Moving On

This blog is moving. I have a new website, and with that a new blog. Hope you will follow me over.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

So it's been a few months since I last posted. I do realized I am absolutely the worst blogger in the world. But I have really good excuse. A few months ago, I signed a contract for all three books in my Devil's Eye series with Harlequin for their new Shivers line--a line specific to Gothic romance.

I seriously can not express how excited I am about this as a writer and a reader. Clearly, I am thrilled to see my series find such a great fit, but I'm also excited to find more Gothic titles to read.

The Devil's Eye will release in January, along with four other titles in the Shivers line. As I get more details, I will be sure to share them. I promise I will be blogging more frequently. In the meantime, here is my gorgeous cover for The Devil's Eye, which I am in love with. It could not be more perfect.

Check out the other Harlequin Shivers writers with book releasing January 2014: Barbara J. Hancock, Jenna Ryan and Jane Godman.

A Little Late Posting This

So sorry. It's been a crazy week. So without further ado...

Congratulations, Robin. I will contact you by email to get your book to you. Thanks to everyone who played along.

I can hardly believe it's the last week of June. Where did the month go?

I'm starting to rewrite The Devil's Shadow this week, and getting ready to start The Devil's Due. Finally book three. I have mixed feelings here. A part of me is looking forward to finishing this series, seeing it all come together, and working on something new, but a part of me will miss these characters.

This past weekend the hot weather finally hit. I'm officeless again until I find a window air conditioner for the attic. Kijji here I come.

Hope everyone is enjoying the lovely summer weather.

Win a Signed Copy of Blood and Bone!

Today, I'm giving away a signed print copy of Blood and Bone. You know the drill. Leave a comment and be sure to include your email address so I have a way to contact you. I'll announce the winner Monday. Good luck!!

The deeper they dig into the past, the closer they come to a killer.

Crime writer Shayne Reynolds is looking for the next book that’ll get her out of her parents’ basement and on track to rebuilding her life. She’s found it in Robert Anderson, a confessed murderer who’s out on parole. Something’s never added up about that case.

From the moment she sets foot in Dark Water, nothing goes as planned. Anderson’s family wants her to drop the story—especially surviving son Des. A man who ignites sizzling heat even as he stands firmly in her way.

Laboring under his father’s crushing legacy and his grandmother’s iron resolve to get rid of the nosy writer at any cost, Des struggles to save the self-destructive sister who once saved him. There’s something honest and forthright about Shayne, though, that tempts him to help her get to the truth. Even if it means double-crossing his powerful grandmother.

Despite their resolve to keep it strictly business, sexual sparks quickly set fire to tangled emotions. And threads of a fragile bond that someone with a vendetta could use to weave their death shroud…

Product Warnings

This story contains a feisty writer, a sexy younger man and a mystery with enough twists and turns to cause vertigo.

Copyright © 2011 Dawn Brown
All rights reserved — Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Excerpt

Des gripped her heel tightly, with quick fingers pulled out the glass and pressed a gauze pad against the wound to stem the bleeding. Fresh pain soared up her leg, before settling into a dull throb.

“Your foot’s really bleeding.” He lifted the gauze. She tried to pull her foot away, but his hold tightened, and he grinned. “I still need to clean the cut and bandage you up.”

She glared while he opened the antiseptic pad’s foil package. The same brand he’d complained hurt when she’d used it on his face. “Remember, I could have left you at the side of the road last night.”

“Duly noted.” He applied the damp wipe to her oozing injury. Stinging flames licked at her nerve endings.

“Sadist,” she hissed. Closing her eyes, she bit her lip and waited for him to finish. At last, the pain receded. When she opened her eyes, he was carefully applying a bandage.

“All done.” He bent his head and pressed his lips to the arch of her foot in a feathery kiss. A delicious tingle rippled over her skin. He peered up at her, those smoky eyes watching her through the hair that had fallen into his face.

She forgot the pain in her foot and a new ache settled low and deep inside her.

Monday's Winner and Living Lies

Congrats to Denise! She has won an ecopy of Blood and Bone. I will be contacting you by email to find out which format you prefer.

Today, I'm giving away an ecopy of Living Lies. Leave a comment and tomorrow I'll draw a name when I announce Wednesday's contest. (Remember to include your email so I can contact you.)

Doing whatever it takes could get them both killed.

