PROMO: Scarlet Revenge

Scarlet Revenge - PROMO Blitz

By Ann McGinnis

Date Published: January 21, 2014

Romantic Suspense

The FBI doesn’t know what to do with Analyst Caycee Scarlet. She’s brash, brilliant & brutally relentless when tracking a serial killer. But she also has a temper, problems with authority figures and recognizing the chain of command.

Things go sideways for Caycee when she uncovers a lead that saves the Omega Killer’s latest victim. Rather than working the system and making nice with her pompous boss, sparks fly and she gets into an altercation with the lead Special Agent on the case, resulting in a transfer to another assignment.

Caycee finds herself transferred to an FBI interrogation facility where she assesses the most dangerous of criminals in custody. She struggles to get over the loss of her dream job, but her new boss, handsome Special Agent Gil Graham, may soften the blow. Sparks, of a different variety, fly between the Special Agent and his new Analyst, as they work together to crack the most difficult cases.

Just when Caycee’s wounds are healing from her expulsion on the Omega Killer team, she is dragged back into the thick of it. Caycee and her new team are front and center, focused on an interview of a bombing suspect, when Omega comes looking for revenge. His attack wounds her team, leaving Caycee with only one option for help—the devastatingly handsome bombing suspect. It will take all of Caycee’s wits, and a kiss for luck, to stop Omega and save her co-worker.

EXCERPT

Chapter One

Our steps echoed down the stark hallway. Clean. Institutional. And utterly amazing. Caycee Scarlet was finally walking along the hallowed hallways of the FBI. It was a good day for me.

"Say nothing, Scarlet," Special Agent in Charge Tony Wilkes ordered. He threw me a look over his shoulder. "Even if someone asks you a question, keep your mouth shut." He laughed to himself. "No one will ask you a question.”

Wilkes had already made it clear that I was the newest member of the Omega Killer Task Force. As such, I should listen more than talk, act fast when given orders, and let the seasoned team members guide my every move. It seemed like the equivalent of an FBI-whipping boy. Or girl, in my case. I didn’t care. Everyone started at the bottom. I was ready to put in the time needed to earn their respect.

At least, I looked good in a form-fitting black suit. It was more than I could afford, but I figured I would live in the outfit. Besides, it sent a message. I valued my appearance, even if I had to dress like a man, I'd still look like a woman.

I'd had the suit cut to fit my curves, which were on the athletic side. My auburn hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail. It hung past my shoulders, showing off my best feature – my eyes. As a window into my soul, they were unflinching. I did admire my own intelligence, probably a character flaw, but hopefully that wouldn’t show in my eyes. The traits I wanted to show: no nonsense, quick witted, relentless.

"You get the crap jobs," Wilkes said, acting as if his honesty was attractive. A few hours in the gym and hair implants, maybe. Not that I didn’t find bald men attractive, just not this one. "I can't lie," he continued, "we'll be throwing you every crap job that this case delivers, but you're on a big case. That don't happen to many newbies."

I wasn't that new, but I guessed he didn’t count the eight months of testing and background checks. I did. Or my training at Quantico. It all counted to me.

The agency gave us two years to prove ourselves. After that, candidates either earned their spot or were let go. I couldn't imagine putting in all that time and failing.

I had a feeling success would require long hours and serious ass-kissing. I just needed to find someone with a cute ass. It sure wasn't Wilkes.

We passed three large rooms filled with personnel. One looked to be the size of a football field filled with cubicles. “You’ll be in here,” Wilkes waved, “but first I want you to see the Dugout.”

He led me to a large conference room, its walls filled with crime photos, running news feeds and a huge whiteboard for pertinent case data. “The Omega Killer is priority number one,” Wilkes said, opening the conference room door for me. “This is where the main players are at bat.”

I slowed at the door, sensing a real sports theme to the way he liked to operate. Perhaps one day, I’d be his most valuable player. It looked competitive, though. Wilkes’s team already consisted of veteran agents and analysts. They seemed a cohesive group, working in unison to stop a psychotic killer.

Wilkes quickly ran through Omega’s deadly stats, but he didn’t need to bother. I knew the case inside and out. Killers were my hobby.

I made the mistake of saying that to a date once. I never saw a man escape faster, admonishing me by exclaiming: “You’re sick, truly sick.” Hopefully, my academic interest in killers wouldn’t repel men in the FBI.

