Title: The Strong Silent Type
Author: Patricia Green
Series: Stand Alone
Genre: Romance with Sexual Content
Publisher: Blushing Books
Release Date: June 9 2012
Edition: Ecopy
Source: Author for Blog Tour and Honest Review
Rating:
Goodreads Synopsis
Feisty redhead Mae Weston lives in Fire Gorge, a small Nevada town situated next to a Paiute Indian reservation. She talks too much, reads x-rated magazines and has moments of foolish bravado, but basically, she’s a small town girl with good intentions. When robbers become would-be killers, Mae has to shoot or be shot, putting herself in the middle of a criminal investigation.
Drake Stillwater is a Paiute who’s moved away from life on the reservation. He worked his way through the ranks in the regional security office of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, and then found his way to a job as Fire Gorge’s Police Chief. As Principle Investigator of the robbery and shooting at Mae’s convenience store, he has to work closely with her. She proves to be difficult, but a spanking calms her down.
It also riles her up, leading her to want another, and another. Drake doesn’t mind at all.
The police car wasn't new, but it was well-maintained and roomier inside than Mae would have expected. The chief opened the front passenger door for her and gestured for her to get in.
He walked around and did something in the trunk for a minute, then returned to her with a clipboard holding a form. "Read it carefully, and sign it if you agree."
Mae looked it over. It was brief. The form was a permission to search the premises for evidence. She had nothing to hide, so she agreed.
He took the form back. "Stay in the car while I deal with the crime scene."
"Okay. I can't really go anywhere while the store is unlocked anyway. Of course, it'll be perfectly safe with a policeman inside—with you inside—but still, it's my job and… Will it take long?"
He shrugged. "A while. You'll be alright here. Don't touch anything."
The sun hadn't risen high enough to roast her yet. "Yeah. Okay." She put her head back on the headrest. She was weary and cold. Drake shut the door and walked away without a word. He wasn't a particularly talkative guy.
Mae closed her eyes and dozed, awakening abruptly in response to a nightmare replay of the shooting. The sun was over the horizon now, casting the desert in shades of purple and brown. It occurred to her that she hadn't yet called her father to let him know about the attempted robbery.
Tears came to her eyes. They were an unwelcome surprise. It seemed like tears were out-of-place so long after the robbery. She wiped them away and shrugged off the blanket. Mae wasn't feeling quite like herself, but she needed to get her cell phone from the store.
Her legs felt a little wobbly as she exited the car, but she stomped her feet some and they firmed up. The beat-up Malibu was gone, probably towed away as she slept. The EMTs and ambulance had left as well. She strode into the store. Drake was taking pictures of the scene.
Her purse was on the counter with half the contents spilled out.
"Hey! What did you do ta my purse?"
The cop turned from photographing the gun under the chips display. "Searched it."
Anger brought more foolish tears to her eyes. What the hell was wrong with her? "I'm the victim here! Searching my purse is outta line."
He pinned her with his dark eyes. They were coal black, like his hair. "The incident might have been about illegal drugs. And you agreed to the search."
Mae snorted her irritation. His excuse made a certain amount of sense if you looked at it objectively. Mae didn't much feel like being objective. She stomped over to her purse and angrily put things back inside. "You didn't find anything did you? I coulda tole you you wouldn't."
He frowned at her, and she felt a surge of apprehension. Maybe she was digging herself into a deeper hole. When he turned back to his photographs, she released her breath. It was a weird relief to not have the force of his irritation turned on her. But she was not going to apologize. She really was the victim, and he'd just have to deal with her that way.
She riffled through her purse, then did it again. "I need my phone. I hafta call my dad. This store is his and he needs ta know what happened." He made no response. "I'm talking ta you. I need my phone! Do you have it?"
"In a plastic bag in my evidence bag. I need to check your text messages and recent calls."
Fury shot through her like a flame from a match. "What the devil for? I'm not the criminal!" She pointed at the stiffening body on the floor. "He's the criminal!"
Drake put down his camera with great deliberation. "You shot him, woman. That's usually considered a crime."
"He was gonna shoot me! He was a robber!"
He nodded. "Maybe."
"Maybe? Maybe!" Her hands fisted and she took a step toward him. His forbidding look stopped her. He was a big guy, and his bronze face was implacable. "You son of a bitch. Gimme my phone!"
"No." He scratched his chin casually, though she could feel the tension in him, even from several feet away. How could he be so self-controlled? Why wasn't he yelling back?
"You big bully!"
"Go sit in the car."
"No!" She took a stance—she hoped it looked like a strong one—and crossed her arms over her chest. "Gimme my phone and maybe, maybe, I'll go back outside."
His voice was calm, but his words were clipped. "Go back to the car or there will be consequences."
"Consequences? You mean like you'll handcuff me again?" Actually, being restrained by him might be appealing under the right circumstances. She had a brief surge of interest in him as an alpha male. It made her consider him in a new, disturbing way. She shooed those unwelcome thoughts right out.
