I'm so excited about this launch! My advanced readers LOVED it! Most said it was the best of the series so far. Even readers who had only read UNLEASHED enjoyed this latest installment. So if you're not caught up– don't worry, you can still have a blast reading this book… it's one of those can't-put-down, read-it-all-in-one-day kind of things 🙂 My personal favorite.
And to encourage you to pick up “The Girl With The Gun” this week I'm offering a fantastic launch bonus. Purchase “The Girl With The Gun (Sydney Rye, #8)” before 9/17 and I'll send you an ebook AND audiobook of “Death in the Dark (Sydney Rye, #2)”.
Just shoot me an email (firstname.lastname@example.org) with proof of purchase and I'll send them right over.
Here is an excerpt from “The Girl With The Gun” to wet your appetite…
Suds slipped down my body and gathered at my ankles before traveling in a flotilla to the drain. The white, iridescent bubbles jiggled as droplets of water crashed around them. They popped one by one, the mass sinking into the pipe as each individual bubble lost tension and let go.
Letting go is an art.
And I am not an artist.
I'm a killer.
It's not for pleasure, though there is some of that. Lady Justice is tantamount to my god. I serve her single-mindedly, but there is no blindfold. I am prejudice, human—so human.
Would the world be safer with me under lock and key? One less terrorist wreaking havoc. Or more dangerous? One less soldier fighting for justice.
Blue barked. I looked through the fogged glass seeing nothing but gray shapes in the mist. Blue barked again and I turned the water off and opened the shower door, a cloud of steam coming with me into the room.
Another bark, a “hello,” a “there is someone here,” a “someone we trust” bark. Grabbing a towel off the rack I left the bathroom; making wet prints on the carpeting as I padded through the bedroom into the living room. Blue sat by the door, his large tail swishing back and forth.
He barked again, turning to look at me, his mismatched eyes bright with excitement. He pushed his large head against my hip, urging me toward the door with a soft whine.
Mulberry stood in the hallway, his broad shoulders taking up the width of the doorway. He wore a subdued yellow and green plaid shirt that brought out the same colors in his eyes. Silver and black stubble covered his jaw.
Blue pushed past me and wriggled his body against Mulberry's legs. The former New York detective broke his gaze from mine and looked down at my dog. He ruffled Blue's head. “Hey, boy.”
“I wasn't expecting you.”
Mulberry looked up at me, his hand still on Blue. “That's the first thing you say?”
He smiled and gave off a little laugh. “I figured I'd stop by and see you. We left things a little …“
“I thought I was pretty clear.”
“I'm not sure it's entirely up to you to decide.”
“I'm not sure about having this conversation in a towel.”
Mulberry raised an eyebrow. “I don't think you need it.”
“Come on in; I'll get dressed.”
He followed me into the living room, clicking the door into place.
I dressed in a pair of dark, indigo jeans and a white T-shirt, one of the few I had without any stains. Blue's tail wagged and his tongue lolled out. “Don't look so excited,” I told Blue before returning to the living room.
Mulberry waited on the couch. “You want a drink?”
I crossed to the small kitchenette and grabbed us each a bottle of sparkling water; cracking one open, it released that fizzing sound.
Mulberry came up behind me and placed his hand on my hip. I turned to him and opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head.
He stepped closer so that our bodies brushed. His face was right above mine, his chin angled down, as I stared at his collarbones.
He fisted the short locks at the base of my skull and pulled gently so that my chin rose and our lips touched. His kiss was achingly familiar and electrifyingly new. The smell of him brought back memories I was afraid to face.
The pain of my brother's murder lanced through me; the paleness of his skin, the vivid red of his blood as he died—the gaping wound his loss left in me.
Everybody I love ends up dead. And not some gentle kiss into the night. They leave this world in violence and suffering; they end in misery.
I couldn't watch Mulberry die.
Was the pain of loving him and denying him worse than the ache I feared?
Mulberry's hand squeezed my hip, pressing our bodies together. His heart thumped so hard that I felt it against my breasts. Light danced behind my closed lids. My hands ran over his strong shoulders, caressing the corded muscles, before curving around his neck, intertwining and pulling at him.
Everything about it felt right, except for the consequences.
Mulberry's hands slipped under my shirt and he groaned against my mouth as the rough callouses of his fingers found my bare flesh.
“Stop thinking so much.” His lips moved against my neck.
“I'm trying to be smart.”
He laughed, his breath hot against my shoulder. “You've never been good at that.”
“You're all instinct.” A shiver ran from his lips over my skin. “You're overthinking this thing.” I closed my eyes and relished the way we fit, the familiarity and the danger, the tugging of my heart toward him. This love wasn't a controllable force. “Stop trying to keep us all safe, Sydney.”
“I have to.”
He brought his head up, his steady gaze held mine. “You have to keep yourself safe.”
His eyes narrowed as my voice failed me. He shook his head and smiled a lazy, sexy grin. “You're not going to prison. Only a fool would waste an asset like you.”
“What?” Fear spiked through me. “How do you know?” Blue was whining. “Just a minute, Mulberry.” I shook him and he just kept up that grin, that all knowing, glinting-eyed smile.
Blue's whine pitched up.
“Stop!” I yelled, rolling over, my sheets tangled around me.
I stared across the expanse of the king-sized bed at Blue, who stood next to it, a soft whine pulling me fully out of the dream. The height of a Great Dane, with the coat of a wolf and the long, regal snout of a Collie, Blue had one blue eye and one brown. His eyebrows were raised and pushed together, creating a crease at the top of his long snout. He was worried about me.
I relaxed into the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. Just me and Blue were in the room. Mulberry was thousands of miles away.
My dreams were getting more vivid. The soft rumble of thunder sent a shiver of panic through me.
I didn't look at the window, not wanting to see that the sky was blue and the Pacific Ocean placid. Not wanting confirmation that my mind was tricking me, again. That I was broken, delusional. Crazy.