Time To Heat Up Your Summer!

To kick off the Memorial Day weekend and the traditional start of summer here on the mid-atlantic coast, check out this steamy read Taken Identity by Raven McAllan.  Her books are perfect summer beach reads and I promise you won't be disappointed!

Thank you for offering to host me on your blog today. Even though this is all about someone stealing your identity I promise I won't steal yours. (I may use your name in a book though.)

Blurb…

When the devastatingly handsome Gray turns up on her doorstep looking for his wife, and calling said wife by Jules name, Jules wondered briefly if she'd landed in an alternative universe. She knows she's not his wife, and so does he. But apparently someone with her name and history is.

Is it a case of coincidence or did his missing wife 'borrow' Jules' life?

Even though the dominant Gray sends her knickers aflame with just one look, with a missing wife in the equation, Jules knows there's no chance of finding out what else he could achieve.

There's only one thing to do—unravel the mystery and try and keep their hands off each other in the meantime. The first may well prove far easier than the latter.

A wee tease…

“Well, Mr Reynard.” She spoke in a brisk fashion, as she did her best to emulate his tone and pace and show none of the tension he invoked in her. Unfortunately—and no doubt he’d see it as a weakness—she had to squint slightly to bring him into focus. It wouldn’t be a pretty look. She’d taken enough selfies sans glasses or contacts to know that. She peered at him closely to bring him into focus. “So, how may I help you?”

Even without twenty-twenty vision, Jules was now close enough to see and decide the glance he gave her was along the lines of one you might give a not very bright child. She gritted her teeth, determined to show nothing of how she felt. Which was like a particularly unpleasant bug under a microscope.

“Well?” she prompted him in as pleasant a voice as she could manage. When she’d gone to answer the door, Jules hadn’t had time to put her shoes on and the old stone floor of the cottage’s hallway wasn’t warm. It would have been oh so easy to shiver, except she thought it would project a wrong image. She was not scared. Allegedly.

“I wish to speak to Julia Frayne.”

Sheesh, is he a robot or something? Stuck on one sentence? “You are speaking to Julia Frayne. Oh, for fucks sake, hold on a sec.” She remembered her old glasses, the ones she wore for gardening, were in her jacket pocket and if she stretched out, she should be able to reach them.

She managed and shoved them on her nose. All her suppositions were correct. A tall, dark, dangerous sex on legs specimen of manhood was filling her doorway. A very pissed off one.

The expression on his face would have frozen molten lava. Even more now, she wished she was wearing fuzzy slippers and a warm jumper. The look as well as the nip in the air didn’t make her feel comfortable in her thin, strappy and long, floaty skirt. Julia risked a brief glance downward and groaned inwardly. Just as she thought, her nipples had responded to the chilly atmosphere and pushed at the silky material covering them. Even though she was getting mighty sick of the guy, one of Miss McMurty’s expressions floated into her brain and she gave a stifled laugh. Sticking out like hat pegs, lovey. She crossed her arms over her chest and ignored the fact she was annoyed that her action looked defensive.

“You think something I’ve said is funny?” he asked with a frown on his face. “I beg to differ. This is no laughing matter. Impersonating someone—or purporting not to know what I’m referring to—isn’t something to smirk about. You are not Julia Frayne. And neither are you pregnant.”

Jules knew her jaw dropped, and she stood and stared at him, mouth open. At last, she found her voice.

“Half correct,” she said, pleased her tone was almost as frosty as his. “I can assure you, I am most certainly the former, and have been for close to thirty years. Equally, I am certain I am not the latter.”

For goodness sake, she thought in disgust, I sound like his clone with a stick up my ass. Very proper!

“Prove it,” he said.

The challenging tone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright, and Jules lost her temper. It was a rare occurrence, but when it happened, friends and relatives knew to duck. As her parents had often said, she lived up to the red-haired virago scenario when necessary.

“Certainly. I’ll fetch my passport.” She slammed the door shut, obviously taking him by surprise, as he made no move to stop her. Damn it, I wish I’d trapped his balls in there. Or at least his toes. Arrogant ass.

