The Fiddler of Dawn and Dusk
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Valmong We’ve been walking for close to two hours and she’s lagged behind the whole time. Though I’m not eager to reach Swynton, I’m not moving as fast as I’d like, and at this rate we might not get there before nightfall. Every time Camilla tries to catch up — either with a jog or a ridiculous walk where she constantly pumps her arms — it’s not long before her breath is short, almost ragged. I have a half a mind to offer to carry her. “Sorry…can we take a break? Please?” She leans against a tree, closing her eyes. “Sure.” I take a step closer to her, “Is it your head? You seemed fine earlier.” “Yeah. Every time I try to pick up speed, it feels like the world is tilting.” She takes a deep breath. “I think I’ll be okay after a short break.” Camilla sits on a fallen tree. “Sorry again, for slowing you down.” I shrug, trying to dismiss her concern. “It’s fine. To be honest I’m in no rush to reach Swynton.” “Why?” I don’t expect a follow up question, and once more I’m taken aback by how much she doesn’t know. She’s probably the only person in the entire region who doesn’t know who I am. Or why I’m not exactly welcome in Swynton. “They’re not very fond of me there.” I leave it at that. “Should I be nervous, then? If you’re not welcome there, what’s to say I will be?” She fidgets in place, her hands twisting the hem of her top, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “You’ll be fine.” She finally drops the topic and sits in silence for another few minutes. By the time we reach the main road, the sun is high in the sky. The forest lines either side of the road, and I’m surprised there aren’t more people on it. Swynton’s festival starts tonight, and there should be thousands making the pilgrimage here, for the shrines to Tenebrin and Claritas. Fresh horse tracks and the tell-tale signs of wagon wheels tell me we might have just missed the crowd. “Do you always travel by foot?” Camilla’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Yes. Horses are more trouble than they’re worth.” I turn to look at her without stopping. “Why? Getting tired again?” “No. And even if you had one, I’ve never ridden before.” The longer we’re on the road, the lighter the air around us gets, especially as the forest thins the closer we get to Swynton. Beside me, Camilla seems more at ease. “So…does this happen often? Finding people in the woods like you found me?” She really has a hard time with silence. “You run into others now and then. This is the first time I’ve had to save anyone, though.” “You don’t just go around rescuing people?” “No. Not the rescuing type.” Maybe in another life. “What type are you, then?” Will the questions ever cease? I stop, unable to hide my annoyance as I look at her. Be nice. Tenebrin’s voice only doubles my irritation. “The ‘does things for money’ type.” I stare her down as I speak, hoping she takes the hint to stop. Maybe trigger some of that same fear I provoked the previous night. “Was that supposed to intimidate me?” She tilts her head, warm brown eyes trying to find the answer to her question on my face as they squint against the sun. Her face is so open, soft. Curious. Does she know she quirks her lips like that when she asks a question? She is quite pretty, isn’t she? Tenebrin shocks me from the path my thoughts were taking. “It was supposed to make you stop talking.” I adjust the strap on my shoulder, breaking her gaze and fixing my attention back on the road. A few minutes later, the gate to Swynton comes into view.
