Thursday Tell All – Brent Davenport of His Abductors Desire

  1. What is your story?

 

I’m the heir to a banking empire headquartered in Boston. I met the love of my life before I was old enough to accept that’s who she was. I lost her and spent the last few years looking for her.

 

  1. Do you have any special strengths?

 

I have the ability to go after what I want with single-minded determination until I get it.

 

  1. Do you have any special weaknesses?

 

Unfortunately, that strength could be considered a weakness if what I want and what I need are two different things.

 

 

  1. Did you ever meet any other family members? Who were they? What did you think of them?

 

My father died when I was very young so I don’t remember very much about him. He was a banker, a very important man so he was always dressed well. He was very stern. I don’t think I ever remember seeing him smile. But he loved my mother. I remember he would bring home a flower to her every day, even in winter. I always thought he was a magician, until I grew up and realized that anything could be bought, even in winter.

 

  1. What is your worst childhood memory?

 

The day my father died. I wasn’t there when it happened, but I remember coming home to see my mother sitting in the front parlor. It’s where she would wait for him every afternoon. She already knew. I didn’t know yet, but the look on her face was terrifying. I’d never seen it look so empty, so devoid of anything. You have to understand, my mother is a talker and very animated. It was so unlike her to be so still. I still remember that moment.

 

  1. What is more important – sex or intimacy? Why?

 

For a long time I thought sex was more important. Where I come from women only want two things from me: my name and my money. If they can’t have the first, they’re more than happy to enjoy the second. I never thought intimacy, real intimacy, was possible. The one time I caught a glimpse of it…it scared the hell out of me. Now I know better.

 

  1. What’s the worst thing you’ve done to someone you loved?
  2. What one act in your past are you most ashamed of? What one act in your past are you most proud of?

 

Leaving Charity is both the worst thing I’ve done to someone and the one act I’m most ashamed of. I ran from her love because I was a coward, I was afraid. I didn’t even have a good reason.

I’m most proud of the work I’ve done to bring my uncle to justice.

 

  1. What trait do you find most admirable, and how often do you find it?

 

Honesty. I’ve found that very few people are actually capable of it.

 

  1. What one word best describes you?

 

Determined

 

  1. How private of a person are you? Why?

 

I’m a very private person. I’m a Davenport, so people have always expected me to play a certain role. Playboy, gambler. When I was younger, I found it easier to play along than to allow them to know the real me.

 

  1. What would you wish for if you found a genie?

 

I don’t make wishes. I prefer to make things happen.

*~*~*~*

Cover - His Abductor's Desire| [amazon_link id=”B00GPDYNRW” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | BN |

Blurb:

Montana Territory, 1887

Heiress-turned-outlaw Charity Blake is determined to get back the fortune the Davenport banking family took from her father—even if she has to hold Brent Davenport ransom to do it! After all, the seductive charmer stole something even more valuable from her five years ago: her heart. But once she has Brent in chains, Charity must face the fact that her desire for the man has grown from the sweet dreams of a young girl to the unquenchable passion of a woman. And soon it’s not clear whether she’s the captor, or the captive….

Excerpt:

“Don’t worry, folks. We ain’t here for yer valuables, just the money in the vault.” Charity’s contrived accent came out deep and loud to make it past the muffling barrier of the scarf covering the lower half of her face and to hide her cultured Bostonian intonation.

As she spoke, her partners took their appointed positions. Elle had come in through the back door and quietly made her presence known, while Dew moved to disarm the men in the room, quickly establishing a stack of revolvers in the far corner.

“Get up and open the vault.” Charity barked the order to the manager.

He sputtered for a moment as if he might argue and looked at the customer sitting across the desk from him. Had she not been watching so closely, Charity would have missed the almost imperceptible nod from the man that gave the manager the courage to get on his feet. Hands still in the air, he walked his wiry frame to the vault, which sat in plain view behind the row of clerks, and stopped there, afraid to proceed.

“Th-the key is on my belt.” He explained, hands still in the air. His gaze went from her to the customer left sitting at his desk.

Charity followed his gaze and found herself looking at a broad pair of shoulders encased in a fine wool coat. The coat was impeccably tailored, not the roughspun typically found this far outside of the town of Helena. A banking official was her first thought, but that didn’t explain why her heart was suddenly threatening to pound out of her chest and the blood had gone cold in her veins.  The girl who had long ago been banished to areas deep in her subconscious had already recognized the set of those shoulders. She knew that thick, sable hair brushed back in a style that had been entirely too long for Boston society but was a trademark of his contemptuous nature.

*~*

Harper StGeorge - Author PicAuthor bio

Harper St. George was raised in the rural backwoods of Alabama and along the tranquil coast of northwest Florida. It was a setting filled with stories of the old days that instilled in her a love of history, romance, and adventure. By high school, she had discovered the historical romance novel which combined all of those elements into one perfect package. She has been hooked ever since.

