Category Archives: Pre-order links

PRE-ORDER BLITZ ~ My Zombie Fiancé by Author T. Strange

 

PRE-ORDER BLITZ

 

My Zombie Fiancé

by T. Strange

 

 
 
 


Synopsis


Edward Grey is no stranger to the undead; since raising his cat as a zombie when he was a child, he and his mentor Mariel have explored and developed his power as a necromancer. Despite everything he’s learned, as a necromancer and a medical student, he’s never encountered a ghost.

While Mariel is unreachable in Haiti on mysterious business, a ghost wakes Edward in the middle of the night, claiming to be his grandfather. When the ghost offers to teach him about this different form of undeath, Edward has little choice but to trust the spirit.

After receiving a phone call from a young girl claiming her father is possessed, Edward and his Undead Canadian fiancé, Kit, must travel to an acreage in Kingston…Ontario.

The haunting proves far more complicated than Edward could ever have guessed, and he finds himself pitted against an ancient evil determined to engulf everyone on the farm.

Edward’s love and connection to Kit will be tested, and his necromancy stretched to his limits as he has to find—and destroy—a twisted spirit more powerful than anything he’s ever encountered.




T. Strange didn’t want to learn how to read, but literacy prevailed and she hasn’t stopped reading—or writing—since. She’s been published with Torquere Press since 2013, and she writes M/M romance in multiple genres, including paranormal and BDSM. T.’s other interests include cross stitching, gardening, watching terrible horror movies, playing video games, and finding injured pigeons to rescue. Originally from White Rock, BC, she lives on the Canadian prairies, where she shares her home with her wife, cats, guinea pigs and other creatures of all shapes and sizes. She’s very easy to bribe with free food and drinks—especially wine.

 

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RELEASE BLITZ ~ Vodka on the Rocks by Lani Lynn Vale

 

 

Title: Vodka on the Rocks
Series: Uncertain Saint’s MC #3
Author: Lani Lynn Vale

 

Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: July 6, 2016
 
 

There are rules to life that one just obeys in order in her attempt stay on the right path.
For example:
 

1. You don’t wear dirty panties out of the house. You just never know who’s going to see them.

2. A lady must always have chocolate at the ready—just in case the world as she knows it comes to an end.

3. You don’t egg on a drunk woman who’s pissed off at life.

Why, you ask? Because they start bar fights, that’s why.

Casten Red, the unofficial enforcer of The Uncertain Saints MC, wasn’t necessarily trying to urge her into doing anything illegal, and he definitely wasn’t trying to get her into a fight with a group of men who were all twice her size.

No, he only intended to give her the confidence to stand up for herself, just a little nudge in the right direction. How the hell was he supposed to know she’d go all Chuck Norris on them and put three of them in the hospital with concussions?

He should’ve followed his gut instinct and turned around that first moment he saw her in the bar, but Casten has never liked following the rules. Why the hell would he start now?
 



 

 

“5 who doesn’t love a beard stars! By far my absolute favorite book by Lani!”
~Alpha Book Club


“Lani’s stories are a breath of fresh air.”
~Ramblings From Beneath the Sheets

 


 

 

 


 


 

 

 


 

“You’re dilly dallying,” Casten growled.
I turned around, bag in one hand, and papers in the other, and glared.
“What makes you think that I don’t have a fuckin’ reason for doing what I do?” I growled.
He held up his hands.
“Down tiger,” he said soothingly, although his eyes flashed, telling a different story.
I shoved the rest of my things in my bag, bending them to hell and back, but I couldn’t seem to find the urge to care at that moment in time.
I walked past him, knocking his shoulder, and headed to the back hallway to turn off the last of the lights.
I hit the first two in the in the locker room before heading to the last one in the entire gym area at the bathroom entrance.
But before I could hit the lights, my hand was stilled by Casten’s.
“What’s your problem?” he asked.
I tried to rip my hand free from his grip, but he held on without even the least bit of effort.
“I’m pissed,” I growled.
“Why?” he countered.
I looked across the room at the mirror, and glared at his reflection.
“I don’t want to tell you why I’m pissed. Suffice it to say, you’re the reason, and that’s that,” I growled.
He tightened his hands on my wrists.
“That’s not it. Tell me fuckin’ why, or I’ll make you tell me,” he hissed.
My fists clenched.
“Because you fucking pouted last night instead of talking to me. Then made Core spend the night and take me to work, when I didn’t want him to be there. I wanted you to be there. But you were being a titty baby,” I yelled.
He moved me until my ass met the counter, crowding so close that I was sure he was either going to beat me or fuck me.
Hopefully the latter over the former, if I had a choice.
“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!” I exclaimed.
I waited.
Nothing.
“Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there!” I cried.
I waited.
Again, nothing.
“Shit,” I said, opening my eyes.
“Done?” Casten asked from where he’d trapped me against the bathroom counter.
“My clothes are getting wet. In fact, I think my pants are soaked all the way through,” I grumbled, leaning forward until my upper body was laying across the counter.
Casten sat up until all that was touching me were his hips, where his massive erection dug into my ass.
“You’re cute,” he said, reaching up and pulling my hair out of my ponytail.
I glared. “I’m not cute.”
He grabbed my face and turned it to face the mirror.
His hands were squeezing my face so I looked like I had ten chin rolls and lips three sizes too big.
“See,” he said. “Cute.”

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 
 
 
 

 


 


I’m a married mother of three. My kids are all under 5, so I can assure you that they are a handful. I’ve been with my paramedic husband now for ten years, and we’ve produced three offspring that are nothing like us. I live in the greatest state in the world, Texas.
 
 
 

 

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PRE-ORDER BLITZ ~ Hard Rules (A Dirty Money novel) by Lisa Renee Jones

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Hard Rules

Dirty Money #1
by Lisa Renee Jones

Publication Date: August 9, 2016
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

 

Hard Rules

How bad do you want it?

The only man within the Brandon Empire with a moral compass, Shane Brandon is ready to take his family’s business dealings legitimate. His reckless and ruthless brother, Derek, wants to keep Brandon Enterprises cemented in lies, deceit, and corruption. But the harder Shane fights to pull the company back into the light, the darker he has to become. Then he meets Emily Stevens, a woman who not only stirs a voracious sexual need in him, but becomes the only thing anchoring him between good and evil.

Emily is consumed by Shane, pushed sexually in ways she never dreamed of, falling deeper into the all-encompassing passion that is this man. She trusts him. He trusts her, but therein lies the danger. Emily has a secret, the very thing that brought her to him in the first place, and that secret could destroy them both.

 

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There’s no such thing as good money or bad money.
There’s just money.

— Lucky Luciano

 

CHAPTER ONE

Shane

I park the silver Bentley convertible, which my father gifted me last year for saving his ass, into my reserved spot in the garage of the downtown Denver high-rise building owned by our family conglomerate, Brandon Enterprises. It’s a car he and I both know was far more about his attempt to drag me to the dark side, and aligning me with his way of doing business, than the thank-you for keeping his ass out of jail. I’d have refused the damn thing if my mother hadn’t begged me to take it, insisting I’d bruise him when he’s already fragile and cancer-ridden. Like my father ever fucking bruises and he damn sure isn’t fragile. And if he knew I’d coddled him, he’d most likely spit in my face, and tell me I’m a disappointment.

Killing the engine, I exit the vehicle and stare at my older brother’s white 911 Porsche, also a gift from my father, ironically and most likely for getting us into the very mess I’d returned to Denver to clean up. Jaw clenched, I shove my keys into the pocket of the gray two-thousand-dollar suit I’d bought back in New York, a reward to myself for winning a high-profile case for one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. I wore it today to remind myself that I’m a few well-played cards from conquering the challenge I took when I returned home: Becoming the head of the family empire when my father retires and replacing all the dirty money running through six of the seven asset companies with good, clean, cash. Namely, the revenue produced by Brandon Pharmaceuticals, or BP, the newest asset I’d forced into acquisition only three months ago.

I head toward the elevators, when my cell phone buzzes with a text. Fishing it from my jacket pocket, I glance down to read a message from my secretary, Jessica: Seth just called. Needs to speak to you urgently. I told him you had a meeting at the BP division this morning and he hung up on me. Knowing Seth, he’ll show up at your meeting. Seth was the one person I brought to the company with me, and the only person other than Jessica who I trust now that I’m here.

I punch the call button for the elevator, and dial Seth. “I’m pulling into the BP parking lot now to see you,” he says by way of greeting.

“I just pulled into the garage downtown.”

“Son of a bitch. I’m pulling a U-turn at the security gates. I have something you need to see now, not later, and I can’t talk about it on the phone. Is your brother in the building?”

I glance at the Porsche. “His car’s here so I assume he is as well. What the hell has Derek done now?”

“Let’s just say I’m not sure it’s a good idea that he’s in close range when you find out. Let’s meet outside the office.”

“Fuck me,” I growl.

