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What’s the world to do when gold starts disappearing and the agents assigned to the case are turned into life-size lawn ornaments?

Send in Double O Fang Agent Pierce De Vein, and Shifter Intelligence Agent (SIA) Kitty Katt to
investigate. Unhappy with their forced alliance, each loner must learn to work with a partner and stop trying to outdo one another long enough to solve the case. When the evidence points to an evil gnome and his army of rogue leprechauns, the agents infiltrate the organization in the forms of a bat and a cat.

Will their plan work, or will they end up sleeping with the daisies as a pair of garden decorations?

EXCERPT:

“You and your partner are to start by reviewing all the security fo—”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. Back the fourteen karat cart up, Sir.” Pierce leaned forward, mouth opened with something between a frown and a smile claiming his lips. “I think you’ve mistaken me with one of the other agents. I don’t have a partner. I work alone.”

Well aware of the fact, and that none of Pierce’s partner problems had been his fault, Methos ignored the young operative’s interruption and continued. “All three branches of P.L.A.S.M.A, Vampire, Shifter and Witch, are in agreement. This is very serious. If the gold is not returned to the Federal Reserve soon, we’ll have a worldwide economic disaster. So far, they’ve kept it under wraps, but it’s only a matter of time before the news gets out. And you know the type of panic it can cause.”

“Yes, Sir, but—”

“No buts.” Methos leaned forward and stared hard at the vampire. “Due to the severity of the situation, and the unknown supernatural cause to those agents’ afflictions, we’ve agreed to send in two of our top agents, with several more standing by if needed.”

Pierce slipped the file into a soft, leather case, then sat back. “I can handle this mission on my own.”

Of that, Methos had no doubt. But he wouldn’t be given the chance.

One of four remaining Ancients, Methos had the ability to track and assess every single Vampire. He’d hand picked his agents, and if he hadn’t deemed Pierce worthy, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. DeVein brought to the table an unusual intellect and wit, and had the uncanny ability to talk just about anybody or anything into doing his bidding. Charm was the boy’s deadliest weapon, but charm alone would not solve this case.

That’s where the shifter came in. Methos had had his eye on her for some time now. Although he couldn’t track her, he could read the woman and had observed her work closely over the past year. She was cunning, swift and strong, but just a little too impulsive. His hope, and the shared hope of her boss, was for this pairing to teach her the merits of Pierce’s slower, more thoughtful approach and for Pierce, in turn, to experience the advantage of having a strong partner he could trust.

Methos sat back and stared at his agent through narrowed eyes. “Need I remind you who’s running things around here, DeVein?”

“No, Sir.” The young vampire wisely dropped his gaze. “Of course not.”

Methos continued with a wave of his hand. “I know you’ve had trouble in the past, but maybe you just haven’t found the right…partner.”

Pierce stiffened, his narrowed gaze lifting bright with alarm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A knock on the door saved Methos from answering. Far better for the agent to see rather than hear. “Come in,” he called to the door. This was sure to be memorable. Methos rose to his feet, more than a little curious to see DeVein’s reaction. “Meet your new partner.”

His agent didn’t bother to get up. He just sat there with a disgusted look on his face and gazed at the opening door. A wave of air rolled in, carrying a mixture of three scents. Confidence, curiosity and—cat.

DeVein didn’t utter a word, but his white-knuckled grip on the chair spoke volumes to Methos. The boy recognized the scent.

“Is this a private party or can anybody join?” Clothed in black leather, the beautiful shifter trotted in, long black hair swaying past her waist while her green eyes sparkled with pride above an ear to ear grin.

“Oh, hell no,” Pierce blurted before he vaulted to his feet and glared.

The cat’s full presence appeared to light a fire under his agent. Interesting. Most uncharacteristic of him. Methos could understand the reaction, though. She was potent. The combination of exquisite beauty, coupled with her effervescence, made the shifter intoxicating. A trait he’d watched her use to her advantage on many missions. One which helped shape the shifter into an excellent agent. Now, if she could just quell her impulsiveness.

