The Texas Mutiny Series by M.E. Carter…Sale Blitz and Relaunch

Today we are helping M.E. Carter relaunch her Texas Mutiny series! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today—Juked is free today!

TexasMutinySaleBlitzBanner

About Texas Mutiny:

The Texas Mutiny Soccer team is known for their skills on the soccer field.  They work cohesively as a team, and their bond shows.

But off the field, each team member has a unique story.

Daniel Zavaro , Team Captain.  A self-proclaimed bachelor who loves nothing more important to Daniel than soccer, his extended family, and his mother’s home cooking.  When fate steps in and he inadvertently meets a woman who needs his help, Daniel is Juked by love.

Rowen Flanighan, The Rookie.  Son of a legendary forward in the European Premier League, he prefers to be known for his own skills, not his heritage.  Full of integrity, he tries to maintain his cool when he meets and falls for the team Groupie.

Santos DeGuajardo, The Veteran.  A family man at heart, Santos is madly in love with his wife and kids, yet he still can’t seem to stay faithful.  When confronted with his infidelities and the end of his marriage, Santos must figure out if he can win her back or if he has to move on.  And as long as he’s the team Goalie, there will always be temptation.

Have you been “Juked” by the boys of the Texas Mutiny yet?

Juked_Amazon_iBooks

teaser1

Juked:

Amazon | iBooks | Nook | Kobo

Groupie_Amazon_iBooks MECarter_Teasers4

Groupie:

Amazon | iBooks  | Nook | Kobo

Goalie_Amazon_iBooks Obliterated It

Goalie:

Amazon | iBooks | Nook | Kobo

Megged_Amazon_iBooks Rock BottomMegged:

Amazon | iBooks | Nook | Kobo

 

teaser 1

 

Ten Fun Facts about the Texas Mutiny:

 

Every author has their own writing process.  The things that make them most comfortable and help them reach their goals.

Problem is, characters seem to have a mind of their own and sometimes that means the original process goes out the window!

I experienced that phenomenon over and over while writing the Texas Mutiny series.  Here are Ten Fun Facts about the series and how the writing process didn’t exactly go as planned.

1)      My youngest child, who most know as “Bug”, is the inspiration for multiple younger characters in the series.  When I wrote Juked, baby Chance started out as a two month old – the same age Bug was at the time.  When I wrote Goalie, Theo was about 14 months old – the same age Bug was at the time.  I try to keep the characters different, but babies/toddlers all tend to be pretty similar in their learning process, so many everyday situations have been added to various scenes.

2)     I never planned to write a book about a groupie.  But when inspiration hits, there’s not a lot you can do to stop it.  I was in my car writing Juked one night, while my daughter was in dance practice.  I was researching derogatory terms for “soccer groupie”.  (For the record, there are several terms, but nothing I’ve been able to find that is exclusive to the sport of soccer, like “puck bunny” would be to hockey.)  Instead, I stumbled across several blog posts from former soccer groupies and I was fascinated.  So yes, some of the things that happen in Groupie?  They’re not the result of my imagination at work as much as they are based on true stories.

3)     I never panned to write Goalie either.  One of my beta readers for Groupie mentioned that she would be interested to know what happened with Santos and Mariana, who were at that point, just secondary characters that popped in and out very briefly.  I told her there wasn’t a story there.  The following morning, I sent her quite a few texts cussing her out, as I suddenly had a 30 chapter outline and story rolling through my brain.

4)     Goalie is about a couple going through a divorce.  I wrote it while I was going through a divorce.  There’s a misconception that I wrote my own divorce story.  I didn’t.  We could all be so lucky as to divorce a man like Santos.  Which is weird to say since he’s a serial cheater.  But if you make it to the end, you’ll see why I can wish for that.

5)     I’m not a fan of naked torsos on covers, but I wanted to try a “Social experiment”, if you will, about how well a naked torso cover is received.  That’s how Juked ended up with a soccer player on the cover.  Then it turned into a whole series and I have to keep the covers consistent with more torsos.  Serves me right.

6)     Speaking of covers, one really cool feature with the paperback, if you put two of them side by side, the second one upside down, and push the covers together, the pictures come together like a puzzle to make one whole person.   It works with the covers of Groupie, too.  However, it does NOT work with Goalie.  If you put those two pictures together, it looks like a threesome with a four-boobed alien woman in the middle.  That’s a different genre, altogether.

7)     I toyed with just letting the soccer team be the Houston Dynamo, which is our actual team here in Houston.  Then the inspiration for Groupie hit and I figured their very real PR department wouldn’t want to have any sort of association with some of the things my players do off the field.  And since a lawsuit didn’t fit into my schedule, I very quickly changed the team name.

8)     Speaking of changing the team name, I couldn’t come up with one I liked for anything!  So I had a contest in my group for one.  The winner, Helen Cope, came up with the name “Texas Mutiny”.  Not only did she win some books, she is a character in Juked.  Remember Rosemary Cope?  Erik’s mother?  Helen’s middle name is Rosemary and liked the sound of it for the character.

9)     In the acknowledgements of each Texas Mutiny book (except Megged) is the name John Marshall.  He is the husband of a good friend of mine and has been obsessed with all things soccer since he can remember.  He’s in his 40’s and still plays on a competitive league.  John has never read a romance book in his life until he beta read the entire series.  It’s not uncommon for him to send me notes from his job because he’s gotten caught up in a chapter.  His wife has even texted me pictures of him reading my books the day they go live, so he can see the final product!  I also been told the conversations they had while he beta read Groupie were, um…. Interesting.

10)  My favorite characters in this series, by far, are Tiffany and Rowen.  There is something so lovely and wonderful about knowing nothing in your past matters to the person that loves you the most.  I love them so much that they are getting a second book, tentatively titled Outswinger.  It’s scheduled to release in July.

 

MECarter_Teasers3

About the Author:

My name is ME Carter and I have no idea how I ended writing books. I’m more of a story teller (the more exaggerated the better) and I happen to know people who helped me get those stories on paper.

I love reading (read almost 300 books last year), hate working out (but I do it anyway because my trainer makes me), love food (but hate what it does to my butt) and love traveling to non-touristy places most people never see.

I live in Houston with my four kids, Mary, Elizabeth, Carter and Bug, who was just a twinkle in my eye when I came up with my pen name. Yeah, I’ll probably have to pay for his therapy someday for being left out.

 

Author Links:

Facebook | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter

Enter M.E.’s Giveaway:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Excerpt Blitz….The Hot Shot by Kristen Callihan

 

the hot shot AN

 

 

TheHotShot Amazon-2First we were friends. Then we were roommates. Now I want more…

What can I say about Chess Copper? The woman is capable of bringing me to my knees. I know this about five minutes after getting naked for her.

No one is more surprised than me. The prickly photographer my team hired to shoot our annual charity calendar isn’t my usual type. She’s defense to my offense, a challenge at every turn. But when I’m with her, all the regrets and darkness goes away. She makes life fun.

I want to know Chess, be close to her. Which is a bad idea.

Chess is looking for a relationship. I’ve never given a woman more than one night. But when fate leaves Chess without a home, I step up and offer her mine. We’re roommates now. Friends without benefits. But it’s getting harder to keep our hands off each other. And the longer we live together the more I realize she’s becoming my everything.

Trick is… Now that I’ve made her believe I’m a bad bet, how do I convince her to give this player a true shot at forever?

 

 

AMAZON | iBooks | B&N | KOBO | Paperback

 

 

 

CHESS

 

Grumbling, I toss on some black lounge pants and my oversized Tulane t-shirt and head to the drugstore.

My head throbs by the time I get there, and my insides are writhing. I rest my hand against my lower stomach and grab a basket before calling James to complain.

“I swear,” I tell him as I grab a bottle of painkillers. “It’s like this entire day has been cursed.”

He snickers. “Curse. Get it? Curse?”

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “Laugh it up. Meanwhile, it feels as if someone is playing Battleship in my uterus.”

“Poor Chessie bear. At least we know why you were in such a foul mood.”

A flush washes over my cheeks. “Yeah.” Lie. Lie. Lie. A tub of salted caramel gelato makes its way into the basket.

“Tell me you’re getting some gelato,” James says.

I smile. “Just grabbed it.”

“Salted caramel?”

“You know it.”

I find the feminine products aisle and search for my brand. “I’m going to go home, take a long bath with my gelato, and forget this fucking day.” Forget Finn. “And then I’m going to go on Amazon and buying a freaking year’s supply of tampons so I don’t have to make these kinds of emergency runs anymore.”

A low, deep chuckle rumbles from behind me, and all the tiny hairs lift on my arms.

“But you’ll still need your gelato,” a familiar—fuck me, seriously?—voice points out.

My insides swoop even as my cheeks burn.

“Who is that?” James asks in my ear.

I slowly turn on one heel. “The plague,” I say, glaring up at Finn Mannus’s smiling face.

“From asshat to plague.” Finn scrunches up his brow. “I’m not sure if that’s a step down or a tie.”

“Who is that?” James nearly yells now.

I don’t take my eyes off Finn. “I’ll call you back.”

James’s squawks of protest cut off as I hit the end button.

“Are you stalking me, Mannus?”

Finn a rests his hands low on his lean hips. “Having a healthy amount of conceit myself, I have to admire yours, but no, buttercup. My buddy Woodson lives a few blocks away. It’s poker night. I’m stocking up on beer.”

It’s only then I notice a twelve pack tucked under his other arm.

“And tampons?” I ask, with a pointed look around the aisle we’re standing in.

“Not tonight,” he says easily. “Though we used to keep a pack of them back in college. Light flows were perfect for stopping up bloody noses.”

A snort escapes me. “Now there’s a visual.” Somehow, I’ve taken a step closer to him. He’s freshly showered, the golden brown strands of his hair still damp at his temples. And I wonder if he’s just come from the gym or practice. “So back in college you went and bought these tampons?”

“Nah,” he says with a cheeky smile. “I’d ask one of the girls hanging around to get me some.”

“Of course you did.” My nose wrinkles with annoyance.

“Give me a little credit, Chess. I’d buy them now if I had to.”

“Hmm…” I eye him, trying not to return his smile. If only because it’s more fun when he teases. “So why are you in this aisle now, if not for potential nosebleed needs?”

“That’s easy.” He steps closer, a warm wall of muscle and clean scent. “I heard your voice.”

For a second I just blink. “You recognized my voice?”

His gaze darts over my face as if he’s trying to get a read on why I’m gaping at him. “Not to be…ah…rude, but you’re loud when you talk on the phone.”

“Yeah, but… You recognized it.” We’d only just met. It occurs to me that I’d recognized his both times he’d snuck up on me. Then again, his voice is distinctive, flowing like hot honey when he’s relaxed or hammering down like iron to rock when he’s taking command of a situation.

A soft flush of pink tints the tips of his ears. If I wasn’t staring at him, I might have missed it. He shifts his weight. “Was I not supposed to?”

“No. Yes.” I shake my head and laugh. “I don’t know.”

He grins then. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.” I am.

 

 

THS1

 

KCauthor

Kristen Callihan is an author because there is nothing else she’d rather be. She is a three-time RITA nominee and winner of two RT Reviewer’s Choice awards. Her novels have garnered starred reviews from Publisher’s Weekly and the Library Journal, as well as being awarded top picks by many reviewers. Her debut book FIRELIGHT received RT Magazine’s Seal of Excellence, was named a best book of the year by Library Journal , best book of Spring 2012 by Publisher’s Weekly, and was named the best romance book of 2012 by ALA RUSA. When she is not writing, she is reading.

WEBSITE / FACEBOOK / TWITTER / AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

The Player by K. Bromberg….Blog Tour & Review

 

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00074]Baseball has never been sexier in an all-new novel by New York Times Bestselling Author, K. Bromberg.

Easton Wylder is baseball royalty. The game is his life. His passion. His everything.

