Honeybun Fever is a series of interracial romance novellas which feature the sexy cousins of the boys from Honeybun Heat. Each of these shorter romantic suspense stories showcases selected characters from the Honeybun Heat series and the two series share a seamless world, though they are stand-alone books. See all the Honeybun Fever books here: http://www.samcheever.com/series.html#honeybunfever
My romantic suspense series, Honeybun Heat, is based on a family of eight, sexy brothers with strange old English names and a proclivity toward finding and dealing with trouble. When a Honeybun or his honey is in trouble, the whole Honeybun clan gets involved in solving the problem and saving the damsel in distress. They shop, they cook, they shoot, they ride, they kick bad guy butt all over the place. They’re sexy, red-haired, wonderfully masculine, and delightfully non-traditional, except when it comes to treating a woman right. Terrorists pale when they see a Honeybun, criminals wobble, and women swoon with sensual delight.
See all the Honeybun Heat books here: http://www.samcheever.com/series.html#honeybun
Four fast-paced books of interracial romantic suspense, with some of the sexiest Alpha heroes you’ll ever meet.
Book 1: Shadow of a Honeybun: Blaze is a happy-go-lucky party girl. Private investigator Dolfe Honeybun is serious as a bullet . It’s a damn good thing that opposites attract!
Book 2: Honeybun Sheik: Sexy Sheik Abdel Ezzat thought he should protect her from his world. But Callia Honeybun ends up protecting him!
Book 3: Stealth Honeybun: Peyton Honeybun is a modern day cowboy who works hard. He just wants to put his feet up and relax. Willa wants to run her business and be left alone. Neither one of them will get what they want…but they just might get much, much more!
Book 4: Hell Hath No Honeybun: What happens to a songbird when she sings the wrong tune? She quickly finds herself in a flight for her life, with a sexy billionaire as her wing man!
From Hell Hath no Honeybun
What happens to a songbird when she sings the wrong tune? She quickly finds herself in a flight for her life!
Garrick Honeybun was only at the Halloween fundraiser as a favor to his cousins and his Uncle Brick. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the singer, who stirred his senses like nothing he’d ever experienced, and had a voice like molten honey. In fact, he fully intended to tell her how much he enjoyed her singing.
Unfortunately, somebody got to her before he could. And when the guy who shoved her around behind stage showed up dead in the cloakroom, Garrick’s beautiful songbird took a runner. Now Garrick had to find her, and when he did, he fully intended to find out why she killed the guy—and figure out how he could help her get away with it.
Ena Vargis ignored the chorus of horrified gasps that followed her as she raced for the door. She plunged through the revolving glass door and sprinted past Gus the doorman.
“Miss! Are you all right?” Gus called out.
Ignoring him, she ran as fast as she could on the tall shoes she favored for singing engagements. Her ankle gave as one of the slim heels caught in a sidewalk crack and she stumbled against the wall, pain radiating up her leg. Ena gave a soft cry as the rough brick ripped the skin on her elbow.
The sidewalks were full and several people asked if she needed help but Ena didn’t dare let them see her face or her bloody hands.
She pushed away from the wall and started running again, limping only slightly as adrenaline coursed through her. Heading down a side street that was filled with shadows and had fewer people on the sidewalks, she finally stopped to catch her breath. She kept an eye on the cross-street, though she was pretty sure the man from the cloakroom hadn’t followed.
Leaning against a sooty brick wall, Ena reached down to pull off her shoes, groaning with relief as her achy feet found the cool concrete. Her teeth clacked together and tears slid in a steady stream down her cheeks. Ena sniffled and scraped the back of her hand across her wet nose.
Her hand was shaking. Badly. And her fingers were sticky with blood. She sobbed and slid down the wall, ignoring the tug and pull of the rough brick over her once-pretty costume.
Jaime was dead. What was she going to do? Her hands shook so badly she clasped them together and lowered her head, resting it on her knees as she cried. What the hell was she going to do?
Ena’s head jerked up and she expelled a surprised breath. Several dark forms stood in the street, all facing her way. One of the men staring at her held a long knife in one hand. As she pushed to her feet he started moving closer.
Garrick asked everyone he passed if they’d seen a tall, black woman in a fairy costume and followed the trail of affirmative responses down the street. Three blocks down from the hotel the sidewalk traffic had thinned to the point where his luck ran out. He stopped at the end of the sidewalk and looked to his left and his right. The cross street was dimly lit, the towering carcasses of its street lights bending uselessly over the pockmarked streets.
In the low light, he could just make out the darker swirl of graffiti on the scarred brick walls. The area felt vastly different from the privileged spaces he’d left behind and he wondered if a single, unarmed woman would venture into it.
His gut told him she wouldn’t, but, as he was turning away to return to the Goldenrod hotel, his gaze caught on a pale strand of something stuck to the brick. When he yanked it free he recognized the glittery fiber as probably having come from somebody’s Halloween costume. Of course the strand could have come from anywhere, but Garrick’s gut told him it was hers.
