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Buck Up, Buttercup
-- EXCERPT: An old pickup, with new shiny green paint, slowed down beside her until it crawled along at her pace. A quick glance sideways revealed black-hat-cowboy-guy grinning down at her. A jolt of awareness cleared some of the fog from her head. He was more good-looking than she’d remembered, and also incredibly large above her in the truck. “Good morning, darlin’,” he called down. “Drive on,” she called out. “Headed into town? We’ve got room.” “I’m going to walk.” She wouldn’t get into a car with a single person from that party. She walked forward, not looking at him. “Hold up, you dropped something,” he said, stopping the truck. Randi whirled around, scanning the empty ground behind her. Her fingers lost their grip and her bags crashed down, things spilling out onto the gravel road. Her eyes burned. Buck turned off the truck engine and leaned out the window. “That’s a lot of gear to haul all the way into town,” he said, cheerfully. “That was a dirty trick.” “I just want to talk to you for a minute.” “Leave me alone please!” “Listen. Hugh, in the passenger seat, and I are headed in for some breakfast. If you ride with me, this gas guzzler will have a full cab. Darlin’, that’s a load off my conscience.” Randi’s belly shuddered and her lips quivered. The dam burst. Her hands flew up to cover her eyes and a hiccupped sob exploded out. “I can’t jump in some stranger’s pickup,” she mumbled through her fingers. “Hey now,” he said, the amused condescension in his voice aking her glare up at him. “You hold on to that pepper spray if it makes you feel better. Land’s sake, girl, we hauled around passed-out-Sarah last night. You’re practically part of the family. And Hugh here has about twenty sisters, so he’s well-trained.” The door of the truck opened. She took a step back, pulling up the inside collar of her dress to dab at her face. Buck’s eyes crinkled at her, a lopsided half-grin on his face. It was probably the way he looked at cows right before he lassoed a rope around their necks, or whatever. But he had helped Sarah. And her. Her shoulders slumped. Defeated, she was beyond resistance. If they murdered her, at least she might be sitting down. “All right?” he asked. She exhaled. “All right, I’ll take a ride to the closest bus stop. Thanks.” Buck picked up her bags and put them in the back of the truck. She hauled her heavy backpack off her aching shoulders and turned to sling it up, but Buck was already gripping the top and lifting it out of her hands. “Hi,” said a burly man sitting on the passenger side of the bench seat, a gentle smile on his face. Like she was a crazy person. Which she was. With a deep breath, she hoisted herself up into the cab next to him. “Sorry about Buck,” the big guy said, glaring at the culprit with one eye squinted. “He’s devious about getting what he wants.” Buck landed on the seat beside her. “Hugh keeps the standards up. Probably why he’s so grumpy all the time.” Hugh crossed his arms, leaning into the passenger door. His buzzed blond head and muscular frame brought to mind a late-twenties version of Mr. Clean, minus the jewelry. “I ain’t grumpy. Just tired of your ugly face.” Buck chuckled. Randi caught herself staring at him. She wouldn’t call his face ugly, not even anything related to unattractive. More like relentlessly cheerful. And way too confident that he could boss everyone around. She sniffed, annoyed with him enough to stop crying. The truck rolled forward, bumping on the gravel road. They sat on an old-fashioned bucket-style bench, comfortable for two people, and a squeeze for three. The middle seat offered no belt. A death trap. Because that was the logical conclusion to her week from hell. She braced a hand on the dash to keep from bouncing into the bodies next to her. Not touching either man, holding her body tense and straight, made her neck ache. And still she knocked knees with Hugh and almost leaned on Buck’s shoulder. Buck’s hand on the manual gear shifter was an inch from her thigh, his fingers brushing the edge of her skirt when he shifted. Short of sitting on Hugh’s lap, there was nowhere for her to go to keep from touching him. She felt shaky, barely keeping herself together. Every time Buck changed position she noticed it, his muscular arms flexing as he drove. It was like sitting next to a tiger: electrifying, an experience you never forgot, and total madness. “So,” said Buck, flashing a grin at her. “What’s your rush this morning? You just moved in