A new romantic suspense box set for only 99 cents? Yes, please!

Where can you find a three-book read with romance, suspense, AND characters who leave you wanting more–all for less a buck? How about right here?

Check out my friend Lisa Hughey’s new box set–which is 99 cents for a limited! As a very special preview treat, I happen to have an excerpt below . . . keep scrolling, because I promise, you’ll be hooked once you read this tempting tidbit.

This box set includes the first three books in the ALIAS series: Stalked, Hunted, and Vanished.

Stalked: Opposites attract, unfortunately.

Rule follower, Federal US Deputy Marshal Alex Saunders has been assigned to protect a federal judge after the judge receives death threats. This detail is standard until the judge insists on his son’s PR firm provide backup security, which isn’t even in the rule book. But because Alex is already in hot water, he follows orders to keep the judge happy.

Rulebreaker, and former CIA analyst, Kita Kim reluctantly agrees to go undercover, posing as the judge’s aide slash girlfriend, but in return she expects her boss at ALIAS to help her protect an abused woman and her nieces even though technically keeping the children from their father is against the law.

From the very start, Alex and Kita disagree about everything. But their sizzling attraction continues to grow as the threats against the judge escalate and put them all in danger. Can these two opposites find enough common ground outside the bedroom, or will their diverse philosophies result in disaster?

Hunted: There’s only one thing worse than seeing your unrequited crush every day at the office…and that’s getting trapped with him in a snowy mountain cabin.

Maria Torres has been through hell and back. A former kidnapping victim, she’s used to being famous for all the wrong reasons and having people handle her with kid gloves. And it seems that the man of her dreams, Dwayne Lameko, is no different.

So when an ALIAS client requests her presence on an op, Maria believes she’s ready to spread her wings and prove all her co-workers wrong…especially Dwayne. But when danger follows them into the wilderness, Maria has no choice but to prove to herself and Dwayne that she’s strong enough to handle anything…even his love.

Maria Torres was first introduced in the Family Stone series, Still the One. She finally gets her happily ever after.

Vanished: He’ll do anything to find his brother’s killer….

His final opportunity…

On an unsanctioned mission, Scottish NCA officer Hamish Ballard tracks his brother’s killer across the ocean…until he hits a dead end at Adams-Larsen Inc and Associates, a supposed PR company. Owner Jillian Larsen knows more than she admits, and he’ll do anything to uncover her secrets, even fake an interest her. He’s got one week to complete his goal. But his attraction is all too real and using her when she was just a name in a report was easy, but now he’s falling hard for his foe.

Her first responsibility…

Jillian Larsen’s purpose in life is helping people who are in jeopardy disappear and she has never betrayed a client. When a Scottish hottie accuses her company of hiding a criminal, she has no intention of revealing her client’s whereabouts or giving in to her inconvenient attraction for the sexy pain in her ass. But what does she do if the woman she relocated turns out to be a criminal? When her business partner vanishes along with their complicit client, can she use Hamish to track them down without risking her heart?

Their only chance…

He needs her resources. She needs his intelligence. Working together is the only logical choice, but it means jeopardizing everything.

Now enjoy this sneak peek from the first book in the box set!

Excerpt from Stalked

Alex Saunders already hated this job.

Federal judge Robert “call me Bobby” Adams was a pain in the ass. He’d agreed to protection and then demanded a backup. A private backup. From everything Alex could ascertain, the judge was throwing his son a bone, tossing cash to the son’s firm, Adams-Larsen Inc. and Associates. The judge insisted on hiring them as secondary security protection. A service that as far as Alex could tell, the firm was ill-equipped to provide.

Adams-Larsen was an image consulting firm. He tried to keep an open mind…although in his opinion if you lived a clean life, you shouldn’t need help cleaning up your image.

So far, he’d seen a chick dressed as a giant mugger assaulting a frail woman that a strong gust of October wind would blow away. He couldn’t say why he thought the mugger was a woman, except that there’d been something in her stance….

She’d been watching him and he’d had a vision of stripping away the mugger outfit to reveal what lay beneath. Her gaze had pierced the armor of his self-control and for a moment, he’d been tempted to stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows and just…watch.

Mentally he gave himself a slap. He was acting just like the guy harassing the judge. Except something hinky was definitely going on with the judge and his stalker. Alex just didn’t know what. Yet.

They stopped by a receptionist’s desk. The judge halted, bent to the Latina woman who guarded the inner sanctum of this business.