“No,” he amends. “More like fuck us all.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means,” I say, catching the elevator door that’s opened and already trying to close. “Meet me at the coffee shop.”

 “That still puts you in the same building as him. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Just hurry the hell up and get here,” I order testily, ending the call and stepping into the otherwise empty car where I punch the L button on the panel to my left. In the short trip to the lobby level, I manage to come up with at least five ways my brother could fuck over the plays I have in action, and I’m still counting.

Exiting into the gray marble corridor, I walk toward the huge oval foyer of the building and then to the right, where a coffee shop is nestled between a restaurant and a postal facility, both of which rent from Brandon Enterprises. I head to the counter when Karen, the owner of the coffee shop—a robust forty-something woman with red hair and a big attitude—appears, leaving me no escape from her habitual chitchat.

“Well, well, well,” she says, leaning on the counter. “Now I know what I’m missing on the morning shift and I do declare that seeing Shane Brandon himself, instead of his secretary, is a better ‘wake-me-up’ than any java shot I sell. But then, you Brandon boys came by those looks honestly. That father of yours is a looker.”

And therein lies the reason she irritates the shit out of my mother and I happily treat Jessica to afternoon coffee to have her bring me mine. Karen’s not only a chatterbox and a flirt, she has it bad for my father.

“All right now,” Karen says, grabbing a cup and pen, and preparing to write. “Large latte with a triple shot?”

“Just what the doctor ordered,” I confirm, though I have a feeling once Seth arrives I’ll be wishing for a bottle of whiskey.

“Will do, honey,” she says, giving me a wink before moving toward the espresso machine. “I’ll add it to your tab.”

I retreat to the end of the counter where the orders are delivered, resting my elbow on the ledge, retreating into my mind and chasing problems made worse by the division between Derek and I. He’s thirty-seven, five years my senior, and the rightful successor to our father. I’d happily stepped aside and started my own life, but damn it to hell, I know things now and I can’t walk away.

My order appears and I straighten, intending to claim my coffee and find a seat, when a pretty twenty-something brunette races forward in a puff of sweet, floral-scented perfume, and grabs it.

“Miss,” I begin, “that’s—”

She takes a sip and grimaces. “What is this?” She turns to the counter. “Excuse me,” she calls out. “My drink is wrong.”

“Because it’s not your drink,” Karen reprimands her, setting a new cup on the counter. “This is your drink.” She reaches for my cup and turns it around, pointing to the name scribbled on the side. “This one’s for Shane.” She glances at me. “I’ll be right back to fix this. I have another customer.”

I wave my acknowledgment and she hurries away, while my floral-scented coffee thief faces me, her porcelain cheeks flushed, her full, really damn distracting mouth, painted pink. “I’m so sorry,” she offers quickly. “I thought I was the only one without my coffee and I was in a hurry.” She starts to hand me my coffee and then quickly sets it on the counter. “You can’t have that. I drank out of it.”

“I saw that,” I say, picking it up. “You grimaced with disgust after trying it.”

Her eyes, a pale blue that matches the short-sleeved silk blouse, go wide. “Oh. I mean no. Or I did, but not because it’s a bad cup of coffee. It’s just very strong.”

“It’s a triple-shot latte.”

“A triple,” she says, looking quite serious. “Did you know that in some third-world countries they bottle that stuff and sell it as a way to grow hair on your chest.” She lowers her voice and whispers, “That’s not a good look for me.”

“Fortunately,” I say in the midst of a chuckle I would have claimed wasn’t possible five minutes ago, “I don’t share that dilemma.” I lift my cup and add, “Cheers,” before taking a drink, the heavy, rich flavor sliding over my tongue.

She pales, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, before repeating, “I drank from that cup.”

“I know,” I say, offering it back to her. “Try another drink.”

She takes the cup and sets it on the counter. “I can’t drink that. And you can’t either.” She points to the hole on top, now smudged pink. “My lipstick is all over it and I really hate to tell you this but it’s all over you too and . . .” She laughs, a soft, sexy sound, her hands settling on her slender, but curvy hips, accented by a fitted black skirt. “Sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, but it’s not a good shade for you.”

I laugh now too, officially and impossibly charmed by this woman in spite of being in the middle of what feels like World War III. “Seems you know how to make a lasting impression.”

“Thankfully it’s not lasting,” she says. “It’ll wipe right off. And thank you for being such a good sport. I really am sorry again for all of this.”

“Apologize by getting it off me.”

Confusion puckers her brow. “What?”

“You put it on me.” I grab a napkin from the counter and offer it to her. “You get it off.”

“I put it on the cup,” she says, clearly recovering her quick wit. “You put it on you.”

“I assure you, that had I put it on me, we both would have enjoyed it much more than we are now.” I glance at the napkin. “Are you going to help me?”

Her cheeks flush and she hugs herself, her sudden shyness an intriguing contrast to her confident banter. “I’ll let you know if you don’t get it all.”

My apparently lipstick-stained lips curve at her quick wit but I take the napkin and wipe my mouth, arching a questioning brow when I’m done. She points to the corner of my mouth. “A little more on the left.”

I hand her the napkin. “You do it.”

She inhales, as if for courage, but takes it. “Fine,” she says, stepping closer, that wicked sweet scent of hers teasing my nostrils. Wasting no time, she reaches for my mouth, her body swaying in my direction while my hand itches to settle at her waist. I want this woman and I’m not letting her get away.

“There,” she says, her arm lowering, and not about to let her escape, I capture her hand, holding it and the napkin between us.

Those gorgeous pale blue eyes of hers dart to mine, wide with surprise, the connection sparking an unmistakable charge between us, which I feel with an unexpected, but not unwelcome, jolt. “Thank you,” I say, softening the hard demand in my tone that long ago became natural.

“I owed you,” she says, her voice steady, but there’s a hint of panic in her eyes that isn’t what I expect from this clearly confident, smart woman.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Emily,” she replies, sounding just a hint breathless. I decide right then that I like her breathless but I’d like her a whole lot more if she were naked and breathless. “And you’re Shane.”

“That’s right,” I say, already thinking of all the ways I could make her say my name again. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’ve never been here before,” she counters and I have this sense that we are sparring, when we’re not. Or are we?

My cell phone rings and I silently curse the timing, some sixth sense telling me that the minute I let go of this woman, she’s gone, but I also have to think about whatever explosion Seth is trying to contain. “Don’t move,” I order, before releasing her to dig my phone from my pocket. I glance down at the caller ID to find my mother’s number, and just that fast, Emily darts around me.

I curse and turn, fully intending to pursue her, only to have Seth step in front of me. Considering the man equals my six feet two inches, and is broader than I am wide, he stops me in my tracks. I grimace and he arches a blond brow that matches the thick waves of hair on his head. “Looking for me?”

“You’ll do,” I say, reaching for my coffee and bypassing it to pick up Emily’s instead, or rather holding it captive for the return I doubt she’ll make.

“Good to see you too,” he says, the words dripping with his trademark sarcasm, which five years of knowing him has taught me to expect.

“Bring me good news for once,” I say, motioning us forward, leading the way through several display racks of chocolates and coffees, as well as a trio of empty tables, to claim a seat at a corner table facing the entryway.

Seth sits next to me rather than across from me, keeping an eye on the door, the ex-CIA agent in him ever present, his skills and loyalty paired with his no-nonsense attitude only a few of the reasons I recruited him from my firm in New York. He opens a large white envelope and pulls out a picture, setting it in front of me. “The private security company we contracted to do surveillance on your brother delivered this to me about an hour ago.”

I stare down at the image of my brother handing a large envelope to a man I’ve never seen before. I eye Seth. “Who is he?”

“He works for the FDA.”

Any remnant of pleasure I’d taken from the exchange with Emily disappears. “Obviously it’s related to the pharmaceutical division and I don’t even want to think about how many laws we broke in that exchange.”

“That’s why I wanted you to see it right away.”

“Do we know what was in the envelope? Do we know anything?”

“The FDA employee’s name and tenure. That’s about it, but I authorized the security team to follow him as of today.”

I glance at the picture, wrestling with anger that will get me nowhere but the hell to which my brother is trying to drag me. “This is the aftermath of last week’s stockholder meeting. I walked in there singing the praises of BP profit margins, with the promise that once the FDA approves our new asthma drug, it would allow us to let go of all the dirty money.”

“And all they heard was the chance to double their money,” Seth supplies. “Enter Derek, who promises to make it happen in a ploy to claim the table. You knew this could happen. We talked about it. Dishonest people don’t suddenly become honest.”

“No,” I say tightly. “They don’t. And I haven’t been operating with the same killer instincts as I did in the firm or this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Because you still haven’t let go of the firm.”

“It’s not the firm I haven’t let go of. It’s my brother. Because despite my denial, I knew staying meant my brother became my enemy.”

