The Angels Present: Catching Meara

Title: Catching Meara

Author: Christine Young

Email: achristay@aol.com

Genre: shapeshifter erotic romance

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: www.roguephoenixpress.com

Meara Thorton was a feisty, world-class computer hacker—cornered by the FBI and shockingly given the chance to be their newly acquired technical analyst.  Brilliant and intuitive, yet aching with the loss of everyone she has cared about, her restless heart led her to discover a love she fought and a world she didn't know could possibly exist.

Jace McKenna was an enigma, a loner, impossibly handsome, sincere and committed. The Apache shapeshifter blood running through his veins burned hotter than the blistering Sierra Madre sun. Jace knew the moment he caught Meara's scent she was his for eternity.

EXCERPT

Meara had been seconds from revelation, mere seconds. Now quivering with terror, she huddled in the corner of her electrified office while lights flashed and popped all around her, knowing there was no where to run. Monitors flashed and burst, exploding and sending shards of liquid fire into the air. A cop entered the small room, his arms stretched forward, gun in both hands and a flashlight on top of his gun.

Three more cops followed behind. No, they were government agents. The logo printed in white across their chest announced their profession.

Bright lights swept the room in a slow steady arc, searching for her. Finally resting on her face, she shielded her eyes. Smoke from the crucified computers filled the cubicle, making the agents choke. Sweat from fear beaded on her forehead, and her heart lurched to her throat. She closed her hands over her heart as if she could slow the furious beating.

"Hewitt, check this out. There might be more than this one. Barrister go search through the other rooms."

"Right, McKenna."

"My name is Jace McKenna," the man said as he approached cautiously, kicking debris from under foot until he stood above her. "Put your hands in the air."

His voice held so much authority and sounded so calm. For a moment she thought he meant to reassure then she remembered she was his prisoner. Well, she would be as soon as she complied with his demands.

Jace appeared dark, dangerous, handsome and tall, she noted at first. Very tall, which was hard to miss, since she was skinny and short. His eyes were an amber color with a hint of green. He towered over her. Beneath the deceiving bulkiness of his bulletproof vest, she observed next, his shoulders were very broad, and though his hips were lean, his thighs, tightly hugged by his jeans, were muscled and powerful.

His hair was blacker than the midnight sky, nearly indigo with its sheen, his amber eyes were cast into a rugged face that appeared naturally tanned. He was probably somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties. He seemed fierce, alive with a striking tension and a volatile energy that seemed to exude from him.

Shaking, sweat dripping down her face, Meara slowly raised her trembling arms. "D-don't shoot--me, please" She heard the pathetic whimper in her voice as she blinked the stinging sweat from her eyes where it melded with her mascara. Her heart pounded so hard against her chest she was sure it would burst through her ribs.

"Stand up, slowly." He swept the flashlight as well as the gun up and down the length of her body, which had been curled into a tight fetal position.

Rising to her feet, she leaned against the wall behind her, trying to keep her hands up and not fall flat on her face. She wiggled her butt against the wall and inched her way to a standing position. Her life flashed in front of her in a series of leaps and bounds until she saw the faces of her parents.

"Do as he says," they whispered. "Everything will turn out fine. You'll see. We love you." Then, just as they appeared, they vanished.

Their faces faded into the smoke and flashing lights. Her eyes open wide, she gazed at her enemy--her jailor. The man who was here to arrest her. Mind games, or was it mind think that her parents used to play with her, teaching her to communicate through thoughts instead of words. She focused on his brain, sending out feelers, trying to read his thoughts and trying to tell him she was no threat.

The next moment he was beside her, grasping one of her arms, and in one swift move he had turned her, both hands were behind her back and handcuffed. Her breath stopped for a moment. The movement had been so sudden she was thrown against the wall. Her face flattened on the smooth surface. Yet she was glad for that because the impact brought her back to the reality of this moment. Her mind cleared for a brief second. For courage she inhaled a swift deep breath.

