Finally, a new release! It’s been a while, right? Not something readers who’ve followed me  for a while expect. I used to spit out stories at a crazy pace. But I think I can be given a bit of break given all the trauma-drama my family have gone through in recent months with the injury, long recovery, and then death of my father. Losing him, especially when I was so involved in his care, was devastating, but now, I’m ready to get “out there” again.

Last month, my daughter and I made a two-day jaunt to New Orleans to “refill” my writerly well. I think it worked. You can judge the result for yourself. I’ve been to New Orleans multiple times, but this time, I directly applied that experience to the pages I wrote—including the description of where we stayed while we were inside the city.

Enjoy the trip to New Orleans. Enjoy the very sexy romance between my Cajun SEAL, Thibaut, and his childhood sweetheart, Amelie. It’s a hot story, so be sure to have a glass of ice water handy while you read. And when you do read it, let me know whether you’d like more stories set in the Big Easy. 🙂

Hot SEAL, New Orleans Nights

The last thing this SEAL wants is to open his heart to her again, but Amelie needs the “hands on” kind of protection only he can provide…

Navy SEAL, Thibaut “T-Bone” Cyr, has a lot on his mind. The time is approaching when he’ll either have to re-up with the Navy or leave. He’s come home to New Orleans to spend time in his old stomping grounds while he mulls over his decision. New Orleans is where his roots are, where his family lives, but he wants to stay on the downlow while he considers his future. He’s also hoping the past he left behind doesn’t still haunt him. Fourteen years ago, he fled the city when the woman he loved dumped him.

Amelie Rivette is back in New Orleans, ready to start again. She’s helping her blind aunt run a voodoo shop in the French Quarter, but her aunt’s troubles are getting complicated. After a string of bad luck, which includes a robbery and threatening calls, Amelie finds herself trapped inside the shop when a fire is set, and she’s attacked by an assailant.

Coming to the rescue of his ex-girlfriend, Thibaut finds himself torn. The last thing he wants is to relive the pain of their breakup, but Amelie needs the kind of protection he can provide. Soon, neither of them can resist their attraction, but while they reconnect physically, he holds back his heart, not trusting that what he feels is real and not some remnant of their shared past. Complicating matters is that their families are conspiring to give him a reason to stay in New Orleans.

When Amelie is kidnapped, Thibaut realizes he’s still in love with her. Hoping he’s not too late, he sets out to save her.

Buy links: Amazon | Amazon Print | B&N | Apple | Kobo

Excerpt

He continued toward the sign that read MADAME JOSETTE’S HOUSE OF VOODOO. He stood with his hand on the doorknob, looking through the crowded shop window, past the voodoo dolls, candles, beaded necklaces, and Mardi Gras masks, through to the wooden counter painted in a glossy Chinese red with its old-fashioned apothecary shelving behind it, filled with organic mysteries. Josette wasn’t seated in her tall chair behind the counter. No one appeared to be inside the shop. Didn’t she know when she gave tarot readings in the back that someone needed to keep watch over the cash register?

But then he remembered the bell above the door, which she didn’t really need because of her uncanny knack for sensing her surroundings. The woman couldn’t see her old deck of cards but knew instinctively which she placed on her table, something that had fascinated him as a child.

He turned the knob, listened to the light tinkling of the bell, and stepped inside, inhaling the scent of whatever incense Josette had set to burn that morning.
Shuffling sounded from the stockroom beyond a beaded curtain. “Be right with you,” came a musical voice. Not Josette’s.

He swallowed hard and held his breath as a slim hand parted the curtain, and Amelie Rivette stepped out. His reaction told him that he’d been lying to himself. That she was the reason he was here. Fourteen years hadn’t blunted her effect, not according to the familiar tightening of his chest and his frozen thoughts.

The years had been kind to Amelie. Her curly hair came to her jaw rather than cascading down her back but was still a glossy, dark brown. Fine lines framed her hazel-green eyes, and her cheekbones were a little more defined, but her skin was smooth, and still that lovely dark cream that denoted her mixed heritage.

His glance touched on her mouth for only a moment, but that millisecond was just long enough to cause his blood to heat. Her lips were still full and soft-looking, and partly opened as though she was just as shocked to see him.

“Amelie,” he said, the word sandpaper-coarse because he had to force it past his tightened throat.

“Thibaut,” she said, and then her lips twitched, and she gave him a polite smile.

His back stiffened at that smile. Like he was a stranger, or worse, someone she’d hoped never to see again. A bitter taste entered his mouth because they’d parted, promising to remain “friends.”

“You’re back…” she said, a tiny frown forming between her brows.

“No,” he answered automatically, because damn if he didn’t want to disagree with even the simplest comment she might make. “I’m only here for a little while.”

“Visiting, then…” Her shoulders relaxed.

“You back?” He arched a brow then parroted, “Visiting?”

Her lips closed around a tight smile. “Actually, I moved back to help my aunt. If you stopped in to see her, you just missed her. She’s gone home already.”

He nodded. “Tell her I stopped by.”

