Angel Sefer's Blog, page 36
March 17, 2015
"This book will highly intrigue and enthuse you, especially as the family secrets are many, the mystery intense and the villain is disclosed at the very end." 5 star review
5.0 out of 5 stars A fast-paced, romantic page turner set in the heart of Greek summer, March 13, 2015By Effrosyni Moschoudi "Romance & fantasy author... (Athens, Greece) - See all my reviewsThis review is from: Deadly Secrets (The Greek Isles Series Book 2) (Kindle Edition)This is the second book in the Greek Isles Series and I must say, I thought it was even better than Spellbound in His Arms. Deadly Secrets was simply un-put-downable.
Helena arrives in the cosmopolitan Greek island of Mykonos on a long holiday from London in order to find her roots and hoping to unravel an old family mystery too. In the process, her life and the life of others are put in danger, and she also falls irrevocably in love. This reads in many ways like a Harlequin romance; the dislike between the two main protagonists, the second guessing, the misunderstandings, etc. It is not advisable to read this if you are put off by these elements. But, if like me, you enjoy this type of romance, then do not hesitate.
If anything, this book will transport you to the heart of the Greek summer in the Cyclades; the descriptions of the town of Mykonos are vivid and made me feel like I was back there. This book will highly intrigue and enthuse you, especially as the family secrets are many, the mystery intense and the villain is disclosed at the very end. Angel Sefer’s masterful story-telling will have you guessing all the time, enticing you to keep reading. I know I lost sleep over this, reading far longer into the night than I meant to. A cracking good read!
Amazon / Amazon UK / Barnes & Noble
"Great to have a different setting for romance story. I really liked the fact that this book was set on a Greek island." 5 star review
9 of 9 people found the following review helpful5.0 out of 5 stars Island Adventure!, March 14, 2015By 1D82 Many (London) - See all my reviewsThis review is from: Spellbound in His Arms (The Greek Isles Series Book 1) (Kindle Edition)Great to have a different setting for romance story. I really liked the fact that this book was set on a Greek island. Very romantic and very different. (And informative - I had no idea that there were so many forests on Greek islands!)
This is an easy read romance, which I liked about it.
I liked the two main characters. Jackie, an investigating journalist is on a mission to save her family, the heirs to the Demiris fortune, who are dying one by one in mysterious circumstances. Police officer Michael is doing his best to help her. Lot's of sexual tension!
The story has many twists including a great one at the end. Most unexpected!
Amazon / Amazon UK / Barnes & Noble
March 16, 2015
Excerpt from the original, humorous, and highly enjoyable collection The Cat Wore Electric Goggles by Ian Hutson
Excerpt:
One Small Step for Ma'am, One Giant Leap for Ma'amkind
The Prime Minister’s very knackered, very official Humber saloon positively dwarfed the shiny new Isetta bubble-car sitting next to it at the traffic lights. Mind you, size was all that the Humber had going for it. By the time the signal had changed to green the Isetta was already buzzing away somewhere around Trafalgar Square, and looking for all the world like some tiny spacecraft. The Ministerial Driver managed to crunch the Humber into non-synchro first gear sometime alarmingly well into the green phase, and he eased out the worryingly soft clutch on a mild throttle, not wanting to put a strain on anything in particular. In his experience you could never tell what might just be the final motoring straw.On the back seat of the government “limousine”, Sir Rupert Nelson Wellington-Wilson KG KT GCB GCMG DSO GCVO OM ISO GBE CH BA (Cambs., Failed) VC GC CGC RRC DSC MC DFC AFC and AC-DC (on the quiet) was deep in heated conversation with Fotheringham, the DG of the EBC, in re the NASA of the USA, the RASA of the USSR and the necessary pre-emptive actions of the ESA, to wit, PAEOTRMBAEGT.‘PAEOTRMBAEGT, Prime Minister?’ asked Puttlefrock minor, the especially stupid Minister for Things, from the discomfort of his fold-out seat, hunched up knees and crumpled “to do list” notebook. Puttlefrock was straying far from his more usual comfort zone, in which his only approved function was to say ‘Yes, Prime Minister, three bags full, Mr Prime Minister.’‘Putting An Englishman On The Ruddy Moon Before Anyone Else Gets There. Do try to keep awake, Puttlefrock.’ The Prime Minister selected a boiled sweet and passed the little white paper bag around, rather generously considering the rationing that still lingered about England so long after the Second Great World Unpleasantness. Long, long after everyone else had put up a brand new house of cards, England still had no bananas. ‘Gentlemen, England is being squeezed in the space race between Uncle Ruddy Sam on our west and Uncle Ruddy Stalin to our east. Whoever wins this contest will reap immeasurable rewards for their industry. I intend that the winner, just for a change, shall be us. England is going to put a chap on the moon, and we are going to do so before the month is out.’The Humber coughed as the driver missed a gear, his double de-clutch manoeuvre turning into more of a frantic jab at random pedals than an elegant synchronisation of gearbox cogs. Such things were apt to happen if he allowed his attention to be distracted by the water temperature gauge creeping towards the red or the voltmeter swinging from one extreme to the other whenever he used the indicators. What was under the bonnet owed more to alchemy than to engineering, and the Ministerial fleet wasn’t so much serviced by mechanics as it was revivified on a weekly basis by oily chaps who did stage acts on the side. Those moving parts that needed to remain in close proximity to one another were held there largely by duct tape and fuzzy string, and those parts that needed to ignore each other’s oscillations were kept apart with measured, rationed applications of WD40. Generally, there was more Redex in the tank than there was petrol, which was handy because Redex wasn’t on ration, but it did mean that the exhaust pipe rather gave the impression that it was sucking the life out of a pile of burning tyres hidden somewhere in the boot. There was little to no chance of any government minister being followed about his business - any ne’er-do-well or foreign agent in his wake would have asphyxiated after half a mile.The driver checked (rather hopefully) for the hundredth time that the handbrake wasn’t still engaged, and he silently wondered if England was fiscally capable of putting a model sailing boat on a park pond, let alone a man on the moon.The DG of the EBC harboured similar thoughts about jumping cows and spoons, and he looked nonplussed. ‘We shall do anything required of us in the way of outside broadcasts, that sort of thing, of course. The technical and personnel resources of Alexander Palace are at your complete disposal, Prime Minister.’‘Yes, I know that they are. They had better be. The English Broadcasting Corporation is going to be in charge of the whole mission.’‘The EBCin charge? I don’t understand. Surely the English Space Agency will have control?’‘The ESA is at yourdisposal, Fotheringham, it is you who will put my chap on the moon for us and it is you who will let the entire world know that we have done so.’‘But...’‘No buts. No ifs. I want it done. You have stonking great studios and special effects departments do you not? Nosegay from The Treasury will give you the necessary budget.’ ‘Budget?’ queried Fotheringham, his lips moving without waiting for the benefit of connection to cogent neurological activity.Nosegay shifted on his little fold-out seat with his back to the driver. His trousers had risen up in his discomfort, and one of his socks was plainly made of less stern stuff than the other.‘Two hundred and fifty quid’ squeaked Nosegay, tugging up the errant sock and trying to look even smaller and more obsequious than he already was in so many ways.‘Two hundred and fifty quid?’ muttered the DG of the BBC, wondering absently quite where and how the word “thousand” might have been lost as it crossed the worn floor-carpet of the Humber. The car was big, but surely not big enough to swallow three very important zeros. The DG focused in on Nosegay, as one might peer over one’s spectacles at a housefly that had fallen on its back and was waving its legs in the air like some dreadful interlude act at the Baton Rouge.Nosegay seemed serious as far as the DG could guess, and indeed he consulted several sheets of pink Treasury-watermarked paper. ‘That’s what is left in the English coffers at the moment after setting aside this year’s lend-lease repayment, Mr Fotheringham.’The DG of the EBC turned porter-wine red, and he tugged at his collar. ‘We can’t even put out an episode of the Flowerpot Men for two hundred and fifty quid!’The PM, of course, pretended to have not heard his expostulation, and Nosegay and Puttlefrock put on some semi-amateur double-act, like a couple of caged budgerigars hopping up and down and twittering about spirit of the Blitz and make do and mend and for Queen and Country. Puttlefrock, needing to have the last word at least once a month, ended with needs must when the Devil drives. However good their performances, both of them were left with the feeling that they had just sullied the fresh newspaper beneath them. ...
