Good morning. Thanks for dropping by today. As always, many thanks to Sandra Bunino and all of the other talented authors who make this weekly blog hop so much fun. I’m six days away from The White Lily’s release, and fingers crossed that everyone who read The White Carnation will want to read its sequel!
Next Monday is also Canadian Thanksgiving. Among all of the things for which I’m grateful this year is this weekly chance to share my work with you and get a peek at your work, too.
Last week’s tease, from the prologue, was intense. This week, I’ll slow it down a notch and introduce you to Jacob.
The Harvester is out there … watching, waiting, biding his time.
FBI cult specialist Lilith Munroe lives in dread that one day the man who tortured her when a case went bad will find her again. So leaving her sanctuary in Quantico to join the Harvester Task Force in Boston is her version of hell. But the Harvester is kidnapping babies, and Lilith’s profiling skills may mean the difference between life and death for the most innocent in society.
Australian millionaire and former member of the New Horizon commune Jacob Andrews returns to the United States searching for his sister. Instead of the happy reunion he expects, he discovers she is dead and his twin brother may be responsible. He agrees to lend his law enforcement skills to help find his former cult leader before the man can implement his plan to kill millions.
Now uneasy partners, Jacob and Lilith must learn to trust each other even as they fight their growing attraction. But when Lilith’s greatest fears materialize, will Jacob be able to set aside his anger and save the woman he loves?
Sensuality Level: Sensual
This week’s tease:
The elevator doors slid open, and Jacob stepped back, bumping into the detective who’d moved behind him. Standing in front of the door were four men, one of whom could probably give any professional wrestler a run for his money—all of them with Glocks pointed directly at Jacob’s chest.
“Bloody hell …”
“Charade’s over, you bastard,” said Detective Halliday, grabbing his arm from behind, snapping a handcuff on his wrist, and pulling his other arm behind his back to cuff it, too. Once he was restrained, the men put their guns down, but the wrestler came forward, grabbed him by the head, and pinched Jacob’s nose, forcing him to open his mouth if he wanted to breathe.
Had the members of the Boston Police Department gone crazy?
A uniformed officer grabbed his jaw, pulling it open so wide it hurt, and examined his teeth.
“He’s clean. Good dental work, by the way, not like the rest of them.”
The man released his jaw at the same time the wrestler released his nose and head. Jacob drew a deep, shaky breath and gulped air, no longer worried only about Eloise but concerned for his own safety. Either all these detectives were insane, which was unlikely, or his sister had stumbled into a hell of a mess.
“Have you all gone mad? What’s going on here? I don’t know what you think I’ve done or who you think I am,” although since Eloise had mentioned Jimmy, they might be mistaking him for his twin brother, “but I can assure you I’ve only been in the United States since yesterday afternoon.”
“Sure, Mr. Andrews,” Detective Halliday said, stressing the name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Or perhaps I should say Colchester? Which one of the Chosen are you? Or maybe I should call you Prophet? Great disguise. That accent’s almost believable. You had me going with the farmer line. Pretty funny. You’re just ballsy enough to walk in like this and think we’d be too stupid to realize who you are. Take him into room three, empty his pockets, take off his shoes and belt, and for Christ’s sake, don’t take your eyes off him for a second. I don’t want another dead body on our hands.”
Jacob jerked his arm loose from the man holding him.
“Dead body? Where is my sister, Detective?”
“Eloise Colchester is your sister?” the detective snarled. “That’s rich. If she’s your sister, you sick son of a bitch, you know damn well where she is. She’s on a slab in the morgue where your fixer put her after he slit her throat and that of at least four others.”
“No! God, no,” Jacob cried out in anguish, dropping to his knees, breaking the other man’s hold on his arm. He was too late. His baby sister was dead, and it was his fault. “When? How?’
“Cut the theatrics. I’m not buying the act, but to refresh your memory, you had her executed nine weeks ago, the day we stormed your little horse farm and rescued the women you had there.”
Jacob straightened, shook off the officer’s attempt to grab his arm again, and stared into the detective’s eyes, taken aback by the hatred there.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Detective. You’ve obviously got the wrong man. What women? What horse farm? You’ve got kangaroos loose in the top paddock.”
“Drop the phony accent and shut up before I lose my temper and beat the crap out of you.” The detective turned to the two uniformed officers. “Get him out of my sight and tie him down. If he gives you any trouble, shoot the son of a bitch. You’ll be doing the world a favor.”
That’s it for today!
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