I know it's been awhile since I've posted. The end of 2019 nearly killed me---literally. I was attacked by a dog and nearly died. (Like I keep saying, my life is stranger than fiction.) The recovery has been long and exhausting. Just when I am feeling capable of going out--BOOM--lockdown for the virus! But, it's the perfect time for new release! Yay! Take a look at Hourglass, a romantic suspense novel about a man searching for his missing daughter and the private investigator who gives him hope. Now available worldwide in all ebook formats and paperback! Enjoy!
From the back cover...
Mason James is searching for his missing daughter who disappeared off the street three years ago. His search has cost him his career, his home, and now he's living off his savings--but there is no price too high to get his daughter back. His journey has taken him across the country to Portland, Oregon. He knows he is close because dangerous things begin happening--car tires slashed, a gunshot grazes his arm, and menacing shapes within shadows begin appearing everywhere. Is he paranoid or has he finally stumbled on the right clues to saving his little girl?
Palmer Novah is a private detective who specializes in finding missing people. She normally doesn't work pro-bono, but there is something about Mason's plight that stirs her jaded heart into helping his cause. As she digs into the details, she discovers a deadly cult may be holding his daughter. Danger intensifies as she peels back the layers of the mystery surrounding the disappearance--and so does the desire to know Mason on a deeper level.
Together, they dodge unseen dangers that lurk in shadows while knowing that their time is running out. The closer they get to discovering the truth, the higher the odds that Mason's daughter will be moved and perhaps lost forever. Is the intensity of their attraction simply a result of adrenaline or is there a chance it could be real? Can their fragile love survive if their search is unsuccessful or, worse yet, tragic?
“Their only loyalty is to the Order of the Risen Sun, Mason. They lost themselves long ago.” She used her cellphone to send off emails to her team, including Olivia, that included the phone number and the photos from his computer. She did not need to elaborate on the possibility that his daughter might feel the same.
“If she really did tell them that she likes being called Ellie, isn’t that a sign that she remembers who she really is? That she wants me to find her?” He waited until she was finished with her texts and emails before asking the questions, but she felt the expectation for validation hanging in the air.
“I should go. It’s been a long day.” She touched her fingers to his shoulder. “How’s the wound holding up? I should change the bandages, so it doesn’t get infected. They’re in my room, do you want me to bring them back over or will you come with me?”
Whether she mentioned it or not, Mason James had become a target by going after one of Starchild’s prized wives. Most likely she had had a child already. The Order would do whatever it took to protect her for their leader—unless she became too much of a liability. She stood and walked to the door without waiting for his response. Perhaps coming here had been a mistake, a premature reaction based on the fact that there was a ship on its way to take them all to South America. Maybe they should have played it cool by involving Dennison back at the office and going back to her place tonight where they could be warm and safely away from any prying eyes.
Palmer rubbed her closed eyes and wished she could think straight around him. She was making mistakes that they couldn’t afford to make.
“I’ll come with you.” He handed her the wig before reaching past her to open the door to the hallway. “It’ll be easier that way. You look tired.”
“I am.” She unlocked her door and walked inside, thankful that they were able to get rooms directly across from one another. Without speaking, she retrieved the bandages and ointment she’d packed. When she turned, she gasped at the sight of his naked chest. Last night she’d admired it, but after spending the day with him, the intimacy felt more powerful. For a guy who hung out in a van and ate fast food, he was sculpted and lean with just right amount of dark hair on the upper part of his chest. A brief flash of the eloquent man in Dallas in a dark suit came to mind—although she still glimpsed that man in him, the toll of his journey had transformed him in ways that he would probably never shake.
I definitely need a weekend on Canon Beach to get my head together once this is done. I can’t fall for a guy who lives across the country and who may never forgive me for what we find in the coming days. It’s a recipe for disaster, she thought as she approached him. Fall for a guy? I don’t even know him.
Yet it felt like she knew him, as if she had been waiting for him all this time. Her face flushed at the idea of brushing her lips against his neck and sliding her hands down the chest to the V of his abdomen. Her thighs quivered at the thought of straddling him and pushing him onto the mattress. No more words. No more questions. Just sex—touching, tasting, moving, sweating, biting, kissing, squeezing, feeling.
He didn’t notice her reaction because he was busy twisting his neck to try to study the wound himself. Blood had soaked through the gauze and it smelled funky. He grimaced as his fingers toyed with the medical tape.
“Let me do that. Sit.” She pushed him down and carefully revealed the wound. It still looked nasty and would definitely leave a scar. Scooting her butt behind him, she cleaned it with a warm washcloth before drying it and applying the ointment. “This must have been bothering you all day, but you didn’t say a word.”
“A person learns to live with pain, I guess. My tolerance is high.” He shrugged. “It’s hard for me to feel like I don’t have a handle on this situation. I’ve felt completely useless for three years. When I finally get close, someone tries to shoot me. It’s frustrating as hell.”
She finished bandaging him up while deciding how much to tell him about the girl who could be Elena. With a sigh, she sat slightly behind him on the bed.
He looked at her over his shoulder, his hair falling across his forehead as he twisted to see her better. His gaze fell to her lips before he leaned forward and kissed her. His mouth moved over hers tentatively at first, eyes wide open, the kiss more curious than passionate. His hand dropped to her thigh while the other slid up her arm before caressing the back of her neck. His lips moved against her cheek, lightly—and that light touch sent shivers through her nerves, shivers that trembled through her entire body.
“If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered against her skin. When she said nothing, he brushed his mouth against her temple. “Or now.” He traced the line of her cheekbone with his thumb. “Or now.”
As an answer, she reached up and pulled him against her, and the rest of his words were lost against her lips. He kissed her gently as if still unsure this was a good idea—and it wasn’t but she didn’t care. She didn’t want gentle—she wanted hard and hot.
He pressed her down onto the mattress, his hand moving beneath her sweater. His tongue slid against hers and she moaned with the need for more. Her hands moved over his back, down to his ass, over his shoulders, into his hair. His hand caressed her abdomen before squeezing her breast over the fabric of her bra. It wasn’t enough. Nothing short of full rocking the bed apart would be enough. She pulled his hair until it hurt and crushed her mouth against him with the force of the passion rolling through her like the thunderstorm cracking outside the window.