The doorbell rang almost immediately, seemingly invested with his impatience. Jules grinned to herself. She’d bet his finger was jammed on the buzzer, and it would stay there until she reopened the door. Let it, she had more things to worry about—like who the hell was he looking for? The bell began to ring in short staccato buzzes. Well, Mr Whoever-you-are Reynard, you can bloody well wait, Buzz Colonel Bogey and whistle, and if you hurt your finger, well, tough. I’m putting my lenses in before I face you again. In addition, I’ll maybe just wave my passport through the window.

It only took a few minutes for her to put in contact lenses, swipe the mascara brush over her pale eyelashes—she really must remember to book an appointment to get them re-dyed—retrieve her passport from a drawer and return to the front door. Nevertheless, in the short time she was away, the noise of the doorbell continued non-stop. At this rate, the battery will stop before he does, she mused, as she stopped in front of the mirror and checked just what her uninvited caller might see when he looked at her.

Typically Celt, she thought ruefully as she eyed her red corkscrew curls, green eyes, pale skin that never tanned properly and the myriad of freckles sprinkled over her nose. Never was she going to be a page three girl—Thank goodness. But, as her mother used to say, “What you’ve got is all yours!” Her strappy vest was now covered with a long, fluffy jumper, and her feet had striped socks on. Not haute couture but warm and serviceable.

Jules checked that her dad’s old, sturdy golf umbrella was tucked away in its usual place in the hallway—for poking her visitor, if need be—then slipped the chain on before she opened the door as far as the security measure allowed. A foot immediately inserted itself into the gap.

“Congratulations,” Jules said sarcastically. “A bit slow last time, weren’t you? But be warned, Mr Reynard, that’s as far as you’ll get. An expert fixed this chain. Now, if you look to the window on your right, I’ll show you my passport.”

Jules could almost hear his teeth grinding. Too bad. She had no intention of handing her passport to a stranger. For any reason. She moved to the side of the door where a small window brought a little more natural light into her otherwise darkish hallway and pressed the photograph page of her passport to the glass. Her—what? Intruder? Unwanted visitor? —moved slightly, without taking his foot from the door opening and leaned toward the glass. After long seconds, he stood back with a bewildered expression. He blinked, and tiny lines radiated out from the corners of his eyes. Then he shook his head.

“Ah…” he stopped speaking and shrugged.

“Satisfied?” Try as she might, Jules couldn’t keep the satisfied note out of her voice. “I, Mr Reynard, am I! Julia Frances Frayne. Spinster of this parish. Do you need anything else?”

