Harlan Franco, Colorado's busiest bounty hunter and security expert, lives by his own rules: be in control, be detached, and never mix business with pleasure. These rules are tested when the woman he's being paid to secretly guard is none other than the sexy, unpredictable, pain in the butt, Sophie Callaghan––a woman determined to stay away from him. If Sophie finds out he’s in her life on an assignment, he'll never get the info he needs. But those lips, those curves, that attitude… If he could only have her for one night where she'd play by his rules.
Freedom-loving private investigator Sophie Callaghan is on a mission. The daughter of a con-artist is not going to be used by a man again. What she doesn't need is hot, broody, and controlling Harlan barging into her life. Her brain may say no, but her body craves this bad boy.
After a night where both live out their darkest desires, Sophie tries to fight the explosive chemistry between them. But the ties that bind her heart to this bounty hunter are tight and tangled.
|Publisher:||Entangled Publishing, LLC|
|File size:||2 MB|
About the Author
Hayson Manning grew up with her nose in a book. She was entranced by Laura Ingalls Wilder, Pippi Longstocking, Black Beauty and wanting to live in Enid Blyton’s Faraway Tree. She’s lived in Auckland, Sydney, Brisbane, Melbourne, London and now in California.
She loved a pint in London, hiding behind a phrase book in Paris and exploring the subterranean chamber of the Giza pyramid. All she ever wanted to do was write fun and flirty people who aren’t perfect but will fight for that one person who will love them for who they are. That dream has come true, writing for Entangled. A hopeless romantic she lives with her infuriating but adored shoe-discarding husband, two teenage swimmers, a tubby opinionated cat and a current foster dog who needs sanctuary before finding an ever after home.
Come, stop a while, escape in the pages of her books. She’d love to hear from you at www.haysonmanning.com
Read an Excerpt
Bound to the Bounty Hunter
By Hayson Manning, Lewis Pollak
Entangled Publishing, LLCCopyright © 2016 Hayson Manning
All rights reserved.
"Don't do it, Nick. I swear I will kill you if you do."
Sophie Callaghan silently begged Nicholas Newman not to walk away from the love of his life, again.
A salt and vinegar chip wavered halfway between Sophie's mouth and the Pringles can that lay on her lap.
After a long lingering look, Nick closed the door with a soft click.
Wistfulness settled on her shoulders like soft snow.
The notes of "Nadia's Theme" and the closing credits of The Young and the Restless sealed the chip's fate, which was followed by the rest of the contents of the tube.
She searched for any last crumbs. "Imagine living like a Newman or an Abbot, Pongo. No overdue bills, doing laundry, or dining on two-minute noodles in Genoa City. How good would that be?"
Pongo, who was sprawled on his back, stubby legs in the air, opened one eye then went back to sleep.
I'm having way too may conversations with my dog.
Sophie sighed and collapsed back onto her awesome yellow Goodwill couch. She eyed the stack of bills on the counter and hugged Pongo's warm, squishy body.
"One day we'll get you a Mrs. Pongo and adopt Pongettes from the shelter and have a little family. Wouldn't that be nice?"
Pongo, who looked like he was made from different dog parts stuck together, wagged his stumpy tail and answered in his own unique style. She swooped sideways in a practiced move as Pongo's contribution to global warming hit the room in a string of ripped popping sounds.
"Whoa, that was ripe even for you." She fanned the air. "The sooner I can get you back on your insanely expensive, indoor-outdoor, salt-reduced, perfect-coat, fart-reducing dog biscuits, the better."
After she leaned down and dropped a kiss on his forehead, Sophie stood and retrieved the empty tube of chips and the bowl of cornflakes she'd eaten for dinner from the messy coffee table. Two flakes clung to the side of the bowl like prisoners scaling the walls.
A few more dinners like this and I'll have to down an orange so I don't get scurvy.
She eyed the empty fruit bowl.
Yeah, like I can afford fruit.
"Time to go to work, Pong."
She ruffled her dog's head and shimmied out of her comfy, faded sweat pants and cotton T-shirt and dropped them as she walked to her bedroom. She changed into her work clothes of dark jeans, flat boots, and a black sweater, and then she scraped her unruly mass of dark brown hair into a prisoner ponytail.
Sophie glanced in the mirror and looked away with a shrug. From a young age, her father had told her daily that it was better to go through life natural, like her, instead of having unwanted attention, which is why no one noticed her when she snapped his or her picture. Part of being a good PI meant she could blend into the background, and blend she did. She could wear Waldo's jersey in a sea of gray and people didn't remember her. She'd always been the too tall, too plain girl that boys didn't notice, which she now owned, but occasionally a remark snuck past the goalie and scored a direct hit.
