Book Reviews by Steph

Live, Laugh, Love, Read

analieseTitle: Analiese Rising

Author: Brenda Drake

Published By: Entangled: Teen

Publication Date: January 8th 2019

Genres: Paranormal, Romance, Young Adult


Half-Blood meets Antigoddessin a thrilling, romantic new series from New York Times bestselling author Brenda Drake.

When a stranger gives Analiese Jordan a list of names before he dies, the last thing she expects to see is her own on it. Not. Cool. Her search for answers leads to the man’s grandson, Marek, who has dangerous secrets of his own. Both are determined to unlock the mystery of the list.

But the truth is deadly. Analiese is a descendant of the God of Death, known as a Riser, with the power to raise the dead and control them. Finding out she has hidden powers? Cool. Finding out she turns corpses into killers? No, thank you.

Now the trail plants her and Marek in the middle of a war between gods who apparently want to raise an army of the Risen, and Analiese must figure out how to save the world—from herself.


“You’re so tough.” I laugh, feeling the tension of the day loosen from my shoulders. It was just a prank. Dad would tell me to pretend it was no big deal—don’t give the culprit the satisfaction of a reaction.
I bump Dalton’s shoulder with mine and smile up at him. “I saw the mail. Congratulations. First place, huh? Your sculptures are going to make us millions one day.”
He pulls on the back of his neck. “Yeah, if I live through high school. That mythology final is going to kill my GPA.”
“If you let me out of the dishes tonight, I’ll help you study for it.” I live and breathe mythology. Our dad was a history professor, and that was our thing. I know the obscure gods and goddesses, not just the ones made popular by comic books and movies.
“Deal.” Now he bumps my shoulder, but it has his weight behind it and makes me stumble a little. He chuckles. “Graceful.”
The streets are crowded with rush-hour commuters. Across the way, some old man wearing a black newsboy cap and a camel-colored overcoat stands in front of the coffee shop we’re heading for. His eyes follow our approach, causing a shiver to prickle up my spine. I keep my eyes on where my feet are landing to avoid catching the man’s gaze.
The scent of freshly ground coffee beans fills my nose. We spent many Saturdays in this shop after our hikes with Dad. Back then, we were only allowed to drink hot chocolate while he sipped an Americano.
A crash sounds behind Dalton and me, and we spin around. An SUV and a small red car are mangled together. The tires of a black sedan squeal as it speeds in our direction.
It’s as though it all happens in slow motion. The sedan jumps the curb, and someone shoves me out of the way and into Dalton. We land hard on the sidewalk. One tire of the car rides the curb until coming off to join the other on the road. The driver weaves around a few cars before disappearing around a corner.
I scramble to my feet and glance back. The old man in the newsboy cap lies on the sidewalk. Blood trickles down the side of his face.
“Call 911,” I tell Dalton and drop to my knees beside the man. The gash in his head is deep. I search the crowd now forming around us. “Someone get a towel or something. I need to compress his wound.”

Purchase Links: GoodReads|Amazon|Barnes & Noble|iBooks|Kobo

About the Author

brendaBrenda Drake is a New York Times bestselling author of young adult fiction. She grew up the youngest of three children, an Air Force brat, and the continual new kid at school. Her fondest memories growing up is of her eccentric, Irish grandmother’s animated tales, which gave her a strong love for storytelling. So it was only fitting that she would choose to write stories with a bend toward the fantastical. When she’s not writing or hanging out with her family, she haunts libraries, bookstores, and coffee shops, or reads someplace quiet and not at all exotic (much to her disappointment).

Connect with Brenda: Twitter|Facebook|GoodReads

Blitz-wide giveaway (INTL)

• $50 Amazon gift card

Thank you for joining myself and Xpresso Book Tours on these book blitz tours and blog tours! We look forward to your continued fellowship and as always with the giveaway “May the odds be ever in your favor” ~ Hunger Games




Title: Sourpuss

Author: Merricat Mulwray

Publication Date:  January 20th 2019

Genres: New Adult, Dark Comedy, Contemporary, Satire


Sourpuss is a blistering satire of the depraved and entitled culture that pervades college campuses.

