Well it's done...at least the cover art is. And I've managed to settle on a title. So, ladies and gents, take a look at the cover for my upcoming novel: A HERO'S SPARK
This is the final book in my Wicked Women series. The other two, Lies in Chance and Fresh Ice don't tie to each other, but both books are tied together in A Hero's Spark. So my advice, before this is released in early May, would be to read the other two books. You don't have to, to understand this one, but really, why wouldn't you want to?
Meanwhile, here's a tidbit from Spark to whet your appetite:
COLLIER
What woke him, Collier didn’t know,
but even still in the haze of deep sleep, he knew he wasn’t alone in the loft. Someone
latched the door quietly and stepped closer to the bed before turning on the
overhead light.
“Who’s there?” he called out as the
light flashed on, momentarily blinding him. A woman’s scream pierced through
the shock of light and he squinted in her general direction. He recognized the
black hair immediately. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” She
held her bulky shoulder bag in front of her like a shield. “Who are you?”
Collier shifted to sit up. She froze. “Don’t
move. I’ve got mace in here.”
“Calm down. I’m not going to move,
since I’m pretty much naked here.” Collier grinned at her. “But you don’t have
mace in there.”
The angry light in her eyes quavered,
giving way to uncertainty. “How would you know what I have in my bag?”
“Well,” he kept his voice calm,
sensing she was more afraid than dangerous, “because if you had mace in there,
you would have started spraying it the minute you realized there was a man in
the room. That’s what I hear from most women, anyway.”
She blinked away the uncertainty, her
face settled into a mask of defensiveness. “Oh, and you know most women, do
you?”
“No, Miss, I don’t. But I’m pretty
sure most women wouldn’t ask any questions before mentioning they have mace. So
relax, put the bag down and tell me what you’re doing here.”
“Shara lets me stay here sometimes,
when I need to.”
“Sound mysterious. And also like a
complete lie.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve lived here almost my
whole life, and you’re a stranger. That’s
enough mysterious for me to call the cops. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”
“My uncle said I could stay here and
Molly Hunter brought me here.”
She seemed less likely to want to kill
him, but her countenance remained stony. “Who’s your uncle?”
“Archibald James.”
“The lawyer?”
“The same.”
She relaxed. “Okay, maybe you’re not a
mass rapist.” She sat in the rocker. “But still, you can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
“Because, I’m staying here.”
Collier chuckled. “I was here first. And,
I’m not wearing pants.”
“I’ll close my eyes. Get dressed, and
get out.” Her tone was clipped, cold.
Collier again sensed she was covering fear.
“Why should I get out? I got here
first. I was sound asleep, and you woke me up.” He gave her a small smile,
hoping to soften the deep furrows in her brow.
She shrugged. “Not my problem. You
can’t stay here.”
“It is your problem. I’m not leaving.”
He grinned. “We could both stay here. It’s a big enough bed.” He patted the
spot next to him.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her
ear. “Of course that’s what you want.” Her eyes flashed hot and angry.
“It’s not what I want, Ma’am. I want
to go to sleep. But if you have other ideas, well, I am from the South. We believe in accommodating women whenever we
can.”
She stared at him, and Collier doubted
his humor was warming her attitude toward him. Clearly, some sort of battle
waged behind her emerald eyes.
Her face slacked into exhaustion. “Look. I need to stay here. Alone.”
Collier’s curiosity made him push the
point further. “Well, I’m from out of town and have no place else to go. From
what I hear, Miranda Peirce, you live in Rock Harbor which means you do have
someplace else to go.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Isn’t it your name?”
“Call me Mira.” A shadow crossed her
face. “I’m not going to that house tonight. You can’t make me.” her voice held
the echoes of a willful child. “And how do you know my name…oh, wait…”
“Molly Hunter.”
Mira nodded. “She knows everyone and
everything thing in this town. Steer clear of her if you want to keep anything
private.”
“She didn’t strike me as a person who
spread gossip.”
“She doesn’t. She just knows everything. The potential is always there.”
An
interesting read on the lovely Miss Molly.
“So the two of you aren’t grand friends then?”
She leaned back in the rocker. “I try
not to make attachments. It’s easier to leave if there aren’t any attachments.”
“Sounds like someone who wants to run
away.”
“I’ve always wanted to run away. I
feel like I’m running away from something every day of my life.”
Collier wanted to be annoyed by her
cryptic statement, but he sensed it was probably the one completely truthful
thing she’d said. Collier studied her, trying to assess her age. “You’re what,
thirty? You’re old enough to go out on your own. What’s stopping you?”
“I’m twenty-eight, thank you.”
“Oh that’s a huge difference.” Collier
nearly laughed out loud at the wounded expression on Mira’s face.
“I can’t leave because it’s
complicated. But I can’t go home tonight.”
The glimmer of true fear returned in
her eyes. Collier relented. “Fine. Just go…go in the bathroom for a minute, let
me get my crap together and I’ll go sleep on the hay downstairs.”
“You sure you’re okay?” She suddenly
sounded younger, almost childlike.
“Oh now that you’ve won the bed, you
want to know what my opinion is?”
The softness melted from her face and
her jaw line hardened. “Not really. I couldn’t care less where you sleep
tonight, so long as it’s not in here.”
“Suits me fine. I’d rather sleep with
horses than up here with you. Less shit to deal with.”
“Oh very nice. They teach you that language
in the south where men are supposed to be so mannerly?” She glared at him as
she stomped into the small bathroom and slammed the door.
“No!” Collier yelled as he pulled on
his jeans. “I learned manners just fine, because where I come from the women
aren’t complete bitches!” He stuffed a few things into his duffle bag and
slammed the door behind him, startling the horses in the stalls below.
There was a blanket hanging from a
hook near a stack of hay bales. Collier spread the blanket over the bales and
stretched out on the hay, thankful his years on the road in the Renaissance Faire
circuit had toughened him. Staring at the ceiling, he watched the light that
glowed from between small cracks in the loft floor. When the light switched
off, he closed his eyes. Still, she is
pretty.
Pretty bitchy.
MIRA
Mira waited for Collier to settle
downstairs. Within a few minutes,
everything was still and quiet. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off
her boots, letting them drop to the wooden floor with a loud thud. Collier’s muttered curse made her smile. She wasn’t sure why annoying him gave her
pleasure.
She stretched out on the bed, still
warm with his body heat. She pushed her
face into the pillow and inhaled his scent.
It wasn’t unpleasant.
Closing her eyes, Mira saw him again,
sitting in the bed, shirtless, the sheet and blanket pooled at his waist.
Also
not unpleasant.
She shook her head. Now is
not the time to be thinking about a guy. No matter how good he might smell.
She picked up her boot and tossed
it in the air, giving it more velocity so that when it hit the wooden floor it
sounded like a thunder clap. The sound
of the horses below whinnying and rustling in their stalls didn’t cover
Collier’s curses, this time spoken at volume she knew was meant to reach her
ears.
Mira smiled, closed her eyes, and went
to sleep.
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