GIVEAWAY! False Illusions
-- EXCERPT: As he stepped up, Olivia rolled down the window and placed both hands on the steering wheel as Brent had taught her to do. The officer removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. Olivia jerked, taken aback by the vividness of his deep blue eyes. A tidal wave of heat gushed over her cheeks as she took in his rugged features. She was mortified at the attraction that pinged through her. Why did he have to be so dang good-looking? And why did he have to exude such a bad-boy, reckless vibe that called to her inner soul? It didn’t hurt that he filled out his cop uniform well with his cut biceps and masculine forearms. Great gravity, he was nice to look at. His gaze lingered on her a moment too long, and then he seemed to catch himself. “Good afternoon,” he began in a brisk tone. “May I see your license and registration?” It happened again. Their eyes connected, sending all rational thoughts flying out the window. When a tiny smile tugged at a corner of the officer’s mouth, Olivia found herself grinning back like a goober. His quirk of amusement gave her the jolt she needed to return to her senses. Good grief, she was acting like a moonstruck idiot! She’d always been a sucker for cops. Add in his stunning good looks and sense of arrogance, and she was a goner for sure. “Your license and registration,” he prompted She snapped out of her daze. No way could she get involved with another cop. Hadn’t she had enough heartache over Brent to last her a lifetime? Danger followed cops, or rather cops followed danger. She owed it to Ryan and to herself to find a guy who had a stable, predictable job. What the freaky Frankenstein was she thinking! Here she was contemplating a future … or squelching any chance of a future with some guy who probably wasn’t remotely interested in her. He was simply doing his job. The eye-locking thing was probably a figment of her imagination—proof that she was in desperate need of a good night’s sleep. She was getting twitter-pated over nothing. Was the guy even single? She glanced at his ring finger and felt a curious blip of relief when she saw the naked strip of skin over that all-important finger. Of course, just because he wasn’t wearing a ring didn’t mean that he wasn’t involved with someone. “Uh, sure,” she stammered as she turned to find her purse. She glanced down at the floorboard and Arden’s feet only to realize that her purse was in the back seat. She was twisting around to get it when Arden caught hold of her arm. “I’ve got this.” Arden’s voice rang out both confident and indignant. Crumb! Arden was about to get on her high horse. This was bound to end poorly. “Officer, do you have any idea who this is?” She looked at Olivia as she spoke. He raised an eyebrow in faint amusement. “A woman who was speeding in a school zone,” he quipped dryly. Olivia’s jaw dropped. “I was not speeding! I slowed down.” He didn’t back down in the slightest. “When you saw my car. And for the record, you didn’t slow down soon enough.” “I never saw your car.” Anger blanketed her, hot and furious. “I slowed down the instant I saw the sign. That sign should be displayed more prominently,” she added defensively. He smirked. “If it had been a snake, it would’ve bitten you. License and registration,” he demanded, looking her in the eye. It went through Olivia’s mind that the guy was a jerk. She should be outraged about the snake wisecrack. But right now, she couldn’t think straight. She was feeling things she never thought she’d feel again—the stir of ribbons through her stomach, the flush of warmth over her skin, the heady sizzle of energy pulsing through her like a fireball. “Fine,” she spouted as she turned to get her purse. Placing it in her lap, she reached for her wallet and slid out her license. As she handed it over, her hand brushed against the cop’s, rustling awareness through her. Okay, this idiotic attraction was out of control. She turned to Arden, her discomfort spewing out in irritation. “Don’t just sit there like a ninny. Get the registration out of the glovebox.”
GIVEAWAY! The Love List
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: Grant’s stomach rumbled as the line didn’t seem to dwindle at all. When he glanced at the clock, he dang near fell over. “I have to go,” he said, twisting to look at Cara like she was the boss and could dismiss him. “No,” a woman said in a near-bark from the other side of the counter. “I need to put in my order.” He turned and met a pair of dark blue eyes that reminded him of deeper waters off the shores of Hilton Head. The kind he’d fish in when he went out trawling with one of his friends who owed him for letting his mother stay in the best condo on the island for a weekend girls’ trip. “Excuse me?” “Did I hear you say I can’t get anything without a banana?” she asked, those eyes flying across the wall behind him. “They’re a really strong flavor