Showing posts with label Contemporary Romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Contemporary Romance. Show all posts

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Forever Mine, Massey TX 9 (M/F) ~ April Zyon

From the Author...

I’ve always been fascinated with Cowboys. I know, most people are but to me there is just something super sexy about a man who is willing to work his ass off for a living. Something that’s incredibly hot about a man who knows how to work the land with his own hands.

When I originally started Massey Texas with Rhys Hollister and Gwen Baker I never dreamed that one of the families central to the story would stand up and take center stage, but they did. The Carver Family stood out pretty much from the get go in this series and they had to have their stories told.

Massey Texas has been a wonderful thrill-ride fro me, each time the characters spoke they tended to throw me for a loop, so to speak, and I loved every single moment of it.
While I’m tentatively ending this series at this book, the 9th in the series, it doesn’t mean that I will never revisit it one day in the future. After all, there were a couple of babies born to the Carver family that might eventually need their stories told!

I truly hope that you have all enjoyed the Massey Texas series as much as I have, and I hope that you will continue to read the books that I put out as either April Zyon, or Honor James.

~~~ Peace and love my friends, and be good to each other!
April Zyon (also writing as Honor James)


Blurb:


Taking over her father’s practice was always in the cards for Athena Rhodes. What she didn’t expect was having to deal with the mob. Being an honest, law-abiding citizen, Athena does what anyone would do in the situation—she reported the threats to the local authorities. The FBI was quick to take up the case, and keep an eye on her. But things are about to rise to a whole new level.

Martin Carver’s life is a carefully constructed cover story of saving the world, one whale at a time. The reality is a whole lot more dangerous. As a covert operative for the FBI he never once thought he’d be seeing the woman who holds his heart under such dangerous circumstances. But when he gets handed a folder with Athena’s name on it, there’s no one that will keep him from protecting her, and finally saying the words “forever mine”.

Be warned:  anal sex


Excerpt:

County Line

Massey, Texas

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there staring at the sign announcing, “Welcome to Massey, TX Population 5,609 and growing!” but the hood under his ass was cooling, and the sun had reached its highest point. Hell, it was starting the slow slide toward the horizon.
It had been a long, long time since he’d been home. The last time he’d been there he’d flown in for his pop’s funeral, stuck around for the meal, and then got the hell out of Dodge. Since then, he hadn’t been home once. He called, though, every single weekend right after his mother had finished breakfast on Sundays. They would chat for exactly one hour and fifteen minutes. No more, no less. The woman always had enough gossip to fill that time, so he rarely had to say much of anything.
Yet, here he was. Staring into the abyss of the quintessential small town. Ranches and farms spread out as far as the eye could see and beyond. Nestled in the middle was Massey. His hometown, and the place he’d burned rubber to get away from the moment he’d turned eighteen. Unlike his brothers, Martin had always hated coming back. To him, it had felt claustrophobic. Whether from his family’s expectations, or from his own uncertainty about the future, he didn’t know.
This time was no different. So, there he was, sitting on the hood of his ‘66 Mustang. While she maintained her shape, he’d given her a few tweaks over the years. A new paint job when he was eighteen, and a new hemi engine when he was twenty-two. There were a few other not exactly legal additional elements to Eris, named after the goddess of chaos, strife, and discord. His brothers had actually named his car, but he’d let it stick. Hell, he’d even gotten a little name plate that was attached to the dashboard right over the speedometer.
Martin shook his head, leaning back on his hands as he continued to stare in the direction of the town. He remembered back in high school a rumor Frank had told him about. His older brother had apparently also started it, but he denied it with a smirk every single time Martin confronted him.
According to the “rumor,” if a girl managed to talk Martin into taking her out a date, she prayed he’d be driving Eris. If he showed up in his pop’s old pickup truck, then she knew she would be getting walked to the front door, given a peck on the cheek, and he’d promptly leave to never call her for another date. But if he showed up in Eris, the girl would be getting a tour of the backseat, on her back, and things would be a rocking.
Not once had Martin ever taken a girl out in Eris. There’d been one he’d thought about, right before leaving town for good, but she’d been too young, and he definitely hadn’t needed that sort of thing to follow him or her around for the rest of their days.