Not that I was here to find a man, but I was twenty-eight and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere in this organization was my perfect match. After all, I needed a man who liked to catch killers.

“Are you listening to me?” Wilkes sounded irritated.

“Yes, sir,” I answered. “The Omega Killer marks his victims’ forehead with the sign of the Omega. All indications are that it signals the moment he’s ready to make the fatal cut, into his victim’s left breast. Such a wound, based on other serial killers, suggests Omega has mommy issues, but I personally believe that it signals a desire to find love.”

Wilkes made a face at me. Clearly he did not care for my analysis. “That’s not what I was talking about. Geez, he wants to find love? Table that thought, quickly, and get back in the game.”

He raised his arms, showing off the Dugout. "Welcome to the nerve center of our investigation. We call this the show," he said, then clapped his hands together to get the room’s attention. "Everyone, this is Intelligence Analyst Caycee Scarlet."

The agents, analysts and techs turned from their work. Some at laptops along one side of a long mahogany conference table and others working on reports across from them. Several agents were standing, talking in a small group. They barely looked over at me, too busy for someone below them on the FBI food chain. The analysts nodded an acknowledgement. Matter-of-fact. No smiles. No words of welcome.

I gave a half-hearted nod to the room, hoping I'd make a better impression later. Probably much later, if I was reading the total lack of interest correctly. It must be the pressure of catching Omega. Tension hung in the room. With twelve victims to date, catching the killer had them all wound up.

Wilkes pointed to a side table stacked with boxes. The top one filled with old cell phones, victim personal effects and police reports. "We need them properly catalogued. You know, a searchable database. I’m told you were the most anal student in your class. Go at it."

His voice trailed off, but I didn't know if he'd stopped talking or I'd stopped listening. Maybe a little of both, because I read the whiteboard. One of the hand-scribbled numbers was written incorrectly.

Without thinking, I went over to the board and used the heel of my right hand to wipe off an area code. Everyone in the room stopped working and screamed at me.

"What have you done?" Wilkes shouted louder than anyone else.

I came out of my trance and blinked at him. Whatever I said next could make or break me, so I said nothing.

"Every piece of information is vital to solving the case," he scolded. He turned to the room. "Can we fix it? What was that number?"

Blank stares.

I quickly picked up a dry erase marker and wrote the numbers back on the board. It was only three digits.

Screams went up all around me again.

"What?" I asked. "That's the number I erased. But it's wrong. It's a phone number, right? Someone transposed the area code. 3-7-1 is not an area code, but 7-3-1 is New Jersey."

No one screamed at me that time, but their looks were deadly.

"Is that right?" Wilkes asked the room. His eyes darted from the whiteboard to the closest agent. He wanted confirmation before his head exploded.

"Shit," the agent said.

Wilkes grabbed his head.

The agent couldn't look at me. "She's right, sir.”

“Okay, we’re okay, fix it and double-check everything that goes on the board, people,” Wilkes barked.

The agent took the dry erase marker from me and fixed the numbers. Wilkes waved two fingers at a petite woman with raven hair twisted into a bun. “Take care of this.” He pointed at me.

FBI Analyst Nina Dunbar instantly responded. She rolled her eyes and grabbed a stack of boxes, indicating with her elbow that I was to take the rest. “Follow me,” she sighed. “Consider this your first and last favor.”

I shot a glance at Wilkes, but he already had his nose in a file folder, barking orders to the closest agent. He had no time for me. No one did. I exited the conference room, utterly deflated by my welcome to the FBI.

Ann McGinnis

Ann McGinnis started writing romantic suspense to combine two things— thrillers & foreplay! Connect with Ann and upcoming news about the Scarlet Suspense Series:

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PROMO: Earthwalker

Earthwalker - PROMO Blitz

By Kellie Wallace

Urban Fantasy

Date Published: 1/29/2014

Noah is an angel whose job relies on collecting human souls who aren’t ready to leave their vessels. To his brothers Michael and Gabriel, he is just another rookie, earning his arch angel wings. When Noah catches an earth bound demon in his form stealing a soul, he is sent back to Heaven to plead his case. But no one believes him. He is banished from heaven for a crime he didn’t commit, given one year on earth to find the demon responsible for his framing. If he fails to do so, he will be dragged to hell for eternity.

