Today I am so pleased to welcome Eden Winters to Joyfully Jay. Eden has come to talk to us about her latest release, Suspicion (Diversion Book 7). I am a huge fan of this series (and you can see my reviews here). She has also brought along…. Please join me in giving her a big welcome!
I’m very pleased to be on the site today to tell you about Suspicion, the seventh installment of the Diversion series, offer a giveaway, and most importantly for all you Bo and Lucky fans, give you a peek inside of Bo’s POV and how he feels for Lucky, since so far all we’ve heard is Lucky’s voice.
Lucky and Bo Make Each Other Breakfast
Lucky cracked an egg on the side of the bowl, attempted to separate the white from the yolk, and poured the white inside. Damn. He’d gotten shell in there—again. He poured the yolk into another bowl and chased the fragment with a spoon. Several times he nearly caught the offensive intruder to Bo’s breakfast.
A-ha! Finally he trapped the eggshell against the side of the bowl and reached in to grab it. The fragment slipped back into the goo.
Damn it! After three more tries Lucky shoved the bowl aside, got out a second bowl, and tried another egg, gently this time. The shell didn’t break. He tapped harder. Nothing. Once more, with feeling then. He brought the cackleberry down on hard glass. The eggshell split, one side hitting the floor and the other dropping into the bowl.
At least this time he has a piece large enough to grasp. He miscalculated and dipped his fingers into the egg. Well, he had washed his hands.
Now for the second egg. Lucky whacked the shell on the rim of the bowl. The bowl skated across the counter. No!
Lucky lunged, but the bowl slipped by, crashing to the floor. He sighed. That was his last egg too. Good thing he still had the…
The scent of scorch hit his nose and he whirled toward the stove, now covered with grits. When had the pot boiled over?
He grabbed the spoon and stirred. Black chunks came off on the spoon.
Fuck. Could anything else go wrong?
Pot in hand, he hurried to the sink. He felt the slime a micro-second before his foot slipped. Down he went. Oof! Ow! He rubbed his ass. That hurt!
So much for surprising Bo with breakfast. Oh well, as a vegetarian Bo seldom ate eggs anyway.
He reached into the cabinet for two packs of instant oatmeal he’d bought for his nephew for an art project of some kind, emptied them into a bowl, added water, and stuck them in the microwave. By some miracle he hadn’t burned the toast, and Bo’s single serve K-cup dispenser meant the green tea came out okay.
Wincing at the mess he’d made, Lucky loaded toast, the oatmeal, and a glass of orange juice onto a tray that probably had come from Bo since he didn’t remember owning one.
He sidestepped the egg mess and broken bowl and proceeded down the hall before the toast got cold.
He’d clean up later.
Bo propped his tablet on the counter. Hmmm… What could he wow Lucky with for breakfast? Eggs Benedict? French toast? Or maybe a western omelet.
How about French toast and an omelet?
He beat two eggs into a bowl and dropped the shell onto a plate to add to the compost heap later. A bit of cinnamon, some vanilla…
The leftover loaf of French bread would make good toast. He carefully cut a few slices, dipped them in the egg mixture and, one by one, placed them on the griddle.
He dumped the leftover mixture into the disposal, ran some hot water, rinsed the bowl, and placed it into the dishwasher.
Next, he beat more eggs, put an omelet pan on the stove to warm, and rummaged through the refrigerator for fillings. The sautéed onions, peppers, and mushrooms left over from last night’s spaghetti dinner would work well.
He oiled the pan and poured out the eggs. Oh yes, cheese.
Bo grabbed the grater and a chunk of extra sharp cheddar.
A few minutes later he arranged the omelet and French toast on the slightly chipped wooden tray he’d cherished for years when others might have discarded the scratched wood. It had been his mother’s, one of the few things he had of hers.
Lucky’s voice stopped him at the kitchen door.
“I’m telling you, Charlotte, I don’t know what he sees in me. He’s smart, educated, and sophisticated. Especially now that he’s getting promoted. He’s so out of my league. No matter how much I try, I can’t seem to be the man he deserves. I’ll always be a hick. What could he possibly want with me?”
What? Bo barely swallowed around the lump in this throat and blinked back hot tears. What had he done to make Lucky feel that way?
“I know, I know. He’s says he doesn’t want me to change for him, but I’m a redneck tobacco farmer’s son. He’s… he’s… He deserves better is all.”
How could Lucky say such things? Without him Bo never would have survived Mexico. When he would have given up, Lucky never did. Wouldn’t let him wallow and feel sorry for himself.
Even when Bo told him to stay away, Lucky persisted. While Bo sat in rehab, thinking life was over, Lucky was out house-hunting, planning their future together.
Lucky had accomplished more, starting with less, than anyone Bo’d ever known. If anything, Bo didn’t deserve Lucky, with his bull-headed, stubborn, unwavering loyalty. Didn’t the man know how much Bo loved him? Needed him?
Bo and stared down at the tray in his hands through blurry eyes, the meal he’d made to show his love, and that Lucky was good enough for him, all he wanted.
French toast. Western omelet—with capers. He set the tray on the counter. Would Lucky see his loving gesture as Bo being “sophisticated”?
He shoved the tray into the cool oven to be dealt with later and closed the door.
Grits, eggs, and toast it was.
And maybe, just maybe, a few strips of bacon.
Lucky “Simon Harrison” Lucklighter left behind his criminal past to become one of the best agents in the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau. He’s found a committed partner in fellow agent Bo Schollenberger and built a life.
Now, enemies within the SNB and a friend’s betrayal leave him nowhere to turn—not even to his mentor.
His boss’s life, the future of the SNB, and Lucky’s career depend on him. With the help of his lover, an old enemy turned ally, and a man Lucky thought he’d seen the last of, he must stand and fight for what he believes in.
Even if he has to step outside the law.
You will know Eden Winters by her distinctive white plumage and exuberant cry of “Hey, y’all!” in a Southern US drawl so thick it renders even the simplest of words unrecognizable. Watch out, she hugs!
Driven by insatiable curiosity, she possibly holds the world’s record for curriculum changes to the point that she’s never quite earned a degree but is a force to be reckoned with at Trivial Pursuit. She’s trudged down hallways with police detectives, learned to disarm knife-wielding bad guys, and witnessed the correct way to blow doors off buildings. Her e-mail contains various snippets of forensic wisdom, such as “What would a dead body left in a Mexican drug tunnel look like after six months?” In the process of her adventures she has written fourteen m/m romance novels, has won several Rainbow Awards, was a Lambda Awards Finalist, and lives in terror of authorities showing up at her door to question her Internet searches.
When not putting characters in dangerous situations she’s a mild-mannered business executive, mother, grandmother, vegetarian, and PFLAG activist. Her natural habitats are airports, coffee shops, and the backs of motorcycles.
Eden has brought FIVE copies of Suspicion for five lucky winners, and an audio code for one winner each of Diversion (book 1) and Collusion (book 2). Just leave a comment at the end of the post to enter. The contest ends on Tuesday, January 8th at 11:59 pm ET.
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