INVESTIGATOR Harlequin Series Winter Blog Tour Promo Post: An Operative's Last Stand by Juno Rushdan

A kill squad is closing in…now this team leader must risk everything for answers. Barely escaping CIA mercenaries, ex-agent Hunter Wright is after the person he thinks targeted his ops team, Topaz, for treason. Deputy director Kelly Russell is still the one woman he can't resist, but she believes Hunter went rogue. Now she's his only shot at getting the answers they need. Can they trust each other enough to save Topaz—and each other?

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She looked up at him and smiled, her eyes a deep cobalt blue, dark fire-red hair, her skin pale and creamy, those angular features, her full pink mouth, the effortless sensuality. It all hit him like a gut punch. God, she was breathtaking.

“A drink? No.” Amusement rang in her voice, and something inside him sank.

“All right,” he said nonchalantly. He forced a smile, swallowing his disappointment, and stepped across the hall. Of course. Some things weren’t meant to be. This was for the best anyway. Everything came at a price. To be with Kelly Russell might cost him his soul. “I’ll let you get some sleep. It’s been a long week, and we’ve got an early flight.”

“Hunter,” she said, and he glanced back at her. “Who said anything about sleeping? I am interested in the euphemism behind your offer of a nightcap.” Another smile, this time flirty, sexy. Full of promise. “And to answer the second part to your question, my room.”

Every muscle in his body tightened with need, making it difficult for him to think of anything else, least of all playing it cool.

“We need to establish the rules of engagement first,” she said.

All business. Always in control. Even now. For some inexplicable reason, it only added to her allure.

He strolled back across the hall. “I’m listening.”

“This has to be a one-night-only situation. It can never happen again.”

He reached out and tucked a fiery strand that had escaped her twist behind her ear. Her skin was warm and soft, with a perfect porcelain texture. “My mother always told me, never say never.”

“I’m serious, Hunter.” She slipped her key card in the slot, unlocked the door and opened it. “One night to assuage our mutual curiosity.”

Curiosity. Chemistry. Semantics. “If we enjoy ourselves, why only one night?”

About JUNO RUSHDAN: 

Juno Rushdan draws from real-life inspiration as a former U.S. Air Force Intelligence Officer to craft sizzling romantic thrillers. However, you won’t find any classified leaks here. Her stories are pure fiction about kick-ass heroes and strong heroines fighting for their lives as well as their happily-ever-after.

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INVESTIGATOR Harlequin Series Winter Blog Tour Promo Post: Little Girl Gone by Amanda Stevens

Nothing matters more to her when a child's life is at stake. Special agent Thea Lamb returns to her hometown to search for a child whose disappearance echoes a twenty-eight-year-old cold case—her twin sister's abduction. Working with her former partner, Jake Stillwell, Thea must overcome the pain, doubt and guilt that have tormented her for years and denied her a meaningful relationship. For both Thea and Jake, the job always came first…until now.

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“While I was trying to fish the doll out of the pool, someone came from behind and hit me over the head hard enough to daze me. Next thing I know, I’m caught in a whirlpool several feet below the surface. I lost my flashlight, so I was spun around underwater in complete darkness. No up, no down.” He paused. “For a while there, I wasn’t sure how I’d get out.”

Thea watched his expression as he spoke. He still seemed shaken from the experience. She’d never seen him like that. “I knew something bad must have happened.”

He summoned a brief smile. “I know what you’re thinking. I even thought so myself at the time. So much for my keen instincts. Someone came up behind me and I never sensed a thing.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking.”

“No?”

“I’m thinking you could have died down there and I would never have known what happened to you.”

“Thea.” He said her name so softly she might have thought the tender missive was nothing more than a breeze sighing through the treetops.

The sun bearing down on them was hot and relentless, but Thea felt a little shiver go through her. It hit her anew how much she’d missed that tender glint in his eyes as their gazes locked. How much she’d missed his husky whispers in the dark. The glide of his hand along her bare skin, the tease of his lips and tongue against her mouth. The way he had held her afterward as if he never wanted to let her go. But he had let her go and she’d done nothing to stop him.

