A Military Romance Saga of Suspense….A Literary Film Noir in a Book Like No Other….Readers and reviewers are in for an extremely rare, literary, treat! “IGNITED BONES” delivers the action, romance, suspense, and of course…the intrigue. Move over Jason BOURNE and Christian GRAY!
When a crucial military mission goes all to hell, its repercussions put an unlikely trio on a collision course of shattering self-revelation! Against a backdrop of global political instability and high-stakes intrigue, these three kindred spirits struggle to find their place in the world…and with each other. Major Robert Fitzgerald Glenn, a battle-scarred commander in the U.S. Army who is locked in a desperate battle against the growing darkness that threatens to consume his soul…. Lord James Gregory Percival Foxington the Fourth, a wealthy and influential raconteur whose jet-setting, hedonistic exterior conceals a yawning emptiness within himself….
And their mutual prize: Ms. Sable-Ann Lacroix, the strong-willed former Army sergeant and free-loving adventuress whose passionate inner fires cannot be quenched by any man…hell, not even TWO. Strap yourself in tight for the ride of your life as their mad story unfolds.
The shared journey of these three powerful personalities becomes a dizzying erotic odyssey so intense that it could tear them apart—or blow their ever-loving minds!
At that moment, thousands of miles away at O’Hare Airport Chicago, Sable-Ann sat in the Admiral Sky Club, feeling trapped and frustrated by a long layover. Her flight was delayed due to inclement weather and mechanical difficulties. Sable-Ann tossed her baggage into the special holding area and scowled. Will I even survive this time? The question danced around in her head like a mischievous child baiting its parent to get attention.
Her entire business trip had been plagued by one issue after the other. Two lucrative business deals had gone completely awry. Sable-Ann’s cool and calm demeanor threatened to shatter into pieces. She needed to pull herself together and put the lost deals into perspective.
`The Admiral Sky Club, however, would be a very welcome reprieve. Admiral O’Hare, one of American Airlines’ most high-tech, posh, and sumptuous sky clubs around, offered libations, food, and atmosphere. Its private business spaces were enclosed with highbacked leather seats and huge desk areas. Every executive amenity its members could dream of was placed at their fingertips. Open seating areas featured views of the airfield through the club’s floor-to-ceiling windows.
Huge flat screen televisions kept club members abreast of all flight times, the latest stock market statistics, and news from around the world in real time, of course. However, the main attractions, as always, were the club’s two well stocked and professionally managed bars and its dining areas. The bar seating was comfortable and stylish; the tall seats featured leather upholstery with comfy high backs. The club’s bartenders were truly the friendliest. Sable-Ann could not wait to place her last call and close her laptop for the duration of her trip. After securing her phone, laptop, and business tablet, Sable-Ann was finally ready for a hearty drink. She waltzed over to a very crowded bar area. On her way in, Sable-Ann idly surveyed the crowd of business travelers. The bar was full of shark-suit types. She noticed that several of them watched her as she sidled up to the bar to place an order. Clearly, there was about to be some serious shark hunting in there. And Sable-Ann was the prey. She could not help hiding a smirk riddled in cynicism.
Ahead of her at the bar, three handsome execs looked like perfect corporate great-white shark types, it was a bit funny to observant exec. Two of them were in their salt-and-peppered middle-aged glory. The third gentleman seemed much younger, at least from the back. When one of his friends said something to him, Sable-Ann caught the mellow tones of a British accent in his reply. The bartender mixed their cocktails and set them up. The preoccupied execs, sipping their drinks with satisfaction, turned, and walked past her.
They began making their way over to an empty table on the other side of the crowded bar. Halfway across the room, the hot young gentleman suddenly stopped in his tracks and did a full about-face to take in the spectacle that was Sable-Ann. She had to laugh at his delayed double-take. From there, she could see that a rosy blush was flushing his cheeks.
Suddenly, for whatever reason, the impressed gentleman turned to gawk back at her, his smile filled with beguilement and naughty charm. The gentleman’s eyes complemented his Armani shark suit. His gaze had the same cold glint as a great white shark going in for the kill. His firm, sexy physique broadcast the fact that he was a total workout buff. No one could tell him he was a horse’s patootie, because his confidence radiated all over that sky club and bar. What a rake he was, this sexy-ass son of a bitch! Sable-Ann did not mind the visual this fine male specimen presented—what woman would? —but still, she could not have cared less. She was at the bar, entirely in her element.
