UPDATE: The winner is…Betty Sue Payton!
*~*~*

Masquerade: an action or appearance that is mere disguise or show

Book #3
Corporate Heat

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There are too many masks in place. Too many false fronts. Everyone seems to be playing a role, including the modeling agency, the marketing representatives, the gracious Caribbean host and the owners of the high-end spa. But what were they all hiding?

Everything is turning upside down. The owner of the marketing agency dies in a mysterious one-car crash. Girls are disappearing and so are large chunks of money.

When hot, hot forensic accountant John Martino is reunited with very sexy Lindsey Califaro, with whom he had a short but intense fling, the heat between them rises high enough to burn down the town. So does the emotion. Lindsey is afraid tot rust him again, and John is trying to correct the biggest mistake of his life. But first they have to find the answers to a puzzle that reaches international proportions.

Excerpt:

The elevator car arrived and they stepped into it, the only occupants from the high dollar floor. He followed her in and as soon as the door closed he pressed the button to hold the elevator car in place.

“John, we can’t do this now. People will be looking for the elevator. And I think a warning sounds if it doesn’t move for a certain amount of time.”

“Then I’d better talk fast.” He leaned forward, caging her with his arms. “Any excuse I can give for not calling you all this time is going to sound lame. Business crowded my schedule, time got away from me, all of that is true. But that’s not the whole story.”

“Oh? Then what is?”

“We need more time than five minutes for me to tell you. I was a first class jackass and I suffered for it. I’m not going to let that happen again. I’ve spent four years kicking myself for being such an asshole. When Taylor called, I pushed another job off on my partner so I could take this one. So I could see you.”

Lindsey stood there, scarcely able to breathe. Her heart was beating hard and her throat was so dry she could barely swallow.
“John.” She wet her lips. “I don’t think—“

“Don’t think. Listen. Like I said, I’m an asshole. I’ll be the first one to admit it. And any other names you want to add. When I left you four years ago I had every intention of calling you within the month. Hopping a plane to Miami or wherever you were by that time. Following up on what had started between us. Having a fun weekend.”

“A fun weekend,” she repeated.

“Because whatever it was, everything else aside, it was fucking good. Agreed?”

She just stared at him, unable to say a word.

“Okay. Don’t say anything. I don’t blame you. I got caught up in some international finance shit, used it as an excuse and time just kept passing. I’ve been single a long time, Lindsey. I told myself I wasn’t interested in anything more than a good time. I kept myself busy and after a while too much time had gone by. It suddenly hit me I’d tossed away what could be the best thing that ever happened to me. When Noah called and asked me to come here, told me who I’d be working with, I jumped at it. Saw a chance to make up for being such a jerk, even if I had to get down on my knees and beg you. Because that’s what I’m ready to do.” He blew out a breath. “Listen. You have no reason to believe anything I say after what I did. Or didn’t do. But I’m asking you for another chance, Lindsey. Begging you. Please. At least listen to what I have to say.”

While she was still trying to figure out how to answer him, his mouth descended on hers, his lips warm and smooth. He ran the tip of his tongue gently over her mouth, tracing the seam and urging her to open for him. Without thinking she did just that and he thrust his tongue inside.

And she went up in flames.

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/masquerade-desiree-holt/1129574220?ean=9781786864345
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/masquerade-159
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UPDATE: The winners are…Katherine Smits and Mary Preston!
*~*~*

First, thank you so much, Delilah, for hosting me on your blog. Much appreciated.

Since it’s Halloween month, I want to talk to you about ghosts and the five haunted cities you should put on your Bucket List (“Things To Do Before I Leave This Earth”).

Not long ago, I was browsing through my back list of books and came to a surprising realization—many of my books have ghosts between the pages. The translucent spirit is usually a secondary character (at least, so far – lol). I had to ask myself two questions: 1) Why do I gravitate toward writing about dead people… er, I mean those who have crossed over and, 2) Does it have anything to do with seeing them as a child? Yes, you read that right—I started seeing ghosts about the time I turned three years old.

My wonderful Mom, now 91 years young, will vouch for me. She remembers those days with excellent recall. Every night, I insisted there were little people sitting on the coving near the ceiling of our very old home. I remember being frustrated that she couldn’t see them like I could.

I still don’t know if that’s why I write about them but it’s an interesting theory, isn’t it?

Anyway, back to the haunted cities. If there’s any way you can get to these ghost-sighting places, you should really check them out. You won’t be disappointed.

1) Savannah, Georgia

It’s believed that Savannah was built on American Indian burial grounds, which goes hand-in-hand with hauntings. It was also the site of Revolutionary and Civil War battles and yellow fever outbreaks. Best-selling novel Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil boosted the city’s spookier side, putting such locales such as Bonaventure Cemetery on the national radar.

Or go the DIY route and take your pick of haunted restaurants, like The Pirate’s House or The Olde Pink House. If you’re brave enough, spend the night at a haunted hotel: Room 204 at the 1790 Inn & Restaurant is reportedly visited by a ghost named Anne. She can be heard crying after turning off the lights. The Marshall House was once used as a hospital during the Civil War and yellow fever outbreaks, and tales abound, from ghost children who bite to soldiers carrying severed limbs. Other majorly haunted sites include Moon River Brewing Company, which was the city’s first hotel in 1821, and featured in an episode of Ghost Adventures.

