Book 1 in The Barefoot by Moonlight Series
He needs a room. She needs his bad-guy hunting skills.
When Marianne and Jack meet on the ferry to Orcas Island, it couldnât be more awkwardâfor Marianne, that is. Jack has no problem with a woman landing on top of him. Itâs a case of opposites attract. But they each have their reasons not to get involved.
But on this small island, avoiding each other isnât to be.
An old tale of stolen jewels has resurfaced, revealing a dangerous secret kept by both of their grandfathers. It will take Marianne and Jack together to uncover the truth before one of them gets hurt. But solving the mystery means working out an arrangement. Jack needs a place to stay. Marianne has rooms to spare.
In close quarters, itâs soon apparent that solving the mystery might be easier than trying not to fall for each other as they realize that they both long for the same thing.
Romance and intrigue on a Pacific Northwest Island.
Book 1 in The Barefoot by Moonlight Series
He needs a room. She needs his bad-guy hunting skills.
When Marianne and Jack meet on the ferry to Orcas Island, it couldnât be more awkwardâfor Marianne, that is. Jack has no problem with a woman landing on top of him. Itâs a case of opposites attract. But they each have their reasons not to get involved.
But on this small island, avoiding each other isnât to be.
An old tale of stolen jewels has resurfaced, revealing a dangerous secret kept by both of their grandfathers. It will take Marianne and Jack together to uncover the truth before one of them gets hurt. But solving the mystery means working out an arrangement. Jack needs a place to stay. Marianne has rooms to spare.
In close quarters, itâs soon apparent that solving the mystery might be easier than trying not to fall for each other as they realize that they both long for the same thing.
Romance and intrigue on a Pacific Northwest Island.
It was her experience that if she wanted a light to turn green at an intersection, or any delay to clear, Marianne would only need to reach for the lipstick she kept handy in the console. Sure enough, sheâd never have time to fully apply the glossy pink to her lips before things were in motion again. Sometimes it worked to her advantage and sometimes it did not. It was a game she liked to play to amuse herself, and when it made things go her way, she considered it lipstick magic.
Marianne had just boarded the ferry bound for Orcas Island and there was a holdup getting the vessel in motion. The crossing time from Anacortes to the island would take just over an hour. At this rate, the sun would be down before she pulled into the driveway of the home sheâd recently purchased as a short-term investment and where she would reside while she completed the dare. Considering the mysterious events of late, sheâd rather be inside with the doors locked before dark.
The lipstick tube had rolled under a few other items in the console, one of them the fob to the underground garage gate of her condominium, her permanent residence eighty miles in the opposite direction in the city of Seattle on the shores of Puget Sound. And sheâd rather be back there right now. But she had to follow through with the dare, and although a harmless one, it required that she return to living near her childhood home for a set length of time. And sheâd made that move, two weeks ago. But today, she drove down to the big city to have lunch with friends and pick up some warmer clothes from her condominium. In this region, spring weather still brought chilly days and nights and where she would be living until mid-June had an outdated heating system.
Marianne pulled down the visor mirror and twisted up the slender pink tube. In that moment, not only did she get a reminder in the mirror that her attempt at coloring her own hair had brought out more of the red tones than the blonde, and quite unevenly, but the magic didnât happen.
A warning yell from the deckhand yanked her attention to the rear fender of the black-as-night motorcycle she was about to crunch. She stood on the brakes. But not soon enough. The grill protector on her SUV nudged the large duffel bag strapped to the back of the motorcycle. It was enough force to make the helmet sway from where its owner had left it hanging from the handlebars. She held her breath, hoping that the bike would not actually fall over!
How sheâd managed to forget to put the gearshift in park was beyond her, too much on her mind perhaps. Now she was about to take the heat. A tall, lean man in a leather jacket turned from where he stood near the safety net strung across the opening of the ferry. Behind him, the waters of Rosario Strait looked cold and choppy with a gray sky above.
One glance at the straight line of his mouth above an unyielding jawline made the silver lipstick tube fall from her hands. He looked like one of the dangerous pirates in the romance novels she wrote. And just as handsome with the black bandana he wore on top of his head. Only her fictional pirates didnât sport aviator glasses hiding death rays. She felt them all the same, right through the windshield.
