Posts in category Romantic suspense

Sweeter than Sin… releases next week…

Sweeter than Sin is due out next week.

I’m doing another FB party…if you’re on FB, you can join us. We’re giving stuff away and having fun. :)



It could be said that Adam Brascum loved women.

It could be said.

But it would be off-target.  Adam didn’t love women—he didn’t hate them, but he didn’t love them, either.  He needed them.

The soft curves, the scent of their skin, the husky voices as they whispered to him in the night.  If he worked it right, he could spent the night with any number of them, and he wouldn’t have to be alone unless he wanted.

Wouldn’t have to be alone, with just the voices in his head, the memory of a phone call, the memory of a smile, the memory of the girl he might have been able to save.

If only he’d done something.

Now, years after, when it was far too late, he was doing something.  Drowning his sorrows between the thighs of just about any woman who would have him.

There had been a time when he’d drown his sorrows with a woman, along with the help of his good friend, Captain Morgan, or maybe some Jack Daniels, but that had all stopped on a cold wintry day.  He could still remember the soft, sad words spoken in his ear and at the foot of a grave, he’d made a promise.

He didn’t make them often, but when he did, he kept them.

So the booze was gone.

His only vice now was women.

Lately, though, that vice wasn’t doing it for him anymore.

He didn’t even know the name of the woman in bed next to him.  She was beautiful, a long, sleek woman maybe ten years older than him and she had left him feeling like she could put him through his paces for the rest of the night.  He’d slept maybe thirty minutes, her neck tucked against his chest, her hand resting on his stomach.

And then the nightmare hit.

He was standing in front of the house.

Just standing there.

It was dark.

It was cold.

The dimly lit windows mocked him.  If he moved any closer, the lights would go out, and he’d find nothing.

But he could hear her.  Her voice, whispering his name.

Adam…why didn’t you help…

Why didn’t you…

Why didn’t you…


He came awake, choking back the oath.  He’d learned long ago that when he made noise, whatever partner he had in bed with him tended to ask questions.  Questions weren’t the kind of thing he liked to entertain in bed, so he eventually figured out how to strangle the groans, the curses…even the screams.

After all these years, it was second nature.

Next to him, there was a long, soft sigh.  He froze, listened.

After years and years of slipping out of beds, he’d all but perfected it to an art and he could almost tell to the second when a woman was about to wake.

She shifted, rolled onto her belly.

Adam turned his head, stared at her in the dim light filtering in through the skylight.  Her face, all but lost in the darkness, was a clean oval, her skin a warm, rich brown, her lips sweet and full.  She had a wicked laugh and she’d looked at him like she had more than a few ideas about any secrets he might harbor.  She’d looked, and she hadn’t cared.

I just divorced a son of a bitch who’d been cheating on me for eight years.  I knew, and I couldn’t leave him.  Now I can.  She told him that, sitting across from him at the sports bar he owned, staring at him with clear eyes.  This is how I burn those bridges.

He’d lifted an eyebrow at her.   Just how do you burn them, Jez?

He was the only man I ever shared my bed with and I plan on changing that damn fast.  I’m almost fifty years old and I don’t want the only man I’ve slept with to be a lying, cheating son of a bitch.

He was a son of a bitch, but he couldn’t be called a cheater.  He’d never married, never even had a serious relationship. Again, it went back to promises.  If you didn’t make them, you didn’t have to worry about breaking them.

I might be a son of a bitch, but I’m clear on the rest of it.

She’d smiled at him.

They’d ended up in her room at the B&B, not the big one in town, but a smaller, quieter one out near the river and she’d all but turned him inside out.  A hungry woman, a hot woman…that should have left him too burned out to dream.

But here he was, on the edges of a desolate nightmare.

While Jez slept on.

He leaned in, brushed her cheek with his lips.  “Find somebody who’ll do more than just share your bed, Jez,” he murmured.

She made a grumbling sound under her breath and then sighed, a faint smile curving her wicked, delicious mouth.

Then she shoved her face into the pillow.

He was gone in less than three minutes.

But he didn’t go home.

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Would you like to see…

The third and final cover for the Secrets & Shadows series?

Darker Than Desire


This is one of my more…tortured heroes, folks. This wasn’t an easy story, and he wasn’t an easy character…And that’s about all I saying about him for now.

But I’ll share this.

A hand touched his arm.

He fought the urge to react, and react with violence.