She drew a shaky breath. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Get caught in a whirlpool? I’ll do my best.”

She scowled at him. “Don’t make light. You know what I mean.”

“I’m fine, Thea.” He seemed on the verge of saying something else, but he held back. Maybe he thought she wanted his restraint. She did, didn’t she? They were in a precarious situation. Adrenaline and attraction could be a dangerous combination. Throw in unresolved issues and they were asking for trouble.

About AMANDA STEVENS:

Amanda Stevens is an award-winning author of over fifty novels. Born and raised in the rural south, she now resides in Houston, Texas.

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INVESTIGATOR Harlequin Series Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: Rogue Christmas Operation by Juno Rushdan

He'll sacrifice his safety

…for a woman who could completely upend his Christmas.  

After Gage Graham saves her from drowning, Hope Fischer revives, determined to learn the truth about her sister's death. All she has to do is infiltrate a mysterious closed Virginia town and discover why the attractive—but secretive—Gage feels compelled to help her. Can she trust him? Will he risk being discovered by his former employer, the CIA, for a woman he just met? Neither will matter if a killer succeeds. 

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She’d been warned. That’s what everyone wanted. For her to leave it all alone. To go back to California and bury her head in the sand.

 

But then a murderer would go free.

 

She had failed her sister once. Not again. She swallowed past the ball of anxiety in her throat. You can do this.

 

The SUV zoomed up alongside her, sending a new wave of fear crashing through her. What was he doing?

 

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the SUV swerved sharply. The front end slammed into her side of the car, propelling it into a wild slide toward the edge.

 

Hope panicked, hitting the brakes. The wheels locked. Her vehicle lost traction and went into a skid. Everything was happening so fast. Too fast.

 

Spinning out of control, her car missed a large tree and slid over the edge of the slope. A high-pitched cry escaped her lips. Dirt and rocks spit up. She tried to straighten the steering wheel and pumped the brakes. Her car fishtailed, clipped a tree and went airborne.

 

The sedan flipped. Rolled end over end down the gra­dient. Metal crunched and groaned around her.

Hope’s seat belt jerked hard across her body, cutting off her oxygen for a second.

 

The airbag deployed like a hot fist, knocking her head back against the seat. Dust and chemicals satu­rated the air.

 

Her lungs seized as a scream lodged in her throat.

 

The car slammed to a stop with the impact of crashing into a brick wall. Her skull smashed into something hard.

 

A riot of pain flared…everywhere. In her head, chest, bones—even her teeth hurt.

 

Her vision blurred. Not that it mattered. She couldn’t see past the airbag, which was the size of a large beach ball in her face.

 

Hope pushed on the light fabric, and the airbag de­flated. Coughing, she wiped at the wetness coming from her nose with the back of her hand. Blood. Her nose was bleeding.

 

She switched on the interior light and pushed the de­flated airbag out of her way.

 

The headlights were still on.

 

Water.

 

The car was in the lake. Beneath the water, or at least half of it. The weight of the engine pitched the front end forward, so that the car was almost pointing straight down. She looked back at the rear window. Rain and darkness.

 

Water was starting to seep inside the vehicle. The foot well was filling up as water rushed in. Faster and faster.

 

Hope pressed the button to release the seat belt. But nothing happened. It was stuck, jammed tight. She yanked on the belt, trying again, tugging and pushing. Praying.

 

Oh, God. She was trapped.

 

Icy water rose past her hips to her waist. Shockingly cold. Her toes were already growing numb, and she was shivering. She had to get out. Now!

 

Her purse floated up on the passenger’s side. If she reached it, got to the Swiss Army knife inside, she could cut herself free.

 

She extended her hand in the water. Her bag was inches from her fingertips. She stretched out as much as she could, straining her arm muscles. A pang wrenched through her chest, her eyes tearing at the intense pain, but she didn’t stop. She kept reaching for her purse. Al­most had it. The bag was so close—she needed to stretch a hair farther, but the seat belt had her pinned.