“Maria.” The judge’s voice had softened, gentled.

Ho now. What was that all about?

“Hello, Judge Adams.”

“Now, darlin’, I’ve told you to call me Bobby.” He reached out to clasp one of her hands, but after she pulled back subtly, the judge patted her hand. “How are you?”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her smile uneasy. “I’m doing…good.”

“I’m very pleased to hear that.” Judge Adams beetled his brows. “You need anything, you call me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The weirdest part of the whole exchange was the way the judge acted almost fatherly toward the woman. In the two hours Alex had observed him relating to women, he hadn’t once displayed this kind of behavior. And he’d watched Judge Adams interact with a lot of women.

“Gentlemen.” A smoky contralto interrupted his thoughts. Alex turned toward the sexy voice and stopped.

She was freaking gorgeous.

Slender, stacked, and elegant. She wore a suit with a pencil skirt in a bold patriotic red, glossy lips matched her skirt and demanded attention, and a pair of heels made her legs look fantastic. She had classic Scandinavian coloring, white-blond hair, pale skin, and high cheekbones with unusual dark gray eyes.

The judge straightened. “Jillian, dear.”

So this was Jillian Larsen. The judge’s son’s business partner. For some reason her name sounded familiar. The judge smiled and clasped Jillian Larsen around the shoulders, embracing her in a hug that went on just a little too long.

Her smile was absolutely, politely professional as she eased away. “Nice to see you again, Judge.”

“Where’s Marsh?”

“Marsh is on assignment right now.” She was lying through her perfectly straight, unnaturally white teeth. “He sent his regrets.”

“Not a problem.” The judge dismissed the statement, either not knowing or not caring that she’d lied. “I had planned to request a favor from you in any event.”

“Why don’t you both come into my office.” Jillian Larsen led them toward a set of tall mahogany doors. “And you can tell me all about it.”

Her stride hitched for a barely perceptible moment, then she led them away from the giant desk situated in front of a wall of bookshelves and toward a more casual sitting area with wing chairs and a small sofa. She strode easily and confidently, leaving the men in her wake, while the judge stared at her butt for just a little too long.

She was young enough be to his daughter. But that didn’t seem to matter to the man. He was an equal opportunity dawg. With the very bizarre exception of the receptionist.

Jillian Larsen sat in a wing chair, leaving another chair and a settee for Alex and the judge.

Quickly Judge Adams introduced Alex, only by name, not mentioning the reason he was accompanied, then skimmed over the details of his problem.

Jillian Larsen didn’t say a word as the judge glossed over the specifics of receiving very detailed emails, expertly encoded letters no less, with explicit death threats. No cut-and-paste pictures out of magazines for this guy. The US Marshals’ computer guys were still trying to de-code the high-tech encryption. And they still hadn’t determined where the emails originated from.

Jillian listened intently, her mouth pursed and her unusual gray eyes flat.

The judge wound up, “So you see my dear, I’m hoping that we can hire you to be an additional…pair of eyes until this nonsense stops.”

Without even glancing at Alex, she demurred. “You’re asking us to engage out of our area of expertise, Judge. You are not our typical agency client.” She pulled out a smartphone and started thumbing through her contacts. “I can recommend several good security—”

“Jillian. Cut the horseshit.” The judge’s affable, good-old-boy demeanor had been replaced by the guy who’d managed to survive the Congressional vetting process unscathed and made difficult decisions to send traitors and high-level criminals to federal prison for life. “I need you to make this happen.”

Alex was pretty sure there was a threat in Judge Adams’s words but damned if he could figure out that underlying warning.

“You’re in a precarious position as it is after the debacle last month with the FBI.”

Maybe that was why her name sounded familiar. Memories finally clicked. A prominent Russian businessman with shady connections had been killed in a shootout right here at Adams-Larsen. The story in the press was that the Russian had a love interest in DC and had entered the country illegally. Something had gone awry and he’d taken a hostage. Congress was set to hold private hearings on the situation, wanting to know how the man got into the country and why he ended up dead. Alex had thought there was a whole hell of a lot of logistical things left out of that story.

“It would be embarrassing if you ended up with more negative press. Not great for a…PR agency.”

Mentally Alex perked up. Forget the prior veiled warning, the judge had just very clearly and overtly bullied Jillian Larsen, his son’s business partner. Although Alex still had no idea what the judge was talking about.

