Another Excerpt - Savage Retribution
Well, the night has passed and I am hangover free (YAY!!!) How has everyone’s day been?
I tell you what - just to get you all talking a little, how bout a contest? The winner will receive an ebook of their choice from my backlist. Just leave a comment or two and you’re in the draw. At the end of the day I will draw one name from the dog’s bowl and they win!!
So, time for another excerpt?
Savage Retribution
Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language, graphic violence, violent sex, high-speed car-chases, wild werewolf action and Australian sarcasm.
Blurb
An animal rights activist is about to get a crash course in werewolves. One she may not survive.
Lone Irish werewolf Declan O’Connell has lost everything—his family, his clan, even his freedom—to his arch-rival, Nathan Epoc. The head of an underground werewolf clan and a brilliant scientist, Epoc plans to use Declan to create a super-wolf, a creature capable of shifting the balance of power in the lycanthrope world. But Epoc’s plans are about to be thwarted.
Regan Thomas, a determined animal rights activist, rescues what she thinks is an ordinary wolf from his notorious animal testing facility in Sydney, Australia. She gets more than she bargained for when the wolf turns into an extremely hunky, extremely naked man who immediately drags her into a world where the clash between two opposing werewolf clans could spell the end of humankind.
Declan has survived without a clan for more years than he cares to remember, but sexy Regan stirs up all his fierce, alpha-wolf instincts. Now Declan has one last chance at revenge. But can he keep Regan alive, and resist the overwhelming attraction between them, long enough to stop Epoc?
Summer in Australia has never been this hot… or this dangerous.
Excerpt
Declan stared down at the woman beneath him, fighting like hell to keep her in his hold. Christ, she was a wild cat. Even with her legs trapped under the considerable weight of his own, she’d almost thrown him off more than once. What the hell did she do for a living? Wrestle rhinos?
No, Dec. She takes on security guards.
“Get off me!” she screamed again, body like a live current of electricity. He pressed into her, trying to hold her still, trying not to think about the lithe muscles of her limbs and tummy, the sweat-slicked smoothness of her bare skin, the velvet heat between her thighs mashing against his ever-growing shaft with each whiplash buck she gave.
Should’ve thought about the fact you were both naked before you jumped on her.
“Listen, love,” he growled, trying to shove the delicious sensations stirring in his groin from his mind. “Just calm down and—”
Seismic rage erupted in her ice-green eyes. “GET! OFF! ME!”
Her body tensed with each bellowed word, thrusting her soft, damp heat harder against his now-throbbing cock.
Declan’s head swam, the change still too fresh in his system, the primitive, elemental instincts of the werewolf still too powerful. The musky scent of her sweat and sex threaded into his every breath. Intoxicating. Potent. She was a fighter, a warrior… She’d risked her life to save those incapable of saving themselves. The wolf in his blood growled in ancient appreciation, in hunger…
Unable not to, he leant down to kiss her.
One second he stared down at her, struggling to hold her still, the next he captured her lips with his and tasted her with his tongue.
For a moment, she lay beneath him, her exquisitely bare body locked frozen with shock. And why not? A man she’d never met before was kissing her, a man who—only seconds earlier—had been a bloody, great big wolf stretched out on her sofa. He almost pulled away, rational thought smashing down on him. But then, a slight tremble rippled through her, her arms snaked up around his neck and she was kissing him back. Deeply.
Her tongue battled his, curled and delved and flicked. Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip and a jolt of liquid heat shot straight to his groin, bringing a low and utterly raw groan to his throat. He dragged his hands from her wrists, down the smooth columns of her arms, his thumbs brushing the heavy swell of her breasts pressed flat against his body. The contact, light and fleeting, sent another surge of wet heat into his balls and his already-hard cock pulsed with new, eager blood.
What are you doing?