So, when an injury threatens to end Easton’s season early, the team calls in renowned physical therapist, Doc Dalton, to oversee his recovery. Except it’s not Doc who greets Easton for his first session, but rather, his daughter, Scout. She may be feisty, athletic, defiant, and gorgeous, but Easton is left questioning whether she has what it takes to help him.

Scout Dalton’s out to prove a female can handle the pressure of running the physical therapy regimen of an MLB club. And that proof comes in the form of getting phenom Easton Wylder back on the field. But getting him healthy means being hands-on.

And with a man as irresistible as Easton, being hands-on can only lead to one thing, trouble. Because the more she touches him, the more she wants him, and she can’t want him. Not when it’s her job to maintain the club’s best interest, in regards to whether he’s ready to play.

But when sparks fly and fine lines are crossed, can they withstand the heat, or is one of them bound to get burned?

 

iBooks | B&N | Kobo | Paperback

 

 

 

OMG!!! I was so not expecting this book to end in a cliffhanger til I got about 90% through and shit was not wrapping up, if anything, the hype was just getting even more gritty. Damnit, I need book two PRONTO!! And thankfully, we do not have to wait long for it. Yes, I know it says The Player, #1, but I was assuming that each book was going to be a different player, not a duet. But I am not complaining in the least.

Kristy has given a hot and sweet sports romance with the perfect blend of angst in it. I love that story surrounds Easton and Scout and their attraction to one another, but there is a deeper story there for both of them. You can tell Kristy definitely knows the sport well and that plays into the story and keeps things exciting.

Easton is the golden player. He’s the son of famed baseball player and is looking to be just as a great. An injury has him on the DL list currently and his goal is to finally get back on the starting roster quickly. But he also struggles with the demands from his father and the new owner’s unknown endgame.

Scout is Easton’s trainer and understands what it’s like to live up to a legendary father. Her father was the trainer Easton thought he was getting and when he’s stuck with her, things don’t start off that great. Scout is used to working in a male-dominated field and knows how to handle herself when it comes to their jarring and comments towards her. But her assumptions bite her in the ass this time.

Kristy makes her characters real and relatable. You can see their struggles and feel what they feel. The banter between Easton and Scout was very natural and flowed beautifully. I love how they knew when to push and when to pull back with each other. And like I said earlier, just when I was hoping everything was coming together, it seems as though things are going to get stirred up even more.

I still recommend reading this now and waiting the short time for the follow up to release. It’s a great sports romance you definitely don’t want to miss out on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

HeadShot ColorNew York Times Bestselling author K. Bromberg writes contemporary novels that contain a mixture of sweet, emotional, a whole lot of sexy, and a little bit of real. She likes to write strong heroines, and damaged heroes who we love to hate and hate to love.

A mom of three, she plots her novels in between school runs and soccer practices, more often than not with her laptop in tow.

Since publishing her first book in 2013, K. has sold over one million copies of her books and has landed on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestsellers lists over twenty-five times.

In April, she’ll release The Player, the first in a two-book sports romance series (The Catch, book 2, will be released late June), with many more already outlined and ready to be written.

She loves to hear from her readers so make sure you check her out on social media or sign up for her newsletter to stay up to date on all her latest releases and sales HERE

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon Author | Driven Group

Tempting Justice by Fiona Archer…Release Blitz

 

 

Title: Tempting Justice
Series: Sons of Sydney #2
Authors: Fiona Archer
Genre: Erotic Romance/Romantic Suspense
 Release Date: April 18, 2017
Blurb
He’s
sworn to uphold the law
His reckless behavior as a child caused the deaths of his entire
family. On the lonely Sydney streets, the orphan found friends. Found
“brothers.” Never again will Seattle Homicide Detective Heath Justice break the
rules and risk his new family. Order and discipline govern his life…until he
meets a curvaceous redhead. With two ugly murder cases to solve, the last thing
he needs is this disconcertingly lovely, whirlwind of chaos, yet…charmed by her
wit and intelligence, Heath can’t resist.
She
believes rules are meant to be broken
Deep into writing a murder mystery, author London Shaw is shocked when
she herself is implicated in a homicide. She can’t believe the
ever-so-authoritarian Detective Heath Justice expects her to simply ignore the
crime and go on about her business. Not happening.  Although the man’s whiskey rough voice,
cuffs, and masterful touch could melt any woman’s resistance—and does—she has a
craving to do a little investigating herself.
When all
or nothing is your only play
When Heath’s murder investigation threatens a far-reaching conspiracy,
everyone he cares for becomes their target—including the woman he’s come to
love.
Purchase Links
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Excerpt
Heath had grabbed the flask from the SUV’s back seat when he glimpsed a figure through the rear window. A woman, wearing a blue hoodie and black sweatpants walked to the edge of Derek’s driveway and gazed at the house’s front door. A few seconds later, she began walking swiftly down the driveway, constantly checking the front door.Was she worried about being seen? A possible intruder?

Since he’d parked closer to the house further on from Derek’s parents’ property, the woman hadn’t spotted him. Heath replaced the flask on the backseat and gently pushed the back passenger door nearly closed. He waited until she had disappeared behind the side of the house before following.

Careful not to make noise, he followed the woman down the driveway and watched as she stopped in front of a side door to the garage, which was separate from the house. With her back to Heath, she pulled something from her pocket and tried to jimmy the door’s lock.

The woman glanced toward the back of the house, likely checking to see if she’d been spotted, then continued her efforts with the lock. A soft hiss and a “dammit” indicated her efforts were unsuccessful.

Heath also couldn’t miss the curvy shape of her figure outlined so well by the soft black material hugging her gorgeous arse. One shown off to perfection as she bent to look closer at the lock.

A tiny squeak of joy, followed by her opening the door, signaled the possible intruder had crossed a line. It seemed such a shame to stop his fun. Nevertheless, duty called…

Heath pulled out his 9mm from his shoulder holster and held it out in front of him as he moved forward. “Police! Put your hands on your head and step away from the door.”

The woman let out a high squeak, dropped the lock pick, and spun around, eyes wide. Her mouth formed an “O” at the sight of his weapon. “Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness.” She covered her mouth with both hands before waving them in front of her, palms facing Heath. “It’s not what you think. Honestly.” Her gaze snapped to her left in the direction of the back of the house as if she expected someone to come out any moment.

“I said, hands on your head.” Heath commanded, satisfied when the woman immediately obeyed. “Come forward, turn around, and face the garage door.” He saw her close her eyes in defeat before she obeyed. Heath grabbed his cuffs and shoved his weapon back in the holster. With efficient moves, he had her wrists secured behind her.

“Officer, I can explain.” She sighed. “I mean, I know everyone says that, but really, nothing illegal’s happening here.”

“Good to know.” He pulled her jacket’s hood from her head. Red hair. No, the description didn’t do the color justice, but he only knew guyspeak, which would have to suffice to explain the bursts of deeper red in amongst the lighter strands, all held in a ponytail.

Heath patted down his suspect. No weapons. And he’d have to be dead not to notice the way his hands fit over her hips, the roundness of her arse. He wasn’t a sleaze, not by any means, but he appreciated a woman’s body like any man.

Taking her arm in a firm grip, he turned his suspect around.

Green eyes framed with long, thick lashes blinked up at him. “When I say nothing illegal, I mean it depends on your point of view.”

“My point of view is as a cop, which doesn’t leave a lot of leeway on a range of subjects.”

She frowned at him, as if he was being unreasonable. “That’s a rather rigid stance. Not everything is black and white.”

Heath wasn’t prepared to debate the point. “Your disappointment is noted. Now—”

“Hey, I’m sure you’re a busy guy. And, uh,”—she licked her lips—“you need to go protect the community. That’s an important role. Absolutely. So, you know—” She broke off. “Shoo. Anyway, we can put a line under this and start the day over.”

Despite her opinion of his so-called inflexible outlook on life, he couldn’t help answering. “We can, huh?”

“Totally.” She nodded, sending her ponytail bobbing.

Keeping hold of her arm, Heath looked down at her black canvas tennis shoes to hide his mouth twitching.

It was a safe bet the young woman wasn’t a hardened criminal. But whatever the hell she was up to, he aimed to find out. First he needed to phone Derek.

“Do you know the owners of this house?”

Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes grew huge in her face. “You don’t have to get them,” she rushed out.

“Oh, but I do.” He went to pull out his phone from his back pocket, and the woman jerked against his grip. She would have toppled over if not for him keeping his hold.

Oh, no, sweetheart.

He tightened his grip, reinforcing her captivity and moved closer, towering over her. “Lady, you could have hurt yourself.” The safety of suspects was important, and the thought of the little redhead causing herself harm propelled his alpha instincts center stage. “Resist once more, and I’ll use my belt to hogtie you.”

She drew in a sharp breath. What he didn’t see was fear. Not in her eyes or the way a blush stained the cool-toned white skin of her face. And swear to God, he felt her body soften against him.

An image of her hogtied flashed through his mind. Only she wouldn’t be in this driveway, but in his bed. Lying on his sheets. Her glorious long red hair spread over his pillow.

“What the hell’s going on?”

Heath looked over his shoulder. Derek stood at the side of the house, his hands jammed on his hips.

Dammit,” came from his suspect.

A look best described as misery—from the closed eyes and turned down mouth—covered her face.

“I caught a suspect attempting to break into your parents’ garage.”

Derek gave a dry laugh. “I’ve no doubt she’s up to something, but that’s no suspect.” He strode up the driveway, his frown reserved for the woman at Heath’s side. “Meet London, my baby sister.”

Heath swung his gaze to…Derek’s sister?

Those eyes, so wide and shocked before, were now narrowed with the promise of rebellion, even as she stood there—in his cuffs.

Ah. So bravado was her chosen defense.

Heath remembered the sweet color of her blush at his earlier threat of hogtying her.

Lightning might strike him down any second, but the woman intrigued him, even knowing she was Derek’s sister. The knowledge he didn’t have to call for a cruiser to take her to booking added a new dimension to the proceedings. Anticipation flowed through Heath. He was going to enjoy this visit, and for way more than pancakes.

Time for his prisoner to confess all.

Also Available
AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Author Bio
Fiona Archer writes erotic romance filled with masterful Aussie alpha heroes and teams them with sassy heroines who limit their submissive side to the bedroom. She lives in sunny environs of Sydney, Australia, and is harassed by a flock of wild cockatoos that take over the back yard each afternoon, demanding their feed. Her favorite hobbies include watching Nathan Fillion on television, shopping for that ever-elusive perfect shade of lipstick, and drinking iced coffee.
Author Links

A Piece of My Heart by Sharon Sala…Spotlight Tour

Synopsis

She’s never had a home
Growing up in a troubled foster home, Mercy Dane knew she could never rely on anyone but herself. She’s used to giving her all to people who don’t give her a second glance, so when she races to Blessings, Georgia, to save the life of an accident victim, she’s flabbergasted when the grateful town opens its arms to her. She never dreamed she’d ever find family or friends—or a man who looks at her as if she hung the stars.

Until she finds peace in his arms
Police Chief Lon Pittman is getting restless living in sleepy little Blessings. But the day Mercy Dane roars into his life on the back of a motorcycle, practically daring him to pull her over, he’s lost. There’s something about Mercy’s tough-yet-vulnerable spirit that calls to Lon, and he will do anything in his power to make her realize that home isn’t just where the heart is—home is where their heart is.

We’re running a special preorder promotion for this title, if you preorder A Piece of My Heart, you can choose to receive one of the other Blessings, Georgia books for free.

