Terri Herman-Poncé's Blog: Terri Herman-Ponce, page 17
May 18, 2014
COVET–another peek inside “a heartpounding thriller”
Readers say COVET is
“sensual, suspenseful, intriguing and thoroughly amazing.”
“A heart-pounding thriller wrapped up inside a
sizzling, sexy paranormal romance.”
Release day is May 27! Can’t wait? Here’s another peek inside.
COVET
Book 2 of the Past Life Series
Chapter 2
To Dr. Lottie Morgan, hindsight wasn’t twenty-twenty. It was a curse.
Sure, she knew to be more positive about recent life lessons that led to her to that conclusion, but that was hard to do when you were sitting in your Jeep in the office parking lot, ready to go into work, while dozens of people stood outside the front door waiting to meet you. Or ask for an autograph.
If it had been a one-time incident it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but the crowding turned into a regular occurrence, an expectation even. Every morning Lottie ate breakfast, prepared for work, and hoped the day would turn out differently. It never did. And she only had herself to blame. Well, she could blame fate, too, but her life now was the direct result of a decision made several months ago and as much as she wanted to place blame elsewhere, Lottie couldn’t. Her decisions and their consequences belonged to her, and they didn’t excuse her from her clients or her job.
With a resigned sigh, she cut the engine, locked the Jeep, and strode toward the door. Halfway to Amrose Counseling Center, the crowd overwhelmed her. Head down, Lottie shoved through the group and plunged through the front door, knowing she’d been rude but also knowing she had no other choice. She wasn’t a celebrity, only a psychologist trying to help others find their way through life much like she’d found hers.
Some of the bystanders spilled into the building after her, converging on the reception area like sand pouring from a beach pail. Alicia, Amrose’s smart-dressed and middle-aged receptionist, jumped from her desk and rushed to Lottie’s side, threatening to call the police if the bystanders didn’t vacate the premises. The group hesitated and Alicia barked at them again, and when the last visitor loped back outside into the chilly October air, Lottie turned to Alicia and offered her thanks.
Alicia sent a soft smile and returned to her desk.
Someone coughed and Lottie noticed a full waiting room; people who wanted emotional guidance and mental help and who deserved a safe haven that Lottie once again disrupted. Feeling more than guilty and every bit the troublemaker, she strode toward the hall and her office at the end, hoping to leave the bad energy behind. Once inside, she powered up her computer, opened the window a couple of inches, and checked her watch.
Twelve more hours, she reminded herself. Just twelve more hours until David got home and they started vacation. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander to walks on the beach with a bottle of red and a warm blanket, a much-needed respite from the craziness waiting outside the front door. Oh hell, who was she kidding? She intended to keep David in bed for a whole week.
“Just twelve more hours,” she said out loud.
But the mantra wasn’t going to make the time pass any faster, and counting minutes would only drive her crazy. To get her mind on other things, she launched her schedule and checked her appointments. The calendar showed a new client in ten minutes followed by two regulars, lunch, and two more new ones in the afternoon. A full day but not an unmanageable one.
A knock on the door disrupted her focus. She looked up and found Stuart Hanley, the director of Amrose Counseling Center, standing at the threshold. He strode in and settled into one of the two chairs facing her desk, his large-framed glasses and plaid shirt reminding Lottie of one of her psych professors back in college. He tipped the glasses up his nose and settled Lottie with an incisive, brown-eyed gaze.
“This is becoming a habit,” he said, and Lottie knew better than to ask what he meant. They’d been having the same conversation for more than a month, and each time Stuart resurrected it, she responded with the same answer.
“I’m sorry, Stuart,” Lottie said. “If I had known the interview in Current Psychology would have caused all of this publicity, I never would have done it.”
“Our clients expect refuge, Lottie, not a circus.”
“Some of those people outside are potential clients,” she reminded him. “They’re looking for help they can’t get elsewhere.”
“Because you took a trip to the dark side and invited them in.” Stuart shook his head, his dissatisfaction evident in the firm set of his mouth. “Seriously, Lottie, what were you thinking?”
She stifled a sigh. If she explained this once, she explained it too often, and explaining it again wasn’t going to make any difference. Still, she needed to try.
“Past life regression is a fact, Stuart. It happened to me three months ago, just as it’s happened to many others over the millennia, and people need to know about it. You know that’s why I did the interview with the magazine.”
“Past life regression is entertainment for movies and books,” he fired back. “It has no basis in reality and no place in this Center.”
“Then how do you explain the documented cases in perceptual studies, Stuart?”
“Those cases are rigged for publicity—”
“Many are children,” Lottie said. “Five- and six-year olds who remembered facts of previous eras and lives. Details that no one else knew about until people started digging and making connections.”
Stuart sent her a long, disbelieving look.
“Did you see the article in NatGeo?” Lottie asked. “An archaeologist in Egypt discovered a thirty-five-hundred-year-old burial tomb with a story that corroborated the memories I started remembering back in July.”
Stuart held up a hand. “I am not here to discuss the article, Lottie.”
His demand didn’t stop her. “There are other people who are experiencing what I experienced and who need guidance. The article was my way of letting them know they’re not alone and that their situations should be addressed and taken seriously.”
“Regression therapy I agree with,” Stuart said. “Not some bizarre dissertation about a life you lived in ancient Egypt thousands of years ago. Do you even realize how that sounds?”
“Open minds are more conducive to change,” Lottie said, even though she knew the words wouldn’t shift his perception. People believed what they wanted to believe, even when what they believed wasn’t based on complete knowledge or entire truth.
Taking his silence as encouragement, Lottie went on. “Do you realize that my client roster grew by almost thirty percent in the past month since the piece ran in Current Psychology?”
Stuart folded his arms over his chest. “How many of those new clients want regression therapy, Lottie?”
“Almost half.”
“How many of them are nutcases?”
“Stuart, please don’t call them nutcases—”
“How many?”
Lottie folded her arms over her chest, mirroring his defiance. “I’m not answering that question because it’s demeaning. You see the office stats. You can figure out my client representation without my help.”
