DeLuca Family Collection
A Suspenseful Romance Collection
Coming December 12th 2014
from Musa Publishing
from Musa Publishing
Synopsis
Love makes your
heart race, but passion can kill.
Three strong, captivating women.
Three intense, driven men.
One family devoted to justice.
Come journey with the DeLuca Family
from the tumultuous streets of Chicago to the majestic peaks of Glacier
National Park in these three intriguing full-length novels loaded with passion,
suspense…and danger.
What the critics are saying about
Susan Rae’s books
Heartbeats: “A terrific tale of romantic intrigue, with characters who
are intelligent, skilled professionals and to whom we can easily relate.”—Marilyn Weigel, RTM
ICE blue: “With her well-developed characters, Susan keeps you glued to
the pages.” —Susan Peck, My Cozie Corner
“…this romance, thriller was something that took hold of your heart as
you read.” — Beth
Cutwright, Beth Art From The Heart
TRUE blue: “The writing was terrific and the plot was intriguing and
suspenseful. Rae masterfully deceives the reader into thinking that she knows
who-dunnit but the reader will be deliciously surprised at the end.” —Cindi, Mammasez
Heartbeats - Excerpt
Dressed in her nightgown, Elizabeth cracked
open the door of the bedroom and peered out, just to make sure the coast was
clear. Verifying that the door from the living room to the bathroom was closed,
she tiptoed into the room. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee drew her to the
table where a steaming carafe sat, along with a basket of blueberry muffins and
two cartons of yogurt. The man was an angel, she mused — well, maybe not.
Biting into a muffin, she relished the
sweet taste of the blueberries against her palate, then ravenously took another
bite and poured herself a cup of coffee. She was about to take her stash into
the bedroom when the bathroom door flew open. Drake stepped out, a towel
wrapped dangerously low around his loins. He stopped in mid-stride. His eyes
locked onto hers. He appeared as shocked as she to find her standing there.
Elizabeth stood there, transfixed, staring
at him for a full ten seconds with her coffee cup in one hand, the muffin and
napkin in the other. He stood stock-still, too, while water dripped from his
forehead and into his eyes. His hair was matted forward. The dripping water
drew Elizabeth’s gaze downward. Her eyes traveled to his chest where a patch of
dark hair glistened across his pectoral muscles, then down along the line that
led to the six-pack of hard muscles that molded his abdomen. Her gaze traveled
lower, to the edge of the towel where his hand was clamped around the towel’s
ends, barely holding it in place at the top of his right hipbone. The knowledge
of what lay beneath that towel brought a burn to her cheeks.
Quickly she drew her gaze back up to his
chest, noting the scar to the lower left of his collarbone. An old scar, she
judged, grown white with time. She wondered where the new scar was — the scar
from the bullet he’d taken in the Virgin Islands. In his back? Beneath the
towel? Now that was a scary thought. What a tragic loss to womanhood if he was
damaged goods.
Elizabeth, get a grip! she scolded herself. Then another thought assailed her. She realized
that if he had been hit there, beneath the towel, he might have come very close
to death. There were umpteen blood vessels and arteries in the lower abdomen.
Tearing through any one of them could be fatal. The possibility of that brought
her eyes sliding quickly back up to his with a touch of panic that unnerved
her.
But his eyes did not meet hers, for they
were enjoying their own delicious feast…She knew she should move, but found she
couldn’t. It was as if she was being held under some ancient power. Finally,
his gaze moved up again, pausing at her swollen breasts once more, before
returning to her face.
“Oh!” she said. The mixture of surprise and
passion she saw in his eyes threatened to make the coffee cup slide from her
hand. Her heart thudded wildly against her ribs. She swallowed hard, trying to
get control of herself. His eyes narrowed on her.
“I forgot my shaving kit,” he explained,
then tore his gaze from hers and crossed to the sofa to rummage through his
suitcase with one hand while the other stayed clamped to the towel.
“Yes,” she responded inanely, still unable
to get her feet to move. She eyed his strong legs where the towel barely
covered his thighs, noted the muscles that rippled along his back when he
turned away. Noted, also, that t there
was no fresh scar on his back.
