'Blunder Woman' by Tanya Eby

Blunder Woman - PROMO Blitz

By Tanya Eby

Contemporary Romance / Chick Lit / Women's Fiction / Romantic Comedy

Date Published: 1/15/2014

Chloe Knaggs is a bit of a nerd, a bit of a klutz, and all Blunder Woman, especially when it comes to love. Take the love of her life, Matt M. - or as she calls him - Mmm. He's her consummate unboyfriend, meaning, they have all the intimacy of a dating couple without any of the intimacy. Confused? So is Chloe. When Matt decides to elope with the very beautiful, svelte Amber, Chloe goes a little bit crazy and takes her hippy mom and best friend Megan right along with her.

Blunder Woman is a hilarious romp with bright characters through a series of misadventures including a derby party gone horribly wrong, a night of drinking Flaming Turtles, and a fundraising event where the biggest blunder of all occurs. Blunder Woman is funny, fresh, and above all real...in a truly awkward way.

WARNING: "Blunder Woman" will make you snort out loud so drinking while reading is not recommended.

EXCERPT

Two 

A Brief (but not brief enough) History About Matt

I met Matt at a group training camp, you know those places to which companies take their awkward employees--employees who don’t get along and work better on their own. So the Company makes everyone go to a weekend long ‘retreat’ which is really a weekend long house-arrest without the little ankle bracelets. 

I’ve done these things before.

You have the group leader and you’re locked in a room with your ‘teammates’ (or office workers who usually you have nothing to say to), and then the group leader leads you in an exercise of trust…usually something like falling backwards from a high perch and hoping to God your coworkers catch you. It’s supposed to teach you about trust and the importance of working as a team, but I don’t think it translates at all. During one of these exercises, I actually spend most of the time obsessing about how much I don’t trust my coworkers and how very little I want to fall into their arms. But I digress. 

I didn’t want to go to the stupid Employee Esteem Training but I had to. I’d just been hired part-time at the musical society to write grants and organize fundraisers and I had to show that I was part of the team, a real go-getter, a team player. (More on this musical society later. Work is important, but right now I’m talking about the love of my life.) So the team-building thing was mandatory. No go, no job, end of story. So I was very pleased to walk into the Wedgwood Center (a.k.a. The Happy Place) and see a very handsome and very male individual standing in the center of the room, arms open and smiling. Sex appeal came off of him in waves, the way the scent of Axe deodorant pours off high school boys.

I can tell you what he looks like, but it doesn’t do him justice. Descriptions never do, you just end up envisioning a freakish monster with whatever hair and eye color I’ve described and try to think it’s sexy. So instead of saying he was tall and had dirty blonde hair and a wide smile (words that don’t really describe him at all), I’ll say instead that he was a mixture of Jason Bateman of Arrested Development quirkiness, with a Harrison Ford grin, and a body (I imagine) just like an oiled-up man posing in Glamour’s Hot Guy of the Month. This was Matt: sensitive, sexy, warm, sexy, open, funny, sexy, tall, ripped, sexy, and a smile that made me feel like he was looking just at me, even if he was looking at everyone the same way. And he was sexy. Did I say that? Like the kind of guy that should reproduce because, duh, that’s what we’re designed for, right? 

I should have known I was in trouble right there. A man you’re attracted to somehow makes your brain stop working. It’s some kind of alien power, I’m sure of it. Attraction equals instant stupidity. 

And when he opened his arms and welcomed us, I was ready to do any stupid trust exercise he asked, including the high wire walk between trees, which I did, all the while screaming, “I hate this! I can’t do this! Get me out of this tree!!!” Then I looked down at Matt and felt, somehow, I could do anything. Blammo. He suddenly became my rock, my force, and the new obsession of my life. 

Two days later, I called him at his work. I called at 6:30 on a Sunday, certain he wouldn’t be there, and he wasn’t, thank the Gods, so I left a truly awkward message. 

“Hi! Matt! This is Chloe!” My voice was so tight and peppy it sounded like I was on helium. “Oh. Chloe from that group you just had, you know, Mozart fundraiser go-go-go! I was the one with the curly shortish reddish hair, the one who talked a lot, the one who screamed ‘FOR GODDSAKES GET ME OUT OF THIS TREE!!!’ Yeah. So I was wondering if you’d like to go out for coffee with me? Scratch that. I don’t drink coffee, but maybe you do. You could get coffee and I could get something else. Tea maybe. Probably hot chocolate. Or maybe just water. And a scone. I like scones. Do you like scones? Yeah. So. I’d like to meet you. For an un-coffee. Okey-dokey? Okay.” 