He had been forged in the fires of hell. Physical touch wasn’t welcome.  There were only a very few that he allowed to touch him.

As the woman sat down beside him, he had to force himself to relax.

She was one of the few.

Due out in March 2015

Amazon (other pre-order links will be posted as I get them)





Deeper Than Needsq6


“So what happened?” she asked, sliding a hand around his waist.

He wanted to turn back to her and lose himself. Forget the darkness, forget the pain, the misery. Forget everything but her.

Trinity rested a hand on his shoulder and he locked his limbs to keep from giving in to that urge. It all but consumed him. He knew the oblivion he could find in a woman’s arms. It had given him comfort for a long, long time. And this need went so much deeper. The need for Trinity all but consumed him.

“What happened that day?” she asked quietly.

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Deeper than Need…five days left!

Deeper Than Needsq10

“You try and take it easy if you can,” she murmured. “You look like you’re having a rough one there, Noah.”

A rough one . . . maybe that was why he did it. Reaching up, he touched his fingers to her cheek when she went to pull away.

She stilled.

The voice of reason, rational thinking, restraint . . . the voice Noah expected to hear whispering to him from the back of his mind was silent as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Just a light, easy kiss. Almost impersonal. Impersonal . . . if anything could be impersonal when a man had spent so many nights dreaming about a woman. If anything could be impersonal when the heat of her skin reached out to tease him, even though inches separated them and the scent of her, sweet woman and lavender, rose up to taunt him. If anything could be impersonal when her lips parted on a gasp and he caught the first hint of her taste.

If anything could be impersonal when he lifted his head and saw her staring up at him, her gaze smoldering, smoking, as if it held all the heat of the sun. It was almost too much and he had to fight to keep from hauling her back against him.

Another kiss, just one more, he thought. Deeper, harder

A car sped by and he heard Micah’s voice bounce off the glass as the boy called for his mother, but the words made no sense.

Trinity licked her lips, her lids drooping down to shield her lashes.

Aw, now that wasn’t helping at all. “It just got a little bit better,” he murmured, stroking his thumb over the path her tongue had taken.

She eased back, a slow blush rising up to stain her cheeks pink. But she didn’t look away.

“Should I apologize?” he asked.

She reached up and closed her hand around his wrist. “I’m hoping you won’t. If you do, my day is probably going to take a turn for the worse.”


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I have news…such nice news, I have.

So I live by the Ohio.

It’s weird how you never realize how something like that plays into your life until you find yourself driving down by it.  Stopping to taking pictures…

And then one day…bam…there’s a book.

More like three.  This idea has been toying and dancing and flirting with me for a while now and finally, it let me catch it.

It’s a fun one, too.  Fun as in, it’s suspense-ish.  But I won’t be killing people all around town, either.  I mean, yes, there will probably be mayhem.  But I don’t think I’ll be smashing and bashing on every corner.

That’s the fun for me…maybe a little more laid back.  Maybe.

Here’s the fun for you…(and me)…I sold it.

St. Martins has bought a new trilogy for me.  It’s going to be a three book series, another small town romantic suspense series, this one, set in the south.  Instead of the Ohio, I ended up going with the Mississippi for reasons that I won’t be going into, but it was important to the story.

I have NO idea when it will be out.  I kinda need to write it first.

But here’s a snippet.



The last thing Gideon Marshall expected when he woke up that morning was to see trouble come rolling back into town.  But, unlike most people, he didn’t mind one bit.

He’d always had a soft spot for Neve Flanagan, the hellion youngest child of the family that had been the central figure in this small town for more than a hundred and fifty years.

Now that he was the sheriff of said small town, people might expect things to change—Neve had gotten into trouble more than once in her life, both before and after she’d left home.  But to be honest, Gideon suspected a lot of that was because people had expected her to get in trouble.

Neve simply gave them what they wanted.

Right now, as she leaned against the side of the beat-up Corolla that looked nothing like the fire-engine red Porsche she’d driven away from here eight years ago, she did the same thing.  She gave him what he wanted.

A smile.

It wasn’t the same smile, though.  That hit him, right in the heart.

Neve was like the little sister he’d never had and that wan, tired smile mad him want to chew nails and hit something.  Or somebody.  Because he recognized the look on her face, all too well.

She had the look of somebody who needed to hide.

