Her name was Lola . . .

She was a show girl . . . LOL!

Our Lola today is anything but a show girl. She’s a smart and sexy sleuth in Misa Ramirez’s Lola Cruz Mystery series! I hope you’ll enjoy today’s guest blog with my friend and fellow author as Misa tells us a little more about the creation of her character and series.

*****

You don’t know me, but I’m a mystery writer. I’m the author of the Lola Cruz Mystery Series. Living the Vida Lola came out last January, and Hasta la Vista, Lola!, comes out on February 2nd. I’m gearing up for the release, in full celebratory mode, and thrilled to be here dishing with Caridad!

When you aren’t a regular on a blog, it can be hard to know what to write, and how to present it to a brand new audience. Should I be funny, like in my books? Serious, because murder is serious business? Or some combination of the two, perhaps? The truth is, I’m no stand up comedian (not by a long shot), but I am funny–in my books. Like any fleshed out character, I’m a combination of things. I love a good mystery (cutting my teeth on Nancy Drew, graduating to Agatha Christie, and branching out from there), read the occasional romance (Julia Quinn makes me laugh), but stick mostly with women’s and/or literary fiction (The Help is my new favorite book).

How, then, did I come to write mysteries, and why aren’t my mysteries serious instead of sexy and sassy?

The short answer is, I like the mystery device. What better way to propel a plot forward than to have a crime to solve?

The little-bit-longer answer is that crafting a puzzle that the sleuth and readers need to piece together is challenging–and fun; watching characters you love to spend time with grow and discover themselves–and each other–is rewarding. Having humor and wit in a book is icing on the cake.

For me, then, the mystery is only half the story. Lola Cruz came about long before the framework of Living the Vida Lola. She came to me as a character who was at once sassy, smart, sexy, determined, strong, feminine, Latina, black belt in kung fu, idealistic, American, sister, daughter, friend, and so much more. When it was time to figure out how I was going to tell her story, it made perfect sense to put her into an investigative role. Elements of the mystery, I knew, could pit Lola against external conflicts, as well as internal conflicts, of which she has many. It would force her to evaluate her life, her choices, her dreams, her desires, and her future (all in a funny, light way). Balancing her drive to be a detective, her traditional Mexican family, cultural expectations, her American sensibilities, and her love life is no easy task. Add in a mystery, and it’s a wild ride!

Lola Cruz Mysteries are character driven more than anything, but the mysteries really interest me. They’re ‘ripped from the headlines’, twisted, redefined, and Lola-fied. The mysteries shape, form, and/or enlighten Lola in her personal life or with her decision-making. They are equal, then, to Lola’s own story, which spans the arc of the series (we’re only on book 2, so have a ways to go yet).

I’m always curious to find out i readers like their mysteries straight up, or with the zany, romantic elements which are in many series. How do you like yours?

Visit Misa and learn more about Lola Cruz Mysteries at http://misaramirez.com, at Chasing Heroes, http://chasingheroes.com, and at The Stiletto Gang, http://thestilettogang.blogspot.com.

Want to find out more about Misa and Lola! Then take a moment to stop at one of these other blog tour stops:

Mon Jan 18 BronzeWord Latino Authors
Tues Jan 19 Book-Lover Carol
Wed Jan 20 Latino Book Examiner
Thur Jan 21 Julia Amante
Mon Jan 25 Murder By 4
Tues Jan 26 Book Journey
Wed Jan 27 Mama Latina Tips
Fri Jan 29 Literary Feline

Thanks Misa for dropping by and thanks to all of you for leaving comments and questions for Misa!

Fun Friday – Guest Visit from Raul Ramos y Sanchez

Time: the second decade of the 21st century

As the immigration crisis reaches the boiling point, once-peaceful Latino protests explode into rioting. Cities across the nation are in flames. Anglo vigilantes bent on revenge launch drive-by shootings in the barrios, wantonly killing young and old. Exploiting the turmoil, a congressional demagogue succeeds in passing legislation that transforms the nation’s teeming inner-city barrios into walled-off Quarantine Zones. In this chaotic landscape, Manolo Suarez is struggling to provide for his family. Under the spell of a beautiful Latina radical, the former U.S. Army Ranger eventually finds himself questioning his loyalty to his wife—and his country.