2) Washington, D.C.

The White House, The National Theatre and Hay-Adams Hotel are among the city’s haunted hot spots. Get the lowdown on its seedy past with Washington DC Ghost Tours, Scary DC or Washington Walks. However, The U.S. Capitol Building, which was built in the mid-1800s, is filled with specters, from construction workers to politicians (John Quincy Adams actually died there). In fact, there’s even a “demon cat” that appears right before national tragedies.

Historical hauntings also happen at The Octagon House. Dolley Madison, wife of president James Madison, lived there for a spell, and loved throwing parties; she’s sometimes seen in her party frock. Less happy occurrences in the mansion’s past include rumored murders and unexplained deaths. If you take a self-guided tour of the now museum, don’t be alarmed to feel cold spots on the staircase or hear knocking inside the walls.

3) Chicago

The Great Chicago Fire of 1871 lasted two days and killed at least 300 people. However, even worse was the 1903 fire at the much-touted fireproof Iroquois Theater, which killed more than 600 people at an afternoon performance. In fact, the alley behind it has been nicknamed “Death Alley,” after those who jumped to their death to escape the fire. It’s also where recovered bodies were temporarily placed. The Oriental Theater now resides on the spot, and people have seen ghosts in period dress, heard screams and smelled smoke.

Try your luck by booking a room at the Congress Plaza Hotel, said to be overflowing with ghosts. Room 441 is believed to be among the most haunted, with a woman that shakes the bed, shadowy figures and projectile objects. Even scarier, there’s a sealed shut room with no doorknob on the 12th floor. You probably wouldn’t want to spend the night there anyway. Weird Chicago Tours and Chicago Hauntings cover more haunted spots around the city.

4) San Francisco, CA

The lawless gold rush period and the 1906 earthquake, which triggered a fire that killed at least 3,000 people, likely contributed to San Francisco’s haunted present. However, Alcatraz Island is also notoriously haunted. Tales of death, murder and insanity surround the prison that once held mobster Al Capone. You can visit at night for the chance to experience cold spots, whispering in empty cells and sounds of slamming doors. Learn about other haunted sites, from the USS Hornet to Chinatown, with San Francisco Ghost Hunt Walking Tour, Haunted Haight Walking Tour or SF Chinatown Ghost Tours.

Although about an hour from the city, it’s worth detouring to visit the Winchester Mystery House, whose history is just as fascinating as its hauntings. Long story short, a medium advised Mrs. Winchester to never stop building a house in order to prevent ghosts from haunting her. Mrs. Winchester took this to heart, and after 38 years of endless construction, the result was 160 rooms with baffling architecture, from doors that open into walls to staircases that don’t lead anywhere. Ironically, despite her efforts, Winchester is most certainly haunted; take a candlelight tour in October and watch out for lights turning on or Mrs. Winchester herself calling your name.

5) Portland, Oregon

At one point, Portland was considered one of the most dangerous port cities in the world thanks to prostitution, gangs, opium dens and gambling rings. One of the most persistent stories from this era is about the Shanghai Tunnels, which are underground tunnels that connected hotel and bar basements to the docks. Originally intended to transport goods from the waterfront, they’re rumored to be where hired hands in the 19th century would kidnap, or “shanghai” men to work as slaves on ships bound for Asia. Victims would be dropped into the tunnel via trapdoors found in bars and imprisoned in cells until their ship set sail. Some ghost tours such as Beyond Bizarre Ghost Tour, Haunted Pub Tour, Hawthorne Ghost Tour and Shanghai Tunnels/Portland Underground Tours start at Hobo’s Restaurant, where there’s a basement entrance to the tunnels. Besides hearing screaming and crying, people report seeing Nina, a prostitute who met an untimely end at the bottom of an elevator shaft of what’s now Old Town Pizza.

Happy Ghost Hunting!

* * *

I’d like to share an excerpt from my most recent book Comes A Specter, Book 2, Ghostland Series. Several reviewers said the ghost scared the bejeebers out of them (although they loved the book).

Excerpt:

A haze of gray mist swirled around the spirit’s form, his human form. If the situation weren’t so serious, Sutter could have shouted with joy. He took in the ghost’s visage. A quiver hung from his shoulder, stocked with sharp, pointed arrows—a sign he’d transformed into the fierce warrior who once walked the earth. Steeped in blood (no doubt from his recent kills), his clothing hung in tatters around his massive frame—a vest made of animal hides, a breechcloth and fringed leggings. Sutter’s gaze traveled to his painted, pock-marked face. Yellow and white stripes marked his forehead and chin, and black circles blended into his dark eyes. For a brief second, Sutter’s insides quivered and ropes of tension knotted every cord and fiber of his body.

Bleary, unearthly eyes speared Sutter when the wraith raised a hand of claw-like fingers and pointed at his enemy’s chest. The wind, much like the sound of a thousand women wailing, keened into the deafening silence. Fire exploded from the ghost’s eyes—flames the fires of Hell couldn’t compete with.

Sutter shouted over the infernal noise and flames. “You are not welcome here! Hear my words, you are dead!”

Like a misty cloud of energy, Ten Wounds lurched forward, a staccato rhythm of hisses and howls spewing from his foam-drooling mouth. Sutter had never imagined such a demonic apparition.