 

The car shifted, still moving. Down and down it sank. The car tipped to the side, and water carried her purse away, out of reach.

  

About the Author

Juno Rushdan draws from real-life inspiration as a former U.S. Air Force Intelligence Officer to craft sizzling romantic thrillers. However, you won’t find any classified leaks here. Her stories are pure fiction about kick-ass heroes and strong heroines fighting for their lives as well as their happily-ever-after.

Although Juno is a native New Yorker, wanderlust has taken her across the globe. Fortunately, she is blessed with a husband who shares her passion for travel, movies, and fantastic food. She’s visited more than twenty different countries and has lived in England and Germany. Her favorite destination for relaxation is the Amalfi Coast, Italy for its stunning seascape, cliffside lemon groves, terraced vineyards, amazing pasta, and to-die-for vino.

When she’s not writing, Juno loves spending time with her family. Exercise is not her favorite thing to do, but she squeezes some in since chocolate and red wine aren’t calorie-free.

She currently resides in Virginia with her supportive hubby, two dynamic children, and spoiled rescue dogs. Check her out on Instagram, Facebook or follow her on Twitter or BookBub. She loves to connect with readers!

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INVESTIGATOR Harlequin Series Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: Texas Baby Conspiracy by Barb Han

She’s fighting for her and her baby’s lives

But she can’t remember why…

Injured and locked up in a decrepit trailer, Alyssa Hazel wakes to only fragments of memory. She knows she's pregnant, her life is in danger—and there's one man she can trust once she escapes. But police officer Blake O’Connor hasn't forgiven Alyssa for walking away from their marriage. Can he protect her and their unborn child…even when this conspiracy hits too close to home?

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When Alyssa Hazel stirred and felt nothing but walls on all four sides of her, shock robbed her voice. Panic caused her pulse to pound and the extra blood thumped against her skull. Her head threatened to split open as she tried to recall where she was and why she was here.

She pushed her hands out, trying to see if the walls would give. The material was pliable but solid enough to hold form. She felt for cracks or anything she could grip. Movement hurt. She attempted to stretch out her legs and couldn’t get very far.

Where was she? What happened? Why was she enclosed in such a tight space? A haze pressed down on her brain and the pressure was the equivalent of a thunderstorm rolling in.

It was pitch black and she couldn’t remember a thing about where she’d been or what she’d been doing before ending up in this…whatever this was. Forcing recall only made her brain hurt more. A stomach cramp drew her legs tighter to her belly.

Wouldn’t there be a door if she was in some kind of compartment? There would have to be a crack around a door or hatch. She reached up and couldn’t find a ceiling. That seemed like the first good sign so far. It meant that she might be in a small closet or storage room.

She felt around, trying to get her bearings because right now she was at a loss as to where she was and what she was doing there. Bringing her hands to cra­dle her stomach, she knew one thing was certain, she was pregnant. Very pregnant. Her belly was huge.

Again, her mind drew a blank to a question that was so basic she felt like she should have an answer. What on earth was she doing there? She brought her hand up to her head and looked for a reason for the memory loss and headache. She touched a tender spot and felt dried blood.

At least she thought it was. Seeing was impossible despite her eyes adjusting to the dark.

Logic said if she’d gotten inside this structure, there had to be a way out. Bracing her hands against thin walls, she maneuvered up to a sitting position.

Next, she instinctively checked to make sure she had on clothes and then immediately checked for her wedding ring. The band was gone. Thank heavens she had on a cotton shirt and jeans. No shoes but she did have on socks. She remembered wearing her fa­vorite boots. The random memory seemed to float around with no context to ground it. Where had she been going? What had she been doing?

A noise startled her. She froze, unable to make out what it was or exactly where it came from other than out there.