Like the female protagonist in her novels, she didnât run. But her pulse raced as she fought the urge to bolt from her vehicle. With her imagination always at work, she had to consider how to defend herself if this pirate loved his motorcycle so much that heâd take revenge. Unlike her heroine Gigi Divine, she had no dagger hidden in a corseted bodice. She had nothing in the form of defense, except a semi-decent swing with a golf club and that was three years ago when sheâd given up the sport along with her last boyfriend.
She let go of the steering wheel long enough to lock the doors as the man approached. He rapped on the offending grill protector, not that he needed to get her attention. He had it.
âBack it up, slowly,â he said. Along with the command came another death ray.
She did as heâd instructed, watching the rearview mirror to make sure she didnât hit the car behind her. This time she put the gear in park and set the emergency brake, all with the deckhand in her side vision shaking his head like he hadnât seen enough stupid things today.
She got out of her vehicle and walked the few steps to see what damage, if any, sheâd done. To her relief, the bike looked unscathed.
âIâm so sorry,â she said to the man just a few feet from her. He was taller and broader through the shoulders when standing this close with the top of her head at his chin height.
Peace wasnât to be made so easily. He ignored her as he walked around his motorcycle giving it a careful inspection. Then he unstrapped his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder and took the helmet as well with a look at her like he didnât trust it was safe to leave it unattended in her presence. She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing these actions as someone who had decided all was okay and this pirate was not going to make her walk the gangplank.
There wasnât much standing room in between the tightly packed lanes of vehicles and other motorcycles at the bow of the vessel. It was even more obvious that she was in the way when he surprised her by bodily moving her to one side so that he could pass. The biker who couldnât even say pardon me and instead was obviously going to hold a grudge over a gentle nudge to his motorcycle favored one leg as he walked toward the stairwell.
âSensitive,â she said, thinking that the hottest looking man sheâd seen in a long while was out of hearing range.
He wasnât.
The pirate biker stopped dead in his tracks, his head turned slightly as if his radar had picked up on an anomaly.
If his tactic was to intimidate without straining a muscle, it worked. She was back in her vehicle in two seconds flat, locking the doors only to see that she wasnât worth his time. He was out of sight up the stairwell.
She would wait before heading upstairs to the passenger cabin area, giving the motorcycle rider plenty of time to find a seat before she did the same. But sheâd look for a seat as far from him as possible. The last thing she needed was to have another run-in with him.
Yet, she couldnât hold back a smile. âWow!â she said. As bad as she felt over the incident, the interaction with the biker had left her feeling something she hadnât felt in a long time, breathless. Applying her lipstick was tricky. Her hand shook like a woman nervously waiting for a man to pick her up for their first date. But the lipstick magic worked. Not a moment later, the ferry began to move.
Marianne grabbed her handbag from the back seat. It felt heavier than when sheâd placed it there to make room for her friend, Fiona Sanchez, whose expensive perfume still lingered in the air. She should have known that her friend was up to something when sheâd spent too much time fussing with whose shopping bag was whose as Marianne dropped her off in the Magnolia neighborhood of Seattle. And now she knew why.
She shook her head as she drew the diminutive gun from her handbag. Sheâd shared enough details with her friend regarding the mysterious happenings at her new home on Orcas Island that she should have expected something like this. One of Fionaâs predominant traits was her protective nature. And she must be concerned because Fiona usually didnât let anyone touch the antique Lady Derringer as it held great sentimental value. With a sigh, Marianne shoved it back into her handbag.
She wouldnât be in this situation, armed and now having a dangerous-looking biker she had to avoid, if she hadnât pulled the short straw, resulting in being the first in her writerâs group to accept the dare. One that involved working on her novel in a small town selected by the other writers. The stipulation being that she had to live in that location for a short period. The idea had come to the group of four romance writers, who had become close friends over the years, when they realized they were all stuck in a rut with their writing. But would it work? It sounded fun at first. Until the group had selected her hometown on Orcas Island. She should never have told them that she wouldnât move back home for even a million dollars. If only theyâd met her grandpa first, then they might have understood. The only positive outcome Marianne saw in all of this, besides completing the first draft of her latest novel where her heroine Gigi Divine saved the day and won the heart of her pirate, was to have time with her younger sister. So, sheâd accepted the dare.