On his first day on earth he meets publishing assistant Fern Holliday who helps him get back on his feet. She is reluctant in getting close to him, but agrees to help Noah find the demon. By following the signs Michael sends him, Noah and Fern travel the world in search of the demon. They grow closer every day until Fern is struck down by a mystery illness. Noah is at loss at what to do as her condition worsens. Before the year is up and he returns to heaven empty handed the demon appears agreeing to be taken back, only if Noah takes Fern’s soul to Lucifer. Will he follow the strict rules of heaven or succumb to his heart? Meanwhile Lucifer’s army is growing stronger.

EXCERPT

Noah entered the hospital foyer and shivered, his wet woollen coat dripping water onto the laminate floor. Around him people moaned, writhing in pain or comforted loved ones. He always hated coming to hospitals, the trip often leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

A young nurse engrossed in her paperwork passed him unaware of his stained clothes, wet from the rain. He must have stunk, having spent most of the night shivering in an alleyway, gaining the courage to come inside the building. He gazed at the nurses behind the reception desk taking calls and admitting new patients. They wouldn’t notice if he snuck down the hall to Room 205.

He inadvertently lifted a hand to caress his left shoulder, branded with a handprint of an archangel. It stung tonight meaning his next soul was nearby. He remembered the night he’d gotten the brand, lying on his bathroom tiles dying of a heroin overdose in 1965. He didn’t see who’d grabbed him from near death but he did remember their grip on his shoulder, their fingers boiling his skin like plastic. His soul, ripped from his body, pulled through the ceiling and into the stars. He woke up days later, hovering over a dead body. He didn’t recognise them, or how they died but somehow he knew what to do. He rested his hand upon their shoulder and was temporarily impaired by a bright light. It was gone as quickly as it came, leaving behind a feeling of euphoria. Whatever he had done felt right. A baby’s cry snapped Noah back to reality, back to the dripping coat and the chill in his bones. The smell of the hospital nauseated him. He tapped his notepad against his chest and remembered the job he had to do. He wandered down the hall passing the dead or dying in their hospital beds. They were not his tonight.

When he approached Room 205, he fished in his pocket and withdrew his leather-bound notepad. Embossed in gold was the name of his next soul. Damien Jacobs. According to Noah’s Intel from Heaven, the man had terminal cancer, dead for at least an hour. But his soul was still affixed to the hospital, not ready to leave Earth.

Noah pressed a hand against the door and searched the halls. A nurse ducked into a room nearby, a patient hung by the cafeteria. No one paid him any attention, so he turned invisible, sucking energy from the objects around him. Reaping souls took stamina and energy, draining him quickly. He had a short window of time before he materialised again.

Noah stepped into the room and paused to listen to the sound of weeping. Damien lay dead in his bed, tubes still attached to his lifeless body. After all these years as an angel, he could never forget the colour of the human skin once a soul left the body. The fragile area around Damien’s eyes appeared transparent and elastic. His family sat around him, hunched over, each gripping onto a piece of his blanket, desperate to capture his soul before it left his body. Noah saw movement in the corner of his eye. Damien stood beside him in a white hospital robe, his face blank and deadpan. “Am I dead?”

Noah froze, knowing his answer could change Damien’s fragile frame of mind. When a soul is fresh from the body, there was no telling whether they would be agitated or bitter about their death. It all came down to the first interaction. An angel must treat them as though they were still alive, human.

He took a steady step towards Damien, his hand out stretched. “I am afraid it is true. But you must come with me now,” he said gently.

Kellie Wallace

Born in Sydney, Australia Kellie Wallace developed a love for the written word early in life, recalling her earliest memory when she was three years old. Her father used to read to her when she was a child, establishing a deep love and respect for books. Kellie wrote a bit in high school, most memorably her first fantasy book called Giblin the Conquer, an X Files fan fiction and a military fiction. She didn’t write another word until 2007.

After finishing high school, Kellie moved to the sunny Northern Beaches from the Central Coast and carved a successful career in the media/advertising industry writing for numerous Sydney based publications.

An aspiring novelist, Kellie fulfilled a dream in 2008 having her first book All She Ever Wanted published by Zeus Publications at the age of 22 years old.

