About
the Book
Title: Deadly Attraction
Series: SCVC Taskforce #6
Author: Misty Evans
Release Date:
November 5, 2016
Genre: Romantic Suspense
iBooks: http://apple.co/2dp9dNf
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2f9Vmgu
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2ejJvx9
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/
Book Summary:
***Part of the proceeds from the sales of this book will be donated to
Rescue Dogs Rock NYC. Fans who know me know I’m a huge dog lover and I love to
support shelters. Please check out RDRNYC’s Facebook page and consider adopting
a dog or sending in your own donation! https://www.facebook.com/RescueDogsRockNyc
A wildfire out of control…
His twin brother is dead and the only way National Intelligence
officer, Mitch Holden, is going to make it through the holidays is by staying
focused on his latest SCVC Taskforce investigation—catching a homegrown
terrorist with a penchant for arson. The terrorist has started a wildfire
eating up thousands of acres of forest and putting dozens of people in danger.
When Mitch is pulled off that assignment to play bodyguard to a sexy forensic
psychologist who sees past all his defenses, he ends up in the middle of a
personal wildfire that’s as out of control as the one burning around the two of
them.
A killer on the loose…
The trial that should have made her career cost Dr. Emma Collins
everything—her home, her future, the baby that was growing inside her after she
testified against famous actor Chris Goodsman, debunking his insanity defense
and sending him to prison for murder. Rebuilding her life in the aftermath,
Emma now rescues horses, dogs, and juvenile delinquents, and there’s no way
she’s heading to a safe house because Chris Goodsman has escaped. She refuses
to let anyone terrorize her or destroy her life again. But when a
smart-talking, irresistible federal agent shows up insisting he has to protect
her, she realizes her new bodyguard needs a bit of therapy. Good thing taking
in lost causes happens to be her specialty.
Two people filled with grief may get burned…
Trapped at the ranch by the wildfire, Mitch and Emma explore a searing
attraction, but soon discover they’re not alone. A killer has joined them—one
who will do anything to get revenge and isn’t afraid to take out anyone who
gets in his way.
* * *
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 DEADLY ATTRACTION
The woman
who answered the door wasn’t at all what Mitch expected.
Her brown
hair was forced into a clip on top of her head, a couple pieces of hay sticking
out of it and random strands stuck to her neck. Her face was devoid of makeup
and sporting a healthy smear of dirt on her cheek. She clutched the edges of a
worn plaid robe close to her neck, her short fingernails showing traces of
caked mud. Beneath the hem of the robe stretched sexy bare legs, slender
ankles, and Barbie-pink toenails.
Mitch
fought to take his eyes off her shapely calves and bring them back up to her
face. “Is Dr. Collins home?”
The porch
light gave her face a subtle yellow glow. He couldn’t be sure about the color
of her eyes. They looked brown one moment, then flashed a hint of green the
next as she glanced behind him as if she expected the boogeyman to be in the
shadows.
Maybe she
did.
“I’m Dr.
Collins. What is this about?”
“You’re
Emma Collins?”
Those eyes
of hers flashed again, but she replied evenly. “Dr. Emma Collins, yes. And you
are?”
Damn.
Definitely not what he expected a forensic psychologist to look like. Shouldn’t
she be…older? More buttoned-up with a bun and glasses?
Maybe that
was just his librarian fantasy getting in the way.
Mitch
flashed his ID and she glanced at it. “Agent Mitch Holden. National
Intelligence. Currently on loan to the Southern California Violent Crimes
Taskforce. May I come in?”
She was a
good six inches shorter than him, her focus swinging up to return to his face.
“I’m not in the habit of letting strange men into my house, Agent Holden, so
no, you may not. Not until you tell me what this is about.”
Brown. Her
eyes were definitely brown with specks of green in them. The specks caught the
light like a cat’s eyes.
Get it
together, Holden. Quit analyzing the woman’s eyes and get down to business.
“Chris Goodsman escaped a transport out of the Hills today.”
Her face
blanched. “What?”
She
obviously hadn’t heard the news yet. “Victor Dupé asked me to get you to a safe
house. He’s been trying to reach you, but with the wildfires and all, landlines
have been overloaded and some of the local cell towers aren’t working.”
The
mention of Dupé seemed to wipe away her hesitation about letting a strange man
into her house. She stepped back and motioned him in, her pretty eyes once more
scanning the shadows over his shoulder.
