Excerpt of All Jacked Up by Lorelei James

Keely McKay’s lucky cowgirl boots kicked up clouds of dust
as she paced across the wooden plank floor.

A mouse skittered in front of her and she jumped like a
scalded cat.

So much for maintaining nerves of steel.

Well, at least she hadn’t shrieked like a scream queen from
some cheesy slasher flick.

In the last twenty-three minutes and forty-two seconds she’d
chewed her bottom lip to the point she tasted blood beneath
the cherry-flavored lip gloss. Not only that, her fingers
hurt from continually cracking her knuckles. Frogs jumped in
her stomach and were stuck in her throat. She’d clenched her
jaw hard enough to make her earlobes sting. Given her
erratic physical reactions, one would believe she was facing
the hangman’s noose. An executioner’s blade. Or a blind date.

She was meeting a man. A man she didn’t know. A man she’d
never spoken to. A man who held her entire future in his hands.

And that absolutely chapped her ass, sucked balls and blew
donkey dick.

No man ever had that much power over Keely McKay. She’d made
sure of it. Even with five older brothers, and a dozen older
male cousins, she’d always been the queen bee. Using her
stubbornness to get her way, not her feminine wiles.

Not that she was opposed to flashing her cleavage to get a
leg up in this situation.

There were a hundred reasons why good fortune should finally
smile on her. She’d done everything right on the business
front: secured the funding and found the building to further
the cause she believed in. On the personal side: she was a
loving daughter, a dedicated sister, a loyal friend, an
involved aunt. A proud member of the Wyoming community she’d
grown up in and hoped to grow old in. She took pride in her
ability to connect with people from all walks of life. She
derived great joy from helping people. Heck, she’d chosen
her career because she was good at those things.

She wasn’t looking for kudos or glory, just a place where
she could do what she loved, help people heal close to
home—close to their families.

Now that her dream of giving back to the community—filling a
need for rural healthcare—was within her grasp, would this
mysterious man help smooth a path to success? Or would he
trip her up?

Maybe all this worry was for nothing. Maybe she’d get lucky.
God knew if the decision were based on hard work,
dedication, knowledge and drive, she’d be golden.

Restless, she wandered through the main floor of the
century-old building, originally Moorcroft’s first general
store. During the course of its existence, it’d housed the
post office and an attorney’s office. For the last thirty
years it’d sat empty.

She’d always wondered why no one had renovated the stalwart
stone building—an answer she was now learning firsthand. New
construction of steel frame structures was easier, cheaper,
faster and more efficient. Hence, many historic buildings
were lost to the blade of a bulldozer or tumbled by a
wrecking ball. A sad situation for a western state with
precious few architectural treasures in the first place.

So the State of Wyoming had wisened up and toughened
regulations, forming the Wyoming Historical Western
Preservation Committee to deal with the lax construction
policies and administration of fines. The committee also
gauged a structure’s historical merit, determining those to
be listed on the official register, as well as overseeing
any structural and architectural changes of registered
buildings, both on the state level and with recommendation
to the National Historic Register.

Talk about a taste of bureaucracy.

After dealing with committees and subcommittees, and
tracking down funding sources, Keely discovered the entire
house of cards depended upon whether she could convince the
certified architectural restoration specialist to oversee
the project. The company representative insisted on making a
personal appearance to gauge the validity of the proposed
project before rendering a decision.

As if the situation wasn’t convoluted enough, she’d
inadvertently discovered the restoration company she’d
contacted and the company that owned the Sandstone Building
she lived in…were one in the same. Western Property
Management Services and Full Circle Consulting shared the
same PO box in Denver.

If she believed in fate, she’d take that as a good sign.

The door creaked and a shaft of sunlight seared her retinas.
Keely blocked the bright ray with her hand, willing her
heart to stop racing as fast as a spooked antelope. This was
it. Her future. Her destiny.

She plastered on a charming smile.

As the form sauntered closer, Keely blinked several times.
No way. Had to be a trick of the light. Or a trick of the
swirling dust motes. Her eyes—shit, maybe she needed
glasses. The male figure with a laconic walk looked
like…nah. It couldn’t be him.

Could it?

All six foot four inches, two hundred odd pounds of muscle
and grace pulled into sharp focus.

Keely gasped like a Victorian maiden.

Or maybe she had stumbled onto the set of a low budget
horror movie.

The man was a stunning example of masculine flawlessness.

And the dead last man in the world Keely ever wanted to deal
with.

Her brother’s best friend.

The older brother of the guy who’d dumped her.

The jerk who’d left her high and dry at her brother’s
wedding reception three years ago.

Jack Donohue.

That bitch fate had a nasty sense of humor.