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JORDEN, Book 3 in USA Today best-selling author Taylor Lee’s provocative new series, The Justice Brothers. JORDEN, the oldest Justice Brother, is unquestionably the most distinguished. But underneath that sophisticated persona is a sexy, challenging lover.
· An Assistant US Attorney fights the legal battle of his life. This time Jorden’s on the defense and his children are at stake.
· An accomplished psychologist and coach revered by all, Mac discovers she can’t outrun her past. She can only hope her righteous lover will forgive her.
· An evil woman isn’t about to let her children and former husband go without a fight. And this woman fights dirty!
· A family drama that calls for the best and the worst of the two passionate lovers. Unfortunately, Jorden and McKenna discover that Justice—like Love-- isn’t always fair or easy.
WARNING: Romance so HOT it singes the pages. HOT, tough, explicit. Not for the faint at heart. Definitely bring a fan!
Excerpt:
Driving
to the Shipwreck, Jorden relived his conversation with Jude. At his brother’s
insistence, Jorden had added a little detail to his cursory responses.
Thankfully, Jude was savvy enough not to press. But then, why would he? When it
came down to it, Francine was
Francine. For anyone who knew her, that was enough said.
Remembering
his strained conversation with her the previous night, Jorden admitted that he
hadn’t thought about much else in the last twenty-four hours. Chloe’s game had
been a welcome three-hour respite. For the first time since his ex-wife had
waltzed into the judicial center and appeared unannounced at his office door,
the basketball game had given him an opportunity to think of something besides
her.
It
was disconcerting to acknowledge that Francine had always had that effect on
him. From the first time he had met the five-foot-nine willowy beauty, he’d
been consumed by her. It had taken him ten years of hell living with her and
five years recovering from that hell to finally get her out of his system. Or
so he had thought until last night.
In
fairness, they say you never truly get over your first love. Particularly if
you marry her and are constantly reminded of her by your two daughters who
share some of her physical traits. Like their mother, both Chloe and Emma had
Francine’s startling blue eyes. Fortunately, they had his dark, almost-black
hair. He would have been challenged if they were blond like their mother. The
girls were tall for their age, but he could claim credit for that. All the
Justices were tall. But they were all men. Francine distinctly was not.
As
Chloe approached her sixteenth birthday, the developing curves on her
adolescent body telegraphed the possibility of Chloe inheriting more than eye
color from her voluptuous mother. Jorden wasn’t surprised to see that at only
thirty-four years old, it was clear Francine had already begun augmenting her
stunning body with the help of skilled plastic surgeons.
As
if that were a surprise. Dissatisfaction was the driving force in Francine’s
life. It always had been. Dissatisfaction with her gorgeous body, her lovely
face, the big house they lived in, being a mother, not going out every night of
the week, her extensive wardrobe that always needed updating, the drugs she
took and the alcohol she drank, etc., etc. But the most dissatisfying element in
her previous life had been him—her husband who, Jorden thanked God, was now her
former husband.
Pulling
his Bimmer into the Shipwreck parking
lot, Jorden wondered if he was making a mistake. He knew that Jude wouldn’t
press him about Francine any further than he already had. And Skylar had to be
the most intuitive person he knew—as well as the kindest. The problem was that
Jude had said Chloe’s coach was joining them. Watching the redheaded livewire
at the game, which had seemed at that time like an interesting option, was now
problematic.
As
he entered the Shipwreck, he conceded that given the fact that Francine had
grabbed center stage in his mind, the idea of making small talk with a stranger
was less than appealing. He was about to make his excuses to Jude and head home
to another quiet night on his lakeside deck with a bottle of Maker’s Mark when
a luscious laugh caught his attention. Turning toward the melodic sound, he saw
his brother lounging at a table with two gorgeous women. One of whom had red
hair, and, he now knew, an amazing laugh.
Jude spotted him across the pub and bounded
toward him. “Don’t even think it, bro, much less say it.”