Read More On Amazon

* * *

Contest! Contest!

To qualify to win a luxurious, specialty bar of soap (from Keta’s favorite vendors) sign up for my Newsletter HERE and leave your email address in the comment section below. Two winners will be selected and the soaps mailed out several days after this post.

It’s too early in the morning for me to be getting the giggles, but I just re-read my title. Don’t get it? Say it out loud now. LOL! Get it? Okay, I’m over it. Or maybe I’ll wait until I have this little bit written then I’ll go back and laugh again.

I’m still finishing up Hook. But it’s coming very, very soon (October 16th!). I’m sharing a snippet from the opening. I love my bounty hunter openings. I always try to introduce the heroes as they’re right in the middle of the action, taking some skip down. Hope you enjoy meeting Hook!

Hook

Former Army Ranger, Dylan “Hook” Hoecker, has a new job along with a new prosthetic arm. Being a bounty hunter is the closest career field he could find as a civilian that gives him the adrenaline rush that is his addiction. So, when his first solo assignment is to keep an eye on a flight risk the boss bonded out of jail, he’s not thrilled. However, he soon discovers a fresh addiction—one mouthy, nerdy redhead, who resists his attempts to keep her out of trouble.

Felicity Gronkowski is grateful for the bone the head of Montana Bounty Hunters threw her. She didn’t have the money to pay for bail, but he has a soft spot for former soldiers, and she bartered to install a new computer system in his satellite office in Bear Lodge. Being on the outside of jail was her first imperative because she has to figure out who framed her for a series of high-end robberies while she worked installing home security systems. However, her bounty-hunting babysitter isn’t giving her any slack. Every time she thinks she’s given him the slip, he’s one step ahead of her. Either she must find the perfect method of distraction to escape him or she has to enlist his help.

Pre-order  your copy here!

Dylan “Hook” Hoecker had no problem keeping pace with Dagger and Cochise as they raced along the dark alleyway, following the skip they’d tracked to a gun shop in Libby. Scooter James had made the crew the moment Dagger entered the premise. Perhaps it was Dagger’s burly physique that had tipped him off, or maybe he was just nervous having three intense-looking dudes enter the store, but he’d run for the back exit.

No, Hook’s legs had never been an issue. He ran like the wind, easily leaping over a barrel Scooter dumped on its side, hoping to trip them. Beside him, Dagger cursed, and Hook couldn’t help smiling as the big guy went down. This skip was his. When he reached the end of the alley, Scooter veered left and ran through a stand of motorcycles, tipping over one, which sent the rest slowly falling like dominoes. Bikers sitting at outdoor café tables nearby rose and filled the street, shouting and moving toward their Harleys, forcing Cochise and Hook to push past them.

Cochise went down when one biker stuck out a foot, perhaps angry that their chase had scratched his ride.

Hook waved his prosthetic arm, which, sometimes, had even those who weren’t so tight with the law pausing and giving him a break. He didn’t mind one bit using his disability to give him an advantage. He shouted out a “Thanks, man,” when one biker rolled his bike forward to clear his path.

Now, it was just him following the slap of Scooter’s Adidas on the pavement. Hook paced himself, forcing himself to keep his breathing even so he’d outlast his target. He didn’t use every bit of his strength to close the gap, because he knew he’d need anything extra to take the fucker down once he began to slow.

In his mind, Hook thanked his physical therapist, who’d concentrated on helping him make the adjustment to his new circumstance, learning to use his prosthetic, but who also continued to meet him on the track three or four mornings a week to make sure he worked out the rest of his body to help, not only keep him toned for the work he did, but to keep his dark moods at bay. Raydeen Pickering was a hero in his mind, because she went the extra mile for every man and woman she accepted into her treatment program.

Ahead of him, Scooter ducked into another alley.

“He’s turned again,” he said, knowing the others could hear him through the radio in his earpiece. “Left, into an alley.”
“I’m behind you,” Cochise said. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

“I’m cutting through another alley. Will try to get to the street before he does,” Dagger said in his ear.

Hook went left and entered an alley lit by a single golden bulb at the back door of a restaurant. He ran past rank-smelling trash bins and plastic bags but didn’t see his mark ahead. “Don’t see him,” he said, and then slowed and turned.

Something dark swung at his head, and he held up his right arm to deflect the blow from a two-by-four from a pallet, no doubt. But the board hit plastic and metal and bounced off. Hook swung under it with his left, catching Scooter in the chin. Their target dropped like a sack of rocks across a row of trash bags lined up on the dirty, smelly pavement.

Hook stood over Scooter, shaking his left hand because it hurt like hell. Then he noted that his prosthetic dangled kind of funny. He tried to open and close the claw, but apparently, Scooter’s blow had damaged the cable. “Fuck,” he said, and gave Scooter a light kick in the side. “Bastard.”

The sounds of two individuals converging on him from different directions forced him to contain his anger and tuck his prosthetic against his body to hide the damage. The last thing he ever wanted to have happen was for one of these guys to think he was less capable of mixing it up. For the most part, he thought of his arm as an advantage in a fight. Metal hit harder than flesh and bone, and, generally, it could sustain a punch much better, too.

Thankfully, he kept a spare in his vehicle. He just had to get there. But first things first.

