Sam Cheever writes fast paced romantic fiction with feisty characters who deal with life’s little challenges in unique and often hilarious ways. Sam’s recent published work includes her Dancin’ With the Devil series, ‘Tween Heaven and Hell, a rip roaring fantasy adventure that will leave you panting for more; the fast-paced and highly entertaining sequel, ‘Tween a Devil and His Hard Place; and the third in the series, ‘Tween Heart’s Fire and Devil’s Delight, coming in 2009. Also coming in 2009 is Nocked Over, a sexy thrill ride of an erotic fantasy. Sam’s hilarious romantic suspense, Dancing With Tad, was released through Red Rose Publishing in August 2008. Also released through Red Rose in December, her new romantic suspense, A Honeybun and Coffee is now available. To learn more about the author and her work, visit her website and her blog.
A HONEYBUN AND COFFEE
Honeybun Hunks Series: Book 1
Mainstream Romance: Contemporary, Mystery/Suspense
Surprised into hiding in a men’s room stall at work, Angie Peterson, owner of the Dunk and Run Coffee Shoppe, overhears two men talking about killing someone named Alastair Honeybun. Picturing a frail, helpless old Englishman, Angie rushes to warn him. There’s only one, small problem, Alastair Honeybun is six foot two inches of yummy man, who’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But when the thugs show up while Angie’s still there, they soon figure out they’ll need to take care of each other.
Running from criminals who seem to know where they are and what they’re doing before they do, the two enlist Alastair’s hunky and talented brothers to help them unravel the confusing swirl of murder, kidnapping, and downright unpleasantness closing in on them. But not to worry, the Honeybun brothers are determined to put a serious crimp in the bad guys’ day!
The Honeybun Hunks
Who are the Honeybun Hunks? They are eight sexy brothers…yes eight…who like to take things into their own, very capable hands when stuff goes awry in their lives or the lives of their lady loves. Their more admirable traits, aside from the ability to track, capture, and kick bad guy’ butt, include cooking, an inbred love of animals, and the ability to hold their own in a shopping mall. Impossible you say…absolutely not I respond.
They’re Honeybuns!
Papa Honeybun was Chief Legal Counsel to one of our recent Presidents. Uncle Brick Honeybun is a US Senator. Mama Honeybun used to wrestle numbers into place as a high placed accountant, but now just wrangles testosterone as she tries to keep her challenging brood in line. The Honeybun brothers include a spy, a Marine drill instructor, a famous race car driver, a heart surgeon, an infamous writer, a lawyer, a well known dancer…and, in Book One of the series, a successful financial planner named Alastair Honeybun:
Alastair Honeybun stood in a dark corner of the bar and wished he could be somewhere else, anywhere else, other than where he was. His penetrating, blue gaze slid around the noisy bar and he watched the drunken antics of his friends with a slight curl of his lip.
At thirty-two years old, Alastair was growing weary of the constant bump and grind of male ritual that brought them, always and forever, into the same stale venues doing the same, juvenile things, night after night.
His friends suffered from no such disillusionment. They were perpetually happy with their current stage in life and saw no reason to reach beyond into adulthood.
Alastair didn’t share their enthusiasm for the drinking and mindless search for the next great pair of tits or soft, round ass to bump against in the night. He was dangerously close to wanting more out of life. A singularly terrifying thing. And something that would most likely cause him no end of grief with his friends if he were…stupidly…to confide in them.
So he didn’t confide. Instead he moved through his days as a highly paid financial planner with a certain kind of contented glee, and his nights, as one of the guys, with much reluctance and teeth grinding.
Unfortunately, Alastair unknowingly views a kidnapping that night in the bar. Days later, as he’s recovering, none too bravely, from a terrible bout of the flu, an attractive woman named Angie Peterson knocks on his door and informs him that he’s about to be visited by two thugs who intend to kill him:
The sound of shrill barking greeted her insistent knocking long before she heard footsteps on the other side of the door. She suddenly felt as if someone was staring at her and waved at the peephole in the door, smiling.
She figured he’d open the door just to find out who the ditz on his doorstep was.
The door finally slid slowly open to reveal a mass of vibrating blankets with close cropped, bright red hair. The blankets sniffled and shuffled toward her. “Whadya want? I’m not interested whatever it is. I’m dyin’ and I just wanna be left alone.”
A small, black and brown sausage type dog wriggled past the blankets and hopped around excitedly on the small front porch. He barked happily, wagging his entire backend in greeting. The little dog raised himself up on two stubby back legs and put oversized front paws on her knee. Angie reached down to pet the daschund’s head and tried to peer under the blankets at its owner.
“Hello, I’m Angie Peterson. We spoke on the phone a while ago.”
The blankets gave a jerk and started to turn back into the house. “Go away.”
Angie grabbed the edge of the door before he could get it closed and forced her way into the house. “I’m sorry. I know you must feel like hell and I’m not normally this pushy. But you have to listen to me. I really believe your life is in danger.”
The man in the blankets sneezed and stared at her. Finally he turned back into the house and headed down a long hallway toward the back of the house. “I don’t have the energy to throw you bodily out of the house so if you’ll promise to make me some of that tea you suggested I’ll sit and listen to what you have to say.”
This extended speech ended in a bout of violent coughing that sounded as if Mr. Honeybun was about to spew a spleen. Angie quickly threw the bolt on the front door and followed him. The happy little dog bounced after her down the hall.
When they reached the kitchen the little daschund flew past her and exited through a flap at the bottom of the back door. She turned the bolt on that door too. Turning to Alastair Honeybun, who was now perched miserably on a chair at the kitchen table, she asked, “Do you have any other doors I should lock?”
The cap of bright red hair was underscored now by blue eyes with a thick fringe of dark red lashes and a pale, sweaty brow. Unlined. Angie did a quick reassessment of the old guy thing.
“What are you some kind of mobile rent a mommy?”
Angie blew out a sigh of frustration. “Humor me.”
But Alastair doesn’t really believe Angie until he calls his office and learns that two men answering the description Angie gave him of the men she’d overheard talking about killing him had visited his office. By the time Alastair realizes the kook in his kitchen might not be so kooky after all it’s too late and the killers are pounding on his front door. And thus begins the race between these two innocent but far from helpless victims, and a surprisingly agile and intuitive criminal enterprise, which has only one goal in mind. Kill Alistair Honeybun, and by default due to her presence in his life, kill Angie Peterson too. It’s quite a ride. I hope you’ll check it out.
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