She lives in Atlanta, GA with her husband and two young children. Look for her short story in the upcoming Romance Writers of America anthology. She would love to hear from you. Please visit her website at harperstgeorge.com.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/harperstgeorge
Twitter: @HarperStGeorge
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/harperstgeorge

 

Spotlight Saturday – No Little Thing by S.C. Dane

NoLittleThing| [amazon_link id=”B00CJ11K8O” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | Jupiter Garden Press | Kobo | BN | Smashwords | ARe |

Lily Fain’s life as a horror novelist isn’t perfect, but it suits her, even if she has written off  true love  in exchange for her fictional world of monsters. Then her imagined world comes to life when she discovers she has a stalker who isn’t the average fan, but a real vampire who wants her dead.

Griffyd Fychan is a vampire-killer who is seven feet of lithe muscles, quick reflexes, and an explosion of ferocity that strikes terror in those he hunts, even those he rescues. But when the slayer steps between Lily and her vampire stalker, Griffyd’s instincts not only compel him to protect her from their mutual enemy, but to bond with her, as well.

The problem? Griffyd isn’t human–he belongs within the pages of Lily’s horror novels.

Faced with the menacing vampire-killer’s affections, will Lily retreat in fear to her author’s life? Or will she surrender to her dark passion for Griffyd, whose bonding to her could alter her in ways neither one could have ever foreseen?

*~*

EXCERPT:

Griffyd couldn’t stand it any longer. He had been spying on the human woman while she slept, and had found himself inching closer to where she lay, snuggled comfortably in his bed. Yet one of her arms escaped her cocoon, where it draped over the edge of the mattress as if beckoning him, inviting him to run one of his fingers along the soft skin of her inner wrist.

He felt a purr flutter up through his chest, which surprised him. He had never purred before, and the sensation of it thrilled him, flurried his heart rate. As did the sight he drank in with his obsidian eyes.

His faemne had curled up like a little nestling and had burrowed deeper into the downy folds of his bed. Yes, he liked the sight of that a lot. She looked so peaceful buried in amongst his bedding, so utterly at home, that it sped his breathing so that his chest clenched.

Damn him for what he had the undeniable urge to do. Running his finger along her tender, forbidden skin only heightened his need to touch. He wanted to feel more of her, he desired to feel the weight of her body in his arms, upon his stomach; he desperately wanted to snuffle the dip of her neck where it met her collarbone.

Griffyd the vampire-killer, the monster he knew she thought him to be, got up off his knees and slipped himself beneath her sleeping form to cradle her like she was but a fragile fawn.

And squeezed his eyes shut against the bliss of it.

Min modlufu, he purred.

If she woke at that moment, he would never forgive himself this moment of weakness, and for a breathless second he thought she had. But she only squirmed herself tighter against him, nuzzling her face along his chest, then sighed, and he felt her grow heavier as she drifted deeper into unconsciousness.

Gaestlufe–my soul’s love.

He couldn’t part with her, had to find a way to make her see him beyond the fangs, the horns, the claws. They were weapons, yes, but he could be gentle, he could be gentled. If he could help her to see all of him, perhaps then she would not be so frightened, would understand that the violence in his life took up only a part.

Which encroached with the coming twilight. He could leave her now, knowing she rested safely in his lair, that her wound had grown no worse, nor had she from the toxins entering through it. Her human body would take a while to heal, but he counted on that, hoped she would not prove to be too healthy in that respect. Selfish, yes, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed time.

And for once in the long centuries of his life, he didn’t think he had enough of it.

| [amazon_link id=”B00CJ11K8O” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | Jupiter Garden Press | Kobo | BN | Smashwords | ARe |

Without a Trace by Laurie White

ONE COMMENTER WILL WIN AN EBOOK COPY OF WITHOUT A TRACE! So leave your comment for a chance to win!!

Thanks for hosting me, Sarah! It is always nice to guest on a fellow author’s blog. I write romantic suspense, which is also my favorite genre to read…I just love that combination of danger and passion, and it’s pretty fun coming up with a nasty, evil villain in addition to a smoldering, seductive hero and a feisty, sexy heroine! Rachel and Matt are both trying to put tragic pasts behind them, yet are drawn to each other despite their misgivings. I do hope your blog readers will check out WITHOUT A TRACE!

WithoutaTrace_LRG| [amazon_link id=”B00I88DFLC” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | BN | SCP | ARe |

Magazine journalist Rachel Bennett has a reputation for getting to the heart of a story. However, when her sister disappears and is suspected of embezzling from her employer, the story has suddenly become personal. The last thing Rachel wants right now is the distraction of Matt Romero, the detective assigned to the case. She wants a “safe” man…and Matt is anything but that.