“I will. I’ll let her know you’ll see her…another time,” she said, sounding a little breathless.

That was his cue to leave, but he hesitated to turn away. He wanted to keep looking at her. Committing everything to memory. Wiping clean the image he’d carried in his head for years of the way she’d looked before she’d turned to descend the steps of his family’s home and exited the wrought iron gate with the sun gleaming on her long hair, her cheeks pale and her eyes sparkling with tears—and her lips swelling slightly from the hard kiss he’d given her when she’d bid him goodbye.

Firming his mouth, he gave her a nod. “Good to see you, Amelie.”

Amelie stood frozen until he walked out the door. Good Lord, the man sucked the oxygen out of the room. His body seemed taller, larger than she’d remembered, and ripped. Gone was the soft handsome babyface he’d had throughout school that had made all the girls giggle and swoon. Now, his cheeks and chin were hard-edged. Even his dark stare cut like a laser. Like a caged tiger, his movements were fluid but reflected his physical power. She shivered thinking about the way he’d looked at her, his gaze flicking over her face and body, leaving a hot trail of want she fought to quell. There was no use thinking about him in any sexy way. She was the last woman on earth he’d ever want again, something he’d made abundantly clear when she’d broken up with him on the eve of leaving for Illinois.

“Illinois? What the hell, Amelie?” he’d said on that long-ago afternoon, his grip on her upper arms tightening. “I’m going to Tulane. You said you were, too.”

Yes, they’d both received offers of scholarships to Tulane. Him for football, her for math. But she hadn’t told him about the second offer. The one her father had pressured her to accept.

“You lied to me? All summer, you lied…to me?” he’d said, his dark brows furrowing in a fierce frown.

“I didn’t lie,” she’d whispered.

He gave her a little shake. “You let me talk about getting us a place near school…” His mouth curled into a snarl. “I told you I loved you. Said we’d get married.”

She panted, every word making her gasp with pain for what would never be. By his darkening expression, he’d never forgive her, never let her explain.

“I’m s-sorr—”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” he spat.

She swallowed, tears beginning to fill her eyes. She’d known she was going to hurt him, but she’d left this reckoning too long. “I h-have to go.”

Thibaut had stared down at her, his nostrils flaring, his cheeks red with anger. Then he’d bent toward her and slammed his mouth down on hers. The kiss had been hard, crushing her lips against her teeth—a punishment, when she’d been accustomed to only soft, sweet kisses from the boy she’d loved. When he’d drawn back his head, he’d released her arms, and she’d stumbled back and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. She’d stared for a long moment, memorizing his face, knowing they’d never be here, standing on his mother’s porch, ever again.

She’d left New Orleans and hadn’t looked back, but she’d never forgotten how she’d felt about him then. How she’d felt about herself for hurting him.

She’d been in New Orleans a month before she’d stopped worrying every time the bell tinkled that he’d walk through the door. Crazy thoughts like that had bombarded her ever since she’d returned. She’d seen him everywhere she went. Any burly, thick-shouldered man would instantly set her heart racing until she took a closer look. She’d told herself it was natural, because so many of her memories of this city were wrapped up with memories of him. Before she’d accepted that scholarship from Northwestern, they’d been inseparable, throughout middle and high school, dating as soon as her father had reluctantly approved.

It had taken years for her to get over Thibaut Cyr…

Most of the time, when I write, the story is completely fictional. Protecting Zarifah, my newest book, is different. I am the founder of Shimmy Mob Memphis. Founded in 2011, by Francesca Sabeya Anastasi, Shimmy Mob is an International organization with chapters all over the world. We dance each year on international belly dance day and raise funds for our local domestic abuse shelters and we raise awareness. We dance to the same song, doing the same choreography and wearing the same t-shirts.

Next year will be the tenth year for Shimmy Mob. The Memphis chapter has raised over ten thousand dollars for the shelter through the years. I am proud of my dance sisters who stepped up to help. Together we are stronger. www.shimmymob.com

People often asked me why I signed the city up when I had retired from my troupe and was no longer dancing. I was focused on my first book out in print, and was busy going to book signings with little time to spare. I made time. No one had signed the city up. The clock was ticking. Why did I sign up?

I usually have a four-word answer to that question. Babies with broken bones. Domestic abuse hits the youngest child, to the oldest person. Substitute women for babies or elderly for babies in that four word sentence. Whoever is the victim, domestic violence is wrong. And it needs to stop. I do not want to live in a world where babies have broken bones because a malicious adult injured them or where a caretaker breaks an elderly person. That’s simply not acceptable to me. The work I’ve done with Shimmy Mob is one small way I could help.

That first year we faced a lot of challenges. In 2011 Memphis had tornados, the river rising and flooding. We had to find a place to dance and it was hard. We thought we had a place but then they backed out. No one wanted to let us dance because a Shimmy Mob/flash mob was brand new and other flash mobs had sometimes led to violence. I often thought of the irony as I searched for a place to dance. We were trying to stop domestic violence and couldn’t find a place to dance because others had been violent.