Not only had I actually said “Okey-dokey”, I also hung up without leaving my number. I had to call back and leave another message that I knew he’d get before the previous message so I basically had to repeat the entire thing. It was terrible. 

He called me Monday morning. 

We had uncoffee on Tuesday. Followed by unlunch (I was too nervous to eat) and an unwalk (we sat on a park bench and talked). I thought, I’ve found him. He’s the One, and leaned in to kiss him. He answered a call on his phone. It was his mom. At the end of our ‘date’ he hugged me to him, told me he loved spending time with me, that I was unlike anyone he’d ever met.

I’d been in love with him ever since. 

I’ve loved him for two years. Two years of incredible conversations and ‘undates’. Of having dinner together, and movies, and celebrating each other’s birthday parties. Two years of meeting him for uncoffees and having unsex (meaning elaborate sex fantasies only in my mind), of being at his beck and call. Two years of celebrating holidays not on the holiday, but near it. Of talking about our daily lives on the phone or while curled up watching a movie. And when I stop to think about it, two years of never meeting his friends, never meeting his family, and never, not ever, meeting his penis.

I’ve loved him for two years. Two! I probably love him still. And I hate his guts for that. Really. I do.

Tanya Eby

Tanya Eby is an audiobook narrator and novelist living in Grand Rapids, Michigan with her tiki-obsessed husband and two quirky kids.

Author Links

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Blog

Email: Tanya@tanyaeby.com

Buy Links
Amazon | Smashwords | Audio Book

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Review of 'Savage Secrets' by Cristin Harber

Caterina Cruz has no home. No loyalties. No objection to exacting torturous revenge. Her life’s mission is to destroy the terrorist who murdered her family. Then she steps into an elaborate game of charades alongside a Titan Group operative posing as an arms dealer—and her newlywed husband. The sexy distraction may be more than she can handle.

Attacked with a psychedelic drug weeks before, Rocco Savage is plagued with hallucinations that threaten his new rank as Titan’s second-in-command. No one knows and he wants to keep it that way. Throwing him further off his game, he now has a wife with her own secrets he can’t crack and an agenda he can’t control.

Their mission—an elaborate deception of heated glances and passionate kisses—spins out of control. With Rocco's mind already compromised, can he keep his secret and his distance? And with Caterina's tragic past controlling her every move, can she keep the con up long enough to secure her revenge? Or will both go down in flames?

*************

Excerpt: Terrorist drop off

Rocco dropped his delivery and the sack of flesh and bones thudded on the concrete floor.

“Signed. Sealed. Delivered.” He dusted his hands together. “He’s your problem now. Adios.”

“Adios?” The words danced in the air. Soft to the hardness of the calloused room. Sexy and exotic. Accented. And gorgeous. “Fine. Adios if that’s what you want.”

He turned on the heel of his boot, lasering in on a shadowy corner sheathed by a partition. A woman? A silhouetted figure stood with a hand on a cocked hip, behind a screen. Long legs and a pony tail stood outlined in a magnificent shadow. Holy hell. Nothing about that belonged in this room.

This place was violence and atrocity. She was a gauzy reflection of soft edges and a smooth voice. Hell. He hadn’t even seen her, touched her. Yet. But that fact didn’t stop his gut tightening and his eyes from popping. Nah, must have been all the adrenaline from snatching the terrorist not ten minutes before. But damn if he wasn’t wishing for coulda, woulda, shoulda met this girl someplace else.

He swallowed against the boulder in this throat. “What I want has nothing to do with mission objective.”

The metallic clang of tools hitting the cement floor clattered from behind the partition. She let loose a swell of what were probably curses, in Spanish, then her sing-song called to him, still hidden behind the screen. “Ah, the American who plays by the rules. How interesting.”

Her cursing made him chuckle, and made him…interested. This whole place did. What the hell was she saying anyway? It was a rollercoaster of pissed off words, complete with rolled Rs that nearly swayed over his senses. He wanted her to keep talking. Another step closer and damn if he didn’t want to see her face, knowing it would do far more justice to the rockin’ silhouette painted behind the partition. “Says the Brit who speaks like a Spaniard.” And swear like a— “I’m not British.”

