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A FREE newsletter exclusive story

Hello dear reader,

Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews of Grim & Bare It, The Accidental Reaper Series, book 1!

I’m thrilled that so many of you took the leap into this new series with me. As an author who juggles multiple series and genres, pausing those to start a new one is always a risk. Thank you for joining me as I venture into this new one, it’s brought me so much creative joy.

Don’t worry, there’s more romantic suspense coming your way. You can check out the progress I’m making on all the upcoming stories and series on my home page.

For fans of Chloe, Killion, Ghost, and Death, you’ll get access to the exclusive FREE story in my newsletter going out this weekend, so be sure to sign up if you haven’t already!

What also helps launch a new series and keeps readers happy is more books. So not only can you get the free short story, but there’s more of the gang coming!  Reaper’s Keepers, The Accidental Reaper Series Book 2, releases July 1st at all retailers, but if you order from my store, you can download and read Reaper’s Keepers today!

Don’t forget to sign up for the newsletter so you don’t miss out on Killin’ It – you’ll get into the mind of Killion in this one and see what he really thinks about the new grim he has to mentor! If you’re already on my subscriber list, first of all thank you, and secondly, be sure to watch for the newsletter going out this weekend.

Happy reading!

Misty 💜

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PREORDER Grim & Bare It!

My baby is live! I’m so excited that Grim & Bare It, The Accidental Reaper Paranormal Urban Fantasy Series, Book 1 IS AVAILABLE FOR PREORDER EVERYWHERE!

When college student Chloe Frost accidentally kills a grim reaper, she must step into his ropes, take up his scythe, and harvest souls, all while juggling two jobs, handling a moody vampire assigned to be her partner, and attempting to resuscitate her dead love life.

A humorous paranormal urban fantasy series starring a grim reaper and a vampire!

★★★★★ “OMG I loved this book! The whole book flowed so well. I adored ALL of the characters. Chloe and Killion’s chemistry is absolutely wonderful.” ~ Reader review

★★★★★ “Sexy vampire for the win!” ~ Reader review

★★★★★ “…engaging, funny and adventurous, I loved it.” ~ Goodreads review

No good deed goes unpunished….

My plan for a quiet night at home is dashed when, during the rescue of my landlady’s runaway cat, a serial killer — nicknamed the Grim Reaper by the media — decides I’m his next victim.

It’s a fight to the death, and despite being a gold-medal klutz, I somehow manage to turn the tables on him and end his life instead. Imagine my shock when I discover he actually was a grim.

His robes have now chosen me to take his place, and I’m contractually obligated to the Soul Management Group for a full year. Yep, three hundred and sixty-five days until I’m free from these disgusting robes and a death blade with a mind of its own — it wants to kill everyone.

Worse, my new boss, Death, has paired me with the local master vampire to investigate a rogue reaper. Our assignment will take us into the evil underbelly of the supernatural world, and neither of us may make it out alive.

What’s a girl to do? Guess I’ll have to grim and bare it…

Preorder now to enjoy this supernatural world of vampires, grim reapers, witches, shifters, and Death.

Yep, Death with a capital D. 😉

Direct Buy (Read it MAY 1st!):

★ Amazon US:


Apple Books: 


Google Play:

Amazon UK:

Amazon AU:

Amazon CA:

Amazon PRINT:


I can’t wait for you all to meet Chloe, Killion, & Death! From now through May, anyone who has preordered on my DIRECT BUY SITE will be eligible to WIN a prize pack from me. Stay tuned for details!

Happy reading,

Misty 💜

Don’t want to miss a single adventure? Let’s learn more about each other. Sign up to hear from me to find out ALL the fun news! 

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★★★★★99¢ SALE! Binge read all week! 4-for-1 sale!! 

I’m having a sale, just because it’s Tuesday. Yep, I even came out of my author cave (I’m editing In Too Reap, Accidental Reaper Paranormal Urban Fantasy Series, Book 3, releasing August 1st) so I could let you know. 

SCVC Taskforce Romantic Suspense Set 1-4 is only 99¢. You get the first four complete novels in the SCVC Taskforce Romantic Suspense Series! You can binge read to your heart’s content.

Amazon US:

Amazon UK:

Amazon CA:

Amazon AU:


Apple Books: 

I never expected the Taskforce to still be going strong in 2022. I drafted the first chapters of Deadly Pursuit in 2011. At that time, it was titled Into the Fire. I had sold Operation Sheba and three other stories at that point, but my muse wasn’t cooperating with this story. I set it aside, went back to it, changed the POV, and kept rewriting the same opening chapters.

Eventually, I kept going, except I had to quit again before I hit the climax, due to life intervening, and my muse insisting I write other stories. I outlined what I wanted to happen and put it back in the proverbial drawer. Little did I know that I would need to pull it out and polish it up to include it in an anthology with nine other amazing romantic suspense authors. I got up at 5 a.m. every morning for a month to finish it and get it edited in time, but boy, I’m sure glad I did.