Blurb:
British science fiction in the classic style – with lashings of comedy and humour thrown in. These tales range far and wide, from ghostly alien invasions to sarcastic, know-it-all robotic dogs that speak both Latin and Klingon, from alien interference in the Industrial Revolution to some insane Cold War time travel, from a spot of medieval monastic mind-control to elderly ladies reverting very elegantly to the Stone Age. An Edwardian hunting party becomes trapped in a pure hell of a bewildering variety of alien wildlife on a distant planet, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II loses her dignity when ejected from an alien railway station - HM thought she was making "first contact", the aliens thought HM was busking without a licence. The British Broadcasting Corporation (the BBC) even makes an appearance, and a slightly disastrous goof, when broadcasting England's first Moon landing.
There’s a little something here for everyone. This book is not entirely comedy, not entirely hard science fiction, not entirely serious, but a mixture of all three things at once. History is thoroughly rewritten without the least bit of respect, and the science involved, while colourful, is thoroughly implausible. Think Ealing comedy written by academics, some of whom were on psychotropic substances, some of whom were quite sober, and you won't go far wrong.
Contents
The Cat Wore Electric GogglesOne Saturday, Almost 2,000 Years A.D.VTC = 1:1 +/- H times ATPThe Improvement EngineOne Small Step for Ma’am, One Giant Leap for Ma’amkindThe Unfortunate Fatal Incident at 7 AUTiger, Tiger, Burning BrightShall I be Mother?The Especial Relevance of CowpatsYou fools! You fools! You insensible fools!The Truth, The Whole Truth And Nothing But The TruthThe Almost Omnipresent Omniscient MonksAmazon / Amazon UK / Barnes & Noble
About the Author:
Born during tiffin in the sea-side town of Cleethorpes, England, at half-past nineteen-sixty. Whole family immediately moved to Hong Kong where Father worked for the Ministry of Defence, spying on Cold-War Red China by listening in to their radio transmissions. Hutson Minor spoke only Cantonese and some pidgin English and was a complete brat.At the end of the sixties was to be found on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland. Still a brat. There finally learned to read and write under the strict disciplinarian regime of the Nicolson Institute and one Miss Crichton. Then spent a year living in Banham Zoo in Norfolk, swapping childhood imaginary friends for howler monkeys, penguins.
Followed, for want of something better to do and for want of a brain, in Daddy's footsteps and found himself working for the British Civil Service in areas much too foul to be named. Was eventually asked to leave by the Home Secretary. A few years of corporate life earned some more kind invitations to leave. Ran a few businesses, several limited companies, then went down the plug-hole with the global economy and found himself in court, bankrupt with home, car and valuables auctioned off by H.M. Official Receivers. Now lives by candlelight in a hedgerow in rural Lincolnshire as a peacenik vegan hippie drop-out, darning old socks and living on fresh air and a sense of the ridiculous.
Dog person not a cat person. Favourite colours include faded tangerine and cobalt blue. Fatally allergic to Penicillin and very nearly so to Jerusalem Artichokes. Loves coffee and loves curry. Has tried his hardest all of his life to ride bicycles but simply looks like a deranged, overweight orang-utan on wheels. Favourite film Blade Runner. Uses the word "splendid" far too much.
Visit Ian Hutson's Amazon Author Page
My Review on Wizard Weather by Janet Morris
5.0 out of 5 stars A wonderful blend of fantasy and mythology, full of heroic action, and richly-drawn, fascinating characters!, March 16, 2015By Angel - See all my reviewsVerified Purchase(What's this?)This review is from: Wizard Weather (Sacred Band of Stepsons: Sacred Band Tales Book 3) (Kindle Edition)This iconic novella introduces the Sacred Band concept to modern fiction, and the sensual delicacy with which the author handles these male/female pairs of crack fighters is worthy of note. The warriors who come to the fantasy town of Sanctuary are not the Sacred Band of Thebes, whom we see in a later novel of by Janet Morris called The Sacred Band, but a fantasy squadron who takes the name "Sacred Band of Stepsons." Add one very special Stepson called Nikodemos, and magic happens. This young hero is the book boyfriend of many ladies and gents, and for good reason. Even without Niko, this novella is spellbinding, as Tempus the Black puts together a cohort to take north to war. To add even more spice, this canonical piece of heroic fantasy also introduces Askelon, lord of dreams, and Jihan the Froth Daughter, stronger than any man and spoiled rotten. I loved these Sacred Band of Stepsons books and was happy to see Wizard Weather available as a stand-alone tale. What a great entry point for new readers to this incomparable and bestselling series.
