J M Ralley ~ Falling for Katie ~ New Release

Welcome to  The Heart of Romance Janet, and congratulations on your new release,  Please will you share a little bit about Falling For Katie?

Falling for Katie ~ blurb

A romantic suspense set in modern-day Scotland.

After a car accident, Katie Gowen wakes up in a house with a man she doesn’t recognize. Unable to remember anything about her past, Angus persuades her they are married. Held against her will, Katie struggles to come to terms with her predicament, but as they are snowed in, she can see no way out.

Returning to Gretna wasn’t on Finlay Gallach’s itinerary. Memories of an unhappy childhood still haunt him. However, the moment he opens the email from Katie’s father, he knows he’s in trouble. As a photo of Katie stares back at him, his heart breaks for the missing woman, and he vows to do anything to bring her home. 

It becomes a race against time for Finlay to save her. But can Katie recover from her ordeal and allow the love to blossom between them?

Other info

Why this story?

After the success of Falling for a Duke, I knew I needed to write Katie’s story. Therefore, the Romancing in Scotland series became born.

With her best friend now happily settled, I felt Katie needed her own set of problems. And they arrived in perfect style.

My love of Scotland really comes out in this book. I added several details I’ve come across, and for those who have visited Gretna Green and Braemar, some of those details may pop out at you.

This story would only work if Katie could become snowed in, which is why I chose Braemar, having nearly been snowed in myself there. There really is only one road in and out, and the small village can be snowed in easily, as the main road blocks with heavy snow. Everything came together beautifully. 

What inspired you to write it?

My love of Scotland runs deep within my blood. I have no idea why, I’m all English, but I always feel at home once I cross that border. I try to visit at least once a year and the first stop is usually Gretna Green.

I’ve seen plenty of change. One of these was the lose of the Highland Cow. So, that was one of the first things I added. Being wildlife mad too, I make sure to add a dedication to the native wildlife in these books. If you want to know which ones, you’ll have to read the books. And, yes, I’ve seen the animals mentioned in the wild.

However, I wanted to add some twists in the story. I’m not one for those romances with no grit to them, I’m afraid my characters do have to suffer to gain their happiness. And I think I’ve managed to get the right amount of twists in.

How do I feel now it’s finished and close to release?

I enjoyed writing Falling for Katie, and when I wrote ‘The End’ I knew instantly I’d done a respectable job. Now it’s due for release, I’m getting nervous. It’s like letting your baby into the big, wide world. Will they swim or sink? I can’t do no more, no mater how much I want to continue tinkering.

Now, I’ve got them marketing to roll out which I find harder to do. I’m not a natural seller. On the plus side, it means I’m free to begin another story. That helps to keep my mind of this one.

All I can do now, is cross my fingers.

Sales links

Amazon.co.uk - Amazon.com

Author Bio

  

When not writing, J M Ralley works full-time as a veterinary nurse. The long hours mean writing happens early morning and late evenings, most of the time.

She enjoys hiking, photography, wildlife watching, and is an avid reader. And can often be found playing with her pet rabbits.

She is the author of the Romancing in Scotland series, romantic suspense, and Persecuting series – a dark psychological romance thrillers.

Based in England, she prefers to dwell in Scotland, whenever she can.

Social sites

Website – www.jmralley.com

Facebook – www.facebook.com/jmralley

Twitter – www.twitter.com/jmralleyauthor

Books Revisited with Sue Ford

Please welcome SM Ford who gives us another chance to visit her book ALONE

 

ALONE

Why I wrote the book

When I was a teen, I fell in love with romantic suspense books. I liked smart female heroines in dangerous situations, imperfect heroes, and tension and suspense. Since that time the inspirational fiction market has become really strong, and I decided to share my faith as those books do. I hope my story would meet the approval of that teen self. 

 ISBN 978-1-62135-549-6

ASIN: B01HR7O0Y0

 Description

Ready for adventure in the snowy Colorado mountains, Cecelia Gage is thrilled to be employed as the live-in housekeeper for her favorite bestselling author. The twenty-five-year-old doesn’t count on Mark Andrews being so prickly, nor becoming part of the small town gossip centering on the celebrity. Neither does she expect to become involved in Andrews family drama and a relationship with Simon Lindley, Mark’s oh so good-looking best friend. And certainly, Cecelia has no idea she’ll be mixed up in a murder investigation because of this job.

 Will Cecelia’s faith in God get her through all the trouble that lies ahead?