last night.” Randi dug a tissue out of her bag. “I can’t live in a party house,” she said, dabbing at her running nose. “A Waffle House?” said Hugh. “She said party house, Einstein.” Buck glanced at her. “How’d you end up with a room out there?” “I was teaching in Argentina and found it online. Paid everything…” She paused, choking up, not sure why she was telling them. “They lied to me.” And she dissolved again, covering her face with the tissue. What was wrong with her? It was beyond humiliating to be crying like a child in front of these strangers. At least she’d never have to see them again. “Huh,” said Buck, tapping the steering wheel. “Well, I know Trish isn’t happy about the parties.” “They got an ugly ticket last June,” said Hugh. “She’s on probation.” Randi sat up straighter, taking in this information. She managed to stop crying, and dabbed her cheeks clean with the tissue. Buck rubbed the side of his face. “Is that right?” “I can’t believe you didn’t know that, Buck. Jesus.” “I just look like I know everything.” “Yeah, well, one more ticket and they’re facing jail time. And, of course, there were minors everywhere last night. I turned my back and they slurped down my keg.” Randi pushed up her glasses. No wonder Trish hadn’t been there during the party. It revealed, even more, how shamelessly Trish had lied to her in the emails they’d exchanged about the house. The farmland was transforming into residential housing when Buck turned onto a major road. “That bus stop coming up will be fine,” said Randi, her voice annoyingly shaky. “No way, darlin’,” said Buck. “You cry in my truck, and I buy you a coffee. Then, I drop you off wherever you want.” “No, really—” “Hey,” he said, “I put up with all the tears. So now we’re going to go to this coffee drive-through and get sugary drinks to make ourselves feel better. Otherwise, Hugh over there might start his period.” “You’re such a jackass,” Hugh said, shaking his head.
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The Kite
-- EXCERPT: Harry crossed the street. No one crossed after him, but whoever was after him was closer now. He could feel it. That cold stab of dread, sixth sense, gut feeling. Like icy fingers down his skin. And if someone was after Harry, it wasn’t good. He was the hunter, never the hunted. If he was the mark . . . Christ. He was the mark. Harry ducked past two women, slipping through a narrow utility alley, and he ran. He was being chased now, silent and fast. At the end of the alley, he turned left and went through an open door, up a set of stairs to the roof, his heart hammering. He ran along the roofline, exposed but faster than on the street. He heard footsteps chasing behind him but didn’t dare turn around, and as the muted whirr of a bullet pinged past his head, he jumped. He knew the sound of that gun. It was a SIG Pro 9mm with a suppressor. French special forces, standard issue. He landed on a first-floor balcony, using his momentum to leap again, this time to the ground. Pain shot through his ankle but he kept moving, down another alley, and through an open door and into a darkened hall. Hands grabbed him, spun him and pinned his back against the wall as the door closed behind him. In half a disorienting second, Harry pulled his gun to his assailant’s head at the same time he realised he had a pistol pressed against his. Eyes flashed in the dark, familiar and close. A man’s body pressed him hard to the wall, their chests heaving. A hand covered his mouth. “Shh.” Harry didn’t dare breathe, his finger on the trigger, still aimed at the man’s head. The cold press of metal against Harry’s temple told him to wait. The sound of feet outside came running. The crackle of a radio, a French voice just outside the door. “I’ve lost him.” The footsteps faded, and only after a long moment did the man move his hand from Harry’s mouth. Harry could see then who it was. Asher Garin. Asher fucking Garin. Adrenaline exploded through Harry’s veins and he started, pushing his pistol harder into Asher’s temple. Asher gnashed his teeth. Anger and defiance flashed in his eyes. “Keep quiet or you’ll kill us both,” Asher hissed, barely a whisper. His words didn’t make sense. Asher had saved him? If there was anyone on the planet sent to kill Harry, it would be Asher. He was the only other man good enough. They were the top two government assassins in the world. Yet Asher had just saved him from the French? Keep quiet or you’ll kill us both. Both? After an eternity, Asher released him, though he kept his pistol aimed at