Spotlight: Excerpt from Burning Vengeance by Tricia T. LaRochelle

 

Natalie Dugan thought starting a cleaning business would bring freedom, not danger. Between caring for her sick mother and juggling new clients, she has no time for romance—until she meets Aaron Marino, a scarred ex-firefighter who makes her question everything. When a series of suspicious fires spreads through their Virginia town, suspicion falls on every man around her, leaving Natalie to unravel a deadly mystery before vengeance consumes them all. Readers who enjoy high-stakes and forced proximity romances will devour Burning Vengeance by Tricia T. LaRochelle, a small-town, fireman romantic suspense.

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When Natalie Dugan trades spreadsheets for scrub brushes, she hopes her new cleaning business will give her independence—and the chance to care for her ailing mother. Love isn’t on her agenda, but everything changes when she meets Aaron Marino, a reclusive ex-firefighter scarred by the blaze that nearly claimed his life.

As a string of suspicious fires threatens their quaint Virginia town, every man in Natalie’s orbit becomes a suspect: her hard-working new boyfriend, her mother’s unfairly maligned partner, her unsettling neighbor, and even Aaron himself. But the closer Natalie gets to Aaron, the harder it is to ignore the spark that refuses to extinguish.

When the truth behind the fires finally ignites, Natalie will have to confront betrayal, vengeance, and danger that hits far too close to home. Survival—and love—depend on whether she can brave the flames of the past … before they consume her.

Excerpt 

Copyright 2026, Tricia T. LaRochelle

 Yaz and I were the new owners of cockapoos. Daisy was my baby, and Sadie was Yaz’s. We adopted the two sisters six months ago, when we had both decided to try our hand at pet parenting. And we were smitten. Our little spitfires kept us busy. 

Embracing the doggy craze, I’d bought pj’s with images of dogs adorning them, tote bags, and throws of the same type of pattern, and of course, the scrubs. Hell, I even had stemless wine glasses with doggy prints etched into the glass—a gift from Mom last Christmas. She doted on Daisy more than I did.  

“You the cleaning lady?” 

Aaron’s voice brought me back to the moment. 

I do have a name.

Other than his gaze lingering on my outfit for a millisecond longer than normal, Aaron never really looked at me as he spoke. He stayed focused on the area behind me, mostly. He also kept lightly scratching at his beard, like someone would do when they were either anxious or prone to such habits.

Handsome or not, I kept my mind on high alert as I watched for signs of crazy from this guy. One hand remained in my pocket, gripping my pepper spray. 

“Yes, I’m Natalie. Natalie Dugan.” I reached my free hand out, and he shook it, quickly releasing his grip.

Here's one with a sense of danger:

Daisy wandered the backyard by the fence bordering Alan’s property. I hated it when she did that, but it was late, and what difference did it make? As long as she did her business in a timely fashion, I was fine. 

“Okay, go potty, Daisy.” Not sure why I had to ask her this. I hoped certain words and phrases would register. During the day, I had taught her to ring a potty-training bell that hung from both the front and back doors of the house. She and I were a work in progress. 

I wrapped my jacket around my waist and wiggled my legs for warmth. “Hurry up, Daisy. Go potty, so we can get back to bed.”

While the little pup sniffed the ground along the fence line, I waited, my gaze wandering the surrounding area, especially the pitchy woods growing thick out back. 

I loved the privacy, but couldn’t help but wonder what animals lurked. Especially on a night like this one, when the moon was hiding behind a dense layer of clouds, the darkness so thick, I could barely see my dog.

You forgot to turn on the outside light, genius. Oh, well, this won’t take long. 

Movement cut through my thoughts, my senses on guard. If a raccoon or a fox came bounding over the fence, I was ready to grab Daisy and whisk her inside. 

A shadow appeared on the other side of the fence. Alan? Oh, shit. What was he doing out here at this hour? My heart slammed against my ribcage, and I lost my breath. What was it about this dude? He’d been harmless so far. Rude, but otherwise benign. Maybe it was those gas cans? His uncanny resemblance to the man in that Netflix show? Or just a sixth sense?

“D-Daisy, w-we gotta go,” I whisper-yelled. 

At this point, she was in full squat mode, doing her business. 

The shadow moved closer as my body trembled and my lungs strained to accept any semblance of oxygen. I wanted to run, but I stood paralyzed.  

The shadow lifted something large. A flick of a lighter followed. All at once, a dragon-sized ball of fire illuminated the night. 

All went dark. Alan moved closer. The fire ignited again, and I could see flames escaping Alan’s mouth. It was like something out of a circus. The heat flushed my cheeks with its warmth. 

Daisy, having finished, backed away from the fence and barked at the wild display. 

In an instant, I could see Alan clearly, until the firebomb extinguished, and darkness returned. 

Alan lifted the bottle and spat more flames. His head turned slightly, his gaze meeting mine.  

Holy shit. What if he spat his flames over here? 

 

About Tricia T. LaRochelle

Since she was a little girl, award-winning author Tricia T. LaRochelle has been obsessed with tragic love stories. No beach reads for her. Bring on the grit with a double side of turmoil. She likes to feel the character’s anguish as they fight to overcome obstacles to be together. Growing up in central Vermont, she has seen her share of tragedy but remains a hopeful romantic. She now lives in central Virginia, where she continues to foster the possibilities of how love can conquer all.

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