He didn’t know. The change had never left him so vulnerable to his werewolf’s desires, so manipulated by those animalistic cravings before. All he knew, all he cared about at that very moment, was how wonderfully warm and sensual the woman beneath him felt. How completely she returned his kiss.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth again, shifting his weight to smooth a hand up the delicious curve of her breast. The soft feel of it under his palm, the puckered peak of her nipple under his fingertips made him groan again, made his breath catch in his tight throat. Praise Mary, she felt so damn wonder—
Something hard and small smacked into his temple.
Explosive, white-hot pain erupted in Declan’s head. Eyes blurring, he rolled to the side. Christ, she’d hit him!
“Get off me!”
She lashed out, completely dislodging his weight before he recovered. She’d hit him! Christ, she’d almost knocked him out.
“Get the f*ck off me!”
Another savage blow thumped against his head, this one narrowly missing his nose. He reeled back, pain and blood roaring in his ears. She’d hit him! While he was drowning in her taste and feel, she’d hit him!
Almost stumbling across the floor, Declan reached for his throbbing head, eyes still incapable of focusing. The blurred shape of the woman leapt to her feet, and he got the sense she was on the verge of kicking into him. A squirming wave of admiration rolled through him and his cock, still too full of hungry blood, twitched. “Shit, love, do you know how to throw a punch!”
The blurred shape loomed over him. “What the bloody hell are you and what have you done with my lizard?”
Declan blinked, both in confusion and in an attempt to clear his vision. “Your what?”
“Where the hell’s my lizard?” Long, bare legs came into focus—briefly—drawing his attention up to their apex and a distant, devious part of Declan’s mind—the part not in pain—noticed she not only knew how to punch, she also knew how to handle a razor.
Get your head out of the gutter. “Lady, I don’t know anything about a—”
“Where’s my lizard, you goddamn freak?”
Her roar split the room and sharp pain pounded through Declan’s head. Hell, he liked it better when she thought he was a wolf. “I haven’t seen your bloody lizard,” he growled, staggering to his feet. He squinted at her, relief flooding through him when she appeared sharp. In focus. “Praise Mary, I thought you’d buggered up my sight for good!”
She stared at him, gloriously naked, her lithe, toned and very perfect body shaking with what he assumed was rage. Her hands were clenched into rock-hard fists beside her thighs, her legs spread, knees bent slightly. Her hair tumbled across her straight, tensed shoulders in a shaggy curtain of rich-chocolate waves, falling to her nipples, drawing his gaze to her heaving breasts. She looked ready to attack. To rip him limb from limb. Such a different creature to the one only moments earlier smoothing her soft, gentle hands over said limbs in an attempt to find any injuries. What a contradiction.
What a—
“Where. Is. My. Lizard?”
Hands raised, he took a step forward. “Listen, love. I don’t know anything about a lizard, I haven’t seen a lizard, I haven’t even smelt a lizard.” He stared at her, saw confusion shimmer in her ice-green eyes, saw her muscles tense with each word he said. He returned his eyes to her face, needing to keep his attention away from her body. It was too flawless. Too distracting. “Now, you need to listen to me because while you did a very brave and noble thing breaking into Epoc’s lab, you also did a very stupid thing.”
Her jaw clenched, and those striking eyes narrowed. “I’m beginning to realize that.”
Declan didn’t miss the caustic insinuation. He was a journalist, after all. Well, had been a journalist back in Dublin. Who knows what he’d call himself now? Lone wolf? He cringed at the cliché. And the black look of murder on the woman’s face. “I’m going to say this as plainly as possible,” he went on, risking another step closer, “and I don’t want you to start screaming about your bloody lizard again. We have to get out of here. You have to come with me. Right now.”
She straightened, and he swore he heard her spine snap straight. The fact she was stark naked seemed to have completely slipped her mind. She glared at him, bunched fists on hips too smooth and curved for Declan’s peace of mind. “One kiss and you think I’m ready to elope?” She cocked a dark, arched eyebrow. “You had more chance when you were a wolf.”
Declan raised one of his own eyebrows. “Yeah, I noticed.”
