It's another day for a new book, ladies and gents! Introducing Never Give You Up, book 2 in the McCoy's Boys Series...
A life of crime—or a lifetime of love?
Mary Billings knows her solitary mountain life is over when a handsome stranger blows on to her land in an unmarked chopper. Terry McCoy is not only dangerous to the pretty widow’s shattered senses, he’s a hardened criminal no woman in her right mind would fall for. Yet there’s something tender about Terry—something that makes her surrender to his searing touch. Now Mary is in deep—deep enough to be taken hostage by a villain whose true target is Terry…
The son of a notorious crime boss, Terry is about to take over his murdered father’s multi-million dollar empire. But first there’s the little matter of avenging his father’s death—and rescuing the one woman he knows could turn his hard-bitten life around. Terry never wanted a life of crime, but suddenly he’s ready to do just about anything to bring Mary back…
They walked in silence along the path, surrounded by the relaxing swish of branches in the breeze. Nothing compared to the natural beauty of her property. Trees pushing sixty feet or more, some with trunks the width of a vehicle. The trickle of water from the river a constant and relaxing sound. The ever-present mountain tips above the treetops. It never failed to amaze her how insignificant she was in this endless highway of nature.
“If we catch anything, will it be on the dinner menu tonight?”
“Sure, if you’d like.”
His relieved sigh made her chuckle. “Thank God. I was beginning to think I’d have to shoot a squirrel or something.”
Mary paused on the path and turned to face him. “I’m not a complete hick you know. Mima might enjoy frontier living, but not me. I actually own an electric coffee pot, and I blow-dry my hair.”
Terry nodded, his lip curling in amusement. “Good to know.”
She stepped off the path and parted the brush. “Watch you don’t get your rod caught in here. It’s a little tricky.”
“Want to hold it for me?”
The insinuation in his voice was unmistakable. “I’m talking about your fishing rod—not your dick.” Her eyes widened when she realized how terrible that sounded coming from her own mouth.
Terry’s rumble of laughter made her cheeks burn. “My, my, you have a dirty mind, Mary. I wasn’t even talking about that.”
Completely embarrassed, Mary stepped through the brush first and let the branches whip behind her, right in his face. She ignored his curse and his loud fight to get through the brush without getting his rod stuck, and made her way to the river’s edge. She’d just set down her tackle box when Terry burst through the trees, violently yanking his pole out of the twisted branches.
“Why don’t you trim the brush there?” Terry threw his gear onto the rocks and panted for air. “Jesus Christ, I might need plastic surgery on my face now.”
Mary’s shoulders shook from laughing. The crumpled mess of his hat barely clung to his head. He looked so cute and out of his element that her smile faltered as she stared at him, realizing this was the first time she’d seen him look vulnerable.
He wanted to come here. The city boy criminal wanted to be here—with her.
She opened her tackle box and found the perfect jig. “This is my private spot, Terry. I don’t want anyone finding it.”
He shook his head and stood straight, stretching out his back. “I don’t think that’ll ever be a problem. A Smurf can barely fit through it.”
Mary turned around and glared at him. “Are you teasing me about my height?”
He cleared his throat and set out to find a spot to fish from. “Of course not.” Yet his voice spilled with suppressed laughter.
For a long while they were completely silent, enjoying the trickle of the water, the swish and sway of branches in the breeze, the musical chatter of the birds. Every once in a while Mary would glance at him without making it obvious, and stifle a smile over his struggles. But he managed to get a decent cast out into the river and after a while he seemed to be really enjoying himself. Mary imagined he didn’t get much joy in life. How could anyone who lived on the wrong side of the law?
Want to read more? Buy the book here:
Kensington | Amazon | B&N | Apple | Google
Here he is, ladies and gents. Beautiful Criminal is out!
Long days, precious nights…
Mima Etu lives a quiet life with her sled dogs in the stunning Canadian Rockies. But that all changes when she stumbles upon a plane crash while out on a supply run. She’s shocked to discover the pilot is still alive—though barely. With the sun setting and the temperatures quickly dropping, Mima knows he’d never survive the trip to the nearest hospital. So she takes the stranger back to her cabin. As he heals, his vague answers to Mima’s questions about the flight tell her he has secrets. But more disturbing is the consuming, immediate attraction she senses between them.