“No way,” Pierce repeated, thrusting a finger at his new partner. “I’m not working with that animal!”

Great new release with a slash in price!

Check out Journey to Redemption by Anne Patrick

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Detective Morgan Reynolds thought her nightmare was over when serial killer Gerald `The Slasher' Tate was sent to prison for her husband's murder. But she was wrong. The Slasher has escaped and he's making it even more personal this time. Tate has kidnapped her son and is giving her 72 hours to find the answers he wants or Jared dies.

EXCERPT:

The amusing smirk she'd worn all morning was gone, her face now void of expression.

She jerked open the passenger side door. "Will you drive please?" she asked, handing him the keys. "I'm sorry, go ahead," she spoke into her cell phone.

Chase scooted across the seat and she climbed in.

"Hang on a minute…I need you to drop me off at my house, forty-six eleven Crestview."

Realizing she was speaking to him, he turned to her. "Everything okay?"

"Just hurry please," she said. He watched as she dumped out the contents of her purse in the seat beside her. She picked up a small leather address book, and fingered through it while steadying the phone between her shoulder and chin. "We aren't moving, yet," she said, her voice much sharper.

He put the unmarked police cruiser in reverse and took out of the parking lot. Keeping his eyes on the road, he listened to the one-sided conversation.

"Jeremy Metzer, Tommy Stewart and Melissa Davidson. Davidson's mother is a dispatcher, nights, I think. The Metzers live a couple of doors down from us. Stay at home mom and a dad who are in realty. Tommy Stewart lives with his grandmother over on Elm. He and Tommy spend quite a lot of time together. He slept over Saturday night. Okay, let me know as soon as you hear something. I will."

Chase glanced over to see her rubbing the bridge of her nose. Her cell phone lay in her lap. He
sensed something was terribly wrong. "How long are you going to keep me in the dark here?"

She glanced up at him briefly, just long enough for him to see tears forming in her eyes. She then turned to stare out the windshield. "Jared didn't make it home from school," she said stiffly. "He usually walks home with his friend, Jeremy, and stays at his house till I get home. They had an argument, though, and he walked home alone."

"It's not even two yet."

"School got out at one today because of a parent teacher conference. I phoned to make sure he'd made it to the Metzers, but they hadn't seen him. When I called home and didn't get an answer, I had my neighbor go over to check on him. He wasn't there."

"Maybe he stopped for a snack or something along the way."

She shook her head. "The school is only a block and a half from the house and there aren't any
stores along the way."

"I'm sure he's fine. He probably dropped by a friend's and forgot the time."

She glared at him. "I don't let my child wander the streets, Lieutenant."

"You said he was rebellious."

"Yes, but he's not suicidal. He knows how I get when I don't know where he is."

He wouldn't have taken her for an overprotective mother. "Well, I'm sure he'll be fine," he said, and offered her a supportive smile before saying a prayer. Lord, please let the boy be all right. With all that's going on, I hate the thought of him being out on the streets alone. Keep watch over him.

Chase stopped the car. Morgan leaped from the passenger side and ran up the small slope to her front door.

"Jared," she called out as she entered the foyer. After dropping her purse on the bottom step, she ran up the stairs to his room.

He wasn't there.

She crossed the room to the unmade bed and searched for any sign that he'd been there since that morning, but his backpack was nowhere in sight. Glancing out the window, she spotted Cosmo lounging next to his doghouse.

Please, God…please let him be at one of his friends'. Please let him be safe!

Morgan fought off the threatening tears as she searched her bedroom, the guest bedroom, and the bathrooms before heading back downstairs.

"Afternoon, Sergeant." Morgan froze at the familiar voice coming from her answering machine. She stepped into the living room and stared at the black box next to the phone. "Not to worry, you're little boy is safe and sound. He'll stay that way as long as you don't contact your buddies down at the police station. I'll be in touch soon." She looked at Chase.

"Sorry. I thought maybe he'd left you a message," he said.

"Oh no." Her worst fear confirmed, Morgan sank onto the couch and wrapped her arms around her midsection. She struggled to fight off the nausea that threatened to consume her.