In this world of shark suit executives, Sable-Ann was with her tribe. Handling shark types in their shark suits was a way of life for many female execs. Why the hell would this son of a so-and-so be any different, sexy as hell or not? Besides, he did have an alluring charm about him that was calming and uncanny. Most likely it was the British accent and his Carpenter B. cologne. Sable-Ann would know that scent anywhere! Its musky notes teased her fancy, taunting the hairs of her nostrils. Rake or not, the young gentleman provided a great deal of sex appeal and attraction, a very welcome and needed distraction.
Just as Sable-Ann was toying with the notion of strolling over to ask the gentleman’s name, the bartender intruded into her thoughts. She gave him her drink order and turned back to see the sexy exec as he waved off his friends. He took a step in her direction. She knew the pretentious young fellow was preparing to slip into her personal space, just as stealthy as ever. “What a fucking snake,”
Sable-Ann murmured under her breath, joyfully, of course. She would make him work for his prize. She turned and walked away, making him think she was retreating from his advance, then she found a couple of empty seats at the end of the bar. Sable-Ann slid her remarkable clever and savvy ass onto the leather seat of a barstool and crossed her lusciously long legs with studied, sensual grace.
It was the signal he was looking for. In the few seconds it took him to work his way toward her, that shark of an exec undressed her with his eyes. Though Sable noticed, she chose to hide her discovery from the handsome executive. She found him quite funny and predictable. Plus, those pinstriped Armani trousers indicated that she had snared a very virile and blessed cheeky bloke. What the damnation? The coy executive winked as he shot Sable-Ann another smile worthy of the Cheshire Cat. His intrigue began to build rackingly.
Sable-Ann felt his appreciation to the way her white silk Oscar de’ la Renta blouse was beginning to cling to her softly moist skin. She knew her tall, voluptuous silhouette only added to the erotic pomp and circumstance of the moment, and she relished it. The rapid rise and fall of Sable-Ann’s bosom was a dead giveaway. Even so, she really did not care. Her brain was focused on a reprieve from her disrupted journey. This sexy and cheeky bloke would offer her a most welcome sidebar.
Plus, when it came to executive types such as him, her thoughts were remarkably simple and to the point: Whatever is good for the gander is great for the goose! She was seriously aroused underneath that calm and flirty demeanor of hers. But Sable-Ann was an old-school game player who remained calm on the surface and maintained a poker face.
Unbeknownst to the poor fella, she was a Barbarian at the Gate in her own right, totally feeling herself and the power of her allure. This poor, clueless boy really needed to watch out, because underneath her beautiful exterior was a fucking venomous viper, poised to strike at will… and strike at her will…she would!
Glowing with confidence, the charming young executive murmured a hello. He was nearly salivating at the mouth. Sable-Ann looked deeply into his fiery hazel-green eyes with pupils expanded when their gaze locked. He could not look away from the piercing gaze of her chocolate-diamond eyes.
Coquettishly, Sable-Ann lowered her lashes as she stirred her drink, liberating the gentleman’s protuberantly intrusive beam. Affording the tenacious exec to use his eyes to scrutinize her voluptuous silhouette and demeanor, in a power move of her own right. When she looked up, he was exposed; obviously trying to sneak inconspicuous peeks at her dusky, robust bosom.
She smiled as he caught himself (too funny). “Might I join you?” he asked hopefully. Sable-Ann gave a slight nod toward the seat beside her. He removed his suit jacket and placed it gently on the back of his chair, but he did not sit down. Like any other shark type, he was merely marking his territory, so to speak. This was a total old school playboy move, at the very least.
The gentleman was not about to graciously relinquish her attention, not in a million. So, he thought! The lady said not a word as she arched her left eyebrow and pursed her lips in approval. Of course, by this time his male member would be as hard as a fucking poker! His fiery eyes were glazing over with intrigue and capriciousness.
She knew he was thinking all types of scandalously scathing thoughts. “Mmm-hmmm…” Sable purred softly, just enough for the gentle‐ man’s ear to catch the cynical gesture. “Well, now,” he remarked with his deep British accent and that old rake of a glint in his eyes. Sable leaned back on her seat as she looked the gentleman up and down with discretion.