He turned to her again and she finally
managed to tear her eyes away from him, embarrassed now that he had discovered
her examining him.
“I’ll just take this into the bedroom,” she
said and quickly made her escape.
ICE -Excerpt
Morning
light peeked around the edges of her window blinds when next she opened her
eyes. With a start, she realized she must have drifted off to sleep again.
Glancing at her bedside clock, she feared the worst—the sun didn’t rise in
mid-January in Chicago until almost eight.
The
digital clock glared seven forty-five.
She’d
planned to be at the clinic by seven to make sure everything was set for the
first patients. She must have turned off the alarm in her sleep. It was crazy
how the tone alarm at the station could have her jumping out of bed, but at
home she slept right through her own alarm. The puppy was yelping again, quite
frantically this time.
“Okay,
little pup!” she called as she stumbled out of bed. “Hold on. I’m coming!” But
as she took a step toward the doorway, she stubbed her toe on one of the boots
she’d kicked off the night before.
“Damn,”
she swore. Tell yourself again what a great idea accepting the puppy was.
In the
kitchen, the puppy’s frenzied state had him scratching at his grate. “Shush,”
she scolded him. “Settle down or you’ll wake the neighbors, if there could
possibly be any still asleep.”
Bending
to open his crate, she reached in to grab him, but he scooted past her, making
a beeline for the back door of the condo. She hurried after him…
“Settle
down, little pup!” she scolded. She really should come up with a name for him,
she couldn’t call him little pup forever. She caught up with him at the door
and scooped him up, but not before noticing the little puddle he’d left on the
wooden floorboards in his excitement to get out.
“Seriously?
Could you give me a break here?”
She
tried to be mad at him, but when he looked at her with those soulful little
black eyes, she just couldn’t. Pulling him up against her, she rubbed his fur
against her cheek and smiled.
“You’re
going to be the death of me yet,” she said, not unkindly. She turned to grab a
paper towel from the kitchen, but the puppy still wouldn’t settle in her arms.
He kept turning his head to yap at the door. “Shush,” she admonished him again.
At last
he quieted. It was then that she heard it—the tiniest little mewing coming from
the other side of the door.
“What
in the world...? Is that what has you so excited?”
Turning
once more to the door, she placed a hand over the puppy’s muzzle and listened
more closely. Sure enough, the mewing came again.
She
slid a couple of slats of the blinds aside, squinting at the beam of sunlight
that streamed in from where it peeked over the low buildings behind hers, and
scanned the rear area. Her gaze moved over the back porch, to the stair area,
and then below it to the asphalt pavement of the courtyard below. Nothing
moved.
The
mewing stopped and then started up again. Angela frowned. The raspy mewing
sounded suspiciously like a cat.
“Great.”
She sighed. “Just what I need, a cat to go along with the dog!”
Tucking
the puppy under one arm, she unlocked the door, opened it a crack, and looked
down.
A
cardboard box lay against the threshold. The muffled mewing came from inside
it. She opened the door more fully, ignoring the cold blast of air that slammed
against her skin, and knelt to explore the box.
“Well,
little pup, what do we have here, do you think?”
Now
that she’d discovered the box, he’d settled down and seemed just as curious as
she to find out what lay inside. Carefully, she lifted the flaps, expecting at
any moment for the cat to jump out at her.
But
what lay inside barely moved, except for the tiny mouth in the small round face
where it once more emitted the most pitiful gaspy mewing sound.
Angela’s
heart rate jumped several beats. Grasping the puppy tighter, she stared into
the box and emitted her own startled cry.
“Oh...My...God!”
True Blue -Excerpt
His cell phone buzzed. He reached
into the inside pocket of his suit coat and pulled it out. The caller ID
indicated it was Andi, his wife.
Officer Andrea DeLuca was a detective, too. She would have heard about the incident already. She’d also know who was shot and that it wasn’t him.
Deciding he wasn’t ready to talk to her about it just yet, he let the call go to voice mail. Less than thirty seconds later, it buzzed again, this time indicating a text.