Please welcome Raul Ramos y Sanchez, the author of AMERICA LIBRE. Raul has been gracious enough to vist with us and answer some questions. Please also check out the excerpt from AMERICA LIBRE as well as the video trailer.

A chat with Raul:

My sources tell me AMERICA LIBRE started out with a different name. Tell us about that and the timeline of getting your first novel published.

    You’re like James Lipton with these inside sources! Yes, AMERICA LIBRE began life as MANO A MANO. Thankfully my agent talked me out of that title. Like most authors, my path to publication was not easy – or quick. I finished the manuscript in the summer of 2004. AMERICA LIBRE was released by Grand Central Publishing July 29, 2009. That five year span is an indication of how difficult it can be just to find a publisher—and a lot of work remains. Getting published has been a very gratifying experience. Still, I see it as only the first leg of a longer race. I have a lot of work remaining to make sure AMERICA LIBRE is a marketplace success.

How many rejections did you receive?

    Wheh! I lost count. What I remember most about my first attempts to find an agent or a publisher was that it seemed the stack of rejection letters was approaching the thickness of my manuscript. Amazingly, after months of mailing query letters without any luck, I went to a writers conference and got offers of representation from three agents in a single weekend. Even after finding an agent, though, a lot of hurdles remained.

What kept you writing?

    I’ve always felt the height of a barrier is an indication of the reward on the other side. I knew going in, getting published would not be easy. Nothing worth attaining ever is. But I had an example that helped sustain my perseverance. My mother arrived in the Bronx from Cuba in 1957 with a few words of English, a seven-year-old son, and enough cash to get us through a couple of months. Few people would have bet on her chances of one day starting her own business, much less raising three children who would go to college and become successful entrepreneurs. My mother never gave up. She worked relentlessly to give her children a better life despite many setbacks and disappointments. Her example showed me that the willingness to overcome adversity is what divides those who reach their dreams from those who will always wonder what might have been.

Have you ever thought about doing a film about AMERICA LIBRE and if so, what did you do about it?

    One the first reviews of my manuscript came from a professor who told me he could “see” the story even as he read it. Maybe it’s my background as a visual artist, but from the very beginning readers have commented that AMERICA LIBRE seems an ideal story for a film. I never did this consciously, but looking back, the novel has a lot of cinematic qualities: strong characters, romance, lots of action. We’ve already had an option offer from a small indy studio in Los Angeles, which my agent advised against, and a nibble from a major studio. (I should mention these experiences inspired me to post a poll on my author’s site asking visitors to vote on the star they’d like to see in the major roles. For anyone who’d like to vote, go to www.RaulRamos.com and scroll down a bit in the lower left side of the page.) In any case, I would love to see AMERICA LIBRE as a film. I’m hopeful the right deal will come along.

In conclusion, I’d like to thank you, Caridad, for inviting me as a guest on your blog. Hanging out with a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author is a rare privilege. I value your very generous support and wish you continued success with your wonderful work.

Thank you so much Raul for visiting. In chatting with you, I’ve learned what a positive role model you are for people everywhere. I’ve always believed that with hard work and determination you can overcome adversity and you are a true example of that belief in action. I wish you all the best with your writing career!

**Excerpt**

CHAPTER ONE

The origins of any political revolution parallel the beginnings of life on our planet. The amino acids and proteins lie inert in a volatile primordial brew until a random lightning strike suddenly brings them to life.
José Antonio Marcha, 1978
Translated by J. M. Herrera

The trouble had started two weeks earlier. Enraged at the fatal police shooting of a young Latina bystander during a drug bust, a late-night mob descended on a Texas Department of Public Safety complex and torched the empty buildings. By morning, a local newscast of the barrio’s law-and-order meltdown mushroomed into a major story, drawing the national media to San Antonio. Since then, the presence of network cameras had incited the south side’s bored and jobless teenagers into nightly rioting.