What else could he learn about her in the next, oh, minute and a half he was expected to be here? Maybe she would keep talking. He’d jump through all kinds of hoops if that woman let loose her accent again. Please, keep talking. “And I don’t play by the rules. But you—”

She laughed and the sound slid over his body, winding down his spine. He took in a deep breath, embracing the sensation. The laugh was better than her words, and he wanted to make it happen again.

“Today.” She was back to work. “It looks like you do.”

“I came bearing a gift.” He looked to the man lying on the floor. “My mission objective is complete and your invite comes just a little too late.” That and he’d left a team of men sitting outside. If he didn’t walk out soon, they’d make an appearance, guns pointed and on a search-and-destroy mission. Rocco not coming out was most definitely not on their itinerary.

“I see.”

No, you don’t. You can’t see anything, and I’m dying to see you. It was just a voice. But hell. She was too… something. Rare. Offbeat. Familiar? She worked behind the screen and walked toward the edge of the partition. Such a tease. Like she knew he was ready to knock the thing over to get a good look at what housed that voice, her laugh, and those never ending legs.

“Fine. Go.” She shooed him away with a grand sweep of her arm. “Team Titan off to the next job.”

The sound of the Ts rolling off her tongue made his chest crash into itself. Ribs crumbling. Lungs deflating. A reaction based solely on intuition. “You know more about me than I know about you. Come on out of your hiding place.”

“Almost done with my prep work.” More of that accent that had him turned-on and unable to walk out of the room. A pause dangled in the air. A zap of electricity and bright white sparks sprayed from behind the divider. Shock therapy was in store for the man still groaning on the floor, and for a brief second, Rocco almost pitied the terrorist. Almost.

“Perfect,” she whispered. More sparks. More zaps.

Without his control, his eyes slammed shut. Only for a half second. Long enough that a shiver ran down his shoulders. But he had this. No flashbacks or star-sightings would happen right now. Those zaps were real as the body behind that screen. There was no way in hell this was a hallucination. She stepped out. An image of beauty in a desolate, craptastic interrogation site. One long leg, then the next teased him to the point of distraction. He followed the length of her boot, drinking in the skin tight black pants over the sway of her hips. A black shirt covered her torso and stretched over what he knew were the definition of perfect breasts. Finally, Rocco let his focus caress the curve of her lips, the deepness and darkness of her intense stare. More than model gorgeous. More than manufactured beauty. She was sweet and sultry. A vision. Standing there, with electrical cables and a torture table at the ready, she couldn’t have been more out of place. Yet, this was her room. She owned it and that kind of confidence was unshakeable.

He cleared his throat. “Do you need a hand?”

“Does it look like I do?” She looked over her shoulder, smiling a half grin. Knowing the connotation behind his question. Challenging him to say it out loud. She stopped. Turned around and stared, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Then she smiled again, nodding. “Do you believe in coincidence?”

Coincidence? More like luck, walking into a room manned by a woman as deadly and dangerous as she was beautiful and breathtaking? He heard noises from the outer room. Seems he’d overstayed his prescribed amount of time before back up was ready to check in. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

“See you around. Handsome.”

************

**My thoughts**

There are two novellas that have come out in between 'Westin's Chase' and 'Savage Secrets.' Bad fan that I am, I haven't yet read the two of them. They are definitely on my TBR pile, but I feel like I have been able to understand what is going on in this book, even without them. That's one of the nice things about the Titan series. Sure, they are consecutive, but each man's story can potentially stand alone. There are allusions to the other novels and characters pop up again, but you don't necessarily need to know their entire story to understand what is going on in the book you are reading.

Rocco is pretty much a mess, still feeling the effects of the hallucinogenic drug that laced his stabbing a short time ago. He randomly goes into these trances where he can't distinguish reality from a trip, but is scared to say anything. He and Catalina have a chance encounter that ties them together on a spiritual plane, well before they work together to avenge Catalina's family. They have that instant attraction to each other that can only happen in a traumatic situation. Animalistic lust consumes them and quickly evolves. If you're a fan of hot and heavy love scenes, you will find them in abundance!

**CAUTION: SPOILER: There is a scene of rape, which will make this book unsuitable for some readers.**

As with all of the Titan books, there is a ton of action that will appeal to both men and women. Hottie leads, both male and female, can provide hours of fantasy and daydreaming. It's another one that needs to be made into a movie!