Mallory Wahl loathes the campus party scene . . .

She’s sprinting through her senior year obsessed with winning a spot on the US Olympic track team. But she runs straight into a hurdle in the form of fraternity president Graham Patterson, an intern assigned to help her recover from an injury – one she blames on him.

Once Graham’s therapies begin to work, Mallory pretends to fall in love but traps herself in her own scheme and tailspins deep into his debauched world. When a scandal erupts which threatens to shatter her Olympic dreams once and for all, Mallory must finally face the dark truth she’s been running from since freshman year.

In the style of a ’90s dark comedy flick, Merricat Mulwray’s debut brings an insightful and humorous perspective to the reckless behavior college students perpetually get away with. Mallory, herself a flawed heroine, is backed by a self-serving cast of athletes, party girls, townies, and fraternity brothers so hilariously dark that the book will leave you wondering if anyone ever gets what they deserve.

Purchase Links: GoodReads|Amazon

Tour-wide giveaway (US/CAN)

Signed copy of Sourpuss



About the Author

merricatMerricat Mulwray is the collaboration of two sisters. They live in Los Angeles where they hatch plans and develop schemes, sometimes these turn into novels.

Connect with Merricat Mulwray: Webpage|GoodReads|Twitter|Instagram

Author Interview

• What is it like writing as sisters?

Fun, miserable, great and awful.

• What exactly is satire?

This presidency if it wasn’t actually real

• Why a book about things that happen on college campuses? Is it an idea that you two have experienced personally?

We set out to write a story about college and the story evolved from there. Pretty much everything that happened in the book was inspired by something we knew happened.

• How’d you come up with a title like Sourpuss?

Sourpuss reflects Mallory’s attitude and her story ghost.

Thank you to all of you for continuing support of my blog! Thank you to the wonderful sisters for writing such an interesting book and for sitting down to be interviewed.

I hope you all will pick up this book in the near future, I know I will! Happy reading everyone!



swTitle: Shadow Walker

Author: Anya J. Cosgrove

Publication Date: January 17th 2019

Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance


A newborn witch is rescued by two smoking-hot brothers. Can she unravel their dark secrets? Or will she lose her soul trying?

Alana sucks at witchcraft. Healing, telepathy, seeing through illusions… she can’t master any of it.

Sparring with the six-foot-three muscular Walker brothers doesn’t help her focus. Alana’s not about to let herself fall for a man—or a demon—especially not the ones that abducted her in an attempt to save her life.

When a bitter demon learns of Alana’s existence, he’ll stop at nothing to possess her and drive a wedge between the two brothers. If Alana can’t learn to use her powers, she’ll die. If she can’t discern illusion from reality, she’ll lose her mind.

Nothing stays black and white in a world full of shadows.

Demons, witches, forbidden love… visit the otherworld today.

Purchase Links: GoodReads|Amazon


When I woke up, Thom’s hands lay flat against my stomach, his heat delicious against my skin. A hint of daylight seeped through the blinds. Should I stay? Should I go? With a sigh, I opted for caution and extricated myself from Thom’s sleepy embrace.
I tiptoed out of the room. A few steps down the hallway, I noticed Liam’s door was wide open. Fear coagulated into a stone in my stomach.
“Hi,” a throaty voice greeted me from behind, and I jumped, coming face to face with the devil. His head slowly tilted to the side. A cat contemplating a bird.
The stare bared me. Silence pressed like an elephant doing acrobatics on my chest. “Need to get dressed.” I scurried to my door.
I gripped the doorknob, knuckles white, and summoned the courage to check if his eyes were black. They weren’t. Bluish gray, almost silver, they glistened in the morning light.
He hesitated, his gait shifting from one foot to the other. “Let me see your hand.”
Unable to stop staring, I put my palms up in front on me. The night of my birthday, his eyes had been brown. Such an unusual color would have caught my attention. He moved forward, and my pulse quickened, but I didn’t budge. In fact, my body was not responding to any commands.
Was he hypnotizing me? Layers of bandages fell at our feet as he undressed my wound. Despite trying hard not to, I flinched when his fingers grazed the cut.
Flashes of the past filled my mind.

