Fates Mistress By Screaming Mimi ♥ Cover Reveal

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Fates Mistress

Title: Fates Mistress(The Fate Series Book #4)
 
Photographer: Screaminfotog(Back Photo Only)
 
Cover Designer: Stacy Pritt
 
Model(Back Cover): Jenna May

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Gabby’s used to being in control, of everything. When fate takes control of her life and leaves her at the mercy of Doug, a former Army Ranger, things really spiral out of her control. She’s depending on Doug to keep her safe, what she didn’t count on was how he set her body on fire.

Doug’s known too much loss in his life, his family, his battle buddies, and his leg. He feels broken and unworthy of love. When he gets assigned to keep Gabby safe he knows he’s in trouble. From the moment he saw her, he’s wanted to possess her body and soul.

Will she be able to look past his brokenness?

Will he be able to make her relinquish control?

Only fate knows…

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Fate Series Books

Fates Warrior

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Conquering Fate

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Screaming Mimi

Screaming Mimi lives in Texas with her husband, two girls, and two dogs. When she’s not writing she’s a domestic goddess who dabbles in photography. She grew up as a military brat and went on to become a Army wife. She’s loyal to a fault and cusses like a sailor when the fancy strikes her. She loves hearing from fans so email her at authorscreamingmimi@gmail.com

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Destiny’s Choice By Victoria Saccenti ♥ Release Blitz

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No one evades Fate. Especially when the escape route is cracked and full of holes.

As a naïve young woman, Marité Muro nearly drowned in a maelstrom of confusing emotions stirred by two very different men. One whose tortured soul tugged at her heart, another whose scorching touch made her innocent body want…more.

Four years in a Spanish prep school gave her time to gain perspective, and now she’s come home to Florida knowing what she wants. The one man she’s never been able to forget, and she’s ready to prove their age difference is no obstacle.

Vietnam left scars on Brian MacKay, some visible, some invisible—and infinitely more dangerous. His war buddy’s sister-in-law has ripened into a tempting, irresistible woman, but she is forbidden fruit. Yet she challenges his resolve until, in a moment of weakness, his demons slip free.

Marité isn’t sure why the man who held her closer than skin is suddenly holding her at arm’s length, but she isn’t afraid to fight for him. Even when someone returns from the past who could destroy everything. Her home. Her family. And Brian’s love.

EXCERPT:

December 1969

You’re late…you’re late. Where the heck are you? Out of the corner of her eye, Marité Muro scanned the hallway of the chapel. To her mounting frustration, several attendees standing next to a column blocked her view. She could stare forever and accomplish nothing. Neither the people nor the column would move out of her way. Reality does stink. She didn’t have X-ray vision or mental superpowers like the superheroes in her favorite comics and fantasy novels. Her human anatomy had its limitations, and just to reinforce that concept, a painful stab attacked her temples as a multitude of sparks filled her vision. Half-blind, she tangled the tip of her elegant new shoe with the footed base of a nearby massive candleholder, and she nearly flew forward. Mumbling a curse that would’ve shocked her mother, Marité froze in place, waiting for her vision to clear.

Thanks to the futile search, she’d almost made a fool of herself in front of everyone and, worse, had missed key aspects of a ritual she didn’t know well. She should be following the ceremony. Any minute, the spotlight and all eyes would be on her, which meant ignoring the stupid voice that wouldn’t stop nagging in her mind. The incessant taunts had begun as soon as she took her place by the baptismal font: Go ahead. Turn around. Check the crowd, silly girl. How else will you know? Well, screw the voice. She had an important role and should appear focused on the celebration—same as Brian, her partner in the ceremony—or at least pretend.

Still, she couldn’t stop thinking of Michael. Why aren’t you here?

How about a little peek? the voice insisted. Shifting her gaze to the left hallway, she tried again, seeking a body, a shadow, some movement, anything that might indicate her cousin’s arrival. Nope. Nothing. Zip.

You’re going to ruin it if you don’t show up. How could he miss the triple christening when it meant so much to everyone? The entire family had flown in from the Old Country, not to mention friends from all over. Forget the relatives, she had dreamed about this occasion for weeks, had bought this pink chiffon dress and complementary shoes, hoping to regain his attention. She wanted him to see her among adults, doing adult things like a young lady. Maybe then she’d impress the indifference out of him and the uncomfortable disaffection would end. Not so long ago, he would’ve insisted on driving her. He would’ve been full of advice on the ride over. He used to be so protective and supportive, so affectionate, but lately—

The clinking sound of the swaying censer and Father O’Leary’s voice grew louder. He’d moved from infant to infant, performing the sacramental rite: dabbing bits of salt in their mouths, sprinkling the tiny foreheads with holy water, and lastly anointing them with chrism. And now it was Rebecca’s turn, the gorgeous child cradled in her arms. Marité glanced at the beaming parents standing off to her right, Raquel and Matthew Buchanan, her sister and brother-in-law. Dismissing her earlier preoccupation, Marité sent a silent prayer on their behalf for a life full of well-deserved happiness. They’d struggled enough.

Father O’Leary recited the questions to the godparents, and Marité answered in unrehearsed unison with Brian. The sound of his deep voice, full of emotion and self-assured, rang in her ears as spirals of thick church incense wafted around her with its heady scent. A dreamy feeling overcame Marité. Each I do response seemed to roll out of Brian’s lips in slow motion. The words echoed throughout the room, then ricocheted inside her mind in giant swells. A sense of déjà vu transported her to a distant time in a faraway chamber, richly ornate and full of golden lights, nowhere she knew or had seen before… The experience didn’t last; it ended with the last question but left her shivering. She looked Brian’s way.

“Brian?”

He leaned forward. “Lil’ godmother?”

“Forget it. It’s nothing,” she said quickly. Whatever she’d seen, Brian obviously had not. No point in pursuing it further.

Brian MacKay, Matthew’s best friend and ex-war buddy, was the happiest person she’d ever known in all of her fifteen years. His smile could brighten the gloomiest day. In these days of the Vietnam War, men who survived the jungle came home either physically damaged or with broken spirits, sometimes both. Not Brian. His cheerful disposition had carried him through exhausting physical therapy sessions—she’d heard Raquel and Matthew talk—and conquered his wounds. She watched in awed respect as he moved or walked about, displaying his faltering step like a badge of honor and the ever-present cane like a scepter.

Despite the seven-year gap between them, Brian didn’t condescend to her. He treated her as an equal, and she liked that quality best. When she learned Brian had agreed to become Rebecca’s godfather, she’d been overjoyed and honored. The sacrament would not only bind them to the child but to each other, as compadres in a very special lifelong relationship, almost like parents. Her thoughts pivoted to her absent cousin…and yep, she was back to where she’d started.

“What is it?” Brian nudged her arm. “That frown’s ruining your purdy face.”

Marité knew he’d tried to keep his voice down but was also certain folks in the last row heard him. “Shhh,” she whispered, and, suppressing a rising giggle, she bumped him with her shoulder.

Brian jerked up to his full height, snapping two fingers in mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rebecca must have found their exchange entertaining, because she decided to join the fun. Her rosebud lips puckered, releasing a loud half-raspberry, half-spit bubble.

“Not very ladylike,” Marité murmured. Brian snickered, and the priest shot them both a warning glare.

Her sister, Raquel, heard the sound and flicked a signal to Matthew. As a lighted taper was presented to Marité and Brian, Matthew retrieved Rebecca in exchange, rescuing everyone from the priest’s displeasure. With little Rebecca’s explorations in sound effects successfully silenced, Father O’Leary nodded, and the baptism proceeded in its ordered sequence.

Boom! The sound of a kneeler dropped carelessly on the floor reverberated throughout the chapel like a discharged cannon. Marité tossed poise out the window and turned, peering above and beyond the curious guests to the source of the commotion.

You know how to make an entrance, don’t you?

With hands pressed against the last pew, Michael leaned forward. His shoulder-length hair, falling in the direction of his hands, concealed his features. On her next breath, Marité evaluated the situation in the room: a pale Aunt Coralina directed a wife-to-husband plea for serenity to Uncle Jonas, whose gaze emitted ice-blue fury toward his irreverent son.

An unexpected censuring scoff out of Brian startled her, and Marité pivoted, beginning to feel like a spinning top. The frown of disapproval was a rare departure from Brian’s affable countenance. Confounded by it all, Marité flipped back around just as Michael looked up, tossed back his leonine mane in obvious defiance, and smirked. Ignoring everyone present, he glared at her. A chill ran down Marité’s spine…

Destiny’s Choice, the long awaited sequel to Destiny’s Plan, is available for pre-order through the following vendors.

Amazon

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WLK Author Bio

A native of Cuba, Victoria acquired a love for books from her mother, and the desire to see the world from her father. As a result she has been around the globe by her count, at least twice. From her journeys she has gathered a varied collection of stories and anecdotes, which now serve to inspire her muse. Central Florida is home, but if she could convince her husband, she would pack her computer and move to Scotland, a land she adores.

Stay in touch with Victoria via Facebook or drop me a line on my web page, Victoria Saccenti Writes or visit her Amazon Author page: Author.to/VictoriaSaccenti

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Sacrifice Love & Protecting Love By Maryann Jordan ♥ Blog Tour

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Blog Tour – Sacrifice Love & Protecting Love – MaryAnn

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Book – Sacrifice Love & Protecting Love 

Author – Maryann Jordan

Blog Tour – 24th July – 30th July

Hosted by Hooked on books & Cherry0Blossoms Promotions

 

 

Protecting Love 

Protecting Love

 

 

 

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Patrick Cartright only had two more months in the Army

before returning to Virginia. A new job with the Saints Protection &

Investigations Agency awaited and offered a chance to be near family. Falling

in love, while still in California, was not his intention.

