Love, Bullets, and
a Second Chance — Will They Survive the Crossfire?
Revenge
The FBI Tampa Mystery Series Book 1
by A.M. Holloway
Genre: Clean Romantic Suspense, Mystery Thriller
Love, Bullets, and a
Second Chance — Will They Survive the Crossfire?
When FBI Special Agent Micah French joins
a high-risk pursuit through the streets of Tampa, he never expects the day to
end with his partner shot and the woman he once loved holding his partner’s
life in her hands.
Finley Herald, the surgeon who broke his heart a decade ago, now lives in
Tampa. She’s saving lives at Tampa General and possibly risking her own when a
vengeful cartel leader wages war against the agents involved in his brother’s
death.
As bullets fly, allies fall, and a trail of revenge stretches from Mexico to
Florida, Micah must navigate a storm of violence, betrayal, and second chances.
Every decision could be his last, and Finley’s reappearance threatens to
shatter the emotional defenses he’s spent years building.
This book is a gripping blend of action,
faith, and romance, where love may be the deadliest risk of all.
A.M. Holloway is an author of clean murder mysteries where
crime and suspense take hold. Her catalog spans five series. A.M., who is
married, relies on her husband’s expertise in the CSI field to ensure accuracy
in her books. She was born and raised in Georgia but now lives in Central
Florida. When not writing, you will find her with her family, enjoying the
outdoors, or sitting in her favorite chair, daydreaming about her next book.
How can I tell the love of my life we’re having a baby if he doesn’t even remember having had sex?
After a passionate, unforgettable night with my best friend, a tragic accident leaves him with no memory of our fiery connection. As I navigate the complexities of our altered relationship, I’m grappling with an unexpected pregnancy. Going back to being best friends now is impossible. Can I reignite the spark in his heart before he learns of the baby and feels obligated to stay?
Dive into the enthralling world of Knocked Up by Her Mountain Man—a tale brimming with small-town charm and a gentle touch of steam. Experience an emotional journey towards a happily ever after in this standalone installment of the Elken Grove Mountain Men series.
♥ surprise baby ♥ friends to lovers ♥ mountain man ♥ Appalachia ♥ amnesia ♥ small town ♥
Review quotes
This is so sweet it hurts.
You will love what happens with these two and the wild love they have for each other.
This is a friends to lovers, second chance love story….but with a twist.
Excerpt of Knocked Up by Her Mountain Man
Everybody in this town is in on the big, fat secret: I’ve had sex with Finn Winslow, and he’s forgotten all about it.
As a result, they are awkward around me. I can’t even blame them. In most places, I guess, I’d be the victim of lewd comments, judging glances, and sexual innuendo. But not in Elken Grove. Here, the townsfolk offer clumsy side-glances and full-on pity.
Take this morning, for example. As usual, I write the special on the board behind the cash register. Stretching my plump, short frame, I carefully chalk today’s special. It’s peanut bar day, a favorite of our customers. Can’t blame them. Together with the sprinkles of dark chocolate and gooey salted caramel, it’s a slice of heaven.
Mr. and Mrs. Hartley, regulars for their daily coffee and pastry, come in. Mrs. Hartley stares at the board as if seeing it for the first time. She opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, reminding me of a carp. I’ve never seen a carp in real life, but this is how it must look. Mr. Hartley gently touches her arm and says to me, in a soothing voice, “We’ll have red velvet muffins, please, dear.”
There is nothing wrong with our red velvet muffins. But since when don’t the Hartleys jump at a chance to get the peanut bar?
Robin, the coffee shop’s owner, looks on, and once the Hartleys are at their usual table by the corner window, takes a closer look at the board. And that’s when I see it, too. “Peenut bar w/dark chocolate and caramel.”
Much less than missing out on a peanut bar, Mr. Hartley would miss a chance for a stupid sexual joke. Instead, he called me “dear” and almost patted my hand. That’s how the folks of Elken Grove treat me now. I know it’s meant to be considerate, but it’s wearing thin.
Robin, taller than me, swiftly erases the offending E.
“Gimme that,” I say. “Your handwriting should not be on promotional boards.”
Robin sighs in mock relief. “She’s talking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Lately, you’ve seemed unfocused and unusually quiet. Don’t lose your spunk, girl.”
I huff. My spunk has long since faded. For months now, everybody in this town has felt entitled to discuss intensely private matters with me. Like how sad it was that the night both of Finn’s brothers got married ended this tragically: I finally got together with the man I’ve loved for years, and that’s when the thrift store under my apartment caught fire and the building burned down. We had to jump from the second-floor window, stark naked. Finn badly injured his leg and was whisked away to the hospital and rehab. I haven’t seen him since, haven’t even gotten in touch with him. He’s got memory issues, and the doctor insisted on complete rest and no contact unless he initiates it. Which he hasn’t, but for a few texts. I know he hates writing, and his texts showed that he cared about me, but were disappointingly friendly. He is his usual carefree self, only he doesn’t remember anything about the night of his accident. Which includes having had sex with me.
