become a United States federal agent. CIA officer Charlotte “Chase”
Moreno is equal parts crazy and brave, which, when combined properly,
creates one kick-ass, dead-shot, often reckless spy.
work together to bring down an international drug and weapons
syndicate, and there’s one problem: they can’t stand each other.
But when he comes to her rescue on their first mission together, it’s
impossible for either of them to deny their growing feelings, or the
heat that’s boiling just beneath the surface between them. But one
sizzling, unforgettable night between them in Sin City might have
just changed the tide–forever.
I stepped into the elevator, taking a silent breath in through my nose, deep to the bottom of my lungs. Her warm citrusy scent immediately filled my nose, filled the entire elevator. I slipped a finger into the open collar of my shirt and tugged. It was unnecessary and pointless, but reflexive. I couldn’t breathe.
Chase cleared her throat, staring at the screen above the button panel as it counted down the floors to the lobby. I glanced over at her. Her nervousness was evident in every line of her, from the rigid hold of her shoulders to the tight grip on her clutch purse. The hot tension in the tiny space that made my blood roar in my ears and my heart sledgehammer against my ribs was palpable, and she was feeling it too. I knew she was.
Suddenly, she turned her head, her eyes instantly finding mine and holding them. The roar in my ears became deafening in my head as my mouth flooded with saliva, my hands clenching into fists inside pockets.
One more second, and I will throw her against that wall.
As if she could read my mind, her pupils dilated and her mouth opened. I could hear, loud and clear, the shaky exhale of a deep breath between those luscious lips of hers.
As if on autopilot, one of my hands slipped from my pocket as I turned to face her head on. A soft growl that rumbled deep in my chest took even me by surprise as I stepped nearer.
“Harper,” she whispered.
The elevator pinged as it reached the lobby. The doors slid smoothly apart.
Bloody fucking hell. I stood back, clenching my jaw, letting her walk out before me, as I took another deep breath. I felt like I’d just been possessed by some powerful, unseen force that had been on the cusp of turning me into a slavering beast that could only be sated by ravishing insanely beautiful women.
I stared at Chase’s back as I followed her. The back of the dress was several rows of wide, light pink straps from the bottom of her shoulder blades to her waist, offering flashes of smooth, tanned skin between each strap.
Just one insanely beautiful woman…
herself a pioneer of the notion that crème brûlée is a good source
of calcium, and has the uncanny ability to explain to you, in detail,
why wine is basically salad. She’s turned vocal novelizations of
her favorite TV shows (Supernatural, anyone?) into a drinking game,
and frequently laughs herself into asthma attacks.
Oh, and you know those idealized, Alpha male, “book boyfriend”
types we all love that are super tough and sweet and hot, all in one
unfair and unrealistic package? Yeah, she’s married to one. He’s
a cop and a U.S. Army soldier, and after over a dozen years together,
he still makes her heart go ka-thump.
strong, heart-of-gold, gruff Alpha males and butt-kicking heroines—no
damsels in distress over here! Her favorite pairings are two souls
drawn together under crazy circumstances and recognize their soul’s
counterpart in the other. Mutual healing, painful growth, and of
course, lots of red-hot romps.
hard-wrought battle. Wynter loves to (figuratively, of course) stab
readers in the heart before making it all better again, so all you
have to do is trust her to tell you a good story, and strap yourself
in—it’s going to be one hell of a ride.