profile.” She wore her hair in a pixie cut, with fashionable bangs that hung in shaggy layers across the very tops of her eyebrows. In any other situation, Grant would classify her as beautiful, and if he held a drink in his hand instead of a blasted blue ballpoint pen, and if the music pumped through a tiki bar instead of wafted along the air conditioning currents in a smoothie shop, he might try to get her number. “They’re what makes your smoothie smooth,” he said, irritation blipping through him. “Fine,” the woman said with a sigh. She hitched her rustic, spotted-cow-purse higher on her shoulder. He did smile at that bag, wiping the gesture away quickly when she lifted her eyebrows and asked, “Are you ready to take my order?” “Yes, ma’am,” he said in true Southern-gentleman style. “I’d like the Beach Sunrise, with half the banana.” “No more raspberries,” Cara called just as Grant started writing. He froze and looked up at the woman. “Uh,” he said. “Let me guess,” she said. “I can’t have the Beach Sunrise.” “It does have raspberries in it,” he said, and he congratulated himself that he didn’t even have to turn to look at the menu to know that. He’d enjoyed a fair few Beach Sunrises over the years, and he happened to like the raspberry, mango, and banana combination. She emitted the sigh of the century, and Grant’s phone started buzzing at him. “Oliver,” he called down the line. “I have to go.” Oliver burst out laughing with a customer down at the register, and Grant rolled his eyes. “I’ll get him,” Cara said. She stopped making the smoothies and went down to Oliver. She said a couple of things, to which he leaned his head toward her, and then he looked down to Grant. “I’ll have the Fake Sunset,” the woman with the cute hair and pretty eyes said. Grant scratched out her order, flung the paper onto the slider, and dropped the pen. “I have to go,” he said to an approaching Oliver. “And I still don’t have my smoothie.” “Ten minutes,” Oliver said. “I’ve got raspberries in the freezer. Can you do the register while I grab them?” “The freezer” meant the grocery store half a mile away. Grant wasn’t stupid, nor was this the first time he’d helped Oliver in a pinch. “How about I run and get the raspberries?” Grant asked. “Then when I get back, Cara will have my smoothie ready, and I can go.” He held his ground with the sandy-haired owner. Just because Oliver could charm scorpions didn’t mean Grant had to do his bidding. In fact, he had half a mind to leave for “the freezer” and never come back to The Mad Mango. It had certainly inspired some anger in him that afternoon—and he was in danger of being seriously late to meet his four o’clock check-in. His phone hadn’t alerted him to her proximity, however, so he might be okay. Oliver didn’t need to know that, and Grant glared at his friend. The woman who’d stood a foot or two down the counter listening stepped back toward them. She clearly wasn’t super happy. “Are you telling me I can have the Beach Sunrise?” she asked. “You just have to grab the raspberries out of the freezer?” “Yes,” Oliver said at the same time Grant said, “No.” Grant made an executive decision. “I’ll go grab the raspberries,” he said, walking in the wrong direction to get them from the freezer. “I can’t ring these people up.” He didn’t look back as he stepped away. “If you can get raspberries,” the pixied woman said. “I want the Beach Sunrise.” “Lady,” Grant said, cutting her a glare out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t work here. Let it go.” A blender started making a horrible chugging noise, then metal on metal, all within a single second. “Watch out,” Cara called from down where she’d just scooped frozen peaches into a blender cup. “Watch out?” Grant swung his attention from the blonde woman with the stormy eyes to the counter that ran along the length of the back wall. The lid blew off the top of the blender in that moment, and all Grant had time to do was throw his hands up in front of his face and pray. He entered some weird place where noise and feeling didn’t exist. He sensed them happening around him, but for some reason, they didn’t affect him. The weird sensation didn’t last long, and then everything came rushing at him at double-speed. Cold seeped through his shirt and made his skin ripple with gooseflesh. More than one person shouted, and he could pick out Oliver’s voice saying to get some napkins and then for Cara to kill the power to the blenders. The soul-wrenching sound of that metal on metal that said the blender bottle wasn’t seated with the motor rotor grated against his nerves, and then it blissfully ended. “I’m so sorry,” Oliver said, but he wasn’t talking to Grant. He’d somehow gotten on the other side of the counter, and Grant wouldn’t put it past him to have vaulted the stupid thing, because the person he’d just apologized to? The beautiful blonde…who now had Fake Sunrise dripping down the side of her neck.
