Excerpt from Breaking the Ice (Caley Cove Series, Book 1)

It was the feet Sarah noticed first. Big ones, in mud-caked brown brogues. And they were sticking out from under her new chesterfield almost as if they belonged there. She closed her eyes, then opened them again quickly. The feet were still there.
And of course they didn't belong in her living-room at all.
She took a step closer and realized it wasn't just a matter of feet. Brown woolen socks covered solid ankles, and long legs extended up to firm, corduroy-clad thighs. As Sarah's eyes travelled disbelievingly upwards, she saw that the corduroy covered more than just legs and thighs. This vision protruding from beneath her chesterfield was visible as far as the waist, and the view exposed by the hip-hugging beige trousers was altogether attractive. Yes. She swallowed. Very attractive indeed.
She took a long, very deep breath. Was she going crazy? There appeared to be a dead body on her floor, and was standing here mesmerized, admiring it as if she were some silly moon-struck adolescent—possibly with necrophiliac leanings.
Without releasing her breath, she extended a tentative hand and place it lightly on the back of the nearest ankle. Immediately it moved, and a man's deep voice growled threateningly, "Hair little horror. Just wait till I get my hands on you, Houdini. This is the last time I'm going through this, my friend, and you had better believe it."
Sarah jumped backwards. Help! That wasn't any dead body lying at her feet, as she ought to have known from the beginning.
She had a real live hunk on her hands—or the bottom half of one, at least.