But Robin is right, I’m letting myself go. I suppress a sigh and resolve to fake it until I make it. I snatch the chalk. “I’m sorry, I’ll just redo the board.”
Robin looks unconvinced. That’s what you get when you’re friends with your boss: well-meant meddling.
Meghan comes in and rattles off her order for the hardware store. As I make her coffees, and we chat about the unusually mild, but rainy March weather, I feel almost normal. When she leaves, she passes a grinning Patty Winslow in the door. My heart starts beating like a drum. I haven’t seen Finn’s mother this happy since before the night of the fire, so maybe she’s bringing good news. Perhaps I finally will be able to talk to Finn.
Patty comes straight for me. She takes my hands in hers and, with tears in her eyes, announces, “He’s coming home. He just called from the road.” A sob escapes her. “He’ll be home this afternoon.”
My knees weaken and tears well up, but my face breaks into the biggest grin ever. He’s coming home!
Patty looks around at the customers present. The Hartleys are here, and Mr. Vance is—they are the biggest gossips in town. Soon everyone will know that Finn is returning.
With a loud voice to make sure everybody hears, she declares, “I spoke with the doctor again, and he stressed how crucial it is for Finn to remember that night on his own. No one is to tell him. He needs to remember by himself.”
I’ve never understood that. Don’t doctors usually encourage patients meeting their friends and family? Talking about what happened? This feels wrong, but my formal education ended when I left high school, so I wouldn’t know anything about amnesia but for what I’ve read about since that night.
Patty turns back to me. “I’m sorry, dear. You’ll have to be patient a little longer. But the doctor is confident that, if you really matter to him, Finn will remember sooner or later.”
What if he doesn’t? Am I not important enough to be remembered?
How can I possibly tell him we’re having a baby when I’m not allowed to remind him we’ve had sex?
Ella writes sweet’n’steamy romances that are meant to provide short vacations from your everyday life. She loves to read, mostly romances, of course, and to putter around in her backyard, forever trying to turn it into a blooming garden. She’s got a dog who is helping greatly with all the garden work by supervising everything Ella does and—for the most part—not digging up her flowers.
Lately, I confess I’ve fallen into a hole of creating pictures of characters from my stories with AI. Granted, I am in a tenuous position with this confession, because I am obviously not happy that some authors are creating whole books with AI that are now in competition with my own. But I will say that there are no competitions in play here–I already have a cover for the book and won’t use these pictures commercially, other than to occasionally bring attention to my little twaddles.
For example, in TENDER MISDEMEANORS, a romantic suspense from The Wild Rose Press, my heroine is an officer with the Bureau of Land Management, which gets her into all sorts of trouble with the less-than-law-abiding characters in the story. But–fun fact–she is a full time RVer, living in an RV with her pet iguana at the edge of a national park in Montana. Here’s the story the book tells:
Caryn Orlane has law enforcement in her blood; her father was a cop, and his father, too. She’s a federal agent in northwest Montana, protecting the old forests and keeping the peace.
Levi Bradshaw also believes in protecting the forests, but has a very different MO. He’s the leader of a group of eco-warriors, determined to save the trees of the Bitterroot by legal—and illegal—means.
When they meet in the woods at gunpoint, their encounter ignites a spark of interest, despite operating on opposite sides of the law. When their worlds turn on them, they only grow closer. If they don’t work together, can either survive?
A tenacious TV reporter has 48 hours to illegally enter Cuba, find
her sister, and avenge her mámá. Don’t miss the
spine-tingling sequel to Emmy-award winning journalist Linda Hurtado
Bond’s immersive thriller, All The Broken Girls.
All the Missing Girls
by Linda Hurtado
Bond
Genre: Thriller,
Suspense
Once
you enter their world, there is no escape…in this gripping and
undeniably chilling thriller from Emmy-award winning journalist Linda
Hurtado Bond.
As a crime reporter for a Tampa TV news
station, Mari Alvarez knows when an investigation enters dangerous
territory. But with her estranged sister missing and almost no
information to go on, Mari can’t trust anyone but herself to find
the truth. Now she has just 48 hours to sneak into Cuba undetected,
track down her sister…and pray to her orisha that she’s not too
late.