GIVEAWAY! Craved by a Wolf
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: She stormed to the chair in the corner of the room, picked up his jeans and turned on him. She glared at him as she threw the jeans, hitting him in the face. He dragged them down, a stupid dumbfounded look on his face. One that told her he couldn’t see what he had done wrong. And he couldn’t believe she wasn’t doing as he wanted. “Get out,” she snapped and flung her arm towards the bedroom door. “And never come back here.” He growled, “I cannae do that. If I leave, I die.” Colour her curious. He pulled down a breath and his lips flattened, and he looked as if he was fighting himself. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, his brogue less pronounced. “If you don’t give me release, I die, Hella. You must accept me.” He cast a glance at his hips and then lifted his gaze to lock with hers again. “I’ll be gentle with you, if that’s what you fear.” Hella rolled her eyes. “I had lion twins splitting me in two the other day. I don’t need a gentle man.” He growled again, flashing his fangs this time, and tensed as he fisted his clothing. “How many males have ye accepted into your wee body? It matters no’. You’ll bed no more.” His accent seemed to be an emotional barometer. The more heated he got, the less understandable he became. She was tempted to roll her eyes at him again to see just how deep into his Scottish roots she could push him. “I’ll do what I want and who I want, and if you try to stop me—” She hesitated as the way he had reacted to the shackles filled her mind. She didn’t want to torment him like that again. Maybe she could try something else. If he wouldn’t leave, then she would make him. She pivoted on her heel and swept away from him, her shoulders tipped back and her head held high, the perfect image of a witch one would be wise not to mess with. The wolf’s gaze scalded her back, tracking down to her bottom, and he loosed a low, sexy growl. Hella refused to let it affect her. The wolf was about to be shown the door and if he had any sense, he would take the hint and leave her alone. She had her own problems to deal with and every second she wasted on the wolf was a second Ethyrian drew closer to realising she had escaped Lucia. She hurried down the stairs to her shop. The wolf followed. Still naked. Hella huffed as she glanced at him and he leaned against the wall, folded his arms across his chest and crossed his ankles. Shameless male. “Put some clothes on,” she snapped and tried to shut him out as she unlocked a case behind the counter and plucked a book from the shelves. When she turned back towards the counter, her gaze collided with his. He grinned salaciously at her, irritatingly sure of himself while she was flustered and unsteady, rattled by his presence. “You don’t want that. I can see in your eyes you want me, lass. I can smell that you need your male.” Hella gagged. “Gross.” And diligently kept her eyes off the impressive hard-on he was still sporting as he pushed away from the wall and stalked towards her. He was far too big. If she did accept him, as he kept putting it, he would split her in two. She was just considering possible spells that would help her get around that when his knees gave out, he went down hard and clocked his jaw on the edge of the wooden counter. Ruining his carefully affected image of confidence and swagger. Hella resisted the urge to peer over the counter and check on him, and continued leafing through the book instead as she dryly said, “Have a nice trip? Send me a postcard next time.” The wolf’s arm shot up from behind the counter, his hand slammed down onto it and he hauled himself up. He growled as he shook off the blow to his ego but he looked groggy, which worried her. Was he telling her the truth about the curse? Would he really die if she didn’t add him to the tally of notches on her bedpost? She intended to find out the answer to both of those questions.