Seth leans closer. “Listen to me, Shane. I’m thirty-five years old. I did seven years in the CIA and five years of contract work all over the world before I happened to take a job that threw us together. I’ve seen monsters. I’ve seen criminals. I’ve seen your family and I say this not just as the person you hired to have your back, but the friend who would have it anyway.” He taps the image of my brother in the photo. “This man is your enemy. And I’m not going to let you forget it.”

“He’s also my brother, and this is my family, who I want to save.”

“You may not be able to.”

“I’m aware of that and if I don’t take this company as my life, the way I did my law career, I won’t succeed. And believe me, I’ve navigated enough family-driven litigation to know that blood divides as easily as it unites, especially when money and power are involved. I have to get ahead of this before we all end up bloody or in jail.”

“So we agree. This is war.”

“It’s always been war.”

 



About the Author

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT series, which is now in development for a television show to be produced by Suzanne Todd of Team Todd (Alice in Wonderland). Suzanne Todd on the INSIDE OUT series: Lisa has created a beautiful, complicated, and sensual world that is filled with intrigue and suspense. Sara’s character is strong, flawed, complex, and sexy – a modern girl we all can identify with. I’m thrilled to develop a television show that will tell Sara’s whole story – her life, her work, her friends, and her sexuality.

In addition to the success of Lisa’s INSIDE OUT series, she has published many successful titles. The TALL, DARK AND DEADLY series and THE SECRET LIFE OF AMY BENSEN series, both spent several months on a combination of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. Lisa is presently working on a dark, edgy new series, Dirty Money, for St. Martin’s Press.

Prior to publishing Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by the Dallas Women’s Magazine. In 1998 Lisa was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.

 

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COMING SOON – A CHAPTER FOR CHARITY ~ The Baby Clause by Melanie Moreland

*~*~* A CHAPTER FOR CHARITY *~*~*

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YOU ASKED. HERE IT IS:

A CONTINUATION OF KATY AND RICHARD’S STORY

So many readers wanted to know what was next for Katy and Richard. Melanie Moreland wrote this small continuation of their story for her newsletter, with the intention of eBook sites to offer free download. After hitting some Amazon roadblocks and head scratching head as to how to let more people see it, an idea formed.
She didn’t write this to make money, but to say thank you. So the best idea—pay it forward.

Melanie has partnered with the Keith Milano Memorial Fund, and all profits will go to this amazing charity which benefits Mental Health awareness, and suicide prevention. The add-on is releasing 7/3/16 and is available for pre-purchase. This story available for a limited time for 99 cents.

If you have read The Contract, and want a little more —get your copy now and support a great cause!

 

 


Fund Information:

The Keith Milano Memorial Fund was established to help raise awareness about the devastating and deadly disease that is mental illness. Keith’s spirit and laughter is kept alive through our efforts to increase awareness about mental illness and to raise money for education and imperative research. Keith often struggled with society’s perception of mental illness. Our hope is that by having the strength to say that Keith was “Bipolar” we can strip away the stigma and help others to be more open about their disease.

Keith’s fund is a self-directed memorial fund. Funds raised are spent on programs and research programs selected by the Milano / Sprung family
 
Keith Milano Memorial Fund
140 Adams Ave Suite B-12

Hauppauge NY 11788

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The Keith Milano Memorial Fund benefits the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP) http://www.afsp.org/

AFSP is the only national not-for-profit organization exclusively dedicated to understanding and preventing suicide through research and education, and to reaching out to people with mood disorders and those affected by suicide.

AFSP is a fully accredited 501(c)(3) tax-exempt organization incorporated in the state of Delaware with primary offices in New York City. Federal tax ID # is 13-3393329.

AFSP’s Combined Federal Campaign (CFC) number is 10545. Donations to AFSP are tax deductible.

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#chapterforcharity #isupportmentalhealthawareness #KMMF #AFSP


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EXCERPT REVEAL – Stealing Home by Nicole Williams

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Coming July 10th

 

Pre-order exclusively on iBooks HERE

 

Add to your Goodreads shelf now.

 

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Being the only woman working for a professional baseball team isn’t easy. As the San Diego Shock’s newest athletic trainer, Allie knows all about long hours, endless travel, and warding off players’ advances. Given she’s already the subject of a handful of rumors about how “lucky” she was to have earned such a coveted position, she can’t so much as flutter an eyelash a player’s way if she wants to be taken seriously.


But number eleven is doing more than fluttering eyelashes Allie’s way. Far more. Luke Archer is at the top of his game and doesn’t let the fear of striking out keep him from swinging. This is a motto he applies both on and off the field, but Allie appears immune, seeming to view Luke as nothing more than caution tape on legs.


He’s a player, and in Allie’s experience, they’re all the same. She won’t risk her job or her heart to another one, no matter how different this one claims to be. But as Allie gets to know him, she discovers the number eleven the public thinks they know is very different from the real Luke Archer. He seems too good to be true.


And maybe he is.


Allie will have to confront the stories attached to a player of Luke Archer’s stature and decide who she’ll put her faith in—The man she’s falling for? Or the rumors?

 


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CHAPTER ONE

 

 

Working for a professional baseball team was going to be the end of my love life. The past two years confirmed that theory, as had the last text I’d received from my latest ex-boyfriend.

           Half of the year on the road added to another half of the year working grueling hours that rivaled a doctor’s first year of residency equaled a whole lot of no free time to fill with a social agenda. Since being hired on by the San Diego Shock this season and the San Francisco Kings the year before that, the longest relationship I’d maintained spanned eight weeks.

           This last one had barely cleared the four-week mark.

My lifestyle was costly, but it was worth it. Baseball was in my blood, and sports medicine was in my heart.

           I’d grown up in a small Midwest town where people still got together for potlucks and everyone from the town hermit to the mayor attended a funeral. Where the only place you were expected to be after church on a Sunday was stretched out on the bleachers around the baseball field. It didn’t matter if it was a T-ball game or the high school championships—the bleachers were always packed.

Baseball was a religion where I grew up—it was stitched into the fibers of my life—so it was no surprise when I ended up with a baseball player. No, the surprise came after I’d followed him to college and found him in bed with someone else.

           It had taken the wind right out of me, along with my tendency to trust first and doubt after. Ben had been sleeping around for a while by the time I found out—friends had known and said nothing—and that was the day I made a promise to myself to never let another guy hurt me as he had, to never be made a fool of like that.

After changing schools mid-year, I started studying sports medicine and never looked back. Or at least not often. I only looked back when I found myself feeling something similar to what I’d felt for Ben. The relationship never lasted long after that.

           As evidenced by my newest failed relationship.

           “Whose ass do I need to kick, Doc?”

           Dropping my phone into my lap, I looked across the aisle to see who was sliding into the row across from me.

Luke Archer.

Known to fans as the best hitter on the Shock, if not in all of pro baseball. Known to women for his good looks and up-to-no-good smile. Known to Cosmo magazine as being voted the Finest Ass in professional baseball. And known by the athletic training staff as a well-rounded pain in our asses.

           Not because he thought he knew better or was yet another prima donna—which the sport had no shortage of—but because he held to the old-school code of taking care of an injury by “walking it off.” If that didn’t work, then we could usually convince him to pop one or two pain relievers after the game, and sometimes, if he was feeling especially accommodating, he’d accept a bag of ice.

           Luke Archer was the real man of steel, and no one to date had managed to convince him he was also made of those injury-prone materials known as flesh and blood.

           “Doc?” Archer’s voice broke through my haze of thoughts. “Just give me his name and I’ll take care of it.”

The rest of the team and staff were shuffling down the aisle between us to find their seats on the team jet, but his stare aimed my way felt unyielding.

           “What makes you think anyone’s ass deserves a kicking?” I asked.

I returned a high-five as Reynolds passed by. He’d twisted his ankle in the game earlier today, and I’d been the first on the field to get him taken care of. I’d been the last one out of the locker room to finish getting him taken care of too. As a noob, I had to work twice as hard. As a woman, I had to work ten times as hard.

           “I have three younger sisters. I have more experience than most with guys deserving ass kickings.”

           The last of the guys wandered by us. Without the break of their bodies coming between us, Archer’s stare became too intense. His eyes seemed capable of pinning me to the back of the seat.

           The head athletic trainer, Dax Shepherd, attended to the “money” players—the ones like Archer, who brought fans to the stadium and were a large part of the Shock’s impressive win-to-loss ratio. Up until this very moment, I didn’t know Luke Archer was aware of my existence on this team or the planet.

           “You really have three younger sisters?” I asked.

Unlike most of the female populace, I didn’t know every last fact about Luke Archer. The news about his parents had made headlines a few years back, and that was all I knew about his personal life.

           “I really do. And I talk to or text all of them every day.”

           “Plus you kick asses for them.”

           Archer’s hazel eyes lightened. “Plus that.” He twisted in his seat so he was almost facing me, his eyes dropping to the phone in my lap. “So? No one messes with my sisters. And no one messes with my team.”

           My forehead creased. “I’m not one of your teammates.”