“I asked you to seek therapy of your own. Have you done it yet?”
“Stuart—”
“Have you?”
Lottie suppressed a sigh. “No, because it’s not necessary.”
Stuart leaned forward, challenging her. “According to who?”
“You think that I’m dealing with issues, and I understand that—”
“I think you’re not always operating in reality and that you need help. Go get it.” The alarm sounded on Lottie’s computer, signaling her first appointment. “I want you to find a reputable psychiatrist who will help you through this or I will choose one for you.” Stuart stood up and stared her down. “I also want you to clean out your client list and focus only on those people who need help. Real help. It’s now mid-October, and I want both accomplished by the end of the month.”
“I’m on vacation for two weeks after today.”
“Then figure out how to do this while you’re on vacation.”
Lottie stared back at him, meeting his challenge. “And if that doesn’t happen?”
“Consider October thirty-first your last day at Amrose.”
“Closed minds won’t help this practice, Stuart.”
“And quackery will destroy it.”
Lottie pressed her lips together, the curse of her decision to do the interview once again rearing its ugly head. This was something that should have been simple. She’d been meeting so many people who craved acceptance because they were being dismissed the way Lottie was being dismissed now. And it gave Lottie a better understanding of why prophets and so-called witches were treated as dangerous and often killed. People were afraid of what they didn’t understand.
A young girl in a gray baseball cap, pink and gray shirt, and blue jeans rapped on the door. “Who’s Dr. Morgan?” she asked.
Lottie stood and looked past Stuart, erasing the impatience and dissatisfaction from her face. “That would be me,” she said.
“Excellent.” The girl barreled inside and headed toward Lottie. “Can I have your autograph before we start my therapy?”
Stuart caught Lottie’s gaze and gave her a stern look just before he left. “By the end of October,” he warned.
The girl shoved a piece of paper and a pen at Lottie. Lottie ignored her, walked to the door and looked down the hall, trying to locate either a mother or father and finding no one.
The girl followed and shoved the paper and pen at Lottie again. “For a psychiatrist, you’re not a very good listener.”
“I’m a psychologist.”
Lottie looked down at the girl, took the paper and pen, and placed them on a nearby bookshelf. When she turned back, the girl was thumbing through an issue of Current Psychology.
“And that’s precisely the point,” Lottie said, watching the girl drop the magazine onto the coffee table and move to the sofa where she flopped down, watching Lottie from beneath her cap’s brim. “I’m a psychologist not a psychiatrist, and I’m also not a celebrity. Are you Monica?” Lottie added, trying to find out if the girl was her nine o’clock appointment and if someone had made a mistake when they pulled together her profile. Lottie was expecting someone older.
“No. I am,” someone else said.
Lottie turned to a woman standing at the doorway. She was short-haired, square-jawed, and olive skinned, and looked as if she had just walked off a Mediterranean photo shoot in a billowy pink blouse and tight jeans. Her eyes were as striking and as brown as her pixie cut, her body fit and tanned, and if Lottie didn’t have a file that specified her as forty-five, she would have pegged her for a dozen years younger instead.
Lottie welcomed Monica inside, and Monica turned on the young girl.
“What have you been up to?” Monica asked with a dark eyebrow arched in warning.
The girl’s equally dark brow rose with rebelliousness. “I wanted Dr. Morgan’s autograph. Is that a problem?”
“Yes, because it’s rude.” Monica sent Lottie a sideways glance. “Sorry about that, Dr. Morgan. Ada’s smart for an eleven-year old, but she’s also impatient. Ever since she’s seen your article in Current Psychology, you’re all she’s been talking about.”
Lottie looked from Monica to Ada and couldn’t rein in her surprise. “Ada reads Current Psychology?”
“I also read about the find in Egypt in NatGeo.” Ada jumped to her feet, came over, and stared up at Lottie, wide-eyed and eager. “Was that really your mummy that they discovered in that dig they did back in July? Was that really all your gold? And was that man buried with you really your lover?”
“Ada!” Monica snapped.
“I only want to know.” Ada rolled her eyes. “Come on, Mom. You’re always saying how we gotta find the truth in life, and Dr. Morgan’s one of us so it’s gotta be okay.”
“That’s enough already.” Monica grasped Ada by the arm and escorted her to the door. “Go to the waiting room. I’ll be out when I’m done here.”
“But Mom—”
“Go!”
Ada made a face and muttered colorful thoughts that were just loud enough to hear, then followed Monica’s pointed finger to the reception area. Once she was gone, Monica looked at Lottie with obvious apology.
“Children,” she said with a quirked smile that revealed teeth as white as the whitest paper. “A parent’s blessing and curse.”
Lottie nodded, having heard that wisdom hundreds of times before, and motioned toward the sofa. “How about taking a seat so we can both be more comfortable when we talk?”
“Oh, I’m not here for the entire session,” Monica said. “In fact, I’m here for you not me.”
“Pardon?”
Monica dug into her Fendi, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Lottie. Only a phone number appeared on it.
“What is this?” Lottie asked.
Monica rested a warm hand on Lottie’s shoulder. “There is a group of us who are just like you,” she said. “Those who experienced regressions just like you did, who remembered and relived details of past lives, and who’ve spoken about it and now face persecution as a result. We meet regularly and we want you to join us.”
“Meet for what?”
Monica’s smile widened. “Whatever it is you will need.”
“I don’t understand.”
Monica patted Lottie’s arm. “You will, once you leave this counseling center behind you and move on to what you’re really meant to do with your life.”
___________________________________________________
Read In This Life,
Book 1 of the Past Life Series
here
___________________________________________________
Copyright © 2012-2014 · All Rights Reserved · TerriPonce.com
Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: #PastLifeSeries, #thriller, COVET, David Bellotti, Lottie Morgan, paranormal, paranormal suspense, Past Life series, sneak peek, suspense, Terri Herman, Terri Herman-Ponce, Terri Ponce
May 12, 2014
May 10, 2014
Why we need a national Let’s Be Nice To Each Other day; talking #redwine, #books, and #GoneGirl
Join me on
Paranormal Romance Fans for Life
I’m chatting it up about red wine, Gone Girl, Robert Crais,
and why we could use a little more nice in this world.