About the Author

USA TODAY Bestselling Author Barb Han lives in Texas with her adventurous family and beloved dogs. Reviewers have called her books "heartfelt" and "exciting." When not writing or reading, she can be found exploring Manhattan, on a mountain, or swimming in her backyard.

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INVESTIGATOR Harlequin Series Fall Blog Tour Promo Post: Cold Case Double Cross by Jessica R. Patch

They’re on a cold trail and running out of time.

Convinced his brother was wrongly convicted of murder years ago, detective Cash Ryland’s determined to find the real killer—even if it puts him in the crosshairs. But he needs help from cold case investigator Mae Vogel, whom he mistreated in high school. Can they put their past aside to solve the murder…before the killer succeeds in silencing them for good?

  

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She moved toward the lawn chairs Mom and Grandma Rose were sitting in, glanced up at the radi­ant display and smacked into marble.

 

Nope. A man.

 

She peered up to apologize, but the words died on her lips as recognition dawned. Cash Ryland. Mae hadn’t laid eyes on him, by design, since high school.

 

Maybe this was the origin surrounding her jittery feeling.

 

She put some pep in her step and moved backward, but Cash’s tanned arm reached out, as if assuming she’d stumbled and not retreated from him.

 

She swatted away his steady hand. “I’m perfectly fine.” No need for physical touch between them.

His thick eyebrows tweaked upward. “Sorry.” His voice had grown deeper, huskier since he was a kid. Cash shoved his hand into his pocket, drawing her eye to the badge clipped to his thick black belt looping through well-fitted jeans.

 

What? How in the world did Cash Ryland make it into any branch of law enforcement and why would he want to? His teenage years had been spent as a juvenile delinquent. Not that she’d imagined what Cash might be doing now, but if she had it would be more along the lines of doing time for drug possession or grand lar­ceny or maybe both. Not on the grounds with a crimi­nal investigations division badge from Willow Banks Sheriff’s Office.

 

Unbelievable.

 

“You never were too good at masking your feelings.”

 

She glanced from his badge to his face and his lop­sided grin rolled another wave into her stomach. How dare her body betray her common sense by being at­tracted to his strong, chiseled features.

 

His blond hair had turned a little sandier, but it worked for him, unfortunately. His eyes hadn’t changed—they were still the same intense shade of blue that won the hearts of girls determined to rebel against their parents. Cash had never been meet-the-parents material, unless a girl wanted to give them a heart attack and end up grounded for life.

 

Not Mae.

 

Mae knew better.

 

And she’d still been charmed then burned.

 

Speak, Mae. You have to at least speak. “I’m just surprised, I guess.” As if she were still a high school girl enamored by the bad boy of Willow Banks and unsure of herself, she folded her arms, which felt like dead weight across her chest.

 

Cash Ryland—a detective. She’d seen it all.

 

“Well, it’s a surprising thing. Um…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I actually was looking for you. I saw your family and hoped you would be here. Your brother mentioned you were in town on vacation.”

Why did Barrett have vocal cords? He hadn’t men­tioned Cash to her. But then, why would he? Barrett was clueless about what had transpired during her se­nior year with Cash. All he knew was Mae had tutored Cash in English. But if anyone had been schooled that semester, it was Mae.

 

“Barrett talks too much.” She tried to pass around him, but he blocked her. “Detective or not,” Mae said, tossing grit into her tone, “if you don’t move, I’m going to move you. And I promise you, size doesn’t matter. I can do it.”

 

While Cash towered above her five-foot-one frame, she was not porcelain, and attached to her petite frame was the muscle to maneuver him if necessary.

 

His hands shot up in surrender, but there was no teasing in his eyes. “I have no doubt, Mae. You’ve al­ways been strong.”

 

No one had ever uttered those words about her be­fore, but flattery wasn’t going to get him one solid inch. His charm no longer affected her.

 

He cleared a path for her to flee. “I just want to talk to you for a minute or two. Please?”