Twelve years after her sister’s disappearance, Haley Carling spends her days trying to hold what’s left of her family together, running her late father’s shop and caring for her alcoholic mother. Then her sister’s remains are uncovered in the basement of their old home, and fingers start pointing. At the Carlings.

Dean Lawson, long the prime suspect in the Carling girl’s disappearance, is sure he’s got evidence proving who the killer is. He’s determined to clear his name, and he won’t let anything stand in his way. Not even his lingering attraction to Haley.

Haley is just as determined to protect her family from the former town bad boy’s accusations. But now someone is stalking her, and Haley realizes Dean’s the only one she can trust.

With a killer closing in, Dean wonders if he’s made the biggest mistake of his life…a mistake that could cost Haley her life.

Living Lies - Excerpt
Copyright © Dawn Brown 2008

Haley left Dean at his car across the street from her store then started home. The name Sandra still played through her brain. Why did it sound so familiar? Where had she heard it before?

Absently, she nibbled at the corner of her lip. The only thing more perplexing than the name tickling her memory was her uneasy alliance with Dean. Who would have guessed he would become a strange sort of ally in all this? Ally or not, Sandra wasn’t a whole lot to go on, for either of them.

She pulled into her driveway and got out of the car. Her muscles had stiffened from the long drive and an air of defeat seemed to have settled over her. Maybe after she ate something she’d feel better.

She followed the narrow cement walk to her doorstep, digging for her keys in her purse. They jingled maddeningly just out of reach as she searched blindly, through the receipts, gum wrappers and ATM statements. She needed to clean this crap out.

At last her fingers closed over the cold metal, but as she reached out to push the key into the lock she realized she didn’t need it. The door stood open. Barely a quarter of an inch, but open just the same.

Her heart rate tripled as she pushed the door the rest of the way, fisting her keys in her other hand so that each one stuck out between her knuckles. A vague recollection from a self-defense class in high school phys-ed.

Maybe she should call the police. She shook her head as if answering herself. What if she just hadn’t closed the door properly when she left that morning? She’d look like an idiot.

From the small front hall, the pale kitchen light spilled into the living room. Had she left that light on this morning? She struggled to remember, but came up empty as she ran her hand over the switches for the light overhead and the lamp next to the couch.

Nothing moved, or seemed out of place in the sudden brightness. The house was silent except for the familiar tick of the furnace and the ever-present hum of the refrigerator. She stepped farther into the house, half expecting someone to jump out at her from the dining room, but no one did.

With her heart pounding in her ears, she went into the kitchen. Everything was as she left it. From the dregs of coffee still in the pot, to the mug, plate and knife on the counter, to the crumbs next to the toaster. But then, what had she expected? That an intruder would break in and tidy her kitchen?

She considered grabbing one of the serrated knives from the wooden block on the counter, but rolled her eyes at her own foolishness. She’d probably forgotten to turn off the light in the kitchen this morning. God knew she’d been a touch preoccupied lately. The door probably hadn’t closed properly behind her when she’d left for work. And the only reason she was climbing the stairs to make sure everything was how she left it was simply for her own peace of mind. Just so she could say "I told you so" to her overactive imagination.

Her breath locked in her throat as she reached the small hallway at the top of the stairs. Soft, pale light flickered through the narrow gap between the wall and her partially closed bedroom door. With feet that felt as if they were made of stone, she dragged herself forward and pushed open the door with one trembling hand.

Her stomach dropped and a strange sound escaped her lips, something between a whimper and a gasp. The room glowed as if on fire. Candles of every shape and color flickered on her dresser, vanity, and on the floor surrounding the bed. Someone had pulled back the bedspread as if in invitation and scattered dark red rose petals across the sheets.

She covered her gaping mouth with her hand and took a step back. Who could have done this? And more importantly why?

A dull thump from below made her freeze where she stood. Someone was in the house. She should have brought the knife.

My New Website has Launched!

My new website is up and running. dawnbrown.ca Be sure to pop over and have look.

To celebrate I'm giving away a book every day this week. Today, I'm giving away an ecopy of Blood and Bone. To win all you have to do is leave a comment (include your email so I can contact you if you win) and I'll draw a winner tomorrow when I post Tuesday's giveaway.

The deeper they dig into the past, the closer they come to a killer.