Scooter moaned from the ground as Cochise then Dagger came to a halt beside him and stared downward.

“Like we tried to tell you before you ran like a scared rabbit,” Hook said to Scooter, “we’re fugitive recovery agents, and we’re taking you to jail.”

Scooter pushed up on an elbow. “What the hell is that smell?”

Dagger sniffed. “Don’t know, but now I’m hungry. Could be chili.”

“I think it’s stew,” Cochise dead-panned. “Benny’s Eats makes a mean beef stew.”

“Shit, it’s all the way up my shirt,” Scooter said as he sat, rubbing his jaw.

“Well, looks like you’ll have something to snack on during the drive back,” Dagger drawled.

Scooter let out a huff. “Goddamn. My car, man. I left it at the gun shop.”

“You’ll just have to pick it up from impound,” Dagger said, “if the judge is stupid enough to let someone bond you out again.”

Hook reached down his left hand to help Scooter to his feet.

Scooter frowned. “Damn, you wearing armor on your arm? My teeth about rattled out of my head when I hit you.” Then he glanced at Hook’s metal claw. “Well, shit. That explains a lot.”

Hook reached for his handcuffs from the pocket on the back of his web belt. When he pulled them forward, he realized he wasn’t going to be able to cuff him, not one-handed.

Cochise held out his hand. “Let me do the honors.”

Hook pressed his lips together and handed him his handcuffs. If he’d been on his own, he’d have managed, somehow, but he might have had to put Scooter back on the ground first. He hadn’t quite mastered the single-handed snap using his left hand. Everything was harder to master with his left. Maybe he should ask Raydeen to add handcuffing to the everyday tasks he worked on improving.

Once Cochise had Scooter restrained, he stood back and let Hook grip Scooter’s upper arm to take him back to their vehicles.

The walk back was interminable. They passed the bikers who shot them birds but otherwise stayed pretty mellow. Back at the gun shop, Lacey, Dagger’s partner, gave a wave to the shop owner and sauntered their way. She’d canvassed the businesses in Libby days ago, leaving cards. No doubt the middle-aged owner had been only too eager to snitch, because then she’d grace his shop again. Dressed in skin-tight jeans and a pink button-down blouse that she’d knotted at her midriff, Lacey looked like a sweet confection. All that was missing was the powdered sugar.

“Hey there, Scooter,” she said. Then she shook her head and held her nose. “Good Lord, he is not riding in our vehicle.”

Hook grunted. “You can ride with me. I’ll even let you drive.”

Lacey might have looked like a cupcake, but she was one sharp cookie. Her gaze went to the arm he’d tucked close to his body, and she gave him a broad smile. “Dagger, you don’t mind if I ride with Hook, do you? I’ve never had the chance to talk with him alone.”

Dagger narrowed his eyes.

Lacey gave him a blinding smile. “See you back in Bear Lodge! Only you’ll be way later than us,” she said, then held her nose again and gave him a wink.

Cochise chuckled. “Come on, Scooter. You’ve got a new date with a judge. Bet if you sweet talk your jailers, they’ll let you have a shower before they put you in your cell.”

Hi Gang,

It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of visiting with you. First, a major thank you to Delilah for hosting me again. I owe her an even bigger thanks for taking time, nearly six years ago, to guide a new writer down the path of knowledge and skill. I stayed the course and have 16 novels, 4 novellas, and 7 short stories to show for it. Thank you for being an great mentor and friend.

My latest and (IMHO) greatest novel is WHO! Get a load of this cover.

It’s an homage to one of my favorite shows, Sex & The City, and my favorite genres, thrillers and romance. There is a central group of strong, successful women who are fierce friends at the heart of the story. I’ve wanted to write this novel for the last three years, but other projects kept me away from it. But lookout world! The story is written! And it’s the book I’m the most proud of out of all the others. Shhh, don’t tell them. 😉

Here’s a peek inside, Who.

*****

“Why were you on the roof the other night?” she tried.

He simply stood and watched her.

“How’d you get up there?”

“You said a lock wouldn’t stop me.”

“Fine. Fine. You won’t come in. You won’t let me dry your clothes. You won’t answer my questions.” Larkin yanked off her coat, glad for the working thermostat. At least he wouldn’t freeze for as long as she could keep him inside. She sidestepped him and hooked her coat on the rack. If she was going to get this out, she couldn’t look at him. The sight of him all big and fucking sexy as hell muddled her brain. Her feet carried her from one side of the foyer to the other.

“That night on the roof … I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

When he didn’t protest, she looked at him. His gaze followed her, calculating her again and again like a high-functioning computer. Reading and reading and not asking a single question.

“I know it looked that way. I know, now, why you acted the way you did, but it scared me. No one is ever up on the roof. It’s my place to get away from … everything. I hadn’t been up there in a while. Too long. Things were pressing in on me. Work. My …” Why was she blabbing so much to him? He didn’t give a shit. He was probably worried about where his next meal would come from. What did he care about her problems? Which really weren’t problems at all in the grand scheme of the world. People lived not knowing where their next meal was coming from. People lived without proper clothing. Without proper shelter.

Beckett didn’t look homeless. He wasn’t malnourished in any way. His clothes were used but clean and well maintained. The scruff on his face wasn’t more than three days growth.

“Your … boyfriend?”