Matt accepts the risk that goes with his job. Two years ago, his wife was murdered, a tragedy he blames himself for. He’s vowed to protect his family and friends because he doesn’t want to go through the pain of loss again. However, the lovely journalist soon begins breaking through the icy wall around his heart.

As Rachel and Matt search for answers in order to find her sister, they uncover a corruption that puts them both in danger – and a passion that puts both their hearts at risk.

*~*

EXCERPT:
Something wasn’t right.
Rachel Bennett felt uneasy from the moment she’d set foot in her sister’s apartment. A bead of perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades.
She’d been unable to reach her younger sister Paige for the past three days. She hadn’t even shown up at work. Rachel cut short a long-awaited Palm Springs vacation out of concern for her. The three-hour drive back to Los Angeles this morning was a blur.
“Paige?”
Something made her almost whisper the word. She paused outside Paige’s half-open bedroom door before peering into the sun-splashed room. A hint of Paige’s signature scent, Ed Hardy, hung in the air. The bed, normally covered with a cheerful floral comforter, sat unmade in the messy room. Unusual for her neatnik sister.
She would never just take off like this. At least not willingly.
What’s happened to my sister?
Rachel noticed several black smudges on the wall by the window. A nervous feeling gnawed at her. Slowly, she stepped into the bedroom, toward the telephone. She needed to call for help.
“Police! Stop right there.”
The resonant male voice was strong and authoritative. Rachel froze, confused, blood pounding in her head. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. “I’m Rachel Bennett. My sister, Paige Bennett, lives here. I have a key.”
“Okay. Turn around.”
In slow, careful movements, Rachel complied. Her pulse thrummed even harder as she came face-to-face with the most overwhelming man she’d ever laid eyes on. His features were rugged and darkly handsome, his hair black as sin. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
A twinge of wariness assailed Rachel as her gaze took in the man. All in all, he made a dangerously sexy package despite his ordinary dark gray suit and tie. He looked like no cop she’d ever seen, but his open-legged stance and the familiarity with which he held his pistol—aimed at her—seemed to show years of experience on the force. Or simply a lot of practice using a gun.
Certainly he won’t shoot, she told herself, heart crashing hard against her chest. “Can I see your ID?”
The man’s steely dark eyes never left hers as he unclipped the gold badge from his belt and held it out to her.
“Matt Romero, LAPD Detective Support and Vice,” he said.
Rachel studied the badge. In her work as a writer for Southland Life magazine, she’d seen enough cop badges to know this was the real thing. What sort of trouble could Paige be in?
“How did you…”
“The apartment manager let us in. We had a search warrant.” He lowered his gun, then clipped his badge back onto his belt.
“Search warrant? Has something happened to Paige?” A cold knot formed in the pit of her stomach. Although a part of her didn’t want to know, her reporter’s instinct demanded answers.
Skepticism flickered across Romero’s face, but as he studied her he seemed to relax. He holstered his weapon. “I saw a photo on the desk over there of you with your sister. You resemble each other very much. Why don’t we sit down?” He motioned toward the living room.
Rachel trudged down the hallway, struggling to prepare herself for whatever this man was about to tell her. Horrifying possibilities whirled in her mind. Had Paige been arrested for some reason? Worse yet, badly hurt or even—no, she couldn’t allow herself to think about that last one. A shudder rippled through her.
Then she felt one of the detective’s large hands on the center of her back. The guiding gesture, although gentle, unnerved her. The heat from his palm burned through the thin fabric of her blouse. She walked a bit faster.
In the living room, Rachel sank into Paige’s comfortable powder blue sofa. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but her stomach knotted up when Romero settled into the chair beside the sofa, right next to her.
“Why are you here, Detective? Where is Paige?”
“That’s what my partner and I are trying to find out, Ms. Bennett.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, managing to sound a lot less anxious—and a lot less aware of the man across from her—than she really was.
He looked her dead in the eye. “Your sister is missing, Ms. Bennett.”
*~*
IMG_1043ABOUT LAURIE:
Laurie White is the author of two romantic suspense novels from Sweet Cravings Publishing. Her latest novel, WITHOUT A TRACE, was released January 30, 2014 from Secret Cravings Publishing. Laurie is a member of Romance Writers of America and Georgia Romance Writers. Aside from writing, she enjoys reading, spending time with family, traveling, and watching movies. She is the proud mama of four adorable cats and lives in the hills of Tennessee.
PUBLISHED NOVELS:
WITHOUT A TRACE – Available NOW from Secret Cravings Publishing!
TWIST OF FATE – February 2013 from Sweet Cravings Publishing
DESERT HEAT – October 2012 from Sweet Cravings Publishing

 

Pink Pucks & Power Plays by V.L. Locey

Thank you Sarah for having me here!