A younger version of my parents towered above me, snapping pictures. The flash blinded me. Today was my first day of school. I was eager to go but terrified. What if I didn’t make friends?

A small spectacled teenager stood in front of me as I leaned down to give him a quick peck on the lips. My first kiss. The boy turned maroon, and I giggled.

The vividness of the memories did not spook me as much this time around. Somehow, I felt more in control. Beyond the images and feelings assaulting my senses, a web stretched around me. I threaded carefully and tugged on a string. Could I conjure something specific instead of the random childhood memories? I concentrated hard on Thom.

“Hi, I’m Thom.” The cute blond sitting on my right introduced himself, and I shook his hand. Wow. Art class would be even better than I’d imagined, and I’d had high expectations to begin with. I congratulated myself for taking the time to brush my hair and dress, remembering how I’d almost come to class in sweatpants.

It was working. Excited, I pulled hard on the next string. Too hard. The images swirled in a tempest, and I braced the storm down an unbeaten but strangely familiar path.
I saw myself, hair frizzy from sleep and skin pale in the gray light. I was seeing through Liam’s eyes, as he/us stared deep into my green irises. His version of me had dilated pupils and a frazzled heartbeat.
A strange, bitter voice glazed over the scene. Look at her. She is terrified of me.
Shadow Walker – Anya J Cosgrove ©2018

About the Author

anyaAnya J Cosgrove lives in Québec with her husband, her beautiful son, and two mischievous cats. She works as a veterinarian by day. She’s a travel and Disney junkie and is passionate about her favorite paranormal series.

What would Buffy do? Kick ass!

Connect with Anya: Webpage|GoodReads|Facebook|Twitter

Tour-wide giveaway (INTL)

Thank you all for following this blog tour! Happy, happy Tuesday and happy reading!



Flygirl.jpgTitle: Flygirl

Author: R.D. Kardon

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

Publication Date: January 3rd 2019

Genres: Adult


It’s 1997. Women stand beside men in combat and fly fighter jets. Pilot Tris Miles is not content with her job as a First Officer for tiny Clear Sky Airlines. She wants to be a Captain—the only way she knows to prove her worth as a pilot and atone for a deadly mistake.

To further her career, Tris accepts a prestigious job with Tetrix, Inc. But her dream of becoming pilot-in-command twists into a nightmare.

As the company’s first woman pilot, she encounters resistance, marginalization and harassment on a daily basis. Fortunately Tris has one thing her co-workers can’t deny—skill.

When Tris finds herself in a crippled airplane thousands of miles from home she must prove she can lead. With her career on the line, can Tris earn the respect she’s been craving? And if this is the end, can she find the strength to forgive herself?

Purchase Links: GoodReads|Amazon|Barnes & Noble|iBooks|Kobo

Blitz-wide giveaway (US/CAN)

2x paperback copy of Flygirl, a notebook + a mug


TRIS LOST ALL visibility as the airplane pierced a thick slab of fog. She slid her focus from the miasma outside the cockpit window to the flight instruments in front of her. They were her eyesight now. She trusted them. They told the truth.

She scanned the gauges and smiled. Tris heard their silent language; woman and machine entwined in the exceptional conversation of flight.

“Clear Sky Two-Five-One, cleared for the approach,” the Columbus, Ohio approach controller announced over a scratchy connection. Tris nodded to Captain Danny Terry, sitting two feet away in the left seat. His jaw clenched as he worked the radios on their last flight of the day.