Spytastic... Check out A Girl's Best Friend

A Girl's Best Friend
By Pat Dale



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When Laura Margolin, TV jewelry shopping's latest diva, crosses paths with super spy Hayward Lazarus, she has no idea that before their saga is done, her career will be toast, her hero will have died heroically—and they'll live happily ever after.

The copper-haired beauty, up to her azure eyeballs in the world of jewelry marketing, meets Lazarus on her flight to Amsterdam to introduce herself to the Dutch magnate who's just purchased Sparkles Inc. As a spy, Laz's task is to cut off insurgent funding, but his covert mission is aborted before it begins and he runs for his life. While he hides, determined to come out of this alive, Laura goes happily about her business in the sunny Dutch city until her new boss puts a move on her that has her running too.

Glamour gal and slippery spy ratchet between ecstasy and despair as they try to unravel separate webs of deception; webs that weave into a wild and crazy patchwork. They want to be together but the fates seem to have other plans.

EXCERPT:

She wondered how she'd learn anything meaningful when the plane lurched twice, settled momentarily and then swayed a third time. In reaction to the roller-coaster motion, her stomach convulsed. Fortunately, there were no other passengers in her row so if she lost it, she wouldn't make a total fool of herself.

Breathe deep, Laura. Relax.

The aircraft had already leveled its climb somewhat and would soon be at an altitude where she could head for the lavatory. She looked back to try to find the flight attendant to get her attention. Instead, her focus locked on a dapper-looking man approaching her up the aisle. She sank back into her seat as he spoke.

"Hallo. Having a nice flight?"

She'd used her reserve to stay calm but the continued swaying motion of the plane had scraped that calm bare. She muttered, "I suppose."

"That doesn't sound very convincing. What could be the problem?"

"I'm afraid it's just me. Flying usually makes me sick."

"I see. Well, the plane is in no trouble. We're just in a buffer layer of heavy air. A few moments more and we'll be at an altitude where it's much smoother. But if you're feeling nauseous, I have a sure cure for that."

"Oh, really?" She was ready to send him on his way when her eyes focused on his; jade green—
polished jade. His handsome rugged face was framed with dark blond hair, no doubt professionally groomed, but with a wealth of curls that gave him a bad-boy look. Her heart did a double pump and she swallowed hard.

"Yes, beautiful lady, I do. Might you be interested?"

Her attention ratcheted from his devastating masculinity to his words. Normally on guard against overly friendly men, she was intrigued by his offer to help. His go-light eyes lasered hers, levering a slightly flushed feeling.

She said, "I'd be interested in about anything that helps me relax in flight."

"Wonderful." He held out his hand. "May I introduce myself? Hayward Lazarus, at your service. I'm deputy director of Hands Round the Globe. Perhaps you've heard of us?"

"No, I don't think so."

He chuckled. "Well to tell you the truth, I'm not surprised. We're a philanthropic foundation. What you might call international do-gooders."

She laughed despite her discomfort. "So is calming finicky little girls a regular part of your do-gooding?"

"Definitely, my dear. One of my specialities."

"Well, Mr. Lazarus, I'd appreciate any secret you have on that subject."

He dropped into the empty seat next to her. "My pleasure. And your name is"—he hesitated, his eyes flashing recognition—"Laura Margolin, is it not?"

"How did you know who I am?"

"I've seen your work on the telly from time to time. You do a marvelous job displaying all those jewelry baubles to your audience."

"Well, thank you. Do you ever buy our products?"

"I haven't so far, but I could be tempted. The fact I haven't is certainly no reflection of your sales ability."

She could hardly believe this suave gentleman in his thousand dollar suit could have any idea who she was. She relaxed ever so slightly, enjoying the glow of his smile. Generally, she didn't let men—any men—get this close to her. Didn't want them; didn't need them. But somehow, this man was different. While friendly and complimentary, he was certainly not a man who'd be after anything from her.

"I have to tell you, I never expected to meet anyone who knew my name. This has never happened to me before."