Her feet wanted to turn back flips they ached so badly from those four-inch Jimmy Choo come-fuck-me pumps! “Beautiful,” the exec murmured as he attempted to kiss the back of Sable-Ann’s hand. She pulled it back, then rested it gently on his chest.
Most men would have seen this as a woman’s surrender. But Sable-Ann was total old school. The move by the lady was a control move. By pressing her hand onto his chest, he could invade her space no farther than the boundary of her hand’s permissiveness. Sneaky! It was very strategic and coy of her. But he was lost in the game so deeply that he never noticed her clever move.
The gentleman simply kept moving his lips, along with his hopeful agenda. At that point, Sable-Ann knew the privy of her personal space was secure, and at readiness status, a total warrior-woman tactic. “Provided you don’t mind, beautiful…” His words dripped off his lips. Sable-Ann knew he was up to no damn good. “My name is Allen, with an E. And you are?”
He shot Sable-Ann a gaze that nearly penetrated her smoldering mocha-rich smooth skin. It was as if he were attempting to X-ray her through the beauty’s mink-collared Jones New York power suit with the pinstriped skirt, that embraced her hips like a possessive lover. She did not mind, not one bit. It was one of those welcomed flirts that many traveling female execs adored. They often played off such overt advances, for their fellow feminists at large.
However, they adored and welcomed such brazened flintiness, like combative titans. No matter how contradictory this may appear, or sound. It was a female exec thing. What else could one expect for a woman the likes of Sable-Ann? She only trusted that which she felt she could control (powerful safety mechanism). No matter how tacky his approach, he was totally harmless.
She noticed via her peripheral vision that the two older execs were heading over to her end of the bar. Sable-Ann could not help but note that the taller, much older member of the trio was the most poised of the three gentlemen and far more statuesque. Hell, he was in her direct LOS (line of sight).
However, out of courtesy, she chose to focus on the flirty moves from Mr. Allen. But she sneaked glances at the tall exec, here and there. A coy and clever bitch, she applied her totally old school moves! She could not quite put her finger on it, at the time, but there was something distinct and familiar about the tall, statuesque gentleman. But as to what it was, she had not a damn clue. Plus, her increasing level of arousal was affecting her ability to concentrate on the situation without distraction. Mr. Allen may have been a bit much, but he was attractive as hell. Plus, she was a sucker for the British accent. Period! Sable’s attentions were occupied for the moment. However, she did not need to worry her pretty little flirty head, because soon all her questions and curiosities were about to be met and satisfied. Some pretty importune fortunes were about to unfold in that damn sky club! Who the hell would have ever have thunk it?
Meet The Author
Hailing from Stockbridge, Georgia, J.Z. Luciano is a multi-genre author/writer. A Business Law and Economics undergraduate alumna of Mississippi Valley State University, Troy State University, and Auburn University at Montgomery, she also is proud to be an honor‐ able veteran of the United States Army. In addition, Ms. Luciano is an Operation Just Cause and Persian Gulf veteran. Her eyes have seen and experience a great deal of the world, to say the least.
The author and veteran performed most of her military duty as a communications instructor, and ceremonial detail for fallen soldiers. Hers’ was an extraordinary military career. Ms. Luciano’s diverse and dynamic worldview was shaped by her early life experiences.
At age five, she lived abroad with her parents when her father, a Staff Sergeant with the U.S. Army, was stationed in Europe. During August of 1968—the same year that Russia invaded the Czech Republic—Ms. Luciano was a schoolgirl in neighboring Germany, studying in military education programs. Seeing the world through the lens of these experiences and realities became powerful writing tools for Ms. Luciano, spurring her to develop her talents as a novelist and writer.
Early in her life, her passion for literature sparked her creative mind. As a youngster, Ms. Luciano discovered her love of writing through her love of reading. The classic book A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens truly inspired her writer’s soul, igniting the flame that began her long-term relationship with pen to paper.
By the age of fourteen, Ms. Luciano’s writing journey began to shift into high gear with short stories, poetry, and school plays. This determined lady veteran and capable author is the source of thrilling page-turners. Readers who are thirsting for provocative, intriguing, and dynamic literary works will find them in abundance from the pen of J.Z. Luciano.
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