Teaser

I know I should go to bed. But how can I? Instead I want to cry or scream or have some feminine fit to protest the reality of this evening and have someone sympathize with me or hold my hand or hold me in their arms . . . But I’m alone. Alone, as I’m afraid I’ll be the rest of my life. And there is no one to call. Simon is out of town and Mark . . . Mark is in jail.

EXCERPT

I know I should go to bed. But how can I? Instead I want to cry or scream or have some feminine fit to protest the reality of this evening and have someone sympathize with me or hold my hand or hold me in their arms . . . But I’m alone. Alone, as I’m afraid I’ll be the rest of my life. And there is no one to call. Simon is out of town and Mark . . . Mark is in jail.

Remembering the town’s small police station with its two cramped cells, I shudder. Each stark chamber is only six by eight feet. The bed, a concrete shelf covered by a thin plastic mattress. No chairs. In the corner behind a half wall are a lidless toilet and a miniature sink. The cells are only meant to be temporary holding tanks for drunks or lawbreakers of minor crimes. Not for an accused murderer. Not for Mark!

The clock strikes the hour: two in the morning. I’m pacing again. I force myself to stop. With a shaking hand I push an escaped strand of hair out of my eyes. The room is as cold as the snow falling outside. Maybe a cup of hot chocolate would help. I can’t go to sleep the way I am and I don’t know how to pray anymore.

I switch off the living room lamps and make my way to the kitchen. I’d forgotten what a disaster it is. The stove’s center island is littered with dirty coffee cups, a pile of limp tea bags on a saucer, crumpled napkins, spoons resting in untidy brown circles on the shiny surface. Mark had been hospitable to the men who’d taken him away. Fighting tears, I put the lid back on the instant coffee and screw it down tight.

I throw away the garbage, load the dishwasher, and put coffee and tea back in the cupboard. The dishrag is cold and soggy in the bottom of the sink. I rinse it with warm water and go to work on the stains on the cream-colored counter top. Maybe the harder I scrub, the better I’ll be able to block out the images in my mind of the body in its pool of blood in the study… and of Mark put in handcuffs and marched out to the waiting police car.

Bio
SM Ford writes inspirational fiction for adults, although teens may find the stories of interest, too.

 When she was 13 she got hooked on Mary Stewart's romantic suspense books, although she has been a reader as long as she can remember, and is an eclectic reader. Inspirational authors she enjoys include: Francine Rivers, Bodie Thoene, Dee Henderson, Jan Karon, and many more.

 SM Ford is a Pacific Northwest gal, but has also lived in the midwest (Colorado and Kansas) and on the east coast (New Jersey). She and her husband have two daughters and two sons-in-law and three grandsons. She can't figure out how she got to be old enough for all that, however.

 She loves assisting other writers on their journeys.

Social Media

Book Title:  ALONE

Author Website: www.smfordbooks.com

Author email: smfordwriter@gmail.com

Twitter: @smfordwriter

Facebook: www.facebook.com/SMFordBooks
 

Author Name: SM Ford

Publisher: Clean Reads
Blog RSS feed: http://www.smfordbooks.com/1/feed

BUY LINKS

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Alone-SM-Ford-ebook/dp/B01HR7O0Y0/#nav-subnav

Barnes and Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/alone-sm-ford/1124041307?ean=2940158495786

iBooks - https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/alone/id1129622915?mt=11

Kobo - https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/alone-74
 

Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/650072

Quotes

"A great page turner. This was a good romance and yet a mystery. I often solve the mysteries before the villain is revealed. Not this one! To say it is a cliffhanger is an understatement." -anonymous on Amazon

"If you love mystery and Christian romance, this is the book to read! I loved the story line. I was hooked until the very end." - H. Shultz on Amazon

"A good read. The romantic in me couldn't put it down." Cindy on Amazon

"The story quickly drew me in, and I so enjoyed becoming acquainted with the characters and watching them grow. I'm ready for the next volume!" -Cathy on Amazon

"I very much enjoyed this book. I liked the way it started with the murder, then took you back in time to what led up to it. A fun read!" -Laurel on Amazon

"It was refreshing to read something where the main character is thinking of God, praying, and thinking about how her faith relates to life." -Carol Riggs on Amazon

 

Tuesday's Tales ~ Ghostly

Welcome to Tuesday's Tales 

This week's snippet returns to where we left off a couple of weeks ago.

