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4 Horsemen Publications, Inc. - Lynn Chantale

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54 pages

English

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Description

Jason wants to break his rules, but sabotage is on the horizon.

As a rule, Jason Michaels never dates co-workers or subordinates. Whenever his assistant GG it around, he finds the rule difficult to keep. Not only was she his sous chef before a tragic accident left him blind, but she’s followed him to help in his lucrative food truck business.

Greta “GG” Gaines has loved Jason as long as she’s known him. She knows he lives an alternative lifestyle, but she’s willing to learn in order to be with him. At long last, romance blossoms between them, but her efforts will have to face one more challenge.

As the two pursue the chemistry between them a much larger threat looms. Someone is intent on sabotaging the business. Will their love and devotion be enough to overcome their obstacles? Or will yet another villain prevail?

Sujets

Romance

Romance policière

Fiction

Contemporary

Informations

Publié par	4 Horsemen Publications, Inc.
Date de parution	24 janvier 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9798823200691
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Table o f Contents
Dedication
Prologue
C hapter One
C hapter Two
Cha pter Three
Ch apter Four
Ch apter Five
Ch apter Six
Cha pter Seven
Cha pter Eight
Ch apter Nine
C hapter Ten
Chap ter Eleven
Chap ter Twelve
Chapte r Thirteen
Epilogue
Book Club Questions
Author Bio

Chef ’s Taste
VIBE a Steamy Romance S eries # 7
Copyright © 2023 Lynn Chantale. All rights r eserved.

4 Horsemen Publicatio ns, Inc.
1497 Main St. S uite 169
Dunedin, FL 34698
4horsemenpublicat ions.com
info@4horsemenpublicat ions.com
Cover by J . Kotick
Typeset by S . Wilder
Editor Muñeca Fossette
All rights to the work within are reserved to the author and publisher. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 International Copyright Act, without prior written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please contact either the Publisher or Author to gain per mission.
This is book is meant as a reference guide. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All brands, quotes, and cited work respectfully belongs to the original rights holders and bear no affiliation to the authors or pu blisher.
Library of Congress Control Number: 20 22945916
Print ISBN: 979-8-823 2-0070-7
Audio ISBN: 979-8-823 2-0068-4
Ebook ISBN: 979-8-823 2-0069-1

Dedication
T his book is dedicated in loving memory of Percy, guide dog extrao rdinaire.
You gave my friend Mary Ann 9 and 1/2 years of service. You will be greatly missed and Riley will miss his buddy very much. We love and miss you.

Prologue
“O h my gosh! She’s bleeding. She’s bleeding!” Jason Michaels yelled. He pressed his hand to the wound. “Hang in t here, GG.”
This was supposed to be a fun double date, not a scene from the movie Purge . Smoke drifted through the space they were in, and he coughed, turning his head into his shoulder.
“The fire is out,” Samson “Stx” Denver announced between coughi ng spasms.
Jason sighed in relief. One issue down; now they had to get out of the building without get ting shot.
More coughing drew his attention to his right. “The doors are blocked from the outside,” August “Sol” River told them. “And the last window we tried is too small for any of us to fit through.”
A boom rattled the air and instinctively Jason ducked, even though he was already on the floor. “What was that?”
“Fireworks?” August ventured.
“Not fireworks,” Stx said. He coughed. “Is GG c onscious?”
Jason lightly ran a hand over GG’s face. Her eyes were closed, but she was breathing. “She’s unconscious. And there’s a bump on her head.”
“I still smell something burning.” August couldn’t quite keep the fear out of her voice.
“We’re okay for now,” Stx told her.
“Who has a phone? At least we can call for help.”
August crawled closer until she brushed leather, then cotton. Someone’s shoe. “Here!” She fumbled her phone into a calloused palm. Briefly, Stx’s fingers squeezed hers in reassurance before disappearing. August River continued forward until she found Jason. She nudged him with a towel. “How b ad is it?”
Jason shook his head, knowing August couldn’t see him. “I don’t know. If she would wake up, maybe she could tell us.”
“Well, who’s shooting at us?” August demanded.
Jason thought he knew but didn’t understand why anyone would want to kill him.
“Uh guys,” Stx drawled. “We have a big problem.”
“Bigger than someone shooting at us and trying to burn us alive?” Augus t quipped.
“Yeah. There’s a bomb.”