Two weeks had gone by since sheâd moved back to Orcas Island and into a mansion sheâd impulsively purchased at auction. And she now had regrets. She hadnât received the homecoming sheâd envisioned. Missy wouldnât see her or return her calls and sheâd yet to figure out the reason why. To add to that, the drafty old mansion needed repairs. She was dealing with broken faucets, creaky floors, and windows that wouldnât close all the way. Then strange things began occurring that first week living in the mansion, leading her to suspect someone was entering her home when she wasnât there. But the worst was the note that sheâd found tied to the front gate last Monday. Sheâd yet to decide if the tone was threatening or just unfriendly. Either way, one thing was clear, it wasnât delivered by any welcoming committee. However, she wasnât ready to call the sheriff just yet.
Movement caught her attention, and she looked to her right at a Suburban with tinted windows, making it difficult to clearly see the person sitting in the driverâs seat. But she sensed they were watching her.
Her phone rang, startling her. âHello?â
âDid you make it home safe?â her friend Fiona asked.
âGirlfriend,â Marianne began sweetly, âyou are in so much trouble.â
âYou found it. Good! Thereâs a box of bullets in your handbag, as well. Just find a secure place when you get back to your mansion and then lock it up,â Fiona said. âShould you need to use it, just aim for their kneecaps.â Her friend laughed. âThose are the actual instructions that my great-great-great-grandmother Pearl received from the merchant she purchased the gun from back in the early 1900s. She bought the gun to have reasonable stopping power since she couldnât use her hatpin for that purpose any longer.â
âShe used her hatpin for stopping power?â Marianne almost laughed. âWhat does that even mean?â
âWhat do you think it means? To drop âem. Back then, it wasnât unheard of for ladies to use hatpins for self-defense. But according to the family story, at that time several cities passed a law that restricted the length of them because they could be fatal if you stabbed someone with it. So, thatâs when Pearl decided to buy a handgun for protection since she couldnât rely on her hatpin any longer,â Fiona paused. âWill you please reconsider and take the note to the sheriff?â
âIâll think about it.â Marianne tried to get a better look at the driver in the Suburban.
âYou sound distracted. Did I call at a bad time?â
âIâm on the ferry. I think the driver in the next lane is staring at me.â
âDonât look at them, for heavenâs sake! It could be the person behind the threat, or better yet, do look. Be aggressive. Walk over and ask the creep if he wrote the note.â
âYouâre not helpful.â
âIâm kidding. Besides, the group and I have been texting, and weâre concerned. The more we think about it, the note read as if it was meant for someone else, Thereâs traitor in your blood and youâll payâ, Fiona said, as she repeated what Marianne had shared with her earlier. âWhat is that supposed to mean?â
âIâm just as baffled. However, you donât need to worry, and although I appreciate your concern, I can take care of myself.â
âThis is not something to handle on your own, Marianne. What are you planning to do? Wait until heâs standing over your bed in the middle of the night before calling the sheriff? That might be a tad too late, my dear.â
âItâs not going to come to that.â
âHow do you know it hasnât already? What about those muddy footprints in the hallway?â
âThey could have been mine. I was out in the yard that day.â
âAre you certain? I thought you said the footprints were larger than yours.â
The reminder sent a chill up her spine. âI donât remember what I said.â She let out a sigh. âHereâs why I donât want to go to the sheriff, if I can help it. I went to school with the dispatcher who is one of the biggest gossipers on the island. Far too many residents didnât hold back telling me that I was getting in over my head buying Perrigo Mansion. I donât want them to know they were right. Besides, now that I think about it,â and Marianne knew that she was looking for the quickest fix to find the culprit by pinning this on the suspect easiest to pin it on, âI may know who it is and sheâs really not a threat.â If indeed her growing suspicions were correct.
âWho do you think is the intruder?â
âThe eccentric old lady who used to live in the mansion.â
âI thought you barely knew this woman.â
âShe knows my family. She and my grandpa went to school together here on the island.â Marianne thought of old Gilly and realized that an obvious physical limitation might remove her as a suspect behind the note. Just as quickly as her hopes of solving this mystery had soared, they plummeted. âBut she likely isnât the one threatening me. Sheâs short. Someone a bit taller than me with longer arms tied the note to the gate.â She sighed. âSo, one mystery partly solved, if I can prove sheâs been coming into my home, that is. As for the threatening message on my gate, I havenât a clue who is behind it.
