About
the Book
Title:
Fatal Love
Series:
SFIS Novella
Author:
Misty Evans
Release
Date:February
1, 2017
Genre:
Romantic Suspense
Book
Summary:
BLURB:
***Girl
or boy? Find out what Cal and Beatrice are having in this Shadow
Force International Worlds novella! And meet Connor and Sabrina - two
SFI members who must overcome their inner demons in order to find
love in the middle of chaos.
Once
upon a time, former Navy SEAL Callan Reese risked everything to
protect his estranged wife from the enemies who wanted her dead. Now
reunited and expecting their first child, Cal’s
past makes Beatrice a target once again.
When
Beatrice is kidnapped by a desperate woman bent on revenge, Cal must
put everything on the line in the most dangerous mission of his life
to keep her and their unborn child alive.
Full
of pulse-pounding intrigue and a whole lot of heart, FATAL LOVE is a
passionate thriller that’s
sure to keep readers riveted from the first page to the last.
My review:Cal and Beatrice are having a baby or rather Beatrice is having a baby and Cal is kind of panicking. You know things will not go smoothly, simply because of who these two are and what they do for a living. I loved this short but action packed read. We get to learn a bit more about Connor and we are introduced to Sabrina a quirky but deadly lab technician.( I personally can not wait for their book. )
The baby is coming and poor Cal is going to have his hands full trying to keep his wife and soon to be born baby safe from what is about to take place. This one is a must read for those who love to follow the lives of these SFI characters. And no I am not telling the sex of the baby. You will just have to read it to find out if Beatrice right or Cal is right.
The baby is coming and poor Cal is going to have his hands full trying to keep his wife and soon to be born baby safe from what is about to take place. This one is a must read for those who love to follow the lives of these SFI characters. And no I am not telling the sex of the baby. You will just have to read it to find out if Beatrice right or Cal is right.
*
* *
About
the Author
USA
TODAY Bestselling
Author Misty Evans has published over twenty novels and writes
romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal romance. As a
writing coach, she helps other authors bring their books –
and their
dreams of being published –
to life.
The
books in her Super Agent series have won a CataNetwork Reviewers’
Choice Award,
CAPA nominations, the New England Reader’s
Choice Bean Pot Award for Best Romantic Suspense in 2010 and the ACRA
Heart of Excellence Reader’s
Choice Award for Best Romantic Suspense in 2011.
Her
Witches Anonymous series was dubbed a Fallen Angel Reviews
Recommended Read. The Super Agent Series, Witches Anonymous Series,
and the Kali Sweet Series have been on multiple Amazon Kindle
bestsellers lists. Her culinary romantic mystery, THE SECRET
INGREDIENT, and the first book in her Deadly series, DEADLY PURSUIT,
are both USA TODAY bestsellers.
Misty
likes her coffee black, her conspiracy stories juicy, and her wicked
characters dressed in couture. When not reading or writing, she
enjoys music, movies, and hanging out with her husband, twin sons,
and two spoiled puppies.
*
* *
Excerpt
from Fatal Love
FATAL
LOVE, A Shadow Force International Worlds Novella
By
Misty Evans
EXCERPT
Connor
McKenzie woke to the phone blaring in his ear.
Probably
because he was sleeping on top of it.
Drooling
on it as well, because when he jerked back, his instincts
automatically directed his hand to the handset, and he found slime
all over the black SFI office phone.
Gross.
Of
course, since he’d been working 24/7 with no time off, he hadn’t
seen his bed since zero dark thirty-seven…no, make that eight,
since the clock on the phone’s readout said it was after midnight.
Rubbing
his eyes as the phone blared again, he pushed up off of his desk and
cleared his throat. Near the desk, Maggie raised her big, black head
and looked at him with her perpetually sad Labrador eyes.
Being
the office manager for Rock Star Security came with a lot of perks.
RSS was the front for Shadow Force International, where former SEALs
roamed the hallways, covertly saving the free world on a daily basis.
Connor was constantly surrounded by men he respected and who
respected him. They understood each other; understood what each other
had been through. Add to that the fact Beatrice let him bunk two
floors up in an office he’d converted to a bedroom, and it was the
best home he’d ever had. The bedroom wasn’t much, but it beat
living out of his car.
Maggie
was another perk. He loved that dog. Meeting his eyes, she wagged her
tail with a solid thump-thump-thump against the floor.
She
was always up for an adventure, and good to have around because of
his PTSD. She didn’t have any training, but Cal had told Connor
she’d saved his mental health many times. The dog had kept Connor
from sinking into a dark hole on more than one occasion as well.
Technically
since he lived upstairs, Connor could go home anytime he wanted, even
though no one was in the office to man the phones but him. He and
Rory had set up a system that transferred all calls to Connor’s
phone in his bedroom when he quit for the day or needed down time.
Beatrice didn’t trust an answering service with the particular
calls that might come in from Rock Stars or SFI operatives.
