Pamela Clare's Blog, page 9

I’m back! After a year of hell, I finally have a new story to share with you. I couldn’t be more thrilled. Already, the story has seven five-star reviews on Amazon. And, no, they’re not sock puppet reviews or paid reviews. I have no sock-puppets, and I’ve never paid for a review.

Here’s the blurb from the back of the book:

Rancher Jack West knows what it means to love a woman with all his heart and to lose her far too soon. A widower for seven long years, he thinks love and romance are a thing of the past, nothing more than cherished memories. He devotes himself to his grown son and his family, the horses they raise, and the land that has been theirs for three generations. He doesn’t know that life has a surprise in store for him in the form of Janet Killeen, the lovely FBI agent he threw off his land last winter.

The bullet that left Janet Killeen seriously wounded also tore a hole through her life. All she wants is a little peace and quiet in the mountains, a chance to feel like herself again. That chance comes to an abrupt end when she goes off the road in a snowstorm and winds up stranded alone in a ditch. The last person on earth she wants to see is that arrogant jerk Jack West, no matter how handsome he is. But from the moment Jack finds her and offers her his hand, she realizes there’s far more to this gruff cowboy than she had imagined.

But trouble is brewing at Cimarron Ranch. A deranged man with an inscrutable motive is moving in for the kill, threatening to end Jack and Janet’s romance before they can claim a love that is … Soul Deep.

Soul Deep is out in Kindle worldwide and in all ebook formats on Smashwords.com.

Kindle: http://amzn.to/1HuxiQj
Kindle AU: http://bit.ly/1Kq18pz
Kindle UK: http://amzn.to/1eWgZzs
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/1IpcqJa
iTunes: http://apple.co/1C6Db4c
Nook: http://bit.ly/1ING1rq

We have a couple of steps left before it will be available in paperback, but we’re working hard on making that happen. It is obviously a more involved process, but we’re on top of it. I’ll let you know the moment it’s available.

Soul Deep is available for those reviewers who have accounts with NetGalley. Head to this link to request your review copy: https://s2.netgalley.com/catalog/book...

Thanks to everyone for sharing their excitement and enthusiasm with me. It feels SO good to be writing again. I hope you’ll love Jack and Janet’s story as much as I do.

Also, here are some answers to FAQs about Seduction Game, Holly’s story.

1. It is coming out in ebook format in the US and the UK/Commonwealth countries on Oct. 20.
2. Yes, it will come out in paperback, too, but the release date for the mass market paperback is March 2016. It’s obviously much easier to publish an ebook than a print book, so that accounts for the time difference. They split the pub dates in order to get the ebook out to readers as soon as possible.
3. I don’t have an audiobook date yet for Seduction Game, and I haven’t had time to work on ebook plans for Soul Deep. I own the audiobook rights to it and will be handling it myself, but I’m one person and can’t write it, publish it and handle the audiobook all at the same time. Penguin owns the audiobook rights to Seduction Game, and I expect Tantor will be producing it soon. I don’t yet know whether they’ll match the October or March release date.

As more news becomes available, I'll share it on my Facebook page, via Twitter, on my website, and here on this blog. Stay tuned!

Soul Deep is finished!

Right now, I’m working hard to edit it and get it out to you by next week. This is an indie novella, meaning I’m publishing it myself. But at 50,000 words, it’s as long as some books being sold as novels these days.

I don’t have preorder links for it yet, because I don’t have a clone and can’t seem to get it all done at once.

I realized as I was editing that I haven’t shared any excerpts from this story yet, so I thought I should get in here and change that.

Soul Deep takes place a few weeks after Javier and Laura’s wedding in Puerto Rico ( Striking Distance ). We meet up with Janet Killeen, the FBI agent who spearheaded Laura’s protection detail, as she tries to pull her life together following the serious gunshot wound she sustained helping Laura. She's about to have an unwanted reunion with a man she despises...