“Gear down,” Tris commanded.
The landing gear groaned and clicked as they lowered into position. Locked on final approach, the turboprop glided toward the runway, a concrete slab somewhere below them. Its twin engines spun in sync on the airplane’s wings. Tris monitored every bump and twitch of the plane. She answered each with a tap of the controls.

Tris nudged the yoke to bank the airplane left, the plastic coated steering column cool beneath her hands. She thought of all the ways pilots measure movement: degrees of heading, feet of altitude, ticks of the clock. Always counting up, down, until the next critical moment. As Clear Sky 251 slid toward the ground, Tris counted down.

Then she saw the flash. Just for a second, an amber warning light flickered.

“Danny, check the gauges. We had a caution.”

“Five hundred,” the airplane’s synthesized altitude alert announced. Tris checked the altimeter. So close to the ground and they still had zero visibility through the late-summer glare.

“I don’t know,” Danny said as he scanned the gauges. “Wait. It’s the oil pressure on number one. The needle’s going crazy. It could be nothing, just a blip.”

Or the number one engine could be about to fail.

“Ok.” She’d need full power on both engines to climb if they couldn’t land—and she might not have it.

“Nothing in sight.” Danny squirmed

forward in his seat to catch the first glimpse of runway lights. His breath grew more labored with every foot of altitude they lost. He wouldn’t see the runway until the very last second, if at all—right when Tris would decide to land the plane or thrust it back up into the soup.

“Roger.” Tris stayed focused and in control. As seconds passed, the plane slid lower, lower, in a stable descent. The only sounds were the whir of spinning dials, the click of needles, the white noise of flight. Tris eyed the altimeter, her hands soft but firm on the power levers.

Danny’s hand twitched behind hers; a backup. He strained to see the runway. Decision time loomed a few feet away.

The caution light blinked again. Tris had to keep her eyes on the navigation gauges. The closer the airplane got to the ground, the more sensitive those indicators became. If she strayed off course, even a little, she’d lose all guidance and have to climb, or else there was no telling where they’d hit the ground.

She felt Danny’s hands move closer to the controls, protecting them in case she faltered.

She didn’t. Tris saw the runway, dead ahead.

“I’ve got it,” Danny said quickly as he keyed the mike. “Columbus Tower, Clear Sky Two-Five-One, runway in sight.”

“Roger, Clear Sky Two-Five-One, Runway Two-Four, cleared to land, wind two-five-zero at three knots.”

“Landing,” Tris said. She looked outside, blinked to focus, and kept the plane moving straight along the runway centerline, edging toward the earth. The altimeter registered field elevation just as the plane’s rear wheels softly touched the ground.


About the Author

RD.jpgRobin “R.D.” Kardon had a twelve-year flying career as a corporate and airline pilot. She holds an Airline Transport Pilot certificate and three Captain qualifications. Her travels took her all over the world in every type of airplane from small single-engine Cessnas to the Boeing 737. Robin earned her B.A. in Journalism and Sociology from NYU and J.D. from American University, Washington College of Law. A native New Yorker, Robin now lives in San Diego, California with her beloved rescue pets.

“Flygirl,” a work of fiction inspired by her own aviation experience, is her first novel.

Connect with Robin “R.D.” : Webpage|Facebook|Twitter|GoodReads

Thank you all for joining us on yet another book finding journey! “May the odds be ever in your favor” ~ Hunger Games

Happy Tuesday, I hope you made it through Monday okay or are recovering from Monday with a good book and maybe a drink or two 😉 Happy reading!



klTitle: Killer Lies (Deadly Encounters, #2)

Author: Zia Westfield

Publication Date: December 21st 2018

Genres: Adult, Suspense


Kelsey Tremayne’s life unraveled in the summer of her 16th year when she and a friend were abducted. She came out of the experience alive, but without memories of her abduction and her friend was never found. Rumors that she’d killed her friend in jealousy, and that she was mentally unstable, started and eventually her parents moved her away from Carville. Now, she’s back in Carville to settle her aunt’s estate. However, someone is watching her, playing with her mind. Could it even escalate to murder?