Jillian blinked, never once losing her composure. “With Bliss and Rissa mostly on the West Coast these days, I’m shorthanded right now.”

“You’ll do.”

Denial in her gaze was swift but her comeback was smooth and unhurried. “I’m sorry but I’m needed here at the moment. Perhaps Dwayne.”

“Need a woman.” The judge was shaking his head. “She can pose as my personal aide.”

Finally the reason they were here clicked in Alex’s brain. The judge didn’t want an additional bodyguard, he wanted a playmate. Or he wanted a bodyguard who looked like a playmate.

“Ms. Larsen, perhaps it would ease your mind to know that the US Marshals will be running point on Judge Adams’s case and he will be under their protection.”

“That would be you?” she asked coolly.

Alex nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her eyes went flat again, almost as if his being a deputy marshal worked against him. Alex could practically see her brain synapses firing as she considered then rejected options. But she didn’t shut the judge down. Did that mean she didn’t trust the US Marshals? The United States Marshals office was the best personal protection security in the world. Certainly head and shoulders above some Beltway spin doctors who were so bad at PR they were going to be part of a congressional hearing.

This detail was a freaking train wreck.

But on his last job, after loudly protesting the authenticity and suitability of the US Marshal’s witness he’d been charged with protecting, Alex had received an official reprimand from HR. It didn’t matter that his instincts had been right on target. The fucking idiot had violated the terms of WitSec within a week of being relocated, and in another week he’d been dead.

Killed by the very people he was supposed to be hiding from.

Alex had a bad feeling about this job. But the ding in his personnel file didn’t give a shit, and he could not afford to fuck up this assignment.

The immediate consequence of speaking up on his last case had been a transfer to the Judicial Protection branch of the Marshals, and the protection of one ornery Judge Robert “call me Bobby” Adams.

Right away the judge had put him in an awkward position by requesting the addition of an Adams-Larsen employee. But Alex’s new boss told him to do whatever the judge wanted to keep him happy. Having additional backup outside the assigned Marshals—namely him and his partner, Shep—was highly unusual.

“I may have one person.” She was so reluctant that Alex couldn’t imagine her choice would be acceptable.

“Well, go get her,” the judge ordered.

Jillian Larsen moved elegantly, crossing her legs, and pressed a button on her cell phone, turning it into a two-way comm system. “Maria, can you page Kita for me?”

The judge glanced at his diamond-rimmed, 14-carat gold Rolex. “I’ve got an important pretrial meeting in an hour.”

Alex was an expert at reading people. Jillian Larsen wanted desperately to tell Judge Adams to go to hell, but she pasted a very polite smile on her lips and held back the harsh words.
“Maria, have her come up right away.”

Alex made a mental note to check into the background of the employees of this agency. He hadn’t had a chance to do more than find out they did image consulting since Judge Adams dropped this bomb on him.

“But, Jill.” They could all hear the hesitation in her assistant’s voice. “She’s in the sparring room.”

“Right. Away.”

“Okay.” You asked for it was implicitly implied in the receptionist’s dubious tone.
#

Kita rushed up the stairs. Was something wrong with Marsh? She couldn’t believe that thought hadn’t occurred to her when the judge walked in.

They needed to see her right away.

She’d removed the padded assailant suit, stripped down to a tight wicking sleeveless top and a pair of skimpy spandex shorts. She’d tugged on a pair of running shoes and splashed water on her face and skimmed over her pony. The temp inside the assailant suit got damn hot and her face felt like she’d sat in the sun at a Nationals game in the dead of summer. She also smelled a little funky and the quick spritz of Dwayne’s Axe didn’t really mask the odor. She’d have preferred a cold shower. But Jillian had said, “Right away.”

Kita burst into the reception area. “Everything okay? Something wrong with Marsh?”

“Not as far as I know,” Maria Torres said softly. She was still finding her confidence. She’d been abducted as a teenager and spent eight years in a solitary prison before she’d managed to escape. Kita couldn’t even imagine the fortitude it had taken for her to not crumble up and wither away. But she hadn’t. And slowly but surely Maria was coming out of her shell and growing into the woman she was meant to be.

Relief washed over Kita.

“When you ask for right away, this is what you get, stinky and sweaty.” Kita grinned.

“Apparently they couldn’t wait for you.” Maria rolled her eyes and Kita loved that little bit of ’tude. “Go on in.”

She strode into Jillian Larsen’s office, then felt as if she’d walked into an alternative dimension.