CHAPTER ONE
September 28

Janet Killeen gripped the steering wheel of her Toyota Corolla, snow falling so thick and heavy that she couldn’t see the side of the highway. Her windshield wipers were clumped with ice and snow, the rubber blades no longer making contact with the glass. She would need to pull over soon to clean the ice off—if only she could see the shoulder so that she could pull over.
Leaving Denver had been a mistake.
She rolled down her window and scooted forward in her seat, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through her hip and pelvis at the motion. Reaching outside, she grabbed the bottom of the wiper blade. Icy flakes hit her face, the cold almost taking her breath away as she raised the blade and dropped it against her windshield once, twice, three times. The thick crust of ice and snow broke off.
She rolled up the window, turned her heater up a notch.
She’d left the city first thing this morning, hoping to make it to the mountain town of Scarlet Springs before the storm hit. She’d booked a room for a week at Forest Creek Inn, a family-run bed and breakfast, and had been looking forward to seeing the aspens and maybe even sitting on a horse again. It was part of a promise she’d made herself, her way of celebrating her survival and the end of rehab.
Having grown up in Hudson Falls in upstate New York, she always yearned for fall color, and the only place a person could find that in Colorado was in the high country during that brief couple of weeks when the aspens turned. It had become her yearly ritual, the one time of the year she put aside her badge and her duties as an FBI special agent and let herself go.
Forecasters had predicted up to eighteen inches in Denver and a good few feet in the mountains, but when were the forecasters ever right about Colorado’s weather? Last week, they’d predicted snow, and Denver had gotten hail and funnel clouds instead. Of course, they’d just had to be right this time.
You should have turned back.
Yes, well, it was too late for that now. She needed to reach Scarlet Springs—or find someplace she could pull off the highway and wait for a break in the storm.
She glanced down at the speedometer. Ten MPH. At this rate she’d get there faster if she got out of the car and ran. Except that she couldn’t run. She would probably never run again. She was lucky to be able to walk.
You’re lucky to be alive.
Last February, a sniper bullet intended for journalist Laura Nilsson, whose protection detail Janet had managed, had ripped through Janet’s left hip, shattering the joint, breaking her pelvis, severing her sciatic nerve, and damaging her vaginal muscles before exiting through the front. Doctors had replaced her hip, used plates to put her pelvis back together, reconnected the severed nerve, and stitched her vagina, but her body would never be the same.
Gone were the days of running daily 10Ks and rock climbing on the weekends. Though she had learned to walk with a cane instead of a walker, her left foot still dragged. She didn’t know whether she’d ever be able to ski or ride a horse or even enjoy sex again. Little things she’d always taken for granted were difficult now—grocery shopping, keeping a clean house, getting a full night of pain-free sleep.
And then there were the nightmares.
Gun shots. Screams. Pain.
That single bullet hadn’t just ripped through her body. It had torn a path through her life. Byron, the skier she’d been dating, had ended things during her second month of rehab. He’d said that he’d changed and needed to move on, but she’d known he was turned off by her lack of mobility and had run out of patience waiting for them to have a sex life. But that wasn’t all of it. When she returned from this little vacation, she would be going back to work, but not to the position she’d held before the shooting. She’d be taking a desk job instead. An agent who couldn’t run or stomach the thought of holding a firearm was an agent who couldn’t leave the office.
The life she’d known had vanished in a split second, and she missed it, even grieved for it, crying tears she didn’t share with anyone.
Melodie, her younger sister, saw this as a sign that Janet should leave the FBI, find a husband, and start a family before it was too late. Setting aside the fact that Janet’s biological clock seemed to have wound down, her injuries would likely make sex and pregnancy difficult even if by some miracle she could get pregnant.
Janet and Melodie were very different people. Melodie had always wanted to be a mother, and Janet had always wanted to be a superhero and save the world. It wasn’t that Janet didn’t want a husband or kids, but her life as a special agent had been busy and fulfilling enough without them.
Besides, finding a husband wasn’t like shopping for patio furniture. A woman could spend years looking for the right man and still not find him. Janet had had her share of boyfriends and lovers, but after Byron, it seemed to her that a woman might be better off on her own.
Despite whatever her sister might think, Janet didn’t regret her choices, not even her decision to volunteer for Laura’s protection detail. She had always admired Laura and was proud to have played a role in saving her life. Laura had just married Javier Corbray, that sexy SEAL lover of hers. Seeing her move on from the hell that had been her life to claim some happiness had been the best reward Janet could have received.
She would adapt and find a way to do the things she loved again. That’s exactly why she’d made this trip—to reclaim some part of her life for herself.
Snow had begun to build up on the wipers again, the tail lights of the truck that was at most ten feet in front of her barely visible. Janet rolled down her window once more, scooted forward, then grabbed the wiper blade and tapped it against the glass, dislodging the snow and ice.
It seemed to be coming down even harder now, the wind driving the snow straight into her windshield. How could the driver in front of her even see where he or she was going? Were they blindly following someone else’s tail lights like she was? If so, what was guiding the person in front?
She needed to get off the road. She tried to remember if there were any gas stations or small towns between here and Scarlet Springs. She didn’t think so. The only place she knew of for certain was the Cimarron Ranch, but she wouldn’t stop there even if she knew where it was. Jack West, the man who owned it, was as big a jerk as he was handsome. She’d had a less-than-pleasant exchange with him when she’d gone there as part of Laura’s protection detail to make certain the place was secured.
I know every man, woman, and child on my land, SA Killeen. I don’t need you checking IDs or running background on my people. I understand you want to protect Ms. Nilsson. So do I. But I’ve got twenty men here, every single one of whom knows how to use a firearm. They’ve all been made aware of the situation. Laura is safe under my roof. I guarantee you that. Now, either come inside for a bite to eat, or get the hell off my property.
She’d only been trying to do her job, and West had ordered her off his land as if she’d been nothing more than a trespasser. She’d been furious at—
Ahead of her, the red tail lights swerved. The highway seemed to vanish from beneath her tires, the car sliding sideways down a steep embankment, coming to a rest with a sickening crunch.
Janet found herself holding the steering wheel in a death grip, her heart slamming in her chest. She took a few deep breaths, tried to dial back on the adrenaline.
Way to go, Killeen. This was one way to get off the highway.
She wasn’t hurt, and the car was no longer moving—two reasons to be grateful. The car had come to rest at close to a forty-five-degree angle, what looked like a fence post pressing against her crumpled passenger side door.
She knew there was no way for her to get back onto the road, not without trading her Corolla for, say, a M1 Abrams tank. She would have to call for help. The tow would probably cost a small fortune, to say nothing of the damage to her car and the fence.
Consider it all a tax on stupid.
She turned off the vehicle, took off her seat belt, and bent down to retrieve her handbag off the floor. She pulled out her cell phone. No bars. “Damn it!”
She had no choice but to climb back up to the road. She might be able to flag down a trucker with a radio who could call for help on her behalf. Or maybe someone would come along who was willing to give her a ride to Scarlet Springs.
She grabbed her cane and pulled up the hood on her parka, determined not to be one of those drivers who wandered from their vehicles high in the mountains and froze to death. She pushed the door open—lifted it, really—then turned in her seat and tried to step out of the car into the snow. Her feet slipped, and she fell, instinctively reaching out with her hands to stop herself, her legs sliding beneath the car. The door swung down, almost hitting her in the face before she caught it.
Using her cane to steady herself and support her weight, she crawled out and got to her feet again, sidestepping the door and letting it slam behind her. Then she began to climb the embankment.
There couldn’t be more than twenty feet between her and the highway, but it might as well have been a mile. Last winter, she would have been able to do this without difficulty, but now it was a struggle. Again and again she slipped, gaining only a few feet despite intense effort, her thigh and hip aching, sharp flakes of snow biting her face.
Swoosh!
A wave of white billowed down on her from above, knocking her backward down the embankment, losing her all the ground she’d gained.
Snow from a Colorado Department of Transportation snowplow.
Thanks a lot, CDOT.
Chilled to the bone, she shook off the snow, climbed to her feet, and tried again, this time setting her cane aside and attempting to crawl up the slope, dragging her left leg behind her. But the snow was too deep, and she was soon out of breath and badly chilled.
If she didn’t stop, she’d soon be hypothermic.
By the time she was back in the car, she was exhausted, freezing, and in pain. She would have to wait here until the storm let up. When the snow stopped, she would wave out the window at passing drivers. Someone would see her and call for help. In the meantime, she had a space blanket, water, ibuprofen, her Kindle, and chocolate covered almonds. It wasn’t the Forest Creek Inn, but it would do.
# # #
Jack tossed the last bale into the bed of his Ford F-250 pickup, the cold biting his nose, the air fresh with the scent of new snow. A good four feet had fallen overnight, and the National Weather Service was saying the mountains could expect more this afternoon. He needed to get hay up to the herd in the high pasture before the flakes began to fly again.
He’d been working since before dawn, plowing the road to the ranch’s front gate then seeing to the horses. His son, Nate, normally took care of these things, but he’d stayed at the family townhome in Denver, not wanting to drive up the canyon with Megan, his wife, and Emily, their daughter, in the middle of a blizzard. Jack supported that decision. He didn’t like taking chances with the lives of those he loved.
Chuck, the ranch’s foreman, stepped out of the barn. “Want me to come along?”
Jack frowned. “Is that your way of saying you think I’m too old for this shit?”
“You kidding, boss?” Chuck laughed. “You’re in better shape than most of the younger guys.”
“If that’s true, I ought to fire the lot of you.” Jack grinned, opened the cab door, and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Say, did you get the last of this business with Kip resolved? I don’t think ill of the man, but I don’t want him having the keys to the bunk house now that he’s no longer an employee.”
Jack had been left with no choice but to fire the man. Kip Henderson was a great cattleman, skilled with steers and horses, but he was also a slave to the bottle.
“I took care of it yesterday. I’ve got his key on my desk.”
Jack shut the door, buckled the seatbelt. “I appreciate that.”
Chuck stepped back to give the truck room. “See you when you get back.”
Jack turned the key in the ignition, the 385-horsepower engine roaring to life. He headed down the road toward the main gate, his gaze traveling over the valley. Apart from his time in the army, he’d lived his entire life here, the third generation to call this mountain valley home. His family had done well, running black angus and breeding quarter horses, managing to hang on through thick and thin to a way of life that had largely vanished from the state.
The Cimarron had been transformed overnight into a landscape of white, ribbons of golden aspen, dark patches of evergreens, and crags of red rock adding color to the mountainsides. The beauty of it was enough to take a man’s breath away. Then the sun peered through the clouds on the eastern horizon, sending a shaft of pink light across the snow, making it sparkle.
Theresa, you would love this.
Whether Theresa could hear his thoughts, Jack couldn’t say, but after almost forty years of being married to her, it was hard to experience life and not want to share it with her. She’d died seven years ago of an aneurism, and Jack had never stopped missing her. One moment she’d been inside making lunch, and the next she’d been gone. He’d found her lying on the kitchen floor, and his world had come crashing down.
Still, life went on, and Jack had had no choice but to go on with it. When Nate had been wounded in Afghanistan, badly burned in an IED explosion, Jack had devoted himself to helping his son heal and regain his strength. Now Nate was happily married, his wife Megan and their little Emily bringing joy back into the house.
And if there were days—and nights especially—when Jack felt lonely, well, that was just the price he paid for the privilege of having lived so damned long.
Nate had given him his blessing to remarry and wanted him to join some online dating service, but Jack couldn’t see how any good could come of that. Not that he didn’t have anything to offer a woman. There was the ranch, of course, and he had money. And, unlike a lot of men his age, he didn’t need a pill to get an erection. But he hadn’t dated in forty years and wasn’t sure he’d even know what to say to a woman.
Hell, no, that wasn’t for him. He’d been married once and knew what it was to love a woman and be loved in return. He and Theresa had made a good life together, and they’d had a son. Now, she was gone, and Jack’s job, as he saw it, was to be there for her son and his family.
He reached the main gate, which he had already opened, and turned onto the highway. The road was slick and snow-packed—not surprising given how much snow had fallen. It was unusual for the state to get a blizzard this early in the fall, but this was Colorado. He’d seen it snow on the Fourth of July.
He was about a mile east of the turnoff to the high pasture when he saw a fence post out of alignment with the others. It took a moment longer before he realized why the post had been knocked to the side. A car had slid off the road, down the embankment, and struck the fence. The car itself was all but concealed by a big snowdrift, just a bit of tail light and rear bumper showing. CDOT plows must have buried it during the course of the night, concealing it under a few feet of snow and slush.
Someone was going to have a fun time digging that out.
He continued on to the access road and turned off the highway, stopping to lower the snowplow. It was slow going the rest of the way as he cleared the road. By the time he reached the pasture, the cattle were waiting for him.
He parked the truck, got out, and climbed up into the bed, cutting the cords that bound the bales and tossing hay over the fence to the hungry animals, mostly pregnant cows. They jostled against one another, lowing, their breath sending up clouds of condensation.
“Mind your manners, ladies. Someone might think you were raised in a barn.”
When he’d spread the hay out over the snow, he got back into his truck and headed home, his mind on a hot shower and strong coffee.
Bitch and moan though he might, he loved this life. Other people were out there right now fighting traffic on the highway so they could sit in offices all day doing bullshit work for other people, and he was out here, breathing mountain air, being his own boss, and doing the kind of work that left a man’s body tired but filled his soul.
Back on the highway, he made a mental note to repair that fence post once the owner of the car had their vehicle towed. As he passed the car, he saw that the headlights were on. Was someone down there?
He pulled off onto the shoulder, parked, then called Chuck on his sat phone. “Hey, I’m on my way back. There’s a car off the road just past mile marker one-thirty-three. I think someone’s still in the vehicle. I’m going to check it out.”
He turned on the truck’s hazard lights and pocketed his keys, then climbed out of the pickup. Why anyone had gone out in yesterday’s blizzard without all-wheel drive was beyond him. Didn’t they realize they were in Colorado?
He grabbed a snow shovel out of the back, then crossed the road, snow squeaking under his boots. The slope was steep, and he slipped and slid his way down to the vehicle. A few minutes of shoveling, and he’d managed to unbury the driver’s side window.
Through the frost-covered glass, he could just make out a woman’s face.
She rolled down the window. “Jack West?”
He found himself looking into a pair of familiar green eyes. Her dark hair was a longer than the last time he’d seen her, and there were lines of weariness on her face. Still, he recognized her immediately.
“Well, hello, there, SA Killeen. It seems you’ve run into a little trouble.”