Forty-five dancers signed up from various dance groups in Memphis along with a few dancers from out of town. We started rehearsals but still had nowhere to dance. Last minute permission came from Center City Commission through Dawn Vinson, who would be dancing with us. We would dance downtown outdoors on the trolley line.

Only a fraction of our dancers made it out to dance because of the storms. We had tornados moving in. I could have called it, but staying in touch with the folks putting on Memphis in May concerts down by the river, I decided not to until they did. Bands playing on a metal stage would be called off if it became too dangerous. My oldest son was working the event. He does Tech Theater and works the lights and sound. We were both tuned in the weather.

So, we danced. We danced in between tornado sirens and watching for tornados, but we got the job done and we raised a thousand dollars that first year even though we received no local news coverage for our event. They were too busy covering the storms.

The photographer for the Commercial Appeal called me as we were driving away. He had just missed us. I thought we had been a small voice that few heard, but even a small voice can help. Even a small voice can speak up. That too is an important part of fighting domestic violence and an important example to set. Later, Shimmy Mob International honored us for our efforts.

Honoring Shimmy Mob Memphis in 2011

Shimmy Mob Memphis continued to dance each year. Our first year the funds went directly to the YWCA shelter. I took toiletries and diapers we’d collected to the shelter. There are so many ways to help. At the time it was the only shelter in the tri-state area – not enough for a metropolitan area the size of Memphis. In later years we donated to The Family Safety Center, the first place domestic violence victims can go locally. It is a wonderful place and offers many services.

Things often come full circle in my life. Now I’m retired from team leading, and instead, I’m writing about Shimmy Mob to shine a light and spread awareness.

Zarifah, my heroine in Protecting Zarifah is as assistant team leader in the first Shimmy Mob event. It is 2011 and they will have to take all the steps to put an event on. First, sign up the city. Second, get the word out to dancers and encourage them to sign up. Third, get the music and choreography and learn it. Fourth, find a place to dance. Fifth, set up donations. Sixth, promote the event. Then dance on Shimmy Mob day. Afterward, turn in money to the shelter. Send video and pics to International Shimmy Mob and share on social media.

Readers will get a glimpse into the world of a real belly dancer, while also reading about a fictional one that was engaged to the wrong man. When he is arrested for domestic abuse, she is done with him and determined that he will never touch her again. She files a restraining order against him.

Cutter, her new Navy SEAL boyfriend, will be there to protect her if her ex boyfriend comes around again and when she dances for Shimmy Mob, his protecting services are needed.

Available on Amazon for KU
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07TKHM4FC/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0

And in print

For more about Debra visit: www.debraparmley.com

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Guardian Security

Each man has had his own personal experience with danger.
Now they are guardians of your safety and always there when you need them.

Finding Redemption is Book #5

Her son was kidnapped and there is no trace of him anywhere. The one man who can help her is wrapped in his own dark misery. Can she convince him to help?

She shook herself at the sound of Josh’s voice.

Lisa looked at the man across from her. She’d seen him a few times, in very brief situations, but this was the first time she’d had the chance to study him.

At thirty-eight he looked at least ten years older. He had thick black hair peppered with grey, worn long enough that he tied it back with a leather thong. His beard looked more like the result of not shaving rather than a deliberate plan, and dissolution had added extra flesh around the jaw line and pouches under his eyes. His skin was an unhealthy, ruddy color, probably from the amount of alcohol she heard he drank with regularity. Although he carried a few extra pounds, she bet that in his best days, he was lean and mean.

If this were, as the fairy tales said, once upon a time—before Charles had killed any interest she had in men and before Ethan Caine had destroyed himself—she could see herself being drawn to him. Now he just offended her, and she resented any latent spark of attraction he ignited in her.

But then she saw his eyes and something stabbed at her. Although they were alert, studying both the Taylors and his surroundings at the same time, they were a bottomless black filled with so much pain it hurt to look at them. What had this man seen and done that caused that much personal misery? Was this the kind of man she could trust to find her son?

“Lisa?”

She shook herself at the sound of Josh’s voice. “I’m sorry. My mind tends to wander these days.” She pasted what she was sure was a grotesque mockery of a smile on her face. “Than you very much for coming, Mr. Caine.”

“Ethan. Don’t thank me yet.” His voice was deep but not smooth, more like the scraping sound of gravel falling on cement. “Right now we’re just having lunch.”

“That’s true.” She nodded, willing her hands to stop their incessant tremors.

“So, why don’t we order and you can tell me what this little meet and greet is all about.”