Exclusive Preorder link: http://books.sourcebooks.com/blessings-georgia-preorder/

Giveaway

 

Rafflecopter:
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Get the Book Here:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2hX9A4T

B&N: http://bit.ly/2hPklbE

Books-A-Million: http://bit.ly/2oLg8t3

iBooks: http://apple.co/2oL3qKu

Chapter 1-3

Chapter 1

From childhood, Mercy Dane viewed Christmas Eve in Savannah, Georgia, like something out of a fairy tale. The old, elegant mansions were always lit from within and decorated with great swags of greenery hanging above the doorways and porch railings like thick green icing on snowy white cakes.

The shops decked out in similar holiday style were as charming as the sweet southern women who worked within. Each shop boasted fragrant evergreens, plush red velvet bows, and flickering lights mimicking the stars in the night sky above the city.

And even though Mercy had grown up on the hard side of town with lights far less grand, the lights in her world burned with true southern perseverance. Now that she was no longer a child, the beauty of the holiday was something other people celebrated, and on this cold Christmas Eve, she no longer believed in fairy tales. So far, the chapters of her life consisted of a series of foster families until she aged out of the system, and one magic Christmas Eve with a man she never saw again. The only lights in her world now were the lights where she worked at the Road Warrior Bar.

The yellow neon sign over the bar was partially broken. The R in Road was missing its leg, making the word look like Toad. But the patrons who frequented this bar didn’t care about the name. They came for the company and a drink or two to dull the disappointment of a lifetime of regrets.

Carson Beal, who went by the name of Moose, owned the bar. He’d been meaning to get the R fixed for years, but intention was worth nothing without the action, and Moose had yet to act upon the thought.

Outside, the blinking neon light beckoned, calling the lonely and the thirsty into the bar where the beer was cold and the gumbo and rice Moose served was hot with spice and fire.

Moose often took advantage of Mercy’s talent for baking after she’d once brought cupcakes for Moose and the employees to snack on. After that, she’d bring in some of whatever she’d made at home. On occasion Moose would ask her to bake him something special. It was always good to have a little extra money, so she willingly obliged.

This Christmas Eve, Moose had ordered an assortment of Christmas cookies for the bar. When Mercy came in to work carrying the box of baked goods, he was delighted. Now a large platter of cookies graced the north end of the bar.

The incongruity of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” playing in the background was only slightly less bizarre than the old tinsel Christmas tree hanging above the pool table like a molting chandelier.

Because of the holiday, only two of his four waitresses were on duty, Barb Hanson, a thirtysomething widow with purple hair, and Mercy Dane, the baker with a curvy body.

Mercy’s long, black hair was a stunning contrast to the red Christmas sweater she was wearing, and her willowy body and long, shapely legs looked even longer in her black jeans and boots. Her olive skin and dark hair gave her an exotic look, but being abandoned as a baby, and growing up in foster care, she had no knowledge of her heritage.

Barb of the purple hair wore red and green, a rather startling assortment of colors for a lady her age, and both women were wearing reindeer antler headbands with little bells. Between the bells and antlers, the music and cookies, and the Christmas tree hanging above the pool table, Moose had set a holiday mood.

Mercy had been working at the bar for over five years. Although she’d turned twenty-six just last week, her life, like this job, was going nowhere.

It was nearing midnight when a quick blast of cold air suddenly moved through the bar and made Mercy shiver. She didn’t have to look to know the ugly part of this job had just arrived.

“Damn, Moose, play some real music, why don’t ya?” Big Boy yelled as the door slammed shut behind him.

Moose glared at the big biker who’d entered his bar. “This is real music, Big Boy. Sit down somewhere and keep your opinions to yourself.”

The biker flipped Moose off, spat on the floor, and stomped through the room toward an empty table near the back, making sure to feel up Mercy’s backside in passing.

When Big Boy suddenly shoved his hand between her legs, she nearly dropped the tray of drinks she was carrying. She knew from experience that he was waiting for a reaction, so she chose to bear the insult without calling attention to it.

As soon as he was seated, Big Boy slapped the table and yelled at the barmaids. “One of you bitches bring me a beer!”

Moose glanced nervously at Mercy, aware that she’d become the target for most of Big Boy’s harassment.

Barb sailed past Mercy with a jingle in every step. “I’ve got his table,” she said.

“Thanks,” Mercy said, and delivered the drinks she was carrying. “Here you go, guys! Christmas Eve cheer and cookies from Moose!”

One trucker, a man named Pete, took a big bite out of the iced sugar cookie. “Mmm, this is good,” he said.

“Mercy made them,” Moose yelled.

Pete shook his head and took another bite. “You have a fine hand with baking. I’d ask you to marry me, darlin’, but my old lady would object.”

Mercy took the teasing with a grin. The men at this table were good men who always left nice tips. In fact, most of the patrons in the bar were men with no family or truckers who couldn’t get home for Christmas. Every now and then, a random woman would wander in to have a drink, but rarely lingered, except for Lorena Haysworth, the older woman sitting at the south end of the bar.

She’d been coming here since before Mercy was born, and in her younger days she and Moose had been lovers before slowly drifting apart. She’d come back into his life a few months ago and nightly claimed the seat at the end of the bar.

Barb took the first of what would be multiple beers to Big Boy’s table, along with a Christmas cookie and a bowl of stale pretzels, making sure to keep the table between them.

Big Boy lunged at her as if he was going to grab her, and when she turned around and ran, he leaned back and laughed.

Mercy returned to the bar with a new order and waited for Moose to fill it.

“Sorry about that,” Moose said, as he glanced toward the table where Big Boy was sitting.

Her eyes narrowed angrily. “How sorry are you? Sorry enough to kick him out? Or just sorry his money is more important to you than me and Barb?”

Moose’s face turned as red as his shirt. “Damn it, Mercy. You know how it goes,” he said, and pushed the new order across the bar.

She did know. The customer was always right. Trying not to buy into the turmoil, she picked up the tray and delivered the order with a smile.

The night wore on with Big Boy getting drunker and more belligerent, while Barb and Mercy dodged his constant attempts to maul them, until finally, it was time to close.

It was a few minutes before 2:00 a.m. when Moose shut down the bar. There were only three customers left. Big Boy, who was so close to passed out he couldn’t walk, Lorena, who was waiting to go home with Moose, and a trucker who’d fallen asleep at his table.

Mercy headed for the trucker, leaving Moose to wrestle Big Boy up and out.

The trucker was a small, wiry man named Frank Bigalow who fancied himself a ringer for country music star Willie Nelson. He was dreaming of hit songs and gold records when Mercy woke him.

“Frank. Frank. You need to wake up now. We’re closing.”

Bigalow straightened abruptly, momentarily confused as to where he was, then saw Mercy and smiled.

“Oh. Right. Sure thing, honey. What do I owe you?” he mumbled.

“Twelve dollars,” she said.

Bigalow stood up to get his wallet out of his pants then pulled out a twenty. “Keep the change and Merry Christmas,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said, and began bussing his table as he walked out of the bar.

Moose had Big Boy on his way out the door, and it was none too soon for Mercy.

She handed Moose the twenty when he returned. “Take twelve out. The rest is mine,” she said, and pocketed the change Moose gave her.

Within fifteen minutes, the bar was clear and swept, the money was in the safe, and Barb and Mercy were heading for the door.

“Hey! Girls! Wait up!” Moose said, then handed them each an envelope, along with little bags with some of Mercy’s cookies. “Merry Christmas. We’re not open tomorrow so sleep in.”

“Thank you,” Barb said, as she slid the envelope inside her purse.

“Much appreciated,” Mercy added, as she put her envelope in one of the inner pockets of her black leather bomber jacket. It was old and worn, but it was warm.

Then she grabbed her helmet and the cookies and headed out the door behind Barb and just ahead of Moose and Lorena. Once outside, she paused to judge the near-empty parking lot, making sure Big Boy and his Harley were at the motel across the street.

The air was cold and the sky was clear as she stashed the cookies, then put on her helmet and mounted her own Harley. Seconds later the quiet was broken by the rolling rumble of the engine as she toed up the kickstand, put the bike in gear, and rode off into the night.

The empty streets on the way to her apartment were a little eerie, but she was so tired she couldn’t work up the emotion to be scared. The streetlights were draped with Christmas garlands and red bows, but they were all one blur as Mercy sped toward home.

A city cop on neighborhood patrol saw her, recognized the lone bike and biker, and blinked his lights as she passed him.

She waved back and kept going.

When she stopped for a red light and realized she was the only person on this stretch of street, she didn’t breathe easy until the light turned green, and she moved on.

Finally, she was home. She eased up on the accelerator as she rolled through the gates of her apartment complex and parked the motorcycle beneath a light in plain view of the security cameras. She ran up the outer stairs to the second level and down the walkway to her apartment carrying her helmet and the cookies. No matter how many times she’d done this or how many times she’d moved since it happened, the fact that she’d once come home late at night to find out she’d been robbed, she never felt safe until she was in the apartment with the door locked behind her.

She tossed the helmet onto the sofa and took the cookies into the kitchen. Curious as to how much of a bonus Moose was giving this year, she was pleased to see a hundred-dollar bill.

“Nice,” she said, and took it and her night’s worth of tips to the refrigerator, opened up the freezer, and put the money inside an empty box that had once held a biscuit mix.

She wasn’t sure how much money she had saved up, but last time she’d counted it had been over two thousand dollars. It should have been in a bank, but these days, banks cost money to use, and she didn’t have any to spare, so she froze her assets.

The place smelled of stale coffee and something her neighbor across the hall had burned for dinner. She was tired and cold, but too wired to sleep, so she went to her bedroom, stripped out of her clothes, and took a long hot shower.

She returned to the kitchen later to find something to eat. One quick glance in the refrigerator was all the reminder she needed that she still hadn’t grocery shopped. She emptied what was left of the milk into a bowl of cereal and ate it standing by the sink, remembering another Christmas in Savannah, her first all on her own.

***

Mercy was nineteen years old, between jobs, and as close to homeless as she’d ever been. She had come back to her apartment after a long day of job-hunting, only to walk in on a burglar in the act. She screamed. He ran with what was left of her savings, and the hours afterward were a blur of tears and a fear that she would not be able to survive the setback. The only money she had left in the world was in her pocket.

The people in the adjoining apartments were sympathetic and curious, and a couple felt sorry for her and gave her a couple of twenties. She was standing in the hall waiting for the cops to clear her room when the neighbor from across the hall opened his door and came out. He’d moved in only two days ago, and during that time they’d done no more than nod and smile as they passed in the hall, but she liked his face. His eyes were kind, and his smile felt genuine.

It was apparent he’d been sleeping and had done no more than comb his fingers through his hair before he opened the door. The top snap on his jeans was undone, and he was pulling a sweatshirt over his head as he came out. She got a quick glimpse of a hard belly and wide shoulders before she looked away.

“What’s happening?” he asked, as he stopped beside her. “I fell asleep with the TV on. When I woke up and turned it off, I heard all this.”

“I was robbed,” she said.

His empathy was instant. “Oh no! Oh honey, are you okay? Were you hurt?”

Her voice was shaking. “My arrival scared him off.”

Without hesitation, he hugged her. The unexpected compassion undid her, and she began to cry.

And in the midst of that moment, the cops came out, and she pushed out of his arms.

“Ma’am, we’re through here. He busted the lock. I would suggest you find somewhere else to sleep for the night.”

“I don’t have somewhere else or someone else,” she said.

They shrugged and left the building.

The neighbors all went back into their apartments.

All but him.

She sighed and started for her apartment, when he stopped her with a word. “Don’t.”

She turned, anger already settling in her heart. “Don’t what? That’s everything I own in this world. They took my money. I’m not giving up what clothes I have left too.”

She walked into her apartment and closed the door.

He opened it and walked in behind her. “Get your things. You can sleep in my room tonight. Tomorrow we’ll figure something out.”

Mercy started to shake. “There is no we in my life.”

“Fine. Then you’ll figure something out. But you can sleep in my room tonight anyway.”

She stared at his face, looking for a sign of danger and seeing none. “Yes. Okay.”

