Thursday, August 20, 2009

Killer Bunny Hill by Denise Robins

TITLE: Killer Bunny Hill
AUTHOR: Denise Robbins
PUBLISHER:L&L Dreamspell
ISBN: 978-1-60318-130-3
PAGE COUNT: 258 pp
GENRE: Romantic suspense

BUY LINKS: Amazon, B&N

A killer is on her bunny trail. . .

A killer is on her bunny trail. Shot while snowboarding, Samantha Spenser lands on a stranger’s doorstep without her memory, but with a shooter on her tail. Even after the stranger saves her from the gunman and offers her refuge, Sam begins to fear for her life when Max, holding a gun to her head, demands to know the location of his abducted brother. Is the man with the whiskey-colored eyes her savior who will protect her, or the shooter who wants her dead? If Samantha trusts the sexy man to unravel the mystery of her amnesia, will he discover she is an innocent bystander or a deceitful criminal?

The last thing he wants or needs is the complication of a gorgeous snow bunny half dead from bullet wounds on his doorstep. Frustrated by the lack of clues and even more discouraged by the lack of help from his agency and his brother’s, special agent Maximilian Stone sets out in search for his kidnapped brother. First, he must solve the mystery of Samantha, the intriguing woman sleeping in his bed. Is there a connection between Snow Bunny and his missing FBI brother? Or was she brought in by a darker enemy to destroy Max before he can find them?

What the hell? A crack split the air and snow exploded up in clouds of white powder not two feet from her. Then another. And another. This one nicked the front edge of the snowboard. She couldn’t turn around to see the shooter. All she could do was keep her board aimed down the mountain. Using her heel and toes and the angle of her shoulders to direct her movement, she traveled in a zigzag pattern.

Heart beating so fast she felt the rhythm of it drumming in her head. She was sweating. She had to get down the trail, back to the lodge where there were people. It being dusk, she was mostly alone on the mountain. At least she had been. Bending her knees a little more, she leaned forward to pick up speed.

Who was shooting at her? Were they shooting at her? She should have carried her weapon. Damn it! Would she never learn? Another crack split the air, blowing white powder in her face, blurring her vision. “Pfft. . .pffft.” She spit out the snow she had inhaled.
“Yow!” she screeched and reached behind her where she felt a sharp pain and heat radiating from her thigh. Even though her extremities were numb from the winter weather, it hurt. She couldn’t believe it. Someone shot her in the thigh. Why?
Lights! She saw more lights. Her winter retreat sat just ahead. She would make it. Safety was just over the next peak. “Come on, you can do it,” she cheered and then cringed when she used her legs to steer her faster.

At the crest of the bunny hill, she took a deep breath, leaned further into her stance and—another blast came from behind her. This one shoved her over the ridge. The toe of her boot caught the edge and there was no stopping her fall.

Face first in the snow, she tumbled down the mountain, swearing like a sailor until she hit the plateau. Thanks to her recent snowboarding lessons, she stepped out of her bindings and released the safety strap around her ankle in a split second. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she tried to get to her feet using the patented style the cute instructor taught her. She couldn’t do it.

“Fine,” she muttered. She would get up another way. Flipping over to her knees to push herself up, she halted when she saw the red stain in the pristine snow underneath her hands. She hated the sight of blood. Especially her own. And there was a lot of it.

Forget about the blood. Get your ass up and get to the house. Now!

She moved. She ran as fast as she could despite the weight and awkwardness of snowboarding boots. Despite blinding spikes of pain shooting through her leg. Breathing through her nose, she scrambled across the flat terrain trying to keep out of sight. Not possible when the bright pink snowsuit she wore practically screamed, “See me. Hey, I’m over here.” That was the last time she listened to the sales clerk with the beautiful blue eyes who told her very few people could pull off the vibrant colors, but she had a bod that could. “Ha!”

Crack! Crack!

“Weave. Bob and weave.” What was she doing, boxing? She couldn’t do it anyway. Her leg gave out and she hit the hard-packed snow on one knee. “Oh, please,” she prayed and crawled. Get to the door. Only a few more feet. Heart pounding, blood pulsing from her thigh, she crawled. Finally, she reached the door. When she turned the handle, it resisted. Locked. The damn door was locked. Of course.

“Come on,” she begged. Fumbling with her gloves, she managed to get one off. With numb, shaky fingers, she stuck her hand in her pocket in search of the key. Not there. It had to be there. She felt inside again. Nothing. She tried every pocket. Nothing. Where else would it be? Peering over her shoulder at the abandoned snowboard ten feet away, she realized where the misplaced key was. Her heart sank.

She was going to die. She was going to die and she didn’t know why or who. In defeat, her body slumped against the door. Frozen like a Popsicle and bleeding, death was eminent. Closing tear-stained eyes, her heart and body gave up. Her butt hit cold concrete and her head hit hard wood.

