Break Free: Coogan's Break Series, #2

By Hope Malone

She's an accountant who likes order. He's a bounty hunter for whom life is chaotic and dangerous. Can opposites attract when his world comes knocking on her door?

JOSIE
I've always craved balance in my life, so training to be an accountant and joining the family business, was a no-brainer. It's safe, secure and there are never any surprises. That's just how I like it.

On leaving the office Friday night, I never could have imagined that someone like Chase Hunter would end up dominating my weekend and potentially my life.

Sure I've seen him from afar, and maybe even drooled over him, but finding all six-foot-three of him in my backyard, and missing a shirt, is a different story. A story I find myself longing to read, slowly and thoroughly.

CHASE
Chase Hunter, bounty hunter, and yeah, I've heard ALL the jokes, so don't bother. I prefer to call myself a bail enforcement agent, rather than model myself on some long haired reality star. Sure, I like to get my man and the reward as much as my famous counterparts; I just do it with less bravado.

It's this drive to succeed that has me chasing a felon through half a dozen backyards on a Friday night. It's when the creep breaks into a house that things really get interesting. Sure, I catch the guy, but I also find Josie Robinson. And what a find. Could she be the woman I've been searching for all along?

If you're short on time but long for romance, you'll love this series of steamy, curvy girl, opposites attract romances. They can be read in any order you choose, there's a guaranteed HEA with no cheating, and no cliffhangers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bad Birds
• Release date: Aug 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223507178

Book preview

ONE

CHASE

While I wait for my toast to look less anemic, I stir a pot of beans on the cooktop. It's not cordon bleu, but it'll have to do. Being a Bail Enforcement Agent means paydays can be few.

I've eaten this exact meal so often of late, there's no need to give it my full attention. Instead, I stare idly out the window of the rundown trailer I call home.

Perhaps home isn't the right term. Petri dish? Hovel? I'm also on the losing side in the ongoing war with the roaches. They must have one hell of a recruitment drive.

With a toaster that can go from bread to charcoal in sixty seconds, I check on my toast before going back to looking out the window. Soon, dinner is the last thing on my mind.

Got you, you freaking asshole! Well, not yet, but I've been tracking this guy for weeks after his failure to appear in court. FTAs are my bread and butter, or at least beans on toast, and here he is slithering past my trailer like the snake he is. There's not a chance he's getting away this time.

After ripping the toaster cord out of the wall and turning off the cooktop, I grab my leather jacket, with everything I need already stuffed in the pockets. There's no time for a shirt, and I'm thankful the tackiness of the floor sees me wearing my boots.

I don't bother locking the door behind me. The only thing of value I own is my motorbike, and that's chained to the large tree next to my trailer.

With Robert John Collings no longer in sight, I barrel down my narrow street to the crossroads in the middle of the trailer park. He's off to my right.

I haven't made a sound, and yet he immediately turns and spots me. And he's off, with his prowess running track in high school soon on full display.

But I'm no slouch, although I wish I was wearing running shoes like he is, rather than my boots. I'm not letting them slow me down, though, spurred on by thoughts of collecting my 10% of his seventy-five grand bail.

It's a good chunk of change and will put a stop to beans for a while. It's just a damned shame it won't be near enough to get me out of the financial hole I'm in. Something I have to thank my brother, Ethan, for.

Half an hour later and I'm no closer to taking him down, with the guy scaling backyard fences like they're nothing. The next fence is the tallest so far, and it's only the cross bars being on my side that allow me to lift myself up and over the top.

The delay has been enough that I'm in time to see the creep slowly opening the backdoor of the house whose yard we're in. There aren't any lights showing, so I hope to hell no-one's home because my FTA has a nasty reputation.

I'm sneaking across the yard when a crash comes from inside, following by yelling and howling. The only thing I'm not sure of is who's responsible for the racket.

What the hell are you playing at, Bobby boy?

I'm close to the back door when lights flare inside the house. This shows Bobby standing in the doorway, cradling his right hand with his left. It's exactly the distraction I need.

I step up behind him, grab a handful of shirt and yank him backwards before shoving him to the ground. I have him cuffed and his ankles gaffer-taped, before light floods the backyard.

Only then do I notice the woman standing in the doorway, and suddenly Bobby is all but forgotten under the weight of my knee. I swallow hard because the woman is making my mouth water.

However much I want to, there's not a chance I'll be able to speak to her over the noise being kicked up by Bobby. My hand on the back of his head, I shove his face into the lush sod.

I'm about to introduce myself when I notice she's holding a rolling pin and I understand what's with all Bobby's cussing and moaning.

And hell if that isn't an even bigger turn-on.

JOSIE

On walking in the door Friday night, I'm tired after a full week thanks to one client putting their accounts in the too-hard basket. And I mean an actual basket, a cane dog bed that'd be big enough to hold a Golden Retriever or half a