 

Thank you for coming by - and feel free to leave a comment.

Please don't forget to click the link below to go back to the main Tuesday Tale site for more stories by very talented authors.

 

The put-put sound of the boat’s motor drew closer, seemed to Ludo to idle and then, slowly, faded away. Until he gasped for much needed air he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath. He looked back at his companion and noted the deep furrows between her eyes.

“Not disappointed are you?” Where the hell had that brainless line come from? He was, he knew that, but it didn’t mean she felt the same tug of— what? Attraction? Definitely.

Lust? Hell, yes, just say it as it was. It was one more crazy in twenty-four hours of crazy, the likes of which he’d never experienced before, and he’d experienced plenty of crazy in this lifetime.

The stare she directed at him should have douched the heat burning up inside him. It failed. He liked a challenge and unwittingly she’d sent out a challenge he’d take great pleasure in accepting.

The ghostly image of a dark-haired woman, her hair blowing in the warm breeze, her smile challenging the sun, snuck into his mind. He pushed it away. It was the past.

Gone. Dead and buried, along with his son, Jerrard. But this was another woman, no smile, for sure. But what a look, and he’d fall into those eyes anytime, dream or no dream. And this was no dream. The sound of the ignition whirring into life killed the distant memories and he looked at her then clung on as the car inched forward over the rutted track and headed for the main road.

Did she have a destination in mind? It seemed so as she didn’t hesitate to turn right and ease into the busy flow of traffic.

Thank you for reading this week's offering,
there are lots more amazing reads at Tuesday's Tales

Tuesday's tales ~Picture prompt

 

Welcome to Tuesday's Tales 

 

This week is Picture prompt week when we are constricted to 300 words inspired by the picture.

 

Thank you for coming by - and feel free to leave a comment.

Please don't forget to click the link below to go back to the main Tuesday Tale site for more stories by very talented authors.

 

 While this week's snippet is from the same WIP and is further on in the story, but may - or may not- be used in the final story. :-)

 

Ludo prowled round his sitting room ignoring the astronomically priced paintings on the walls. The only image in his mind was Kate’s face when he’d placed a fancy coloured drink on the table in front of her. Ashen, not pale, not white, but a deathly grey. What possessed him to assume that because every other female he knew had plumped for the fancy option that Kate would do too?

Not even the slap of his palm across his forehead banished her stricken look, her race for the door and her frantic dash across the car park, in the wrong direction. His hand shifted to the scratches she’d raked down his cheek when he’d caught up with her. Wherever the sight of the drink had taken her, she’d no longer been with him, hadn’t recognised him and fought him with a strength bourn of terror. It still astounded him nearly a week later, that no one had called the police to report a man attacking a woman in the car park. After all it had taken more than ten minutes to calm her down enough to persuade Kate to return to his car.

Her silence on the journey back concerned him nearly as much as her earlier reactions and convinced him not to leave her alone and to take her to his place. The silence continued when he showed her into his spare room, and minutes later returned with one of his t-shirts.

Should he leave her, offer to stay? He wanted to wrap his arms round the desolate figure standing in the middle of the room her arms wrapped round her waist in what looked like a death grip.  “Do you want to talk?”

The tears spilling down her cheeks wrecked him, and he swept her into his arms.

Thank you for reading this week's offering,
there are lots more amazing reads at Tuesday's Tales 

Tuesday's Tales ~ Letter(s)

 

Welcome to Tuesday's Tales  

Thanks for coming by.

This week our prompt word is Letter(s). My snippet continues from last week.

Enjoy - and feel free to leave a comment. And don't forget to click the link below to go back to the main Tuesday Tale site for more stories by very talented authors.

 

“What are you doing?” She’d slowed to a stop and cut the engine. “I thought you said we need to get out of here.”

“We do.” Her gaze rested on the plastic carrier bag on the floor at his feet. The second size choice clothes he’d stuffed back into the container.

“So what are we waiting for?”

She glanced up at him then beyond him, out the window. “For the boat to pass by.”

“And if they don’t?” He fought the urge to twist round and check of the vessel’s progress. “If they decide to pull in here and stay awhile, what do we do then?”

The wry smile that tipped her lips in a half-curve heated his blood and had him resorting to studying the bag of clothes at his feet. The pink and purple print of the letters morphed into the wry smile he’d been trying to evade. The thought of kissing his rescuer may not be sensible but it sure chased the chill out his bones. Those lips, still tantalizingly curved...