There are few things more enjoyable than sitting down with friends. I got to do just that recently with the stars of my erotic sports romance, Pink Pucks & Power Plays, the first book in the To Love a Wildcat series. Given that Alain has a rather severe dislike of the press and/or interviews, I wasn`t sure he would agree, but my gal Viv finagled the handsome young D-man into meeting me.

We arranged for the interview to take place at The Black Boar Bar & Grill, a popular eatery and sports bar a few blocks from The Houseman Arena where the Philadelphia Wildcats play. Alain is one of several `Cats who own a share of the trendy meeting place. I picked the table by the small stage in the large dining area. Rumor has it Philly sports stars perform here on occasion, but I`ve yet to see it. Maybe someday I`ll catch a performance by a Wildcat or two.

bigstock-Row-of-tables-red-seats-and-b-29480387

The hot spot was rather quiet, as it was after the lunch crush. There were televisions filling every available inch of wall space that wasn`t covered with sports memorabilia. As a friendly young waiter dressed as a referee delivered my decaf, I saw the couple arriving.

“Alain!” the few lingering patrons shouted as if we were at Cheers. Lessard smiled at his fans, slapping backs as well as shaking hands as he followed Viviana to the table. I smiled at the woman. She was, as she always is, vibrant. Her clothes were sexy, colorful and playful, accenting her legs and her breasts, for she knows how much her lover admires them. Viv and I bussed cheeks. We`re the same height and possess the same curvy form so seem to feel an affinity for each other. Alain enveloped me in a brotherly hug. My eyes grew wide. I peeked at Viviana. She smiled. Alain released me to pull the chair out for his lady love.

“Thank you for doing this, Alain,” I said as he hurried to push my chair in for me.

“It is my pleasure,” the Quebecer said as he dropped his well made frame into his seat. I could easily see what Viv saw in Alain. Six foot two, one hundred and ninety pounds, black curly hair, hazel eyes, athletic build, and a mouth that begs to be kissed. I`d be drawn like a moth to a flame as well! “This is not like a regular interview.”

“See, not all interviews are bad,” the sassy brunette said as she ran her eyes over the menu. Alain rolled those pretty hazel eyes playfully. His hand rested on the back of Viviana`s chair possessively. “Let`s get a fish dinner then split it.” Viviana looked at me with eyes the color of white grapes. Her eyes always amaze me. I nodded at the suggestion. After the order was placed and Viv and Alain`s drinks were brought out, we started chatting.

“So, how does it feel to be the stars of your own book?” I asked the couple.

“I`m tickled to be the first of the Wildcats women`s story that you told,” Viviana said then sipped at her raspberry flavored water.

“It is very nice,” Alain answered tactfully.

“He`s not always so tight-fisted with his words,” Viviana pointed out as our appetizers arrived.

“Oh, I`m well aware of how he can talk once he`s comfortable,” I replied with a wink for the hockey star. His mouth curled into a shy smile. “Although you do seem to have the lion`s share of the dialog in the book, Viv.”

“Yes, see, chaton, I don`t talk much because you are doing all the talking for us both,” Alain joked. “I cannot fit the words in edge like.”

“Oh pooh on both of you.” Viviana dipped a mozzarella stick into some red sauce then offered the first bite to Alain, her left hand cupped under the dripping stick. “It`s hot,” she warned. Probably so he didn`t burn those lips of his she is so keen on kissing.

“Speaking of sex,” I said as I dipped my own stick. Both my characters eyes widened with surprise. “Were you two pleased with the amount of it in your book?”

“Is there such a thing as too much sex?” Viviana asked with a impish gleam in her eye.

“It was very nice,” Alain responded. I suspected that was his stock reply whenever he felt the matter was too personal to discuss. It was better than being told it was none of my business.

“The sex was wonderful,” Viv interjected as she fed Alain the rest of the cheese stick. “I do love a juicy read, and this story certainly is that!”

“But there was more than the sex, no?” Alain said after dabbing sauce off his mouth with his napkin.”The sex, it was great, but the lesson my Viviana learned, that was big importance too, was it not?”

I looked pointedly at the woman trying to decide which mozzarella stick to chose for herself. “Was it, Viviana?” I asked directly. Her eyes flicked to me then returned to the basket holding our appetizers. The patrons hooted at an old replay of a Stanley Cup game on one of the TV sets.

“Can we talk about the sex instead?” Viv inquired.

“No, we are talking about all the book, not just the steamy sex scenes,” Alain hurried to say. I leaned back into my seat, nibbling the scalding hot stick carefully, my napkin held under my chin. “So, did you learn a lesson, Viviana?”

