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All-time Author Favorite
Every author has one and Breakfast by the Sea is my all-time favorite for this pen name.
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A beautiful woman with a checkered past runs a legitimate bed and breakfast on Jekyll Island. Several young men posing as cowboys move in Breakfast by the Sea and things become chaotic right from the start when the oceanfront B&B turns into a command center for a very determined group of special Super-Op Forces.
Pursuing a man known as the King of Hearts, five tough operatives fall for a woman they’re supposed to eliminate. When the team discovers Paige Lambert is in fact the Queen of Hearts, they can’t ignore their handler’s orders. Is the bed and breakfast owner destined to die for her past crimes or will she end up under the protective custody of the men hired to kill her?
Excerpt
Why did she care about those cards? Why were they so important to her? And if they meant something to her, then what kind of danger had he put himself in? Was Paige Lambert a dangerous woman or a lethal target? He shuddered. Regardless of which, Paige could’ve used his own necktie to finish him off.
She didn’t. He should’ve counted his blessings. He sure gave her plenty of opportunity.
He stared into her mesmerizing eyes, trying to figure out what kind of lunatic would sit down on his lap and grind out a lap dance worthy of a hefty tip while probing for information. Lord, if Jeff Jacobsen ever had a female counterpart, this chick could’ve been his alter ego.
“You need to move,” he finally said.
“Adam, if I wanted you dead, you’d be cold already.”
“If I wanted you fucked, you’d be penetrated and moaning.”
She moved. He did, too.
No second chances here. He didn’t trust himself. In all the years he’d been shuffling from place to place, from one job to the next, he’d always carried assurance in himself. He trusted his instincts. With Paige, a woman he’d just met, he couldn’t. She made him weak. Lesson learned.
“A big tough guy like yourself, and you’re afraid of me.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. He watched her, studied her like a new language, and decided Paige wasn’t easily interpreted. There were too many dark corners to search for everything she seemed determined to hide.
She arched a brow. The gesture made her appear smug, overly confident.
“I’m not afraid of you, Paige.” That much was true. He wasn’t scared. He was terrified. He’d let her get too close, move too fast, and while he pushed her away, he still wanted more.
“Yes, you are. You’re looking at me like you can’t wait to taste my lips again. So I dare you. Go ahead, Adam. Kiss me. Kiss me and then walk away. See if you can.”
“Two can master this game you’re playing,” he remarked, jerking her against him. “Let’s see if you receive as well as you give.”
Excerpt Two:
Callan brought her dinner—two slices of mushroom pizza. She was beginning to think she’d become a prisoner in her own home.
“Sorry it’s cold,” he began explaining. “We went over some new intel, and your microwave must require the expertise of a genius. We couldn’t figure out how to work the darn thing.”
“I can pick off the frost.”
He studied the pizza slices on her bone-white china plate.
“I’m kidding,” she said. “May I use the microwave myself?”
“Unfortunately, we’ve taken over your kitchen for the night. All appliances are temporarily unavailable. We needed the area for our computers.”
“Terrific,” she muttered, taking a hearty bite. “Tell me the refrigerator isn’t one such appliance.”
“No,” he said. “We had to keep the beer cold.”
“I’d kill for a beer.”
“Would you kiss for one?” he asked, dimples claiming his upper cheeks. Callan was a cutie pie, a real good-looking young man, but far too young for her. Prior to life-changing events and life with Ramone, Paige had liked her men young, but this one probably still slept in a cradle with a baby monitor and pacifier nearby.
She finished chewing the remnants of a mushroom, savoring the texture like she might swallow a jagged little pill. “A little smooching, huh?” She tugged the bottle cap from the plastic water container and said, “We’ll do a little kissing after we do a little drinking.”
“You’re on,” he said, eyeing the bedside clock. “I’ll be right back.”
When Callan disappeared down the hallway, Paige noticed the time, too. It was a little after nine. Maybe she’d have enough time to find out more about their mission. If she could get an Irishman to drink, she could get an Irishman to talk.
If Paige spared a guess, Adam wouldn’t make his way upstairs before midnight. Since he stood out as the man in charge, he was probably the last one to fall in bed and the first to rise in the morning.
Bed.
She shivered. Did they really expect her to sleep with a total stranger?
“Get over yourself,” she said aloud. “Since when does sleeping with merciless killers bother me?”
“Damn, woman, I like a gal who gets right down to business. But I’m not a killer, for the record.”
Connor. Great. Talking to self? Very stupid. “Like hell you’re not.”
“Call me as you see me. You’ll eventually change your mind.”
“How would you describe yourself?”
“As someone who protects his country and fellow citizens, as a man who seeks justice for horrific crimes committed. That’s who I am.”
“You’re a contracted killer. I know an assassin when I see one.”
“Then you should take a closer look. I’ve killed, but that doesn’t make me a killer.”
“Your employer gives you carte blanche, a license to get rid of people that your government officials don’t want standing trial for various crimes they’ve committed. Would you like to know why? I’ll tell you.
“They fear the court of law won’t hand down a punishment great enough. When you hunt your targets, you’re no better than an executioner. You’re looking for a man or woman you fully intend to kill. And when you find them, you become judge and jury.”
“Someone’s filled your head with garbage.”
“No, someone, presumably your boss, has given you a God complex. You don’t care to hear anyone else’s viewpoints. The way you believe is the only way. For all you know, you could be hunting down an innocent person. That makes no difference to you. What matters to you is that you make a decision when the target dies. It’s your choice, and no one can stand in your way.
