The engagement ring on her finger had not assuaged the keen romantic longing in Anita's eye. Will she find romance in Leyenda, her dead mother's island home? What is the mystery behind her engagement, and what strange compulsion is directing her feet? Circles of fate are spinning her into a cruel intrigue, attracting her to Felipe Sanchez, whose barbaric way of life is totally alien to her gentle nature. Views: 11
If you are reading this I am dead... So begins the letter from one of Derek Stillwater's former lovers. The letter sends him to Moscow, Russia in search of the truth behind Irina Khournikova's death, and to meet a completely unexpected surprise - Derek's son. But Irina's comrades in the FSB, the Russian Intelligence Service, don't want Derek poking around in an active terrorism investigation. As a favor to the Secretary of State, Derek is also tasked with investigating the suicide of a weapons inspector, but before he can get started, he finds himself in the middle of a terror attack on the U.S. Embassy. Something is very rotten in Russia - who to trust? Is there a leak in the U.S. State Department? A traitor in the Russian government who is trying to overthrow the Russian Federation? And then an international assassin puts Derek in his cross-hairs and all bets are off as Derek teams up with FSB Agent Konstantin Nikitinov to stop a terrorist group calling itself The Red Hand from overthrowing the government. And then The Red Hand crosses the line - they kidnap Derek's son to stop his investigation. But Derek Stillwater and Konstantin Nikitinov will stop at nothing - absolutely nothing - to get Lev back from the terrorists. And the two men are about to bring their own reign of terror down on the terrorists.**About the Author
Mark Terry is the author of the bestselling, award-winning thriller series featuring Homeland Security troubleshooter Derek Stillwater. Those books include THE DEVIL'S PITCHFORK, THE SERPENT'S KISS, THE FALLEN, THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS, and DIRE STRAITS. He is the author of numerous other books including HOT MONEY featuring Washington DC consultant Austin Davis and three books for middle grades. Mark Terry teaches karate, runs, bikes, lifts weights, kayaks, and generally pretends to be a ninja instead of a freelance writer and novelist. Visit his website at www.markterrybooks.com Views: 11
Cookbook author Holly Llewellyn is the last person who should be labeled an "enemy of the state"—or is she? After all, her brother is a missing traitor, and with her ties to the president, the Secret Service isn't taking chances….So they send in agent David Goddard, undercover. But after one glance, David knows Holly isn't just an "assignment"—she's a woman who'll change his life.About the AuthorThe daughter of a town marshal, Linda Lael Miller is a New York Times bestselling author of more than sixty historical and contemporary novels that reflect her love of the West. Raised in Northport, Washington, the self-confessed “barn goddess” now lives in Spokane, Washington. Her most recent New York Times bestsellers include McKettrick’s Choice and Secondhand Bride. Dedicated to helping others, Linda personally finances her Linda Lael Miller Scholarships for Women, awarded annually to women seeking to improve their lot in life through education. More information about Linda, her novels and her scholarships is available at www.lindalaelmiller.com. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.The tall man ran one hand through his dark hair and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Despite the heavy woolen overcoat he wore, he was still cold. Swift indigo eyes scanned the first page of the dossier. "So what, Walt?" David Goddard bit out, frowning. "She's the president-elect's third cousin. Since when do third cousins qualify for Secret Service protection?"Walt Zigman made a contemptuous, impatient sound. Apparently, this assignment wasn't exactly dear to his crusty old heart. "It isn't protection, Goddard," he snarled. "Remember that. This is a surveillance project."David sat back in his chair, drawing his right ankle up to rest on his left knee. "Surveillance," he muttered, suppressing an unprofessional urge to fling the file on Holly Llewellyn back into the mess that littered Walt's desk. "That isn't our—""I know, Goddard," Walt interrupted, falling into his own chair and reaching into one ink-stained shirt pocket for a match to light the cigar stub that was always in his mouth. "I know. I tried to give this thing to the Bureau. I even tried the CIA. But they both threw it right back in my lap. Anything connected with the president or his family is our bailiwick—according to them."David breathed a swearword. He was tired and he could still feel the bite of the crisp November wind outside. He wanted to get out of Washington and have Thanksgiving dinner in Arlington with his sister, Chris, and her family. He wanted to spoil her kids and lounge in front of her fireplace. "Okay, Walt. So Ms. Llewellyn is our problem. Why am I the lucky one?"Walt chortled. "Born under the right star, I guess. Come on, Goddard, how bad can it be? You spend a few weeks— maybe a few months—in Spokane. You get the lady to like you. And you make damned sure she's really what she claims to be, and not a courier for that brother of hers."David had the beginnings of a headache. He opened the dossier again, skimming the rundown on Holly Llewellyn. Twenty-seven years old. Blond. Blue-eyed. Five feet, seven inches tall. A one hundred twenty-three pound pain. "What makes you think she's running