Cool eyes bored into him. “What are you?”
“It’s usual practice to ask ‘who’ are you, the answer to which, is the man you just kissed.”
The woman crossed her arms, stare flat and decidedly icy. “Put it down to temporary insanity. I’m not in the habit of kissing strange men.”
Declan’s lips twitched. “And yet…”
A dusky pink blush painted the woman’s cheeks, a vision so innocent and beguiling a swelling wave of heat rolled through him and pooled low in his gut.
“I don’t know who or what you are. But it’s time for you to go.”
The desire to step forward, curl his fingers around her arms and pull her to his body crashed over him. Christ, it had been so long since a female affected him like this. The search for Maggie’s killer had consumed him. Nothing but finding his sister’s murderer had existed—or mattered. Yet here he was, in—based on the accents he’d heard since being captured—Australia, the other side of the world, and he was horny.
Mr Darcy vs Mark Darcy
I think my idea of a hero all steems from Pride And Prejudice. I remember very well sitting in my English class in high school, reading through Jane Austen’s classic novel. Every time Mr Darcy’s character graced the pages - all brooding and arrogant and haughty, with just a touch of secretive mystery - the pit of my stomach seemed to go all squirmy. It’s probably not surprising then, that most of the heroes I write are brooding, arrogant males with more than a touch of mystery and danger to them (nor that I married a man some would say is brooding and arrogant. *grin*)
There’s the bounty hunter, Raiven a’Tor from Shifting Lust, Last of the Terrans and probably the most arrogant and dangerous of the lot; Sabian Talano from Spaceport: Hidden Phase, definitely brooding and more than a little mysterious, The Mouse from Viva Los Regalos: Kat and Mouse, an international jewel thief who knows he’s the best there is, and Declan O’Connell from Savage Retribution, alpha wolf with a blood vengeance to pay and a terrible family past involving his sister, to name but a few.
Yes, Mr Darcy has definitely left his mark on my heroes. So imaging my absolute rapture when faced with the terribly wonderful task of deciding who makes the greater romantic hero - Mr Darcy
Mr Darcy - YUMMY
or Mark Darcy
Mark Darcy - YUMMIER?
- as portrayed by Colin Firth…*sigh* (Did I mention my husband looks like Colin Firth?)
What do you think?
And on that conundrum, I’m going to go to bed for a while. It’s just past midnight and I’ve yet to give my husband a hug for his birthday.
See you all in six or so hours.
Savage Retribution - Excerpt
This is the first excerpt from Savage Retribution. I hope you enjoy it.
Blurb
An animal rights activist is about to get a crash course in werewolves. One she may not survive.
Lone Irish werewolf Declan O’Connell has lost everything—his family, his clan, even his freedom—to his arch-rival, Nathan Epoc. The head of an underground werewolf clan and a brilliant scientist, Epoc plans to use Declan to create a super-wolf, a creature capable of shifting the balance of power in the lycanthrope world. But Epoc’s plans are about to be thwarted.
Regan Thomas, a determined animal rights activist, rescues what she thinks is an ordinary wolf from his notorious animal testing facility in Sydney, Australia. She gets more than she bargained for when the wolf turns into an extremely hunky, extremely naked man who immediately drags her into a world where the clash between two opposing werewolf clans could spell the end of humankind.
Declan has survived without a clan for more years than he cares to remember, but sexy Regan stirs up all his fierce, alpha-wolf instincts. Now Declan has one last chance at revenge. But can he keep Regan alive, and resist the overwhelming attraction between them, long enough to stop Epoc?
Summer in Australia has never been this hot… or this dangerous.
Excerpt
Regan opened her eyes. Slowly. She peered around the dark room, squinting at the thin shards of bright light pushing through a narrow crack in the curtains on the far wall. Where was she?
