Unleashed: Curvy Hips and Sexy Lips Series Book, #1

By Sierra Rose

Unleashed is a BBW Sweet Romance.

Paralegal Rebecca Halsey is determined to make a life for herself in the busy Chicago suburb, away from her fat-shaming family back in California.

On her quest to get healthier, she takes a walk past a yard with a precious chained-up dog, and her heart instantly goes out to him. As she goes to implore the owner to treat the sweet pup better, she runs into Logan Caloway—a man who's been faithfully visiting the dog, aptly named Charlie, for months, begging for his release from his chain-link fenced prison.

Sparks fly between Logan and Rebecca as they work together to try to get Charlie unleashed from his conditions, despite the dog's stubborn owner and his obstinate resolve to keep the dog for himself for sentimental reasons. Not giving up, Logan, a  physical therapist, and animal rescuer, and Navy vet, continues to visit Charlie daily, in hopes he'll run into Rebecca again.

Once Charlie is freed, Logan finds Rebecca again, and she suggests they give Charlie a bunch of "firsts"… first beach run, first time sleeping indoors, first dog park visit. But when Charlie receives a diagnosis nobody is expecting, both Rebecca and Logan are crushed, but undeterred from giving Charlie all the love he needs and deserves. The question is, though, when the sparks fly and love begins to blossom between the two humans, will they act on it, or put it aside for the love and care of the dog whom they've both grown irrevocably in love with?

Each BBW romance in the series is a standalone love story with an HEA, and can be read in any order. Each book has its own flame rating, depending on the level of heat you'd like. One flame=sweet/closed door love scenes. Four flames=explicit love scenes.

Racing Hearts (4 flames)
Walking Dick (1 flame)
Love Handles (2 flames)
Big Escapes (4 flames)
Sweet Treats (3 flames)
Shutter Release (2 flames)
Unleashed (1 flame)
Hungry Diva (coming soon) (4 flames)
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stories With Heart Publishing
• Release date: Feb 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393747222

Book preview

Chapter One

Logan

LOGAN CALAWAY WAS ATTENDING the 2019 Humane Awards luncheon given by the ASPCA. It was a worthwhile event that recognized animal heroes who demonstrated extraordinary efforts and a commitment to animal welfare.

These awards will honor inspirational animals and people who are doing exceptional work in supporting the ASPCA’s mission of providing effective means for the prevention of cruelty to animals throughout the United States, the lady in a flowing white dress said.

The ceremony continued until they got to the award he was nominated for.

Our next hero really touches my heart. When he discovered a high crime area where animals were being dumped, he vowed to help them in his spare time. He even got an organization, Saving Animals Now, to jump in and help. Veterinary care was given and this person assisted with every adoption. He has helped to rescue over 300 dogs to date. We can’t help but admire this amazing deed that truly inspires all of us. The ASPCA Citizen Hero Award goes to Logan Calaway.

The audience clapped and Logan was blown away to win such a prestigious award. He didn’t expect anything in return, he just wanted to save animals. He walked on stage, smiled, and accepted his award.

I can’t express how grateful I am, Logan said.

So how did you get involved helping animals? the lady from the charity asked.

Years ago, I was on a mission with the Navy, lost some members of my team—including our dog. My heart ached that I couldn’t save him or the others. Max was such a good dog and I wanted to honor his memory by helping others. So I threw myself into helping animals who don’t have a voice.

I think Max would be so happy to know what you did in his honor. Can you tell us a little bit about Max, and how he inspired you?

This was a hard subject for him to talk about. Logan swallowed hard as a memory flooded through him.

The wind howled its fury all around them. The angry sea pounded their bodies, threatening their ability to take a breath between one raging wave and the next. They had planned it perfectly, with no moon to announce their arrival on the beach.

There was a whole team expected to brave the elements, to battle the rebels, to live on the edge of humanity. Not one man on his team rode that edge tighter than Logan, and this night was no exception.

Logan was ordered to bring Max, his Military Working Dog. As a MWD handler, he was responsible for the care and training of his service dog, which contributed to combat operations abroad. Logan turned his head to see if all of them had made it to shore. It was no small relief to see Carl and others pulling themselves up on the beach due east of him.