Harry’s head. “We need to get out of here,” he murmured. Harry’s heart was thundering. His finger itched to pull the trigger. Itched. “The fuck?” Asher held up his phone to show Harry the screen. “Sent to all agencies.” An assignment, just like any other. Just like any of the thousand he’d received in the last decade. Locations, dates, names, and photographs. Two photographs. Harry’s blood ran cold, and his eyes met Asher’s. Asher nodded, his stare intense. “You and me; double hit. They want us dead. You’re a kite, and your government just cut you loose.” Harry grappled with his fight or flight instinct, his heart hammering, his ankle throbbing. But given two men had just tried to kill him and the fact Asher hadn’t killed him—and the assignment on his phone screen—Harry could assume what Asher said was true. Asher must have seen the realisation in Harry’s eyes because he slowly lowered his gun. Just an inch. “We need to trust each other,” he whispered. “The only chance we have is if we stick together. Can you do that?” Trusting any other person went against every cell in Harry’s body, but what choice did he have? If he said no, one or both of them died right here. If the assignment was sent to all agencies, there wasn’t a country or government anywhere in the world that could protect them. Harry had no choice. Answering without a word, he took his finger off the trigger.
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by: #Book Blitz #Unconditional: A Love Story by Shon #Contemporary Romance @Xpresso Book Tours30/6/2022
Unconditional: A Love Story
-- EXCERPT: prologue. “We need to talk.” Well, shit. That’s not good, Charli thought to herself as she continued pulling on her shorts. She couldn’t decide if it was worse to hear those four fateful words from a boyfriend or a fuck buddy. I guess I’m about to find out, was her wry thought as she finished zipping up the distressed jean shorts that barely covered her ass. With her eyes darting around the room to avoid eye contact with the man who claimed they needed to talk, she located one of her gold hoops on the rug. Following her avoidant eyes, the other occupant of the room bent to pick it up before she had the chance. “Thanks,” Charli spoke lowly as their fingers brushed during the exchange. The warmth of his fingers led to a sharp inhale that she couldn’t even hide. “Did you hear me?” the beautiful man in front of her wanted to know. “I said we need to talk,” he reiterated. Just in case. But she’d heard him loud and clear the first time. Sighing, Charli took a step back and shoved the earring into her pocket instead of trying to put it on right now. “I heard you,” she said, trying to veil the worry in her voice. What could Damian possibly want to talk about? And why couldn’t his timing be better? They’d just finished…making each other very happy. His scent still surrounded her and captivated her senses. But now, the knots in her stomach quickly pushed her to forget the pleasure she’d just experienced. “What do we need to talk about?” she finally asked meeting his green eyes. They were usually enchanting and full of lust when they were together, but now he looked…panicked? No, it couldn’t be. Not cool, calm Damian. Unless… Had he found a girlfriend? Was he about to end their arrangement and politely tell her to get on with her life? The thought wasn’t a pleasant one, but Charli couldn’t really blame him. As an Ivy League dropout and ex-socialite, she didn’t really feel like she had much to offer aside from a good time. She winced inwardly and vowed to deal with the origins of that problematic thought later. Much later. Not now when she was standing face to face with the man she’d been trading orgasms with all summer. Damian regarded her from his towering height of six-two and even though she was five-eight she felt miniscule under his unwavering gaze. “It’s about us,” he revealed, “I need to talk to you about what we’re doing.” Charli gulped but didn’t break eye contact. She could do this. She could have a civilized, adult conversation with someone she shared every inch of her body with on an almost daily basis at this point. “What about us? I like what we’re doing.” Charli pushed her hair away from her face. She hated the sensation of stray strands tickling her cheeks. Damian exhaled sharply and gave a faint nod. “Yea, I did too. Until recently.” Ouch. Charli straightened her shoulders and prepared for the next words, somehow knowing they would pack a devastating blow. But nothing could have prepared her for what he said next. 