Crime writer Shayne Reynolds is looking for the next book that’ll get her out of her parents’ basement and on track to rebuilding her life. She’s found it in Robert Anderson, a confessed murderer who’s out on parole. Something’s never added up about that case.

From the moment she sets foot in Dark Water, nothing goes as planned. Anderson’s family wants her to drop the story—especially surviving son Des. A man who ignites sizzling heat even as he stands firmly in her way.

Laboring under his father’s crushing legacy and his grandmother’s iron resolve to get rid of the nosy writer at any cost, Des struggles to save the self-destructive sister who once saved him. There’s something honest and forthright about Shayne, though, that tempts him to help her get to the truth. Even if it means double-crossing his powerful grandmother.

Despite their resolve to keep it strictly business, sexual sparks quickly set fire to tangled emotions. And threads of a fragile bond that someone with a vendetta could use to weave their death shroud…

Product Warnings

This story contains a feisty writer, a sexy younger man and a mystery with enough twists and turns to cause vertigo.

Copyright © 2011 Dawn Brown
All rights reserved — Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Excerpt

The sucking slop of footsteps in wet mud rose from the surrounding black. The hair on the back of her neck bristled, and a chill tickled along her spine.

Was it Hudson coming back to finish her off? Tic?

What was she doing standing around out here anyway? A woman alone, late at night, on a deserted country road, during a thunderstorm? The scene had slasher flick written all over it.

She started for the driver’s side door, but a low moan rose up from the darkness.

The wind? Had to be. Still, she picked up her pace.

The moan came again, louder this time. Shayne stopped and turned. A dark, hunched figure staggered toward her.

“Christ.” She gripped the door handle and yanked open the door.

The stooped outline lurched in front of her single headlight, and the glare illuminated the ugliest Hawaiian shirt she’d ever seen. Relief swamped her like a tidal wave, turning her muscles soft for the second time in one night. The feeling, however, was short-lived. He may not have been the homicidal maniac she’d imagined, but the jerk had scared the life out of her. And all because he was staggering drunk. Even from this distance, the smell of beer was nearly overpowering.

As he pitched forward, the light cast a ghostly pallor over his face. Dark smudges beneath his left eye, along his lip and circling the edges of each nostril stood out from the stark whiteness of his skin.

Blood.

He wasn’t just drunk, he was hurt.

Books I Read in May

I didn’t read a lot this month. Between getting my new website done (should be launching the first week of June) and wrapping up The Devil’s Shadow, I’ve been swamped. I did however manage to get some reading done.

The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson.

I have been wanting to read this for a while, happened to see it while I was book shopping and picked it up right then. Worth the wait? Absolutely. I love a good gothic and Hill House certainly fits the bill. While there are no grab you by the throat, terrifying moments, the general creepiness is wonderfully written. The subtlety of Nell’s possession is also brilliant. And could anyone not love prose that include lines like this, “insist on your cup of stars. Once they force you to be like everyone else, you’ll never see your cups of stars again.”

The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins

Yes, I realize that I am probably the only person left on Earth who had not yet read this book. But I had the flu this week and spent a couple of days in bed, so figured why not? To be fair, I had already seen the movie so there was really nothing new for me. I was impressed with how close the movie stayed to the book. It was good quick read, and I will likely read the next two books in the series.

The End is in Sight

I am so close to the end of The Devil’s Shadow, I can practically taste it. Taste is probably the wrong word, but I’m at that point in the story where I can see how the whole thing unfolds in my head, and if I could manage to sit and write without being disturbed by pesky things like food, sleep and using the bathroom, I could probably finish it in one sitting. But since I do require all of the above, I think I’ll probably be done by the end of the week. Fingers crossed. A good thing too. The characters for The Devil’s Due are becoming more and more demanding of my attention.

As well as finishing up The Devil’s Shadow, I’ve been hard at work putting together my website, which I hope to launch in the next couple of weeks. Stay tuned for a launch date because there will free books a plenty for the first week.

As is often the case when I’m deep into writing, I do very little else. I’ve been reading the same to books for about a month—maybe longer—one at the day job, one at home. The day job book is closer to done than the home book. I read for about a half hour at lunch. I think when I finish this book, I might take a break for a few days and catch up on reading, socializing with friends who might be wondering if I dropped off the face of the planet.

I have, however, managed to get out and enjoy the nice weather at least. Yay, for laptops!