“Want help gathering up your things?”

“No.”

“Then do what you need to do, and knock on my door when you have everything.”

She nodded.

He walked out.

She packed her bags while a cold anger washed through her. One more kick when she was down. It’s how her world worked. By the time she got across the hall, she had shut herself down.

“I made a bed for you on the sofa,” he said.

She left her bags by the door and then laid her coat on top of them as he locked up behind her. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re very welcome. Oh, hey, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

She grimaced. “Oh, just call me Lucky.”

“I have a feeling that’s not your real name, but it will do. I’m L.J. but my friends call me—”

“We’re not friends. L.J. will do,” she muttered.

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t argue. He’d seen animals trapped into a corner with no way out, and the look in her eyes was about the same. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?” he asked.

“No, thanks. Just the bed. I’m tired. So fucking tired.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, but he was guessing she didn’t know it. “Then I’ll leave you alone. If you need anything later, just knock on my door.”

She nodded, dropped onto the sofa, and began taking off her shoes.

“Good night, Lucky. Sweet dreams,” he said.

She made a sound halfway between a snort and a sob. He left the room.

She went to bed. And three hours later woke up screaming.

He came out on the run with a gun in his hand.

By that time she was sitting on the side of the sofa bed with her head in her hands. Her long, black hair was in tangles, and the sports bra and sweatpants she’d been sleeping in were drenched with sweat, even though the room was cold. His first thought was that she was sick.

“Sorry. Bad dreams,” she said, and got up. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hall, first door on your left.”

She passed by him, so close he felt the heat from her body. And when she came out, she had washed up and dried off the sweat.

“You didn’t have to wait,” she said.

“I know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and that you didn’t need anything…” Then he pointed at the clock. “It’s Christmas.”

Tears rolled down Mercy’s cheeks.

“Oh hell. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said.

“Well, you did, so what are you going to do about it?” she snapped.

L.J. flinched. “We could make love.”

Now she was the one who was startled. “What if I say no?”

He shrugged. “Then I go back to my room and sleep till daylight.”

The rage within her was choking. She wanted to feel something besides despair. “I am numb. I don’t think I will be able to feel.”

He held out his hand. “I know how to make you feel again.”

Mercy shivered, her mind racing. With a stranger? Just once. Just so she wouldn’t have to hurt.

She walked into his arms.

The ensuing hour was nothing short of magic. Mercy turned into someone she didn’t know existed. He turned her on and sent every emotion she had into overdrive. The sex was heart-stopping, and so was he. After it was over, he fell asleep with her still in his arms.

She watched his face as he slept until every facet of him was branded into her memory, but she wouldn’t sleep. An hour before daylight, she slipped out of his bed, dressed in the other room, and left without telling him good-bye.

***

A loud crash, and then the squall of a tomcat somewhere outside broke Mercy’s reverie.

She put her bowl in the sink and walked to the window overlooking the parking lot.

The neighborhood cat was prowling around the dumpster, and she saw the vague images of two people making out in a car near the back of the lot. Angry that she cared, she turned away. Exhaustion was finally catching up. It was after three in the morning when she rinsed the bowl and then paused in the doorway, making sure everything was turned off and locked up.

The silence in the apartment was suddenly broken by the distant sound of a phone ringing in a nearby apartment. The ringtone was “Jingle Bells.”

“Merry Christmas,” she muttered, and went to bed.

Chapter 2

It was nearing daylight when her cell phone began to ring. She rolled over and grabbed it as she turned on the lamp. “Hello?”

“This is Mildred Starks from the National Rare Blood Registry. Am I speaking to Mercy Dane?”

“Yes,” Mercy said, as she threw back the covers and stood up.

“Ms. Dane, we have an emergency in your area. This is an unusual situation, and we’re asking something out of the ordinary. Can you respond directly to the hospital in need?”

“Yes. Where do I need to be?” she asked, as she began grabbing clothes.

“You still reside in Savannah, Georgia, and are there at this time?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. There is a small town about an hour south of you called Blessings. There’s no chopper available to fly you there and no time to donate in Savannah and then have it transported. Do you have transportation to get yourself to Blessings?”

Now her hands were shaking as she realized the reality of someone’s life would lie partially in her ability to get there. “Yes. Where do I go?”

“The town is small. There’s only one hospital. I’m sending GPS directions to your phone. Time is crucial. Be safe and Godspeed.”

“On my way,” she said, and dropped the phone on the bed as she took her biker gear out of the closet. Within five minutes she was out the door, her helmet in one hand, keys in the other.

The sun was only a hint on the eastern horizon as she left the complex. According to her directions, she was to take I-16 west, then connect to I-95 south. She wasn’t far from a feeder road that would take her to I-516, which then turned into I-16, so she took that route.

It was early Christmas morning and traffic was sparse. Sunrise was minutes away when she finally hit I-16, and by that time she was flying. Every mile behind her put her closer to Blessings. It wasn’t the first time she’d been called upon to donate her blood, but it was the first time she’d been asked to go to the person in need. It amped the urgency to a fever pitch, making her part in it personal.

Once she hit I-95 southbound, the northbound lane was a black ribbon of flickering headlights, while she and the Harley became a two-wheeled version of earthbound flight.

She rode with single-minded focus, keeping an eye on the traffic while making sure she didn’t get caught in the draft of passing truckers. And when the new sun was just high enough in the east that she could see the landscape through which she was passing, the glimpses of houses led her to imagining what might be going on within the walls—because it was Christmas Day.

Surely joyful families were opening presents and eating breakfasts. She pictured turkeys already in the oven, pies already baked and lining sideboards and tables, and the dough for homemade hot rolls in big crockery bowls, covered and rising in a warm place on the counter. Unfortunately, that scene was nothing but her imagination because she’d never experienced anything like it. But the closer she got to Blessings, the more she realized there was no time to dwell on what she didn’t have. Today, it was what she did have—an RH negative blood type—that mattered most.

She’d been on the interstate forty-five minutes when she reached the exit that would take her to her destination. According to the directions she’d received, Blessings was less than fifteen miles ahead. The roar of the engine beneath her was all she could hear as she leaned slightly forward into the ride and accelerated.

And just as she rode past the city limits sign, she came upon a roadblock and a long line of cars blocking the highway with rescue vehicles up ahead. Her heart sank. She didn’t know it was the aftermath of the wreck that had caused the injuries to the person in need of her blood. But waiting around for permission to pass was not on her agenda.

She rolled out around the last car in line and kept moving forward. When she reached the accident site, she rode around two tow trucks, then took to the ditch to get around a couple of police cars and one highway patrol.

Although she couldn’t hear what they were saying, she saw them shouting and trying to wave her down. She’d never outright defied a lawman in her life, but these were extenuating circumstances, and so she kept moving until she was beyond the roadblock and heading into town.

She knew she was speeding, but traffic on Main Street was almost nonexistent. Her gut knotted when she heard a siren. One glance in her side mirror, and she saw the red and blue flashing lights of a cop car coming up behind her. Stopping to explain her situation could be the difference between someone living and dying.

Led by fear, she swerved off Main Street into a residential neighborhood and accelerated. It wasn’t enough. The cruiser was still behind her and closing the gap. Then she noticed an alley coming up on her right, swerved into it and sped up, trying to get back to Main. Everything in her peripheral vision was a blur, and the sound of the siren was fading as she shot back onto Main and then down to the far end of the street to the blue hospital sign with an arrow pointing east.

She followed the arrow, saw the hospital building straight ahead, and headed toward the entrance marked ER. She slid sideways as she came to a stop and then ran toward the entrance with her helmet in her hand and her hair in tangles.

It had taken an hour and five minutes to get there.

It was thirty-seven degrees, and she was sweating.

***

Everyone in the waiting room looked up as the tall, leggy woman came running into ER, heading straight toward registration. They saw black leather, wild hair, and a motorcycle helmet, and frowned. Women in Blessings didn’t dress like that. She was obviously a stranger.

Mercy was unaware of the stares and would have cared less had she known. She stopped at the desk.

“I’m here to donate blood to—”

A nurse came out of a nearby office.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Mercy Dane.”

The nurse threw up her hands in a gesture of thanksgiving. “Praise the Lord that you’re here. They’re waiting for you. Come with me.”

They left the waiting area with haste, moving down a long hallway, then through double doors, past the surgery waiting room, unaware of the two men who came running out of the waiting room behind them as they passed. And when the nurse took her through another set of doors, things began to happen rapid-fire.

She’d given them her photo ID and donor card and was now flat on her back, half-listening to the frantic voices around her as they began hooking her up. It was obvious whoever needed this transfusion was someone they knew—someone they certainly cared about. And she was here, so she closed her eyes, letting the chaos go on around her without buying into the panic, just glad she’d made the ride.

***

Lon Pittman clocked the biker at close to sixty miles an hour going down Main Street. He immediately hit the lights and siren as he took pursuit, and when he got close enough to ID the tag number, radioed it in. He had assumed the rider was a guy with long hair until the dispatcher radioed back. The owner was a woman named Mercy Dane. That wasn’t going to change anything when he caught her, but it did cross his mind that this woman was surely hell on wheels. He was still in pursuit when she suddenly took a right and shot up the alley that ran along the side of Ruby Dye’s home.

“Damn it,” he muttered, knowing it was too narrow to take his cruiser up that alley at this rate of speed, and had to drive to the end of the block to take a quick right, only to see her shoot out of the alley, straight across the street into another one. She was still running the alleys, one block after another.

He took off toward Main running hot, and when he finally reached it, caught a quick glimpse of the bike and rider now on Main and turning east. With lights still flashing and his siren screaming, he took the turn onto Main and followed her route.

It wasn’t until he took the same turn the biker had taken that he realized it led to the hospital. He caught a glimpse of her and the bike heading north around the hospital and floored it.

The last thing he expected to see when he drove up to the ER was the big Harley parked near the entrance. He killed the lights and siren, radioed in his position, and got out on the run.

Once again, the people in the waiting room were surprised. When their police chief entered a building running, they were curious what was going on.

None of them had expected to see so much action and excitement in the hospital ER, especially on Christmas Day.

Lon quickly scanned the room, and when he didn’t see anyone in black leather, he headed for the registration desk.

“Sally, did a woman wearing black leather come in here?”

“Oh…you mean Mercy Dane? Yes, she’s here, thank goodness. They took her straight to the surgery area.”

He frowned. “Why? Was she injured in some way?”

“Oh, no! She came for Hope Talbot. She’s the rare blood donor they’ve been waiting for.”

And just like that, all the anger he’d been feeling for the reckless way in which she’d come into Blessings was gone. He’d helped pull Hope out of the wreck. He knew she was hanging onto life by a thread, but had no idea about her blood type or the frantic call that had gone out on her behalf.

“Where did they take the Dane woman?” he asked.

“Down the hall is all I know. You might check in at the surgery waiting room. Jack and Duke are there. They might know more.”

“Thanks,” he said, and headed down the hall.

***

Jack Talbot and his brother, Duke, were still celebrating the blood donor’s arrival when Chief Pittman entered the waiting room.

Jack immediately stood up and shook his hand. “Chief! I was told you helped pull Hope out of the wreck. Thank you so much.”

“I just happened to be one of the first on the scene,” he said.

“I’m still so grateful,” Jack said. “My wife is the beginning and end of my world.”

“So how’s she doing?” Lon asked.

Jack shook his head and walked away in tears, leaving Duke to answer. “She’s hanging in, but it wasn’t looking good. She’d lost so much blood that they didn’t think she would pull through surgery without a transfusion. The problem became getting blood for her. She’s RH negative, which is a rare blood type. There wasn’t any in the blood banks that could have gotten to us time, and just when we thought it wasn’t going to happen, they found a donor who lived in Savannah. She just got here a few minutes ago. There’s no way to know how this is going to come out, but whoever she is, her presence was an answer to our prayers.”