I also have a giveaway going!
I hope to see you there. :)
____________________________________________
Copyright © 2012-2014 · All Rights Reserved · TerriPonce.com
Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: Gone Girl, In This LIfe, Paranormal Romance Fans, Paranormal Romance Fans for Life, Past Life series, red wine, Robert Crais, Terri Herman, Terri Herman-Ponce
May 4, 2014
sneak peek–COVET–”non-stop suspense” “positively Hitchcockian”
Coming May 27!
“An amazing and fascinating storyline of
suspense, mystery, betrayal, hatred and love.”
COVET
Book 2 of the Past Life Series
Chapter 1
I’m not a guy who plays games but right now I felt like a knight on a chessboard. Moving strategically but unable to set up for checkmate. It wasn’t that my patterns were ineffective. It was that fate had decided to throw an extra playing piece on the board.
“She’s going to make a move,” Galen said.
I’d seen the woman he was referring to from the corner of my eye, watching me. The problem was, she wasn’t my target. I downed my beer and ordered another from the bartender. He was juggling two martinis, some pink girly drink, and a white wine while someone at the other end of the bar whined about being cut off. I momentarily wondered if life as a bartender might be a lot simpler and immediately dismissed the thought. I thrived on excitement. That’s why I was here, senses alert, adrenalin pumping, on the edge. Ready. And if it got dangerous…well, I was ready for that, too.
“I’m telling you, Bellotti,” Galen said. “She’s interested. More than interested.”
This was going to be a problem. I took the fresh draft from the bartender, slid him a bunch of Euros, and watched the woman through the reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Not bad but I wasn’t interested. I’d already committed to the best. Back home.
“Concentrate on the op,” I said, lowering my voice.
The music pounded in the adjoining, jammed dance floor. People boozed it up and snorted stuff I didn’t want to know about in dark corners of Istanbul’s hottest nightclub.
I buried myself in my beer, keeping true to my cover. “We have a job to do,” I told Galen. “No distractions.”
We were to surveil a local drug dealer, Zev Sahin. Local for Turkey. Not local for Galen and me. I looked the Italian-American tourist, but Galen—a native Australian—somehow inherited Middle Eastern features. That made moving around the country a little easier. The nightclub was top-grade and the food and drink were covered by PROs, the professional military corporation we worked for, and if everything went as planned, in two days the op would be a wrap and I’d be vacationing back home with the love of my life.
Loud laughter broke out at a nearby table and I used the pulsating lights that illuminated the dance floor to scan the nightclub again. I watched the dealer, careful not to draw attention to myself. He sat on a sofa set back in a dark corner, surrounded by women, beefy bodyguards, and empty bottles of Cristal. And I waited for the lynch pin—the person who was going to set the wheels in motion for the night.
“She’s playing with her hair and she’s staring at you, Bellotti. I think she’s going to make a move soon.”
“Wipe that grin off your face or I’ll do it for you,” I told Galen.
“I’m just waiting for the fireworks.” Galen laughed as he picked up his glass. “What line are you going to use this time? You have an arsenal that always seems to piss off women.”
“I don’t piss them off,” I said. “They just aren’t used to honesty. Which doesn’t say a whole lot for relationships or dating these days, does it?”
Galen shrugged. “I think you’re jaded. You walk in with attitude and Armani, turn heads, and then moan about the unwanted attention you get.”
I studied the two of us in the mirror, both in designer clothes, both trying to blend in with the upscale crowd. Only Galen didn’t have the harshness on his face that I did. People probably looked at me tonight and saw someone who wanted to break a face. In reality, it was exhaustion. I really needed that damned vacation.
“You’re making too big a deal out of this,” I said.
I was going to say more but stopped when I saw our lynch pin walk into the club. She positioned herself near a granite column off to the side of the dance floor, all long legs, blonde hair, and killer body in a tight blue dress.
Lady in Blue slinked through the crowd, every man’s head turning as she moved. Galen stilled and said, “Wow.”
“We’re a go,” I said, setting down the beer. I glanced at Sahin once more through the mirror’s reflection.
“Do you think this will work?” Galen asked.
“It has to. If we’re to get into Zev Sahin’s compound and warehouse, we need that keycard he keeps in his wallet. His weak spot for women will get us that card.”
“Poor damned SOB has no idea what’s coming,” Galen said as Lady in Blue moved in. Then he sighed, had a little more of the vodka he’d been nursing, and shrugged it off. “You realize that this will be the easy part compared to getting him to turn.”
“That’s not our problem,” I reminded him, staring him down. Galen knew it was all about the rest of our team, the DEA, and the U.S. Government. All we had to do was get the card after the wallet was lifted and make the drop, and then the rest of our guys would get into the warehouse and take it down. After that, we stepped out of the picture.
And my vacation with Lottie began. With brisk walks on the beach, huddling in a warm blanket, and relaxing with a bottle of red. I shook my head. Who the hell was I kidding? I intended to keep Lottie in bed for a whole week.
“Do you think it will be that easy?” Galen asked.
I grinned, knowing Lottie wanted that week in bed, too. “Damned straight.”
“I hope you’re right.”
I realized Galen was talking about the op and that I’d let my mind wander. Not good. In this business, distraction led to death.
“She’s moving in, Bellotti,” Galen said.
Lady in Blue strode toward Sahin, bending over to adjust the strap on her high-heeled shoe, giving him enough bare leg and bare breast to catch his attention. It worked. Sahin smiled at her and beckoned her over with a bottle of Cristal. She cocked her head, giving him just enough coy to reel him in.
A warm body brushed against my arm. I ignored it, watching the way Lady in Blue moved and keeping Sahin just inside my field of vision. A hand settled on my bicep and squeezed. It was the woman who had been trying to get my interest.
“Hi,” she said, a smile on her face and in her voice.
“Hi,” I said, not smiling at all.
“My name is Yvette.” She was decked out in red hair and red dress, and was now officially baggage. “Mind if I join you?” She pulled up a spare barstool between Galen and me.
