THE SWEETHEART KISS
by Cheryl Ann Smith Genre: Romantic Suspense Pub Date: May 9, 2017
Jess Lucas works hard at the all-female PI firm Brash & Brazen, and after a brush with death, she’s determined to play hard too—preferably with a certain detective on the Ann Arbor police force…
Jess was stuck at a frenemy’s wedding, playing bridesmaid in a mustard-yellow monstrosity, when chaos erupted. First the bride’s ex tried to stop the wedding. Then someone really put a damper on the big day by sending a bullet through a stained glass window and into one of the groomsmen. At least her ugly dress came in handy to stop the bleeding . . . While the poor guy is rushed to the ER, Jess gets grilled by a gorgeous cop who’s not thrilled to learn she’s part PI and part pit bull. But he has to admit she’s highly observant . . . and he observes that she’s pretty hot, too. The thing is, Jess was walking up the same aisle as the victim, and Sam suspects she was the real target. It’s more than professional duty that makes him want to protect her—if he doesn’t arrest her first for interfering in his investigation . . .
Fun and fascinating story from a new author to me!
I don't usually go for the over-the-top type humor, but the author made it work here. It fit well with the characters, with the events, the crimes, even the culprits. The story is solid entertainment that held the enchantment all through the tale. Jess and Sam seemed like total opposite at the first glance. Jess is brazen, loud, and determined to get her way. She is good at what she does, she knows what she wants, and she is not timid to go after it. Sam is by the book detective. He likes order, peace, and quiet after demanding days at his job. He is not interested in a relationship, he does not want a partner, he does not want a roommate. But we don't always get what we want, we get so much more and better. Because the connection, the attraction, the passion stewing between Jess and Sam is hot, exceptional, and tangible. After awhile, they seemed to get each other, they center and calm the other, they fit well together, and they have fun with each other. The odd attacks and harassment towards Jess are escalating and without any clues to take their case forward, all they can do it try to stay safe. Who is behind the attacks and malice comes as surprise, Jess and Sam really have to put an effort in to find the culprits. I enjoyed the story immensely, the humor, the love, the adoration all were well bound together with the charming characters. The whole cast and crew are a lively bunch, amusing and enjoyable. I would recommend this book, and I am sure the whole series as well, to people who love Liliana Hart's early Addison Holmes Mysteries. ~Four Spoons
There was one thing guaranteed to get Jess Lucas through a wedding that she didn’t want to be in, with a bride she intensely disliked, and a headache that had spiked through her skull the moment she slipped the hideous bridesmaid dress over her head: Alcohol.
The crystal clear liquid called to her with a sweet siren song from within the bottom of her oversized tote bag. There had been speculation among her friends that Amelia Earhart— and aircraft—could be found in the tote along with Bigfoot and extinct dodo birds, if the right team of explorers took on the search. Laying that rumor to rest would have to wait until she finished soaking her throbbing brain with fermented potatoes and ethanol. Jess was certain a quick dash into the changing room wouldn’t be noticed as the groom hadn’t yet taken his position at the altar. Maybe the clueless sap had wised up and was now making a run for the Ohio border. No luck. She caught a glimpse of him talking to the minister and smiling. She didn’t know him well, but felt sorry for the guy. He was so dumbstruck by love that he couldn’t see past the big teeth and enhanced breasts to the character within his future wife. But that wasn’t Jess’s problem. The ceremony was not to start for three minutes and she was quick, despite a slight buzz from previous liquor shots. Without any impediments to block her path, she could get to the bride’s room, down the 1.5 ounces of vodka left from a raid on the minibar during a trip to Vegas last summer, and be back in line before anyone noticed her missing. She just had to shake off groomsman number three. She’d brought a variety six pack of those little booze bottles, knowing that in order to survive the wedding of Mandy Mae Smith—soon to be Jones—she’d need liquid courage. Not much of a drinker, she’d managed to chug three bottles already, but her duties had kept her from the fourth. The white crinoline along the bodice of the wide fifties-prom-dress inspired bridesmaid dress was already rubbing off the top layer of skin on her left arm pit. By the time the evening came to a thank-God-it’s-over close, she intended to be ripping drunk and naked with a groomsman in a vestibule closet somewhere. After all, wasn’t a single woman entitled to be cliché at least once in her life? “Ready?” “Er, what?” Jess looked way up at tall groomsman number three, Dodger Drake. Yes, that was his name. His fake tanned orange face grinned down from a foot above her, his teeth so white that she became convinced he ate, slept, and probably had sex while wearing teeth whitening trays. “It’s time to line up,” Dodger said and his gaze dipped unapologetically to her modest cleavage pushed up under her chin by the bone-corset bodice of the dress. Gawd, she hoped that Dodger was a nickname and not some sick joke his parents had heaped on their innocent baby to toughen him up on the playground. By the way he was measuring her cup size, he was clearly angling to be her next sexual misadventure. Heck, her first sexual misadventure. She was too smart to jump into anything without weighing the pros and cons beforehand. For the last several very long weeks, she’d been weighted down by gloom over a very serious health scare. After getting good news, she’d taken a look at her life and wasn’t happy with what she saw reflected back at her. Outside of work, she’d been kind of going along without much purpose. Her social life was boring and she hadn’t had an adventure since she and her friends had been kicked off a bus and almost eaten by buzzards. She was healthy now. It was time to start living. Perhaps she should do something reckless. She’d have to make a plan. “Oh, okay,” she said and let him lead her into the line. Damn. The bottle would have to wait, she thought, as she tugged at the torturous gown. Really, who would choose mustard yellow corseted dresses with lime and red sashes for a wedding anyway? Mandy, that’s who. Dear lord, why had she agreed to this epic mess? Jess hated Mandy. Oh, they’d been friends once. Then Mandy had blossomed after getting her severe overbite corrected, become promiscuous during the last two years of high school, and slept with Jess’s boyfriend of two years, Darren. A long-winded, weepy apology had tamped down Jess’s desire to kill her, and they’d left high school as frenemies. After all, by the time Jess found out about the cheating, Darren had already done it with half of the girls in their town over the age of sixteen. So what was one more, Mandy had said. As if that made Jess feel any better. Besides, the ex-boyfriend with the best friend relationship didn’t last much longer than the time it took for Darren to untangle Mandy’s lacy thong from his braces the night the cops found them parked behind the elementary school. His head had popped up and he was grinning like he’d won the lottery, with red lace snagged on silver metal. He’d been an overeager virgin, saddled with a girlfriend who wasn’t ready to go past second base, and full of raging hormones. After Mandy, his new reputation as a stud had gained him a following of would-be-hoes who were ready to see if braces were indeed better than a vibrator on certain areas of the female anatomy. And dear Mandy had spent their senior year in high school orally copulating her way through 25 percent of the males of the senior class. Senior photos that year were particularly chipper. The young men had a lot to smile about. This kind of behavior would lead psychologists to suspect childhood trauma or some sort of mental malady. But no, Mandy just liked sex. And she would have made a dent in the other 75 percent if not for that dreaded event called graduation. So when the call from way out of left field came three weeks ago begging Jess to be part of Mandy’s big day, she had been unable to come up with an excuse quick enough to get out of it. So, here she was...bridesmaid number three. But what ticked her off most was that Mandy was so happy with Chad Jones that it sickened everyone around her. If karma had blessed Mandy with a taste of her own medicine, Chad would be currently doing it with the maid of honor behind the pulpit instead of high-fiving his best man and heading to the front of the church with a bounce in his step. Not that she was bitter or anything, Jess reminded herself. High school was nine years ago. They’d all moved on. Sure. Mandy had trotted off to college, become a lawyer, and was now marrying the man of her dreams. This ending was completely unfair to the good girls of the world. Jess glanced up the aisle to the groom and wondered if he knew his soon-to-be-wife had questionable morals. Of course he did. He was grinning like a dope who had won a life-long ride on the easy train—easy being the key word. Sloughing off envy, she promised to be happy for Mandy if it killed her. They had been close once. The odds of the marriage making it past the five-year anniversary were nil. The last she’d seen of Mandy before she’d fled the bachelorette party two nights ago was the future bride heading into a bathroom stall with a well-endowed stripper named Chaz, and he probably wasn’t helping her look for a lost contact lens between her breasts. “Do you think the marriage will succeed?” Dodger whispered, and for a second, Jess felt her cheeks warm. Was her skepticism that obvious? “Of course it will,” she replied without much enthusiasm. It wasn’t nice to say negative things about a bride on her wedding day. “Why would you think otherwise?” Dodger looked around and bent down. Some of his spray tan had rubbed off on his starched white tuxedo shirt. He smelled of beer and cigarettes. “I slept with her two months ago,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “This morning before we left the hotel, I saw her leaving Mr. Jones’s room, carrying her shoes.” Jess’s mouth dropped open. “Mr. Jones? As in the father of the groom, Mr. Jones?” She glanced to the front of the church. The older but still handsome Mr. Jones was speaking to his half-his-age date, Chandi, and the girl was giggling. What was it about weddings that sexually charged up some people? Dodger grinned. “The same.” Brushing aside that Dodger had also slept with Mandy, Jess frowned. “Wait. I thought he was sharing a room with Chandi?” Dodger tipped his head left and lifted his brows. “He is.” It didn’t take her PI skills to figure that one out. Apparently, Mandy had upped her game. For some reason, Jess found this funny. She squelched a laugh behind her hand. Suddenly, she didn’t need the last bottle of booze. This was going to be fun. “Should we raise our hands when asked if anyone objects to the wedding? It sounds like intimate knowledge of the bride would qualify you as an expert, and she slept with my high school boyfriend. We both have good reasons to object.” The guy chuckled. “Ouch. Chad slept with my college girlfriend. I say we let this play out.” “They deserve each other,” she said and he nodded. With a new appreciation of groomsman number three, she hooked her arm with his and smiled. “Agreed.” The music started and off they went. In front of Dodger, groomsman number two was shellacked and polished down to his gleaming fingernails. He hooked arms with the giggling Shelby, who looked up at him in a way that suggested she wasn’t wearing panties. “I’ve been to three weddings this summer and I have to say, you’re the hottest bridesmaid so far,” Dodger said. “Thanks.” Jess wasn’t sure if that was some sort of awkward come-on, or whether she wanted to take it as such. The man looked like an over-sized Oompa Loompa. But after surviving a recent cancer scare and deciding life needed to be lived to the fullest, she hadn’t yet ruled him out for the coat closet. Sex was a distant memory. None of her recent dates had made her want to shave her legs or put on sexy panties. Maybe it was time for a no-commitments romp for fun. Besides, he had a good sense of humor with an evil streak. She admired that in a co-conspirator. “Save me a dance later,” she said and shot him a flirty look. At least she hoped it was flirty. “Yes, ma’am. How can I refuse?” His response definitely held a sexual overtone. The way he returned his attention to her scooped neckline left no doubt that he had a coat closet all picked out for them. She just had to say yes. Could orange be her new...something? “Off we go,” said the elderly usher/uncle of the groom, shooing them out the open double doors. The likelihood of her actually sneaking off to the coat closet with Dodger was slim, but he made her laugh and she did enjoy his company. Except for Summer’s wedding last weekend, it had been weeks since she let herself have some fun. Now that she’d been given the all clear by the doc, the cloud of doom above her head was gone. Dodger couldn’t be the only single man at the wedding. Maybe she could find someone with more substance? Someone long-term? The possibilities were endless and she was seeing life through new eyes. It was time to get back to living. The music swelled with the beginning notes of the wedding song as Jess stepped over rose petals and Dodger grinned back at the bride. Mandy kept her eyes averted from his. It turned out that neither Jess nor Dodger—who was enjoying himself immensely—had to protest the marriage. They were steps away from the altar when a shout sounded from the back of the room and brought the processional to a halt. “Mandy, wait! Don’t do this!” Jess knew that voice. She flashed back nine years. It was the cold flush of the unfairness of life taking one last stab through her fourth and fifth vertebrae to kick her back to reality. Darren, aka cheating scumbag high school boyfriend, had arrived to steal the bride. Figured. The flower girl stopped and everyone swiveled in their chairs. Jess was halfway turned around, both disbelieving and shocked that he was still tangled up with Mandy after all these years, when a loud snap echoed through the old church, followed by a scream, and groomsman number two landed at her feet.
Cheryl Ann Smith became hooked on romance at age fourteen when she stayed up all night to read The Flame and The Flower by Kathleen Woodiwiss. Her own writing journey happened much later, when one afternoon she ran out of books and decided to write her own. Previously, she has published five sexy Regency novels and one novella with Berkley in her School for Brides series.
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When a Lady Dares
Her Majesty's Most Secret Service #2 By: Tara Kingston Releasing May 15, 2017 Entangled Select Historical
Sophie Atherton knows a liar when she sees one. Perhaps because she’s so skilled at deception herself. Searching for clues to a string of mysterious deaths, the secret operative for the Crown has connived her way into a phony medium’s confidence. When a dashing archaeologist seeks out the charlatan’s services, Sophie suspects he’s after more than a long-lost heirloom. Their electric attraction storms her defenses, but loving the rakish scholar would threaten her investigation and the life she’s crafted.
Gavin Stanwyck is a man on a mission. Masquerading as a treasure hunter to trap the spiritualist, he's drawn to the medium’s enigmatic assistant. As treacherous forces close in, passion awakens his hardened heart—he’ll protect Sophie at all costs, but he cannot give her his love. Uniting to survive a sinister plot, they must tear down their defenses and learn to trust their hearts.
“The way I see it, you set forth a challenge. I am debating whether or not to accept it.”