Athena Rhodes. Named for the virgin goddess of reason, intelligent activity, arts, and literature. A more perfect name for the woman in question there never would be. She’d always had an ethereal quality about her, always thinking before leaping, and was the one woman who still had him jolting up out of bed in the middle of the night from the dreams she starred front and center in.
Not the teenage version of Athena Rhodes either. Nope, he knew exactly what she looked like as of four weeks ago. Hell, he even had her photo in the folder sitting on the passenger seat of his car. The rest of what was in the folder was why he was there, despite digging in his heels with the director of the FBI. Fucking bastard found it funny that Martin didn’t want to go home for a visit and deal with the trouble Athena found herself in. In the director’s mind, it was two birds, one stone. In Martin’s, it was a colossal fuck up in the making. Especially if Athena was anywhere near it.
Athena, bane of his existence. She’d been just starting to come into the woman she would one day be when he’d left Massey. Now she was more than he could ever have imagined. Five-foot-seven, long, rich red hair the color of a wine with hints of copper and strawberries. Green eyes that could lighten with amusement or darken like a coming storm. Athena had the stereotypical redhead temper, though he knew from his mother’s gossip she rarely showed it any more. So she’d gotten it under control. Should be interesting to test that theory.
Pale golden skin, just a hint of a tan, with a smattering of freckles over her nose and upper curve of her cheeks. A slightly rounded face with amazing bone structure, straight nose, slightly pointed chin, gave her face a heart-shaped look. A long ,elegant neck he’d imagined nibbling on in his quest to discover if there were freckles anywhere else on her body. His dreams said yes, but Martin didn’t think he’d really ever find out.
To top off his perfect woman’s image, Athena had some meat on her bones. She was built like a woman, sturdy, and not like one of those twigs from Hollywood that would blow over if you sneezed in their direction. She was, quite literally, his dream woman given form. Or maybe, he should say, she was the woman of his dreams, if only he had the nerve to tell her.
His other problem with the woman. She got him all twisted up inside, and turned him into a babbling fool. Or she had. Martin really hoped she still didn’t have that particular effect on him. ‘Cause that would just be the fucking icing on the cake for this whole damned trip.
The sound of an engine pulled his attention back, and he let out a sigh when the truck got close enough for him to recognize it. All the time in the world seemed to have passed, and the damn pickup truck that was used around the Carver Ranch was still exactly the same. Squinting slightly at the reflection off the windshield, he waited for his brother to swing it around and park it behind the Mustang.
The crunch of boots to gravel told him where his big brother was, yet still, he waited. Only when the other man slid onto the hood next to him did he give a nod. “Frank,” he said quietly.
“Martin.” That was it, nothing else.
Course they didn’t really need to say much of anything else. Despite rumors to the contrary, ones sort of started by him, he and Frank had worked together more than once. They even talked on a fairly regular basis. While Frank had worked for a different branch, and under different mandates for the US government, Martin had always been his brother’s contact inside the bureau.
“Eris is looking good,” Frank said after another ten minutes of silence.
“She held up well on the drive. Only got a bit cranky with me outside of Dallas. But a quart of oil and she was purring like an overgrown kitten again.”
Frank snorted out a laugh at that. “I can’t believe you still have her.”
“Dude, she’s family. Quit trash talking my car.”
Hands up, Frank cracked a grin. A real grin. As in teeth and everything. While Martin was staring in shock, he missed what his brother was saying. “What? Sorry.”
“I asked you how long you plan on sitting out here. According to Willard, you’ve been here since eight this morning. It’s now nearly two in the afternoon.”
Heaving a sigh, Martin shoved his hands through his pale blond hair. Out of all the Carvers, his was the lightest in color, but his eyes were the darkest. The oddities of the familial gene pool. “Working up the nerve to drive across the county line is all.”
“Uh-huh. You do know that Mama’s already heard you’re here. And the fact you are sitting here, and not at her kitchen table where she can smother you with all that built up motherly love, means you are in seriously deep shit, little brother.”