Past Yvette, Lady in Blue nuzzled onto Sahin’s lap. Sahin snagged a waitress, said something to her, and stuffed a wad of Euros down her cleavage. She strutted away, happy with the fat tip.
Yvette snuggled onto the barstool, blocking my view.
“Yvette,” I said firmly, “I’m not looking for company.”
“Oh.” She seemed put off at first but quickly recovered. I got the feeling I’d just become a challenge and she leaned in closer. C-cups, pressed hard against my arm.
That gave me a clear view of the action again. Lady in Blue slipped her arms around Sahin, slid off his jacket, and ran her hands over his chest and stomach. Good. All she had to do next was distract him the way only a woman like her could, snatch the wallet, and pretend to break outside for a smoke, where I’d meet her to make the exchange.
“You’re the hottest guy in here,” Yvette said, leaning in and giving me a clear view of a nicely filled red and black bra. “You alone?”
Galen tapped the bar to get my attention and flicked his eyes to a position behind him. His six o’clock.
My gaze slid past Yvette’s other shoulder. Another woman, dressed in a black pantsuit, stood at the entrance to the dance floor where Lady in Blue had been earlier. Only this woman’s body language said she was ready to kill, and I immediately knew who the victim would be.
It was Sahin’s wife. I looked back at Yvette. “I saw you making the moves on that Navy guy over there,” and I jerked my head to where he sat with a bunch of his friends.
She looked at him then looked back at me. “I’m not interested in him.”
“Yeah.” I grinned. “But I am.”
Yvette’s mouth opened and stayed that way.
“Should we move in?” Galen asked.
Yvette shoved away, probably thinking Galen was talking about the Navy guy.
I watched Sahin’s wife weave through the crowd to her husband, whose head was buried in Lady in Blue’s breasts. One of his bodyguards saw the wife coming and tapped Sahin’s shoulder. Sahin ignored him.
Sahin’s wife stood, hands on hips, staring down at her husband. Then, without warning, she picked up a bottle of Cristal and slammed it on the table and started screaming. She took another and smashed it on the floor, then another. The loud pops startled the crowd, someone yelled “she’s got a gun!” and the place went berserk. People scrambled to get out, shoving off the dance floor, jamming into the doorways, and screaming for safety. Bouncers pushed against the tide of patrons, yelling for them to calm down, and rounding them up like cattle.
Sahin barked at his wife in Turkish. His wife lunged for Lady in Blue and swung at her with another bottle. Lady in Blue dodged the attack, a foot slid out from under her, and she went down, her head clipping the coffee table. She didn’t move.
“Watch my back,” I told Galen.
“I’ll go after Blue,” he said. “You get that wallet.”
I nodded and took off.
Sahin argued with his wife, surrounded by the bodyguards. I moved in fast, knowing I had one shot at this. Screw it up and I blew my cover. Succeed and I still had a career. I strode toward the group of them, eyes on Lady in Blue but my mind on that wallet. One of the bodyguards slammed a hand to my chest, stopping me. He said something in Turkish that I didn’t understand, but I got the message. I wasn’t getting any closer.
“She’s hurt,” I said, pointing a finger to our spook on the floor. “She needs help.”
I made to move in again but the guy put a gun to my head. I stared at him, calm on the outside, heart pounding within. I held my hands up in surrender. No need to piss him off. Let him think he had me. I just needed another plan.
Galen was one step ahead of me. He muscled his way in to Lady in Blue, distracting the bodyguards. The gun that was on me swung to Galen. I grabbed Sahin’s jacket, swiped the wallet, and threw the jacket back on the chair. I kept going, not breaking stride, slipping the wallet into my pocket. I didn’t look back.
I was almost at the door when a gun fired, followed by a heavily accented shout. “Stop him! Stop him!”
I blew out the entrance and took off, hustling through the panicked crowd. Another gun fired and police sirens sounded in the distance. I made a left down a small street then a right into an alley, jumping a garbage can, hurtling over a short wall, and disappearing into the neighborhood. If Galen didn’t make it to our backup rendezvous point, I had to get to the safe house and that was five miles away. And right now, I had no idea if Galen and Lady in Blue were still alive.
I skidded past a corner, wondering if I should take the chance and call an alert into HQ, when I heard screeching tires. I backed up, pressed myself against a wall, and realized who it was. Galen in a Toyota. He threw open the passenger door and I jumped in, slamming the door shut as Galen jammed the gas pedal.
“You get it?” he asked, swerving through a turn then dropping our speed so we didn’t draw attention.
I nodded. “Is Lady in Blue okay?”
Galen hugged another turn. “She will be. She came to when the gunshots were fired.”
I blew out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t the first time a distraction job had taken a bad turn, but it was still a worry. “And the cops?”
“All at the nightclub. But we will have to lose the car.” He used his cell phone and dialed our contact, making arrangements for cleanup.
I pulled out Sahin’s wallet and lifted the keycard. “Payday,” I said, holding it up.
“Mommie Dearest says we should leave the wallet and card with the car.” Galen disconnected the call. “They will pick it all up at the Starbucks near the safe house in ten minutes.”
I drew in a breath and held it, forcing my heart and my lungs to calm down. Another close call. I loved this shit.
“You love this shit way too much,” Galen said, glancing my way.
I had known Galen all of three months, and he was far too good at reading my mind already. I was trying to get my head wrapped around the fact that we were connected in a way that didn’t make sense, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. Ignoring him, I sank into the seat, letting the adrenalin wear off.
“Let’s see what else we’ve got on this guy.” Inside his wallet I found a black American Express, a MasterCard, and over five thousand Euros in the billfold. A picture was tucked in with his identification. I pulled it out and held it up to catch the light from passing street lamps.
It was a photo of the love of my life kissing another man.
___________________________________________________
Read In This Life,
Book 1 of the Past Life Series
here
___________________________________________________
Copyright © 2012-2014 · All Rights Reserved · TerriPonce.com
Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: COVET, David Bellotti, Lottie Morgan, Past Life series, sneak peek, Terri Herman, Terri Herman-Ponce, Terri Ponce
sneak peek–COVET–”non-stop suspense” “positively Hitchkockian”
Coming May 27!