The next thing she knew, she propelled backwards as the door swung open from the inside. Her head hit, made contact with the ceramic tile floor with a thud.


Staring up into two pools of liquid amber, she wondered how someone with the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen could be a killer.
As her eyelids drifted shut, she knew she would never know.

“Ms. Robbins blends together secrets, intrigue, suspense, and romance as easily and wonderfully as a master chef blends the ingredients for a delectable gourmet meal.” Read the full review of Killer Bunny Hill from Cafe of Dreams.

Coffee Time Romance gives Killer Bunny Hill 4 cups. “This is a gripping suspense story. There are very few breaks in the action, and I was unable to put the book down for any amount of time. I just had to see what happened next.”

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Sexual Deceptions 3 - Rayne Forrest & Brenda Williamson

Sexual Deceptions 3: Money Back Guarantee

futuristic romance now
available at
Whiskey Creek Press Torrid

Slade Martin is under attack. An electronic thief absconded with all his liquid personal wealth. The obvious culprit isn’t the guilty party, and Slade gets help to find the real perpetrator from a surprise source – Iris D’Vance.

Iris D’Vance is determined not to repeat her mistakes with men – until she meets Slade Martin, and decides all bets are off. Slade needs her help, and offers her a money back guarantee she can’t turn down.

Slade and Iris join forces to unravel the plot to ruin Slade, and discover sometimes a money back guarantee is better paid off in trade.


“Iris. What a pleasure to run into you again. How was the movie?”

“Slade.” She licked her rosy pink lips with her moist tongue. Slade stared, forgetting to breathe. Thankfully, she kept talking and he managed to keep from dissolving into a puddle at her feet. “How nice to see you again. I didn’t know you were a movie devotee.”

Slade smiled down at her. “That’s movie ‘buff’, Iris.”

“Of course. Sorry. I don’t do well with slang.”

“I don’t always, either. Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee? Or a nightcap? Your choice.”

Iris looked him up and down, a curious glint in her honey-hazel eyes. “I’d love to.” She pointed at the limo. “That’s my car.”

“I’m glad. You shouldn’t be walking about the city alone, you know.”

“Oh, Mr. Martin. If I were you, I wouldn’t presume to tell me what to do.”

The light, teasing way she said it didn’t belie the seriousness with which her warning was delivered. Slade heard the message loud and clear. They’d reached the limo and he opened the door for her, taking her hand to balance her as she climbed in.

A shock, one akin to electricity, shot up his arm. Her scent, all fresh strawberry and vanilla, from her soap or maybe shampoo, embedded in his brain as she brushed against him. No cloying perfumes for Iris, just natural woman.
Slade was in trouble, the kind that he didn’t have time for right now, and he knew it. He hopped in after her and slammed the door shut.

“Can your chauffeur hear us?”

Her chin lifted. “If I want him to, yes. Should I want him to, Mr. Martin?”

Slade shook his head. “No. I’m glad we can speak freely.”

He groaned inwardly as Iris pursed her pouty lips. The woman was just too sexy. He had to get a grip on his libido, and the situation. There were more pressing issues to discuss than stealing a kiss.

“Slade, perhaps you should just blurt out what you think it is I’m going to do to you and your precious foundation.”

“Oh, so now it’s ‘Slade’ again, is it?”

Iris sighed and ran her fingers through her shoulder-length, brown tresses. The silver ring sparkled on her finger. She leaned back in the corner of the seat and glared at him.

“Here it is, Slade. I’m not sure how I came to be invited to sit on your board. If you didn’t want me there, why ask me?”

Slade appreciated her gloves-off approach, and adopted it in the hopes she would appreciate it.

“Farnsmore recommended you, and the other board members agreed.”

She met his gaze without flinching. “All but you?”

His Iris certainly was direct, and he admired that. “I agreed. I’m familiar with your charitable endeavors.” He leaned back on the leather seat and crossed his legs at the ankles in the roomy space between them before he continued.

“What puzzles me is your connection to Farnsmore.”

Iris shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I tried to tell you. I never met Reginald Farnsmore before today, but I’m going to make it my business to find out whatever I can about him. Are you curious as to why, Mr. Martin?”

“Sure. Enlighten me.”

Her eyebrow rose at his brazen challenge.

“He makes the hair on my arms stand on end.”

Slade watched her without comment. She stared back, unblinking. Iris D’Vance was cold as ice and he planned to be the one to heat her up.

“I bet if I tried to kiss you, you’d rip my lips off my face, wouldn’t you, Iris?”

Money Back Guarantee & Tempting Her Heart
ISBN: 978-1-60313-630-3

Also available:
To Bed a Spy and Undercover Lovers

Mischief at Midnight and Slave of Saharic

Rayne Forrest

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