           “You’re a part of my team. Just because you don’t play the field or swing a bat doesn’t mean you’re not. You keep us healthy and strong out there.” When I cocked an eyebrow, he added, “And when we get injured, you make sure we get fixed up quickly so we can get back to doing what we love. You’re every bit as vital to this team as . . .” He glanced up and down the aisle like he was looking for someone to fill in the blank with.

           “As Luke Archer?” I completed for him.

           His answer to that was a lifting of his eyes. “I’m one man who can swing one bat.”

           “One bat really, really hard. And very, very exactly,” I interjected.

           He continued, “You make sure twenty-five men can keep swinging their own bats.”

           “Well, there’s me, the two other athletic trainers, the physical therapist, the personal trainers, and the actual doctor who help out with that too. I can’t take all of the credit.”

           “Come on. You work twice as hard as any of them, so you should at least take most of the credit.” When his phone started chiming in his slacks’ pocket, he pulled it out, turned it off, and hid it back in his pocket.

           “And since the closest Shepherd and Coach Beckett have let me get to you is handing out a water bottle, how would you know that?”

           He pointed at his eyes. “I’ve got two of these and use them for observation on occasion.”

           “When they’re not searching for your next conquest?” I gave an internal groan the moment after I’d voiced something that should have stayed unsaid.

           My relationships with the players had always been professional and rarely, if ever, delved into the realm of personal information. If it didn’t have to do with preventing or tending to injuries, I didn’t bring it up.

           Until now. When I’d just suggested that Luke Archer had a reputation in every city the Shock had visited, every hotel they’d stayed in. Perfect way for my first real conversation with the star player of the team, and the whole of professional baseball, to go.

           Archer stayed quiet, studying me with that tipped smile he was famous for.

           “You know my opinion on rumors?” he said a minute later.

           I was capable of nothing more than shaking my head.

           “That they’re started by haters. Spread by fools. And accepted by idiots.”

           My head tipped. “Are you calling me an idiot?”

           His eyes flashed. “Are you calling me a manwhore?”

           I studied him lounging in his seat with his legs kicked out in front of him, his wide chest stretching beneath his suit jacket, his long arms resting on the armrests.. His body was enough to weaken the resolve of someone as jaded to player players as I was, but his face didn’t play second-string.

           Brown hair lightened by the sun, smooth skin darkened by it, a strong jaw, and hazel eyes that trended more toward the green end of the spectrum; Luke Archer was quite possibly the most attractive man I’d ever laid eyes on. According to Sports Anonymous’s random poll of five thousand women, he was the best-looking guy in professional sports today. The other few billion women on the planet would have agreed with that title, I assumed.

           “Do you always take so long to answer a question?” Archer motioned at me, waiting.

           “No,” I said, recalling the last question he’d asked me. Snap out of it. “I don’t think that you’re a  . . . manwhore,” I whispered the last part.

I’d had enough experience with the rumor mill to be a sympathetic party to the target of so many. Being one of the first and only female athletic trainers in professional sports had opened me up to a hundred rumors when I’d been hired. All versions of them had to do with me fucking my way into the position.

           “Good.” Archer nodded, seeming satisfied. “Because you certainly don’t seem like an idiot.”

           “Thanks?”

           He nodded again. “Welcome.”

           That was when the pilot’s voice echoed through the team jet, running through his usual spiel. We were leaving Tampa and heading up to Chicago. Now that the season was in full swing, I lost track of the cities we were leaving and the ones we were heading toward. All of my attention was focused on the players and getting them through the season as injury-free as possible.

           “I’m still waiting for that name, Doc.” Archer clicked his seat belt into place when one of the attendants stopped beside him, looking ready to strap it into place for him.

           When she saw mine unfastened, all I got was a lifted brow and a pointed finger before she moved on to the next aisle.

           “Oh, it’s okay. He’s not worth it.” I lifted my phone toward him before dropping it in the duffel bag I kept on hand at all times. Bandages, tape, painkillers, and a small cooler of ice packs were always at the ready whenever I was with the team. “Any guy who breaks up with someone via text message isn’t worth much.”

           “Really? Over text?” Archer’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the reason the ass-kicking was invented. For those types of guys.”

           I shrugged as the plane started to taxi down the runway, the interior lights dimming. “We haven’t even been together a month. Truthfully, it lasted longer than I thought it would. This kind of lifestyle”—I twirled my finger around the airplane—“makes it difficult to sustain a long-term relationship.”

           “That’s why I’m not a fan of them.”

           “Long-term relationships?”

           Any kind of relationship,” he said.

           I nodded my understanding. The players had it worse than the team staff. At least in terms of having to question if a person was into them for who they were or because of their job, and the fame and money that came with it.

           “I’m either practicing for a game, playing a game, recovering from a game, or fueling up and resting for a game. There’s not time for much else,” he said.

           Leaning into my armrest, I realized how strange it was to be having such an easy conversation with Luke Archer. It felt natural, not forced. Most of the players would take a moment to chat with me about something game-related, but I was still the new kid on the block. I felt like I had to pass some test before they’d accept me as a member of the team.

           Archer didn’t seem to be of the same mind though.

           “Yeah, I know. It’s like you need to find someone who can just travel with you wherever you go, right?” I said, thinking how much easier it would to be in a relationship with someone I got to see on a daily basis without two computer screens.

           “Exactly. Someone who understands the lifestyle. Appreciates the sacrifices you have to make.”

My head fell back into the headrest from the inertia of takeoff, but I could still feel Archer’s eyes on me. “Someone who understands that the job comes first. Someone who doesn’t get insecure or jealous or bent out of shape that they get the few precious minutes in between the job.”

           When my head turned toward him again, I found Luke Archer staring at me with a kind of intensity I hadn’t seen aimed my way in a long time. My breath caught, and even though the strength of his stare threatened to overwhelm me, I held his gaze.

           “Someone who understands the game. The commitment. The time. The sacrifice. Someone who’s as committed to it as you are.” One corner of his mouth twitched, carving a dimple into his cheek. “It’s not like you could ever expect to find a person like that sitting in the row across the aisle from you, right?”

 

 


AP new -about the author.jpg

Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.

 

Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.

 

Website   Facebook  Twitter  Blog  Instagram

 


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EXCERPT REVEAL/PRE-ORDER BLITZ ~ Chaos Bound by Sarah Castille

CHAOS BOUND EXCERPT REVEAL


Excerpt

Holt spotted Naiya at a table with Ally as soon as he entered the bar.

Ever watchful, Tank stood beside Naiya, his hand in his cut, his eyes darting from side to side as he searched for danger.

“Darlin’.” Holt leaned over to kiss her and she pulled away. He supposed he deserved that, but right now he wasn’t in a mood to play games. His brothers had taken Michael out back to await Holt’s justice and after Holt had let loose his anger, he wanted nothing more than to hold his woman in his arms. Preferably, naked and in his bed. But first he’d have to gain her forgiveness.

Naiya glared, her eyes dropping to his blood-smeared hand. “Is that Maurice’s blood? Ally said you beat him up.”

He pushed her hair back behind her ear, trailing his fingers down her neck. God, she was beautiful. Sexy. Fiery. And his. What the hell had he been thinking walking away and leaving her unprotected? “Nah. That’s Michael’s blood. I had to teach him a lesson. He made the mistake of messing with a Sinner’s woman in a Sinner bar in the Sinners’ town.”

Naiya stared at him aghast. “You beat him up, too?”

“Anyone who hurts you. Anyone who touches you. Anyone who makes you scared. Anyone who makes you cry. I’ll rip out their hearts, break their bones, and drown in their fucking blood to keep you safe.”

“That’s kind of romantic in a terrifying, morbid, ruthless, outlaw-biker kinda way,” Ally said. “Doug just says ‘love ya, babe’ or ‘keep safe.’”

“It’s only romantic if the guy is actually around to do it,” Naiya said, slapping Holt’s hand away. “But if he drops you off at a hotel in a strange town and leaves you to fend for yourself while he drives off to get himself killed, it loses its effect.”

“You looked after yourself pretty good.” Holt pulled his chair closer, rested his hand on her knee. “Smart move coming here when you saw Michael sniffing around.”

Naiya pushed at his hand, but he held her fast, stroking his thumb along the inside of her thigh.

“What was I supposed to do?” Her voice rose in pitch. “Go to the police? I may have been living a civilian life, but I spent six years with the Black Jacks. I know the kind of power the clubs have. I know how things work. And I know I’ll be happy when I leave town and get away from all things MC.”

“You also know you gotta listen to your man. And your man wants you to stay with the Sinners until I’ve dealt with Viper.” Holt tilted her head back with one finger under her chin, then leaned in and kissed her, his free hand ready to grab her wrist if she tried to slap him.

Which she did, because his Naiya had a spine of steel.

“Who says you’re my man?”

“I do.” He met her gaze, watched her eyes darken to brown.