The Angels Present: Allura

Allura

Christine Young

Excerpt Heat Level: 1

Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: www.roguephoenixpress.com

Eddington, Scotland 1815

"You can’t plan to wed me to that--that man down there!" Allura McClellan’s heart thundered and lodged in her throat. Balled into fists her hands trembled. "You promised I could marry for love. I thought when the last man failed to discover this imaginary secret you think I have, you would stop this craziness. I thought you would take the ad out of the Times and the other papers."

From the boxing ring below, fist met flesh, the sound echoing throughout. Hunter Gray whirled and ducked. He guarded his face to block the stinging blows his opponent rained down upon him. He spun and ducked again. The man he fought countered the attack, but he did not move fast enough. Hunter’s next jab was so fast and so hard the other man didn’t block the punch. The man staggered backwards, blood running from his eye. Men yelled and cheered for the two combatants. Hunter paused and spoke to the man he practiced with before the match continued once more.

Allura saw her life as she had planned it slip away as if it was grains of sand in an hour glass. She stopped pacing and watched the men below. She turned on her father. "The ad in the Times--giving me away to any man--you have gone too far. A marriage of convenience is barbaric. You promised." For a moment, she closed her eyes. She did not want to acknowledge anything that went on here. It was not her fault she could not find a man she loved. What horrific bit of bad luck had found her?

The laird cleared his throat. "Perhaps I have not gone far enough or soon enough. And the ad did not promise you to just any man. He must be strong enough and smart enough to win your hand."

It was not Allura’s nature to allow others to rule her fate. “These men,” she waved her hand in the air, frustration sweeping recklessly within. "They don’t want me. They come for one reason only. They are greedy and hungry for power. You have taught me everything I need to know. I can run your estate and all of your holdings. I’ve studied endless hours. I know the men who work for you. I swear I’ll defy your wishes. At the altar I will say no."

The McClellan’s grin faded as quickly as it had appeared and without further thought, he said, "Perhaps not, you are beautiful lass--one with rare promise. And," he stroked his chin, "no matter how much book learning a woman has she cannot dictate her own life. It is up to the men in her life to make sure she is happy and provided for."

A strained silence followed. She sagged against the stone wall. As if sensing her vulnerable position, she stiffened. Outraged and furious she looked upon her father. "They are money grubbers and want your land--our land. They have no right to any of your estate."

The McClellan held back for a moment, seemingly aware there was more than just a little truth in what Allura said. "How indeed?" he questioned her. Yet his smile was tight, forced. "I grow old. I only want this land secured and my daughters happy before I die. You are twenty-two. I have given you ample opportunity to fall in love. I thought it time to bring new blood to this land, a new man. I thought perhaps one would take your fancy."

"That man," she began. Her hand shook when she pointed at the man who danced and whirled avoiding each blow as if he dallied in child's play. She trembled so violently she could not speak. “Is an Englishman.”

Allana Angel Presents: Check In Day

Feeling Happy!

Must be time to visit Disney Land.

Time to pay the piper! How did you do?

This is the Rogue's Angels weekly check-in. Every Thursday we encourage the Angels and visitors to let us know how their writing is going.

How well are you doing?

Had problems this week? That's ok. Just sit down this coming week and write. Whatever you do, don't let difficulties from the week before get in your way this week.

Every word is one word closer to the finished product.

Oh my, I'm writing chapter nine scene two. I still haven't written in the bad guy but he is definitely in my head. I want to finish this book and send it to critique partner. Wow! I can't believe I'm almost done.

I'm editing a really good read right now. I'd hoped to finish editing yesterday. But didn't have the time. I will finish today. At least I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Had a great week? Keep it up, the momentum is on your side.

The Angels Present: Secrets of an Aztec Temple

Please welcome Paty Jager author of Secrets of an Aztec Temple

Brewing and Research

Rogue Angels, thank you for having me here today to talk about Secrets of an Aztec Temple, the second book in the Isabella Mumphrey Adventures.

When I was brewing this book in my mind, I looked up motels and checked out expenses hoping to talk my husband into letting me go to Mexico City so I could see things first hand. I even had a brave friend who was willing to go with me. But right about then there was a lot of publicity about the drug wars and how even the residents of the city were leaving. So not wanting to give my hubby stress over me being in a drug run country, I started researching.