She pressed her palms to the spongy mattress beneath her and struggled into a sitting position, taking in the kitsch, framed prints on the wall and the sunken bed beside her. A hotel room? Was she in a hotel room? The sound of traffic hummed beyond the walls; cars, trucks, motorcycles, and behind those typical urban noises the distant cries and squawks of seagulls. God, she could be anywhere.
Swinging her legs around, she placed her bare feet on the floor and pushed herself upright. Black swirling stars filled her head immediately and she flopped back down to the bed, a dull throb pounding up her jaw into her temple. She lifted her hand, running her fingers along the aching beat.
Damn it! He’d hit her! He’d actually hit her.
“I’m sorry about that.”
The softly spoken words with their even softer accent caressed her ears and she spun around, staring through a fresh wave of black stars at the man sitting in the armchair behind her.
At some stage he’d found himself some clothes. A pair of very faded blue jeans hugged his long, lean legs, emphasizing the corded strength of his thighs and impressive bulge between them, and a black Ramones t-shirt covered a torso Regan remembered being hard and smooth and wonderful to touch. A squeezing sensation rolled through her belly into the warm centre between her legs. Regan scowled. Goddamn it! The man had kidnapped her and here she was feeling horny? She steadied herself on the bed, giving her abductor a mean glare. “Yeah, well sorry doesn’t cut it, mate. If you wanted me to leave that badly you could’ve asked.”
To her surprise, the man laughed, the sound rich and relaxed. “I did ask. You decided to make a phone call, remember?”
Regan closed her eyes. Shit. Peter would be going out of his mind. Probably had the entire Sydney City Police Force out looking for her.
And with good reason?
She flicked a shuttered gaze to the man watching her. She didn’t know. Yet.
“I truly am sorry about the jaw.” The Irish lilt played over her senses like a feather and she suppressed a shiver. She really needed to get her act together. Who knew what he had in store for her? “But we had to go. I couldn’t wait.” Grey storm-cloud eyes grew intense. “We couldn’t wait.”
Regan edged into a more comfortable, but easy-to-spring-from position on the bed, checking out how close and easy to reach the phone was in case she needed to swing it. “What are you?”
The blunt question didn’t seem to offend him. In fact, those defined lips curled into a small smile. “Apart from a freak, you mean?”
Regan didn’t bat an eyelid. “Yes. Apart from that.”
“A werewolf.”
It was Regan’s turn to laugh. “Oh, right. A werewolf. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”
The man’s smile stretched wider. “I thought it was pretty obvious myself, love. Considering one minute you were stroking my fur and running your fingers up and down my four legs—which I enjoyed immensely, I might add—and the next I was standing before you on two. Furless.”
A very large, hard lump suddenly stuck in Regan’s throat and her head swam again. The memory of the wolf’s unusual humerus and pelvic bone crashed over her, as did her surreal response to the animal’s inherent power. Her skin prickled into clammy gooseflesh. She stared at the man still watching her from his chair, her pulse a rapid hammer pounding in her neck. “Holy shit.”
The man’s smile turned dry. “There’s nothing holy about werewolves, love.”
Frazzled anger shot through Regan and she gave her abductor a glare. “Stop calling me love.”
Even blacker eyebrows shot up, a light she could only describe as mischievous glinting in his grey eyes. His smile grew wider. Wolfish. “And what would you be having me call you, then?”
“My name’s Regan.”
With a speed she’d seen from him before, both as man and wolf, he was on his feet, across the short distance between them and beside the bed. He extended his right hand, the mischievous light in his eyes now devilish. “Declan O’Connell. Your kidnapper for the day.”
Regan ignored his hand, even as a tight, wet heat unfurled in the pit of her stomach at his proximity. His clean but musky scent threaded through her breath and she pressed her thighs closer together, trying her best to ignore the constricting pressure between them. “For the day?” she repeated, looking at him squarely in the face. “So this is just a twenty-four hour thing? Like a twenty-four hour flu?” She paused. “Only more annoying?”
The man—Declan—chuckled, but Regan didn’t miss the dark tension in his gaze. “Perhaps ‘for the day’ was a poor choice of words.”