Book links

Goodreads \ Amazon \ Barnes and Noble \ Kobo

Happy Release Day! 'White Hot Kiss (The Dark Elements)' by Jennifer L. Armentrout

We are beyond excited to participate in the Release Day Launch for Jennifer L. Armentrout's WHITE HOT KISS! WHITE HOT KISS is a young adult paranormal romance being published by Harlequin Teen TODAY! This is the first full-length novel in The Dark Elements Series and one you'll want to grab as soon as you finish reading this post.

ABOUT WHITE HOT KISS:

One kiss could be the last.

Seventeen-year-old Layla just wants to be normal. But with a kiss that kills anything with a soul, she's anything but normal. Half demon, half gargoyle, Layla has abilities no one else possesses.

Raised among the Wardens—a race of gargoyles tasked with hunting demons and keeping humanity safe—Layla tries to fit in, but that means hiding her own dark side from those she loves the most. Especially Zayne, the swoon-worthy, incredibly gorgeous and completely off-limits Warden she's crushed on since forever.

Then she meets Roth—a tattooed, sinfully hot demon who claims to know all her secrets. Layla knows she should stay away, but she's not sure she wants to—especially when that whole no-kissing thing isn't an issue, considering Roth has no soul.

But when Layla discovers she's the reason for the violent demon uprising, trusting Roth could not only ruin her chances with Zayne…it could brand her a traitor to her family. Worse yet, it could become a one-way ticket to the end of the world.  

EXCERPT:

“I don’t think of Zayne that way!”

She laughed. “What man-parts-loving female in this world doesn’t think of Zayne that way? I can barely keep myself breathing when I see him. All the guys in school have squishy waists. I can tell Zayne doesn’t. He’s the awesome sauce with extra sauce.”

That he was and he so didn’t have a squishy waist, but I tuned Stacey out at that point. I really did need to cram for this test and I also didn’t want my fantasies involving Zayne to occupy my mind right now. Especially after I’d woken up this morning, carefully tucked under the covers. The bed had smelled like him: sandalwood and crisp linen.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus in a manger,” Stacey murmured.

I clenched my jaw, cupping my hands over my ears.

She jabbed me in the side with her elbow. At this rate I’d be covered in bruises before lunchtime. “Our bio class just got a billion times more interesting. And hotter, lots and lots hotter. Holy mother, I want to have his babies. Not now of course, but definitely later. But I’d like to start practicing soon.”

The cell wall is a thick and rigid layer covering the plasma something, something plant cells…

Stacey stiffened all of a sudden. “Oh my God, he’s coming—”

Composed of fat and sugar—

Something slender and shiny fell from who knew where, landing in the middle of Sam’s notes. Blinking tightly, it took me a couple of seconds to recognize the faded and half peeled Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sticker covering the back of the silver cell phone.

My heart slammed against my ribs. Gripping the edges of the notebook, I slowly lifted my gaze. Unnaturally beautiful golden eyes met mine.

“You forgot this last night.”

Buy links:

Amazon \ Barnes and Noble \ Kobo \ iTunes

About Jennifer L. Armentrout:

# 1 NEW YORK TIMES and USA TODAY Bestselling author Jennifer lives in Martinsburg, West Virginia. All the rumors you’ve heard about her state aren’t true. When she’s not hard at work writing. she spends her time reading, working out, watching really bad zombie movies, pretending to write, and hanging out with her husband and her Jack Russell Loki.

Her dreams of becoming an author started in algebra class, where she spent most of her time writing short stories….which explains her dismal grades in math. Jennifer writes young adult paranormal, science fiction, fantasy, and contemporary romance. She is published with Spencer Hill Press, Entangled Teen and Brazen, Disney/Hyperion and Harlequin Teen. Her book Obsidian has been optioned for a major motion picture and her Covenant Series has been optioned for TV.

She also writes adult and New Adult romance under the name J. Lynn. She is published by Entangled Brazen and HarperCollins.  

Links:  

Series Website \ Website \ Twitter \ Facebook \ Jennifer L. Armentrout Goodreads \ WHITE HOT KISS Goodreads

Now that you have a taste for this fabulous new series, here are the details for the AMAZING international giveaway!!! Harlequin Teen is giving away a large Harlequin Teen Tote.