This is nothing like reporting in her neighborhood,
though–a place she knows like the back of her hand. In Havana she
has no contacts and only an ice-cold trail of cryptic clues. When
Detective Tony Garcia offers to help, Mari puts aside her instincts
and tries to let someone in. But soon they’re caught in a maze of
lies, deception, and an undercurrent of the island’s own
witchcraft, a sinister Brujería.
Every lead draws Mari
further into this world of shadows, especially when her sister isn’t
the only young woman who’s gone missing. Each step pushes Mari and
Tony toward a revelation they never saw coming. And as they close in
on the horrifying truth, one thing becomes clear…no one will let
them leave Cuba alive.
Linda Hurtado Bond is an award-winning journalist for Tampa’s Fox 13
by day and author of romantic thrillers by night. She has won 13 Emmy
awards, numerous Society of Professional Journalist and Associated
Press awards, as well as a Florida Bar and an Edward R. Murrow award.
A breast cancer survivor, she’s also active in the Tampa community
with The American Cancer Society, Hooked on Hope, and The Shoot for a
Cure, raising money and awareness any chance she gets. She’s the
mother of five, four athletes and an adopted son from Cuba. She has
passion for world travel, classic movies and solving a good mystery.
FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH STREET from author DIANA RUBINO
Now on Audio with the soothing voice of narrator Nina Price
Read About FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH STREET and how Vita Found Love and Success Against All Odds
It’s 1894 on New York’s Lower East Side. Irish cop Tom McGlory and Italian immigrant Vita Caputo fall in love despite their different upbringings. Vita goes from sweatshop laborer to respected bank clerk to reformer, helping elect a mayor to beat the Tammany machine. While Tom works undercover to help Ted Roosevelt purge police corruption, Vita’s father arranges a marriage between her and a man she despises. As Vita and Tom work together against time and prejudice to clear her brother and father of a murder they didn’t commit, they know their love can survive poverty, hatred, and corruption. Vita is based on my great grandmother, Josephine Calabrese, “Josie Red” who left grade school to become a self-made businesswoman and politician, wife and mother.
An Excerpt:
As Vita gathered her soap and towel, Madame Branchard tapped on her door. “You have a gentleman caller, Vita. A policeman.”
“Tom?” His name lingered on her lips as she repeated it. She dropped her things and crossed the room.
“No, hon, not him. Another policeman. Theodore something, I think he said.”
No. There can’t be anything wrong. “Thanks,” she whispered, nudging Madame Branchard aside. She descended the steps, gripping the banister to support her wobbly legs. Stay calm! she warned herself. But of course it was no use; staying calm just wasn’t her nature.
“Theodore something” stood before the closed parlor door. He’s a policeman? Tall and hefty, a bold pink shirt peeking out of a buttoned waistcoat and fitted jacket, he looked way out of place against the dainty patterned wallpaper.
He removed his hat. “Miss Caputo.” He strained to keep his voice soft as he held out a piece of paper. “I’m police commissioner Theodore Roosevelt.”
“Yes?” Her voice shook.
“I have a summons for you, Miss Caputo.” He held it out to her. But she stood rooted to that spot.
He stepped closer and she took it from him, unfolding it with icy fingers. Why would she be served with a summons? Was someone arresting her now for something she didn’t do?
A shot of anger tore through her at this system, at everything she wanted to change. She flipped it open and saw the word “Summons” in fancy script at the top. Her eyes widened with each sentence as she read. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”
I hereby order Miss Vita Caputo to enter into holy matrimony with Mr. Thomas McGlory immediately following service of this summons.
How FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH STREET Was Born
New York City’s history always fascinated me—how it became the most powerful hub in the world from a sprawling wilderness in exchange for $24 with Native Americans by the Dutch in 1626.
Growing up in Jersey City, I could see the Statue of Liberty from our living room window if I leaned way over (luckily I didn’t lean too far over). As a child model, I spent many an afternoon on job interviews and modeling assignments in the city, and got hooked on Nedick’s, a fast food chain whose orange drinks were every kid’s dream. Even better than the vanilla egg creams. We never drove to the city—we either took the PATH (Port Authority Trans Hudson) train (‘the tube’ in those days) or the bus through the Lincoln Tunnel to the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
My great grandmother, Josephine Arnone, “Josie Red” to her friends, because of her abundant head of red hair, was way ahead of her time. Born in 1895 (but it could’ve been sooner, as she was known to lie about her age), she left grade school, became a successful businesswoman and a Jersey City committeewoman, as well as a wife and mother of four. She owned apartment buildings, parking garages, a summer home, did a bit of Prohibition-era bootlegging, small-time loan-sharking, and paid cash for everything. When I began outlining From Here to Fourteenth Street, I modeled my heroine, Vita Caputo, after her. Although the story is set in New York the year before Grandma was born, I was able to bring Vita to life by calling on the family legends and stories, all word of mouth, for she never kept a journal.