“An amazing and fascinating storyline of
suspense, mystery, betrayal, hatred and love.”
COVET
Book 2 of the Past Life Series
Chapter 1
I’m not a guy who plays games but right now I felt like a knight on a chessboard. Moving strategically but unable to set up for checkmate. It wasn’t that my patterns were ineffective. It was that fate had decided to throw an extra playing piece on the board.
“She’s going to make a move,” Galen said.
I’d seen the woman he was referring to from the corner of my eye, watching me. The problem was, she wasn’t my target. I downed my beer and ordered another from the bartender. He was juggling two martinis, some pink girly drink, and a white wine while someone at the other end of the bar whined about being cut off. I momentarily wondered if life as a bartender might be a lot simpler and immediately dismissed the thought. I thrived on excitement. That’s why I was here, senses alert, adrenalin pumping, on the edge. Ready. And if it got dangerous…well, I was ready for that, too.
“I’m telling you, Bellotti,” Galen said. “She’s interested. More than interested.”
This was going to be a problem. I took the fresh draft from the bartender, slid him a bunch of Euros, and watched the woman through the reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Not bad but I wasn’t interested. I’d already committed to the best. Back home.
“Concentrate on the op,” I said, lowering my voice.
The music pounded in the adjoining, jammed dance floor. People boozed it up and snorted stuff I didn’t want to know about in dark corners of Istanbul’s hottest nightclub.
I buried myself in my beer, keeping true to my cover. “We have a job to do,” I told Galen. “No distractions.”
We were to surveil a local drug dealer, Zev Sahin. Local for Turkey. Not local for Galen and me. I looked the Italian-American tourist, but Galen—a native Australian—somehow inherited Middle Eastern features. That made moving around the country a little easier. The nightclub was top-grade and the food and drink were covered by PROs, the professional military corporation we worked for, and if everything went as planned, in two days the op would be a wrap and I’d be vacationing back home with the love of my life.
Loud laughter broke out at a nearby table and I used the pulsating lights that illuminated the dance floor to scan the nightclub again. I watched the dealer, careful not to draw attention to myself. He sat on a sofa set back in a dark corner, surrounded by women, beefy bodyguards, and empty bottles of Cristal. And I waited for the lynch pin—the person who was going to set the wheels in motion for the night.
“She’s playing with her hair and she’s staring at you, Bellotti. I think she’s going to make a move soon.”
“Wipe that grin off your face or I’ll do it for you,” I told Galen.
“I’m just waiting for the fireworks.” Galen laughed as he picked up his glass. “What line are you going to use this time? You have an arsenal that always seems to piss off women.”
“I don’t piss them off,” I said. “They just aren’t used to honesty. Which doesn’t say a whole lot for relationships or dating these days, does it?”
Galen shrugged. “I think you’re jaded. You walk in with attitude and Armani, turn heads, and then moan about the unwanted attention you get.”
I studied the two of us in the mirror, both in designer clothes, both trying to blend in with the upscale crowd. Only Galen didn’t have the harshness on his face that I did. People probably looked at me tonight and saw someone who wanted to break a face. In reality, it was exhaustion. I really needed that damned vacation.
“You’re making too big a deal out of this,” I said.
I was going to say more but stopped when I saw our lynch pin walk into the club. She positioned herself near a granite column off to the side of the dance floor, all long legs, blonde hair, and killer body in a tight blue dress.
Lady in Blue slinked through the crowd, every man’s head turning as she moved. Galen stilled and said, “Wow.”
“We’re a go,” I said, setting down the beer. I glanced at Sahin once more through the mirror’s reflection.
“Do you think this will work?” Galen asked.
“It has to. If we’re to get into Zev Sahin’s compound and warehouse, we need that keycard he keeps in his wallet. His weak spot for women will get us that card.”
“Poor damned SOB has no idea what’s coming,” Galen said as Lady in Blue moved in. Then he sighed, had a little more of the vodka he’d been nursing, and shrugged it off. “You realize that this will be the easy part compared to getting him to turn.”
“That’s not our problem,” I reminded him, staring him down. Galen knew it was all about the rest of our team, the DEA, and the U.S. Government. All we had to do was get the card after the wallet was lifted and make the drop, and then the rest of our guys would get into the warehouse and take it down. After that, we stepped out of the picture.
And my vacation with Lottie began. With brisk walks on the beach, huddling in a warm blanket, and relaxing with a bottle of red. I shook my head. Who the hell was I kidding? I intended to keep Lottie in bed for a whole week.
“Do you think it will be that easy?” Galen asked.
I grinned, knowing Lottie wanted that week in bed, too. “Damned straight.”
“I hope you’re right.”
I realized Galen was talking about the op and that I’d let my mind wander. Not good. In this business, distraction led to death.
“She’s moving in, Bellotti,” Galen said.
Lady in Blue strode toward Sahin, bending over to adjust the strap on her high-heeled shoe, giving him enough bare leg and bare breast to catch his attention. It worked. Sahin smiled at her and beckoned her over with a bottle of Cristal. She cocked her head, giving him just enough coy to reel him in.
A warm body brushed against my arm. I ignored it, watching the way Lady in Blue moved and keeping Sahin just inside my field of vision. A hand settled on my bicep and squeezed. It was the woman who had been trying to get my interest.
“Hi,” she said, a smile on her face and in her voice.
“Hi,” I said, not smiling at all.
“My name is Yvette.” She was decked out in red hair and red dress, and was now officially baggage. “Mind if I join you?” She pulled up a spare barstool between Galen and me.
Past Yvette, Lady in Blue nuzzled onto Sahin’s lap. Sahin snagged a waitress, said something to her, and stuffed a wad of Euros down her cleavage. She strutted away, happy with the fat tip.
Yvette snuggled onto the barstool, blocking my view.
“Yvette,” I said firmly, “I’m not looking for company.”
