Here’s a belated St. Patrick’s Day promotion for you.
My book, OUT OF THE BLUE, is only 99¢, and the others are various prices. My romantic suspense is the first time travel I wrote, and one of my favorites of my books. You’ve heard authors say, “The book just wrote itself.” While I’m sure you know that’s never a fact, some books come together better than others. This is one of the former. I hope you’ll try Deirdre and Brendan’s story. Time travel requires you to suspend your belief regarding the possibility of traveling through time. After you do that, OUT OF THE BLUE is a romantic suspense.
Here’s the blurb for OUT OF THE BLUE:
Deirdre Dougherty never cursed at anyone,
much less put a curse on the
potato crop of her remote Irish village. She’d rather take her chances with the
Atlantic lapping at the bottom of the cliff than the mob intent on burning her
as they have her cottage. Deirdre leaps . . . and plops down over 170 years
later in a Texas lake. She doesn’t understand how she’s ended up with the man
from her recent visions or why he has the same name as the saint to whom she
prayed. She’s in danger of falling for the handsome policeman who rescued her,
in spite of the fact that he thinks she’s lying to him. How can she convince
him her story is true when she’s finding it difficult to believe the tale
herself?
Police Detective Brendan Hunter wants answers. Who shot him
and killed his partner? Why? And why does Deirdre know details of the event?
Her story has to be a colossal fabrication or else she’s a beautiful psycho.
Either way, he wants her gone before he becomes even more fascinated with her.
But he can’t let her out of his sight until she confesses to how she learned
details no one but he and his late partner knew.
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Here’s an excerpt from OUT OF THE BLUE:
A
huge black car apparently had been parked at the back of the lot by the
Dumpster and pulled alongside her. Deirdre saw the dented fender before the
door opened. Then she realized the two scary guys from the bar were inside,
partially obscured from view by the tinted windows. The blond stepped out and
reached for her.
She
understood his intent so she screamed for help and ran away from him. People
came to the store window.
Polly
rushed to the door. “Blossom’s calling the police. Hold on, Deirdre, we’re
coming.”
But
no one rushed to her aid. What could a few ladies do against these two
frightening men? She’d have to save herself, so she screamed again.
The
blond caught up with her and grabbed her arm. “No use screaming, lady. You’re
coming with us.” He dragged her toward the car.
She
kicked him and screamed again, clawing at him with her free hand. She drew
blood along his arm and scratched his face.
He
jerked her and grabbed both her hands. “You’re gonna be sorry you made me mad.
I have lots of ways to get even.” He told her what he planned as he yanked her
toward the car’s back seat.
Strong
as an ox, the man held her in an iron grasp so her feet barely touched the
ground. He heaved her toward the open door. Suspended above the ground, she
braced a foot against the car’s body. With her other, she kicked him between
the legs, just as Ma had taught her.
He
turned red and released her as he doubled over and dropped to his knees.
Without him supporting her, she hit the pavement hard. Her back took the force
of her fall and the air whooshed from her. She couldn’t stand but she rolled
away.
The
driver pointed a gun at her. “Get in or you die right here, right now.”
What
had Brendan said about this situation when they watched television? Never get in the car with anyone. But
how could she resist without him shooting her? She recalled the blonde’s
threats. If she had to die, she’d rather it be here quickly than at the hands
of these two later. She made the sign of the cross and prepared herself for
death.
A
horn honked and tires squealed. Brendan yelled. “Deirdre, I’m coming.”
Blossom
and Polly hurried toward her, each carrying a broom and wielding it as if they
intended to beat on the blond man. Several associates came with them and lobbed
jars of something at the car. In the heat, the jars exploded like small bombs.
After one loud crack, red oozed along the spider-webbed glass windshield.
“What
the hell?” The scary man in black turned back toward the steering wheel. “Damn
it, Rod, with or without her, get the hell in here.”
She
struggled to her knees then stood, backing away.
Apparently
unable to straighten, the guy she’d kicked hoisted himself back into the car.
He yelled, “I’ll get you for this, bitch. When I do, you’re gonna beg me to
kill you before I’m through.”
The
black car took off with a squeal from smoking tires, dripping red salsa and
leaving glass shards in its wake. The driver had his head stuck halfway out the
side window, his front windshield obviously too damaged and dirty for the
wipers to clear. Aromas from the salsa’s spicy contents filled the air—cilantro,
tomatoes, chili peppers. Deirdre fell in love with those scents.
Take advantage of these other books in the promotion--various prices apply.
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Stay safe and keep reading!
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