The other cool thing about this series is that it features my chihuahua, Thunder. He was a rescue, on death row in Miami, before a no-kill shelter picked him and our other dog, Athena, up and transported them north to a town about an hour from where we lived at that time. Our giant Pyrenees mix had passed earlier that year and I was still devastated, but my family needed a dog to help us heal from our grief. We searched all the local shelters and rescues for weeks and didn’t find one who captured all our hearts. Then one day in June, we drove to another state to the no-kill shelter and there they were — the two pups who had made an incredibly long journey and were in desperate need of a new family. Thunder and Athena have both been my writing companions for every Taskforce book.

When you read the stories, I hope you’ll enjoy them, especially now since you know more about what went on behind the scenes. Grab your copy of the special collection 1-4 and enjoy! Here are the links again.

Amazon US: 

Amazon UK: 

Amazon CA: 

Amazon AU: 


Apple Books: 

Always writing for you,

Misty 💜


P.S. Don’t forget, Grim & Bare It, Accidental Reaper Paranormal Urban Fantasy Series, Book 1, releases June 1st, but you can get it a whole month early on May 1st through my direct buy site here: 

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New urban fantasy series is coming!

Guess what?!!? It’s cover reveal week for the first book in my NEW URBAN FANTASY series!

Want to see the cover for Grim & Bare It, Accidental Reaper Series, Book 1, a FULL WEEK before the rest of the world? Come join my private and very official Facebook group and you’re IN!

I’ve been writing diligently on this series since last year, so I can release three books in three months this summer. I’m so excited to finally share my babies with you!

I’m officially releasing the first book, Grim & Bare It, on my birthday, June 1st! 

It’s a gift to myself for following my dream of writing Urban Fantasy again. 

📖💕 I am offering an EARLY RELEASE through my direct buy site. 📖💕


That’s RIGHT! If you want to get the book a FULL MONTH ahead of time (on May 1st), this is the way to do it:


ARCs will go out in April. If you LOVE spunky heroines, sexy vampires, shifters, and witches, AND you’d like to read and review Grim & Bare It, be sure to sign up for my review newsletter to get the details.


Stay tuned for the big reveal!!

Misty 💕

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Get your hands on Josh!

Here’s what readers love about SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY, book 7 in my Super Agent Romantic Suspense Series, now available.

“This fast moving romantic suspense follows Naomi and Josh as they follow a twisting trail of clues in their efforts to keep their countries safe. Their story is sexy and engaging as they work at cross purposes during the day and sleep together at night. I loved their characters and found myself invested in their story.” ~ Amazon reviewer

If you buy direct from me, you will you save $1!
In this enemies-to-lovers romantic thriller, two international spies must put their differences aside and work together to stop a terrorist out for revenge.
As one of the top assassins in the world, Naomi Singer is a lone wolf. She doesn’t let anyone get close. Family, country, honor…they’re all that matter.
Except when a smart-talking, Marine-turned-spy makes her question her mission. He’s under her skin, in her dreams.
He’s also her target.
Josh Devons doesn’t trust the beautiful assassin in his bed, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting her. The risk is life or death, but the rewards… They’re too great to resist.
When the two discover a sinister plot manipulating both their countries, it’s up to Josh to keep Naomi safe from the very agency who trained her. He’ll sacrifice everything to convince her of his love, even if it means becoming a traitor—or dying at her hands.
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Merry Holidays! Time for a sale!

Merry Christmas & happy holidays! It’s been such a weird year, but I hope you and yours are safe and enjoying some needed fun before the year is over. I hope you’re finding time to read!

December is the month I slow down on writing and editing and plan for the coming year’s releases. I outline books (4 done, 2 to go) and pencil in release dates on my various calendars (6 scheduled so far).

I enjoy Christmas movies and songs, as well as holiday themed stories. White Christmas is my favorite movie, and Santa is Coming to Town by Bruce Springsteen. Both bring back special memories for me.

Do you have a favorite movie or song that instantly puts you in the holiday spirit?

Santa visited early and brought me the one gift I’ve been wishing for – a new sewing machine. I’m a crafter at heart and used to sew all the time. I even made quilts. It’s been fun to get back into the swing of things (see the two items I’ve made so far below) and I’ve spent hours on Pinterest finding more projects.

I’ve also made dozens of bracelets and candles (all sold!) and I have more beads and wax waiting.

If you’re looking for a holiday read, Deadly Holiday, Deadly Attraction, and Operation Christmas Contraband are all on sale on my direct buy site for only 99¢. Merry Christmas!

I’m ready for more interaction with my readers and a spirit of community, so I’ve started a private readers’ group on Facebook. Members will get to see more of “me” the person, and get to see my works in progress (read excerpts as the books are written!), learn about sales, and have early access to release. I won’t be doing much with it until January, but if you’d like to be one of the first, founding readers, you can ask to join here:

Wishing you and yours a peaceful season filled with love and fun,

Misty & family (including Athena, Thunder, and Princess Zoey!)

My sewing organizer with multiple pockets. It zips up and has a carry handle. Great for makeup, nail polish, essential oils, office supplies, and crystals! I call this my Busy Bee pouch. It has two pockets with fun inner linings and heavy duty zippers. 

