Saturday, January 22, 2022

The Ex Who Conned a Psychic: Charley's Ghost, Book 3 by Sally Berneathy

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Third book in Charley’s Ghost series
by USA Today Bestselling Author Sally Berneathy

Amanda is still haunted by her ex-husband, Charley…literally haunted. He’s stuck between this life and the next, unable to move on, unable to get more than a couple of hundred feet away from Amanda and unwilling to go even that far. She’d like to take a shower without worrying about him peeking, to have a phone conversation without him listening and commenting, to have a date with the hot Detective Jake Daggett. Jake has asked, but a threesome with Charley doesn’t sound like fun.

Her new friend Teresa, a professional psychic and medium, may be able to help. However, before she moves Charley on to the next life, she needs his help in contacting her own dead husband to find out who murdered him. His ghost isn’t talking, and if they can’t find his killer, Teresa could go to prison. Amanda would lose not only a friend but also the possibility of getting rid of Charley. The facilities for spiritual progression in prison are limited.

While Amanda is trying to help Teresa find her husband’s murderer, a man from Charley’s past shows up with a document signed by Charley giving him possession of Amanda’s motorcycle shop and apartment. Surely Ronald Collins doesn’t really believe he get can away with that, but after he shoots Amanda’s live oak tree and burns her truck, she realizes the man is serious…and psychotic.

Amanda just wanted to get rid of her ghost. Now she has a killer, a crazy man, and two ghosts in her life.

Friday, January 21, 2022

Read an Excerpt from TARA (The Trouble Sisters Saga Book 2) by Taylor Lee

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She’s a brash newspaper editor and declared environmental activist. He’s an arrogant land developer. A broken elevator forces them to confront each other not as diehard adversaries but as a man and a woman.

Tara, the oldest of the Trouble sisters, is as outspoken as she is beautiful. Proud to be known by her critics as a rabble rouser, Tara even goes so far as to equate Griffin Blacks’ proposed development with rape of her pristine county.

An up from the bootstraps developer, Griffin Black is proud of his innovative developments. Earning kudos from Native American leaders to corporate and government leaders, Black doesn’t suffer fools or critics gladly. Especially a gorgeous women he’s more interested in courting than confronting.

When the sparks inevitably fly, Tara discovers that the man she is falling for is as complicated as he is compelling. When Griffin is the prime suspect in a vicious murder, the two passionate lovers acknowledge that even as powerful as they are, they may not survive this crisis.

Tara, the second book in The Trouble Sisters steamy romantic suspense series is for discriminating readers who insist on great characters and a spellbinding story that also includes HOT romance. If you like smart, complicated characters, and scorching passion, then you'll love Taylor Lee’s sizzling thrill-ride.

Buy Tara today and prepare to be wowed! 

Excerpt:

“I have a question for you, Mr. Black. Why did you decide to come to Cochise County to build your development? Did you run out of pristine land to rape in Colorado?”

Griffin Black turned to see the source of the insulting inquiry, but before he could respond, Mayor Watcher, his florid face flushing a dangerous shade of purple, leapt in front of him.

Glaring at the woman who’d stepped toward them as they entered the lobby of the Whispering Pines Motel, the mayor made an obvious effort to respond in a jovial tone. “Now, now, Tara, there’s no need to be nasty. We don’t want our special guests to think that Sierra Vista is a backwater, inhospitable city, now do we, missy?” Glancing at the uniformed men standing off to the side of the room, he added ominously, “Besides, Tara, this is a private party. Please don’t make me ask these officers to—”

Cutting off the mayor’s threat with a dismissive wave of her hand, the young woman said coolly, “As you know, Mayor Watcher, my name is Tara Trouble. When you refer to me, please call me by my correct name.” Turning from the flushed mayor, she pinned a hard gaze on Griffin. “May I presume, Mr. Black, that you are capable of answering my question and do not require assistance from our obsequious mayor to respond?” Ignoring the mayor’s outraged gasp, she nodded to the officers, who were making an effort to contain their amusement, and addressed the fulminating mayor with a flippant shrug. “And, Mayor Watcher, I’ll take my chances with the representatives of the Cochise County sheriff’s office. The last time I checked, we have freedom of speech in Cochise County, and I presume I won’t be arrested for exercising that right.”