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Unexpected
-- EXCERPT: Damn, Colin Brightman was cute when flustered. Walker wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing flirting with him. It wasn’t smart to screw around with people who worked for you, but there was a haunted look in the man’s eyes that those long, dark lashes couldn’t hide. He sensed Colin kept quite a bit about himself secret, and Walker had always been a sucker for a good mystery. “I’m surprised you noticed me,” Colin said, “since you seemed to be so into your dance partners.” As if realizing that his statement revealed his awareness of Walker, Colin fumbled a bit. “I mean, when I saw you on the dance floor, you were always surrounded.” Too late, Colin Brightman. So you’re not made of stone. Good to know. “Well, I saw you. Especially that last night. You were at a table, drinking something with an umbrella.” “Like I said, I don’t drink much.” He picked up his more than half-full drink as if to prove his point. “See?” “I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Stock up on my little umbrellas.” He winked, and a flush crept up Colin’s neck to his face. Aren’t you adorable? Are you pink all over?
GIVEAWAY! Hosted by: #Book Blitz #Revel in You (Determined 3) by Scarlett Se Leva #New Adult #Romance @Xpresso Book Tours30/6/2022
Revel In You
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: I see Craig and Tinea across the room, sitting close to each other, whispering and giggling with flirty smiles in their eyes. I admire their love, but at times I can’t stand being around them. Always touching, petting, and kissing each other. Like what the fuck. You’re just jealous. I’m anything but; I get to bang the girl on the cover of this month’s American Vogue. Upon my approach, Craig leans over and kisses Tinea. “You two are corny as hell,” I greet them, then place a kiss on Tinea’s cheeks before sitting. “Don’t be kissing my wife.” “She isn’t your wife yet,” I point out. “She could come to her senses and run away.” I laugh. “Wishful thinking, Mulligan.” Craig laughs. “When you put it down like I do, you never worry about your woman leaving.” He winks at Tinea. Is that a dig? Simone didn’t leave because I couldn’t fuck her brains out. She left because she’s a conceited bitch. She thinks only of herself. Only Simone has feelings, no one else. Men don’t feel. We do fucking feel, but we can’t show it the way women do cause were expected to be strong. Fucked up world standards. “You’re hilarious.” The waiter comes over and takes my drink order. “Let’s add mozzarella sticks, potato focaccia rolls, and bruschetta with spring vegetables,” Tinea orders. “Are you ready to order your main course?” The waiter asks. “We’re still looking,” Craig answers. “Okay, let me get your appetizers in. I’ll be back with your drink,” the waiter says to the table before walking away. “Have you started planning the wedding yet?” I ask Tinea as she sips on her drink through strawberry-red lips. She nods and puts her glass down. “That’s why we asked you here.” “What you want us to be a throuple?” I smirk. “Do you not enjoy the air you breathe?” Craig sneers. “So touchy.” I laugh. Tinea snickers, looking sideways as she brings her drink back to her lips. “The reason we wanted to meet up is, I would love for you to be my best man,” Craig says. “Of course, I’m honored you asked.” Craig and I bump fists then I stand to give him a man hug, patting him on the back. I sit back in the chair. “You’re sure you don’t want to ask one of your brothers?” Craig has three brothers he’s very close with. I don’t want them to be upset that one of them weren’t chosen. “No, dude, you’re my best friend. Besides if I choose one brother the other is going to be mad. It’s better this way.” “I have to get Lisa to help me plan your bachelor’s party,” I say, a smile dance on my lips. “If he’s going to have strippers I need to know, then I’ll make sure I have strippers at mine.” “Ryan, I don’t want any strippers.” Craig’s brows snap together. “What?” I give him a puzzled look. “Why not?” Tinea rolls her eyes. “Woman!” Craig growls. Tinea snickers behind her hand. I always thought Tinea would run all over Craig, but he’s tamed the lioness. We begin talking about the issues Craig is having at the investment firm he works at. He’s one of their top producers and is eyeing a promotion to become a fund manager. “If I get this position I’ll be making the big bucks.” Craig beams. He’s already making bank. He has a medium size portfolio over a hundred million. Craig graduated Summa Cum Laude, and I didn’t hesitate when I made the decision and gave him fifteen percent of my net worth to manage. The account has grown… Wait a fucking minute? It’s as if I suddenly have static in my clothes, and there’s a zap to my brain. “Who’s going to be the maid of honor?” “Simone,” Tinea says as she sheepishly looks away. I’m left speechless. My mind spins as if I just came off a fair ride. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I bark. I look between Craig and Tinea. Craig is my friend, or so I thought. Why the hell would he think this is a good decision is beyond me. Are they trying to play matchmaker? Simone and I have been down this road twice. I’ve accepted we aren’t meant to be. That’s not a road I’m willing to travel down again. Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me, this would be the third time and I’m not a fucking jackass.