Okay, back to burying myself in my story. See you all when I emerge next. Hopefully, I will have just typed ‘The End.’

Monday Mornings and Free Books

Happy Monday! Actually, it's a good Monday for me. No day job today so that means I can write all day. Woohoo!

I'm hard at work on The Devil's Shadow still, hoping to wrap up in the next couple of weeks, but definitely before the end of the end of the month.  Then I can get started on The Devil's Due. After that, I might take break from series writing and just work on a one off. I have ideas for two nagging at the back of my brain, and as much as I've enjoyed working on The Devil's Eye books. I'm looking forward to working on something different.

Today, The Witch's Stone is free on Amazon. So head on over and get yourself a copy.

A devastating tragedy cost history professor Hillary Bennett her job and her marriage. Desperate to rebuild her life, she travels to the quaint Scottish village of Culcraig to research a legend and salvage her career. But when she arrives, she finds her hostess dead and her hopes for the future pinned to the woman's black sheep heir—Caid Douglas.

The last thing Caid needs is a decrepit manor house to remind him of his estranged family, but he does need the money selling the house would bring to pay off his debts. When haunted, down-on-her-luck Hillary offers to pay him to stay at Glendon House and view his great grandfather's journals, he sees a way out of his mess

But Glendon House harbors a sinister secret behind its great stone walls. And a killer will stop at nothing to keep it.

The Witch's Stone - Excerpt
Copyright © 2012 Dawn Brown


A flash in the gloom caught her eye and she stopped walking. A small light, there for an instant, then it was gone.

What the hell?

Another flash, this one a little left of the first. She narrowed her gaze. A round yellow glow shone through the trees like the beam from a flashlight.

Was there someone else in the woods?

The light disappeared.

Her heart rate kicked up and a shivery cold, slick and horribly familiar, settled over her. She struggled to pull herself together. So what if she wasn’t alone? Surely, other people walked in this forest. But rational thinking did little to calm the swell of panic expanding inside her chest.

The light returned, closer this time. There had to be someone out there, coming toward her, but she couldn’t see anyone.

“Hello?” she called out.

No answer, and the light vanished again.

Hillary turned to start back to the inn, but froze. Another light had appeared directly behind her, so close she had to squint against the brightness. She peered into the forest murk, but couldn’t see anyone past the bright yellow glow.

Back From The Dead

Yeah, I know. I kind of dropped off the face of planet there for a bit. I've been working on a mad rewrite of The Devil’s Eye. This story has been driving me crazy almost from the start. Something about the pacing was off. No matter how many times I looked at it, or tried to fix it, I just made it worse. After few months since I “finished” it, I pulled it out and started to tweak. Then it struck me. The problem with the pacing wasn't not enough happening, the problem was too much happening. With that epiphany, the rest of the rewrite fell into place.

I back burnered The Devil's Shadow while I did that and now I'm getting back to work on it. I'm at 70,000 words so I there's still a real possibility I could finish it by the end of March. I'll keep you posted.

And lastly, I'm building a new website. Hoping to launch it soon. Will keep you posted.

I'm reading The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson--or least I was. I've put it down somewhere and can't remember where. It's driving me crazy too.

That new show Bates Motel starts tonight. I loved Psycho, so you know I have to check it out. The actor they have playing young Norman Bates kind of looks like Anthony Perkins, don't you think?

No Strings Attached Blog Hop

Welcome to the No Strings Attached Blog Hop hosted by I am Reader, Not a Writer.
This hop runs from January 15th to the 21st.

To win all you need to do is leave a comment with your email address. (So I can contact you if you win.) The prize is an e-copy of one of my books, (see the side bar) your choice which.

Visit the other sites listed below and wind more great prizes.

Thanks for playing! Good Luck! 

Free Fiction Friday- Bait Part Six

Sorry , I missed Wednesday. Back at the day job after two weeks off left me pretty busy this week. So first things first, the winner of the Happy New Year 2013 Blog Hop was Amy Craft. Thanks to everyone who followed and left a comment. Much appreciated.

So on to part six of Bait. Not sure if I'll keep posting on Fridays. I might start posting more frequently (Tuesdays and Thursdays, maybe) otherwise I'll be posting chapters of a Christmas story in April. :-) We'll see. In the mean time, here is part six. Remember to leave a comment, and I'll draw a name at the end of the month for a copy of Blood and Bone. The more you comment, the better your odds of winning. Enjoy!

