Blog Tour Promo Post: Running Away with the Bride by Sophia Singh Sasson

 

Stop the wedding! Steal the bride! And fall for a perfect stranger?

Billionaire Ethan Connors vows to stop his ex’s wedding so they can be together. But crashing the wrong nuptials and spiriting away the wrong wife-to-be is more than he bargained for! Divya Singh is beautiful, talented, passionate…and from a traditional Indian family who won’t accept him as a match for their daughter. Can Divya and Ethan’s unexpected relationship stay the course or will one of them run again?

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Indiebound

“Stop this wedding!”

Ethan Connors searched the stage on the back lawn of the Mahal Hotel where a mandap had been set up. The couple was seated on floor-level settees under a pergola-like structure in front of a small fire. A priest dressed in loose orange clothing chanted and threw things into the fire, making it crackle and smoke.

Ethan wished he’d paid more attention to the wed­ding sequence the one time he’d been to an Indian wedding with Pooja. He had no idea if he’d made it in time to stop hers.

At his outcry, the bride, groom and the dozen or so people surrounding them looked at him with sur­prise. The priest froze and the chatter of the crowd be­hind Ethan died. He could feel the stares of hundreds of guests on him. He tried to catch Pooja’s eyes but the heavy bridal veil covered her head and fell half­way across her face. The smoke from the fire swirled around her. He looked at the older Indian couple seated next to her. Were they Pooja’s parents? If the glare they were shooting him was any indication, they were.

A knot twisted in his stomach. After six months of dating, including three months of living together, she’d never introduced him to her parents, and he couldn’t pick them out based on the pictures he’d seen on her bookshelf.

A younger man seated next to the bride stood and made his way to Ethan. “I don’t know who you are but you’re interrupting my sister’s wedding. You best leave quietly before I call security.” The man’s voice was low and icy.

But Ethan was determined he wasn’t going to lose her again. He may have come to his senses in the eleventh hour, but he was going to save himself, and Pooja. She’d known the guy sitting next to her for three months. How could she marry him? I want to know my husband and be sure that we’re compatible, she’d said to Ethan. He and Pooja were compatible. Why hadn’t he seen that sooner? When she’d first brought up marriage—and how her family wouldn’t approve of her relationship with a white Midwesterner unless he put a ring on her finger—he’d thought he needed more time to figure things out. But what was left to think about? He was pushing forty. His brother was ten years younger and had been married for nine years and had two kids. Pooja was the only woman who had deemed him worthy enough to even discuss marriage. He wasn’t going to let her get away a second time.

Pooja was now standing, but Ethan still couldn’t get a clear line of sight through the crowd that was gathering around him. He hadn’t spoken to her since she walked out three months ago, but she’d sent him an email telling him she was getting married today. Why would she do that if she didn’t want him to make a grand gesture? It would’ve been helpful if she’d sent him some details other than that her groom was plan­ning “a grand baarat down the Vegas strip.” He’d spent the entire morning driving up and down the strip, look­ing for a groom on a horse surrounded by a bunch of people dancing. The traditional Indian baarat, the ar­rival of the groom’s party, would be hard to miss, or so he thought. He’d been on the other side of the strip when he’d heard on the radio that traffic was snarled because of an Indian wedding, and he’d driven like a madman to get there.

He had charged in ready to take on the world, or at least a bunch of angry relatives, but now doubt snaked its way through him. Did Pooja really want him to res­cue her? And how the hell was he going to get out of the hotel without hundreds of guests and hotel secu­rity guards stopping him?

Take off your veil and look at me, Pooja. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to succumb to her par­ents’ pressure and marry whichever Tom, Dick or Hari they had found for her. He was ready to step up and make a commitment.

Another man who bore a family resemblance to the one who’d identified himself as Pooja’s brother broke through the crowd and strode toward him. Who knew how many family members there were, and Ethan had zero backup. When will you stop being so impulsive? His mother’s familiar recrimination blared in his head.

He focused on Pooja, who was clearly looking in his direction, despite the veil on her face. “I’m sorry I was such an ass and didn’t realize how much you meant to me. I want to marry you. Run away with me.” Brother One whispered something into a phone, no doubt call­ing security. “We must go now!”

“Yo dude, this isn’t some Hollywood film. What do you think you’re doing?” Brother Number Two was now within punching distance and didn’t seem quite as reserved as Brother One. “My sister doesn’t know who you are. Get out before I…” He pulled his arm back, clearly preparing to punch Ethan in the face.