One man is willing to stand by her, protect her, and breach the barriers that have guarded her heart for so long.

Sam Carmichael stays focused on the job and keeps his personal interactions limited. The emotional instability of his wife and her subsequent suicide have made him leery of getting deeply involved with anyone. Even so, someone is targeting Kelsey Tremayne and the roots go back twelve years to an abduction that was never solved. As Sam is drawn deeper into the case, he can’t help admiring Kelsey’s strength and compassion and he vows to do everything he can to find the truth and bring her kidnapper to justice.

Can two people hurt by their pasts survive a criminal’s web to find a future together?

Book One: Amazon

Purchase Links: GoodReads|Amazon

Killer Lies

ISBN 978-1-912768-16-5

Published 2018

Published by Black Velvet Seductions Publishing at Smashwords

Killer Lies Copyright 2018 Zia Westfield
Cover design Copyright 2018 Jessica Greeley


Sam Carmichael switched his high beams on and eased off the pedal as he drove the narrow mountain road. Fat raindrops splattered the windshield of the SUV in a steady torrent that even the windshield wipers working double time couldn’t keep up with.
The Tremayne mansion drive should be another half a mile up the road. He’d be glad to get there. The mountainside wasn’t known for landslides, but the amount of rain that had been coming down steadily had been causing a number of accidents throughout Carville. Best-case scenario, he’d see the crazy cat lady and get back into town before anything bad happened.
Thunder cracked overhead, followed by a flash of light that lit up the road, revealing towering trees on both sides. He also caught sight of the gate that signaled the Tremayne estate.
He made the turn and pulled up beside the box attached to the wall. He lowered his window, pushed the button and waited for a response.
He’d been out here years ago when he’d been riding patrol. A woman dressed in shawls and surrounded by dozens of cats, or so it had seemed, had answered the door. She’d insisted that he find the person who was trying to steal her cats.
Setting aside his private thoughts, he’d checked the house and the grounds, but had found no signs of anyone having been there.
He’d chalked it up to experience and had forgotten about it until tonight, when the desk Sergeant had roped him into coming to check out a report of a possible burglary before going home.
“Lucky me,” he said into the darkness.
“Excuse me?” The voice crackled across the intercom.
Sam leaned out, ignoring the rain that pelted him, and spoke loudly.
“Detective Sam Carmichael, Carville PD. I’m here about the burglary.” He pulled his head back in and waited for the gate to open. Instead, the intercom crackled to life once more.
“Would you show me your badge, Detective?”
Sam reminded himself that he had become a detective to serve the public, even on foul nights when man and beast knew better than to be outside. He fished his badge out of his pocket and thrust it out towards the camera. How the hell the person on the other side expected to see anything with the rain coming down like it was, he didn’t know.
The gate suddenly creaked and slowly began opening.
“You’re welcome,” Sam muttered.
While he waited for the opening to be large enough for him to drive through, he gave himself a stern talking to. Crazy cat lady or not, he would do his job and be professional. Some days were the pits and today ranked as one of them, but he wouldn’t let it interfere with his job.
He drove up the long drive, noting the overgrown lawn and the creepy vibe given off by the ivy crawling up every inch of the turreted mansion, the branches overhanging the drive, and the coldness that seemed to emanate from the dark exterior. Before he left tonight he would make a point to the person who called the stationhouse to add lights to dispel the gloom.
He pulled the SUV as close to the front porch as he could, but he was still soaked by the time he reached the top step.
He pushed the bell next to the door and prepared to meet the crazy cat lady.
The door opened, and Sam stared dumbfounded. The woman before him was dressed in shawls and a long dark grey skirt, and had one cat in her arms while another curled up on a straight back chair that butted up against the wall.
But she was years younger—younger than him, he’d guess—and punch-in-the-gut beautiful.
None of it made sense and he said the first words that popped into his mind.
“What happened to the other crazy cat lady?”