âI should come out there.â
âIâm fine, Fiona.â
âPromise me that youâll keep your phone on you at all times, in case you need to call for help?â
âI promise.â Marianne thought the call was over, but Fiona had one more question.
âHave you heard from your brother lately?â Her friend met her brother a year ago. Ever since, sheâd been hinting to find a way to run into him, however subtle her attempts.
âHeâs a hard one to pin down. He always drops in unexpectedly.â
The ever-optimistic Fiona replied, âMaybe thatâs for the best. For me, that is. Crushes never end well.â
Marianne laughed.
âIâve got to go. I have my Friday night date to get ready for,â Fiona said.
They ended their call with Marianne promising to send a text when she made it home safely.
Not a second later, the window slid down on the bad-vibe vehicle, and she cringed at its occupant. Her sisterâs boyfriend, Gerald Cain. He smiled in a manner that sheâd seen him work on several of the women on the island. She would have preferred to ignore him, but good manners drilled in by her grandmother kept her from doing so. She lowered the passenger window to cold air and the sound of the ferryâs engines.
âFancy meeting you here.â Gerald said. His white teeth stood out against his fake tan.
âHow are you this evening?â she replied.
âBetter now that youâre here.â
She didnât return his smile. âNew car?â she asked.
âIsnât she a sweet ride? Just picked her up last week.â
âThatâs too bad,â she said before she could stop herself. His older model car with trailing black exhaust had made it easy to see him coming, giving her time to go in another direction.
Gerald hadnât caught her sarcasm and kept on with the charm. âWhat brings you off the island? A day in Seattle?â
The back of her neck tingled. She hadnât told anyone where she was going today.
âI didnât go that far.â She felt zero guilt lying to the man talking like he knew her intimately.
It was creepy the way that his grin remained fixed on his face even though it felt like there was no longer a smile in his eyes. She thought for a moment that their chat was over.
âDonât you want to know what I was doing today?â
âNot really,â she said through the tight smile she held in place.
He told her anyway. âI just got back from scouting out new business in estate sales and antiques. My uncle and I are starting to specialize in that area.â
This wasnât the first time Gerald had hinted at the antiques inside of Marianneâs new home. Something about his tone made her wish that the dark-haired pirate was standing between her and the Suburban. She wasnât too surprised by his next approach.
âA woman living alone should have a man checking on her from time to time.â
Something in his tone had alarm bells going off in her head. Maybe Fiona was right in leaving the handgun with her. âThese days, a woman can take care of herself,â she said and had the window halfway up when he mentioned her elderly neighborâs name, a woman who was also the unhappy former owner of the mansion where Marianne now lived.
âGilly mentioned that there may be more to the set besides the emerald and diamond opera glasses we sold for her recently online. If you come upon them, it would sure help in her dire situation.â
At first, she wasnât sure that sheâd heard him correctly. Marianne had a knack for details, and she didnât recall seeing any valuable bejeweled items on the inventory list that came with the mansion. Even if it was an item theyâd missed and one that ended up leaving with Gilly, it was all the better. If she could help Gilly additionally by getting her to take more antiques to sell, she would do so. Just not with Geraldâs help.
He was saying something else, but she gestured with her hand that she couldnât hear him and closed the window and locked up. Wind blew through the car deck, whipping at her hair as she headed for the stairs to the passenger cabin. Out through the wide opening at the stern, the ferryâs wake left a trail as they drew farther away from the mainland.
The sound of her heels echoed hollowly as she hurried up the stairs. She pushed in through the heavy steel door to the crowded area only to find a long line at the concession stand where sheâd hoped to buy a hot cup of coffee. With a sigh, she looked around. From where she stood, a vacant seat did not look promising. But she was determined not to spend the crossing anywhere close to Gerald.
She came upon what appeared to be an unoccupied booth in the forward section. Until she saw a manâs long denim-clad legs stretched out, his head back against the seat where the last of the sunâs golden rays fell across his cheekbones.