She stopped pacing and found his gaze. “I don’t have those. They’re … messy.”

“Husband?”

Her face crinkled. “Even worse.”

“Finally, someone who understands.”

“So many people don’t.” She nodded and walked, studying the intricacies of the woodwork and the fibers of the entry’s rug.

“They’re needy.”

“And you don’t need much, do you?” She stole a quick glance at him. His head shook.

“So who was it that night?”

Her gaze dropped to the ring on her finger. “My family.”

His fingers came into view. They grazed the thick band and large stone.

“It was my mother’s.” She hated the words as soon as they were out.

“Why are you mad at a dead woman?”

Her gaze flashed to his. He stood over her, eyes warmer than before. She hadn’t said a word about the rage that boiled inside her bones for her mother, but he was smart. Smart enough to add her action that night and her words tonight and ask the one question she wouldn’t answer.

Larkin’s head shook, jarring loose the tear she’d been fighting back.

“Seems we both have our boundaries.” His thumb wiped the tear from her cheek, dragged it down her face, and smoothed it over her lips. They parted for him. He took his time tracing the high arch. The salt from his fingertip bled into her mouth as the pad dragged over her lower lip and pulled it wide. “Unlock the door and tell me to leave.”

“No.” Her tongue slid along the path with his finger. “You ran away from me Saturday. I’m not going to let you do that tonight.”

“It’s what I should do.” His thumb left her lip and joined the rest of his fingers at the side of her neck. He tilted her face up. “Tell me to stop.” His face, scarred and angry, neared hers, open and intent.

Not a sound passed through her lips. She grabbed his jacket, only inches from his hand, and tugged. His hold broke. The cold exterior chilled her fingertips. The weight of it forced her muscles into action but not for long. She dropped the thing on the ground behind her, toward the wall and away from the door. Her gaze never left his. His gave nothing away.

He was too tall for her to lift up onto her tiptoes and press her lips to his, and he didn’t move from his battle-ready posture. She could climb him like a tree, but if this was going to work, he would have to give … just a little.

Toe to toe, she studied him as blatantly as he did her. A healthy pulse swelled the veins of his thick neck. His gaze narrowed and cooled as though begging her to lose interest. Not a chance. Every inch of him intrigued her. Even the ugly scar that hid in the shadow of the foyer. She reached up slowly. His head shifted higher into the stratosphere of her entryway.

“Don’t tell me a big guy like you is scared.”

His jaw worked back and forth. “Cautious.”

“I won’t hurt you. Don’t think I could if I tried, but I won’t.”

His head lowered.

Larkin grabbed his chin. It barely fit in her hand. The short hairs pricked her fingers. She turned his face to the left and held her breath. Webbed and raised skin slightly darker than the rest of his face gleamed with a waxy smooth finish in the lamplight. Its dips and rises spread wide from a point just below his eye to encompass the hinge of his jaw and a two-inch swath of his cheek. It was fully healed but not an old scar. Her fingers slid up the side of his face. She mapped the ridges of scarred and unmarred skin alike.

He moved under her touch, not visibly, but energy hummed under her fingertips. She dragged her touch down over his scar, his neck, and gripped the collar of his shirt with both hands. Cool water seeped from the fabric, running through her fingers.

Hunger flashed in his eyes.

She pulled his face down. Her heart beat against her chest, urging her to take his mouth, but determination made her wait. He had to give. Saliva pooled. Her breasts ached. Oxygen, so skittish before, heaved in and out of her lungs as though she was chasing him down the street again. If he broke down her door and ran away, she’d chase him again. This wasn’t like her. She took what she wanted. Men gave it freely. But this man just looked at her.

*****

Who is a 410-page beast of a first-in-series novel released October 2nd. It’s regular $6.99, but is on sale for the next two weeks for $4.99!

Amazon
US: https://amzn.to/2DuzlIw
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07HDDTNVB
CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07HDDTNVB

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/who/id1434316342
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/who-19
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Megan_Mitcham_Who?id=1dRqDwAAQBAJ

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41540582-who
Author Website: https://www.meganmitcham.com/index.html

*****

Down to business. What is the thing in life you are most proud of? Answer the question in the comments below for a chance to win a signed copy of Never Mine.

All the best,
Megan
—
Megan Mitcham
USA Today Bestselling Author
Sizzling Suspense – Are you sizzling yet?
www.meganmitcham.com

UPDATE: The winner is…Debra Guyette!
*~*~*

This coming Tuesday, the first of two books (so far) in my Veiled Alliance series will release. This is one I wrote a long time ago, and now that I have the rights back… Well, we’ll see how you like it, and whether you want more stories. It’s super-sexy, and a different kind of paranormal.

Read an excerpt below, and see if this is something you might like to see more of!

Leave a comment for a chance to win one of my Night Fall stories!

Sin’s Gift

When police officer Sinead O’Rourke returns to duty months after being shot in an incident that claimed her partner, she knows it’s not going to be easy. Despite being cleared of any negligence, her fellow officers still wonder whether she’s responsible for his death. One more problem is that everyone knows she claims to have seen his ghost. After months of rehabilitation and lying like hell about the fact she’s not seeing spooks anymore, Sin’s determined to get back into the saddle.