“A challenge?” She frowned. “I don’t follow.” He unfolded his arms and stalked to where she stood. Gently, his hands draped her shoulders. Strong, but without pressure. Without violence. “You said I would have to try harder for you to be convinced I am a scoundrel. What is that, if not a challenge?” Words hovered on the tip of her tongue but failed to escape her lips. He shouldn’t be holding her, regardless of how warm his hands were against her body. He shouldn’t be so very near. She drank in subtle notes of sandalwood on his jaw and his throat. He shouldn’t be studying her with those perceptive eyes, a glint of sensual interest darkening his sapphire irises. She drew in a breath, even as he held her closer still. If she’d detected any hint of danger, she would’ve brought him to the ground with a well-placed knee or a calculated swing of her weighted reticule against the pulse point behind his ear. But this man did not present that nature of a threat. No, the danger in his touch was more subtle. More insidious. And ultimately, far more powerful. She could not betray the effect he had on her. She could not give him that weapon against her. “I meant what I said.” A miracle, how steady she held her tone. “When I look at you, I do not see a cad. I see a man in need of answers. The only question is, what are the answers you truly seek?” “And if I kissed you? Would you think me a rogue?” The heat in his gaze kindled a spark deep within her, but she steeled herself against the sudden and powerful need. She could not let on how delicious his breath felt against her cheek, how good…how right…it felt to be in his arms. “No.” She lifted her gaze to lock with his. “I would think you a man, with a man’s desires and needs. Nothing more. Nothing less.” “You are a temptation I could not have anticipated.” A tiny muscle in his jaw tensed. “And I…well, I am a bloody fool.” His hands slid lower, settling on her leg-of-mutton sleeves, and he dipped his head. She might’ve imagined the sound, but his breath seemed a sigh. And then, his lips claimed hers in a kiss. Oh, my, such a delicious caress. Shock rippled through Sophie’s veins, coupled with an instinctive alarm. Not fear. Far from it. Rather, this man’s touch should not feel so very tempting, so very tender. So maddeningly right.
1)Can you tell us a little about your book?
I’d love to tell you a bit about When A Lady Dares. The story is set in London during the late Victorian era, a few years after Jack the Ripper roamed the alleys of Whitechapel. The heroine of the story, Sophie Atherton, is an undercover agent for a secret government agency called upon to pursue criminals who pose a threat to England—cases that require specialized expertise and resources beyond the realm of Scotland Yard. Here’s a brief summary of the story: In Victorian London, a daring female agent confronts a notorious rogue, but who’s seducing who? Sophie Atherton knows a liar when she sees one. Perhaps because she’s so skilled at deception herself. Searching for clues to a string of mysterious deaths, the secret operative for the Crown has connived her way into a phony medium’s confidence. When a dashing archaeologist seeks out the charlatan’s services, Sophie suspects he’s after more than a long-lost heirloom. Their electric attraction storms her defenses, but loving the rakish scholar would threaten her investigation and the life she’s crafted. Gavin Stanwyck is a man on a mission. Masquerading as a treasure hunter to trap the spiritualist, he's drawn to the medium’s enigmatic assistant. As treacherous forces close in, passion awakens his hardened heart—he’ll protect Sophie at all costs, but he cannot give her his love. Uniting to survive a sinister plot, they must tear down their defenses and learn to trust their hearts. 2) If you had a theme song, what would it be? It’s a tie between three songs, depending on my mood: Paperback Writer (The Beatles) Don’t Stop (Fleetwood Mac) Roar (Katy Perry) 3) Name one thing you won’t leave home without. My e-reader…I always have to have a great book on hand. 4) Name three things on your desk right now. My laptop, a variety of multi-colored post-it notes with my scribblings on them, and a very old folder with Han Solo’s picture on it, just because… after all, who wouldn’t want a large picture of Harrison Ford on their desk? 5)What do you like to do when you aren't writing? When I’m not writing, I love to spend time outdoors with my husband. We ride our bicycles, hike in the state parks near our home, take long walks, and generally, enjoy nature. I also like to head to the beach every chance I get—a day at the beach is good for my soul. I enjoy watching a good comedy, and in the fall, I love getting together with friends to watch football and cheer on my favorite team. 6) If you could have dinner with any three authors (alive or dead), who would you choose and why? Jane Austen —I’d love to discuss her inspiration for Mr. Darcy and get her thoughts on a matter of great importance—who’s the better Darcy—Colin Firth or Matthew Macfadyen? For the record, I’m Team Firth. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley — She wrote Frankenstein… need I say more? Discussing her inspiration for the novel and the characters would be fascinating. I’d also love to get her opinion on the great portrayals of the monster in film… who’s her favorite—Boris Karloff, Christopher Lee, Peter Boyle, or Robert DeNiro? Personally, I have a soft-spot for Peter Boyle’s portrayal in Young Frankenstein (or is that Fronk-en-steen?) Charlotte Bronte -- Jane Eyre is one of my all-time favorite novels. I’d be thrilled to discuss the inspiration for Mr. Rochester with the author who created him…simply fascinating! 7) What 5 things should readers know about you? ~ I am hopelessly devoted to Fox Mulder and have watched every episode of the X-Files. ~ I can cook, but it’s a pretty rare occasion when I make anything from scratch. I’d rather be writing, biking, walking, laughing at a good comedy, reading on a beach, reading on my porch, painting furniture… pretty much anything but standing in the kitchen. ~ I do not like sad movies and books. I’d much read a happily-ever-after or enjoy a movie comedy or a rollicking adventure--Raiders of the Lost Ark is one of my favorite movies of all time. The adventure, the gorgeous hero (yes, I adore Harrison Ford, as evidenced by the fact I possess a years-old folder with Han Solo on the front), and the touches of humor make it an ideal movie for me. ~ We have two kitties who were incredibly innocent-looking when we adopted them from the shelter, but the pair quickly began to compete for the title of “bad kitty”. We’ve actually had to child-proof a cabinet in the kitchen to keep one of them from opening the door and walking right in, and trust me, you do not want to see what they will do to a bag of treats that’s left out on the counter. But they make up for their naughtiness with their sweet, loving ways. They really are cuddle-bugs. ~ As a child, I loved to read Nancy Drew books non-stop. Even then, I enjoyed stories with clever heroines and a good mystery. This has definitely carried over to my own novels. I love to read and write romance with strong heroines and an air of mystery threaded through the story.
Award-winning and Amazon.com best-selling author Tara Kingston writes historical romance laced with intrigue, danger, and adventures of the heart. A Southern belle-out-of-water in a quaint Pennsylvania town, she lives with her real-life hero and a pair of deceptively innocent-looking cats in a cozy Victorian. A former librarian whose love of reading is evident in her popping-at-the-seams bookcases, she’s thankful for the invention of digital books, thereby eliminating the need for yet another set of shelves. When she’s not writing, reading, or burning dinner, Tara enjoys movie nights, cycling, hiking, DIY projects, and cheering on her favorite football team.
Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
From Duke Till Dawn
The London Underground #1 By: Eva Leigh Releasing May 30, 2017 Avon Books
Eva Leigh launches a seductive new series that sizzles with the dark secrets of London’s underworld...
Years ago, the Duke of Greyland gave his heart—and a princely sum of money—to a charming, destitute widow with unparalleled beauty. But after one passionate night, she slipped from his bed and vanished without a trace. And just when he’s given up hope of ever seeing her again, Greyland finds her managing a gaming hell. He’s desperate to have her… until he discovers everything about his long-lost lover was a lie. In truth, Cassandra Blake grew up on the streets, picking pockets to survive. Greyland was a mark—to be fleeced and forgotten—but her feelings for the duke became all too real. Once he learns of her deception, however, the heat in his eyes turns to ice. When her business partner absconds with the gaming hell proceeds—leaving unsavory investors out for blood—Cassandra must beg the man she betrayed for help. Greyland wants compensation, too, and he’ll assist her under one condition: she doesn’t leave his sight until her debts are paid. But it’s not long before the real Cassandra—the smart, streetwise criminal—is stealing his heart all over again. London, England 1817 A woman laughed, and Alexander Lewis, Duke of Greyland felt the sound like a gunshot to his chest. It was a very pleasant laugh, low and musical rather than shrill and forced, yet it sounded like The Lost Queen’s laugh. Alex could not resist the urge to glance over his shoulder as he left the Eagle chophouse. He’d fancifully taken to calling her The Lost Queen, though she was most assuredly a mortal woman. Had she somehow appeared on a busy London street at dusk? The last time he’d seen her had been two years ago, in the spa town of Cheltenham, in his bed, asleep and naked. The owner of the laugh turned out to be a completely different woman—brunette rather than blonde, petite and round rather than lithe and willowy. She caught Alex staring and raised her eyebrows. He bowed gravely in response, then continued toward the curb. Night came on in indigo waves, but the shops spilled golden light in radiant patches onto the street. The hardworking citizens of London continued to toil as the upper echelons began their evening revelries. Crowds thronged the sidewalk, while wagons, carriages, and people on horseback crammed the streets. A handful of pedestrians recognized Alex and politely curtsied or tipped their hats, murmuring, “Good evening, Your Grace.” Though he was in no mood for politeness, responsibility and virtue were his constant companions—had been his whole life—and so rather than snapping, “Go to the devil, damn you!” he merely nodded in greeting. He’d done his duty. He’d been seen in public, rather than disappearing into the cavernous chambers of his Mayfair mansion, where he could lick his wounds in peace. The trouble with being a duke was that he always had to do his duty. “You are the pinnacle of British Society,” his father had often said to him. “The world looks to you for guidance. So you must lead by example. Be their True North.” This evening, before dining, Alex had taken a very conspicuous turn up and down Bond Street, making certain that he was seen by many consequential—and loose-lipped— figures in the ton. Word would soon spread that the Duke of Greyland was not holed up, sulking in seclusion. His honor as one of Society’s bulwarks would not be felled by something as insignificant as his failed marriage suit to Lady Emmeline Birks. The Dukes of Greyland had stood strong against Roundheads, Jacobites, and countless other threats against Britain. One girl barely out of the schoolroom could hardly damage Alex’s ducal armor. But that armor had been dented by The Lost Queen. Far deeper than he would have expected. Standing on the curb, he signaled for his carriage, which pulled out of the mews. He tugged on his spotless gloves as he waited and adjusted the brim of his black beaver hat to make certain it sat properly on his head. “Always maintain a faultless appearance,” his father had reminded him again and again. “The slightest bit of disorder in your dress can lead to rampant speculation about the stability of your affairs. This, we cannot tolerate. The nation demands nothing less than perfection.” Alex’s father had been dead for ten years, but that didn’t keep the serious, sober man’s voice from his mind. It was part of him now—his role as one of the most powerful men in England and the responsibilities that role carried with it. Not once did he ever let frivolities distract him from his duties. Except for one time . . . Forcing the thought from his mind, Alex looked impatiently for his carriage. Just as the vehicle pulled up, however, two men appeared and grabbed his arms on each side. Alex stiffened—he did not care for being touched without giving someone express permission to do so. People on the street also did not normally seize each other. Was it a robbery? A kidnapping attempt? His hands curled instinctively into fists, ready to give his accosters a beating. “What’s this?” one of the younger men exclaimed with mock horror. “Have I grabbed hold of a thundercloud?” “Don’t know about you,” the other man said drily, “but I seem to have attached myself to an enormous bar of iron. How else to explain its inflexibility?” He tried to shake Alex, to little avail. When he wanted to be, Alex was absolutely immovable. Alex’s fingers loosened. He tugged his arms free and growled, “That’s enough, you donkeys.” Thomas Powell, the Earl of Langdon and heir to the Duke of Northfield, grinned, a flash of white in his slightly unshaven face. “Come now, Greyland,” he chided. A hint of an Irish accent made his voice musical, evidence of Langdon’s early years spent in his mother’s native County Kerry. “Is that any way to speak to your oldest and dearest friends?” “I’ll let you know when they get here.” Alex scowled at Langdon, then at Christopher Ellingsworth, who only smirked in response. Alex took a step toward his carriage, but Ellingsworth deftly moved to block his path, displaying the speed and skill that had served him well when he’d fought on the Peninsula. “Where are you running off to with such indecorous haste?” Ellingsworth pressed. He held up a finger. “Ah, never tell me. You’re running back to the shelter of your Mayfair cave, to growl and brood like some big black bear in a cravat.” “You know nothing,” Alex returned, despite the fact that Ellingsworth had outlined his exact plans for the rest of the night. Ellingsworth looked at Langdon with exaggerated pity. “Poor chap. The young Lady Emmeline has utterly shattered his heart.” Alex shouldered past Ellingsworth, only to have Langdon move to stand in his way. “My heart is not shattered because of Lady Emmeline,” Alex snapped. At least that much was the truth. “But why shouldn’t your heart be strewn in pieces throughout Regent’s Park?” Langdon mused. “You courted the young lady for several months, and you told Ellingsworth and I that you’d already received her father’s grateful acceptance of a marriage offer.” “She never agreed to anything,” Alex said flatly. “A modest girl, that Lady Emmeline.” Ellingsworth nodded with approval. “She wouldn’t have said yes right away. They never do. Nothing to be alarmed by.” “How would you know?” Alex’s voice was edged. Ellingsworth had little experience with offering for ladies’ hands, committed as he was to a life of reckless pleasure. Langdon added, “It’d be unseemly for an earl’s daughter to eagerly snap up a marriage proposal the moment it was offered.” Alex scowled. Despite the fact that, at thirty-eight, he was sixteen years her senior, they would suit well as a wedded couple. Lady Emmeline had been perfectly trained in the responsibilities of an aristocratic wife. Though he wished she stated her own opinion rather than constantly agreeing with him, there were worse faults one could find in a prospective bride. They could marry at Christmas, eight months from now. It would be a small but elegant wedding, followed by a lavish breakfast and a wedding journey in the Lake District. And then, if everything went well, in less than a year, Alex and Lady Emmeline might welcome their first child—hopefully a boy so the line would be secure. It would’ve been precisely the sort of match Alex’s father would have approved, considering Lady Emmeline’s faultless background and her spotless reputation. “Look at him now, mooning away,” Langdon sighed, smugly thwarting Alex’s attempts to step around him. “He looks poorly.” It would be bad form to knock his friend to the ground. Damn the social niceties that dictated a man couldn’t punch another without repercussions. “Perhaps he should be bled,” Ellingsworth suggested with his habitual smirk. It was his constant companion since returning from the War, as if he refused to take anything seriously. “I am perfectly well.” Alex looked back and forth between these two rogues whom he called friends. “No need to call for a quack.” “He’s already had an amputation,” Langdon noted, raising a brow as he always did. “One prospective bride—gone.” He made a sawing motion at his ankle, as if cutting the shackles of matrimony. Alex glanced down at his own lower leg, as if he could see the invisible links that might have bound him to Lady Emmeline. He’d come so close to becoming a married man and sharing the rest of his life with one woman—the faultless duke his father had bred him to be. It hardly mattered that Alex felt nothing for the gel other than a sense of distant respect. She would have made a fine duchess. “We were at White’s yesterday when we heard about what happened,” Langdon said with disapproval. “Didn’t even tell your two closest friends that Lady Emmeline had run off with a cavalry officer. No, we had to hear it from Lord Ruthven, of all people.”
