Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Welcome fab writers Lisa Worrall and Laura Harner

Good morning! Here is a promo from Lisa Worral and Laura Harner with their new book, Continental Divide!

Thanks for having us on Shar…  here is the blurb and an excerpt for CD

Detective Remington frickin’ hates the missing persons detail, but a cold fury builds in the pit of his stomach when he realizes that over the past three months six boys have disappeared from the smaller communities that surround the greater Phoenix area. All reported to be runaways looking to escape their shitty lives, but Remy’s starting to put together a different picture and he doesn’t like it one damn bit.

Inspector Jamie Mainwaring stares at the six reports, willing them to make sense. Six boys, six months, all from just outside of London, which meant six different investigations. All of the boys were between the ages of ten and fifteen, all purportedly runaways from dysfunctional families. Something was rotten in Denmark.

There are always runaways. Every small town loses them—every big city collects them. Kids look for freedom and discover they have more to lose than they ever thought possible. London and Phoenix, culture and cowboys, nothing linking these two sprawling metropolitan areas. Nothing except a hit on a computer data search.

Two cops, one a cowboy, the other a Lord. A secret government agency, human trafficking, and a blazing hot mutual distraction.

What the hell have Remington and Mainwaring gotten themselves into?

“Who the hell are you?” Jamie asked incredulously, not expecting to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Regardless of the gorgeous hunk of man-flesh at the other end of it. Rephrase that, the naked gorgeous hunk of man-flesh at the other end of it, as the man's loosely secured towel slipped to the floor. His gaze traveled slowly over the man’s ruggedly handsome face and down the muscled planes of his torso. Pausing longer than was perhaps polite on the long thick length of the man’s cock laying heavy against his thigh, he tried not to lick his lips as he continued down the muscled legs to the bare feet poking from beneath the dropped towel on the floor. Maybe a little homespun and unrefined for Jamie's tastes, but undeniably gorgeous all the same. “Well, I feel slightly over-dressed,” he drawled sarcastically. “If I'd known it was going to be a slumber party, I'd have packed my jammies."
“James Manwearing?” Remy questioned glancing from the ID to Jamie and back again.
Suddenly the man-flesh looked less edible as eyebrows rose high under the shaggy brown hair falling in deep brown eyes. Jamie grabbed his black wallet from the stranger’s fingers and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “It’s pronounced Mannering,” he snapped. “I’d ask to see your badge, but I don't think you can show me anything I haven't already seen.”
Jamie strode across the room to pull back the flimsy curtain and peer out into the street. Good God, what a dump! He had no idea dives such as this one even still existed in a city as affluent as London. What had good-looking done to deserve this? More to the point, what had he done to deserve this?
One minute he’s sitting at his desk, going over the latest reports with one of his team and the next he’s being dragged into the Chief Inspector’s office and told to clear his calendar and report to this address. There had been no explanation, just the steely glare of his superior and a sticky-note slapped into his palm. Jamie had worked for the man long enough to know that all he could do was follow orders and hope there was an explanation waiting for him when he arrived.
What he hadn’t been expecting was a naked man-mountain to open the door and stick a gun in his face. Turning to the man who, thankfully, had shoved some jeans and a shirt on, Jamie put his hands on his hips. “Okay, who are you and what the hell am I doing here?”
“Name’s Remington and I was gonna ask you the same thing, Detective Man-wearing.”
* * *
“Inspector. Not detective. Inspector. And it’s pronounced Mannering. Inspector Mannering,” he repeated, pronouncing it slowly, as if speaking to a particularly dim-witted child.
Remy ignored the clipped voice, narrowed his eyes, and returned the thorough inspection he’d been given by Man-wearing. Height-wise they were well-matched, with only an inch or two difference, but he had a good twenty pounds on the inspector. The man had black hair that curled over his collar and fell in his face, and deep set eyes that were currently looking out from under a wrinkled brow. Imagine that, the in-spec-tor looked annoyed.
The pansy ass would likely get along well with Oswald, but probably didn’t have clue about real police work. Fucking shit! Was this how cops dressed in London? Polished black shoes, a charcoal gray suit, and a fruity green shirt and tie. He supposed the guy was trying to show off those dark green eyes. His damned outfit probably cost more than Remy’s pick up truck back home.
“Like what you see, Detective?”
“Hardly,” Remy snorted. “You look like you belong in a bank. I doubt you’d recognize a bad guy if he jumped up and bit you on the ass. In fact—”
A sharp rap on the door interrupted the tirade he seemed to be building toward. Pushing aside his unreasonable anger, Remy repeated the door opening routine. This time it was a woman who entered at the wave of his gun. She reached into the pocket of her red power blazer and removed her credentials for inspection.
Remy kept the gun aimed at her stomach and took the leather case. “Julia Forsythe, Director, Regional Police Services—European Division. INTERPOL. Guess that makes you a pretty big deal,” Remy said.
“I guess it does,” she agreed.
“For God’s sake, Remington. Put the gun away. Director, it is an honor to make your acquaintance, I’m James Mainwaring.”
Remy ignored their exchange. He locked the door and tucked his gun in his waistband before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. The newcomer was a compact woman in her mid-fifties, with a cap of short salt and pepper hair. Despite the elegant exterior, she carried herself like a cop. He liked that.
“So, a director and an inspector. Somebody want to clue me in on why a plain old detective from Phoenix is here?” He was watching both of them, so he didn’t miss the quick nod of Mainwaring’s head.
“You’re here, Detective, because I asked for you. For both of you. Now, James, if you’ll take a seat, I’ll explain.”
“Call me Jamie,” the other man added quickly, and Remy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Jamie. Of course.


BLMorticia said...

TY for the info about the new book!

Gay Books said...

This is a good news you have shared on new book.

Thanks for this wonderful information!!!