She snatched her keys from the counter where she'd thrown them earlier.
If all went according to plan tonight she'd be recording a man named Babic so she could get info on his boss, Vladimir Petrov. Then she'd try to figure out why her late father had secret journals, one filled with pages of names of people he'd swindled along with amounts and the towns where they lived, the other obsessed with Petrov — a billionaire shipping magnate.
Which made no sense.
Her father had been a traveling preacher for the people ... or so she'd believed.
For the six years since her father died, she'd been chipping away at the journals, trying to understand how the man who'd rocked her to sleep when she woke from nightmares, the man she'd adored, had deceived her.
If a girl couldn't trust her daddy, whom could she trust?
She took a breath that hurt like a pressed bruise, then set the multitude of alarms and headed out the door. Another Friday night sitting alone in a sex club taping her target's conversation while he got whipped by slaves.
Forty minutes later, Sophie slid into a booth at Hostage. Whips, chains, and medieval racks had found a home in the artsy Colorado town of Yaw Yaw. The club became an instant hit when it opened six months ago. Nestled behind galleries, crystal shops, and yoga studios, the thriving sex club was packed as usual on Friday night.
High-end scent mixed with leather and baby oil assaulted her senses. She stared at a woman sitting on a stool to her left. Her dress was hoisted above her hips, her back arched, a blond head buried between her thighs. A pink wristband dangled from the blonde's wrist, which meant she was a slave ... and hungry.
Her cheeks hot, Sophie turned away and intently studied the information chart on the table advising the color-coding of the wristbands, until her eyes burned.
Green meant you were here as an observer. If you wore red, you were a dom. If your wristband came in orange, you liked to be spanked. If being a slave was your thing, then pink was your color. Gold if you were a submissive, and if purple dangled from your wrist, then you were up for anything.
Sophie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Growing up, she had thought body contact between a man and a woman was for reproduction only. Anything else was the equivalent of eating kittens' souls and chanting in tongues.
She glanced around the club. The furniture, the floor, even the ceiling was painted a matte black. Only the long, rectangular, acrylic tables in the booths, teeming with tropical fish of every highlighter color, broke through the murky darkness.
Groups of people or couples occupied satin-curtained booths or clustered around the bar, talking.
A woman was bent over a fish tank table, being hammered home by a Greek god of a man. Another man stroked himself, his gaze locked on Zeus.
Sophie stared at the swirl of fish, her face flaming.
Poor Nemo, I bet he wants to be out of here as much as I do.
She turned her head and took a sip of the lemony sweetness of margarita. Admission alone was putting a sizeable dent in her dwindling bank balance. Thank God she was starting a new job tonight, because she was barely scraping by. Between paying back her father's sins, getting her car fixed — again — and cooking for her elderly neighbors each week, this was two-minute noodle week, again.
On that happy note, she scanned the club. If Babic followed the same pattern as the last two weeks, soon he'd be getting settled in the corner with a pair of twin busty Barbies with boobs so perfectly round and symmetrical they could be used as flotation devices. Barbie number one would be straddling his lap, Barbie number two straddling her lap.
Playtime without Ken or the Malibu camper.
She checked her watch.
Thank God Sophie the PI walked through the door and not me.
She stood, smoothed her hands down her jeans, and walked the perimeter of the club in the shadows. She usually smelled him before she saw him. The man bathed in scent so strong small insects collapsed when he walked past.
Blond buzz cut, botoxed forehead, teeth so white they resembled a glow stick at a rave.
While Babic watched the Barbies make out, she sidled up to his table and pressed a tiny microphone against the underside of the smooth wood. She'd collect it when playtime finished.
Sophie walked back to her booth, sat on the smooth leather seat, and picked up her drink. A man who could be Babic's twin slipped into his booth. A heated conversation followed, judging by the wild hand gestures from the other man. Babic rapid-fired back while positioning Barbie's head in his lap.
Babic the multitasker.
The margarita turned sour in her mouth.
She kept watching Babic, ignoring nausea and Barbie's bobbing head. After agonizingly long minutes, the man slid out of the booth.
Babic's soulless eyes pinned Sophie. His lazy gaze dropped to the gold band on her wrist, then rose back to her face. The air in Sophie's lungs froze. She let out a breath when his eyes shut. His head hit the back of the leather booth when Barbie picked up the pace.