Regan clenched her fists and jaw. “Perhaps you should tell me what the hell is going on. Because at this point in time, I’m very close to picking up the phone and braining you with it. Hard.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m still not convinced this isn’t all just a bad dream left over from my run-in with Epoc’s security guards.”
Strong fingers pinched her shoulder before she could move. “Feel that?”
Damn, he’s fast. The thought sent a chill straight up her spine. How the hell was she to get away when he moved like a…
Like an animal?
Stomach fluttering, Regan looked up into the smoldering grey eyes. Damn it, she was in trouble. A heavy lump formed in her throat again and she swallowed. “What’s going on? No bullshit, no Irish charm, okay?”
Lexxie Couper - The Mad Aussie
So this is my day to blog at Coffee Thoughts. Yay! Can I admit I’m a little nervous? Not sure why. Maybe because I’m hopeless at this sort of thing. Maybe because it’s 11pm in the Land Down Under, I’ve just finished celebrating my husband’s birthday (it was today), I’ve just emptied my fourth glass of champagne and am having difficulties making my fingers do what I want them to do (I’m strictly a one glass only kinda girl, so you can probably imagine what I’m like after four!). But nervous is a good thing sometimes, so let’s begin with the silliness, yes?
First things first. Who am I?
I’ve been writing forever. When I was twelve I wanted to be the next Stephen King. When I was fourteen I wanted to be the next Barbara Cartland. When I was thirty I discovered erotic romance and Lexxie Couper was born. I’m a proud Aussie, a proud wife, a proud dog owner and a very proud mum. My two girls (affectionately called Peanut and Chickpea) are my world. Until I sit down at my laptop. Then my worlds are dark, dangerous places with lots of sex and brooding heroes (not really the right kind of place for two little girls *grin*)
Anyways, tonight, sorry, today I’m going to share an excerpt or two from my latest print release, Savage Retribution, probably babble on too much about Hugh Jackman, David Tennant or Colin Firth (who looks just like my husband *sigh*) and wish I’d stopped with the champagne at my first glass (I can sense a headache coming on and already seem to be babbling)
So that’s me (not at my best I must admit, but me all the same). Anyone want to play and share a cuppa?
Excerpt from She Who Dares, Wins
Isabelle Archer exhaled slowly and forced herself to breathe through the irritating oxygen cannula in her nose. The vibration and noise of the C-130 as it crawled to altitude was almost soothing. In a few brief moments all that security would disappear.
Through the window, aircraft flew in arrowhead formation like a flock of migrating geese. Their dark hulls sparkled in the bright morning sun. On the bench beside her, a dozen skydivers hid behind bravado. She could smell their fear, their excitement. Half of them were sporting erections.
She closed her eyes, gathered up all the discomfort, and pushed it into a small compartment in the back of her mind. Images flowed by in perfect synchrony as she visualized the part she was about to play.
The world record skydiving formation.
Hundreds of bodies hurtling through the atmosphere at hurricane speeds; each diver responsible for a precise slot in a specific formation. One wrong move and the delicate balance would be destroyed. One careless turn and injury or death could result.
She envisioned her jump from the airplane, angling her freefall to enter the formation at the exact time and place. Too soon or too late and the entire formation would be disrupted.
No second chances – no substitute for perfection.
Cameramen were situated above and below, filming everyone’s performance. One screw-up and the group would be forced to abort.
This was a lifetime achievement. Only professional skydivers were invited, the best of the best. Isabelle glanced towards the front of the plane and saw the standby skydivers. Their faces told her what she already knew. They would give anything to jump in her stead.
A sharp tap on the shoulder. She looked up at a weathered face and nodded her readiness. Seconds later, the enormous hydraulic door of the C-130 levered open and the signal to assemble for disembark came.
Isabelle stood and stretched her legs.