“Oh.” She seemed put off at first but quickly recovered. I got the feeling I’d just become a challenge and she leaned in closer. C-cups, pressed hard against my arm.
That gave me a clear view of the action again. Lady in Blue slipped her arms around Sahin, slid off his jacket, and ran her hands over his chest and stomach. Good. All she had to do next was distract him the way only a woman like her could, snatch the wallet, and pretend to break outside for a smoke, where I’d meet her to make the exchange.
“You’re the hottest guy in here,” Yvette said, leaning in and giving me a clear view of a nicely filled red and black bra. “You alone?”
Galen tapped the bar to get my attention and flicked his eyes to a position behind him. His six o’clock.
My gaze slid past Yvette’s other shoulder. Another woman, dressed in a black pantsuit, stood at the entrance to the dance floor where Lady in Blue had been earlier. Only this woman’s body language said she was ready to kill, and I immediately knew who the victim would be.
It was Sahin’s wife. I looked back at Yvette. “I saw you making the moves on that Navy guy over there,” and I jerked my head to where he sat with a bunch of his friends.
She looked at him then looked back at me. “I’m not interested in him.”
“Yeah.” I grinned. “But I am.”
Yvette’s mouth opened and stayed that way.
“Should we move in?” Galen asked.
Yvette shoved away, probably thinking Galen was talking about the Navy guy.
I watched Sahin’s wife weave through the crowd to her husband, whose head was buried in Lady in Blue’s breasts. One of his bodyguards saw the wife coming and tapped Sahin’s shoulder. Sahin ignored him.
Sahin’s wife stood, hands on hips, staring down at her husband. Then, without warning, she picked up a bottle of Cristal and slammed it on the table and started screaming. She took another and smashed it on the floor, then another. The loud pops startled the crowd, someone yelled “she’s got a gun!” and the place went berserk. People scrambled to get out, shoving off the dance floor, jamming into the doorways, and screaming for safety. Bouncers pushed against the tide of patrons, yelling for them to calm down, and rounding them up like cattle.
Sahin barked at his wife in Turkish. His wife lunged for Lady in Blue and swung at her with another bottle. Lady in Blue dodged the attack, a foot slid out from under her, and she went down, her head clipping the coffee table. She didn’t move.
“Watch my back,” I told Galen.
“I’ll go after Blue,” he said. “You get that wallet.”
I nodded and took off.
Sahin argued with his wife, surrounded by the bodyguards. I moved in fast, knowing I had one shot at this. Screw it up and I blew my cover. Succeed and I still had a career. I strode toward the group of them, eyes on Lady in Blue but my mind on that wallet. One of the bodyguards slammed a hand to my chest, stopping me. He said something in Turkish that I didn’t understand, but I got the message. I wasn’t getting any closer.
“She’s hurt,” I said, pointing a finger to our spook on the floor. “She needs help.”
I made to move in again but the guy put a gun to my head. I stared at him, calm on the outside, heart pounding within. I held my hands up in surrender. No need to piss him off. Let him think he had me. I just needed another plan.
Galen was one step ahead of me. He muscled his way in to Lady in Blue, distracting the bodyguards. The gun that was on me swung to Galen. I grabbed Sahin’s jacket, swiped the wallet, and threw the jacket back on the chair. I kept going, not breaking stride, slipping the wallet into my pocket. I didn’t look back.
I was almost at the door when a gun fired, followed by a heavily accented shout. “Stop him! Stop him!”
I blew out the entrance and took off, hustling through the panicked crowd. Another gun fired and police sirens sounded in the distance. I made a left down a small street then a right into an alley, jumping a garbage can, hurtling over a short wall, and disappearing into the neighborhood. If Galen didn’t make it to our backup rendezvous point, I had to get to the safe house and that was five miles away. And right now, I had no idea if Galen and Lady in Blue were still alive.
I skidded past a corner, wondering if I should take the chance and call an alert into HQ, when I heard screeching tires. I backed up, pressed myself against a wall, and realized who it was. Galen in a Toyota. He threw open the passenger door and I jumped in, slamming the door shut as Galen jammed the gas pedal.
“You get it?” he asked, swerving through a turn then dropping our speed so we didn’t draw attention.
I nodded. “Is Lady in Blue okay?”
Galen hugged another turn. “She will be. She came to when the gunshots were fired.”
I blew out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t the first time a distraction job had taken a bad turn, but it was still a worry. “And the cops?”
“All at the nightclub. But we will have to lose the car.” He used his cell phone and dialed our contact, making arrangements for cleanup.
I pulled out Sahin’s wallet and lifted the keycard. “Payday,” I said, holding it up.
“Mommie Dearest says we should leave the wallet and card with the car.” Galen disconnected the call. “They will pick it all up at the Starbucks near the safe house in ten minutes.”
I drew in a breath and held it, forcing my heart and my lungs to calm down. Another close call. I loved this shit.
“You love this shit way too much,” Galen said, glancing my way.
I had known Galen all of three months, and he was far too good at reading my mind already. I was trying to get my head wrapped around the fact that we were connected in a way that didn’t make sense, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. Ignoring him, I sank into the seat, letting the adrenalin wear off.
“Let’s see what else we’ve got on this guy.” Inside his wallet I found a black American Express, a MasterCard, and over five thousand Euros in the billfold. A picture was tucked in with his identification. I pulled it out and held it up to catch the light from passing street lamps.
It was a photo of the love of my life kissing another man.
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Read In This Life,
Book 1 of the Past Life Series
here
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Copyright © 2012-2014 · All Rights Reserved · TerriPonce.com
Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: COVET, David Bellotti, Lottie Morgan, Past Life series, sneak peek, Terri Herman, Terri Herman-Ponce, Terri Ponce
April 30, 2014
Blog Tour for IN THIS LIFE — Giveaways and an Amazon $50 Gift Card — 5/5 to 5/23
~Teasers, Temptations, and Tidbits~
~Books to win and an Amazon $50 gift card~
Join in for some suspenseful mystery…
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Hidden memories. Buried secrets. Resurrected revenge.