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Lochlan
-- EXCERPT: Hunk alert!” screams a female, accompanied by the clanging of a large, obnoxious cowbell. She’s swaying dangerously on a stool next to the bar, holding the bell high above her head in one hand while egging her companions on with the other. She rings it again, the sound piercing the air like a scream. I can’t figure out where the damn bell came from, but the sound is splitting my skull. I’m in the doorway watching about thirty fit young women, some huddled in clusters, while others are standing on black leather couches and chairs, giving a cheering response to the bell ringer. Their raucous behavior is disturbing in this newly designed space of tarnished metal and aged wood. We use this place for private parties because it’s well away from the main MacTavish Cellars tasting room, which is packed to the rafters at the moment. I came back here to check on this group on my way to look over a shipment we received this morning in the barrel room. I realized something was wrong when I heard muffled shouting coming from the room. The cowbell clangs again and I resist the urge to rush in and yank that thing away from her before I sustain permanent damage. The cowbell-wielding blonde sings out, “What do we want, sisters?” while motioning to the crowd to respond to her maniacal question. The women chant, “Hunk, hunk, hunk,” demanding a mob’s satisfaction. Shaun, my server, is wild-eyed and backed against the front of the bar, two stools away from the blonde, fearing for the safety of his manhood. I will kill him for letting this hen party get out of hand. I do a quick search of these brash women. Where the hell is Preston? They both should be working this party, and Preston should be showing Shaun the ropes. Why did he leave a newbie alone with a room full of women? I slip behind the bar, unseen at the moment by the blonde, to restore order to this chaos. The chant is getting louder. Shaun’s pleading gaze swings to me. I grab a bottle and glasses and lean toward him. “Find Preston and tell him to get his arse back in here. Get Geordie and Calum in here as well,” I say, trying to prevent my voice from carrying. He bobs his head before bolting away from the bar and through the crowd of women, their chants following him as he disappears through the doors. I’m formulating how to deal with these female hooligans when I catch the attention of the bonny blonde with the cowbell. She’s staring down at me with a predatory grin, the tip of her tongue moving over plump red lips. The lass keeps her gaze on me while she stoops to place the bell on the bar, then casually jumps off the stool. She raises a hand toward the women, still staring at me, and the chanting fades to a dull murmur. Her obedient cult followers slowly remove themselves from the furniture. They’re talking among themselves but are keeping an eye on their leader. Blondie tosses her head back, sizing me up. “You look like the real deal.” Her voice is sexy smoke and honey, unexpected for someone who looks like a sun-kissed beach girl. She drags her gaze down the length of my body. I’m not happy being judged as a piece of meat, but working here, you accept the attention. When she finishes her long scrutiny, her attention settles on my face. That’s right, look me in the eyes, I telegraph back to her, I’m not intimidated by your antics. Her smirk says she’s enjoying her brash behavior. “A big strapping hottie like you and in a kilt to boot, but then again, all the men here are equally as hot and wearing kilts.” 