She glanced around the club, desperate for something else to look at, and spilled her drink when a man's smoky eyes locked on hers.
No freaking way.
With shaking hands, she set her glass down.
As usual, he looked like he'd stepped off a Harley: scuffed boots, aged denim hugging muscled legs, mirrored aviator glasses perching on messy black hair. Powerful arms crossed under his wide chest. The man cranked out enough testosterone to fuel the NFL. A woman stopped beside him, her mouth open, 'yes, please' written on her face.
Sophie ripped her gaze away and ignored the hammering of her heart.
Harlan Franco, Colorado's busiest bounty hunter.
And a total ass.
She'd heard the rumors he had a listing with Groupon where he delivered pleasure to armies of panting women. She drew in a long breath before releasing it slowly.
Eighteen months ago in a hotel bar where they'd been trailing the same jumper, she'd fallen into Harlan's arms, literally, like the clichéd chick in a Hallmark movie. Her breasts had mashed against his hard chest. She'd caught one whiff of him and, much to her dismay, her body had flooded with hormones of the reproducing kind. She'd seen herself reflected in his sunglasses, flushed, her bottom lip snagged between her teeth, as if he'd delivered on his Groupon promise.
Harlan had booked a room, and they were devouring each other, stopping only to remove clothes. He'd wanted her as much as she wanted him, or so she'd thought. His hands tender but rough, his tongue demanding in her mouth, his hands on her aching, swollen breasts. She'd melted against him like chocolate. Harlan had steered them into the bathroom and, instead of having mind-blowing shower sex, he'd grinned, kissed her hard on the mouth, walked out of the bathroom, and wedged a chair under the door.
The embarrassment of standing in her underwear with a kind security guard who'd told her Harlan had flicked him fifty to wait for twenty minutes, then let Sophie out, had wounded her. But the humiliating kicker that stole breath from her lungs and jolted her from sleep was that Harlan had faked his attraction to her all for the sake of bringing in a bail jumper.
She'd seen him a few times since then, always with a breathless blonde attached to his arm. He'd walk away without a backward glance.
Her face burned again with the sting of humiliation.
She'd retaliated by taking Lopez from under his nose.
She picked up her drink, licking salt from the cool rim, her eyes scanning the room before locking on Harlan's. Nothing moved on his face.
Sophie raised her eyebrows, saluted him with her drink, and turned away.
A woman glided past her holding a platter of frozen fruit. Sophie stared at a banana.
I wonder what they do ...
Her cheeks heated.
She stood, turned to gather her bag and move to another part of the club, but Harlan had materialized at her side. Her breasts brushed against his solid arm, and her body shivered.
Without invitation his fingers clamped around hers, surprisingly gentle but with authority.
Lightning traveled through her bones.
This is plain embarrassing.
"What are you doing here, Sophie?"
There was no need for him to know she was here working.
"I'm searching for a big, bad, dom." She flashed her gold wristband, a joke reminder to herself that never again would she let herself be dominated by a man.
She'd had three alpha-male, powerful, demanding lovers and three humiliatingly painful times when she'd turned into their expectation of who they wanted her to be. She didn't understand why she let it happen, but it would never happen again.
He'd been scanning the crowd over her shoulder but at her words, his eyes locked on hers. "Are you alone?"
"I am." She adjusted the strap on her bag.
She was her own best friend.
The techno beat from the packed dance floor sent vibrations up her spine, then changed to a low, sexy Latin American dance. She didn't have to turn around to imagine what was happening on the dance floor.
His Daniel Craig blues roamed from her head to her boots in a lazy, insolent way that fused her molars.
You can drop the act — we both know you're not interested in me.
Up close, the man was delicious. Long, dark lashes framed sinful sapphire eyes that on any other man would be pretty, but you wouldn't call this man pretty. Naturally-tanned skin stretched over high-cut cheekbones. Straight white teeth. Lips made for pleasuring. It appeared he shaved when he wanted, and he hadn't wanted to for a while. Her mouth watered taking in his ripped arms. At five feet nine in flat boots, she'd tucked nicely under his chin.
Unfortunately, she knew he tasted like a tall glass of sin.
He walked into any room like he owned it. Heads turned, both male and female, especially female, and Harlan looked like he didn't know or care.
"Got to say I did not appreciate you stealing Lopez," he said after a beat. "I'd been trailing him for weeks. That man was mine."
She stared at him, stunned. So he was going to ignore the elephant in the room that he'd left her dressed only in underwear after pretending he was attracted to her, just to get a jumper?
Her mouth dropped open, but she slammed it shut.