I found people who had traveled to Mexico and Mexico City, getting their firsthand accounts of what they saw and felt. Then I went online and watched Youtube videos of people on vacation there. I purchased the best guide books, and watched tours of the museum and temple where I set the book.

Once I had a feel for how to depict the city, I began reading information on the Aztec. Mainly, the temple and life that was buried under Mexico City. As with the first Isabella book, I didn’t delve deep into the Aztecs, but I wanted to have enough information to make it feel as if my character, Isabella knew them well and I wanted the villains in the story to have a connection with the Aztecs.

It was a case of, I researched and gleaned far more than I put in the book, but I’m hoping because of the research the story feels plausible.

Have you ever been to Mexico City? If so, what was your favorite part? If not, would you like to go there?

Blurb Secrets of an Aztec Temple:

Revenge is not always sweet… 

Isabella Mumphrey can’t leave a puzzle alone. This time she attempts to use her anthropology knowledge to uncover who is stealing priceless artifacts from an Aztec Temple in Mexico City. She believes the discovery will prove her worth to the World Intelligence Agency.  

Tino Costantine is also in Mexico City. He has infiltrated a drug lord’s organization to find enough evidence to not only prove the man’s illegal activities, but to bring him down for numerous deaths. Namely those of Tino’s family. 

But when the love of his life, Isabella, strolls into his enemy’s home, Tino is challenged with the choice of saving her or fulfilling his revenge.

Excerpt:

She pulled her flashlight back out, shining the beam into the passageway. Footprints in the dust proved someone had recently used it as entry to the basement storage. Where did it lead to? It had to be an extension of the tunnels being excavated in Templo Mayor. Who found this and why did they keep it a secret?

She mentally thunked her forehead. It was a secret because whoever found the tunnel used it to steal artifacts found in the temple. The people using the hidden entrance to label specific crates had to be part of the museum or part of the archeological groups or a combination. There could be a multitude of people involved.

The flashlight shone down a straight passageway leading…She ducked her head and entered the area. Logic told her to go back and research when the excavation near this passage was done. That would give a clue as to who could know about the tunnel. Then she could check on the whereabouts of all the people involved. But the adventure seeking part of her, who adored Indiana Jones movies, wanted to follow the passage and see where she came out.

Hunched in the secret passage, debating with herself, Isabella gave in to the logic and stepped out of the passage. Shoving the crates back against the wall, she wiped the dust from her hands and left the storage area.

Back in the archive room, she searched for the records and maps of the first excavation teams at Templo Mayor.

Buy Links:   

Windtree Press      Nook      Amazon       Kobo

Bio

Award winning author Paty Jager is a member of national and local writing organizations. She not only writes the western lifestyle she lives it. With sixteen novels and several short stories published, she continues to have characters cavorting in her head. 

You can learn more about Paty at her blog; www.patyjager.blogspot.com  her website; http://www.patyjager.net or on Facebook; https://www.facebook.com/#!/paty.jager , Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1005334.Paty_Jager  and twitter;  @patyjag.

Contests! Check out my blog and website as I am giving away gift cards to restaurants and book sellers. 

The Angels Present: Mist

Please welcome Danita Cahill author of Mist.

Back cover blurb for Mist:

It’s Thanksgiving, but the Roseland community doesn’t feel particularly thankful. Not when citizens of their Oregon coastal town keep disappearing. Is it aliens? A serial killer? Or a pack of evil, red-eyed dogs? Detective Kevin McCoffey is determined to solve the case.

When young, widowed photographer, Dianne Harris and her infant daughter find themselves face to face with the killer, Kevin races to yank them to safety. But is he too late? With help from both the town’s fortuneteller and the ghost of Dianne’s dead grandmother, Kevin and Dianne battle their own demons and their shared past history as they rush to save Dianne’s baby from the killer’s grip.

Author’s note – I started writing this book a month after my mother’s death. It was my way of moving through grief and healing. When my grandmother died years ago, I got stuck in the grieving process and had a hard time moving forward with life. My hope with this thriller novel is that it not only entertains, but helps others push through the tough days, weeks and months after losing a loved one.