Three people, elegantly dressed, sipping beverages out of delicate china cups, turned at the same time as if choreographed. They were having a tea party and she’d just crashed it.

“You wanted to see me.” Right away. They sure hadn’t given her time to clean up.

“Kita, thanks for coming so quickly.” Jillian put down her cup, the clatter of china loud in the suddenly silent room.

In her St. John suit and matching pumps, with her perfectly smooth blond hair and expertly applied makeup, Jill was the epitome of polished and poised. Kita was the unkempt homeless girl compared to Jillian’s high society princess.

Both men rose to their feet. If she hadn’t been distracted by the sheer power of the man to her right she might have been amused at their old-fashioned gesture.

Immediately her gaze went to the unknown man. Up close his presence was even more compelling. Blue-black hair, a leanly chiseled, uncompromising face, and the stoic expression in his reserved pale blue eyes captivated her.

Like the magnetic pull of the moon, she couldn’t stop staring at him. She was drawn to him. Power. He’d exuded it merely sitting in the effeminate chair.

His shoulders were broad, and although his button-down cotton shirt was just a little too loose to reveal the muscles beneath, she sensed his strength. And she wondered again who he was and what he wanted with her.

She knew what she wanted with him.

Get it now for only 99 cents!!

Giveaway: Win Free Reader Registration to Lori Foster’s #RAGT18

I am tremendously excited to announce that I am going to be participating in an epic event! Lori Foster’s Reader and Author Get Together (#RAGT18) is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, and this year, I am privileged to take part in it.

If you’re not familiar with RAGT, you can read more about it here. I’ll give you basics now:

It’s June 7-9, 2018, at the Cincinnati Marriott North. It includes two days of signings, parties, a Friday morning breakfast sponsored by three authors pals and me, lunches and dinners . . . wow!!

Tickets go on sale in March, and they always sell out FAST. Think minutes.

That’s why this giveaway is so exciting. Lori has graciously allowed us to sponsor a very few reader registration giveaways–and I’m doing one of them. My co-sponsors are my author buddies Violet Howe and Sloane Savage.

Time is of the essence here, folks. Enter the giveaway NOW, because the winner will be chosen on February 28th.

Please note that the giveaway includes only the Reader Registration. It does NOT include any travel costs or the hotel. But the winner will be guaranteed a reader spot at the event, no matter how fast registration goes. Your paid spot is yours, no matter what. It cannot be transferred.

Go forth and enter!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Why iBooks? (iBooks FRiDAY 1)

Once upon a time, I read books just the same way the rest of the world did: paperbacks or hard-cover books that I could hold in my hands and turn the pages . . . usually procured from the library or a book store.

And then came ebooks. I had a Nook first . . . I bought my first Kindle Fire well after I’d published my own books. But even before that, in 2011, I had my very first iPhone. Still, I didn’t know anything about iBooks (which wasn’t really even a thing then).

In the last three years, though, I’ve read more on my iPhone than on any other device. Yet I’ll admit it: I usually read using my Kindle app. I’ll bet many of you do, too.

Recently, though, I’ve realized that it’s kind of ridiculous. After all, my iBooks app is specifically designed to work on my iPhone. And there are features which are super-cool on iBooks, like integrated music and playlists . . . and many of my favorite authors release exclusively on iBooks now, too.

So I’ve made a commitment: for the next year, I’m only buying–and reading–my books on iBooks. I’m also going to share what I’m reading and maybe give you some fun things I learn about along the way.

Which leads us to the next part (a bonus post for this first iBooks FRiDAY) . . . which is about how to navigate in iBooks for those of us who haven’t been there before and might find it a bit confusing.

Read it here–and be sure to follow along with me!

Can we chat?

14183769_10154105636729145_3475893206531129845_nSo this is how it works.

I finish writing a book. I have about two minutes of absolute euphoria, and then reality hits.

This wonderful story, the one I’ve just dedicated my life to writing, the one that has wrung every emotion from my heart, now must be shared with the world, which means I need to work on the dreaded P word: promotion.

If you ever become exasperated, feeling you’ve seen the same post over and over or perhaps different posts about the same book . . . trust me, we authors feel the same way about promoting. It’s not our favorite part of being an author.

In my perfect world, I’d finish writing my book and then sit down with a group of my favor readers to chat with them about it. We’d get lost in characters and plot lines and so on . . . and at the end of our lovely tea, they’d go out and tell their friends about the book, who would in turn tell their friends . . . well, you get the gist.