“Yes, I learned a lesson! Does that make you both happy?! For goodness sake, one would think I was Dr. Doom or something!” she huffed as she made a grab for a stick in the bright red plastic basket. Alain grabbed her hand, raised it to his lips and then laid it on the table beside Viviana`s plate. Then he chose a stick to feed her. I shifted around in my chair, suddenly quite uncomfortable. It felt as if I were watching the lovers in their bedroom. I smiled at a man eating his lunch behind us.

“What did you learn?” I asked when the sensual stick feeding was over with. “And for the record, we all adore you Viviana,” I added, for it was the truth. Sure, Viv could be rather brusque at times, but her heart was most generally in the right place.

“I learned that we should talk about one of the other ladies in the series. Let`s chat about the rest of the books! I`m sure your readers would like to know a bit about those instead of hearing more about the poor choices silly old me has made.”

I let her have that victory. She was far too clever to wrangle into such a private confession. She had been a reporter after all. Viviana Land had lots of pride, and chutzpah. I didn`t wish to push either her or Alain too far.

“Alright, let me see. The next book will be A Most Unlikely Countess.”

“Look at that dreamy look,” Alain teased. I felt the heat creeping into my face. “Ah poor V. L., she does so love goalies.”

“Okay, yes, I do have a thing for goalies. Everyone knows that.” I hurried to grab my coffee to hide behind. Viviana patted my arm while laughing at my discomfort.

“It`s fine, ” Viv assured me. “A woman would have to be dead and buried not to be swept off her feet by Veikko Aho. He is perhaps one of the most classically handsome men I have ever laid eyes on.”

“Ahem!” We both looked at Alain with his arms now folded over a tee that read ‘Old Time Hockey’ and featured the Hanson Brothers from the movie, Slapshot.

“Aside from you of course, darling.” Viviana patted his muscular bicep.

I hurried to carry on lest more male ego was trampled. “After A Most Unlikely Countess will be O Captain! My Captain!, Reality Check, and Language of Love. I`m also toying with a few ideas for other Wildcat books, but we`ll see how things hatch with the planned five before I count chickens.”

“I for one hope they do well. If women knew just how sexy hockey players are, they`d flock to grab those books.” Viviana leaned back to give the server room to place her half a fish dinner. My mouth watered when my plate of flaky flounder, thick steak fries, and a side of coleslaw was set in front of me. Alain was eating rare steak with a fat baked potato that was topped with sour cream and chives. I guess the players get tired of chicken.

“I can`t argue that point,” I said then waggled an eyebrow. Alain smiled self-consciously.

“He does humble well,” Viviana whispered as she passed the ketchup bottle to me. The meal progressed pleasantly. We chatted about small things. Alain seemed to relax completely by the time dessert was brought out. We each had a small dish of ice cream. Mine was vanilla, Alain`s fudge ripple, and Viviana`s black raspberry.

“So, can I ask a question?” Alain said as we enjoyed our frozen treats. I nodded. “How do the Wildcats do in our quest for Lord Stanley`s cup?”

“Oh no you don`t!” I shook my spoon at the charmer, “You`re not wheedling that information out of me. No way and no how!”

“I could send a certain goalie over to persuade that information out of you,” he teased, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. I stared at him over the table. Viviana slapped his arm.

“Would you stop tormenting the poor woman so! If you wish to know if the `Cats win it all, or if any of our friends find love, buy the books.”

“But Viviana, how do I find time to read when I am working to keep you happy?” Alain asked with utmost sincerity.

“Oh, he`s good,” I muttered under my breath.

“Yes he is,” Viviana purred, leaning over to steal a kiss from her Wildcat. It didn`t take the couple long to finish their ice cream, snap up the check, and wave goodbye. I sat back with a contented smile. One Wildcat happy ever after, four more to go!

*~*~*

Naked man in hockey helmet and skates | [amazon_link id=”B00I33V7G2″ target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | SCP | BN | ARe |

Blurb:

Viviana Land just can`t seem to say no to her younger sister. Somehow, the curvaceous society page reporter gets lassoed into serving as her niece`s Busy Bee scout leader. One overheated engine later, Viviana and her girls find themselves in the Green Hills Ice Rink. Enter Alain Lessard, the charmingly handsome defenseman for the Philadelphia Wildcats, who is donating his summer to coaching the youth league.

When our intrepid reporter is given the opportunity to write the break-out story of her career, Viviana leaps at the chance. Thinking it would be easy to flirt and tease some juicy tidbits out of Alain, Viviana soon finds herself falling for the sensual, younger, kind-hearted man. Will she put aside her virtual pen for a chance to stay at her new paramour`s side? Or will Viviana finally get away from those mundane bakery opening articles by using the man she may possibly be in love with?

*~*

V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, anything romantic, Greek mythology, New York Rangers hockey,  comic books and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a steer named after a famous N.H.L. goalie, and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.