 

 

 

 

 

Evie Sinclair, raised an Army brat with more relocations under her belt than

she could remember, had no desire to move again. She was settled and planned on

staying that way. Falling for a soldier did not fit into her plans.

 

 

 

 

But as they investigated the theft of military equipment from Evie’s company to

Patrick’s base, they searched for the truth, while Evie tried to protect her

heart. When Evie is threatened, Patrick rushes to save her, vowing to protect

her at all costs.

 

 

 

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Saints Protection & Investigations 

A private investigation business, pulling together men from the CIA, FBI, ATF,

DEA, Border Patrol, SEALS, and police, devoted to the missions no one else

wants or can solve.

 

Chad Fornelli was used to a life of sacrifice, as a former ATF ordnance

disposal expert. At the funeral of Adam, his friend and former ATF partner,

saying goodbye was not the hardest part of the day for Chad. It was seeing his

friend’s widow and remembering how he let the woman he loved two years earlier

get away.

 

Full of regrets over missed chances, he vowed to correct his past mistakes. 

 

Dani Turner had watched the man she love walk away two years ago and now buried

her husband. Wondering if she and Chad had another chance together, she was

willing to see if they had a future. But…her little surprise might change

everything.

 

The investigation into the explosion that killed Adam had Chad racing against

the clock to stop an ISIS cell in Virginia from building more bombs. And

evidence pointed to his friend being involved with the terrorists.

 

Untangling the mystery, Dani was caught in the terrorist’s crosshairs as she

and Chad worked together to prove Adam’s innocence…and save her life.

 

Will they be able to live long enough to have their second chance? 

 

*****Due to mature scenes of a sexual nature and language some may consider

crude, 18+ readers only!*****

This book is a standalone, written in the Saints Series. Be warned – alpha men,

strong women, suspenseful, and a sweet & steamy love story!

 

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As an Amazon Best Selling Author, I have always

been an avid reader. I joke that I “cut my romance teeth” on the

historical romance books. In 2013 I started a blog to showcase wonderful

writers. In 2014, I finally gave in to the characters in my head pleading for

their story to be told. Thus, Emma’s Home was created.

My first novel, Emma’s Home became an Amazon Best

Seller in 3 categories within the first month of publishing. Its success was

followed by the rest of the Fairfield Series and then led into the Love’s

Series.  From there I have continued with the romantic suspense Alvarez

Security Series and now the Saints Protection & Investigation Series, all

bestsellers.

My books are filled with sweet romance and hot sex;

mystery, suspense, real life characters and situations. My heroes are alphas,

take charge men who love the strong, independent women they fall in love with.

I worked as a counselor in a high school and have

been involved in education for the past 30 years.  I recently retired and

now can spend more time devoted to my writing.

I have been married to a wonderfully patient man

for 34 years and have 2 adult, very supportive daughters.

When writing, my dog or one of my cats will usually

be found in my lap!

I love to hear from readers, so please email me!

 

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Perfect Rage By Nashoda Rose ♥ Blog Tour

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PERFECT RAGE

Book Title: Perfect Rage (Unyielding, #3)
Author: Nashoda Rose
Genre: Romance
Release Date: July 26th
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions

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The third and final installment in the Unyielding series from the New York Times Best Selling Author Nashoda Rose.

This is Connor’s story.

Unstable.
Unpredictable.
Consumed by perfect rage.
I was fighting who I’d become and what I’d done.

There was nothing I cared about except her.
She was fuckin’ mine.
But I’d forgotten her—my shutterbug.
And I lost her.

Until now.

I’d do anything to possess her again.
Anything to keep her safe.
Protect her against my biggest opponent.

The monster.

Me.

Full-length novel: 93,000 words

Must be read in order:

Perfect Chaos (Unyielding, #1)
Perfect Ruin (Unyielding, #2)
Perfect Rage (Unyielding, #3)

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Click through to read an excerpt from Perfect Rage by Nashoda Rose

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Portrait of sexual woman, bent in bed

Portrait of sexual woman, bent in bed

Portrait of sexual woman, bent in bed

meet the author

Nashoda Rose

Nashoda Rose is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who lives in Toronto with her assortment of pets. She writes contemporary romance with a splash of darkness, or maybe it’s a tidal wave.

When she isn’t writing, she can be found sitting in a field reading with her dogs at her side while her horses graze nearby. She loves interacting with her readers and chatting about her addiction—books.

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Strong Silent Seal By Paige Tyler ♥ Release Blitz

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Strong Silent SEAL by Paige Tyler

Series: SEALs of Coronado

Strong Silent SEAL - Paige TylerWedding planner Felicia Bradford is in trouble. Mercenaries are holding her sister hostage and threatening to kill her unless Felicia helps them steal top secret information from the Navy’s Special Operations Headquarters. Having no other way to access the base, she pulls a gun on the first man in a Navy uniform she finds, demanding he get her through the gate.

Navy SEAL Logan Dunn just got back from a mission in Syria and is looking for a little down time to relax. That plan goes out the window when a beautiful woman shoves a gun in his back and begs him to do something he can tell she doesn’t want to be part of. Logan does what any Navy SEAL would do in the same situation—he saves the girl and takes out the bad guys.

But their actions that day kick off a crazy chain of events, including a fast-burning whirlwind romance, an out-of-control sister, an insane covert plot involving a defecting Russian pilot, a mercenary bent on revenge, and a sunrise wedding for a bride who never wakes up before noon.

Getting through her sister’s kidnapping will look like a piece of cake compared to what comes next.

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© Paige Tyler

“FIGURE OUT A way to get onto the base or your sister dies.”

The threating words kept replaying over and over in Felicia Bradford’s head, freaking her out so badly her hands shook as she steered her SUV into a shopping center a mile from the gate of the Coronado Naval Amphibious Base and pulled into a space. Putting her Nissan Juke in park, she leaned forward and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t take the chance the people holding her sister would hear and think it meant she’d given up. They’d kill Stefanie for sure.

She took a deep breath and felt the tape holding the wire to her stomach pull a little, reminding her exactly where those horrible men had touched her as they’d attached the listening device to her skin. She shuddered at the thought her baby sister, a sophomore in college at the San Diego campus of the University of California, remained in their hands.

Felicia lifted her head and glanced at the clock on the dash. Two hours ago, she and Stef had been in their yoga class, something they did every Saturday morning at the same time. They’d been laughing and planning their next girls’ night out when three men with accents had come out of nowhere and surrounded them in a quiet corner of the studio parking lot, taken Felicia’s keys then hustled them into a white van at gunpoint.

The next ten minutes had been the most terrifying of her life as she and Stef sat huddled on the floor of the van while one of the men had kept his weapon trained on them the whole time. She’d feared the worst, thinking the men meant to rape and kill them, but when the van pulled into a warehouse and the doors opened, they dragged her and Stef into an office where they’d found two more men waiting. One tall and muscular with a buzz cut, the other not quite as tall or as muscled with long, shaggy hair. When Buzz Cut regarded Felicia and her sister like interesting bugs he’d seen crawling across the floor, a voice in the back of her head said this was a more complicated situation than she’d thought.

“What do you want with us?” she demanded, pushing her sister behind her.

Buzz Cut nodded at the men who’d brought her and Stef into the room. A moment later, one of them jerked her sister away and forced her down into a chair then duct taped her wrists to the metal arms. Felicia tried to stop them, but the second man grabbed her before she could do much good.

“You are brave,” Buzz Cut said in an Eastern European accent. At least she thought it was Eastern European. She wasn’t very good with accents. “Good.”

“What are you going to do with my sister?” Felicia demanded.

Buzz Cut crossed the room to stand in front of her. “I intend to kill your sister in the most painful way I can imagine unless you do exactly what I tell you.

Could someone so devoid of emotion be human? But the cold look in his eyes left Felicia with no doubt he told the truth.

“I’ll do anything you want,” she told him. “Just don’t hurt her.”

“Fortunately for you, what I need isn’t very difficult. I want you to take something onto the Coronado Naval Amphibious Base for me and wait at a specific location for a short period of time then come back here. If you do, you and your sister may leave alive and unharmed.”

Felicia almost started to hyperventilate. He made it sound so simple. “Coronado isn’t open to the public. There’s no way I can get on it.”

His eyes narrowed. “The gate pass on the dash of your car says otherwise.”

Crap. She’d forgotten she’d left it there. “It’s from last weekend, but it’s expired. I’m a wedding planner. I do a lot of weddings and receptions on the base.”

“Then get it renewed,” the man with the shaggy hair said.

Felicia looked at him. “It doesn’t work like that. I have to arrange a separate gate pass for each wedding and someone with a military ID has to agree to be my sponsor.”

Buzz Cut considered her statement. “How many times have you gone onto the station in the past six months?”

“I don’t know. Maybe twenty-five or thirty times.”

“With all those trips on base, are you trying to tell me a woman as attractive as you are couldn’t make an impression on the guards? I’m sure you could talk your way through the gate this one time. Say it’s for an emergency meeting with a client or something.”

She opened her mouth to tell him she was nothing special—at least not special enough to get an MP or security guard to look the other way while she drove through the gate without a pass—but then she hesitated, knowing this asshole would kill her and Stef in a second if he decided she wasn’t useful to him anymore. So, she’d nodded, telling him she could get on base.

The guy with the shaggy hair had then felt her up while taping the microphone wire to her stomach. When he finished, he and Buzz Cut took her out to where her Nissan Juke waited beside the van. Then Buzz Cut had handed her a black plastic box about the size of a box of Kleenex along with a map of the NAB with a building circled in red.