“Wait!” Pooja’s voice sounded strange.

About the Author

Sophia puts her childhood habit of daydreaming to good use by writing stories that will give you hope, make you laugh, cry and possibly snort tea from your nose. She was born in Mumbai, India, and has lived in the Canary Islands, Spain and Toronto, Canada. Currently she calls the madness of Washington, DC, home. She loves to read, travel to exotic locations, bake, scuba dive and watch Bollywood movies. Contact her through http://SophiaSasson.com.

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Blog Tour Promo Post: Wrong Alibi by Christina Dodd

 

Perfect for fans of Lisa Jewell, New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd delivers an all-new thriller, featuring a bold and brash female protagonist.

WRONG JOB
Eighteen-year-old Evelyn Jones lands a job in small-town Alaska, working for a man in his isolated mountain home. But her bright hopes for the future are shattered when Donald White disappears, leaving her to face charges of theft, embezzlement—and a brutal double murder. Her protestations of innocence count for nothing. Convicted, she faces life in prison…until fate sends her on the run.

WRONG NAME
Evie's escape leaves her scarred and in hiding, isolated from her family, working under an alias at a wilderness camp. Bent on justice, intent on recovering her life, she searches for the killer who slaughters without remorse.

WRONG ALIBI
At last, the day comes. Donald White has returned. Evie emerges from hiding; the fugitive becomes the hunter. But in her mind, she hears the whisper of other forces at work. Now Evelyn must untangle the threads of evidence before she’s once again found with blood on her hands: the blood of her own family…

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Chapter 1

 

ALASKA

Midnight Sun Fishing Camp

Katchabiggie Lodge

 Eight years ago

 

JANUARY.

Five and a half hours a day when the sun rose above the horizon.

Storm clouds so thick, daylight never penetrated, and night reigned eternal.

Thirty below zero Fahrenheit.

The hurricane-force wind wrapped frigid temperatures around the lodge, driving through the log cabin construction and the steel roof, ignoring the insulation, creeping inch by inch into the Great Room where twenty-year-old Petie huddled on a love seat, dressed in a former guest’s flannel pajamas and bundled in a Pendleton Northern Lights wool blanket. A wind like this pushed snow through the roof vents, and she knew as soon as the storm stopped, she’d be up in the attic shoveling it out.

 Or not. Maybe first the ceiling would fall in on top of her.

 Who would know? Who would care?

The storm of the century, online news called it, before the internet disappeared in a blast that blew out the cable like a candle.

For a second long, dark winter, she was the only living being tending the Midnight Sun cabins and the lodge, making sure the dark, relentless Alaska winter didn’t do too much damage and in the spring the camp could open to enthusiastic fishermen, corporate team builders and rugged individualists.

Alone for eight months of the year. No Christmas. No New Year’s. No Valentine’s Day. No any day, nothing interesting, just dark dark dark isolation and fear that she would die out here.

 With the internet gone, she waited for the next inevitable event.

The lights went out.

 On each of the four walls, a small, battery-charged nightlight came on to battle feebly against the darkness. Outside, the storm roared. Inside, cold swallowed the heat with greedy appetite.

 Petie sat and stared into a dark so black it hurt her eyes. And remembered…

 There, against the far back wall of the basement, in the darkest corner, white plastic covered…something. Slowly, Petie approached, driven by a terrible fear. She stopped about three feet away, leaned forward and reached out, far out, to grasp the corner of the plastic, pull it back, and see—

With a gasp, Petie leaped to her feet.

No. Just no. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—replay those memories again.

She tossed the blanket onto the floor and groped for the flashlights on the table beside her: the big metal one with a hefty weight and the smaller plastic headlamp she could strap to her forehead. She clicked on the big one and shone it around the lodge, reassuring herself no one and nothing was here. No ghosts, no zombies, no cruel people making ruthless judgments about the gullible young woman she had been.

Armed with both lights, she moved purposefully out of the Great Room, through the massive kitchen and toward the utility room.

The door between the kitchen and the utility room was insulated, the first barrier between the lodge and the bitter, rattling winds. She opened that door, took a breath of the even chillier air, stepped into the utility room and shut herself in. There she donned socks, boots, ski pants, an insulated shirt, a cold-weather blanket cut with arm holes, a knit hat and an ancient, full-length, seal-skin, Aleut-made coat with a hood. She checked the outside temperature.