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“Phenomenal! The book had me hooked right from the start.”

Looking for a hot, new romantic suspense series?

Investigative reporter Savanna Bunkett digs into a rumor about a top-secret government project producing “super soldiers” and finds herself on an assassin’s hit list.

Navy SEAL Trace Hunter—the only soldier to survive the project—must become her bodyguard. He needs her to set the record straight with the entire world about who he is, and he’s her only chance at survival.

When their mutual enemy closes in, can they put the past behind them and trust each other? Or will secrets, lies, and forbidden passions cost them everything?

“Cover ups, intrigue, life and death situations and romance? Yes please!” ~ Reader review



✩ Apple Books →

✩ Kobo →

✩ B&N →




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She’s hell-bent to uncover the truth. He’ll do anything to keep his secrets buried.

Being Savanna’s bodyguard is the last thing Trace wants to do, but she’s his one chance to set the record straight—and he’s her only chance at survival. When their mutual enemy closes in, will secrets, lies, and forbidden passions cost them everything?

FREE on all US retailers!

Enjoy this excerpt!

Navy SEAL Lieutenant Trace Hunter stood outside the Witcher prison walls in nothing but his underwear and stared at the gray Virginia skyline.

You wore the same clothes leaving prison that you wore coming in; hence his lack of street clothes.

Eighteen months since he’d been a free man. Since his world crashed down like a Black Hawk hit by a surface-to-air missile.

He drew a deep breath, the cold November air searing a line straight down his throat and into his lungs. Yes sir, the guard hadn’t been lying.

“Brisk out there,” he’d told Trace as he’d handed him a pair of sweatpants and a jacket and ushered him out a rear service door not far from solitary.

The normal guards had been missing, the numerous doors and gates opening for the two of them as if by magic. But Trace was a lifer. He didn’t understand why he was getting out, or why he wasn’t going out the front gate.

Leaving Witcher had never crossed his mind when he’d entered, so he didn’t argue as the guard directed him through the last gate. He did, however, ignore the kindness of the clothes and bugged out as fast as his feet could carry him.

Thanks to his stubbornness, his skin was now pebbling in the frosty air.

He’d briefly considered there would be a car waiting for him, or more likely, there would be a sniper on the hill and a bullet with Trace’s name on it.

Neither materialized.

Forty yards from the prison, he came to a fork in the road. According to the sign, north lay Rileyville, Population 899. South lay Murder Creek, unincorporated. Either way was a long walk in his skivvies.

Rocks and debris on the road bit into the soles of his feet as he put his head down and headed south. He’d taken off the cheap flip-flops Witcher had provided upon entry and thrown them as far as his arm allowed. He’d survived tougher conditions in hellholes like Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Peru. North Korea had been a ball of laughs, too.

At least those places had been warm.

Who got me out?

Leaving the prison, he’d kept wondering if it was a joke, and that once he finally got to the last gate where the laundry trucks came and went, the normal guards would arrive back at their posts, laugh and tell him to turn the fuck around and go back to solitary.

He’d spent a lot of time there. No way in hell he’d been released early for good behavior.

When he’d asked why he was free to go, the guard with the clothes wouldn’t answer him.

Fucking government.

He loved his country. Had done a lot of shit to keep her safe, but there was one thing he’d refused to do and it had cost him his freedom and his reputation. He knew a secret that could destroy the sitting president. Linc Norman’s enemies would give Trace anything he wanted for this tidbit of info.

He wouldn’t give it to them. None of them.

He also wouldn’t follow the last order his commander-in-chief had issued.

So he’d been branded a rogue operative, a traitor. His story—a false one—had been plastered all over the highly-rated The Bunk Stops Here and then been picked up by news stations around the world. He’d become the face on dozens of cheap tabloids, usurping the Royals’ latest baby and stealing the limelight from the current Disney star-turned-porn princess, all thanks to Savanna Bunkett, the host of TBSH who’d broken the story on him.

The all-American, girl-next-door Savanna did a three-show segment on his fall from war hero to traitor, crucifying him and calling into question every mission he’d been on, every SEAL who’d worked with him.

Not a lawyer in the country would touch him, and even if one had stepped forward to take on the U.S. Attorney General, they wouldn’t have won. He was a dead man walking. Thanks to some back-door dealing, he didn’t even get a trial; he was sent straight to Witcher, the hidden government installment built especially for high-risk prisoners like him. Prisoners who’d been the best at what they did. Highly-trained operatives and military personal who knew every trick their government had up its sleeve and how to get around all of them.

Behind him, the sound of tires on pavement broke him out of his reverie.

SUV, four-wheel drive, twenty-five miles an hour tops.

Trace didn’t turn or acknowledge the vehicle’s presence. It was traveling too slowly to be a casual traveler on his way to Murder Creek unless the driver was a blue-hair. Of course, a man his size walking on the side of the road in nothing but his underwear could cause any normal driver to slow so he or she could gawk.