Find all Buy links here:
https://desireeholt.com/books/finding-redemption/

In Order:
Book #1 Moving Target
Book #2 Silencing Memories
Book #3 Killing Lies
Book #4 Running Scared
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My latest book, Colton’s Mistaken Identity, is Book 7 in the Coltons of Roaring Springs series from Harlequin Romantic Suspense. While each book in the series is standalone, meaning you don’t have to read any of the previous, it’s a richer read when you have. My heroine is an identical twin and poses as her (missing? kidnapped?) twin during a film festival in the idyllic setting of Roaring Springs, Colorado. Phoebe works at her parent’s Chateau resort, giving the setting a very Aspen/French Alps feel. Phoebe is attracted to the bigtime movie star Prescott Reynolds, but can’t even contemplate a sexy rendezvous or two, not with her sister’s mysterious disappearance and the festival to run. Of course, lots of scary suspense and life-threatening action ensues, along with intimate, intense sexy times. It’s why it’s called romantic suspense. What keeps me happily writing Harlequin Romantic Suspense is the depth of characters and the emotional honesty of their relationships. I hope you’ll enjoy them, too.

Colton’s Mistaken Identity

The wrong twin…or the right one?
A Coltons of Roaring Springs romance

Marketing exec Skye Colton suddenly disappears, putting the Roaring Springs Film Festival in jeopardy. Enter Skye’s identical twin, Phoebe, who poses as her sister. In her starring role, Phoebe catches the eye of A-list actor Prescott Reynolds, and she can’t deny the electricity that erupts between them. With Skye still missing and a stalker at large, this is the worst time to fall in love, especially with danger racing toward them…

Excerpt

A flash of red, the distinct shade he’d first laid eyes on this morning in the copse of aspen trees, caught his attention. The same woman he’d seen on the trail walked past him and began to climb the stairs to the grand ballroom. He knew where the impressive stairs led, as he’d already memorized the layout of the hotel. His privacy had necessitated he know every nook and cranny to escape to if the paparazzi became rabid.

She wasn’t in running clothes any longer, and her hair was styled to show off the unique hue. From her profile he saw that she was wearing makeup, a little much for his taste, but he was used to being around women who enjoyed dolling themselves up. It was all part of being an actor.

This woman intrigued him when she shouldn’t. And yet as she’d walked by, oblivious to him, he’d caught a whiff of floral perfume that captured him like a trout in a net. The sight of her profile again, this time with makeup on and offset by the backdrop of the luxurious resort, struck a chord deep inside him. Prescott wasn’t a stranger to immediate attraction but this took it to a new place for him. Besides the obvious physical pull of her beauty, he sensed the potential for something deeper, more meaningful, between them.

What the heck was going on with him?

She wasn’t wearing anything exciting, and her business suit didn’t show off her curves as well as her workout clothing had. Still, in the view he had of her backside, there was no denying her very feminine shape under the jacket and dress pants. Insta-lust made him pause, not wanting to get an erection in public.

You’ve been alone too long.

After what he’d been through with his ex, he knew better than to even look twice at this stunning woman. But he couldn’t help himself. Truth be told, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Nor how relieved he’d felt when he’d realized she wasn’t trailing him. It was always in the back of his mind that Ariella could show up again, and her penchant for ugliness wasn’t something he relished. He’d been drawn to Ariella’s intelligence and quick wit. And it had worked for a while, until her true nature of career-climbing at the expense of the men in her life reappeared. Or maybe he’d simply come out of his denial about her dark side. Either way, it had been a rough go of it for his dating life ever since.

But the redhead… His gut told him to go after her.

He didn’t entertain the rational side of his brain that told him he was out of his league. That not everyone was impressed by actors, not that he ever consciously used his job or status to seduce a woman. He believed more in allowing an attraction to grow organically.

This inexplicable urge to talk to the stranger, the only redhead he’d seen at The Chateau, was definitely organic on his part. But would she think he was odd?
What if she wasn’t available? Preston stopped midway up the staircase. He hadn’t even considered that she might be with someone already. Hell, she could even be married.

Chill, dude.

Prescott hadn’t had to go after a woman in years. And he missed it. The constant attention from the opposite sex had been heady when he’d arrived in Hollywood and been cast in his first roles ten, twelve years ago. But it quickly grew old, and he didn’t want to spend time with someone who only saw him as an actor. The redhead clearly worked here or had a role to play in the film fest, so she was probably used to celebrities. Would she see past the Caribbean-blue eyes that had become his trademark? Not that he’d ever expected to be known for his eyes. His dream wasn’t even so much to be recognized for his acting as to be give the opportunities to bring meaningful roles to life. He wasn’t a fan of the celebrity culture that came with it but he understood it was all part of the gig.

Except when he wanted a woman to see him as more than a contender for a tabloid’s annual sexiest man.

He walked through open, massive carved oak doors and into the hotel’s pièce de résistance—the grand ballroom. The floor was entirely parquet but covered with a huge red carpet that ran into its center, where the area delineated for dancing remained clear. Hundreds if not a full thousand round tables framed the open area, the crystal chandeliers catching the fading sunlight, their bulbs still dim. Soon they’d be bright and the room a cacophony of press, actors, studio executives and the teams of people it took to make it all happen.

It was that rare quiet moment before a major event launched. Right now it was hushed as workers rapidly set tables and moved last-minute lighting equipment into place. A DJ set up in a far corner of the room, her control panel as large as any he’d ever seen in a concert. But in another hour and a half, it would burst to life with an entirely different personality.