“You need to be at this location no later than ten-thirty,” Buzz Cut told her. “On the south side of the building is a picnic table under some palm trees. Sit at the table, turn on the machine, then wait there for exactly thirty minutes.”

She tensed, terrified even to be in the same room with the box much less holding it. “Is this a bomb?”

“No. It’s a listening device,” he said. “It will record a conversation taking place nearby. No one will be hurt.”

Felicia didn’t believe him. “If that’s all, why don’t you have one of your men take it on base? I’m sure there are lots of people who could do a much better job than me.”

Mouth tight, Buzz Cut jerked the box and the map away from her and handed it to Shaggy Hair. Felicia’s heart fell into her stomach as he grabbed her arm and hauled her across the warehouse to another office, then shoved her inside. She tripped over something on the floor, falling half on top of it. She pushed herself up and almost screamed when she realized it was a man in a Navy uniform, the front of his blue camouflage top soaked with blood. He stared unseeingly up at the ceiling.

She scrambled off the man as Buzz Cut jerked her to her feet.

“This is the man I got to do the job, but he had a change of heart at the last minute, and I had to kill him.” Cold, dark eyes bore into hers. “Don’t make me have to find someone else to do this job. The time window I have to get it done is small and, if you make me miss it, I’ll take it out on your precious sister.”

She didn’t say anything as he led her back out to her SUV, which one of the men must have driven here from the shopping center, and shoved her behind the wheel. She thought she’d been as freaked out as she could be when Shaggy Hair leaned in and put a handgun in the center console.

“Why are you giving that to me?” she asked.

Buzz Cut shrugged. “If things don’t go the way you plan, you’ll need to improvise if you want your sister to live. If it means you have to shoot someone, do it.”

Felicia couldn’t kill someone in cold blood. But, to save her sister, maybe she could.

They took her phone out of her purse and wrote down her phone number.

“In case I want to contact you,” Buzz Cut said as he handed it back to her. “Don’t get any brilliant ideas about calling the police. With the wire you’re wearing, we’ll be able to hear everything you say, and if you say something you shouldn’t, I’ll kill your sister. If you don’t get to the location on the map in time, I’ll kill your sister. If you don’t get us what we want and come straight back here, I’ll kill your sister. And if we suddenly lose the audio from the wire. I’ll kill your sister.”

Felicia had been so shaken by images of her sister being tortured and killed, she could barely drive across the Coronado Bridge to the base. She’d raised Stef ever since their parents died six years ago. The idea of something bad happening to her made it hard even to breathe. She had no doubt Buzz Cut would kill Stef if she didn’t show up with the information they wanted. He might kill both of them anyway once he had what he wanted, of course, but she could deal with only one problem at a time.

Unfortunately, as she’d expected, the guards at the gate refused to let her through, no matter how much she tried to sweet talk them. She batted her eyes and tried to convince one particular MP on duty who’d flirted with her on several occasions she had to get on base for a few minutes to scout out the location for an upcoming wedding, but the guy hadn’t budged.

She’d turned around and been driving away from the base when her phone rang.

“Figure out a way to get on base,” Buzz Cut ordered. “Or your sister dies.”

Felicia continued to stare at the clock on the dash as it slowly counted down the minutes. She had twenty-nine minutes left. She needed to figure out something or Stef would be dead.

In frustration, she reached into the center console and pulled out the weapon stashed there. She didn’t even have a clue how to fire a gun, but maybe she could use it to threaten her way through the gate. Then what? The military police would chase her once she got on base.

Felicia caught sight of a group of men and women in Navy uniforms coming out of the grocery store. An idea hit her. Insane and probably wouldn’t work, but the only thing she could think of was shoving her gun in the nearest sailor’s back and demanding he or she help her get on base. She only prayed she’d find a sailor who didn’t have a hero complex. She really didn’t want to have to shoot anyone—even if she could figure out how to do it. But, when it came to her sister, she’d do what she had to do.

Felicia turned off the engine and waited. It would probably be smarter to scope out the possible targets and pick someone smaller and preferably female, but as the clock on the dash continued to get closer to the ten-thirty deadline, she realized she didn’t have time

She shoved the gun and the black box into her purse then got out and walked over to the store. The first few sailors came out in groups of two and three. Dammit, she didn’t have time for this!
Then she spotted a hunky, dark-haired guy in blue camouflage coming her way, a couple of grocery bags in his hands—alone. Also at least a foot taller than her and probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds. Her gut told her this guy wasn’t the best choice, but she couldn’t wait any longer.

Heart pounding in her chest and a hand on the gun in her purse, she turned and followed, hurrying to catch up with him. When they got close to his blue SUV, she pulled the gun out of her purse, closed the distance between them, and shoved the weapon in his back. He immediately stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if you don’t help me get on base,” she said as firmly as she could. The words didn’t sound as intimidating as she’d hoped, but at least her voice hadn’t squeaked.

She didn’t know what to expect, but when the big man didn’t move at all, she got a little nervous.

“Don’t do anything foolish or you’ll be putting the lives of innocent people in danger,” she warned. “I’ve never fired a gun before, and if you make me do it now, I have no idea where the bullets are going to go.”

The guy still didn’t move. But at least he didn’t spin around and try to disarm her. Unfortunately, the seconds continued to fly past, bringing Stefanie’s death ever closer. Felicia might have to do something else—although she didn’t know what—to prove her seriousness. Could she whack him in the back of the head? Probably not without making the gun go off. Then what? Unconscious, he wouldn’t be able to get her on base.

“Did you hear what I said?” she prompted, shoving the gun more firmly into his back.

“I heard you,” he said. “Relax, okay? There’s no need to pull the trigger. I’ll get you on base. But I want your word you won’t hurt anyone if I do.”

She couldn’t believe he tried to bargain with her when she had a gun pointed at him. “It’s the last thing I want.”

He lifted his right hand, and Felicia tensed, until she realized he was only lifting the key fob for his SUV. He unlocked the doors with a beep-beep then opened the driver’s side. Felicia wondered if she should let him drive or if she should do it. After a moment, she decided the guards on the gate would never let them through with her behind the wheel, so it had to be him. But she couldn’t tell him to wait while she ran around to the passenger side, either.

Finally, she climbed into the SUV first and crawled over the center console to get into the passenger seat, keeping the weapon pointed at him the whole time.

“Get in,” she ordered. “And don’t try anything.”

As he climbed in, she saw the name Dunn embroidered on a tag on his uniform. Nice name. It fit him.

She was wondering about his first name when she finally got a good look at his face. She couldn’t see his eyes because he wore aviators, but with a chiseled jaw and wide, sensual mouth, he was way more handsome than any man had a right to be. She hoped he did what she told him. She’d feel horrible shooting someone so attractive.

Okay, absolutely the dumbest thought she’d ever had. Would she feel better shooting him if he were ugly?

Dunn reached around to put his grocery bags on the floorboard in the back then fastened his seatbelt. When he finished, he lifted a brow. “You going to put on your seatbelt?”

Felicia’s jaw may have dropped. Seriously? Obviously, he wouldn’t even start the vehicle until she buckled up. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get her belt on while holding a pistol. She glanced around for a place to put it, figuring wedging it between her legs wasn’t the best idea. She finally ended up putting it on the floor. The moment she had her seatbelt on, she reached down and snatched it up with trembling hands, turning to point it in Dunn’s direction.

He regarded her with a look plainly suggesting he knew this was her first foray into taking a hostage, but he thankfully didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he cranked the SUV and headed out of the parking lot.

“I hope this doesn’t take too long,” he remarked as he drove toward the Naval Amphibious Base. “I bought ice cream and would hate to have to throw it away if it melts.”

Felicia didn’t know what to say. How the hell could the man be so calm when he had a gun pointed at him?

As they neared the gate, Logan reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out his ID card. She slipped the gun in her purse.

“Don’t make me hurt anyone,” she said him.

“I told you I’d get you on base and I will,” Dunn said as he weaved through the barricades put there to slow people down. “Keep the gun in your purse and everything will be fine.”

Dunn had a very trustworthy-looking face and Felicia wanted to believe him, but she still tensed when they rolled to a stop beside the guard at the gate. At least it wasn’t the cute MP she’d tried to sweet-talk earlier. In fact, she didn’t recognize the older guy at all.

“Dunn, my man,” the guard said. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. How the hell are you?”

“I’m good,” Dunn said conversationally. “How about you?

“Can’t complain.” The guard leaned down and regarded Felicia.

“Who’s this? New girlfriend?”

Crap. She hadn’t thought about having a cover story. Passing her off as a girlfriend might work, though.

Dunn chuckled. “Nah. This is my sister Claire. She’s staying with me for a while, and I’m showing her around. I’m going to get her a base access on Monday.”

The older man smiled and nodded. “No problem.”

While they’d made it this far, Felicia refused to let herself exhale until the guard waved them through the gate. She glanced at the clock on the dash, comparing it with her watch. Ten minutes.

“Drive faster,” she said, pulling out the gun so she could point it at him and the map so she could figure out where she needed to go.

“If I drive over the speed limit, there’s a good chance we’ll get pulled over.”

“If you drive under the speed limit, there’s a good chance someone very important to me will die,” she told him. “So, drive faster.”

Dunn looked at her sharply. She expected him to say something, but instead he drove faster.

“Where are we going?” he asked softly.

Her knowledge of NAB Coronado limited to the location of the church and the various clubs that held receptions, she held the map up for him to see and pointed at the part circled in red.