Jorden
shot him a sheepish grin. “Say what, Dr. Phil? That your antisocial brother
looked like he was going to bail and forego the opportunity to chat it up with
his intrusive brother and a woman he’s never met? I don’t have to tell you,
dude, that if Skylar wasn’t sitting at that table with a hopeful look on her
face, I would have turned tail and ran before I got to the door.”
Jude
laughed. “And missed a night of booze, bad food, and me on your ass? C’mon,
counselor. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Striding
to the table where the two women were waiting, Jude hollered to the waiter
standing attentively to the side, “Denny, my man, bring us another glass and be
ready with an additional bottle of that first-rate Scotch Ms. Hughes has turned
us all on to. My aloof brother has deigned to join us pub-crawlers for the
night instead of drinking alone the way he always does. You never know how much
those solo drinkers can put away.”
“Sure
thing, Detective Justice,” the gangly waiter with Deadhead tats decorating the
back of his neck and both forearms said with a grin. Nodding to Jorden, he
added, “Good evening, Mr. Justice. Would you like a menu, or do you want what
these folks ordered?”
“No
thanks, Denny. I think I’ll add to my outrageous brother’s portrayal of me as a
raging alcoholic and stick to the Scotch. In addition to being a private lush,
I’m also a wuss. It would take me a week to digest Ms. Hughes’ chosen
finger-food, a double-bacon burger with extra cheese. Although, I will tempt
Jude’s derision and Skylar’s chagrin and have a side of your deep-fried
vegetables to go along with my bottle
of Scotch.”
“Right
on, man. I mean, Mr. Assistant US Attorney. If you change your mind about the
burger and french fries, just let me know.”
Intercepting
what was sure to be an over-the-top introduction to the woman sitting next to
Skylar, Jorden strode past his brazen brother and bussed Skylar on the cheek.
He
turned to the redheaded woman he’d been admiring earlier in the school’s gym
and extended his hand. “Good evening, Ms. Durant. In addition to being this
outrageous guy’s older and definitely stuffier brother, I’m the father of one
of the most beautiful almost-sixteen-year-olds inhabiting the earth and an
equally wonderful ten-going-on-forty-year-old daughter.”
Ms.
Durant’s voice was as melodic as the tempting laugh he’d heard earlier. The
sound of which, he admitted, had been powerful enough to draw him into the pub
instead of escaping to his empty house.
“Good evening, Mr. Justice. And may I say that
your description of your brother and daughters are on target.” The confident
woman shook his hand firmly and grinned at Jude. “Detective Justice tops the
outrageousness Richter scale, and you have a lovely and talented daughter.” She
turned to Skylar with a smile. “As for this one-hundred-and-ten-pound pixie
that could eat all of us under the table, let me just say that I am green with
envy. If I ate half of what Skylar does, you would have to roll me out of this
pub strapped to a gurney.”
Jorden
joined in the laughter and sank into the chair between the two women across
from his brother. Ignoring Jude’s “I told you so” expression, Jorden responded
to the woman to his left, deciding that for the moment he’d try to ignore her
enticing fragrance.
“We’re
in agreement on all counts with one clarification. It’s bad enough when two of
my brothers, Jude and Jared, are routinely referred to as outrageous, while
Jake and I are known as the uptight ones. So please, hold the ‘Misters’ and any
other titles and call me Jorden.”
As
he spoke he allowed himself to see that in addition to her thick, red hair
streaked with gold and tied in a casual ponytail, the gorgeous woman had
stunning dark brown eyes shadowed by dark brows and lush lashes. Her pale,
smooth skin was heated by a soft rosy glow that spoke to her healthy lifestyle.
She also had one of those full pouty mouths that demanded to be kissed, slowly
and well. Startled by his untoward reaction to her, Jorden forced himself to
concentrate on her response to his request that she call him by his first name.
