This post is part of a virtual
book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a
$25 Amazon/BN GC to one randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter. Click on the
tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
Someone is methodically killing past
members of The Consortium, a defunct group of ruthless businessmen who made
their fortunes buying and selling prime Las Vegas real estate during the era
that saw the beginnings of the mega casino and luxury hotels. Homicide
Detective, Kennedy O’Brien, and her temporary partner, Reno Homicide Detective
Hunt, race to stop a deranged predator who claims a new victim every
forty-eight hours. The killer drugs his victims, slashes their wrists, and
leaves a playing card with the body. As the clock continues to tick, the search
for clues seems easy—too easy Kennedy suspects.
While chasing the killer, Kennedy must
also try to control hotheaded Detective Hunt, who is hell-bent on finding out
who killed the first victim—his best friend’s father. At the same time, she has
to deal with a jealous Nick Campenelli, whom she may or may not be in a
relationship with. Nick is unhappy with Kennedy spending so much time in close
contact with the very smitten, Detective Hunt. Tossed into the mix are her
retired cop grandfather, her self-appointed personal domestic slave, Elvis, and
a boss who is demanding answers.
Is it any wonder that Kennedy doesn’t do
relationships?
Nick’s touch was tender. “I’m sorry
I hurt you. I had no idea. Let me get a clean dressing.”
The anger in his eyes turned to
concern. Something inside her warmed.
Nick disappeared into the bathroom.
The man was beginning to spend more time in there than she did. Cabinet doors
creaked and slammed. He returned with enough first-aid crap to fix an Army
platoon after a major battle. Carefully, he began cutting away the bloodied
bandage.
Kennedy winced.” Son of a fucking
bitch! “She sucked in a lungful of air.
“Sorry. I’m trying to be gentle.”
The bandage was off and Nick inspected her arm closely. “Puckered wounds, one
front and one back. They’re swollen, purple, and oozing blood. That can’t be
good.”
“You think?”
“Christ. What did the guy shoot you
with? A cannon?”
“A little pea shooter.”
“Looks like about…” He counted out
loud. “Nineteen stitches total, front and back. You taking anything for the
pain? This has got to hurt.”
No shit.
“There’s no pain. Unless some big oaf man-handles me.”
“I said I was sorry,” Nick
whispered.
He wiped away the fresh blood. With
a feather-like touch, he cleaned the stitches with peroxide and applied a clean
dressing. His face filled with remorse. Every time she flinched, he flinched
more. When she moaned, Nick moaned louder. When tears pooled in her eyes, his
jaws locked as if he were fighting back his own.
This
was hurting him more than her. “It’s not bad. Really. There’s enough numbing
shit in my arm to last a month.”
As a child, Teri made up her own bedtime stories.
When her children came along, Teri always tweaked the fairy tales she told her
daughters, giving them a bit more punch and better endings when needed.
Now she spends her days turning her ideas into books. She lives in Marietta, GA with her husband.
Now she spends her days turning her ideas into books. She lives in Marietta, GA with her husband.
Twitter:
@TeriLRiggs
Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/terilriggs
Thanks for hosting!
ReplyDeleteThank you!
ReplyDelete