Vita’s hero Tom McGlory isn’t based on any real person, but I did a lot of reading about Metropolitan Policemen and made sure he was the complete opposite! He’s trustworthy and would never take a bribe or graft. I always liked the name McGlory—then, years after the book first came out, I remembered that was the name of my first car mechanic—Ronnie McGlory.
Changing the Title
When I proposed the story to The Wild Rose Press, I wanted to change the title, as it went through so many revisions since it was first published. I wanted to express Vita’s desire to escape the Lower East Side and move farther uptown. I considered Crossing 14th Street, but it sounded too much like Crossing Delancey. After a few more hits and misses, the title hit me—as all really fitting titles do.
A Bit of Background—What Was 1894 New York City Like?
The Metropolitan Police was a hellhole of corruption, and nearly every cop, from the greenest rookie to the Chief himself, was a dynamic part of what made the wheels of this great machine called New York turn.
The department was in cahoots with the politicians, all the way up to the mayor’s office. Whoever wasn’t connected enough to become a politician became a cop in this city. They were paid off in pocket-bulging wads of cash to look the other way when it came to building codes, gambling, prostitution, every element it took to keep this machine gleaming and efficient. They oiled the machine and kept it running with split-second precision. The ordinary hardworking, slave-wage earning citizen didn’t have a chance around here. Tom McGlory and his father were two of a kind, and two of a sprinkling of cops who were cops for the right reasons. They left him alone because he was a very private person; he didn’t have any close friends, he confided in no one. He could’ve made a pocket full of rocks as a stoolie, more than he could by jumping in the fire with the rest of them, but he couldn’t enjoy spending it if he’d made it that way. They knew it and grudgingly respected him for it. He was here for one reason–his family was here. If they went, he went. As long as they needed him, here he was. Da would stop grieving for his wife when he stopped breathing. Since Tom knew he was the greatest gift she gave Da, he would never let his father down.
Meet Vita: An Interview With Vita Caputo, Heroine of FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH STREET
Vita, we know you and Tom overcame astronomical odds to stay together. It’s like Romeo and Juliet. I can imagine how torn you felt when you wanted to be with Tom, but didn’t want to defy your father. Tell us, what was your family and homelife like when all this was going on?
Well, I loved my father and brothers more than anything, and didn’t want to defy them. Yet at the same time, I felt they weren’t respecting my wishes. I was in love with Tom, and they hated him for two reasons, which to me, were irrational—he’s Irish and he’s a cop. But you have to understand their underlying reasons—cops always gave Italian immigrants a hard time on the Lower East Side. They didn’t give Italians a fair shake. Many of them were bullied, arrested for crimes they didn’t commit—and of course if you know my story, you know that the police framed Papa and my brother for the murder of Tom’s cousin, also a cop. I can understand their hatred of the police force for this heinous act. But not the entire police force is corrupt. Teddy Roosevelt, the Commish, certainly wasn’t, and Tom certainly isn’t. But when you face this hatred and injustice every day, it’s easy to be bitter. Our homelife, before I met Tom, was the usual Italian household—we struggled to make ends meet and didn’t have much, but I always made sure we had more than enough to eat, and to share with those who had less. I went without new clothes, shoes, coats, to buy groceries so we wouldn’t go hungry. We argued over petty things—like who left the stove on—but we always made up in the end. We were very affectionate, and gave each other a lot of hugs and kisses. We sometimes felt the world was against us—and at times it was.
What did your childhood home look like?
Did you ever see the classic Jackie Gleason sitcom The Honeymooners? They had a walk-up flat in Brooklyn. Well, ours was on Mott Street in Manhattan, but our flat looked much like that—it was called a ‘railroad flat’ because all the rooms were in a row—kitchen sitting room, bedrooms in back. We shared a toilet on the landing. But compared to other Mott Street tenements, we had it made—we had indoor plumbing. No bathtub, but a sink with running water. We didn’t have to go to a backyard privy. The bedroom was partitioned off by a curtain that I’d made—one side was mine, the other side my brother’s. Papa and his wife Rosalia had another bedroom to themselves.
What is your greatest dream?
To be a Senator or Congresswoman, but I’m happy enough as a committeewoman for now.
What kind of person do you wish you could be? What is stopping you?
I wish I could be calmer and slow down. I do too much—run the household because I refuse to hire help, raise our 3 kids, work and invest our savings. I follow the stock market and purchase stocks that have long-term growth potential. What’s stopping me is my drive to get ahead.
Who was your first love?
