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Blue-Eyed Hero ebook

Blue-Eyed Hero ebook

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Main Tropes

  • Enemies to Lovers
  • Frenemies
  • Man in Uniform: Small Town Sheriff
Return to the coastal small town of Willow Cove in this suspenseful enemies to lovers where two frenemies team up to find the person threatening one of their lives.


Allison Winters, local TV reporter, is as loved as she is hated. It’s a price she’s willing to pay to get the story. But when she starts receiving threats in the mail, the local sheriff and her biggest rival, insists on finding the culprit while also keeping her close to protect her.

Recently taking on the sheriff's position in the small town, Reid Silva is determined to keep the town and its citizens safe, including Allison, the proverbial thorn in his side who refuses to take the threats she’s receiving seriously. Until he convinces her it could be the story of her career.

As the two enemies work together, pent up sexual tension grows, and as feelings that have been covered by contempt reveal themselves, they each let their guard down. But as the threats get more serious, Reid has no choice but to face a past he has hid from for over a decade. Reid needs to decide if opening up to Allison is worth putting her in even more danger. Or if he should let a real chance at love slip from his grasp in order to save her.

Intro Into Chapter 1

The season hadn’t even begun. Reid Silva still had a week until Memorial Day, the official kickoff to tourist season, yet idiots had already started causing havoc in his town. If this call was any indication of what the season would hold, he was going to need more coffee, a couple more bottles of whisky at the end of the night, and a never-ending supply of ibuprofen to deal with the headache that was Allison Winters, local TV news reporter and a royal pain in his ass.

She moved toward him with purpose and determination. Her heels clicked along the boardwalk, her navy power suit tailored to perfection. Someone who looked that good should not be an annoying thorn in his side.

Her camera guy, Larry, hurried behind her, attempting to keep up with her pace, but even though she was in five-inch heels, she was a gym rat, unlike Larry, who ate donuts for breakfast. His gut hung over his waistband and jiggled as he picked up speed, almost nearing a jog. Almost.

Reid liked the man. Despite his habit of shoving the camera wherever Allison told him to, he was a good man, honest, who picked his kids up from school and went to all their soccer and baseball games. Still, there were many times—too many—when Reid nearly ripped the camera from the poor guy’s hands. He understood Larry had a job to do, but Reid couldn’t be on camera. Keeping his identity a secret didn’t only protect him, but the entire town. They did not need his past showing up in Willow Cove. It was simple as that.

“Sheriff,” Allison said, using his title now that they were on camera—a title she would never use if it was just the two of them speaking, which was perfectly fine by him. He didn’t want to be known as the sheriff. He was an officer of the law, and titles were just political bullshit he couldn’t be bothered with. He never would have taken the position if Simons didn’t decide he wanted to retire after thirty years.

“Go away, Allison,” he said, not hesitating to stop. No. If he hesitated, she would use that tight little body of hers to block his path. So he kept moving with determined strides.

Not that it deterred her. Within seconds, she was beside him, shoving a microphone in his face. The scent of coconut that was so distinctly her smacked into his senses. “Can you tell us what the dispute was over? Was anyone arrested?”

He sighed, unintentionally inhaling her scent. He shifted, doing his best to ignore how good she smelled. He needed to get her away from him, and there was only one way to handle little Miss TV Reporter. “Fuck. Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, and fucking shit.”

Allison growled and dropped the hand holding the microphone to her thigh. A loud smack echoed through the early late spring day. Her plump lips parted on an annoyed exhale. “Damn it, Reid! You know, I can’t use any footage on air if you curse.”

“I know,” he said with a smile. He thought she would have learned by now—it had been ten years for crying out loud—but every time one little thing happened in this small town, she insisted on forcing his hand. She had yet to get him on camera, and while her persistence was somewhat admirable, he wished she would give it a damn break. “Nothing happened, so you’re not missing much.”

Just a bunch of jackasses arguing over a girl. The fact that it was six am, and they were still drunk from the night before, made Reid think he’d need to add another round of patrols to the boardwalk after the bars closed.

“I can’t have nothing to report, Reid. You got to give me something. Please.”

He stopped walking and turned to the pain in his ass. She tilted her head, her long black hair falling out from behind her ear. Why he wanted to swipe it into place was beyond him. “Look, it was a stupid argument. No punches were thrown, no weapons were drawn. Just verbal diarrhea from a bunch of drunk twenty-one-year-olds who can’t hold their booze.”

Her eyes, the color of his favorite whisky, lit up. “I can spin it.”

He had no doubt. The woman could make watching paint dry into a two-hour special event, and people would watch. When she wasn’t being a pain in his ass, she was a natural charmer people instantly liked. Even him, not that he’d ever admit it to her.