The plane was a blur of motion. Goggles were donned. Last minute gear checks made. There were smiles all around, ritual good luck hand gestures and high-fives while fifty skydivers lined up in two rows, compressed into a solid mass. Isabelle took her place at the front of a line and waited for instructions.
A coach yelled above the deafening wind.
“Ready, set, GO!”
She took three steps and was out of the plane, transitioning from biped to bird of flight. The noise of relative wind sent her thoughts into hyperdrive.
“Look left, look right, up, down.”
“Bend at the waist. Now dive, dive, dive!”
She searched the sky below for the color zone of red jumpsuits she was to build her own geometric formation from. Her heart raced. She spotted her slot and angled towards it. Two dozen jumpers followed her lead.
“Look left, look right. Don’t cut anybody off. Be careful. Be patient. Relax.”
She reached out and snagged one of the red jumpsuit grippers of the skydiver in front of her and held on tight.
“Okay, I’m in my slot. Head up, back arched.”
She felt someone tug the gripper on the right leg of her jumpsuit.
“Good, that’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. Look ahead, look around. All clear. Sweet! Relax and fly the formation.”
Isabelle was a natural flyer, always had been. No freefall struggle; no panic when rigging equipment malfunctioned. She soared effortlessly, relished the adrenaline high. The powerful endorphin release was something she’d never experienced in any other sport.
With every grip complete, the symmetrical formation resembled a giant saucer with octagonal tentacles. International rules determined the formation must hold together for eight full seconds. Isabelle glanced at her altimeter.
Although she couldn’t see all of it, she knew her section of the group was perfect. A break-off signal was given, legs waggled. Everyone turned to fly away from one another.
This was the most dangerous time of the entire jump. Isabelle watched closely for traffic. A mid-air collision with another jumper could cost their lives.
She waved her arms, a signal to all of her intentions; reached back and pulled the pilot chute that deployed the main parachute. One hundred twenty feet of rainbow colored Z-P fabric arced above her head in a textbook deployment. She dragged in a long breath, enjoyed the view as her parachute slowly lowered her to Oahu’s north shore amidst whistles and whoops of joy.
Isabelle spotted the landing zone. In a few minutes it would be crowded down there. She looked all around and veered in that direction. A few tight spirals to lose altitude, a tug on her left steering toggle, and she swooped in, touching the ground as gently as stepping off a curb.
Skydivers rushed towards one of the giant hangars, bundled parachutes draped over their shoulders. Isabelle quickly gathered her gear and headed that way, weaving through the Technicolor rain of descending jumpers.
Champagne corks popped.
“Yo Izzy!” a jumper named Derek, who’d been doing his best to seduce her for weeks, yelled from across the open hangar. “The camera dudes are playing the video on the big screen outside.”
She gave him a flirty smile and strolled to her locker. “Does the video confirm it?” It had been weeks since she’d last had sex. The urge to wrap around Derek thrummed low in her belly.
He licked his lips and moved towards her. “Sure does. Let’s grab some bubbly and PAR-TY!”
Isabelle clicked her locker open with a metallic thud.
“Three hundred and fifty people plummeting to the ground at terminal velocity with expert precision? That is definitely something to party about.” Her voice purred with sensual intent. “Let me stow my gear and I’ll join with you.”
When Derek moved from line of sight, she quickly retrieved her purse. She’d been out of touch for several hours and needed reassurance that they hadn’t tried to contact her. She had notified them of her plans to take the day off. In reality, that meant nothing.
If they summoned, she came.
Isabelle dug around and pulled out a small black pager. A demanding series of numbers, punctuated by three stars, scrolled repeatedly across the display. She let out a sigh. There would be no sex and games on the flight line tonight.
Author’s website
She Who Dares, Wins
She Who Dares, Wins is the steamy sequel to Guarding the Coast and due out next month:
“When the NSA picks up intelligence that the world’s premiere genetic researchers have been flocking to a small island in southeast Asia, they send their most productive field agent undercover to find answers
It doesn’t take Isabelle Archer long to sniff out trouble.