secrets? It says here she writes cookbooks.""Middle Eastern cookbooks," David's supervisor imparted with dramatic import.David's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "That alone should convict her," he mocked."Dammit, Goddard, keep your sparkling wit to yourself. Can't you see that we've got the makings of a scandal here that would make Watergate seem insignificant?""A scandal?""Yes! How would it look if the new president's cousin turned out to be a traitor? Isn't it bad enough that her brother sold out? She could be cut from the same cloth!"David sighed. "That's unlikely, Walt. It says here that she's written a book about Scandinavian meatballs. Good God, maybe she's spying for the Swedes!""Stow it.""Or the Danes. You've got to watch those Danes, crafty little devils, one and all.""Goddard!""She wrote Fun With Tacos, too, I see," David pressed on dryly. "Do you think she's working for the Mexicans? Holy guacamole, Batman—do you suppose they're planning to rush up here and take back Texas?"Walt was leaning into the desk, his meaty hands braced against the edge, his cigar stub bobbing up and down in outrage. "I'm glad you think this situation is funny, Goddard, but it just so happens that the next president of the United States doesn't agree with you! This little lady happens to have a bona fide, card-carrying traitor for a brother!"David flipped through the rest of the dossier, not so hastily this time. His headache was worse. "Craig Llewellyn," he muttered."You remember him, don't you, Goddard?" Walt gibed, going to stand at the barred window of his dingy little office.Remember? David remembered, all right—how could he help it? Craig Llewellyn's defection had never made the national news, by some miracle, but every federal agent in the country knew the sordid story. "Being Llewellyn's sister doesn't make the lady a security risk, Walt," he pointed out quietly."Maybe not. If she wasn't related to our next president, I wouldn't be worried. If she hadn't just spent two months in Iran, I wouldn't be worried. As it is, I'm damned worried.""You'd think the opposition would have caught on to this before the election…" David speculated, thinking of the outgoing president and the no-holds-barred campaign he had conducted."They didn't," Walt broke in. "I'll expect your first report early next week.""Right." David stood up and stretched. Every muscle in his long frame ached with residual cold. "Is this operation covert, by the way, or do I just knock on Ms. Llewellyn's door and flash my identification?"Clearly, Walt Zigman had a headache, too. "That was a stupid question, Goddard. You've been on White House Detail too damned long. Spent too much time walking the first lady's dog. Of course it's covert!"David shrugged, feeling weary. Maybe Walt was right; maybe he was getting soft. Instead of thinking about this case on every level, a part of him was anticipating a day at Chris's place. The kids would be watching the Macy's parade on TV. The smell of roasting turkey would be everywhere….He reached for the dossier. "Can I take this?"Walt waved impatiently. "Yeah, yeah, that's your copy."David tucked the file under one arm. He supposed it was the forthcoming holiday that was distracting him, stirring up bittersweet memories and half-formed hopes, making him feel far older than his thirty-four years. He tried to imagine Marleen, his ex-wife, roasting turkey or settling a band of freckle-faced rug rats in front of the tube to watch a Thanksgiving parade and couldn't. "You having dinner here, Walt?" he asked, his hand on the doorknob. "Tomorrow, I mean?"Zigman grinned around his cigar stub. "Nope. Going to New York to see my daughter. Happy Thanksgiving, Goddard."David laughed, though he had a bereft feeling inside. He thought of Marleen studying chimpanzees in Borneo and wondered if she remembered that she'd once wanted to raise an entirely different kind of monkey. "I'll call you on Monday.""Right."David stepped out into the wide, familiar hallway, with its lighted paintings and expensively shabby carpeting. In front of the Oval Office, two agents guarded the heavy double doors. He nodded and they nodded back, their faces solemn.Downstairs, David left the White House by a side door, then strode through the snow-dusted parking lot to his car. At one of the high wrought-iron gates, he showed his ID, even though he was going out, not in, even though he knew the young Marines on duty, knew their wives and their kids and their collar sizes.Again he felt lonely. Even quietly desperate. As the White House gate clanked shut behind him, he turned up the car radio in a belated effort to cover the sound.Holly Llewellyn placed the elegantly scripted invitation in the center of the kitchen mantelpiece. Hands tucked into the pockets of her cozy blue jogging jacket, she stood back to admire it."Imagine," said her friend and secretary, Elaine Bateman, from her chair at the cluttered trestle table. "Being invited to the White House! An Inaugural Ball! Good heavens, Holly, what are you going to wear?"Holly's bright, aquamarine eyes danced with mischief and she withdrew her hands from her pockets to push her chin-length blond hair atop her head. "Nothing," she crooned, striking a cheesecake pose."That ought to cause a sensation!"Holly made a face and went back to the printer set up on the end of the trestle table. She began printing out the pages of "Ka-bobs for a Crowd," the initial chapter of her new book. "I meant that I'm not going," she pointed out. "After all, Toby is in school and I've got my classes to teach and this book to finish. These