Here it is — the cover for Soul Deep , an I-Team After Hours novella.

Carrie at Seductive Designs did a fabulous job of putting it together, and she did it with almost no notice. I wasn’t certain how long it would take me to write Seduction Game , Holly’s story. If someone had told me the book would pour out of me in three and half months, I’d have thought they’d been smoking crack. So I didn’t schedule time with Carrie. Still, she jumped in and saved me. And now we have a book cover.

Here’s the blurb from the back of the book:
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A widower for seven long years, he thinks love and romance are a thing of the past, nothing more than cherished memories. He devotes himself to his grown son and his family, the horses they raise, and the land that has been theirs for three generations. He doesn’t know that life has a surprise in store for him in the form of Janet Killeen, the lovely FBI agent he threw off his land last winter. </i></div><i> </i><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><i> </i><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><i>The bullet that left Janet Killeen seriously wounded also tore a hole through her life. All she wants is a little peace and quiet in the mountains, a chance to feel like herself again. That chance comes to an abrupt end when she goes off the road in a snowstorm and winds up stranded alone in a ditch. The last person on earth she wants to see is that arrogant jerk Jack West, no matter how handsome he is. But from the moment Jack finds her and offers her his hand, she realizes there’s far more to this gruff cowboy than she had imagined.                 </i></div><i> </i><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><i>                                                                                             </i></div><i> </i><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><i>But trouble is brewing at Cimarron Ranch. A deranged man with an inscrutable motive is moving in for the kill, threatening to end Jack and Janet’s romance before they can claim a love that is … Soul Deep.</i></div><br /><br /><i><b>Soul Deep </b></i>is the first story I’ve written that isn’t about twenty-somethings or even thirty-somethings. Jack, the hero, is a former Army Ranger and widower who served two tours of duty in Vietnam as a young man. He’s a fit and robust 63. Janet, a special agent with the FBI, met Jack when he threw her off his land in <b><i>Striking Distance</i></b>. In the weeks that followed, she was badly injured by a sniper’s bullet while trying to protect Laura Nilsson. She is 45. <br /><br />Romantic fiction centers around very young people, I suppose, because most people have their first sexual and romantic encounters while in their twenties. Romantic fiction has focused on catching that overwhelming experience of first real love.<br /><br />But as those of us who are over 39 know, romance and sex remain a part of our lives. Everyone who is young and beautiful will grow older — if they’re lucky — but that doesn’t mean their need to be loved or their desire for fulfilling relationships, including sexual ones, diminishes. In fact, it may grow sharper, as they understand the value of such relationships.<br /><br />It’s been fun for me as a 51-year-old to write about people closer to my age. Their maturity is fun to work with, making them unique among the characters that have inhabited my brain. There aren’t silly misunderstandings. There’s less ego and more thoughtfulness. And the sex is just as hot.<br /><br />I can’t wait to share the story with you! <br /><br />I’m down to the last few chapters at this point and hope to have the novella written and edited and out to you by the end of June or the first week of July. For a novella, it’s very long — at least 48,000 words. Some readers hate novellas, but these days there are books being sold as “novels” that are 50,000 words. <b><i>Soul Deep</i></b> will be a complete story.<br /><br />In the meantime, I’m still waiting to see the US cover for <b><i>Seduction Game</i></b>, Holly’s story. It will be out in four months — Oct. 20 — in ebook format, with the print version coming out in March. The publisher split the release like that in order to get it to readers as soon as possible.<br /><br /><b><i>Seduction Game</i></b> is available for pre-order in ebook format.<br /><br />Kindle: <a href="http://amzn.to/1e4n24s" target="new"><u>http://amzn.to/1Jn7jZJ</u></... />iBooks: <a href="http://apple.co/1I9hJu8" target="new"><u>http://apple.co/1I9hJu8</u><... />Nook: <a href="http://bit.ly/1QmwI63" target="new"><u>http://bit.ly/1QmwI63</u></a... /><br />After I finish <b><i>Soul Deep</i></b>, I”ll be taking a bit of a break to recharge, and then I’m going to endeavor to write an I-Team Christmas story. No hints. I’m letting my imagination run loose on this one.<br /><br />When that’s done, I hope to start the first book in a new series of contemporary novels set in the Colorado mountain town of Scarlet Springs, which I introduce in <b><i>Soul Deep</i></b>. The series will revolve around the loves and losses of the extraordinary men and women who make up the county’s alpine rescue team — chopper pilots, rangers, climbers, skiers, paramedics, avalanche rescue,  search and rescue dog trainers, law enforcement officers, dispatch people and so forth. The series will also include the kind of folks one meets in a <i><b>real</b></i> Colorado mountain town — eccentric mountain loners, New Agers, aging flower children, marijuana store owners, pot growers, the descendents of Cornish miners, ranchers, preppers, and the reclusive millionaire who owns the county's defunct silver mine. (If this description makes you laugh, you’re probably from Colorado or another mountain state.)<br /><br />Also, I’m trying to get set up for direct distribution to iBooks and Google Play and perhaps All Romance eBooks. I’m also planning to revise the way people are added to my newsletter and how the newsletter is distributed. The current system, which has me entering names manually, is bunk.<br /><br />I hope you’re all having a great summer so far!<br /><br /><b>Coming soon:</b><br />Cover reveal for <i><b>Seduction Game</b></i><br />Excerpts from <i><b>Soul Deep</b></i><br /><br /><br /><br />

A lot has happened in the past few weeks. After discussing my concerns about the original release date of Seduction Game with my publisher, Berkley agreed to publish the ebook version in October and the print version in March. That’s a whole three months earlier.