GIVEAWAY! Love’s Last Kiss
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Kade rubbed his forehead with his fist. How could he have made such a terrible mistake? Since meeting Rose, he’d been unable to stay away from her, even when he’d barely known her. And now that they’d made love, he wasn’t sure he could leave her. Yet, while he’d admitted his growing love for Rose, he’d also left out the most important details of his life. And Rose wasn’t stupid. She had to suspect he was hiding things. It was probably why, despite the passion she’d shown in his arms, she hadn’t spoken her own feelings aloud. He couldn’t blame her. He was neither a prince nor charming. He was a man in an impossible situation. A man in love with a woman who had trust issues. A man who rarely asked for help because it made one beholden to others. A man about to commit the rest of his life to a murderous cult that dated back centuries. He opened his eyes, determined to crush his pity party. Rose needed him, and they still had work to do. They had twenty-eight hours to meet the Prince’s deadline, and they still had no idea where to find that box. When he saw the cup of hot coffee on his bedside table, his throat closed up. He’d never get enough of her sexually, but her inherent thoughtfulness was what made his heart brim with other unfamiliar emotions. Emotions he struggled to understand, much less define. Yes, he loved her. But his feelings for her were so much more intense than he’d expected. Then again, other than Nin and his mother, he had little experience in loving women. Infrequent sex with random females from the club didn’t count. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and moved slowly, testing each tight muscle group before standing upright. Unfortunately, King George, who’d been guarding the bathroom door, decided Kade had committed an Act of Aggression. The cat bared his teeth. Kade held out his hands and backed up. “Whoa, kitty.” He hit the edge of the bed and fell onto his naked ass. The pillow flew across the room, and King George pounced after it. A moment later, Rose emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body. Wet strands of hair hung past her shoulders. He drew the throw blanket over his lap and tried not to stare at her bare thighs. The towel acted more like a short, strapless dress, exposing way too much soft, bare skin. The cat hissed at him again, and she shooed him away. “King George, be nice!” The cat left the room with his back arched and his tail high in the air. As if to say to Kade, kiss this. “I’m sorry.” Rose clutched the towel, keeping it tight around herself. “I’d like to say King George isn’t normally this nasty in the morning, but that would be a lie.” Actually, Kade wasn’t thinking about the cat at all. He was too distracted by the drops of water that rolled down the curve of her neck and slipped between her breasts. His body hardened with one part in particular becoming almost painful. Needing a distraction, he took the mug and inhaled the scent of roasted beans. “I don’t mind King George. Nin had a cat like that once. It took a while, but I eventually won her over.” She took a step forward. “How long is ‘a while’?” He sipped his coffee and sighed. It was perfect. Hot, black, and not too bitter. “Seven years.” She laughed and shifted awkwardly, her hands grasping the towel. “You don’t give up, do you?” “Never.”
GIVEAWAY! Drinking Deep
-- EXCERPT: He nudged his chin toward my glass. “You ready to try your whiskey?” “Let’s do it.” I picked up my glass and swirled it around again. “Here’s what I want you to do. Breathe it in, but keep your mouth open.” “You want me to breathe with my tongue?” I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing. This was starting to sound like the woo woo mediation class my friend Jolene had dragged me to a couple of years ago. Instead of laughing, his eyes got more intense. “Yes, exactly.” He was really into this. I’d been planning on quizzing the guy at the local liquor store to teach me everything he knew before I had to head down for my meeting next week with a distillery, but with Cole willing to share his knowledge, it might save me a few hours of time. Plus, he was at least twenty times more attractive than the grizzly older man who’d been running the family liquor store for the past forty years. “Can you demo for me? I’m not exactly sure I know how to breathe through my tongue.” “Why do I get the feeling you’re giving me shit?” His eyes crinkled at the