In 2013, Kellie released her next catalogue of books Darkness before Dawn, Skylark. In her spare time she loves to write, game and draw. Her first crime fiction novel To lean of falling men will be out in 2014, along with EarthWalker and dystopian Edge of Tomorrow.

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PROMO: Storm Without End

Storm Without End – Promo Blitz

By R.J. Blain

Epic Fantasy

Date Published: November 10, 2013

Kalen’s throne is his saddle, his crown is the dirt on his brow, and his right to rule is sealed in the blood that stains his hand. Few know the truth about the one-armed Rift King, and he prefers it that way. When people get too close to him, they either betray him or die. The Rift he rules cares nothing for the weak. More often than not, even the strong fail to survive.

When he’s abducted, his disappearance threatens to destroy his home, his people, and start a hopeless and bloody war. There are many who desire his death, and few who hope for his survival. With peace in the Six Kingdoms quickly crumbling, it falls on him to try to stop the conflict swiftly taking the entire continent by storm.

But something even more terrifying than the machinations of men has returned to the lands: The skreed. They haven’t been seen for a thousand years, and even the true power of the Rift King might not be enough to save his people — and the world — from destruction.

EXCERPT

“Be welcomed to the Spire of the Eternal, Breton, Guardian of the King. What do you seek?”

“Knowledge and advice,” he admitted, unable to stop from frowning. “Is Crysallis here?”

“My sister walks the world. I may be young, but perhaps I can help?” Asaleese cocked her head to the side. Without looking away from him, she reached up and threw back the hood of her cloak to reveal her short-cropped, black hair. “Come, and be as one of us for as long as you can.”

Breton shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the pouch he’d taken from the corpses on the plains. “Do you know of the outsiders?”

“I did know of them. You will be pleased, I think, to learn that their voices do not pollute the song of our ancestors. One remains, but flees up the trails in fear of the one who follows. I feel for their horses, wretched though they might be. I do not think he will find them worthy.”

“He?”

Instead of replying, the witch gestured for him to follow. Stairs circled the entry niche’s walls to vanish through a hole far above.

Breton swallowed back a sigh and began to climb. “I haven’t seen Crysallis in quite a while.”

“She wanders far,” Asaleese replied.

“It seems like a rather contagious disease. I don’t suppose you have a cure for it, do you?” Breton asked in a dry tone.

“You’ve been keeping company with Maiten again, haven’t you?”

“Not for half a year or more. He’s in Mithrias.”

“He’ll be disappointed to learn of all of the excitement he has missed, then.” Asaleese guided him to the next level and sprawled on a stone bench covered with pillows. A thick carpet of furs covered the stone, and another bench lined the far wall. “Sit. Be comfortable. A drink? Perhaps I can tempt you with some Hessis for when we’ve finished talking about what has brought you up here.”

“I might be tempted,” Breton admitted, flashing the witch a smile. “It may be a while until we cross paths again.”

“Then allow me to give you a fitting farewell until we meet again. I, for one, will miss your skill in the spearing caves.” Asaleese sighed. “Do try not to get yourself killed chasing after that foal of yours.”

“And here I thought you’d miss me for other reasons,” Breton replied, feigning disappointment.

“We’ll discuss this at length — later. Surely that pouch isn’t all that brought you up the Eternal Spire?” The witch held out her hand. Breton dropped the pouch into her palm and sat on the floor beside her.

“It did, in part. What’s in it?”

“You haven’t opened it?”

Breton shook his head. “They had poisoned their weapons.”

“What do you think is within?”

“The Three Sisters,” Breton replied with a cringe. “I was hoping it wasn’t.”

“You’re wise not to open it then.” Asaleese slipped a finger under the string tying the pouch closed and opened it. Three sachets fell out into the palm of her other hand. “It seems your guess may have been correct.” Setting two of the smaller pouches aside, she opened the third and dipped her finger in. She lightly touched the white powder to the tip of her tongue. “Vellest. It seems it is as you feared.”

RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.

When she isn't playing pretend, she likes to think she's a cartographer and a sumi-e painter. In reality, she herds cats and a husband. She also has a tendency to play MMOs and other computer games.

In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Should that fail, her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until she is satisfied.

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PROMO: Killing Bliss

Killing Bliss - PROMO Blitz

By E C Sheedy

Date Published: June 2013

Romantic Suspense

One night. Two bullets. Three runaways.