Colder now—forty below and with the wind howling, the wind chill would be sixty below, seventy below…who knew? Who cared? Exposed skin froze in extreme cold and add the wind chill… She wrapped a scarf around her face and the back of her neck. Then unwrapped it to secure the headlamp low on her forehead. Then wrapped herself up again, trying to cover as much skin as she could before she faced the punishing weather.

She pointed her big flashlight at the generator checklist posted on the wall and read:

 

 Hawley’s reasons why the generator will fail to start. The generator is new and well-tested, so the problem is:

LOOSE BATTERY CABLE

 Solution: Tighten.

CORRODED BATTERY CONNECTION

Solution: Use metal terminal battery brush to clean connections and reattach.

DEAD BATTERY

 Solution: Change battery in the autumn to avoid ever having to change it in the middle of a major fucking winter storm.

If she wasn’t standing there alone in the dark in the bitter cold, she would have grinned. The owner of the fishing camp, Hawley Foggo, taught his employees Hawley’s Rules. He had them for every occurrence of the fishing camp, and that last sounded exactly like him.

The generator used a car battery, and as instructed, in the autumn she had changed it. This was her second year dealing with the battery, and she felt secure about her work.

So probably this failure was a loose connection or corrosion. Either way, she could fix it and save the lodge from turning into a solid ice cube that wouldn’t thaw until spring.

That was, after all, her job.

She shivered.

So much better than her last job, the one that led to her conviction for a gruesome double murder.

 “Okay, Petie, let’s grab that metal battery cleaner thingy and get the job done.” Which sounded pretty easy, when she talked to herself about it, but when she pulled on the insulated ski gloves, they limited her dexterity.

Out of the corner of her eye, a light blinked out.

She looked back into the lodge’s Great Room. The nightlights were failing, and soon she really would be alone in the absolute darkness, facing the memories of that long-ago day in the basement.

Good incentive to hurry.

She grabbed the wire battery connection cleaner thingy and moved to the outer door.

There she paused and pictured the outdoor layout.

 A loosely built lean-to protected the generator from the worst of the weather while allowing the exhaust to escape. That meant she wasn’t stepping out into the full force of the storm; she would be as protected as the generator itself. Which was apparently not well enough since the damned thing wasn’t working.

 She gathered her fortitude and eased the outer door open.

The wind caught it, yanked it wide and dragged her outside and down the steps. She hung on to the door handle, flailed around on the frozen ground, and when she regained her footing, she used all her strength to shove the door closed again.

Then she was alone, outside, in a killer storm, in the massive, bleak wilderness that was Alaska.

 

Excerpted from Wrong Alibi by Christina Dodd Copyright © Christina Dodd. Published by HQN Books.

 

About the Author

New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd writes “edge-of-the-seat suspense” (Iris Johansen) with “brilliantly etched characters, polished writing, and unexpected flashes of sharp humor that are pure Dodd” (ALA Booklist). Her fifty-eight books have been called "scary, sexy, and smartly written" by Booklist and, much to her mother's delight, Dodd was once a clue in the Los Angeles Times crossword puzzle. Enter Christina’s worlds and join her mailing list at www.christinadodd.com.

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Blog Tour Promo Post: Her Texas New Year’s Wish by Michelle Major

Series: The Fortunes of Texas: The Hotel Fortune (book #1)

Can you fall head over heels And land on your feet?

When Grace Williams topples from the balcony at the soon-to-open Hotel Fortune, the last thing she expects is to find love with her new bosses’ brother. Wiley Fortune is visiting from Chicago, and the polished attorney has looks, money and charm to spare. But Grace’s past makes her wary of investing her heart—and risking her job. Do a small-town Texan and a city sophisticate really have a chance?

From Harlequin Special Edition: Believe in love. Overcome obstacles. Find happiness.

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Excerpt for HER TEXAS NEW YEAR’S WISH by Michelle Major

 “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

Wiley Fortune plucked the glass from his sister’s hand and placed it back on the polished mahogany bar.

Nicole gave him a funny look. “It’s water, Wi. Roja is providing the food for this party. I may be a guest, but I’m also still on the clock.”

“I know it’s water.” Wiley tugged on the end of Nicole’s long blond hair, the way he used to do when they were kids. “That’s my point.”

Nicole, Ashley and Megan Fortune—the triplets—had been born seven years after Wiley, miracle ba­bies in every sense of the word. Their parents, David and Marci, had married after a whirlwind courtship, mar­riages in a way that would have made Carol Brady’s head spin back in the day.