Meanwhile, I’d sit back and work on the next book.

Now, though, my chatting takes place on social media. When I post a picture or a link, it’s my only way of telling people when to expect the next book. Live events are lovely and give me a chance to talk to readers in person, but there’s a limit to how many of them I can do. And so the internet it is.

Of course, I’m very lucky that I have my dear Temptresses with whom to speak. They let me go on and on about characters and stories, and I’m grateful. (If you enjoy my books and want to join us on the Temptress group, go here.) If only we could mystically meet up each time I finish a book and talk it out in person! They’re also awesome about sharing and twisting friends’ arms to get them to read my books . . . I adore their enthusiasm. It’s what keeps me writing.

Regardless of the opportunities offered on the web, nothing beats word of mouth when it comes to books. You telling a friend about a story that captivate you is more effective than fifty Facebook ads. Sharing your favorite reads is so important!

Well . . . since it seems no one is going to come bring me tea and chat about Days of You and Me just now, I guess you’ll keep seeing the pictures, the promos and the posts. If you feel spunky, shares are always appreciated, as are posts and tweets and emails . . . whatever does the trick.

That’s part of this author’s life.

It’s Hard to Have Faith on Fridays

{For a long time, I’ve had plans to write a weekly post on faith and what it looks like today. I even set up the category on my site here: Faith on Fridays. I hoped to begin at Advent last year, and then again earlier this year. For a variety of reasons, that didn’t happen. But this morning, I woke up and knew today was the day. 

I am an author, and my site is about that. But I am also a woman of great faith, and not allowing myself to express that in some form is not being true to myself. I don’t force my beliefs on anyone else, and I don’t ask that my readers agree with me. You don’t have to read this weekly post. But I have to write it. I hope you’ll stick with me through it, and perhaps comment and start a dialogue, no matter your background and your own beliefs.}

~~~***~~~

Cross on top of american flag symbolizing memorial day in United States

Last night, I was just about to go to sleep, skimming through social media for one last check before bed. I saw the first posts about a shooting in Dallas. This time, it wasn’t police shooting an unarmed black man; it was police who were being shot during a protest. I stayed up, watching CNN until I couldn’t take it anymore. When I went to sleep, they were saying ten had been shot and two were dead. When I woke up this Friday morning, the numbers had changed; twelve shot, five dead.

It’s hard to have faith on Fridays.

Earlier in the week, I had been sickened and frustrated and angry about the two black men who were shot by police officers–one in Baton Rouge, one in Minnesota. I was horrified. This is America. On Monday we celebrated the anniversary of our freedom, of our proclamation that ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL. All men. All women. Black, white, and every other color in between or beyond. Regardless of sexual identity, gender affiliation, religion, lack of religion and cultural background. All men are created equal. We have defended that peculiar notion for over two hundred years, we have bled for it and our soldiers have died for it. Yet we do not live it out. Not by a long shot.

It’s hard to have faith on Fridays.

My faith is rooted deep, from seeds planted in my childhood, carefully cultivated by so many men and women and books who helped shape what I believe and in Whom I believe. I follow Jesus, who tells us that He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. I try my best to make my everyday choices reflect that belief. I know that He is still in charge. I know that He is the ultimate victor. I know who wins this war.

But it’s hard to have faith on Fridays.

Several thousand years ago, on a Friday in Jerusalem, a man of peace, a man of love, Son of God, son of man, of His own free will, gave up His life for me and for you (whether you believe it or accept it or not) in a shameful, horrific death on the cross. He’d been the hope of a generation, beloved of His many followers, and within hours, he was dead, laid in a borrowed tomb.

It’s hard to have faith on Fridays.

If that were the end of the story, then what I believe would be futile. If that were the end of the story, then we could look around our nation and our world and have no reason for hope. If that were the end of the story, we should just give up.

But it’s not the end, because on Sunday, that tomb broke open and Jesus rose again, defeating death.

In the face of pain and horror and devastating loss, communities pull together. We support each other. We love despite differences. We embrace strangers. We march for peace. We hold our legislators accountable for making and enforcing laws that will make our nation safer and stronger, a country where ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL and are treated equitably and with dignity.

It’s hard to have faith on Fridays. But we hold on. We believe for a better day and a better way. We walk in His way, offering compassion and grace and love.

This isn’t the end. Love bats last, and there is not a single doubt in my mind about Who wins.

Keep the faith, even on Fridays.

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