“Yes, actually. I want my wife. Julia Frayne.”

~~~~~~~

If that has interested you, here's the buy links

https://www.totallybound.com/taken-identity

Thanks for reading,

Love Raven x         

Raven Bio…

Well what can I say?

I'm growing old disgracefully and loving it.

Dh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.

Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.

I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I'm often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I'm not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.

Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.

                               

And...I'm Back!

Please Excuse the long absence. Upon the closing of my publisher, I needed to take some time to regroup and establish a new plan. Stay tuned this weekend for re-release information as well as a sneak peak at a brand new release coming this summer!

An Unfortunate End Leads to a Bright New Beginning

As much as I hate to do this, I must share with all of you the closing of my publisher Breathless Press. Please read the following as released by the company:

Breathless Press has decided to close it's doors after a long year of declining sales. The decision came after a week long process of looking at options to keep the company open. Rather than leaving the authors high and dry, the company decided that the best option was to close before financial hardship hit them like so many other small presses. For those who are supporters, we thank you for your continued support.

Witness Protection and Undercover in Six Inch Stilettos will be unavailable for a short time but will return with shiny new covers and sequels to follow them up. Please bear with me while changes are made and join me for the re-release celebration. More information to come.

Review For Undercover In Six Inch Stilettos!

My very first professional review came in yesterday from Romancing the Book and it was amazing. Talk about a proud author moment!

If you would like to read it click here:

Undercover in Six Inch Stilettos Review

Release day was an amazing experience. Thank you to all that shared it with me. The paperbacks have still not become available on Amazon but ebooks are. If you are anxious for a paper copy, you can hit up www.breathlesspress.com.

BP also offers ebook formats for the Nook and in PDF for reading on your computer.

A Little Treat for my Readers...

As promised, here is a little something for all of you....the first chapter of Undercover in Six Inch Stilettos!

The Amazon preview before Amazon previews it...  Enjoy

Chapter One

"Never, ever let a mosquito fly up your shorts, Roxy." Cyndi resisted the urge to scratch her backside as she removed her costume. Stripping out of the red bustier with its shiny boob tassels, she finally gave up trying to be a lady and scratched for all she was worth, moaning in satisfaction as she dug at the half dozen bug bites on her left butt cheek. 

"Itchy or not, you still done some good work tonight, Sugah." Roxy laughed, a hard gravelly sound, roughened by decades of vodka on the rocks and Lucky Strike cigarettes. Roxy Feathers sounded oddly masculine for a woman in her profession, but then, who knew? Maybe Roxy was a man. In this new world she was all wrapped up in nothing surprised Cyndi any more.

"I don't know about all that, Roxy. I don't have half your talent." If, by talent, Cyndi meant shaking her— um—assets for dollar bills from drunken bums on a Friday night.

The older woman scoffed, waving her hot pink feather boa up and down in Cyndi's face. "Talent? Ha. What I got is practice and a reputation. I been here a long time and they know what to expect from me. You? You got that young body of yours goin' on! Dem boys out there, they love a perky set and you got you a perky set, for sure."  

Roxy disappeared from the dressing room in a flurry of fake feathers and cheap perfume, her laughter echoing back to where Cyndi sat in a rusty folding chair scrubbing at her stage makeup. 

The thick wad of cash on the counter in front of her was more than enough justification for flaunting her assets a couple hours a week. Flipping through the crumpled bills, Cyndi counted well over $300 for the two hours she worked. Swatting at groping hands and sweaty, horny men took some getting used to but the money—oh the money was so worth it. An eight-hour graveyard shift at the Waffle House wouldn't have produced even a third of that in tips. She certainly wouldn't get anything near that scrubbing toilets and washing windows. Besides, if she had a God-given perky set, she might as well put it to good, lucrative use. It's not like she actually had to get naked. In Virginia it was against the law to actually show any of the good stuff even in a gentlemen's club.  She kept her clothes on and made a truckload of money. It was a win-win situation. Except for the part when she lied to her husband every Friday night.

Over the past several months, Roxy had taken her under her wing. Thanks to the seasoned dancer, Cyndi now knew which regulars to keep clear of, how to recognize a grabber, and the best ways to get the biggest tips without stepping too far outside her comfort zone.

Because six-inch, red heels and a matching sequined bustier were so inside her comfort zone.

Apparently middle-aged housewives with killer push-up bras were a real commodity in the world of exotic dancers. The stack of bills sitting on the table was testament to that. Ironically the whole thing sort of made her feel empowered too. The most sexist job in the world oddly made her more confident. Her woman's studies teacher back at Mt. Holyoke College would have had a stroke if she heard Cyndi say such a thing.