Prescott liked the quiet anticipation before an event. As much as he enjoyed the slow build of desire as he met and wooed a woman into his bed.

The redhead stood alone in the middle of the room, silently moving her lips as she read from her phone. Her running clothes were gone but she hadn’t upgraded her look that much, wearing easy black pants and a simple pale pink silk shell. Her skin was dewy, and as he’d already noticed she liked her makeup heavy, but on her stunning features it only emphasized her beauty.

His running shoes, silent on the plush carpet, hit the parquet floor, and a loud squeak sounded. The woman gasped as she startled and dropped her phone onto the carpet. Her caramel-brown eyes lasered in on him, and he knew how a bug felt under a magnifying glass. But it was more like an ant under a sunbeam as heat immediately flared in his chest, rushing toward his groin. The woman was so damned beautiful, from her glorious red hair to her full lush lips, down to her full breasts and hips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so smitten, from the get-go.

Because you never have been.

He held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He bent down and retrieved her phone, on which he saw notes displayed before he handed it back to her.

“I-I’m not…scared.” She cleared her throat, and he had to consciously force his gaze from the creamy skin of her neck to her eyes. He swore he already knew what she’d taste like, how her soft skin would give under the pressure of his lips.

“What can I do for you?” She’d been surprised by his appearance but recovered quickly. The immediate shock in her brown eyes was already replaced by cool assessment. Yup, definitely someone used to working with celebrities. And not easily impressed, he’d guess.

“I’m Prescott—”

“I know who you are, Mr. Reynolds. Is there something you need before tonight’s premiere?” Her tone burst with brusque efficiency, but all he could see was the way her pink-glossed lips formed the words.

“You didn’t notice, but this morning we were both on the hiking trail.”

“You mean the running path?” She bit her lower lip, and her cheeks flushed under the makeup. Why did she have an expression of guilt on her feminine features? “Sorry, but I’m not a runner. You must have seen my twin sister, Phoebe. She, ah, goes for a few miles every morning. I’m more of a night owl. Did you enjoy your time on the property?”

“Yes, of course.” He waved his hand around, motioning at the room. “This entire place is amazing. It’s easy to feel like I’m in the middle of Normandy or Burgundy while I’m here.” Too late he realized what a snob he sounded like. His global travel was a direct privilege of his celebrity status, and the Iowa farm boy inside him cringed at his careless mention of a destination so few ever afforded.

“Thank you. I’ll pass that on to my parents. Is there something else?” There was an air of impatience, no, make that desperation about her as she repeated her question. Maybe she had to practice red carpet introductions, or there had been some last-minute disruptions to the festival’s launch gala.

“Actually, it’s me who’d like to do something for you. What did you say your name was?”

Most women were impressed enough by this point to at least show a spark of appreciation in their gaze. But not this woman. She actually hesitated before she answered, as if reluctant to let him know anything so personal. Talk about the tables being turned.

The warmth in his center from her nearness exploded into something he hadn’t felt in a long while. Joy.

Prescott realized that he’d sorely missed having a woman turn him on his head. Maybe this film festival wasn’t going to be the laborious weeklong junket that he’d resigned himself to.

“I’m Skye Colton, the resort’s marketing director.” She held out a slim hand, and he took it. As they shook he was again distracted, this time by the silky softness of her skin that contrasted sharply with the firmness of her grip. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Not as pleased as I am. Call me Prescott, please.” He loved how she grasped his hand like a boss. She’d be incredible in bed, he instinctively knew. But what stunned him was that he wasn’t interested in that, not right now. Well, maybe he was completely enthralled by how seductive her mere presence was, but he was feeling something very different from first-meet attraction. Something more palpable.

All Prescott wanted was to get to know Skye Colton better. Suddenly his seven-day junket in Roaring Springs felt as if it was already half over. There would never be enough time to know this woman the way he wanted to.

But damned if he wouldn’t give it his best shot.

*
Phoebe knew she gripped Prescott’s hand too tightly, but to his credit the man didn’t even wince. She’d had no choice, as there was no other way to hide her nervousness. Thank goodness she’d wiped her palm on her pants before she’d shaken his. Otherwise he’d have known how rattled she was.

The photos and films didn’t do this man justice. Not even close. She’d never had a zing of awareness when she’d seen him on the big screen, nor had she grown wet with pure feminine need as she’d watched his performances. Standing so near to him, it was a shock to her that his star status wasn’t at play. She felt as she would with a non-celebrity man she was attracted to. Except her reaction was so far over the top. Between his deep voice, his words that made her feel like she was the only woman in the room, and the confidence in his posture and body language that hinted at his athleticism, her knees felt like her mother’s pepper jelly. All wobbly but with heat washing over her skin, making her want to run away before she did what her hormones were begging for: to kiss Prescott Reynolds right here in the ballroom and tell him to follow her to her room.

This must be what groupies feel like, and why they go after movie and rock stars.

This had to be some kind of sexual overreaction due to the morning’s upheaval caused by Skye’s disappearance.