I thought you’d like that.

So, ebook readers will have Seduction Game in their hands on Oct. 20, while those who want to wait for the mass market paperback edition will have it in early March. That's a lot better than making everyone wait till June!

I don't have details for the audiobook release yet, but I hope Tantor will match the October release date.

My editor made no changes to the book—no revisions—so the manuscript was sent straight into production. I put a lot of effort into crafting a good story, and I feel really pleased about that. Seduction Game is Holly Bradshaw's story. Nicknamed Horny Holly by her I-Team friends, Holly has her own unique way of looking at the world. As a result of her lifestyle she also finds herself in some unique situations-such as waking up in bed to find her date shot dead. But when she hooks up with her sexy next-door neighbor, she has no idea what he really is or where the relationship will lead.

Here’s the blurb from the back of the book for those of you who missed it:

CIA officer Nick Andris wants revenge. His last mission failed after a Georgian arms smuggler killed his lover. He's been tailing a woman for three weeks hoping she will lead him to his target. But there's a problem with the intel. Holly Elise Bradshaw is nothing more than an entertainment writer with a love for sex and designer clothes. Clearly someone at Langley made a mistake...

When Holly finds herself in trouble, the only weapons at her disposal are her brains and her body. But they won't be enough to handle the man who's following her. He's going to turn her world upside-down. The ebook edition is already available for pre-order in the U.S., and will soon be available for pre-order in the UK. The UK cover is already out.

Watch for the U.S. cover reveal soon!

Kindle: http://amzn.to/1Jn7jZJ
iBooks: http://apple.co/1I9hJu8
Nook: http://bit.ly/1QmwI63


Soul Deep, an I-Team novella, set for a late June release 
In Skin Deep , we met Jack West, owner of the Cimarron, a big ranch high in the Rocky Mountains. A widower, Jack knows what it's like to love a woman deeply and too lose her far too soon. What he doesn't know is that life has a surprise in store for him in the form of FBI Special Agent Janet Killeen, whom he threw off his land about nine months earlier.

Some of you will remember Janet from Striking Distance . She spearheaded Laura Nilsson’s security detail until she was shot and badly wounded. Now out of rehab and trying to rebuild her shattered life, the last person she wants to see is Jack West. But when her car goes off the road in the middle of a blizzard, she's not going to refuse his help or his hospitality.

The story takes us back to the Cimarron Ranch, where we get to spend time with Chinook, Buckwheat, Baby Doe and the other horses and where Janet gets to sample Jack's amazing cooking. It also takes a look at how hard it can be to recover one's life after a tragedy like the one Janet endured.

This is my first time writing about an older couple. Jack is 63, and Janet is 45. I'm finding their maturity to be refreshing. Sex and love don't end at 29 or 39 or even 49. I'm 51, and I'd like to believe romance, love, and sexual fulfillment are as eternal as spring.

So many of you loved Jack in Skin Deep , and I hope you'll enjoy seeing him get his own happy ending. I plan on having the book ready by the end of June-that's just a couple of weeks from now.

Watch for a cover and release details! I’m aiming for June 23, but I’ve fallen a bit behind.

I’m just popping in with a quick and dirty update.

I have a release date for Seduction Game (I-Team #7). The ebook version will be out on Oct. 20. That’s only four and a half months away. (This is an update with the correct date. I initially got the wrong one from NY.)

My editor loved the story. She made no changes it, but sent it straight off to copy editing. Berkley is releasing the ebook version separately so my readers won’t have to wait so long.

The print edition won’t be out until June 2016 unless a slot opens up earlier, in which case it could be released earlier. I don’t know when the audiobook will be released. I hope to have that information for you soon.

I also have the back cover copy for the book. I thought you might want to see it. How about a little tease?

CIA Officer Nick Andris wants revenge. His last mission failed after a Georgian arms smuggler killed his lover. He’s been tailing a woman for three weeks hoping she will lead him to his target. But there’s a problem with the intel. Holly Elise Bradshaw is nothing more than an entertainment writer with a love for sex and designer clothes. Clearly someone at Langley made a mistake . . .

When Holly finds herself in trouble, the only weapons at her disposal are her brains and her body. But they won’t be enough to handle the man who’s following her. He’s going to turn her world upside-down.


Oh, yes, he is. And, believe me, she returns the favor as only Holly can.

Mark your calendars. Oct. 20 is going to be a very special day for me. It marks my return from a place I never wanted to go. I can’t wait to share this story with you!

Also, watch for a new I-Team After Hours novella on June 23. I’m working on it right now. The hero of the story is Jack West, widower, rancher and former Army Ranger. You met him in Skin Deep and saw a little of him in Striking Distance . He owns the Cimarron Ranch in the mountains west of Denver and is Nate West’s father. He gets a second chance at love when Janet Killeen, the FBI agent he threw off his land in Striking Distance and who was badly wounded later in that story, ends up in a ditch near the ranch during a blizzard.

I don’t have a title yet, but I will soon. This story marks the first time I’ve written about an older couple. Janet is 45, and Jack is 63 (but a fully functional 63). All of my heroes and heroines have been in their late 20s or 30s. I don’t believe romance ends at 40 or 50 or even 60 or 70. I know a lot of romance readers feel that way, too. And Jack is one of a kind—gruff, physically fit, a cowboy with a romantic streak.

Stay tuned for excerpts and more news!

© Mjth | Dreamstime.com
I don’t have a cover. I don’t have an official title, though I’m willing to mud wrestle my publisher to keep this one. I don’t even have a publication date.

But what I do have is a completed manuscript for Holly and Nick’s story. I sent it to my publisher on Sunday night and am very happy with how the story turned out.

Celebration!

© Atustudio | Dreamstime.com

What do I love about this story? There are so many things!

It’s sexy. It has to be sexy, right? It is Horny Holly’s story, after all. In Nick Andris, she finds a man who matches her libido, but has a very different view of love and sex.

It’s lighter than most of the other I-Team novels. After the past year, I needed some humor and fun in my life, and Holly and Nick brought that, making me laugh almost every day.

It’s poignant. Holly and Nick have had their share of personal tragedies, and with each other they find their way forward to a love they never thought they could have.

It’s exciting. A CIA officer. Terrorists. Holly and Nick...

It has a tear-jerker ending and epilogue. Well, I wrote it, right? And I love tears at the end of a story. Not giving anything away here.

As soon as I have the publication date, I will announce it. We’ll have a big cover reveal, too.

For now, I’m taking a week to clean my house and take care of other things that were neglected during the months that I was writing this story.

Next week, I’ll be starting an I-Team After Hours novella that will be released prior to Seduction Game . It will tell the story of Jack West, the decorated former Army Ranger and father of Nate West, the hero of Skin Deep. Jack owns the Cimarron Ranch, where he runs cattle and breeds horses. A widower, he has put his heart into the ranch and into Nate and his family. The last thing he expects is to fall in love again. But that’s what happens after he finds former FBI agent Janet Killeen off the road near his property in the middle of a Rocky Mountain blizzard.

Jack and Janet have met before. The last time Janet saw him, he was about to kick her off his property. (That scene is in Striking Distance .) Recovering from a gunshot wound she sustained while on a protection detail for journalist Laura Nilsson, Janet has no patience for Jack. But she also doesn’t want to freeze to death in her car.

The chance meeting is a new beginning for them both. For Jack, it’s a second chance at true love. For Janet, it’s the beginning of a new life.

I hope to have Jack and Janet’s story to you by mid-June. It’s my way of giving you some I-Team to chew on before Holly and Nick’s store comes out. I know it’s been a long time since I’ve had a book out. Stay tuned for more information!