The boys had gotten off to a bit of a rocky start as they attempted to figure out their roles in the new family. Everything had changed when his mom gave birth to Stephanie five years later. One thing all four boys could agree on was how much they adored their baby sister. Mom had hoped to add another sibling to the mix right away, but she’d had trouble conceiv­ing. Although she’d tried to hide her emotional pain and physical exhaustion, Wiley knew that season of loss had taken a toll on her.

Wiley loved every member of his family, but he’d been a quiet, introverted kid and it was a lot to grow up in such a big, boisterous family. Maybe that fact had something to do with the distance that had seemed to grow between him and the rest of his siblings.

He was the only one who hadn’t migrated to the quaint town of Rambling Rose, Texas, although they’d convinced him to visit over Christmas and return for his cousin Adam Fortune’s son’s first birthday party.

“What’s wrong with the water in Rambling Rose?” Nicole asked, scrunching her perfect nose.

“It’s obviously tainted,” Wiley said, keeping his features neutral and using the same tone with her that he did for contract negotiations in his law firm back in Chicago. “Look around at all the nauseatingly happy couples here tonight. Something happens with the sweet nurse and her adorable twin toddlers, Sasha and Luna.

“It’s the water,” he repeated. “Or they’ve all been stricken by the Texas heat. Even Steven is all googly-eyed for his lady. I barely recognize my own broth­ers.”

A second sister, Megan, let out a mild laugh as she approached from the other side of him and helped herself to a sip of his drink. “If you don’t recognize your brothers, it’s because you spend too much time on your own.”

“I’m here now,” Wiley muttered.

“Because Mom guilted you into it,” Megan re­minded him. She, Nicole and Ashley looked almost identical with their shiny hair and delicate features. They’d followed their brothers to Rambling Rose and opened a farm-to-table restaurant, Provisions, to a great deal of success. Megan was the most serious of the trio and handled the finances for both Provi­sions and Roja, located inside the Hotel Fortune, which was due to open in just over a month. Nicole was the more flamboyantly creative and was using her culinary skills to create an innovative menu for Roja as the restaurant’s executive chef. Ashley took on the role of bossy micromanager in the best way possible, and as the general manager for Provisions.

“Wiley thinks Rambling Rose is a bad influence on all of us because the Fortunes are falling in love here.”

“You could use some more love in your life.”

Megan poked a finger into his biceps. “You work too much.”

“How would you know? I live in Chicago. Don’t tell me you’re keeping tabs on my life from halfway across the country.” Wiley felt heat prick the back of his neck as his sisters exchanged a knowing glance. He didn’t think he’d sounded defensive, but this was the reason he skipped so many family gatherings. There was no privacy to be had once his brothers and sisters got involved.

“All you talk about is work,” Megan answered, smoothing a hand over her cream-colored sweater.

“I like my job.” Wiley took a long drink of whis­key, welcoming the burn of the liquor in his throat. “It’s fascinating.”

“Contract law isn’t fascinating.” Nicole laughed. “The restaurant business is fascinating. It’s always evolving.”

“Not to mention there’s no shortage of yummy food to taste,” Megan added.

“Being an attorney is fascinating to me,” Wiley grumbled.

“Because you need more excitement in your life.” Nicole turned to him. “Don’t you long for a change, Wi? For years, you’ve been at the same firm in the same position—”

“And living in the same condo.” Megan fist-bumped her sister.

“I’m stable and consistent,” Wiley told them.

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Michelle Major loves stories of new beginnings, second chances and always a happily ever after. An avid hiker and avoider of housework, she lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains with her husband, two teenagers and a menagerie of spoiled furbabies. Connect with her at www.michellemajor.com.

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Blog Tour Promo Post: Mine to Keep by Rhenna Morgan

 

Bonnie Drummond is from the wrong side of the tracks, raised in a family of liars and criminals. No matter how hard she tries to stay on the straight and narrow, she always finds herself sucked back into the family drama, forced to sacrifice everything she’s earned to protect her family.

But this time they’ve gone too far—crossed the wrong people—and to save them she’ll have to put her life on the line.

Roman Kozlov, enforcer for a New Orleans mafiya family, is the poster child for the life Bonnie is struggling to escape. But he's also as alluring as he is dangerous, and it doesn’t take long for their lives to begin to mesh.

With Roman, Bonnie finds the family she never had.