Griffin Black stepped forward and put up his hand, stopping the bristling mayor’s stuttering response. Turning the full force of his narrowed gaze on the tall, blonde woman who was meeting his gaze with a frown of her own, he said pleasantly, “That was a challenging question you asked, Ms. Trouble.” He allowed his lips to quirk up in a momentary grin, but seeing her chin rise a good two inches and her frown deepen, he decided that humor was not going to defuse this standoff. Instead, not hiding his displeasure, he added carefully, “Ignoring the hostile tone of your inquiry, let me simply say that I don’t accept the premise of your question.”

Turning to the group of clearly embarrassed local dignitaries, he motioned toward the private dining room. “Please, gentlemen, my team and I are understandably hungry after our flight. I’m eager to take advantage of your hospitality and the opportunity to tell you more about our plans for Shadow Peaks, the name we gave to the innovative development we are planning to build in your impressive county.”

As he ushered the chagrined welcoming committee into the dining room, he murmured to Magnus Armstrong, his second-in-command, “Find out who the fuck she is and how she got into this private meeting.”

Armstrong snorted. “Unfortunately, I already know who she is and you will soon. She happens to be a rabid environmental activist who puts the Earth Liberation Front to shame. As she indicated, she equates land development with rape.” He met Griffin’s frown and added, “Oh, and among her other credentials, she’s the hard-driving editor of the Sierra Vista Gazette. Which, as you will discover, is as close to a Greenpeace rag as you’re likely to find in this otherwise conservative Old West world we’ve ventured into. And incidentally, the only newspaper in this outback county.”

Obviously seeing Griffin’s annoyance, Magnus blew out a guffaw that might have been a laugh but was mirthless at best. “You may have noticed that she wasn’t intimidated by us and that the uniforms on the sidelines didn’t rankle her either. That might be because, as the obsequious little mayor—as she rightly called him—indicated, her name is Tara Trouble. In addition to living up to that apropos moniker, you should know that her father is Titus Theseus Trouble, sheriff of Cochise County and as formidable a lawman as you and I are likely to tangle with.”

Wednesday, January 19, 2022

Read an Excerpt from The Ex Who Glowed in the Dark by Sally Berneathy

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USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR
Book 2 in Charley’s Ghost series

Amanda was in the process of divorcing her lying, cheating husband Charley when he was murdered, so she’s stuck with his last name. And even worse, she’s stuck with his ghost.

She can’t seem to get rid of his ghost, but at least she is able to go to court and get rid of his name. Elated at the small victory, she returns to her motorcycle repair shop ready to celebrate. But her assistant, Dawson, is having a meltdown because his younger brother has been kidnapped.

Amanda can see the obvious pain Dawson is in, but in the two years he’s worked for her he’s never mentioned a brother. Is this brother real or only an avatar from one of the computer games he loves to play? Charley thinks Dawson is losing it. Amanda thinks Charley lost it a long time ago.

Dawson produces an e-mail from johndoe666@e-mail.com demanding computer code written by Dawson’s father as ransom for the boy. That seems a little odd. Don’t kidnappers typically want large sums of money in unmarked bills as a ransom?

When Dawson tells Amanda his name isn’t really Dawson Page and that, since his parents were murdered two years ago, he and his brother have been living under false identities bequeathed to them by their father, she really begins to worry about him.

Then she talks to his next door neighbor to find out if he saw anything, and the man wearing a tin foil hat tells her he’s never seen Dawson’s brother, but if somebody’s missing, aliens undoubtedly took him to work in the crystal mines on Alpha Centauri.