When the novella is done, I will be throwing myself into a new contemporary romance series set in the mountains involving members of a mountain rescue team — men and women who are rock climbers, mountaineers, paramedics, wildland fire fighters, and pilots who save lives by rescuing people from life-threatening situations in the mountains or battling the dangers of the mountains. Here are some events from real life that have involved mountain rescue teams: avalanche rescue, people falling while climbing, lost hikers, people who break bones while hiking, people falling down mine shafts, dumb frat boys dragging a keg to the top of one of the Flatirons and then being too drunk to get down (this falls into my favorite category — “Stuck on a rock”); heart attacks or sudden illness on remote mountain trails; and so on.

My own life was saved by a mountain ranger in 1994 after I fell 40 feet climbing. Because of my experience and the fact that I was raised in a mountain climbing family, this is going to be a fun series for me to write. It won’t be romantic suspense, but there will be plenty of excitement and perhaps even some crossover with the I-Team series in the form of Gabe Rossiter and the West family from the Cimarron Ranch. It’s a Colorado mountain series written by someone who grew up in the Colorado mountains.

I hope you’re as excited as I am for all of this!

Thanks for your continued support. I saw a plastic surgeon yesterday and am bolstered by what he said. We’re planning to start the series of surgeries for my reconstruction in September.

Life is slowly returning to normal. After facing cancer, what could be more wonderful than that?

If you’ve read this far, it’s time for an EXCERT! This is from Chapter 10 of Seduction Game.


Holly and Nick enjoy supper outside on her back deck on a summer evening...

“I have a surprise for you.” She scooted her chair away from the table, lifted her dress high up her thighs to reveal the garters, and then did The Leg Cross.

He gave a long, slow exhale, his brow furrowing when he saw that she wasn’t wearing panties. “Please tell me that’s dessert.”

“You’re still hungry?” She stood, picked up her wine glass, and walked slowly toward the door, leaving the plates and silverware for later.

A strong arm shot out, caught her around the waist and drew her back. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She lowered her voice. “Somewhere the neighbors and CIS guys won’t see us.”

He took the wine glass from her hand and set it on the table. “I am the neighbors. Fuck the CIS guys.”

He drew her into his lap so that they sat face to face, her legs straddling him, then drew down his zipper and freed his erect cock from his boxers. “I want you now.”

A shiver ran through her.

“But people—”

“People will be jealous.” He grinned. “Just try not to give us away.”

He reached down with one hand to tease her inner thighs with light brushes of his finger tips that made her skin tingle.

She felt herself grow wet, already wanting him inside her. She took his cock in hand and began to stroke him, felt his hips jerk, heard his breath catch.

But his gaze never wavered.

He caught her clit between his fingers, gave it a little tug, then explored her fully, the tip of one finger making delicious circles over the opening to her vagina before sliding inside her.

“See, that right there is what’s going to give us away, honey. Don’t let your head fall back all sexy like that. Keep your eyes open. Look at me. We’re just having a conversation here.”

And what a conversation.

His fingers caressed her deep inside, taking their time, asking her if she wanted more. Her body answered yes.

He withdrew his fingers and began to tease her clit with his thumb, asking it to join in the game. It swelled beneath his touch—another yes.

Oh, God, she was melting, coming to pieces in his lap, the gliding pressure of his thumb making the ache inside her worse.

He reached into his pocket with his free hand, drew out a condom and handed it to her. She opened it, rolled it over his erection, while his hands reached beneath her dress to grasp her buttocks. When the condom was in place, he shifted in his seat, took his cock in hand, and guided himself inside her.

She couldn’t help but moan, her eyes drifting shut.

He felt so good, as he thrust into her from below, stretching her, filling her, the slick friction already carrying her home.

“Keep it together, honey.”

She opened her eyes, smiled at him.

Two could so play at this game...


 (c) Copyright 2015 Pamela Clare

One year ago today, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

I’d felt a lump several months earlier and had gone to my doctor for no fewer than three breast exams, only to be told that the lump felt like normal fibro-cystic tissue to her. I felt safe. I shouldn't have.

When I got the call that they had some concerns about my annual mammogram, I got a knot in my stomach that wouldn't go away. It has never gone away.

Everyone tried to be encouraging. I tried to encourage myself. It’s probably nothing, we all said.

On April 21, I went in for a series of diagnostic mammograms. The radiologist showed me an outline of several white dots in the shape of a C. They could be calcifications, he said, but they could also be cancer. Several more films were taken, and then I was led to another room for an ultrasound with a glum-faced woman who could tell me nothing.

The radiologist walked in, pushed the curtain aside and said, “It looks like you have a small, early breast cancer."

And my life changed.

~ ~ ~ 
As it turned out, I had stage 1C estrogen positive/progesterone positive breast cancer that was Herc2 negative. But I didn’t get to learn the nature of what I was facing until 45 days after my diagnosis, when I finally had surgery.

 The wait was agonizing and was made more agonizing by idiots. The “patient coordinator,” an RN, told me she thought I was probably looking at Stage 2. (Apparently, she has a crystal ball.) I looked at survival rates and prayed that it wouldn't be worse than that. I tried to remind myself that the only person who’d seen the tumor was the radiologist, and he’d actually used the term Stage 1 during our conversation.

I opted to have a bilateral mastectomy despite the huge loss it would cause to my sexual self and my sense of femininity because I never, ever wanted to go through the whole mammogram routine again. I never wanted to wait and wonder. I never wanted to give this disease another chance at me.

The mastectomy revealed that there was a 1mm micro-metastases in a single lymph node. In the past, they didn't used to catch these. Now they do. What micro-metastases mean medically, no one knows. Now the question became chemo or no chemo.

It was an agonizing question, one that hung largely on the outcome of the OncoDX score of my tumor. This genetic test has become a guiding tool for oncologists. It is helpful in determining a patient's risk for recurrence. Patients with tumors with a score under 19 statistically speaking don't get much benefit from chemotherapy and tend to do just as well with Tamoxifen only. My OncoDX was 12.

But there was that micro-met to consider. And no one on my medical team knew what to say about that.

Ultimately, it was my decision. It sucked that there really was so little guidance. There simply hasn't been enough research on micro-mets to determine what they mean. They are significantly different from full-on macro-metastases. That much everyone knows. But what it means in terms of recurrence risk... There just isn't enough research.

I opted for chemo and radiation, feeling that I had this one chance to eradicate this illness and move forward with my life cancer free.

Chemo was tough. Losing my hair was even more painful than losing my breasts.

Radiation was less uncomfortable than chemo, at least until the end, but it was intensely dehumanizing, an experience made worse by an asshat of a radiologist who has apparently used up his lifetime allotment of medical compassion.

Treatment made it impossible to write. I watched a lot of Netflix and slept. I spent most of 2014 simply trying to get through cancer treatment.

My last day of radiation was Dec. 9. I ended up with painful blisters and needed morphine to control the pain.

My body is still healing.

~ ~ ~ 
So how did my life change?

It changed entirely for the worse. Unlike the occasional happy celebrity who goes on TV to talk about how cancer was a hidden blessing, I’m here to say it sucked. 

I used to have breasts. Now I have enormous scars. The scars tingle and hurt sometimes — phantom nerve pain from what is truly an amputation. I've permanently lost all sexual sensitivity together with the beauty of breasts. I might be able to get some kind of breast-shaped blobs through fat transplants and such sometime later this year, but they won't be breasts. They will have little to no feeling, and what feeling they do have won't be sexual —  that super sexy tug in the deep belly that sensitive nipples can give a woman.

Now I get to write about it, but I will never, ever feel it again.

I have short hair. Most people blow this off. But I'd had long hair most of my adult life and do not care for short hair at all. To lose my breasts and my hair — it made me feel like a thing, my femininity completely stripped away.

I grieve still. I grieve for the permanent loss of my breasts and that precious element of my sexuality. I grieve for the very long hair that will take years to regrow. I grieve for the more carefree version of myself, the one who hadn’t yet heard the words, “It looks like you have breast cancer.” I grieve for he version of myself that could think about the future without wondering, “Will I make it that long?"