There may be evil red eyes in the mist, but there is also light at the end of the tunnel.                   – Danita Cahill –

EXCERPT:

  I strain my ears to listen. The barking again. Is it getting closer?                               

  Something else. In the distance. A crunching sound. What is that?

  I check my mirrors. Search outside the windows. But the fog is so dense now, I can’t make out anything further than three or four feet beyond my vehicle.

  The crunching is getting louder. Closer. My heart jumps into my throat. Perspiration dampens my palms. Is it the dogs?

  I search my rearview mirror. Only thick white air. Nothing else.

  Wait. What’s this? A light. Drawing closer. No, make that two lights. And still the crunching sound. Wet crunching.

  Tires over a rain-soaked gravel road.

  My heart settles back down. It’s an approaching vehicle, although not loud enough or heavy enough to be a tow truck. It crunches to a halt behind me. A door opens and closes. Footsteps.

   Who could it be?

  What if it’s the Roseland serial killer come to grab Megan and me? My heart beats staccato again.

  The footfalls draw nearer. Not daring to breathe, I stare straight ahead. I don’t want to make eye contact until I know who it is and what they want.

  A dark form appears at my window. I can see it with my peripheral vision.  The form bends at the waist. A face appears, so close that the person’s breath clouds the glass. My heart pounds harder.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am. Do you need some assistance?”

  The pattern of my heartbeats change from stark fear to something lighter, giddier; like the slap of a child’s salt-water sandals running over hard-packed sand. “Kevin!” Am I ever glad to see him. I can’t roll down my window without power, so I fling open the door.

  It catches him in the shin.

  “Ouch!”

  “Sorry. Are you okay?”

  Kevin holds his lower leg and groans.

  “Oh, Kevin. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s…fine…really,” he says through clenched teeth. He lets go of his leg, straightens with a grimace and forces a smile. “Injuries are expected in the line of duty.”

  Duty? Is that how he thinks of me now, as a duty?

  “Are you alright?” he asks. “Your message sounded scared.”
   Damn skippy I was scared. Still am. I glance in all three mirrors. The dogs and their red, glowing eyes are nowhere in sight. I don’t want Kevin thinking me a nut case, so I don’t bring up the dogs.

  I feel safer with a cop nearby, although sitting here with my door ajar and Kevin standing outside in the open still makes me jittery. I keep my right hand tucked in my lap so he won’t see the bloody napkins wrapping my thumb. “I’m okay. I ran out of gas. Stupid, I know.”

“It happens all the time,” Kevin says. “I don’t have a gas can with me, but I’ll go get one and fill it. You and Megan can ride along so you don’t have to wait here in the cold. Besides, I don’t want you getting hit if someone drives up too fast. With this fog, I couldn’t see your SUV until I was right on top of you.”

  Kevin on top of me. Now that conjures up all sorts of erotic images. My face heats. I clear my throat. “Thanks for the offer, but there’s a tow service on the way.”

  I should tell him about the dogs. 

  “No problem.” Kevin crinkles his chin and looks deep into my eyes. “You sure everything’s alright?”

 I decide to come clean. “Well, there are these d…”      

 Kevin’s cell rings. He pulls the phone from its holder on his belt and answers. Kevin holds his hand over the mouthpiece. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. You’re positive you’re alright?”

I look up into Kevin’s familiar gold-brown eyes. “I’m okay.” At this precise moment, with him standing guard, I really mean it.

   He turns to leave. Stops. Hesitates. Spins back around. He leans down into my open doorway and kisses me full on the mouth. His lips are warm and firm against mine.

  “Oh,” I say when he draws away. “What was that for?” My lips tingle where his lips touched mine. 

  “For luck.” Kevin vanishes behind me into the mist. His headlights spear into the fog then disappear as he turns his patrol car around and speeds away.

  Kevin knows I don’t believe in luck. But the kiss was nice. The lip tingling spreads, sending pleasant ripples through my body.

  Very nice.

Author Danita Cahill

What do you think? Do all dogs go to heaven?