“Are you suggesting we make out in the car?” He swallowed the taste of his rising desire, turned his head to look out of the window in an effort not to inhale the scent of her. “We’re strangers, or do you come on to anyone in trousers?”

Bitterness swamped him. Did she expect a sexual reward for rescuing him?

“Of course not.” Her outraged denial brought his attention back to the woman.

“What?”

“I neither want nor expect any favours, sexual or otherwise, for rescuing you from the boot of my car. But—” she looked beyond him, “—if they come across a kissing couple in a car, hopefully they’ll do nothing more than thump on the roof, and exchange a few ribald comments on their way past.”

Damn but his ‘new’ jeans felt tight, his throat parched and his hands clammy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous at the thought of kissing a girl. Not that his companion was a girl. No indeed, the woman sitting beside him reeked of sensuality.

 

Thank you for reading this week's offering,
there are lots more amazing reads at Tuesday's Tales 

Tuesday's Tales - Pretty

Welcome to Tuesday's Tales  

This week our prompt word is PRETTY and my snippet continues from last week. Having escaped their pursuers, Kate's now wondering how stupid she's been to help a stranger evade his attackers, and what possible retribution will fall on her head for her well-meaning but possible stupid actions. 

His deep voice resonated deep within her. Geeze how could she notice something like that in such a situation? Gathering her scattered wits Kate leaned in and helped the man to a kneeling position.

“No, it wasn’t me, and no, I don’t know who attacked you and bundled you into my car,” she said at the same time wondering how her voice came out so steadily when her insides were melting. “Who are you and why were you trussed up like a chicken and bundled into my car?”

Under the circumstances she shouldn’t notice his powerful build. Her hands should itch to release his bonds so they could skim over his torso, and further, not want to stroke all over that glistening skin.

Before he could respond she held up the scissors. “I’m sorry I only have these. I never thought to buy a knife to cut the cords.” She smacked her hand to her forehead and rushed to get a bottle of water out of the shopping bag on the back seat.

“Here, drink this.” She uncapped the bottle, held it to his lips and gradually tipped it up until he drained the contents dry. He held his hands out and watched her attempt to cut, and then saw through the nylon. The moment his hands were free the man tried to climb out of his prison.

“Wait.” Holding her hand up like a traffic cop Kate went back for the jersey she’d bought. “I had to guess your size,” she explained, “but put this on before you do anything else.” Not sure whether relief or disappointment roared through her system when the sweater fell below his hips, Kate moved closer to allow him to use her shoulder as a prop while he struggled to manoeuvre into a position to swing his legs over the sill of the car to allow her to release those bonds too.

“Who are you,” she asked again. “And why…”

“I don’t know why for sure, and although I have an idea of who, I’m not certain enough to name names.”

Dropping to her knees, Kate began cutting through the nylon cord. And wondered whether she was out of her mind to release a stranger who refused share his name or explain who had dumped him in her car and why. Anger nudged her concern to one side. Had she been mad to drive away knowing he was in her boot? And to do so knowing a bunch of strangers were now after her as well as the man waiting for her to free his legs? Upon reflection it seemed pretty stupid.

“I won’t hurt you.”

His voice snapped her out of her contemplation and she realised she’d sat back on her heals, her hands, still holding the scissors, resting in her lap.

 

Thank you for reading this week's offering,
there are lots more amazing reads at Tuesday's Tales 

Sunday Snippet ~ 1st June ~ Duty Calls

 Duty Calls (15% off all versions) is one of Black Opal's Books featured books throughout June. 

 

 

Here is another snippet from Duty Calls, which is now available in large print as well as print and kindle editions.

 

He resurrected images of the first time he’d seen Cadmore’s fake sister. She reminded him of a long term druggie, with her lank, shoulder-length, dyed hair, cheap white cotton blouse, and black skirt. Her scrawny, flat-chested body repulsed him, and he wondered why Cadmore presumed he’d accept the woman over his twenty grand. Then Rafe had wondered why he’d accepted the bet. He’d seen her unsuccessful attempts to disguise her fear when he’d handled her like a piece of meat on a butcher’s slab during the card game.

 

He hadn’t gone to the decrepit house to play poker. He’d gone to learn more about the man who claimed to be the rightful heir to Lord Kinsale’s estates. And to do that, he’d
accepted Cadmore’s invitation to join him in an evening’s poker game. 

