Praise for the writing of Evangeline Anderson
Tandem Unit
This reviewer thoroughly enjoyedTandem Unit ’s wild romp about the solar system. Written in the same grand style as the old sci-fi novels, this is a page-turner from the start rushing to an emotional climax that’s wonderfully beautiful. I can’t wait for another book by Ms. Anderson to appear.
Meribeth McCombs,The Road to Romance
Tandem Unitis a steamy novel that captures readers with Sadie’s dilemma of obeying what she’s been taught or following her heart. The relationship between the three characters and the differing aspects that Sadie receives from the two men in her life are enough to make any girl contemplate a ménage a trois of her own. Evangeline Anderson's story was entertaining and leaves me looking forward to reading more of her work.
Claudia,Fallen Angel Reviews
I enjoyed readingTandem Unit . Sadie was an entertaining character, who tended to be pretty naďve... Holt and Blakely are two halves of a whole, who want to be able to complete their unit with Sadie. I liked the interaction between the characters, you felt like they truly cared for each other... [A]n entertaining story and well worth the time to read.
Julia,The Romance Studio
Tandem Unitis now available from Liquid Silver Books.
MARKED
Evangeline Anderson & Jay Douglas
www.loose-id.com
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
* * * * *
This book is rated:
For substantial explicit sexual content, graphic language, and material that some readers may find offensive (sex with shapeshifters in shapeshifted form).
Marked
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Loose Id LLC
1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29
Carson City NV 89701-1215
Copyright © January 2005 by Evangeline Anderson & Jay Douglas
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 1-59632-067-2
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Cathy Gilbert
Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter
Chapter One
“Gotta John Doe for ya, Doc.” The paramedic wheeled him in while I checked charts at the nurse’s station. “Caucasian male, looks to be between thirty an’ thirty-five. Out cold. We woulda put ’im on oxygen, but he seems to be breathin’ just fine.”
The twangy, good old boy voice was familiar and I sighed when I saw it was Bud Harson from the Clear Lake squad. Bud was a man who took the term “redneck” to a whole new level, a big guy with a red face and beer belly hanging over his too-tight uniform pants.
I felt Bud’s mean, piggy little eyes move over my body greedily, like fat slugs crawling on my skin. Some guys just don’t know how to take “no” for an answer. The one time I had accidentally brushed his hand while taking a chart I had picked up a sick, misogynistic mixture of lust and hate that boiled off his skin like a poison gas. Just the memory made me nauseous.
“Put him in five.” I motioned to the one empty trauma room located at the end of the industrial mint-green hall on the far side of the ER. It had been a busy night, with plenty of craziness to go around and I knew why. Outside, in the misty Texas fall night, a full moon, round and glaring, bobbed in and out of wispy, ragged clouds.
Anyone working at a hospital can tell you when a full moon is out strange things are likely to happen. I had already seen a number of unusual cases that night, the worst being two fatalities from some kind of animal attack. They had been DRT, Dead Right There, according to the paramedic who had brought them in. When the two victims, both males, had gotten to me, there was nothing I could do but pronounce them. Their faces were paper pale, bled dry and no wonder. Their throats had been ripped out and reduced to raw hamburger with a violence that turned my stomach, despite my jaded, ER doctor’s eye.
Looking past their shredded throats, I had seen a familiar symbol. A large midnight blue star in a burgundy circle decorated the sleeves of the white lab jackets that each man wore, now splattered with blood. I knew the symbol. It was the trademark of LoneStar Labs, a facility headed by my dear ex-husband, Douglas Grayson.
There is nothing I hate worse than a patient I can’t help, and the two men from LoneStar had been goners before they even got to me. Now I had a new case. Thankfully, he was unconscious.
“What happened to him?” Finishing the last chart, I came around to inspect what I hoped was the last new arrival on my shift.
“Hit by a bus,” Bud’s partner informed me. He was a good old boy, too, but not nearly as obnoxious as Bud. “Bus driver said he thought he hit some kinda animal. He didn’t know what it was, but he thought it was on all fours. When he stopped the bus, he found this guy there on the pavement out cold and nekked as yer grandma’s cat. Bus driver was real upset, thought fer sure he’d killed the guy. Seemed to be breathin’ fine though, and we coul
0.dn’t find no open wounds even though there was a lotta blood, mostly on his face. Cleaned him up some on the way over. Vitals er fine, pulse is normal an’ steady, but he’s completely out of it. Won’t wake up for nothin’.”
As soon as his partner finished giving me the rundown and left the room, Bud decided to put in a word of his own. “Passadena General was the nearest hospital with an open bed so we brought ’im to you. Hope ya don’t mind us bringin’ ya a nekked man in the middle of tha night. Or maybe it’s just what the doctor ordered? Eh, Doctor?” His words slurred slightly and he gave me a hopeful kind of leer, which I ignored.
“That’s what we’re here for.” Voice cool, I studied the man on the stretcher with interest. I refused to give Bud’s crude come-on any kind of recognition; it would only encourage him. “Just give me your notes and I’ll take over from here.” Bud handed me a sheaf of paperwork on a clipboard. I took it, being careful not to touch him. After a moment, he sidled around the stretcher where the unconscious man lay and came up next to me. He leaned forward, his red face much closer to mine than I would’ve liked. I leaned back, giving him my best blank face.
“Hey, Doc, my shift’s almost over, and I bet yours is too. How ’bout you and me goin’ back to my place for a cold one when ya get off?” The breath blowing in my face was thick with the yeasty reek of beer. His lust breathed down my skin with a rotten stench even stronger than the beer fumes, making me feel vaguely ill.
“You can go now,” I told him as curtly as I could. I was going to have to speak to the supervisor of the Clear Lake squad and let him know that one of his paramedics couldn’t wait for quitting time to start living the high life. Giving me a dirty look, he turned away but didn’t pull the door completely closed. I could hear him talking to his partner as they walked away.
“Damn, that Grayson is a cold bitch. I’d like ta get a handful of that gorgeous red hair and just ...” Mercifully his voice trailed off at that point. I sighed.
I tried to shake off the paramedic’s crude come-on and insulting remarks as I looked at my reflection in the opaque glass of the trauma room door. The red hair he had spoken of was pinned to the nape of my neck in a thick bun to keep it out of my face, and my wide, smoky, changeable blue eyes looked tired -- no surprise considering I was at the end of a non-stop twelve-hour shift. The small amount of blush I had dusted over my high cheekbones had worn away much earlier in the night, leaving my face pale and vulnerable except for the small smattering of freckles over the bridge of my nose.
I had inherited the cheekbones, along with my eyes, from my great-grandmother, who was half Native-American, and they were at odds with my pale skin and the rest of my purely Irish features. I tried to keep out of the sun, which wasn’t easy living in Texas, because I explode into freckles if I’m not careful. Too tall, too fair, and with an ass and breasts that were much too generous. Whatever men like Bud or my ex-husband Douglas saw in me, I certainly didn’t see it myself.
Shutting the door for privacy, I flipped through John Doe’s chart, looking at his vitals and giving...
renee2010