Reviews for Morgan Brice

♥ Amazon US ♥ Amazon CA ♥ Amazon UK ♥ Barnes & Noble ♥ Kobo US ♥ iBooks ♥

September 1897

Chapter 1

Owen

Owen Sharps chuckled as he read his book on the train to St. Louis. He had been waiting to get a copy of Dracula, the sensational new book from England, and had found one in a New Pittsburgh bookstore before heading to the station.

It’s got flair, and I like how splashy Van Helsing is, but it’s obvious Stoker never fought a real vampire.

Owen had heard about the book and its growing reputation for being frightening and violent. So far nothing he’s written compares to being covered in blood in an ice-cold cemetery at midnight, hammering a stake through a vampire’s heart, and trying not to get bitten. Then again, maybe I have a skewed perspective.

“Pardon me, is this seat taken?” A drop-dead gorgeous man waited for an answer. He had raven black hair, bright blue eyes, and plush lips that filled Owen with impure thoughts. The stranger carried a suitcase and an overcoat, with a newspaper folded under his arm. Owen took one look and would have booted his granny to the cargo car to free up the seat for the man.

“It’s all yours.” Owen gave a dismissive wave, tearing his gaze away so he’d quit staring. It wouldn’t do to drool.

“I think this might be the last open seat on the train.” The man stowed his suitcase and coat, settling in across from Owen with his newspaper.

Owen couldn’t help giving him the once-over. He figured the man to be slightly shorter than his own six-foot-two inches, and from the cut of his suit jacket, he had a trim, muscular build. Owen made a mental note to be sure to get a glimpse of what was likely a prime ass when they left the train.

“Where are you headed?” Owen thought that a little conversation couldn’t hurt. He wanted to remember the man’s voice to go with his image on nights when he sought relief alone with his hand. This fellow would never know he’d been promoted to the lead in Owen’s secret fantasies. Owen particularly liked the contrast between the man’s dark hair and athletic body to his own rangy build, blond hair, fair skin, and green eyes.

“St. Louis.” The man returned Owen’s scrutiny with an assessing gaze.

Owen sat up a bit straighter, oddly wanting to make a good impression on this person he was unlikely to see again. He felt the weight of the man’s inspection, which made him wonder. Is he a cop? Private investigator? Or maybe…like me?

They were both dressed equally well in suits that were department store quality but not bespoke. The stranger’s hair was fairly short but more fashionable than military, and he was clean-shaven. Owen wondered what a hint of dark stubble might do to heighten those high cheekbones and accentuate the impossibly blue eyes, and he felt himself chub in his pants.

None of that, he admonished silently. It wouldn’t do to raise suspicion. He probably just wants to make sure I’m not the sort to steal his suitcase when he’s not looking.

“I’m headed there myself,” Owen said. “Business or pleasure?”

The man looked amused at the question but not annoyed, which boded well. “Business. You?”

Owen nodded, surprised that he wanted to continue the conversa- tion instead of returning to his book. “The same. I’ve heard the food there is good, but I doubt I’ll have time to do any exploring.” He found himself at ease with the stranger. “Will you be staying in the city, or going on from there?”

“I’ll meet with my boss, but I spend most of my time traveling,” the fellow replied. “I don’t get to stay long in any one place.”

So we have that in common too. Makes it unlikely that we might meet up again the next time I come back to St. Louis. “Me, too. I’m a bit of a rolling stone.”