Martin winced at that. Yeah, his mama would hug him, weep all over him, and then likely bean him with her rolling pin. Theresa Carver was in no way a pushover. She might play the part occasionally to lure the unaware in close, but then she struck. She could make a grown man in a full rage cry like a little girl in under two minutes. Without even batting a lash. She was that good.
“So, what has you here?” Frank asked.
Normally, he wouldn’t discuss it, but Frank still held his beyond top secret clearance level, and likely would as long as he was still breathing. “Athena Rhodes, or rather her dirty, lowdown scoundrel of a father.”
Frank’s head whipped around to look his way. “Shit. You got handed that one?”
“Yup.”
“Well fuck me.”
Yup. Pretty much Martin’s exact thoughts on the matter.


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Author Bio:

Having been a lover of the written word all her life April has always wanted to expand her horizons and write something that could be shared with the world. Only one thing held April back, the fact that the letters and numbers mixed and jumbled more often than not. Diagnosed with Dyslexia when she was eight years old April had to work her butt off just to be able to keep up with the other kids in reading and writing, so her love for fictional writing was tossed to the wayside for the moment.

Time marched on, as it always does, and she forgot her childhood dream of becoming an author and instead focused on what she had to - creating a career for herself.

As the endless waves of time passed the shores became less rocky and more sandy, a place where she could find an even foot. That and Microsoft invented Word. Halleluja.

This is where April began her journey into the written world, the world that her imagination had been ceaselessly creating for her entire adult life. Now she has been given a chance to let her literary wings unfold and fly, thanks to her amazing publishers.

Now its time to let the dream take flight and watch it soar!

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Thursday, October 2, 2014

Dangerous Lines, C&M Security (M/F) ~ Moira Callahan


Blurb:

Rhonda Delacour hadn’t always been the biggest fan of Vincent’s, but he grew on her. So when she has an undercover assignment for the SFPD, and is in need of backup, there’s only one person she wants at her back. And when everything goes sideways fast, Ro truly comes to appreciate the man behind the badge.

For a while Vincent Bradley considered Rhonda nothing more than a pest he had to tolerate. How quickly things change when they spend time together. Only realizing the depth of his feelings for her when her life is on the line, Vincent will do anything, kill anyone to keep Ro safe.

Hidden away to keep her safe, Vincent knows it’s the perfect opportunity to show Rhonda how much he cares for her. Unfortunately they can’t remain hidden forever. To have the future they both want they’ll need to cross some dangerous lines.


Excerpt:

Three days ago…

Knocking on the door, Rhonda flicked a stray piece of hair over her shoulder. Tapping her toes lightly, she tried not to fidget, but damn she hated waiting out in the open. The sound of the deadbolt being thrown open a moment later helped.
Rhonda shot a look up at him as she swept into the apartment, not relaxing until Vincent closed and bolted the door behind her. Letting out a breath, she yanked the newsboy cap off her head, tugged the clip out holding her hair up, and scraped her nails along her scalp.
“What’s up?” Vincent asked coming toward her.
“Just the usual, paranoia running rampant,” she told him as she tossed her hat and the clip onto the coffee table. Following him to the kitchen, she hopped up onto one of the stools at the little cafe-style table in the corner.
Vincent shot her a look as he poured two cups of coffee. He passed her one before settling across from her. “So, I thought we weren’t meeting until tomorrow?”
That had been the plan. Until word had come down from her “boss” about her needing to be on hand for some security for him the next day. “Yeah, well, Donny said all hands were needed on deck tomorrow.” Rhonda shrugged.
Donald “Donny” Hoffman was head of security for the scumbag she and the police department were trying to take down. One Gabriel Moreau, head scumbag in San Francisco for a cartel rumored to be out of Brazil. Unfortunately, they weren’t exactly the talkative sorts so Rhonda didn’t know what was truth and what was bullshit. All she knew for sure was they appeared to be buying up legit businesses. She was certain it was to launder money from their illegal activities. Unfortunately there was no proof yet what their illegal activities were.
She couldn’t even get them on extortion at the moment because they were paying fair market values on the businesses and properties. Hell, in most cases, they were paying above and beyond fair market value. The owners of the businesses being bought had nothing bad to say either. They all said that Mr. Moreau asked to purchase their business, offered a very fair or above fair value, and that was it. No arm twisting, no extortion, no blackmail. Fucking Moreau was a fucking angel in their eyes. Which wasn’t helping her case any.