corners, but he picked up his glass, swirled it around, then held it up to his nose with his lips slightly parted. My entire reproductive system shimmied as I ran my gaze over the sexy scruff on his cheeks, the strong hand currently wrapped around the glass tumbler, and the sight of the tip of his tongue. I could think of so many other things he could use that part of his anatomy for beyond breathing in a beverage. “There.” He lowered the glass and glanced at my hand. “Your turn.” Mmm. I cleared my throat and brought the glass close to my mouth. With my lips parted, I took in a breath. The alcohol sent fire racing across my tongue, followed by a wisp of something smoky. I shifted my gaze to Cole. The intense way he studied my mouth made heat hurtle toward my belly. Then lower. “You ready to get your first taste?” His voice went low, rough around the edges like a piece of sandpaper lightly scraping against my skin. I was more than ready for my first taste… of him. “Yeah, let’s do it.” He lifted his glass. “Let it roll over your tongue, hold it in your mouth for a few seconds, then let it slide down the back of your throat. Okay?” My chest rose and fell as I took in a breath. “Got it. Roll, hold, slide.” “That’s right.” He lifted his glass, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away as he sipped, tipped his head back, and slowly swallowed. Since when did watching someone take a simple sip from a glass make my panties damp? Eager to find out what might happen next, I copied his movements. A slow burn traced its way over my tongue and down my throat, all the way to the bottom of my belly. In that moment, I could feel appreciation for why so many people were drawn to whiskey. It was so much more than taking a nip from a hidden bottle. It was romantic. It was sexy. It was a whole new world opening up to me. My mind spun with possibilities for the meeting I had next week. “What do you think?” Cole asked, liquid fire burning in his gaze. “I think it was a bit of a religious experience.” For someone who made a living at communicating, I was temporarily at a loss for words. “What do you think about what I think?” He rested his arm on the back of my stool and held my gaze for an extra-long beat. “I think I’d like to kiss you right now. What do you think about that?” My stomach clenched. I wasn’t a woman who kissed strangers in bars. Then again, where had that gotten me? Jolene’s words pounded through my head. Take a chance. You deserve it. Swallowing my hesitation, I tilted my head and met his gaze. “I think I’d like that very much.”
GIVEAWAY! River of Ashes
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble -- EXCERPT: A howl came from the direction of The Abbey. Andrea leaned away from him, listening. “What’s that?” Beau nuzzled her neck. “Wild dogs. They live on The Abbey grounds. There’s a couple of legends about them.” “What legends?” She stepped out of his embrace. He watched her hips beneath her coat. “They say the dogs stay around The Abbey waiting for the lady in white. She was a gamekeeper for the seminary school and a lover of one of the monks. She died on the grounds, betrayed by the man she loved. Her dogs were kept to manage the varmint population. The wild dogs are said to be their offspring.” Beau slipped the coat from her shoulders. “The gamekeeper was found hanging from a tree in a white hooded cloak. It was all kept very hush-hush at the time. After the woman’s death, the dogs roamed the grounds and lived off the land. They’re said to only appear when death is near.” Beau looked at Andrea to see if she was sufficiently unnerved. “That’s just creepy.” She glanced at his hands as he tugged at her jeans. “But a guy who brings girls to these abandoned cells is into creepy.” He liked the image the cells portrayed. It was his laboratory, like he’d read about in Frankenstein, where he could experiment and create his own monsters.
GIVEAWAY!
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Shadowed Horizons