Describe yourself in five words or less.
Feminist who believes in HEA. Can you tell us a little about your book? Alexander Lewis, the Duke of Greyland, met a beautiful, destitute widow and lost his heart to her—but she disappeared. Two years later, the duke finds Cassandra again as she manages a gaming hell. Alex is prepared to offer Cassandra everything, even his name, until he discovers a gut-wrenching truth. Cassandra is not a genteel widow. She’s a confidence artist, targeting aristocratic men with her swindles. Heartbroken and furious, Alex wants nothing to do with her. Fate steps in when Cassandra’s business partner vanishes with the profits from the gaming hell, leaving Cassandra at the mercy of dangerous people. In desperation, Cassandra turns to Alex for help. Delving into London’s underworld, they form an uneasy partnership as they track down her partner. Yet the passion they’d shared two years ago is nothing compared to their desire now. Can Alex protect himself, or will Cassandra once again steal his heart? How did you come up with the concept and the characters for the story? As with my Wicked Quills of London series, I enjoy having characters that aren’t necessarily part of Regency High Society. I’m fascinated by confidence artists—their methods, their motivations—and thought it would be exciting to see what would happen when England’s most morally upright duke falls for a morally ambiguous woman. What did you enjoy most about writing this book? Exploring the other, shadier side of Regency London was a lot of fun. That time period is so rich with possibility, with so many people of many different walks of life all living in one place. I also really enjoyed having Alex learn to lighten up a little and free his wild side. Nothing like a buttoned-up guy who loosens the reins of his control. (It turns out Alex likes talking dirty!) What do you like to do when you aren't writing? Baking is one of my favorite things to do, because, unlike writing, you finish with a tangible result. Plus, you make something delicious. I read, of course, and spend too much time on the internet. When I’m feeling industrious, I crochet little soft toys called amigurumi and give them to friends. A la Twitter style, please describe your book in 140 characters or less. Uptight duke. Beautiful con artist. Trouble and sexytimes ahead. Tell us all about your main characters—who are they? What makes them tick? Most importantly, what one thing would they need to have with them if stranded on a desert isle? ;) Alex has been born and bred to be a duke. Everything he does falls within a strict code of responsibility and honor. He doesn’t fully understand degrees of morality. Having a brief, passionate affair with Cassandra two years ago was entirely out of character. Once she comes back into his life, he’s shocked and infuriated to learn that he was just another mark. He’s ready to write Cassandra off as a cold, calculating criminal—despite the fact that he still desires her. If Alex was stranded on a desert island, he’d need his walking stick. He doesn’t have an injury that requires it, but a walking stick can be a useful took for building shelters, using to hunt for food, or making it into a sundial. He’s a no-nonsense, practical guy! Cassandra grew up alone on the rough streets of London. She had to learn how to survive in a brutal world. With no one to take care of her, she turned to crime as a way to keep from starving. Her life changed when she met a man who taught her the art of pretending to be a gentlewoman while swindling members of the gentry. Instead of sleeping on filthy hay, now she could rest her head on feather mattresses, and she had as much as she wanted to eat. She always thought of aristocrats as targets to be swindled, until she met Alex, who treated her with dignity and kindness. With Alex, she broke her rule of never sleeping with a mark, and later fled out of self-preservation. Cassandra is street wise, self-sufficient, and has learned to view everything with suspicion. Only Alex sneaks past her defenses. If she was stuck on a desert island, she’d be practical and take a small knife (which could also be used as a lock pick if she found buried treasure). Do you have any advice to give to aspiring writers? Find a way to sit down in front of your computer and just start writing. Even when you doubt yourself, you have to keep going. It’s trite, but books really don’t write themselves. And also, enjoy the process of writing simply to write. Success isn’t a guarantee so we have to love what we do.
Eva Leigh is the pen name of a RITA® Award-nominated romance author who writes novels chock-full of smart women and sexy men.
She enjoys baking, Tweeting about boots, and listening to music from the '80s. Eva and her husband live in Southern California. Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
The Nanny Arrangement
Country Blues #2 By: Rachel Harris Releasing May 22, 2017 Entangled Bliss
Soft-spoken and shy Hannah Fisher is determined to make the man she’s loved her entire life finally see her as a woman. With the help of a makeover, a new mission—Operation Find My Happy—and the convenient forced proximity of a tour bus, she vows to win her best friend Deacon’s heart.
Former bad boy and current fiddle player Deacon Latrell has the world at his fingertips: a new gig with a famous band, plus his best friend on tour as his son’s nanny. Life couldn’t get much sweeter. Now if only he could stop imagining kissing the daylights out of his childhood BFF… With one friend set on pushing the boundaries and the other afraid to rock the boat, one thing’s for certain—their story would make one heck of a country song.
There's so much to love and enjoy in this sweet, adorable, and ardent romance story that hit all the three S's on several occasion - yes, I was smiling, swooning and sighing ( a nice way to say sobbing) while reading, and ended up inhaling this delightfully charming story.
One of my favorite type of romances is when the best friends find love with each other. The relationship has such a solid and strong foundation to built on, it is easy to see the romance carry on for ever after. What Hannah Fisher and Deacon Latrell have is something special, it is a unique connection of their minds and souls, and as corny as it might sound, they truly do complete each other. Deacon Latrell had been kicked around as a kid, growing up in rough and tough environment taught him to keep people at arm's length. Until Hannah crossed the street and walked into his life. Then he turned into a protective superhero, who looked after her, kept her safe from bullies, grew up with her, and always had her back. Just like Hannah had his. Hannah Fisher had loved Deacon for ten years, from the moment they met. He was her best friend, her Superman, the one person who saw her true self, not her clothing or her stuttering or her status at the school. She had tried to escape her feelings for Deacon, yet upon failure decided it is time to act and go after her dreams. Hannah is a sweet, caring, and kind person. She loves kids, and her gentleness and genuine caring for others draws people in, her selfless nature makes it easy to be around her. The development of the relationship between Hannah and Deacon is filled with humor, tenderness, and tears. It was impossible not to adore how they relate to each other. The feelings between them are tangible, yet to risk the friendship and everything they have and have had, and to take their relationship to a next level is a step that brings angst and fear into the picture, jitters that can end up wrecking all that they used to have. I enjoyed the good energy and the positivity of the story. The band, even though famous, was not acting like 'famous rock stars', they were fun and lively, family oriented, and a friendly bunch that you wanted to spend time with. Hannah's parents and especially her dad has a special relationship with Deacon. The way the Fisher's embraced Deacon as a young boy, and now as a man is admirable. The love and consideration they have for Deacon and his son Max is a beautiful thing to witness. With humor and tense, deep emotions, the author tells a story filled with devotion, affection, and loyalty. A story that goes from ardent to anxious to tender and doting. Absolutely a delightful tale that filled my heart and left me smiling ~ Four Spoons with a teaspoon on the side
Deacon released a heavy breath. Sometimes the right thing felt a hell of a lot like nausea. Resolved with what he had to do, he looked at the door…then slowly dropped his hand.
He’d give it another few minutes. Calling himself ten shades of coward, he redirected his steps. A hot shower would clear his head. Maybe he’d even pull a Hannah and rehearse what he’d tell her in advance. It always worked for her, helping her control her stutter, and though Deacon didn’t have that particular problem, he was nervous as hell. If her head was even half as muddled as his was, this conversation wouldn’t be easy. Frustrated, he shoved open the bathroom door harder than necessary. Fog and heavily scented air rushed to greet him, and it took a second for the reason to register. When it did, he came to an abrupt stop with one hand on the doorknob and one foot still in the hall. Candy and flowers. As the steam disappeared through the crack in the door, a vision appeared, plucked straight from his recent fantasies. Creamy skin, pink from the shower and wet with liquid drops, topped anything his imagination could’ve conjured. Damp ginger curls clung to a slender throat that was arched back, making a sexy silhouette as full lips trembled in a silent speech to the ceiling. Dark, spiky lashes lay across a flushed cheek, hiding a pair of expressive eyes he’d know anywhere. Torture, thy name was Hannah. Gone was the girl he’d known in high school. Erased was the rock he’d depended on in college. The goddess in the shower was a woman, a beautiful woman, with tantalizing curves, shapely legs, and the most incredible smile he’d ever seen. The arousal flowing through his veins mocked his previous so-called resolve. “Cherry.” Her name came on a choked breath, but Hannah’s eyes snapped open. Smooth skin turned to stone as she stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed, before slanting those green eyes toward him in horror. “Deacon!” Frantic, she tried to cover her body, slinging one arm over her perfect breasts while reaching for the folded towel on the counter with the other, only to quickly draw back her hand and slap it over her lower half as well. It was the hardest thing he ever did, keeping his eyes above her waist. Taking one step forward, he grabbed the terrycloth and handed it over, not trusting himself to get any closer. When she took it from his hands, she could hardly look into his eyes. Deacon’s chest gave a hard kick. Hannah made quick work of the towel, wrapping the terrycloth around her torso and clinging to the edges. She bit her lip and stammered, “Wh-what are y-you doing?” It wasn’t remotely funny. The reappearance of her stutter meant she was either stressed or anxious, two things he never wanted to be the cause of. But he couldn’t help the laugh that broke free at the innocent question. A full-bodied, unstoppable laugh that threw his head back with the force of it. “What am I doing?” he repeated in amusement, hearing the gruffness of his own voice and dragging in a deep, floral-scented breath. “Oh, Cherry… I’m losing my ever-loving mind.”
Describe yourself in five words or less.
Silly, hopeful, romantic, and loyal. What do you like to do when you aren't writing? When I’m not writing, I’m a homeschool mom (my main job and passion in life), so you can usually find me with a book in hand and cuddled with my children. Or in my SUV driving the streets of Houston to one of their extracurriculars and hoping like heck Google Maps knows where it’s going ;) Family time is very important to me and our days are hectic and full. If I’m not doing any of the above, I’ll be in drinking wine with my husband or in the bathtub reading a good romance (a yummy candle is a must!). A la Twitter style, please describe your book in 140 characters or less. Love hides in the most surprising places: right under your nose, and sometimes, in the nanny's tour bus bunk #FallingForYourBestFriend #Oops What types of scenes are your most favorite to write? I’ve recently discovered that I LOVE writing scenes where the heroine is slightly tipsy lol. It’s so much fun to see how my characters act, what they think, and definitely the things they say, where their guards are down and their confidence is high. Hilarious settings and situations are a definite plus! How long have you been writing, and what (or who) inspired you to start? In some ways, I’ve always been a writer, but I never finished a story or ever considered it a potential career until about seven years ago. My husband bought me the Twilight books and I fell back in love with reading—and I read so much and talked my husband’s ear off so much that he suggested I try writing a book, too. It was summer break for our home school and my girls were very young, so I thought I’d give it a shot. I threw myself into research, studied my favorite books and read every blog post on writing from my favorite authors, and by August of 2010, I started what would later become The Fine Art of Pretending, one of my YA contemporary romances. I finished that by Thanksgiving, started My Super Sweet Sixteenth Century by January, and that book released the following year. In 2012, my fabulous editor at Entangled suggested I try writing an adult romance for a new imprint that she was launching, and I’ve been having a blast writing both ever since. Is anything in your book based on real life experiences or purely all imagination? Every book I write has some borrowed real life experience, and every character I create has a piece of me. Hannah’s love of silly made-up songs is totally me (I even put in one of my children’s favorites about muffins in the book, ha!), and I used my own memories with my kids for all things nanny. But the biggest experience that I borrowed for the book is probably a particularly epic moment that happens after Deacon and Hannah’s first kiss! I won’t spoil anything by giving it away, but let’s just say what happens after that is a hodge-podge of TWO epic/embarrassing moments that happened in my own life. Hey, what good is it being an author if you can’t write-in your most mortifying moments to share with the world, right?? LOL
New York Times bestselling author Rachel Harris writes humorous love stories about sassy girls-next-door and the hot guys that make them swoon. Vibrant settings, witty banter, and strong relationships are a staple in each of her books…and kissing. Lots of kissing.
An admitted bookaholic and homeschool mom, she gets through each day by laughing at herself, hugging her kids, and watching way too much Food Network with her husband. She writes young adult, new adult, and adult romances, and LOVES talking with readers! Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
Through Your Eyes
For Your Love #3 By: Shannyn Schroeder Releasing May 30, 2017 Zebra Shout
ONE LAST CHANCE
Deirdre Murphy has had her life planned for her since she was born: Work in her parents’ noisy pub in rural Ireland. Live with her family until she marries. Marry her childhood sweetheart ASAP, since he’s decided sexy fun time should wait for marriage. None of it excites her. But before her fate closes in, Deirdre’s got one last visit to her Chicago cousins—where she can spend her mornings in a peaceful bakery, keep to herself, and savor the space she needs…. Until she meets Tommy O’Malley. Tommy is as tough as his city and twice as ready to welcome her in. He’s covered in tattoos, stays up half the night inking them on other people, and has a reputation for being good with his hands. And he’s heart-pounding, forgot-her-words, can’t-stop-staring exciting. Tommy knows he’s the opposite of everything Deirdre has prepared for. But to watch her set herself free, he’s willing to risk almost anything…
“Is your aunt home?”