"I can't imagine that, Ms. Margolin."

"You can't?"

"Surely there must be hordes of men at your doorstep, just waiting for an opportunity to impress you."

She laughed, the musicality of her voice triggering him to grin again as she offered, "I hate to admit it, Mr. Lazarus, but there hasn't been a single man at my doorstep for a long time."

He beamed. "No single man, eh? How about a married one?"

"Not one of those, either."

"Well, Ms. Margolin, I am disappointed."

"Laura, Mr. Lazarus. Please call me Laura."

"Gladly, if you'll call me Ward."

"Ward. That's a nice name. Rather unusual."

"The last in a long line." Fleeting hardness melted from his expression as he added,
"Enough about me. I'd like to know what has you seven miles above the Atlantic in spite of your fear of flying."

"I'm on my way to Amsterdam to represent my company. Sparkles Inc. has recently been purchased by VerMeer."

"The world-famous jewelers. I remember reading about that in the Journal. Quite a transaction if one believes the report."

"It was, for sure. Lots of money changed hands. And now I've been chosen to become liaison between the companies during the merger."

"I'm impressed. That is quite a responsibility. No wonder you're worried about discomfort. You no doubt will be making lots of these trips back and forth."

"Yes." She released a sigh. "Lots."

When the man continued to delve into her background and recent history, she relaxed even more, satisfied that he was merely curious. She had to admit, her own curiosity had been piqued regarding this intriguing and dangerously handsome man.

Over six feet with long legs and arms, he gave the impression of being quite fit, though there was no way to tell in his shimmering charcoal suit. If she had to guess, she'd bet he'd been a runner. His face bore a couple of long-healed scars but otherwise seemed very handsome with his straight nose and strong pointed chin.

The most exciting element about him was the aura of trust he exuded. She hadn't been exposed to anything like this since she'd been a child. What was it, this feeling that enveloped her? The pleasant baritone of his voice levered her memory to the distant past where, finally, it came to her. Her father had always left her with this same sense of well being. But, she recalled, that had been only an illusion.

Could this be the same? She shook free of her doldrums. This man was not her father. He had to be no more than in his late thirties. Why did she feel so safe in his presence? She wanted to know more about him.

Great new release! Heart of a Hero

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Matt Carrington escapes a terrorists’ prison while in the Army, but he has difficulty escaping the trappings of a demanding fiancé and his own parents. To get away to think, he meets pretty,girl-next-door Lauren Delaney, the kind of woman he desires. But his fiancé and his parents have other plans. They determine to have their way—no matter what Matt wants.

Lauren Delaney is an independent young woman who quickly befriends the soldier hero who comes to town. Knowing he has another life in Dallas, she holds a secret, too. But she pretends neither have a problem in order to have the summer with him.

During the long hot months, a hurricane almost destroys the town. Matt and Lauren work with a team to save as many residents as they can, and in the process fall deeply in love. When the danger is past, the two lovers suffer from their own lies and misunderstandings. Can they find peace and happiness without hurting others?

EXCERPT:

By eleven-thirty, Matt entered the River Café. He smiled when he saw his table with a reserved sign on it. He chuckled to himself, thinking she was going a little over-board, but it made him happy.

Lauren spotted him immediately and walked quickly to him, as though she had been waiting and feared another waitress would get to him first.

“Hello. Would a small table by the window be all right, sir?” she asked formally with the menu clutched to her chest.

Matt grinned. “I see it’s reserved for someone. Maybe I could just sit at the bar.”

“Oh, I think I can pull some strings and let you have it. The person who reserved it is so good-looking he’s probably out beating off the girls. May I seat you?”

Now, he laughed. “Yes, ma’am, pretty lady, you may,” he said in a whisper as he leaned toward her.He heard her suck in her breath a tiny bit. Maybe his nearness made her nervous, because she stumbled slightly as she turned toward the table.

“Would you like tea with lemon?” she asked with mock politeness.

He only nodded slowly at her, while he gazed into her eyes.