Seizing the national spotlight, the governor of Texas vowed looters would be shot on sight. Octavio Perez, a radical community leader, angrily announced that force would be met with force. He called on Mexican-Americans to arm themselves and resist if necessary.

Disdaining Perez’s warning, Edward Cole, a twenty-six-year-old National Guard Lieutenant, chose a provocative location for his downtown command post: the Alamo.

“This won’t be the first time this place has been surrounded by a shitload of angry Mexicans,” Cole told his platoon of weekend warriors outside the shutdown tourist site. A high school gym teacher for most of the year, Lieutenant Cole had been called up to lead a Texas National Guard detachment. Their orders were to keep San Antonio’s south side rioting from spreading downtown.

Now Cole was fielding yet another call over the radio.

“Lieutenant, we got some beaners tearing the hell out of a liquor store two blocks south of my position,” the sentry reported.

“How many?”

“I’d say fifty to a hundred.”

“Sit tight, Corporal. The cavalry is coming to the rescue,” Cole said, trying his best to sound cool and confident. From a two-day training session on crowd control, he’d learned that a rapid show of strength was essential in dispersing a mob. But the colonel who had briefed Cole for the mission had been very clear about the governor’s statement.

“Your men are authorized to fire their weapons only in self-defense,” the colonel had ordered. “And even then, it had damn well better be as a last resort, Lieutenant. The governor wants to deter violence, not provoke it.”

Lieutenant Cole had never seen combat. But he was sure he could deal with a small crowd of unruly Mexicans. After all, he had eight men armed with M-16A automatic rifles under his command. Cole put on his helmet, smoothed out his crisply ironed ascot, and ordered his men into the three reconditioned Humvees at his disposal.

“Let’s move out,” he said over the lead Humvee’s radio. With the convoy underway, Cole turned to his driver. “Step on it, Baker. We don’t want to let this thing get out of hand.” As the driver accelerated, the young lieutenant envisioned his dramatic entrance . . .

Bullhorn in hand, he’d emerge from the vehicle surrounded by a squad of armed troopers, the awed crowd quickly scattering as he ordered them to disperse . . .

Drifting back from his daydream, Cole noticed they were closing fast on the crowd outside the liquor store. Too fast.

“Stop, Baker! Stop!” Cole yelled.

The startled driver slammed on the brakes, triggering a chain collision with the vehicles trailing close behind. Shaken but unhurt, Cole looked through the window at the laughing faces outside. Instead of arriving like the 7th Cavalry, they’d wound up looking like the Keystone Kops.

Then a liquor bottle struck Cole’s Humvee. Like the opening drop of a summer downpour, it was soon followed by the deafening sound of glass bottles shattering against metal.

“Let’s open up on these bastards, Lieutenant! They’re gonna kill us!” the driver shouted.

Cole shook his head, realizing his plan had been a mistake. “Negative, Baker! We’re pulling out.”

But before the lieutenant could grab the radio transmitter to relay his order, the driver’s window shattered.

“I’m hit! I’m hit! Oh, my God. I’m hit!” the driver shrieked, clutching his head. A cascade of blood flowed down Baker’s nose and cheeks. He’d only suffered a gash on the forehead from the broken glass, but all the same, it was as shocking as a mortal wound. Never one to stomach the sight of blood, Baker passed out, slumping into his seat.

Cole couldn’t allow himself to panic; with no window and no driver he was far too vulnerable. Mind racing, he stared outside and soon noticed a group of shadowy figures crouching along the roof of the liquor store. Were they carrying weapons?

“Listen up, people. I think we might have snipers on the roof! I repeat, snipers on the roof!” Cole yelled into the radio. “Let’s lock and load! Have your weapons ready to return fire!”