The image of Mercy Dane’s frantic ride now made a crazy kind of sense. Now Lon was past curious. He wanted to see the woman who’d made a wild ride on Christmas Day to save a stranger’s life.

“That’s good to know,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I believe I’ll wait here with you, just to see how Hope fares after the transfusion.”

***

Mercy watched one nurse rush out with the donated blood while another took the needle out of her arm. The panic of getting here was over. Whatever happened now was out of her hands, save for the silent prayer she’d said for the woman in need. She was about to get up when a nurse stopped her.

“Wait, honey. Not so fast,” she cautioned.

Mercy didn’t argue. The room had already begun to spin when she raised her head—a combination of too little sleep, an adrenaline crash, and a unit short of blood.

The nurse helped Mercy up and walked her out, talking as they went.

“I’m taking you to the waiting room to get juice and a sweet roll from one of the vending machines before I can let you leave. I don’t know if anyone told you, but the woman needing the donation is a nurse in this hospital. We are all so grateful you came when you got the call. None of this is standard donation procedure, so thank you for going above and beyond for her.”

“I am happy I was close enough to help,” Mercy said.

“You gave her a chance, which is more than she had before you showed up,” the nurse said.

Mercy was still shaky and wanting to sit down as they walked into the waiting room. But two men who were already there stood up and came toward her so fast she took a quick step back.

However, it was the cop standing behind them who caught her eye. She thought for a moment she was hallucinating, then saw the same look of shock on his face as the one she must be wearing. Her gut knotted.

“You! You disappeared seven years ago. I never thought I’d see you again,” he said.

She shrugged. “Seven years is a long time. Neither did I.” She wondered if he’d stayed to give her a ticket for speeding, and then decided she didn’t care.

The brothers began crowding around her, all trying to talk at once.

“Miss Dane, this is Jack Talbot and his brother, Duke. Hope is Jack’s wife, and it appears they’ve figured out who you are. Jack, this is Mercy Dane. She needs juice and a sweet roll from the vending machine.”

“I’ll get it,” he offered, and ran toward the machines at the far end of the room, and then yelled back at his brother to see if he had a debit card on him while the nurse seated Mercy and introduced her to the chief.

“Mercy, this is Chief Pittman. He helped pull Hope from the wreck.” Then she added, “Ideally, you need to sit at least thirty minutes after you’ve finished eating. An hour would be even better.”

Mercy nodded. “Yes, I will, and thank you.”

“Oh no, we’re the ones thanking you. God bless you, Mercy Dane. Have a safe trip home,” she said.

Lon was in shock. Seven years ago he’d spent a week looking for this woman. She was in his arms when he fell asleep, and when he woke she was gone. He’d never forgotten her or that night, and now, fate had brought her back into his world.

“So, Lucky, long time, no see,” he said softly.

She nodded.

“You are one hell of a rider,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed. “So, Chief, is that your way of saying I was speeding?”

She watched his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he smiled.

“Pretty much, but given the circumstances, I’m gonna let that slide. I stayed because I wanted to meet the donor who willingly interrupted her Christmas Day to save a stranger’s life. I didn’t know I was going to meet an old friend.”

“We’re not friends,” Mercy said, and then blinked as she realized that was what she said before, and added, “I don’t have family. Just a job. I was happy to do it.”

He heard a challenge in her claim…as if daring him to remark about her solitary life. But he wasn’t going to give her a moment of sympathy. “Yeah, same here. Cops and family aren’t necessarily synonymous. Most days I feel like my life is the job. At any rate, you are not what you seem, and I am impressed.”

All of a sudden, a quick wave of weakness washed over her. She bent over and put her head between her knees, trying not to pass out.

Lon caught her just as she was about to slide out of the chair as Jack returned with a bottle of orange juice, a packet of mini-doughnuts, and an iced honey bun. It was pure sugar overload, but Mercy knew it was what her body needed to offset the shock of blood loss.

“Here you go, Miss Dane. If you want more to drink, just let me know,” Jack said, and then pulled out a chair and sat down near her.

Duke was drawn to the woman by her beauty, and unhappy that it appeared the chief and the woman were already acquainted with each other. He followed his younger brother’s lead and sat nearby.

Mercy took a drink of the juice and then tore back the cellophane from the honey bun and took a bite as the chief’s radio squawked. Someone was trying to locate him.

“As you heard, my presence is requested elsewhere,” Lon said, as he stood. “It was a pleasure to meet you again. Take care, Miss Dane, and have a safe ride home.”

“Thank you,” Mercy said.

She didn’t want to watch, but she couldn’t help it. The years had turned him into quite a man. One thing was the same though. His butt still looked good from behind.

Chapter 3

Jack scooted his chair closer to her. His voice was trembling as he captured her attention. “Miss Dane, there aren’t words enough to thank you for what you’ve done. Hope means everything to me, and I thought I was going to lose her. You have given her a fighting chance.”

“I was happy to help,” she said.

Duke picked up the conversation. “Well, we certainly appreciate it. Hope has no family, so there was no option of having a relative donate, which would have been the normal avenue. She was adopted out of foster care.”

“Then she was lucky to get out. I grew up in foster care and aged out,” Mercy said, and took another bite of the honey bun.

“Where do you live?” Jack asked.

“In Savannah.”

Duke pointed at the helmet that she’d put between her feet. “Did you come here on a motorcycle?”

She nodded. “I don’t own a car.”

He frowned. “Wasn’t your husband upset about you coming all this way alone?”

Mercy resisted the urge to glare. He asked too damn many questions. “I’m not married, but that wouldn’t have mattered. I make my own decisions. No man tells me what to do.”

Duke heard the cold tone in her voice and unconsciously sat up and leaned back.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

Mercy sighed. She’d come on too strong to a family who was freaked out, and rightly so. “No. I’m sorry. I guess the defensive wall I keep between me and the world is a little steep.”

She finished off the honey bun and got up to wash the sugar from her fingers. When she came back from the bathroom, she glanced at the clock. Since it was still too early to leave, she took off the leather jacket and sat back down.

The moment she removed it, Duke saw the odd-shaped birthmark on her neck and did a double take. “Unusual birthmark you have there,” he said, pointing at the side of her neck.

“I guess,” Mercy said. “I forget it’s there.”

She drank the last of her juice and then leaned back in the chair, resisting the urge to close her eyes. It wouldn’t take much for her to go to sleep.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Jack asked. “I mean, you look a bit sleepy. I wouldn’t want you to have an accident going home.”

“Yes, actually I would. Coffee sounds like a good idea, but I have money to—”

“Please, let me,” Jack said.

Mercy didn’t argue. She understood his need to give back and closed her eyes rather than continue a conversation. This was a random meeting in their lives, and the sooner she was out of here, the better.

But Duke kept staring. After Jack handed Mercy the coffee and sat back down, Duke and Jack began talking in low tones.

Mercy wasn’t paying any attention until she heard a comment that startled her. “She sure looks like Hope, doesn’t she?” Duke asked.

Jack frowned. “Maybe.”

But Duke was insistent. “Same olive complexion. Same black hair and brown eyes.”

Then Duke realized Mercy was staring at them. “Sorry for talking about you like that,” Duke said. “It was rude.”

Mercy shrugged it off as Duke continued talking. She thought he talked too much, but now that he had her attention, he launched another conversation. “Hope had a little sister when she was in foster care. Her adoptive parents left her behind, and it broke Hope’s heart.”

“That’s too bad, but it happens,” Mercy said.

“She said her little sister had a birthmark on her neck that looked like a valentine heart lying on its side.”

Mercy grabbed her neck before she thought. She could feel herself flushing like she used to when a foster parent would decide she was too wild, too unwilling to conform, and her social worker would come and take her away. Why don’t you try to get along, he would ask.

She never knew what to say. She had no words to describe that she was afraid of everything. That she’d been hurt so many times that her defense mechanism had evolved to being the first to throw a punch or disagree.

“I do remember Hope talking about that,” Jack said, and looked at Mercy anew.

“She said her little sister was only three when that happened,” Duke said.

Mercy stood abruptly. “What you’re implying is impossible. Why are you doing this? You know my name. It was never changed, so obviously, that’s not me.”

“Hope said she always called her Baby Girl. I don’t think I ever heard her mention anything but that.”

Now the room was beginning to spin again, but this time from fear, not weakness.

All of a sudden she was remembering a gritty floor against her bare legs and old shoes on her feet so scuffed they no longer held color. Someone was hugging her and patting her on the back. Don’t cry, Baby Girl. I’ll tie your shoes.

She blinked, and the memory was gone, but she felt off-center and anxious. When she began gathering her things, Duke stood.

“Aren’t you curious?” he asked. “What are the odds that a donor with the same rare blood type as Hope’s, who also looks like her, has the same general coloring, and the same identifying birthmark as the missing sister, isn’t connected?”

Mercy was beginning to shake. She’d been alone all her life, and this felt scary. She was afraid to buy into something only to be disappointed again when it wasn’t true. “It’s not possible,” she said.

“Then let’s determine it right here and now,” Duke said, and pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to a friend who worked in the hospital.

Within moments he got a text back. “My friend, Mark, works in the lab. He’s coming up to get a swab for a DNA test. Is that okay?”

Mercy wanted to run, but the thought of actually having family was beyond anything she’d ever dreamed. “I guess,” she said, and sat back down.

A few moments later, Doctor Barrett, the surgeon who had operated on Hope, came into the waiting room.

Jack immediately stood. “How is she, Doctor Barrett?”

“I’m cautiously optimistic,” he said. “I just wanted to let you know her vital signs are improving. She’s not out of the woods by any means, but getting that transfusion was vital.”

“Oh, thank God,” Jack said, and grabbed both of Mercy’s hands. “And thank you again.”

“You’re the donor?” the doctor asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I’m thanking you too. Hope is a good woman and a fine nurse. What you gave her was a chance to live.”

Mercy was blinking back tears as the doctor left and fighting an urge to run. But if she left now without following through on this sister thing, she would live the rest of her life wondering what would have happened had she stayed.

A few minutes later, a short redheaded man in a lab coat came hurrying into the waiting room. “Is this the lady in question?” he asked.

Duke nodded. “Mark, this is Mercy Dane. Mercy, this is my friend, Mark Lyons.”

Mark smiled. “Hello, Miss Dane. This will only take a few seconds. I just need to get a swab from inside your mouth, okay?”

She nodded.

When he pulled the long swab out of the wrapper, she opened her mouth.

Mark got the sample and secured it. “All finished. When we get the test results, I’ll let Duke know.”

“How long will it take?” Duke asked.

“Hard to say. They’ll take all of the regular requests for people who are waiting for treatment first.”

“Okay then,” Mercy said, and headed for the door.

“Wait!” Duke said. “How can I contact you?”

She wasn’t about to give him her phone number or address. “You can reach me at the Road Warrior Bar in Savannah,” she said, and walked out of the waiting room, then out of the hospital.

The sun was bright as she headed toward her bike. The urgency of her arrival was no longer an issue as she slipped the helmet over her head, mounted the Harley, and started it up. The pipes rumbled as she rode out of the parking lot and back toward Main Street.

***

Lon was standing outside the police station talking on his cell phone when he heard the motorcycle. He ended the call as she approached, and on impulse, waved her over.

Mercy sighed. This meeting had to happen to get past it, so she turned toward the curb and pulled into a parking space. She killed the engine, took off her helmet, and cradled it in her lap as he walked toward her. “Am I in trouble again?” she asked.

“No ma’am, you are not,” he said, and handed her a card. “This is my business card, but the number on the lower left is the number to my personal cell phone. I would sincerely appreciate it if you gave me a call when you get home, just to let me know you arrived safely. I am a bit concerned about the long ride you’re going to have to make so soon after donating blood. I want to know you made it home in one piece. Unlike the last time we parted, when I worried myself sick for some time, wondering what happened to you. Wondering if that thief had come back and taken you away.”