Amazon / Amazon UK / Goodreads
March 15, 2015
"I loved this book! It's full of action, mystery intrigue, and steamy romance, let alone suspense!" 5 star review
2 of 2 people found the following review helpful
Loved it!, March 13, 2015By Love To ReadThis review is from: Spellbound in His Arms (The Greek Isles Series Book 1) (Kindle Edition)I loved this book! It's full of action, mystery intrigue, and steamy romance, let alone suspense! Had me on the edge of my seat several times. The author did a great job developing her characters. Looking forward to Book 4. I highly recommend and give it high marks for the thrilling adventure.Amazon / Amazon UK / Barnes & Noble
March 14, 2015
"I was completely mesmerized and carried away by the gorgeous descriptions and scenery" 5 star review
12 of 13 people found the following review helpful5.0 out of 5 stars Suspenseful, thrilling, heart-racing!, February 26, 2015By Sara Thompson - See all my reviewsThis review is from: Deadly Secrets (The Greek Isles Series Book 2) (Kindle Edition)Deadly Secrets is the second book in the Greek Isles series, and it is nothing short of amazing. I was completely mesmerized and carried away by the gorgeous descriptions and scenery. I felt as though I was right there on that tropical island. Helena was indeed stunning and Captain Dimitris was exceptionally seductive. Both of these characters captured my heart. Deadly Secrets is a suspenseful, thrilling, heart-racing ride that you will not want to miss. The combination of mystery and romance left me breathless.
March 13, 2015
"As with anything Greek, there's mystery, danger, and passion in this fast-paced, beautifully written love story" 5 star review
9 of 9 people found the following review helpful5.0 out of 5 stars Great Romance!, March 9, 2015By Hawk - See all my reviewsThis review is from: Deadly Secrets (The Greek Isles Series Book 2) (Kindle Edition)Sefer’s ‘Deadly Secrets’ is set on the beautiful and mysterious Greek Island of Mykonos. As with anything Greek, there’s mystery, danger, and passion in this fast-paced, beautifully written love story. Notwithstanding the heart-wrenching romance between, Dimitris and Helena, the author’s descriptions of the beautiful island compliments the passion and romance between these two strong-willed individuals. Dimitris wants Helena and will stop at nothing to claim her, Helena has to learn to accept Dimitris unreservedly, despite the eerie warnings from her late mother and the prophecies hidden in her grandmother’s diary, before she can submit to him. Will they ever overcome their suspicions and move forward? Get your copy to find out. Great romance!
March 12, 2015
Excerpt from the exotic romantic adventure FRENCH KISS – Navy SEALs of Valor 3 by Sabrina Devonshire
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Excerpt:
May 15, 2014Paris, France0200 hours
A woman wearing night vision goggles swept the heavy dark curtains aside and peered out the window of her Le Marais apartment. Manic laughter escaped her lips. Several uniformed men carrying bulky weapons crept around the perimeter of a two-story apartment across the street.
The American government must have deemed the Red Queen's followers to be a major threat to send DEVGRU.
The best of the best of the SEALs or not—the men didn't stand a chance. They had erroneously concluded that the Red Queen was dead and the leaderless insurgents had lost their edge.
The people who will scrape up what remains of their bodies will soon learn that I'm very much alive.
The SEAL team would raid the apartment to find it empty—well, almost empty, actually. She had planted a little gift for the American sailors that would blow them into a million bloody pieces.
She made a mock explosion sound and then laughed, thinking about her upcoming attacks that would make headlines in the next twenty-four hours.
She tugged down the hem of her tight black velvet dress, which clung to her stockings. Her blood-red stilettos clicked across the tile floor as she walked toward the marble-topped bar. She pulled a glass from a shelf above the counter, uncapped the bottles of gin and vermouth and stirred herself a strong martini, topping off the cocktail with an olive she had plucked from a jar in the small refrigerator.
She raised the glass in the air and extended her arm as if preparing to make a toast with an invisible person.
“To death,” she said in a Russian accent before tipping the clear crystal glass toward her lips. The first swallow rocketed through her bloodstream, making her feel pleasantly light-headed.