Psychologist Lottie Morgan knows something is wrong when she relives memories of a lover she’s never had. At first she attributes them to fever-induced dreams. But when the fever disappears and the visions don’t, Lottie realizes something else is going on.
Then she meets Galen. Their first encounter is as intense as it is eye-opening, and his revelation that they shared a passionate relationship thousands of years ago in ancient Egypt entices Lottie into wanting to learn more about her past. Her decision, however, comes at a price. Galen may hold the answers but he could destroy the devoted, lifelong relationship Lottie has with her current lover, David.
It also could mean her death—again.
Someone is protecting millennia-old secrets, determined to keep them buried while exacting a revenge on Lottie for a mistake made a very long time ago. A mistake she could be destined to repeat.
Take a trip to mysterious ancient Egypt, where Lottie becomes caught between two lifetimes, two men, and long-buried deceptions. Hank Phillippi Ryan, Agatha, Anthony and Macavity-winning author, calls this paranormal suspense about reincarnation and finding your soul mate “Inventive, original and thought-provoking; this mystically romantic mystery will instantly intrigue.”
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Read Chapter 1 here
Read Chapter 2 here
Find IN THIS LIFE on Amazon
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Copyright © 2012-2014 · All Rights Reserved · TerriPonce.com
Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: Amazon, Goddess Fish Promotions, In This LIfe, Lottie Morgan, Past Life series, Terri Herman, Terri Herman-Ponce, Terri Ponce
April 28, 2014
Found a sweet, memorable read I’d love to share – In Love and War
Tara Mills has a new release I was given the chance to read:
IN LOVE AND WAR
now available on Amazon
I’d love to share this with you, because if you’re into soft and fuzzy with a side dose of hard reality and a well-deserved HEA, this one’s for your bookshelf.
Sometimes love really is worth fighting for, but picking your battles isn’t so easy—especially when lives are at stake.
Personal tragedy and the loss of both parents at a young age made Ariela Perrine cross self-sacrificing hero types off her datable list. But Ariela is literally swept off her feet when an accident brings her face to face with an unforgettable pair of blue eyes, a playful smile, and an overly affectionate dog.
Oh yes, journalist Dylan Bond makes her sizzle, but dare she risk it? After all, he’s just returned from covering conflicts around the globe. With his assurance he’ll be handling domestic stories from now on, Ariela’s weak resistance crumbles and their relationship intensifies at a dizzying speed. Then an unexpected phone call lures Dylan back to Iraq and he falls off the radar. His disappearance will test them both in ways neither expected. Will it bring them closer or destroy their fragile peace forever?
~EXCERPT~
“Please, come in.” Ariela grabbed her sweater off the hook on the wall and slipped it on, feeling a little underdressed in her pajamas.
What on earth was he doing here, and how had he found her? Not that she was complaining. Oh no, far from it. He’d made a startling impression on her earlier today. When he’d smiled at her, she could have sworn his brilliant blue eyes were dancing like fairies at a midsummer frolic. Odder still, when he spoke she’d imagined butterflies circling her head. She’d heard tinkling bells. At the time, she hoped it was because of the knock on her head. Now she wasn’t so sure. Just looking at him again was doing crazy things to her mental and physical circuitry.
The guy entered the apartment and gaped at the furniture right out of the sixties. Very familiar with this reaction, Ariela laughed.
“Yeah, I get it. The Jetsons meet Beetlejuice, right? Probably not the décor you’d expect two interior designers to have.”
He shook his head, still blinking as he took it all in.
Overlapping the edges of her unbuttoned sweater, she hugged herself, painfully aware she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Well, there’s a simple explanation. When you’re cash poor and starting a business with next to nothing, you can’t exactly go wild in your own apartment right off the bat. We’re still living with the furniture we had during college, courtesy of Uncle Henry and Aunt Rose—with a few freebies thrown in to make it really eclectic.”
She gestured to their space-age teal sofa. “Please, have a seat. Appearances aside, it’s actually quite comfortable. Can I get you something to drink—juice, tea, coffee maybe?”
Anything, anything at all?
Turning, he flashed a little dimple. “No thanks. I’m fine.”
He’d get no argument from her.
They sat down and he looked pained when she settled into the bright tangerine-colored armchair. Understandable. It did clash jarringly with her pajamas—pastel balloons floating across a soft pink background. The poor guy blinked several times, seemingly trying to handle the color overload. Biting her lip so she didn’t break out laughing, Ariela tucked her feet up and gave him a slow, curious smile.
He sat up straight, recognizing his cue. “Right. Sorry. I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”
“It crossed my mind,” she admitted.
“I didn’t get a chance to give you that business card before they carted you away.”
“Oh, and you brought it to me? That’s so nice of you. Thanks.”
He peered at her intently, more serious now. “How are you?”
Even though she didn’t know him, there was something in his expression that made her believe he could be trusted, and more importantly, he wouldn’t have asked about her if he didn’t honestly want to know. The naked concern radiating out of his deep blue eyes transformed his handsome face into something miles beyond devastating.
“I have a mild concussion.” Why was she blushing?
The corner of his mouth curled up a smidgen. “Headache?”
She felt her warm cheeks flare hotter. What was wrong with her? “Not anymore.”
“Good.” He broke into a full-blown smile and settled back on the sofa, apparently satisfied.
Still reeling from the power of his smile, Ariela shifted uneasily in her chair. “I have a confession— I can’t remember your name. It’s really bugging me.”
His head dropped back and he laughed. “Dylan Bond.”
She brightened. “Like in Bond, Dylan Bond?” She’d remember it now.
His eyebrows flicked up in amusement. “Something like that.”
“Dabbles in international intrigue?” She was toying with him, but it was fun.
He flashed a sexy-assed smile. How many kinds did the guy have? “I’m comfortable being in the middle of the action, but I’m back to working domestically again.”
Say what? Ariela’s eyebrows rose so high she felt her hairline shift. “I think I need a translation. What is it you do?”
He had a great laugh. “I’m a journalist. I just finished a stint in Iraq, but I’m back now. It’s nice not having to deal with body armor and helmets.”
Looking skeptically back at him, she assumed he was putting her on. “Is that right?”
