COMPROMISED
by Emmy Curtis
Available
03/01/16
Book
#5 – Alpha Ops Series
Publisher:
Grand Central Publishing
Forever
Yours
It was supposed to be the
happiest day of her life. But when her wedding erupts in gunfire, Sadie Walker
realizes this is not the life she wants - her fiancé’s work with Delta
Force will always cast a shadow over their relationship. After leaving the
hard-muscled hero at the altar, she thinks she’ll never see him again . . .
until a chance encounter reveals that he still has a strong grip on her heart.
On a covert assignment
overseas, Simon Tennant is shocked when he spots Sadie with another man.
Jealousy flares, as does an irresistible urge to keep her protected. Amid a
dangerous game of international espionage, he’ll have to convince Sadie just
how perfect they’ve always been together. This time, nothing will take
precedence over winning her back, no matter the cost to his cover - or his life
. . .
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Emmy
Curtis is an editor and a romance writer. An ex-pat Brit, she quells her
homesickness with Cadbury Flakes and Fray Bentos pies. She's lived in London,
Paris and New York, and has settled for the time being, in North Carolina. When
not writing, Emmy loves to travel with her military husband and take long walks
with their Lab. All things considered, her life is chock full of hoot, just a
little bit of nanny. And if you get that reference...well, she already
considers you kin.
Coming soon… the conclusion to the Alpha Ops
series - May 3, 2016
He is a trained
professional—but nothing can prepare him for the hottest mission of his life.
Assigned to protect his boss’s daughter, British former SAS operative Malone
Garrett breaks the first rule of covert surveillance—don’t make contact. And
especially don’t take your mark out to dinner, then agree to a rooftop quickie.
But now that Mal has Abby in his arms, he has no intention of ever
letting her go.
Abby Baston told herself it
was a hit and quit, a one-nighter with a hot, handsome stranger whose hands
were trained to take action. Working undercover for the CIA, she can’t risk
anything more. But when an international crisis ignites, Abby must make a call:
trust Mal with her secret—and her heart—and partner up, or lose everything in a
split second . . .
(while
books in this series are loosely connected, all function as standalones)
Dangerous
Territory- Book 1- novella
Over the Line- Book 2
Pushing the Limit- Book 3
Blowback- Book 4
Compromised- Book 5
Risk of Exposure- Book 6 -Available 05/03/16
Excerpts- Please use only ONE.
“Look, sweetheart, every CIA field officer
rookie thinks they have a lead on some terrorist. Every single one. You’re all
fresh off the Farm, eager to make a difference, but ninety-nine percent of the
time, you’re just plain reaching.” Director Lassiter bit down on the end of an
unlit cigar, then made a face and pulled some tobacco from his mouth and
grunted. “If these are Cubans, I’m fucking Fidel Castro.”
Sadie Walker took a breath and wished
she wasn’t still wearing her Hello Kitty T-shirt. Nothing like a tiny pink T to
infer gravitas and trustworthiness. “Sir, I’m not reaching. I’ve been talking
to a man who is part of the security team at the hotel where the president will
be staying, and—”
“Ms. Walker. You’re here as a favor to
your father. Don’t make me regret that. By the way, is he coming over to visit?
I have a few things I want to show him.” For the first time that day he looked
positively alert and eager.
Damn
him. Damn her father, and damn the CIA.
##############
He remained in the shadows as Sadie let
herself into her tiny apartment. He wanted a second to watch her before making
his presence known.
When Simon had let himself in, all the
shutters had been closed, leaving the room much cooler than it had been outside
in the afternoon sun. But as soon as he had eyes on her, he felt the
temperature rising uncomfortably.
He was about to step out of the
shadows, but barely before she’d put her purse down, she’d stripped off her
crazy Hello Kitty T-shirt and unzipped her denim skirt. Even if he wanted to,
he couldn’t say anything. Her body looked stronger than it had the last time
he’d seen her naked. Dammit. His dick twitched in reaction to the new Sadie.
Her shorter hair, the way it framed her face. Her long legs and full breasts.
He blinked, thinking about the days and nights they’d spent together. It felt
like years ago. It felt like yesterday too. His fingers itched to touch her;
his mouth watered to taste her again.
Sadie flopped on the bed, arms and legs
splayed to take advantage of the ceiling fan’s downdraft. She moaned as the air
touched her skin. He watched as her nipples grew in the cool air. Goddamnit,
this was obscene. He couldn’t stand here getting off. Why didn’t she stay in
her freaking clothes? She stretched and…he couldn’t take any more.
He cleared his throat, and she jumped
up.
“What the…?”
He stepped forward with his hands
showing. Force of habit. He doubted Sadie had the wherewithal to shoot him.
“Who is…Simon? Simon? What the
hell? What are you doing here…in my apartment? What?” She looked around her as
if looking for something to hit him with.
He grabbed her silky robe from the
chair in the corner and handed it to her, the other hand still aloft. All her
questions were valid, for sure. He didn’t know why he’d been hoping for a
slightly warmer welcome. Or even a welcome at all. He knew they’d parted on…if
not bad, then awkward terms.
And he’d just witnessed her moving on
with that young man.