My writing career was put on hold at a time when I suddenly needed money more than ever. Despite having good health insurance, I spent more than $10,000 out of pocket on treatment last year. So, hey, it helped me get rid of some extra cash, too. Now, I'm playing catchup with my own career.

The life I have now seems completely different than the one that I lived before April 21, 2014. I am different. I won’t ever be the same. My life will never be the same.

And yet I am deeply grateful to be alive. But more on that in a minute. I'm getting ahead of myself.

~ ~ ~
I think of 2014 as a year of shit. I would never want to relive it. I'm glad it’s over.

During treatment, I wrestled with a range of emotions from rage to fear to overwhelming sadness. Of course, the world has difficulty with honest feelings about anything, especially something as frightening to most people as cancer. A great many people reached out to support me. For that, I will always be grateful.

But there were also people who offered unsolicited advice — people who didn’t have cancer but who felt they ought to tell me how to deal with it. Some thumped bibles in my face. To them I said, no, cancer was not God’s will for me, nor was it part of any divine plan for my life. Others suggested unproven treatments and nutty cures. The most common bit of irritating advice was, “Stay positive.” YOU stay positive when you get cancer. I'll feel what I feel if that’s alright with you.

(Hint: Don't give advice to people who are enduring something you yourself haven’t had to face.)

Allow me to summarize: Fuck, no, cancer was not God’s will for my life. I find that idea extremely offensive and disgusting. It wasn't a blessing, nor is it part of any divine plan. And screw being positive.

When life gets real, people, it is all right to have real feelings.


~ ~ ~
Yes, I am deeply grateful to be alive.

I’m glad the tumor was found during that mammogram. Had I failed to get screened last year, my prognosis this year would be much worse. I have a 90 percent chance of having beat this disease, and I’m grateful for that, as well.

I’m grateful for the help my mother, sister and son Benjamin gave me in dealing with the day-to-day struggles of coping with treatment. They were champions for me.

I'm grateful for my fellow authors, readers, and friends who helped put together the Good Food Fund — thank you Thea Harrison — and those who contributed to the expense of my medical costs.

I am grateful for my medical oncologist and the other medical staff who helped save my life.

I am grateful for the hundreds of cards I received from readers from around the world and the amazing and sweet gifts that so many people sent to try to cheer me and bring me some comfort. I read every single one.

So, yes, amid the grief, I do feel gratitude as well.

~ ~ ~
I came away from the physical misery of treatment and the fear that comes with living with cancer feeling an intense desire to put last year behind me and do the best I could to live a rich and full life.

I'm less grumpy about day-to-day challenges than I was before. A normal, boring day is fine with me. I’ve gained an appreciation for the small moments in life—and an acute awareness that life will end for most of us sooner than we wish it would.

I’m starting an oil painting class next Monday — part of a promise I made to myself.

Most of all, I am writing again. It hasn't all been easy. I cried my eyes out when I came to the first sex scene and wrote about the hero licking and kissing the heroine’s nipples. That has proven to be very, very hard and may eventually mean that I quit writing romantic fiction. (Yes, I'm serious.)

I’m six months out of chemo, and I’ve written most of a novel, lost the chemo pounds, gotten fit enough to walk 3.5 miles an hour (which I haven't been doing daily despite a real need to do so), and am making a point of spending more time with my family, even when I’m in the middle of a novel.

I hope to get reconstruction sometime this year. There’s an issue of timing and then there’s the expense — an estimated $6,000 with insurance coverage. But, hey, that’s American health care for you.

I am living my life again despite the grief, and that’s the best way I can think of to say “Fuck you!" to cancer. My heart, like my body, will never be whole again. But I am living.

If that’s not the positive, inspiring message you were hoping for, then think of it as a glimpse into how terrible breast cancer really is.

We need a cure.

To celebrate the release of the I-Team series in the UK, I will be giving away three SIGNED sets of the first three I-Team books — Extreme Exposure , Hard Evidence, and Unlawful Contact — to three lucky winners from the UK.

All you have to do to enter is to comment below *with your contact information* and tell me why you’re looking forward to reading the I-Team stories. For an extra chance to win, follow @Pamela_Clare on Twitter and retweet my link to this post with the #UKGiveaway hashtag.

Three winners will be chosen by contest randomizer on Friday, April 3.

The contest is open to UK residents only. That’s nice for a change, isn’t it?

It’s been wonderful to watch readers’ excitement over the stories, and it continues this week. The fourth, fifth and sixth books in the series — Naked Edge , Breaking Point , and Striking Distance — will be out on April 2, with my historicals slated for release in May.

I’ve been working very hard on Nick and Holly’s story — Book 7 in the series — and hope to turn it in to New York by the end of April.

Good luck to you all!

Coming soon:
Kenleigh-Blakewell Family Saga audiobook giveaway
A smexy excerpt from Nick & Holly’s story

I thought it was time to give you a glimpse of Nick and Holly’s book. I’m about halfway done at this point and anticipate turning it in to New York at the end of April.

In my mind, Holly has always looked something like Scarlett Johannson. I promised myself my next hero would look like the amazingly sexy David Gandy. And guess what? They did a super-sexy Dolce & Gabbana shoot together, which I took as a sign.

If those images don’t work for you, feel free to imagine the blond woman and dark hunk of your choice. What you do in your imagination is none of my business.

The book doesn’t have a fully official title yet, so... Without further ado, I introduce Nick and Holly.

Holly honestly has no idea what she’s in for, but then again, neither does Nick.


From Chapter One...

Trust no one.

What the hell did Kramer mean by that?

Nikolai Andris rubbed his closed eyes with the heels of his hands, then looked up at the clock.

Almost midnight.

Shit.

This was a waste of time.

For almost three weeks, he’d been keeping Holly Elise Bradshaw under round-the-clock surveillance. He’d turned her life inside out but had found nothing. He’d tapped both of her phones, sifted through her laptop, searched her condo, memorized the details of her childhood, learned about her friends, pored over her financial records, scrutinized her posts on social media for hints of tradecraft, and tracked every move she’d made via GPS. He’d found nothing remotely suspicious.

He’d even gone behind Bauer’s back and contacted Rich Lagerman, an old buddy from Delta Force who was now working for the FBI, and asked whether Bradshaw was one of theirs. Every federal agency in the country now had undercover officers, and it wouldn’t be the first time operatives from different agencies had tripped over one another while pursuing the same suspect.

“Nope. Not one of ours,” Rich had said. “But if you need any help with her, maybe some late-night, under-the-covers work, let me know.”

“Right.”

Nick now knew more about this woman than she knew about herself. If Holly Bradshaw was some kind of underworld operative, a foreign agent, a traitor who sold US secrets, then he was Elvis fucking Presley.

Someone at Langley had screwed up.

Nick had been recalled from assignment in Tbilisi amid whispers that a handful of officers were missing or dead and that the Agency was conducting an shake-up and internal investigation of its Special Activities Division, or SAD, the top-secret branch of the CIA that had recruited Nick out of Delta Force nine years ago. He’d never been assigned to operate within US borders, so he’d arrived in Langley expecting to find himself in the middle of an inquisition.

Instead, Bauer had given him a file with the latest intel on Sasha Dudayev, aka Sachino Dudaev, the Georgian arms smuggler who’d killed the only woman Nick had ever loved.

“He killed an officer and stole a flash drive containing classified information vital to US operations outside the homeland,” Bauer had said. “Keep Bradshaw under surveillance, recover the data, and neutralize them both using any force necessary.”

As a rule, the Agency left affairs within the homeland to the NSA and FBI, but they sometimes broke that rule when it came to high-value international targets and US citizens who’d crossed the line to work with those targets. It was unusual for Nick to run surveillance on a fellow American in her home, but apart from that element of his current mission, Bauer had given him exactly what he’d wanted for two long years now—a chance to make Dudaev pay.