V.L. is a self-published and conventionally published author. She is a proud Torquere Press and Secret Cravings Publishing author. When not writing romantic tales, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand, writing, or cheering on her beloved New York Rangers. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, and GoodReads.

 

I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-

 

Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/pages/VL-Locey/124405447678452

Twitter- https://twitter.com/vllocey

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5807700.V_L_Locey

My blog- http://thoughtsfromayodelinggoatherder.blogspot.com/

 

 

 

 

 

Thursday Tell All – Heather McNeill of A Gift for Murder

What is your story?

Not terribly different or exciting really – I’m the product of a middle-class upbringing in Richmond, Virginia, have a college degree, and now I work for the Washington, D.C. Commerce and Market Center as assistant to the director. Sounds ordinary and even rather boring, right?  Except it’s not.

Trade shows are a strange hybrid of circus, renaissance fair, and the local shopping mall, with a lot of ego and seriously high financial stakes thrown into the blender. With that much intensity in play, there are plenty of arguments to mediate, ruffled feathers to soothe, egos to placate, and problems to solve.

That’s my job: troubleshooting during the shows and exhibitions here at the Market Center and, believe me, it’s always something while they’re going on! Malfunctioning popcorn machines. Missing shipments of merchandise. Displays of angel wings gone horribly wrong.  A game machine that blows out the electricity to five aisles of exhibitors.  And that was just one show.  I’ve also dealt with feuding cake bakers at a bridal show, trying to get gigantic farm machinery through doors that just barely accommodate them, electronic interference at a tech show, crowd control when a celebrity shows up, and security for high level political conferences. Nope, it’s never dull around here.

Do you think the author portrayed you accurately?

She lets me tell my stories in my own words, so, yes, pretty accurate.

Do you have any special strengths?

I’m a good listener and I seem to make people comfortable talking to me. My boss tells me I have a remarkable level of patience and tolerance with difficult people, to the point of possible masochism.  I’m pretty good at figuring out solutions to problems, too.

Do you have any special weaknesses?

Of course. I can be a pushover for the right people. Some of the people around me think I work too hard at helping others and solving their problems, although I’m not sure I see why that’s an issue.

What makes you happy?

Really great pens!  Companies are always giving away pens as come-ons, and they’re all over trade show exhibit halls. Of course most of them are cheap, boring sticks.  But some of them go for really unique and different ones.  I collect those.

And… I don’t get to do it very much anymore, but I used to work summers as a guide at resort in the mountains.  I led kayak trips along rivers and into odd corners of lakes.  It was great. When things get hard at work, I dream about those kayak trips and it helps relax me. Of course, that was only in summer and they didn’t pay squat. But still..  When I have the free time I like to travel outside the city and take long walks through the countryside.

Otherwise, fixing problems makes me happy. Dates with Scott and meetings with friends make me happy.

What are you afraid of?

Shhh…Don’t tell anyone because I’d get teased unmercifully if anyone knew. Spiders.  Spiders.  Scare. The. Crap.  Out.  Of.  Me.

Who is your true love?

Not sure yet.  It may be Scott Brandon, the new security guy we hired a few months back.  We’ve been dating for a couple of months now and well… Wowza. But I don’t know. Scott’s got secrets. He was once a D.C. cop and he doesn’t like talking about why he isn’t anymore. And he’s a great guy, kind, caring, helpful, and all, but he can sometimes go really cold and scary.  I think it’s the part of him that’s still a police officer coming out at times.

Name five items in your purse, briefcase, or pockets.

Okay, let me see what’s in my purse…  Wallet, keys, phone, tissues, breath mints – gee. that’s all exciting. Metro card and receipt from my last stop at the grocery store. But wait, there’s more! I have a lipstick and compact, comb, little spray bottle of perfume, notepad and… holy smoke – there are four, five, six pens in here. A couple are really nice ones, too.  A sleek chrome Cross pen, and one that has gel stuff in the top and lights up when you press on it to write with. There’s more down there, but I’m not digging any deeper right now.

How do you envision your future?

Maybe I’ll get married and have a couple of kids. I hope so. I hope I’ll be working here at the Center as the director’s assistant for the next few years. Then maybe I can move up into Show Management and maybe even beome the Center’s director some day.

What is your most prized mundane possession? Why do you value it so much?

I have a diamond necklace and earring set that my grandmother left to me in her will. I only wear them on special occasions, but when I do, I feel like she’s there with me. Granny was really important to me when I was growing up. She kept urging me to try things and whenever I met a challenge, she was all, “Go for it!”

What is something you had to learn that you hated?

Math!  Calculus my senior year in high school almost killed me.

Is an ounce of prevention really worth a pound of cure? Which is more valuable? Why do you feel this way?