Connor
opened his tired eyes and caught sight of the blinking button on the
phone as the damn thing continued to ring insistently. Red, not
orange. The private line Emit had for the managers to use when they
needed immediate assistance.
Shit.
Grabbing one of the napkins from the pizza he’d half eaten earlier,
he wiped off the drool from the handset and punched the button under
the red, blinking light. “This is Slash. How may I direct your
call?”
SFI
rules were that they never identified the business when answering on
the off chance it was a wrong number or one of them had been
compromised. Beatrice was strict about that. While the cell phones
every employee used were secure, breaches could happen. All personnel
used code names and had to answer a security question before
discussing any Rock Star or SFI business.
Just
in case, Beatrice always said.
Connor
had the feeling he didn’t want to know what just in case meant. He
also didn’t want to know what might happen if he failed her.
“Con,
we’re in trouble.”
Connor
sat straight up, nearly knocking over his Coke. The voice on the
other end was low and guarded, and the person had already broken
protocol.
But
it was a voice he knew well, and a person he definitely didn’t want
to fail to help. If anything, he hoped to get on the guy’s SFI
squad one of these days. “Sir? Please state your security clearance
code.”
“Fuckin’
A, that’s my security code,” Cal Reese quipped. “We need help.
We need reinforcements.”
“Are
you in imminent danger?”
“Yes.
The queen bee is in the hive and she is in imminent danger.”
“But
sir, there are no…”
The
line when dead.
“…reinforcements,”
Connor finished.
He
stared at the handset. The queen bee was Beatrice. The hive was her
and Cal’s home.
Beatrice
was in imminent danger.
At
home.
From
whom? From what?
Fuck
on a stick. Connor dropped the handset into its cradle, his guts
turning over on themselves.
Emit,
Rory, Jax, and Colton were all still in Chicago, opening the new
Central Division Rock Star headquarters. Obviously, Cal, Beatrice,
and Trace Hunter were back, but the rest of the Rock Stars and SFI
operatives were working, many of them out of the country.
RS
bodyguards couldn’t simply leave their clients. Ditto for the SFI
operatives who were undercover on assignments at all four corners of
the earth.
Connor
started to lift the handset again and call Miles, but no, Miles was
in San Diego, once more running the West Coast SFI office.
Which
meant he was out of options.
Zeb.
Yeah, he’d call the old spymaster…
His
out-of-options list grew. Zeb had gone to Chicago with Beatrice.
Connor hadn’t heard from him. Had he come back with Cal and the
others or stayed in Chicago?
A
burning sensation started in his gut while icy pinpricks attacked the
base of his spine. Both spread like blood from a gunshot wound,
making his body tremble and his breathing come in short, barely-there
intakes.
Beatrice
was in danger. Real danger if Cal was ignoring protocol and calling
him for backup. Callan Reese was a former SEAL who’d saved the
president in front of the entire world.
Beatrice’s
personal bodyguard was Trace Hunter. Another former SEAL with
superhuman powers. The guy belonged in a Marvel comic book for realz.
If
both of them couldn’t handle whatever trouble Beatrice was in,
well, then… How the hell was he supposed to?
His
hand shook as he jammed his fingers through his hair. Get up, he told
himself, but he couldn’t make his legs move. They were frozen
stiff.
Not
now! He couldn’t let his PTSD handcuff him.
Breathe.
Beatrice was always telling him to take a deep breath and focus on
one thing. A trick she’d learned from Hunter.
Grabbing
the handset, he dialed Zeb, hoping against hope the old man was back
in DC. Bracing the handset between his ear and shoulder, he woke up
the computer and started shutdown procedures. He’d never had to do
it before and another moment of indecision and self-doubt caught him
with his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
He
never left the office unless his backup, usually Rory or the new lab
tech, Sabrina, was available to answer phones and handle emergencies.
Zeb’s
phone rang three times. Voicemail answered. Connor left a quick SOS
and asked Zeb to call him back.
What
now? Should he gear up and head to Cal and Beatrice’s?
What
about the baby?
If
anything happened to any one of them…
Breathe…
Maggie
whimpered, drawing his gaze. She sat beside the desk, tail rapping
the floor and stuck her head in his lap.
There
was no time to pet the dog, but his hand had a mind of its own,
naturally going to Maggie’s head and rubbing her sleek, soft fur.
His breathing resumed a semi-normal in-out rhythm after a moment and
his mind re-engaged.
Grasping
at straws, he dialed the lab extension, hoping against hope that
Sabrina might somehow still be in the building. He’d never seen her
leave—one of the reasons he routinely stayed at the desk so late
every night was for that very reason. He enjoyed watching her sexy
legs in those righteous high-heeled boots walk past his desk every
evening. He loved her red hair and the way she teased him about being
a camo-wearing receptionist, even though the term ‘receptionist’
made his ego smart.
From
big, tough, badass SEAL to a useless receptionist. His life had gone
to hell, thanks to 12 September.
Bastards.
Still
petting Maggie with one hand, he closed off the black hole that
sucked at him every time he thought of the terrorist group.