Tom, of course. My father tried to throw me together with ‘a nice Italian boy’ Roberto Riccadonna whose family owned a music store and was ‘well off’ – but he was arrogant and controlling. He threatened me when I told him I wasn’t interested in him. He and Tom got into fisticuffs when I found Roberto under my boardinghouse window singing “O Sole Mio” with a mandolin. He had a nice voice, but Tom was hardly impressed.
What’s the most terrible thing that ever happened to you?
When Papa and my brother Butchie were arrested for the murder of Tom’s cousin Mike. It tore me into pieces, because Tom didn’t want to believe Papa and Butchie were the killers, but evidence pointed to them. We made it our quest to find the real killer, and we did. It created a huge rift in our relationship of course, but we overcame that as we got through all the other hardships and prejudices that tried to keep us apart.
What was your first job?
I started out as a sweatshop worker sewing ‘shirtwaists’ (blouses), and now I’m a committeewoman, with a view to being New York City’s first female mayor.
What’s your level of schooling?
I left school at 16 to go to work in a lampshade factory.
Where were you born?
Sassano, Italy, near Naples.
Where do you live now?
Greenwich Village, in a brownstone on East 14th Street.
Do you have a favorite pet?
They’re all favorites, two mongrel pups, Charlie and Shirley, two cats Romeo and Juliet, and assorted goldfish whose names we can’t keep up with!
What’s your favorite place to visit?
Coney Island, to sit on the beach, frolic in the ocean, eat those delicious hot dogs and fried dough, and stroll the boardwalk!
What’s your most important goal?
To see my three children become successful, respectable citizens. Doing all right so far—my daughter Assunta (Susan) owns a clothing store, my son Virgilio (Billy) writes Broadway musicals and my youngest Teresa (Tessie) wants to be a baby doctor.
What’s your worst fear or nightmare?
That the stock market will crash again or some other disaster will plunge us back into poverty.
What’s your favorite food?
My homemade lasagna with my grandmother’s sauce recipe (it’s a secret)
Are you wealthy, poor, or somewhere in between?
We’re finally members of the solid middle class.
What’s your secret desire or fantasy?
To sing in one of my son’s musicals.
What would you do if you won the lottery?
I’d buy my own airplane and give the rest to charity.
A Review From Romantic Times:
Immigrant Vita Caputo escapes New York’s Italian ghetto and secures a job in a Wall Street bank, along with a room in a Greenwich Village boarding house, thanks to Irish police officer Tom McGlory. With her new beginning, Vita even joins the Industrial reform movement.
Tom is an honest cop, with little interest in women until he meets Vita. When Tom’s cousin is murdered and Vita’s father and brother are arrested for the crime, the two team up to investigate and soon discover that they are falling in love.
Vita and Tom face economic problems, prejudice, and cultural differences. Ms. Rubino’s research is obvious.—Kathe Robin
From Rhapsody Magazine:
FROM HERE TO 14th STREET by Diana Rubino is all that and then some. Everything about this book is what writing should be–original and wonderfully executed. Bravo!—Karen L. Williams
From Book Nook Romance Reviews:
Diana Rubino has done a masterful job of researching the life of Italian and Irish immigrants in turn-of-the-century New York, its society and politics and crime. She paints a vivid picture of the degradation immigrants of Italian descent suffered, particularly at the hands of the earlier Irish immigrants they succeeded. Barred from all but the most menial jobs, forced to live crammed into the worst slums, she makes it easy for the reader to understand why many of them turned to a life of crime and violence. Not only can the reader see what Vita and Tom see, they can smell it, hear it, and taste it.
Vita is a delightful heroine, as full of vivid life as the city she lives in. Stubborn, determined to escape the ghetto in which she lives and make something of herself, she never loses her commitment to and love for her family. That very devotion, however, threatens her growing relationship with Tom, since the Irish and Italians are the Capulets and Montagues of 19th century Manhattan. Although she cannot help falling deeply in love with him, she knows that her father and brothers will never permit her to spend her life with him. And, in a departure from the usual super-masculine hero, Tom is a sensitive, secret poet as well as a cop.
If you like vivid characters and a book that carries you effortlessly back to an earlier time, FROM HERE TO 14th STREET is a good choice. –Elizabeth Burton
MORE ABOUT THE LOWER EAST SIDE: One fascinating place to visit is the Lower East Side Tenement Museum at 97 Orchard Street, once an actual tenement. They have tours describing life as it was back then, with each floor of the building decorated (if you want to call it ‘decorated’) to depict each time period when immigrants lived there. I read a lot of books to research this story. One book I remember reading as a kid is How The Other Half Lives by Jacob Riis, a photographer and reformer of the time. The photos in his 1901 book vividly illustrate the poverty and deprivation of the times, for adults and children alike.