Before he lost control of his Cessna and plunged into a pilot’s hell, Gabriel Miller was on a deadly mission with precious cargo. Now he’s awakened in the comfort of a log cabin with a gorgeous woman tending to his every need. Her soft-spoken beauty sparks his longing for a different kind of life….and it isn’t long before they surrender to a blazing passion. But their blissful days are numbered. For the owners of the cargo are bent on finding Gabriel—and once they do, they don’t intend to leave any witnesses behind.
Gabe guided his Cessna 172 Skyhawk as low as he dared over Athabasca River, headed toward Victoria, British Columbia. His boss, Colton McCoy wanted the merchandise delivered by early evening, and time was running short. Due to thick clouds and wind gusts, he’d set off from the private airport near Edmonton two hours later than scheduled, and now, as ice fog overtook the windshield, he wished the flight was canceled all together. Every muscle in his body was as tight as a drawn elastic trying to keep the damn plane level. Most pilots worth their salt knew the Great White North had a mind of its own and the weather could change from pretty to shitty in a second.
Tired of this shit was an understatement. He’d put his life on the line for McCoy too many times. He’d broken necks and busted wallets for the old man. Delivered drugs to every corner of this godforsaken earth. Took a bullet one too many times. And he was dead tired of it all. But this was his job and Gabe owed Colton his life.
An uneasy feeling festered in his gut, a warning this trip would end up worse than the last, but turning back now wasn’t an option. The cargo secured in back needed to be delivered without delay, no matter how insane the weather turned, and there was no landing strip for a good hundred miles in any direction. Which basically meant Gabe was an idiot for accepting this job—not that he had a choice.
The landscape ahead looked gray and white—the only visual cues to height and distance was the river below the mountain peaks. Flying at this low altitude was borderline suicidal, but getting caught on radar would put Gabe behind bars. He’d rather take a crazy chance than wear the orange jump suit. He’d rather die than be locked in a cell that would remind him of that cage his partner had rescued him from five years ago.
The nightmares still plagued him.
Gabe squinted to concentrate on the flight path ahead as snow hit the windshield, creating the illusion of a time-warp tunnel.
Flying flowed in his veins. His grandfather and father were distinguished pilots in their own right—Grandpa a fighter pilot in the Second World War, and his father one of the best bush pilots in northern Canada. Neither of them would be proud of what Gabe did for a living, but this was what he did best. He was up in the sky before he could walk and he loved the freedom of being up the air.
“Always fly the plane…never let it fly you,” his father always said. Those words had kept Gabe alive on more than one occasion when a flight got out of control.
He chuckled, recalling his last trip to Columbia and the ruckus ditch they’d called a landing strip. The Skyhawk came down on one wheel and skidded across the muddy runway, stopped only by a tree stump in the ground that barely prevented him from going over the hillside cliffs.
Now, as he flew low over the Canadian Rockies, Gabe realized this flight would have been a dangerous mission at any time, never mind during midwinter when his chances of surviving a crash were practically zero. But he lived for reckless adventure, always abiding Colton’s demands. Over the years, the more dangerous the job, the more excited he was to take it on.
But as the gray hairs kept growing, and his body continued aching, he wondered if there was more to life than this. More than risking his hide at every turn and living a solitary existence. More than busting his ass for Colton McCoy and his empire. The reckless need for speed and danger had already begun to lessen in his early thirties. If he could get away with it, this would be the last mission. It was high time he put up his feet and enjoyed the money he’d fought hard to earn.
A shift in turbulence made the plane jolt so hard Gabe collided against the dash.
He gripped the throttle, keeping the nose level as the engine surged with a loud roar, then eased to a low rumble. Gabe looked down at the instrument panel and blew out a curse when the needles spun out of control.
“Don’t do this to me now, baby. Come on,” he urged, patting the dash with one hand and pulling the throttle back slightly with the other. The Skyhawk was his baby. They’d been through hell and back on missions some might consider suicidal.
Chinook winds battered the plane, tossing the aircraft around like a dry leaf.
Every time he shifted the throttle another gust tossed him in the wrong direction. Left with little choice as the engine sputtered and lost momentum, Gabe opened the side window to view the landscape below. The river twisted like a snake beneath him, and on each side the towering Rockies left no room for a safe landing.