It was nearly midnight. Jason had to be pacing the house already. If she ran late, he started calling around, getting his cop buddies to search the streets for her. That was the last thing she needed. In his mind, the streets of Virginia Beach were teeming with men waiting to have a piece of her.

Glancing in the mirror, she made sure every last streak of red, white and blue eye shadow was gone before brushing out her wild, teased hair. Removing the rest of her Miss Liberty outfit, Cyndi pulled on a pair of jeans, tugged a worn out sweatshirt left over from her husband's academy days over her head, and slipped into scuffed and dirty tennis shoes before following Roxy's path out of the dressing area.

"See you next week, Johnny!" She waved to the bartender, a twenty-something business school student she happened to know wore women's underwear underneath those neatly pressed Dockers he sported.

"You have yourself a good one, little lady," he drawled. On certain days Johnny fancied himself from old west Texas, which was pretty funny considering no cowboy she had ever heard of had a preference for wearing silky lingerie.

"Thanks, you too!"

"Have a good week, Cyndi." 

"You too, Jade. Stay safe, okay?"

"You know I will." Jade smiled and ducked through the door heading into the back of the building.

The young runaway was probably only sixteen, although she claimed to be the required eighteen to dance at Sugar Shakers on Friday and Saturday night. Cyndi was pretty sure Jade moonlighted at the corner of Seventh Street and Pacific Avenue during the rest of the week. A pretty rough looking dude Jade identified as her boyfriend hung around the club on occasion. At best, the guy was probably her pimp. Given Jade's likely age, child molester seemed more appropriate.

Cyndi threw up a little in her mouth when her hand encountered something sticky on the front door.

The air was heavy with sea salt. Cyndi breathed in deep, clearing her lungs of the dank club air. 

In the alley behind the building, a cat screeched as it came running past her. A loud crash sounded in the shadows of the alley. Cyndi picked up her pace, nearly running to the bus stop and telling herself the cat had just knocked over a trash can or something. Why hadn't she taken the car to work? 

Because she would have a hell of a time explaining it to Jason if someone saw her parked outside the club. 

The city bus rambled around the corner and pulled up to where she stood. Cyndi didn't waste any time entering the safety of the vehicle. She was so grateful to be off the dark street she almost missed the shadowy figure that stepped out of the alley way with something slung over its shoulder. Homeless people were always digging through the club's dumpster. She had no idea what this one had found but it looked heavy.

"Heeeyyy...I knooow...yooouuuu. You're Ladyyyy Libberrtyyy." The slurred words came from the seat behind her. Cyndi ignored him but the drunk was persistent. "Come...on...showwww meeee your tassels!" The voice dissolved in drunken laughter.

Without looking behind her, Cyndi stood up and changed seats. Her wasted admirer belched loudly before falling into a perverted version of the National Anthem. He was on his third repetition of "Rockets and beer, bums trippin' 'round everywhere" when the city bus mercifully arrived at her stop.

The house was lit up like an airport runway when she arrived at the foot of the driveway. Tactically sound, Jason always said. Better to see the bad guy first before he saw them. The image of the shadowy figure that had come out of the alley earlier passed through her thoughts briefly. There was no place for shadowy figures in their yard. Every square inch of property was flooded in light. Planes could land there.

Jason pulled the door open just as she reached for the knob with her key. "Where have you been?" Filling the doorway with broad shoulders and a grim expression, he looked her up and down. "I was just about to call dispatch, you know."

"The bus was late. I'm here now though and I'm exhausted. Let me in." 

Jason stepped aside to let her pass but followed her into the kitchen of their cozy little ranch house. "Seriously, I was getting worried. How come you're so late? Why didn't you take the car tonight? How come I don't know where you go to work?"

"Give it a rest, Jason. You know the offices change every week. I don't know where I'm going to be until I get there. You can stop worrying now, I'm fine. The great resort city of Virginia Beach has nothing to fear except its wild foxes and I stayed far away from the beach tonight, I promise."

How the lies flowed so easily these days.

"Oh, please. One stupid tourist website posts one ridiculous article and suddenly you think foxes are the only danger around here."

"I'm really beat, Jason. How is Harper tonight?"

"Stop trying to change the subject, Cynthia Jane Mills. You are thirty minutes late. Do you know what could happen in thirty minutes?"

"I could get raped, beaten, or robbed. You name it, it could happen to me. I am the world's biggest target." Cyndi sighed in exasperation as she tossed the purse she still carried down on the counter. "None of that happened. The bus was just late."

"You should quit that job. It's too late at night. I'll pick up some overtime." Concern lit his blue eyes as he tried so hard to remain stern. Jason never stayed mad at her for long. Her tough, cop husband was just a big old softy underneath it all. Sometimes he just tried a little too hard. She touched his cheek and smiled. 