-- EXCERPT: Each flip of the key ring around his index finger tallied another reason to quit the world of high stake’s business. Work stemming from a far-fetched theory had taken form and flourished beyond his imagination. Unlike the soundless steps of his bodyguard’s booted strides, Wyatt’s tennis shoes pealed squishy squeaks through the dimly lit parking garage. “Adam, this does not make my list of top favorite places to visit. Next time I help an old college friend, maybe we could pick a drier day and find parking other than a creepy garage?” A rat skittered across the floor in the shadows, its gimlet-eyed stare marking the intruders’ positions. Air redolent of filth, gas, and pizza from a nearby restaurant clogged Wyatt’s sinuses, reminiscent of the alley apartment occupied during college. Since those lean years, digital fluency and hard work had jettisoned him to the top of his field. The clash of artificial dingy light and murky silhouettes added an ominous, prophetic feeling he couldn’t shake. Water stains mingled with shapeless apparitions to create fleeting two-dimensional monsters between vehicles, ready to attack unwary travelers. He was not a fan of inkblot tests. I haven’t been spooked like this in years. Adam shrugged. “As far as security is concerned, it’s not an ideal location since the street side is open, but it is the closest available. Roadside parking leaves you too vulnerable. As much as you cherish you privacy, I’m surprised you offered to help him. Why couldn’t you do it over the net?” “Hardware issues require hands-on assistance. He’s my ex-roommate. I felt sorry for him. Modern advances in technology left him in the dust.” “Next time, suggest a meeting during daylight hours and a place of our choosing?” Adam narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as if listening to a far-off sound. The combination spelled trouble. His steps slowed and adopted a deliberate edge even as his shoulders tightened in preparation to strike. “A graveyard walk would be less creepy, and a proctologist’s exam more fun.” Sweat beaded Wyatt’s forehead despite the cool spring breeze drifting over the graffiti-covered knee wall. “This place feels off to me. Let’s get the hell out of here—” Adam stopped, holding out his right arm to halt their progress. Wyatt’s slip on a crudely patched piece of concrete necessitated his bodyguard’s steadying hand. Dirt and loose crumbles skittered underfoot, their audio report echoing off the walls. “Watch your step, boss. No need to broadcast our location.” “You know,” Wyatt muttered. “People think of me as a good analytical, concrete thinker. I guess whatever higher power gifted me with intuitive abilities for logistics and computers exacted a mental tariff—common sense.” His penchant for talking when nervous filled the quiet atmosphere. “My instincts say trouble’s GPS has locked on. Stay close.” The soft glide of his bodyguard’s gun from his shoulder rig compelled Wyatt to suck in chilled air that seared his lungs. Each step forward carried the expectation of death. “Intuition is your best survival tool and seldom wrong. For an athletic geek, yours is pretty good.” Wyatt didn’t argue the conciliatory assessment. Routine sparring with Adam revealed the bodyguard had reflexes that boggled the mind. Sudden sharp beeps shattered the silence. A sequence of long and short chirps denoting binary code identified Wyatt’s caller. His heart rate shot into overdrive. Hair on his nape prickled as he fumbled the device. Swiping to ignore didn’t recall the audible beacon. Massive pillars supported the five-story concrete structure that supplied parking space for the attached office building. Rounding one to his left, Wyatt stumbled as Adam snatched him sideways. The colossal brute they almost bounced off had detached from the shadows with a stealth befitting a sixteenth century ninja. Colossal mass defied speed but personified malice with a savage gaze and gap-toothed smile. “Jesus!” Wyatt’s split-second observation induced a rush of adrenaline with the hand holding his cell thrusting forward in self-protection. “Damn. You’re big.” Deep chuckling inspired images of the worst villains in horror movies. Brown hair pulled back in a ponytail swept the shoulder of the man bearing a gold tooth. A ridge of pitted, tanned skin separated the straight bushy unibrow deepening with a tilt of his head. Dark eyes retained terrible knowledge embracing and calculating endless methods for the most efficient kill. After flicking a glance over the bodyguard in silent disregard, the brute’s appraisal raked Wyatt’s body head to toe. Thin lips widened in obvious glee. “Time to meet your maker, prodigy.” He mimicked Wyatt’s sidestep in a lightning-fast move and knocked Adam’s gun from his hand. The pistol ricocheted under a nearby Toyota producing multiple tin-like clinks. Time shattered into bits and pieces where each fractured instant unfurled another fragment of the ominous scene. Wyatt’s thoughts stuttered on a long blink.