 

About the Author

Publishers Weekly Bestselling author Jessica R. Patch is known for her dry wit and signature twists. When she's not hunched over her laptop, you can find her cozy on the couch in her mid-south home reading books by her favorite authors, watching movies with her family, and collecting recipes to amazing dishes she'll probably never cook. Sign up for her newsletter "Patched In" at www.jessicarpatch.com. 

 

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INVESTIGATOR Harlequin Series Summer Blog Tour Promo Post: Cold Case True Crime by Denise N. Wheatley

True crime is her beat.

But this cold case is personal…

Samantha Vincent has turned her fascination with true crime into a popular blog. When an old friend asks her to investigate a murder the police couldn’t solve, she begins to suspect that the cops want this case to go cold. Sam is confident she’ll catch the killer when Detective Gregory Harris agrees to help her, but everything changes when she becomes a target…

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Samantha Vincent flinched when the coffee shop door slammed shut behind her. She stared down the dark, vacant street in search of her car—she hadn’t realized she’d parked so far away.

The temperature had dropped severely since she’d arrived at the café. There was now a stinging chill in the night air. She set out toward the sidewalk, tighten­ing her houndstooth-patterned scarf in an effort to block the wind as it whistled eerily past her ears.

Samantha had spent the day working on her popular true crime cold case blog, Someone Knows Something, and time had gotten away from her. By now, businesses were closed and most residents of small-town Gatten­burg, Illinois, had retired for the evening.

A frigid breeze whipped through her golden-brown bob and blew open Samantha’s black wool peacoat, sending unsettling shivers throughout her entire body. But it wasn’t just the icy climate that had unnerved her.

She was still rattled by an email she’d received from Ava Jennings, an old high school friend whose family Samantha had grown close to after spending countless days at their home during her teenage years. In her message, Ava pleaded with Samantha to investigate her brother Jacob’s mysterious death, which police had just officially stated was cold with no leads.

Tree branches scraped against dim streetlights that barely illuminated the road. Samantha glanced down at the ground, her lone shadow a stark reminder that she was unaccompanied in the unnerving darkness. Moments like these brought on paranoid thoughts of all the unsolved cases she worked so hard to crack. Many of those victims found themselves in her exact same position seconds before their demise—isolated and vulnerable.

Samantha pushed those disturbing thoughts out of her mind and hurried along the pavement. Her feet ached in her high-heeled boots. But in spite of the pain, she clenched her jaw and fought through it, anxious to get off the desolate street and inside her car.

Just when Samantha’s convertible appeared in the hazy distance, the sound of screeching tires pierced her eardrums.

She stopped abruptly. The vehicle’s engine emitted a menacing roar.

Samantha spun around, almost losing her footing. Bright yellow headlights blinded her squinted chest­nut eyes. She inhaled sharply, watching while the black sedan crept toward her.

She curled her hands into tight fists and took a step back, her lean legs quivering in the wind. Remembering the mini stun gun she’d slipped into her back pocket, Samantha pulled it out and contemplated making a run for her car. But she was too afraid to turn her back on the man she presumed was behind the wheel.

Collin Wentworth…

 

About the Author

Denise N. Wheatley loves happy endings and the art of storytelling. Her novels run the romance gamut, and she strives to pen entertaining books that embody matters of the heart. She's an RWA member and holds a B.A. in English from the University of Illinois. When Denise isn't writing, she enjoys watching true crime tv and chatting with readers. 

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INVESTIGATOR Harlequin Series Summer Blog Tour Promo Post: Safeguarding the Surrogate by Delores Fossen

She’d brought him his greatest joy.

Now he must save her life…

Rancher Kara Holland’s hot on the trail of a murderer who’s been killing surrogates—like she was for her ill sister. But when Kara’s trap goes terribly wrong, she’s thrust headlong into the killer’s crosshairs…along with her sister’s widower, Deputy Daniel Logan. And as she and Daniel stay one frantic step ahead of a deadly foe, the sparks igniting between them rival the danger they face.

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Kara Holland stood in the darkness and waited for the killer.