Trace knew the driver wasn’t an old lady or a curious traveler. The person or persons approaching carried danger. Probably someone working for the president or Command & Control. Maybe the person who’d gotten him cut loose from Witcher so they could gun him down on the side of the road.

Hell, the president had already had him in the perfect spot to end him. People inside had tried, but he was better, faster, more deadly than his fellow inmates. He’d sent more than a few of them to the infirmary, knowing they had only come after him because the president had offered them early release if they took him out.

He’d been well-trained for evasive maneuvers. The tree line next to him would make for good cover if he needed it. He could disappear before the driver blinked. Disappear forever and reinvent himself. Go to the Caribbean, meet some sweet native gal and start a new life. Or maybe Italy. He’d always wanted to visit Italy.

Bonus, Italy was one of the few countries where he’d never killed anyone.

The SUV cruised by him, accelerating ten yards out. Cadillac Escalade. Not official government unless the mayor of Virginia was paying a visit.

Maybe it is a blue-hair gawker.

Tinted windows. All-season, heavy duty tires. If he had to guess, he’d say by the sound of those tires on the cold highway, the vehicle was carrying some reinforced side panels.

His gawker was either incredibly rich and paranoid, or Beyoncé had heard he was out and had come to pick him up.

Doesn’t matter who’s in the car. Only matters what I’m going to do about it.

Escape scenarios were limited. There was one road, the road he was walking on, and the trees.


He liked things simple.

Sure enough, the Escalade made a U-y in the valley and stopped, pointed back toward him.

Fight or flight?

While he’d kept himself in good condition inside Witcher, he was tired of fighting.

Flight it is.

He glanced over at the tree line. The shadows beckoned. The anonymity. A fresh start.

Nah. Running wasn’t his style. Instead of bailing from his very exposed line of sight, he stood stock-still and eyed the SUV, still idling a quarter mile away.

He’d pushed through pain, through war, through prison. Had gotten back up every time someone knocked him down.

Even the goddamn president of the United States.

That’s what soldiers did.

There was no point in running. The prez would come for him again and again and again.

It was time to make a stand, even if it was his last.

* * *

Washington, DC

Savanna Jeffries Bunkett looked up from the notes on her lead story when a knock sounded on her dressing room door. She scowled at her reflection in the large mirror over her table. She needed her roots touched up.

Scribbling a reminder on the top sheet, she called out, “Yes?”

Lindsey Fey, the assistant to the assistant director at The Bunk Stops Here and Savanna’s studio-assigned assistant, poked her head in. The headphones she used to bark orders to the cameramen and crew lay around her neck. “You have a visitor.”

The word “visitor” held emphasis. Lindsey’s eyes danced and she was smiling.

Lindsey was always smiling. She ran her butt off, organizing everything from the scriptwriters to the coffee machine and her energy and aggressiveness had helped make TBSH an Emmy winner. She had Executive Producer in her sights and Savanna didn’t have the heart to tell her she was too young and lacked specific equipment between her legs to go that far with the news channel. She was related to one of the producers, however, and in the world of cable news, that would be Lindsey’s ticket to success.

Lindsey never took off her headphones while on set. Maybe not even when she was off set; Savanna couldn’t be sure, since she didn’t hang out with the staff and crew, was never invited out for drinks after filming or to the DC parties the rest of them always seemed to rush off to.

Lindsey’s smile, along with the word emphasis, made Savanna’s pulse speed up. “Is it Parker?” she asked.

Blonde eyebrows drew together and the smile flattened. “Your sister? No.” As Savanna’s hope died, Lindsey’s smile returned. She leaned in, stage-whispering, “Someone big.”

Big in television news or something else? From the excited countenance Lindsey was sporting, it could be Hollywood’s latest action star or the Dalai Lama. Hard to know. The girl was wowed by everyone.

When a recent spike in watchers made TBSH the largest cable investigative news show since Nancy Grace, Savanna’s popularity also skyrocketed. To her embarrassment, she’d become a regular face on E! News and grocery store tabloids as Americans criticized her hair and weight and wondered who she was dating since her breakup with Junior Senator Brady Garrison. Few seemed to appreciate her investigative skills and hard-hitting stories about corporate and political corruption.

Savanna looked back down at her notes. “Unless it’s the Pope”— or Parker. God, where are you? —“I don’t have time for a meeting. Whoever it is can wait until after the show.”

She heard a scuffle and, assuming Lindsey was ducking out, continued to review her notes on the latest political scandal she was about to blow the whistle on.

A moment later, however, the room behind her filled with an unmistakable presence and the scent of the man’s designer cologne. Sharp, musky, reminding her of old leather and fresh betrayal. “Not many people say no to me.”

Savanna’s stomach dropped. She clenched her fingers around the pen she’d been using, the typed words on the script in front of her blurring.

“What are you doing here?” she said without lifting her gaze. Her voice sounded steady even though she was shaking from head to toe.

A crystal vase plunked down on the dressing table next to her, overflowing with a lush mix of summer flowers. Roses, hydrangeas, sunflowers. He’d figured out all her favorites.

Damn him. She’d never be able to enjoy her favorite flowers again.

