she's not writing, Jessie enjoys playing her dulcimer (badly), sewing the worlds ugliest quilts to give to her friends, going for bike rides with her house full of boys, and wandering through the woods, glass of wine and camera in hand, on the lookout for Bigfoot.
A southern girl, born and bred, Jessie loves writing Southern romances with just the right amount of sizzle, and hopes you'll enjoy her stories set in the fictional town of Summerville, Georgia.
Please enjoy this excerpt from SAVING YOU, by Jessie Evans, the fifth and final book in the Fire and Icing Series:
SAVING YOU
The bells tinkled and seconds later, a very drippy figure in a Summerville Fire Department raincoat stepped inside the bakery.
“It’s really coming down out there,” the man said as he slid his hood off, revealing a dark blond buzz cut and blue-gray eyes set in a no-nonsense face.
Brandon Nordstrom was one of the newest members of the SFD, but he was every bit as serious as his Captain, Jake Hanson. He was a six-foot, one-inch alpha male with broad shoulders, a sharp nose, and earnest manliness practically oozing from his pores.
In short, he was the polar opposite of every man Lucy had ever dated. She tended toward artists and musicians, men who were as in touch with their feelings as their physical bodies and made a living with their brains, not their brawn. But Brandon was good people, and he couldn’t help not being Lucy’s favorite firefighter.
Jamison Hansen—the youngest Hansen brother, and her boss, Maddie’s, fiancé—was Lucy’s firefighter spirit animal. Not in a romantic way, of course, but she appreciated Jamison’s enthusiasm for life, the way he wasn’t afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve and always found something to laugh about.
Laughter was precious. After the things she’d witnessed working for the Atlanta P.D. and the loss she’d suffered last year, Lucy believed that with a ferocity matched only by her belief that animal testing was an abomination, and the melting polar ice caps the biggest threat facing mankind.
“Would you rather I stay here by the door?” Brandon asked, running a hand over his face, wiping away the raindrops clinging to his nose. “I don’t want to track water everywhere.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lucy said, rising and claiming her coffee mug before moving behind the counter. “I’ll get out the mop and keep it by the door. I’ll be mopping up all day, anyway. What can I get you guys this morning?”
Brandon wandered over to the counter. “Just the usual. Half a dozen chocolate croissants, half a dozen plain, and a loaf of sourdough bread if you’ve got it.”
“We do,” Lucy said, turning to snag the still-warm loaf from the basket behind her. “Fresh out of the oven.”
“Great,” Brandon said. “That’s my favorite. I toast a slice with almond butter.”
Lucy nodded absent-mindedly as she filled a pink bakery box with croissants. “That sounds good.”
“It is,” Brandon said, shooting her a strange look as she set the box behind the bread and pushed them both across the counter. “Are you okay?”
Lucy blinked. “Yeah. Fine, I…just woke up with a weird feeling today.”
Brandon nodded. “I get that sometimes. Especially when it’s raining. Hard to keep your spirits up when the sky is peeing all over them.”
Lucy’s lips twitched. Under normal circumstances she would have laughed, but she wasn’t in the mood. A bad feeling was bad enough, but a weird psychic premonition she couldn’t pin down a reason for was plain awful.
“Is there anything I can do?” Brandon asked, gentleness in his tone that Lucy hadn’t noticed from Mr. Earnest and Manly before.
She met his eyes, surprised to find herself saying, “I think I may be broken.”
Brandon frowned. “In what way?”
“I’m psychic,” Lucy said, ignoring Brandon’s raised brows the way she’d ignored every Doubting Thomas she’d encountered since she was a little girl.
Learning to Kill: Stories