You okay?
He sighed and texted back.
Are you going to be able to make it to the dinner tonight?
Damn, he’d pretty much forgotten about the dinner…
He texted back, Chances are, not. Go on without me.
Understand. Love you.
He paused for a second and then typed, Me too, and hit send. Why did he hesitate? He didn’t exactly know. Things had been tense between them lately, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Perhaps it was because he was up for a promotion soon and he was working long hours to try to not screw it up. Between that and Andi’s own dedication to their chosen line of work, it seemed they were spending less and less time together. He glanced back down at Detective Beattie. The team had returned and was now placing his body into a body bag. He frowned. Maybe it was time he and Andi did some re-evaluating.
He was about to slip the phone back into his pocket when it buzzed again. Glancing once more at the caller ID, he didn’t recognize the number or the area code. It definitely was not one of his fellow officers or a member of his family. Ignoring the call for now, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and scanned the assembling media again. No less than three satellite trucks had joined them.
According to his cell phone, it was 4:53—just in time for the evening news. Loosening his tie, he took a step toward them. The temperature was a searing ninety-seven degrees. Add in the humidity and the heat index, it had to be about one hundred and five. The heat didn’t help the tension in the streets. It was a well-known fact that crime, including homicides, went up when the temperatures rose.
He glanced up at the sky. They could use a cold front to come blowing through, complete with thunderstorms. It would be a welcome relief.
But there wasn’t a cloud in sight.
Officer Andrea DeLuca was a detective, too. She would have heard about the incident already. She’d also know who was shot and that it wasn’t him.
Deciding he wasn’t ready to talk to her about it just yet, he let the call go to voice mail. Less than thirty seconds later, it buzzed again, this time indicating a text.
You okay?
He sighed and texted back.
Are you going to be able to make it to the dinner tonight?
Damn, he’d pretty much forgotten about the dinner…
He texted back, Chances are, not. Go on without me.
Understand. Love you.
He paused for a second and then typed, Me too, and hit send. Why did he hesitate? He didn’t exactly know. Things had been tense between them lately, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Perhaps it was because he was up for a promotion soon and he was working long hours to try to not screw it up. Between that and Andi’s own dedication to their chosen line of work, it seemed they were spending less and less time together. He glanced back down at Detective Beattie. The team had returned and was now placing his body into a body bag. He frowned. Maybe it was time he and Andi did some re-evaluating.
He was about to slip the phone back into his pocket when it buzzed again. Glancing once more at the caller ID, he didn’t recognize the number or the area code. It definitely was not one of his fellow officers or a member of his family. Ignoring the call for now, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and scanned the assembling media again. No less than three satellite trucks had joined them.
According to his cell phone, it was 4:53—just in time for the evening news. Loosening his tie, he took a step toward them. The temperature was a searing ninety-seven degrees. Add in the humidity and the heat index, it had to be about one hundred and five. The heat didn’t help the tension in the streets. It was a well-known fact that crime, including homicides, went up when the temperatures rose.
He glanced up at the sky. They could use a cold front to come blowing through, complete with thunderstorms. It would be a welcome relief.
But there wasn’t a cloud in sight.
Susan Rae
Susan grew up in the suburbs of
Chicago and received her Bachelor of Arts Degree from Columbia College,
Missouri with an emphasis in creative writing.She penned her first melodrama in
fifth grade for a Girl Scout Drama badge. Complete with hero, heroine, and
dastardly villain, it wasn’t so very different, really, than the romantic
suspense she writes now.
“I love writing romantic suspense
because it allows me to combine a sexy, passionate love story with a gritty
suspense tale—in my opinion, the best of both worlds.It also allows me to
express my appreciation for the outdoors in the setting that I recreate on the
page.”
When she is not sketching
characters, you might find Susan on the golf course working on her handicap, or
traveling around the country seeking out new settings for her novels with her
husband and empty nest puppies, Ginger and Nikute. To read more about Susan’s
novels and the writing life, please visit her website/blog at www.susanrae.com
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