“Not sure.” She peered over his shoulder to look for Aunt Eileen’s car. “Why?” “She scares me a little.” Deirdre laughed. “My mother has the same effect on boys. It’s like they attended a mothering school that required a course in instilling fear in young men.” “How did your boyfriend move past it?” Deirdre unlocked the door and pushed it open. As she took off her jacket, she said, “He didn’t have to. His parents and mine are close friends. He grew up at the pub same as me.” “Damn. That doesn’t help me at all.” With her jacket on the hook near the closet, she locked the door behind them. “What do you need help with?” “Making your aunt like me. Don’t get me wrong, I can charm some parents, but Mrs. O’Leary seems to be able to withstand the O’Malley charm.” Deirdre crossed her arms. “And when exactly did you try to charm Aunt Eileen?” “Not me. Jimmy. He says that until he proposed, Mrs. O’Leary gave him the cold shoulder. And, according to Moira, she liked Jimmy more than the rest of us.” Deirdre laughed. “She did warn me to stay away from the O’Malley boys, no matter how charming they are.” “Looks like I have my work cut out for me.” “Thank you for lunch. I had a lovely time.” “What about the cupcakes?” “What about them?” “You’re supposed to teach me to decorate.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to decorate.” “I do.” “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” She turned toward the kitchen, not a bit sad to spend more time with him. “Let’s get started then.” Once more, Deirdre went through the kitchen and gathered ingredients, this time setting them by the stand mixer that she doubted Aunt Eileen ever used. Tommy said nothing, just continued to watch her intently. She tried to ignore the staring and the niggling worry about whether he’d ask her out again. She didn’t know how to tell him that, over the course of the afternoon, she’d changed her mind about a date. It made her seem quite fickle, which went against how she saw herself. With the butter and shortening in the mixer, she flipped the switch to blend them as she grabbed a couple of lemons out of the fridge. Tommy pointed to the bowl. “What is that?” “That will be the buttercream frosting.” “Looks gross.” “But it’ll taste delicious.” “I thought buttercream was all butter.” “I use the shortening to make crusting buttercream. It’s a firmer frosting for decorating.” “In our house, unless it’s from the bakery, frosting comes from a can and half gets eaten by spoon before making it onto a cake and the other half gets slapped on. There’s no real decorating to it.” “That’s the way of most people. Making it from scratch isn’t difficult, but if you have no desire to decorate, there’s no point.” She stopped the mixer and added some sugar and lemon juice. While that mixed, she readied a piping bag. “I only have one bag, so you’ll have to watch.” He gave her that wicked smile again. “I like to watch.” She didn’t even know what he meant by that, but the way he spoke caused a warm rush through her body. “Is there something specific you’d like to learn about decorating?” “What’s your favorite thing to do?” She didn’t even have to think. “Roses.” “Why?” “They’re the first thing I learned to do well. Probably because my middle name is Rose, so I wanted to learn it as kind of a signature thing. In addition, creating the roses is soothing. My mind can go to its own place while my hands work.” “You’re beautiful.” “What are you on about?” “When you talk like that. About something that’s important to you, Deirdre Rose. It’s not the matter-of-fact way you usually talk. You change.” “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a drink at lunch.” “Fine. Don’t believe me. Let’s get to the lesson.” “Oh, I believe Aunt Eileen was right after all. You O’Malley boys are quite the charmers.” “If you’re good, you’re good.” She filled the pastry bag and grabbed a cupcake. Then she started to pipe the rose. When it was done, she handed it to Tommy. “It’s almost too pretty to eat.” “Nonsense. It’s meant to be enjoyed, not looked at.” She leaned forward and licked the top of the frosting off.
Shannyn Schroeder is the author of the O’Leary series, contemporary romances centered around a large Irish-American family in Chicago and the Hot & Nerdy series about 3 nerdy friends finding love.
Her new series (For Your Love) currently has 2 titles out - Under Your Skin and In Your Arms. When she’s not wrangling her three kids or writing, she watches a ton of TV and loves to bake cookies. Find out more at her Website. Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
Beyond Reason
by Kat Martin Genre: Suspense, Thriller
New York Times bestselling author Kat Martin raises chills as danger stalks a woman determined to make it in a man’s world . . .
Five weeks ago Carly Drake stood at her grandfather’s grave. Now she’s burying Drake Trucking’s top driver, and the cops have no leads on the hijacking or murder. Faced with bankruptcy, phone threats and the fear of failure, Carly has to team up with the last man she wants to owe—Lincoln Cain. Cain is magnetic, powerful, controlling—and hiding more than one secret. He promised Carly’s granddad he’d protect her. The old man took a chance on him when he was nothing but a kid with a record, and now he’s the multi-millionaire owner of a rival firm. But Linc’s money can’t protect Carly from the men who’ll do anything to shut her down, or the secrets behind Drake Trucking. If she won’t sell out, the only way to keep her safe is to keep her close . . . and fight like hell.
Drama, trouble, murder, and burning romance are the key elements of Beyond Reason.
Kat Martin has always been a one-click author to me, I enjoy her style to tell a story. Beyond Reason didn't end up being one of my favorites from her, but that doesn't stop me from continuing to follow the series. Lincoln Cain was a charismatic hero. He is protective, stubborn, and controlling, but his intentions are good, and he is only trying to keep Carly safe and alive. Lincoln has several layers in his personality, the wilder side with an MC club and his time in prison made me expected more from him, a bit more darkness, a bit more edge and danger around him, not just another billionaire with luxurious habits. Carly Drake was in a tough spot in her life. Trying to keep her grandfather's firm going and alive while renovating a home and grieving for her grandfather. Adding to that the problems with the cartel, and inside the company, and she barely holds her head above the water. But her stubborn and independent nature doesn't make it easy to accept the help that Lincoln so eagerly wants to offer to her. From her experience, Carly doesn't belive that love will last, that there can be a happily ever after. She is afraid to be hurt again and lets the fear control her behavior. The characters are charming, the basic plot was intriguing and held my interest through the tale, even though the ending with the suspense was a bit overboard. I felt that the story could have moved on with a faster tempo. There were often details of products in the scene - guns, cars, clocks, clothing, you name it - that to me was unnecessary. The other thing that surprised me was the dialog, it often felt like it was added to the story after completion, and felt like it was missing the flow and wit I am used to and look forward to in Ms. Martin's stories. Same was with the sexual thoughts and moments that were plentiful, yet felt like add-ons, awkward and even inappropriate at times with the timing in the story. Despite all that, I was fascinated by the tale and will be looking forward to the next book in the series. ~ Three Spoons with a teaspoon on the side
The clerk walked up to the counter, gray-haired and slightly bent. Daisy Johnson had worked at the sheriff’s office since Linc was a kid.
“Well, if it ain’t Lincoln Cain,” she said. “I saw in the paper a few years back you’d bought the old Blackland Ranch, but last I heard, you were stayin’ out of trouble.” Linc grinned. The old woman was a pistol. “I do my best, Miss Daisy.” He turned. “This is Carly Drake, Joe Drake’s granddaughter.” “Hello, Daisy,” Carly said. “It’s nice to meet you.” “You, too. Your granddaddy was a real good man.” “Thank you. Yes, he was.” “We need to talk to the sheriff about the Hernandez murder,” Linc said. Daisy’s face wrinkled into a frown. “Bad business, that. I’ll tell Sheriff Howler you’re here.” The shuffle of boots drew their attention. “No need, Daisy--I got eyes.” Howler ambled out of his office, tipped up his chin as a signal to Linc. “You want to talk, you and the little lady come on back.” Linc caught the stiffness that crept into Carly’s shoulders. Looked like Joe’s granddaughter was going to get along with the sheriff about as well as Linc and her grandpa had. If they weren’t there to find a killer, he might have smiled. They followed Howler into his office and he sat down in the chair behind his desk. “What can I do for you?” Carly spoke up. “I want to know what you’re doing to find the men who murdered Miguel Hernandez.” Howler leaned forward across his desk. “Don’t get yourself in a fret. We’re gonna find ‘em. Just takes time. This ain’t San Francisco, little lady.” He flashed Cain a sneer. “It ain’t Dallas, neither. Our deputies have been out there asking questions, following up leads. But nobody saw nothin’ and there ain’t no sign of the truck.” “What about the crime scene?” Linc asked. “Surely some kind of forensic evidence turned up where the body was found.” Howler shook his head. “Just because you spent time behind bars, don’t make you an expert on the law.” Linc ignored a shot of irritation. He and Howler had a history and it wasn’t a good one. His gaze went to Carly. No surprise in those big blue eyes. Clearly, she had done her homework before he’d shown up for yesterday’s meeting. She knew he’d been in prison but instead of disapproval, she was glaring at the sheriff. “There’s no need for you to be rude, Sheriff Howler. Mr. Cain asked you a question that deserves an answer. I’d like to hear it myself.” Howler grunted. “Truth is, we didn’t find much of anything. The morning Hernandez’s body was discovered, it had rained off and on during the night. Any DNA evidence was washed away.” Linc thought of the detective he had hired. He wanted answers. He didn’t figure he’d get them from Howler and so far he was right. “Who found him?” Carly asked. “Man and his wife driving back to Dallas from a visit to their folks in Texarkana. They’d pulled off to the side of the road to let their dog out to take a leak. Dog must have scented the body on the other side of the road. Hernandez had been dead a while by then.” Carly glanced away. “What’s the coroner give for time of death?” Linc asked. “Between eleven and one a.m. You can talk to Doc Bradshaw yourself if you’d like.” “Consuelo said she got a phone call from Miguel about eleven,” Carly said. “He was fueling up at a truck stop a few miles south of Dallas. He told her he’d be home a little after midnight.” “Seventy miles to Iron Springs from Dallas,” Linc said. “No traffic that time of night. Looks like the coroner got it right.” The sheriff picked up a pen on his desk and began to click it open and closed. “I know you want those bastards caught and so do I. But standing here jawing about it ain’t gonna help. I need to get back to work.” Carly ignored him. “From the start, you’ve assumed there was more than one hijacker. Why is that?” “Found traces of where a vehicle had been parked in front of the body. We think Hernandez pulled over to the side of the road behind the car, someone pretending to have engine trouble. He got out and walked up to the vehicle. Whoever it was, shot him, stole the truck and drove away. Since the car was gone, too, someone else had to have been driving it.” “I’d like to take a look at the reports,” Linc said. “Coroner’s, deputies’, any statements that were taken, everything you’ve got.” The sheriff came out of his chair. “That ain’t gonna happen. You got no business in this and that’s the way it’s gonna stay.” Linc clenched his teeth to keep from saying something he’d regret. Carly walked up to the desk, leaned over and got right in Howler’s face. “Miguel Hernandez worked for me, Sheriff. That makes his death my business. I want to see those reports.” The sheriff’s jaw went tight. “Now listen here, little lady--“ “My name is Carly or you can call me Ms. Drake.” Those big blue eyes were spitting fire. Linc could almost see Joe’s blood pumping through her veins. “If you don’t want more trouble than you’ve already got,” she said, “you’ll let me see those files.” Howler’s face went beet red. “All right, fine. As a courtesy--and so you’re satisfied there ain’t nothing there--I’ll let you see what’s in the files.” “I can pick the information up or you can drop it off at my office whenever it’s ready. Just call and let me know.” Carly turned and started walking. “Have a good day, Sheriff.” They crossed the office together. Linc opened the door, then followed her out of the building, over to her truck. “I know you want answers,” he said. “So do I. But murder can be a dangerous business. Be better if you didn’t get involved.” “I don’t trust Howler to do the job.” “Neither do I. Which is why I’ve hired a private investigator to look into the case. His name’s Ross Townsend. He’s worked for me before so I know he’s good.” “Has he found anything yet?” “Not yet, but he’s just getting started. Call me when you get those files. Look them over, then I’ll take a look. Maybe one of us will see something the sheriff missed.” “All right. But in exchange I expect you to tell me what your investigator finds out.” Linc shook his head. “Like I said, Carly, you need to stay out of this.” She cocked a hand on her hip and looked up at him. “By now you must realize that isn’t going to happen.” Irritation warred with amusement. Amusement won out. “Yeah, I guess I do.” Another of Joe’s traits--she was just as bullheaded. Joe wouldn’t want her involved, but the determined set of her jaw said even Joe wouldn’t have been able to stop her. Linc jerked open her pickup door and Carly climbed in behind the wheel. The engine started. He watched the pickup pull onto the road, heading back to Drake Trucking. He checked his watch. Forty-five minutes till his conference call on the tire re-building plant he was trying to open just east of Pleasant Hill. He didn’t have time to think of Carly Drake and he didn’t want to. He couldn’t deny he was attracted to her, all that sexy blond hair and a body that made a man want to strip her down and take her a dozen different ways. He knew why Joe had never mentioned him to her over the years. He’d been a hell-raiser even after prison. Nothing illegal by then, but he’d liked to party and he’d liked beautiful women. And he’d had plenty of them. Still did. Joe had wanted someone special for Carly. He hadn’t wanted an ex-con taking advantage of his granddaughter. But things were different now. Joe had trusted Linc with Carly’s welfare and that meant keeping her safe. Even from him. Kensington Books * Barnes & Noble * Books-A-Million Hudson Booksellers * Apple ibooks * Google Play * Kobo
Kat Martin is the New York Times bestselling author of sixty-five books across multiple genres. Sixteen million copies are in print and she has been published in twenty-one foreign countries, including Japan, France, Argentina, Greece, China, and Spain. Her books have been nominated for the prestigious RITA award and won both the Lifetime Achievement and Reviewer’s Choice Awards from RT Book Reviews.
A resident of Missoula, Montana, Kat is a graduate of the University of California at Santa Barbara, where she majored in Anthropology and also studied History. She and her author husband, L.J. Martin, spend their winters in Ventura, California. She is currently writing her next Romantic Suspense. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Goodreads * BookBub * Amazon
Black Tie Optional
Wild Wedding #1 By: Ann Marie Walker Releasing May 30, 2017 St. Martin’s Press
The Proposal meets Two Weeks Notice in Ann Marie Walker's new standalone romantic comedy, Black Tie Optional, which New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Probst calls, "a fun, sexy romp that will keep every reader entertained!"