Prescott flashed his familiar white-toothed I-leave-hearts-crushed-with-every-footstep grin that she recognized from his film promos and it snapped it out of her sexual trance.

It was nothing like the smile she’d witnessed in her favorite work of his—an historical period piece where he’d played a struggling artist amid the French Revolution. While his smile was part of his trademark good looks, as he looked at her, she was aware that there was more to this man than his celebrity. And he knew how to turn it on and off, not a virtue of many people she’d met who lived in the spotlight.

“Okay, then. Nice to meet you, Prescott.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Skye.” Phoebe didn’t like lying, ever, yet as she stood in the middle of the grand ballroom, her hair and makeup perfectly done in Skye’s signature style, it was surprisingly easy to fall into the role. Save for Skye’s effervescent presence. And extreme comfort around attractive, powerful men.

“You must be very excited for tonight. I’ll be announcing each of you, I mean the VIPs, as you arrive.” She’d watched from the sidelines as her twin had handled actors over the past three years since they’d both left college. Skye made it look so easy, but Phoebe was drained at the mere thought of having to play “happy to meet you” with countless actors.

He shrugged, his tall, muscular frame formidable in measure but his energy anything but. He made her feel as though she were the only person he wanted to be with. No doubt all part of his practiced Hollywood charm.

“It’s a thrill to know the world’s going to finally see something I worked so hard on, but to be frank, I left this film’s set almost a year ago. My mind is on other…projects.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, his flirting was so obvious. “I’ll bet it is.” It seemed silly, but she went ahead and batted her eyes anyway. And immediately felt like Skye. She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t really her twin, please forgive her, and would he call her Phoebe?

But she couldn’t. So she smiled, content to soak up his aura of good cheer as pseudo-Skye.

He smiled back, but it wasn’t the predatory grin of a man on the prowl. She’d watched plenty of actors behave poorly over the years, and this wasn’t it. Prescott seemed relaxed, and there was a special light in his eyes that she couldn’t attribute to the chandeliers, as they weren’t fully lit yet. She didn’t know the man, but if she had to name it, she’d say he was happy. A man in his element. Exactly where he wanted to be.

Buy links: https://gerikrotow.com/books/coltons-mistaken-identity/#order

About the Author

Geri Krotow is the bestselling author of the Silver Valley PD series for Harlequin Romantic Suspense, and the Bayou Bachelors series with Kensington Lyrical Caress. A U.S. Naval Academy graduate and Intelligence Officer, Geri left her Navy career to pursue writing. Geri enjoys creating sexy contemporary romances and tingling suspense.

Geri loves to connect with readers!

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UPDATE: The winners are…Colleen C and Debra Guyette!
*~*~*

Being someone who has issues with anxiety… correction… I have anxiety issues… everything is a minefield. I don’t like to pick up the phone unless I know exactly who is on the other end of the line. I’m an extroverted introvert, meaning I hide by being outgoing in public situations. I can be the life of the party as long as you don’t look beyond the jokes and see the person inside who is hoping I’m not making a complete idiot of myself.

So what does this have to do with writing and romance?

For me, EVERTYHING!

Finding love is putting yourself ‘out there.’

And OUT THERE is a scary, scary place. Holding out your hand (metaphorically) means that someone can take hold of it or slap it away… and sometimes ignore it completely.

What happens when the most anxiety-ridden person opens themselves up to speak their minds to another person?

What happens when the most self-assured person opens themselves up to ask someone out?

Both situations can end up happy or devastated. It doesn’t matter who you are. Life can be a joy or painful. Ecstatic or tormented.

Life… and love, by extension, are a gamble.

And those insecurities are a big part of “Justice for Miranda”

JUSTICE FOR MIRANDA

Texas Game Wardens don’t just protect the natural resources of the Lone Star State, they protect the people as well. Trace Carson considers every warden as more than just fellow officers, they’re family.

Especially, Miranda Jimenez. She’d gone through the academy when he was on staff, and he was her first in-field training officer. There was no denying that she was a beautiful woman, he’d worked side by side with her and knew that her dedication to upholding the laws of Texas was second only to caring for wild animals and natural resources.

When she decided to leave her job as a game warden to open a wild animal rehabilitation it made perfect sense, but he couldn’t explain the sudden ache he felt at the thought of her leaving.  It wasn’t going to be out of sight, out of mind, because he went to her ‘retirement’ party and he kissed her, changing everything.

When her connection with Trace puts Miranda’s life in danger, the law enforcement community in San Antonio pulls together to get her back where she belongs… in Trace’s arms. Will they find her in time to save her and get Justice for Miranda?

Trace is a man driven by duty. Responsible to a fault. He’s the guy that folks are always leaning on. The leader. The one who has trained more than his share of new Game Wardens out of the Academy.

But under all of that buttoned up, efficient, straight-laced law enforcement zeal is a man who’s fallen in love with someone he thinks is out of bounds.

And it takes a few beers and the thought that she’d be out of his life to make him cross that line and kiss her senseless… all before his normal constraints pull him back into his shell. Make him back off. Make him shut off that longing and put it away.