As their race for answers heats up, so too does the budding romance between them. And with danger nipping at her heels and love threatening her heart, Bonnie must come face-to-face with her past if she wants to have a future.

Buy Links

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Check out the other NOLA Knights books!

Book 1: His to Defend

Book 2: Hers to Tame

Book 3: Mine to Keep

She’d lost her damned mind. Or at least had temporary insanity—probably induced by too much adrenaline. One of the two had to be the problem, because Bonnie had sure as hell never been known to let her mouth run rampant the way it had in front of Roman and Cassie fifteen minutes ago.

Perched in the middle rear seat of Roman’s supped-up truck, Bonnie stilled her jiggling knee for the third time in five minutes and stared out her window for any sign of the massive Russian. “What’s he doing, anyway?”

Cassie twisted from the front passenger seat, the length of time it took for her gaze to come into focus making it seem she’d been somewhere else entirely. “Who, Roman?” She scanned the front yard and shrugged her shoulder. “No telling. Maybe looking for clues? Or he could just be making sure the place is all locked up.”

Now, that was funny. Almost impossible to laugh at considering the anvil sitting in her stomach, but funny, nonetheless. “There’s nothing in there worth stealing. My family’s more the transitory type when it comes to possessions.”

See? There it was again. Her mouthing off and shar­ing shit she’d held back for most of her life.

Cassie didn’t seem to notice. Just twisted in her seat and cocked her head to one side. “So, what do you think about Roman?”

That he’s huge, hot and could probably make Satan piss his pants.

Before the uncensored answer could jump past her lips, she rearranged her backpack lying across her thighs. “He seems…nice.”

“Nice?” Cassie echoed back with open disbelief. “That’s it?”

Okay, he’s intimidating as fuck and somehow made me blurt out all my family’s dirty laundry in less than three sentences.

Also not a wise confession.

“Well, what do you want me to say? My mind’s all screwed up after the day I’ve had. He could have polka dots and a unicorn horn sticking out of his head and I’d probably have missed it.”

Liar.

All right, fine. So, she’d taken a healthy inventory. He was at least six-foot-four, for Christ’s sake, and packed more muscle than that slick black suit of his had a prayer of hiding.

And those tattoos at the base of his fingers and on the backs of his hands…she had no clue what they were or meant, but they were sexy AF.

Cassie’s face sobered. “I’m sorry. That was insensi­tive of me. I know you’re worried about your brother and dad, but I’ve wanted you to meet my family for so freaking long, I got carried away.”

Roman prowled into view from the far side of the with concentration.

Cassie followed Bonnie’s gaze out the windows, noted Roman’s trajectory toward the truck and low­ered her voice. “You have to admit, though. He’s pretty handsome.”

Bonnie shook her head. “Handsome belongs on guys like Hugh Jackman and Orlando Bloom. That guy’s got badass motherfucker written all over him.”

Cassie’s head snapped back in surprise just as Roman opened the door and climbed into the cab.

Great. More verbal diarrhea. Though, she had a feel­ing Cassie didn’t take the comment the way she’d in­tended it. To Bonnie’s mind, Roman’s mega short dark hair and tightly cropped beard was hella hot, and he could probably sharpen a knife on the hard angles of his jawline. His eyes were killer, too. Hooded in a way that made you have to really work to figure out what color they were.

And for the record, she’d put in the effort.

Gunmetal gray.

About Rhenna Morgan

A native Oklahoman, Rhenna Morgan is a certified romance junkie. Whether it’s contemporary, paranormal, or fantasy you’re after, Rhenna’s stories pack romantic escape full of new, exciting worlds, and strong, intuitive men who fight to keep the women they want. For advance release news and exclusive content, sign up for her newsletter at http://RhennaMorgan.com. You'll also find all of her social links there, along with her smoking hot inspiration boards.

 Connect with Rhenna Morgan

Website  |  Facebook  |  Twitter  |  Instagram  |  Goodreads

Blog Tour Promo Post: Net Force: Attack Protocol by Jerome Preisler

The cutting-edge Net Force thriller series, created by Tom Clancy and Steve Pieczenik and written by Jerome Preisler reveals the invisible battlefield where the war for global dominance is fought.

In the wake of stunning terrorist attacks around the world, Net Force jumps into action. The president’s new cybersecurity agency homes in on a dangerous figure operating in the shadows of the Carpathian mountains. And he’s ready to strike again, using the digital space to advance his destructive goals.