Jake Chappa doesn’t want to partner with Sin. Been there, done that—couldn’t keep his hands off her the first time around. She’s too much of a distraction, and her penchant for rushing into trouble scares the heck out of him. Despite wishing she’d quit her job, he’s still deeply attracted. When an armed robbery goes down and something happens that rattles Sin to the core, he’s right there—ready to cover her back and her sweet body.

Pre-order your copy here!

Sexy excerpt…

Jake didn’t let her have any room to slam her door in his face. He skipped up the steps behind her and practically pushed her through the door. The urgency gripping his entire body had him on the verge of exploding.

She didn’t demur. Didn’t utter a single protest. She also didn’t look back at him as she headed to her bedroom. She undid her utility belt, drew her weapon from her holster and locked it in the safe under her bed. Then she stood and began to strip. First her uniform shirt, then the Kevlar vest. Her bra. She toed off her boots and unbuttoned her pants. Only then did she glance up.

Horny as hell, the edgy anger that rippled through him was potent, explosive. He turned on his heel and stalked into her bathroom, bending to twist the faucet handle and start the shower.

No long leisurely bath. A shower, and she wouldn’t be taking it alone. He stripped, dropping his belt and clothing on the counter, and stepped under the water, letting it sluice over the top of his head, hoping it would take the edge off—make him a little less dangerous.

When the curtain swung back and she stepped inside, his stomach sank. Anger flared in her gaze, and her chin rose. This wasn’t going to be an easy reacquaintance on either of their parts. She was ready for a battle.

She reached for the shampoo bottle and turned away, ignoring him while she soaped her dark red hair.

Jake’s hungry gaze swept down her nude back, noting bluish bruises on her side and ass, along with admiring her lean, almost boyish figure. He lingered over her heart-shaped backside, wanting to reach over and cup each firm globe in his hands.

“Quit staring,” she said, not looking back.

“I’m not,” he lied, a smile quirking up one side of his mouth.

“I can feel it, crawling all over my ass.”

“Always loved that ass.”

“Yeah, well it isn’t yours anymore.”

“Then what are you doing here? With me?”

“It’s my goddamn shower.” She stuck her head under the water and long ropes of suds slid down her skin.

Jake began to relax a bit. The hard bite of her voice was all too familiar. God, the sex was gonna be great. He reached over her shoulder, deliberately sliding along her skin, and grabbed the soap from the tile dish.

Her back stiffened, and she slowly turned. Her chest rose twice, lifting her round tits. Then she placed her hands on either side of the stall and spread her legs shoulder-width apart. Just like old times. Her signal she wanted him to wash her down.

Jake ground his teeth, felt the flex of his jaw and the tightening of his shoulders, then went down on one knee in front of her. He rolled the bar of soap between his hands then dropped it on the floor of the tub and reached straight for her breasts.

Sin’s breath hissed between her teeth on a long indrawn breath, but her gaze locked with his. He rubbed his hands around her small, round breasts, careful not to touch her tender nipples, drawing out the moment because he feared she’d cut it short. Afraid she’d remember she had reasons to hate his guts.

She stared into his eyes, and slowly, her body softened, rocking slightly into his hands, urging him without words to touch her cinnamon-colored nipples.

He relented, gripping them between his slippery thumbs and fingers, and tugged rhythmically. She had the most sensitive nipples, had nearly come a couple times when he’d plied them relentlessly.

Her lips opened around another indrawn breath. “Lower.”

Jake smoothed his hands down her sides, careful of the bruises, and along the front of her belly, slipping a fingertip into her belly button before drawing away to soap his hands again.

When he looked back up, her lips trembled, and she spread her legs a little wider.

Breaking with her gaze, he lifted his hands between her legs, staring as he worked the suds into her auburn thatch, then circled deeper, scraping his fingertips along her outer labia.

Her thighs began to quiver, and he didn’t hide his smile. He had her now. Her resentment was melting away, for now, beneath the quivering. The only time Sin didn’t like being in control was when desire rode her hard.

He swirled his fingers along her slit, fingered between them, then thrust one digit up inside her.

“Jake!”

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmured. “Everything’s okay.” He rinsed her with handfuls of water then spread her lips and leaned close, nuzzling her sex with his nose and mouth, rubbing the coarse stubble sprouting on his cheeks and chin to chafe her tender flesh.

Her legs wobbled, and he urged her to drape a leg over one shoulder, and then crouched lower and tilted his head to run his tongue along her seam, slipping between her folds to stroke inside, then curling his tongue upward to flick at her hooded clit.

Sin rocked forward and back, shuddering hard, and he rewarded her submission by thrusting two fingers inside her. He pulled up her folds to expose her reddening bud and latched his lips around it, sucking it hard.

Her fingers clutched his head as she jerked against him, and he could feel how close she was. Her pussy clasped his fingers, and soft moans, one after the other, rose inside the shower, echoing around them.

As much as would have liked to finish her now, his balls ached; his cock was stiff and riding high. He gripped her hips, kissed her pussy and shoved upward to his feet. “Get to the bed,” he said, wincing at the harshness of his voice.

Sin didn’t hesitate, stepping over the rim of the tub and grabbing a towel which she used to blot her skin as she strode to her bed.

He didn’t bother taking the time to dry off, following on her heels, dragging away the towel, then turning her and pushing her down on the mattress.