Lauren stared back and didn’t move for a moment.

“Be right back,” she said, but paused a beat before she walked away.

As soon as she left, a paunchy middle-aged man approached his table. “Hello, there, son. Name’s Leonard Elkins. You are Matthew Carrington, are you not?” He rocked back on the heels of his highly
polished dress shoes.

Warily, Matt studied the man in the striped dress shirt and blue pants held up by bright red suspenders. Without standing, he replied, “Yes, sir, I am.”

“May I sit for a moment while you wait for your drink?”

“Be my guest.” He didn’t want to be impolite, but he thought the man acted a little too impertinent.

“I’ll get right to the point, seeing as how I have a short lunch time today. Bonner has an Old Settler’s Day every year at the end of August. You know. Carnival, food booths, bands, and speeches. The Chamber of Commerce would like it if you would be part of our celebration and allow us to introduce you as a gen-u-ine hero. The introduction would come between...”

“Hold on, sir. I must decline. I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t do speeches, or...”

“You needn’t speak,” he interrupted, “if you don’t want to. Just let ’em see you. But we’d really like a speech. It would...”

“Here’s your tea.” Lauren stood so that her back turned slightly to Mr. Elkins. She gave Matt a regretful look and walked away.

“No,” Matt said firmly but politely. “I cannot. I will not. Please understand.”

“Well, I’m just not going to take ‘no’ for an answer,” he said, as he snapped his suspenders with his thumbs. “Consider this. As I see it, you’re somewhat obligated to help us out here. We paid your salary,
you know, when you were in the U.S. Army. Look at it that way. Taxpayers pick up the tab, so we’d appreciate it if you would give us a little in re-turn. We’re not asking much, mind you, only about fifteen minutes or so of your time. I’ll give you a couple of days to think it over. You’re staying out at Eleanor Carrington’s place, aren’t you?”

Matt stood and placed a twenty on the table, retrieved his ball cap, placed it on his head, and began to walk out.

“Now, see here, young man,” Leonard called after him. “I was only being neighborly, welcoming you to town. No need to get all riled up.”

Hearing this statement, Matt turned back around and towered over the short, stocky man.

“Sir, good day,” he said in a low voice. “And don’t ask me again. The answer is ‘no.’ It will remain no until hell freezes over.”

In an attempt to keep his emotions under control, he walked as sedately as he could out the door. “Damn, damn, damn,” he muttered as he moved down the sidewalk a few feet. His lunch with Lauren as his waitress was ruined. Not only did he not get to eat, the man prevented him from speaking with her. No way could he stay in there. “Damn!” he said once more for good measure.

After- A Journey of the Twins novel

After- A Journey of the Twins novel
By Janet Durbin



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Have you ever wondered what the world would be like if something created by the government escaped? What if it was a virus, a virus so deadly it killed incredibly fast? So fast that a cure was out of the question. What would you do?

Journey with me to find out how the twins, Shyanne and Drayco, handle the outcome of just such a virus, and how the world around them seems to have fallen back in time to an era before technology, an era where the sword rules.

The twins become separated shortly after the deaths stop. Over time, they begin looking for one another when the longing for family fills them. After they find each other, they learn that someone else is looking for them, as well. The Boss wants Shyanne badly. Why—they don't know—but they're going to find out.

With their animal companion, a genetically altered mountain lion named Drizzle, the twins embark on a cross-country journey. They encounter many obstacles along the way, but the worst is a mercenary named Ruben. He will stop at nothing to accomplish what he is paid to do, even if it involves killing his own men. Unfortunately, he succeeds in getting Shyanne.

Now Drayco must survive his biggest challenge, a challenge filled with pain and suffering, if he is to help his sister survive the Boss.

EXCERPT:

It took the trio six long days to cross the vast open plains. In that time, they saw no other living being except for some birds flying high in the sky. A few glided lazily on the air currents while others accompanied the riders in shifts, as if giving them an escort. None flew close enough to replenish the dwindling food supplies.
The big animals seen at the beginning of the journey had long since gone. It appeared as if the trio and the flying escorts above were the only living things left on the planet.

