Can an FBI agent obsessed with redemption and a grieving widow desperate to clear her husband's name learn to believe in love again?
Shannon Riedel faces down danger when a gunman breaks into her office claiming her dead husband swindled him. When FBI agent Tony Crazaniak arrives to investigate, sexual heat sizzles. The ex-Delta Force operative's massive presence and dark eyes trigger an attraction the young widow finds unnerving.
When Crazaniak convinces Shannon she needs his protection, they partner to unearth secrets her husband left behind--secrets involving a Tanzanian mine that yields perfect blue diamonds coveted by dealers around the world--secrets connected to a terrorist leader Crazaniak has vowed to take down.
With danger surrounding them, two emotionally wounded souls bond, but can they put their demons to rest and trust in love? Can they survive long enough to find out?
Rating: Spicy
Page Count: 262
Word Count: 66835
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-012-1
Page Count: 262
Word Count: 66835
Print ISBN 978-1-61217-012-1
Excerpt:
Traffic came to a standstill.
She sat, stalled, her heart pummeling like prey snagged in an icy hunter’s trap.
Someone knocked on her window. Heart in her throat, every muscle in her body tensed as she jerked her head toward the passenger side and looked through frosted glass into the face of Special Agent Tony Crazaniak.
Relief uncoiled the knot in her stomach. She’d never been so happy to see anyone in her life. She unlocked the door, and he opened it.
“Jesus, what the hell was that all about?” He dipped his head and plunked a snow-clogged foot onto the floor mat as he grabbed her bags and tossed them over the seat.
“I don’t know, and I wasn’t sticking around to find out.”
Cramming six-foot-plus of man into her Porsche was like stuffing two hundred pounds of prime beef into a picnic cooler. But he managed not only to squeeze in and make himself comfortable, he took charge. “Traffic’s moving, go!”
She eased the accelerator, launching forward into an ice-jammed gridlock of traffic crawling west.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” His shoulder brushed against hers when he shifted in the seat.
“I would if I had the slightest clue.”
His heat made her nerve endings prickle. And as far as telling him what was going on? The “would if I could” may not have been the entire truth, but it was close enough. Besides, she didn’t want to tell him anything. Yet. What did she actually know?
Snow bunched on the windshield as the wiper blades plowed through thick gruel, as her brain churned, as she tried to come up with an answer the FBI operative would buy. “Obviously someone’s after me.”
About Mal Olson
Every author's bio I read starts out saying something like this: "I've been a ravenous reader since the age of six."
Not me. Call me not a wiz-kid because as a child, I read, but I didn't start reading books by the carload until I was a young adult. And I don't devour books--as in reading two or three a day. I savor them by the half-carload and enjoy every morsel while analyzing the magic the author has produced to keep me turning pages.
I've always had the urge to write, and my first romantic short story was the result of a seventh grade creative writing assignment--which was so long ago I don't remember my English teacher's name, but I remember it was the era of poodle skirts and saddle shoes--when I crafted the story of two star-crossed lovers reunited when the hero was freed from the Bastille Prison. Guess what we were studying in History at the time?
The time span between writing my first romance story in junior high school and having my first romantic suspense novel published is a period of epoch proportions. I'm one of those overnight success stories that happened after decades of work and trying.
Over twenty years ago, my first-born daughter and I decided we could write a romance novel, and we had a lot of fun working jointly on creating two books. There's still a place in my heart for those stories and characters. Later, we branched into writing our own novels, picking each other's brains and critiquing for one another. If it weren't for her support (she's an awesome writer as well as a fabulous editor) I would never have reached my lifelong goal of becoming a published author.
Along the road to success, I have been blessed with help from many others--writers who give of their time to present workshops and seminars, especially those sponsored by Romance Writers of America and WisRWA, and classes offered at the University of Wisconsin Writer's Institute, and by the generous authors of Mad City Writers.
The most important lesson I've learned on this journey to becoming a published author is to try, try, and try again. As J.A. Konrath says, "There's name for writers who give up. Unpublished."
The moral support I've received from my husband, from both of my daughters, my son, and my writer-son-in-law, as well as encouragement from many wonderful friends and first readers of my manuscripts has kept me focused on my goal, given me confidence, and kept me from giving up. Thanks, Maria, Diane, Sandy, Angie, Nita, Mary, Alice, and Elaine.
Last but not least, thank you Laura and Lori at The Wild Rose Press. I wouldn't be published without you.
Thank you so much for spotlighting me today!
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