Bait

Copyright © 2012 Dawn Brown

Part VI

For a moment, Ella stood frozen, unable to move, staring at the man dressed only in a pair of faded blue boxers hanging from his narrow hips. She should say something, or at least look away. Instead, she let her gaze move over the length of him, taking in each hard muscle, the smattering of golden brown hair on his chest, the smooth column of his throat until at last meeting his wide eyes. Who knew that under those rumpled suits waited a body like his?

            She gave herself a mental shake before she started drooling.

            “What are you doing here?” she hissed, putting herself back on task and keeping her voice low. “You didn’t have him under surveillance.”

            He snorted. “Obviously.”

            “Then why are you here?” And why wasn’t he making any effort to cover himself? Something stirred low in her belly, bringing with it the memory of his lips on hers. Heat crept into her cheeks, but she refused to look away as if doing so would somehow give credence to the sensations swirling inside her.

            His mouth curved into a slow smile. Had he guessed what she’d been thinking? Probably. Her face burned hotter.

            “I’m here for you, Ella.” His quiet voice wrapped around her and her nerve endings hummed.

            She swallowed hard. “I don’t need you here. I know what I’m doing.”

            “I don’t think you do.” He took a step forward. Instinctively, she tried to take one back, but the closed door behind her kept her from moving away. “You’ve put yourself in a dangerous situation and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

            Not going to let anything happen to her? Who the hell did he think he was? She’d been on her own since she was eleven years old and done just fine. She didn’t need anyone. Except maybe for Phoebe. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

            “Not this time.” He advanced on her again, just one step, but eating up the space between them too quickly. Her heart thudded against her chest so loud he had to be able to hear it too. She should leave. Get out of this room and regroup. But with a slow dawning horror, she realized she didn’t want to. In that moment, she wanted him against her. Those strong arms wrapped around her. She wanted him to engulf her in his warmth, to melt against him. And for one desperate instant she wanted someone to take care of her.

            “I need you to leave.” She didn’t like the note of desperation in her voice, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

            “I can’t my car battery is dead. Besides, by now the roads would be unsafe to travel on. I’m here for the long haul. Merry Christmas.”

            ###

            Coward.

            Ella sat on the edge of her bed, clutching the handful of sleeping pills she’d stuffed into her pocket earlier. When her chance came, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. Hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

            She’d failed. Lost her nerve and let her sister down. Squeezing her eyes closed, she tried to keep her tears from falling.

            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispered over and over again like a mantra. The only person she loved, who loved her, was gone, and the man responsible slept down the hall.

            She looked down at her closed fist, then opened her hand slowly staring down at the capsules. Why hadn’t she used the pills?

            Andy.

            They’d sat in the silent living room, sipping wine and engaging in awkward conversation, with only the fire and white lights on the Christmas tree for light, listening to the storm rage outside.  Andy’s hot amber gaze never left her face, even when Luke spoke to him directly.

She hadn’t lost her nerve. Andy’s endless scrutiny hadn’t given her the opportunity to act. Tomorrow the storm would let up, and he would have no excuse to stay. Then she could do what she came here for.

            With shaking fingers, she returned to the pills to the yellow plastic vial. She changed into a blue silk night-gown, climbed into the wide double bed and clicked off the lamp. The room was cold, even beneath the heavy quilt. Outside, the wind howled around the house and whistled through unseen cracks around the window.

            She forced her eyes closed, willing her mind to shut down and allow her to rest. Please, just one night of peace. Instead, Andy filled her thoughts.

            She wanted to go to him. She wanted to slip into his room and into his bed. To feel his body move over hers, fill hers, To have his hands, big and warm, gripping her against him.

She threw back the covers, stood in the icy black of her room and crossed to the door.

She would have this one night for herself. For one night she wouldn’t feel alone, she would feel like she mattered to someone. It might just be an illusion, just sex, but she would take it.

            Cold to her soul, she crossed the short distance from her room to his. Her feet padded across the smooth hardwood. At his door, she hesitated. Should she knock? She didn’t want to risk alerting Luke.

            She looked down. Warm yellow light seeped from under the door. He was awake. Her hand closed on the brass knob. She turned it, pushed open the door and stepped into his room.