“Any idea why?” Vincent asked as she sipped the strong-brewed coffee in her cup. Damn, the man knew how to make good coffee.
“Nope,” she said shaking her head. “All I know for sure is that we’re to be dressed business appropriate,” she told him as she eyed him up. He was a damn fine specimen. Six-feet-six-inches of solid muscle and sex appeal. Shaggy, sandy brown hair that constantly fell into his blue eyes and begged a woman to brush it away. He was also the type of man that could get away without shaving every day and look all the better for it. That and the little cleft in his chin made for one killer package that sent the ladies wild.


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Author Bio:

Moira Callahan is a Canadian born and raised author. She loves to write, especially when it involves steamy, and wildly hot, sensual stories. Though she’s not willing to fence herself in with just one genre, her first love is the Romantic story. She’s not picky about what the sub-genre might be, as long as it has a HEA ending—her only real concern when writing a story.

As an author she prefers to write strong alpha males and women who know exactly who they are. She easily recognizes that no human being is perfect and therefore, neither can her characters be. "Writing must come from the heart but must also utilize the brain. Characters should be strong but also have a weakness to make them as real and as like-able as possible to the reader."

You’ll find her characters are less than perfect, just as she proudly claims to be. She likes to write them with a trait that is all her and then borrow a trait from a friend to round out their personality. This, she says, is to make them the most perfectly imperfect person she possibly can.

Moira always ensures that everyone knows how thankful she is to her best friend. For pretty much everything. Mainly though she is forever grateful for the encouragement to get back to writing. And then the "mild" harassment necessary to get her to finally submit her first book to Evernight Publishing in March of 2014. Which Moira was ecstatically pleased to have accepted.

Author Page Links:




Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Southern Drawl, Bryson Corners 2 (M/F) ~ Paige Warren



About the Book:

Carson Benson has wanted to be a cop for as long as he can remember, but there are some days that he doesn’t like his job. Like the day he gets called out for a domestic disturbance and finds a battered woman and terrified child. What Carson didn’t realize was that it would be a turning point in his life.

Peaches Malone and her daughter Daisy are very important to Carson, and he’ll do anything to protect them. Including taking them home—to his home, where he can watch over them. And if Peaches feels that same spark he feels when he looks into her eyes, all the better.


Excerpt:

Carson nursed his beer, staring out across the crowd while he waited on his brother to show. He was surprised Drew was going to peel himself away from Lexie long enough to hang out at the bar for a while. His brother had taken fewer rodeo trips lately, since discovering Lexie was pregnant, so now when he rode he really had to make it count. Carson wondered how long it would be before his big brother decided to get a ‘real’ job––something closer to home.
Carson had followed the rodeo for a bit, but it really wasn’t his scene. All those women, wanting to sleep with a winner… He shook his head. Nope. Not his scene at all. When he was with a woman, he didn’t want to wonder who had come before him, possibly within an hour or two. He’d had a few relationships over the years, but nothing in a while. His poor dick hadn’t had any action, other than his hand, for months now. Ever since they’d made their permanent home base in Bryson Corners, he’d been alone.
He didn’t think it had anything to do with his mixed heritage. If his brother was any proof, women couldn’t care less that he was half-black. And if anything, Lexie seemed to love Drew even more because of it. She claimed it made him different, and sexy. Carson grimaced. Sexy was not how he wanted to picture his brother.
Drew eased up to the table. “You supposed to be drinking while wearing that badge?”
Carson glanced down at the badge clipped to his belt. Hell, he’d forgotten all about it. He plucked it off the belt and shoved it into his pocket. His job was still new to him, but he loved it.
“At least I ain’t on the clock,” Carson said.
“Chief Lumley would tear into your ass if he saw you drinking while wearing that badge,” Drew said. “You can’t afford to fuck up with this job. I know it’s something you’ve wanted for a while.”
Carson shrugged. “I just forgot about it. I’m not used to wearing it yet. If I was still in my uniform, I mighta remembered. Got called out after hours, so I just grabbed the badge on my way out the door.”
