Now I'd like to share my sexy adventure with you.
I love to write Canadian settings. There's something so wild and mysterious about our woods that has always appealed to me. Beautiful Criminal was one of those books that came to me overnight and I wrote it within 3 weeks—including final draft.
BC is based in the Canadian Rockies with a shady hero and a mountain native woman. If you like action/adventure with plenty of bad guys and good loving, then Beautiful Criminal is the book for you!
A mountain woman's peace is about to be disturbed.
Mima Etu lives a quiet life with her sled dogs in the Canadian Rockies. During a routine run with her best friend, she comes across a recent plane crash and a pilot on the brink of death. With the sun setting and the temperature dropping, taking him to the nearest hospital isn't an option. She brings the mystery man back to her cabin and nurses him back to health.
On a deadly mission with precious cargo, Gabriel Miller loses control of his Cessna and plunges into pilot's hell. He awakens in the comfort of a log cabin with a gorgeous native woman tending his every need. Her soft-spoken beauty sparks his longing for a different kind of life—and a torrid love affair. But their liaison is about to end. The owners of the cargo are out to find him, and they don’t plan on leaving any witnesses behind.
Gabe shifted and stretched. The pounding in his head sharpened to a knifing pain behind his eyes as consciousness returned. For a minute, he thought somebody had smashed his skull with a hammer and he'd woken up in enemy territory. His body burned like the fires of hell and, fuck, was he ever thirsty. When he reached up to rub his forehead and felt a bandage, he paused. "What the hell—"
His eyes whipped open as he suddenly remembered the crash. Daylight flickered in from somewhere, temporarily blinding him. Soon, his vision returned, and he gazed about the room. No cockpit. No mountains or snow. No cargo. He shoved himself up on his elbows, wincing from the pain, and inspected his surroundings.
Where the hell am I?
He blinked, realizing with a start that he wasn't in a hospital or jail, or some stinking torture pit, but a warm bedroom in a log cabin. He swung his legs over the mattress and took a few calming breaths, allowing his rapidly beating heart to settle. At least he hadn't been caught . . . for now. Obviously, he was in a safe place if somebody had taken the time to tuck him into bed. His gaze drifted down to his legs and he frowned. Nothing but boxers.
The frantic scrape of claws on plywood interrupted his train of thought. Before he could react, a huge black and white Husky barreled into the room, barking wildly. Gabe cupped his ears, trying to ease the piercing pain in his head the barking brought on. The Husky sat on his haunches right against his knees, emitting a long, musical whine.
"Nitchie, leave our patient alone!"
Gabe's heartbeat accelerated again at the sound of a feminine voice. He rushed to throw the covers back over him just as a native woman appeared in the doorway. She leaned casually against the door frame, her black eyes taking him in. His mind emptied itself of words as he stared back at her.
Did she undress me?
"Hi." Her broad smile held not a lick of shyness.
He blinked, momentarily lost in her mesmerizing, black eyes. "Hi," Gabe echoed awkwardly. "Uh . . . is your husband around?"
"Husband?" Her abrupt cackle startled him. He'd never heard a laugh quite like that before, so uninhibited and from deep within. "You won't find a husband here, buddy."
A crooked smile touched her lips, and she shook her head slowly, looking at him like he'd lost a bolt somewhere. Gabe shut his mouth, a little embarrassed over his assumption. He averted his gaze and looked around the room. Awkward. Someone must have helped her get him in this bed because he wasn't a small man and she barely touched five-foot. But he was too sore to dwell on it. He pointed to the bandage on his head. "Thanks."
"No problem. I'm afraid your clothes won't be washed for a few days, but I managed to rustle up some of my brother's clothes for you. You look close in height and build." Her gaze raked over him, as if imagining his body beneath the blankets. He had a stinking suspicion that she did undress him. "Come to the kitchen when you're ready. I'll fix you some coffee. Weather's been too tricky for a chopper the last couple days, but thankfully you're awake now."