Everything about Coleman Grant III oozes power and sex. And not the perfunctory kind either, but the sheet clawing, heart stopping, gasping for air after you’ve screamed so loud you can’t breathe kind. From his dark wavy hair that stands in an artfully rumpled mess, to the blue eyes that sear your skin, to his full, sensual lips - on the surface he’s pure perfection. Too bad he's an asshole. An arrogant, uptight corporate raider hell bent on destroying the environment one species at a time. Everything about Olivia Ramsey screams hippie humanitarian. From her blond hair tied in a sloppy bun, to her faded jeans with the Bonnaroo patch sewn on the thigh, to her combat boots still splattered with mud from the previous day’s site visit. So it makes perfect sense that they would get married. In Vegas. Stone-cold sober.Cole needs a wife. Olivia needs to save an endangered species. But what starts as a marriage of convenience soon turns into a battle of wills and sexual tension. Love is a game, and Olivia and Cole are ready to win.
Just like clockwork, Olivia thought. She watched the gas-guzzling SUV roll to a stop alongside the curb, its hazard lights blinking as if some sort of justification for bringing a full lane of Chicago’s morning rush hour to a grinding halt. Every day the sleek black car stopped in exactly the same location so the almighty Coleman Grant III could get the same extra hot, double shot Americano from the same big-chain coffee shop, bypassing the smaller, neighborhood establishments trying to stay afloat as corporate America runs them into the ground.
A mountain of a man in mirrored aviator shades jumped out of the front seat to open the rear door, giving Olivia a clear view of the luxury vehicle’s interior. Two leather captain’s chairs with fold down keyboards and armrest tablet holders sat facing several television monitors mounted above what appeared to be a full-service bar. Forget running a business, it looked as though Coleman Grant ran NASA from his back seat. Honestly, what could possibly be so important that it couldn’t keep until he got to the office? The commute from his Gold Coast penthouse to his Loop headquarters was less than two miles. Hadn’t the guy ever heard of just chilling out with some tunes? Olivia approached the car just as Grant climbed out of the back seat. He paused to button the jacket of his navy blue Tom Ford and for a moment she forgot he was an arrogant, self-righteous prick hell bent on destroying the environment one species at a time. For a moment, she allowed herself to take in the physical perfection standing in front of her. From his dark wavy hair that stood in an artfully rumpled mess, to the blue eyes that seared her skin, to his full, sensual lips - everything about Coleman Grant oozed power and sex. And not the perfunctory kind either, but the sheet clawing, heart-stopping, gasping-for-air-after-you’ve-screamed-so-loud-you-can’t-breathe kind. But then his eyes narrowed and his lips curved into a knowing smirk and Olivia remembered exactly who she was dealing with. “Mr. Grant,” she began. The bodyguard moved to step between them but Grant waved him off. “Ms. Ramsey, what a surprise,” he said, not at all surprised since this was the eighty-third day in a row she had approached him. Not that it mattered. She had no plans to stop these sidewalk sessions until he either agreed to her demands or filed for a restraining order. He made his way toward the coffee shop with Olivia tight on his heels. “You know, most people simply make an appointment with my assistant.” “I’ve tried that, Mr. Grant. But for some reason your schedule is always full.” “Pity,” he said, his voice void of all emotion. When he reached the glass doors, he yanked one open. “Please, after you.” Bastard. Normally he charged in like he owned the place, never mind if she or anyone else got a face full of door. How dare he try to throw her off her game by acting chivalrous. As if the man had a courteous bone in his body. Olivia stood frozen in place, debating how best to handle this latest twist in their balance of power. As she did, Cole’s gaze raked her from head to toe, from her blond hair tied in a sloppy bun, to her faded jeans with the Bonaroo patch sewn on the thigh, to her combat boots splattered with mud from the previous day’s site visit. She hated to admit it, but the scrutiny of his gaze was unnerving. And it wasn’t just the laser like focus. There was something about his expression, as if he wasn’t looking at her fully clothed in a shop brimming with customers, but rather undressing her with his eyes. She shifted in place, debating if she should call him out for his piggish behavior or simply stick to the topic at hand. “Suit yourself,” he finally said, stepping through the doors and leaving her alone on the sidewalk. Not so fast. She took a deep breath and joined him at the service counter. “Mr. Grant, as I’m sure you’re aware, the northern long-eared bat was recently granted protection as a threatened species under the Endangered Species Act.” “Rather difficult to forget given your daily reminders. Although I must say, Ms. Ramsey, you disappoint me. No visual aids today?” He turned away from the counter with his extra hot, double shot Americano to find Olivia standing behind him with an 8 x 10 glossy in her hand. “Ah, it seems I spoke too soon.” “This particular species of bat has been the most impacted by white-nose syndrome and the resulting decline in their numbers is what—” “Those really are the most vile creatures,” Grant interrupted. “Have you ever considered taking up the cause of a more appealing animal, say a manatee?” “There aren’t any manatees in Lake Michigan.” “Precisely.” He smirked. “Perhaps you could move? I’m sure you could find some poor, unsuspecting Floridians worthy of your attention.” He raised his left hand and for the first time Olivia realized he was holding a second cup. He thrust it in her direction and without thinking she took it, dropping the photograph as she did. “You seem like the type who would order your latte with a hundred and one specifications, but hopefully skinny vanilla will do.” Olivia blinked. He bought her a coffee? What the actual fuck? Did he really think he could charm his way out of the hot seat? She had spent her entire adult life and most of her teens speaking on behalf of those who couldn’t. It was going to take a lot more than a few random acts of fabricated kindness to get her off his back. She was about to tell him not only where he could stick his latte but how in her twenty-eight years on earth she’d never ordered a “skinny” anything, when he turned toward the door. She bent to scoop up the photo then hurried after him, fast talking her case all the way to the curb where his bodyguard stood waiting with the door already open. As usual, Grant didn’t say a word, much less defend his stance. Instead he simply flashed a grin that would have made her drop her latte, not to mention her panties, if she didn’t find him to be lacking in not only morals and ethics but quite possibly a soul. He gave her a quick nod before ducking into the car. “Until tomorrow, Ms. Ramsey.” With that, the door slammed shut and the SUV pulled into traffic to the sound of protesting horns. “Asshole,” Olivia muttered under her breath. “Gorgeous asshole, but still.” She turned on her heel and started down the street with her head held high. Coleman Grant III might have been trying to make a mockery of her attempts to persuade him, but their standoff was far from over. A slow grin curved her lips as an idea began to take shape. She’d just pulled her smartphone out to send herself a reminder when it began to vibrate in her hand. “Are you bringing your swimsuit?” her best friend asked before Olivia had even managed a hello. “To the desert? You’re joking, right?” “I wasn’t sure.” “Cassie, I know you’ve had your head buried in cookbooks for the past few years but surely you can remember how a vacation works…lounge chairs, suntan oil, blended drinks with tiny umbrellas that make you say ridiculously inappropriate things to cabana boys.” “I have never said anything inappropriate to a cabana boy. And that’s sexist by the way.” “Cabana person?” Olivia laughed at her own joke. “I’m playing. But you’ve got to lighten up a bit. We’re headed to Vegas, Sin City, what happens there stays there and all that.” “You sound like a tourism ad.” “All I’m saying is you better be ready to party Hangover style.” Cassie snorted. “Yeah, cause that worked out so well for them.” “I promise I won’t leave you stranded on a hotel roof.” “This is a bad idea. I should be staying here and looking for a job.” “You’re the sister of the groom. You can’t very well ditch out on the bachelor/bachelorette festivities. Besides, if I can break my ‘Harass Coleman Grant’ streak for a few days, then you can certainly give the stand mixer a rest.” “How’s that going by the way?” Olivia groaned. “New day, same story. ” “Maybe it’s time to—” “Move on? No way.” While it was true that working freelance allowed Olivia a certain amount of latitude, she prided herself on never giving up. There was no way Coleman Grant was going to blemish her perfect record. “I’ll just have to double my efforts.” Cassie laughed. “I’m actually starting to feel sorry for the guy.” “Don’t be fooled by the looks. He might be hotter than Ryan Reynolds and Ian Somerhalder combined, but underneath that perfect exterior beats the heart of an ogre.” “Sounds like someone has wet panties.” “Why Cassandra Miller, is that smutty talk I hear coming out of your mouth? There may be hope for you yet.” “Don’t change the subject. You’ve got the hots for this guy.” “Hardly. He’s eye candy all right, but he’s also a spoiled, self-centered asshole who think it’s his way or the highway. Not this time though.” Olivia nodded to herself. One way or another he was going to give in to her demands. Coleman Grant III had finally met his match. He just didn’t know it yet.
Favorite writing place.
Honestly it varies from book to book, but Black Tie Optional was written almost exclusively at the corner table of my local Starbucks and I have the gold star rewards to prove it haha. If they could sit and write in a different country where would it be? I've had the chance to visit the UK recently and as a result am thinking of basing my next series there. Maybe it's my love of Hugh Grant rom-coms, but after a few days in Notting Hill, the ideas were flying! Co-writing have you done it with another author, if not, would you? The first series I wrote, Chasing Fire, was co-authored with Amy K. Rogers. It was a wonderfully collaborative process but we always knew I would write solo as well (hence publishing under both our names versus one pen name) due to Amy's demanding "day job". Name three things on your desk right now. Coffee mug (a necessity), cell phone (a distraction), and a frame with a print of the first fan art someone ever made based on one of my books (a reminder). What are you favorite types of stories to read? Romances, especially ones with humor. I remember reading Beautiful Player at the hair salon and I literally laughed out loud. It was such an amazing feeling, which is why I couldn't have been happier when Library Journal used that exact phrase to describe Black Tie Optional. Can you tell us about your upcoming book? The second book of the Wild Wedding Series will feature Olivia's best friend Cassie as the female lead. All the characters from BTO will make appearances along with a few new ones as well. The first chapter is actually included at the end of book one, but here's a little teaser: ICING ON THE CAKE Cassandra Miller doesn’t have time for men. She’s far too busy preparing to open a cupcake shop with her silent partner and best friend, not to mention catering her brother’s wedding. And let’s face it, it’s not like Prince Charming is going to stroll into the bakery and sweep her off her feet. Henry has been a Prince his entire life but for one wild wedding he wants to be nothing more than an “Average Joe”, or in this instance, “Average Hank”. But when a case of mistaken identity and a batch of burned cupcakes ends in a night of passion, Cassie and Hank must decide if theirs is a recipe for disaster or the makings of true romance.
Ann Marie Walker writes steamy books about sexy boys. She's a fan of fancy cocktails, anything chocolate, and 80s rom-coms. Her super power is connecting any situation to an episode of Friends and she thinks all coffee cups should be the size of a bowl. If it's December she can be found watching Love Actually but the rest of the year you can find her at AnnMarieWalker.com where she would be happy to talk to you about alpha males, lemon drop martinis or supermodel David Gandy. Ann Marie attended the University of Notre Dame and currently lives in Chicago.
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A new standalone romance from New York Times Bestselling Author Lynn Raye Harris. Sexy, action-packed, and thrilling!
Colonel John "Viper" Mendez searches for a ghost from his past... and when he finds her, nothing will be the same!
HOT VALOR
by Lynn Raye Harris Published: July 18, 2017 Military Romantic Suspense
There were days that changed your life forever, though at first they felt perfectly ordinary. You got up, you got dressed, you prepared to go to work and Charlie Mike the hell out of the day. Continuing the mission was what Colonel John “Viper” Mendez lived for. Every day he sent teams around the world to save pieces of it, and every night he went to bed knowing that tomorrow would be more of the same.
He lived for the mission. He played sometimes, but not often, and when it was over he went back to work. He’d been doing it for so long that it was normal and expected. If he got up tomorrow and didn’t have a mission, he’d probably go out of his mind. But today… Today there was still a mission. Mendez—he’d long ago stopped thinking of himself by any name but that one—watched the news while he got dressed and fielded the usual calls about operations and statuses. His aide pulled up to the curb at precisely five-thirty a.m., and Mendez prepared to walk out the door. His phone rang again and he lifted it to his ear with a clipped “Mendez.” “Good morning, colonel,” a cheerful voice said. Mendez stopped. “Black? What’s up?” Because Ian Black never called unless there was something important going on. Something that Mendez would want to hear. “I’m saving your ass today, colonel.” Lieutenant Connor waited patiently in the car as Mendez stared out the window. “What does that mean?” “It means I’ve got news you need to hear. Today, around nine a.m., the military police will arrive at HOT HQ. They’ll be accompanied by a general officer who’s there to relieve you of command. They’ll probably arrest you, by the way.” A boulder formed in his gut. It wasn’t fear. It was fury. “Why? And where did you hear this?” “Why? Because Vice President DeWitt has finally convinced the president that you’re dangerous and need to be stopped.” That little motherfucker. He’d been after HOT for the last couple of years. Being President Campbell’s running mate in a successful election had elevated him to a position he’d only dreamed about—and given him the power to do things he hadn’t had as a junior congressman. “I’m not worried. The president’s daughter is married to one of my operators. Campbell won’t let HOT be defanged, and I can handle an inquiry.” “This isn’t an inquiry, John. It’s a witch hunt. And I can’t tell you where I heard it, but trust me, it’s real. The president is caving in to pressure, whether he wants to or not.” Ian had never called him by his first name in all the time they’d known each other. Black was a mystery, a disavowed CIA agent who wasn’t disavowed at all in Mendez’s opinion. He was deep undercover, so deep that Mendez couldn’t figure out who his handler was in the CIA. He’d questioned Samantha Spencer, the on again off again agent he had sex with, but she claimed not to know anything. Still, Mendez hadn’t forgotten how her fingers trembled that first time he’d asked. “I still gotta go to work. Not showing up is an admission of wrongdoing, don’t you think?” “No. I think it’s smart. Run while you can. Far better to work on exposing the truth than to be locked up and at their mercy.” Jesus H. Christ. What a clusterfuck. Maybe he should run, but it wasn’t the way he was wired. Besides, he wasn’t helpless. A general and a few MPs weren’t enough to stop him if he really wanted to get away. He’d been in black ops far too many years to be helpless. “You do things your way and I’ll do them mine.” Ian Black sighed. “Your funeral,” he said. “But I think you should know something else.” Mendez’s patience hung on by a thread. “What?” “Katya wants you to run.” “Who the fuck is Katya?” “Ekaterina. She says you knew her sister. She said you’ll recognize her name.” Everything inside him went still. It couldn’t be the name that sprang immediately to mind. He’d searched in the year since Dmitri Leonov had told him she wasn’t dead, but he’d found nothing. A sister? He didn’t remember Valentina talking about a sister. Must be someone else, yet still he hoped. “What name?” “Valentina.” Ice coated his veins, stilled his blood. Someone was fucking with him. Baiting him. Hoping he’d do something rash. Hell, it could even be Leonov. Who, true to his word, had gotten sprung from an American prison within months of being captured. It could also be Sergei Turov, who against all odds had survived the bullet Dex “Double Dee” Davidson put in him last year. He’d even learned to walk again. Now that man had an axe to grind for sure. But rash was not how Mendez operated. Ever. He wasn’t called Viper because he reacted too quickly. No, he was Viper because his strike was silent and deadly. “That name means nothing to me,” he said. “Doesn’t it? Valentina Alexandrovna Rostov. Katya says you have a locket that belonged to her sister. Bring it to the Court of Two Sisters in New Orleans. Tomorrow morning, ten-thirty sharp. Ball’s in your court.” The line went dead.