Kelsey Tremayne winced at the question. When she’d opened the door, she hadn’t been sure what to expect. The security system needed a major upgrade. She had barely been able to hear the detective identify himself, and the rain and poor camera quality had made it impossible to see his badge clearly.
Though she’d debated the risk in letting him approach, she had decided to chance it. She gripped the pepper spray she held in her hand which was concealed by the shawls. It hadn’t been easy to call the police given her history with them, in fact, her stomach still felt queasy over the decision, but she needed the incidents on record.
Crazy cat lady, indeed.
“Please come in, Detective.” She stepped back and petted Sabina, the white Persian mix that had sought comfort in her arms when the thunder had started.
The detective entered, dripping water on the wood floor, and surveyed her from head to foot. He was tall, over six feet, if she had to guess, with a rangy build, brown close-cropped hair, and a stubborn jaw.
Kelsey could imagine what he saw. A not-very-tall, not-very-short, brown-haired, brown-eyed female with more cats than friends. Okay, he wouldn’t be able to guess the last, but it wouldn’t take long for him to stumble onto the truth.
Then again maybe he already knew it. After all, he’d asked about the other cat lady.
“If you’d follow me,” she said, and turned to head down the hall to the one habitable room.
For whatever reason, her aunt hadn’t put her mark on the library. Perhaps it had remained a tribute to her aunt’s father, Kelsey’s grandfather. Whatever the reason, Kelsey was grateful for the comfortable furniture and the working fireplace. The heater had shown itself to be temperamental and the fire burning in the fireplace was the only source of heat she had. In a few weeks, when winter dumped snow on the ground, she’d be in trouble if she didn’t get someone to fix it. Lately, she never seemed to warm up, as if the cold lived and breathed inside her, spreading its tentacles throughout her body.
She shivered, mentally relegated the broken heater to the long list of repairs she had written, and focused on the detective.
“Would you like to have a seat, Detective? Can I get you anything to drink?” She knew she’d said the wrong thing from the way his eyes widened.
“Kelsey. Kelsey Tremayne. Ma’am makes me sound old.” She moved a little closer to the fire, wanting the heat to dispel the chill that had taken up permanent residence in her bones.
The detective splayed his hands on his hips and watched her.
“Ms. Tremayne, you called the station and reported a burglary.”
Kelsey wet her lips and wished he’d asked for a drink. Her mouth felt dry and her throat parched.
He wouldn’t believe her. She could tell from his stance and from the way his gaze swept over the room. He had made up his mind about her. Maybe he’d even heard the rumors about her.
He’d obviously heard the ones about her aunt or why would he have called her the “crazy cat lady”?
Suddenly the room seemed to shrink. Her pulse rate increased and sweat broke out on her brow. A panic attack was imminent if she didn’t do something to head it off.
That would be all he would need to see to confirm that she was as crazy as her aunt. She couldn’t let him.
“I’m sorry, detective, for wasting your time. You should go. I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Please chalk it up to the horrible weather.” She tried to smile, but her lips seemed to tremble instead. She couldn’t even look him in the eye; her gaze slid away. She marched purposely to the door, hoping he would follow.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
She tried to remember everything her therapist had told her. Her control, though, was slipping. Footsteps sounded behind her and she knew a moment of relief. He would go.
Once he was gone, she could fall apart.
She juggled Sabina in order to grab the doorknob and pull the heavy front door open. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning lit up the sky. Sabina yowled and leaped from Kelsey’s arms, scratching them in her descent. Kelsey tripped on her floor-length skirt and fell backward.
Arms caught her and pain exploded in her head. “Let go!” She kicked and scratched and fought, determined to fight her way free.
One minute she was trapped and the next she was thrust into a hard-backed chair. Detective Carmichael stood a few feet away, looking at her as if she were indeed crazy. She wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.
