Jennifer Lowery HARD CORE Blog Party and Give Away!

 A supposedly hassle-free job for mercenary Cristian Slade becomes a mission of mercy when he saves a life instead of taking one. Slade’s new mission might be his most dangerous yet, because the danger is to his heart. Tragedy has sent esteemed surgeon Alana O’Grady to a remote a remote Nicaraguan island where she immerses herself in the lives of a native American tribe, using her talents for goodwill instead of wealth and prestige. But life turns upside down when her work requires she protect a rugged mercenary who commands her attention when she’s awake and dominates her dreams while she sleeps. Doctoring Christian puts her entire tribe in danger from the man who’s hunting him. Is it her professional oath or her unprofessional attraction to him keeping her from sending him away to heal on his own? Alana’s fire warms Christian’s heart, but he’s a hardened assassin and has no business falling for someone like her. Can they fight hard enough to keep what they might have together? 

Excerpt:

 Prepared to start an IV, she picked up a needle. She had it in position when his other arm shot out and he clamped her wrist in a bone-crushing grip. Startled, she met his panicked gaze. 

“I said no needles.” 

Her heart banged against her ribcage as she let the needle slip out of her hand. It hit the floor with a small ting. Alana opened her hands in surrender, her patient’s fingers digging into her flesh. For a man half-dead, he had amazing strength. 

“Okay,” she said to placate him. “Relax, I don’t have it anymore. It’s your choice, but I recommend you let me start an IV for meds.” 

“No. Just fix me.” 

Alana pinned him with a no nonsense stare. “I’m not impressed with Superman heroics.” 

Face pale and drawn, he said gruffly, “I’m not Superman. Learned not to trust people with needles.” 

Her fingers were going numb. “If I remove the bullet without pain medication or anesthetic, you’re going to be sorry.” 

He studied her. “You’re really a doctor?” 

Alana bristled. “Technically, yes.” 

“Technically?” 

She didn’t have time to explain herself with the amount of blood seeping from his gunshot wound. “I went to med school. You can let go of my arm now. I won’t use any needles.” 

He looked down and immediately released his grip. She rubbed her wrist to soothe away the ache. “Can I get to work now, or do you want to question me more about my credentials while you bleed to death? I don’t have a blood bank, so you’re screwed if you lose too much.” 

Her blunt statement received a curt nod. She normally didn’t talk to her patients like that. Her patients didn’t normally countermand her either. 

“Do it,” he said. 

“Without anesthetics?” 

“I don’t need them. Just get it over with.” 

Stubborn, stupid, or both? Insane, yes, but there wasn’t time to argue with him. 

“Okay. The offer stands if you change your mind.” 

“I won’t.” 

She doubted that, but didn’t comment. Instead, wiped her forehead with her forearm, and picked up gauze pads to clean the wound. 

“Here goes,” she warned and dabbed his skin. 

Her patient didn’t move or even wince as she cleaned the angry wound. Either he had a will of steel or he’d passed out again. Hopefully, the latter. Sweat rolled down her back as she finished cleansing the area around the bullet entry. Red flesh puckered with the first signs of infection. In this environment infection was guaranteed. 

With a steady hand that would have made her father proud, she picked up her instruments and took a deep breath. 

“You still with me?” 

He murmured a response, turning his head slightly so he could see her. The stark beauty of his profile, despite the bruises, struck her again. The lines of his face were chiseled, unforgiving. The kind of man she’d glance at twice if she passed him on the street. 

A man associated with a criminal. 

“Still here, Doc. What are you waiting for?” Husky with pain, his deep voice brought her out of her thoughts. 

She gave herself a mental shake. “Want something to bite down on?” 

A small, wry smile touched his lips and his lids closed. “You won’t hear a peep out of me. Just fix me, Doc.” 

“I can hit you so you’ll sleep through it,” she muttered. 

That drew a low chuckle from him. She didn’t expect him to have a sense of humor. He seemed too…hard. His chuckle turned into a grunt of pain. “You probably hit like a girl.” 

Alana grinned. “Yes, I do. Rest assured it won’t feel like it.” 

“Appreciate the offer, but, no.” His words slurred together, his muscles tense as he fought his body’s demands. 

“You got a name, Superman?” 

His head rolled to the side, his chest rose and fell slowly. She thought he was out but he murmured, “Cristian.” 

“Nice to meet you, Cristian.” 

Then she dug into the wound for the bullet.

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About Jennifer Lowery

Jennifer lives in Michigan with her husband and two children. She has dreamed of being a writer since she was a child and loves everything there is about romance. Her stories feature alpha heroes who meet their match with her strong, independent heroines.