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Case File Phantom
C. McCauley Case Files Book 1
by Dana Ford
Genre: Mystery Fiction
Georgia Richards lost hope of ever seeing her husband again since he disappeared over a year ago. On a Saturday afternoon, she thought she saw him at a play; on stage at the Oaksdale Playhouse. But, Georgia didn’t have the courage to find out if it was really him. Constance McCauley was empathetic to Georgia’s faint of heart and decided to offer her investigation services to find the true identity of this mysterious man. Would Constance be able to track down Georgia’s estranged husband? If he was found, why had he been missing for over a year? As Constance pursued this case with a combination of faith and persistence, she witnessed the power of forgiveness unfold before her eyes.
Why weren’t there more lights backstage? I felt like a mouse in a maze. It was difficult to tell if the hanging costumes were people or if the shadows were hanging costumes. There he was! “Excuse me sir! Sir!” He turned around and caught my eye. I managed to hold his gaze for a moment. He was nervous, almost frightened. His eyes a deep brown, he seemed to want to say something, but instead he fell into the low lighting and disappeared. I picked up my pace to try and catch him. “Wait!” I briskly walked and then ran past racks and racks of costumes and odd set design items like furniture, tall plants, and a fake standing bear.
“Wait! Please, I want to talk to you!” The backstage door swung open and blinding light flooded me where I stood, and hindered my view. He was gone. I quickly looked to the left and then to the right and no one was there. I looked to the left again and then began to run along the backside of the theatre. I slowed down, because I realized that he was in fact gone. Why would anyone run from a perfect stranger unless they had something to hide or something to lose? Turning around, I walked back towards the backstage door. I again waded through the racks of hanging costumes and walking shadows of actors and busy people. Why would he run? I found myself back in my seat.
Dana Ford has enjoyed writing stories since she can remember. She has penned several books and has found a new love in writing mystery fiction. Her favorite hobbies besides writing is watching old movies, volunteering in her community, and spending precious moments with her family.
SHE LEFT HIM ONCE.
LOST Agent Ana Young was only fourteen when she was abducted by a madman, but unlike many kidnapping victims, she did go home. Now, her mission is to find the missing. But her new case has her on the hunt for the escaped convict who’s obsessed with her. And Ana has an unlikely partner—the sexy, supposedly-by-the-book FBI agent she had one amazing night with and had to forget. NOW HE HAS TO PROTECT HER 24/7… FBI Special Agent Cash Knox knows that Ana, the petite, tough-ass former bounty hunter, can get the job done again. But this time, someone else leads them to “Bernie-the-Butcher,” someone who’s been watching Ana. Waiting for her. FROM A CRAZED KILLER. Now, catching a deranged murderer means Ana must trust her guarded heart to the gorgeous, complicated G-man she wasn’t supposed to fall for.
Wrecked is a dark, sensual, sinister, and edgy story.
It is brilliantly written, with such a threatening sense in every scene, with constant twists in the plot and unexpected turns of events that I was hooked on every word, every moment, each chapter pulling me deeper into the tale that fascinated and horrified me at the same time. LOST series is absolutely been one of my favorite series to follow. The characters are strong, capable, the best of the best at finding the missing, yet there is vulnerability to them, such brokenness in their souls, that gives them a completely new, deeper lever of charm and charisma that is impossible to ignore. Wrecked is the sixth and last book in LOST series, yet it is written so that it could be read as a standalone. I do recommend the whole series, there is one book that I have missed in-between, but it is waiting for me in my e-reader right now. Each of the stories is complete with a new couple and a case to be solved. Ana Young and FBI Special Agent Cash Knox has a magnetic, unavoidable connection, both physically and mentally. The pull they have for each other is palpable, and the physical attraction is profound. Ana and Cash - I loved them together, I adored the growing feelings between them, it was obvious how much they meant to each other, and how deeply they cared. Yet there were secrets that could tear them apart if they have a chance to survive the maddening case they are working on. Rarely have I had a feeling, that a story so immensely dark and dangerous has touched my mind so deeply that I needed to take a break to catch my breath. Wrecked is an amazing story with the troubling characters, the constant threat, and danger surrounding them, and the sweet and beautiful love story developing that is balancing all the evil, death, and bloody mayhem around the agents. A savage and bloody tale of the most dangerous criminals around and the final payback that is coming on their way. It takes the agents from FBI and LOST to work together to stop the insanity, the fatal and cruel disaster in their hands, a disaster that can turn to be mortal to themselves as well. Monsters are all around, they are on the hunt, and only few will survive... ~ Five Spoons!
When the hunter becomes the hunted…
Serial-killer hunter Nick Shade built his legendary career chasing monsters—sadistic criminals with a gruesome thirst for death. When he rescued Montgomery detective Bobbie Gentry from horrific captivity and helped her reclaim her life, he didn't intend to be a hero. Or a target. But now a copycat murderer haunts him, and reuniting with Bobbie is his best chance at neutralizing the threat. Bobbie can't forget the nightmares of her trauma—or the man who saved her. Working with Nick to outmaneuver the person behind a deadly vendetta feeds her hope that there's more to her world than ghosts and destruction. Maybe joining Nick's search for a killer is about gratitude. Maybe it's nothing more than cold revenge. But the only way they can protect themselves is to trust each other.
A frightfully grim and horrendously ghastly story that made me want to double check the locks, and sleep with the lights on, because the terror, the fear, the morbid images, they seep into your mind with each scene passing while you read, and the presence of evil is palpable and true.
The Shades of Death is getting darker and more twisted and sinister with each installment to the series. This story with its grisly plot twists and unmerciful manipulations by the criminal masterminds is fascinating in the oddest way. Like I was spellbound I kept turning the pages because I needed to know that there is good left in the world, that there is salvation from the savage serial killers who enjoy their work, that they will be captured, that there is justice left and it will win. Obviously, this story is not for the faint at heart. it had my stomach turning several times. It is just as gory as it sounds. But for the thriller lovers, this masterpiece is a must read. The author captures the goodness, the light of a human nature in the same breath as she shows the rotting murkiness of the vile a person is capable of. The balance and the boundaries between the good and the evil are not as apparent or as clear as one might think. The trust for the honesty and integrity is put to the test. Nick Shade and Bobbie Gentry are brought together again and are the target for the manipulations. The connection between them is tangible and obvious, yet due to the circumstances fragile and frail. There is no denial that they are important to each other, that they deeply care for each other, but as that seems to be the weapon that is used against them, and used as a reason to kill innocents, it is obvious the delicate ties that bind them needs to be severed. "They were two damaged people frantically tempting survive without suffering further injury" A brilliantly told intense story that captured my mind, took my breath away, and my mind into a darkness I didn't want to knowledge existed. It is as ferocious and cruel as it is brutal and savage. The author boldly makes the law as vulnerable to be victims as the civilians, no one safe, not one person involved is left intact and secure. As the story ends we are left to wait for a next installment to see if there is redemption, if there is salvation, if the good will win. My hope is, this wait is not too long... ~ Five Spoons
From the Start
American Valor #3 By: Cheryl Etchison Releasing May 23, 2017 Avon Impulse
For many women, Ranger Battalion Surgeon Michael MacGregor is the ideal man. He’s far better than average looking, a generous tipper, not to mention an officer and a doctor. So when he encounters a woman resistant to his charms, he finds himself… intrigued.
Kacie Morgan has had her fill of arrogant military men since the last one left her with a shattered heart and one heck of a career rut. Now, with her prestigious fellowship starting in the fall, all she has to do is survive the summer—and her little sister’s wedding. When an ill-fitting bridesmaid dress has Kacie wanting to temporarily shake things up in her carefully planned life, she knows just the man to call. They agree to a no-strings, summer fling, although it isn’t long before Michael wants Kacie for forever. But to win her heart, he’ll have to confront the nightmares from his past if they’re to have any chance at a future.
A fun, well-written story that had me smiling and swooning. I pretty much inhaled the story, it put a hook on me that held until the end.
The characters and the events are very much lifelike, the awkwardness of dating, the doubts about reciprocated feelings, the family drama and the sibling rivalry, it all felt real and the whole story unravels like a friend telling you a story about falling in love and finding their destiny. Michael MacGregor is a hero that was easy to like. He has a great, warped sense of humor, he carries his responsibilities, he is straightforward, honest, kind, a bit arrogant at times, and sexy as can be. I really liked him and his family-oriented mindset, and the respect he had to his parents made me admire him even more. Kacie Morgan has had enough hurt and being looked over by men. She has closed off her feelings, she keeps people at arm's length, and can come off as rather prickly at times. She keeps telling Michael that he is arrogant, but she had him beat with that on several occasions. The chemistry between Michael and Kacie was hot, within the limits Kacie would allow it. In my mind they were perfect together, it just took them longer to see that and figure it all out. But once they start to open up to each other and see themselves what an amazing ally they have on each other, the damage that they had done to their relationship might be too much to overcome. I enjoyed the family connections they both have, and the big role both of their families play in the story. The tale has an authentic feeling to it throughout, lifelike and genuine, from the relationship with their parents and siblings to their friends and co-workers as fell as the relationship they have with each other. There are many things in the story that made me smile, the fact that Michael's brother calls Kacie a Malibu Barby, and Kacie and her sister call Michael a G.I. Joe gave a great mental image of them, of their beauty, and of their humor. From the Start is a sweet, lively, and enjoyable story about family, siblings, friends, and lovers. It is about a summer fling that turns into a thing, it is about the awkwardness of a new relationship, and about the joyful, fearful, bliss of falling in love and finding your true mate. A lovely and entertaining story that easily swept me off my feet and held my interest from the start to finish. ~ Four Spoons May 2013 Kacie Morgan raised the cloudy glass tumbler to her lips and licked the course salt from its rim, all the while surveying the bar, knowing she was officially in hell. Despite it being a fairly new establishment—and a nice place as far as bars went—it just wasn’t her scene. The cowboy hats and cowboy boots. The painted-on jeans that both the men and women wore. The line dancing and mechanical bull. Then there was the fact she couldn’t stand country music. She might have been born and raised in the South, but the appreciation for songs about racing pickups down red dirt roads, getting drunk on Jack, and skinny-dipping in farm ponds must have skipped a generation. She sighed and turned back around, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar. Dear God in the heavens. She shouldn’t have looked. She squeezed her eyes shut and tossed back the remnants of her margarita on the rocks. A tang and tart shiver raced the length of her spine, her body squirming involuntarily to shake it off. Her empty glass met the cow-print bar top a little heavier than intended, the upside being it garnered the bartender’s attention. “Another?” He shouted to be heard over the music. “Sure,” she said. “Why the hell not?” He came over to clear away the empty glass and his eyes roamed her chest as he took his damn sweet time to read the front of her shirt. She didn’t have to glance at the mirror again to know the club lights ignited the rhinestones across her shirt, the word bridesmaid glimmering in the relative dark like a ’70s disco ball. “Eight weeks,” she chanted to herself. “Eight. More. Weeks.” Just eight weeks until the bachelorette weekend, the holiday weekend, the rehearsal dinner, the wedding, all of it would be over. Her baby sister would be happily married and, more importantly, her maid of honor duties would be complete. No longer would she have to be overly friendly to women who were not her friends. No longer would she be guilted into wearing questionable attire or spending money she didn’t have on all of the cutesy little things they wanted her to “chip in” on. Kacie handed the bartender a few bills as he returned with her drink, then resumed leaning against the bar, watching as the country music gave way to hip-hop and the puritans bolted for the bars and seated areas. In the span of a few minutes, the dance floor became an instant bump and grind session for anyone under the age of twenty-five or with more than a few drinks in them. In a sea of cowboy hats and baseball caps, her baby sister was easy to spot. The rhinestone tiara with attached veil on her head glittered in the pulsing lights as she bopped around the dance floor. And all the other bridesmaids were right there with her. If she were a better maid of honor, a better big sister, she’d suck it up and join them. But she just couldn’t find it in herself to move. Ever since her well-planned future with a man she loved—or at the very least thought she loved—had taken a deep dive into the toilet nine months earlier, she found having fun an almost impossible feat. How sad. How pathetic. With a pang, Kacie realized at the age of thirty-one she’d become what she always feared most—a total buzzkill.
What did you enjoy most about writing this book?