Linc Norman leaned over her shoulder, ran a finger along her hairline, and pushed a coiffured lock out of the way. “What is this I hear about you doing an exposé on Westmeyer?” His breath landed on the top of her ear and revulsion snaked through her. His Alabama drawl thickened. “Tread lightly, sweetheart. I need them come next November.”

Tread lightly?

Was he seriously throwing down a gauntlet?

Anger replaced her revulsion. He was drawing a line and daring her not to step over it.

We’ll see about that.

Savanna bit the inside of her cheek and stared holes into the paper in front of her. She’d never taken kindly to threats, and wasn’t about to now, even if the man threatening her was the president of the United States. “I told you, I won’t be your lackey. If one of your supporters is committing criminal acts or fleecing the American people in any way, I’m going after them.”

“Like you did your boyfriend?”

Low blow, but then, what did she expect?

“You’ve always been too focused on principles, Van.” Norman let his fingers travel under her chin, forcing it up. “Look at me.”

Savanna glued her eyes on the flowers, not willing to meet his eyes in the mirror.

He pinched her chin between his finger and thumb, forcing her to raise her gaze. “You don’t give me orders or deny me anything. Loosen up your journalistic ethics or I’ll burn you at the stake.”

Finally, Savanna locked eyes with him in the mirror. “I won’t abandon my principles. Ever. So let me get you a match.”

His eyes were several shades lighter than her deep blue ones, with gray streaks that mimicked the ones in his hair. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as if he were teasing her instead of threatening her.

But the threat was real, coming from the most powerful man in the world. “Where is my sister?” she whispered. “What have you done with her?”

The president’s smile turned tolerant, the smooth Southern charm now mixing with the perfect touch of pity. If he’d been a television emcee or talk show host, he would have been her toughest competition. “Parker works for National Intelligence. Who knows where she is or what she’s working on.”

Perhaps Parker was on assignment, but she was a cognitive scientist who’d found a niche studying the brains and behaviors of terrorists. Her work for NI was more analyst and profiler than anything else. Occasionally, she traveled out of the country, but she always texted or called Savanna beforehand to let her know she’d be quiet for a few days or weeks.

They were close; normally they talked every day. They made time for weekly lunches, and once a month, they met their parents for Sunday dinner.

Parker was dedicated and loved her job. While she never shared intelligence or sensitive information, she had been more secretive than usual for the past year and a half.

And now, she was gone.

“If you’ve hurt her…” Savanna let the threat hang in the air. Was she really doing this? Threatening the president of the United States? “If you made her disappear, I will find out, and when I do, I will let everyone know exactly who and what you are.”

A monster.

Releasing her chin, Linc Norman put his face next to hers, their reflections in the mirror looking like the Greek theatre faces of comedy and tragedy. He thought this was a joke—her fierce love and loyalty to her sister.

But the president wasn’t one to take a threat sitting down. He ran his hands over Savanna’s arms, his attention dropping to her cleavage. Holding the gaze a moment longer, purposely trying to make her uncomfortable. “You’ve pissed off a lot of high-powered people in your time at the news desk. Ruined a lot of lives and brought whole companies to their knees. Wouldn’t want any of them to retaliate, now, would you, Van?”

A master at intimidation, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as if soaking in her scent before he leaned his forehead against her temple. “You and I both have a role to play in leading the American people and making them feel secure. Parker had one job and she blew it. Don’t follow in her footsteps, Van. Do what I tell you and everyone will be happy.”

Her hand now shook so hard, she had to lay down the pen. It was either that, or she’d stick the pen in his eye socket. “I want my sister back.”

“We don’t always get what we want.” He chuckled and rose to his full height, checking himself out in her mirror. He straightened his tie, brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “Except me. I am, after all, the leader of the free world.”

Savanna held his gaze, refusing to kowtow regardless of the fact that he could ruin her career, her very life, with the snap of his fingers. She mentally cursed herself that she didn’t have a way to make the bastard come clean.

But that was her forte. Digging in and unearthing dirt that could bring anyone, no matter how much power they had, to their knees. She’d known this confrontation was a strong possibility and had already taken measures to start fighting back.

He didn’t see the fire in her eyes, or, knowing him, took it as compliance rather than defiance. Everyone gave him what he wanted when he turned on the charm.

“Remember, lay off Westmeyer.” He winked and patted her back. “And enjoy the flowers.”

Two Secret Service agents closed in around him as he left. At least, she thought they were SS. They could have been his thugs. Parker had once told her Norman used various tunnels under the White House to come and go covertly on a regular basis. Often his own chief of staff had no idea where he was or what he was doing.

“The White House bad boy,” the press had nicknamed him. Savanna knew his antics hid a much deeper, much more sinister side.

Trembling, she took the vase of flowers and smashed it against the wall.

Light reflected off something among the shattered heads of the hydrangeas. Savanna stepped gingerly though the broken glass in the designer heels the audience wouldn’t see behind her news desk. Bending down, she picked up a tiny, flexible, opaque disc.

Listening device? Camera?

Throwing it down, she ground her heel into it. Small satisfaction, but she imagined it was Norman’s face.