Tote Includes:

· Harlequin TEEN branded tote

· The Iron Traitor by Julie Kagawa (trade)

· Pawn by Aimee Carter (hard cover)

· Crash Into You by Katie McGarry (hard cover)

· Through the Zombie Glass by Gena Showalter (hard cover)

· 2 copies of White Hot Kiss by Jennifer L. Armentrout

· 1 pair of black harlequin branded socks (they are so comfy!)

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Cover Reveal! 'Bad Boy vs. Millionaire (Bad Boy Rock Star #2)' by Candy J. Starr

Bad Boy vs. Millionaire - Cover Reveal

By Candy Starr

New Adult

Date Published: TBA

Add to Goodreads

When fate forced Hannah Sorrento to take on the management of indie rockers, Storm, she managed to survive but, when she found out she'd been played by their mercurial front man, Jack Colt, the betrayal hit her hard.

She flees to Tokyo, where her father orchestrates a deal to save their collapsed financial empire.  A deal that involves a gorgeous millionaire.

Tamaki is everything Jack isn't and, with their similar backgrounds, he and Hannah form a bond.  He offers her safety and security as well as a return to her luxurious lifestyle.  But the passion Jack arouses in Hannah won't be denied.

In the second Bad Boy Rock Star book, Rock Star vs Millionaire, can Hannah forgive Jack or will she take the sanctuary Tamaki offers?

EXCERPT

Jack was in the kitchen, making breakfast. How could a man look so good first thing in the morning? With his tussled hair and baggy pj bottoms… and I didn't even want to think about his arms in that tank top. That curve from his shoulders down his arm. A classically trained ballerina could not move as gracefully as that curve in his muscle as he . If I thought too hard about it, the only decision left in this world would be whether I wanted to trace that indent with my finger tip or my tongue. 

"Want a coffee?"

I jumped, hoping he couldn't read my thoughts. 

I sat at the kitchen bench with my gaze fixed firmly on my hands. 

"So, what's the plan for today?" he asked. 

I hadn't really thought about it. 

"I guess I should start looking for a place to live." 

"You can stay here as long as you like, you know. It's okay." He grinned at me. I'd add that to my collection of the other four or five genuine Jack Colt smiles I'd got in this life. 

"With you sleeping on the couch, I don't think so." 

The words hung in the air. Emotions flitting over both our faces, words we didn't want to put out there. Jack didn't have to sleep on the couch. I had taken over his bed and that bed had a huge Jack Colt-shaped emptiness that had haunted my dreams. 

He squeezed by me to get cups out of the cupboard. In the small kitchen space, I couldn't help but be aware of his physical closeness, the feeling of his body almost brushing against mine and the smell of his skin that even the fresh coffee couldn't hide. I wanted to press against him and feel his heat. I wanted him to be mine to touch and caress but he wasn't. Too many questions hung over us. He'd told me that he wanted me, he wanted to be with me but I still had no idea if I could trust him. 

I moved to sit on the sofa, putting some space between us. 

Maybe I should just ask, I thought. Bring it all out into the open. Tell him how I felt, my fears and worries. Let him know what was holding me back. But the words didn't exist in me. This wasn't some talk show. We were real people and real people didn't let it all out. They held it deep inside, hugging it to themselves. When you told people how you felt, that gave them the power. 

If I was a normal girl, I'd have these straight forward emotions that I could talk about. I'd be able to lay it out on the table, take it or leave it. But, instead my emotions squirmed inside me, burrowing deeper and deeper.

Candy Starr

Candy J. Starr used to be a band manager until she realised that the band she managed was so lacking in charisma that they actually sucked the charisma out of any room they played. “Screw you,” she said, leaving them to wallow in obscurity – totally forgetting that they owed her big bucks for video equipment hire.

Candy has filmed and interviewed some big names in the rock business, and a lot of small ones. She’s seen the dirty little secrets that go on in the back rooms of band venues. She’s seen the ugly side of rock and the very pretty one.

But, of course, everything she writes is fiction.

Author Links

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'Scarlet Revenge' by Ann McGinnis Promo Blitz & Giveaway

Scarlet Revenge - PROMO Blitz

By Ann McGinnis

Date Published: January 21, 2014

Romantic Suspense

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

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

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

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

EXCERPT

Chapter One 

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

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

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

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

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

"You get the crap jobs," Wilkes said, acting as if his honesty was attractive. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blank stares. 