I really enjoyed the early interactions between Michael and Kacie for this book but especially the scene where they have sex the first time. The conversation is so shallow and matter-of-fact since they’ve agreed to just use each other for sex. I also loved the argument between Michael and his sister-in-law. Bree has been more like a sibling to him for so many years that it’s only fair they’d argue in the same way he and his brother argue. Politeness be damned! What gave you the most trouble with this story? When I started this book, I hadn’t planned on Michael suffering from PTSD. But when I began the editing process and reading it from the beginning, I realized all the clues were there. He doesn’t really talk about his issues although it’s clear those who know him best realize something is a bit off. And whenever the suggestion is made that he speak to a therapist, he blows it off because he doesn’t believe his problems are bad enough to warrant treatment. Which I think, sadly, is an accurate representation for so many of those who serve in special operations units. Name three things on your desk right now. A small crystal pig with pink wings named Penelope. I have always loved the expression “When pigs fly!” and have always taken great pleasure in proving people wrong. A two-year-old fortune that says “You’ll never know what you can do until you try.” I found it in my fortune cookie at a time when I was debating whether or not I was read to query literary agents. A small Galah figurine given to me by the Australian family I lived with while on foreign exchange in high school. They had rescued an injured Galah, which is a type of cockatoo, and taught this bird to say my name. That damn bird made me crazy because he would sometimes escape when I came home from school and then proceed to hide high up in a tree while calling my name over and over, taunting me. If you could have dinner with any three authors (alive or dead), who would you choose and why? My first instinct was to say Jane Austen, but I fear she’d end up being a disappointment and ruining my perception of her. Ernest Hemingway would have to be my number one since his personal life was as exciting as his stories. Second would be Dorothy Parker since she had zero problem saying exactly what she thought. Throw in the fact she was blacklisted in Hollywood, I can only imagine the dirt she knew. Number three would have to be Stephen King. I’d love to know what his childhood was like and whether or not his own writing gives him nightmares. What are you favorite types of stories to read? I absolutely adore historical romances. They are always my go-to read when I’m in a bad mood or a writing rut. I love all that despite a ton of societal rules, there were women who willingly ignored them and threw caution to the wind. Personally, I like to think had I lived during the Regency era that I’d have been one of those women who wore pants and rode astride and basically thumbed her nose to everyone who dared say “You shouldn’t do that!” How long have you been writing, and what (or who) inspired you to start? There was a built in desk in my bedroom growing up and it being the only desk in the house, that’s where the Selectric typewriter lived. When I was in elementary school, my mother would write youth soccer recaps for the local paper and when she was done I would sit down and mimic her. I don’t recall ever writing fiction. Instead, I wrote recaps of the Olympics and Super Bowls. In school I always excelled at creative writing but it wasn’t until I was in college, at the encouragement of a professor, I switched from Accounting to Journalism. After graduating, I always wrote for work, but never for myself. Then when my oldest was born, I quit writing altogether for about six years until I found an online community and began writing fanfiction. Through that I made a friend who was a member of RWA and encouraged me to attend the national conference with her in 2011. The rest is history. When did you first start writing and when did you finish your first book? When I began working on this story five years ago, it was the story of a doctor who’d just left the army and was trying to find his way in the civilian world. Sadly, my hero was, in a word, boring. He was too nice. Too polite. He was just… ugh. But I kept at him and gave him a brother and father and he began taking shape. By the time I actually started to like Michael MacGregor, I realized his story would be better if his younger brother’s story came first. So I went back to square one and began working on ONCE AND FOR ALL. When I returned to Michael’s original story last year, I had to scrap most of it because some scenes were more like Danny and other scenes were more like Lucky (the hero in HERE AND NOW). So I had to practically start completely over, but this time I knew exactly who Michael MacGregor was and what he’d been through. What do you do when you are not writing? As a mom of three, I’m usually pretty busy when I’m not writing. There’s always a kitchen to be cleaned or laundry to be folded or a kid to be driven somewhere. And now my oldest has her learner’s permit and I’m the one she drives with the most. So that’s always fun. Not really. Are there certain characters you would like to go back to, or is there a theme or idea you’d love to work with? I love that I was given the opportunity to bring Michael and Danny’s mother to life in this book thanks to my editor suggesting I include a flashback. If there is one couple I would love to write, it would be their parents. I would love to see Mac MacGregor fall head over heels in love with Lily.
Cheryl Etchison graduated from the University of Oklahoma’s School of Journalism and began her career as an oil and gas reporter. Bored to tears and broke as hell, it wasn’t long before she headed for the promise land of public relations. But that was nearly a lifetime ago and she’s since traded in reporting the facts for making it all up. Currently, she lives in Austin, Texas with her husband and three daughters.
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Feel Me
O’Brien Family #4 By: Cecy Robson Releasing May 23, 2017 Self-Published
RT Book Reviews proclaims that the O’Brien Family series from award-winning author Cecy Robson “has the hottest brothers ever!” And in FEEL ME, Declan, the sexy, driven powerhouse meets the one woman immune to his charm . . .
Declan O’Brien was always driven to take his place among Philly’s elite, working hard for everything he’s earned, including the title of Assistant District Attorney. He’s won seemingly impossible cases, so he’s furious when he’s assigned to lead the one unit he doesn’t want. Melissa Fenske was born hearing impaired to a neglectful mother, finding solace when she was adopted by a young attorney, now Declan’s boss. As the current Director of Victim Services, Melissa’s livid when Declan is placed in the main unit she oversees. She can’t forget their disastrous first encounter. Or shake how he makes her feel. Declan considers the assignment another step toward his political aspirations, despite that he can’t get Melissa out of his mind. Melissa sees Declan as egotistical and self-serving, kicking herself for how fast she’s falling for him. Someone as hot, smooth, and perfect as Declan isn’t supposed to want her. In another situation with any other woman, Declan wouldn’t hesitate to take Melissa to bed. But she is the boss’s daughter, and for once, Declan finds himself wanting more than just a one night stand. Neither counted on each other. Both just met their match. My boss, Miles Fenske walks in, followed by his daughter Melissa. Miles smiles warmly, nodding my way. Mel? What can I say? She’s the one person who’s never been taken by my charm. Today’s no different. Unlike the other women who work here, from interns to attorneys, she doesn’t meet me with a grin, flash a little leg, or pretend to flirt. Her hair is brown and her eyes are almost as dark. Nothing extraordinary about her appearance, right? Damn, I wish that were true. Her creamy skin makes her hair and eyes stand out, as if that killer hourglass figure isn’t enough. And don’t get me started on her lips. They look like they’ve been dipped in honey and soften her look further, despite her steel-hard exterior. She walks in with her hips swinging, her bright red dress hugging her curves. With an unyielding stare she meets my eyes, giving nothing away, no matter how hard I’ve chipped at that armor. Mel doesn’t like me. Not that I blame her considering the way I keep wrecking each rare moment we find ourselves alone. Of course, she has to be the one woman I can’t get out of my mind … “How are you, Declan?” Miles asks. I reply with a stiff nod rather than the grin I usually offer him. This is a man I admire the hell out of. Not just because of what he’s accomplished in the political arena and in the judicial circuit, but because he’s a good man. Not someone trying to be good. Just someone who is, a rare entity in the circles we frequent. Today that smile is not going to happen. Whether he meant to or not, the old man screwed me. Yesterday, when he called me into his office, I thought it was to tell me I would head Homicide or maybe White Collar. SACBU was not where I expected to land, ever. “I’m well, Miles. And you?” I ask. Pissed or not, I won’t disrespect him, especially in front of his daughter. “Fine. Thank you,” he responds. His deep voice is pleasant as always, but for some reason Melissa bristles. As her father looks to Curran and shakes his hand, my eyes trail to her. “Mel,” I say, adding a subtle tilt of my chin. It’s not much of a greeting, but it’s more than she’s ever offered me. I don’t think she’s ever smiled in presence. But it’s not like I don’t deserve it. Hell, I still cringe when I think about the first time we met, and every moment that followed. “Declan,” she replies. Her voice is clear enough to understand, but similar to those with significant hearing loss. Miles mentioned she learned to speak late in life, and that she articulates in the way she hears others. But her voice isn’t what gives me pause. This is the first time she hasn’t addressed me by my title. Miles laughs at something Curran says before Curran turns and lifts his hand. “Gotta run. See youz later.” “Later, Curran,” I say. I keep my attention on Melissa, motioning for her and Miles to sit as I resume my professional pose. Curran grins at Melissa. Before she can take a seat, he signs something I don’t understand. Whatever it is brings out a smile I’ve never managed to stir. She signs in return, her reply making him laugh out loud. I don’t have to guess they’re talking about me, because that’s what they do. The hard stare I toss my brother’s way is enough to let him know today is not the day to piss me off. He winks and grins anyway since sometimes, no matter what, Curran could give a damn.
Cecy Robson is an award-winning author of magical realms and to-die-for Alpha heroes. A double RITA® 2016 finalist for Once Pure and Once Kissed, and published author of more than sixteen titles, you can typically find her on her laptop or stumbling blindly in search of caffeine.
Author Links: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS
When Darkness Falls
The First Vampire Redemption Story
by Ellen Chauvet
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Lexie Miles, a southern belle living her dream life in Paris, is devastated when her best friend Emma is brutally raped and murdered by vampires. From that moment Lexie’s “perfect world” begins to crumble. She discovers her entire life has been a sham and everyone she cares about has been lying to her. Angry doesn’t begin to describe her reaction to the news.
Plunged into a two-thousand year old war between good and evil, she is propelled into a world of blood, lust and dark secrets. She must embrace her birthright to fight an ancient threat to humanity. Bequeathed with the dubious gift of being the “Chosen One,” Lexie meets the enigmatic Etienne Benoit. She falls hard for him and when he betrays her, she vows to get revenge. After all, she is a vampire executioner and killing vampire is what she does.
Lexie sat waiting for her best friend Emma Gunther to join her at their favorite French bistro, the Boeuf sur la Toit, off the Champs Elysees. Emma had been away for two weeks and Lexie was looking forward to their reunion.
Her thoughts drifted to the latest vampire novel Emma had given her to read. It contained hot, juicy sex scenes. Her gaze settled on a handsome man who had entered the restaurant. His wool coat outlined broad shoulders and chest, and tapered to a slim waist and hips. Dark eyes caught hers for a moment before shifting on. He sauntered to a single table radiating sex and passion. Lexie’s imagination took over. In her fantasy he was a vampire and she was his lover. She undressed him and heat rose in her groin as she pictured him naked. Lost in her fantasy, she jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. “Earth to Lexie,” Emma’s familiar voice intruded. “Shit you scared the be-jesus out of me.” Lexie rose and hugged her friend, then stood back. “Darlin’ I’m so happy you’re back,” she said slipping comfortably into her native Atlanta drawl. The accent she had to clip when speaking French or the Parisian’s would look at her with disdain. “It’s good to be back,” Emma said, removing her coat before sitting at their table. Emma was tall, had long brown hair which she pulled back in a severe bun and thick glasses. They worked together as translators for the United Nations and their friendship had flourished over the past three years. Emma was the science translator as well as a chemist and math whizz. They were a strange combination: a pretty Southern belle from Georgia and a stodgy but brilliant German fraulein, but the friendship worked. Rather than going home to Atlanta, Lexie had spent summer vacations at the Gunther’s cottage in the Taunus Mountains, and Christmas holidays with Emma and her father in Frankfurt. Too cold in late November to sit outside, Lexie and Emma enjoyed the warmth and coziness of the restaurant as they waited for their meals. “What were you thinking about when I came in?” Emma said. “You were a million miles away.” Lexie felt her cheeks redden and dipped her head to avoid Emma’s stare. “I was thinkin’ about some stuff at work. How was your trip?” Lexie steered the conversation to a safer topic. “It was good. Saw some friends from university and had a good visit with my father.” Lexie noticed that Emma’s response was vague, and wondered what she wasn’t saying. Before she could ask, the waiter arrived with their food. They ate in silence, the awkwardness between them increasing. Puzzled by her friend’s reticence, Lexie leaned back and said, “How come the subject of men and vampires hasn‘t come up yet?” “You always make fun of me when I talk about vampires,” Emma replied. “And as for men…” she left the statement hanging. Lexie did think that Emma’s fascination with the undead was odd so she steered the conversation toward men. Lexie felt a twinge of remorse that Emma was reluctant to mention vampires around her, so she chose to bring a bit of humor to the conversation. “We’re not spring chickens anymore,” Lexie said. “Don’t be silly, we’re only 29.” Emma replied. “Besides, you tried a committed relationship, and we both know how that went.” “Don’t remind me,” Lexie said as Justin’s handsome face flashed through her mind. “I still get my panties in a wad when I think of findin’ him with that bitch. That still hurts.” “Ach, let’s not rehash that one again.” Just like Lexie’s drawl, Emma’s German accent was always more evident when it was just the two of them. “At least I have one to rehash. How much longer are you gonna to pine over Tom?” “That’s not fair.” Lexie could see the hurt in her friend’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I just get frustrated that you waste your time longin’ for our unapproachable boss.” The truth was Lexie also had a little crush on their brawny, Daniel Craig like English boss. But of the two of them, she had the role of being the one who was worldly about men, and she enjoyed that. Since the disaster with Justin, she had shied away from any long term relationships. One night stands were exciting and safe. Never mind that they left her feeling empty and lonely. Emma smiled at her. “I know you worry about me. Maybe my destiny is to find a ’good’ vampire like in the books we’ve been reading. Then I could live a life of adventure and hot, juicy, passionate sex.” Emma purred. “Girl they are just myths. Besides, I don’t believe in good and evil.” Lexie usually saw Emma’s eyes twinkling in amusement through her thick glasses at their ongoing debate. But this time Emma’s eyes held no sparkle and she said with a serious tone. “All myths have some truth in the background.” “I guess everyone needs to believe in somethin’.” Lexie said. Especially when you’re a mousy nerd. She experienced a twinge of guilt at her unkind thought. Lexie loved Emma like a sister and her attempts to improve her appearance came from a place of caring.
Ellen Chauvet lives in Vancouver, British Columbia. Her love for reading and writing developed at an early age and she wrote several short stories and plays which were lost over the years. In 2003 a friend introduced her to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", and Ellen was fascinated by the idea of good and evil vampires. She particularly loves Anne Rice, Charlaine Harris and Laurell K. Hamilton. 'When Darkness Falls' if the first in a series of books called 'The Vampire Redemption Series' and is adult fiction.
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With a woman's life in jeopardy and a body found in the Colorado wilderness, an agent's homecoming is anything but smooth...
When Kayla Larimer's investigation into a US senator's missing daughter leads her to a Colorado cult, a murdered FBI special agent and the Ranger Brigade's Dylan Holt, the fiercely independent private investigator is determined to ditch the sexy Black Canyon lieutenant and catch the criminals on her own. Dylan admires Kayla's stubborn dedication--even as his protective instincts kick into overdrive. But then a kidnapping attempt on Kayla coincides with the disappearance of the senator who hired her, and these two opposites must fight a faceless enemy--and their growing attraction--to bring a killer to justice. The Ranger Brigade: Family Secrets
With every scene, the author paints an enticing picture with her words that made the story flow in my mind like watching a movie making it easy for me to step into those mental images and live through the danger, fear, and excitement with the characters.