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Catching Quinn
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Quinn demands, pulling herself up to her full height. Maybe that shit works on her brother, but I spent the afternoon staring down guys three times her size. “Are you drunk?” “No.” I point to her half-empty cup. “But if you finish that drink, you will be.” Her brows furrow in confusion. “What’s wrong with my drink?” Is she for real? “Other than the fact that it’s got five kinds of liquor in it?” “Five? Really?” She lifts the cup up and stares at it like she’s seeing it for the first time. “Huh. Who’d have guessed?” “Why do you think it’s called Adiós, Motherfucker? It’s meant to get you shitfaced.” She giggles, probably at the name, and I scrub a hand over my face. “If you don’t know what’s in it, why are you drinking it?” She cocks a hip. “Mike bought it for me.” Of course he did. “The asshole was probably trying to get you drunk and take advantage of you.” “Maybe I was trying to get him drunk and take advantage of him,” she says, poking me in the chest. Heat radiates from the spot where her finger landed, which is ridiculous because it wasn’t even skin-to-skin contact. Probably just leftover energy from the game. She pokes me again. “Did you ever think of that?” “No.” It’s bullshit, but I’m not trying to picture Quinn seducing some random creeper at a bar. “It did, however, occur to me he might’ve slipped something in your drink.” Quinn rolls those big green eyes. “I’m a virgin, not a moron. I took the drink directly from the bartender.” Thank Christ. Relief surges through my veins. How the fuck does Noah deal with having his little sister on campus? On Greek Row? For the first time in my life, I’m glad to be an only child. If I saw some dude playing grab-ass with my sister, I’d break his fucking hands. Quinn’s not your sister, so what do you care? I don’t. Okay, fine. I care. But only because I’m not a trash human being. “I can’t believe you chased Mike off.” Quinn’s bottom lip juts out, forming a sexy little pout. “It was rude.” “Serves the fucker right.” I plant my hands on my hips. If she thinks she can guilt me over Doctor Octopus, she’s got another thing coming. “Thirty seconds ago, he was dry humping you like a dog in heat.” “Eww.” She squeals, doing that cute nose scrunching thing again. “Gross.” I flash her a wicked grin. “Tell me about it.” “Did you just—” She tilts her head and looks up at me from under her lashes. “Did you just call me gross? “Sweetheart, there’s nothing gross about you.” That’s half the problem. If she’s really going through with this whole losing her virginity to a stranger thing, she’ll have no trouble finding dudes to volunteer as tribute. “From the looks of it, I arrived just in time.” “If by just in time, you mean just in time to cockblock me again, then yes.” She lifts the blue drink to her lips and takes a hearty gulp. “You can move along now.” She makes a shooing motion with her other hand. “Go wreck some other virgin’s night.” “Are you sure I didn’t save your night?” I cross my arms over my chest, and damn if her attention doesn’t lock on my biceps. Not gonna lie, I’m flattered. I figured her type was more studious. “That guy probably doesn’t even know what a G-spot is, let alone how to find it.” Her gaze shifts to my face, a challenge burning in her eyes. “I suppose you think you could do better?”