Fine by me.I'd just as soon forget that terrible afternoon existed.
But she couldn't forget, because at unintentional times it reared up, and that horrible feeling of thinking she had been invited to a party, only to turn up and find out she'd been the only one in the church not invited, still burned.
"Are you still on about that? I didn't steal him from you. The man was mine. I flirted with him, and he followed like a horny teen thinking he was about to get lucky." Harlan looked about as happy as if he were attending a Tupperware party. His stance wide, face unreadable. She cocked her head. "I hear the medieval rack has an opening. You should take it, might loosen you up a bit."
His warm chuckle rolled across her skin. His blue eyes sparkled, and for one long moment, she forgot to breathe. Luckily, her lungs obeyed biology, and she hauled in a breath.
He leaned in close, his heat hitting her like a summer storm. "Show me how you got Lopez to follow you, and I'll tell you the reason I'm here."
She blinked. "Are you here working?" She deflected and took another sip of her drink, and her brain cranked up a gear. If he was here working a case she could nab his jumper and pay back another name in her father's journal.
Her gaze slid around the high-end club. In the corner, Babic pounded into Barbie number two while Barbie number one whipped his butt. Angry red welts crisscrossed his skin.
Sophie stared, perplexed. How can he be so comfortable naked in a room full of people, having sex while getting flogged?
Someone bumped into her from behind. She pitched forward. Harlan's arm curled around her waist. Her fingers clutched impossibly hard biceps, and her body heated to the point she could toast her breakfast cinnamon rolls on bases one and two.
He released her as if she were diseased.
Yet again the sting of humiliation slithered across her skin. She pulled the band holding her hair tighter.
If he were here following a jumper, she'd get the reward and the satisfaction of beating Harlan. Oh yeah, she'd so take his jumper.
"Okay, I'll show you how I got Lopez to follow me, and then I'll be finding Mr. Big, Bad Dom for the night, so let's get this show on the road. I'll need a new margarita with a cherry."
By a miracle of intervention, a black-suited waiter materialized. Before she could pass the waiter money, Harlan lay bills on the tray, murmured something in his ear and, in record time, the man appeared with a frosty glass.
Excerpted from Bound to the Bounty Hunter by Hayson Manning, Lewis Pollak. Copyright © 2016 Hayson Manning. Excerpted by permission of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
This a great start to a new series Definitely an author to watch for future books.
Great book. Loved the storyline. Loved Harlan & Sophie. Looking forward to Dug & Arabella's book
Harlan is a bounty hunter. He has control of every single aspect of his life. He has no room in his life for love or romance or any sort of relationship. Until he meets Sarah. Sarah is private investigator. She generally works fairly minor cases, spouses wanting to know if their partners are cheating on them, people trying to find their long lost parents, those sorts of cases. She is the daughter of a con man preacher. When sarah found a journal belonging to her deceased father, with the names of every single person he ever swindled money out of, she makes it her mission to pay every person back, even if it means working irregular jobs and struggling to make ends meet. Sarah is being watched and followed, and soon enough she will cross paths with Harlan, and both their lives will never be the same again. Even though I struggled to read this book to the end, I'm glad I didn't give up on it. And although I didn't rate it very high, there are parts of the book that showed potential. It was also confusing for me.
When I first started reading this book, I didn't find it interesting but being me I had to finish what I started. Gradually with the more I knew about the characters, my interest developed. The more I knew about their histories, their struggles and their aspiration, I was drawn into the story. It turned out to be interesting after all.
Harlan and Sophie both have their own agendas, and unbeknownst to them, it puts them at cross purposes in this sexy and action packed story. I haven't read this author before, but after reading this one, I'm definitely going to remedy that! There are some super steamy love scenes between these two as they have an on again/off again type of relationship, both keeping their current missions in the forefront. For Sophie, it's paying back all the people conned out of their savings by her now deceased father. For Harlan, it's keeping an eye on Sophie at the behest of a third party who has a vested interest in Sophie. There are lots of secondary characters to add to the fun - friends of Sophie who are not shy when discussing their favourite sex toys, and partners of Harlan's that look to have their eyes on Sophie's friends in future series stories. Plus, there is a side of intrigue as someone wants Sophie dead, and Harlan has his hands full trying to keep her safe (and in his bed!). I enjoyed it thoroughly from start to finish and I can't wait to read the next one!