C hapter One
“A nd go!” a masculine voic e shouted.
Jason Michaels pedaled faster on the stationary bike. He gripped the long handles as they alternated up and down. Sweat dripped from the end of his nose, so he turned his head to wipe it on his shoulder. If it wasn’t for the built-in fan, which kicked in while he pedaled, he’d be totally o verheated.
Some up-tempo rap music blared through the gym’s speaker system, a perfect backdrop for the torture, um exercising, they were doing. The scent of sweat, rubber, and other exercise equipment perfumed the air. Around him, he could hear the pants and groans of his fellow companions, which nearly drowned out the spoken lyrics to Eminem’s song, “Lose Yourself.”
“I’m tapping out!” someone announced off to his left.
“Uh oh! Man down!” Jason called out good- naturedly.
That got a laugh from both trainers and trainees.
“How many more of these rounds?” a woman on his lef t groused.
“Last one!” Sam, one of the volunteer trainers, promised.
“Thank God!” the woman Jason knew as S ol panted.
Well, he knew her given name as August but had fallen into the habit of calling her Sol. She was one of the few women he dated since his accident. While she had a serious partner in her life now, she provided the comfort and companionship he needed. However, he also desired to have the same serious love she did with he r partner.
“I could really go for a plate of nachos right now,” August declared.
Jason snickered. Nachos did sound pretty good right about now.
“Rest!” S am called.
Jason slowed his frantic pace. Every Wednesday and Friday the head trainer, along with a host of volunteers, provided one-on-one exercise support for persons with disabilities. Most of the crew were blind or visually impaired, but a few he knew were in a wheelchair, had leg prosthetics, or other ailments that made a traditional gym more challenging to manage.
He enjoyed these bi-weekly workouts. Not only did it allow him to relieve some of his stress from his day job, but it helped get him in the best shape of his life.
“Go!” Sam hollered. “And make it good. It’s the la st round.”
“Push! Push! Push!” This was from another trainer whose name Jason couldn’t remember. Still, for the next forty-five seconds, he dug deep and pedaled for all he was worth.
“Rest!”
Jason let go of the handles and stopped pedaling. He sat there panting as he mopped his face with a h and towel.
“Need a water?” The woman whose name he’d forgotten asked the group.
A chorus of yeses filled the room. Waters were handed out. Jason sipped his while he waited for the next exercise. Scanning the space, he could see movement curved around him. He waited, glimpsing little more than shadows a nd shapes.
“Ready for those squats?” Sam asked, offering his elbow.
Jason screwed the cap back on his water and felt for the proffered arm. “I’m here; guess I have no choice,” h e quipped.
“C’mon sandbag,” Troy ribbed. “You’re not even sweating and you’re tap ping out?”
Jason grinned. He loved to hear the gruff vet trash talk. “This is just the start of my d ay, Troy.”
“Well sandbag, get to moving. We ain’t got all day.”
An hour later, Jason was sprawled out on the exercise mat, convinced he’d never move again. He wasn’t even sure he could sit up after the five sets of fifteen leg raises and abdominal crunches he just did. He wasn’t sure what hurt more: his abs, shoulders , or legs.
“You sleeping on us, sandbag?” Tr oy teased.
“Yep, just give me a blanket and pillow,” he panted.
Laughter flowed around the gym. “Good work, everybody,” Sam said.
An hour and twenty-three minutes later, showered and dressed in a pair of black cargo pants and a white chef’s coat, Jason shaped a special blend of ground chuck and venison into patties. He set each one on a parchment-lined sheet pan. Once he was done with this batch, he would add the layer of ground bacon for his bacon burgers. Where most bacon burgers had strips of bacon, Jason decided to grind the savory goodness and shape it into a patty as well; that way, each bite held the crunch and smoky goodness of bacon.
A whiff of coconut and lime tickled his nose, which he inhaled appreciatively. “GG, is that you?” he called out, not missing a beat in his work.
“You know it’s me,” she smirked. “Who else would be stocking this rust box you call a fo od truck.”
“That’s no way to talk about your workplace,” he chided. “I thought you liked driving our rust box.”
“By default,” she quipped. “The last time I let you drive, you put a dent in the fron t fender.”
Jason laughed. Indeed, he had put a dent in the fender only because her directions hadn’t been clear. “Well, if that dumpster hadn’t jumped out at me, there wouldn’t have been an y damage.”
Something heavy shook the worktable. He peeled off his gloves. “Need a hand?” He covered the pan with pla stic wrap.
“Uh, yeah,” she said, a little b reathless.
Jason followed the shuffling and rustling of clothing until he reached the open door of the food truck. Everything from the gourmet burgers, dogs, and brats were ground by hand, then stocked onto the truck. He also had the ability to grind meat on the truck if they ran out of supplies, but that didn’t happen very often. Since today they would be visiting a new site, well not necessarily a new site but a new event, he wanted to be sure they could accommodate the crowd, and that meant stocking a few extra raw in gredients.
“Stay there,” GG told him. “I’ll hand the boxes up to you; it will go faster that way.”
“Sou nds good.”
He did as instructed, hearing an occasional grunt from GG when she handed him a particularly heavy box.
There was nothing sexual in what they were doing, but her little grunt tickled his desire. Blood stirred at the breathy, little sound she made, and he paused with the