“Go for it.” He started walking, surprised when he didn’t hear her shoes clacking on the boardwalk behind him. He should be relieved, but some strange part of him wished she was chasing after him.

Clearly, he wasn’t in the right state of mind. He needed a cup of coffee and to get to the station before making his rounds through town.

He walked into the Local Bean and gave a wave to Cami, the owner and friend. She greeted him with a bright smile. The strawberry blonde hair she’d been sporting for a while was gone and back to her signature platinum blonde.

“How’s it going today?” she asked.

“Throw a shot of espresso in there, will ya?”

“A double cafe macchiato it is. Must be a rough morning.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Cami brought over the to-go cup and slid it across the counter. She gave the counter a quick wipe, then tossed the towel over her shoulder. Her arms crossed over her chest, and she nodded toward the wall of windows overlooking the boardwalk. “Wouldn’t have something to do with a certain TV reporter now, would it?”

“What do you think?” He took a sip of his hot drink and closed his eyes for a brief second as the caffeine worked its way through his system, only for Allison to fill his mind. He hadn’t had a moment of peace in ten years since meeting her.

He handed the exact change over to Cami.

Cami smirked. “She’s just trying to deliver the news to the good people of the town. Keeping us informed. I appreciate that.”

“At least one of us does.”

“Here.” Cami turned away and opened her pastry display. She grabbed a pair of tongs and pulled out an oversized chocolate chip cookie that Reid occasionally treated himself to. “On the house.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“I know, but I think the citizens of Willow Cove will thank me for it later.”

“Very funny.”

“Besides, don’t you have a meeting with the mayor today?”

“I do.” He would be going over his budget and trying to find a way to kindly ask her for an increase.

“Then consider this a good luck cookie.”

He took the bag and held it up. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. Now you better run. She looks distracted at the moment.” Cami nodded toward the boardwalk.

Without a glance in Allison’s direction, Reid hurried out of the coffee shop and straight to his cruiser. He put the cookie on the seat beside him, took a sip of his coffee, then headed for the station.

Ten minutes later, he was in his office, going through incident reports and trying to determine if he had the budget to up the patrols along the boardwalk. Curiosity tugged at his gut, though, so despite his resolve, he clicked on the local news.

Sonny St. Clair, the local weather guy, pointed to a map, declaring clear skies for the next few days.

Great. Most people loved clear skies and sunshine, but for Reid, it meant the perfect weather for people to do stupid things. “Back to you, Sandra.”

The forty-year veteran smiled at the camera. Her hair and makeup were perfect as always. At sixty-three, the woman still had the spark that most likely got her in that chair in the first place. “Thank you, Sonny. We’re going to go to the boardwalk where Allison Winters is reporting live. Allison?”

Reid finished his coffee, tossing the cup into the garbage beside his desk. Allison came onto the screen, her eyes locked onto the camera as if they were staring into his soul. Her lips parted, and his mind drifted to the boardwalk, reminding him of the scent of coconut. He wondered if she’d taste as good as she smelled.

“Fucking hell.” He thrust his hand through his hair.

“Thank you, Sandra,” Allison’s voice grabbed his attention. “I am here on the main boardwalk of Willow Cove after an altercation broke out in the early morning hours, involving two men who were under the influence. I was assured by our local sheriff there were no injuries, but it still begs the question. How safe is our boardwalk for the children?”

Reid’s eyes widened, and he jumped from his chair, slamming his hand on the desk. Pain radiated through his arm, but it had nothing on the fury rushing through his blood in a heated rage.

“With the first official weekend of summer only a week away, how can we guarantee the safety of the community when the bars close and the police are nowhere to be found? Must we not forget it was less than two months ago when I was held at gunpoint at one of our local hangouts. And not even a month since one of our locals had her car vandalized by angry trolls.”

Reid jabbed his hand toward the TV, ramming his finger into the off button, before throwing the remote across the small space. “I’m going to kill her!”

Judy, one of his deputies, poked her head into his office. “Everything okay, boss?” It was a nickname she started calling him when he told her not to call him sheriff or worse, by his last name.

His jaw tightened, and he attempted to take a calming breath. “If you get a call later about me committing murder, it’s not a prank.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, and he knew she was thinking of a witty reply, but he’d clearly caught her off guard. “Want me to disinfect the cell in anticipation for your arrival?”

“That’d be nice. Thanks.” He grabbed his keys and stormed toward the door.

“Hey boss,” Judy called.

“Yeah?” He stopped and turned toward the three-year deputy who still had stars in her blue eyes. “Don’t kill anyone.”

“No promises,” he said and headed straight for his cruiser. 

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