and her smile twitched then widened as she shook her head, giving in.

"Sorry. I didn't realize you could hear me. When I pulled up you looked dead to the world. I would have sat farther away, but I really wanted to find a spot that was out of the way of the action." She looked out at the busy beach, her beautiful blue eyes drifting over the children playing and a group of teens playing volleyball.

She shrugged. "Sometimes. I like romantic suspense more than this kind of thing. This is pretty boring, really."

She smiled again, looking at him fleetingly then turning her eyes out toward the water of the Bay. He sensed that she wasn't really seeing him or any of the beautiful scenery around her. She'd retreated, and he could feel the distance between them in her next words.

"I'm sorry I disturbed you." She started to swing her legs back over the chair, but he didn't want to let her go just yet.

She looked back, obviously wishing she'd been able to succeed with her abrupt dismissal, but then stopped and shrugged.

"I spend a lot of time in front of a computer. Sometimes the surroundings are noisey, so I read out loud while I work, it makes it easier to concentrate. I guess it just got to be a habit. I never really noticed."

She tipped her sunglasses back up on her face, fully covering her eyes. "Sorry again for bothering you."

When he lay back on his towel, all he could hear was the slosh of the waves and voices of the volleyball players. He almost asked her to start reading again.

Sarah held her book in front of her face, but she couldn't concentrate on Rose and Russell's antics anymore, not that she was all that into it in the first place. The sex being described on the page had heated up considerably when the man behind her had decided to share his opinion on what a woman felt when a man was inside of her.

It was something Sarah tried not to think about too often. She knew alot about sex, more than she wanted to. She was exposed to the seedier side of it almost every day, and suffice to say it was nothing like what Rose and Russell were experiencing.

She snorted softly to herself. Nothing about sex was like what Rose and Russel were experiencing. Sex could be fun and relaxing at best, and as for the worst, well, she wouldn't go there. She saw too much of the ugly side of sex in her work. It allowed her to think she'd made a difference in the world, but along the way, she knew something inside of her had been irrevocably lost.

That sense of loss, combined with scars from her past, had left her sleeping alone for several years now. She'd gotten used to it, and even preferred it; she knew how to take the edge off when she really needed to. Men were an unneeded complication, and sometimes a dangerous one.

So why, when the gorgeous man sleeping on the sand behind her had looked at her in just that particular, teasing way, and had offered her a smile that made her toes dig down in the sand, had she not shut him down as hard as she usually did? Why had she talked with him — even flirted a little — and felt a. . .tug? She wanted no part of tugs.

Tugs led to pulls, and pulls led to grasping which inevitably led to sliding, pushing, rubbing and thrusting — ahhhh!

She threw the book down on the sand, disgusted and appalled that just thinking about it had her nipples poking through her tank top and her thighs flexing slightly in response to some internal desire.

This was totally out of character. She wanted to kill Ian for sending her on this vacation.

And sucking. Yes, tugs could lead to sucking, too. And licking. . . . Oh, God, just stop already!

Sarah drew a deep breath, realizing she was probably going insane as her inner dialogue proved in spades. Logan had spoken to her again, but she was determined to just ignore him this time.

Vacation was obviously playing havoc with her normal sense of independence and self-control.

"I couldn't get back to sleep. I was too worried about what was happening with Rose and Russell."

"Do you?" The question was baldly stated and openly curious. He was flirting with her. Well, she would put an end to it.

She rose, struggling with the stupid beach chair once again. The stupid joints wouldn't bend, corroded by salt or age or something, and she growled, putting as much muscle into it as possible. The chair gave way, the metal bending under the force of her efforts, the joint popping altogether.

Didn't this guy ever quit? Still, something about his light, teasing tone and comment broke through her annoyance, and she shook her head, chuckling lightly, letting her irritation fade.

Was he suggesting that he would be worthy? She stood, picking up the broken chair, looking down at Logan and feeling that stupid, aggravating tug yet again.

Okay, so he was eye candy. Lean and tall, he lay over the sand with the kind of reckless sexuality that probably made women turn to jelly with just a look, though he didn't seem to be posing. He wasn't leering or posturing, he was just . . .laying there.

His lean legs stretched out before him, feet half-buried in the sand. The light scattering of dark hair over his legs continued upwards, gathering into a light seam over his flat stomach that thickened a bit on his chest. He had strong shoulders and tight, well-shaped arms. Nice chin, good cheekbones. Firm lips. He was what she always thought of as "whip like" — thin and sinewy, stronger than someone might assume at first glance. Probably fast.

There was a straight, white scar on his shoulder, about two inches long, and she almost asked him where it came from when she realized she'd been staring.

He was grinning, looking up at her silently, waiting for her to finish her obvious inspection. Brown eyes smiled back at her warmly. He wasn't an outdoors type, she guessed. His skin was not quite as light as hers, but it was clear he wasn't used to being out in the sun.

With that clipped statement, she turned and walked away, heading toward the sidewalk.

She hadn't made it halfway across the beach when she realized he'd caught up and was walking beside her. He stood just a little taller than she did, which meant he was at least six foot, maybe a little more, since she came in at five-ten in bare feet. When his arm brushed up against hers, she subtly stepped to the side as she kept walking, not wanting the contact.

"I'll vouch for you that the chair broke when you sat in it and let him know he should be lucky if you don't sue him."

"Brooklyn." Regardless of where she lived now, or where she was born, she would always be from Brooklyn.