Bzzz-bzzz.
The phone on Sabrina’s end rang again. It was Saturday night. A
beautiful, smart, hip gal like her couldn’t possibly still be
working this late on a Saturday night, could she?
“Conmeister?”
Her voice was rough and sexy, like he’d woken her from a nap. He
heard her yawn. “It’s nearly two a.m. What are you still doing at
the main desk?”
God
Almighty, he hated it when people called him nicknames, but hearing
any version of his name coming from Sabrina’s luscious mouth was
heaven. She got a free pass, regardless of what she wanted to call
him.
“What
are you still doing in the lab?”
She
chuckled. “Touché.
What’s up?”
“SOS
from Cal. He and B got home from Chicago but something’s wrong. I
don’t know what. He must have thought his cell was compromised
because he was speaking in code, but he used my name, which is like,
I don’t know what. I think he was definitely shook up.”
She
was fully awake now. “Oh, shit. What can I do?”
“Man
the phones and watch Maggie for me. I’m gearing up and heading
their way.”
Her
voice was full of indignation. “No way! Not without me. Who did you
call for backup?”
“There
is no one. Everyone is working or out of town.”
“You’re
kidding, right?”
Connor
opened his bottom drawer and pulled out his Beretta PX4 Storm and
checked the clip. Full. “With the addition of the San Diego and
Chicago satellites, we’re short on staff. Literally, there’s just
you and me in DC at this moment. We can’t leave the phones
unmanned, so tag, you’re
it.”
“Why
don’t you call the cops?”
If
Cal had thought the police could handle it, he would have dialed 911
himself. Whatever this was, he didn’t want them involved. “I’ve
got to go.”
He
hung up on her protest, punched the button to transfer incoming calls
to the lab phone, told Maggie to stay, and headed for the weapons
room.
Preparing
for the enemy was challenging when you had no clue who the enemy was.
Pretend
it’s a sleeper cell of 12 September. If you were taking them on,
what would you bring?
A
rocket launcher.
The
biggest one he could carry, in fact.
SFI’s
weapons room had plenty of firepower, but they did not, in fact, have
any rocket launchers.
A
shame, that. He mentally added it to his inventory list for next
month.
Connor
snatched a black duffel from a shelf and started throwing in
grenades, a couple of H&K submachine guns, ammo, and a sweet
sniper rifle he’d been dying to use.
He
was strapping on a vest when Sabrina came skidding into the room in
her socks. Her boots were in-hand, her hair flat on one side, totally
sexy and tousled on the opposite.
Probably
what she looked like when she first got up in the morning.
And
damn, if her big brown eyes and that crazy hair didn’t make him
hard.
“You’re
not leaving without me, Conmeister.” She slipped on one boot—with
a 3-inch black heel—jumping and hobbling on her other foot, and
breathing heavy from her run to catch him. She was dressed from head
to toe in red like always.
A
deep burgundy red that totally clashed with her copper colored hair.
Connor
tore his gaze away from her full lips and even fuller cleavage on
display from the deep V of her silky shirt. She continued hopping on
her foot as she pulled on the second high heel, the action jiggling
her double-Ds and making his hard-on downright painful. “I’m
totally leaving without you, Red.”
“Bullshit!”
She snatched a bulletproof vest from the wall and shoved her arms
through the holes. “You have no idea what you’re walking into.
This is Beatrice we’re talking about!”
He
slammed the cage shut on the submachine gun selection and locked it.
“I’ll
handle it, whatever it is.”
“Look,”
she said, grabbing his arm. “I know I was just a chopper pilot and
I never saw action like you did when I was in the Navy, but I know
how to handle a gun. At least let me fly you to their house and set
up a stakeout. I can have you there in fifteen. It will take you at
least thirty by car.”
Fly?
“Unless you have a magic carpet hiding under your lab coat, how are
you going to fly me anywhere?”
Sabrina
grinned, shrugging out of the lab coat and putting on the vest. “You
know the helo pad on the U-Comm building at the end of the block?
There’s an EC 145 that can cruise at 150 miles per hour easy. I
happen to know the owner and we can use it, no questions asked.”
This
woman in red was a mystery, but then, so were many of the people that
worked for SFI. “You’re friends with the owner of one of the most
expensive luxury helicopters available in the marketplace today?”
She
grinned again. “More than friends, actually.”
Connor’s
hard-on softened. “I don’t think your boyfriend will appreciate
you taking his helo on a rescue mission.”
And
if your boyfriend is a millionaire, why are you here working tonight?
“He’s
not my boyfriend,” Sabrina said, grabbing a .38 mil from the
handguns. “He’s
my dad.”
*
* *
Giveaway
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Blog
Tour Schedule
2/1/2017
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2/2/2017
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2/3/2017
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2/4/2017
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2/4/2017
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2/5/2017
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2/5/2017
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The
Book Nympho
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2/6/2017
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2/7/2017
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2/8/2017
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2/9/2017
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2/10/2017
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