"Last warning. Go sit in the car."
She squared her shoulders. "Gimme my phone first."
He closed the distance between them quickly and took her by the arm. She squealed and protested, pulled back against his grip, but it was iron hard. Not bruising her, but encircling her bicep with a hold that she could not break. "Lemme go!"
Without a word, he dragged her out the doors and to his car. He used his key to open the back door and shoved her into the caged compartment where the criminals rode. So that was the way it was gonna be. She was now to be treated as a criminal.
To her surprise, however, he slid in next to her and closed the door most of the way. Just as she was about to blister his ears with a new tirade, he grabbed her by the waist and hauled her over his lap.
"What are you doing!"
No answer. He yanked her jeans down, putting painful pressure on her hips. The jeans were tight. "Oh God," she screamed. "Don't rape me! I'm sorry!"
"I'm not going to rape you, woman. I'm going to spank your ass until you settle down." And with that, he commenced smacking her bottom.
It hurt, oh how it hurt! Each wallop stung worse than the last, and he didn't let up. This was no slap and tickle game like she'd played with past boyfriends. This was a genuine spanking, meant to teach a lesson, meant to punish. Each slap shattered her tender flesh like a sandpaper block. Friction fire spread over her butt and grew with harsh intensity.
The tears she'd tried to keep under control since the robbery attempt began to spill out. She squirmed and kicked on his lap. After a few minutes of punishment passed, and she thought she couldn't take even one more blow, he stopped. His callused hand swept over her hot flesh, scorching hot where her rear was tender.
He rolled her over and held her on his lap, in his arms. She bawled and he held her there, her jeans still around her knees, her ass burning where it rubbed against his uniform. It was confusing to be comforted by the very man who'd taken her to task so forcibly. But curled up against his chest was the only place she could imagine being at that moment.
She felt his hand in her hair, smoothing, gathering, gripping gently. Mae could feel a wet spot growing on the front shoulder of his shirt as she sobbed against him. And, curiously, she felt wet between her legs. There was a kind of buzzing in her pussy, a signal of attraction to her punisher, despite her discomfort. As she focused on that for a moment, she also realized that he had a hard erection in his pants, pressed up against her hip. He wasn't immune to her as a woman. That was somehow reassuring.
Mae thought about him as a man, putting aside his authority for a moment. He was handsome, with black hair that brushed his collar; deep black eyes, like train tunnels leading to some mysterious place; broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His hands were large, work-roughened, bronze like the rest of him. He looked like he was a member of the local Paiute tribe, with their telltale prominent and proud nose, and chiseled cheekbones. They rarely came to town, but the few that Mae had met were good people. She wondered if he'd learned police skills there with the Bureau of Indian Affairs, or somewhere else. He was enough older than her to have made headway in his career. And now he was Police Chief of Fire Gorge.
She tested him by squirming against his erection a bit. His shoulders tensed under her cheek. Yeah, he was definitely feeling the kind of excitement her pussy was whispering about insistently.
"I'm sorry for being difficult."
He grunted. "Now you are."
"No, I'm really sorry. Generally, I'm not a belligerent person, I mean, I usually don't snap at people or call them names. I'm upset about everything and I took it out on you."
His hand was gentle in her hair, though his verbal response was terse. "Next time, mind."
Next time? "Yes, sir."
"You done crying?"
She nodded. She was done. Quite done. It had been cathartic, and, even though she'd had to have that spanking to let it all out, she was glad the emotions had been released.
"Stay in the car."
"Can I sit in the front?"
"Yeah. But don't push your luck."
"No. I won't. My butt is sore."
He grunted again and helped her off his lap. She unfastened her jeans, pulled them up and then refastened them.
When he got out of the car, he reached a hand back in to help her out. She took it gladly. The sun was bright and the heat was rising. "You gonna take long?"
The coroner's wagon turned into the station.
"No." He opened the passenger door for her and she slid in.
"Can I have my phone?"
He pinned her with his gaze.
"I guess not."
"You can call from my office."
"Thank you."
He didn't respond as he walked away.
I enjoyed this book. It was short and a fast pace read. After I got past the English it was a really enjoyable story aspects of it made me laugh to no avail. Mae was a feisty redhead who knew what she wanted and did not give up until she got it well until she got him. Drake a handsome yet a man of few words who wanted Mae just as much as she wanted him. Of course things are never easy and Mae and Drake had obstacles to overcome. First obstacle was the one that introduced them to one another. Second being a meddling female who thought she could have what she wanted ( Drake ) and last but definitely not least Mae'e father Walt Weston. This is a short read and I give no spoilers so my review will be short and sweet. One thing I will give away is the sex scenes well them will heat you up from your core outward and leave you wanting more of Drake yourself ladies. And for you gentlemen out there Mae is a firecracker and will leave you well standing at attention :). If you want a quick read just to spice up your evening get yourself a copy of The Strong Silent Type.
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