Romance Books

Have you grabbed this hot romance book yet?

I love action/adventure books, and I’ve always been intrigued by federal agents on undercover missions. I also adore holiday romance. So why not smash up a few genres and have fun? A Hero’s Heart is a culmination of heat, heart, danger, and second chances. I wrote it back in 2013 for a Christmas-themed anthology call with my former publisher, and the rights to the story reverted to me last year. With a fresh cover, edit, and blurb, it’s ready for a new home on your e-reader.

Have you grabbed your own copy of A Hero’s Heart? If not, do so now. It won’t stay .99 cents forever.

A Hero's Heart

Lies. Betrayal. A blown undercover mission.
After ten years away, DEA agent Jarrett Brandt heads home to pay his respects to his deceased brother and hide out from the cartel kingpin who wants him dead. The last thing he needs is Marissa, his high school sweetheart, tempting him with her sassy smile and showing him the life he gave up. Add on his judgmental parents, and he’s ready to hit the road.
Widowed mom Marissa Reinn never had much luck with the Brandt boys. First Jarrett broke her heart, then she lost his brother—her husband—to a bullet. Vowing to uncover Jarrett’s secrets, she succumbs to the passion still burning between them instead.
When a team of assassins find him, Jarrett and Marissa will have to work together to survive and protect her son. How will they seize their second chance at love with their lives on the line?

Just .99 cents. Limited Time Only.

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HOT Excerpt

His shoulders rolled as he stomped toward her like she was prey to his beast. He jerked her into his arms and claimed her lips with a searing kiss that tore the air from her lungs. His breath filled her mouth and trailed down her throat, ripping away her defenses. He tasted of coffee and man, darkness and bliss, an aphrodisiac sure to destroy her. His whiskers abraded her skin, marking her as though she belonged to him. If only that were true. She clutched his rock-hard chest as their tongues danced.

“Fucking hell.” He pressed fast kisses on her chin and down her throat before he pushed her against the nearest wall and cupped one of her breasts.

She gasped. The friction of her shirt and bra chafing her hardening nipple with his firm but tender squeeze jolted pleasure through her like mini bolts of electricity.

He pulled her blouse over her head and groaned as her lace-shielded breasts thrust up.

Did the girls have a mind of their own?

He freed the front enclosure of the bra and bent his head to seize one of her nipples. “Yes.” She twisted her fingers into his soft hair and tugged him closer. His deep growl of approval rumbled through her. Oh, my. Hot pulses of energy spiraled from the puckered flesh trapped between his teeth and hot lips. Wicked heat burned through her blood. She arched her back and smashed her breasts against his face. After he pushed down her slacks, she thumbed the waistband of her silk panties.

“Not yet.” He pulled back her hand, placed a light kiss on her palm, and pinned her arm above her head.

The muscles in his back bunched under her free hand. Damn his sweater. His hot, wet tongue swirled over the thrumming pulse in her neck, kicking her desire up another notch. She pushed him back just enough to look at him. Her heart skipped from the I’m gonna eat you lust burning in his molten gaze. Yes, please! Eat away. His chest heaved as she pushed his jeans down his legs. Black briefs stretched over his straining cock. Dear Lord, how did he not burst from the fabric? She grasped his hard shaft and gently squeezed.

He hissed. “Marissa…I need you. You smell delicious.” He stepped back, pulling from her grasp, and yanked his sweater over his head. Then he removed his boots and kicked away the rest of his clothes.

Shivers shot down her spine. She slid off her panties and drew in a deep breath. Thank God she’d shaved the day before.

His broad shoulders and oh-so-yummy chest tapered into a pair of thick legs. The light played over his tanned skin, highlighting the dozen or so scars on his torso and arms. What the hell had happened to him? She caressed a ridged, white scar on his lower abs. An old knife wound, perhaps? The pink, puckered scar on his shoulder had to be from a bullet wound. She swallowed her questions as he gripped her hips. The heat from his hands branded her like a fire poker.

A growl rumbled from his throat. He skimmed his fingers across her stomach and through the patch of hair at the apex of her thighs.

“Make love to me, Jarrett, before I wake from this dream.”

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