Two Labs,
one black and one white, rushed Mitch, sniffing and wagging their tails.
“Hope
you’re not allergic,” Collins said, closing the door behind her.
“Nah.”
Cold noses met his fingers. They, too, had a dirt on their faces and hay in
their short coats. “My brother and I always had dogs growing up.”
Collins
snapped her fingers and the Labs retreated, heads down, tails still wagging.
They flanked her, one on each side like bodyguards. She absently petted their
heads, the V of her robe falling open enough for him to see tan skin and
freckles dancing across her collarbone. “How did Chris escape?”
Chris.
Sounded funny for the doctor to refer to the actor—a man she’d labeled a
sociopath—by his first name. “The transport van was run off the road. Goodsman
escaped, the driver was killed, another guard’s in serious condition. I don’t
know all the details, but I’m sure Dupé can fill you in when he meets us at the
safe house.”
Her nose
wrinkled. “Have you been drinking?”
Shit. “Not
enough to affect my reasoning or judgment skills, Dr. Collins. I assure you, I
can keep you safe.”
Pushing
off the door, she headed for the kitchen, a brightly lit room off to his left.
“I’ll make you some coffee.”
Coffee
sounded good. The tone in her voice—like she was reprimanding a kid about
skipping school or not washing behind his ears—didn’t. “I had two sips of
whiskey, that’s all, before I got the call to come protect you.”
He found
himself following her into the kitchen, his gaze drawn to her ass as she
reached up to grab a bag of coffee from a rough pine cabinet. “The holidays are
hard on all of us,” she said.
So now she
was presuming to know he hated Christmas and the emotional shitstorm it brought
on? Yeah, maybe he did feel that way, but it was still annoying that within two
minutes, she seemed to see right through him.
One of the
Labs nuzzled his fingertips. Gritting his teeth, Mitch did his usual trick when
someone probed into his personal life—turned the tables on them. “How is it
hard on you? Your boyfriend dump you right before Christmas or something?”
She paused
in pouring water into the coffee maker, but her face was serene when she
glanced over at him. “Touchy subject, I take it?”
Guilt over
lashing out at her clawed its way into his chest. Jesus, what was wrong with
him? He was here to get her to a safe house, nothing more. Then it was back to
a few last hours of vacation filled with moping and a twelve pack. Mac could
keep his scotch. “Yes, actually, it is.”
She nodded
and finished pouring the water, hit the switch. “Sorry. I’m sure this isn’t what
you had planned for your Saturday night.”
It wasn’t
what she’d planned either. Once more, he chastised himself for being so
defensive over nothing. For being rude. “Look, I appreciate the coffee and the
chitchat, but you need to pack a bag so we can get out of here.”
“I’m going
to shower and get dressed.” She walked by him toward the living room and the
stairs. “Help yourself to the cookies in the Snoopy jar on the counter.”
She was
halfway up the stairs when she turned back and caught him ogling her ass. That
same serene look crossed her features before she motioned at the door. “There’s
a shotgun above the door, locked and loaded. Just in case.”
Huh.
Interesting. A handsome Remington rested on hooks over the front door exactly
like she claimed. He also noticed for the first time that there wasn’t a
Christmas decoration of any kind inside the house.
No menorah
or kinara either.
Was she
atheist or some other religion? Did she simply hate the holidays as much as he
did?
He tipped
his head at her. “Good to know.”
“FYI, I
also have a couple of weapons upstairs.”
Was she
warning him or letting him know she didn’t need his protection? Either way, he
found it cute. “Do you know how to use them?”
One of her
dainty eyebrows arched. “Better help yourself to that coffee, Agent Holden.
I’ll be back shortly.”
“We really
need to get on the road.”
“If Chris
is coming after me, I’d rather not smell like a barn when I have to confront
him.”
She did
smell. “You have livestock?”
“Horses.
My practice involves therapy animals. You ride?”
“Just
motorcycles, ma’am.”
She
glanced at his black boots. “A similar type of therapy I’m told. No motorcycle
tonight, though, huh?”
He hadn’t
trusted himself on his bike. Too tempting to flee town, just him and his
demons, and ride like hell. “Not tonight.”
“Too bad.”
She
disappeared up the stairs, the Labs on her heels, before he could ask why.
* * *
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