Mercy’s heart skipped a beat as he laid the card in her palm. She’d been so beaten down and wounded by life that she never thought of his feelings when she’d left. “Are you serious?” she asked.

Lon frowned. “Yes, I’m serious. Why would you doubt that?”

She shrugged. “Nobody ever cared.”

He heard a slight tremble in her voice. “Well, I’m not nobody, and I cared before, and I care now.”

She slipped the card into one of the pockets in her jacket and then zipped it up for safekeeping. She didn’t what to think about him. “I never had to check in with anyone before.”

Lon felt like he’d been sideswiped, but didn’t let on. He’d thought it that night together so long ago, and he was thinking it again this Christmas Day. He’d never met anyone like her—a matter-of-fact woman who said what she thought and didn’t use the situation in her life to gain attention or pity.

“You’re not checking in with me, Mercy Dane. If this insults you, then don’t call. But like before, be aware that I will worry, and I will wonder if you ever made it home. I will be grateful if you call. Ride safe. Both times we have crossed paths in sad circumstances. I never got a chance to say it before, but I am truly glad to have met you.”

All of a sudden Mercy was looking at him through a veil of tears. She took a quick breath and jammed the helmet back on her head.

“Thanks for not giving me a ticket,” she said, and started the engine and rode off.

Lon stayed where he was and watched until she disappeared from view—still remembering what it felt like to come apart in her arms.

***

Mercy was shaken by the encounter and didn’t feel easy until she’d put several miles between herself and Blessings. The town was small by Savannah standards, but there was something about it. Some people might have called it quaint. But that wasn’t the adjective Mercy would have used. It took her a few moments to put a name to the vibe she’d gotten just from being there, but when the word came to her, it felt right.

There was an innocence to it. Maybe it had to do with small-town living. She’d never thought about living in a place where you knew most everyone who lived there and had known them since birth. She kept thinking about the depth of concern everyone had for the injured woman…for Hope Talbot. Everyone seemed so friendly, so kind and caring, both for her health and safety, and for Hope.

As for that cop, she didn’t quite know how to feel about him. He didn’t hit on her. He didn’t ask for her number like most of her customers did in the bar. He just wanted to know that she made it home. How had he worded it? Oh yes. In one piece. If she made it home in one piece.

Almost as suddenly as that thought slid through her mind, a car on her left in the passing lane suddenly swerved toward her. She swerved toward the ditch, certain he was going to hit her. At the last moment, he overcorrected and swerved hard to the left and drove into the center median.

She caught a glimpse of the car as it began to roll and breathed a shaky sigh of relief that she wasn’t the one rolling. She glanced in her side mirror and saw a number of cars were already stopping, so she kept on going, glad she was still upright and healthy.

About forty-five minutes later, she hit the city limits of Savannah and took an exit ramp that would take her home.

Fifteen minutes more, and she had arrived at her apartment complex and locked up her bike. She paused to stretch before going upstairs and gazed around the complex, noting the number of Christmas wreaths and big red bows decorating doors and balconies.

It was almost noon on a clear, cold Christmas Day.

She thought about the cop’s card in her pocket, and on impulse pulled it out and gave him a call. When he answered, she realized she’d been holding her breath for the sound of his voice. “Hello?”

“It’s me, Mercy. I’m home.”

“Good news! Are you feeling okay?”

She shivered as the deep rasp in his voice rolled through her. “Yes, Chief, I’m fine, and thank you for asking.”

“Thank you for calling to ease my mind. Next time we meet, call me Lon. Merry Christmas to you, Mercy Dane.”

“Merry Christmas to you too,” she said, and disconnected.

She started up the steps to her apartment with a bounce in her walk. It was a good day.

***

Lon was still smiling as he dropped the phone back in his pocket. For a day that had started out in a near tragedy, it was turning into a really good day.

 

 

Cover Reveal….Stand by A.L. Jackson

 STAND

A Bleeding Stars Stand-Alone Novel

Coming May 22nd

Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Models: Tyler Halligan & Madelyn DeSantis
From NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author A.L. Jackson comes the next seductive, unforgettable Bleeding Stars Stand-Alone Novel…
Zachary Kennedy has never been known as a fighter, but he’ll never regret fighting for her…
I’m Zee Kennedy.
Quiet. Reserved. Predictable.
When my brother died, everyone thought I was just the good guy who stepped up to take his place in the band.
No one knew what I was hiding. The one thing I’ve been fighting for.
For six years, I’ve never lost focus.
Not until one chance encounter with Alexis Kensington.
Now she’s become my greatest temptation.
I knew better than to touch her, but now that I’ve had a taste, I can’t get enough.
Her kiss becomes my air. Her body my salvation.
She needed a savior and somehow she became mine.
Taking her was a betrayal. But keeping her means risking everything.
One look at Alexis Kensington, and I know she’s worth the fight.
Will my past continue to keep me down or will I finally find the strength to pull myself up and Stand…

 

PREORDER NOW

Get Amazon Live Alert: http://smarturl.it/liveonamzn
Tingles rushed, my words nothing more than pants as he kissed down through the valley of my breasts. “Maybe you’re just remembering who you are. Who you were always supposed to be.”
I felt as if I was so close to knowing him. This boy who’s beauty had been muted.
He groaned, half pained, half demand. “You almost make me feel like him.”
Yanking me away from the railing, he hoisted me high. My legs were wrapped high around his chest as he carried me the rest of the way to the upper loft. To this magical place where twilight touched every corner, whispered its secrets and danced in its shadows.
He’d barely tossed me to the bed when he was over me, shoving up my dress and ripping it free, my fingers just as frantic as I tore his shirt over his head. I searched him, hands racing across his chest, feeling the wild beat of his conflicted heart, hearing the struggle that whimpered from his spirit.
He angled down and captured my mouth again. He kissed and bit and nipped as he held my face steady in the frame of his hands. Then he edged down, driving me wild with this murmurs of kisses at my jaw and ear and neck.
“Zachary…please.”
I writhed, dizziness rushing as I stared up at him towering over me.
His body was brimming with hard, cut muscle. Muscle that jumped and ticked and flexed, as if the desire thrumming in his veins stalked back and forth, a caged predator, searching for a way to be released.
My gaze traveled across the tattoo on his chest.
Relentless.
“Fight for me,” I begged.

GIVEAWAY

Grand Prize: Bleeding Stars Signed Book Bundle

(includes first 5 books in Bleeding Stars Series)

Second Prize: $25 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

A.L. Jackson is the New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of contemporary romance. She writes emotional, sexy, heart-filled stories about boys who usually like to be a little bit bad.
Her bestselling series include THE REGRET SERIES, CLOSER TO YOU, as well as the newest BLEEDING STARS novels. Watch for the next installment STAND, coming Spring 2017.
If she’s not writing, you can find her hanging out by the pool with her family, sipping cocktails with her friends, or of course with her nose buried in a book.
Be sure not to miss new releases and sales from A.L. Jackson – Sign up to receive her newsletter http://smarturl.it/NewsFromALJackson or text “aljackson” to 24587 to receive short but sweet updates on all the important news.

Connect with A.L.

Facebook: http://smarturl.it/ALJacksonPage
Reader Group: http://smarturl.it/AmysAngelsRock
Amazon: http://smarturl.it/ALJacksonAmzn
Bookbub: http://smarturl.it/ALJacksonBookbub
Twitter: @aljacksonauthor
Instagram: @aljacksonauthor
Snapchat: @aljacksonauthor

 

Revelry by Kandi Steiner….Release Day Blitz

Title: Revelry
Author: Kandi Steiner
Release Date: April 20, 2017
Add to TBR

From the bestselling author of Weightless and A Love Letter to Whiskey

Wren Ballard is trying to find herself.

She never expected to be divorced at twenty-seven, but now that the court date has passed, it’s official. The paperwork is final. Her feelings on it aren’t.

Spending the summer in a small mountain town outside Seattle is exactly what she needs. The peaceful scenery is a given, the cat with the croaky meow is a surprise, but the real kicker? A broody neighbor with nice arms, a strange reputation, and absolutely no interest in her.

Anderson Black is perfectly fine being lost.

He doesn’t care about the town’s new resident — he’s too busy fighting his own demons. But when he’s brought face to face with Wren, he can see her still-fresh wounds from a mile away. What he doesn’t see coming is his need to know who put them there — or his desperation to mend them.

Sometimes getting lost is the way to find yourself. Sometimes healing only adds a new scar. And sometimes the last place you expected to be is exactly where you find home.

 

I had just grabbed my oversized hat and slipped my sunglasses on when I spotted Anderson walking up the drive with a large trash bag slung over his shoulder. He wore a simple, black V-neck and distressed jeans, an outfit way too dark and hot for the heat. A light sheen of sweat gathered on his neck as he made his way toward my cabin, his eyes hidden behind all-black sunglasses.

“Change your mind?” I asked, not even fighting the grin on my face as I walked outside and leaned against the banister.

Anderson squinted up at me, his boots heavy as they hit each stair. “About?”

“Tubing?” I asked. That was why he was here, right?

“Oh.” He shook his head as he hit the top stair, shrugging the bag off his shoulders to hold it by the neck in one fist. “No, I have somewhere to be…” His voice trailed off, and even through the tinted shades of his glasses I felt his eyes on my chest. I’d strapped on my favorite boho print bathing suit and paired it with a dainty gold chain that wrapped around my neck once before dipping between my chest and crossing over my ribs.

He sniffed, holding the bag out toward me. “I just came to drop these off. My clothes. Well, the ones that could probably use a little TLC.”

My eyes lit up and I reached for the bag, but Anderson snatched it back, brows shooting up into his forehead.

“No frills, Wren.”

I threw my hands up in surrender. “I promise.”

He smirked, just slightly, and handed the bag over, tucking his hands in his front pockets.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I asked, peering into the bag at my project before setting it just inside the cabin and locking the door behind me.

“I can’t,” he said, lips pressed together. He was tense, the muscles on his forearms tight as he glanced around at pretty much everything but me.

I opened my mouth to ask why but was cut off by the sound of a truck flying into my drive, tires sliding against the gravel.

Tucker was in the driver’s seat with Davie in the passenger. Sarah and Yvette sat in the back, laughing with their hands up as the truck skidded to a stop. They were both sprawled out on a pile of tubes, wearing bathing suit tops and tiny shorts.

All of their faces froze when they saw Anderson.

“Hey, you ready, Wren?” Tucker asked warily, his eyes moving from where Anderson stood in front of me, to me, and back again.

“Yeah, one sec!” I called back.

I turned to Anderson, but his eyes were hard on Tucker, jaw ticking under his skin. When he faced me once more, an anchor fell from my throat into the pit of my stomach, immobilizing me completely. Because even though I ‘d tried to convince myself I was wrong, I recognized the look in his eyes.

Possession.

And when his nose flared and he took one big step toward me, our chests brushing, his hand reaching out to rest almost imperceptibly on my hip, the anchor in my stomach exploded into flames, burning a desire so fierce I inhaled a toxic breath and didn’t let it go.

“Be careful, okay?” His eyes locked on mine just before he leaned in and swiftly kissed my cheek.

He turned on his heel and jogged down the stairs and past the truck. Sarah called his name, but he didn’t acknowledge her, just kept his gaze forward until he’d disappeared from view.

And then everyone looked at me.

Kandi Steiner is a bestselling author and whiskey connoisseur living in Tampa, FL. Best known for writing “emotional rollercoaster” stories, she loves bringing flawed characters to life and writing about real, raw romance — in all its forms. No two Kandi Steiner books are the same, and if you’re a lover of angsty, emotional, and inspirational reads, she’s your gal.