Dammit, where was Rick? Logan scanned further down the beach but could see little through the velvety darkness. Even with night goggles, his vision was quite impaired. The shores could be treacherous, with nowhere to hide on the barren desert beach that hugged the receding mountains of Yemen. They were all sitting ducks and they knew it, and what was worse, so would the pirates if they caught a glimpse of them.

The only salvation for his team and him was to hope that this band of marauders were too drunk or too high to realize they had arrived. Even through the storm and swooshing waves they could hear the men hooting and hollering as they celebrated around their campfire. Logan was used to these murderous celebrations of lost lives and stolen treasure.

The Navy had sucked Logan dry, both emotionally and physically. All he wanted was a small house in any town in the USA to raise some dogs and live in relative peace, if there was such a thing. The more random shots he heard from the rebel’s camp, the more he questioned his ability to ever live peacefully again.

Logan shook himself back to reality and tuned his ears back to the commotion coming from the camp. They were still celebrating; confident their booty would bring high dollars on the black market. If they were like the others he had come across, they had probably spent three-quarters of their loot on drugs. Life to them was one raid after another, with hopes of capturing the most valued cargo of all—women. They appeared to be over the top with their success at capturing two female hostages, and it didn’t hurt that the hostages were young and beautiful.

Suddenly, Logan was alerted to danger that pulled him out of his morbid thoughts. He bird-called for Rick, and to his relief he responded. He could barely make out the shadowy figures of his comrades as they took cover behind a sandy dune to await further instruction. Logan sighed his relief, but it was a moment too soon. The guard fired his AK-47, skipping bullets across the tops of the dunes and into Carl’s head and the rest of the team. Carl tried to take the shot, but for the first time ever, he was one second too late. That second had cost Carl dearly.

Sweat dripped down the side of Logan’s face as his goggles fogged over. He threw his knife in hopes it would reach its target. Success! His dagger hit the guard’s chest, and Max buried his teeth in the rebel’s leg, pulling him away from Carl. Logan rushed to Carl’s side, already knowing he was dead, but refusing to accept the outcome.

Logan wanted to scream his rage, to cry out a killing yelp. He thought the natives had it right—like stealing the very soul of your enemy.

I’ll come back, he whispered to Carl.

Come on, Max, time to do some damage.  This time, Logan spoke his thoughts out loud. The words offered courage and strength to every fiber of his being, but for some reason, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

There was no time to linger, so he forced one foot in front of the other, but his body wouldn’t respond. He kept trying to reason through the chaos, but nothing made sense. He experienced the same old familiar feelings he knew far too well, but he couldn’t quite fathom why he actually knew what would happen next. 

He called Max, and together they slowly zigzagged to Rick, quickly devising an alternate plan. As the rest of the pirates came looking with their torches, Max circled around to distract them. It worked! Rick and Logan slunk around several low bushes in the opposite direction and carefully made their way to their camp. There were a few men hanging around, their expressions giving him clear acknowledgment that they had been alerted by all the fireworks.

Strangely enough, there was no need to further assess the situation; Logan sensed what would happen next. He watched with distant interest as Rick hand-signaled that he was going in. Logan disagreed. He insisted, and this time didn’t wait for Logan’s response. Rick silently took out the single man beside them and huddled behind the women to cut their ties. 

Almost home, Rick—we’re almost home! a comrade shouted. Hang on, girls, just a few more minutes and it’ll be a day at the beach.

Lies—all lies! His neck hairs stood up before Logan even saw the man fire. He shot Rick in the leg, and Rick and him both returned the favor. Logan prayed that would be the last one, and they could get out of there. The women began unbinding themselves, giving Logan time to run for Rick. Then the girls ran off. Logan dragged his buddy to the side of the hut, the air suddenly so hard to breathe. Just as he turned, he knew what his instincts had been telling him all along. This was going to be a failed mission. In a split second, all was lost.

Rick, we’ve got to get out of here, now! As Logan looked up and began shaking him awake, there sat Rick slumped over. Dead. Max flew through the air, slamming the attacker to the ground. This time, it was Logan’s turn to defend Max. They fought, did what Logan was trained to do.  