Back at her dressing table, she withdrew her cell phone from the top drawer. No calls or texts from Parker, but there was a text from a blocked caller.


A long time ago, Parker had given Savanna a number to text, a person who went by the moniker ON16. A person—man or a woman, she didn’t know—who could help Savanna if she couldn’t get hold of her sister. Extreme emergencies only, Parker had said.

Savanna had never needed it before.

ON16’s text was two lines: a name and a phone number.

Savanna stared at the name, bells going off in her head. Emit Petit. Where had she heard that name before?

Lindsey popped in without knocking. “What did the president say? Are you going to interview him? Please say he wants to do an interview at the White House!”

She was giddy until her attention dropped to the shards of glass and limp flowers on the floor. “Oh, my God. What happened? Are you okay?”

Savanna stood, dropping the cell phone back into her drawer. She smoothed the front of her jacket and grabbed her notes. “Let’s go,” she said, hustling Lindsey out of the room. “We have a show to do.”

And then I’m going to find my sister.



✩ Apple Books →

✩ Kobo →

✩ B&N →

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Meet the men of the SOUTHERN CALI TASKFORCE!

The agents of the SCVC Taskforce will take you undercover…and make you risk it all. Meet the men and women from the FBI, DEA, and NSA that make up the Southern California Taskforce! 

“…full of suspense & sexual attraction. The mystery…keeps you enthralled from beginning to end.”

Under the supervision of Cooper “The Beast” Harris, the agents of the San Diego Southern Violent Crimes Taskforce risk their lives every day against drug kingpins, gunrunners, and terrorists. Some of them fall in love along the way, and they will fight to protect the ones they love and gain their happily-ever-after.

This special boxed collection includes four full-length, fast paced, action-packed romantic suspense novels – Deadly Pursuit (a USA TODAY bestseller!), Deadly Deception, Deadly Force, & Deadly Intent – filled with alpha males, strong, kickass females, and sizzling romance. This collection will keep you reading late into the night, enthralled from beginning to end!

“…suspensedangerpassion and a hot romance.” ~ Reader review

“This is fast-paced romantic suspense at its best!” ~ Reader review

About the Series: The SCVC Taskforce novels are thrilling romantic suspense stories with guaranteed happily-ever-afters. Go undercover with the alpha heroes and kickass heroines of the SCVC Taskforce Series today!

Books in the SCVC Taskforce series:

Deadly Pursuit – Cooper and Celina

Deadly Deception – Thomas and Ronni

Deadly Force – Cal and Bianca (aka Beatrice in SEALs of Shadow Force)

Deadly Intent – Nelson and Sophia

Deadly Affair – Cooper and Celina novella

Deadly Attraction – Mitch and Emma

Deadly Secrets – Roman and Brooke

Deadly Holiday – Cooper and Celina novella

Deadly Target – Victor and Olivia

Deadly Rescue – Cooper and Celina novella

Deadly Bounty – Joe and Samantha

Deadly Betrayal – Caleb and Josie (coming Fall 2020!)

★★★★★ Binge read all weekend!

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Cooper must risk his career – and his heart – to keep Celina alive

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ “LOVED it! Breathtaking novel of suspense with an irresistible romance.” ~ Goodreads reviewer

Her sting operation put a ruthless criminal in prison…

One year ago, rookie FBI agent Celina Davenport pulled off the ultimate undercover operation…she seduced Emilio Londano – the dangerous leader of the San Diego Mafia – and destroyed his illegal empire.

Now he’s escaped and looking for revenge…

When Londano escapes a maximum security prison and begins picking off Celina’s friends and coworkers, everyone she knows becomes a target. Including DEA agent Cooper Harris, the man who once broke her heart and is now assigned to be her bodyguard.

How far will they go to stop him?

Cooper must risk his career – and his heart – to keep Celina alive. But will their past, with its forbidden passions and impulsive choices, put them directly in the killer’s crosshairs?

***Enjoy this excerpt!

“Take your gun, Davenport.” Chief Forester’s voice was low and ominous, rising out of the back seat of the car where he was hiding. Not an easy thing to do, Celina figured, with so much body mass.

Bending down, she motioned at her partner Ronni in the passenger seat and shucked off her mittens. “Give me your bag.”

Celina rarely carried handbags to work. She hung her badge on her belt like her male counterparts and carried her ID in her back pocket. Her gun was always in a shoulder holster. Now her gun, ID and badge were lying on the Fairmont’s floor. “Avon ladies don’t carry guns,” she murmured to her boss. “At least not in Iowa.”

Ronni handed Celina her brown leather purse and the Avon catalog. “Right behind you,” she said, giving her a wink.

“Take. Your. Gun,” the chief ground out again. His voice carried as much threat in its low volume setting as it did at its ear-piercing level. “You want to end up a goddamned hostage?”

That was her plan. Celina knew when she approached the door, Annie would immediately sense something was up. Something in Annie’s world always involved police. Celina could see no other outcome but a dangerous hostage situation. She doubted Annie would even open the door, but if she did, Celina was going to offer herself as a trade for Annie’s kids. Any mother, even an outlaw one, would look for a way to save her children. Celina was prepared to give it to her.