Addy Michaels, living her careful life on a forgotten back road, thinks she's safe--that her past and its corpses are long buried. Surely after fifteen years the cops have quit looking for the street kids believed to have kidnapped a baby and killed their prostitute foster mother, Belle Bliss.

Addy couldn't be more wrong.

A cold case. Hot again, when the missing child's grandmother hires renowned profiler Cade Harding to find her grandson. Cade tracks Addy to her safe haven in a remote area of Washington state. Their attraction to each other is immediate, dangerous, and badly timed because...

Cade isn't alone.

A twisted killer, faceless and unknowable, follows in Cade's footsteps--on the hunt for anyone who can tell the truth about killing Bliss.

All roads lead to Addy.

EXCERPT

Cade looked at Stan and Susan, two aging lovers—and he'd decided they were definitely lovers. Susan's eyes were wide, expectant. Stan's were judgmental and pissed off.

Cade turned to Susan, genuinely puzzled. "Why now?" he asked. "After all these years, why ask me to investigate now?"

"Mainly because I didn't know, until your mother's funeral, that you could help. It was your wife who told me what you did, how successful you were. She was very proud of you, you know." She paused. "As for your mother? Whenever I asked about you, she said very little, other than you'd 'taken off and left her alone, just like your father."

Cade might have protested, except for the glint of understanding in Susan's eyes, an understanding that no doubt came from years of her lending his mother money. He didn't bother defending himself, say how he'd kept in touch with his mother until she died and sent a regular monthly check. His business.

"That it?" he asked, wanting to end the conversation.

"No. The big reason is Frank Bliss is being paroled after serving seven years for manslaughter."

Stan interjected. "Go back a bit, Susie."

She pursed her lips. "A few months after the murder, I met with Frank Bliss. I'd hoped to learn something the police hadn't—stupid, I know—but..." She took a few steps, then turned back to face him, her expression defiant. "Ever since, I've felt that boy knew more than he'd told."

"You 'felt'?" Even though Cade's career as a profiler centered on building a whole loaf from discarded chaff, he'd learned to distrust the I felt phrase—so often too close to its sister phrase, I wish, to be worthwhile.

"I figured you'd glom on to that word, but regardless, I'll stand by it. Frank Bliss was either lying or not telling everything he knew."

"If you consider his mother was brutally murdered—literally before his eyes—why would he lie? What do you think he'd gain from it?"

"I have no idea," she said. "But ever since the murder, Frank Bliss has been in jail more than he's been out. I suspect he lies for all kinds of reasons."

"And his brother?"

Stan answered. "Dead. Knifed in an alley after a fight in some club. About three years after the murder."

"Unlucky family," Cade said. "A good psychologist might say it was his mother's murder that turned Frank bad in the first place."

"He'd be wrong," Susan said, "because Frank didn't like his mother."

"He told you that?"

"He didn't have to. It was in his face, in his eyes. I think he was happy she was dead."

"Even if you're right, it doesn't prove—"

She stopped him with a raised hand, her eyes coal hard and direct. "If he didn't care about his mother, he certainly wouldn't care about a sixteen-month-old baby. Whatever his reasons, I think he lied." She waved her hand in a frustrated action, her voice rose. "Maybe he killed his mother, maybe the lies were to protect himself, or his kid brother—"

"That's a lot of maybes, Susan." Cade said quietly. "Besides, you said the police checked Brett's alibi."

"They could be wrong. It wouldn't be the first time."

The room went quiet, and Stan arched a brow and looked at Cade, his expression bordering on sympathetic. "Susie hasn't let this case go since she found out about Josh. She's not about to stop now," he said.

Maybe not, but Cade knew they'd stepped hip deep into the realm of conjecture and magical thinking on a murder that occurred fifteen years ago. "It's a waste of time. Mine and yours," Cade said. He hadn't left WSU to get mired in someone else's problem, someone else's grief—or to work a case with a serious case of freezer burn. He'd walked this walk before. Swampland in a fog. "I'm sorry," he said again, more firmly this time. "I can't help you."

Again the room fell to silence, broken finally by Susan's heavy sigh.

"I didn't want to do this," she said. "But you leave me no choice." She met his eyes, her gaze unwavering. "You do this for me, Cade, and I'll forget what your mother owed me, which over the years came to over sixty-five thousand dollars."