ABOUT ME:
My passion for history and travel has taken me to every locale of my stories, set in Medieval and Renaissance England, Egypt, the Mediterranean, colonial Virginia, New England, and New York. My urban fantasy romance, FAKIN’ IT, won a Top Pick award from Romantic Times. I’m a member of Romance Writers of America, the Richard III Society and the Aaron Burr Association. I live on Cape Cod with my husband Chris. In my spare time, I bicycle, golf, play my piano and devour books of any genre.
The historical monarch I’d most like to meet is Richard III, my favorite of all time.
Welcome sister lawyer author Seelie Kay and her latest, SAINT CON!! Let’s get to know her first.
Q. Why do you write romance? It began as a way to relieve the stress of a career as a lawyer/journalist and dealing with MS “on the side.” Writing has always been my outlet and the best way to break away from reality for a bit was to write romance. Plus, I love happy endings. I get rather emotional (yes, I’m a crier) but it’s a wonderful release. Q. Do you prefer a certain type of romantic hero? I adore smart, dashing gentlemen who aren’t afraid to live on the edge. They can be a lawyer, a bad boy, a billionaire, a prince, or a secret agent. That hint of danger just hooks me! However, they have to be paired with strong, independent women who aren’t afraid to fight for what they want, even love. And brains over brawn, every time! Q. Why did you write “Saint Con?” It all began when I woke up to an AMBER and SENIOR alert on my phone. For some reason, I began to wonder why I never saw an alert for an able-bodied adult gone missing. I did a little research and found that in WI, only proof of harm or the passage of 72 hours will trigger a missing person’s investigation. The burden of finding an able-bodied adult falls on friends and family. That just seems wrong, because most people don’t have the skill or resources to conduct an investigation. However, as you learn from crime shows, the first 72 hours are critical to gathering evidence and finding a missing person. Suddenly, I had the plot, and I knew I wanted to incorporate a character I had been playing with, a street lawyer for the homeless. “Saint Con” was born. Q. You pretty much use lawyers as your main characters. Why? It’s what I know. After 30 years, the law and the legal world are so firmly embedded in my brain that I can’t flush them out. That has become the lens through which I view the world and that naturally guides my characters and plots. Injustice infuriates me, but it also leads me to great stories. Even in this book, I find a way to explore social and criminal justice issues.
It was a night dreams are made of, until the man of Jessica Knight’s dreams disappears.
Genre: Romantic Suspense
It was a night dreams are made of, until the man of Jessica Knight’s dreams disappears.
When self-proclaimed good girl Jessica Knight literally bumps into apparent bad boy Connor O’Brien in a suburban Milwaukee wine bar, she is skeptical—of his intentions and the prospect for real love. A former priest, Saint Con is now a street lawyer for Milwaukee’s homeless. After a night of sizzling romance, Jess begins to thaw, and in the days that follow, she is so charmed by Con that she allows herself to start falling in love. Unfortunately, on their first real date, Con fails to appear. Jess doesn’t know if she’s been ghosted or if Con was unavoidably detained, but she leaves their meeting spot devastated.
Until she discovers that Con is missing. Really missing.
The police won’t help because he’s not a vulnerable adult nor is there proof that he has been harmed. So, it falls to Jess and her friends to find him. After surmounting numerous obstacles, Con is finally found, gravely injured and in a coma. Suddenly, it appears a promising love match may be over before it really began.
Award-winning author Seelie Kay writes scintillating tales of lawyers in love, sometimes with a dash of kink.
Writing under a nom de plume, the former lawyer and journalist draws her stories from more than 30 years in the legal world. Seelie’s wicked pen has resulted in more than 24 works of fiction, including the new paranormal romance series Donovan Trait, as well the erotic romance Kinky Briefs series and The Feisty Lawyers romantic suspense series. She also authored The Last Christmas, The Garage Dweller, A Touchdown to Remember, The President’s Wife, The President’s Daughter, Seizing Hope, The White House Wedding, and participated in the romance anthology Pieces of Us.
When not spinning romantic tales, Seelie ghostwrites nonfiction for lawyers and other professionals. Currently, she resides in a bucolic exurb outside Milwaukee, WI, where she enjoys opera, the Green Bay Packers, gourmet cooking, organic gardening, and an occasional bottle of red wine.
Seelie is an MS warrior and ruthlessly battles the disease on a daily basis. Her message to those diagnosed with MS: Never give up. You define MS, it does not define you!
Shea O’Bannon feels like a fifth wheel around her romantically paired-off friends, but there’s too much slime in the dating pool for her to bother with it. Then she sees her two-timing ex, Trevor Madero, serenading the mostly female crowd at a live-music bar. God knows trouble follows him around, but her desire for him rushes back in anyway. After he rescues her from a handsy drunk, temptation takes over.