Though the kidnappers have warned Dawson not to bring in the police, Amanda decides the situation has gone beyond her ability to help by offering a cold Coke and soothing words. She calls Jake Daggett, the detective who saved her life a couple of months before. Charley isn’t happy about that. He claims she only called Daggett because she wants to see him again. That really isn’t the only reason, but he does look nice in his T-shirt stuffed with bulging biceps, pecs and deltoids.

In case the kidnappers are watching when he arrives and might identify him as a cop, Amanda greets him as cousin Jake and throws her arms around him in a friendly cousin sort of way which Charley finds completely unnecessary.

Will the kidnappers believe Jake is her cousin? Do the kidnappers even exist? Is Grant only an Avatar? Will Amanda ever find a way to torture Charley? Will she give up her trademark Coke for a Pepsi? Will Global Warming melt Amanda’s Magnum Double Chocolate ice cream bar?

Okay, you need to test that last question for yourself, but the answers to everything else are in this book!

Excerpt:

Chapter One


Amanda Caulfield walked out of the Dallas County Courthouse into the warm July morning feeling as if she was floating down the sidewalk on gossamer wings rather than clomping along in a pair of scuffed motorcycle boots.
She’d entered that intimidating building half an hour ago as Amanda Randolph, estranged wife and widow of Charley Randolph, then emerged as Amanda Caulfield, the name she was born with.
Her father wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “You okay, Mandy?”
She looked up at him, smiled and returned his hug. When Emerson Caulfield sat in his own courtroom, his stern, no-nonsense demeanor quelled the rowdiest defendant. On the bench he looked every inch a district court judge with his stubborn jaw, strong nose and steel-gray hair, but now his gaze was soft, his parental concern for her obvious.
I’m fine, Dad. Really. Getting rid of Charley’s name makes me feel like a new woman, like the last few years never happened.”
That’s just great, Amanda,” Charley said. “Not bad enough I got murdered, but now my wife gets rid of my name and says she feels like a new woman and I never existed. You sure know how to hurt a guy.”
Amanda grimaced and glanced past her father to the slightly translucent figure floating a few inches above the ground and scowling. Other than the translucence, Charley looked much as he had in life—tall with streaked blond hair and bright blue eyes. He still wore the tan khakis and white Polo shirt he’d died in two months ago. Apparently people didn’t sweat or get dirty in the afterlife.
Ridding herself of Charley’s last name had been a simple matter requiring the completion of a few forms and a quick appearance in court. If only she could get rid of Charley’s ghost that easily.
She shot him a glare then continued walking down the street with her father toward the parking lot where his car and her motorcycle waited. “Thanks for going to court with me, Dad. It was kind of cool that you were on a first name basis with my judge.”
Her father laughed. “A name change hearing is a formality, just a matter of signing the decree. I was only there for moral support.”
That counted for a lot.”
Coming by for dinner tonight?” It would have been a tempting invitation if Amanda hadn’t already made plans. Her mother always hired good cooks, her definition of assuring that her husband and family were well fed. “Your sister and David will be there. Your mother wants to make plans for the baby shower you’re going to give for Jenny.” That took the temptation out of the invitation.
Golly gee, Dad, I’d just love to be there and talk about which engraver to use for the invitations because remember what a terrible job Ludlow’s did on poor Amy Cresswell’s wedding invitations—how embarrassing that they used ecru instead of ivory—but Hamilton’s has only been in business ten years and can you really trust such a newcomer, and should we stick with cardboard for the cake flavor or be avant-garde and go for lemon cardboard?”
Her father tried to give her his courtroom-stern expression, but he smiled in spite of himself. “You know you might as well give in and get it over with. Your mother is relentless. Eventually you’re going to have to deal with the baby shower details.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “I know, but I’ll avoid it as long as possible. Anyway, this afternoon Sunny and I are going for a bike ride and then out to dinner to celebrate my name change.”
Her father nodded, his expression tightening slightly but otherwise unchanged. “I’m glad you’re spending time with Sunny, getting to know her.”
Amanda had only recently learned that her mother and her birth mother were not the same person, that Sunny Donovan and her father had a brief relationship thirty-three years ago that resulted in her. Once she recovered from the initial shock, Amanda accepted her changed parentage without trauma. She’d always adored her father, always felt close to him, but she and her mother had clashed from her first memory.
Sunny made no attempt to take her mother’s place but had immediately become her best friend, a role no one had filled in Amanda’s life since Billie Jean Bennett moved to Florida in the second grade. Overall, the situation was a good one. Her parents and Sunny seemed to still feel a bit of tension when discussing it, but they’d get over it eventually.