But he knew his Trouble too well.  Instead of handling her the way he wanted to, hugging her up against him and demanding she tell him what was wrong, he did what he would have done eight years ago.  He reached up and caught of lock of her hair—deep red and soft—and pulled.  “Well, well, well.  Trouble is back.”

She made a face at him.

“In town fifteen minutes and I’ve already heard that—three times now.”

Gideon grinned, somewhat relieved to see an echo of her old smile flash across her face.  Then she moved away from the car and wrapped her arms around him.

Now, he let himself hug her.  And it hurt, he realized, more than he’d thought possible to feel the sharp bones and frail strength in her.  She’d lost weight, too much of it.  It was like there was nothing but skin, bone and the remnants of that cocky attitude.

“You stayed gone way too long, sugar,” he murmured against her temple as she tucked her head against his chest.

“Yeah, well.”  She sniffed and snuggled in closer.  “I kept thinking about coming back and nabbing you up for myself since my sister was dumb enough to let you get away.  But…well.  You’re so old.”

“Old?”  Chuckling, he rubbed his cheek against her hair.  “You mean to tell me I’ve been waiting around here for eight long years, pining after you and you think I’m too old for you?”

The gas pump shut off and she sighed, breaking away from him.  “Well, maybe not too old.”  Then she shrugged and finished dealing with the car, grabbing her receipt, putting the gas cap back on.  “But you and I both know you’ll never love anybody but Moira.”

He didn’t say anything.

Neve’s gaze swept up to him and he knew he didn’t have to.  She wouldn’t tell anybody.  Neither would he.

Their secret.


LONG FOR ME… available now..


Nothing but the desperation of a man staring down the business end of a gun. Guy knew that well enough.  But all of this added up to yet another scar on the Bell family and they already had enough.  And Chris . . .

The door slammed shut behind him.

He had to fight not to flinch.

Of course she was here.  After the night they’d spent, after everything she’d been dealing with, how could he not expect her to come looking for him?

She always came to him.  It was something that he both needed and hated, because he needed her, more than he needed to breathe, it seemed.  But she didn’t want the things from him that he wanted from her.

She wanted comfort, wanted silence. Wanted a million things, and he just wanted her.

Feeling the weight of her gaze, he turned to face her, leaning against the counter behind him, his hands curling around it so he didn’t give in to the temptation to reach for her as she came even closer to him.

“What in the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“Taking some personal time,” he said levelly.

It had been his idea to take a few days away from work. Piss-poor timing, he knew, but the sheriff hadn’t been able to deny it made sense.  Fifteen years ago, Guy had been tangentially involved in what was likely going to be a manslaughter case.  They didn’t need him around right then.

He didn’t need to be around right then.

If he could cut the ties that bound him to Chris, he’d just leave Madison altogether.  She was the only thing that really held him here, but those ties were strong, forged of iron and lust and love and need.  To cut those ties, he’d have to cut out his heart.

“Personal time.”  She continued to stare at him, her eyes glinting, sharp and brittle.  “What did you do? Roll out of my bed and just decide you needed a few days away? Just like that?”

“Actually, I’d put the request in the day before the memorial.”  Setting his jaw, he looked at the wall past her.  “I should have mentioned it before that.  This isn’t exactly the best time for me to be around, Chris.”

“Not the best time.”

The wooden tone of her voice was so unnatural, he couldn’t help but look at her and the shattered expression on her face ripped at him.

“Aw, fuck,” he muttered, shoving away from the counter.  “Chris, that isn’t what I . . .”

“No.”  She shook her head, her throat working as she swallowed.  Vivid bursts of ink, those sexy, insane bursts of color that bloomed on her flesh moving as her chest shuddered, a ragged breath easing out of her.  “Fifteen years, I waited for answers.  Now I have some of them, and the person I always turn to just up and leaves.”

He closed his eyes.

“Okay.  Fine.  I get this is hell on you, too.  I thought maybe we could help each other through it.  But you don’t want that.  I’ll see you around.”  She turned and headed for the door.

She was two feet from the door when the threads of his control broke.  Slamming a hand over her head, he shoved the door closed as she went to slip outside.  When she attempted to jerk it open, he simply outmuscled her.

When she spun around and glared up at him, he glared back. “You get that this is hell on me,” he said, echoing her words.  “You have no idea what kind of hell this is.”

Her lip quivered, a snarl forming on her face.  “Poor Guy.” She gave him a look of mock pity and reached up to pat his cheek.

He caught her wrist, pinned it to the door.

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