It was too late for them to run, so Max and Logan hid beneath some blankets in the band’s hut. A deafening silence lifted between them as they huddled together in hopes that they could escape their fate. Logan was never so thankful for the howling winds and miserable rain that rose above their labored breathing.

No sooner had the band of murderers returned, then they were gone again in pursuit of their intruders. They didn’t have enough good sense between them to consider the chances of them still being in their camp. They were in a rage, hungry for the kill, eager to avenge their friends. Again, that eerie silence accompanied by an inner knowingness.

It was as if Logan was in the audience of an action film being directed by himself. For some odd reason, an incredible calm came over him. Max seemed to feel it, too. They weren’t really running, this was only a temporary retreat. They snuck through the slight undergrowth like thieves in the night, returning to the beach for their exit rendezvous.

Shots were fired. Max was hit. Anger flooded through him. He checked over the dog, but he was dead. More shots fired his way. There was no choice but to keep moving. He carried Max over his shoulder. Finally he saw the rest of his team. 

Zing!

A bullet flew over him. He jumped into the water.

Swim to the boat!

There was nothing like more of your team to empower and encourage when there seemed to be no way out.

The first Logan knew of his injuries was when he was snatched from the grasp of a clawing wave to be pulled into the boat. His arm was torn open, but the wound wasn’t near as deep as the one he felt at losing his team.

Logan returned to the present and glanced around at the audience.

Logan? the woman questioned.

He nodded and forced himself to keep his voice from wavering. Max was a great dog. Buried with honors. He will be in my heart forever.

The audience clapped. 

It’s hard to talk about, but I definitely left a piece of myself behind on that beach that fateful night, Logan continued.

His words touched everyone’s hearts.

THE NEXT MORNING...

Logan hated when nightmares threatened to take over his reality. At least once a month, Logan had the same dream, leaving his body clammy and his head aching for a release from the pain of deep loss.

Carl, Max, and the others had trusted me to have their backs, and I had let them down.

Logan continued to sit and think through his emotional burden. It was a visible memory of his failure, and he wore it with self-loathing. It was not only the end of his career with the Navy, but it was the end of the man he thought he was, the man he could have been. It was simply another early morning with nothing to alleviate his haunted memories.

Except work. After his Honorable Discharge, he had become an occupational therapist and instantly threw himself into the job. When he wasn’t working, he volunteered to help animals at all times of the night or day. It was best to never have a free moment so the pain wouldn’t come flooding back in. 

It was only 5:00 a.m., and he’d been awake for hours.

It was always the same—memory of the mission, failed attempt to change the outcome, losing his precious dog and comrades, wake up in the middle of the night, then get up and get busy to avoid any more inner turmoil. This had been a particularly vivid reliving of the nightmare. It was necessary to do something physical to work off the pain, to rid himself of the ongoing night terrors he called life.

He discovered the only way to minimize the thoughts that preyed on his emotions was to maximize the exercise. Even though he’d gotten out of the Navy, he couldn’t get the Navy out of him. He was still edgy, still walking the line between sanity and sainthood, still living life as if there would be no tomorrow—partially in hopes of forgetting about yesterday. So he grabbed a towel and went to gym-hell to work out his demons. Today was one of those days that would require a special form of exorcism. He couldn’t get relief until his body was wet, his mind spent until he ached for mental release.

This morning, nothing could distract him from his revelry. He pumped with more gusto than usual, searching for blessed relief. His senses hadn’t dulled, but his body was too busy trying to persuade his mind to give up the war he waged.

He got dressed for work, then left. He left a little early so he could stop by and see a poor dog that had been tied up his entire five years of life. The organization he volunteered for hadn’t been able to legally obtain the dog, so Logan made it a routine to stop by the house and feed the dog. Usually, he was always able to secure the dogs he fought for, but not this one. And that killed him more than anything. 

Logan took one look into his large, dark eyes and saw the most loving dog just begging for a second chance. He wished that someday he would be able to.

Hey, boy, c’mere, got some treats for you. Good dog, Charlie. C’mon, you’ll love this.

The dog was probably more mixed breed than lab, Logan thought.

