Chris Owen, popular Torquere Press author, writes: Flashover, by Tory Temple, is one of those lovely gifts that a reader hopes for but doesn't always get--a sequel that's not only as good as the first book, but richer as well. We first met Chancellor Shanahan and Tucker McBride in Heat, Ms. Temple's sparkling debut, and followed them as they shared their jobs, their lust and their sparks.
In Flashover we pick up their story a year and a half after their first spine-melting encounter. They seem happy enough, and they certainly haven't lost their ability to turn on the heat, each other or the reader. But under the surface, not unlike Chance's beloved ocean, there's turmoil. What starts with a physical headache for Tucker ends up a tangled mess of emotions, something neither of them is particularly adept at dealing with. Lucky for us, Ms. Temple is, however. She draws the relationship so clearly, so tightly, that when circumstances pull Tucker back to his home state, we ache for them both.
Chance is left in California, unsure when Tucker is going to be able to come back. And then it seems that Tucker may not even want to come home to him, something which would hardly suit Chance at all. He does what he has to do and goes after his man, but finds that things aren't as easy as he'd hoped.
A change in lifestyle that is as shocking to Chance's system as the change in the weather is, and the real struggle of the story begins. How do two headstrong men reconcile love, duty, commitment and loyalty with the demands of family and land?
Passion. Conflict. Incendiary sex scenes. Duty, booze, and trouble that reaches back more than two decades. Some things are worth fighting for and about. In Ms. Temple's hands the story is unwrapped like a gift, layers of tissue peeling away to the heart of the matter, and the one thing that both Chance and Tucker need more than anything else. But is it enough?
Flashover is a must read, not only for those who read Heat, but for anyone who adores stories with strong, imperfect men and sexual intensity that will make you turn up the air conditioner.
Bursting through the front door, he started shouting for Tucker before he’d even dropped his gear bag. The house was still and silent and Chance remembered with a grimace that it was just after eight in the morning. On Tucker’s day off. Which meant he was probably asleep, or had been until Chance started yelling.
Chance shouldered the bedroom door open, holding his prize behind his back. Tucker had the pillow over his head with both hands. “Shut up,” he mumbled from beneath it.
Chance crawled onto the bed and pushed the pillow away. “Sorry,” he said, punctuating it with a kiss. Mmm. His favorite thing: warm, sleepy fireman.
“You don’t sound sorry,” Tucker grumbled, rolling over and burying his face in his discarded pillow again.
“I’m not,” Chance agreed easily. “And you won’t be, either.” He paused. Tucker didn’t stir. “Tuck. Are you listening?”
“No. I’m sleepin’.”
“Okay.” Chance sighed, and brought out what he was holding from behind his back. He let the links clink together softly and waited.
Sure enough, Tucker looked over his shoulder. His hair was tousled with sleep and Chance wanted to pounce on him. “Whatcha got?”
He held them up and watched Tucker’s eyes go wide. “These,” he grinned.
Tucker turned all the way over and sat up. “Cuffs? You got handcuffs? Are they real?” He made a grab for them, but Chance held them out of his reach.
“Yeah, they’re real. You know Sandy? That blonde cop? Works nights and stops by the station sometimes?”
Tucker nodded, but kept his eyes glued to the handcuffs. Oh, this was going to be easy. “Yeah,” Tucker said, clearing his throat. “Sandy. The cop.”
“She came by last night to use our head. Left her belt on the table while she peed and Dan thought he’d be funny and lift her cuffs. By the time I figured out he had them, she was gone. I had dispatch radio her, but she said she had another pair in her car and she’d come by and get ‘em next week sometime. So …” He grinned, dangling the cuffs in front of Tucker’s glazed expression. “I brought them home. What do you think?”
Tucker’s answer was to grab Chance’s free hand and drag it down to his lap. He slept naked, so Chance found a handful of warm, silky, hard cock. “That’s what I think,” Tucker answered, and then groaned when Chance squeezed. “Who gets to wear ‘em?”
“Well,” Chance said, not sure how it would be received, “I was thinking you.