One Down, Forty-Nine to Go

One of my new year's resolutions this year is to make a point of reading more. With that in mind I decided to do the Goodreads reading challenge for 2013. I'm aiming to read fifty books this year--actually, I'd like to read more than that, but I figured 50 was totally doable. I hope I didn't just jinx myself with that.

So I finished the first of my fifty books--Animal Farm, by George Orwell.

I read 1984 last year and it quickly shot to one of my favorite books of all time. Animal Farm touches on many of the same themes, but focuses on the corruption of ideals with power, and how that power goes unchecked when confronted with ignorance and apathy.

Now, it's probably not fair to compare the two books, and perhaps had I not read 1984 so close to reading this one, I wouldn't be. But I did and I am. I enjoyed the book. It was cleverly written, and  Boxer's plight nearly brought me to tears, but it just didn't have the same intensity that 1984 did. That said, there are certain books that I think everyone should read, and Animal Farm would be one of them.

Anyone else doing the Goodreads challenge? How many book would you like to read this year?  

Free Fiction Friday - Bait Part Five

It's Friday, and unfortunately the last Friday before I'm back to the day job. It's been nice putting all my time into writing again. I'm going to miss it once I'm back to work. But in the meantime, here is the latest chapter of Bait. Remember to leave a comment to be entered in a draw for a copy of Blood and Bone at the end of the month. The more you comment, the better your odds of winning.

Also, there is still time join in the Happy New Year 2013 blog hop with lots of great prizes.

Bait

Copyright © 2012 Dawn Brown

Part V

 From the window of Luke’s guest bedroom, Ella watched the snow drift softly to the ground like a veil of white in the dying light.  A deep expanse of forest surrounded the A-frame chalet like a fortress wall, tree’s tangled, skeletal branches grasping at the blue gray sky above, leaving her feeling isolated, shut off from the outside world.

A shudder rippled down her spine.

            She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cold glass. Tonight was the night. Tonight she would have the answers she’d wanted for so long.

            Could she do it? She swallowed hard and did her best to ignore the way her hands trembled as she let the drape fall back into place. She turned away from the window and knelt next to her suitcase, checking she had everything she needed for about the one millionth-time since arriving.

            Pulling pack the flap on the lid, she inspected the contents. The bottle of sleeping pills her doctor had prescribed for her when Phoebe first disappeared. She hadn’t used them long, feeling groggier and more muddle-headed than she had before taking one. Plastic ties used for securing wires that she bought at the hardware store. She’d considered rope, but didn’t know anything about knots. Besides, Luke wouldn’t be able to wriggle free from these. The only way ties like this would come off would be if she cut them, and she wouldn’t do that until he’d told her everything she wanted to know. And finally, the hammer also purchased at the time she bought the ties. She hadn’t brought any other tools. If the hammer failed to produce the results she wanted, she would improvise with whatever she found around the chalet. She remembered seeing a hatchet on the mantel of the stone fireplace in the living room.

            Her stomach lurched and she ground her teeth together to keep from throwing up. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t.

            You can. Think of Phoebe. Think of that bastard’s smug expression when you showed up at his door. Think about what he must have done to your sister. And think about the next fifty years not knowing what happened to her while he gets away with it.

            She drew in a shaky breath, plucked the pill bottle from the pouch in her suitcase.  After unscrewing the child-safe lid she shook a half dozen capsules into her hand. How many did she need? She wanted enough to knock him out for a few hours, but not send him into a coma.

            She stuffed the entire handful into her pocket. If a few didn’t work, she’d give him more until he passed out.

            The doorbell downstairs chimed, making her jump and her heart start to pound. Who in the hell would that be? They were out in the middle of nowhere during a snowstorm, not terribly conducive to drop-ins. Had Luke invited someone else to join their merry little party? That would throw a real wrench in her plans.

            She left the bedroom and walked to the rail overlooking living room. The fire crackling in the fireplace reflected orange off the gleaming wood floors. Candles on the mantle and in the center of the coffee table between the two couches glowed warmly next to a bottle of wine and two glasses.

How romantic. Did he actually think she’d mess around with her maybe dead sister’s husband? A man she’d less than a month ago accused of foul play in her sister’s disappearance.

            She shrugged off her annoyance. His ego actually worked to her advantage. The wine would be the ideal opportunity to begin drugging him. Or it would be provided whoever was knocking at the door left.