Determined to prove he never stepped out on Shea, Trevor slides back into her life—and her heart—with forever in mind. Even with the wall he keeps up to protect her, his secret criminal life weighs heavy on his soul and drives a wedge between them.
When the truth comes out and his enemies target them both, they’ll have to fight for their love, or kiss it goodbye.
Tagline: Will the truth send her running, or will she fight for the man she loves?
EXCERPT:
Trevor cracked the billiard balls with a hard, steady strike of the cue and grinned as two strips landed in the corner pocket. As Radster grumbled a curse, Trevor circled the green-felt pool table in the back of Slayers and twitched his nose from the godawful stench of beer, body odor, and cigarette smoke. He narrowed his gaze and blocked out the blaring sound of thrash metal coming from the stereo as he took the shot. The cue ball hit the eleven red-striped ball at the perfect angle, but a solid followed the eleven home into the middle pocket.
“Too bad, Alto. Let a master show you how it’s done.” Radster chalked his cue from across the pool table and struck three solids into the pockets. “Beat that, man.”
Damn. Trevor eyed the one hundred dollars on the edge of the pool table that he’d laid down for the bet. Radster could kick anyone’s ass at pool, but once he got a few beers in him, his winning streak always turned south. Had he not drunk enough? Trevor glanced at their booth where a dozen empty bottles cluttered the tabletop.
K-Pic and his latest flavor of the month made out hot and heavy on the bench seat as though Trevor, Radster, and a dozen-plus pricks in leather and dog chains weren’t hanging out in the seedy bar. Some of the bikers were getting busy with their chicks, too, and giving everyone else a show.
He turned back to the game as Radster missed what should’ve been an easy shot.
“Aw, hell.” Radster ran his hand over his short hair.
“Perhaps you should have another beer?” Trevor examined the placement of the balls. “It might clear your head.”
“Screw you, dude.”
Trevor chuckled and aimed his cue. The hair on his nape prickled. He looked up and spotted Shea a few feet away near the long, scratched-up counter that stretched along the right side of the room. Shock sucker-punched him. He fell against the table and accidentally took his shot. The cue ball went wide and hit one of Radster’s balls that bounced off the edge. His pal laughed in triumph, but Trevor didn’t care. He stomped to Shea.
“What are you doing here?” He gripped the cue so hard his knuckles smarted. “How did you find me?”
Amber Daulton is the author of the romantic-suspense series Arresting Onyx and several standalone novellas. Her books are published through Daulton Publishing, The Wild Rose Press, and Books to Go Now, and are available in ebook, print on demand, audio, and foreign language formats.
She lives in North Carolina with her husband and demanding cats.
My family has been going to Chincoteague for decades, and my mother is buried there. We loved birding and beaching. Addison (my heroine) says about Chincoteague, “there is something about it—hardscrabble, rough, enduring, clinging to its roots with all its might in the face of an implacable Mother Nature.”
While most people draw a blank when I mention Chincoteague, they perk up when I mention the ponies. Assateague salt hay ponies—probably descended from shipwrecked horse—were made famous by Marguerite Henry’s books, especially Misty of Chincoteague. There’s a statue on Main Street of Misty. The ponies are still there. There are several herds, maintained by the Chincoteague Fire Department, which holds the famous annual Pony Swim. Every July they round up the horses and swim them across the channel from Assateague to Chincoteague, where they are auctioned off. Many people choose to sponsor a pony—leaving him on the island but monitoring his welfare.
OUR STORY:
Will the wind whip her token from the Wishing Tree and make her wish come true?
Addison Steele dreams of the day her husband—lost at sea—returns to her. Instead, she meets Nick Savage, whose every word may be a lie. She is soon embroiled in mystery, all related to the top secret science station at Wallops Island, Virginia.
After a Belarusian scientist at Wallops is murdered, the questions multiply. Was it because he caught the person stealing classified documents or because he wanted to defect? Is Nick the spy—or is it his brother? How can she trust the man who is slowly claiming her heart when his story keeps shifting?
Excerpt: Cheyenne, the Pony & the Lounge
He gestured at the passenger’s side door. “May I offer you a drink? I thought I’d head to that place on Main Street for something to raise my temperature.”
“You mean Dobie’s?”
“That’s the one. The upstairs bar is called something else though.”
“Cheyenne’s Lounge. Cheyenne is Dobie’s mare.”
“Mare? Isn’t that a little chauvinist?”
“What? No, he sponsors her. He…” She petered out.
He grinned. “I knew what you meant. Cheyenne is one of the salt hay ponies that locals can sponsor, right?”