"Ahhh." She gazed into the rectangle of mirrored glass that decorated the back of the bar, admiring her reflection. Flawless white skin scrubbed smooth every morning, long dark hair that gleamed with healthy radiance from hourly daily brushing and blood red lipstick that had become her new trademark once she had started impersonating her sister. Confusing people about their two identities had played a major role in her plan's success.
They'll be so shocked tomorrow when the body count soars.
She took another deep swallow of the potent drink, relishing the way the prisms hanging from the crystal chandelier and the oil paintings in gold leaf frames appeared to bob like floating objects on the sea as she walked back to the window.
Strong drinks are so invigorating. Almost as much as blood and death. She raised her glass in the air for another toast.
0205 hoursLe Marais DistrictParis, France
Crouched outside a seventeenth century duplex on Rue Charlot in Le Marais, Karl Patterson gripped his weapon tighter to secure it in his sweating palms. His night vision goggles illuminated his surroundings in eerie green hues. Two draped statues, perched on the stone molding above the door, peered down at the observant warrior. The brass knocker on the wooden door reminded him of Scrooge's entrance in A Christmas Carol.
Karl's mind had a knack for numbers, constantly calculating, analyzing, and storing information in the recesses of his brain like a powerful computer.
The narrow street on the Seine River’s Rive Droite had been thrown into blackness the instant the DEVGRU team dismantled the street lanterns. Karl and the six other men had rigged doors and windows with explosives and waited for their highest-ranking enlisted man on the mission; Petty Officer 1st Class, Darryl Jennings, to give the order to detonate the explosives and raid the apartment.
While Karl waited, his tensed muscles ready to react in a millisecond, the cool and damp night air wrapped around him.
Temperature approximately fifty-eight degrees Fahrenheit or fourteen degrees Celsius. Humidity fifty percent plus.
A barking dog broke into the sleepy silence. The hollow, eerie sound of the lone animal echoed through the corridor of old stone buildings, all interconnected and some sheltered with awnings. Only a scanty line of thickly foliaged trees protected the men from view. Moving silently and out-of-sight was imperative. The nearby shops had been closed for hours and the unlit windows suggested the Le Marais residents were tucked away in their beds. But it only took one insomniac peering outside and shouting to blow the entire operation.
Karl glanced at his watch. Four minutes and ten seconds had passed and still he waited. His thigh muscles burned from squatting low for so long and he bit down on his lip to distract himself from the discomfort.
Karl's uniform clung to his sweaty body as if he were crouched inside an overheated sauna instead of surrounded by cool night air. His clammy palms slipped across the steel handle of his weapon and he gripped it tighter and huffed out a sustained exhale.
We're prepared for anything. He and his team had trained long and hard to face the most adverse situations. Hell, they'd raided dozens of compounds in Afghanistan and Pakistan and even rescued a journalist held hostage in Somalia. In the remote villages, they'd been hard pressed to get a sip of clean water. On more than one mission, he had battled intestinal distress as well as the enemy.
Karl thrived on the thrill of danger and uncertainty. Conquering individuals and organizations that threatened national and international security had become an obsession ever since Kelsi's death. His commitment to excellence had paid off and he'd become a vital member of a top-notch team.
Anxiety, typically a barely noticeable undercurrent reminding him not to let his guard down, short-circuited in his nervous system. For the first time ever, he experienced an emotion resembling fear. Karl wasn't a worrier. He was the thinker who analyzed and crunched numbers in his head. He disciplined his mind to tune out extraneous background noise—emotions, superstitions and intuition.
I belong here. What the fuck is wrong with me?
This March 31 release is now available for pre-order on Amazon for 2.99. http://myBook.to/French_Kiss
Blurb:
Karl Patterson and seven other SEAL Team Six men are deployed to Paris to raid a Le Marais duplex believed to be a terrorist hideout. Finding it abandoned and rigged with explosives, the sailors barely escape. After they return to their hotel anticipating a night of rest and awake to an explosion and raging inferno, Karl and his teammates realize they are one step behind the Red Queen. Not only is she still alive; she’s also hell-bent on vengeance and plans to unleash terror the city won’t soon forget.
Journalist Jamie Phillips awakes to the sound of an explosion and rushes to the window in time to see the perpetrators fleeing from the blackened skeleton of their van. Rushing to escape engulfing flames, she nearly succumbs to the overpowering smoke and falling debris, but is suddenly rescued by a drop-dead gorgeous man she suspects is Special Forces.