“Right there,” she said. “And I have to be there in five minutes.”

He studied the circled area on the map for a moment then gave her another intense look. “You sure you want to go there?”

The spot on the map probably had some significance to him, but to her, it was simply the place Buzz Cut told to be—in five minutes.

“Yes.”

As Dunn turned down a side road and picked up speed, Felicia held out hope this might work. She wasn’t naive. She knew the men holding Stef couldn’t be trusted. But she had to believe if she did as Buzz Cut told her, maybe everything would work out okay. It was the only thing she had to hang onto until something better came along.

“We didn’t have a chance for a proper introduction, but my name’s Logan,” he said. “What’s yours?”

Felicia ignored him, or tried to, anyway, but he kept talking in a frustratingly calm, casual voice.

“Maybe I can help you out of your situation,” he continued. “You don’t really seem to be the kind of person to do something like this.”

She wasn’t. But she was doing it now—for Stefanie.

“Keep driving,” she told him.

Felicia hadn’t realized they’d reached their destination until Logan pulled the SUV into a parking space and turned off the engine. Off to one side of the large official-looking building a sign read Naval Special Warfare Command.

She looked around, trying to remember exactly where Buzz Cut had told her to take the box.

“Where’s the south side of the building?” she asked.

Logan pointed to the right.

She pulled the box out of her purse then motioned at Logan with the weapon. “Get out and walk in front of me to the picnic table over there. The gun will be in my purse, but I’ll have my finger on the trigger the whole time, so don’t try anything.”

His gaze locked on the box in her hand. “What’s that?”

The dash clock read ten twenty-nine.

“I can’t tell you anything, so stop asking me questions and get out,” she snapped.

He regarded her silently for a moment then shut off the engine and got out of the SUV. She climbed over the console and followed him to the south side of the building.

The table stood right where Buzz Cut said it would be, under some palm trees. The moment she and Logan sat down, she put the box on the table and turned the lone switch on the top until she heard a clicking sound. She kept turning it until it stopped moving. Then she sat there staring at the box—and Logan.

He took of his sunglasses, revealing gorgeous blue eyes, then reached into his pocket for his cellphone.

“What are you doing?” she asked nervously, fumbling for the gun in her purse and pointing it at him.

“Playing a game on my phone.” He shrugged. “I figure we’re going to be sitting here a while, aren’t we?”

She frowned. He clicked way too many keys for any game. Was he calling the cops? She didn’t want to have to shoot him, but he might not give her a choice.

But then he turned the phone around to show her what he’d typed.

I know you can’t talk, but I can help you if you’ll let me. Tell me what’s going on.

Felicia blinked. How had he figured out she couldn’t talk?

He nodded at her, then pointed at the words he’d written on his phone, specifically the part where he’d said he could help her.

A thousand thoughts raced through her head. Could she trust him? Could he really help her? She couldn’t imagine how he could, but she needed help from someone, and her instincts told her Dunn was that person.

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Author Bio:

Paige Tyler is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of sexy, romantic suspense and paranormal romance. She and her very own military hero (also known as her husband) live on the beautiful Florida coast with their adorable fur baby (also known as their dog). Paige graduated with a degree in education, but decided to pursue her passion and write books about hunky alpha males and the kick-butt heroines who fall in love with them.

She is represented by Bob Mecoy.

Website ~ Newsletter ~ Blog ~ Facebook Profile Page ~ Facebook Author Page ~ X-OPS Series Reader Group ~ SWAT Series Reader Group ~ Paige Tyler’s Groupies Central on Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Pinterest ~ Wattpad ~ Google+ ~ Goodreads ~ Newsletter

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Destiny’s Choice By Victoria Saccenti ♥ Cover Reveal

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No one evades Fate. Especially when the escape route is cracked and full of holes.
As a naïve young woman, Marité Muro nearly drowned in a maelstrom of confusing emotions stirred by two very different men. One whose tortured soul tugged at her heart, another whose scorching touch made her innocent body want…more.
Four years in a Spanish prep school gave her time to gain perspective, and now she’s come home to Florida knowing what she wants. The one man she’s never been able to forget, and she’s ready to prove their age difference is no obstacle.
Vietnam left scars on Brian MacKay, some visible, some invisible—and infinitely more dangerous. His war buddy’s sister-in-law has ripened into a tempting, irresistible woman, but she is forbidden fruit. Yet she challenges his resolve until, in a moment of weakness, his demons slip free.
Marité isn’t sure why the man who held her closer than skin is suddenly holding her at arm’s length, but she isn’t afraid to fight for him. Even when someone returns from the past who could destroy everything. Her home. Her family. And Brian’s love.

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EXCERPT:
December 1969
You’re late…you’re late. Where the heck are you? Out of the corner of her eye, Marité Muro scanned the hallway of the chapel. To her mounting frustration, several attendees standing next to a column blocked her view. She could stare forever and accomplish nothing. Neither the people nor the column would move out of her way. Reality does stink. She didn’t have X-ray vision or mental superpowers like the superheroes in her favorite comics and fantasy novels. Her human anatomy had its limitations, and just to reinforce that concept, a painful stab attacked her temples as a multitude of sparks filled her vision. Half-blind, she tangled the tip of her elegant new shoe with the footed base of a nearby massive candleholder, and she nearly flew forward. Mumbling a curse that would’ve shocked her mother, Marité froze in place, waiting for her vision to clear.
Thanks to the futile search, she’d almost made a fool of herself in front of everyone and, worse, had missed key aspects of a ritual she didn’t know well. She should be following the ceremony. Any minute, the spotlight and all eyes would be on her, which meant ignoring the stupid voice that wouldn’t stop nagging in her mind. The incessant taunts had begun as soon as she took her place by the baptismal font: Go ahead. Turn around. Check the crowd, silly girl. How else will you know? Well, screw the voice. She had an important role and should appear focused on the celebration—same as Brian, her partner in the ceremony—or at least pretend.
Still, she couldn’t stop thinking of Michael. Why aren’t you here?
How about a little peek? the voice insisted. Shifting her gaze to the left hallway, she tried again, seeking a body, a shadow, some movement, anything that might indicate her cousin’s arrival. Nope. Nothing. Zip.
You’re going to ruin it if you don’t show up. How could he miss the triple christening when it meant so much to everyone? The entire family had flown in from the Old Country, not to mention friends from all over. Forget the relatives, she had dreamed about this occasion for weeks, had bought this pink chiffon dress and complementary shoes, hoping to regain his attention. She wanted him to see her among adults, doing adult things like a young lady. Maybe then she’d impress the indifference out of him and the uncomfortable disaffection would end. Not so long ago, he would’ve insisted on driving her. He would’ve been full of advice on the ride over. He used to be so protective and supportive, so affectionate, but lately—
The clinking sound of the swaying censer and Father O’Leary’s voice grew louder. He’d moved from infant to infant, performing the sacramental rite: dabbing bits of salt in their mouths, sprinkling the tiny foreheads with holy water, and lastly anointing them with chrism. And now it was Rebecca’s turn, the gorgeous child cradled in her arms. Marité glanced at the beaming parents standing off to her right, Raquel and Matthew Buchanan, her sister and brother-in-law. Dismissing her earlier preoccupation, Marité sent a silent prayer on their behalf for a life full of well-deserved happinessThey’d struggled enough.
Father O’Leary recited the questions to the godparents, and Marité answered in unrehearsed unison with Brian. The sound of his deep voice, full of emotion and self-assured, rang in her ears as spirals of thick church incense wafted around her with its heady scent. A dreamy feeling overcame Marité. Each I do response seemed to roll out of Brian’s lips in slow motion. The words echoed throughout the room, then ricocheted inside her mind in giant swells. A sense of déjà vu transported her to a distant time in a faraway chamber, richly ornate and full of golden lights, nowhere she knew or had seen before… The experience didn’t last; it ended with the last question but left her shivering. She looked Brian’s way.
“Brian?”
He leaned forward. “Lil’ godmother?”
“Forget it. It’s nothing,” she said quickly. Whatever she’d seen, Brian obviously had not. No point in pursuing it further.
Brian MacKay, Matthew’s best friend and ex-war buddy, was the happiest person she’d ever known in all of her fifteen years. His smile could brighten the gloomiest day. In these days of the Vietnam War, men who survived the jungle came home either physically damaged or with broken spirits, sometimes both. Not Brian. His cheerful disposition had carried him through exhausting physical therapy sessions—she’d heard Raquel and Matthew talk—and conquered his wounds. She watched in awed respect as he moved or walked about, displaying his faltering step like a badge of honor and the ever-present cane like a scepter.
Despite the seven-year gap between them, Brian didn’t condescend to her. He treated her as an equal, and she liked that quality best. When she learned Brian had agreed to become Rebecca’s godfather, she’d been overjoyed and honored. The sacrament would not only bind them to the child but to each other, as compadres in a very special lifelong relationship, almost like parents. Her thoughts pivoted to her absent cousin…and yep, she was back to where she’d started.
“What is it?” Brian nudged her arm. “That frown’s ruining your purdy face.”
Marité knew he’d tried to keep his voice down but was also certain folks in the last row heard him. “Shhh,” she whispered, and, suppressing a rising giggle, she bumped him with her shoulder.
Brian jerked up to his full height, snapping two fingers in mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Rebecca must have found their exchange entertaining, because she decided to join the fun. Her rosebud lips puckered, releasing a loud half-raspberry, half-spit bubble.
“Not very ladylike,” Marité murmured. Brian snickered, and the priest shot them both a warning glare.
Her sister, Raquel, heard the sound and flicked a signal to Matthew. As a lighted taper was presented to Marité and Brian, Matthew retrieved Rebecca in exchange, rescuing everyone from the priest’s displeasure. With little Rebecca’s explorations in sound effects successfully silenced, Father O’Leary nodded, and the baptism proceeded in its ordered sequence.
Boom! The sound of a kneeler dropped carelessly on the floor reverberated throughout the chapel like a discharged cannon. Marité tossed poise out the window and turned, peering above and beyond the curious guests to the source of the commotion.
You know how to make an entrance, don’t you?
With hands pressed against the last pew, Michael leaned forward. His shoulder-length hair, falling in the direction of his hands, concealed his features. On her next breath, Marité evaluated the situation in the room: a pale Aunt Coralina directed a wife-to-husband plea for serenity to Uncle Jonas, whose gaze emitted ice-blue fury toward his irreverent son.
An unexpected censuring scoff out of Brian startled her, and Marité pivoted, beginning to feel like a spinning top. The frown of disapproval was a rare departure from Brian’s affable countenance. Confounded by it all, Marité flipped back around just as Michael looked up, tossed back his leonine mane in obvious defiance, and smirked. Ignoring everyone present, he glared at her. A chill ran down Marité’s spine…
Destiny’s Choice, the long awaited sequel to Destiny’s Plan, is available for pre-order through the following vendors.
WLK Author Bio
A native of Cuba, Victoria acquired a love for books from her mother, and the desire to see the world from her father. As a result she has been around the globe by her count, at least twice. From her journeys she has gathered a varied collection of stories and anecdotes, which now serve to inspire her muse. Central Florida is home, but if she could convince her husband, she would pack her computer and move to Scotland, a land she adores.
Stay in touch with Victoria via Facebook or drop me a line on my web page, Victoria Saccenti Writes or visit her Amazon Author page: Author.to/VictoriaSaccenti
Presented by WLKBookPromotions.com