Sin scooted backward as he climbed over her, allowing her only enough room between their bodies to crawl to the center of the bed. Then he lifted her legs, urging her thighs around his hips. He dipped to capture her lips and rooted at her sex with his cock, until he found her entrance and slid into her slick cunt.

Jake flung back his head, his eyes squeezing shut. “Jesus, fuck!” He wanted to take her slow, wanted to make it last, because he didn’t know whether she’d ever be weak again and need his brand of comfort.

But his body felt ready to explode. He glanced down, catching the glitter of tears in her eyes again. Damn, she never cried. He pulled out slowly then sank back inside, trying to savor the clasp of her pussy around his shaft, the silken texture of her inner walls. But it was too late. He was too far gone. He pulled out and slammed hard inside her, then did it again and again, until he bucked wildly against her, stroking deep and hard.

Not deep enough. He pressed her legs upward, slipped his arms under her knees, and crammed the fronts of her thighs against her chest. He hammered at her cunt, but he wasn’t the only one unraveling.

Liquid spilled from deep inside her, washing him in welcome. He came so fast all he could do was clench his teeth and force his hips to keep rocking against her, until at last he felt the little convulsions that rippled up and down his cock.

When his arms began to shake, he let go of her thighs, allowing her to ease them down his sides.

He didn’t move off her, wasn’t giving her space to think about what just happened, because he didn’t want her to kick his ass to the floor. Instead, he cupped her injured cheek and the top of her head and lay down on her, sliding his mouth over hers to keep her lips busy.

The way she kissed him back, slowly rocking her lips, her tongue lightly skimming his, felt a whole lot like she was memorizing the taste and feel. Like she expected this to be the last time. Again.

And while he knew it would be better for both of them, he thought he just might want to die rather than walk away again. So, he broke the kiss, pushed his softening cock deeper into her, and leaned on his elbows to look into her face. “I don’t wanna talk.”

Her chin jutted. “Never do.”

“I don’t want us to say things we’ll want to take back. Not tonight.”

“You want to pretend?”

“I want to stay with you.”

Her eyes narrowed, spearing him. “What’s the matter? Haven’t gotten any lately?”

“You’re starting…” he warned.

Sin huffed out a breath. “All right. So, maybe I haven’t gotten any lately either.”

He shook his head. Every discussion led to an argument. No matter how large or small. “So, we’re agreed. No talking.”

Her eyelids dipped. “What if one of us needs to give a little direction?”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “Now, O’Rourke, you know there’s only one person who gives the orders in this bed.”

When I planted the seeds of romance for Latasha, the heroine’s best friend in Jamaican Temptation, I didn’t know which man she’d actually get with in the next book. Fast forward to the day I sat down to write this book, and I still couldn’t decide. She demanded BOTH men. I’ve learned never argue with the characters, so here is her fantasy…

Jamaican Vibration by Afton Locke (sequel to Jamaican Temptation)
m/f/m menage romance
Release Date: 22 September 2018
excerpts and more: https://www.aftonlocke.com/JamaicanVibration.html

Having grown up in foster care, Latasha looks forward to a stable happily-ever-after with K.C., her Jamaican boyfriend. But his band, Caribbean Climax, is flat broke. When Jonathan Lance, CEO of Third Mountain Coffee, propositions her for one paid night of ecstasy, she does it for her and K.C.’s future.

Jonathan has admired Latasha from afar since the day he met her, but his company comes first. His father, who controls part of it, would never approve of an interracial relationship. After the business transaction, however, emotional ties remain, and Latasha is torn between two men who differ in every way.

And when the unthinkable happens, will her choice be easier—or impossible?

Get your copy here!

Playlist

“Frankie’s First Affair” by Sade
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4H1EirQBDUg

“Float On” by The Floaters
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WclAFJSvyWw

Excerpt (steamy)

Jamaican Vibration – Copyright © Afton Locke, 2018

K.C. planted a proprietary hand against the small of her back as they stood in front of him. “You the one paying,” he told Jonathan. “What you want us to do?”

“Kiss her.”

Every nerve ending in Latasha’s body sizzled as K.C.’s dark, sensual lips lowered to hers. Knowing the other man observed them made everything feel twice as erotic. The stiff hairs of her boyfriend’s moustache scraped her upper lip. Jonathan had a slight one as well. Would it feel similar?

She rested her hands on K.C.’s shoulders when he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Her nipples hardened against the thin material of the dress, making her wish she’d worn a different one, with a bra.

Gentle but persistent, his lips claimed every bit of her mouth. He hadn’t kissed her so thoroughly in a long time. She guessed he wanted to give Jonathan a good show so he could get his money’s worth. Or maybe he wanted to prove no one could pleasure her as well as he could.

Whatever his reasons, she’d enjoy the ride. This wasn’t so bad. She could think of tougher ways to earn money.

When he finished, her fingers were interlaced in his braids, practically supporting her weight because she’d gone boneless. His tongue had also gone so deep she ached to taste the rest of him.

Encircling her waist, K.C. turned toward Jonathan. “Dat suit you all right, mon?”

“Perfect.” Had the other man’s eyes grown bluer since she’d last glanced at him?

“What next?” K.C. asked.

“Take off her dress. Slowly.”