The traffic light turned green and she and her father crossed the street to the parking lot.
Tell Mom I’ll be over soon with a bottle of two dollar champagne to celebrate Jenny’s future baby and my old name.”
Her father laughed. They both knew her very proper mother would not approve of a celebration of such an unorthodox event as ditching her dead almost-ex-husband’s last name, and she’d faint if a bottle of two dollar champagne came through the door of her perfect home in Highland Park. “Let me know before you do that so I can be out that evening.”
Love you, Dad.” She gave him another hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Love you too. Ride safe.”
She strode to her Harley.
Charley settled himself on the back and looked smug. “You can’t get rid of me just because you don’t use my name anymore. You’re still my wife. Our divorce wasn’t final when I died.”
Amanda groaned and spread her hands in a gesture of frustration. “Think about what you just said. You died. What part of till death do us part do you not understand?”
I’m still here so I guess death didn’t part us.”
It’s not my fault you got kicked back. You’re definitely dead. Your family and I buried you.”
Charley flinched. “That suit was terrible.”
Get off my bike. You don’t need to ride. You can fly. Everybody wants to fly. You can do it but you choose to annoy me by riding on the back of my Harley.”
C’mon, Amanda,” he whined. “You know how I used to love to ride motorcycles. This has been a traumatic day for me. It really hurts that you got rid of my name. At least let me ride.”
Like she had a choice. She strapped on her helmet, fired up the bike and roared away. No point in trying to throw him off or give him a rough ride. Until he completed the mission he’d been sent back to complete or got his karma balanced or whatever he needed to do to be allowed into the light, she was stuck with him. Letting him ride on the back of her bike was a minor irritation compared to the other things she had to tolerate from him.
*~*~*
Twenty minutes later she pulled into the parking lot of her shop, Amanda’s Motorcycles and More, in the northwest section of Dallas off Harry Hines Boulevard.
You ride too fast,” Charley complained as she got off the bike.
Amanda yanked off her helmet and looked at him. “Really? Are you worried I’m going to have a wreck and you’ll get hurt? Next time, walk.”
With her helmet under one arm and the folder containing her official documents under the other, she turned and strode toward the wide doors of her shop. Charley had put a damper on her good mood, almost made her feel guilty about getting rid of his name. But a few minutes with her assistant and friend Dawson Page would restore it. He’d been with her through the last year of her tumultuous marriage and her futile attempts to obtain a divorce. He’d appreciate what this day meant to her. They might very well share a two dollar bottle of champagne.
Dawson, I’m Amanda Caulfield again!” She walked across the large open area, stepping around motorcycle parts as well as bikes in various stages of repair and detailing. She’d expected to find him working on a paint job, his specialty and favorite thing to do other than work on the computer. But he was nowhere in the main area.
She finally found him sitting at a battered wooden desk in one of the smaller rooms she’d designated as an office. Not surprisingly his attention was focused on a computer, though not the desktop she had for office work. He’d brought in his own laptop, something he often did because her computer was, to quote Dawson, antiquated.
She stepped inside the room. “There you are! Did you hear me?”
Dawson jumped, looked at her over his laptop, blinked a couple of times and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “That’s great, Amanda.” He sounded distracted, but he often sounded distracted. Dawson gave his complete attention to everything he did.
Even so, Amanda was a little disappointed he didn’t show more enthusiasm about her triumph.
Charley darted past her to stand beside Dawson. “He probably thinks a married woman should keep her husband’s name.”
Amanda gritted her teeth, biting back her response since Dawson couldn’t see or hear Charley and would think she was talking to herself. Instead she stepped over to the desk and swiped the file folder containing her name change documents through Charley’s midsection.
That hurt, Amanda,” Charley protested. “Okay, maybe not physically but emotionally. You’ve got a mean streak.”
In life Charley had been a liar, cheater and blackmailer, so Amanda thought he had the roles reversed, that he was the one with the mean streak, but again she bit her tongue and saved her rebuttal for later when they were alone.
She slapped the folder onto the desk. “Dawson, could you put this somewhere safe? It contains very important papers. I don’t want to lose them.”
She shifted her attention from Charley to her young assistant and realized for the first time that he didn’t look so good. As a certified nerd Dawson always had more computer pallor than Texas tan, but now his face was pasty pale. His short dark hair looked as if it hadn’t been combed in a while, and even through the lenses of his glasses she could see that his eyes were bloodshot with dark circles underneath.