SINdicate By Maire James ♥ Release Blitz

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Title: SINdicate

BT Urruela Fanfiction Novel

Author: Marie James

Genre: Romantic Suspense 

 Release Date: May 25, 2016

 

 

Blurb

 

BT Urruela is former military with scars from war that forever changed his life. He attends an acting class, is a personal trainer at an elite facility in Tampa, and is your typical warm-blooded male.

Life is pretty easy-going for BT… then Aviana Maguire catches his eye.

Aviana attends the same acting class as BT, but does her best to stay under the radar. She’s the product of a broken family and a less than desirable childhood. She’s riddled with emotional scars and has extreme trust issues with men and all relationships in general.

Life was hard for Aviana as she struggled daily to just stay afloat. Just when she thought life couldn’t get more difficult, she’s snatched away from her home as retribution for someone else’s mistakes.

Underworlds, debts, and an obsession for justice could change everything for them both.

BT may rescue the girl he tracked into the dark recesses of Las Vegas, but will she ever be the same?

Or will BT become so deeply involved in SIN, that he becomes the one needing to be rescued?

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PURCHASE LINKS

All proceeds go to charity

AMAZON US / UK

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AUTHOR BIO

 

Marie James: I’m a full-time, working mother of two boys and wife of 11 years. I’ve spent almost my entire lifetime living in central Texas, with only short stays in South Carolina, Alabama, and Florida. I’ve always wanted to write novels and just recently had the gumption to sit down and start one. My passions include reading everything under the sun and plotting out new books to write in the future.

Kincaid is my 7th book. I’ve also written the Hale Series, Love ME Like That, and a FanFiction named Psychosis, featuring up and coming cover model, Matthew Hosea, as the main character. This book was done for fun and all of the proceeds are going to charity. All of my books are currently available on Amazon.

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Shelter For Elizabeth By Susan Stoker ♥ Pomo Blitz

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Shelter for Elizabeth, Badge of Honor: Texas Heroes Book 5 by Susan Stoker

Date of Publication: May 17, 2016

Blurb

Shelter for Elizabeth

Elizabeth Parkins lived through a nightmare come true—getting kidnapped by a serial killer. Seeking a fresh start, she moves to Texas, but escaping her demons proves impossible when she’s too terrified to leave her own apartment. A small, accidental fire sparks a coping method she’d never expected, and brings an amazing man to her door.

Firefighter Cade “Sledge” Turner’s idyllic life ended the day his sister was kidnapped. Now he knows firsthand that tragedy can befall anyone, at any time. Meeting Elizabeth on the job was a gift. Cade can envision spending his life with this woman. He understands what she’s been through, is willing to help her heal…though even Cade is unaware of Beth’s new secret obsession.

As Beth takes steps to help herself heal, and Cade attempts to earn her trust and prove his own, they’re both about to be tested—in a way that could see everything they’ve worked for go up in flames.

* Shelter for Elizabeth is the 5th book in the Badge of Honor: Texas Heroes series. Each book is a stand-alone, with no cliffhanger endings.

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About Susan Stoker

Susan Stoker
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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Storm by Rie Warren ♥ Release Blitz

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Title: Storm
Series: Bad Boys of X-Ops Book III
Author: Rie Warren
Genre: Erotic romance, humor, thriller, suspense, military, action/adventure
Release Date: May 23, 2016

STORM - EBOOK COVER

Danger.

Lust. 
Desire . . . Trust? 

STORM 
I’m headed back to the Blood Legion MC in New Orleans, my old stomping grounds. Guns. Thugs. Broads. Cocaine nightmares. A Mexican cartel, cracker coke runners, and now there’s a new international threat in town. 

Blaize Carmichael is my only partner in this op. Blaize. As a biker babe. Jeeesus. I’ve had a bone for her from day one when she walked into headquarters—haughty, superior, and always in charge. 

There’s a goddamn good chance we’ll get made, played, and put in the grave as government-issue traitors. But I can’t help it—I love to get rough, raw, dirty, and dominant with her. 

No more yes ma’am, no ma’am. Blaize is about to find out I don’t always takes orders as issued. 

BLAIZE
I can’t stand the way Storm calls me woman or cher or sexy. As soon as we’re back in DC, I’m going to wipe that infuriating wicked smirk right off his dangerously handsome face. 

I’m always prepared for every scenario. I’ve built my career on complete professionalism in and out of the field. But when Storm comes at me with wild animal lust—when he opens up to me—when he opens me up, I can’t say no. 

I don’t want to. 

We’re in danger every single day we stay in NOLA. There is no way we can make it out alive. Not together. Not this time.

STORM
Storm




“T-Zone took you in when the CIA wrote you off,” Blaize scathed.
“And y’all think you were the ones doing me the favor? Baby, you’d need an extra hand to count the number of successful missions I’ve carried out for T-Z, and you goddamn know it.” I pushed her back with my huge muscled body pressing against her.
I watched her swallow, but some seriously angry heat came off her.
It only made her sexier to me.
“You got no excuses for that off-op shit you pulled tonight, and you know it. And you do not want to play this game with me tonight.” I began undressing.
Shirt tossed. Boots thrown. Belt whipped out. Pants tugged down.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stood in front of her—a foreboding, tall, dark shadow of fully fit and ready-to-fuck man. “Lose the clothes, Blaize, before I slice and dice them with my knife.”
She sucked in a breath.
“You and I both know it’s been building to this.” With my hand curled beneath her chin, I lifted her mouth until it brushed against mine. “If you don’t want to get fucked and fucked hard by me right now you better leave this room and run tail back to DC.”
“I don’t back down from a challenge.”
I laughed. “This ain’t a challenge. It’s sex. You and me. Clothes. Off. Now.”
She undressed while I stood right up against her. Her breath hit me, her soft panting gusts of air. My eyes dipped lower when she skimmed the shirt from her shoulders. Her bra—lacy and creamy white—almost overflowed with her tits. I didn’t help her unclasp it but watched with hungry intensity when she hit the hook and it popped free.
The straps dripped off her arms, and her puffy pink nipples rasped against the hair on my chest.
I chugged in a lungful of air, balling my hands at my sides. My cock, thick and hard, wet the bare skin of her belly with a skein of pre-come.
“The jeans now.” My voice was low, thunderous, chest-deep.
She wiggled free, her breasts connecting with my abdomen, which clamped like I’d been hit by a hammer blow. Those soft swinging tits colliding against me made my head ratchet back. But I kept focus. Kept my gaze on her when she stood up.
No Fucking Panties.
Nude. Blaize. She was all golden skin and incredible eyes and glowing hair.
And heat poured off her, firing through my veins.
I stepped away, rubbing a hand across the thick black stubble on my chin. Taking her in. Filling my sights. Memorizing her.
And that little pink pout of her pussy lips—shiny and slick already—below the narrow tangle of bronze-red curls.
“Fuck, Blaize.”
She held her shoulders back, placed her hands on her hips, and asked, “Do I pass muster, sir?”
“Get on the bed. All fours.” A muscle at the back of my jaw ticked.
Her nipples hardened with my harsh words, and I watched a trail of wetness weep between her legs.
Fuuuuck me.
I didn’t touch her. Not yet. But it was damn hard not to.
I watched as her ass swayed, her hips switched back and forth, and she got into position in the middles of the bed.
I was hugely hung, hugely hard, and really fucking angry. Blaize knew it, and she was ready for me.
This mating dance was nearly over.
But I didn’t let myself get close to her yet.
Couldn’t.
She needed to understand the new rules first.
I almost trembled in my skin, walking around the bed, viewing her lush bod from every angle.
My voice thickened from my throat and came out hoarse and husky as hell. “Fair warning. You’ll be screaming tonight. Not because I took a strap to your ass like everyone downstairs expects. But because I’m about to fuck you so good. And when you have a hard time walking and sitting down tomorrow? Won’t be because I punished you. But because I screwed you all night long, cher.” I prowled onto the bed behind her. “Understand?”
In answer, Blaize drew herself up and cupped her tits. I straddled right behind her. For a moment. Running my hands over her body. Touching between her legs and pulling her back to me when her pelvis kicked forward. Sliding my palms up over the indent of her waist and holding her hands down to her sides. Lifting her breasts, massaging them, palming both mounds and thumbing across her nipples.
With my hand at the back of her neck, I slowly laid her down. Laid her out.
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Rie WarrenRie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series. 

