Excerpt of Discovering Temptation by Morgan Fox

Arms full of groceries, Abby strolled back to her car. The sound of crunching rocks under heavy booted feet coming from behind her had her searching for the owner of that startling sound. Two fierce hands gripped hold of her upper arms, whirling her off balance and thrusting her to the ground. The bags she'd been carrying tore, and the groceries scattered in all directions.

Moving to stand, she whimpered. Stinging pain shot up from her hands and knees. Before she could get to her feet, she was kicked in the ribs. The air rushed from her lungs. The masked man was on her before she could regain the air in her sternum to scream. Then he was hitting her again, slamming his fists into her back, stomach, and chest. She tried to block his assault, but he was too strong and fast. She fell to the ground in a heap.

Yanking her up by her hair, the masked man dragged Abby across the coarse ground toward her car. The rocks and gravel cut into the flesh of her arms and legs. She kicked wildly, trying to get free of her captive. Finding her voice, she screamed.

Suddenly, the man was no longer dragging her. Instead, he jumped on top of her, straddled her waist, and delivered several quick punches to her head and face. Dazed, she couldn't see past the stars erupting in her eyes.

"Please don't hurt me," she begged, covering her face with her arms.

"Shut up," he yelled, dragging her once again by her hair.

Abby wasn't the kind of person to just give up, but she'd also never been hit in the face by a full–grown man. Her mind may have been clouded by panic, fear, and a splintering migraine, but it was also soaring with many questions. Who was this evil person dragging her to her death? What did he want from her? Why was he doing this to her?

"Hey," shouted a deep, powerful voice.

In one moment she was released by her captive and the next she watched in absolute astonishment as his massive body was flung through the air like a rag doll. In the next instant, her rescuer was hauling her attacker up by his black shirt, wailing several quick punches into his face. Stunned, she couldn't take her eyes off of the men as they fought.

Fists and feet punched and kicked at one another. Both large males looked as though they were trying to kill each other. Her attacker, clad in black, seemed to sneak in a couple of surprise hits, but it was her savior that had finally dealt a debilitating punch, making the man in black scurry off, disappearing into the thick blackness surrounding them.

Standing like a warrior in the glow of the store lights, her sweet salvation towered. He possessed broad, powerful shoulders and long, sculpted arms that hung at his sides. Closed fists still showed he was ready to protect her. Tight, stonewashed blue jeans magnified a butt so firm and round she felt naughty staring at a body poorly hidden by the denim fabric. In a moment where she should've been frightened, terrified by what she'd encountered, all she could think about was the man that had come to save her.

He knelt beside her and swept her up into his embrace. "You're all right now," he said as he stroked her tousled hair, combing it away from her face. "I've got you. He can't hurt you now."

A wild shiver charged up her body as he wrapped his arms around her. His brawny presence and soothing, deep voice pulled her from the trenches of her frightened psyche. She found herself nestling against him, cradling as close as she could get. The wild musk scent she discovered around his neck had her eyes opening. She had to see the face of her rescuer, had to know who had arrived like her knight in shining armor.

Weak and disoriented, she trembled as she eased back to gaze up at him. A nervous flutter sank to the pit of her stomach as she stared into brilliant, stormy, blue–gray eyes. The breathtaking cowboy seemed too much like a dream to be real. His dark brown hair dipped low into the collar of his shirt and her fingers itched to wrap around the back of his neck to feel the strands tickle her fingers. Her mouth was suddenly dry.

Holding her gaze, he said, "I'm Tyler Boyd."

Her mouth hung open and the words she knew should be there just wouldn't surface. Stammering, she asked, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

The delicious smile that beamed out at her had her praying that he wasn't a figment of her imagination. "My name is Tyler. I'm assuming you are new around here since I've never met you before tonight."

Nodding, she said, "Yes."

He continued smiling, caressing the side of her face. "May I ask your name?"

Licking her lips, she felt a rush of heat fill her cheeks. "My name is Abby. Abby Blake."

His brows narrowed. "You're Duke Blake's daughter?"

The way he asked the question had her curious, and the sudden connection that he knew her father had her stomach twisting to know more about him. "Yes. How did you know that?"

In that moment, Sophia stepped forward. "Tyler, maybe I should take Abby home."

Holding Abby's gaze a moment longer, he nodded and wrapped his arm around her, hoisting her gently to her feet. Never had the act ever felt so effortless. The power in his touch left her tingling in places that had no business tingling.

Sophia stepped up alongside her and took hold of her arm, supporting her weight the way Tyler had. The sudden absence of his warm and caring eyes left her cold and keenly aware of just how much she enjoyed being confined in his arms.