“It sure didn’t feel like you were my man when you left.” She pulled away, and Holt gritted his teeth. Didn’t she understand that he had come back for her? That for now he had put aside his quest for revenge to keep her safe?

“When I put you in the position of having to pull that weapon, I realized I’d brought you back into a world you don’t want to be in. I didn’t want to waste any time getting you out.” He traced the bow of her mouth, pleased when her lips parted at his touch. She couldn’t be that angry. After all, she was still here, and she had come to the brothers to ask them to warn him.

“I can take myself out.” She drew his hand away. “I’ve got interviews set up in different states . . .” Her voice trailed off when Holt frowned. How could he protect her if she left? Viper would send men to chase her wherever he went. Sweat trickled down his back. This reunion wasn’t going exactly as expected.

“You don’t leave,” he blurted out. “You don’t go.”

She studied him for a long moment, and then she stroked a light finger over his jaw, her voice soft, as if they were alone and not in the bar with the Sinners watching them and Tank and Ally sitting at their table. Like she’d forgiven him for leaving her. “You’re lucky I understand your bossy, evil biker ways.”

Yes! Forgiven. Holt heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m gonna take you back to the clubhouse and show you just how evil I can be.” He covered her hand with his, and pressed his lips to her fingertips. Her sharp intake of breath made him instantly hard. And suddenly it all didn’t matter. Viper. Michael. His status in the club. All he wanted was this woman who took away the pain and the darkness; who made him feel whole again.

 


LOVE IS A WILD RIDE

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Chaos Bound releases June 28th.

CHAOS BOUND PREORDER

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Blurb

After enduring months of torture at the hands of the Black Jacks MC, and betrayed by his own club, Holt “T-Rex” Savage, a junior member of the Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, will stop at nothing to get revenge. But falling for a beautiful woman with dangerous ties to his sworn enemy was never part of the plan…

Raised by the Black Jacks, Naiya Kelly grew up fast, furiously, and with little to lose. But now that she’s put her MC days behind her, she is free to do what she wants—until she meets a man who imprisons her, body and soul. She swore she’d never give her heart to a biker, but Holt is the most passionate, protective man she’s ever known. But will Holt be forced to betray his one true love to exact his revenge?

Chaos Bound is the fourth book in a full-length, standalone series by New York Times bestselling author, Sarah Castille, featuring red-hot, hard-riding bikers and the women who can’t help but love them

CHAOS BOUND TEASER

 


The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club Series

Reading Order

Rough Justice
(Book One)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1JShtlC

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Q7GYPA

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1PJiwJi

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1IWH0uJ

iBooks: http://apple.co/1LDEmYN


Beyond the Cut
(Book Two)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1PJi4uH

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Q7GSHt

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1LAC0cz

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1BmsC76

iBooks: http://apple.co/1Szs34y


Sinner’s Steel
(Book Three)

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1h8YO9T

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1Vquk0u

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1MF4YtE

Kobo: http://bit.ly/1O6MKob

iBooks: http://apple.co/1Ljfwl3


About the Author:sarah castille

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Sarah Castille worked and travelled abroad before trading her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home near the Canadian Rockies. She writes contemporary erotic romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha heroes and the women who tame them. Her books include the bestselling “Redemption” fighter romance series, and the dark, gritty Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club romance series.

Stalk Sarah Here: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | Pinterest | TSU | Newsletter


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COVER REVEAL – Archangel’s Heart by Nalini Singh

Archangel’s Heart is the 9th book in the

Guild Hunter series

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Archangel’s Heart releases November 1st!

Now Available for Pre-order HERE:

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Blurb

One of the most vicious archangels in the world has disappeared. No one knows if Lijuan is dead or has chosen to Sleep the long sleep of an immortal. But with her lands falling into chaos under a rising tide of vampiric bloodlust, a mysterious and ancient order of angels known as the Luminata calls the entire Cadre together to discuss the fate of her territory.

Accompanying her archangelic lover Raphael to the Luminata compound, guild hunter-turned-angel Elena senses that all is not as it seems. Secrets echo from within the stone walls of the compound, and the deeper Elena goes, the uglier the darkness. But neither Raphael nor Elena is ready for the brutal truths hidden within—truths that will change everything Elena thinks she knows about who she is…

Nothing will ever be the same again.


 Author Informationnalini Singh

Nalini Singh is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Psy-Changeling, Guild Hunter, and Rock Kiss series. She lives and works in beautiful New Zealand, and is passionate about writing.

If you’d like to explore her other books, you can find lots of excerpts and free short stories on her website. Slave to Sensation is the first book in the Psy-Changeling series, while Angels’ Blood is the first book in the Guild Hunter series. The Rock Kiss books are all stand alone and can be read in any order.

 

STALK HER:  Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads


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COVER REVEAL ~ Inarticulate by Eden Summers

 
Could you handle his silence?
 
The next novel from bestselling author, Eden Summers, is set to catch your breath. Inarticulate is a contemporary, standalone romance novel and a read you won’t want to miss.
 
Add to Goodreads
 
Synopsis
 
He’s silent––but his touch speaks louder than words.
 
At first sight, Savannah is drawn to the harsh appeal of a man who refuses to talk to her. Keenan’s hard stare is
arrogant and unapologetic. The quirk of his sensuous lips is cocky and in control.
 
But there’s more. There’s something deeper he’s trying to hide behind those steely grey eyes––a slight hint of
vulnerability which captures her intrigue.
 
She’d been warned, told that his silence hides a myriad of lies capable of affecting her career and relationships with
loved ones. Only she can’t help herself. Testing Keenan’s defenses is an addiction she can’t deny.
 
Falling in lust is easy. Learning his secrets comes with a price. The cost? Her broken heart.



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Inarticulate is currently available to pre-order exclusively with iBook at a sale price of $2.99.
 

iBook Exclusive Pre-Order

 


 Don’t use iBooks? Don’t worry, you can sign up to Eden’s newsletter to be informed when Inarticulate will be available at other vendors. You’ll also receive a FREE copy of the first book in her bestselling Reckless Beat series – Blind Attraction, for subscribing.
 
 
 
If you’re not a blogger and would love to get your hands on Inarticulate early, the newsletter is also the perfect opportunity. Eden will be allowing a select number of her subscribers the opportunity to read Keenan and Savannah’s story before release in exchange for an honest review.



 
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Would you like to sign up for other Inarticulate Promotions?
About the Author
 
Eden Summers is a true blue Aussie, living in regional New South Wales with her two energetic young boys and a quick witted husband.

In late 2010, Eden’s romance obsession could no longer be sated by reading
alone, so she decided to give voice to the sexy men and sassy women in her mind. 

Eden can’t resist alpha dominance, dark features and sarcasm in her fictional heroes and loves a strong heroine who knows when to bite her tongue but also serves retribution with a feminine smile on her face. 
 
Stalk Eden
 
 

 

TEASER TUESDAY ~ No Pants Required by Kim Karr

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BLOG HOP ~ Rescuing Emily (Delta Force Heroes Book 2) by Susan Stoker

Rescuing Emily
(Delta Force Heroes Book 2)
by Susan Stoker

Date of Publication: July 19, 2016

 

Rescuing Emily (Delta Force Heroes #2)

Renting out the apartment over his garage shouldn’t be a life-changing decision, but when Delta soldier Cormac “Fletch” Fletcher meets Emily Grant, he feels an instant connection. He can’t stand the thought of Emily and her young daughter living anywhere unsafe. Offering cheap rent is a small price to pay for their safety…and Fletch’s peace of mind.

Being a single mother is difficult at best, but renting the extremely affordable space from Fletch makes Emily’s life a lot easier…until it doesn’t. Suddenly all the money she’s saving thanks to Fletch’s generosity is going into the hands of a blackmailer. And what little food Emily can afford goes to her daughter Annie, so the girl doesn’t go to bed hungry…leaving Emily weaker and weaker.

When miscommunication has Emily assuming Fletch is in on the blackmail, he not only has to gain her trust, but also deal with a man holding a grudge against Fletch and his entire Delta Force team. A task made more difficult when the dangerous man gets his hands on Emily and Annie…


** Rescuing Emily is the 2nd book in the Delta Force Heroes Series. It can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s recommended you read the books in order to get maximum enjoyment out of the series.


Rescuing Emily (Delta Force Heroes #2)

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Susan Stoker

No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover Design by Chris Mackey, AURA Design Group
Cover Photographer: Darren Birks
Cover Model: Chris Connolly

Edited by Kelli Collins & Missy Borucki

Manufactured in the United States


 

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

 

Dedication

To the real Mrs. Ogliaruso, you were the best second grade teacher Gilbert Linkous Elementary School in Blacksburg, VA, ever had. You had a huge impact on my life, and I will always be thankful for that.

For Shannel. The best day in Oliver’s life was when you signed up to be his foster mom. From foster to adoption, you’re my hero.