recipes all have to be tested and retested, you know. And there's my newspaper column—""Excuses!" Elaine cried, ignoring the finished manuscript, Soups are Super, that she was supposed to be indexing. "Good Lord, Holly, how many times does a person's cousin get elected president? I can't believe you'd miss a chance like this! Besides, you've got until January."The rhythmic whining of the printer was giving Holly a headache; she closed her eyes and ran her hands down the sides of her trim-fitting jeans. "I'm not going," she repeated sharply.Elaine sighed in a way that made Holly regret her tone of voice. "Okay, Holl. No problem. Listen, tomorrow's Thanksgiving—do you mind if I take this home and work on it there? I've got a turkey to stuff and ceramic pilgrims to set out in strategic places."Holly laughed, able to look at her friend now. "Go," she said. "And leave the manuscript here. It will keep until Monday."Elaine beamed triumphantly, gathering the stack of blue-penciled pages into a neat pile. "You were always a soft touch for ceramic pilgrims," she grinned. "Are you sure you don't want me to work Friday?""Positive."Elaine looked worried now, her wide green eyes watchful. "You and Toby have somewhere to go for Thanksgiving, don't you? I mean, you're not going to sit here and brood or anything, are you?"Holly felt a tender sort of exasperation. "We're spending the day with Skyler's parents, worrywart. Hie thyself home, before that husband of yours tries to stuff the gobbler on his own. Remember last year? He cut himself on the giblets."Elaine laughed. "Roy means well," she said, taking her coat from the antique wall rack beside the back door. Shrugging into it, she tossed her glossy brown hair back over her shoulders. "How was he to know that a partially frozen turkey neck can be lethal?""How indeed?" Holly chuckled, wondering why she felt so sad. Skyler's parents were nice people; she and Toby would both have a good time at their house."Happy, happy," Elaine sang, opening the door to leave and letting in a rush of frigid November air. "See you Monday.""Monday," Holly confirmed, smiling hard. But when her friend was gone, she sat down on the long bench beside the trestle table and sighed.Just then Toby scrambled in from the other ... Views: 11
A Cowboy for Every MoodSHE'S THE ONE PIECE OF HIS PAST THIS COWBOY CAN'T ESCAPEUnjust accusations shattered Blake Redmond's big-city police career -- and destroyed everything around him. Now, all this sheriff lives for is keeping watch over his small Texas town…until Amanda Hawthorne and her five-year-old son come fleeing out of a snowstorm with killers on their trail. The terror Blake sees in the young boy's eyes makes Blake swear to protect him and his injured mother. But winning Amanda's trust is as difficult as resisting the passion drawing him to this beautiful, determined woman. With their every move thwarted and time running out, the only way Blake can clear his name and save this little family is to confront his own dangerous past -- no matter what the cost. Views: 11
Deeply Loved, Sadly MissedBlonde, 19-year-old Brooke Wilberger was raised in a close-knit religious family. On a summer morning in Oregon, while cleaning lampposts at an apartment complex managed by her sister, Brooke vanished. One moment she was there, the next moment all that was left were her flip flops and the echo of her scream. Her family suffered five long years to learn that their worst fears were true. Brooke's life had been snatched brutally away by Joel Courtney, a serial predator who said he hadn't meant to kill her. But the stories of other women made it clear that Courtney was pure evil. . .Includes dramatic photos.Praise for Robert Scott and Shattered Innocence"Compelling and shocking. . .a ground-breaking book." —Robert K. Tanenbaum"Fascinating and fresh. . .a fast-paced, informative read." —Sue Russell Views: 11
IT'S SO COLD THAT THE FLASHERS IN DOWNTOWN ST. PAUL ARE ONLY SHOWING PICTURES OF THEMSELVES when newspaper reporter Warren "Mitch" Mitchell and photographer Alan Jeffrey are called out to cover the discovery of the frozen body of a young woman The victim is a former St. Paul Winter Carnival performer who played the role of saloon singer Klondike Kate. She was last seen leaving a bar with what appeared to be a member of the Winter Carnival's Vulcan Krewe, throwing suspicion on the entire eight-man group. Mitch and Al ride with Vulcanus Rex and his Krewe on the coldest day of the year and the Winter Carnival threatens to explode over the possibility that a Vulcan could be the killer. The only thing keeping Mitch warm is the sultry brunette coordinator of the Klondike Kates, who wears red boots and a come-hither look. When at last he confronts the killer, the tables are turned and bullets fly in one of St. Paul's finest hotels. Views: 11
In the aftermath of a massive Los Angeles earthquake, the perfect existence Teal Morgan-Adams has built begins to crumble. Teal's daughter, Maiya, is determined to learn the identity of her biological father, despite the loving devotion of her stepdad, River Adams. But that's a secret Teal hoped would remain buried forever. She has never shared the truth with anyone . . . not her family, not River, not even Maiya's father. As Maiya's rebellion escalates, Teal receives tragic news from her sister and decides to take Maiya home to Cedar Pointe, Oregon, a place she's avoided most of her adult life. But will her already-strained marriage survive the distance and the secrets she'll be forced to face there? And can Teal erase the lies that echo in her heart? Views: 11