Kayla Larimer has learned to depend only on herself. She is a lone wolf, a private investigator, who enjoys her work and prefers to her own company. Her parents taught her, the hard way, how to spot a fraud, a conman, to see when being manipulated, and read people's emotions and weaknesses, giving her the tools to excel in her career. They made her weary of relationships, and doubt she would ever want to have her own family, to make a commitment to a man. She is independent and fiercely guarding herself, yet she is smart and capable and doesn't act without thinking. Dylan Holt is a solid, trustworthy man. He appreciates family values, he respects the people around him. He is kind and considerate, he does not seem to have any of bad baggage from his past, and he has a calming effect on Kayla. He has no intentions to hide his attraction towards her, yet he is willing to wait for her feelings to catch on. He is easy to like and admire, his straightforward and honest character winning me over. The murder mystery and suspense around the cult was intriguing and distressing. The questionable actions and strange attacks against the law enforcement officers gave a dire atmosphere to the whole camp. The doubts of the cult members honesty were palpable, the tension is high, the uncertainty of the crimes and the destiny of those involved gave the story an intense and fearful, pressured feeling. With the fascinating and puzzling cult as the focus of the criminal investigation, and the charming and captivating cast of characters searching for clues and evidence, the series is proving to be an entertaining and appealing chain of stories filled with menace and pursuit of criminals as well as happily ever afters. ~ Four Spoons
Chapter One
As jobs went, this one paid more than most, Kayla reminded herself as she parked her battered Subaru at the mouth of the canyon a few miles from the Gunnison River outside of Montrose, Colorado. Small-town private investigators couldn’t be overly picky if they wanted to keep putting food on the table and paying rent, though interceding in family squabbles had to be right up there with photographing philanderers on her list of least-favorite jobs. Still, this assignment gave her an excuse to get out into the beautiful back-country near Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. She retrieved a small day pack from the back seat of the car and slipped it on, then added a ball cap to shade her face from the intense summer sun. A faint dirt trail marked the path into the canyon, through a windswept landscape of dark green pinion and juniper and the earth tones of sand and gravel and scattered boulders. A bird called from somewhere in the canyon ahead, the high, trilling call echoing off the rock and sending a shiver up Kayla’s spine. Maybe she should have brought a weapon with her, but she didn’t like to carry the handgun, even though she was licensed to do so. Her work as a private investigator seldom brought her into contact with anyone really threatening. She spent most of her time surveilling cheating spouses and serving the occasional subpoena. Talking to a twenty-something woman who had decided to camp out in the desert with a bunch of wandering hippies hadn’t struck Kayla as particularly threatening. But that was before she had visited this place, so isolated and desolate, far from any kind of help or authority. Someone holed up out here could probably get away with almost anything and not be caught. The thought unnerved her more than she liked to admit. Shaking her head, she hit the button to lock her car and pocketed her keys. The hard part of the job was over – she had tracked down Andi Matheson, wayward adult daughter of Senator Peter Matheson. Now all she had to do was deliver the Senator’s message to the young woman. Whether Andi decided to mend fences with her father was none of Kayla’s business. Her boots crunched on fine gravel as she set out walking on the well-defined path. Clearly, a lot of feet had trod this trail recently. The group that referred to themselves as simply “The Family” had a permit to camp on this stretch of public land outside the National Park boundaries. They had the area to themselves. No one else wanted to be so far away from things like electricity, running water and paved roads. Her investigation hadn’t turned up much information about the group – only a few blog posts by the leader, a young man whose real name was Daniel Metwater but who went by the title of Prophet. He preached a touchy-feely brand of peace, love, and living off the land that reminded Kayla of stuff she’d seen in movies about sixties-era flower children. Misguided and irresponsible, maybe, but probably harmless. “Halt. You’re not authorized to enter this area.” Heart in her throat, Kayla stared at the large man who blocked the path ahead. He had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, but he must have been waiting in the cluster of boulders to the left of the path. He wore baggy camouflage trousers and a green and black camouflage patterned T-shirt stretched over broad shoulders. His full beard and long brown hair made him look like a cross between a biker and an old-testament patriarch. He wasn’t armed, unless you counted the bulging muscles of his biceps, and what might have been a knife in the sheath on his belt. She forced herself to stand tall and look him in the eye. “This is public land,” she said. “Anyone can hike here.” “We have permission to camp here,” Camo-man said. “You’ll need to walk around our camp. We don’t welcome gawkers.” What are you hiding that you don’t want me to see? Kayla thought, every sense sharpened. “I’m not here to gawk,” she said. “I came to visit one of your –“ What exactly did she call Andi – a disciple? A member? “A woman who’s with you,” she decided. “Andi Matheson.” “No one is here by that name.” The man’s eyes revealed as much as a mannequin’s, blank as an unplugged television screen. “I have information that she is. Or she was until as recently as yesterday, when I saw her with some other members of your group in Montrose.” The women had been leaving a coin operated laundry when Kayla had spotted them, but they had ignored her cries to wait and driven off. She had been on foot and unable to follow them. “We do not have anyone here by that name,” the man repeated. So maybe she had changed her name and went by Moon Flower or something equally charming and silly. “I don’t know what she’s calling herself this week but she’s here and I want to talk to her,” Kayla said. “Or satisfy myself that she isn’t here.” She spread her hands wide in a universal gesture of harmlessness. “All I want to do is talk to her. Then I’ll leave, I promise. What you do out here is your business – though I’m pretty sure blocking access to public land, whether you have a permit or not, is illegal. It might even get your permit revoked.” She gave him a hard look to go with her soft words, letting him know she was perfectly willing to make trouble if she needed to. He hesitated a moment, then nodded. “I’ll need to search you for weapons. We don’t allow instruments of destruction into our haven of peace.”
She was impressed he could deliver such a line with a straight face. “So that knife on your belt doesn’t count?”
He put a hand to the sheath at his side. “This is a ceremonial piece, not a weapon.” Uh-huh. And she had a “ceremonial” Smith and Wesson back at her home office. But no point arguing with him. “I’m not armed,” she said. “And you’ll just have to take my word for it, because I’m not in the habit of allowing strange men to grope me and if you lay a hand on me I promise I will file assault charges.” A little more life came into the man’s face at her words, but instead of arguing with her, he turned and walked down the trail. She followed him, curious as to what kind of compound the group had managed to erect in the wilderness. The man turned into what looked like a dry wash, circled a dense line of trees and emerged in a clearing where a motley collection of travel trailers, RVs, pickup trucks, cars, tents, tarps and other makeshift shelters spread out over about an acre. To Kayla, it looked like a cross between the Girl Scout Jamboree she had attended as a child, and a homeless encampment. No one paid any attention to her arrival. A dozen or more men and women, and half as many children, wandered among the vehicles and shelters, tending campfires, carrying babies and talking. One man sat cross-legged in front of a van, playing a wooden flute, while two others kicked a soccer ball back and forth. Kayla spotted Andi with a group of other women by a campfire. She looked just like the picture the Senator had given her – straight blond hair to the middle of her back, heart-shaped face, upturned nose and brilliant blue eyes. She wore a long gauze skirt and a tank top, her slim arms tanned golden from the sun, and she was smiling. Not the picture of the troubled young woman the Senator had painted. Rather, she looked like a model in an advertisement for a line of breezy summer fashions. Or maybe a particularly refreshing wine. Kayla started across the compound toward the young woman. Camo-man stepped forward as if to intercept her, but her hard stare stopped him. “Andi?” she called. “Andi Matheson?” The young woman turned toward Kayla, her smile never faltering. “I’m sorry, but I don’t go by that name anymore,” she said. “I’m Asteria now.” Asteria? Kayla congratulated herself on not wincing. “My name’s Kayla,” she said. “Do I know you?” Andi/Asteria wrinkled her perfect forehead a fraction of an inch. “No. Your father asked me to check on you.” Kayla stopped in front of the woman and scrutinized her more closely, already mentally composing her report to the Senator. No bruises. Clear eyes and skin. No weight loss. If anything, she looked a little plumper than in the photos the Senator had provided. In fact…her gaze settled on the rounded bump at the waistband of the skirt. “You’re pregnant,” she blurted. Andi rubbed one hand across her belly. “My father didn’t tell you? I’m not surprised, but he did know. It’s one of the reasons I left. I didn’t want to raise my child in his corrupt world.” Interesting that the senator had left out this little detail about his daughter. “He was concerned enough about you to hire me to find you and ask you to get in touch with him,” Kayla said. Andi’s smile was gone now. “He just wants to try to talk me into getting rid of the baby.” She turned to the two women with her. “My father can’t understand the happiness and contentment I’ve found here with the Prophet and the Family. He’s too mired in his materialistic, power-hungry world to see the truth.” Dressed similarly to Andi, the other two women stared at Kayla with open hostility. So much for peace and love, Kayla thought. She looked around the compound, aware that pretty much everyone else there had stopped what they were doing to focus on the little exchange around the campfire. Even the flute player had lowered his instrument. Camo-man, however, had disappeared, perhaps slunk back to guard duty on the trail. “This isn’t exactly a garden spot.” She turned back to Andi. “What about the Family attracted you so much?” Senator Matheson was a wealthy man, and his only daughter had been a big part of his lavish lifestyle until a few months ago. “The Family is a real family,” Andi said. “”We truly care for one another. The Prophet reminds us all to focus on the things in life that are really important and fulfilling and meaningful. Satisfaction isn’t to be found in material wealth, but in living in harmony with nature and focusing on our spiritual well-being.” “You can’t live on air and spiritual thoughts,” Kayla said. “How do you all support yourselves?” “We don’t need a lot of money,” Andi said. “The Prophet provides for us.” Camping on public land was free and they didn’t have any utility bills, but they weren’t living on wild game and desert plants, either – not judging by the smell of onions and celery emanating from a pot over the fire. “You’re telling me your Prophet is footing the bill to feed and clothe all of you?” “I am blessed to be able to share my worldly goods with my followers.” The voice that spoke was deep, smooth as chocolate and commanding as any Shakespearean actor. Kayla turned slowly and studied the man striding toward them. Sunlight haloed his figure like a spotlight, burnishing his muscular, bare chest and glinting on his loose, white linen trousers. He had brown curly hair glinting with gold, dark brows, lively eyes, a straight nose and sensuous lips. Kayla swore one of the women behind her sighed and though she had been fully prepared to dislike this so-called “prophet” on sight, she wasn’t immune to his masculine charms. The man was flat-out gorgeous and potentially lethally sexy. No wonder some women followed him around like puppies. “Daniel Metwater, I presume?” Kayla asked. “I prefer the humble title of prophet.” Since when was a prophet humble, but Kayla decided not to argue the point. “I’m Kayla Larimer.” She offered her hand. He took it, then bent and pressed his mouth to her palm – a warm, and decidedly unnerving gesture. Some women might even think it was sexy, but Kayla thought the move too calculated and more than a little creepy. She jerked her hand away, then silently cursed herself for revealing that he had unsettled her. He smiled, and Kayla’s anger rose. “What’s the idea of stationing a guard to challenge visitors to your camp?” she asked. “After all, you are on public land. Land anyone is free to roam.” “We’ve had trouble with curiosity seekers and a few people who want to harass us,” Metwater said. “We have a right to protect ourselves.” “That defense won’t get you very far in court if anything goes south,” she said. The smile finally faded. “Our policy is to leave other people alone and we ask that they show us the same courtesy.” One of the few sensible pieces of advice that Kayla’s mother had ever given her was to keep her mouth shut, but Kayla found the temptation to poke at this particular charming snake to be too much. “If you really are having trouble with people harassing you, you should ask from help from local law enforcement,” she said. “We prefer to solve our own problems, without help from outsiders.” The mafia probably thought that way, too, but that didn’t make them innocent bystanders who never caused trouble did it? “I’m not here to make trouble,” she said. “Andi’s father asked me to stop by and make sure she was all right.” “As you can see, Asteria is fine.” Kayla turned back to the young woman, who was gazing at Daniel, all limpid-eyed and adoring. “I assume you have a doctor in town?” she asked. “That you’re getting good pre-natal care.” “I’m being well-cared for,” she said, her eyes still locked to Daniel’s. “Asteria is an adult and has a right to live as she chooses,” Daniel said. “No one who comes to us is held against their will.” Nothing Kayla saw contradicted that, but she just didn’t see the attraction. The place, and this man, gave her the creeps. “Your father would love to hear from you,” she told Andi. “And if you need anything, call me.” She held out one of her business cards. When the young woman didn’t reach for it, Andi shoved it into her hand. “Good-bye,” she said, and turned to walk away. She passed Daniel without looking at him, though the goosebumps that stood out on her skin made her pretty sure he was giving her the evil-eye – or a pacifist prophet’s version of one. She had made it all the way to the edge of the encampment when raised voices froze her in her tracks. The hue and cry rose, not from the camp behind her, but from the trail ahead. Camo-man appeared around the corner, red-faced and breathless. Behind him came two other men, dragging something heavy between them. Kayla took a few steps toward them and stared in horror at the object on the makeshift litter. Part of the face was gone, and she was pretty sure all the black stuff with the sticky sheen was blood – but she knew the body of a man when she saw one. A dead man. And she didn’t think he had been dead very long.
Cindi Myers worked as a newspaper reporter, travel agent and medical clinic manager before turning to writing full time. She's written both historical and contemporary romance, as well as dozens of short stories and nonfiction articles. Cindi thinks writers have the best job in the world.
Former president of San Antonio Romance Authors, Cindi is a member of Romance Writers of America, Novelists Inc., and Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. She and her husband and their two dogs live in the mountains Southwest of Denver. When she's not caught up in creating new characters and stories, Cindi enjoys reading, quilting, gardening, skiing and hiking. She's also in demand as a speaker, teaching workshops and making presentations to both local and national writing groups. WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER |