I picked up a copy of Scorpius Rising (by Rebecca Zanetti) at Amazon, way back in 2017. I’ve held on to it because Z-authors are always a challenge to find for my yearly alphabet challenge.
Description from Goodreads:
With a deadly disease spreading like wildfire across the country, microbiologist Nora Medina needs to focus all her energy on stopping the pandemic. Playing with dynamite—in the form of her way-too-hot ex—is the last thing she should be doing. But forced to work with Deacan McDougall against unexpected enemies with the seconds ticking by, she knows the explosion is coming…
Honestly, I thought this was pretty bad. The plot has too many holes in it. The heroine is spineless and the hero is a neanderthal jerk. (I can handle an alpha a-hole hero in a paranormal romance, where being a werewolf or vampire or sea monster explains away the assholeness. But in a plain old human, he just feels abusive.) The sex wasn’t sexy, being of the no foreplay, “he pounded/hammered/slammed into her” sort. The science was hand-wavy. And the whole thing just felt ridiculous.