She might as well have hit him in the gut with a two-by-four. His breath swooshed out, then he shook his head, muttered, "Son-of-a-bitch."

"No," Susan stated in a clear, measured tone. "I'm the mother of a dead daughter who's missing her grandson. Sons-of-bitches don't even come close."

***

Addy picked up her paint gear, straightened, and let her gaze drift over Star lake. Ruffled by the wind, it was a blanket of rippling diamonds in the afternoon sun. She swiveled, her gaze feasting on the tiny property: the cabins, ten of them sporting new paint jobs and looking proud and pretty, the fresh gravel she'd laid in the driveway, and the new sign in amusing fifties-style lettering she'd had done for over the office door. All of it her work, her dream, her safety net.

She headed for the maintenance shed, but hadn't taken more than three steps before she heard a car turn off the highway and scrunch its way along her new gravel.

She looked over her shoulder to see a Cherokee—maybe three or four years old—pull up to the office steps. A man and a dog—probably the same age as the truck—got out. Knowing Toby would handle them, Addy continued on to the shed and stowed her supplies neatly on the shelves.

The man was coming out of the office as she approached. The big yellow dog, who'd been sitting outside the door, got up, wagging its tail and wiggling its rear end as if he'd been abandoned for a month rather than the few minutes it had taken for his owner to check in.

There were three steps up to the office door. From the bottom one, she said, "Friendly?" And nodded at the dog.

The man smiled and patted the dog's head. "A teddy bear, especially if there's food around."

"Does he have a name?" She ran a hand along the silky fur on his back. She really should get a dog... if she stayed.

"Redge." He shifted his gaze from the dog and met hers. "What about you?"

Her nerves jangled, and she tucked her hands in the pockets of her overalls. "Me?" she said, sounding confused and stupid and knowing she was neither.

"Name. Do you have one?"

She pulled her hands from her pockets, stuck one out straight as a lance, and said, "Addy Michaels. I'm the owner of Star Lake."

She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw him blink a couple of times, his eyes sharpen. He definitely hesitated before taking her hand, then smiled as if he was obliged to, kind of cool and polite. "Addy. I'm Cade Harding. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. I take it you'll be staying with us?" She dropped to one knee to pet the dog, and get out from under his eyes, which suddenly seemed a bit too intense.

"A couple of days at least." He hesitated. "Maybe more."

She got to her feet, risked looking up at him. He resembled Gus a little, or how she imagined Gus would look with a few years on him. Dark hair, dark eyes, a bit of stubble around the chin, body on the lean side. Gus's face would be harder though, colder, not so... bookish or calm. And Gus’s eyes were a strange amber brown, nothing at all like Cade Harding's, which were a green color that reminded Addy of cedar boughs. "You sound like a man without a destination."

He didn't smile this time, but he did tilt his head a bit. Her nerves skittered again when his gaze fixed on her. “As destinations go this will do just fine.”

About the Author:

EC Sheedy

EC Sheedy lives and writes on Vancouver Island in British Columbia. With the ocean a few steps from her door and Zuke, a 110 pound Rhodesian Ridgeback, sleeping on the sofa in her office, she considers herself one very lucky writer. But her real luck is being married to Tim, her first and final husband.

EC writes both contemporary romance and romantic suspense, the latter because sometimes a nasty and conniving villain pops into my head and she just has to get him out.

She dislikes cooking.

She dislikes nosy people.

She dislikes too many rainy days in a row.

She dislikes snakes.

And the only word she hates is hate—especially when used as a verb.

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PROMO: Angel to the Rescue

Angel to the Rescue - PROMO Blitz

By Petie McCarty

Contemporary Romance

Date Published: 12/11/2013

Child psychologist Rachel Kelly isn't quite sure how to handle the situation with her newest client -- a six-year-old boy who says he can talk to angels and one is coming to help Rachel. She already has her hands full of trouble this Christmas season, and things quickly take a turn for the worse when a stalker crashes Rachel's Christmas party and takes her young clients hostage.

Police negotiator, Lt. Jake Dillon, walked away from his fiancée Rachel when she suddenly balked at having kids. His kids. Yet when the hostage crisis erupts, Rachel calls Jake first. Now he has a choice to make -- stand back and wait for the cavalry to save Rachel or step in and try to save her himself. Time is running out, and Jake may be their only chance for rescue.