She nodded, relieved. “Yes.”
“So, how about that drink?” When Addison looked pointedly at her car, he held up a palm. “Oh, I see. Well, you can leave it here, and I’ll bring you back.”
Did he just wink? Despite her attraction, her mother’s voice rang in her ear. Never get in a car with a stranger. She cleared her throat. “No…urk…no, thanks. The refuge closes at dusk. The entrance is barred.”
“I see. I could drop you off at your house then.”
Oh, and never let him know where you live. “Then I’d have to find a ride back to the refuge in the morning. So…sorry.”
His friendly optimism dissipated. “Oh. Well. Then I guess I’ll see you around the ’hood.”
“No! I meant…I’ll meet you there.” She smirked. “A hot toddy would be nice.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, it’s a standing joke around here. The bartender at Dobie’s is nicknamed Toddy.”
“I see. Does he entertain?”
“Huh?”
“You know…” He wiggled his hips. “Do a pole dance or strip?”
“God, no.” She envisioned the squat old man with the pug nose. “God. No.”
“Well, let’s hope he knows how to make a good hot toddy, then.”
He fired up the tank and rumbled over the sand to the refuge road. Addison’s Subaru felt like a wind-up toy trundling along behind him. They’d almost reached the ticket booth at the entrance to the refuge when she remembered that she hadn’t made her usual prayer to the storm gods to take her token and bring her husband back.
With the proliferation of WWII novels, I had the urge to write a story of forbidden love. An Englishwoman stranded in France under the occupation, her past dealings with relationships a disaster. And a German Commandant who loathes Hitler’s policies, a recent widower who is caught by surprise at his attraction to the young woman. How do they work out their differences? Can they find love in the middle of war? Norah must face the retribution of the villagers. August must find a way to ruin a dangerous weapon to undermine the Reich.
I’ve always loved writing and putting my characters in difficult situations. This one was a challenge. How to make a German officer a sympathetic character. According to my critique partners, I’ve succeeded. But can they have a happy ending?
To make my story in Brittany, France realistic, I recommend this book.
Hitler’s Gateway to the Atlantic, by Lars Hellwinkell, 2014
Unwed and pregnant, Norah Cooper flees England to hide with her cousin in Brittany just before Germany’s 1940 invasion of France. After her baby is stillborn, she’s trapped under the Occupation as war expands across Europe. Norah grieves and consoles herself by sketching wildlife. When she’s caught too near the coast, she comes under scrutiny of the German commandant, Major August von Gottlieb.
August loathes what Hitler is doing to his country and France but is duty-bound to control the people in his jurisdiction. The lively young Englishwoman piques his interest. Is she a spy? He questions her and asks her to sketch his portrait so he might uncover the truth.
Soon, their relationship evolves into a passion neither of them can deny. She endures taunts from the villagers. His superiors warn him of not being harsh enough—he could be transferred or worse. He plans to sabotage a major war machine of the Reich, while she secretly helps the Resistance. Both acts are fraught with danger while kept secret from one another. Will their love ruin her and end in heartbreak? Or will they overcome the odds and survive the surging threats on all sides?
Excerpt:
Norah balled her hands, tears welling in her eyes. “I see the reasoning, the rules of war. But I have all this anger and sorrow I don’t know what to do with.”
August clasped her upper arms as if to keep her from running off. “I understand your misery. However, it was my responsibility.”
“Why did it have to happen?” She pressed a fist against his chest. “I know, that’s rhetorical. But I’m—”
“I wish it hadn’t. I really do, though the outcome was inevitable given the sentry’s death. And if Kerguelen hadn’t bragged about the shooting.” August kissed her forehead. “Ma cherie, please understand.”
“I can’t forgive what this war has done to us all.” She pushed at him with the heel of her hand, but not overly hard.
“This war has torn apart the world. We are in a storm, trying to be normal.” He traced a finger under her chin. “I missed you.”
“I…missed you.” She thumped her knuckles on his collarbone. “Dammit. My instincts are a mess. And I’m caught between two worlds.”
“You’re in an untenable position. Don’t let this tragedy change what we have.” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek and opened the summerhouse’s back door. “Let’s go inside.”
“Everyone… The villagers, my cousins. I’m condemned, marked as your woman.”
Author bio:
Diane Parkinson (Diane Scott Lewis) grew up near San Francisco, joined the Navy at nineteen, married in Greece and raised two sons in Puerto Rico, California, and Guam. She’s a member of the Historical Novel Society and wrote book reviews for their magazine. She’s always loved travel and history and has had several historical novels published.
Diane lives with her husband and one naughty dachshund in western Pennsylvania.
Alana Lorens, author 