If only she were a cat-like Sabina, who’d scampered to the top of a stack of boxes further down the hallway and was observing them from her perch.
“Please go,” Kelsey whispered, her voice raw.
Silence pressed in on her, despite the sounds of the storm made louder by the open front door. She’d asked him to leave. Why didn’t he leave?
He walked over to the door and closed it. He blew out a breath and rubbed the top of his head.
“Look, you called about a burglary. Why don’t we focus on that?”
She shook her head. “I was mistaken.” She twisted her fingers in the shawl’s fringe. “You can go.” Maybe if she repeated it enough he’d get the hint.
He bent down and picked up the pepper spray that must have fallen out of her hand when she’d tripped. He put it on the table in the entry, next to her chair. He looked puzzled.
She waited for the barrage of questions. Memories of another interrogation intruded into her mind and once more her control began to crumble. She got to her feet, strode purposely to the front door and pulled it open.
“I’ve asked you to leave. I told you it was a mistake. Please go or I’ll have to call the station to register a complaint.” She wouldn’t, of course. Her days of dealing with the police were at an end. She’d thought she could handle talking to them, after all of her therapist’s encouragement to see beyond her own nightmarish experience. But, again, images and voices crowded into her mind, threatening to push out here and now if she didn’t hang on.
“All right. I’ll go,” he said.
He spoke evenly, and she focused on the words, not wanting to look into his eyes and see pity there.
She expected him to step past her and out onto the porch so she could shut the door. But he paused directly in front of her, facing her, though all she saw was his dark blue shirt tucked into a pair of jeans. She forced her head up to meet his gaze, her hands tightening the shawl’s material around her.
His eyes were gray, turbulent, like the storm outside. Something inside her wanted to shy away from the way he seemed to be stripping away the layers she’d successfully piled on to protect herself. But she made herself withstand the scrutiny.
He shook his head. “You know, none of this makes sense. This,” he waved his hand around to encompass the hallway, “doesn’t make sense. Mostly, though, you don’t make sense.” He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a business card and held it out to her.
She wet her lips, aware of his gaze suddenly focused on her mouth. She felt the heat rushing to her cheeks.
“If I take the card, will you leave?” Her voice sounded husky to her own ears and she wanted to kick herself. The last person she needed to be attracted to was a police detective.
“Just take the card,” he said.
She reached out to pluck it from his fingers, but he held on to it.
“First, get some light and better security. Second, I don’t know why you called the police, or what’s going on, but if you change your mind or need assistance, my cell phone is on here. I’ll pick up day or night.” With those final words, he released his grip on the card and walked out, closing the door behind him with a snap.
A cat meowed, and she felt the animal rub against her legs. Pulling her gaze away from the door, she reached down and picked Sabina up. She was still holding the card in her hand as she carried the cat to the library where warmth lay. She should throw it away, yet she couldn’t quite rid herself of the image of those gray eyes and that penetrating stare. He’d called her a crazy cat lady, but when he’d zoomed in on her lips, he’d seemed attracted.
Of course, it might all be in her imagination, but that didn’t matter. If she concentrated on how he’d been captivated by her lips, she wouldn’t have to think about who had been in the house and whether they would be back.


eBook copy of Killer Lies

About the Author

ziaZia Westfield creates suspenseful, exciting stories with romance at the heart of them. There is nothing more thrilling than watching two people fall in love despite the odds and the danger surrounding their every move.

She makes her home in Tokyo with her husband and three sons. She holds a full-time job, volunteers too much because she doesn’t know how to say “no,” and generally finds peace between the pages of a book or when she’s writing out the stories in her head.

Connect with Zia: Twitter|WebPage|Facebook|GoodReads

Happy Monday everyone! May your week be filled with love and bliss and lots of books! With the giveaway “May the odds be ever in your favor” ~ Hunger Games