Given his circumstances, he rose stiffly from the patch of dirt where he habitually lay and approached the chain-link fence. The chain dragged back and forth along the ground and created a ten foot wide dirt circle. His brushy tail attempted to wag, but didn’t work so well. It was plain to see he hadn’t been well cared for during his incarceration, however long it had been, attached by collar and heavy chain to a dilapidated dog house. He was thin and his coat was matted, but his dull eyes brightened at sight of his frequent visitor.

Logan knew dogs were naturally social beings who love and need interaction with people. This kind of confinement could severely damage his physical and psychological well-being, and make him neurotic, unhappy, and anxious. He’d seen it time and time before at his dog rescues.

This was no way to live. He deserved a better life this. Logan petted the dog, scratching him behind his ears. He had so much life and love to give. Nobody deserved this lonely, isolated existence.

If I broke you out, what would be the first thing you’d do? he asked, feeling overwhelming love and compassion. 

The dog just looked up at him with those big brown eyes, then sat with his head hung low. It was like his spirit had been broken. Just like Logan’s. Maybe it was why he had a connection to the dog.

But Logan swore he could see part of his personality shining through with a little wag of his tail.

What would be your dream place, boy? How about running on the beach and chasing seagulls? I can picture it right now. Them squawking, and you barking up a storm. Man, I’d give anything for a giant pair of bolt cutters. The dog gently nudged him. Oh, Charlie, I’m so sorry. If I could take you to the beach I would. It breaks my heart into a million pieces. But I know you’re hanging on for a reason. Let’s hope in the end, love wins. 

Logan sighed at his overturned water bowl again. Also, his space needed to be cleaned so the dog could eat and sleep in an area that didn’t have urine and feces.  

He treats you like you’re just part of the scenery.

If only I could get you out of here...

Logan’s heart ached. He felt sad, and desperately frustrated.

At least the weather was dry and warm. On rainy days, he huddled in the dog house, which provided little shelter from the elements. And Logan had no other way to get to him.

Ah, there you go.

The links were just wide enough that Logan could shove through some high-protein pup snacks; some he’d bought, some he’d baked, in the shape of bones, using peanut butter and pumpkin. Vegan, and very healthy. And Charlie loved them.

Of course, why wouldn’t he, with so little else on the menu?

Good stuff, huh, boy? Yeah, I know. Logan was able to reach enough to scratch the top of the dog’s head, and behind his ears.

Charlie whined a response, moving slightly for easier access.

Eventually, reminded of the time, and the fact that duty was calling him to work, Logan knew he needed to leave. That was all he could do for the moment. Other than stop by the ramshackle house that fronted the property to plead, one more time, with the owner.

Look, Mr. Henderson, just let me take the dog. You’re obviously in no position to—

Get outa here. Toldja before, you’re trespassin’, and I’m gonna call the cops.

Then let me take him just for the day. I promise to bring him back. Just to get him off the leash. When was the last time you let him off the leash?

Never!

Then let me give Charlie a day out. I’ll take him to the dog park, and...

No. End of discussion. Now go!

The cantankerous old man, eighty if he was a day, was collapsed like a bag of wet sand in a chair on his veranda, doing absolutely nothing, but drinking beer. That’s my dog, so leave him alone. My son died, and that’s all I have left to remember him by. I promised I would take care his dog.

Then why aren’t you doing a better job?

Get out of here!

In the six months of his passing by this place every day, and helplessly surveying the lonely, neglected animal tied out in all kinds of weather, Logan had tried cajolery and entreaty, threats and bluffs, downright begging to remove a dog who apparently was never comforted with any human contact but his own. To everything the old man turned a deaf ear and a stone-cold heart.

Even reason hadn’t worked.

Why have a dog at all, if he’s never with you? Inside, where he could keep you company. Why not give him up to me? I’ll get Charlie a good home, and I’ll—

G’wan with you! Henderson smacked his cane so suddenly and so forcefully on the wooden floor that it could have gone straight through to the crawl space below. The dog is mine. He’s been tied out there for almost five years, and we’re gettin’ along just fine. You can come back tomorrow for another visit. And bring more food. I’m livin’ on a fixed income, ya know. Now take your hiney off my property!

Disconsolate, Logan Calaway hauled himself away and back onto the street. Every morning he arrived, hoping this might be the day when he could