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

Screams went up all around me again. 

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

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

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

"Shit," the agent said. 

Wilkes grabbed his head. 

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

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

The agent took the dry erase marker from me and fixed the numbers. Wilkes waved two fingers at a petite woman with raven hair twisted into a bun. 

“Take care of this.” He pointed at me. 

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

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

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Ann McGinnis

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

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Author Amy Jarecki ('Captured by the Pirate Laird') on the ideal Scottish Highlander

Many people have asked me how I came up with the tag line “Adventure Kissed by Romance”. That’s an easy question to answer…My first published novel was a Native American Adventure (Boy Man Chief). After writing that book, I decided to focus on romance, first contemporary and then Scottish historical. Also, early on in my writing career, I tried different genres and found I love writing action/adventure. The most prominent common thread in all my books is that they have adventure and romance. If you pick up any of my books, the tone may vary, but you can always count on a good action/adventure novel with characters who fall in love.

The past seven manuscripts I’ve written have all been Scottish historical, with Captured by the Pirate Laird the first one in print. My agent agrees my niche has become sizzling, romantic Scottish action/adventure novels.

So, what’s my ideal Scottish Highlander? Oh my, there are so many redeeming qualities in my sixteenth century men:

1. Total alpha male. These rugged warriors cannot afford to be passive. They have a duty to protect their clans and their women and nothing will stop them from doing so.
2. Honor. The Scottish Highlander’s honor is his most treasured attribute, guiding his every decision. No one could ever strip away his honor.
3. Respect and Chivalry. Both his honor and the code of chivalry ensure the Highlander will treat the heroine reverently, respect her virtue, and when in a crowd, he will make her feel as if she’s the only and most beautiful woman in the room.
4. Ruggedly good looking. These Highland heroes are generally tall and sturdy, and definitely not pretty. With firm jaws, broad foreheads and intense eyes, there is no question who is in command when you enter their lair.
5. Did I mention powerful? Their sturdy build and constant training tones their solid frames. A Highlander would be a good contender for Mr. Universe, though he’s not conceited about it. His muscular build is necessary for the protection of his clan.
6. Well trained warrior. These men must be trained in the use of all weapons, and expertly wield a claymore, shoot arrows, and know how to handle a deadly dirk.
7. A sense of humor. They don’t take themselves too seriously and know when to laugh at their own mistakes…but not always.
8. Practiced lover. Any woman will swoon in their arms and consider herself completely ravished in the morning.
9. Finally, my Highland heroes have a fervent passion for the heroine that drives them to the ragged edge of madness.

Who wouldn’t fall in love with rugged warrior, who only has eyes for you, would protect you with his life, and speaks with a deep, lilting Scottish burr? *swoons*

Thank you so much for inviting me to your blog! It has been a lot of fun!

Captured by the Pirate Laird
Highland Force
Book One

Amy Jarecki

Genre: Scottish Historical Romance
Date of Publication: 2/17/14
Number of pages: 342
Word Count: 96,600

Cover Artist: Kim Killion

Book Description:

Wed by proxy to a baron old enough to be her grandfather, Lady Anne trudges up the gangway of a galleon that will deliver her into the arms of a tyrant. Crestfallen, she believes her disastrous life cannot get worse—until she awakes to the blasts of cannon fire.

Facing certain death, Anne trembles in her stateroom while swords clash and the chilling screams of battle rage on the deck above. When a rugged Highlander kicks in her door, she prays for a swift end.

But Laird Calum MacLeod has a reason for plundering the ship—and it’s not a stunning English lass. With no other choice, he takes Anne to his crumbling keep on the isle of Raasay and sends a letter of ransom to her husband. In time, Anne grows to understand MacLeod’s plight and finds it increasingly difficult to resist Calum’s unsettling charm—until the baron sends a reply agreeing to terms.

Ripped from passion that will be forever seared into their souls, will Anne and Calum risk everything for love?

Read an excerpt:

She turned and caught him staring. He bowed and his heart melted when she smiled—a smile with dimples that could light up the horizon. He half expected Anne to turn up her pert little nose and head the other way.

Before he could persuade himself otherwise, Calum pattered down the steps and stood beside her. She watched the sunset and her warmth pulled him close like a magnet.

“’Tis beautiful,” she said when the sky shone with orange and pink, highlighted against the strips of clouds that sailed toward the ship.