A stab of guilt shot through her. She’d been completely wrapped up in her own world and had failed to notice that something was wrong with her friend. “Are you okay?”
What? Yes. I’m fine.” He picked up her folder and set it down again. His eyes darted to the computer screen then back to her.
Amanda frowned. “What’s going on? What are you working on?”
Nothing.”
That was totally not like Dawson. A college student majoring in computer science, he usually took every opportunity to explain anything related to computers in excruciating, convoluted detail, his enthusiasm blinding him to the fact that Amanda’s eyes were glazing over while he talked.
She moved around the desk to look at the screen.
Dawson closed the laptop, blinked and looked guilty.
Something was very wrong. He wasn’t the type to hide things from her and she’d never before seen him look guilty. “Dawson, I don’t care if you were playing solitaire or looking at nude women.” She couldn’t imagine him doing either but couldn’t imagine any other reason he’d shut down the display so she couldn’t see it.
Amanda, you know I wouldn’t do that.” He sounded a little hurt and indignant that she’d accuse him of such things.
It wasn’t pictures of women or a computer game or anything normal,” Charley said. “It didn’t have any of those little things you can click on, just lots of numbers and letters.”
Okay, so not porn or computer games. Amanda felt helpless. Obviously something was wrong and it somehow involved whatever he’d been doing on the computer.
How could she help him when she didn’t know what the problem was? She fell back on Texas tradition. When in doubt, offer food and drink. Dawson already had an open Coke sitting on his desk so she couldn’t offer that. “It’s nearly eleven which is nearly noon so why don’t you take a break and grab an early lunch?”
Dawson shook his head, the movement uneven, half nod, half shiver. “I’m not hungry. You go ahead.”
Dawson never passed up a chance to eat. Apparently it took a lot of calories to operate a keyboard and mouse because he remained thin in spite of eating like a quarterback during training season. If he wasn’t hungry, he must not feel well. A bad case of the flu would explain the pallor and dark circles.
If you’re sick, go home. It’ll be tough, but I’ll get along without you for a day or two.”
Dawson stood abruptly, shoving back his chair. “I’m not sick.” He strode across the room and out to the main area then sat down beside a bike with an intricate flame design half completed. He picked up a brush and a small pot of paint but didn’t open it.
Amanda glanced at Charley who shrugged. This was totally unlike the amiable, easy-going Dawson.
Amanda reached down and opened the laptop. The screen was blank. She looked at Charley and mouthed, Turn it on. In his current condition, Charley’s abilities were severely limited, but he was able to influence electronics—turn on the TV in the middle of the night, read Amanda’s e-mail when she wasn’t looking, set off the alarm system she had installed after Roland Kimball broke into her apartment.
Turn what on?” Charley asked.
Dawson’s computer,” she whispered.
No problem. But I hope you remember this the next time you get all upset because I read a few of your e-mails. I’m not the only one who’s nosy.”
Just do it, okay?”
He made an elaborate show of waving his hands around and through the laptop as if he were a stage magician performing a trick. Finally he proclaimed, “Ta-da!”
The screen sprang to life.
Charley had told the truth about the display. Numbers and letters in some sort of raw data format. Definitely not a user-friendly Windows program. Why had Dawson been so anxious to hide this? Amanda wouldn’t be able to make sense out of it if she had the rest of her life to study it.
He’s coming back,” Charley warned.
Too late. Dawson stood beside her.
I’m sorry,” Amanda began, but he interrupted her.
I’m glad you know.” He sank into the chair with an enormous sigh and put his head in his hands. “What should I do?”
Amanda looked from the screen to Dawson to Charley. What was it she was supposed to know from that strange display? If she didn’t know what it meant, she certainly didn’t know what Dawson should do about it.
I have no idea what you’re talking about. That stuff is gobbledegook to me.”
Dawson lifted his head. His glasses sat slightly askew, but Amanda could see his eyes clearly enough to tell they had a strange look. The only word that came to mind was haunted.
Haunted? Dawson was quiet, intense, OCD, but—haunted?
She knelt on the floor in front of him. “You’re starting to freak me out. What’s going on?”
Dawson clenched his lips and his fists, looking very young and vulnerable, a little like a child holding in horrible secrets.
Secrets and Dawson just didn’t go together, but apparently he had a few.
Impossible images raced through Amanda’s mind.
Dawson the mild-mannered nerd—a secret life as a bank robber?
Nah.
A spy who sold government secrets?
Certainly not.
A career as a writer of erotica?
Probably not.
He sat straight in the chair, squared his shoulders, and drew in a deep breath. “They took my brother. They’re going to kill him if I don’t give them a program my dad wrote, and I don’t have the program.”



