June 25, 2015

Special Guest LaQuette - Read an excerpt of Protected Heart!

When trust becomes a matter of life or death…

Heart Searlington, captain of the seventy-fourth precinct in Brooklyn, New York, has everything she could ever want.  The sexy as sin husband, the perfect house, and the perfect addition to their family, four-month-old Amare.

But when a senseless act of violence threatens the lives of two people she loves, Heart does what comes natural to her…she protects what’s hers.

Kenneth Searlington, billionaire real estate tycoon, is living the ultimate dream—family, friends, and wealth.  Life couldn’t be more perfect, until trusting the wrong friend puts his life on the line.
When he can’t trust friends or family, Kenneth takes matters into his own hands.  Who should Kenneth trust?  The wife who lied, or the friend and family who betrayed him?   Maybe the only person he can trust is himself?

When protecting the heart she loves forces Heart to omit certain truths about herself and those she loves, can Kenneth see past her betrayal long enough for her to keep him alive?

Excerpt:
The subtle touch of fingers so familiar to his skin he could confuse it for his own grazed the slick skin of his shoulder until it slid down his back as smoothly as the droplets of water raining down on him.
“You okay?” she asked softly into his ear. “I was afraid today was too much for you. You’ve only been back home a handful of days.”
He nodded his head, eyes still closed to the streaming water saturating the thick strands of his hair.
He felt her hand crawl back up the length of his back, the movement making the muscles that rested just beneath her digits twitch in anticipation. Heart was right, he had returned from the hospital several days before, but in that time the two of them had barely spent any alone time together.
They’d both been physically present, and usually that was all it took to stoke the embers that always seemed to be on a low simmer just waiting for an excuse to fan the flames to full blaze. But since his release there had been something there, something that was keeping them from being them.
Kenneth turned his head slightly toward the sound of her voice. He opened his eyes just enough to see the water-sprinkled vision of her standing to the side of him. He pulled her into his embrace and pinned her back against the wall between his outstretched arms.
There was nothing like the sight of his wife naked and waiting for him. No matter how difficult things were between them they’d always had this. It baffled him that he’d allowed whatever this was between them to fester to the point where he hadn’t touched his wife in days.
The knowledge that she’d kept something so important from him fucked with his head in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Truth was he really hadn’t even given serious thought as to why her omission of the facts about Bryan and Justice impacted him so much.
But to deny himself this, this connection, this reassurance that his world was grounded, that they were whole, what the fuck was he thinking?
He positioned her directly under the spray of water and watched the fullness of her hair flatten against her scalp and back. She would bitch at him later about having to go to the hairdresser, but the thought of that conversation alone was pulling up the corners of his mouth into a wicked smile.
He allowed his fingers to rest at the base of her head, fingers caressing her nape in just the right way to make her fall into his touch. His heart tightened slightly. They’d been stressed and their connection strained, but underneath all the bullshit, it was still there and he was grateful for it.
Their connection is what kept his soul intact, what kept him sane enough to deal with the rest of his life when dealing with the craziness that wealth brought.
“We have a lot to discuss, Heart.”
“Kenneth I—”
He leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to stop whatever it was she was about to say. Words weren’t what they needed now. He giggled to himself. If their shrink could hear his thoughts she’d be jumping up and down screaming her opposition to his line of thinking.
Kenneth wasn’t against therapy. It had definitely worked to get the two of them back on track, and he definitely wanted them to sign up for a session or two after this latest fiasco, but this wasn’t something that needed fixing. This was the one way that their communication was perfect and they were absolutely in sync.
He plunged his tongue inside the warmth of her mouth and savored the sweet hint of apple juice that danced on his taste buds.
He pulled back just a moment to give them each a chance to breathe.
“I’m not avoiding the conversation we need to have, and as soon as we’re finished in here we’re going to throw on some clothes and go downstairs in the kitchen and hash this shit out over a cup of coffee. But right now, I just need to feel my wife.”