Very little conversation transpired throughout most of the travel. Drayco tried on several occasions to get his sister to talk. She refused to say more than a few words, which was just as well since he wasn't in the mood to talk either. Joseph chatted on those occasions he was spoken to, but he also remained silent.

Shyanne avoided the fair-haired man for most of the journey, keeping Drayco between them, or riding ahead. On those occasions where they were forced together, like when they camped for the night, she kept mostly to herself. Drayco felt the steadily worsening effects of needing blood increase when the plains finally surrendered its hold on the world to the trees growing visible on the horizon. He had been feeling the weakness and ache for the last two days, but said nothing to the pair riding with him. They could not resolve the issue. Moreover, he had not wanted to weigh them down with any more worries than they already had.

"Finally!" Shyanne yelled when she sighted the trees. Her mood picked up substantially, as did Joseph's. Drayco wanted to share in their excitement. His body hurt too much to let him.

The waterskins hung limp from the saddles with only a few drops remaining. Because of the shortage, the horses had been rationed along with the people on them. Some kind of water must have been close because they picked up speed as the scent of the badly needed moisture reached their nostrils.

Joseph and Shyanne could barely keep their animals from breaking away. They grinned, winked at each other, and finally gave in, letting the animals run.

Drayco smiled as he watched the others bridge the gap between the open field and the trees ahead. With a slight prod, Bravaro leapt to follow. A few feet into the run, however, Drayco was hit with an intense pain in his abdominal region. It forced him to double over and grasp a handful of mane to stay in the saddle. Sweat broke out on his forehead; it ran into his eyes, causing them to sting, adding more insult to an already abused body. He grimaced as another wave more intense than the first hit him. This time, he wasn't able to stay in the saddle.

Bravaro was running at a brisk pace when Drayco's grip finally gave way. He fell sideways off the horse and hit the ground, hard. His right shoulder dislocated with the impact, and the back of his head bounced a couple of times while he rolled like a broken rag doll on the grassy plain. He vaguely noticed the new pains due to the other pain still holding him in a vice grip, refusing to give up its hold. When he finally stopped rolling, he was face down on the ground. His right shoulder was at an awkward angle and he couldn't catch
his breath.

* * * *

Shyanne made it to the edge of the woods and pulled Jack around, halting his mad dash across the open area. A wide smile covered her face; it was the first one in many days. Joseph pulled his horse up beside her, laughing. "You should see yourself. It's hilarious the way your hair is sticking out. It makes you look like a giant sunflower."

Shyanne laughed. "You should see yourself, mister." Pushing her hair down, she glanced back to see how her brother fared. Her face changed in an instant. Where joy and pleasure had glowed over every inch of her, fear and dread replaced it.

"Drayco!"

She was looking over Joseph's shoulder in the direction they had just come. He turned in the saddle and saw Bravaro running their way, riderless. A dark patch lay sprawled on the ground in the distance, half buried by the waving sea of greens and yellows. His smile faded as quickly as hers had. Shyanne spurred Jack toward her brother's still form. Joseph jerked his horse around and kicked it in the sides. At first, the animal fought, its thirst strong, but the will of the man on its back was stronger.

In seconds, they raced back to where Drayco lay.

New Release: Stage Presents

Serendipity Book 5: Stage Presents
By Brieanna Robertson



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Maxim is suffering from horrendous writer's block and has a deadline for a new novel looming ominously on the horizon. When a friend tells him she is planning on writing she and her husband's love story in script form, and then performing it as a play for his anniversary gift, he is intrigued. When she asks him to write the script, he is elated.

Nasarra takes Maxim back to the world of theatre in 1997-1998 as she tells him the detailed story of how she and her husband met and fell in love, and about what it really means to have your dreams come true. Along the way, she teaches him a little something about his own life, dreams, and falling in love all over again.