GIVEAWAY! Mermaid of Paris
-- EXCERPT: When Florent’s jet landed and he exited the plane, Moussa led his people in a round of applause. After much embracing, Moussa escorted Florent onto Gia’s plane. Florent wore a sweater, just like the last time she’d seen him, several months ago. He carried a Domenico Vacca alligator duffle—a custom bag that cost him no less than eighty grand. “Bon soir, Gia,” Florent said, lowering his head to nod hello. “These days you can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can you?” Gia wanted to gain the upper hand, to throw him a little, so she gingerly pulled the cashmere blanket off her chest—exposing her breasts—and moved Serena to the other side to continue her feeding. The plan worked. Florent was transfixed. “I would get up,” Gia whispered, “but as you see, I am dealing with a hungry baby.” Florent’s eyes flashed, and in that blaze echoed a multitude of memories, unrealized dreams and resentments. Over the years he had fantasized about everything from embedding himself back in Gia’s life and marrying her, to strangling her and tossing her in the ocean. And now, here she was right in front of him, chest exposed, the very picture of radiant motherhood combined with unfettered sexuality. It was difficult for him to reconcile this scene with what he knew to be true about her—her killer instinct, to be specific. After all, he had the scar to prove just how dark her true impulses were. Moussa shifted from one foot to the other and swallowed hard as he watched the pair before him. He offered a brief, “ahem,” and broke the awkward silence. “Bisset, how long before we leave for the port?” “I have a fleet of trucks coming in half an hour,” Florent replied, finally tearing his eyes away from Gia. “Then I have some work to do to get everyone ready.” Moussa bowed at Florent before heading down to wrangle the merfolk, happy to leave the plane. When Moussa was gone, Florent sat across from Gia, trying not to fidget. He wanted to telegraph an air of cool serenity. Gia, of course, didn’t buy it. “Why are you here, Florent?” “I want to help. Am I not a gentleman, Gia?” “I never knew you to be one, no.” “Then you don’t know me.” Gia studied his face, narrowing her eyes. “I find it odd that you harbor an impulse to help in any circumstance that involves me.” Florent smirked. “Oh, but you see, Gia, I’ve been waiting for the moment you need me the most. I have been watching and waiting for a very long time. What luck,” he commented, raising his eyebrows. “It appears that the moment I anticipated has finally arrived.”
GIVEAWAY! The Irish Wanders
-- EXCERPT: She linked her arm around his as they walked, a natural move. She was allowed to do it. It felt right. Rose was drawn towards Bill. He was like a giant magnet pulling her and she couldn’t help but move closer to him. They walked together, drunk and happy. She didn’t engage him in conversation. She knew the flow was right. He talked and she listened. When they got to the next pub, he bought her another pint, and they sat down to listen to a lone fiddler. She sipped the Guinness. It was dark and warm, different from any other beer. He’d leaned over her, and then—the kiss. The kiss came as a surprise to her. His soft lips were on hers. She could smell the beer on his breath. After the kiss, he put his forehead against hers. They sat together, joined like that for a long time, letting the music wash over them, throbbing in time with their heartbeats. At first, the music the fiddler played was lively, his fingers deftly danced across the strings, and a few couples got up to spin around the floor. Towards the end of his set, he played exquisite notes that washed over the pub, making the dust dance, and it rose in the air like magic. The cheering and conversation quieted down for his last song. It was a slow piece that most of them recognised. The fiddler hit the final note with such poignancy that it echoed throughout the pub. When the music stopped, the whole pub went quiet.They cleared their throats and blinked back tears, and then took a few last swallows from their pints. “Nothing like a bit of Irish music to bring out the tears,” Bill admitted wiping an eye. “It’s something so special,” Rose agreed with a small sniff. And all around the pub, they raised their glasses to the fiddler and his music. As people began to leave the pub, Rose realized that it was getting late and neither of them had eaten yet. “Shall we eat something? Maybe grab some fish and chips?” Bill said, reading her mind. “Perfect,” she replied in a low, quiet voice. They bought some greasy fish and chips at a nearby takeaway. It was wrapped in brown paper and covered with the Dublin news. Then, they walked the streets until they found a bench under the stars away from the shouts, laughter and the lights. Beside the river, they were alone. They unwrapped the greasy paper and ate the cod hungrily, stuffing the vinegar smeared fries quickly into their mouths. “Do you want the last chip?” Bill had said softly, holding it up in his greasy fingers. Rose raised her eyebrows and smiled. “I certainly do.” Bill placed it gently in her mouth, looking deeply into her eyes. She kissed his fingers slowly. Then he kissed her again. She’d clung to him and let him kiss her. They were both tired. Bill took her hand and led her up a narrow laneway not far away.
GIVEAWAY! |
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