Danee, thank you for telling me the story about your bedtime ritual of reading. It was perfect for this story!

 

Prologue

Slamming his apartment door behind him and shaking the entire wall, swearing loud and long, he threw his hat across the room, not satisfied at all when it fluttered to the ground a few feet away. He paced, knowing he’d never forget the humiliation he’d felt while standing in front of the colonel, seeing the disgust in the officer’s eyes.

His squad had been excited to be picked to go through the special training, sure they’d be able to get through the makeshift city undetected. They were infantry soldiers; they’d trained for hours—no, years—in order to be stealthy in urban situations. The thirty days they’d spent at the National Training Center out at Fort Irwin in California had taught them everything they needed to know.

But somehow their entire plan had fallen apart within five minutes of the whistle being blown. Instead of being able to sneak through the city and get to the rendezvous point unscathed, every single one of his squad had been “killed,” hit with a laser from specially designed nonlethal weapons, before they’d made it even halfway through the training scenario.

Remembering how nonchalantly the other unit had been after “killing” them all had felt like salt poured into an open wound. They’d acted as if they hadn’t just ruined his career, his reputation. Sure, the colonel had said it was just an exercise. Had said that his squad had done well, but he’d been lying.

They hadn’t done well.

And it sure as hell wasn’t just an exercise.

He’d seen the colonel laughing with another officer about how fast they’d been “killed.” And the team that had beat them were acting as if what had happened wasn’t a big deal. They’d patted each other on the back and given each other high-fives. To add insult to injury, their team didn’t even have one casualty. Not one. They’d taken out his entire squad as if it was child’s play.

He went into the small bathroom in his apartment and stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment. His entire life he hadn’t been good enough.

Because you’re pathetic.

He shook his head at the voice in his head. He wasn’t. It was them. They were pathetic. And it was up to him to show the colonel that he was just as good as the other team.

Nodding as if he’d made a momentous decision, he started planning in his head. He and his friends had a lot of work to do, but by the time they were done, the other unit would regret their casual treatment of him and his squad on the simulated battlefield and he’d redeem himself with the general in charge of the post.

Knowing your enemy was the first rule in battle, and he vowed to himself then and there that he’d find a weakness in the other group of soldiers and exploit it to his advantage. The asshole soldiers wouldn’t know what hit them. By the time he was done with them, they’d regret their cocky attitude and their brush-off of his squad. He might have been beaten today, but the battle wasn’t over.

He would take them down. No matter who he had to use to do it.

 

Chapter One

Cormac “Fletch” Fletcher looked at the monitor sitting on the kitchen counter at the woman standing at his front door. His security cameras caught every inch of his property, starting from just outside the garage to around the back of the yard. He could tell who was driving up his driveway and who was at his door without leaving his house. Hell, he could even log into the app and check the tapes when he was thousands of miles away on a mission. All he needed was a Wi-Fi connection.

The woman at his door was probably five-nine, taller than the women he was typically attracted to. It was hard to guess her age because she looked tired. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Fletch couldn’t tell what color her eyes were as she kept them downcast, never looking up at the door to be captured by the camera hidden in the ornate door knocker he’d placed there.

He’d received several messages about the rental apartment over his garage, and Fletch had a few interviews lined up with people who had inquired about it. The apartment really wasn’t anything special. It had a single bathroom with a shower/bath combo, one bedroom, and a small kitchen. There were a couple pieces of furniture in the apartment: a double bed, a refrigerator, and an old couch and coffee table. It wasn’t fancy by any stretch of the imagination, but it was clean, and safer than anyone probably knew, considering who he was and what he did for a living.

He didn’t have a lot of enemies, but there were always people who were jealous of him being in Delta Force. It wasn’t widely known, in fact, not many people knew at all, but there was some suspicion that he and his team were more than simple soldiers. They were damn good at what they did and didn’t seem to have any trouble attracting the ladies. The combination had spelled trouble for some of the other Deltas in the past, even without anyone knowing about their Special Forces background. Renting the apartment would mean there would be someone on his property to keep an eye on it when he was away on a mission.

Fletch wiped his hands dry after rinsing the last dish in his sink, and turned off the security monitor. Not advertising the fact that he had such intensive security was key in catching anyone dumb enough to try to rob or vandalize his property. He walked to the door and opened it wide. The woman standing there looked up with a gasp and took a step backwards after seeing him.

Fletch knew he could be scary. He was six feet two inches tall and muscular. He’d spent much of his life making sure he was in shape and that no one would mistake him for anything other than what he was…dangerous.

He had tattoos on his forearms and biceps. They were bright and somewhat gaudy. He looked like a stereotypical sailor. Some of the tattoos he’d gotten when he was young and dumb. He probably wouldn’t have chosen them if he had to make the decision again, but what was done was done. Fletch knew when people who didn’t know him caught a glimpse of him, they were weary. He was big and knew how to use that to his advantage to intimidate people. But the woman on his doorstep wasn’t someone he wanted to scare away. He pasted a smile on his face as he greeted her.

“Hi, you’re Emily Grant? Here about renting the apartment?” Fletch asked, trying to put the woman at ease.

Emily looked up at the man standing in the doorway. If she hadn’t been so desperate, she probably would’ve turned around and gotten right back into her 1998 Honda Civic and driven away. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected out of the man who’d invited her to come check out the apartment, but it wasn’t someone who, while only a few inches taller, could easily bench press her.

His tattoos were also a surprise. She’d seen lots of tattoos on the soldiers on the base, but they were usually more subdued. Black tribal designs or something similar. Instead, the very masculine man had what looked like cartoon characters on his forearms. He was wearing a plaid shirt, open at the throat—enough for her to realize he didn’t have a carpet of fur on his chest—and with the sleeves rolled back to his elbows. She didn’t get an in-depth look at the tattoos, knowing it would be rude to stare, but they still surprised her. Somehow, however, they worked for him.

Putting thoughts of his tattoos and whether he had any others aside, Emily brought her gaze up to the man’s. She needed this apartment. It was one of the only places she could find that was close enough to her work and the school, and was within her small budget.

She took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m Emily. I appreciate you meeting with me today.” She bravely held out her hand in greeting.

Fletch smiled at the woman. He could see right through her bravado and knew she was scared to death of him. But he gave her points for not backing farther away and for reaching out to shake his hand.

He took her hand in his, careful not to squeeze it too hard. “Nice to meet you. Come on in, we can talk about the particulars, then I’ll show you the apartment.”

Emily nodded and gripped her purse hanging off her shoulder tightly as she followed him into his house. Fletch saw her looking around as if trying to figure out more about him. He knew what image the house projected: not a bachelor. It was neat as a pin, with not one item out of place…exactly how he liked it.

They walked into a small dining room off of a kitchen that could’ve been featured in any cooking magazine. Fletch pulled a chair out from the dark mahogany table and helped her scoot in once she sat.

“Would you like something to drink? Water? Iced tea?”

“No, thank you,” Emily told him, knowing she’d be stupid to take something to drink from a man she didn’t know. It would be easy to drug a glass of tea or water. Especially when she was inside his house. He could render her unconscious before she realized what was happening. She normally wasn’t a paranoid person, but lately, when she couldn’t sleep, she’d been watching too many forensics and crime shows.

Fletch could practically see the woman’s brain churning. She sat uncomfortably in the chair at his table. Her purse was in her lap and she was holding it as if she thought he’d reach across the table and snatch it from her. He wasn’t offended, far from it, he was impressed she was being as cautious as she was. He made sure to sit across from her, keeping the table between them to give her space.

“Do I know you?” Fletch thought the woman looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her.

She shrugged. “I work at the PX. You might have seen me there.”

Fletch nodded. Now that she mentioned it, he did remember seeing her there a time or two.  “That must be it. My name is Cormac Fletcher, but everyone calls me Fletch. I own the house and live here by myself. I work on base and am called away on trips somewhat frequently. I’m discreet and won’t get in your business, and I expect anyone who rents from me to do the same. I’m past the point in my life where I need or want late-night parties. I like to live quietly and I’d like for anyone who lives on my property to be the same.” He paused, gauging her reaction to his words. Emily sat still, giving him her complete attention.

When she didn’t immediately protest or even show any emotion other than curiosity, he continued, relieved. “The apartment isn’t fancy, I’ve had two people look at it recently and wrinkle their noses and decide it wasn’t for them. Rent includes all utilities. It’s too much of a pain in the ass for me to separate out how much electricity you use versus what I use. All I ask is that you don’t get a wild hair to grow marijuana or something that would make the bills spike every month.”

“No marijuana, check,” Emily mumbled under her breath as she nodded.

Fletch wanted to smile, but he controlled it and went on with his rehearsed speech. “You can use one side of the garage for your car, but any boxes of other stuff you want to store will have to be either in the apartment or you’ll have to rent a storage unit. There’s simply no room in there for more. I usually park next to the side of my house, so don’t worry about taking the empty spot inside the garage for your own vehicle.