Oh crap. Things just got difficult. A deep, insistent ache filled her cunt as K.C. stood behind her, giving Jonathan a full frontal view. She shivered as her man slid one thin strap off her shoulder, then the other, and unfastened several buttons.

The tight dress clung to her hips, which luckily kept it from falling straight to the floor. But her exposed breasts pebbled with gooseflesh. The nipples, already erect, swelled into large peaks.

She didn’t even have to look because she saw her nudity mirrored in Jonathan’s eyes. Her flesh burned, feeling raw and exposed. When K.C.’s hands slid down her sides, to push the rest of the dress past her hips, she covered half her face with a palm and clapped the other across one of her breasts.

“God, your tits are so full and beautiful,” Jonathan breathed. “I knew they would be.”

She stepped out of her sandals to steady herself, but the deep beige carpet caressed her bare feet, making her feel more erotic.

“Wait! I don’t know if I can do this.”

What was wrong with her? She had to earn that check and help K.C. keep his band. Convincing him to do this shenanigan had been harder than herding elephants. It was too late to chicken out.

Both men waited, silent, as they watched her.

After taking a shaky breath, she fanned her flushed face and nodded. “Sorry. I’m okay, now.”

“You sure?” K.C. asked.

“Take your time, sweetheart,” Jonathan said. “We have all night.”

Coming Soon

Oyster Harbor series Book 5!
https://www.aftonlocke.com/oysterharbor.html

Where readers can find me

Newsletter: https://www.aftonlocke.com/mailing-list.html
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Love a good spooky tale? This one’s coming October 2nd (never mind what Kindle says). And it’s the first of two, maybe more—if you like them. It’ll be completely up to you if I write more. So, let me know…

Sin’s Gift

When police officer Sinead O’Rourke returns to duty months after being shot in an incident that claimed her partner, she knows it’s not going to be easy. Despite being cleared of any negligence, her fellow officers still wonder whether she’s responsible for his death. One more problem is that everyone knows she claims to have seen his ghost. After months of rehabilitation and lying like hell about the fact she’s not seeing spooks anymore, Sin’s determined to get back into the saddle.

Jake doesn’t want to partner with Sin. Been there, done that—couldn’t keep his hands off her the first time around. She’s too much of a distraction, and her penchant for rushing into trouble scares the heck out of him. Despite wishing she’d quit her job, he’s still deeply attracted. When an armed robbery goes down and something happens that rattles Sin to the core, he’s right there—ready to cover her back and her sweet body.

Pre-order your copy now!

There’s no place like home.

The police substation didn’t sit at the end of the rainbow or anywhere near Kansas, but for some reason that stupid phrase ran like a mantra through Sinead O’Rourke’s head as she drew a deep breath and pushed through the double-doors leading into the station house. Once inside, she kept her gaze focused straight ahead, ignoring the way conversations died away as one by one the officers on duty noticed who’d entered their midst.

So, she’d been gone a while. No doubt San Antonio’s finest whispered she looked a little different than they remembered. A few even knew she’d gone nuts for a while. But their red-headed stepchild was back.

Fuck them, anyway.

Sin headed straight to the Lieutenant’s office and knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

Relieved to escape the thick atmosphere of the open floor, she knew she’d only traded one bleeding wound for another when the patrol shift lieutenant, Clayton Kalisek, glanced up and stiffened at the sight of her. “Glad to see you made it, O’Rourke.”

“Yeah, I finally got tired of sitting on my ass,” she said with more attitude than she felt. “Only so many Dr.Phil’s a body can stand.”

“Sit down for a second while we have a talk.”

She shut the door behind her and warily took the chair in front of his desk. Just as she remembered, his set expression didn’t give away a thing he was thinking. “What’s on your mind, Lieutenant? The doctors gave me a clean bill of health.”

His narrowed gaze landed on the scar on her cheek then locked with hers again. “If you’re not ready for this, just say so.”

Some things never changed. Lieutenant Kalisek still knew just where to stick his dull knife. “I’m fine,” she said, her tone curt since she wasn’t about to bother hiding her irritation.

“Sure, you are.” But he didn’t sound convinced. He leaned back in his chair and continued to stare. “I’m putting you with Chappa, again. I know you two have a history…”

Chappa. Shit. They had plenty of history, all right. Most of it bad. “Fine,” she bit out. “Have you broken the good news to him?”

Clay’s face tightened with a pained expression. “Told him yesterday.”

“Wish you’d waited until I was in the room,” she said, a mirthless grin sliding along her lips. “Bet he was loud.”

The lieutenant’s ice blue eyes narrowed. “He’s not going to cut you any slack.”

Her chin came up. “Don’t need any.”

His nod was curt. “Very well. Get out on the street.”

That was it? Feeling a little deflated, like she’d worried about nothing, she hesitated. “You’re not going to say anything about the psych eval?”

“Doc said you’re ready—that the meds and the time off did the trick.” His expression tightened. “Should I ask you if you’re still talking to ghosts?”

A lump burned the back of her throat as she caught sight of Danny standing just behind the Lieutenant’s shoulder. “No ghosts,” she lied, ignoring the grin splitting her late partner’s face.

She shot up off the chair and turned to open the door.

“Like I said, O’Rourke. Chappa’s not gonna cut you any slack.”

She nodded over her shoulder, not daring to look back.