Her favorite part of writing is the journey her characters take her on to reach their happily ever after and

she’s happy to share that journey with her readers.

• On Goodreads:

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15738723-hard-core

• Author website:

http://jenniferloweryauthor.wordpress.com/

• On Twitter:

https://twitter.com/JLoweryauth

• Digital book available for

review: pam@lyricalpress.com

• Available in print October

8, 2012.

• Available through

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Krystal Shannan Interviews Dillon Caldwell - Hero of KT Bryan's EDGE OF TRUST

Interview with Dillon Caldwell from 

KT Bryan's THE EDGE OF TRUST

As I sit down Katie Couric-style on a couch across from Dillon in my living room, I notice that he’s very nicely dressed in form-fitting jeans, a white Oxford shirt all tucked in, and some kind of cool looking California sandals.  Since I’m in Texas, I was kind of hoping he’d be wearing cowboy boots, but a girl’s gotta take what she gets, and if  I wasn’t married, I’d take this man every day of the week.  I almost sigh out loud but since I am married, (and so is he) I try not to blush. 

I’d heard somewhere that the Navy SEAL rules went something like this: 

                 1. Look very cool in sunglasses.

                 2. Kill every living thing within view.

                 3. Adjust speed to Mach 10.

                 4. Check hair in mirror.

The first rule is absolutely true.  This guy is smoking hot in aviator sunglasses.  As for the second rule, I hope not, especially since I really love my family and my dog.  Number three would probably be fun, but I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t lose my breakfast.  As for four, well, I can’t imagine this humble sounding man being in any way egotistical.  I almost ask him if he is, but I don’t want to start out sounding rude.  Totally not the Texas hospitality I’m going for.  Still, maybe I’ll save that one for later. 

So, time to get the ball rolling.  “Dillon, thank you for coming to talk with us today. Can you share a little about your background in the military?”

“Hi, Krystal, and sure, I’d be happy to.  Up to a point, of course.” 

As he removes his sunglasses, he winks at me and I try not to get flustered.  After all what woman can resist a wink from a hot guy?  I clear my throat and say, “Of course.”

“First,” he adds, “I’d like to say thank you for inviting me into your home.  It’s almost as lovely as you are.” 

Oh boy, I think.  I’m going to have to watch this one.  What a charmer, and it’s not even noon yet.  “Thank you,” I say and try even harder not to blush.

“So, to answer your question,” Dillon picks up his iced tea and studies it for just a moment before turning those ice blue eyes in my direction.  “For an average guy, I was lucky enough to graduate from the United States Naval Academy with high honors.  I also served in the Office of Naval Intelligence.  From there it just made sense to me to become a Navy SEAL.”

“That’s a pretty elite background, wouldn’t you say?”

For a flash of a second he looks sad, but he gathers himself quickly.  “I come from a humble background, regular parents, regular family.  I guess, most of all, I wanted to make them all proud of me.”

“And I guess they were.”  I know his background, know what happened to his family, and it makes me hate Sanchez for the pain I saw, even for a second, in this poor man’s eyes.

He nods, and I decide it’s time to move past the sadness.  “How long have you been an EDGE operative?”

He gives me a wide grin.  I smile back.  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”  Suddenly the grin disappears.  “ No really.  Not kidding here.” 

His words make me wonder exactly what kinds of things he’s done.  My smile dims, but doesn’t fade completely.  After all, who doesn’t like to solve a mystery?  And this man is shrouded in some kind of mystique so thick I wonder if his wife even knows.  Part of me doesn’t think so. 

I push on.  “Do you find your work fulfilling?”

Dillon takes a sip of tea, then sets his glass gently on a coaster.  “Before or after Sanchez wiped out my entire family?”  He raises a hand in apology and shakes his head.  “Sorry.  That was off the cuff and sounded totally smart assed.  My apologies.  Let’s just say that for now I’m dealing.  I’m sure there’s some sort of regulation that requires that all Navy SEALs must be Superman.   Only we’re not.  We really are just regular guys with some kick ass training.”  He shrugs.  “Some days are better than others.  Teaching helps.  Plus it keeps me home with Sara and the baby who, as you know, are my world.”

What I see in his eyes, I’ve seen in my husband’s.  All consuming love.  It’s almost too personal, too intrusive, to take in and I try not to divert my gaze.  I tuck my feet up under me and ask, “If you couldn’t be an EDGE operative any longer, what would you do with your life?”

“That’s easy, I’d take Sara and Ellie and sail around the world.”

“Not worried about real life pirates?”

