When Graciela Merced fumbles a package she’s delivering for her mysterious and sexy boss, Gene Hardy, she finds out he’s more than just a wealthy photographer. Prepared to lose her job, she confronts him…and ends up embroiled in the tricky takedown of a powerful drug cartel pushing cocaine into the heart of New York City.
Marco Valencia is an undercover agent, working against time—and against Gene Hardy—to crack Angel’s Drug Cartel before the story makes it to the press. When Hardy’s luscious Venezuelan messenger literally falls at his feet, he has no idea just how well he’ll get to know the beauty or how difficult it will be to drop her.Hardened by experience, Gene Hardy takes his undercover work seriously, and charges a hefty price. When Grace makes a careless mistake and hurls him back into the visage of Marco Valencia, he must either fire her, or involve her in a twisted plot that could kill them all.As the two men battle over their feelings for Graciela—and their attraction to each other—one thing becomes perfectly clear.Grace is much more than just the messenger.
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Excerpt:
**Warning - This is a High Heat level excerpt**
Her clutch was so heavy in her shaking hands, even
though the pistol couldn’t have weighed more than half a pound. Probably less. The knowledge
that she was about to shoot someone, someone she liked, on the whim of her
boss, shook her to her core. And to take over his job, his mission? Grace had
always assumed Marco must be a spy as well. Why else would he have gone from
the warehouse to the news corporation with no one batting an eye? Now that she
knew he worked for the IIB, she was doubly reluctant to get involved. Who was
she to go against a government operation?
It would be easy. All she had to do was open her
purse, take out the pistol, aim it, and shoot. She would get one shot. She felt
woozy, but forced the nausea back down. She brought up memories of that
afternoon, when he had kissed her then sent her callously on her way, to remind herself that she was only a toy to
this man, to make herself angry. It didn’t work. Seeing him there, head bent in
concentration, his almond shaped eyes intent on his work, she found herself
frozen in place.
He looked up. “Grace.” He smiled warmly and took a
step toward her.
She opened her purse, the sound of the snap too
loud to her ears. He stopped and gazed at her, alarm filling the brown depths.
She pointed the pistol at him and closed her eyes,
forcing her fingers to apply pressure to the trigger.
The clatter of the gun on the floor startled her
more than the pain of her twisted wrist as Marco disarmed her expertly. How
he’d gotten to her so quickly, she couldn’t be sure. He jacked her arm behind
her back, pushing his thighs against hers, walking her against the wall by the
door. Never taking his dark eyes from her face, he reached out his other arm to
push the library doors shut, then brought his hand back to her face.
“I should kill you, you know,” he whispered, his
hungry gaze lingering on her lips.
“So why don’t you?”
Marco smiled. “Well,” he said, pinning her against
the wall with the entire length of his body until she could feel the heat of
his cock burning through her dress, “I wouldn’t want to take the life of a
librarian in her place of work.”
He lowered his head just an inch to put them
face-to-face, and the scent of cloves and cinnamon radiated off of him, causing
Grace’s head to spin. She wrenched her wrist, testing the strength of his hold,
and contemplated dipping her body low against him to drop to the floor. She
glanced around the room, looking for the pistol.
“It’s way over there,” he said, jerking his head to
the left. “Even if you could get out of my hold, you’d never reach it in time.”
“What if I screamed?”
“You won’t.” And Marco slanted his lips over hers,
thrusting his tongue into her mouth in a forceful kiss that silenced her and
wiped all thought of escape from her mind.
Grace shuddered into Marco’s warmth. His large,
callused hands swept her evening gown over her shoulders, leaving her clad only
in lace from the waist down. Keeping her still with the weight of his lower
body, he used one hand to unbutton his dress shirt and slipped it off his shoulders
then deftly switched arms so that he was still holding her hand twisted behind
her. He allowed his garment to drop to the floor. Her breasts pressed against
his naked torso, the tips grazing his skin, on fire at the touch. A
wanton lake of desire opened within her, and she shifted, just slightly,
allowing his powerful thigh to nudge hers apart. Their bodies melted together.
She’d made her decision.
She would spend these moments in the arms of this
chiseled secret agent, no matter that they were on opposing sides. She’d hand
in her resignation tomorrow. How could a spy go against her heart? Apparently,
she wasn’t cut out for this life, and she would not be ashamed to admit it to
her smolderingly gorgeous boss. Gene would have to accept it. He’d have no
choice. And it’s not as if he hadn’t had his chance with her. Grace couldn’t
have been more obvious about her attraction to the blond-haired Adonis.
Weeks ago, she had thought she’d seen desire for her in his smoky blue eyes,
and when he’d kissed her, her world toppled upside down. She’d wanted to pass
this test, to prove herself to him. But she’d had no idea how sensual and
provocative her target would be.
The lace of her panties slid off her backside,
revealing her pulsing core. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she enjoyed the
sensation of the flowing air. Marco turned her away from the wall, and she
started straight when soft fabric caressed her bare bottom.
“Marco? What—”
“You’ve failed.” The baritone voice murmuring in
her ear was not Marco. A strong hand cupped her raised buttocks, and she felt a
ramrod heat searing her from behind.
She looked up at her lover, her enemy. A smile
played on his lips, but didn’t reach his eyes. He groaned in need and looked
beyond her.
“Can’t say I’m surprised to see you here,” he said
to her boss. “What should we do with her, Gene?”
The photographer didn’t answer, but buried his face
in her chestnut locks, inhaling deeply. His erection jutted up against her,
making her quiver with a mixture of need and excitement.
“Gene, Marco,” she breathed, “what is this?”
The man behind her straightened, and she protested
as his heat left her body. She thrust out her ass to connect with him
again, even as he began to speak.
Ninette Swann is a journalist turned novelist who writes her books from sunny Florida in between parenting, freelancing and editing. She writes all genre of romance, including contemporary, thriller, suspense, and dystopian. Her books include Hit and Stay, Body Combat, Finding Home, Just the Messenger and Direct Combat.
Blog: http://ninetteswann.comFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/NinetteSwannTwitter: https://twitter.com/NinetteSwann, @ninetteswann
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6426460.Ninette_Swann
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