Slinging the strap of Ronni’s bag over her shoulder, she shut the car door, defying the chief’s direct orders. Not the best idea, but he’d stuck her in a no-win situation and therefore, Celina decided, she was calling the shots. For a split-second she wondered if he and Quarters would transfer her like Cooper had after the Londano case. Where would she end up this time? South Dakota?


Not the end of the world. If I can get the kids out safely, she thought, that will be enough.

Shifting her shoulders, Celina forced her feet to walk up the cracked sidewalk toward the steps of the duplex. She loved her job, wanted to serve her country, but if there was anything she’d learned in the past year, it was that she didn’t always get what she wanted.

Ronni’s car door slammed and Celina glanced at her partner. Her hair was a bright apricot color, her skin darker than Celina’s but no less smooth. As they walked down the sidewalk, the sun popped out, glaring off the new fallen snow. Celina started up the stairs, shielding her eyes against the glare and trying to keep her breathing even. There were fifteen of her counterparts hidden around the block, watching the apprehension and scrutinizing every move she made.

Annie was one honest to God bad girl. Having been on the run for more years than Celina had been legal, Annie was an experienced fugitive. The woman had once shot her partner in his nether region in the middle of a bank robbery because he wouldn’t let her carry the bag of money.

Clearing her mind, Celina tried to think positive. Ronni was by her side and definitely carrying. Chief Forester was right behind her in the car for immediate backup with his Remington, and the other guys were scattered up and down the block. All had extensive training in marksmanship and deadly-force decisions.

Voices from a television filtered through the door. Muffled laughter drifted down from upstairs. Little girl laughter. She had to do this right, not to prove that she was as good as any of the men in the unit, but to keep those little girls safe.

Glancing at Ronni, Celina mouthed Ready? Ronni gave her a nod. Do it.

Celina knocked sharply on the door. “Avon calling,” she said, trying to mimic the singsong voice Ronni had used earlier when they’d decided to approach the house under this outdated guise.

At first nothing noticeable changed inside the house. Then the TV went silent and Celina heard a man’s voice, low but commanding. A man? No one had reported a man being inside the duplex.

Before she could consider who or what she was now up against, Celina saw a drapery move in the window to her right. Instinctively, she shifted her weight and her hand went for her gun.

And came up empty.

Before she could curse her poor judgment, the door handle turned and her eyes dropped to it. Watch their hands, the words of her Quantico instructor echoed in her head. Not their eyes. No one could shoot you with their eyes.

“Don’t want no Avon,” a man’s voice said as the door opened a notch.

A fragment of sun bounced off metal. Instinct had Celina moving before she could think. “Gun!” she yelled, pushing Ronni to the side.

The sawed-off shotgun boomed in her ears and the iron railing gave out as Ronni and Celina toppled off the porch and into the dead evergreens by the house. They landed with a thud on hard ground next to the concrete foundation. A thousand prickly evergreen needles showered down on them as they rolled in unison away from the porch.

Before the spent shells hit the concrete, Celina was hauling Ronni up by her jacket. “Run!” she yelled, hearing the distinctive click of the shotgun snapping back into place.


The sound sent her to her knees, but adrenaline had her back up in the blink of an eye, her legs moving like a runner taking off out of the blocks. More gunshots cracked through the air. Celina heard the Fairmont’s windshield explode.

Crouching with her arms thrown over her head, she ran for the edge of the house where Ronni had disappeared. She rounded the corner at full speed.

And ran smack dab into a wall.

Bouncing back as her feet scrambled for purchase on the late season ice and snow, she grunted when her butt hit the ground. Glancing up, black Magnum boots were in her line of vision. Big boots, laced military tight.

She hadn’t run into a wall. She’d run into a man.

A hulk of a man with very broad shoulders. Celina followed the line of his body up to his face. The sun was reflecting off the house and snow and blinding her. She could make out a few things: a black baseball cap with the letters DEA across the front pulled down low on his forehead, a mean-looking semi-automatic gun in his left hand. His scowl made her already-racing heart shift into warp speed.

When did the Terminator arrive in Iowa?

He shifted his gaze down to her and the look of disgust in it made her, if only briefly, entertain the idea of taking her chances with the sawed-off shotgun.

“Get up,” he ordered, and the sound of his voice and the impatient tone clicked in her brain, but her ears were ringing from the shotgun blasts and she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. He reached down and grabbed her by the knot in her knitted scarf. Hauling her to her feet, he pulled her with him as he backed up against the side of the house. Her legs wobbled and her feet skimmed on the ice. She lost her balance and fell face first into his chest.

His bullet-proof vest was hard, but under it, she sensed a wall of pure, solid muscle. Just like his arms and his legs and everything else hidden under his DEA-approved wardrobe. Celina knew once her adrenaline slowed down, she was going to ache all over, not from falling off the porch but from hitting the Terminator at full speed.

The machine-like DEA agent pulled her closer. “You all right?”