On the verge of panic, the part-time soldiers fumbled nervously with their rifles as the drunken mob closed on the convoy, pounding against the vehicles.

The window on Cole’s side caved in with a terrifying crash. The rattled young lieutenant was certain he now faced a life or death decision—and he was determined to save his men. With the radio still in hand, Lieutenant Edward Cole gave an order he would forever regret.

“We’re under attack. Open fire!”

When it was over, twenty-three people lay dead on the black pavement beneath the neon sign of the Rio Grande Carryout.

*****

Take a moment to watch the exciting trailer for AMERICA LIBRE. Also, everyone who leaves a comment by midnight EST on Friday will be eligible to win a copy of Raul’s novel.


Thoughtful Thursday – A Cure for Recession Depression

It’s not easy watching the news lately. In fact, it’s downright depressing. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have no control and that’s not a good thing. For that reason, I can understand the anger of many who might be feeling the same way.

But luckily, this morning’s news has something good to read! The AFP reports that researchers in Stockholm have found that ” Heart attack survivors who eat chocolate two or more times per week cut their risk of dying from heart disease about threefold compared to those who never touch the stuff.”

In addition, the news article mentions that there was a connection between cocoa and improved blood flow and lowered blood pressure!

Good news! You can click here for more of the news article or cut and paste this link:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20090813/hl_afp/healthdiseaseheartchocolate

Also – please drop by tomorrow to visit with my friend Raul Ramos y Sanchez to find out more about his new book, AMERICA LIBRE.

Thoughtful Thursday – The Power of Language

Raul Ramos y SanchezMy friend Raul Ramos y Sanchez (who will be visiting us on August 14th) talked a little about learning his first English word yesterday at Mama Latina Tips.

I remember learning my first English words from television:

Doublemint adds to your fun
Double pleasures all in one
So refreshing, great taste, too
Chew Doublemint, Doublemint, Doublemint gum!

LOL! Had to look up the lyrics to that classic commercial.

Actually, we had the television on constantly. It was how my sister and I started to learn English before I was plopped into kindergarten with barely any understanding of the language (I had only been in America for a short time at that point). There were no ESL classes back then. You learned by immersion which is much the same way most people effectively learn a foreign language today.

In no time I was speaking and reading English and eventually I learned Italian, some French and because all the Romance languages have their roots in Latin (which I took in high school), I realized I was able to read Portuguese as well.

Being able to speak and/or read all those languages has really been a blessing. Whenever a project came up at work that required someone who was bilingual, I was the one handed the assignment which means that I’ve been able to visit over a dozen countries for an assortment of projects and conferences.

Learning other languages opens up new worlds and not just because you can visit somewhere else. When you take the time to learn even a few words, it opens doors of communication. If you learn a little more, you’ll also come to know more about other cultures.

For those who don’t speak English, learning it is important because it is the lingua franca of the business world. Get ten people together in any country and chances are, a large number of them (if not all) will speak English.

For those who only speak English, learning another language gives you new opportunities for growth. Many companies are global now and need people who can communicate with those in other countries. Even though these people may speak English, conversing with them in their own language makes them feel more comfortable and establishes an immediate bond. With another language under your belt you are that much more marketable in today’s economy.

Do you speak another language? Did your parents or grandparents?

Want to visit some more with Raul? Check him out on one of these other stops on his virtual blog tour:

WEEK ONE
August 3: “Musings” by Nilki Benitez http://Nilkibenitez.blogspot.com
August 4: “Chasing Heroes” http://chasingheroes.com
August 5: “Mama Latina” http://www.mamalatinatips.com
August 6: “Efrain’s Corner” by Efrain Ortiz, Jr. http://efrainortizjr.blogspot.com
August 7: “Writing to Insanity” by Icess Fernandez http://www.locacrazywriter.blogspot.com