“How dare you…” She struggled into her
robe and tied it so tight that he was surprised she could breathe. He made the
mistake of smiling at the thought. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing
here? Did you”—she looked at the door—“did you break into my home? What the
fuck is wrong with you?” Her eyes blazed with an intensity he’d never seen before.
Especially not directed at him. “Get out. Get the fuck out.” She crossed
her arms as if to punctuate the sentence.
She was so sexy when she was pissed. “I
saw you in the street but didn’t want to interrupt you…” He let the sentence
trail off just enough to let her know where he’d seen her. He didn’t really
know why it was important, but somehow it just was. Why the hell was he here?
He started to get that itchy feeling as if he were about to be ambushed. It was
an instinct that had served him well in the field. He sighed. “You’re right. I
just didn’t want to blow my cover by talking to you in public. I shouldn’t have
let myself in. It’s just…almost second nature to me now. I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
He waited a second for her to protest,
but she didn’t. Her eyes just narrowed infinitesimally. Even her facial
expressions had changed. Before, her whole face was open to laughter, sadness,
happiness—everything was written clearly on her face. But now he hesitated. He
couldn’t get a read on her at all. It was like she wasn’t the Sadie he’d known.
Was she in some kind of trouble? Was that why she was in Athens? But no.
Remembering her snuggling up to that…that boy—nothing about that had seemed
stressful to him.
###########
Sadie managed to snag their favorite
table outside the Athinas bar and café. It was important for Platon to feel
comfortable whenever he was with her, and these little things built up trust,
whether he knew it or not.
And of course he never would.
She ordered a coffee so that she could
order them both a beer when he arrived without overdoing it. As she looked
around for him, she took out a notepad and pen to scribble down a shopping
list. Again, totally nonthreatening. Something that a mom would do. Her whole
time with Platon was built around these layers of security and comfort. Every
time she met him she was careful to give him absolutely nothing to question
later. She even tucked her cell phone out of sight so he didn’t suspect she was
recording him. If she was 100 percent right about him, his paranoia would
slowly be growing.
Also, she really needed to get some
groceries. Milk, coffee, bread. She tapped the pen against her teeth as she
watched people walk by. Salad, carrots, soda. The chair next to her scraped out
and she looked up with a big smile that stayed on her face for less than a
second.
“Simon. What the fuck?” She looked
around to see if anyone was watching them. “You have to go. I’m expecting
someone.” Goddamn him. She swore if the waiter had left the silverware that had
been wrapped in a napkin on the table, she’d be holding the knife to his
jugular.
“What’s the matter? You think your
boyfriend won’t want to see me? Won’t want to know what we did last night?” He
looked around, as if searching for a waiter to order a drink.
She decided on a play. Not perfect, but
it would do the job for now. She lowered her voice. “Look, please go. He’s a
sweet boy, but he’s going to get super jealous if he sees you.” She cast her
eyes down slowly as if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. “I know I did a”—pause,
swallow—“terrible thing last night, and I’m really sorry. But please don’t get
me in trouble with my boyfriend.” She slid her gaze back up to his.
Concern was etched on his face, and his
eyes searched hers for the truth, but he obviously found no reason to
disbelieve her.
Inside she celebrated. Outside, she bit
her lip and frowned very lightly.
“I’ll leave now if you promise to meet
me later,” he said, getting up.
“Anything. Absolutely,” she replied,
relief gushing through her.
“This restaurant at eight.” He handed
her the type of card you pick up at a hotel from one of those wooden dispensers
near the elevators.
“Eight. Okay. It’s a—” She hesitated.
He swooped down, blocking out the sun,
and kissed her. Heat rose inside. It was over before it had begun, but his lips
seared her skin. “Yeah. It is,” he said as he left.
###########
“What’s been going on since I last saw
you?” he asked casually as if he desperately didn’t want to know every last
detail.
She took a sip of the icy wine and then
licked the tip of her finger where moisture from the glass must have been.
“After you disappeared, I quit my job, cut my hair…all those stereotypical
things that we girls are supposed to do in the face of a breakup.” She stopped
talking to take another sip.
He resisted the temptation to explain
or apologize. He let the silence sit there.
“And I came here. Took an
English-speaking job so I could afford a kebab and some wine every now and
again, and started dating. What about you?”
He paused. It all seemed so logical,
and yet his instinct told him something was wrong. All wrong. God, he wanted to
shake her until the truth rattled out. But he wondered if he’d recognize the
truth even if he got at it.
She was beginning to piss him off.
####################
Her pulse picked up again as he tore
off his shirt over his head. Her fingers trailed a damp path down his chest.
His own hands stayed at his side, fists clenched. Why wasn’t he touching her?
“Tell me what you’re doing here,
Sadie.”
Did he mean here here, or in Athens?
There was no way he was going to interrogate her
while she was standing here in her bra.
“I’m trying to fuck my ex out of my
head,” she said, knowing her words would shock him. She reached behind her and
removed her bra. A muscle clenched in his jaw. Score.
Emmy Curtis is an editor and a romance writer. An ex-pat Brit, she quells her homesickness with Cadbury Flakes and Fray Bentos pies. She's lived in London, Paris and New York, and has settled for the time being, in Germany. When not writing, Emmy loves to travel with her military husband and take long walks with their Lab. All things considered, her life is chock full of hoot, just a little bit of nanny. And if you get that reference...well, she already considers you kin.
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