A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around. 
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html


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Live By The Team By Cindy Skaggs ♥ Blog Tour

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Title: Live By The Team

Series: Team Fear Series #1

By: Cindy Skaggs

Publication Date: April 23, 2016

Genre: Romantic Suspense

StarAngels Reviews synopsis

They created a monster. Trained by the army, enhanced by medical experimentation, and tested in war. What happens to the creature when the war ends and the man awakens?

SSgt. Ryder was born, bred, and enhanced as a warrior, but when he returns home to his new wife—exiled from the army along with the rest of his disgraced team—he faces mounting anger and paranoia. When a fellow soldier does the unthinkable, Ryder disappears to protect his wife, but his departure leaves a vacuum filled with danger. Can he save her or will he lose himself to the beast and destroy what matters most?

Abandoned most of her life, Lauren Ryder married thinking she had finally found stability, until her new husband disappeared. He returns altered and secretive. Can she forgive him for crushing her dreams of picket fences and happily ever after? Will she survive what he has become?

The surviving members of Team Fear are out of the military and in a world of secrets, lies, and cover-ups in this new romantic suspense series by Cindy Skaggs.

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Untouchable

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A free excerpt…

Live by the Team

A Team Fear Novel

CINDY SKAGGS


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

Copyright © 2016 by Cindy Skaggs. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the author: Cindy@CSkaggs.com

Edited by Jessa Slade

Cover design by L.J. Anderson

First Edition April 2016

  

ISBN: 1532795742

ISBN-13: 978-1532795749

Prologue

Six months ago

Ryder shifted through the crowd gathering behind the police barricade. A local news crew panned the scene from a vantage point to his left. In front of him, a young blonde lifted a wide-eyed toddler to her hip, giving the kid a better view. Gunshots fired had turned into a three-ring circus complete with spectators and media crews.

Crime scene tape snapped under his fingers before he made the conscious choice to proceed. A uniform cop moved to intercept him, but Ryder stopped him with a glare. Menace was an art form he’d studied for twelve years in the Army. He knew how to intimidate without a word, without a weapon. Could kill as easily.

No one stood between Ryder and his men. Ryder dialed back the tension bunching his shoulders. He scanned the scene, gauging overall mood and readiness. Time didn’t allow for more than superficial recon.

A row of patrol cars created a barricade behind which officers lined up, guns drawn. They faced a nondescript ranch house on five acres of hard dirt. A pickup truck was parked under a stand of trees, the only shade for a good ten miles. The shade didn’t help much; it was Texas summer hot.

Nervous energy spread like gossip through the officers on this side of the scene. They were getting trigger-happy the longer the standoff lasted. Jittery men did stupid things.

Ryder walked through the line of patrol cars. No one noticed until he placed his body between the police and the scene of the crime. A last line of defense for the soldier in the barricaded house.

Expletives exploded behind the cop cars. Ryder let loose a sarcastic grin and turned; sure he had their attention now. He lifted his hands so they didn’t feel compelled to shoot him. The energy in the open field shifted from unease to outright distrust. Sweaty grips tightened on guns. Every eye in the area focused on Ryder and judged him a million kinds of fool.

Ryder met their uncertainty with cool resolve. Today’s mission involved getting PFC Madigan out alive, which put Ryder in the hot seat. Times like this, he missed the adrenaline rush: the increased heart rate, the quicker thinking, and increased energy that presaged a good fight.

“Sir, step back,” a male voice spoke into a bullhorn.

Ryder shook his head no. He raised his voice for the camera and the crowd. He didn’t need a bullhorn. “I served with the man inside the house. You want this to end peacefully?” He nodded at the camera. “Let me go in and talk to him.”

More expletives before a tall, slender man wearing a ballistics vest stepped to the west end of the barricaded cars. Tall like a Jolly Green, the man’s shadow stretched across the desert, the setting sun casting him in silhouette. Any half-trained soldier coming off a three-day bender could take him out. The soldier trapped in the house qualified as exceptionally trained. Ryder had done the training.

Ryder held his position, protecting both sides from bloodshed. “Sheriff,” he guessed, rightly so when the man nodded. “I was on the phone with your suspect when you arrived on scene. We’ve established rapport. Let me go in before the situation escalates.”

It wasn’t a question. Ryder didn’t back down. Another news van pulled up in a billow of dust. The crew jumped out, filming on the fly.

A sidebar conversation happened behind the cars while the cameras whirred. Even at sunset, the temps were in the triple digits. The heat factor fueled tempers. Voices raised and lowered with curses and outrage.

Standing between the police and their suspect, Ryder didn’t break a sweat. He absorbed the heat, used it to fuel his system. Guns from both sides pointed at him. The police maintained their vigil, while inside, Madigan would do the same, his sole focus on the troops massing in his front yard. “Mad Dog” Madigan was a weapons specialist. He would have the scene covered.

While the sheriff and his men deliberated, Ryder’s backup moved into position through the rear of the house.

The phone in his back pocket buzzed with an incoming call. He reached and guns lifted to the top of the cars. His hands stayed steady as he pulled the phone out, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. The voice on the other end reached his ears before the phone did.

“Please tell me these reports aren’t live.” The Texas drawl didn’t calm the panic in her voice. He could picture her pretty face, brows raised in frustration. Her hands fluttering as she spoke.

“They’re live.” Regret closed his eyes for a barely perceptible moment. Lauren. He’d told her he had to go help an Army buddy. “This is me helping a friend.”

“With guns pointed at you?”

“Sometimes, that’s what it takes, baby. I gotta go.”

“Ryder—”

He clicked off and dialed Madigan. The call connected without a word spoken. The soldier’s breathing pattern was high and erratic, which concerned Ryder more than the police standoff. Every damn thing about this situation felt wrong. None of this shit was the way they were trained. Hell, Ryder would have sworn emotion had been beaten out of them until he heard the sob on the other end of the line.

“This is bad, Ryder.”

“No shit.” He kept his tone low and measured, aware of the audience.

“Do you think—”

“I’m coming in whether they let me or not. Keep it holstered.” He pocketed the phone and looked across the yard to the sheriff. The other man’s gaze hid in twilight shadows, but his stance read more relaxed than the rest of his men. “Sheriff, I have him on the phone. This is your one chance to end this standoff without bloodshed.”

“How do I know you’re not taking another weapon inside?”

The smirk came natural to Ryder. Who was the sheriff kidding? Madigan stockpiled enough weaponry to start a civil war. The cache of weapons was what kept the sheriff’s men hunkered down instead of going inside. Ryder lifted his shirt and turned slowly, he even smiled for the cameras as he proved he wasn’t armed or dangerous. Well, the dangerous part was open for interpretation. “I’m not losing another soldier, Sheriff. That’s a promise I made my men when we came back.”

There wasn’t a soldier alive who didn’t know the odds. Twenty-two suicides a day. Not today. The words were a prayer. Too bad Ryder had nothing left to believe in or pray to. Sometimes you had to handle shit on your own.

“You can shoot me in the back for the cameras if you want, but I’m going in.”

He didn’t wait for a response. The dirt shifted under his boots as he spun and headed to the front porch. Ants circled a discarded pizza box on the welcome mat. The stench of rancid cheese hit him as he grabbed the doorknob, which turned easily in his hand. Ryder pushed into the house. Gloom shrouded the entryway.

“Close the door.” The voice came from the black void several feet to the right. “Lock it.”

“Not my first rodeo,” he said, but moved to comply. “You hung up on me earlier today, Mad Dog. We didn’t finish our conversation.”

They followed a strict protocol. No matter where a soldier lived, if he called, someone came running. No questions. They weren’t going to be part of some fucked-up statistic. Ryder was geographically closest to Madigan, so he dropped everything, kissed his new wife, and hit the highway. Rose had moved in from the north, and they’d arrived about the same time.

“I shouldn’t have called. Shouldn’t have involved you. I woke up—” Another hiccup from a hardened warrior. What the ever-loving hell?

“Nightmare?” They happened, and when they did, they felt real. Sounded real.

“I called before I had time to pull my head out.” Madigan’s tone calmed. “Before I could pin down what was real, a shitload of cop cars came barreling down the drive. How the fuck did they know to show up?”

“Good question.” Ryder kept his tone slow and easy as he catalogued the surroundings, waiting for his backup to come at Madigan from behind. Ryder was the distraction. They weren’t losing another soldier.

“You did the right thing, calling me. That’s the deal. Live by the team.” They might be out of the Army, might be disillusioned and disgraced, but they were still a fucking team.

“I lost time today, Ry.”

Could they still be having side effects after all these months? “How much time?”

“Hours.” The anguish in Madigan’s voice turned the dark hall into a black hole. “I’m afraid to turn on the light. Find out what’s real.”

“The hell you are.” No fear wasn’t just a motto. “Pack that shit up. Concentrate on the situation. Where are Maggie and the baby?”

“They’re my life. You know that?”

“I do. So let’s end this so you can get back to living.”