The Sultan of the small, oil-rich country of Muldahar has been squandering his billions for decades. But oil reserves are dwindling and the desperate Sultan has a new plan to keep his coffers filled. For Isabelle, getting evidence of this experimental project gone horribly wrong will take a miracle - specifically, a burly blonde stunner with a rumbling voice of pure sin. Captain Quinton Herriman, on temporary VIP protection detail with Australia’s Special Air Service Regiment, has been assigned to protect the Sultan’s ten-year-old nephew. Despite her better judgment, Isabelle’s attraction to him is irresistible. She can’t keep her hands off the sexy bodyguard. But to get his help when her mission gets deadly? She’ll have to trust more than just her body to his safekeeping.”
Submitted by Samantha Gail
Mr. Perfect by Linda Howard
Good afternoon. Sorry I am late I had to get up at 4 this morning after an hour and a half of sleep and go to work and am just now getting home. So with that in mind, if I start to zone out while writing, hopefully you will understand it is just my brain shutting down without caffeine.
Today with Book Brew With The Coffee Crew we are talking about our favorite Spies, Mystery, or Suspense book that just wowed us. For me it is Mr. Perfect by Linda Howard. Not only is she a brilliant writer who has you guessing who did what, she adds such a wonderful sense of humor to it as well. For those who have not read Mr. Perfect, I suggest you do, it is a fantastic novel.
Mr. Perfect is about a group of women who mockingly talk about what Mr. Perfect would need in order to be, well Mr. Perfect. So these four friends make a list of the qualities they look for in a perfect man. Even though they consider it a joke and nothing more, someone it leaks to the press and becomes an overnight sensation. As the four women become famous over this list, one person does not find the humor that everyone else is and begins killing off the ladies of the list. Filled with mystery, murder, mayhem, humor, romance, and yes some steamy “stuff” as well, Mr. Perfect is the perfect combination for any reader.
Spies, Mystery, & Suspense Books
Wow what a subject.
I love mystery & suspense. even when it adds a bit of romance o the mix. I wish I could say that I have liked just one book but I honestly cant. I love steven king, dean koontz, John saul, and have read many books by authors I cant remember..lol..
One of the strangest I have read was one my brother loaned me a few years back by steven king - only it was under a different name.. steven bachman i think it was. It was so strange but good reading here is a link for the book http://www.stephenking.com/library/novel/desperation.html
These miners release a creature called Tak and he reaks havoc on a small town. He invades their bodies and well kills a lot of people. Very strange and creepy. So what Books are on everyone elses list?
Happy reading all
Matilda
My Spy by Christina Skye
I just re-read this book this weekend because I was thinking about today on the blog. I love this book. The hero is sexy and the girl is smart and funny and level headed which is necessary since there is someone out there trying to kill our hero while he can not remember anything!
I love this book. It is one of my ‘keepers’ Anyone else read this one?
Annie O’Toole has a past….
The last time Annie saw Sam, they were lying in each other’s arms beneath a canopy of stars. Now Annie paces a secluded airfield at midnight, awaiting the arrival of an unmarked Navy helicopter. Her assignment: Get this Navy SEAL back into fighting form pronto–and keep his identity a secret. But who’s going to protect her from a man who looks at her as if she were a stranger and who doesn’t remember the one night she’ll never forget?
His name is Sam McKade.
Six foot four inches of tough, trained professional, Sam risked his life in an act of rare courage, saving a busload of schoolchildren from certain death. But becoming America’s newest media hero can be dangerous for a man with an undercover past. Sam could do a lot worse than this secluded beach resort. Ditto the sexy therapist who seems maddeningly familiar–if he only knew where or when. But he’s about to find out–as a dangerous enemy surfaces out of his shadowed past, leaving a trail of bodies right to Annie’s door.
Now the rugged SEAL who doesn’t believe in love or commitment is about to risk everything…because for Sam McKade, protecting this woman, this extraordinary woman, has become the most important mission of his life….