Prevention is better.  I’ve seen the results when prevention didn’t work and believe me, it’s not pretty.

How private of a person are you? Why?

Oh, I’m not really private at all. Can’t afford to be in my job since I spend most of my days talking to people, a lot of them strangers.

*~*~*~*

AGFM_200| [amazon_link id=”B00CGKYNT6″ target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]Amazon[/amazon_link] | BN |

A Gift for Murder

Blurb: For fifty-one weeks of the year, Heather McNeil loves her job as assistant to the director of the Washington, D.C. Commerce & Market Show Center. But the Gifts and Home Decorations trade show, the biggest show of the year at the center, is a week-long nightmare. This year’s version is being worse than usual. Misplaced shipments, feuding exhibitors, and malfunctioning popcorn machines are all in a day’s work. Finding the body of a murdered executive dumped in a trash bin during the show isn’t. The discovery tips throws Heather’s life—personal and professional—into havoc.

The police suspect the victim’s wife killed him, but Heather doesn’t believe it. She’s gottenglimmers of an entirely different scenario and possible motive. Questioning exhibitors about the crime doesn’t make her popular with them or with her employers, but if she doesn’t identify the murderer before the show ends, the culprit will remain free to kill again.

Her only help comes from an exhibitor with ulterior motives and the Market Center’s attractive new security officer, Scott Brandon. Despite opposition from some of the exhibitors, her employers, and the police, Heather seeks to expose the killer before the show ends. To solve the mystery, she will havehas to risk what’s most important to her and be prepared to fight for answers, her job, and possibly her life.

*~*

Excerpt:

Chapter One

If I’d known how bad Wednesday would get, I would’ve—what? Stayed in bed? Not likely. The show must go on and all that. But I would’ve at least asked for another shot of espresso during my morning stop at Starbucks. Maybe two.

My work day went from peaceful beginning to chaos within half an hour. This wasn’t just another day at the office. The start of the annual Washington, D.C. Gifts and Decorations Show, our biggest show of the year at the Commerce & Market Show Center, was always the worst day of the year for the staff who organized it.

By nine-thirty, blizzards of paper covered my desk, my cell phone hadn’t quit buzzing, and the land-line phone rang continuously. The computer constantly chimed the arrival of new email messages. A strange man stopped at the office door and stood there watching me.

The triple-shot latte was already struggling to keep my sanity in place.

I recognized the number on the cell phone display and reached for it first.

“Heather?” Janelle, the Show Center’s director and my boss, sounded disturbed. Unflappable Janelle sounding disturbed was worse than most people shouting or having hysterics.

“Problem?” I asked, trying not to stare at the stranger, who lingered near the doorway. A quick glance said he was worth a look.

Until Janelle said, “Find Mark and tell him aisles three to five don’t have power. He’s not answering his pager. Then call Truffant Shipping and ask them to fax copies of the manifests for their deliveries to Brent-Cooper. A couple of their boxes are missing. Once you’ve done that, can you get down here? Lots of ruffled feathers over the power. Oh, and Grantwood & Bethel is missing one of their key people. They think he may be lost somewhere in the city. And Sue Savotsky of Trimstates doesn’t like her location—the carpet’s not clean, and the people across the way are playing loud music.”

“Her again?”

“ ’Fraid so. But she likes you, so if you wouldn’t mind—What’s that?” The last two words were directed at someone else. “Gotta go. Need you ASAP.” Janelle ended the call.

I reached for the latte getting cold on a corner of my desk.

Someone else yelled, “Heather!”

Jo startled me so badly I almost splashed coffee on my white silk blouse. That would make a really good impression on the clients down on the showroom floor. Or the hunk in the doorway.

I turned toward her office. “What?”

“I can’t find the latest press accreditations list.”

“I put a copy in your inbox this morning. Did you look there?”

“Yes. It’s not . . . oh, wait, here it is.”

How did our marketing director manage to get her shoes on the right feet in the morning? I rolled my eyes, momentarily forgetting I wasn’t alone.

A warm, masculine chuckle reminded me. “You must be the person who runs the place.” The voice was deep and rich, sexy as a Milky Way bar—the kind with dark chocolate.

I turned to face the stranger, who’d taken a couple of steps toward my desk. Tall, lean, around thirty, blond hair cut short, light eyes of indeterminate color.

“I’m Heather McNeil, the director’s assistant,” I answered. “I do my part. May I help you?”

The right side of his mouth curled into the beginnings of a smile. For a moment there was a delightfully predatory gleam in his eye, but then the light went out, as if he’d shut it off. Damn!

“Scott Brandon. I had an appointment to apply for the security officer’s position you’re advertising,” he said.

“You need to see Craig Vincelli, down the hall. He’s the security chief.”

“He wasn’t in his office. Someone directed me up here. There wasn’t anyone at the receptionist’s desk, either.”