Sniffling sounded from a corner and Ryder was closer to triangulating Madigan’s position. He could take him in the murky light, but Madigan’s eyes were already acclimated to the black void. He’d have the upper hand. Darkness was Ryder’s friend, helped him focus, but today, night vision didn’t give him the advantage. Ryder reached to the wall and patted until he hit a switch. He flipped the light.

“Fuck.” Madigan shielded his eyes with one hand while the other aimed a gun at Ryder.

Where the hell was Ryder’s backup? Rose was supposed to take Madigan from behind, but Mad Dog’s back was now against a wall. Madigan backed himself into a corner looking every bit like his call sign: Mad Dog. A halo of red hair capped a tall, lean body smeared with war paint. The wild expression on his face surpassed insane. Blood covered Madigan’s hands and bare chest as if he’d painted himself in some twisted ritual. His eyes were dilated.

“You on drugs?” Maybe drugs explained the panic that shouldn’t be there. And the lost time.

“No.” Madigan scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “At least I don’t think so.”

“What does that mean, Mad Dog? You know better than to experiment with that shit.” With everything they had had pumped into their systems, even alcohol was a gamble.

“I didn’t, not on purpose, Ryder, I swear, but I woke up with the worst fucking headache. Disoriented.”

They’d all experienced those symptoms at least once. Shit. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I went into town to get pizza. Maggie didn’t feel good and the baby was fussy. I thought—” He pounded his forehead with the hand holding the gun. “Why the fuck can’t I remember?”

“What time was that?”

“Lunch.”

Hours ago. “Your truck’s out front. Do you remember pulling into the drive?”

“Yeah.” He pounded the back of his skull into the wall. “Maggie screamed. That’s what I remember. She screamed. I bolted. God, I can’t believe— I wouldn’t, but I had to, it’s only me in the house. And I’m covered in it.” His voice rose. “They’re my life.”

“Calm down.” Something was seriously fucking wrong, because the soldier stank with fear. Ryder took two measured steps closer.

“Stay back.” Madigan lifted a handgun and aimed at center mass. “Don’t take another step.”

Ryder paused. “I’m not afraid of dying.”

“Neither am I.”

Wasn’t that the problem?

Keep him talking. “Did Maggie leave you?”

“I wish.” Panic lifted his voice. “Not the way you mean. I don’t remember, but it had to be me.” An unfocused haze covered his eyes in a thin white film. “I’m the only one here, and there’s so much fucking blood.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Two steps closer. “Sitrep,” he barked, demanding a situation report from the soldier.

The order snapped Madigan’s shoulders to attention. “They’re dead.” He twisted his bloody hand in front of his hazy eyes as if the five fingers held the answers. “They’re my life.”

Seconds later, something in his eyes went hard. Determination replaced the haze, causing a shift in the soldier’s stance. All the training and the mood-altering modifications clicked into place until Mad Dog metamorphosed into a warrior.

Madigan knew how to kill and he’d finally settled on a target.

“No,” Ryder ordered.

“The pain ends. Right now.” Madigan turned the gun to his head. “No fear.”

Ryder launched across the space, but he wasn’t faster than a speeding bullet. Blood spatter hit him before exposing the ruined skull of a man Ryder considered a brother. Mad Dog was a soldier, a protector, and a killer. Where did one start and the others begin?

Rose barreled down the stairs at the sound of gunfire. “What the fuck?” He took in the sight of the fallen soldier. They’d seen death. They’d lost teammates, but they’d never lost one like this. Train a man to kill, take away the fear, and suicide was too damned easy.

“Wife and kid are dead,” Rose confirmed. “Bloody fucking sacrifice. Just like Kandahar.”

One of the special teams had turned sadistic in Kandahar and taken out a local village. Bad press didn’t begin to cover the fallout. The organization reacted swiftly, shutting down the program and denying any and all knowledge. Contracts were severed. Their service records heavily redacted. Overnight, the entire team was out. Out of the military, out of the war, out of the only life they knew. Team Fear took the fall.

Nothing about Mad Dog’s situation could leak. Fallout from a failed government program on U.S. soil would be catastrophic. If the company investigated, retribution would be swift and fatal.

“Shit, Ry—”

“I know. Get out,” he ordered. The cops didn’t need to know Rose had been in the house. “Rendezvous at zero three hundred hours. If I’m not there, you go underground.”

Rose vanished up the stairs. Outside, some idiot on a bullhorn issued threats he couldn’t hear inside the macabre house of hell.

Ryder leaned against the wall, and then slid down as the world shifted under his feet. Was this what it meant to be fearless?

Discover more of Cindy’s fast-paced romantic suspense:

She’ll do whatever it takes to find her son – Lie. Cheat. Steal. Seduce… As the former wife of an infamous crime boss, Sofia Capri is untouchable. She exists outside of the law…and outside of the criminal world. When her son is kidnapped, Sofia is desperate to find him. She’ll do anything. Lie. Cheat. Steal. Anything but trust. But it’s a strikingly handsome FBI agent who’s her only chance to get her baby back… Something about Sofia’s fiery beauty must be hitting all of his weak spots, because suddenly Mr. Law And Order Logan Stone finds himself bending the rules. When they’re implicated in the kidnapping, Logan and Sofia discover a horrifying reality—they have less than 72 hours to find the boy and clear their names.

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CindySkaggs

 

Cindy Skaggs grew up on stories of mob bosses, horse thieves, cold-blooded killers, and the last honest man. Those mostly true stories gave her a lifelong love of storytelling and heroes. Her search for story took her around the world with the Air Force before returning to Colorado.

As a single mom, she’s turning her lifelong love of storytelling into the one thing she can’t live without: writing. She has an MA in Creative Writing, three jobs, two kids, and more pets than she can possibly handle. Find her on Facebook as Cindy Skaggs, Writer, @CLSkaggs on Twitter, or www.CSkaggs.com to sign up for her newsletter.

Social Media Links

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/CSkaggs

Twitter: @CLSkaggs

Website: http://www.cskaggs.com

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cindyskaggs/

Interview

Q: Please tell us about Live By The Team and what inspired you to write it.

A:  Every book starts with a character for me, and for this book, that character was Ryder. He’s a badass, a little dark, and a lot sexy. He’s prior military, accustomed to leadership, and trying to keep his disgraced Army team together while their world falls apart. I had this image of him in the desert at sundown walking into a live crime scene, snapping the yellow tape, and putting himself between the police and whoever was involved in the standoff. He lifts his shirt (women everywhere fan themselves) to prove he isn’t armed or dangerous. “Well, the dangerous part was open for interpretation.”

Lauren is a good foil for him. She’s strong-willed, independent, and highly intelligent with a hint of insecurity and a fear of being alone. She’s a history professor and a PhD candidate, because even smart girls deserve love. She’s not above challenging Ryder’s arrogance, and she’s been known to threaten to gut him and filet him for dinner, but at the end of the day, he’s the one man who can give her the love she craves. Together, they seriously heat up the page!

As I delved into the writing, I realized that what drew me to the story was a fascination with fear. Untouchable, my debut novel, went deep into the main character’s fear, which at one point is immobilizing. The men of Team Fear are the exact opposite. They charge head-on at fearful things. Studying fear has become an academic focus for me, so it was only natural that my fiction would take on a new aspect of fear. I’m in awe of the men and women of the military, police, fire, and other first responders who charge towards the trouble the rest of us run from.

Q: What themes do you explore in Live By The Team?

A recurrent theme for me revolves around abandonment and trust. Lauren’s father died fighting in Iraq when she was a kid, and her mother never emotionally recovered. Lauren is determined not to make her mother’s mistakes, so when Ryder disappears; she’s ready to write him off. What does it take to trust? What does it take to risk it all for love, even your most visceral fear?

The other theme that is prevalent in this particular story is home. I know firsthand the difficulty of moving every few years with military orders, leaving behind friends, family, and all that is familiar. The physical location changes every few years for military members, so what makes a home? Is home a place or is it people?

Q: I understand you have an aggressive writing schedule. Are you exhausted? Do you still enjoy writing?

A: Yes. Yes it is exhausting, but also thrilling. From October – December of 2015, I wrote 2 category romantic suspense novels plus a novella in the Untouchable series that are all now with my editor at Entangled, and after seriously stretching my legs as a writer, I didn’t want to slow down. The Team Fear idea had been percolating for quite some time, and this was the perfect time to work on it.

Writing is a puzzle for me. I setup a schedule where I can write close to 20 hours a week plus my MFA homework, my regular job, and teaching night classes at a local college. Oh, yeah, plus the kids and the pets and the rest of life as we know it. It is exhausting, but in the best possible way. Even when I’m struggling with a scene, I’m happy that I have the ability to do what I love most. I hope I always feel the joy of sitting down to the computer, putting in my ear buds, and zoning at to my make-believe world.

Q: What is your most challenging aspect of writing?

A: Starting.  Until I have that clear vision in my head of the characters and the opening of the story, I resist. I listen to a playlist for every book or series that I write, and I play it all the time to immerse myself in the emotional mindset of the characters. This stage is the only time that I can’t read anyone else’s work because I need that sole focus on the incoming book. The funny thing is, I forget this every time, and every new book creates this same sad frustrating cycle until something clicks and the characters start taking on a life of their own.

Q: Describe your typical writing day?

A: I drop the kids at school and head to a coffee shop where I meet a couple of my writing friends (as often as we can all get there, anyway). We use writing sprints to keep us motivated, writing for 30 minutes at a time and comparing output. It’s not as competitive as it sounds. Mostly, we’re encouraging each other to write more and better. Sometimes the process changes when someone has a book coming out and wants to talk about publicity, promotion, and Indie publishing, but for the most part, we’re there from 10-3 to get writing done, and all of us have improved the quality and the quantity of our work this way. Writing sprints have liberated me as a writer, because if you’re writing fast, you don’t have time to get in your own way.