Unless Rachel's little angel-spying client is telling the truth…

EXCERPT

Jake whipped his BMW into the Azalea Center parking lot and switched off his headlights in one smooth motion. Clutch depressed and guided by the light from the few streetlamps, he coasted to a stop next to Wally's jeep though his emotions had tempted him to come screeching around the corner like the cavalry. Common sense and the need for stealth had won out. He couldn't risk driving the trespasser underground only to have him surface later when Jake had left.

Clicking off his interior lights, he pulled his Sig Sauer from the glove compartment, then climbed out and pushed his car door in until the latch quietly held. He waited several seconds to let his eyes and ears take in the entire scene. All the landscaping crowded around the Center provided a multitude of places for a trespasser to hide.

He touched the hood of Wally's jeep. Still warm, even in the cold night air. A brief stab of guilt hit him for leaving his team so abruptly in the Beef n' Brew. Couldn't be helped.

His gaze scanned the closest landscape beds for some sign of Wally. A stiff north breeze whipped across the parking area and stirred up leaves and debris. Barely visible through the treetops, the almost-full moon blazed bright.

He made his way past the large perimeter oaks to the interior sidewalk where he began a circle of the building, checking sections of garden as he paced. All the offices on the west side of the building were unoccupied, and all windows were dark, a few with vestiges of their interiors visible from adjacent emergency lighting.

Rachel's office faced the back of the property just around the corner. At this time of night, her office interior would be entirely visible with her lights on. Jake knew because he'd snuck over here enough times in the last few months to observe her office from the garden. He was pitiful and every few weeks, had needed a glimpse of her to get by. A wry smile twitched at the edges of his mouth. He could've been called in as a trespasser on any one of those nights should anyone have spotted him and cared enough to make the call.

Careful to remain off the sidewalk, he silently eased his way toward the back garden. If the trespasser was a stalker, then the perp probably knew the Center had no security guard and no security system -- a fact that had always bothered Jake.

He reached the back corner of the property and crossed the sidewalk to inspect the landscape areas adjacent to the building. Two quick steps and he shifted from one landscape bed to another. He crouched as he left the larger Camellias and moved through the shorter azaleas and Indian hawthorn.

Clearing the corner, his position was now even with the back of the building. He paused to reconnoiter and stared at the faint pool of light cast by an overhead office -- Rachel's office.

As his gaze rose to the second-floor office, his eyes searched for the all-too-familiar figure. Without thinking, he straightened to his full height, clearly visible to anyone glancing out the window. Yet no one searched for a figure in the garden. All eyes in the office were busy.

Rachel stood with Olivia and her children on one side of the conference room. On the other side of the room, a man in a worn red jacket and baseball cap faced them -- pointing a gun.

This was Jake's horrible nightmare.

About the Author

Petie McCarty

Petie earned a zoology degree from the University of Central Florida and enjoys her “day” job as an aquatic biologist at "The Most Magical Place on Earth." Petie is a member of Romance Writers of America, and she shares homes in Tennessee and Florida with her horticulturist husband, a spoiled-rotten English Springer spaniel, and a noisy Nanday conure named Sassy who made a cameo appearance in Angel to the Rescue.

Petie has three other books released with Desert Breeze Publishing: Everglades, Catch of the Day, and No Going Back, recently named a 2014 EPIC eBook Award Finalist for the category of Contemporary Romance.

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PROMO: Asking for Trouble

Asking For Trouble - PROMO Blitz

By Rosalind James

Contemporary Romance

Date Published: 2/1/2014

Sometimes you go looking for trouble. And sometimes, trouble finds you.

Alyssa Kincaid knows she needs to make some big changes. A move to San Francisco is the first step. Now it's time to get serious, and to get the rest of her life on track. If only her messy life would cooperate. And if only it had Joe Hartman in it.

Joe knows one thing for sure: Making a move on his best friend's little sister, the beloved youngest sibling in the closest thing to a family he's got, would be asking for trouble. Unfortunately, Alyssa always does seem to be asking for trouble. And it's getting harder and harder for Joe to resist answering.

EXCERPT

She hit the door, heard the chime behind her, and knew her new boyfriends were following right along. Until they realized that she was meeting the bike rider, because she could sense them slowing to a stop.