Though it wasn’t really his gut he was listening to as he started down the darkened street.
As he left the traffic behind, Garrick became aware of the way his footsteps bounced off the walls and came back to him, sounding louder than they should. Overhead a jet roared by as it took off from Indianapolis Airport, only a few miles away as the crow flies. A gust of frosty air spun down the street, momentarily expanding the ridiculous devil costume like air through a bellows.
Garrick briefly considered removing the silly outfit. He wore black wool slacks and a black turtleneck underneath it and figured he’d have a much lower profile dressed in real clothes than he did in the bright red devil costume. Even at Halloween.
But he didn’t want to take the time.
A soft scuff sounded nearby and Garrick stopped, his senses on full alert. “Is someone there?”
Silence met his terse question. Garrick peered into the darkness and saw the slightest movement against the unlit walls. He reached for the switchblade he’d started carrying when he’d inherited his money and had become a target overnight. His hand hit the flat, pocketless front of the costume. Silly him, he’d assumed he wouldn’t need the blade at a fund-raising ball in Indy’s finest Hotel. Garrick muttered a curse and then called out again. “Come out and let me see you.”
A breathy, accented voice responded. “We don’t take orders from you, skinny white man.”
Garrick’s fists bunched. At least they didn’t seem to know him. If they recognized his face from all the news programs proclaiming him Indy’s richest bachelor, he’d have had bigger problems. “I just want to talk.”
The shadows split and a slim, darkly clad form sauntered toward him. He didn’t miss the distinctive shape of a knife the young Hispanic man was gripping. Garrick figured the kid was no more than nineteen years old but he looked street-savvy. Lifting his hands he tried to look harmless. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m just looking for a woman.”
The dark-haired young man laughed and glanced toward the shadows, where several husky chuckles joined his. “Ain’t we all, hombre.”
“She’s tall, beautiful. Dressed like a fairy.”
The youth went very still, his black eyes flashing with suspicion. “What you want with this bitch?”
“I only want to make sure she’s okay.”
Another form detached itself from the shadows as the kid with the knife asked, “Why wouldn’t she be?”
Garrick’s heart rate surged as two more shapes peeled away from the wall and started toward him. He decided honesty was the best course. Maybe the kids circling him would understand that he was just trying to help. The youth with the knife lifted it, pointing the deadly looking blade toward Garrick.
Or maybe not.
“Someone was killed and she ran away from the scene. There was blood on her hands. I just want to make sure she wasn’t hurt.”
The kid didn’t speak for a long moment. Though most of his narrow face was cast in shadow, Garrick felt the boy’s cold stare like ice-water sliding down his spine. Finally he shook his head and the circle of hostile street kids started to tighten. Garrick’s gaze swiveled, trying to keep them all in sight. It had been a while since he’d done any street fighting. Against four of them—at least one armed—Garrick didn’t like his chances. But it appeared he didn’t have any choice.
He looked at the kid with the knife and opened his fists, wiggling his fingers in invitation. “All right then. You wanna dance, let’s dance. Maybe when my boot is on your throat you’ll tell me where the woman is.”
The kid laughed. “Cocky son of a bitch, ain’t ya?”
Garrick turned as the first kid lunged and swung his leg around, catching the kid in the gut and sending him to the ground gasping. “I think it’s only fair to warn you that I have thirteen cousins. I’m pretty good at this.”
The kid with the knife flew toward him.
Garrick leaned sideways and grabbed the kid’s arm, shoving him toward the kid charging from the other side. The two collided and the second kid cried out as the first one’s knife sliced his arm.
Garrick planted his foot in the first kid’s ass and sent him sprawling before he could regain his balance and turned to meet the fourth guy, who’d produced a knife from somewhere.
The tenor of the voice ringing out through the darkness brought Garrick’s head up and he nearly missed the kid’s attack. He felt the sting of a blade across his forearm as he swung his arms up, knocking the hand with the knife into the air. He finished with a fist in the street thug’s exposed gut and stepped back as the younger man collapsed, trying to pull air into his lungs.
“I said stop, dammit!”
The thugs clambered to their feet and fixed Garrick with an assortment of glares but didn’t approach him again. Garrick turned as a tall, elegant form stepped out of the nearby alley.
She emerged from the shadows like a spirit, her clingy dress a pale column in the dark. Garrick felt his heart skip a beat as she stopped in front of him, several cautious feet away. One glittery wing drooped, broken toward the ground and her beautiful topaz gaze was locked on him, filled with apprehension.
Garrick was stunned.
It was her. His beautiful fairy.
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USA Today Bestselling Author Sam Cheever writes romantic paranormal/fantasy and mystery/suspense, creating stories that celebrate the joy of love in all its forms. Known for writing great characters, snappy dialogue, and unique and exhilarating stories, Sam is the award-winning author of 50+ books and has been writing for over a decade under several noms de plume.
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