"Take care of yourself, Ms. Blake," he said, tilting his white Stetson with his forefinger and thumb.
""Arms full of groceries, Abby strolled back to her car. The sound of crunching rocks under heavy booted feet coming from behind her had her searching for the owner of that startling sound. Two fierce hands gripped hold of her upper arms, whirling her off balance and thrusting her to the ground. The bags she'd been carrying tore, and the groceries scattered in all directions.

Moving to stand, she whimpered. Stinging pain shot up from her hands and knees. Before she could get to her feet, she was kicked in the ribs. The air rushed from her lungs. The masked man was on her before she could regain the air in her sternum to scream. Then he was hitting her again, slamming his fists into her back, stomach, and chest. She tried to block his assault, but he was too strong and fast. She fell to the ground in a heap.

Yanking her up by her hair, the masked man dragged Abby across the coarse ground toward her car. The rocks and gravel cut into the flesh of her arms and legs. She kicked wildly, trying to get free of her captive. Finding her voice, she screamed.

Suddenly, the man was no longer dragging her. Instead, he jumped on top of her, straddled her waist, and delivered several quick punches to her head and face. Dazed, she couldn't see past the stars erupting in her eyes.

"Please don't hurt me," she begged, covering her face with her arms.

"Shut up," he yelled, dragging her once again by her hair.

Abby wasn't the kind of person to just give up, but she'd also never been hit in the face by a full–grown man. Her mind may have been clouded by panic, fear, and a splintering migraine, but it was also soaring with many questions. Who was this evil person dragging her to her death? What did he want from her? Why was he doing this to her?

"Hey," shouted a deep, powerful voice.

In one moment she was released by her captive and the next she watched in absolute astonishment as his massive body was flung through the air like a rag doll. In the next instant, her rescuer was hauling her attacker up by his black shirt, wailing several quick punches into his face. Stunned, she couldn't take her eyes off of the men as they fought.

Fists and feet punched and kicked at one another. Both large males looked as though they were trying to kill each other. Her attacker, clad in black, seemed to sneak in a couple of surprise hits, but it was her savior that had finally dealt a debilitating punch, making the man in black scurry off, disappearing into the thick blackness surrounding them.

Standing like a warrior in the glow of the store lights, her sweet salvation towered. He possessed broad, powerful shoulders and long, sculpted arms that hung at his sides. Closed fists still showed he was ready to protect her. Tight, stonewashed blue jeans magnified a butt so firm and round she felt naughty staring at a body poorly hidden by the denim fabric. In a moment where she should've been frightened, terrified by what she'd encountered, all she could think about was the man that had come to save her.

He knelt beside her and swept her up into his embrace. "You're all right now," he said as he stroked her tousled hair, combing it away from her face. "I've got you. He can't hurt you now."

A wild shiver charged up her body as he wrapped his arms around her. His brawny presence and soothing, deep voice pulled her from the trenches of her frightened psyche. She found herself nestling against him, cradling as close as she could get. The wild musk scent she discovered around his neck had her eyes opening. She had to see the face of her rescuer, had to know who had arrived like her knight in shining armor.

Weak and disoriented, she trembled as she eased back to gaze up at him. A nervous flutter sank to the pit of her stomach as she stared into brilliant, stormy, blue–gray eyes. The breathtaking cowboy seemed too much like a dream to be real. His dark brown hair dipped low into the collar of his shirt and her fingers itched to wrap around the back of his neck to feel the strands tickle her fingers. Her mouth was suddenly dry.

Holding her gaze, he said, "I'm Tyler Boyd."

Her mouth hung open and the words she knew should be there just wouldn't surface. Stammering, she asked, "I'm sorry, who are you?"

The delicious smile that beamed out at her had her praying that he wasn't a figment of her imagination. "My name is Tyler. I'm assuming you are new around here since I've never met you before tonight."

Nodding, she said, "Yes."

He continued smiling, caressing the side of her face. "May I ask your name?"

Licking her lips, she felt a rush of heat fill her cheeks. "My name is Abby. Abby Blake."

His brows narrowed. "You're Duke Blake's daughter?"

The way he asked the question had her curious, and the sudden connection that he knew her father had her stomach twisting to know more about him. "Yes. How did you know that?"

In that moment, Sophia stepped forward. "Tyler, maybe I should take Abby home."

Holding Abby's gaze a moment longer, he nodded and wrapped his arm around her, hoisting her gently to her feet. Never had the act ever felt so effortless. The power in his touch left her tingling in places that had no business tingling.

Sophia stepped up alongside her and took hold of her arm, supporting her weight the way Tyler had. The sudden absence of his warm and caring eyes left her cold and keenly aware of just how much she enjoyed being confined in his arms.

"Take care of yourself, Ms. Blake," he said, tilting his white Stetson with his forefinger and thumb.