Meeting
his focused gaze, she responded pleasantly, “I’m pleased to do so, Mr—I mean,
Jorden. If you’ll call me ‘Mac’ like everyone else does.”
At
his questioning expression, she explained, “My irrepressible Irish father dealt
with his disappointment that I was born without what he considered necessary
equipment by naming me McKenna and shortening it to Mac. In a sop to my
outraged mother, he agreed to change my middle name from Liam to Leanne as long
as I would always be called Mac Durant.”
Jorden
frowned. “Wait a minute. Don’t tell me that Lucky Liam Durant is your father?”
Mac
laughed again and said after an expressive sigh, “One and the same. And yes, my
love of basketball was bred into me before I was born. Thank goodness my father
overruled my five-foot-two mother by contributing the lion’s share of my height
genes. Which gave me a fighting chance to become a decent basketball player.
Not in the NBA, as he was—”
Jude
interrupted. “Don’t sell yourself short, Mac, no pun intended. Playing in the
2008 Olympic games in Beijing should have been enough for any overbearing
father, even an Irish NBA superstar.”
Jorden
shook his head in agreement. “Wow, I’m impressed. Your father must have been
ecstatic.”
“Yes,
he was. And he was gracious enough to give my mother credit for helping me keep
basketball in perspective by insisting that I pay as much attention to getting
my PhD as I did to playing ball. My mom insisted that my brain was as important
as my body. Although, I agree with my dad that basketball is one of the most
intellectual sports there is.”
Jorden
studied her, wondering when he’d seen a more impressive woman, who was
beautiful to boot. He tried not to gush, but to speak from his perspective as a
parent. “You’re lucky, Mac, that your parents balanced each other out. As a
father, I can understand the desire to give your offspring every possible
advantage, even if those advantages are more about your own sense of legacy
than theirs. One can only hope to be humble enough to acknowledge that your
children may choose an equally honorable path, even if it’s not the one you
chose for them.”
He
glanced at Skylar and nodded, acknowledging her overbearing genius father who
had done his best to ruin her life. “For example, when my parents were
murdered, my grandfather, the Judge, decreed that none of us four brothers
would follow in the legal footprints of my dead father and himself. The Judge
wanted to ensure that we would live peaceful lives as far from dangerous
pursuits as he could engineer for us. He was determined that we would be
educators or inventors or financiers. Anything but lawyers, cops and special
agents. Needless to say, that was all the incentive the four of us needed to
enter the law enforcement arena after serving as special operatives in the most
dangerous infernos we could find.”
At
the surprised silence greeting his offhand reference to his parents’ brutal
deaths and casual acknowledgement of the dangerous lives he and his brothers
had chosen, Jorden was saved by Denny’s arrival. Aided by another lanky server,
their attentive waiter unloaded the groaning trays of food, placing all but his
vegetables in front of the three heartier eaters.
Jorden
sucked in a breath and didn’t bother to glance at his brother. He didn’t have
to. He already knew the expression he would see on Jude’s face. That would
teach his interfering brother to try to break him out of his self-imposed loner
shell by inviting him to share a casual meal.
As
usual, Skylar intervened with an astute and gracious response. “You have an
advantage over the rest of us, Jorden. It’s easy to criticize our parents’
goals for us, even when we agree with them. It has to be challenging to step
back and let your children, whom you deeply love and want to protect, choose
their own futures and find their own way to fly.”
Jorden
gave a short laugh devoid of mirth as he took the bottle of Scotch from the
table and without asking, refilled all their glasses. “Thanks, Skylar, for
stepping in to cover for my lack of witty repartee.” He nodded to Mac, who was
studying him with a thoughtful frown. “Please, eat. Ignore my untoward references
to murder and mayhem and enjoy your food.”
At
the silence from his companions, he held up his plate and said with a strained
grin, “Vegetables, anyone?”