“You like the job so far?”
Carson nodded. “It ain’t quite what I expected, but it’s a good job. I got to help a lady the other day when she was broken down on the side of the road. Felt good.”
“And how are things on a more personal front?” Drew asked. “You haven’t dated anyone since we moved here.”
“No one interesting, I guess. The women around here are a little too independent for my taste. I want a woman I can take care of. Someone who will lean on me, not boss me around and go out drinking with her friends every Friday night, ogling half the cowboys in town.”
Drew grinned. “In other words, you don’t want Lexie’s friend, Shelly.”
Carson snorted. “Not hardly. Guess I’m just old-fashioned. I’m not saying I don’t want her to think for herself, because I do. I just want her to need me.”
“Lexie’s a strong woman, but she needs me, even if she won’t admit it half the time. But I get what you’re saying. You want someone quiet, someone who will come to you when they get into trouble.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what I want.”
“She’s out there somewhere, Carson. You’ll find her. Probably not sitting in this bar, but you’ll find her.”

Buy Links:

Evernight               Amazon

Author Bio:

Paige Warren spends her days weaving tales about alpha male cowboys and the women who love them. There's nothing hotter than a man in tight Wranglers and a pair of well-worn boots. You have to admit, there's something sexy about a man who knows how to use a rope!

A cat lover, she has more than one furbaby running around, keeping her company in the wee hours of the morning as she tries to find just the right way to say "His skin gleamed, the early morning rays caressing his sun bronzed flesh, as he studied her from beneath the brim of his Stetson." Or, you know, something similar.

When Paige isn't dolling out tons of affection on the furbabies, or slurping down a pot of coffee (Yes! A whole pot!) so she can get in her daily word count, she enjoys reading and watching movies - romances, usually.

Author Links:

Website               Facebook               Twitter               Blog               Amazon


Tuesday, September 16, 2014

A Second Chance (M/M) ~ Iyana Jenna


Blurb:

Chance Devereux and Ryder Adkins have worked on the same TV series for three years and share a house near the set. Yet Chance can only watch from afar when Ryder gets engaged. Even though Chance is still deep in the closet, he can't help be jealous. 

Since the first day of shooting, Ryder has had his sights on his costar, but Chance has a girlfriend and Ryder thinks Chance is straight. After years without a concrete result, Ryder decides to forget his desire to be with Chance and go back to Mike. 

During a hiatus, Chance does an interview with journalist, Sebastian Vanderbilt. Sebastian opens Chance's eyes, and he decides he needs to make Ryder his. Can they work it out, or  are they all out of retakes?

Be Warned: m/m sex 


Excerpt:

Without waiting for Mike’s answer, he slid his phone open and scrolled down to Chance’s number. Ryder glanced briefly at Mike, who simply nodded and turned away to give him a semblance of privacy. Ryder turned his attention back to the call he was making and nearly jerked in anticipation when it was answered.
“Hey. Chance, it’s—”
“I’m sorry, but Chance can’t answer the phone right now.”
Ryder’s eyes bulged. Taken aback, he swallowed. “W-what? Who is this?”
“May I ask who’s speaking, please?”
“It’s, uh, Ryder. I’m his, his best friend—”
“Oh, Ryder. Sure.”
Ryder lifted an eyebrow when the man laughed a little.
“Chance talks a lot about you,” the man went on.
“Thanks, but….” Ryder’s eyes flickered to Mike, who was observing him closely. His mind began to wander to places he didn’t want to go. How could he not? The man had Chance’s cell. “Where is he? Do you mind if I talk to him?”
“No, of course not.” The man sighed. “But he really can’t.”
“What? What happened? What have you done to him?”
“Whoa, wait a second. I’ve done nothing to him. But he’s asleep right now. He hasn’t been able to sleep for some time. He’s been in so much pain he couldn’t even rest.”
Ryder slumped in his seat, rubbing his face. “Oh, God.” Mike had been right. Feeling lightheaded, Ryder whispered into the mouthpiece. “What’s wrong with him? God, is he okay now?”