But we all know that’s not going to be enough to keep it in that shell now that he’s let it out.

Trace needs to decide if the dangers of opening himself up and putting his heart on the line are worth the possible failure of that chance. What if she shuts him down right away? What if she allows him in and then decides that a man who had once been her teacher, her trainer, isn’t the man who can hold her heart… keep her interest?

And the absolutely crazy thing about it… what if it works? Having what you want… the woman you want… can be even more scary than not having her.

That’s one of the things I love most about writing and reading romance. When it comes right down to it… the heroes and heroines are brave! They show real courage!
Physical pain is horrible, but emotional pain can drop you to your knees with a look or a careless word.

So, tell me… which characters have you read about that have shown the most courage in reaching out for love… taking that chance to reach for something more… something better?

Pre-sale link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07RZQM21M/

Contest

Two commenters will receive their choice of a single-title ebook from my Amazon list – winners selected July 1, 2019!

Excerpt 

While her cousin was trying not to spray soda all over her aunt’s countertop, Miranda slipped out of her parents’ kitchen to the porch and leaned back against the wall with a sigh. Lifting the cold beer she had in her hand, she dragged it across her forehead and then pressed it to her cheek.

“I bet that feels good.”

The soft Texas burr came out of the darkness, startling her. She had a good hold on the bottle and didn’t worry about dropping it, but she did worry about the warm flush of color in her cheeks. She knew exactly who it was walking out of the dark.

“Hey, Trace. I didn’t think you were comin’ to the party.”

His laugh was warm and slow and poured over her like honey.

“How could I miss it?” He stepped into the light beside the back door and stepped up against the side of the house, looking down at her. “Especially when you didn’t give me a chance to talk you out of leaving.”

“I didn’t think you’d have much of an issue with it.”

A wind trailed through, lifting the ends of her hair and she felt the subtle touch as some of the strands stuck to her neck. The humidity wasn’t doing her any favors and she knew that after the heavy press of bodies in the house and the rising summer heat, her dress was probably stuck to her in any number of unflattering ways.

“It’s not too late,” his voice was lower, deeper, “I have a bit of an in with the guys in the administration office. They could be convinced to lose your voluntary termination papers.”

If she hadn’t been leaning back against the house, she probably would have fallen back against the wall. The way his voice seemed to curl across her skin made it hard to breathe. Trace Carson ticked off all of the boxes on her dream list for masculine perfection.

Tall, lean muscle, strong hands, handsome like the devil, and that voice. There was something about a man with that deep purring Texas drawl that made her insides shiver and shake and other parts of her… well, she bit into her bottom lip as if she was still thinking through his offer, but she knew she wouldn’t change her mind.

“Why didn’t you come talk to me?”

She laughed and felt a drop of condensation splash against her collarbone. “To be honest,” she tried to keep from sighing but it was hard when she could smell his cologne and see the silver-grey of his eyes, “I knew if I did talk to you I might have let myself be talked out of leaving.”

Miranda saw the happy surprise in his eyes.

“But it wouldn’t have been for the right reasons.”

“So, what are the wrong reasons, Miranda?” He shifted closer, crossing one leg over the other so she could hear the butter-soft rasp of one boot against the other. And set a hand on the wall, less than a foot from her shoulder. “I’m curious.”

She wanted to brush it all off and escape back into the house, but her knees were suddenly weak and the way his scent mingled with the sultry heat of the night air had her breath catching a little each time.

“Miranda?” His arm folded and his forearm pressed against the wall, bringing him closer to her. “What did you think I’d do?”

Close enough that his height blocked out the light from the single bulb shining from the wall.

Her tongue wet her bottom lip before she swallowed and sucked in a breath on a gasp. “I… I-” she laughed, a throaty little sound that made her feel flirty and needy at the same time.

She’d seen other women use their wiles to draw men in, but she wasn’t like them. She was the kind of girl that loved jeans and baggy shirts. And wiles? Ha! She could spell the word and knew the definition, but she had no idea if she could use them, or even if she had any. All of her life she’d spent most of her time in jeans and t-shirts. Even the dress she was wearing had been her mama’s idea.

“Well,” he sighed and she wasn’t sure, but it didn’t sound like he was very disappointed at all, “there’s one good reason that I can think of for letting you leave the service.”

She turned and leaned her shoulder against the wall, clutching the bottle against her chest. That close, she had to look up to see into his eyes and even then, the light was mostly behind him, so she couldn’t see much of his expression.  “Yeah? What’s that?” Read the rest of this entry »

When I began writing in the Brotherhood Protectors World last year, I wanted to create characters and stories that would cross over into my cozy mystery series and yet still be romantic suspense.

So I came up with the concept of creating a case of younger characters who are related in some way, fashion or form to the older characters in my cozy mystery series.

I thought this would be a good way to create great romantic suspense stories that might bring readers over to my mystery series out of curiosity to find out more about the town of Mercy, Mississippi — and the quirky characters who live there.

