Can't wait till release day? The newest addition to The Friessens big family romance series is coming soon, but you can grab a sneak peek of THE BAD BOY today!
As the youngest brother, Mark Friessen refuses to answer to anyone. He’s been called a restless bad boy because responsibility for his father’s ranch has never rested on his shoulders, even though he loves everything about the life of a cowboy. Working with the horses and the land, being in charge, and doing all the hard work on the ranch has always settled his restless nature—that is, until a rodeo queen broke his heart by running off with his best friend after two-timing him for six long months.
The funny thing about broken hearts is that they make people do things they wouldn’t do if they were thinking clearly, as his mother so succinctly advised him during his ensuing dating spree. This is likely why Mark has now signed up to be a deputy in the next county over, with a badge, a gun, and the kind of power he thought he wanted.
When he pulls young mousy librarian Daria McKenzie over for speeding, she is speechless and furious when she realizes he doesn’t remember who she is. This bad boy has left a trail of broken hearts in his wake—including hers.
THE BAD BOY (The Friessens, Book 25) is available for pre-sale at:
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Chapter 1
Mark Friessen knew heads turned every time he stepped into the Main Street Café in North Lakewood—namely the heads of all the women. Married, single, didn’t matter. But not everyone looked at him fondly.
No, he was well aware he’d left a string of broken hearts behind him, all because of one Cindy Grant. Short, curvy, and flirtatious, Cindy had a generous bust, the most gorgeous long wavy dark hair, eyes the color of taffy, a smile to die for, and a personality that would’ve made him do anything for her. He’d been proud to say she was his girlfriend until he’d figured out what everyone else already knew. His best friend, Randy Meyer, had been screwing her for the entire six months Mark had dated her.
His body, mind, and soul still zeroed in on her where she was cozied up to Randy in a booth, sharing a plate of fries. Just seeing them together could still pack a miserable sucker punch right in his stomach that left him feeling sick. At the same time, the sight was like a multicar pileup in that he just couldn’t look away.
He rested his hand on his deputy’s belt, feeling the weight of the revolver, the cuffs. For a second, he took some measure of pride in the power he was carrying, in the importance he now had. His gaze lingered a little too long, and he had to force himself to look away, taking in the familiar faces staring up at him and the three empty stools at the counter.
He took a seat and reached for a laminated menu, but he could hear Cindy’s soft laugh. His fingers curled involuntarily around the menu as he pictured his hand wrapping around her neck and squeezing all that soft skin he had tasted. He couldn’t pull his head from the want of her. Just thinking of her, hearing her, feeling her in the room, had him feeling like a lovesick puppy.
He realized that Betty Hargrave, a long-time friend of his mother’s, was standing in front of him with a pad, ready to take his order. She was his mom’s age, in a white blouse and black pants, likely more than fifty pounds overweight. “Ignore them,” she said. “Don’t you know that letting them see they’re getting to you means they’ve won? You’re made of stronger stuff, Mark. Get her out of your head and move on. She didn’t deserve you, and you have more important things to focus on, like your new job. By the way, congrats. Heard you were picked up as a deputy in the county over. Your mother is so proud…” Betty glanced over his head and stopped talking.
Mark pulled off his cowboy hat, ran his fingers through his thick red hair, and rested it on the counter beside him. He fixed Betty with what he hoped was his newly mastered cop gaze.
She didn’t seem impressed. “I’m just saying it’s time you move on in more productive, healthier ways. You’re not fooling anyone with the way you walked in here and zeroed in on her. I’m just glad you didn’t hike on over to their table and start some trouble.”
“Not sure what you’re talking about,” Mark said. “I moved on. Got a great job, an important job, in law enforcement. I’m not the one who starts trouble, but I sure as shit will shut it down.” He glanced back to the menu, not seeing the items he knew by heart. “I’ll take a big order of fried chicken to go. Make it a double order of the whole chicken, and add in three of the family packs of fries and coleslaw. Told my mom I’d pick up dinner on my way home.” He tucked the menu back in the slot, taking in the case of pies on display and the open window through which he could see the cook in back. “And toss in a blueberry pie, the whole pie.” He flicked his hand to the pie case.
“You’re not fooling me, Mark. Can still see how torn up you are. That kind of road rash is all thick and crusty, and you can’t hide it. They’re married. Let it go. It’s been how long now? You’ve got to forget about her.” She was scribbling his order on paper and ripped it from the pad. “Order up,” she said, shoving the paper on a metal swivel with all the others before reaching for a mug and setting it in front of him to pour him a coffee even though he hadn’t asked for one. That was just something everyone did, thinking coffee made everything better.
“It wasn’t your best friend who was messing with your girl,” he snapped and could feel his back burning as if Cindy and Randy had figured out he was there and zeroed in on him. He hated that feeling. He hated, too, the fact that everyone knew what a fool he’d been.
Betty rested the carafe of coffee on the counter and cocked her hip, staring at him with that same look his mother did when she wanted to talk some sense into him. He wished she’d stop talking about it, stop bringing it up.