With her heartbeat throbbing in her ears and her back pressed to the barn wall, she tried to listen for any sound to alert her that he was coming. Nothing. Not yet. But she’d done everything she could to lure him out and make him come after her.

And she was ready.

She had the Glock gripped in her hand, and thanks to the hours of firearms training, she knew how to use it. If that failed, if he somehow got the jump on her, she’d fall back on the hand-to-hand moves she’d also learned. Of course, those things didn’t guarantee that she would stop him, but she had to try. She was tired of living with this smoth­ering weight of fear.

Finally, she heard something. The sound of a car engine. Then a door closing. He had finally come for her.

The next thing she heard were the footsteps, slow and cautious. They were coming straight toward her barn.

She’d purposely turned off all but the single light in the tack room, and Kara had left the door cracked just enough for a thin beam to pierce the darkness. She stayed in the shadows by a stack of hay bales, but when the killer came in the barn, she’d be able to see him.

Kara could certainly hear him.

Along with the footsteps, the hinges creaked on the barn door, and she pinpointed every bit of her focus while she lifted the Glock. And she took aim.

“Kara?” the man called out.

She groaned, mixing it with some muttered pro­fanity, because she instantly recognized that voice. Not a killer. But Deputy Daniel Logan.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped once she could manage to speak.

“Checking on you,” Daniel snapped right back.

When he stepped into that beam of light from the tack room, she had no trouble seeing the riled ex­pression on his face. Or the rest of him for that mat­ter. He was wearing his usual jeans and work shirt on his tall rangy body. His Mercy Ridge deputy’s badge was clipped to his belt.

“I’m fine,” Kara assured him. Of course, that wasn’t true, and he could clearly see that. After all, she was waiting in her dark barn while holding a gun. “You can go.”

“No, I won’t.” Daniel sounded “all cop” with that one-word response. And he didn’t budge, either. In fact, he came closer, meeting her eye to eye.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Kara insisted.

“I wanted to have a look around and see for my­self if the rumors were true. They are,” he added in a snarl. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“You know what I’m thinking,” she fired back.

That only caused him to release a long hard breath. No doubt one of frustration. Well, she was frustrated, too. And scared. Especially scared. Some­thing that she’d hoped to end tonight.

“Two surrogates are dead,” Kara reminded him. Not that a reminder was necessary. Daniel knew be­cause she’d already told him. She’d taken the news articles to him right away when she had learned about the dead women. “Both used the Willingham Fertility Clinic in San Antonio.”

Just as Kara had done. Again, no reminder was necessary for Daniel since the reason she had used the clinic and become a surrogate was to carry a baby for Daniel and his wife, Maryanne. Maryanne had also been Kara’s sister.

As it always did, just remembering Maryanne made her feel as if someone had clamped a vise around her heart. It was almost certainly even worse for Daniel. It’d been nearly two years since Mary­anne had lost her battle with breast cancer, but some­times it felt as fresh as if it’d just happened.

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author, Delores Fossen, has sold over 70 novels with millions of copies of her books in print worldwide. She's received the Booksellers' Best Award, the Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice Award and was a finalist for the prestigious Rita ®. In addition, she's had nearly a hundred short stories and articles published in national magazines. You can contact the author through her webpage at www.deloresfossen.com.

 

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INVESTIGATOR Harlequin Series Summer Blog Tour Promo Post: Trouble in Big Timber by B.J. Daniels

 

He's back at Cardwell Ranch to find a killer.

Ford Cardwell is shocked when his college crush calls him out of the blue—even more so when he hears a gunshot. But when he joins forces with medical examiner Henrietta "Hitch" Rogers, she makes him wonder if the random call was a setup—not a murder. 

Together, they'll need to discover the truth, but looking into the case will put them in the sights of a killer.

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Trouble in Big Timber by B.J. Daniels

Ford shifted into Park and, hands shaking, pulled out his still-ringing phone. As he did, he had a stray thought. How rare it used to be to get cell phone cov­erage here in the Gallatin Canyon, of all places. Only a few years ago the call wouldn’t have gone through.

