Click on image to enlarge.

	Regular				Club
You Pay:	$4.99				$4.24

eBook Category: Erotica
eBook Description: Gracie Terrence has lived next door to firefighter Steve Sheldon for two years. She's lusted after his hot body since day one, but Steve is a taken man. Gracie is no home wrecker and keeps her fantasies locked safely behind closed doors. Besides, all she wants is one hot night with him. After getting dumped by his fianc�e, Steve decides it's time to have a little fun with Gracie. She makes his blood heat. But when one night turns to two, and emotions complicate their simple affair, can they survive the inferno of their growing love? WARNING: This title contains explicit sexual content.

eBook Publisher: Cobblestone Press, Published: 2006, 2006
Fictionwise Release Date: March 2007

This eBook is part of the following series:

• Anna Leigh Keaton's To Serve and Protect Series

161 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [367 KB], eReader (PDB) [93 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [73 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [67 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [130 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [132 KB], hiebook (KML) [215 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [148 KB], iSilo (PDB) [60 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [76 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [134 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [110 KB]
Words: 23123
Reading time: 66-92 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 978-1-60088-000-1

"Five Alarm Neighbor is aptly titled as the lead characters definitely ignite the pages. The motivation of each character easily comes across and makes both Steve and Gracie immensely likeable characters. The intensity of their attraction is wonderful to experience. Ms. Keaton moves the plot along nicely and intersperses friendship, passion, and conflict so well that readers will be sad to turn the last page. Well done!"--4 Angels, Amanda, Fallen Angel Reviews

Steve Sheldon.

Gracie Terrence stared through her windshield at the man who starred in every torrid late-night fantasy she'd had in the past two years. Tight ass always in blue jeans that fit like a glove. Rock-hard chest. Biceps that could squeeze the stuffing out of her. He sat on the porch of their duplex in one of her wrought iron chairs, his feet propped on the wooden railing.

Even with the car windows up, she could hear the steady thump thump of the music blaring from his side of the house. Another firemen party, she figured. Almost weekly he had a night of loud music and even louder men at his place.

She didn't mind the parties in the summer when they hung out in the backyard. Inevitably their shirts came off, their sweaty, muscled bodies flexing in the sunlight as they played kamikaze volleyball. But these winter parties royally pissed her off. Especially when she had a stack of midterm papers to grade before returning to school by seven-fifteen the next morning.

She hadn't left work until nearly nine tonight. Her body lacked food and her head still pounded after hours of forcing herself to read page after page of adolescent bullshit on the meaning of Romeo and Juliet. She gripped the steering wheel with her chilled hands and bonked her forehead against her fists. The pizza sitting on the passenger seat in its cardboard box was undoubtedly cold and congealed by now.

Gracie drew in a calming breath. She'd simply ask Steve to turn down the music. She'd let him know she needed some sleep, and feeling the bass vibrations from his half of the house was not going to help her accomplish that.

The porch light illuminated him as his raised a bottle to his mouth. As he tossed back a swig of beer, she focused on the strong column of his throat. Steve. Her pussy tingled at the thought of seeing him, speaking to him, hearing that deep voice. She squeezed her thighs together, making the sensation last a second longer. She'd wanted him since the day he moved in two years ago.

And then there was the memory of what she'd glimpsed for a few precious moments last summer, a sight burned into her brain so deep it would never leave--the sight of him magnificently naked.

She'd returned early from a teacher's conference and had caught him playing in the backyard. Stretched out on a lawn lounger only a few feet from her kitchen window, he'd been...

Sitting there, inside her car, the memory pulled a moan from her throat. She ground her ass against the seat, reached between her legs and pressed her fingers against the seam at the crotch of her jeans. She tilted her hips upward and rubbed her clit the same way she'd done that afternoon as she'd watched him slowly, tenderly stroke his engorged cock. It had been long and thick, curved ever so slightly at the tip, perfect for hitting the right spot every time.