“Nope,” Betty said. “It was a shitty thing that happened, and it wasn’t just your friend; it was her, too. Just the same, Mark, you’re not all squeaky clean, either. How many of the local girls did you date to, as you said, get her out of your system? I have to say, I counted a different girl on your arm every few days. What was it, a palate cleanser, as you so aptly put it? You likely left every one of those girls with a broken heart. You treated them as if they were nothing.”
He squeezed his mug, thinking of the women he’d gone through. This was the first time someone other than his mom had pointed out to him how wrong he was. All the women’s faces and names were starting to blend one into the next, which was not good, but he wasn’t about to admit to anyone what a prick he’d been.
“Don’t want to answer? That’s okay,” Betty said. “Your expression says it all. Let me point out to you, since I’m already on a roll and since you’re going to have to wait for your order, that when you’re as damn attractive as you, and you are, hot, just like your father and your older brothers, women want you. But you playing the field the way you have and tossing them away like garbage makes you no better than the one you’re still pining for. Those girls had feelings, real feelings, and having a broken heart ain’t no excuse for doing what you’ve done. So before you continue on with another girl in the hopes of getting Cindy out of your mind, try to give the girls you take out the same consideration you wanted from her.”
He rested his coffee on the counter and felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, Mark, heard you got a job with the sheriff’s department in the next county over?” It was Carl Sullivan, a friend of his dad’s, in red plaid and baggy jeans. He had a grizzled look, with his graying hair and mustache in need of a trim.
“I did,” Mark said. “Started this week.” He had to fight the urge to point out the obvious badge pinned to his shirt and the holstered gun, and he wondered what Carl’s amused expression meant.
“Well, great to see you,” Carl said. “Say hi to your parents for me.” Then he left just as Mark heard his order being called and turned back to see Betty bagging up the food.
He pulled his wallet from his pocket, downed another swallow of the bitter coffee, and pulled some cash out to toss on the counter.
“Oh, hey there, Mark. Didn’t see you sitting here. How you doing?”
What was it about her voice that still had the ability to bring him to his knees? He didn’t miss the horror on Betty’s face as he turned toward Cindy. Randy towered over her, resting a possessive hand on her shoulder. He’d been a friend once, but now he was someone whose face Mark would just as soon have planted his fist in. Apparently Randy had the same idea, by the way he stared back at him.
“Cindy, Randy,” he bit out, standing up and resting his hand beside the butt of his gun. He pulled in a breath, knowing that his former friend had little to offer in return. He knew Randy saw the badge pinned to the chest of his light brown deputy’s uniform, and he silently wished he’d do something he could use to justify taking him down and cuffing him.
“You joined the sheriff’s department? That’s fantastic,” Cindy said. “I’ve thought so much about you and hoped you were doing okay. Was just telling Randy that I haven’t seen you around much as of late, so now I see why. Wow, had no idea you were going into law enforcement. Thought you had your eye on running your dad’s place.”
He’d forgotten how much he’d shared with Cindy, and now he wished he hadn’t. What was it about hindsight? “Oh, you know, there’s something about being a cop and seeing to it that folks stay law abiding.” He heard a throat clear behind him and turned his head to Betty.
“Here’s your change, Mark. By the way, nice of you to buy dinner for your family. It’s warm, so you’d best get moving so it’s not cold by the time you get home. Again, say hi to your mom and dad for me.”
He waved off the change and pocketed his wallet, not missing the warning in Betty’s blue eyes, a warning he should heed if he were smart. “Will do,” he said and lifted his cowboy hat to his head.
Cindy and Randy were still there. He pasted a tight smile to his face, and Cindy returned it brightly and shrugged. Randy was still giving him a look that told him to eat shit and die, and it was damn awkward.
“Well, hope to see you around more, Mark. Take care of yourself, you hear?” She actually touched his arm, and his eyes zeroed right in on her hand, taking in the flash of diamond, another reminder she belonged to another man. Then she lifted her fingers in a wave, and she and Randy were out the door. He swore under his breath and started after them.
“Mark,” Betty called out, and he turned back. “You forget something?”
“Right.” He took in the two paper bags stuffed with the dinner he planned to take back to his parents, Chris, JD, Danny, Evie, and the girls, and he felt that sense of idiocy wash over him again.
“Again, I can’t stress it enough, leave it be,” Betty said. “You’re not friends, you’ll never be friends, and the way you and Randy are circling one another, I’d just as soon not have a fight started in my diner.”
He lifted the bags, and for a second he wanted to add that it had been Cindy and Randy who approached him, not the other way around. But he said none of that in the face of the warning staring back at him.
“Fine,” he said, then started to the door, juggling the bags.
He pulled it open and made his way to his silver Mustang, resting the bags on top of the car when he spotted Cindy and Randy across the road at his pickup, his tongue down her throat and his hands on her ass. Instead of looking away, he just watched them until Randy was suddenly looking his way.
Yeah, what an asshole. Mark would just need to wait. His day of reckoning was coming.
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