"I'm not quitting. We could use the extra money and you can't work twenty-four hours a day."

"We don't need it badly enough for you to put yourself in danger."

"How much danger can I be in? I'm locked inside an office building mopping floors and scrubbing sinks."

Cyndi hated keeping secrets from the man she loved but if he knew what she actually did every Friday night from eight to midnight, he would show up guns a blazin' and go all Hawaii 5-0 on the place. Maybe she should have stayed at the office cleaning gig. The pay was crap but the work was honest.

The wad of cash in her pocket screamed at her to shut up. No way she could go back—it would take a month of office cleaning to make $300.

Jason leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest. She recognized that look immediately. He was doing the cop thing, analyzing her, and she could tell he knew something didn't add up. His left eyebrow rose just a tad higher than the right as he studied her. "Why do you have glitter in your hair?"

Cyndi shook her hair and a shower of glitter rained down on her sweatshirt. Damn. Somehow she had missed a boat load of sparkle. Damn, that stuff got everywhere.

"Jody brought her daughter's costume for a dance recital to work so I could help her fix a tear. It was all covered in sparkles. The damn stuff got on everything. Had to go back over the carpets with the sweeper twice and I'm still not sure we got it all."

Jason continued to stare down at her from his full six feet of height. His stare was laser sharp, his presence imposing. It was no wonder he was so good at catching the bad guy. Hardened criminals squirmed under the intensity of that stare. Hopefully he couldn't see through her despite the fact she felt as transparent as the shower curtain hanging in their bathroom.

"You think Harper is going to want to do that stuff?"

"Harper is four. It's a little early to predict if she will be a dancer or a swimmer or...whatever."

"Yeah, well, I just don't want that glittery stuff all over the house. The guys won't ever let me live it down, I show up to work all sparkly like that." He shook his head.

Cyndi stepped closer to her husband and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm exhausted, honey. How about we go to bed?"

Jason hugged her close. "You gonna wear a little French maid's outfit like you do when you clean those offices?"

"Jason!"

"Can't fault a guy for trying." Jason's grin was a sharp contrast to his earlier scrutiny. He pulled out the neckline of her top and peered down into it. "Come on. I know you gotta wear some kinda uniform!"

Thank God she had changed in to her old white bra from the discount store and left her bustier at work. Stepping back, Cyndi held her arms out and spun around slowly. "You're looking at it, baby. Doesn't my ratty old sweatshirt turn you on?"

"Not as much as a little maid's outfit would. It's nearly Halloween. Maybe I ought to pick one up for you to wear at work. You know, so you don't mess up your own clothes."

"Ohhh, Jason... you are such a guy!"

"You would rather I be such a girl?"

"Of course, not! Just don't be so obvious about being a man all the time." Cyndi filled a glass of water from the tap, drank it in one gulp, then placed her used cup in the sink before heading toward their bedroom. "Come on, cop man. You play your cards right I might let you frisk me before we go to sleep."

Cyndi heard light switches flip, door chains sliding and the announcement that the house emergency alarm was being set. Jason rushed through his nightly round of safety checks as he yelled to her from various locations around the house.

"Do you have anything on you that might hurt me?" Snap went the deadbolt on the front door. "Needles, knives, or guns?" Click went the security latch on the sliding door to the back yard. "Do I need gloves or cuffs...?" 

"Not sure you're gonna need gloves but cuffs might be fun," she called back as she climbed out of her clothes and dropped into the cool sheets. Her head hit the pillow and exhaustion consumed her. The last thing she heard was the sound of Jason undoing his belt as he entered the room followed by the click of the magazine on his gun as he checked to be sure it was loaded before dropping it into the bedside safe. She was fairly certain she actually heard him dangle a pair of handcuffs before she slipped away into sleep. Falling asleep was never her problem. Staying that way was.

Just like every single night of her adult life, sometime later Cyndi awoke suddenly. The room was dark, the house quiet. Only the soft, even hum of Jason breathing disturbed the silence.   After tossing and turning for a while, she decided to get up and see what the girls were up to. Just like most every night.

The group of insomniacs she referred to as her girls were members of an online police wives group she belonged to. Internet was the one real splurge neither she nor Jason could give up no matter how frugal they tried to be. Grabbing a blanket off the back of a chair, she curled up in the corner of the sofa and waited for the familiar log-in screen. The clock on the microwave had read 2:56 when she passed through the kitchen for a glass of water. So many years of Jason working the night shift had drastically altered her sleep patterns. Even when he was home she never slept all the way through the night. Three a.m. was the witching hour for her. Without fail, every single night, three hundred and sixty-five nights a year she awoke at the same time. Somewhere in the back of her mind she believed that if something was going to happen out on Jason's patrol, it would be at three in the morning. Her subconscious obviously believed that if Cyndi were awake, she could somehow prevent the horrible thing that was supposed to happen to the man she had loved for fifteen years.