Without checking to see who was calling, he an­swered it, his hand shaking as he did. He’d come so close to going over the cliff. Until the call had saved him.

“Hello?” He could hear noises in the background. “Hello?” He let out a bitter chuckle. A robocall had saved him at the last moment? he thought.

But his laughter died as he heard a bloodcurdling scream coming from his phone. “Hello?” he yelled. “Who is this?” The scream was followed by a woman’s desperate pleas.

“No, please, don’t hurt me anymore.” Another scream and the sound of breaking glass.

“Hello?” He was yelling, frantic, having no idea who was on the other end of the call—just that she was in trouble. Had the woman meant to call 9ll? Maybe it was a pocket dial and she hadn’t meant to call anyone—let alone a stranger.

“Tell me where you are!” he yelled into the phone, but his voice was drowned out by another scream, this one filled with pure terror—and pain. He knew both too well.

The sound of something hard hitting soft flesh was followed by a choking sound. Choking on blood? The woman was being attacked. By an intruder? Or someone she knew? He’d never felt more helpless as he lis­tened to more breaking glass and the woman’s screams.

“No! Please, Humphrey, you’re going to kill me! Please. Stay back. Don’t make me…” The gunshot sounded deafening—even on the phone. Then there was no sound at all coming from his cell.

Ford stared down at the phone in his hand, shock shuddering through him. The woman on the other end of the line had called the man Humphrey. His already pounding heart thumped against his ribs, making his chest ache. It couldn’t be. He stared at the name that had come up on his phone. No. He tried to call the number back. It went straight to voice mail. Someone must have found the phone and shut it off. Or declined the call.

His heart was pounding. For a moment, he was too stunned to move, almost to breathe, at what he’d just heard, what he’d been unable to stop. Rachel. The call was from his former college roommate’s wife, Rachel Westlake—now Mrs. Humphrey Collinwood.

He’d only recently added her number to his contact list after she’d sent him a friend request on social media and they’d exchanged cell phone numbers.

His pulse pounded so loud that he couldn’t hear him­self think. Fumbling in his fear and panic, he hit 911.

It couldn’t be true. He knew Humphrey. They’d been roommates most of their time in college. His former friend wouldn’t hurt anyone. Humphrey idolized Ra­chel. But from what he’d heard on the call…

Outside the pickup, the wind howled in the pines. A gust blew dirt over the cliff and into the abyss, re­minding him how close he’d come to making that same descent. The only thing that had stopped him was the phone call. Or would he have hit the brakes on his own? He would never know.

The 911 operator came on the line. “What is the na­ture of your emergency?”

“I think I just heard someone being attacked and possibly killed on what I suspect was a pocket dial.” His voice broke. “Her name is Rachel Westlake. Sorry, it’s Collinwood now.” He listened as the dispatcher asked him a question. “No, I don’t know where she lives exactly. A ranch north of Big Timber. That’s all I know. We only recently reconnected. That’s how she had my number. Please, you have to find her. She might still be…alive.”

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author B.J. Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and three springer spaniels. When not writing, she quilts, boats and plays tennis. Contact her at www.bjdaniels.com or on Facebook or on Twitter at bjdanielsauthor.

 

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Harlequin Spring Fling Series Promo Post: Her Child to Protect by Delores Fossen

Nothing can stop her

…from saving two lives.

When she arrives at a murder scene, Deputy Della Howell is not pleased to find her recent ex already on the job. She’ll work the case with Sheriff Barrett Logan but will keep the secret she’s certain Barrett isn’t ready for—she’s pregnant with his child. But as the dueling cops investigate, familiar sparks reignite between them…just as they fall prey to a very tenacious killer.

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Sheriff Barrett Logan aimed his flashlight in the ditch and looked for a dead man.

There were no signs of him, but then Barrett hadn’t believed there would be. That was the problem with getting an anonymous tip. It could be a hoax. However, since he was the sheriff of Mercy Ridge, Texas, checking out hoaxes was part of his job description.