An alumna of the University of Central Florida, Kandi graduated with a double major in Creative Writing and Advertising/PR with a minor in Women’s Studies. She started writing back in the 4th grade after reading the first Harry Potter installment. In 6th grade, she wrote and edited her own newspaper and distributed to her classmates. Eventually, the principal caught on and the newspaper was quickly halted, though Kandi tried fighting for her “freedom of press.” She took particular interest in writing romance after college, as she has always been a die hard hopeless romantic, and likes to highlight all the challenges of love as well as the triumphs.

When Kandi isn’t writing, you can find her reading books of all kinds, talking with her extremely vocal cat, and spending time with her friends and family. She enjoys live music, traveling, anything heavy in carbs, beach days, movie marathons, craft beer and sweet wine — not necessarily in that order.

 

Teaser Blitz…..Lethal Lies by Rebecca Zanetti

ABOUT THE BOOK

Title: LETHAL LIES

Author: Rebecca Zanetti

Series: Blood Brothers, #2

On Sale: May 16, 2017

Publisher: Forever

Trade Paperback: $14.99 USD

eBook: $5.99 USD

Add to Goodreads

“4 1/2 stars! Top pick! This is a true thriller that will keep readers frantically flipping the pages as death and danger come at the protagonists from several directions.  Zanetti’s brilliance at storytelling is on full display…When it comes to high-octane thrillers, they don’t get better than Zanetti!” —RT Book Reviews on LETHAL LIES

“Zanetti balances the adventure and menace of Zara and Ryker’s lives with a relatable romance. The result is a story that’s sexy and emotional, and filled with a rich look at love in all its forms.” —The Washington Post on DEADLY SILENCE

“Budget your time, readers, because this is one that’s hard to put down.” —HeroesandHeartbreakers.com on DEADLY SILENCE

A deadly secret can’t stay buried forever . . .

Revenge. It’s the only thing that will help Anya Best sleep at night. The serial killer who murdered her sister is on the loose, and Anya will stop at nothing to put him behind bars—even use herself as bait to lure him out of hiding. But she can’t do this alone.

Private investigator Heath Jones’s job is to bring bastards to justice. This time it’s personal. He knew the Copper Killer’s latest victim so when her sister asks for his help, he’s all in. But when Anya uses the media to taunt the killer, she exposes Heath’s identity, putting them both in jeopardy. Now, secrets buried long ago are coming to light and the forces determined to destroy him are watching Heath’s every move, waiting to exact their own revenge. And they’ll use anything and anyone to get to Heath.

PREORDER THE BOOK HERE

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Books-A-Million

Google Play

iBooks

Indiebound

Kobo

EXCERPT

 

“All the more reason to get you out of town,” Heath said quietly.

She shook her head. “No. I’m staying.” Her words were brave, but her chest hurt. No way could she deal with a serial killer all on her own. She could train every day for the rest of her life and not end up as practiced or as deadly as Heath already was, and she knew it. “I understand you have other cases and people after you. So leave, and I’ll handle this myself.”

“Those are big words, baby,” he said softly.

Her lip quivered, and she bit down on it. “I know. I promised her, Heath. It’s all I have left to give to her.”

He paused, understanding crossing his expression. “Ah, sweetheart. Your sister wouldn’t want that for you.” His voice turned velvety and soft. Soothing.

Anya nodded. “I know. But she was my sister. We shared blood and part of a childhood. She took me trick-or-treating when I was five, and it’s one of my best memories. Then when I needed help as an adult, she didn’t hesitate. She came to me right away, like family. She was the first person I really cared about in far too long, and it hurts like hell that I got her killed.”

He breathed out, the emotion in his eyes deepening.

She swallowed. “I have to do this for her. Either you understand that or you don’t.”

“Why don’t you just let us handle it?”

She pressed her point. “I could, but you need me. I’m the bait.” Inwardly, she winced at the description. That wouldn’t help her to convince him. “Also, here’s the deal. This could be a long op. At some point, you have to leave and deal with whatever is haunting you from your past. When you do, I’ll just challenge him again, and next time you won’t be around to assist.”

“That’s extortion,” Heath said, amusement curving his lip.

She grinned. “Apparently I’m getting quite good at it.”

Heath shook his head. “You’re putting me in an untenable position, baby.”

“No, I’m not.” She shrugged out of his hold. Finally. “I’m not yours to protect, Heath. We’re not together, and we’re not responsible for each other.” The words sliced through her even as she said them. “You’ve been more than clear on that score.”

“There’s something here, Anya. Maybe something real and lasting, if I get everything done I need to do.”

She blinked. “What’s that?”

“The less you know the better. Believe me.”

“What a bunch of bullshit. Go back to your ‘This is fake’ proclamation,” she all but yelled. “Your position is one of work . . . and this is just work.”

His chin lifted. “You think this is just work?” The tone—low and filled with tension—zinged through her body.

Her legs trembled with the urge to take a step back. “Yes.”

“Want me to prove otherwise?” His eyes darkened to the color of the sky right before midnight hit.

As a threat, as a warning, it was damn good. But she’d gone too far to give in now. “You can’t.” Yeah, she’d just waved a red flag in front of a bull.

He didn’t move a muscle. His focus on her was so absolute, she wanted to squirm. “You’re into challenging dangerous men these days, aren’t you?”

She kept her stance. “You’re not all that dangerous, Heath.”

His smile stole her breath. Then he moved. Faster than she could track, he had her by the armpits and up in the air as he carried her toward the bedroom with such speed that her legs automatically wound around to clasp his rib cage. By the time she sucked in air to protest, her butt was on the bed, and he was flattening himself over her.

She struggled, her body on fire, fighting the urge to laugh out loud.

His mouth crushed hers, and she stilled.

Heat.

Fire.

True danger.

He held nothing back, kissing her hard, pressing her head into the comforter. His tongue worked hers, his powerful body plastered against hers, and his hands dug into her hair to hold her in place. Desire spun so quickly into need she couldn’t breathe, even when he wasn’t controlling her mouth.

She shifted against him, closing her eyes to kiss him back. This was what she’d wanted. All of this.

He nipped her lip, soothing the slight pain with another kiss. Then he traced along her jawline, kissing and nipping, finally reaching her earlobe, where he bit.

She arched against him, letting out a soft sigh.

“Anya.” His fingers tangled in her hair, and erotic pain tingled down her scalp. One of his strong arms slid around her waist and then down. His palm spread across her butt, and he ground her against his hard cock.

Pleasure swamped her, and mini explosions flew through her sex. The idea passed, somewhat fleetingly, that he wasn’t playing. Not at all.

Yet she couldn’t stop herself. Her knees widened, and she rubbed against him. “This feels real,” she whispered.

 

THE BLOOD BROTHERS SERIES

DEADLY SILENCE, #1

LETHAL LIES, #2

TWISTED TRUTHS, #3

Series Page on Goodreads

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rebecca Zanetti is the author of over twenty-five romantic suspense, dark paranormal, and contemporary romances, and her books have appeared multiple times on the New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon bestseller lists. She has received a Publisher’s Weekly Starred Review for Wicked Edge, Romantic Times Reviewer Choice Nominations for Forgotten Sins and Sweet Revenge, and RT Top Picks  for several of her novels.  She lives in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest with her own alpha hero, two kids, a couple of dogs, a crazy cat…and a huge extended family.  She believes strongly in luck, karma, and working her butt off…and she thinks one of the best things about being an author, unlike the lawyer she used to be, is that she can let the crazy out.

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Instagram

Pinterest

Goodreads

FOLLOW FOREVER ONLINE

Website

Facebook

Twitter

Instagram

Pinterest

RAFFLECOPTER

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

EXCLUSIVE FIRST LOOK!!! Forbidden Promises by Katee Robert

A First Look at Forbidden Promises by Katee Robert!

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Katee Robert delivers the next book in her sizzling O’Malleys family series, hailed as “The Godfather meets Romeo & Juliet.” FORBIDDEN PROMISES features Sloan O’Malley and her mysterious new next-door neighbor, Jude MacNamara.

Meet Jude! 

Pre-order FORBIDDEN PROMISES and add it to your TBR pile on Goodreads! Then keep reading to get a sneak peek at FORBIDDEN PROMISES and to enter the giveaway for a $15 Amazon gift card!

Title: Forbidden Promises

Author: Katee Robert

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: May 30, 2017

Publisher: Grand Central/Forever

Series: The O’Malleys

Page Count: 336 pages

Format: Digitial and Print

ASIN: B01KT7YSJM

ISBN-13: 9781455597031

Synopsis:

Some lines should never be crossed . . . not even for love.

Sloan O’Malley just left her entire world behind-her family, her wealth, and even her real name. For the first time in her life, she’s free. She can live the “normal” life she’s always wanted. A life without fear. But there’s nothing safe about her intensely sexy next-door neighbor.

Jude MacNamara has no room for innocence in his life. Only revenge. Still, he’s never been able to walk away from the forbidden, and Sloan-who is every inch of pure, mouthwatering temptation-has forbidden written all over her. Only after it’s way too late does he discover the real danger: claiming Sloan as his puts a target on her back. To protect her, Jude is willing risk everything . . . and to hell with the consequences.

Pre-order at:

Amazon → http://amzn.to/2oQ7Ikw

B&N → http://bit.ly/2nWvcFc

iBooks → http://apple.co/2mxsWi0

Kobo → http://bit.ly/2mxvcG9

Enter to win a $15 Amazon Gift Card from Katee Robert!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Forbidden Promises Excerpt

Copyright © 2017 Katee Robert

She nearly tripped over Jude when she opened the door, and that was the last straw. “What is your problem?”

He raised a single eyebrow, not looking perturbed in the least. “Sorry?”

“No, you’re not. You’re not sorry that you turned me down last night, or that you left in a hurry, or that you were an…an insufferable jackass this morning.”

If anything, his eyebrow inched higher. “You’re in a mood.”

“Are you kidding me?” She pushed at his chest, but he didn’t even pretend she had the strength to move him. “You weren’t interested last night, so you don’t get to waltz into the diner and order me to go out with you. I’ve taken orders my entire life, and I’ll be damned before I take one from you.” The outburst left her feeling deflated, but she clamped her mouth shut and refused to apologize. Maybe she was being the slightest bit dramatic, but that didn’t mean she was wrong.

Jude took a step closer, towering over her, his shoulders so broad, they filled the doorway. “Are you done?”

Just like that, she had a whole lot more to say. “Actually—”

“That was a rhetorical question, sunshine.” His big hand cupped the back of her neck, his thumb tracing over her jaw and up to drag against her bottom lip.

The touch shocked her into silence.

For a moment. “Jude—”

Apparently he wasn’t finished. “I didn’t say no last night because I wasn’t interested. I wouldn’t have apologized—twice—if I wasn’t interested.”

“But—”

“You want to know the truth? The truth is that I can’t look at you without wanting to strip you down, to run my hands over that tight little body of yours, to spread those sweet thighs and fuck you with my tongue until you’re screaming my name and begging for mercy.”

She swayed, her anger, her ability to think or move or talk or do anything except stare helplessly at him, all gone. She licked her lips, forgetting that his thumb was there, and stroked him with her tongue instead. His chocolate eyes went even darker, and he suddenly seemed larger.

Say something.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“It’s the fucking truth, sunshine.” He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, his hand gentle yet holding her in place easily. “You’re a good girl. I don’t have to spend any time with you to know that. You deserve better than the likes of me, even for a fuck. But that’s the difference between us. I’m not good. I might as well be the goddamn devil as far as you’re concerned, but I’ve never been good at walking away when I have my mind set on something. And, sunshine, I have my mind set on you.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t take a step, though she was at a loss if she’d move away from or toward him. It was like he held her captive with only a single hand, stalling out any and all reasoning ability.