But before Net Force can get boots on the ground, the master hacker and his cadre mount a devastating high tech assault against the agency’s military threat-response unit. Has a Net Force insider turned traitor? The stakes are suddenly ratcheted higher when a global syndicate of black hat hackers and a newly belligerent Russia hatch an ambitious scheme to plunge the United States into a crippling war—one that will leave Moscow and its Dark Web allies supreme.

Their attack protocol: to seize control of the Internet, and open the door for a modern, nuclear Pearl Harbor…unless the men and women of Net Force can stop them.

Buy Links:

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1

Satu Mare District, Romania

The first snowfall of the season was dusting the banks of the Somes River when a catastrophic failure struck the power grid, plunging the western third of the country into darkness.

Nicu Borgos was just an hour into his midnight shift when things went wrong. An operator for Satu Mare District’s Electrica Power Distribution Center, he was tired from caring for his daughter, who was seven and sick with the flu. His wife, Balia, a sales clerk at a clothing store, was also miserably under the weather, and he had been doing his best to help her as well. But money was tight and, like him, Balia needed to work and bring in a paycheck.

The night before, she had come home from the shop, put chest rub on Angela, tucked her in, showered, and climbed into bed with her dinner untouched. Nicu normally slept until 9:00 p.m. or even a little later, but the sounds Angela was making in her room concerned him. He had lost his dear mother to the pandemic three years ago, and the outbreaks still could be vicious.

Taking no chances, he’d resolved to stay up to check on the child, poking his head through the doorway every fifteen or twenty minutes. It was a while before she settled in.

So Nicu was worn out and bleary, which might have been why he doubted his eyes when he saw the cursor suddenly drifting across his screen. The computer was networked into the energy grid, and the numbered blue buttons on its display controlled the circuit breakers for ten substations throughout the county—an area of almost seventeen hundred square miles, with some three hundred thousand residents.

The cursor landed on the switch for Substation One. Clicked. A dialogue window opened below the button:

Warning: Opening the breaker will result in a complete shutdown. Do you wish to proceed?

 YES                        NO

Reaching for his mouse, Nicu tried to drag the cursor out of the window, thinking its driver might have developed a minor glitch. But it remained there…and slid to Yes.

He quickly swiped the mouse across its pad, wanting to move the cursor to No.

It stayed on Yes. Clicked. The dialogue box vanished, and the button for Substation One changed from blue to red.

Nicu inhaled. He had been an operator at the distribution center for half a decade and did not need to bring up a map to see the region each substation covered. The map was already in his head.

Substation One was Lazuli, a rural commune of six villages to the extreme north, near the Ukrainian and Hungarian borders. Its six thousand residents had now gone off-line. Even as Nicu registered this, the on-screen cursor jumped to the Substation Two button.

He snatched up the mouse in desperation, lifting it above the pad. It made no difference. The cursor clicked. Opened another dialogue window requesting confirmation. Went to Yes again.

Click.

Blue turned to red, and Nicu Borgos watched Substation Two go down in an instant.

“Draga meu Domnezeu,” he rasped. “My dear God.”

Substation Two was the city of Satu Mare itself. With a population of one hundred thousand—a full third of the county’s inhabitants—it was now completely dark.

Nicu tried to think clearly. During the day, the operating station would have two people on shift. There was a second computer to his left, with a separate monitor. Possibly the problem was only with his machine. If he could log in to the system using the other computer, he might prevent more breakers from tripping open.

He rolled his chair in front of it, tapped the keyboard. The computer came out of idle showing the operator log-in screen. He entered his username and password.

A Wrong Password notification flashed on-screen.

He slowly retyped the password, thinking he might have entered a wrong character in his haste.

The notification appeared again. He was locked out of the system.

Nicu sat up straight, his spine a stiff rod of tension. His original machine showed that Substation Three, which provided power to Negresti Oas’s twelve thousand citizens, was down. He glanced at its screen just in time to see the cursor move to Substation Four…the distribution station for the commune Mediesu Aurit’s seven villages. The two stations combined served more than twenty thousand customers.

He remembered that tonight’s temperature was forecast to drop below freezing in the mountain areas, and felt suddenly helpless. Whatever was causing the shutdowns, he could not deal with the growing emergency himself.

His heart pounding, he reached for the hotline to call his supervisor.