“Yeah, I truly hope so. He’s much calmer now. He caught a stomach bug a couple of days ago.”
“And you’re—you’re Sebastian, right? Sebastian Vanderbilt? I saw the pictures.”
“That’s me. Oh, and Ryder?”
“Yes?”
“I heard about your engagement. Congratulations, man.”
“Well, I don’t—”
“Hey, look,” Sebastian cut him off. “I’d love to talk to you, but I really have to go. I’ll tell Chance that you called, okay?”
“Wait, Sebastian. I’m just… you know, I—” But it was too late. Sebastian had hung up. Sucking in a breath, Ryder could only gawk in disbelief.
****
Sebastian didn’t know for sure why he felt reluctant to talk to Ryder. He had no reason to feel threatened by him, though if the way Chance talked about Ryder in the interview was anything to go by, Sebastian might have to consider how he felt toward the guy. This was such a new thing for him, feeling insecure. He wasn’t that kind of guy. Sebastian wondered what Chance had done to him.
Back in the guestroom where Chance was resting, Sebastian found him awake. Chance’s gaze wandered, his expression half-studying his surroundings, half-wondering how or why he was there in the first place. He turned to Sebastian only when he heard him clear his throat. Warmth surged in Sebastian’s heart at the fleeting blush on Chance’s freckled face. He wondered what Chance thought about the room. Sebastian loved his place, but perhaps it was childish to want to hear what Chance had to say about it.
Sebastian went to sit next to Chance, reaching out to feel his brow.
Chance groaned, shying away. “I’m not a child, Sebastian.”
“No.” Sebastian smiled. “But you gave me quite a scare.”
“Sorry.” Chance looked down.
“Hey, that’s not your fault. You were sick and obviously you hadn’t fully recovered when you left the hospital. How are you feeling now?”
“Much better.” Chance licked his lips.
“Water?”
“Please.”
Sebastian watched Chance drink slowly, and when he pulled back, some drips still clung to his lower lip. Sebastian knew he’d been staring, and he completely ignored the glass shoved back into his palm. Finally, he chuckled, put the glass away on the nightstand, and took off his shirt.
Chance’s eyes widened before they darkened a bit.
“May I?” Sebastian gestured toward a space on Chance’s huge, fluffy pillow.
Chance shifted a little to give him more room, much to his delight. He slipped under the cover and could feel Chance stiffen slightly. His face—mere inches from Sebastian’s—was taut before he relaxed and snuggled into Sebastian’s bare chest. Chance’s body felt sleep warm under his thin T-shirt, and Sebastian braved Chance’s reaction and slid a hand under it. He palmed Chance’s flat abs and up to his muscled torso, sighing appreciatively at the deep moan wrenched out of Chance’s throat.
“Beautiful,” Sebastian said huskily. “Very beautiful.” He tweaked a nipple and was rewarded with the stretched column of Chance’s smooth neck as he threw his head back, lips parting, his guttural growl sending Sebastian’s blood to his groin.

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Author Bio:

Iyana writes M/M short stories and novellas. Her works have been published by Evernight Publishing, JMS Books, Books to Go Now, Torquere Press, Bitten Press, Leap of Faith Publishing, Breathless Press, and Alfie Dog Fiction.

Iyana lives in Jakarta, a city famous for its traffic jams, a lot of cars and motorcycles, and people selling stuff on the roads. You can spend two hours on the road going to a place you can reach in half an hour in a normal situation. Thanks to the traffic jams, though, Iyana can come up with a lot of stories, mostly shorties, as she prefers to spend the time during her trips writing into her cell phone rather than sleeping.

Another thing Iyana loves is kitties. Right now she has three of them. Their names are Cil, Horus, and Betsy, and one kitten. When she doesn’t write, she plays with them, or they would play with her when she writes.

Author Links:

Blog   ~   Amazon   ~   Goodreads   ~   Facebook   ~   Twitter


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Sunday, September 7, 2014

Dangerous Secrets, C&M Security (M/F) ~ Moira Callahan


Blurb:

After a harrowing attack she barely survived, Mallory Thompson knows she needs help. The police can only do so much without a description of her attacker. On the advice of a detective she turns to C&M Security in the hopes of getting some protection while the police hunt for the man who shot her.