Dudaev had played the Agency and brought the Chechen op down on their heads. Nick had been there that night. He’d watched, wounded and pinned down by AK fire, as the son of a bitch had emptied his Makarov into Dani’s chest, then made off with the cache of arms the Agency had wrested away from Chechen terrorists. Nick had crawled over to her and held her body afterward, held her until he’d passed out from blood loss.

His sole task that night had been to protect her, and he’d failed.

But now things were about to come full circle.

There was only one problem.

The suits at Langley had clearly made a mistake when they’d fingered Ms. Bradshaw as Dudaev’s contact. Okay, so it was an understandable mistake. The bastard’s last lover had been an Italian journalist who’d acted as his mole and messenger—until he’d had her killed. Analysts must have assumed he’d recruited Ms. Bradshaw when she’d interviewed him about his new art gallery and then begun dating him.

As understandable as the error might be, nothing changed the fact that Nick had now wasted three weeks discovering that Holly Bradshaw was exactly what she seemed to be—an entertainment writer, a smart but shallow blonde, a woman who loved sex, expensive clothes, and good times with her friends. He’d explained all of this to Langley, sharing every bit of intel he’d gathered on her. If Dudaev was about to sell the flash drive, the deal would go down without Bradshaw’s knowledge or participation.

Bauer had shrugged. “Stick with her. The analysts swear she’s the one.”

Some people just hated to be wrong.

Nick’s time would be better spent trailing Dudaev and hunting down the real contact—or sorting truth from rumor on the internal investigation and the missing and dead officers.

Trust no one.

Kramer had contacted him this afternoon insisting they speak face to face. He’d told Nick when and where to meet him. Nick hadn’t needed to ask what was on Kramer’s mind. It wasn’t unusual for an officer to be killed in the line of duty, but it was strange that Nick and Kramer had worked with all of them. Then Kramer had ended the call with those three words—and Nick’s imagination had taken over.

“They’re ombré crystal pumps in royal blue with four-inch heels.”

Nick took another swig of cold coffee. In his earpiece, Bradshaw and her friend Kara McMillan were still talking.

“I love them,” Bradshaw said, “but my shoe budget is blown for the next ten years.”

Nick doubted that. Bradshaw’s daddy was a retired brigadier general who had served with US Army Intelligence—another reason analysts believed Dudaev had chosen her—and Daddy had created a nice little trust fund for his baby girl.

“How much do a pair of Christian Louboutins cost?” McMillan asked.

Nick ran through the key facts on her, more to help himself stay awake than because he’d forgotten anything.

McMillan, Kara. 40. Journalist, author, journalism instructor at Metro State University. Wife of Sheridan, Reece, lieutenant governor of the state of Colorado. No arrests. No suspected criminal associations. Three children. Formerly employed by the Denver Independent on its Investigative Team, aka, the I-Team. Met Bradshaw through work. Close personal friend.

“Well, it depends on where you buy them, whether they’re on sale, which shoe you choose—that sort of thing.”

“Holly,” McMillan said in a stern voice. “How much?”

Bradshaw hesitated. “These were just over three thousand.”

Nick had just taken another swig of coffee and nearly choked.

Three thousand dollars? For a fucking pair of shoes?

“Wow!” McMillan laughed. “Reece would divorce me.”

Damn straight!

“Did you get them for your big date with Sasha tomorrow?”

“I needed something to go with my new dress.”

Nick rolled his eyes. The woman’s closet was full of shoes. The last thing she needed was one more pair—especially one that cost three fucking grand.

“I read in the paper that he’s a billionaire—gas and oil money,” McMillan said.

Nick felt his jaw clench.

Dudaev’s fortune had been built on human lives, including Dani’s. Murdering her had been nothing more than a business transaction to him. He could change his name, wear designer suits, and open a dozen art galleries trying to make himself seem respectable, but nothing could wash the blood off his hands.

“You should see the sapphire necklace he gave me last week. The chain isn’t actually a chain. It’s a strand of diamonds.”

Nick already knew from another conversation—this time with Sophie Alton-Hunter, another friend from the newspaper—that Bradshaw had bought the dress to match the necklace. Now she’d gotten the shoes to go with the dress. And at last Nick understood what a woman like Holly Bradshaw would see in Dudaev.

Well, greed was blind.

She had no idea what kind of man he truly was. If she wasn’t careful, he’d strangle her with that necklace.

“Sophie told me. It sounds like he’s serious about you. Do you think this will be it—the big night?”

Nick frowned.

What did McMillan mean by that?

“I don’t know. I mean, he’s good looking enough.”

“Good looking enough?” McMillan laughed. “He’s a lot better looking than that banker you went out with last year. Where was he from?”

“South Africa.”

“He’s better looking than that Saudi prince, too, whatever his name was. In the news photos, he looks a lot like George Clooney but with a more aristocratic nose and a mustache. Sure, he’s got some gray, but I’ll bet he’s fully functional.”

They were talking about Ms. Bradshaw’s love life.

Nick glanced for a moment at the photos of her he’d pinned to the wall above his desk. He could see why men were eager to sleep with her. She was hot.

Okay, she was incredibly hot. Platinum blond hair. A delicate heart-shaped face. Big brown eyes. A full mouth, and a body that…

Get your mind off her body.

What good were looks if they got you into trouble? There were men who preyed on beautiful women, and Dudaev was one of them.

“Yeah, but he’s… I don’t know… self-absorbed. He’s probably the kind of man who rams into you for five minutes and then acts like he’s just done you a big favor, the kind who makes you wish you had a magazine to read when you’re in bed with him.”

McMillan was laughing now.

But Bradshaw hadn’t finished. “A lot of guys are like that—oblivious to what women want. ‘Don’t worry about getting me off, babe. I just want to go down on you all night long’—said no man ever.”

Nick shook his head. Is that what she truly expected?

A dude would have to have a motorized tongue to pull that off.

Did all women talk like this about sex? Nick couldn’t imagine his sister sharing details about her sex life with her friends or using this kind of language. His mother, a devout Georgian Orthodox Christian, would have had a coronary if she’d caught her daughter or even one of her five sons talking like this.

Not that it offended Nick. He found it kind of sexy, actually. But then, given the things he’d seen and the things he’d had to do, a conversation about oral sex was pretty damned tame.

“Not all men are selfish.”

You tell her, McMillan.

“No, I suppose not. But lots of them are. It makes me want to take out a full-page ad in the paper just to help out womankind. ‘It’s the clit, stupid.’”

Nick let out a laugh—then caught himself.

Keep your shit together, Andris.

# # #



Holly Bradshaw glanced over her shoulder at her living room wall. “Mr. Creeper must be watching something funny on TV. I just heard him laugh. I never hear him.”

“You still haven’t met him?” Kara asked through a yawn.

“He’s lived there for almost a month now and hasn’t once come over to say hello. He stays indoors and keeps the shades drawn. I’ve seen him outside once. He was taking out the trash, but he was wearing a hoodie. I couldn’t see his face.”

Kara’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe he’s a serial killer.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Who cares about him anyway? If I were you, I’d be so excited about tomorrow night. You lead such a glamorous life. I’m so jealous.”

But Holly knew that wasn’t true. “You and Sophie and the others—you spend every evening with your kids and a man who loves you while I watch TV by myself or go out to the clubs. I think you’re the lucky ones.”

Like the rest of Holly’s friends, Kara was happily married to a man who cherished her. Reece was one of the kindest, most decent, and sexiest men Holly had ever met—which was really strange, given that he was a politician. He’d bent over backward to prove to Kara that he loved her. Now, they had three kids and lived what seemed to Holly to be a perfect life.

The fact that all of her friends were now married and most had children had changed her life, too. She spent a lot less time out on the town with them and a lot more time alone while they took on new roles and responsibilities. As much as she craved excitement and enjoyed the city’s nightlife, some secret part of her had begun to long for what they had, and that longing seemed to grow sharper all the time.