The black BearCat G3 bore north on the unmarked strip of macadam that linked Satu Mare City to the tiny farming village of Rosalvea in the Carpathian foothills. Its windshield wipers beating off fat, wet flutters of snow, the vehicle moved smoothly and quietly for a big four-tonner armored with hardened ballistic steel panels.

At the wheel was Scott Dixon of the CIA’s elite manhunting Fox Team, recently placed under operational detachment to Net Force. Kali Alcazar sat beside him. In her late twenties, she had short silver-white hair and wore a black stealthsuit and lightweight plate vest. They were standard organizational issue. A Victorian English adventurer’s belt and a vintage film-canister pendant hanging from her neck were personal additions.

“How we doing timewise?” Dixon asked.

Kali looked at her dash screen. On it was the same controller’s interface Nicu Borgos was struggling with at the power distribution center. A moment ago she had seen the circuits trip in rapid succession.

“Pickles,” she said. Using the unfortunate name given to the vehicle’s AI by its architect, Sergeant Julio Fernandez.

“Yes, K?”

“Outlier,” she corrected. Using the dark web handle she had long ago created for herself.

“Yes, K.”

“Bring up the Satu Mare power grid.”

“Yes, K.”

She clicked her tongue. Fernandez had infused the AI with one too many of his stubbornly aggravating personality traits. But the upside was that, like Julio, it was also smart, nuanced, and intuitive. She could live with it.

In front of her now, the panel on-screen was replaced by a sector-by-sector map of the region, its cities and towns numbered according to the substations that supplied their electricity. The five already off-line were black, the rest red.

She watched as a sixth went dark.

“Over half the stations are down,” she said. “Total blackout in about five minutes.”

“Bitter cold out, a quarter million people without light or heat,” Dixon said. “Women, children, seniors. All for the sake of bagging one guy.”

She glanced over at him. “The hackers—the technologie vampiri—are the local economy. The government protects them. The polizei, the citizens, everyone.”

He shrugged with his hands on the wheel. She was right. Suspicions definitely would have been raised at the syndicate’s current headquarters— the Wolf’s Lair—if they only cut power to its surrounding village.

“I get it,” he said. “Still tough.”

“Tougher than it was on New York?”

Dixon didn’t answer. Four months ago the vampiri had launched a cyberattack that left the East Coast a shambles, killed hundreds, and almost took out the President. Now his team’s pursuit of the Wolf had led them out here to the Romanian boonies, making them key players in the first fully integrated operation conducted by the various elements of America’s new Department of Internet Security and Law Enforcement. Net Force, in bureaucratic government shorthand.

He really did get it.

The BearCat rolled between the gigantic evergreens standing sentinel on either side of the road. In the rear compartment, Gregg Long, Fox Team, sat with a small detachment on loan from Task Force Quickdraw—six men in tactical gear with Mark 18 CQBR carbines strapped over their shoulders and short-barreled Mossberg 590 combat shotguns racked to the sides of the passenger compartment.

“Distance to the target?” Dixon asked after a few minutes.

This time Kali skipped the AI, tapping her computer keyboard for the GPS sat map. “Thirty-two miles.”

Dixon nodded and checked the speedometer. He was doing about fifty. So, a little over half an hour.

Taking his hand off the wheel, he adjusted his earpiece and hailed Carmody on the ground-to-air.

Excerpted from Net Force: Attack Protocol created by Tom Clancy & Steve Piecznik, written by Jerome Preisler. Copyright © 2020 by Netco Partners Published by Hanover Square Press

About the Author

Jerome Preisler is the prolific author of almost forty books of fiction and narrative nonfiction, including all eight novels in the New York Times bestselling TOM CLANCY'S POWER PLAYS series. His latest book is DARK WEB, the first novel in a relaunch of the New York Times bestselling NET FORCE series co-created Tom Clancy and Steve Pieczenik. Forthcoming in November 2020 is his next NET FORCE novel, ATTACK PROTOCOL. Jerome lives in New York City and coastal Maine.

Social Links:

Author Website  |  Twitter  |  Facebook  |  Goodreads

Blog Tour Promo Post: Teddy Spenser Isn’t Looking for Love by Kim Fielding

Some people search their whole lives to find love. He just wants to avoid it.

Teddy Spenser spends his days selling design ideas to higher-ups, living or dying on each new pitch. Stodgy engineer types like Romeo Blue, his nemesis—if you can call someone who barely talks to you a nemesis—are a necessary evil. A cute necessary evil.