“You convince yourself it’s okay to pull the trigger because it’s fair. It’s just. It’s an eye for an eye, and that’s the way your system of checks and balances works—you keep score with human life. Then, because you’re you and you’re on some kind of sacred team, you stand here in my face and tell me you’re not a killer.”
Connor took a deep breath. “I’d rather talk about something else.”
“I’m sure you would.”
“So tell me something.” He paused, moved closer. “As you were saying earlier about sleeping with killers, does that mean we all get lucky or just Adam?”
“I was thinking out loud.”
“I like where that train of thought was heading.”
She didn’t. He should’ve counted his blessings. He sure gave her plenty of opportunity.
He stared into her mesmerizing eyes, trying to figure out what kind of lunatic would sit down on his lap and grind out a lap dance worthy of a hefty tip while probing for information. Lord, if Jeff Jacobsen ever had a female counterpart, this chick could’ve been his alter ego.
“You need to move,” he finally said.
“Adam, if I wanted you dead, you’d be cold already.”
“If I wanted you fucked, you’d be penetrated and moaning.”
She moved. He did, too.
No second chances here. He didn’t trust himself. In all the years he’d been shuffling from place to place, from one job to the next, he’d always carried assurance in himself. He trusted his instincts. With Paige, a woman he’d just met, he couldn’t. She made him weak. Lesson learned.
“A big tough guy like yourself, and you’re afraid of me.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. He watched her, studied her like a new language, and decided Paige wasn’t easily interpreted. There were too many dark corners to search for everything she seemed determined to hide.
She arched a brow. The gesture made her appear smug, overly confident.
“I’m not afraid of you, Paige.” That much was true. He wasn’t scared. He was terrified. He’d let her get too close, move too fast, and while he pushed her away, he still wanted more.
“Yes, you are. You’re looking at me like you can’t wait to taste my lips again. So I dare you. Go ahead, Adam. Kiss me. Kiss me and then walk away. See if you can.”
“Two can master this game you’re playing,” he remarked, jerking her against him. “Let’s see if you receive as well as you give.”
Excerpt Two:
Callan brought her dinner—two slices of mushroom pizza. She was beginning to think she’d become a prisoner in her own home.
“Sorry it’s cold,” he began explaining. “We went over some new intel, and your microwave must require the expertise of a genius. We couldn’t figure out how to work the darn thing.”
“I can pick off the frost.”
He studied the pizza slices on her bone-white china plate.
“I’m kidding,” she said. “May I use the microwave myself?”
“Unfortunately, we’ve taken over your kitchen for the night. All appliances are temporarily unavailable. We needed the area for our computers.”
“Terrific,” she muttered, taking a hearty bite. “Tell me the refrigerator isn’t one such appliance.”
“No,” he said. “We had to keep the beer cold.”
“I’d kill for a beer.”
“Would you kiss for one?” he asked, dimples claiming his upper cheeks. Callan was a cutie pie, a real good-looking young man, but far too young for her. Prior to life-changing events and life with Ramone, Paige had liked her men young, but this one probably still slept in a cradle with a baby monitor and pacifier nearby.
She finished chewing the remnants of a mushroom, savoring the texture like she might swallow a jagged little pill. “A little smooching, huh?” She tugged the bottle cap from the plastic water container and said, “We’ll do a little kissing after we do a little drinking.”
“You’re on,” he said, eyeing the bedside clock. “I’ll be right back.”
When Callan disappeared down the hallway, Paige noticed the time, too. It was a little after nine. Maybe she’d have enough time to find out more about their mission. If she could get an Irishman to drink, she could get an Irishman to talk.
If Paige spared a guess, Adam wouldn’t make his way upstairs before midnight. Since he stood out as the man in charge, he was probably the last one to fall in bed and the first to rise in the morning.
Bed.
She shivered. Did they really expect her to sleep with a total stranger?
“Get over yourself,” she said aloud. “Since when does sleeping with merciless killers bother me?”
“Damn, woman, I like a gal who gets right down to business. But I’m not a killer, for the record.”
Connor. Great. Talking to self? Very stupid. “Like hell you’re not.”
“Call me as you see me. You’ll eventually change your mind.”
“How would you describe yourself?”
“As someone who protects his country and fellow citizens, as a man who seeks justice for horrific crimes committed. That’s who I am.”
“You’re a contracted killer. I know an assassin when I see one.”
“Then you should take a closer look. I’ve killed, but that doesn’t make me a killer.”
“Your employer gives you carte blanche, a license to get rid of people that your government officials don’t want standing trial for various crimes they’ve committed. Would you like to know why? I’ll tell you.
“They fear the court of law won’t hand down a punishment great enough. When you hunt your targets, you’re no better than an executioner. You’re looking for a man or woman you fully intend to kill. And when you find them, you become judge and jury.”
“Someone’s filled your head with garbage.”
“No, someone, presumably your boss, has given you a God complex. You don’t care to hear anyone else’s viewpoints. The way you believe is the only way. For all you know, you could be hunting down an innocent person. That makes no difference to you. What matters to you is that you make a decision when the target dies. It’s your choice, and no one can stand in your way.
“You convince yourself it’s okay to pull the trigger because it’s fair. It’s just. It’s an eye for an eye, and that’s the way your system of checks and balances works—you keep score with human life. Then, because you’re you and you’re on some kind of sacred team, you stand here in my face and tell me you’re not a killer.”
Connor took a deep breath. “I’d rather talk about something else.”
“I’m sure you would.”
“So tell me something.” He paused, moved closer. “As you were saying earlier about sleeping with killers, does that mean we all get lucky or just Adam?”
“I was thinking out loud.”
“I like where that train of thought was heading.”
Breakfast by the Sea was a former 2010 LRC nominee for "Best Contemporary"
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