The familiar blue background of the site filled her computer screen. Cyndi joined the secret group of police wives immediately. As far as she could tell, they were all there. She greeted the group with her usual conversation starter.

Cyndi: Good Evening, Ladies...It's 3 a.m. Do you know where your husbands are?

Angela: With a hooker...AND her john! LOL

Diana: Crack house!

Jessy: Jail!

Cyndi: Ah, so all the usual places then? LOL

Diana: Jason on duty tonight?

Cyndi: Nope. It was my work night.

Angela: How's that new job of yours going??

Cyndi: Made $300 bucks tonight...

Diana: That's something like $150 an hour!

Cyndi: I know.

Jessy: Does Jason know yet?

Cyndi: No. And he isn't going to.

Diana: How do you explain all the extra money?

Cyndi: *sigh* I don't... I only give him about $100 of it every two weeks. What I would make if I was still cleaning offices.

Angela: What about the rest?

Cyndi: Right now? It's in an oatmeal container in the back of the pantry. Jason hates oatmeal! LMAO

Diana: LMAO I might have to steal that idea. Donnie has no idea that all those calls coming in on Saturday night aren't actually from shopping network customers...Wouldn't it be interesting if Detective Massey discovered what his wife really did while he was working the night shift?

Jessy: Maybe he'll think it's hot that his wife moonlights as a phone sex operator? LOL

Diana: I totally doubt that! LOL Hard to give up though, been doing it since college... How do you think I paid for the Bachelor's degree? Ha-ha! I think I am as addicted to it as those creepers who call in every night!

Jessy: eeewww! LOL

Angela: So what y'all are saying is that your husbands work their asses off worrying about money and they have no idea you two sexy things are raking in the dough?

Cyndi: Trust me when I say Jason doesn't give a damn about money. All he worries about are perps...and potential perps...and people who don't even know they might qualify as potential perps...

Jessy: Your boy needs to get over himself, Cyn... not everyone is out to get him.

Cyndi: Try telling that to him! LOL I've been unsuccessful at getting through to him for too many years.

Diana: Donnie doesn't care about money either. As long as he has clean socks and    underwear and his next meal is always waiting he could care less about what comes in or goes out.

Angela: Yeah, my Jake is the same way. As far as he is concerned there is a money tree growing in the basement...oh wait...we live in the south, we don't have a basement.

Jessy: LOL Sam thinks we have a tree too, I swear!

Angela: Not to change the subject or anything but a weird call came in to dispatch             tonight when I was on shift.

Diana: Weird how?

Angela: Some heavy breathing dude called in from one of those dump phones, you know the pay-as-you-go cell phones? Yeah, he called in, said "The girl is dead" and hung up.

Cyndi: That was all he said?

Angela: Yup. He didn't say anything else, just hung up. I couldn't even dispatch a unit to check it out, we had no idea where he was calling from. The number just came up as "cell phone."

Diana: Hmmm...maybe just a drunk playing games?

Angela: He sounded pretty sober and lucid to me but who knows? He could have been an escaped mental patient or something. I passed the information on to Jake. He was on duty tonight so he and his partner did a little digging but nothing turned up.

Jessy: Because there are so many escaped mental patients wandering around the streets of Virginia Beach... You are more likely to run into a fox! LOL

Cyndi: OMG! Jason and I were talking about the foxes tonight too! He thinks I give too much credit to that stupid article. 

Diana: The beach has foxes all right but they are more the two-legged variety just waiting to pounce on all the pretty bikini clad sheep!

Cyndi let out a big yawn. Harper would be awake in another three hours.

Cyndi: I am gonna call it a night, ladies. Little one will be up with the sun. 

Diana: Yeah, I'm pretty beat too. Night all!

The other ladies bid farewell and Cyndi shut her computer down. In no time at all, the sun was shining and little Harper was standing by her bed. The nightstand clock read 6:30, much too early to get up.

"I'm hungry, Mommy."

"Of course you are, my little sweet pea," Cyndi muttered. "How about you cuddle Mommy for a minute or two first?"

"Okay!" Harper wasted no time climbing in between her and Jason. Her husband never even stirred and it wasn't long before she and Harper both drifted back to sleep.

The Tour Continues With a Giveaway!

In just twenty-four hours Undercover in Six Inch Stilettos will be released!  Can you tell I am in complete anticipation of this event?

I love everything about this book. The artist designed an amazing cover. The story is fun and the romance is just spicy enough.  Today I am visiting two blogs, with a free ebook giveaway to one random commenter. So, pop on over and read a little about the inspiration behind the Secret Lives of Police Wives series. Leave a comment for your chance to win.

eBook giveaway!


Amazing romance author Torie James is also showing me a lot of love today on her blog. Stop in and say Hi. Torie's New Camelot series has been raved about and she has a lot of great visitors on her page.

A Mad Woman With a Magical Sword


If you return tonight, I will have a surprise for all of my readers posted at 7 pm est. :-)