Then he remembered the woman’s old scars, small and round running down her arms, and across her chest mingled with new bruising from their brush with death. And the crisscrossed welts on her back, he’d assumed she received while immersed in the raging river.

Thanks for coming by :-)
Looking to find new authors to read?
You'll find them today at

SNIPPET SUNDAY

Tuesdays Tales ~ Toes

Welcome to Tuesday's Tales  

 

Once again, many thanks to all those who drop by each week. I also appreciate, and often act upon comments and suggestions left.  Many thanks.

This week I'm sharing a piece from my wip (working title -Boy) My heroine, Tiffany, is having a flashback to a time when she lived on the streets with her brother.

Why had it never occurred to her Susan’s brother would not believe her? Because, a little voice told her, he didn’t understand the connection between the two women. What would Jake say if he discovered Susan shared her childhood experiences during the dark hours of night. Would he, as Susan claimed, close up like a clam and freeze her out? He couldn’t break the bonds of friendship she had with Susan. He couldn’t, didn’t know how much they had in common. Her parent may not have died, and no one had actively sought them out to place them within the system’s care regime, but she had spent more time on the streets, than Jake would ever discover. She’d once had a brother who’d lost his life trying to protect her from the scum that preyed on the vulnerable.



www.enniomontani.com

Jake’d never heard a sibling scream at him to run. As she had. She done as demanded, and then doubled back; just in time to see the downward stroke of the knife pierce her brother’s chest. To hear the final, gurgled breath he ever exhaled. She hadn’t dared run again in case someone heard her footsteps. Instead she wedged herself between a commercial trash bin and the rain-sodden wall and balanced on her tip-toes had watched his attackers turn tail and run from the scene of their crime.

She’d waited, frozen to the spot, for what seemed like hours but was, she knew later, probably only minutes, maybe even less, before she sprinted to her brother’s side. Rain had soaked his face, diluted the blood oozing from his mouth and chest. It didn’t take a search for his missing pulse for Tiffany to know her brother had laid down his life to keep her safe. She wanted to stay with him until someone found them, but knew to do so would dishonour everything Robby had fought for. Striving to stop the shaking in her fingers, she’d gone through Robby’s pockets, unsurprised to find them empty, then removed his shoes and stashed the money she found there into her bra.

 

Thank you for reading this week's offering, 

there are lots more amazing reads at  

Tuesday's Tales  

Author Spotlight ~ Gloria Marlow

Author Bio:
Gloria Davidson Marlow is the author of several romantic suspense novels. She resides in Northeast Florida with her husband, works as a paralegal at a local law firm, and spends as much time as possible with her three grandsons.

 Blurb: When Swallows Fly

 

Although Ophelia Garrett loved Cade Scott first, it was her sister he married and took home to his plantation. When Ophelia receives word of her sister's murder and Cade's arrest, she travels there on a mission to learn the truth. She soon finds the halls of Almenara are haunted by secrets, peril, and quite possibly her sister's ghost.

 

Despite the cold, angry man Cade has become, Ophelia's heart refuses to believe he is a murderer. Vowing to do everything she can to prove his innocence, Ophelia must open wounds she’d hoped were long healed and face the feelings that still burn between her and Cade.  As everyone looks to Cade as the suspect, evil haunts the dunes and halls of Almenara, bringing death to two more young women and forcing Ophelia to confront the danger.

 

Excerpt:

 

“How did Desi die, Cade?”

 

He lifted his head, his face mere inches from mine. Emotion clouded his gaze, and he opened his mouth as if he meant to answer me. Instead, a low moan escaped him and he caught my mouth in the hungry kiss I had dreamed of for six years’ worth of lonely nights. For just a moment, the reason for that loneliness was completely forgotten.

 

A cry rent the air, and I jerked away from Cade, guilt and alarm whipping through me in equal measures as I turned to stare at the maid who had finally returned with the broom and dustpan.

 

“Oh, Mr. Scott, forgive me, please.”

 

“No need for apologies, Susan,” Cade said, bringing the woman’s stammering apology to an end.

 

He looked at me, his eyes shadowed with pain. “I am the one who should be sorry. I’ll see you at supper, Ophelia.”

 

I was left standing in the hall with the maid, who stared at me with open disdain. Her voice was sharp and cold when she spoke.

 

“I thought you were Mrs. Scott, you know. Kissing her husband like that. It made me think Kathleen was right and she had come back from the grave after all.”