EXCERPT:

She frowned. He looked slightly familiar… Yes! Holy cow! It was the hottie who had run into her on the street earlier that week! But, that wasn't all. Something else called to Nasarra. Something deeper. Where else had she seen him before? He mesmerized her. She couldn't tear her gaze from him. It was like he was hypnotizing her with his unusual green-gold eyes and his wonderful voice. Suddenly, he stopped singing and Nasarra blinked. Two other people replaced him on the stage and she shook her head. Okay, that had been bizarre. She shook her head again and resumed her search for her purse.

For the rest of the night, Nasarra waited in anticipation for any scene that man was in. She had given up searching for her purse and had finally managed to find it at intermission lodged in the next person's seat. After making the mad race to the bathroom, she looked in her program to see who that magnificent actor was. He stared up at her in beautiful black and white, beside his character's name, Raoul Vicomte deChagny. He wore a mischievous smile and the lighting used in the photo highlighted his finely sculpted facial features. She glanced down at the name. Caleb Makepeace. She frowned. Even his name sounded familiar!

Act II seemed to fly by, and when the last song was sung, Nasarra was extremely disappointed. She had waited to see this musical for so long, and now, all too soon, it was over like some fantastic fantasy. When the performers came out to take their bows, she stood up and was quite certain that she clapped the loudest. Especially for that magnificent performer, Caleb Makepeace.

When the curtain closed and people started to file out of the theatre, Nasarra walked as slow as possible, trying to take in all of the sights and lock them away in her memory. There was no telling when she would be in a theatre like The Curran again.

It was pelting rain when she finally managed to wander her way to the door. It cloaked everything in mist and the steam from the manhole coverings on the street wisped and weaved in a slow, beguiling dance of mystery. She smiled. She had found the rain annoying the other day, but now she found it magical. It seemed to make the night complete.

She stepped outside and turned the collar of her jacket up to protect her neck from the dampness. Pivoting on her heel, she started up the street, but rammed into a person who was walking in the opposite direction with such a force that it knocked the air from her. She staggered back, trying to regain her senses, and looked up at the poor person she had just run over. Her eyes nearly bulged clear out of her skull. She had just mowed over the handsome actor with the beautiful voice! She squeezed her eyes shut in humiliation. This was great. Just great.

"Excuse me," she whispered. She stepped aside to let him by and averted her eyes to the pavement. He did the same, in the same direction, and they were right back to where they had started. She swallowed, feeling really dumb. Things just kept getting better and better. She stepped to her left; he stepped to his right. She stifled a groan. She stepped to her right; he stepped to his left.

A beautifully rich and masculine chuckle escaped the man's throat and he stepped back. "Did you want to dance?" he teased. "Is that what you're going for? You want to dance a minuet?"

Nasarra blushed. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

He flashed her a dazzling smile. "That's all right," he assured. He frowned slightly, looking her over, and some small bit of recognition came to life in his eyes. He pointed to the program she clutched to her chest. "You were at the show tonight?"

Nasarra nodded, attempting to swallow the lump in her throat.

"You were in the front row, weren't you?"

She stole a glance at him and nodded again.

He grinned. "I thought so. I always look out into the audience when I'm on stage, and I happened to glance over at you. I saw your fiery red hair and thought to myself, `that can't be the woman I ran down in the street the other day.'"

She gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, that was a crazy day."

His grin broadened. "My name's Caleb," he said, extending his hand.

Nasarra stared at him. This was incredible. She held her hand out numbly and shook his, amazed by the power of his grip. "Nasarra." Her voice came out like the croak of a dying frog and she cleared her throat. "Nasarra," she stated.

His eyes swept over her again. "Nasarra. That's a very pretty name."

She smiled shyly. "Thank you." She braved a glance up at him and couldn't help but feel heat course through her body at his stunning smile. It was mischievous, playful, and the small dimple it created in his cheek made her heart falter.

"So, I guess we're even," he said.

She frowned.

"I ran you over. You repaid me in like kind." He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Where should we go from here?"

New Release: Single Status

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B.J. and Dana, through a stateside headquarters error, find themselves sharing a villa when they come to start up a St. Croix power plant. The job is single status, which suits them in every way.