Joe barely looked at her, just reached for her arm and swung her behind him. She peered around from the shelter of his broad back, saw the three guys stopped halfway between the bulk of Joe and the liquor store entrance, looking like they weren't quite sure what to do next.

"You should take better care of your lady," Tall Guy said at last. "Not leave her all alone and lonely like that. She might get into trouble."

"I'm here now," Joe said.

The guy laughed, showing his bad teeth. "What? You looking for a fight? Three of us, man."

"I'm not looking for anything," Joe said, and she could see his hands flexing, could sense the readiness in him, like he was poised on his toes, even though he was standing solid. "But I'm happy to take anything that comes my way."

"Hey, man," the guy said with a shrug, taking a half-step back. "Just hanging out." He turned, would-be casual, and the three of them sauntered off, back to their pals, Alyssa presumed.

Joe stood still a moment, watching them go. Then he turned to Alyssa. "You OK?"

"Yeah," she said, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering with cold and tension. "Just freezing." She smiled, and could feel her teeth chattering. She'd really thought he was going to fight. Three guys.

He unzipped the heavy jacket and handed it to her. "Put this on." He watched her struggle with the zipper for a minute, her fingers too shaky for the task, then brushed her hands aside and zipped the jacket for her as if she were a child. Then he took off the helmet and gave her that, too. "I don't have another one with me. Wear this."

She hefted the weight of it. "Uh, Joe. I can't ride a motorcycle. Maybe you could just wait for a cab with me."

"You don't have to ride a motorcycle," he said. "I'll do the riding. You just have to hold on."

About the Author:

Rosalind James is the Kindle-bestselling author of the “Escape to New Zealand” series and the new U.S.-based “Kincaids” series. Rosalind is a publishing industry veteran and former marketing executive who attributes her success to the fact that “lots of people would like to escape to New Zealand! I know I did!”

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PROMO: One With the Wind

One With the Wind - PROMO Blitz

By Jane Livingston

Romantic Comedy / Erotic

Date Published: 9/2013

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What starts as a crush can become one’s love of a lifetime. It is the fantasy that transcends all others—the one perfect love.

Tomboy Josie Hynes has admired Nick Markovich from afar for years, but it isn’t until her senior year in high school do they finally meet. At first Josie is put off by Nick’s brutal honesty and his offbeat sense of humor, but it is their physical attraction she cannot deny. Nick and Josie stumble into a passionate love affair with a connection so strong, separation is unbearable. Throughout the years, Together become one—one with the good times and the bad, one with happiness and sadness, one with laughter and tears, one with sickness and health — one with the wind.

Jane Livingston

“One with the Wind” is the first erotic novel I have published. I have read several others, but the standout for me was Anais Nin’s “Little Birds.” Personally, i wanted to do something different; I wanted to explore one couple’s intimacy throughout the stages of their life and how they kept the fire going through good times and bad times. I fell deeply in love with both characters and don’t be surprised if you find more of them someday.

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This Blitz is brought to to you by Reading Addiction Book Tours

One With the Wind - PROMO Blitz

By Jane Livingston

Romantic Comedy / Erotic

Date Published: 9/2013

Add to Goodreads

What starts as a crush can become one’s love of a lifetime. It is the fantasy that transcends all others—the one perfect love.

Tomboy Josie Hynes has admired Nick Markovich from afar for years, but it isn’t until her senior year in high school do they finally meet. At first Josie is put off by Nick’s brutal honesty and his offbeat sense of humor, but it is their physical attraction she cannot deny. Nick and Josie stumble into a passionate love affair with a connection so strong, separation is unbearable. Throughout the years, Together become one—one with the good times and the bad, one with happiness and sadness, one with laughter and tears, one with sickness and health — one with the wind.

Jane Livingston

“One with the Wind” is the first erotic novel I have published. I have read several others, but the standout for me was Anais Nin’s “Little Birds.” Personally, i wanted to do something different; I wanted to explore one couple’s intimacy throughout the stages of their life and how they kept the fire going through good times and bad times. I fell deeply in love with both characters and don’t be surprised if you find more of them someday.

Author Links

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Youtube |

Buy Links

Amazon | Barnes and Noble

This Blitz is brought to to you by Reading Addiction Book Tours