WEEK TWO
The AMERICA LIBRE “Virtual Book Tour” continues…
August 10: “Sofrito for Your Soul” by George Torres http://www.blogcatalog.com/blog/sofrito-for-your-soul
August 11: “Author Terri Molina” http://terrimolina.com
August 12: “Latino Books Examiner Mayra Calvani” http://www.examiner.com/x-6309-Latino-Books-Examiner
August 13: “Unloaded” by Ricardo Lori http://www.un-loaded.com
August 14: “Author Caridad Piñeiro” https://www.caridad.com

WEEK THREE
The AMERICA LIBRE “Virtual Book Tour” continues…
August 17: “Author Julia Amante” http://juliaamante.blogspot.com
August 18: “Author Charlie Vazquez” http://charlievazquez.wordpress.com

Redux Thursday – Guest Blog by Nancy Thayer

Nancy ThayerThis Thoughtful Thursday we’re having a redux and continuing to visit with Nancy Thayer, the New York Times-bestselling author of The Hot Flash Club, The Hot Flash Club Strikes Again, Hot Flash Holidays, The Hot Flash Club Chills Out, and Moon Shell Beach. Nancy is also the author of a new June release, Summer House. She is the mother of Samantha Wilde, whose debut novel, This Little Mommy Stayed Home, comes out on June 23. Nancy lives on Nantucket. You can visit her website at www.nancythayer.com.

If you leave a comment on this blog by midnight EST Friday June 24th, you could be the lucky winner of a SINS OF THE FLESH t-shirt!

Excerpt from SUMMER HOUSE

At thirty, Charlotte Wheelwright remains the dreamer she’s always been. But when she begins an organic garden on a portion of her grandmother’s land, Charlotte learns to plant her feet in solid ground and begins to build a new life.

More often than not, ninety-year-old Nona Wheelwright contentedly spends her time reminiscing about days gone by. But with her family’s annual reunion and financial meeting looming, Nona must give up her days of quiet solitude to soothe her easily riled up family.

For decades Charlotte’s mother, Helen, who married into the illustrious Wheelwright family, has been pressured to adhere to their way of life. But when, during the course of the family’s annual summer retreat, she discovers her husband’s betrayal, Helen wonders if she sacrificed her dreams for the wrong reasons.

Artfully written and set on the glorious island of Nantucket, Nancy Thayer’s Summer House is a vibrant and stirring novel about family, love, and daily choices that affect entire lives.

New York Times calls it, “a Nantucket family-reunion story…well-wrought, appealing book will come as a pleasant surprise…packed with literally down-to-earth charm, what with a central character who escapes her family of starchy bankers by lovingly tending her vegetable garden.”

Charlotte had already picked the lettuces and set them, along with the bunches of asparagus tied with twine and the mason jars of fresh-faced pansies, out on the table in a shaded spot at the end of the drive. In July, she would have to pay someone to man the farm stand, but in June not so many customers were around, and those who did come by found a table holding a wicker basket with a small whiteboard propped next to the basket. In colored chalk, the prices for the day’s offerings were listed, and a note: Everything picked fresh today. Please leave the money in the basket. Thanks and blessings from Beach Grass Garden. She hadn’t been cheated yet. She knew the customers thought this way of doing business was quaint, harkening back to a simpler time, and they appreciated it.

Perhaps it helped them believe the world was still a safe and honest place. The day was overcast but hoeing was hot work and she had been up since four-thirty. Charlotte collapsed against the trunk of an apple tree, uncapped her water bottle, and took a long delicious drink. Nantucket had the best water on the planet: sweet, pure, and clear. It was shady in this overgrown spot, so she lifted off the floppy straw hat she wore, in addition to a heavy slathering of sunblock, and sighed in appreciation as a light breeze stirred her hair.

She couldn’t linger, she had too much to do. She took another long drink of water, listened to her stomach rumble, and considered returning to the house for an early lunch.

When she heard the voices, she almost jumped.

People were talking on Bill Cooper’s side of the fence, just behind the green tangle of wild grapevines. Hunky Bill Cooper and his gorgeous girlfriend. From the tense rumble of Coop’s voice and Miranda’s shrill whine, they weren’t happy.