He inhaled. Her scent ever so feminine, Calum inclined his head to capture more of it. “Aye, milady.”

She placed her hand on the rail. Again his reflexes took over and he rested his palm atop it. Calum expected her to snatch it away, but she did not. Her fingers were cold and he held his much warmer hand there as a comfort. They stood in silence as the sun glowed orange-red on the horizon. He wanted to stand there forever—touching her. Barely breathing, he watched the sun disappear and held his hand still, unwilling to move it.

The sun was replaced by darkness. Lady Anne slipped her hand out from under his and the dark of the evening took up residence inside him. She was not his to lust after. “May I walk you to your stateroom?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded husky. Had she felt the connection too? Of course not.

Calum offered his arm and that same small, cold hand grasped it. “We’ll arrive at Raasay in the morning.”

“Our destination?”

“Aye.”

“Bran told me.”

Secrets were impossible to keep on a ship. “I will send a letter of ransom to yer husband upon our arrival.” He didn’t like how that sounded—ye are my prisoner until Lord Wharton pays for your release. But that’s how it had to be. If he sailed up the mouth of the River Aln, he would incite yet another war between Scotland and England—and this time his countrymen might side with the enemy.

When they stepped into the corridor, warm air relaxed the tension in his shoulders.

Anne stopped outside her cabin door, breasts straining against her bodice with every breath. “I’ve never met him.”

Calum forced himself to concentrate on her face. “Who?”

“Lord Wharton.”

“What? How?”

“We were wed by proxy. My uncle made the arrangements.”

Ah Jesus. Calum understood the way of highborn marriages, arranged for the trade of lands and riches. “Ye ken he’s old enough to be your father?”

“He’s three times my age plus one year to be exact. His children are older than I.”

A hundred questions flooded his mind. “Why?” he clipped with shocked disbelief.

Anne nodded as if fully understanding his monosyllabic inquiry. “I’m told the Baron fancied me from across Westminster Abbey during the Queen’s coronation.”

“No.” She doesn’t even know the bastard. That’s why she wears no ring.

“Yes. My uncle said he kissed my hand, yet so many lords greeted me on that trip to London, I’m at a loss to place him.”

The despair in her lovely eyes twisted around his heart. “Mayhap ye will remember if we playact it.” With a halfcocked grin, Calum reached for her hand. His mouth went dry when her silken skin met the rough pads of his fingertips. Though a grown woman, her fingers were fine and delicate.

When she didn’t pull away, he moistened his lips and bowed. Hovering above her hand, the soft scent of honeysuckle mixed with her—the unmistakable scent of woman now more captivating than it had been on the deck—ignited his insides as if she stood naked before him. Closing his eyes, he touched his lips to the back of her hand and kissed. Anne’s sharp inhale made his skin shiver with gooseflesh. She did not try to pull away but remained so still, her pulse beat a fierce rhythm beneath.

Calum held his lips there longer than necessary. He wanted this moment to linger. He wanted a memory he could cherish long after she was gone. His eyes locked with hers as he straightened. Her lips parted slightly, almost as if asking him to kiss her mouth, but he knew she wouldn’t want that.

He stood for a moment not saying a word. She did too.

“Any recollection?” His voice rasped.

“No.” Her voice low, she then blinked as if snapping back to the present. “You mustn’t ever do that again.”

“Apologies, milady.” Grinning, he opened her door and bowed, though he did not regret her lack of recall.

Anne stepped into her stateroom. Calum could not pull his gaze away until the door closed and blocked the bewilderment reflected in her sapphire eyes. Calum waited a moment and stared at the hardwood door—the same one he had kicked in five nights ago. What the hell was he doing?

He ground his teeth and headed back to the quarterdeck. He needed to get the lady out of his life. She was not his to care for. Worst of all, she had wed the enemy.

Available on Amazon

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About the Author:

Amy has won multiple writing awards and lives in Utah with her husband, Bob. She writes contemporary romance and Scottish historical romance. For fun, she hikes, bikes and plays a mean game of golf. Born in California, Amy holds an MBA from Heriot-Watt University in Edinburgh, Scotland.

Web site: http://www.amyjarecki.com/

Blog: http://amyjarecki.blogspot.com

Twitter: @amyjarecki

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5306959.Amy_Jarecki

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*10 eBook copies Captured by the Pirate Laird by Amy Jarecki
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