The pirate-biker looked peaceful enough in sleep, completely throwing her off as to how this could possibly be the same man whoâd sent her death rays. Instead of the donât-make-me-kill-you look, she now saw a man who was approachable and maybe stayed in touch with his mother.
She gave her head a shake to snap out of this transfixion that had come over her and got back to finding a place to sit.
Another look over her shoulder did nothing more than to confirm that he was it for a bench buddy. However, looking away proved to be bad timing. The rough water this far out in the channel caused the floor to roll just enough to send her off balance on her narrow heels and she fell right on top of the sleeping man.
Strong hands locked onto either side of her rib cage. Her hair had fallen forward across her eyes, but she saw enough. His mouth was inches from her own. A highly precarious position to be in, and all she could think of was that Fiona would give her a perfect score for ingenuity.
âI didnât plan this.â Her heart thumped an unusual rhythm.
âI was hoping it was an improvement on your apology.â His breath moved the silky fabric of her blouse.
The thought occurred to her that she should get off this manâs lap. Instead, she surprised herself by saying, âDoes this mean Iâm forgiven?â She was flirting just like her fictional heroine, Gigi Divine!
Thick black lashes slowly fanned up until a pair of dark-blue eyes locked on her own. He looked warmly amused, making her aware of the heat from his hands where they held her, as well as the warmth of his thigh where her hip rested. A slow bone melt had begun. And she came to her senses!
âWould you mind letting go?â she said.
âYou first.â
To her embarrassment, her hands were attached to his biceps, like she was on a hot date.
âIâm sure we can work this out,â he said.
âI would hope so.â Her face grew warmer. âWe are, after all, adults.â
His voice deepened. âThat we are.â
Back on her feet, she promptly spun around to straighten her clothes, looking for any place else to sit.
It grew worse. Her handbag was no longer on her arm.
âLooking for this?â
The leather bag lay upside down on the floor between them next to his helmet. As he made to pick it up off the floor, the Lady Derringer tumbled out. Their heads nearly butted together in their grab for the gun. He proved to have a faster response time.
Carmine Valentine's All Fired Up opens with undeniable charm. The meet-cute between Marianne and Jack on the ferry to Orcas Island sets the tone for what promises to be a captivating blend of romance and mystery.
Valentine's prose flows effortlessly, pulling readers into the moody Pacific Northwest setting with descriptive precision that never overwhelms. The author clearly knows this landscape intimately, and it shows. You can feel the salt air, hear the creak of the old Perrigo Mansion, and sense the island's secrets lurking beneath its serene surface.
The romantic tension between the opposites-attract leads is the novel's strongest asset. Valentine crafts their slow-burn connection with skill, balancing warmth, spice, and flirtation in just the right measures.
Marianne and Jack's chemistry crackles on the page, and their reluctant partnership feels organic as they navigate both personal baggage and shared danger. The author's handling of their relationship demonstrates why readers compare her work to Nora Roberts and Barbara Freethy.
However, the mystery component struggles to match the romance's polish. While the setup involving stolen jewels and dangerous secrets from an older generation intrigues initially, the unfolding feels too straightforward. Red herrings are either absent or weak, making the path to resolution predictable. The pacing, so confident in the book's first half, becomes uneven once danger escalates. Some scenes move too slowly while others rush past moments that deserved more development.
The danger scenes lack the necessary edge. Threats that should evoke genuine fear or anxiety feel oddly bland. The stakes never quite land with the weight they need, leaving readers emotionally detached during moments designed for tension. The resolution compounds this issue, wrapping up so quickly that the entire conflict feels anticlimactic, almost insignificant compared to the buildup.
As the first in The Barefoot by Moonlight Series, the book establishes an intriguing premise where writers must take a dare to create their best work in an assigned location. Valentine succeeds in weaving the series concept naturally into the narrative without making it feel gimmicky.
The supporting cast, including Marianne's brother Ian and best friend Fiona, are drawn up just enough to generate interest in their own upcoming stories. This world-building suggests Valentine has a clear vision for the series arc, even if this inaugural installment doesn't fully deliver on all its promises.
All these elements make All Fired Up an enjoyable read despite its mystery missteps. Fans of cozy mysteries with strong romantic elements will find much to appreciate here, particularly if they prioritize character chemistry over intricate plotting.