Melanie Kincaid is a trust-fund baby with a knack for sassy comebacks and unnecessarily complicating her privileged life. So, of course she would have to fall in love with a man she can't have.

Jameson Hayes is a NYC firefighter for Manhattan’s oldest ladder company with big shoes to fill and a city to protect. He’s strong, sexy, and not looking for the complications Melanie brings. But he can't stay away from her either. The attraction between them is immediate and the pull between them is crazy powerful. But she's only home for the summer and long-distance relationships never work.

Unfortunately, Melanie’s beauty and smart mouth are a lethal combination and Jameson isn't the only Hayes who's interested. As if his brother isn't enough to compete with, now the city's most famous arsonist wants to claim her as his next prize. Jameson can't stand to watch Melanie get hurt and she can't seem to keep herself out of trouble.


Fall for Me is the first Ladder Company novel, a stand-alone companion series about New York's most elite firefighting family with hot alpha heroes, snarky heroines, and an arsonist hell-bent on destruction.


About the author:

As a child, JC was fascinated by things that went bump in the night. As they say, some things never change. Now, as an adult, she divides her time between the sexy law men, mythical creatures, and kick-ass heroines that live inside her head and pursuing her bachelor's degree in English. JC is a San Francisco Bay Area native, but has also called both Texas and Louisiana home. These days she rocks her flip flops year round in Northern California and can't imagine a climate more beautiful.

JC writes adult, new adult, and young adult fiction. She dabbles in many different genres including science fiction, horror, chick lit, and murder mysteries, yet she is most enthralled by supernatural stories-- and everything has at least a splash of romance.


twitter username jc_emery




I let my imagination run wild with thoughts of me, panting and unfolding with every moment he touches me. Large hands—check. Long legs—check. I’d like to say I’m never like this, but that’s a lie. I still have a few celeb crushes that turn me into a panting hoe. But this guy isn’t a celeb crush. He’s a real person so that kind of makes this a bit unprecedented.


“Run a marathon, did ya?” he asks. He’s got to be around six feet tall and he’s got these sexy gray-blue eyes with light brown hair and a complexion that’s almost a light peach color.


“No,” I stutter. Why he would think I’d been running a marathon, God only knows. I place a hand to the base of my neck only to find that I’m perspiring. Shit. I really need to get myself under control. It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone and it’s showing. I’ve always been that woman who sees what she likes and goes for it. Not that such tactics have worked out well for me in the past.


“Why?” I try to cover up the mess I’m making of myself. I just… like him. I like the way he’s standing here in the doorway and the way he’s studying me. His eyes linger as he drags them up my body, spending more time than appropriate on my breasts that peek out the top of my dark red dress, and finally rest on my face. I just hope my makeup isn’t fucked up. I made sure that both my dress and the makeup met with my mom’s approval before we arrived. Classy not trashy, that’s the motto. These things matter to her so, by extension, they matter to me even if I don’t want them to.


He opens his mouth to respond but clamps it shut almost immediately. There’s a silence for a long moment before he rubs the back of his neck and looks back at the landing behind him. A smile forms that overtakes his entire, gorgeously chiseled face. He can’t be too much older than me though he’s definitely more mature than the guys I go to school with. His features have lost that youthful boyish look that’s common to those in their early twenties but they have yet to acquire any gray from what I can tell and he doesn’t look seasoned just yet. He’s practically perfect in every way I can see. Oh, screw practically. All I can see is perfection which means he must be a serial killer or he collects parakeets or has some kind of strange fetish with corn because perfect never means perfect. It means I’m in trouble because this guy is going to crush me. Hopefully naked as I come apart around him.


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