Strong winds blew snow off the mountains, creating tails of white through the sky, making it impossible to see exactly where the mountain ridges started or ended.
The engine sputtered again before the props stilled. Nothing but the sound of the wind howled through the cockpit.
Gabe held the throttle in a pointless death grip. The Cessna was now in the hands of the shifting Canadian winds. There was no time to pray, even for a man who didn’t believe in God, and he could not radio “Mayday” and risk the authorities finding him. His life and the cargo were now at the mercy of the wild.
He caught a brief glimpse of snow-covered mountains ahead, before the plane took a nosedive into the white depths below.
Look at this gorgeous cover, ladies and gents! Can't wait until this wild story comes out, and I complete this bad-ass hero series. Beautiful Criminal will release June 9 with Kensington Books!
It's here, folks! Ride the rails with sexy Tyrone and tough Eileen in my latest release, High-Speed Hunger!
Eileen Lavoie hasn’t had a moment’s peace in forever. As manager of Ragin’ Cajun Racing, being mother hen to testosterone and ego in coveralls is tough business. Not only did she break the rules and date her lead driver, she’s got a hankering for the new guy…and he’s one sexy Jamaican treat.
Raised on the track, Tyrone Ellis wants the chance to make a name for himself, and he wants the boss’s daughter in every way possible. One night of unforgettable passion sets the wheels in motion, but will jealousy and competition lead to an unfortunate end?
He closed the distance and removed the bandage with gentle fingers, while she breathed in the intoxicating scent of vanilla-spice and pure man. Everything about him set her body afire. How embarrassing. The boss should be calm and in control, not wet between her legs and fumbling for words.
“No need to be shy, sweet Eileen. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“That’s not what I’m afraid of.” Shit. Why did she have to say that?
Dancing around the subject seemed like the smart thing to do. “So, are you excited about your test drive tomorrow?”
He chuckled—a deep, sensual sound that seemed to flow like silk from his delicious mouth. When his breath tickled her injured ear, she closed her eyes. The subtle heat eased the sting.
“More nervous than anything.”
His body tensed. “I watched my father die in a car crash back home.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and opened her eyes. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”
“Was he a racer?”
He smiled broad and proud. “One of the best. Well, the bleeding has stopped.”
“What?” She stared up at him, confused by his last words.
“Your ear. It stopped bleeding,” he said with a crooked smile. “You have a little tear, but you’ll be happy to know you won’t be a one-earring wearing woman.”
“That’s…good.” That’s good? Ugh. I’m such an idiot. A few inches in separation from this big, sexy man left her brainless.
He cupped her shoulder. She glanced at his hand. It was large enough to do harm if he wanted, yet smooth enough to create heaven as well. Jesus. I’m acting like a nervous teenager. “I…um…why did you come down here?”
Ty’s smile was delicious. “I heard the music and had to investigate. I’m glad I did. You put on a great show.”
“When did you leave the tavern?”
“After you. I’m not much of a partier.”
She stared down at his boots, unable to look him in the eyes. Knowing he wasn’t a partier pleased her, considering she always had to babysit Pop and Bobby.
His hand appeared in her line of vision. “Dance with me?”
“An Old Fashioned Love Song” played in the background. “To this?” She giggled, thinking he must be joking. “It’s not a slow song.”
“Why not? I’ll dance with you any day or night, even to this shitty song, sweet Eileen.” His playful smile made her ache to kiss him hard.
The way he said her name with that sexy accent made her skin tingle, too. “Okay.” An instant connection washed through her the moment their hands connected. He reached round and pulled her body close, like he had every right to. Without thought, she drifted into his embrace. Pressing her cheek to his chest felt so natural. Following his smooth guidance, she closed her eyes and exhaled.
It didn’t matter the song wasn’t a slow one. He had a way about him she couldn’t ignore. Everything he did was mesmerizing, calming, and maybe a little protective, too.
All negative thoughts of Bobby faded away, and just the two of them were there, in the garage, holding each other. After a while, she glanced up and smiled. “I can’t remember when I danced last. He never—”
“Shhh…leave him out of this,” Ty whispered. This time, when he leaned in to kiss her, she didn’t shy away. His lips brushed hers, and an instant, needy ache pooled between her thighs. Eileen moaned and allowed herself to be enveloped in his undeniable passion. Never before had a man made her feel so hot from a single kiss.