Working together is bad enough, but when their boss puts them both on a new high-stakes project, “working together” suddenly means:

• sitting uncomfortably close on the same plane,
• staying in the same hotel room—with only one bed—and
• spending every waking minute together.

Turns out Mr. Starched Shirt has some hidden depths, and it’s getting harder to ignore the spark Teddy feels with every brush of their hands, with every knowing look. He might not have been looking for this connection with Romeo, but will he ever be ready to let him go?

Buy Teddy Spenser Isn’t Looking for Love

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“Hey.”

Teddy hadn’t noticed anyone come up behind him, and he startled so violently that he almost knocked over his coffee. He spun the chair around and discovered Romeo Blue looking down at him, stone-faced.

“What?” Teddy knew he was scowling and didn’t care.

“Can we speak in my office, please?” As usual, Ro­meo’s voice was low, his words clipped. As if he refused to spare much energy to speak to Teddy.

“I’m busy right now.”

“As soon as you can then.” Romeo spun and marched back to his office, leaving its door slightly ajar.

Teddy could have followed him; Imani’s numbers weren’t so urgent that they couldn’t wait awhile. But he remained stubbornly at his desk even though he could no longer focus on the computer screen. Romeo Blue. Teddy had googled him once, just for the hell of it—not at all to dispel lingering notions that his coworker was a spy working under a really stupid alias. It turned out that Lenny Kravitz used Romeo Blue as a stage name back in the eighties, and that was more than a little weird since this Romeo resembled a young Lenny Kravitz, albeit with a darker complexion and a different clothing aesthetic. Kravitz probably didn’t wear suits from Zara. And to be honest, although Kravitz was gorgeous, Romeo was even more so, with perfect eyebrows, velvety eyes, and a mouth that—

“Nope!” Teddy stood abruptly and grabbed his coffee mug. He needed a refill.

He finished off that cup, visited the depressing bath­room he’d been fruitlessly begging Lauren to redecorate, and chatted briefly with the cute copy-machine repair­man before finally knocking on Romeo’s open door and stepping inside. And then, as always when he entered this room, Teddy glowered.

It was a fraction of the size of Lauren’s office, with barely enough room for a desk, two chairs, and a com­puter stand. Despite that, it was a real office instead of a cubicle. But what truly annoyed Teddy was that Romeo hadn’t even bothered to decorate the space. There wasn’t a single knickknack or picture, and the mismatched of­fice supplies—a black stapler and taupe tape dispenser—appeared to be from the discount bin at Staples. The only touches of personality were the three computer monitors—three of them, for God’s sake—and, of course, Romeo himself.

Maybe Romeo thought himself so decorative that his mere presence sufficed. Or he didn’t want any other objects to detract from his glory.

Also, he smelled like sandalwood, bergamot, and vanilla. Dammit.

Carina Adores is home to highly romantic contemporary love stories featuring beloved romance tropes, where LGBTQ+ characters find their happily-ever-afters.

A new Carina Adores title is available each month in trade paperback, ebook and audiobook formats.

• Just Like That by Cole McCade (available now!)
• Hairpin Curves by Elia Winters (available now!)
• Better Than People by Roan Parrish (available now!)
• The Secret Ingredient by KD Fisher (available now!)
• Just Like This by Cole McCade (available now!)
• The Beautiful Things Shoppe by Philip William Stover (coming January 26, 2021)
• Our Level Best by Roan Parrish (coming February 23, 2021)
• Knit, Purl, a Baby and a Girl by Hettie Bell (coming March 30, 2021)

About the Author

Kim Fielding is the bestselling author of numerous m/m romance novels, novellas, and short stories. Like Kim herself, her work is eclectic, spanning genres such as contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and historical. Her stories are set in alternate worlds, in 15th century Bosnia, in modern-day Oregon. Her heroes are hipster architect werewolves, housekeepers, maimed giants, and conflicted graduate students. They’re usually flawed, they often encounter terrible obstacles, but they always find love.

Kim’s novel Brute was the 2013 Rainbow Award Winner for Best Gay Fantasy and tied for fourth place for Best Gay Novel. After having migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States, Kim calls the boring part of California home. She lives there with her husband, her two daughters, and her day job as a university professor, but escapes as often as possible via car, train, plane, or boat. This may explain why her characters often seem to be in transit as well. She dreams of traveling and writing full-time.

Find Kim Fielding Online

Website  |  Twitter  |  Facebook  |  Goodreads