Attraction between Karl and Jamie burns hotter than the flames consuming the du Luxembourg area hotel. Karl struggles to wipe Jamie from his mind and refocus on the Team’s mission. But heading to the hospital and forgetting Karl aren’t part of Jamie’s plan. Thanks to her keen journalist observational skills, she picked up on key information that just might help SEAL Team Six stop the terrorists.
About the Author:
Sabrina Devonshire, an avid swimmer most of her life, can usually be found near or immersed in a body of water. If she's not seeking an endorphin rush in a pool, lake or ocean, she's often encouraging people to work out or writing a romantic suspense or magazine article. She received a John Woods Scholarship and an Arizona Commission of the Arts Professional Development Grant toward her participation in a 2007 Prague Summer Program writing workshop. She also studied writing in Arizona and northern California and has a M.S. degree from the University of Arizona.
Sabrina loves traveling to off-the-beaten-path places where phones and electronic devices tend not to work well. Peru and Belize are two of her favorites. Sabrina lives in southern Arizona with her husband, two children, and fluffy dog, Sugar.
Amazon's Sabrina Devonshire Author Page
My review on "Never Let You Go" by Sabrina Devonshire
My Review on Czech Mate by Sabrina Devonshire
Excerpt from FRENCH KISS – Navy SEALs of Valor 3 by Sabrina Devonshire
Excerpt:
May 15, 2014Paris, France0200 hours
A woman wearing night vision goggles swept the heavy dark curtains aside and peered out the window of her Le Marais apartment. Manic laughter escaped her lips. Several uniformed men carrying bulky weapons crept around the perimeter of a two-story apartment across the street.
The American government must have deemed the Red Queen's followers to be a major threat to send DEVGRU.
The best of the best of the SEALs or not—the men didn't stand a chance. They had erroneously concluded that the Red Queen was dead and the leaderless insurgents had lost their edge.
The people who will scrape up what remains of their bodies will soon learn that I'm very much alive.
The SEAL team would raid the apartment to find it empty—well, almost empty, actually. She had planted a little gift for the American sailors that would blow them into a million bloody pieces.
She made a mock explosion sound and then laughed, thinking about her upcoming attacks that would make headlines in the next twenty-four hours.
She tugged down the hem of her tight black velvet dress, which clung to her stockings. Her blood-red stilettos clicked across the tile floor as she walked toward the marble-topped bar. She pulled a glass from a shelf above the counter, uncapped the bottles of gin and vermouth and stirred herself a strong martini, topping off the cocktail with an olive she had plucked from a jar in the small refrigerator.
She raised the glass in the air and extended her arm as if preparing to make a toast with an invisible person.
“To death,” she said in a Russian accent before tipping the clear crystal glass toward her lips. The first swallow rocketed through her bloodstream, making her feel pleasantly light-headed.
"Ahhh." She gazed into the rectangle of mirrored glass that decorated the back of the bar, admiring her reflection. Flawless white skin scrubbed smooth every morning, long dark hair that gleamed with healthy radiance from hourly daily brushing and blood red lipstick that had become her new trademark once she had started impersonating her sister. Confusing people about their two identities had played a major role in her plan's success.
They'll be so shocked tomorrow when the body count soars.
She took another deep swallow of the potent drink, relishing the way the prisms hanging from the crystal chandelier and the oil paintings in gold leaf frames appeared to bob like floating objects on the sea as she walked back to the window.
Strong drinks are so invigorating. Almost as much as blood and death. She raised her glass in the air for another toast.
0205 hoursLe Marais DistrictParis, France
Crouched outside a seventeenth century duplex on Rue Charlot in Le Marais, Karl Patterson gripped his weapon tighter to secure it in his sweating palms. His night vision goggles illuminated his surroundings in eerie green hues. Two draped statues, perched on the stone molding above the door, peered down at the observant warrior. The brass knocker on the wooden door reminded him of Scrooge's entrance in A Christmas Carol.
Karl's mind had a knack for numbers, constantly calculating, analyzing, and storing information in the recesses of his brain like a powerful computer.