“Come on, Mir, don’t be that way.” Bill’s tone was placating but rimmed with an edge of exasperation.

“What way would that be?” A sob caught in Miranda’s throat. “Truthful?”

The moment had definitely passed, Charlotte decided, when she could clear her throat, jump up, and call out a cheerful hello. Vague snuffling sounds informed her that Bill’s dogs, Rex and Regina, were nearby, nosing through the undergrowth. She thought about the layout of Bill’s land: along the other side of the fence grew his everlasting raspberry bushes. The berries wouldn’t be ripe yet, so Bill and Miranda must be taking the dogs for a walk as they often did.

She was glad the berry bushes grew next to the fence, their prickly canes forming a barrier between Bill’s land and Nona’s. A tangle of grasses massed around barberry bushes was wedged against the fence, and then there were the tree trunks. They would pass by any moment now. She would keep very quiet. Otherwise it would be too embarrassing, even though she had a right and a reason to be here.

“I never lied to you, Miranda. I told you I wasn’t ready for a long-term commitment, especially not when you’re in New York all winter.”

“You could come visit me.”

“I don’t like cities,” Bill argued mildly.

“Well, that’s pathetic. And sleeping with that—that slut—is pathetic.” Miranda was striding ahead of Bill. She cried out, “Rex, you stupid, stupid dog! You almost tripped me.”

“Mir, simmer down.” Bill sounded irritable, at the end of his patience.

Miranda didn’t reply but hurried into the orchard of ancient apple trees. Bill followed, crashing through the brush. Charlotte could hear a few more words—I’m not kidding! It’s over, Bill!—then she heard the hum of their voices but no words, and then they were gone.

“Gosh,” Charlotte whispered to herself.

Charlotte had had a crush on Bill Cooper for years. Coop was a hunk, but so easygoing and funny that when you talked with him you could almost forget how handsome he was. She seldom saw him, even though he lived right next door. Of course, “right next door” was a general term.

Nona’s property consisted of ten acres with fifty feet of waterfront on Polpis Harbor, and the Coopers’ land was about the same size. With all the plantings, you couldn’t see one house from the other, even in winter when all the leaves had fallen.

Like the Wheelwrights, the Coopers mostly summered on the island, the Wheelwrights coming from Boston, the Coopers from New York. Eons ago, when they were all little kids, Coop had played a lot with Charlotte’s brother Oliver, even though Oliver was younger, because Coop was an only child, and the two families got together several times over the summer for cocktails or barbecues. Then came the years when they rarely saw each other, everyone off in college and backpacking in summer instead of coming to the island.

Coop lived in California for a while, but three years ago his parents moved to Florida and Coop moved into the island house, telling everyone he wanted to live here permanently. He ran a computer software business from his nineteen-sixties wandering ranch house, mixed his plasma TV and Bose CD player in with his family’s summery bamboo and teak furniture, and was content. Mostly he allowed his land to grow wild, except for a small crop of butter-andsugar corn famous for its sweetness. At the end of the summer, he held a party outdoors, a clambake with fresh corn, cold beer, and icy champagne.

Charlotte had seen Coop and Miranda about town now and then, when she went in to catch a movie or pick up a prescription at the pharmacy. It was obvious why any man would fall in love with Miranda Fellows. She was a dark-eyed beauty hired to run Luxe et Volupté, an upscale clothing shop on Centre Street. She was British, and her accent thrilled the young, beautiful, rich, social-climbing set, men as well as women. She was such a snob, and Coop was such a genuine good guy, they seemed like an odd pair, but Charlotte hadn’t allowed herself romantic thoughts about Coop.

SUMMER HOUSE by Nancy ThayerShe hadn’t allowed herself romantic thoughts about any man for quite a long while.