            Male voices drifted to her ears as she descended the stairs to the front hall where the men were speaking. Mid-way down both men came into her line of vision. Luke faced her, dressed in black pants and black turtleneck sweater. His eyes gleamed in the dim light like neon and his sculpted lips thinned into a straight line as he eyed the other man.

            She froze on the bottom step. Her heart started to pound. Even with his back to her there was something horribly familiar about the other man’s messy brown hair and wet, rumpled coat.

            “Ella,” Luke said, catching sight of her. “It would seem we have a guest for Christmas dinner."

            The other man turned. Hot golden eyes, the color of whiskey, locked with hers.

            “Andy,” she half gasped half squeaked.

###

            Of all the times for her to start using his first name. Andy glanced over his shoulder to gauge Luke’s reaction. If he thought there was anything strange in her reaction to him, Summers wasn’t letting on.

            “Ms. Martin,” Andy said. “I must admit, I’m surprised to find you here.”

            She gaped at him for a long moment, then cleared her throat and said, “Detective, I assure you the feeling is mutual.”

            “It seems,” Summers cut in, drawing Ella’s attention him. “Detective Harlowe has had some car trouble.”

            “I see,” she said, her gaze shifting from him to Summers then back again.

            “Do you?” Luke snapped. “Because I don’t. What are you doing out in this neck of the woods on Christmas Eve, Detective?”

            Andy gave him a hard smile. “Watching you. You’re under surveillance. Didn’t you know?”

            “Is that really the sort of thing you march up to your quarry’s front door and announce?” Ella asked, resting her hands on her hips.

            “Not usually.” He’d pissed her off. Whatever game she was playing she hadn’t wanted him to see it. “But the battery in my car died and the idea of sitting outside and freezing to death wasn’t terribly appealing.”

            “So phone for a tow,” Luke ground out.

            “Can’t get a signal on my phone. Probably the storm. It’s supposed let up by morning. Surely, you wouldn’t turn out a police man on Christmas eve.”

            Andy smiled wide, his gaze bouncing between two silent, furious stares.

            Luke spoke first. “Of course not. It seems it will be the three of us celebrating. How surreal. Let me show you to a bedroom. You’re soaked through. I should have something you can wear. I’m taller than you and wider in the shoulders so what I have might be a bit big.”

            Jesus, maybe they should whip out their dicks to see whose was bigger and just be done with it already. “Whatever you have is fine.”

            Luke led him to a small room at the end of the hall made smaller by the sharp wall angle of the A-frame. After dropping a pair of jeans and a gray turtleneck on the bed, Luke left, closing the door behind him.

            Alone at last. Andy’s shoulder’s sagged and he nearly flopped onto the bed until he remembered his wet clothes. As he peeled the cold material from his skin, the sound of hushed voices carried through the door—unfortunately not loud enough for him to make out actual words. After a few minutes the voices faded as the speakers moved away.

            Well, he was in. Next step, stop Ella from getting herself killed and get her as far from that scumbag Summers as possible. He yanked open the fly of his wet pants and shimmied out of them, leaving them in a heap on the floor.

            Without warning, his door clicked then swung open. He spun around to face his uninvited guest in nothing but his boxers and a curse on his lips. He froze, the words dying on his tongue as Ella slipped inside, closed the door and leaned back against it. Her pale green gaze moved over his nearly naked body and a flash of need heated his blood.

Party's Over. Back to Work

Hope everyone had a lovely, safe New Year. It was a fairly quiet one around her. The kid had been down with a cold, so we elected to stay home and bring in the new year quietly. We had a nice dinner together and managed to stay up until midnight to wish each other a happy new year. Though, if I'm honest, I barely made it. We have a new kitten and he's far more effective of having me awake between six and seven than any alarm clock I've ever owned. :-)

So with the new year well under way, I have set my goals and started working toward them. This year, I'm determined to wrap up My Devil series and--hopefully--see all three books released. I'd like to write three books this year from first to final draft. (I'm almost done The Devil's Shadow so I'm not sure if I'll count that as one of the three. I'll decide closer to the end of the year, I guess.) Keep posting regularly on the blog. And get my website up and running again.

What does everyone else have planned for the new year?

Don't forget, there's still time to take part in the Happy New Year 2013 Blog Hop, and lots of prizes to be won.