"Really? Your accent is certainly that of a New Yorker, but I wouldn't have guessed Brooklyn."

He was not going to be easy to discourage. She looked at him through her shades, knowing he couldn't see her eyes. She wasn't really annoyed with him, she was irritated with her entire situation at the moment. She let that fuel her tone as she shut him down, once and for all.

"Listen, slick, thanks for the conversation but I'm not interested, okay? Have a nice nap."

Turning to walk away, she didn't look back as she left him standing quietly behind her.

Logan stood on the sand and felt put in his place, good and proper. Granted he hadn't dated in a while, and his social skills were probably a little rusty, but. . . ouch. And given the classic male sense of the hunt, wanting to go after things that presented a challenge, he was even more interested now.

He watched her hand the chair to the sidewalk vendor who appeared to be apologizing profusely — the man's eyes level with her breasts the whole time he spoke. Sarah put one hand on a cocked hip and shot the other one to the guy's chin, nudging his eyes up to meet hers. Whatever she said to him had those shocked eyes widening and he nodded quickly, handing her money back and not letting his gaze dip south again.

Logan smiled widely to no one in particular, watching her walk away. It was clear Sarah was a woman who could take care of herself and who didn't suffer fools lightly. She'd shut him down, but he hadn't mistaken her slight flirtation with him earlier, when he'd caught her reading. And even as she told him to pack sand, so to speak, her nipples budded endearingly against the soft material of the tank she wore.

Was she as interested as he was? He felt a curl of heat in his belly and knew he wanted to find out. He hadn't been with a woman for anything more than a one night stand in years, and he hadn't even had that for a while. He was male, she was gorgeous, and he was on vacation, right?

Normal physical desire, effectively erased by the enormous stress he'd been under, suddenly thrummed through his bloodstream again when he called up a mental picture of Sarah's mouth. He could imagine kissing her, tasting her, and let himself imagine her wrapping those lips around him in the most intimate way. . . .

He dropped back to his towel just in time to stretch out on his side lest anyone notice the somewhat untimely erection that sprang to life in response to his thoughts. He was reacting like a horny teenager, but he didn't really mind. It was inconvenient to be sitting here in public with a boner, true, but it was really good to feel normal again. It took him by surprise that he wanted her so distinctly. He took a deep breath to calm down and reminded himself why he was really here.

Losing Melanie, his partner for eight years on the Baltimore police force, and finding out what happened to her, was his goal. Mel had had some problems, sure — especially right before she disappeared, she was on a disciplinary office suspension after having a few too many one night, while on duty. She'd been dumped by her fiancé, and she'd had a violent encounter in an alley shortly after that left her frayed and questioning her judgment and her life. But she was a good cop, and a good partner. Logan believed that now, and he still believed it.

She'd thrown their suspension back in their faces, taking vacation time and heading to VA Beach. It was the last anyone had seen of her until some ugly photographs surfaced during another investigation — explicit, pornographic footage in which Mel was clearly the star. The department was concerned about its public image, but they also considered her trouble waiting to happen, and no one seemed to surprised if she'd gone off the deep-end and got involved with a bad crowd. A really bad crowd, by the looks of it. Though they made the appearance of an investigation, there was no worry about foul play, since she was obviously alive in the photos, and they didn't pay much credence to the fact that no one had heard from her in three months. That was six months ago, almost to the day, and though it seemed logical that she wouldn't want to stay in contact with her friends and family, Logan's gut told him there was more to it, and he couldn't let it go.

He couldn't drop it, though he'd been clearly warned to do so. He knew Melanie, spent hours every day with her, watched her put her life on the line just like every other cop did. She wouldn't have just dropped everything to leave town and pick up a gig as a nude model — even if she was having a bad time of things — and that was a polite description of what the pictures illustrated. Something was very wrong, but he couldn't seem to convince anyone else of that. He needed evidence.

So he made it his personal mission to find her again, or to at least find out what had happened to her. Doing so had taken over his life, interfered with his work, though he tried to keep his investigation low key. He wasn't in love with Mel, but she'd been a good cop and deserved better than she was getting.

She'd been a close friend; he'd met her family. He'd eaten dinner with her parents. And he knew first hand what it was like to lose people who were close to you, what it was like to lose family. How could he face her parents or tell them he'd given up?

He would find out what happened. He would find the answers and the trail had led him here. But he had to be smart about it, because it wasn't the overt reason he was here. He'd been ordered to take a mandatory leave when he'd tried to make his case to the captain, to show him the new leads he'd found. When they refused to budge, and turned their backs, he'd had lost it completely, blowing up in front of everyone in the cap's office.

His job was on the line, but he wasn't going to let go. He had to make sure it looked like he was having a genuine vacation. Detoxing and letting the past go. He didn't think anyone was watching him — he wasn't that important — but he'd rather be safe than sorry.

And how better to do that than to engage in a vacation fling with a beautiful woman? As a cover, it had numerous advantages.

His arousal dampened by his train of thought, he flipped onto his stomach, inviting the heat that soaked into the muscles of his back as his mind drifted to happier pursuits. He pictured Sarah in his mind's eye and smiled. He wouldn't be working every minute, and maybe she would provide the perfect distraction. She wasn't going to be easily convinced, but then he'd always enjoyed the hunt.

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Awards

Book Reviews

Reader Reviews

Excerpt from Friction

From Chapter Two of Friction