 

“People don’t come back from the grave, Susan,” I retorted, hoping my haughtiness hid my shame. If Desi were to come back to haunt the halls of the home where she’d died, I was fairly certain what I’d just done would be reason enough for me to be her target.

 

Author Contact:

Website: www.gloriamarlowbooks.com

Blog:  www.gloriamarlow.blogspot.com

Twitter: @gloria_marlow

Facebook Fan Page            Amazon Author Page

To buy:-  The Wild Rose Press:   Amazon: 

Sarah Ballance, author of Last Call is cisiting today...

Thank you, Sherry, for having me here today to talk about my new romantic suspense LAST CALL!

You're very welcome Sarah. I love the way you take us into what Last Call is all about. Best wishes with sales.

To get to know more about the book and its characters, we’re going to take a close look . . . one letter at a time.

L – Lingering thoughts. The last time Rhys saw Nick, she’d just been shot . . . by him. She could forgive the accidental bullet, but the way he left her afterwards—without a goodbye—should have slammed the door on all the sexual tension between them for the last time. But when she wakes up in his arms, she discovers the truth is far from what she expected.

A – Action. Whether it’s the bad guys bearing down or the adversarial relationship between Nick and Rhys, there’s never a dull moment. These two truly can’t catch a break!

S – Suspense.  Someone kidnapped Rhys and left her in Nick’s care. Who, and more importantly, why? Who wants them both dead? And will they ever resolve their past?

T – Tortured Hero. Yep, that’s Nick. Not only did he shoot Rhys, but he left town without saying goodbye. Even after she’s forgiven him, those old wounds only serve to prove to him she deserves more. He’s trying to do the right thing, but will he ever listen to what she wants?
C – Cutter. He was Nick and Rhys’s contact when they worked undercover, and he’s their lifeline now. But with a leak in the department, will their communication prove to be an invaluable help, or will it lead a ruthless killer straight to their door?
A – Assumptions. Rhys assumed Nick was too wrapped up in his guilt to even think about betraying her again, but was she wrong?
L – Layers. They’re everywhere. Just when you think you’ve found the center, yet another truth is ripped away.

L – Lies. In a deadly game where no one seems to have a motive, everyone is a suspect. And the only thing more shocking than the truth is the impossible depth of the lie.

LAST CALL by Sarah Ballance – Romantic suspense for just 99 cents!

In a perilous game of trust, a shocking betrayal deals a dangerous hand.

An accidental witness to a murder-for-hire, ex-cop Rhys Clark becomes the target of ruthless killer—one determined to silence her at any cost. Playing dead seems to be the most likely way to stay alive, but when her protection comes in the form of mega-sexy former adversary Nick Massey, Rhys can think of  a few fates worse than death.

Nick Massey may have walked away from his troubles, but he never got past wanting Rhys. Once paired undercover, they’d been nothing but fireworks until a botched assignment ended her career, sending his into a tailspin. Now a mysterious client threatens Nick’s life if he doesn’t keep Rhys safe, but it isn’t until fate takes a critical turn that he realizes the devastating truth: he’s been her greatest threat all along.

Last Call | Excerpt

Rhys Clark swore and jerked her foot from the murky puddle that had just claimed one of her new running shoes. Perfect. The day was now officially perfect.

She blamed Nick Massey.

Blaming him was easy enough. She didn’t know which required more nerve on his part—leaving town or crawling back—but both events left her bitter and raw. And wet, she grumbled inwardly. With the sky spitting rain and the occasional pellet of sleet smacking her face, she should have skipped her evening jog. The street was little more than a concrete alley of shuttered businesses, and the bleak weather amplified the emptiness. But tonight, with Nick hot on her mind, running through the cold was her last ditch effort to return to her senses.

It hadn’t worked.

Another blast of icy air howled through the narrow street. If she hadn’t been standing still, she probably wouldn’t have heard the shouting that followed.

A few months ago, an altercation wouldn’t have been unusual in this part of town. But the whole area was under reconstruction. Local crime dissipated to nothing with the razing of several apartment buildings, and until now Rhys had long found her route to be a place of solace. She glanced around as the voices drew closer and more intense. Rapid footsteps smacked the wet pavement. Then the echo of a gunshot cracked the night.

Where fear left her paralyzed, instinct insisted she get out of sight. She looked around and found an unbroken expanse of concrete wall offering few options. Heart pounding, Rhys ducked into the recessed doorway of a vacant storefront and hoped the deep shadows would keep her concealed.