I like Hayson Mannings books and this one points to exactly why. Smoking hot men and sassy women and this story is full of them. Harlan and Sophie. With a brief history that did not end well for Sophie on a personal level with Harlan, she took back her power on a professional level. Both in the private security sector, Harlan is a security man/bounty hunter. Sophie is a PI who also makes it her business to make restitution to the wrongs she sees her dead father made. The story takes off when Harlan is hired to guard and gather info on Sophie for a very good reason. Sophie is a giver, lives on a shoe string with a farting dog, feeds her neighbors and takes no crap from anyone. Including Harlan. This constant banter between them gives the book it's edge. She doesn't trust Harlan, yet he yanks her physical control every time. He knows all the buttons to push and gradually she caves, and begins to trust him. The book has an edge of suspense as well, often hard to tell good guys from bad guys and there's the unknowns. The other characters, Titus and his wife, Israel, Zeb, Pipe and lets not forget Dug and Arabella who I cannot wait to read about next. This book was well written, solid plot, funny, the sexual tension was off the charts and the right amount of sex. Great ending. This was a great read. I so look forward to the next book!! **arc from Entangled and NetGalley**
'Bound to the Bounty Hunter' by Hayson Manning is book one in the "Bound" series. This is the story of Harlan Franco and Sophie Callaghan. This book is about 290 pages. Sophie is a PI that had a quick hook up with Harlan but he just sort of left. Sophie has had a touch round in life after her father was found to a con-artist. Now this thing with Harlan where she felt he used her is just another nail in trusting men. Harlan is a bounty hunter and sometimes is after the same person Sophie is so there is some work competition. But now Harlan is working to protect Sophie too with out her at first knowing. This was a great fast, dram, exciting and hot romantic read. I received an eARC, from NetGalley and the publisher, in exchange for an honest review.
Harlan Franco, Colorado's busiest bounty hunter, and security expert, lives by his rules: be in control, be detached, and never touch the asset. These rules are tested when the asset he's being paid to secretly guard is none other than his rival, sexy, unpredictable, pain in the butt, Sophie Callaghan––a woman determined to stay away from him. If she finds out he’s in her life on an assignment, he'll never get the info he needs. But those lips, those curves, that attitude, he bets he'll have her for one night where she'll play by his rules. He didn't expect his heart to have an opinion. Freedom loving private investigator Sophie Callaghan is on a mission. The daughter of a con-artist is not going to be used by a man again. What she doesn't need is hot, broody and controlling Harlan barging into her life and digging into her past. Her brain may say no, but her body craves this bad boy. After a night where both live their darkest desires, Sophie must fight their explosive chemistry because one wrong move could destroy her. She bets he has to stay far, far away. As the stakes ramp up and secrets explode around them, both are determined to win the bet. But there can only ever be one winner. Review: First thing I come up with when thinking of this couple is fun. This is a new-t0-me Author and I found myself drawn in by her story and by her witty dialogue. I liked that both characters had multi layers to them, both are sexy and sweet and tough but soft too. When they were intimate they had chemistry coming off the page. The story was unique to me too, I do not remember ever reading a story about a character's histories that both were influenced or affected by a con-artist preacher. It gave a good twist and tied Sophie and Harlan together in a fresh way. I loved the t.v. show My Name is Earl and the way that Sophie is trying to payback people sort of reminds me of that show especially when she is crossing people off her list. There are some tender and heartfelt moments in the story also. This is the first book in this series, so nothing to go back and catch up on. I am intrigued to see what the next story brings. 4Stars *I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for a fair and honest review.*
A little slow ... but in the end, I enjoyed it! Bounty hunter and security expert Harlan Franco is used to being in control, but when his secret assignment puts him in up close contact with his difficult rival, all bets are off! She lives to drive him crazy, and he has to admit, he's enjoying it! Sophie Callaghan is a private investigator that enjoys getting to push Harlan's buttons after some of the pranks he's pulled on her. She doesn't know that he's being paid to protect her, but after awhile it becomes too hard to not notice that there is danger around her a little too often. When secrets are exposed, will Harlan be able to keep her safe during the fallout?
Ego and desire collide In Bound to the Bounty Hunter by Hayson Manning. I received an ARC in exchange for an honest review. This was a wonderful chance to try out a new author. Whenever the chance arose Sophie and Harlen thrived on needling each other. The chemistry was hard to cut through because the sexual tension was suffocating between these two. What drives Sophie is a need for redemption and the chance to prove herself different from her father. Harlen thrives on being in control and the fact that Sophie will not cede to him gets under his skin in more ways than one. Bound to the Bounty Hunter is full lust, emotion and secrets. I am definitely taking notice of Hayson Manning.