Trent McDonald, ex-Marine and bodyguard at C&M Security, can’t believe the case his boss hands him. Rather, he can’t believe the woman he’s being asked to protect. Mallory is stunning, amazing, and he knows the instant he sees her picture he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

What neither of them expected was just who was behind the attack on her. In this game of life, or death, everyone seems to have dangerous secrets.

Excerpt:

The pressure on Mallory Thompson’s scalp preceded the water sluicing away from her head and face. Sucking a breath into her burning lungs, she kicked harder. She had to stay above the water. She couldn’t let him push her down again. She didn’t think he’d let her up if he did.
“Where. Is. The. Drive?” The man, whose hand was tangled in her hair, pushed her into the lake again and then hauled her back up.
She didn’t know who he was, and she definitely didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. But she couldn’t say that again, not with her body desperately trying to suck in air. Spots danced before her eyes. Even if her vision hadn’t been impaired, she’d never be able to identify him.
There was a lantern behind him, so his face was in shadow. He had on a hoodie and a cap but that’s about all she knew for sure. His hands were covered in leather gloves and he wore work boots.
The boots she knew about from the six kicks he’d delivered to her ribs, stomach and the one to her jaw before he’d dumped her into the lake.
His hand tightened in her hair and she reached up with a heavy arm to try and grab his wrist. Anything to take some of the pressure off her poor, screaming scalp. Then he shook her.
Mallory couldn’t hold in the whimper of pain, it was too much. She was in absolute agony, she was wet, she was cold, she was being dunked repeatedly to the point where she nearly drowned and now he was doing this?
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she managed to get through her chattering teeth.
“Bullshit. I saw them give it to you. Where the fuck is the fucking drive, bitch?” he screamed at her, shaking her again.
Whimpering in pain, Mallory clawed at his arm. Her subconscious mind knew what her conscious mind was just cluing into. He was going to kill her if she didn’t get away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. No one gave me anything, you asshole.”
Okay, calling the guy holding her life in his hands an asshole? Probably not her brightest move.
The slap she got to her face told her that. But luck was finally on her side and she caught skin with her nails and dug in hard, scraping at his arm, wrist, or hand, whatever it was. He let go with a yelp.
Kicking her legs hard, she swam away from the dock and deeper into the lake and the darkness.
“You fucking bitch!” he screamed.
Which was closely followed up by a sound that any TV or movie watcher knew. The slide snapping into place on a gun.
Trying to swim harder and faster, Mallory knew she wasn’t gaining a lot of ground. She wasn’t a great swimmer on the best of days. But she kept going as best she could.
When she heard the first shot, she screamed and flinched automatically. The missed strokes sent her under the water and she came up sputtering. There was a curse from the shoreline, harsh and angry sounding. She didn’t know where the shot had gone, but she had no new aches and pains so she wasn’t fucking complaining.
There was another shot. It didn’t miss. She felt the burn through her shoulder and the wind was knocked out of her. She couldn’t keep swimming, it was too hard, too exhausting.

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Author Bio:

Moira Callahan is a Canadian born and raised author. She loves to write, especially when it involves steamy, and wildly hot, sensual stories. Though she’s not willing to fence herself in with just one genre, her first love is the Romantic story. She’s not picky about what the sub-genre might be, as long as it has a HEA ending—her only real concern when writing a story.

As an author she prefers to write strong alpha males and women who know exactly who they are. She easily recognizes that no human being is perfect and therefore, neither can her characters be. "Writing must come from the heart but must also utilize the brain. Characters should be strong but also have a weakness to make them as real and as like-able as possible to the reader."

You’ll find her characters are less than perfect, just as she proudly claims to be. She likes to write them with a trait that is all her and then borrow a trait from a friend to round out their personality. This, she says, is to make them the most perfectly imperfect person she possibly can.

Moira always ensures that everyone knows how thankful she is to her best friend. For pretty much everything. Mainly though she is forever grateful for the encouragement to get back to writing. And then the "mild" harassment necessary to get her to finally submit her first book to Evernight Publishing in March of 2014. Which Moira was ecstatically pleased to have accepted.

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