Jude’s grip tightened, ever so slightly. “I was going to take you out. It’s not my scene, but I was willing to give it a shot. I changed my mind.” He stepped into her, his chest lightly pressed against her breasts, his thighs bracketing hers, his…Oh my good lord. His hard length pressed against her stomach, and it felt perfectly in proportion with the rest of his massive body, not that she was an expert on these matters.

His other hand came to rest on her hip, fingers bunching the fabric of her dress as he kneaded her. “Tell me to stop, and it’s done. I’ll walk away, and I’ll do my damnedest to leave you alone. Tell me to walk away, sunshine. Just say the words.”

She knew he was right. He was no good for her, and this would only end in tears on her part. The man wasn’t asking to date her. He didn’t want to get to know her. He was telling her all the things he’d do to her body.

But she couldn’t say the words to make him leave.

Sloan had never taken anything for herself in her entire life. She’d stayed in the background and gone with the flow and done everything in her power to play least in sight. Her brothers ran off any boy remotely interested in her, and she’d allowed it to happen. If her father had decided to move forward on his plans to marry her off, she would have walked down the aisle to a man of his choosing.

She’d never done a single selfish thing in her life until she asked Teague to help her escape.

Until she tentatively ran her hands up Jude’s chest, sucking in her breath at the way his muscles tensed beneath her fingers. Until she looked up into his stormy dark eyes and said the word that would damn them both. “Stay.”

Praise for The O’Malleys Series

“It can be hard to make a ruthless assassin into a sympathetic character, but Robert handles the task with ease. She also deftly shows Sloan’s transformation from a pampered and protected naïf to a strong woman with a backbone of pure steel. A tension-filled plot full of deceit, betrayal, and sizzling love scenes will make it impossible for readers to set the book down.”—Publishers Weekly on FORBIDDEN PROMISES

“You will finish it in one sitting and die after you’re done because the next book isn’t out yet. This was one sexy ride!”—Reviewer Top Pick, Night Owl Reviews on FORBIDDEN PROMISES

“Katee Robert’s has created a fictional underworld of such veracity, that one almost expects the characters to turn up on the front-page news. It never feels over the top or implausible; the author writes extremely well-crafted stories… The romance between Cillian and Olivia is very beautiful, tender and real.”—Fresh Fiction on AN INDECENT PROPOSAL

“Will keep you turning pages.”—RT Book Reviews on THE WEDDING PACT

“If you like angsty reads, this book is right up your wheelhouse.”—Heroes & Heartbreakers on THE WEDDING PACT

“Dark, dirty, and dead sexy.”—Tiffany Reisz, bestselling author of The Original Sinners series, on THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT

Other Books in The O’Malleys Series

THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT

THE WEDDING PACT

AN INDECENT PROPOSAL

UNDERCOVER ATTRACTION (Coming soon!)

About Katee Robert

 

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Katee Robert learned to tell her stories at her grandpa’s knee. Her 2015 title, The Marriage Contract, was a RITA finalist, and RT Book Reviews named it ‘a compulsively readable book with just the right amount of suspense and tension.”  When not writing sexy contemporary and romantic suspense, she spends her time playing imaginary games with her children, driving her husband batty with what-if questions, and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse.

Connect with Katee at: Website | Facebook | Twitter| GoodReads | Instagram

Excerpt Reveal….Preppy: Part Three by T.M. Frazier

SBPRBanner-PREPPY3-ER.jpg

Preppy, Part Three: The Life and Death of Samuel Clearwater by T.M. Frazier is coming April 26th!!!

PREPPY PART THREE FULL JPG

Preppy, Part Three: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater by T.M. Frazier

Release Date: April 26th, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance

The bowtie is BACK!

Dre was just a beautiful stranger when Preppy saved her the first time around. Now, he has to save her again, but she’s no longer some stranger, she’s family, and he has no idea who or what he’s up against.

What he does know is that putting his family back together is the only acceptable outcome.

Preppy’s to-do list?

SAVE FAMILY. SEEK REVENGE.

He’s alive…and he’s out for BLOOD.

Preppy Part Three is the third book and conclusion of Preppy and Dre’s story. It’s also the 7th book in the King Series, which should be read in order starting with KING & TYRANT.

Excerpt:

Preppy placed his other hand behind my neck, pulling me closer. “Dre, when I look at you, when I touch you. I love you so much it fucking HURTS,” he said against my neck, the vibration of his words had my nipples standing at firm attention all over again.

“I don’t want you to hurt,” I said, although I knew exactly what he meant because I felt the same. I had so much love for him it made my chest swell to the point where I thought I might break inside. Preppy looked down between us to where his swollen cock bobbed with his every move. The head thick and purple, throbbing and glistening at the tip, dripping with his own need. “No, Doc, it hurts, but it’s the best kind of pain.” Preppy’s eyes were half-lidded. A devilish smirk played on his lips. “Look, it hurts so bad even my cock is crying.”

I returned his smile, looking up at him through my lashes. I licked my lips. Preppy groaned, placing his hands on both sides of my head, running his fingers through my hair. I pushed him to his back and crawled down his body, giving a quick lick to the tip of his cock, which pulsed in response. I watched his expression darken as he watched me kiss and lick my way around his thick shaft. “Fuck,” he cursed. “What are you doing to me, woman?”

“If your cock’s crying, then I’m licking the tears away,” I said, taking the head into my mouth and swirling my tongue around to taste his salty pre-cum. I moaned, the sound shot straight between my legs.

Preppy dug his hands into my hair deeper, pulling, holding me with more force. His abs flexed as I took more and more of him into my mouth, lightly sucking as I circled my lips around the soft skin of his extremely hard shaft.

I pulled back and softly blew on his wet cock. All the muscles in his arms tensed. His hips bucked into the air. His mouth fell open as he gazed down at me with a lust filled expression I know mirrored my own. “Any better?” I asked, wrapping my hand around the base of his shaft.

Preppy shook his head. “No, not better. I think it’s fucking worse,” he ground out, looking as if he were in pain.

“How so?” I asked, stroking him from root to tip with a slight twist at the top.

Preppy hissed. “Because I want to fuck you again, but now I also don’t ever want my cock to be anywhere besides that beautiful mouth ever again. Those fucking red lips. Jesus fucking Christ, Doc. I thought I’d already died, but you’re the one killing me.”

“You mean like this?” I asked, taking him into my mouth again. Further this time. Preppy had a monster cock and although I used to think he was joking when he said that it was the honest truth. There was no way I’d be able to take all of him but I did the best I could, taking him until the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat. Giving him all I could because I wanted to make him feel as good as he made me feel.

“Holy fucking, shit,” Preppy groaned, holding onto the ground for support with one hand, the other still fisted in my hair. The next few sentences that came out of his mouth were incoherent because I began to slide him out and then back again, using my hand on the part of his shaft that my mouth couldn’t reach. Over and over again I stroked and sucked him with my tongue, squeezing him with my lips and hollowing out my cheeks so my mouth was wrapped as tightly around him as possible.

I used my other hand to reach around him and squeeze his ass cheek, pulling him in closer, holding him to me. I released him and pulled him back again, letting him know it was okay to move. He nodded, and bit his bottom lip, watching as he began to thrust his hips upward into my mouth then slowly pulling back out, groaning as he repeated the motion.

Over and over again he thrust forward and pulled back. I braced myself with my other hand on his ass and again he held my head with both hands as he fucked my mouth. Harder and harder until tears were flowing down my cheeks. I watched as the cords in his neck strained with his every movement. I felt his ass muscles tense and watched as his entire body tightened and his cock hardened in my mouth before spurts of warmth shot from him, deep into my throat. Preppy threw his head back and in the sexiest most animalistic roar he came and came and came until I thought I couldn’t swallow one more drop of his salty release.

He pulled out of me and collapsed onto the floor without pulling his pants back up. He pulled me down with him and wrapped his arms around my back. “I think I just broke a promise to you,” he panted, trying to catch his breath. Our chests heaving together in unison.

“What promise?” I asked, confused.

He tucked me in closer, laying a palm over my breast. “The one where I said I wouldn’t die again,” he chuckled. “‘Cause, Doc, I’m pretty sure you just fucking killed me.”

SBPR-TF-Preppy3-teaser1

Preorder Today!

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2n47jJP

Amazon US: https://goo.gl/eETkE6

iBooks: https://goo.gl/4h4XQx

Nook: https://goo.gl/JUVbu1

Kobo: https://goo.gl/HQ8NjX

Add to GoodReads: https://goo.gl/VIqZwa

SBPR-TMF-PP3-Ad1

Start the Series Today!

Preppy Part One

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2pEk4cu

Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/Wzj54r

iBooks: https://goo.gl/QBmUP9

Nook: https://goo.gl/kmoIc6

Kobo: https://goo.gl/tVWjhe

Preppy Part Two

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2ozkOjU

Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/pYCkcH

iBooks: https://goo.gl/TKTaC1

Nook: https://goo.gl/52vo0I

Kobo: https://goo.gl/BOvVP8

About the Author:

T.M.Frazier is a USA TODAY bestselling author. She resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and her young daughter.

When she’s not writing she loves talking to her readers, country music, reading and traveling. Her debut novel, The Dark Light of Day was published in September of 2013 and when she started writing it she intended for it to be a light beachy romance.

Well…it has a beach in it!

Her latest works include her USA TODAY BESTSELLING KING SERIES and All the Rage.

T.M.FrazierAuthorPhoto

Connect with the Author:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TMFRAZIERBOOKS/

Twitter: @TM_Frazier

Stay up to date with T.M. by signing up for her newsletter today:

http://www.subscribepage.com/tmfraziernewslettersignup

http://www.tmfrazierbooks.com

Edge of Brotherhood by Molly E. Lee…Release Day Event

Photo & Cover Design: Regina Wamba / MaeIDesign and Photography

Release Date: April 19, 2017

Synopsis

What do Dash Lexington, Easton Wells, and Connell Murphey have in common?

They put their lives on the line each day they clock into work. That and their fierce love for the women who match them step for step.

When the studio head who produces both Dash and Easton’s shows announces auditions for a special series to highlight the E.D.G.E men’s skills, Connell and an extreme stunt man named Wade Roberts are the first stars chosen.

Their objective? Accompany Easton deep in the Amazon where he’s recently discovered the lost city of Paititi. With half the structure submerged in dangerous waters, a slew of unpredictable rainforest storms, and a nearly inaccessible location, each man will have to put aside his alpha tendencies and utilize his skills in order to survive the perils of the City of Gold.

But when an enemy from Easton’s past threatens the love of his life, she is met with the wrath of the newly formed E.D.G.E. clan, who will stop at nothing to protect the women they love.

 

 

Goodreads

 

Purchase Links

Amazon ~ http://amzn.to/2n4DdaM

Barnes & Noble ~ http://bit.ly/2nVcxGB

iBooks ~ http://apple.co/2oFRfNc

 

 

 

Giveaway

$50 Amazon Gift Card

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b1257f8d29/?

 

 

 

About the Author

Molly E. Lee is an author and editor best known for her debut novel EDGE OF CHAOS, and as a fourth year mentor at Pitch Wars – a program which connects promising writers to established authors in the community. Molly writes New Adult Contemporary and Young Adult Urban Fantasy featuring strong female heroines who are unafraid to challenge their male counterparts, yet still vulnerable enough to have love sneak up on them. In addition to being a military spouse and mother of two + one stubborn English Bulldog, Molly loves watching storms from her back porch at her Midwest home, and digging for treasures in antique stores.

 

Connect with Molly

Newsletter Sign Up: http://bit.ly/2gqr35d

Facebook Author Page: http://bit.ly/2c6GO2r

Facebook Reader Group: http://bit.ly/2cKYIFb

Goodreads Author Page: http://bit.ly/2gC6jGU

Twitter: http://bit.ly/2gQklZy

Instagram: http://bit.ly/2fGbpkp

Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/2gQdK1d

 

cropped-SSFprLogo3.png