“When I’m gone, I’d appreciate it if you could get my mail and look after the place, but if that’s outside anything you want to do, it’s not a deal breaker for renting. Rent’s due in the first week of the month, whichever day works best for you. Any questions?”

Emily tried not to fidget under Fletch’s direct gaze. His eyes were ice blue, and had her pinned in place. His hair was longer than she thought anyone in the Army was allowed to have, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. He was good looking, but even though she was attracted to him, Emily wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship at the moment. She had enough on her plate. Knowing there was one thing he had to understand before she could accept the apartment with any good conscience, she cleared her throat.

“You should know, I have a kid. Her dad’s not in the picture. She’s six and in the first grade. I didn’t know if that would be a deal breaker for you or not. I didn’t see anything in the ad that said whether or not kids were allowed or not.”

“Does she scream all day?”

“Uh…no.”

“Steal? Draw all over the walls? Destroy property?”

“No!” Emily sat up straighter, getting irritated. “She’s six. She’s not a thug. She doesn’t hang out on the street corner with her homies every night. She plays with her toys. She reads books and watches cartoons.”

“Then I don’t think we’ll have a problem,” Fletch said with a smile, amused at how easy it was to rile the woman sitting in front of him.

Emily chewed on her lip, as if contemplating her next words. Fletch saw the moment she worked up the nerve to tell him what was bothering her.

“She can be very inquisitive though. She asks questions…lots of questions. Some people have gotten annoyed with her in the past.”

“Annoyed?” Fletch asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, annoyed. The thing is, Annie’s smart. Really smart. I try to keep her busy and find things to help stimulate her, but she has an unrelenting need to learn. Some of my neighbors in the past have gotten irritated with her asking them questions all the time. But she doesn’t do it to be annoying, she just likes to figure stuff out.”

“Of course she does. She’s a kid. I have no problem with questions, Emily.”

“Okay, but—”

“Is she gonna break into my house and come up to my room in the middle of the night and interrogate me about how the garage door opener works?”

Emily giggled. “Maybe not in the middle of the night, but I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that sooner or later she’s gonna want to know. And, as far as I know, no one has taught her how to pick a lock…yet.”

“Good to know,” Fletch said with a grin.

“I just…some people don’t like kids and I don’t want to live anywhere again where she’s made to feel like a freak.”

“Again?” Fletch asked in a low pissed-off voice. “You lived somewhere where someone made her feel like a freak? A six-year-old kid?”

“She was four, and yes.” Emily’s answer was succinct and she didn’t offer any other details.

“I haven’t been around kids all that much, but anyone who sees the thirst for knowledge as anything but a good thing, is an asshole, and you’re better off not being around them, and having your daughter around them.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Emily said softly.

Fletch tried to relax his shoulders. It pissed him off that someone would be cruel to a kid. Growing up, he’d also been smarter than his classmates, and he’d experienced some of what Emily was describing himself. Probably not to the extent of her daughter though, if Emily’s protectiveness was anything to go by. “Want to see the apartment?”

“Yeah, but…uh…can I ask how much the security deposit will be? There’s no use in me seeing it if I can’t afford it.”

Fletch tilted his head as he looked at Emily. Really examined her. He hadn’t taken the time before because he wasn’t sure if he’d be renting to her or not. But he liked what he’d heard so far.

She was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. She had an old pair of sneakers on her feet. She looked casual, but Fletch could see something he hadn’t seen in any of the other people he’d interviewed so far—desperation. He saw it all the time at work at the missions they went on. People frequently put on a front all the time, but he could see that this woman needed this apartment. He didn’t know her story, but recognized that for whatever reason, renting the little space above his garage was vitally important to her.

Fletch was also impressed with her candidness about her daughter. He’d interviewed someone just that morning who he knew had been hiding something from him. Given time, he would’ve figured out exactly what, but he didn’t feel like going through the hassle. He didn’t get good vibes from the man, and it wasn’t worth the effort to find out something that would make him want to turn the man down when his intuition was telling him to do so from the get-go.

But Emily laid it out there, making sure he knew not only that she had a young child, but that she was gifted, and that others had found her annoying in the past.

He made a quick decision and cut a couple hundred dollars off of what he’d planned to rent the apartment for; he didn’t need the money anyway. He’d prefer to have someone reliable and responsible living on his property to keep an eye on it when he wasn’t around.

“I haven’t had good luck in renting it so far,” Fletch told her in a nonchalant tone, “so if you’re willing to help out with the house when I’m away, I’ll rent it to you for five hundred a month with only half that for the security deposit.”

Emily gaped at the man. Five hundred dollars? And only two-fifty for a deposit? Was he kidding? “Is that a joke?” She couldn’t stop her incredulous question.

Fletch smiled at the disbelief on Emily’s face. He didn’t blame her; he knew he could probably get double that if he pushed. But it was obvious she needed a break. “No joke. You interested in seeing it? Don’t agree until you check it out. It’s only got one bedroom, so you’d have to share with your daughter. It’s nothing special, you might hate it.”

“I won’t hate it,” Emily whispered, still in shock at her luck. She’d taken the day off work, knowing that even though the missed hours would hurt her budget, she needed to find a better place to live for her and Annie. The landlord at the seedy apartment complex they were currently staying at had gotten more aggressive in his pursuit of her, and Emily knew it wasn’t because he was interested in her—but because of Annie.

Her daughter was beautiful. Yes, she was only six, but she was tall for her age and slender. She had long, beautiful blonde hair that she’d inherited from her father. She had blue eyes and never met a stranger. Annie was friendly and bubbly and Emily knew the landlord, damn him, had a sick interest in her daughter.

Money was always an issue. Ever since Annie’s father had left while Emily had still been pregnant, she’d fought to provide Annie with a safe and happy life. She worked at Fort Hood in the PX, the Post Exchange. It was the general store on base. She wasn’t able to work full time, because she didn’t have the money to pay for child care for Annie. She’d relied on neighbors to look after her daughter before she’d started kindergarten full time, but now that Annie was in the first grade, and in class all day, Emily could work a full six hours every day. She dropped Annie off at the elementary school at seven-thirty, and was able to get to work by eight. She worked until two, without a lunch break, then picked Annie up around two-thirty.

Emily had no health insurance and no retirement plan, but Annie was loved and happy. It was worth it. But to be offered a reliable, secure, and quiet place to live for only five hundred dollars a month? It was as if Emily had hit the lottery.

Even before seeing the ad in the paper for this apartment, she’d planned on leaving the scummy place she lived in before the month was up, even if she had to live in her car. She’d done that when she’d been pregnant, and had sworn to herself that Annie would never know that kind of life. But Emily had been losing hope of finding anything appropriate.

The cheapest apartment she’d been able to find had been eight hundred a month, and it looked scarier than where she was now. Since the building was close to the Army base, Emily had thought she’d feel safe living with other soldiers, as the landlord had told her most of the other occupants were single men and women who worked at Fort Hood, but unfortunately, that hadn’t been the case.

Annie’s father had taught her in more ways than one that just because someone was a soldier, it didn’t mean they were a good person. While she’d thought they were starting their lives together, he’d apparently just been in it to get laid. Somehow he’d arranged to get transferred to another base not too long after she’d happily told him she was pregnant with his baby, and informed her that he didn’t want her following him.

Emily knew she could probably go to the Army and do a paternity test and force him to pay child support, but she didn’t want that for Annie, or herself. Years of relying on someone else to send her money made her stomach churn.

She and Annie had been okay so far, and Emily knew she’d continue to do whatever it took to keep her daughter safe and happy…without help.

Nodding at Emily, Fletch stood up. “All right, let’s go and check it out, then if you like it, we can come back here and do the paperwork, okay?”

“Okay.”

Ten short minutes later they were back at the dining room table in Fletch’s house. Emily had immediately said the small space was perfect, even though it was obvious Fletch told her there were all sorts of things he should probably do to upgrade it.

“I’ll need to make a copy of your ID,” Fletch told Emily, being as nonchalant as he could. He didn’t really need it for her to sign the lease, but there was no way he’d let anyone live on his property, no matter how fragile and lovely she seemed, without doing a background check. It wasn’t completely legal, but his friend, Tex, was discrete and could have it done within an hour.

Tex was a medically retired SEAL living out in Pennsylvania. He used to live in Virginia, but had moved his entire operation after meeting a beautiful woman named Melody on the Internet. Tex was the eyes and ears behind the scenes for their Delta Force team, and several other Special Forces groups. The man was pure genius with a computer and could find information that someone would swear was locked up tighter than the money at Fort Knox. No one ever questioned how he was able to pull off some of the things he did, they were just grateful he was on their side.

Fletch watched as Emily bent her head and pulled her wallet out of her purse. She handed her license over to him, saying, “If you laugh at my first name, I’ll have to hurt you.”