Especially this one, which had come in the text he’d gotten from an unknown number.

There’s blood near the county marker. She finally did it. She murdered him.

Barrett didn’t know who this she was, but that wasn’t the only word that had stood out for him. Blood, finally and murdered had also grabbed his attention. If this was indeed some kind of prank, then the person who’d sent the text had clearly wanted to embellish the details in such a way to make him jump right in and investigate.

Keeping watch around him, Barrett moved away from his truck that he’d left parked on the road. He’d put on his emergency flashers and kept on his high beams in case someone was out this time of night. Not likely, though. This was a rural road with a mile or more separating the sprawling ranches that dot- ted the area. Plus, it was nearly one in the morning, and most folks had long gone to bed. Mercy Ridge wasn’t exactly a hotbed of partying and such.

Barrett fanned the flashlight over the sign that the texter had mentioned. The sign wasn’t just to let drivers know they were entering another county but also to mark the lines of jurisdiction. Barrett and his deputies policed this side, but if the supposed body was beyond the sign, then that would fall under the jurisdiction of the Culver Crossing PD.

The cool spring rain spat at him, soaking the back of his shirt and his jeans. Thankfully, though, his Stetson was keeping the water out of his eyes, making it easier for him to see a long stretch of the ditch. Definitely no body and no blood in there, but he did see something else.

Footprints, maybe.

Someone or something had trampled down the weeds on the other side of the ditch. Weeds that practically arrowed toward a thick cluster of trees and underbrush.

Avoiding the trampled down parts, Barrett jumped across the ditch, his boots sinking into the wet ground, and he adjusted his flashlight again. However, before he could follow the trail, he heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. One that braked to a screeching stop right behind his truck. It was a Culver Crossing cruiser, and Barrett started muttering some profanity before the deputy stepped out.

She was definitely someone he hadn’t wanted to see tonight. Or any other night for that matter. The last time they’d spoken nearly two months ago, she had made it crystal clear that she hadn’t wanted to see him, either. Yet, here she was.

Barrett hadn’t expected her to have changed much in these two months, and she hadn’t. Well, except for that troubled look she was giving him. Then again, Della often looked troubled, and there was often plenty of wariness in her crystal blue eyes.

The rain had already gotten to her, he noticed. There were strands of her shoulder-length dark brown hair clinging to the sides of her face and neck. Her shirt was doing some clinging, too. Definitely something he hadn’t wanted to notice.

Della pulled in her breath and released it slowly, the kind of thing someone would do when steeling themselves up. It didn’t seem to help, though, be- cause at the end of it, there wasn’t much change in her expression.

“Did you get a text telling you that a body was out here?” she asked.

Her voice and expression were as cool as the night rain, and it reminded Barrett that it hadn’t always been that way. Of course, the noncool times had happened when she’d been in his bed. Since that was another reminder he didn’t want or need, he pushed the thought aside.

“Yeah,” he verified, and purposely turned back to his search.

He tried to look unruffled by all of this, but his thoughts were going a mile a minute. Why had someone texted both of them? Was this some kind of sick ploy to get them back together? If so, heads were going to roll.

From Harlequin Intrigue: Seek thrills. Solve crimes. Justice served.

For more action-packed stories, check out the other books in the Mercy Ridge Lawmen series by Delores Fossen:

Book 1: Her Child to Protect

Heartfelt or thrilling, passionate or uplifting—our romances have it all. Visit TryHarlequin.com to sample FREE books from among 12 different series. It’s just a taste of the new books published each month—every story a journey guaranteed to leave you with That Harlequin Feeling.

Author Bio

USA Today bestselling author, Delores Fossen, has sold over 70 novels with millions of copies of her books in print worldwide. She's received the Booksellers' Best Award, the Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice Award and was a finalist for the prestigious Rita ®. In addition, she's had nearly a hundred short stories and articles published in national magazines. You can contact the author through her webpage at www.deloresfossen.com

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