“Actually, yes.” He shifted onto one butt cheek and pulled out his wallet. A second later, he handed her a press pass from a recent event. “I’m working out of my house now—mostly covering the political side of the war.”
She read the pass, her doubts dissolving. “You actually live around here?” She handed the card back and he put it away.
“Sure, why not?”
Shrugging, she said, “Well, Lewiston isn’t exactly Washington DC.”
“With the internet and a telephone, you can stay connected from pretty much anywhere. Still, I do plenty of traveling and Washington is only a two hour drive. I can be there and back before Max even notices I’m gone.”
“Max?”
His blue eyes were dancing again. Hello tinkling bells. “My retriever.”
“Ah yes, I remember him now.”
Dylan grinned. “He’s probably the reason you woke up wanting a wet wipe.”
She laughed and his smile deepened. That dimple of his was growing on her.
“Listen,” he said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “How about going out with me sometime? We can do something gentle—bumper cars maybe?”
She waited for her retreat mechanism to kick in. It was strangely silent. “Here I was, hoping you’d suggest hang gliding or bungee jumping.”
“Anything you want. I’m flexible.”
Another perfect smile flashed at her and Ariela’s heartbeat spiked. “Sure, why not?”
“Good.” He stood and pulled the business card out of his front pocket. “Here, before I forget.”
Ariela unfolded her legs and reached for the floor with her bare feet. When she rose he was right there with the card. Taking it, she noticed he was taller than she’d initially thought. She supposed that made sense. How well can you judge anyone’s height when you’re on your back?
She walked him to the door. Opening it before she could, he turned and asked, “When?”
“When what?” She watched his eyes move as he took an unabashed tour of her face.
“When can I take you out?”
The birds in her stomach were back, fluttering away. Good thing they were keeping the noise down. “Whenever?”
Dylan gave her a meaningful look, full of promise. “Expect a call.”
Ariela closed the door behind him and fell against it. If she hadn’t locked her knees, she would have been a puddle of melting woman on the floor. As Dylan’s footfalls faded out and the back door shut, she pressed a hand to her excited heart. Something told Ariela that she was in for a wild ride with this one. Hell, just sitting in a quiet room with Dylan was exhilarating. Now she knew it wasn’t just the concussion. There was far more at play here. Scary.
She was about to find out whether Dylan’s hands were capable and steady on the wheel, because he was already in her driver’s seat. She knew it, and judging by the look he gave her on the way out, he knew it too. Suddenly the Beatles were singing Drive My Car in her head.
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Like what you read?
You can find In Love and War on Amazon.
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About the Author
Tara Mills is a pampered wife, mother to three fantastic sons, one super daughter-in-law, and proud nana.
She writes the stories she likes to read. Life is difficult. Love makes it bearable.
Please visit Tara’s website Tara Mills Romance for more great reads and her quirky blog. She’s also on Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter.
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Copyright © 2012-2014 · All Rights Reserved · TerriPonce.com
Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: In Love and War, Tara Mills
April 27, 2014
cover reveal: COVET (Book 2 of the Past Life Series)
Everyone wants something.
Even if it belongs to someone else.
And some will destroy the very thing they want,
just so no one else can have it.
___________________________________________
COVET releases on May 27
and I’m proud to reveal its cover!
It SO picks up on the theme of the Past Life Series, doesn’t it?
Want to read Book 1 of the Past Life Series,
IN THIS LIFE?
Click here.
Want to know more about COVET?
Read on…
___________________________________________________
Everyone wants something.
Even if it belongs to someone else.
And some will destroy the very thing they want,
just so no one else can have it.
Professional soldier David Bellotti’s latest mission seems simple: steal the key card to a drug lord’s compound so the empire can be infiltrated and destroyed. But when David discovers evidence of his lover Lottie’s possible infidelity, his mission turns personal. He searches for answers others would kill to keep buried and discovers a link to the past he’s been trying hard to ignore.
Ancient lives, twelve thousand year old secrets, murder, and primal instincts lead David on a journey through past lives and present danger—all to save the woman he loves.
Find your way back through history, when hunter-gatherers roamed and David and Lottie’s past incarnations began. The Reading Café calls Covet, Book Two of the Past Life Series, “An amazing and fascinating storyline of suspense, mystery, betrayal, hatred and love.”
Author Deborah O’Neill Cordes calls this a reincarnation series of “page-turning mysteries… positively Hitchcockian in its ability to keep me guessing.”
Amazon reviewers say this metaphysical story is “fascinating” with “non-stop suspense” and “an absolute treat”…“a heart-pounding thriller wrapped up inside a sizzling, sexy paranormal romance.”
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COVET releases on May 27.
Start reading the Past Life Series here.
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Blatant promotion: GS Prendergast from Cover Your Dreams created another outstanding cover. There aren’t enough words to say how wonderful and easy it is to work with her.
Copyright © 2012-2014 · All Rights Reserved · TerriPonce.com
Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories Tagged: Cover Your Dreams, COVET, David Bellotti, G.S. Prendergast, Lottie Morgan, paleolithic, Past Life series, reincarnation, stone age, Terri Herman, Terri Herman-Ponce, Terri Ponce
April 25, 2014
The 10 Social Media Commandments for Authors
A great article. Things to think about.
Originally posted on Nicholas C. Rossis:
Photo found on telegraph.co.uk
Anne R. Allen published a great list with The 10 Commandments of Social Media Etiquette for Writers on her blog. Here’s a brief summary: If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it.
Not enough? Alright then, here are ten tips for online behavior for people planning a writing career:
1) Thou shalt not spam.
What is spam? Here’s the short version: if you’d ignore it in your own inbox, FB page, or Twitter stream, it’s probably spam.
2) Thou shalt support other authors.
Your fellow authors are not “rivals”. The number one thing a beginner should be doing on social media is getting to know other authors in your genre and subgenre and making friends.
One of the hottest sales tools in the business right now is the multi-author bargain boxed set with several titles by different authors. These boxed sets are getting on to…
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Filed under: Stories Behind The Stories