Author Bio
Twitter: @LaQuetteLikes


A native of Brooklyn, New York, LaQuette spends her time catering to her three distinct personalities: Wife, Mother, and Educator. Writing--her escape from everyday madness--has always been a friend and comforter. She loves writing and devouring romance novels. Although she possesses a graduate degree in English Lit, she'd forego Shakespeare any day to read something hot, lusty, and romantic.


She loves hearing from readers and discussing the crazy characters that are running around in her head causing so much trouble. Contact her on Facebook, Twitter, her website, Amazon, and her Facebook group, LaQuette's Lounge.

June 9, 2015

Teaser Tuesday - Lucky's Break

I'm gearing up for the release of the FINAL book in the Lucky Series. It has been a amazing and long journey, but I think book three really brings the story to an fantastic conclusion.

Here's the opening chapter for Lucky's Break from Kenji's point of view. RAR!

Shoukan tracked his target halfway around the world. Her last known location had been in the south of the Balearic Islands. Knowing her helped to pinpoint where she would be. Finding her amid the winter tourist crowds, however, required patience, determination, and focus. He had plenty.

During the weekdays, he searched every bar, hotel, and restaurant open. Each weekend he went to Pacha, the only open nightclub on Ibiza. Twenty-seven days on the party island might have been paradise for many. It felt like torture for Shoukan. He was not there for pleasure. He had to find her. No matter how long it took, he would.

He eased his way through the sparsely populated Global Room, kept his eyes sharp, looking for her face in the crowds or her body swaying on the dance floor. Either would capture his attention; he needed only a second to recognize her.

The restaurant area of the club had more people, lights, and louder music. Cliques of scantily dressed and overly made-up women laughed and drank. Couples, unaware of the others around them, groped and fondled each other to the beat of the music.

Shoukan studied everyone.

His target was not among them.

After he checked the Pachachacha room, he retreated to the first section. In season, the room held more than thirty five hundred bodies. During his last three visits, the tame crowds had topped around a thousand. The winter crowd was a saving grace. He easily made out each face in the dim lights. Presently, three hundred or so people danced and bounced to house music.

He sipped an imported beer and scrutinized the dance floor from the elevated sitting area. Pungent perfume, sex, and sweat hung in the air. The same typical scene unfolded before his eyes. Only the people changed.

He cared little for dancing alone and made no effort to fit in. Nor did he attempt to conceal himself or hide in the shadows.

Knowing he’d be easy to spot, he remained in the open. His posture commanded attention. His build rivaled that of an American wrestler. Least that’s what people told him. The dark hair hiding his face, green-tinted glasses shielding his eyes, and the stern expression finished the ominous package. He was a killer and looked the part. It kept everyone

Purchase: 
Lucky's Charm Book 1 - http://smarturl.it/LuckysCharmWCP
Lucky's Break Book 2 - http://smarturl.it/LuckysBreakWCP

June 4, 2015

Special Guest & New Release from Author Kat Stiles!

Today's Special Guest is Author Kat Stiles!

High school is hard enough, Em knows. Her freshman year introduced her to all the cliques, annoying teachers, and tough homework assignments. But discovering you have super powers and not knowing how to control them is a whole new level of complicated.

Thankfully, Em isn’t alone. Her best friend Roz starts having unusual dreams that come true, and Tommy, Em’s secret crush, can hear the softest whispers in class.

A romance blossoms with Tommy. But just as things are looking up, people start dropping like flies. A telepathic serial killer is on the loose and only Em and her friends have a hope of stopping him.

Or do they? If they don’t figure out the killer’s identity soon, one of them could be next.