Terrifying seconds passed. The sound of her own suppressed breath roared in her ears.

Voices came, clearer this time. Close.

“If we screw this up…” The words, terse and hushed, were encapsulated in panic.

“Shut up,” demanded a second voice. “No one messed up. He’s as good as dead.”

“You think you’re going to sell that without a body? We didn’t get paid to lose him.”

“He took one to the gut. He won’t get far. We’ll find him.”

“He’s leaving a trail. Blood. We got the big bucks for a clean—”

“Shut up.”

A hit? Rhys shuddered, fear scaling her spine. A professional hit would have been silent—something not accomplished by the gunshot or the ensuing conversation—but in this game, experience wasn’t always a prerequisite for willingness to pull the trigger. Two years of undercover work had taught her as much.
So had a bullet.
Rhys froze, waiting for the voices to pass. But luck was not on her side. Rather than drawing away, the footsteps ceased.

“Well, well, well,” said the confident one. “Looks like our little game of hide and seek is over.”

Hope crumbled. The voice was far too close. Had they seen her?

She dared not move. Through her lashes, she saw nothing in her narrow view of the dimly lit street but dirty puddles and the occasional bit of trash plastered to wet pavement. She prayed they didn’t look her way should they walk past.

Grunts erupted nearby, followed by the sound of sneakers scuffling on concrete. Then two shots fired, and all sounds of struggle gave way to profane celebration.

In the same instant, a man fell to the sidewalk in front of Rhys. His eyes, sightless and familiar, bore into her.

She choked a gasp.

A man stepped into her line of sight, his weapon at the ready. Before she could stop herself, she locked eyes with him. Big mistake. The decision threw her into a cloud of emotional shrapnel, the past flying at her in shards. She’d been shot once before.

It hadn’t ended well.

The gunman opened his mouth and formed an ugly grin, his breath coming in visible puffs through yellowed teeth. “Looks like a double header tonight, T,” he said, never taking his gaze off Rhys.

“Whaddya mean?” came the reply. The voice . . . she blinked until the second man shifted into focus.

She knew him. From where? She couldn’t think.

She glanced to the dead man, and her vision wavered. Panic shifted her world into a screen of jarred pixels, the flashback jagged and severe.

“Rhys! Stay with me, Rhys. Do you hear me? Rhys!”

Blood. So much blood.

“Nick.” She touched his face, feeling stubble beneath her fingertips. Then the weight of her arm was too much; as gravity won he slipped away. The world twisted into a sickening spiral until all that was left was his voice, the desperation in his tone bringing warmth to the darkness.

“Rhys!”

Motion jarred her to the present.

The gunman gestured. “Our witness here is about to have an unfortunate accident.” He raised the weapon, aiming for the kill.

It was a short view down the barrel at point blank range. She expected that.

What she didn’t anticipate was the speed with which he pulled the trigger.

Or how quickly the pain hit.

Title: LAST CALL
Author: Sarah Balance
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Publisher: For the Muse Publishing,
2013ISBN 13: 978-0-9889995-0-3

LAST CALL is available from: 
For the Muse Publishing, 

Amazon,          Barnes & Noble, 
  
and Smashwords 
(formats: .mobi, .epub, HTML, PDF, RTF, LRF, PalmDoc, and Plain Text).

Click here to add to Goodreads or here for reviews.

About Sarah Ballance

Sarah and her husband of what he calls “many long, long years” live on the mid-Atlantic coast with their six young children, all of whom are perfectly adorable when they’re asleep. She never dreamed of becoming an author, but as a homeschooling mom, she often jokes she writes fiction because if she wants anyone to listen to her, she has to make them up. (As it turns out, her characters aren’t much better than the kids). When not buried under piles of laundry, she may be found adrift in the Atlantic (preferably on a boat) or seeking that ever-elusive perfect writing spot where not even the kids can find her.

She loves creating unforgettable stories while putting her characters through an unkind amount of torture—a hobby that has nothing to do with living with six children. (Really.) Though she adores nail-biting mystery and edge-of-your-seat thrillers, Sarah writes in many genres including contemporary and ghostly paranormal romance. Her ever-growing roster of releases may be found on her website.

Website: http://www.sarahballance.com/
Blog: http://sarahballance.wordpress.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sarah.ballance.author.news
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SarahBallance
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4103362.Sarah_Balance