Friday, January 14, 2022

Read an Excerpt from FORBIDDEN: Book 1 by Taylor Lee

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FORBIDDEN: Book 1 in USA Today best-selling author Taylor Lee’s Sizzling Hot Detective Series, The Criminal Affairs Collection.
•She’d almost erased the memory of the outrageous undercover agent who’d captured her heart while betraying her soul.

•To her horror, the devious man she’d relegated to the ash bin of her tortured pride reappeared. As her commanding officer, no less.

•Certain that he could control his reaction to the renegade detective he’d betrayed, the arrogant agent accepted the command of her elite unit.

•It only took a fusillade of challenging skirmishes to prove that far from being over, their fierce affair was stronger than ever with the power to take them both down. 


WARNING: Romance so HOT it singes the pages. HOT, tough, explicit. Not for the faint at heart. Definitely bring a fan!


Love Kaylea Cross's heart pounding romantic mystery thrillers? Sylvia Day’s and Maya Banks red hot sexy heroes, feisty heroines and high adrenaline action? Fern Michael’s compelling characters? Grab FORBIDDEN and prepare to be addicted.

Excerpt

Refusing to believe what she was seeing, Viviana Moreau grabbed the edge of her desk and held on for dear life. She knew if she didn’t, she was likely to crash to the floor. Snagging a frantic gasp of air, she did what she could to breathe, but the bile surging in her throat made it impossible. Swallowing the vile gush, willing herself not to faint, Viviana acknowledged the unbelievable sight in front of her.

Standing between Commissioner Davis and Police Chief “Mac” McElroy was the man she’d promised herself she would banish from her memory if it were the last thing she did. Now, three months after seeing him for the last time, Viviana was proud that she’d succeeded. At least, she’d managed not to think about him during most of her waking hours. But even as determined and fierce as Viviana was, she’d been unable to contain her sleeping time. If tossing and turning in her bed each night careening from the lust tearing at her body and the rage her mind couldn’t contain constituted sleeping. When she allowed herself to face the truth, Viviana admitted that her nighttime dramas, make that nightmares, were the most erotic elements of her life. Almost as erotic as what had actually happened.