Q: What’s the happiest moment you’ve lived as an author?

A: That changes with each project, but right this second, it’s Indie publishing the Team Fear series. It is flying without a net, terrifying and thrilling, but worth the ride.

Q: Is writing an obsession to you?

A: Absolutely.  I get cranky (what a nice word) when I don’t write.  The truth is, I become a raving witch and my children run as fast and as far as they can.  My son calls it “caving” when I need to write.  “Are we caving tonight?” he’ll ask, and it gives me permission to hide in my cave to write.  Writing helps me get through all the crap in my head so I don’t take it out on those closest to me.  I could give up wine and coffee and even the gym (well, actually, that wouldn’t take much incentive), but I could never give up writing.  I honestly believe I’d go crazy without the ability to create fictional worlds and fictional characters.

Q: Ray Bradbury once said, “You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” Do you agree?

A: Truth.  I cannot speak for other writers, but for me, reality isn’t such a great concept.  I think that’s true for many creatives.  It’s why we create.  If I became too much of a realist, my ability to write would disintegrate.  I can handle a cruel and unjust fictional world, but a cruel real world will send me to the nearest tub of Ben & Jerry’s.

Q: Do you have a website or blog where readers can find out more about you and your work?

My blog is a little like my happy place.  I love to see people there, digging through my brain for the newest relevant or irrelevant (or irreverent) post.  And I love to engage in conversations (so please post and comment).  http://www.cskaggs.com/see-cindy-write I have recently added a writer’s tab to my website where I post writing related topics. I’ve started and continue to facilitate a local writing group, and it’s our place to post on what we’ve discussed each month, but I think the information is valuable for writers everywhere. http://www.cskaggs.com/writers

Q: How has your upbringing influenced your writing?

My dad was significantly older than my mom, and consequently, he died when I was still a kid.  It flattened me, so I buried myself in books, starting with Nancy Drew.  As a Pisces and a dreamer and an (un)realist, I lived in my dreamworld.  I could create fiction out of any environment and lived there.  It protected me as a child, and insulated me as an adult.  I think the ability to live in fiction is a gift, but others would say it’s a curse, because I have a hard time facing unpleasantness (why would I do that when I can read a book!?).

Q: When and why did you begin writing?

My first short story was written in the 5th grade as a result of a creative writing prompt.  I doubt Mr. Pittman meant for it to affect my life in the way that it did, but I wrote a three-page short story about my class being stuck on a cruise ship in the Bermuda Triangle.  I, obviously, was the heroine of the story (yes, I saved my class’s fannies).  I wrote it out, on purple paper with purple ink, and I wore an actual dress (gasp) to read it aloud to the class.  After I finished, Mr. Pittman said, “Now I see why you dressed up.”  From that point forward, I knew I’d be a writer (even if I always thought it in the future tense).

Q: Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?

It was an extension of my reading, and it started young.  I read Nancy Drew from a young age, and in the 4th grade in Mr. Neis’s class, I started reading The Little House on the Prairie books (which led to a long stage of historical fiction writing). When I was 13, my mother’s Aunt Ilene gave me a brown grocery bag filled with Harlequin romances, and I was hooked.  She taught me that you “hid” your “trashy” romances, and that the super-hot doctor always fell for the awkward nurse/patient.  I knew I wanted to create a world that existed outside reality and that ended Happily Ever After.

Q: When did you first know you could be a writer?

I finished my first novel in high school. I never showed it to a soul, but through my historical, Civil War, “epic” romance, I learned that I could complete a novel.  Unfortunately, I never gave myself permission to pursue writing as a career.  After high school, I joined the Air Force.  After the Air Force, I got a “paying” job.  I went back to college, and still didn’t give credence for my desire to write.  After I had kids, I “didn’t have time to write.”  In 2011, I finally gave myself permission to write, and I applied to the Creative Writing program at Regis University.  That’s when I finally knew that my desire to write could become a payable and pursuable career choice.  Others probably don’t need as much validation, but I’m nothing if not persistent in my resistance.

Q: What genre are you most comfortable writing?

Like my reading, my writing is all over the card catalog.  The best thing about getting a Masters in Creative Writing is the expansion of your awareness as a writer.  It forces you to work in other genres, and I learned that I didn’t hate them. ☺  I write literary nonfiction, and wouldn’t have known what it was if I hadn’t gone back to school.  I absolutely love it.  It feels very natural to write as myself (something I always thought I wouldn’t do), but romance was my first love in writing, and I’m still most comfortable there.  I like the cadence and the patterns and the HEA.

Q: Did writing Live By The Team teach you anything and what was it?

Fabulous question. It taught me to face my fears and it taught me to take risks, both of which of have to do with Indie publishing and believing in my story and myself. The characters always teach me things, an unexpected and sometimes unwanted revelation. Lauren is very self-motivated and self-contained. She doesn’t need a man, but man-oh-man, does she want Ryder. It’s hard for her to give up her perceived independence and start acting as a partner, and I realize I have some of those same pig-headed tendencies. I need to learn to accept help and work together rather than independently all the time.

Q: What is your favorite quote from Live By The Team and why is it your favorite?

Asking me to pick one line out of 85,000 words is a little like asking me to pick a favorite child, but in the interests of fairness, the first line that comes to mind is something I tell my kids all the time: Love is an action word. Ryder is a smooth talker, he can quote poetry, and The Art of War, and naughty limericks, and Lauren is easily swept away the first time, but after he disappears for six months, she’s gotten a little hard. A little bitter. “Love is an action word, Ryder. Your sweet words don’t buy you a pass.”

Q: Who is your biggest supporter?

My kids. I cannot tell you how fabulous it feels for them to support me, and it’s an interesting role reversal.  They tell me all the time that they think I’m a great writer, that they’re proud of me, and that they can’t believe I have more Twitter followers than they do. J  They’ve known for years that we go without material possessions so that I can pursue my education and my writing, and while they may miss “things,” they’ve never complained.  I hope it teaches them to pursue their greatest passion.

In Live By The Team, there’s a line where Ryder asks his army buddy why he joined Team Fear, an experimental program. Rose answers: “Doesn’t matter. I signed the papers and drank the Kool-Aid.” The Kool-Aid is the symbol for what brought them to this point, so in the dedication to my kids, saying I would drink the Kool-Aid means I would repeat any and all of my life choices that led me to them, because they’re worth everything.

Q: Who is your biggest critic?

Me, absolutely.  After I finish a book, I’m sure it’s garbage and shouldn’t see the light of day.  I have to put it away for awhile before I can read it and evaluate it fairly.

Q: What cause are you most passionate about and why?

My kids, single moms, writing, teaching, and the perfect pair of boots.  I work three jobs, go to college, teach college classes, have kids and pets and a house and a car to maintain.  All that “work” helped me to focus on what was important to me and what I’m passionate about, which is split evenly between my kids and my writing.  All jokes about boots aside, I’m passionate about the inequity in this country that faces single moms as an extension of my own experiences and those of women around me, which has led to my passion for teaching, because I believe education is a way out of the bad place many women find themselves.

Q: What are you currently working on?

Finishing up the Team Fear series. Book 2 continues the story as we follow Rose in the fight against… Well, we’ll just have to see. J

Q: Do you have any advice for writers or readers?

Trust your instincts.  When you’re younger, you think you have to learn “the rules.” Mostly, I want writers to trust the process.  The technical aspects of writing will come the more we read and write, but if we rewrite our book every time someone mentions a “rule,” we’ll kill the book faster than we would if we never wrote another word.  And sadly, listening to those “rules” and their advocates can block us from writing at all, and that, my friends, is a tragedy.  Trust your instincts.  If you believe your writing should go in a certain direction, go that direction and hang the rules.

Q: What are some of your long term goals?

To rule the world…oops, that’s the Evil Cindy’s goal.  For me, I want to finish the Team Fear series, and I have another novel, more women’s fiction than romance (no dead bodies) that I’m rewriting as part of my MFA thesis project. Under the category of fame, fortunate, and everything that goes with it, I want to make some best seller lists, maybe get a movie deal, and as long as we’re talking dreams…  Nah, those are things I can’t control (even if I do want them).  What I want most is to reach readers, and provide for my family.  If I could write full time, that would be like winning the lottery.

Q: Are you a different person now than you were 5 years ago? In what way/s?

Not even in the same zip code as I was five years ago. I was an insecure single mom who didn’t know how she’d provide for her kids. Ironically, I lived in fear. All. The. Time. Now I don’t have time for fear. That’s not to say it doesn’t exist, but I’m running around all the time, so fear doesn’t know where to catch me. J And I embrace things that scare me, such as Indie publishing this series. Five years ago, I wouldn’t have even attempted it.

Q: Do you have a press kit and what do you include in it?  Does this press kit appear online and, if so, can you provide a link to where we can see it?

A:  Yes. I have a list of interview questions, my bio, links to my social media sites, plus my cover photo, because, dang, Mayhem Cover Creations did a fab job on that cover!

Q: Have you either spoken to groups of people about your book or appeared on radio or TV?  What are your upcoming plans for doing so?

A:  I established and continue to facilitate a local writers group, so I speak monthly on various writing craft topics as well as critique both fiction and nonfiction. I was recently interviewed on the Creative Magazine Radio Show, and I participated in an annual writing program established by the Pikes Peak Library District called the Mountain of Authors. I enjoy speaking on topics of writing craft and fear.

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