This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Donna Del Oro will be awarding winner's choice of ebook or print copy of A BODYGUARD OF LIES (print - US only) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
What is the favorite book you remember as a child?
I read every fantasy book in my local library. As a teen, GONE WITH THE WIND and EXODUS were my favorites.
What is your favorite book today?
Any book by Daniel Silva. His spy novels are utterly captivating.
Tell us about your current book in 10 words.
LIES IN WAIT is my hero's biggest test because he goes undercover to infiltrate an Islamic terrorist cell plotting to blow up a football station in Silicon Valley.
Do you have any bad book habits?
Once I start a book, I cannot put it down. It has to be a really badly written book for me to drop it in the middle.
E-Reader or print? and why?
I read both e-books and print books. I carry my Kindle whenever I travel. It's great to have over a hundred books at your fingertips!
One book at a time or multiples?
Usually one book at a time. I'm compulsive that way and I like to give a book my total concentration.
Favorite book you've read this year?
I liked Girl on a Train because of its unusualy unreliable narrator. Agatha Christie began that storytelling device with The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. I'd like to try it some day.
My favorite genre is the spy novel. I was able to insert a spy story within my romantic suspense novel A Bodyguard of Lies, book one in the FBI series. The second book, Lies in Wait (coming out January 4, 2017), contains elements of a spy story too. They're so much fun to write!
Breakfast in the hotel dining room was to be served at 7 a.m.. Next stop: Cardiff, the capital of Wales, then their ferry ride to Ireland. He’d finally looked over the itinerary. The motor coach would be leaving that afternoon, after a tour and lunch in Bath. A quick perusal of the day’s agenda showed him they had the afternoon free to wander around Bath and do some shopping. Maybe he could invite Meg and her grandmother to spend some time with him.
Still drowsy with sleep, he looked over at the pillow next to his. Visualizing Meg lying there, her lush hair with all its variegated blonde hues fanned out, stirred him. The erection he’d awakened with grew harder; not surprising, he thought, considering his celibacy of late. Strictly his choice, despite the offers tossed his way.
The opportunities had been there and he’d ignored them, stubborn man that he was. Even late last night, when the two New Jersey sisters had called and invited him to a private party in Hank’s room. He’d declined tactfully.
At thirty-two years old, he found himself holding out for more.
Stupid fool, he scolded himself. Or as the Brits would say, sodding wanker! Or something to that effect. He should learn to take it when it was offered to him on a platter, free of charge. All he had to do was be nice to a girl for a few hours, promise to call her, and then…
Ah, but as Grandpa Nate would say, “nussing is free in dis vorld”.
Dreams of Meg had plagued him—rather entertained him—all night. Even now, recalling how her small, plump breasts bounced up and down while she ran alongside him, how her long ponytail swung back and forth, filled him with unbridled lust. The one time they’d stopped at the Roman ruins, they’d let their arms brush together. Neither had pulled away. Just that light touch had flooded his insides with longing. She appeared to feel the same. She’d flushed to the roots of her hair and after that, had touched him in some small way every chance she got. Each touch was electric, sizzling!
What he liked about her was her total lack of coyness or flirtatiousness. Meg was straightforward, without guile; she wasn’t playing games. He could read the honesty in her face when she told him about her breakup with the ex-fiancé and her distrust of men and their empty promises and vows. All lies, she’d mused with just a hint of bitterness. She’d finally come to accept the reality of men.
Or some men, she’d amended, adding quickly that she’d apologize if she was offending him. No, he’d said; I agree with you. Most men lie through their teeth. It’s a guy thing.
That admission had elicited a small, rueful laugh from both of them. And she’d let her arm brush his again, as if to reassure him. He was different, she was saying.
No, I’m not, he’d wanted to say. I’m a liar, an impostor. And you’re going to hate me when this is all over.
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