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Etude
-- EXCERPT: The group edged back toward the exit, their footsteps quiet in the large cavern, when a deep pounding reverberated from within the walls. The sound was slow, heavy, and with each pound, the ground vibrated beneath them. Conroy motioned everyone to stop, his head cocked to the side. “What’s that?” Margaret whispered, her arm still linked through Cam’s. “Stay calm,” Conroy said. “Whatever it is, we’ll be gone before we see. Let’s go.” The group started to head out once more, feet shuffling quick, but the pounding continued. The pools of water on the ground rippled, the deep sound jarring November’s teeth. They continued to hurry through the dark cave when a large blast rocketed through the area. White light seared November’s eyes, and she blinked back, waiting for her vision to clear. The group paused again. The pounding continued from the walls, vibrating her bones, and everyone scrambled back in confusion. “Keep going!” Conroy yelled, but everyone seemed frozen. The walls began to shimmer as the pounding intensified. November placed her hands over her ears, clamping her teeth down together tight. The noise had taken over her brain, it was hard to focus on the present. Move your feet, November thought. Run. But she seemed to be as paralyzed as the rest of them. Very slowly, faces began to appear on the rocky walls. Eyes. Lips. Noses. Cheeks. The faces solidified, pushing outward from the rock, until their bodies also surfaced, pushing outward. They looked skeletal in the dim light, and the pounding continued on. November’s eyes were glued wide. None of the group moved. They couldn’t breathe. It was as if their lives were tied to these men—if such they were—who were peeling themselves from off the rock. 
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Rogue
-- EXCERPT: The low rumble of a pickup pulling into the house next door brought Baz out of the barn to investigate. He’d managed to convince Rory and Jaime to take a little vacation to Vegas, hit a couple of strip clubs and casinos he knew rogues liked to frequent, and see about adding some new recruits to their little band. They could consider their trip a working vacation. In the month they’d been away, he’d put his construction skills to work with his supernatural speed and stamina. With the exception of leveling the gravel on the floor of the barn, he’d finished his project in record time. Or perhaps in the nick of time if someone was looking to move in next door. He’d kept a close eye on Ian McCloud’s place, but until today, he hadn’t seen any activity there. Not a family member, not a realtor, not a curious someone looking to take advantage of an empty house. He made several forays over to McCloud’s in the dead of night, looking to see what it was about the man that had the goddess’s interest. As a fighter, Ian McCloud was unremarkable from other warriors Baz had met on the battlefield. He knew the man was a widower with a small child, and that wasn’t all that attention-grabbing either. So why had the goddess keyed on him? Nothing Baz found in or around McCloud’s house had given him a clue. The truck’s engine revved once before the driver shut it off. Simultaneously with the slamming of the truck’s door, the hair all over his body stood at attention, like a shock of static electricity zinged over him. Whoever was visiting McCloud’s house on this soft twilight evening was a member of the warrior community. Baz summoned his claymore to his hand and soundlessly made his way around the back of the neighboring property to investigate. Whoever was visiting knew the place well. A beauty of a three-quarter-ton crew-cab pickup with a gleaming forest green paint job was parked on the tarmac in front of the double door of the garage behind the house. Through the glass of the outer back door, he could see the heavy oak inner door was wide open. The visitor was someone who wasn’t worried about being caught inside. He debated cornering the warrior inside the house, but decided to wait from his place of concealment in the trees bordering the backyard. Though he’d been inside the house himself on more than one occasion, chances were whoever was there knew the place better than he did. Safer to wait and see who and what the person was and determine the level of threat. That the visitor was a threat he had no doubt. The hairs on his forearms and the back of his neck had remained standing ever since he’d heard the man cut the engine to his truck. The truck was a beauty. His eyes strayed to the back door, and he wondered how much time he had to check it out. Taking a chance, he sheathed his sword in its scabbard on his back and vaulted through time and space to land on the driver’s side. He ran his hand along the paint of the fender and appreciated the tread on the tires. Though the truck was immaculately clean, whoever owned it used it to work—or play. He squatted low and checked out the suspension, confirming his suspicions that the truck was someone’s toy. A quick glance inside the cab had him doing a double-take. He chuckled to himself. As close as the driver’s seat was pulled to the steering wheel, it was obvious the warrior who owned this rig was trying to make up for something he lacked. Baz adjusted his own package, and grinned. At six feet three with a wingspan to match, he could easily outmaneuver a warrior who had some distance to make up to reach six feet. A sound near the back door sobered him up quick. He scanned the area for cover, sighting no bushes or flower beds or other hiding places near the house. Before he could visualize himself back to his hiding place at the back of the yard, a woman stepped through the door and pushed a key into the lock. With a flick of her wrist, she tested the handle and nodded. And stilled. Time moved in slow motion as Baz catalogued the woman’s features. Long waves of chestnut-colored hair flowed over her shoulders to the middle of her back. Her orange T-shirt showed off toned shoulders and arms and a nipped-in waist where it was tucked into her jeans. Her jeans covered the sweetest ass he’d ever seen, rounded and perfect. Athletic. His hands itched to touch her. The dark navy wash of her jeans made her legs appear endless, and he wondered how they would feel wrapped around him. Before he could appreciate more of her, he caught the flash of a claymore as she summoned it to her hand the second before she faced him. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” He’d expected a scream. Instead, the woman’s soft alto washed over him, momentarily disarming him. That and the intensity of dark chocolate eyes in a perfect heart-shaped face. The last of the sun’s rays slanted off her sword, bringing him back to himself. This gorgeous woman was a warrior, a serious threat. “I could ask you the same question.”
