Happy Thursday everyone!
For today's Contemporary Thursday I'm sharing another oldie but goodie. Yeah, I know I do this a lot but some real gems are lost with all the hundreds of monthly releases that there are times readers miss a good one. So in my attempt to keep the past releases alive I've pulled up a favorite author of mine that really never lets me down. Lora Leigh pushes the boundaries in romance-be it her paranormal or military romance series. She brings new light to small towns and the lethal ties they sometimes bring in fictional worlds and she never fails to deliver high suspense and action with her intricate military plots.
Today I've picked out from one of her contemporary military romantic suspense books titled Maverick. It released in March of 2009 but I didn't discover it's release until late 2010. From there I devoured all of Lora Leigh's books and anxiously await each new one to hit the market.
Here's to anyone that missed this release as I did, to anyone new to the genre or just coming of age to read this material. And to anyone that likes revisiting previously read books. Re-reading is never a burden when you enjoyed the first go-'round. ;)
Lora Leigh
Back of the Book:
Micah Sloane knows almost everything there is to know about Risa Clay, including the vicious betrayal she endured years ago and the distrust she's harbored ever since. The only way for the Elite Ops agent to uncover an assassin - and banish the ghosts of his own dark past - is to use Risa as bait. But nothing has prepared him for her disarming blend of innocence and sensuality, or for his overwhelming need to protect her...Risa has spent six years rebuilding her life. And now, to save it, she must pose as Micah's lover and draw a killer into the open. It's a risky plan - especially with a man as powerfully seductive as Micah. But, as their charade becomes reality, Risa realizes the greatest danger may lie in losing her heart forever.
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EXTENDED EXCERPT:
“THAT’S MICAH.”
Risa heard Morganna’s statement at her ear, but she couldn’t turn away from the black eyes that held her. Eyes as deep, as dark as the night, yet there was something that sparked with warmth, that kept those eyes from being cold.
His expression was still. There was a hint of hardness, a suggestion of danger carefully leashed. But she couldn’t expect anything less from a friend of four former Navy SEALs.
Still, the very stillness of expression was comforting. As though he knew himself, his strengths and weaknesses, and had learned to live with his own demons. He wouldn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, or on his face. He was reserved. She understood reserved.
His entire body reflected his expression. He didn’t move as though he were in a hurry. There was no anticipation, no sense of urgency. His body was coordinated, lean, tough. Fit.
Black slacks conformed to his muscular legs and hips. The white shirt beneath the black jacket was a hint of color in an otherwise dark ocean of still emotions and graceful male confidence. His hair was cut close to the scalp, but still the thick black strands would be long enough for a woman to thread her fingers through.
And what made her think of that? she wondered. Why did her fingers suddenly clench on her purse as she wondered what his hair would feel like beneath them.
It was his eyes that held her, though, that called to her. They stroked over her face, always came back to her eyes, and some softening within them, a hint of male interest, of determination, had her heart racing through her body with a force that left her trembling.
She had expected him to be strong, powerful. He was, yet it was a subtle strength and power. His body wasn’t bulky with muscle and straining against his clothes. He was lean, corded. Male power shimmered around him, but it wasn’t heavy and wide such as Kell’s was. Kell Krieger was tall, his shoulders like a football player’s, padded with muscle. Even Reno and Clint were like towers of muscle and strength. Micah Sloane was just as tall as they were, but the bulk was absent. Some might suspect the strength was absent. She had a feeling whoever made that mistake would come to regret it.
“It’s about time you arrived,” Clint drawled from the other side of Morganna as Micah Sloane moved to the vacant chair across from her.
He shook Clint’s hand as the other man rose, repeated the move with Reno, Kell, and Ian. His eyes didn’t leave Risa’s.
“Micah, would you like to meet our friend Risa?” There was a hint of amusement in Morganna’s voice now.
“I believe I just have.” His words didn’t rise above the music. It was as though the music paused for him alone, certain it would regret foiling his wishes if it didn’t.
“Mr. Sloane.” Risa nodded, barely able to swallow past the nervousness that rose in her throat.
His hand moved across the table. She had no choice but to loosen her fingers from her purse and allow him to take them. She expected a handshake, firm and determined. She didn’t expect his hand to encase hers, his fingers to stroke against her wrist for one brief second, as though to ease the pulse pounding out of control there.
Then the warmth of his hand was gone, leaving her to regret the brevity of the contact as he loosened the button on his jacket and took his seat.
He leaned back in the chair and answered some question Kell had asked. His gaze came back to her, though it was never gone for long.
He didn’t demand that she stare into his eyes. The caress of his gaze was subtle, slow. It wasn’t enough to draw others’ interest, it was shielded by thick black lashes, but nothing could dim the effect it had on her.
“Risa Clay, meet Micah Sloane, a SEAL assigned to Durango team,” Clint introduced them.
Micah never once looked below her chin, but she swore she could feel the warmth of that look flowing over her body. His attention wasn’t crude; it wasn’t obtrusive. It was simply there. A stroke along her brow, along her chin. It touched her hair, her ear when she tucked the strands nervously behind it.
“Risa, Micah likes to play with cameras as well.” Kell leaned forward to speak to her, his green eyes bright in his somber expression. “The man carries a camera with him everywhere he goes.”
Risa’s heart was pounding; she felt flushed, frightened. She needed to get away from the careful stroke of his eyes on her.
She couldn’t answer Kell. She couldn’t form a reasonable reply. Pushing to her feet, she tried to form an excuse to escape to the ladies’ room, but Micah’s eyes were on her, probing, questioning. She couldn’t form a single reasonable sentence. She turned and rushed from the table, weaving her way through the crowd and escaping to the dimly lit corridor and the tastefully appointed ladies’ room beyond.
She pushed through the door, let it swing closed behind her, and felt like crying out in relief that the room was empty. The velvet and tasteful walnut chairs sat in several groupings outside the main stall area. A long counter of sinks could be glimpsed on the other side of the wall, the bright lights picking up the forest green and amber gold color in the walls and floors.
It was cool, soothing, and she felt like a complete fool. Her heart was racing, perspiration dotted her forehead, and fear was like a maniacal pulse of searing heat burning inside her veins.
Pressing her hand to her stomach, she breathed in deeply and straightened from the wall. She was going to get a handle on this, she promised herself. She wouldn’t run again.
Turning on the cold water in one of the faucets, she held her wrists under the stream of soothing water and berated herself for her reaction. What the hell was wrong with her? She was going to do this. Micah Sloane was a damned good-looking man. He was safe. He wouldn’t hurt her. And he was interested.
She might be a plain Jane, but he was a man, and she wasn’t stupid. There had been interest in his eyes. Sexual interest.
One night, she wailed silently. Just one night. God, please give me the strength to make a memory instead of a nightmare.
~*~
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Now it's your turn! Who is your favorite military hero?
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