Peeking a glance at the tall, dark-haired man standing in the doorway of the Violent Crimes Unit headquarters, Viviana looked down when he turned his gaze toward her. Grasping for what little control she had and shoving at her roiling gut, she acknowledged that the commanding man knew what few men did. He knew what she looked like naked. Not only naked—as in without clothing—but naked to the essence of her soul. As bad as that was, and it truly would be her undoing, she also knew what he looked like naked. Astonishingly lean, muscular, and without a doubt sporting the most impressive penis she’d ever seen, the handsome-as-sin man had done to her what no other man had dared attempt. He’d taken her in ways that she hadn’t known were possible and in the process had touched the erotic core of her very being. A core she hadn’t known existed. Even now, remembering his sexy command “No games, sweetheart—only the ones I want to play…” sent a storm of unwanted sensations riveting between her legs.

Clinging to the edge of the desk, Viviana forced the X-rated scenes that were swirling across her ravaged brain to vanish and made herself remember who he truly was. In addition to being the only man who had ever dared to breach her defenses and connect with a libidinous nature she didn’t know she had, he had thoroughly and egregiously used her. As if she were an unwitting pawn on a chessboard, he’d pretended to want her, to desire her. But it was all a hideous ruse. And unknowing simpleton that she was, she’d fallen for the powerful, deceitful Lothario even though at the time she’d thought he was part of the violent cartel she was infiltrating. She now knew that when he had discovered she was an undercover cop and was likely to blow his cover and fuck up his high-level mission, the bastard had decided to fuck her instead.

When the mission came to a hideous end and she would have been killed by one of the vile cartel members, to her shock, the man she’d known as a drug dealer had revealed himself. Risking his life, he overpowered the head of the cartel and killed her assailant but not before the vicious man shot Viviana. In the chaos that ensued, the blinding pain from the bullet in her side blessedly plunged her into unconsciousness. Incongruously, the last thing she heard was her would-be lover holding her and insistently murmuring in her ear, “Breathe, baby, dammit, breathe.”

After she regained consciousness, her distraught SJPD captain, who had flown to Belize to bring her home, told Viviana the truth about the multilayered mission she’d inadvertently stumbled into. Apparently the special operative team led by her cunning lover was close to taking the Morales cartel down. Viviana’s renegade and ill-formed attempt to capture one of the cartel leaders had nearly torpedoed an international operation that was two years in the planning.

In addition to being horrified at the damage she could have caused, Viviana had to deal with an even more devastating challenge. Now, three months after returning to duty in her role as a sergeant in the elite San Jose Police Department’s Violent Crimes Unit, Viviana forced herself to admit that the man who had worked his way into her body and her spirit had used her. More flagrantly than she’d ever used the men she targeted in her undercover roles. She acknowledged with no small amount of pride that her undercover “slut on the make” reputation was well-earned. She was known as a cock-teasing tart who never gave her target anything but a rock-hard dick they never got to satisfy. It was a reputation Viviana was proud of—frankly a rep she reveled in. Until someone even more duplicitous than she was had turned the tables. She admitted that the man now standing in the doorway had used her as blatantly as she’d used the most despicable criminal she’d ever taken down. She also admitted that she’d never known how deeply that ugly action could hurt.

Forcing herself to take several deep breaths, Viviana managed to look at the trio of authoritative men in the front of the room. She knew both Commissioner Davis and Chief McElroy well. She should, given the number of run-ins she had with them. The two imposing men had been only marginally successful keeping her untoward behavior somewhat close to the required line. But it was the serious, emerald-eyed man standing between them, who at that moment met her gaze, that caused her heart to skip several beats. Too late, she acknowledged that she recognized him. The slight upward tilt at the corner of his mouth confirmed that as before, he knew more about her than she likely knew about herself.

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