But Kara didn’t seem to believe her. “Are you saying you’d be willing to trade places with me?”
“And sleep with Reece?” Holly stretched out on her sofa and felt herself smile.

“That’s not exactly what I meant.”

But the question, however intended, had Holly’s imagination going.

Reece was sexy with dark blond hair, blue eyes and muscles he hid beneath tailored suits. How fun it would be to peel one of those suits away from his skin.

Tessa was married to Julian Darcangelo, the city’s top vice cop and a former FBI agent who’d worked deep cover. Tall with shoulder-length dark hair, a ripped body, and a strikingly handsome face, he was sex on a stick—and crazy in love with his wife.

Then again, Marc Hunter, Sophie’s husband, had served six years in prison and had that badass vibe Holly loved. A former Special Forces sniper, he was also a devoted family man—and sexier than any man had a right to be.

Gabe Rossiter, Kat James’s husband, had a rock climber’s lean, muscular build and had all but given his life for the woman he loved. Kat was a lucky woman.

Zach McBride, a former Navy SEAL and Medal of Honor recipient, had saved Natalie from being murdered by the leader of a Mexican drug cartel. All lean muscle and confidence, he had the hard look of a man who was used to taking action.

Nate West, Megan’s husband, had been badly burned in combat, his face and much of his body disfigured. The part of him that wasn’t scarred was extremely handsome—and he had a cowboy charm that brought the song “Save a Horse, (Ride a Cowboy)” to Holly’s mind.

Javier Corbray had rescued his wife, Laura Nilsson, from captivity in a terrorist stronghold in Pakistan, sacrificing his career as a SEAL. With a sexy Puerto Rican accent, dreamy, dark eyes and a mouth that—

“Are you fantasizing about my husband?” Kara’s accusing voice jerked Holly out of her reverie.

“No, of course not. Not really. Okay, a little,” Holly confessed. “I was just deciding which one of you I’d most like to trade places with.”

It was just a game. Holly had never so much as flirted with a married man. She didn’t poach on other women’s territory. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t fantasize.

“Holly!” Kara laughed. “I’m sorry I phrased it the way I did. Let me try again.”

Tessa, Holly decided.

She’d trade places with Tessa. She’d always had a secret crush on Julian.

But Kara went on. “If you want to meet good men, maybe you should quit going to the clubs. Most of the guys there are just looking for someone to hook up with.”

It wasn’t the first time Kara had suggested this, but she didn’t understand.

How could she?

Holly fired back. “You met Reece at a bar.”

Okay, so it had been a restaurant. Still, Kara had consumed three margaritas, so it might as well have been a bar.

“Only because someone interfered,” Kara replied.

Holly smiled to herself. It had been so easy.

“Where else can a woman meet men? If I don’t go out, I’ll never meet anyone. It’s not like Mr. Right is going to just walk up and knock on my front door.”

“You never know.” Kara changed the subject. “Hey, did you hear that Tom is converting to Buddhism?”

Holly sat upright. “Tom? The same Tom Trent I know? The one who spends his day shouting at everyone? He’s converting to Buddhism?”

“That’s what my mother says.”

Kara’s mother Lily lived with Tom.

“She would know. But Tom—a Buddhist? He and the Dalai Lama have so much in common, like, for example… nothing.”

Tom was the editor-in-chief of the Denver Independent, where his temper was as much of a legend as his brilliance as a journalist. As an entertainment writer, Holly didn’t work directly beneath him like her I-Team friends did. Beth Dailey, the entertainment editor, was her boss. Beth never yelled, never insulted people—and she appreciated Holly’s shoes.

“I think it’s perfect,” Kara said. “If anyone needs to meditate, it’s Tom. Gosh, it’s after midnight. I need to get to bed.”

“Same here.” Kara wasn’t the only one who needed a good sleep.

The two said good night and ended the call.

Holly got up from the sofa and went through her nightly routine, undressing, brushing her teeth, and washing and moisturizing her face, a sinking feeling coming over her. Naked, she walked over to her dresser and carefully took her new Louboutins out of their red silk bag, moving them so that the light made the crystals sparkle.

She didn’t want to spend another moment with Sasha Dudayev, but she’d already accepted and had the shoes…

Just one more date and that would be it.

She tucked the shoes carefully back in the bag, turned out her light, and crawled between her soft cotton sheets.

(c) Copyright 2015 Pamela Clare

It’s been a good month here at Casa Clare. My health continues to improve. The first three books of the I-Team series are out in the UK. Ride the Fire (Kenleigh-Blakewell #3) came out in audiobook with Kaleo Griffith voicing one of my personal favorite tortured heroes, Nicholas. Sweet Release , my first historical, is being translated for release in May in Japan. And, best of all, I’ve written almost half of Holly’s story.

Now for the details...




Eternal Romance released Extreme Exposure , Hard Evidence , and Unlawful Contact on March 5, bringing the I-Team series to readers in the UK and Commonwealth nations. The books are available in print and ebook format. I’ve gotten so many emails over the the past year asking when the books would be out. I hope my UK readers are enjoying them.

The next three — Naked Edge, Breaking Point , and Striking Distance — will be available on April 2, with four of my historicals set for release in May.

My author copies of the first three books arrived, and it has been wonderful to hold them in my hands!


The Kenleigh-Blakewell Family Saga is now available in its entirety in audiobook format from Tantor Audio. Kaleo Griffith is again giving voice to my characters — good news for all of you Obsessive Kaleo Disorder sufferers. Yes, it’s OKD Fix Time! Kaleo has outdone himself on this series, which has a gazillion different characters with at least that many accents. Most of the series features characters who speak with different British English accents, so if you loved Kaleo as a Scott, you’re going to love these, too. I’ve listed to Sweet Release and Carnal Gift myself and am a few hours into Ride the Fire , a novel of which I am particularly fond. Carnal Gift got an A+ review from Audio Gals, which is pretty terrific!

Readers in Japan can look forward to Sweet Release in May. They really love the MacKinnon’s Rangers series there and are particularly fond of Lord William. Yes, HE is the the star of that series for them. So, while they wait for his book, they’ll have the Kenleigh-Blakewell series to read. Thanks to Kyoko Nakai for her hard work on the translations!

Acoso Mortal , the Spanish translation of Striking Distance , published by Ediciones Pamies (Phoebe) in Spain, has been nominated for Best International Romantic Suspense of 2014 . I have also been nominated for Best International Author, which is really touching, especially given the company. I am very grateful to my readers in Spain and to Ediciones Pamies for their unflagging support and enthusiasm. 

I love the cover to this book — Laura’s striking blue eyes and Javier’s dog tags.

Mariajo Losada does a fabulous job translating my books for Spanish readers, putting so much of herself into the effort. I’ve told her that I consider them to be our books, not just my books.


And then for the news that has me smiling most...

I am more than a third of the way done with Holly Bradshaw’s story. The working title is Dead Giveaway, though I am still hoping to come up with something naughtier and sexier. This is Holly’s book we’re talking about, after all.

What can I tell you about it?

You all know Holly pretty well, as she’s been in each I-Team book since the beginning. Nick Andris, the man who finally wins her heart, is new to the series. Let me tell you about him...

Nikolai (Nick) Andris is the son of immigrants from Georgia. He grew up in the States in a close family, has a sister, and four brothers. He went into the Army and made his way into Delta Force, but was quickly recruited by the CIA to serve as a paramilitary operator.

Two years before the story opens, he is involved in an operation that goes sideways — and costs the life of the woman he loved. Now, he’s been recalled to the US and given the chance to take out the arms dealer responsible for her death. The arms dealer just happens to be the man Holly is dating.

Poor Holly! You know it’s been a bad date when 1) you’re drugged and 2) you wake up half naked in bed with a dead man.

The words have really been flowing on this book, and it has been so fun to write. It’s probably the lightest and funniest I-Team novel, and Holly and Nick together are setting the pages on fire.

Watch for an excerpt soon!