And she left him with his thoughts and the dog. What did she mean by the last couple days? Perplexed, Gabe reached out to pat the Husky between the ears, but the dog's once curious demeanor changed in an instant and he bared his teeth. Gabe pulled back with a start and pushed himself up. The last thing he wanted was a hand mangled by a protective mutt.
On the nearby dresser, he found a pair of canvas pants and a knit sweater. He gritted his teeth, hating the feel of wool on his skin as the garment slid over his torso. Thankfully, the pants fit well and were comfortable. Anything was better than traipsing through a strange woman's house in nothing but his boxers.
His legs were a little shaky, and his equilibrium was messed up, but he put one foot in front of the other and forced himself to enter the adjoining room. The dog she called Nitchie rushed past him, nearly knocking him over to reach his master. Gabe kept his mouth shut, not wanting to provoke the dog's temper.
The kitchen and living room were one room, and, by the looks of it, he'd just walked out of the only bedroom. Various animal pelts and patchwork quilts covered the log walls. He noted a few photographs of traditionally dressed natives on a side table; he guessed these must be pictures of the woman's family. A wood-framed sofa covered with more pelts and blankets sat beneath the living room window. He had to admit the place looked cozy despite its lack of space.
The woman had her back to him as she tinkered around the kitchen, putting a coffee kettle on the top of a barrel stove which separated the kitchen and living room.
He couldn't help staring at her, allowing his gaze to freely roam over her body. A long, thick braid hung to her curvy hips, so black it almost looked blue in the light which glinted through the windows. Donned in a red-and-black checkered work shirt and blue jeans, she looked so different from the women he usually entertained.
Gabe took a seat at the kitchen table. He needed to get back to his plane and radio Colton, but he didn't want to make her suspicious. "How long was I out?"
"A couple days. You were lucky, though. I think you were in that plane overnight before we found you."
Which means I've been here three days. Fuck. "Who helped you?"
She laughed again, and the sound lightened his cloudy mood. Her laugh was a sweet cackle, for lack of a better description.
"My friend and a great team of dogs."
"You mean like a dog sled team?"
She turned around and faced him with a proud smile. "Look out back."
Gabe got up and went to stand beside her in the kitchen. He looked out the window. A huge, chain-linked fence covered the whole expanse of the back yard. He counted six full-grown Huskies in their own pens and a few puppies with their mother, separated from the others. Thick bush in the foreground of the mountains bordered the property. From this vantage point, he saw no other cabins or landmarks. No smoke curling up in the sky to indicate other homesteads. Looked like they were alone in the middle of nowhere.
"Are you some kind of ranger out here?" The thought made him nervous. If she were an authority, he'd have to tread lightly. He held his breath waiting for her answer.
"I'm just a woman who lives a simple life, that's all."
Relief surged through his veins. "I didn't think people could build a cabin in the middle of the bush wherever they wanted."
"I didn't. The land and cabin was grandfathered to me."
He looked down at her, noticing her staring at the side of his head. "What?"
"Your earrings. Are you a gypsy or something?"
He chuckled. "Define gypsy." Her gaze searched his, and his skin tingled.
"Gypsies don't have a real home."
Her words, so close to the truth, stunned him for a second. He'd lived everywhere and nowhere since his father died. "Then I guess I'm a gypsy."
Damn, she was cute, and maybe a little naive. Drawn to the curve of her mouth when she spoke, his inner beast wanted to taste those lips, but he brushed the sudden urge aside. Being here alone with her was dangerous. Not only because of his job, but because her allure unnerved him. She was different from the women he usually tangled with, and he couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
You can also read the Prologue to this book on my website HERE
Contest post coming next!
- About the Author
- Posts in the Past
BL Bonita lives in Eastern Ontario with her retired USMC Captain, however, she grew up in the lush wilderness of Northern Ontario at a family-owned hunting/fishing resort. Nature has always inspired her to write, and her imagination is as wild as her memories of the bush. Some call her funny, some call her a little crazy, and to her family, she’s the black sheep of the bunch. BL writes multiple categories of erotic romance, always with a touch of humor and wild adventureâ€”a reflection of her own life. And of course, strong coffee is a necessity while the writing bug has her in its fiery grip.