The Weather Series: Ashes in the Wind

Like a fiery wind, Ashlynn Doucette made Gabe burn. It was only fair that she smolder with him.


Published: 08/2009
Length: Novella
Word Count: 25,622
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Rating: Spicy
Available formats: PDF, RTF, Epub, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc)


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The Weather Series:
J.J. Massa


© Copyright by J.J. Massa, August 2009
© Cover Art by Alex DeShanks, August 2009
ISBN 978-1-60394-342-0
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636


This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.


“Mon Dieu!” swore Sheriff Gabriel Theroit, wading into what had been called in as a bar brawl, although in person that description seemed grossly inadequate.

Coldly efficient under most circumstances, Gabe usually found the occasional brawl oddly satisfying. It provided a much-needed outlet for his pent-up frustrations. Well, under the right set of circumstances, it did.

Today, those circumstances were anything but right. He’d found himself knee-deep in the fracas, and roughly handcuffing some of the more disreputable of the Dew Drop Inn’s clientele, when a flash of silver streaking across the room caught his attention.

His eyes had followed the deadly progress of a thrown Bowie knife as it gracefully and forcefully split the air and landed in the flesh of one Ashlynn Cassandra Doucette. Specifically, it lodged itself just under her clavicle, producing a shower of blood, on what had been a form-fitting, sleeveless sheath dress, which happened to be one shade lighter than the amazing blue of her eyes.

Torn between rushing to Ashlynn’s aid and killing the fool owner of the knife, Gabe decided to split the difference. After landing a solid nose-crunching punch to the face of the man who’d sent the knife on its injurious flight, Gabe made his way across the tangle of bodies to Ashlynn.

“What you doin’ here, ma petitee?” he murmured, struggling to keep his deep baritone voice from shaking. He should have known she was in there as soon as he’d stepped through the door. The normally smoky barroom smelled like a fresh breeze had blown through–something he always associated with her.

Carefully, he lifted her, turning to snarl at the roomful of twisting bodies, still thrashing behind him. “Obtenir l'enfer d'ici, maintenant!” he barked, ordering the mass of assorted riffraff out of the bar immediately.

“Why Gabriel,” Ashlynn’s flirtatious voice had an odd, breathy quality to it. “You sound so masterful. I’m all aquiver.”

“Hush,” he growled fingering the knife lodged in her upper chest. “What I’m gonna do with you, petitee? You nothing but trouble, for true.”

Once again, he turned to growl at the rapidly exiting crowd while carefully adjusting her against his chest. “That is so hot, Gabe,” she breathed. Before he could respond to this alarming observation, she passed out.

Quickly, he slipped onto the barstool and held her on his lap while he radioed for an ambulance. His men had followed him in and were efficiently cuffing and hauling perpetrators out the door.

Careful not to dislodge the knife under her collarbone, Gabe lowered his head and skimmed his lips across her cheek. “You goanna make me old before my time, mon petitee doux, of that I have no doubt.”