The narrow street on the Seine River’s Rive Droite had been thrown into blackness the instant the DEVGRU team dismantled the street lanterns. Karl and the six other men had rigged doors and windows with explosives and waited for their highest-ranking enlisted man on the mission; Petty Officer 1st Class, Darryl Jennings, to give the order to detonate the explosives and raid the apartment.
While Karl waited, his tensed muscles ready to react in a millisecond, the cool and damp night air wrapped around him.
Temperature approximately fifty-eight degrees Fahrenheit or fourteen degrees Celsius. Humidity fifty percent plus.
A barking dog broke into the sleepy silence. The hollow, eerie sound of the lone animal echoed through the corridor of old stone buildings, all interconnected and some sheltered with awnings. Only a scanty line of thickly foliaged trees protected the men from view. Moving silently and out-of-sight was imperative. The nearby shops had been closed for hours and the unlit windows suggested the Le Marais residents were tucked away in their beds. But it only took one insomniac peering outside and shouting to blow the entire operation.
Karl glanced at his watch. Four minutes and ten seconds had passed and still he waited. His thigh muscles burned from squatting low for so long and he bit down on his lip to distract himself from the discomfort.
Karl's uniform clung to his sweaty body as if he were crouched inside an overheated sauna instead of surrounded by cool night air. His clammy palms slipped across the steel handle of his weapon and he gripped it tighter and huffed out a sustained exhale.
We're prepared for anything. He and his team had trained long and hard to face the most adverse situations. Hell, they'd raided dozens of compounds in Afghanistan and Pakistan and even rescued a journalist held hostage in Somalia. In the remote villages, they'd been hard pressed to get a sip of clean water. On more than one mission, he had battled intestinal distress as well as the enemy.
Karl thrived on the thrill of danger and uncertainty. Conquering individuals and organizations that threatened national and international security had become an obsession ever since Kelsi's death. His commitment to excellence had paid off and he'd become a vital member of a top-notch team.
Anxiety, typically a barely noticeable undercurrent reminding him not to let his guard down, short-circuited in his nervous system. For the first time ever, he experienced an emotion resembling fear. Karl wasn't a worrier. He was the thinker who analyzed and crunched numbers in his head. He disciplined his mind to tune out extraneous background noise—emotions, superstitions and intuition.
I belong here. What the fuck is wrong with me?
This March 31 release is now available for pre-order on Amazon for 2.99. http://myBook.to/French_Kiss
Blurb:
Karl Patterson and seven other SEAL Team Six men are deployed to Paris to raid a Le Marais duplex believed to be a terrorist hideout. Finding it abandoned and rigged with explosives, the sailors barely escape. After they return to their hotel anticipating a night of rest and awake to an explosion and raging inferno, Karl and his teammates realize they are one step behind the Red Queen. Not only is she still alive; she’s also hell-bent on vengeance and plans to unleash terror the city won’t soon forget.
Journalist Jamie Phillips awakes to the sound of an explosion and rushes to the window in time to see the perpetrators fleeing from the blackened skeleton of their van. Rushing to escape engulfing flames, she nearly succumbs to the overpowering smoke and falling debris, but is suddenly rescued by a drop-dead gorgeous man she suspects is Special Forces.
Attraction between Karl and Jamie burns hotter than the flames consuming the du Luxembourg area hotel. Karl struggles to wipe Jamie from his mind and refocus on the Team’s mission. But heading to the hospital and forgetting Karl aren’t part of Jamie’s plan. Thanks to her keen journalist observational skills, she picked up on key information that just might help SEAL Team Six stop the terrorists.
About the Author:
Sabrina Devonshire, an avid swimmer most of her life, can usually be found near or immersed in a body of water. If she's not seeking an endorphin rush in a pool, lake or ocean, she's often encouraging people to work out or writing a romantic suspense or magazine article. She received a John Woods Scholarship and an Arizona Commission of the Arts Professional Development Grant toward her participation in a 2007 Prague Summer Program writing workshop. She also studied writing in Arizona and northern California and has a M.S. degree from the University of Arizona.
Sabrina loves traveling to off-the-beaten-path places where phones and electronic devices tend not to work well. Peru and Belize are two of her favorites. Sabrina lives in southern Arizona with her husband, two children, and fluffy dog, Sugar.
Amazon's Sabrina Devonshire Author Page
My review on "Never Let You Go" by Sabrina Devonshire
My Review on Czech Mate by Sabrina Devonshire