Her own move to Nantucket had not been a lighthearted, impulsive act. She’d thought about it a lot. She’d searched her soul. She came to Nantucket to get away from men—at least from one particular man—and to somehow balance with good acts the wrong she’d done. Her organic garden was her own self-imposed penance and repentance, and she’d been diligent and hardworking and nunlike for three years. She didn’t know when her penance would be over . . . but she knew she would find out when the time came. Until then, she forced herself to work hard, every day.

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Thoughtful Thursday – The Code of Conduct Blog Tour

codePlease welcome K.M. Daughters the authors of the romantic suspense novel, Beyond the Code of Conduct (Wild Rose Press), as they virtually tour the blogosphere in June on their first virtual book tour with Pump Up Your Book Promotion!

K.M. Daughters is the multi-published writing team of sisters Pat Casiello and Kathie Clare. Their pen name is dedicated to their parents Katherine and Michael, the “K” and “M” in K.M. Daughters. Their author career began in January 2008 with contracts from The Wild Rose Press for an inspirational romance, Jewel of the Adriatic, and a romantic suspense novel, Against Doctors Orders, Book #1 in The Sullivan Boys Series. Beyond The Code of Conduct, Book 2 in the series, is rated 4-stars, compelling, page turner, by Donna M. Brown, Reviewer for Romantic Times Book Reviews (June 2009 Issue #304). A contemporary romance, Past, Present and Forever is available in E-book from Sapphire Blue Publishing. Residing in Illinois and New Jersey, the sisters continue to work on The Sullivan Boys Series. Book #3 will release later this year and two additional books are anticipated to complete the series. You can visit their website at www.kmdaughters.com. Follow them at http://twitter.com/kmdaughters!

Also – anyone who leaves a comment by midnight EST time on Friday June 19 will be eligible to win a SINS OF THE FLESH T-shirt and lunch bag!

About the Book

FBI Agency Brass and Sullivan family connections force Special Agent Bobbie Leighton into an undercover operation with inactive Homicide Detective Joe Sullivan.

Posing as a cattleman and his arm-candy wife the couple is assigned to infiltrate NY attorney Bradley Sterling’s illegal operation. Suspected of baby trafficking, Sterling maybe be connected with Joe’s brother, Jimmy Sullivan’s murder.

How do Bobbie and Joe adhere to their professional code of conduct living under the same roof? Can they forget their personal history, ignore their volatile feelings for each other and ensnare their target when they might be next on Sterling’s victims list?

Excerpt

“You want hot? I’ll give you hot.” In one swift motion she picked up a mug off the table and whipped it towards him, a perfect strike.

Lucky for him he still held his jacket in his hand. He swept it up like a toreador in front of his face. The coat took the brunt of the hit, but hot liquid splattered on his hands.

“Ouch. Damn. Stop it.” He dropped the wet coat on the floor. His hands burned and he wiped them on his thighs to stop the heat. It had the opposite effect on his arousal.

She batted her eyes around, apparently for something else to throw at him and tugged at the pillow on the back of the sofa. When it didn’t give, she hopped up on the seat cushion and tugged at it harder. If she realized how seductive she looked, she’d stop doing that. A glimpse of lace panties made him groan.

“Honey, add a sorority sister and a little water on the front of your T-shirt and you have everyman’s wet dream. You’re killing me here.”

The fury mounted on her face and he laughed.

She stepped down from the couch and stormed off to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you.” No response from the kitchen.

Gathering together the launched items, he stacked the books and magazines on the coffee table and tucked her shoes beneath. He kicked off his shoes and placed them in a neat pair next to hers before settling on the couch.

It’s fun to goad her. “While you’re in there could you grab me a beer?”

Realizing a little too late why she had marched to the kitchen, a plate swished past inches from his ear and crashed against the bookcase.

“Damn.” The next plate hit him in the shoulder. “What is wrong with you? Stop it.”

“What is wrong with me? With me? You take off. Leave me here alone to face the home inspection. And you are stupid enough to ask me what is wrong with me?” Each sentence was punctuated with the crash of a dish around him.

Hands empty, she disappeared again, surely on her way to stock up on ammo.