Excerpt:

Somehow I thought I would know when my life was in mortal danger. I’m not talking spidey sense or anything, just some kind of clue something bad is about to happen. I guess I got the idea from the movies. Real life, I found, is very different.
Here’s the thing: my hometown of Cannondale is as far from interesting as it comes. The picture of central Texas suburbia, it’s a quiet little city, where nothing happens, apart from an occasional trampling at the outlet mall when the Coach store has a clearance sale. The kind of place that feels safe to walk around at night, especially in the cookie cutter middle-class subdivision that was my neighborhood. My walk went undisturbed until I heard the sound of a thump, thump, thump, followed by a long buzz… It took me a second to figure out the noise was rap music, trying to escape out a car window. Another joyride, I thought.
Then the tires screeched. I whipped my head around out of instinct, but all I could see were two headlights headed straight for me. Frozen to the spot, my eyes snapped shut. As if that would in some way stop it. And in the three seconds before the car rammed into me, my only thought was whether or not it would hit me hard enough to get me out of school tomorrow.
A sick, crunching noise sounded when my feet left the ground, and I caught some air before falling back down with a thud. The strange thing was the absence of any pain. What did register was the pounding of my heart, more from surprise than the impact of the car. As I lay on the ground, motionless, I heard a car door slam, followed by footsteps.
“I think you killed her. Dude, you are so screwed…”
I couldn’t get my eyes to open. God, am I really hurt?
“She’s fine, she’s not even bleeding,” a different voice said, right when the other guy heaved. The smell of beer mixed with half-digested food filled my nose.
A barely discernible whisper repeated over and over, “Oh God, what am I going to do?”
“Who is she?”
The voices grew closer.
With all my might, I tried to lift my arm. Nothing. Why can’t I feel anything? My heart began to race.
“I don’t know her.” A shaking hand pushed the hair away from my face, but still my eyes refused to open.
“I thought you knew all the girls at school.”
“Wasn’t she a freshman last year? Amy…Em…uh, Emily.”
“Good. Now you know who you killed.”
“Don’t be stupid. She can’t be dead.” The voice was louder now—one of them had come closer. “Look, her chest, I saw it. She’s breathing.”
“Are you delusional? She’s not moving.”
It was then the pain set in. My thighs burned, a fire consuming my legs. I tried to scream, but my lips wouldn’t budge. Am I paralyzed?
“Wait a minute… Something’s wrong.”
“No shit, Sherlock. You killed a pedestrian.”
“No, I mean with me. I…I can’t feel―”
“You’re right, she is breathing.” One of them shook my shoulders. “Hello? You okay?”
And then it got really weird.
A wave of heat flashed through me like a current, awakening every little nerve ending. My body convulsed while it passed through, but it didn’t hurt—it was sorta like the prickly feeling of a foot falling asleep, before the tingling turns to pain. Then a glimmer of the richest purple I’d ever seen appeared, spiraling beneath my closed eyelids.
“If she’s breathing, she’s fine. Someone’ll find her.”
“We can’t leave her… What if she’s paralyzed? Or brain dead?” Footsteps paced back and forth in front of me.
The tingling concentrated in my legs, amplifying the warmth. What’s happening to me? Am I…dying?
“Uh…uh, 911. Let’s call 911.”
“And tell them what? You know we’re both screwed if the cops catch us. I’m not going to juvie for you. I’m outta here.”
What do I do now? I still couldn’t move or speak. My legs grew hotter while at the same time the pain started to subside. Is this what it feels like to die? No, it can’t be… I’m not ready. A lump formed in my throat as I waited for that ominous white light all those near-death survivors talk about. But it never came.
A car door opened, just as a dog barked in the distance. Then the engine fired to life: a throaty, guttural outburst. The dog barked even louder, as if to answer it.
“Someone’s coming. Dude, get in!”
The heat surged through my body a final time, and my temperature returned to normal. At first, only a couple of fingers moved, and then my control returned back all at once. My eyes slowly flickered open.
“I’m sorry,” whispered the boy who I assumed was the driver. It was all so hazy, his face was nothing but two black holes against a white mask.
Even after rubbing my eyes, everything still appeared blurry. Was that a red car? Definitely something sporty from the sound of the engine.
They peeled out, leaving behind the smell of burnt rubber and a horrible screeching sound ringing in my ears again. My eyes finally adjusted, and I saw an older woman approaching. Her beagle trotted up and licked my hand.
“Sweetie, are you all right? Did you fall down?”
“I’m fine,” I answered without thinking. But when I made it to my feet and brushed myself off, I discovered it wasn’t a lie.
The pain was completely gone.