A hint of mischief shines in his eyes.  “Nah.  Another Navy motto is ‘go to sea, drink lots of coffee, and when danger strikes, deploy the Marines.”

OK, so I decide not to ask the egotistical question after all.  Not to a nice guy with a decent sense of humor.  “And if no Marines are handy?”

He shrugs.  “I’d do what SEALs do best and blow the pirates back to where they came from.”

Easy for him to say.  And, I realize with a thump of my heart, it probably is.  “After you make them walk the plank, of course.”

“Of course.”  His grin’s contagious and I smile.

“Tell us about Sara. When did you meet her? Where? How? What do you love about her the most?”

“I think I’d need a lifetime to explain Sara.  The first time I saw her I thought she was a complete pain in the ass.”

I feel my eyebrows go up and ask, “How so?”

“I’d just gotten home from a covert op in the Middle East.  Details of the mission got leaked and the press was in a frenzy.  At the time, Sara had been working on her master’s degree, an up-and-coming very determined reporter.  That’s when the thumping started.”

“Thumping?”

“With her microphone.  We were giving a press conference at the Hyatt in San Diego, I hadn’t gotten up to my room to shower and shave yet, my hair was long and dirty, and I must’ve looked like a refugee from some third world country.  She said something, but I couldn’t hear past the pounding in my ears.  Just as I was thinking how beautiful she was she thumped me on the chest for the second time, and told me to move aside, that I was blocking her way, and she need to get to Commander Caldwell.”

“So she had no idea who you were.”

“Nope.  None.”  Those icy blue eyes of his turned warm with the memory.  “So I folded my arms across my chest, stood my ground and said, ‘I’m Commander Caldwell.’  Damned if she didn’t thump me again.  She got all annoyed, kept trying to look over my shoulder at all the uniforms in the front of the conference room and said, ‘Right, and I’m Barbara Walters.  Now please move.’  Regally cool and snotty as hell I thought.”  He shook his head.  “Good thing she has great legs.”

I couldn’t stifle a giggle and leaned forward as he continued.

“So I said, ‘Nice to meet you, Ms. Walters,’ and raced up to my room.  Took the fastest shower in history, shaved and put on my dress whites. Fifteen minutes later I was back in the conference room, name tag shining.  I’d gotten mobbed and she was lost in the crowd.  When I finally found her again, I asked her out to dinner and gave her an exclusive.”

It’s obvious, even to me, the guy had been toast.

“You asked what I love about her the most, but I think a more apt question would be what don’t I love about her.  And the answer would be not a single thing.  She can eat enough candy bars in one sitting that would kill a grizzly, she’s got an amazing brain, a smart mouth, and a vulnerable look in her eyes that when I’m not careful, breaks my heart.”  He crossed his legs at the ankle.  “And she can drill a cluster in a target no wider than a silver dollar.”

“Her weapon of choice?”

“Smith and Wesson .357.”

“That’s got some kick.”

“She’s got some kick.”  His smile goes crooked.  “Although too often it’s her foot, my ass.”

“I, uh, can only imagine,” I say trying not to laugh.  “This next question might be a little hard, but what was the first thing that went through your mind when you thought she had been killed?”

I watch as Dillon’s mouth becomes a hard line. 

“It’s not so much what I thought, it’s more what I knew.  Sanchez was going to die, and I was going to make that happen.”

“What was the first thought when you knew she was still alive?” 

“Before or after my knees nearly buckled?”  He rubs at the spot on his thigh where he’d been shot.  “Actually, I couldn’t comprehend it.  But then I, well then I looked into her eyes and I knew.  And since a Navy SEALs knees can’t literally buckle, you know since we’re all tough and macho, I felt my heart grow into this big giant mushy mess.  And if you repeat that, I’ll deny it with my last dying breath.”

I make a zip-the-lip-motion.  “How do you think your experiences in THE EDGE OF TRUST brought you closer to Sara?”

His eyes soften.  “The thing is, we were never really apart to begin with.”

I swear to myself that I won’t tear up, so I ask, “What was the hardest part of the story for you, Dillon?

“I’m guessing that would be when Sanchez had a weapon trained on Sara’s forehead.”

“Was there a point where you considered giving up?”

“SEALs don’t give up, not even ex-SEALs.  Besides, the admiral would’ve kicked my ass, right after Sara did.  It’s a no brainer.  I wanted my wife, my child, and my life back.  I won.”

“If  I told you Sara was listening to this interview, is there anything you would like to add for her benefit?” 

“I’m the luckiest man alive.”

I think Sara is pretty lucky too. 

Be sure to go buy THE EDGE OF TRUST! You won't be disappointed. 

 

KT Bryan@

www.KTBryan.net

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