Jude
laughed and speared a cornmeal-encrusted piece of broccoli, put it on Skylar’s
plate, and grinned at his brother. “Hey, bro, don’t apologize for introducing
roughage to the table. I’ve convinced the sprite to occasionally add something
green to her diet, like a vegetable.”
Munching
on a cheese-laden french fry, Sky shot him a dismissive shrug. “Potatoes aren’t
considered vegetables, Detective Justice?”
“No,
Ms. Hughes. As you well know, I’m referring to green vegetables. You know, with
leaves and stems. And aren’t smothered in grease and four pounds of cheese.”
When Skylar tilted her chin and gave a saucy
smirk, Jude’s lip quirked up in a salacious grin. “Careful there, squirt. Raise
that sassy chin of yours another inch and I may have to make good on one of my
threats, to sit you on my lap and feed you.”
Skylar
blushed when Jude shot her a wicked wink, letting the rest of his threat go
unspoken.
From
the soft smile quirking Mac’s lips, Jorden saw that the Irish woman appreciated
Jude’s intended sexy overtone to his threat. Deciding that the sudden tightness
in his trousers confirmed that it had been too long since a woman had piqued
his interest, Jorden allowed himself to imagine holding Ms. Durant—make that
Mac—on his lap, feeding her tidbits of food. That image, coupled with the
surreptitious assessments he’d made of her ass as she’d strode up and down the
sidelines of the basketball court almost made him forget his clumsy oration
that had brought their lively conversation to a halt.
The
moment was cut short by Mac’s attempt to change the conversation. “Speaking of
your beautiful daughter, Jorden, Chloe told me about the sixteenth birthday
bash you’ve planned for her.”
Jorden
demurred with a smile. “I can’t claim the credit or the blame. The bash, as it’s rightly being called, is
the brainchild of my doting grandfather. The Judge, who loves entertaining,
insists that a party to end all parties is the only way to celebrate his adored
great granddaughter’s coming of age. If I had my way, we’d be going to the park
to play on the swings and have a princess cake like we did when she was eight.”
Mac
laughed. “Well, whomever is planning it, Chloe is giddy with anticipation. Of
course, the fact that she and her mother are planning a shopping spree to buy
what Chloe described as a ‘killer dress to end all dresses’ has something to do
with her excitement.”
Jorden
stared at her, then dropped his fork and rose to his feet, knocking his chair
to the floor with a loud crash.
Mac
reared back in her chair, her eyes widening with surprise. Seeing her
consternation, Jorden tried to explain, but his desert-dry mouth was incapable
of forming and spitting out words.
Mac
stared at him in dismay. “I…I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong, betray a
confidence? If so, I apologize. I didn’t—”
Jorden
held up his hand, stopping her. He knew he was glaring at her, but the rage
flooding him made it impossible for him to soften his expression or speak in a
normal tone. Instead, his harsh words and equally hard tone made his anger
clear. “Don’t apologize. This has nothing to do with you. You did nothing
wrong.”
He
sucked in an audible breath and made a clumsy attempt to explain. “The problem
is, Chloe and Emma have not seen or talked to their mother for over six years.”
Shooting
Mac a grim stare, he didn’t mask his cold anger. “Oh, and I have a restraining
order in place preventing their mother from being within fifty yards of the
girls without supervision and my express permission.” He closed his eyes for a
moment fighting to calm the outrage that was threatening to choke him. Reaching
for his wallet, he threw a hundred-dollar bill on the table and nodded to his
brother.
Assuming
the dispassionate tone he relied on when he addressed the court, Jorden said,
“Thank you for a nice evening. I enjoyed…” The words stuck in his throat,
unable to get by the baseball-sized lump in his throat. He met Jude’s
acknowledging frown and emitted a heavy sigh.
Turning
back to Mac, who was pale, her expression strained, he said flatly, “Look, I’m
glad you’re in Chloe’s life. She needs a positive female role model.”
He
turned and strode to the door without a backward glance at the three silent
people staring at him.
