Eileen Lavoie hasn’t had a moment’s peace in forever. As manager of Ragin’ Cajun Racing, being mother hen to testosterone and ego in coveralls is tough business. Not only did she break the rules and date her lead driver, she’s got a hankering for the new guy…and he’s one sexy Jamaican treat.
Raised on the track, Tyrone Ellis wants the chance to make a name for himself, and he wants the boss’s daughter in every way possible. One night of unforgettable passion sets the wheels in motion, but will jealousy and competition lead to an unfortunate end?
This story was previously published.
EROTIC ROMANCE | Contemporary | Interracial
Publisher: Decadent Publishing
Length: Short story
Release date: 7/18/2014
"I highly recommend High Speed Hunger to anyone who needs a short getaway from reality. This book is not to be missed!"
~You Gotta Read
The racetrack buzzed with the roar of engines. Dust clouded the humid air as wheels spun out, and rear ends fishtailed on the dirt track. Drivers pushed their Sprint cars to the limit, fighting each other for the lead in a wild race toward the finish line.
Eileen Lavoie shielded her eyes from the blaring afternoon sun and watched Bobby Donaldson overtake the lead car. Having earned top spot on several occasions, Ragin’ Cajun’s lead driver was considered the best Sprint racer in the state of Louisiana.
Reckless behind the wheel was an understatement for him, but his carefree style—or maybe lack of brains—made him a beast on the track. Coming in second or third wasn’t good enough, and even though his moves were considered dangerous, Bobby was on top of the game.
A flash of yellow from the pit below caught her attention. The crew moved in tandem, putting away the equipment. Her gaze halted on the new guy. The view from above was delicious. God, the man had a body any hot-blooded woman would kill to touch. Broad and tall with supple, dark skin, and an ass that screamed for a firm grip--
She jumped when loudspeaker static from the commentator announced the last lap. Bobby flew past the checkered flag, and the crowd went berserk.
Sprint cars raced around the last turn and punched it down the straightaway. Several cars bumped each other trying to force the other off the track. She knew the spectators would love a crash, but today’s race was a breeze compared to the World Bandit Cup. If the crowd wanted smoke and flames, the championship would be the race to see.
Bobby blew past the finish line with the second place car kissing his ass-end.
Why couldn’t she focus on him and not the beautiful specimen of man fit to be eaten in those yellow coveralls down below? The manager should be focused on the track and the spectators rather than lusting for the new guy.
Even his name sounded sexy.
According to her father, Ty had grown up on a racetrack in Jamaica but hadn’t driven for a few years. Despite the confident way he carried himself around the shop and his easy camaraderie with the team, she knew deep down Ty was just a quiet man who kept to himself. Hard to imagine a competitive spirit in the guy. But his easy smile made her body heat in all the right places, especially when he spoke in that rich and smooth accent. Every time words came out of his luscious mouth, a tingle sluiced through every nerve ending, like his words caressed her.