Kat Stiles is a super hero geek at heart. She grew up watching Spiderman, X-men and Superfriends cartoons, and she loved the idea of having super powers. The superhero
movies that came out delighted her; even the bad ones were still so much fun. And she remembers wishing the series, “Heroes” would go on forever. With Connected, she tried to keep the abilities as organic as possible – something just a little beyond what a normal human can do. She’s met some pretty incredible people in her life, and her experiences greatly influenced the writing of Connected

Author website: katstiles.com
Author blog: katstiles.com
Author contact email:
kat@katstiles.com

Purchase links: 



June 3, 2015

New Release from Shawna Romkey!

The Devil Made Me Do It

By Shawna Romkey

Book two in the Speak of the Devil series

The demons strike back!

Lily is working with the angels to stifle the last of the demon outbreaks and to figure out how to stop the Silence of God, so life can get back to boring normality. But all hell breaks loose when she's stolen from school and brought face to face with the devil himself. Lily has to find her way back home to Luc, crack the prophecy that breaks the curse silencing God, and figure out how she and Luc can ever really be together; but Lucifer has other plans for her that don't include her ever getting out of Hell intact.

Romance | Paranormal | Teen | Young Adult | YA | Fantasy | Angels | Demons
| Devils | New Adult | NA

Buy Links

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1KuMxcr

About Shawna Romkey

Shawna grew up around farms in the heart of Missouri but went to the University of Kansas, was raised in the US but now lives on the ocean in Nova Scotia with her husband, two sons, one rescue dog and one overgrown puppy from hell. She’s a non-conformist who follows her heart. 

She’s taught English at the university and secondary levels for close to twenty years and can’t quite fathom how all of her students have grown up, yet she’s managed to stay the same.  She’s a huge geek and fan of Xena, Buffy and all kick ass women, and loves to write stories that have strong female characters.

Links:


Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  | Pinterest  |  Goodreads

May 28, 2015

#TBT - Excerpt from Lucky's Charm!

This is still one of my favorite openings. Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter One
August 14
Nevada

Through a small gap in the grimy motel curtains, Lucky watched Conrad Andersen pull a hooker over his lap and playfully spank her ass. The woman shook her bleached head and kicked her legs in false protest, shaking the entire bed. She slithered against his portly belly and gave him an exaggerated kiss before vanishing from the scope.

Andersen wiped his mouth, and traces of bright red lipstick smeared across his face. Frowning, he got up and moved out of view.

Two hundred yards away, Lucky shifted on the rooftop, using the free time to ease the tension built up after an hourlong stakeout. First, a stretch and twist sideways popped a few vertebrae. Flexing both hands and then rotating both ankles brought the circulation back.

Wonder if military snipers do this shit when stalking a target. Doubt any of them ever had to endure an Olympic, Viagra-induced sexcapade.

Lucky eased back into position just in time to see Andersen appear in the rifle’s scope again. Even with the obstructed view into the room, she saw him dressed in a blue pinstriped suit with a white shirt. A decent-looking older man but knowing everything he’d done made him vile enough to eliminate.

The woman reappeared and gathered her belongings off the ratty nightstand. The lights dimmed; Lucky took deep breaths to maintain a slow, steady heart rate. Lucky directed the scope three feet to the right and targeted ten inches below the top of the motel room’s door frame: the perfect height to hit the man. Once she had a clear shot, the window of opportunity would last five seconds. She already calculated the wind factor, distance, and bullet drop.

The door opened. Lucky let out one last breath and then counted in her head.

One. The hooker emerged laughing.

Andersen appeared and draped his arm around the woman’s shoulders. Two.

She glanced up at him. Three. Lucky eased the crosshairs of the scope on his head.

Four. He leaned down and kissed his escort.

The mark lifted his head to search the parking lot.

In the fifth second, the bullet penetrated his skull. His eyes popped upon exit. Pink bits of his brain spattered on the door behind him. Andersen’s body slumped against the door frame.