My first book in the Brotherhood Protectors World, Persuading Piper, features Ian “Hawkeye” Elliott, who is the son of the real estate agent in the Lily Gayle Lambert Mystery series. He’s come back to Mercy, Mississippi to conduct undercover protection for the town mayor. Trouble is, Piper, the daughter of the mayor, is his high school sweetheart and the one woman he could never forget.

My second book in the Brotherhood Protectors World, Handling Harley Ann, just came out. In this book, Harley Ann is the great-niece of Miss Edna — the eighty-year-old town busybody in the Lily Gayle Lambert mystery series. In this book, Harley Ann’s criminal past comes back to haunt her. And, Jesse “Bird Dog” Miller just happens to be in town visiting his buddy Ian. Jesse won’t stand for any craziness going on around the lady he’s just discovered he might be falling for.

It’s been great fun to write a romantic suspense series that crosses over into my mystery series and yet appeals to a broad audience. I plan to continue to weave the two series together in the future and give readers a birds-eye view into multiple generations in a small town.

About the Author

Susan Boles is the USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author of the Lily Gayle Lambert Mystery series and a contributing author to Elle James’ Brotherhood Protectors World.

A lifelong love of all things mysterious led Susan to write mystery and suspense stories. Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden were the first to show her that girls can be crime solvers, Agatha Christie showed her that even small towns have big secrets, and Phryne Fisher showed the that lady detectives can be outrageously individual. Combining romance with the mystery is just the cherry on top of the writing cake!

She lives in Mississippi with her rescue mini dachshund, Lucy and her rescue cat of no particular breed, Zimba.

Stay in touch for further releases!

Website: www.susanbolesauthor.com
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/Susan-Boles/e/B01D90M65O
Facebook Susan Boles Books Page: https://www.facebook.com/SusanBolesReaders/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SusanBAuthor
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/susanbolesauthor

Cathleen Ross

This post is more cheerful than the title suggests because it does have a happy ending, but it’s important reading because most of us have at some time done a long-haul flight. Cathleen Ross interviews author Enisca Hasic about the time a Deep Vein Thrombosis nearly cost her…her life.

25 December 2017

One Christmas Day forever embedded in my memory.

It’s common knowledge that cancer kills, that heart disease kills. No one warns you about blood clots, how life-threatening they can be.

Stealthily forming in your leg (or your arm) when you remain seated for long hours, the blood clot is a ticking time bomb you don’t know you have inside you until the moment you stand.

That upright movement is like a signal for the clot to break into pieces, each piece travelling at speed towards your lungs, filling them with blood so there is no room for air.

And there is the real danger then — the risk of heart attack, of stroke, of death.

I am intimately acquainted with blood clots. One settled in my right calf as I sat through a 15 hour flight from Dubai to Sydney. I felt fine through the flight, no inkling of what was about to happen. Half an hour before landing, I had an urge to use the toilet, but decided against it as the passengers beside me were sprawled in their seats fast asleep. I learned later from the doctors my decision not to go saved my life. I would have collapsed in the toilet, and with the plane still on the air and no immediate medical intervention available, I would have died.

Scary, sobering thought.

The plane landed. I got up, collected my cabin bag, and immediately felt a shortness of breath. My heart began beating fast. I was now gasping as I walked down the aisle. My head was dizzy. Nausea attacked my stomach. I wondered if my blood pressure was playing up, thought to stop for a moment to catch my breath.

Next thing, I was on the floor with an oxygen mask on my face and a voice repeatedly asking, ‘Can you hear me?’

I was in pain, unable to do more than gasp out answers before the paramedics arrived. Unconscious again, I woke up in Emergency at RPA hospital. I’d had a sub-massive bilateral pulmonary embolism, the worst they’d seen, needing riskier than usual emergency treatment (riskier, as the treatment itself can cause massive bleeding). I was, they said, very, very lucky to survive both the PE and the treatment. And I was, because many, many people die from it.

If I’d known about blood clots, how dangerous they were, I would not have sat for hours, I would have walked up and down the aisle and drunk more water to keep myself hydrated. The blood clot would not have appeared then.

I hope by telling my experience that others will be aware and know how not to get acquainted with blood clots.

Rough and Ready
by Cathleen Ross

Before special ops soldier Hugo Boudreaux can move on, he has one last thing to do–fulfill a wartime debt to the friend who saved his life. He must infiltrate a vicious Louisiana MC club to stop their next illegal weapons shipment and send the president to jail. What he didn’t plan on was ending up an unwilling bodyguard to the man’s daughter–innocent and attractive nurse Alice Kaintuck.

Alice wants a normal life with a nice guy. But her rough-edged bodyguard is the sexiest man she’s ever met. Suddenly she can’t stop thinking about just how hot he makes her. Before she knows it, she’s tumbling into his muscular arms…though she’ll be damned if she’ll fall in love with a man as dangerous as her father. Only Hugo doesn’t make love, he consumes her and turns her life upside down with his carnal, erotic sex. Dreams of nice guys vanish when her enemy becomes her obsession…

Get your copy here!