Want to read more? Buy here:
Available now at Torrid Books!
Sometimes digging for the truth unleashes deadly consequences.
In the remote Alberta wilderness, a madman wanders Cold Lake. His victims are happy to share his company…until they suffer by his blade. Journalist Carmen James and her cameraman are there to cover the story, but as darkness falls they must fight to stay alive.
John Malloy lives a simple life in his cabin in the woods, until he stumbles upon a half-naked woman hiding in his woodshed. She's bloodied, bruised and terrified, compelling him to aide her. As Carmen mends under his care, unexpected passion flares between them. But The Cold Lake Butcher has set his sights on their refuge.
Can love overcome the twisted mind of a killer?
Read Chapter One HERE!
Available now at Torrid Books!
LONG KISS GOODNIGHT
Come away with Shady Grace to find pleasure and passion, humor and action, with seven naughty bedtime stories you won’t soon forget. From a torrid encounter in the wilderness, to using a mechanic’s tools for pleasure, and luscious second chances, Long Kiss Goodnight may just set your body—or your bed sheets—on fire.
Excerpt from LIVE BAIT:
Connie squirmed. Her panties were soaked and her heart pounded. If the bastard sitting next to her kept going on in vivid detail about orgies and key parties, she might come then and there, right on that damn plastic chair.
She glanced around the counseling room, her face aflame. Wide eyes and animated grins filled her vision. Yes, they had all come to this resort to work out their marriage issues, but did they really need to hear the explicit details of other people banging?
A group of about thirty people sat in the counseling room, situated in the main lodge of Second Chances Resort. Gathered in a half-circle around the resort counselor, the couples were trying to recapture or mend the passion in their relationships. Many of the couples seemed to believe a weeklong stay at the resort, located on a private bay along the shores of Lake Michigan was the answer.
After reading about the resort in a pamphlet given to her by a co-worker, Connie had begged Jack to go, even threatened to leave him if he didn’t. In the end, all it took to convince him was to read the one paragraph in the brochure stating the resort had the best trout fishing in Michigan.
Apparently, catching a fish was more important to him than making her squirt.
She and Jack and the other participants had spent four days talking about their issues and getting to know the other couples. In another three days the retreat would end. Something drastic needed to happen between now and then or the whole trip would turn into a horrible waste of money and time.
Connie glanced in Jack’s direction and glared at him. Jack, of course, didn’t even look her way.
Well, at least the scenery was beautiful.
The resort was situated on a rocky embankment by the lake. Every window in the counseling room offered a picturesque view of sprawling white pines and the dark blue waters beyond. The Second Chances package also offered complimentary guided or unguided adventures—kayaking, fishing, hiking, and horseback riding. Each chalet had its own hot tub and sauna, and the guests could visit the masseuse whenever they desired.
Connie desired sex. Hard, uninhibited, dirty sex with her husband. That’s it. Nothing challenging about that, except that Jack had become a prude with age. She’d be lucky to get laid above the covers once a month. But maybe it wasn’t completely his fault.
She looked down at her lap and frowned. Perhaps she was being too hard on him. Maybe she should be more insistent, more demanding—exactly the kind of nag she didn’t want to be.
“ Yeah, Isabelle likes to take two at the same time. I like to watch and stroke it.” The way the guy drawled the words made her skin tingle and her face burn.
Good lord. What’s with this guy?
Connie cleared her throat and focused forward. She noticed Isabelle’s downcast gaze and felt sorry for the poor woman. No wonder she didn’t sit beside her man.
But why did he have to sit next to me? She’d never been so turned on in her life, but she’d never admit that to anyone. Hearing him speak so casually about his sexual escapades made her body heat and pulse with expectation. Her mind raced with naughty images while Jack sat mutely on her other side, his face crimson. He hadn’t uttered a word since the couples were called for their session nearly an hour ago.
Unable to stop herself, she gazed down at her husband’s crotch, knowing what lay beneath the safety of his well-worn jeans. When she looked up to his face, his dark gray gaze penetrated hers, making her feel a little dirty. She wanted to drag him into a closet and get it on.