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Thief
-- EXCERPT: My stomach dropped. Had I seriously lost my wallet? This was not good. I needed to go back to the store before they closed and see if I could find it. It was ten-thirty at night. The store closed at eleven. I needed to hurry. There might be a slim chance someone had found my wallet and turned it in to someone at the store. It was also possible I’d dropped it somewhere and it still lay where it had fallen. If I hurried, I might actually get lucky and find it before someone picked it up. The paparazzi should be long gone by now. Snatching up my purse, I tossed my phone inside and headed for the garage. I’d never lost my wallet before. I wouldn’t feel better until I had it back in my possession. Snagging a hoodie from the coat rack by the back door, I slipped it over my head. Moments later, I was in my Audi R8 and pulling out of the garage. I’d fallen in car lust the moment I’d seen the sleek and sexy convertible at the car dealership last year. Melanie called it a “dickmobile” and I loved the description with its intended pun. The sports car had cost me over a hundred and fifty grand. It was one of my few splurges. Mostly, I was careful with my money, investing over half of it for the future. I was smart enough to know I wouldn’t be on top forever. Everyone’s career had its ups and downs. Considering where I’d come from, I wasn’t about to be too confident. Today I might have it all, but tomorrow I might have squat. I took nothing for granted. Ten minutes later, I reached the store. 10:45 p.m. I still had fifteen minutes until closing. The parking lot was nearly empty now. Only a few cars remaining. A sleek black Escalade. A beat-up blue Honda. A nondescript gray sedan. Assuming the owner of the Escalade was wealthy, probably a celebrity and unlikely to care if he or she spotted another celebrity, I parked next to it. Plus, I felt safer parking near another expensive car. People with nice cars were less likely to ding your vehicle with their doors. Pulling the hoodie up over my head to hide my face and stuffing a pepper spray in the pocket for my safety—a girl could never be too cautious—I exited the car and hurried toward the south entrance where Gus had picked us up earlier. If I couldn’t find my wallet on the ground, then I would go inside and ask the store clerk if someone had turned it in. I’d only taken about eight or nine steps across the parking lot when I sensed a movement behind me. My skin prickling, I whirled around. A man dressed all in black slipped out of the back of the Escalade and rushed around to the driver’s side of my Audi, his face hidden beneath a black balaclava. My mouth dropped open. Are you kidding me? Frozen with shock and cursing my dumb luck and the decision to park near the SUV, I could only stare as my car bleeped, the lights flashing as it unlocked, and the man slipped behind the wheel. Of my car. How the hell did he unlock it? What I did next was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. But I wasn’t about to lose my precious Audi in addition to my wallet. Pulling the pepper spray from the pocket of my hoodie, I raced back to my car just as the engine fired up. Oh, no, you don’t, asshole! Yanking the passenger’s side door open, I leaped into the vehicle just as it started to move forward. The man jerked toward me in surprise. I aimed the pepper spray at his face. And pressed the trigger.
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