The hooker’s scream filled the air. Other rooms instantly sprang to life with commotion. A dog even barked in the distance.

The remnants of his face stared back into the scope, confirming the kill.

Burn in hell, bastard.

The brass catcher on the rifle trapped the bullet casing. Lucky removed the silencer and popped off the shoulder stock. Then she packed the Heckler and Koch MSG90 in the trombone-shaped case in record time.

She rolled up the blanket and surveyed the roof for noticeable evidence before slipping down the side of the house. The quiet development she found behind the motel provided excellent cover. However, the occupants and their neighbors might be home any moment, and she had to move.

Lucky pulled the worn French beatnik beret down her forehead before weaving through the backyard. She hopped over the fence of the adjoining property, emerging on Margo Drive. She walked down the street, listening for any sign of the police behind her.

Though her heart pumped as if she just rode a roller coaster, she felt completely at ease. Yet another sign she’d been doing this job too long. Less than a mile from the scene and she didn’t have a stitch of worry about the cops catching her.

She was getting that good at killing.

Rounding the corner, Lucky noticed a young girl crying in front of a makeshift lemonade stand that her father was tearing down. The dollar sign, forgotten on the parched grass, had drops of tears streaking through the lettering. She slowed, feeling her stomach tighten as the sobs grew louder.

“We’ll try again tomorrow, honey,” the father said, ruffling the girl’s blonde head.

“But I dinnit sell anything, Daddy,” she squeaked.

Lucky had thirty seconds, maybe less, before someone called about Andersen. Response time in Vegas, at dusk, was never routine. Even if LVPD arrived within the next two minutes, she’d be long gone. She had to walk past them. Can’t let the poor girl go to bed sad and disappointed. Lucky knew how that felt. Fishing out two dollars from her jeans, she approached the stand.

“I need something to drink,” she said, clutching the trombone case tightly, her attention on the child “Think I can have one before you close?”

“Really?” The girl’s eyes bugged wide like little swimming pools.

“Get a cup, Daisy,” the father suggested and glanced up from his work on the wooden stand. The kid filled the cup all the way to the rim and decorated the lip with two cut lemons. “I made it myself,” she announced proudly.

Lucky took the cup, guzzled half, and smiled. “Ahh, that’s very good lemonade.” She placed the two dollars in the girl’s hand. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you,” the father and daughter said simultaneously. That fatherly tone warmed her for a moment, but she didn’t make eye contact.

“Welcome. Gotta go,” she said, swinging the trombone case. “Gonna be late. Bye.”

“Bye! Come back tomorrow.” Daisy waved.

A minute after finishing her lemonade, Lucky found her rental car on Pacyna Street. The smell of Vegas, sex, booze, and money, lingered in the air. Streetlights sparkled, waiting for the last of the sunlight to vanish from the horizon.

Lucky opened the trunk, secured the case, and slipped into the car. She sighed. Her boss wanted her to get rid of the sniper rifle despite pleas to keep the weapon for sentimental value. She knew he was right; she used the execution method several times. Still, it was a great gun—one she had for years—and she hated to melt it down.

Sirens screamed in the distance, breaking into her head. Not wanting to push her luck any further by sticking around, she took off, traveled south to E. Tropicana Avenue, and picked up her cell phone when she turned onto the main drag.

“It’s done,” she said while checking the rearview mirror. “Our boy had a thing for working girls, apparently.”

“Leave the package where I told you, he’ll take care of it for us. I’ll see you when you land, okay?” the man on the other end replied.

“Sure, Phen. Tell Bet she owes me dinner.”

“She does? Why?” He huffed. “Don’t tell me you two are wagering over your jobs.”

“No, she owes me because I told her you’d make me get rid of Heckle today.”

“Don’t be sore, you still have the other rifle.”

“Yeah, yeah. Talk to ya.” Lucky clicked off the phone.

Annoyed and physically high from the adrenaline rush, she went to drop off her weapon at the butcher’s lock box, hoping to find a way to work through the pending madness that
followed her jobs.