There was a spurt of gunfire from the street and then the sound of more glass breaking. Cooper drew her in tighter. She flinched at the sound of the shotgun booming again. It sounded like a small explosion.

But then Cooper pushed her away, pushed her against the house. She mimicked his position, wishing she could have stayed in the protective embrace of his arms and knowing why she couldn’t. Ronni was a few feet away, sitting on the ground, back against the house with her gun out. Leaning her head back against the siding, Celina let out a breath. They were both a little shook up, but otherwise unscathed.

The gunfire stopped and total silence descended on the street. No birdsong. No traffic noise. Cooper had his eyes on her, sizing her up from top to bottom. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

On one hand, she was excited to see him. On the other, the tone of his voice and his general man-handling pissed her off. Celina knew the silence around them meant her FBI counterparts were regrouping, while they tried to figure out their next move.

“I was doing my job,” she said to him. She let her eyes run over him in the same sizing-up he’d given her. He looked good. Solid and handsome, and serious as ever. “What are you doing here?”

“Where’s your gun? Or do female Feds in Des Moines carry Avon books as weapons these days?”

Celina shut her eyes for a moment. She had fantasized relentlessly about her reunion with Cooper. Never had her fantasy involved the current scene. Ronni cleared her throat and Celina glanced at her. Her partner was watching the exchange and had a questioning look on her face. Celina mouthed Cooper, and Ronni raised her brows and nodded her nice, very nice look of approval.

“Dickie Jagger is mine, Celina.”

“Dickie Jagger? Annie’s ex-boyfriend?” Celina scanned her memory. Richardson and Jagger had been tight in the late 90’s, pulling off more than their fair share of petty crimes together before Jagger had joined a gang in L.A.. It was probably Jagger who’d fathered at least one of Annie’s kids. “That’s who answered the door?”

“You were expecting the Great and Powerful Oz?”

“I was expecting Annie Richardson or her mother.”

Cooper grunted. “You can have Richardson, but Jagger’s mine.”

Turf war coming up. The FBI and the DEA often overlapped each other’s jurisdictions with criminals, which is why taskforces like Cooper’s SCVC were created. But even though they were supposed to be working together, they were more interested in trying to one-up each other.

Think Big Picture, Dominic Quarters always preached. His Big Picture was now clearer to Celina. Her boss and her boss’s boss wanted jurisdiction over everything and they’d do whatever it took to keep all other agencies in the dark.

She wondered what Forester was doing in the Fairmont, and if he was okay. If he was, she was going to give him and Quarters a piece of her mind when this operation was over. They had sacrificed children and two agents in a hurry to beat the DEA to the house.

“I’m sure Chief Forester would like to talk to you about that,” she said, when what she really wanted to say was, “Where have you been? Why didn’t you call me?”

For months after her transfer, Celina had analyzed Cooper’s behavior out loud while on stakeouts with her partner. Ronni had put it in six easy to understand words: he’s just not that into you.

Cooper did a quick scan of the area again. “Where is he, your chief?”

“In the car.”

His eyes snapped back to hers and the brim of his cap rose with his eyebrows. “The car in the driveway?” He shook his head. “What kind of half-assed FBI unit is this?”

“You should know,” Celina retorted, mad all over again. “You sent me here.”

“I didn’t send you here,” Cooper corrected her. “That was Quantico’s orders after your face was splashed all over Time magazine as the New Face of the FBI.”

“But you kicked me off—”

“This is not the time, Celina.”

Before Celina could reply, Cooper cocked his head, picking up noise inside the house. His hand came up to silence her. For several seconds he stilled; a freeze frame of anticipation. Not even a breath escaped his body, only a prevenient energy radiating from every inch of him. A cat preparing to pounce on a mouse.

Another noise inside the house—this time Celina heard it too—voices and the sharp snap of a shotgun locking into position. Cooper pulled a mouthpiece out of his cap and spoke into it. “Assume take down positions,” he announced quietly to whoever was listening. “We’re going in.”

“There are three innocent people in that house. Kids.” Celina’s voice sounded too loud in her ears. “You can’t just bust in there. Someone could get hurt.”

Cooper pointed one of his fingers at a spot next to Ronni. “Have a seat, Agent Davenport. This take-down no longer concerns you. You shouldn’t be here and if you and your buddies hadn’t screwed this up to begin with, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Now, wait a minute,” she started, but Cooper grabbed her shoulder, twirled her around and pushed her down hard on her butt. She gasped from the impact and his incivility.

“Everybody move on my count,” he said into his radio.

Walking to the corner of the house, he locked his gun into firing position under his arm. “One, two, three.” His voice rose. “Go! Go! Go!”

And then he was gone.

Celina looked at Ronni, whose eyes were still on the spot where Cooper had disappeared. “So that’s The Beast, huh?” A silly grin split her face. “That gun powder and Wheaties diet is working for him.”

“Yeah,” Celina huffed, sarcasm blowing out with her breath, “and he definitely wants me. Did you notice how he was practically falling all over himself to see if I was okay?” She pushed herself off the ground to follow him. “Asshole.”

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