B.J. is still smarting from the end of her ten year marriage and Dana carries hurt and guilt for the death of his wife and young son in a plane crash. When B.J. becomes the scapegoat for everything that goes wrong on the job, Dana attempts to defend her, when he is not defending himself from her mistrust. Despite their denial, the attraction between them grows.

Can the torrid Caribbean nights melt their firm resolve and the power of love overcome their fear of
commitment?

EXCERPT:

A deeply tanned man of indeterminate origin rushed in and seeing the group, came to stand in their midst. "Are you guys here with IPPS?" he inquired, and when they nodded, he went on. "Good. I'm Albert Zurow, your operations supervisor." He glanced at each of them in turn, then reached into his shirt pocket for a crumpled piece of paper. "We'll get started and hope the other plane arrives be-fore long." He nodded toward the first person to his left. "And you are?"

"Carl Evans." The man was short, had a protruding paunch and a receding hairline. B.J. guessed him to be over forty.

"Pete Marshall here." This one looked younger and in health club workout condition.

The introductions continued around the circle. "I'm Frank Kelly." Only three words but said in a tone of self-importance that was irksome.

"Yancy Webb." Adjusting his glasses, he straightened his lanky frame.

"Next, please." Albert Zurow looked impatiently at the man to his immediate right.

"Oh, sorry. Dana Thomas." Tall, dark and handsome, and he was probably well aware of it, B.J. observed
silently.

Zurow consulted his list. "Sutherland's plane must be late. I'll just—"

"I'm here." B.J. took a reluctant step toward the group. Six heads turned at the sound of B.J.'s voice. Six pairs of eyes stared in silence. Then Zurow recovered enough to speak.

"You're a woman," he said accusingly.

"Well, so I am." She gave the astonished man a wry smile and waited expectantly.

"There must have been some mix-up at the stateside headquarters. Nobody mentioned this, and the resumes haven't been received yet so—"

"Is there some restriction against female employees here?" B.J. asked with a delicate lift of one eyebrow.

Zurow blanched as though he envisioned an army of feminists already marching in picket lines around the plant site. "No. No, of course not. ChemCorp is an equal opportunity employer. It's just that we have arranged for the men, uh, employees to share housing and transportation in pairs. We've already leased every available villa in the area and now…" He looked at B.J. and shrugged.

"I have no problem with this," she told him calmly.

"I don't have a problem with it either," Carl Evans commented with a worried frown, "but I think my wife would."

"Anyone else here married?" Zurow asked.

"Guilty." Yancy Webb shook his head regretfully.

Zurow cleared his throat and looked back toward the circle of men surrounding him. "Each villa has two bedrooms," he said in a placating tone, "so only the bath would be jointly shared."

"We could draw straws." Frank Kelly smirked as he looked at the other two men.

"Or somebody could volunteer," Pete Marshall said with a meaningful look at Kelly.

"We're assigning pairs to alternate shifts," Zurow continued after an awkward silence, "so there would be plenty of privacy." He looked from one man to the other, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"Come on, fellas," B.J. chided, "this is the twenty-first century. I don't have anything contagious. I won't hang pantyhose in the shower. Actually, I don't even wear pantyhose. And I promise not to make a pass at whoever is brave enough to share quarters with me."

Kelly rolled his eyes, and Marshall nudged him. "Want to flip for it?"

Dana looked from the two men to the woman who stood waiting in her neatly creased tan slacks and white tailored shirt. Her hair was the color of ripe wheat, and she wore it in a short, boyish cut which made it hard to miss the bright splotches of color on her high cheek bones. She was obviously embarrassed by the situation but determinedly holding her ground and keeping it light. At the rate things were going they'd still be here tonight arguing about who had to make the supreme sacrifice of bunking with a good-looking
woman. If he solved the problem, they could move on to the business of settling in.

"I'll do it."

Six pairs of eyes turned toward him, four registering surprise and the other two gratitude. Dana felt himself turn red as he reached down and picked up his briefcase. "So let's get on with it."