Jo came out of her office, shuffling an armload of papers. “Gotta take these down to the press room. Back shortly.” She paused to admire the newcomer, then raced down the hall when she heard the elevator bell ping.

“God knows where Tina is,” I said, as much to myself as to the man standing there. “Craig’s probably out running down the missing boxes. Or the missing executive. Just a minute.” I picked up the phone and dialed Craig’s cell number.

He answered on the third ring, breathless and in a hurry. “Yeah?”

When I explained, he said, “Crap, I forgot. I’ll be there in ten minutes. “Give Brandon the paperwork.”

I said I would and hung up.

“You’ve mislaid boxes and an executive?” Scott Brandon asked. “The boxes I can understand, but aren’t executives kind of hard to lose?”

“Not in D.C. They manage to lose themselves all the time. In traffic, in museums, in the Metro, in the halls of power . . .”

He frowned. “You’re too young to be so cynical.”

“There’s an age limit? No one told me.”

“Real cynicism takes bitter experience.”

“And you’re so ancient?”

Something flashed in his eyes, something dark and dangerous. “I’ve walked the walk and—”

“Turned the talk into a lecture. Come with me.” I stopped at Tina’s desk to get the application forms and led him to the small conference room. “Sit in here and fill these out. Bring them back to me when you’re done.”

*~*

K_McCullough_and_grandson_2Author Bio:

Karen McCullough is a web designer by profession, and the author of a dozen published novels and novellas in the mystery, romantic suspense, and fantasy genres as well. She has won numerous awards, including an Eppie Award for fantasy, and has also been a four-time Eppie finalist, and a finalist in the Prism, Dream Realm, Rising Star, Lories, Scarlett Letter, and Vixen Awards contests. Her short fiction has appeared in several anthologies and numerous small press publications in the mystery, fantasy, science fiction, and romance genres. She has three children, four grandchildren and lives in Greensboro, NC, with her husband of many years. Her most recent release is the ebook version of A Gift for Murder, originally published in hardcover by Five Star/Cengage and mass market paperback by Harlequin Worldwide Mysteries.

Website: http://www.kmccullough.com

Blog: http://www.kmccullough/kblog

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KarenMcCulloughAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/kgmccullough

 

RELEASE DAY SPOTLIGHT & GIVEAWAY: THE CHASE by Janet Evanovich and Lee Goldberg

IT’S ALL ABOUT THE CHASE!

 

 

The Chase - CoverTHE CHASE by Janet Evanovich and Lee Goldberg
Bantam – Random House
On sale: February 25, 2014
978-0-345-54308-0
THE CHASE at your favorite retailers 

Janet Evanovich and Lee Goldberg, New York Times bestselling authors of The Heist, return in this action-packed, exciting adventure featuring master con artist Nicolas Fox and die-hard FBI agent Kate O’Hare. And this time around, things go from hot to nuclear when government secrets are on the line.

Internationally renowned thief and con artist Nicolas Fox is famous for running elaborate and daring scams. His greatest con of all: convincing the FBI to team him up with the only person who has ever caught him, and the only woman to ever capture his attention, Special Agent Kate O’Hare. Together they’ll go undercover to swindle and catch the world’s most wanted—and untouchable—criminals.

Their newest target is Carter Grove, a former White House chief of staff and the ruthless leader of a private security agency. Grove has stolen a rare Chinese artifact from the Smithsonian, a crime that will torpedo U.S. relations with China if it ever becomes public. Nick and Kate must work under the radar—and against the clock—to devise a plan to steal the piece back. Confronting Grove’s elite assassins, Nick and Kate rely on the skills of their ragtag crew, including a flamboyant actor, a Geek Squad techie, and a band of AARP-card-carrying mercenaries led by none other than Kate’s dad.

A daring heist and a deadly chase lead Nick and Kate from Washington, D.C., to Shanghai, from the highlands of Scotland to the underbelly of Montreal. But it’ll take more than death threats, trained henchmen, sleepless nights, and the fate of a dynasty’s priceless heirloom to outsmart Fox and O’Hare. 

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Janet Evanovich_PhotoABOUT JANET EVANOVICH

Janet Evanovich is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Stephanie Plum series, the Lizzy and Diesel series, twelve romance novels, the Alexandra Barnaby novels and Trouble Maker graphic novel, and How I Write: Secrets of a Bestselling Author, as well as the Fox and O’Hare series with co-author Lee Goldberg.

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Lee Goldberg_PhotoABOUT LEE GOLDBERG 

Lee Goldberg is a screenwriter, TV producer, and the author of several books, including King City, The Walk, and the bestselling Monk series of mysteries. He has earned two Edgar Award nominations and was the 2012 recipient of the Poirot Award from Malice Domestic.

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