Emily watched as Fletch looked down at the small plastic card she’d handed him and he tried to hold back his smile. His lips twitched, but he looked up and said with a mostly straight face, “Miracle?”

Emily sighed, obviously used to telling the story about her given name. “Yeah. My parents were older. They’d always wanted kids and when I was born, they called me their little miracle.”

“But you go by Emily?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“Miracle is a pretty name.”

Emily made a face. “Maybe, but memories of being made fun of throughout my elementary and middle school years made it not so pretty after a while.”

“Kids are cruel.”

“Yup.”

“Your parents still around?”

Emily didn’t really want to get into this with Fletch. He was still a stranger after all—but she didn’t want to be rude either. “Unfortunately, no. They died when I was in college.”

“Tough.”

That was the understatement of the year, but she merely said, “Yeah.”

Fletch carried Emily’s driver’s license to the small printer he had off to the side of the room and made a copy.

“So, you’re not married?” Emily asked, deciding if he could be nosy, so could she.

“Nope.”

Emily waited and when he didn’t elaborate, she pushed. “This place looks like you’re married.”

Fletch barked out a laugh. “It does, doesn’t it? I actually hired someone to decorate it. I didn’t give her much assistance, and this is what I got when she was done.”

“She did a good job,” Emily observed, looking around.

“Yeah. Apparently it’s fun to spend someone else’s money.”

Emily didn’t smile, but continued to run her eyes over every inch of the room she could see. “I bet it is.”

Fletch leaned against the wall next to the printer and watched Emily check out his house. He wondered what she saw. He looked around to try to see it from her eyes. He had two leather couches that looked stiff and formal, but when you sat in them, you melted into the cushions. He had a large flat-screen television on the wall and a coffee table that looked perfectly normal, but had a secret compartment under it that currently held a Sig Sauer 40 caliber handgun. He was always prepared for the unknown. But thinking about the various weapons lying around the house made him realize that he needed to make sure they were all secure. If there was going to be a child in his house, he wanted to be sure to protect her.

Not that her daughter would be hanging out with him, but if she came over with her mom to bring in the mail, the last thing he wanted was for her to find one of his weapons and accidentally set it off. He shuddered at the thought, and vowed to move them all way above kid-level as soon as Emily left.

There was a pair of boots lying on the floor next to one of the couches; he’d left them there the day before when he’d gotten back from the base. Other than that, everything else was in its place and there were no stray papers or magazines or any kind of “stuff” that could be seen.

“I’m a bit of a neat freak,” Fletch told Emily unnecessarily as he came back to the table to sit next to her.

“Yeah, I can see that,” she laughed, turning her eyes back to him. “But it’s nice. She did a good job. It’s formal without being fancy. Comfortable without being stuffy. I hope you don’t expect mine to look like this,” she teased. “Annie and I are not neat freaks.”

Fletch laughed and handed her license back to her. “No, I don’t give a shit what your place looks like, as long as there aren’t mice and cockroaches.”

Emily shuddered. “Oh no. We might not be neat, but we’re clean.”

“Then we’re good.”

They smiled at each other. Fletch pushed the lease papers over to her. “Take these home. Read them over, get them looked at by a lawyer if you want, but I want to make sure you completely understand everything and agree before you sign.”

Emily looked at him in confusion. “Did you hide anything weird in here?”

“Weird?”

“Yeah, weird.”

“Weird how?” Fletch asked.

“I don’t know. Like my car only gets four-point-two feet of space in the garage and if I violate it, I’m out. Or weird like if you see Annie after four in the afternoon, I owe more on the rent, or weird if I’m late one day on giving you the rent money, I’m gone.”

Fletch started out smiling at her, but was frowning by the end of her comments. “Fuck no. Look, Emily, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not an asshole. If you’re having issues paying the rent, just talk to me and we’ll figure something out. I already told you that I don’t care if your daughter is around. I might get upset if she plays with something inappropriate in the garage, but only because it could hurt her, not because I care about anything out there. It’s all just stuff. Stuff that can be replaced. The lease is a simple one, I printed it off the damn Internet. There’s nothing weird in there.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Emily’s voice was low, but she didn’t break eye contact. “I just wanted to be sure.”

“Good. Look it over, make sure it’s amenable to you. Bring it back and you can move in whenever you’re ready. Today’s the twentieth, if you want to move in before the first, feel free. I won’t charge you for this month, consider it a gift.” Fletch narrowed his eyes and leaned toward her. “If someone is giving Annie a hard time for asking questions, I’m okay with you getting out of there and moving in here now. No kid should have to feel bad for being herself.”

“Again, thank you.” Emily had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky, but she’d never been so glad in all her life that she’d seen the ad in the paper about the apartment. She’d been actively looking, but had found the Sunday paper in the recycle bin behind her current apartment. She usually looked over the paper at work, but since she wasn’t working that Sunday, she’d rummaged in the recycles for the paper.

“Can I drop this by after work tomorrow?” Emily wanted to have her boss at the PX look it over. She couldn’t afford to take it to a lawyer, but Jimmy liked her and he’d be able to tell her if it looked okay or not.

“Of course. I’ll leave a key under the mat by the stairs that go up to the apartment.”

“Uh, you know that’s the first place burglars would look for a spare key, don’t you?”

Fletch barked out a laugh. If someone did manage to somehow get on to his property undetected, his face would be recorded from so many different angles, he’d be caught before he could get too far away. “I think it’ll be okay for a day or so, Em.”

Emily smiled shyly back at Fletch, teasing him, “Okay, but if I come back and someone has stolen the couch up there, I’ll expect you to replace it.”

“Deal.” Fletch smiled. Maybe having a renter wouldn’t be so bad after all. He’d make sure Tex got the background check done on one Miracle Emily Grant before she returned the signed lease the next day. It’d be child’s play for the man.

Fletch would sign it after making sure she was everything she seemed to be. He didn’t think he had anything to worry about. The woman seemed open and honest, and relieved to have a place for her and her daughter to live, even if it was a small, barely furnished, hole in the wall.

Being safe trumped material things, and he understood that in a way not a lot of other men would. He’d seen too much in his ten years in the Army, and five years in Delta Force. People would lie, cheat, steal, and kill to feel safe. He’d seen it over and over. Mothers who did whatever the local terrorists and bullies ordered them to, simply to protect their children. Kids who joined gangs, just to feed their families. The horrors of the world went on and on.

But Fletch could tell that the woman sitting in front of him now was a completely different woman than the one he’d invited into his home thirty minutes ago. She was more relaxed and at ease, whereas before she was tense, cautious, and suspicious. Simply because she’d been offered a safe place to live for her and her daughter.

Fletch liked that he could give that to her. It felt good. He’d helped too many people to count in his lifetime, but he could feel the relief emanating from the woman all the way to his gut. “Go tell Annie she has a new home and I’ll see you when I see you. Yeah?”

Emily nodded. “Yeah.”

They stood up and Fletch walked her to his door. He stood in the entryway with one arm braced on the doorjamb and watched as Emily walked toward her car. She stopped when she was halfway there and turned to him. “Thank you, Fletch. I know you’re totally giving me a break on the security deposit and rent, and I appreciate it. I’ll do what I can to help around here, you just need to let me know what you want me to do. I can rake, mow, sweep and—not that it looks like you need any help—I can even clean your house if you wanted me to.”

“You’re welcome, Emily. But I didn’t hire you to be my maid or groundskeeper. I’m actually getting as much out of this arrangement as you are. I have a responsible tenant who isn’t interested in robbing me blind or throwing crazy parties, living on my property. It’s a win-win situation. I’ll see you later.”

Fletch mentally rolled his eyes at her offer. It was sweet, but there was no way he’d ask her to do anything manual. She could look after his house when he was on a mission, but other than that, there wasn’t much that needed to be done that he couldn’t do himself.

“Okay. See you later.”

Fletch closed his front door and heard her car start up, complete with the muffler backfiring. After turning on the security monitor, he watched as her car backed out of his driveway and disappeared onto the road next to his house. He picked up the piece of paper with Emily’s information on it and called Tex. He was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure Emily was just who she said she was, and what she looked like—a woman who was down on her luck and wanted a quiet place for her and her daughter to live.

Suddenly, he was looking forward to meeting her daughter. From what little Emily had said, she sounded precocious and fun. Fletch hadn’t ever really thought about having children, or even been around many, but it occurred to him that it might be fun to teach a child things like how a garage door opener worked.

As far as he was concerned, the sooner Emily and Annie moved in, the better he’d feel. They’d be safe in the small apartment above his garage. He’d make sure of it.


Pre-Order Links

 

About the Author

New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author, Susan Stoker has a heart as big as the state of Texas where she lives, but this all American girl has also spent the last fourteen years living in Missouri, California, Colorado, and Indiana. She’s married to a retired Army man who now gets to follow her around the country.

She debuted her first series in 2014 and quickly followed that up with the SEAL of Protection Series, which solidified her love of writing and creating stories readers can get lost in.


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