Sale Titles from Angela Smith
Blurb:
Reagan McKinney is on a mission to discover more about a deceased uncle who mysteriously left her a sizable inheritance, a condo in the mountains, and a stash of stolen jewels. With both her graphic design career and her love life in shambles, the opportunity to begin a new life couldn’t have come at a better time. When she becomes involved with the sexy FBI agent next door, she finds her struggle is not only to keep her heart intact, but her life.
Grief stricken after an undercover investigation ends in the death of his partner, Special Agent Garret Chambers goes home to find solace in the arms of his mountain retreat. That is, until his boss assigns him to investigate the spirited brunette staying in the condo next door. He is assigned to investigate Reagan’s involvement with a large jewel fencing organization, but his investigation becomes compromised when his attraction to her heats up. Will his discovery destroy everything he has come to love, including Reagan?
Burn on the Western Slope excerpt:
“The snow’s great, the skiing is great. When are you going out to ski?” Garret asked.
Reagan fumbled with the button on her sweater. When Chayton set her drink on the bar, she tightened her hands around the glass to curb her jitters.
“I hate to admit it, but I don’t ski.”
“You don’t ski?”
“I mean, I never have.”
“You have to be tempted, right?”
“Uh, not really.”
This was where he’d leave. He would think she was crazy, boring, uninteresting, and he’d find someone more fitting to talk to. Only, he didn’t. He smiled, his eyes twinkling with interest. At least, she thought it was interest. It could have been pity, or mockery, or…
No. She cupped a hand over her cheek, as if that would soothe her insecurities. The cold condensation from the glass she’d held sent a chill between her shoulder blades.
“How long are you staying?”
“A month, at least.”
“Do you want to learn to ski? Because I’m a pretty good teacher. And Tanyon is a great place to learn. It’s busy, but not as busy as some of the bigger resort towns.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“Yes. You have to try it at least once. You’ll love it. Chayton can hook you up with gear.”
“Well, I’ve always had a secret desire to plunge down a twelve-thousand-foot drop.”
Garret’s eyes sparkled, like sunbeams skipping across the ocean and landing under her skin. But even sunbeams on a clear summer afternoon wouldn’t affect her like this.
“It’s not so bad,” he said. “We’ll start on the bunny slopes. Then, if you fall it’ll only be half that.”
“I’ve seen the size of these mountains and there’s not a bunny slope in three-hundred miles.”
“Sure there is.”
Reagan clamped her mouth over the straw and slurped the cocktail. It tasted divine, the sugary, minty flavor inciting sweet thoughts of Garret’s lips.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” Reagan said, running her tongue over her lips as she rested her glass on the counter. “Skiing, that is,” she quickly added. He would never know she’d been thinking of kissing him, but she had to force herself to look away from his mouth. Nudging Naomi, she stood. “It’s time for me to go. I need to settle in. I haven’t even unpacked yet.” And she had no intention of doing so now, but it was a good excuse to leave. She wiped her hands on her jeans before extending her hand to his, praying hers weren’t clammy. “It was great to meet you.”
Garret grasped her proffered hand and nested his other on top, engulfing her hand. She burned. Everywhere. “Meet me on the slopes tomorrow?”
Reagan bit her lip and glanced at the floor. “Tomorrow? I don’t know. I might need a little more time to get used to this place.”
“We’ll start with sledding. You can’t not like sledding.”
She didn’t know, seeing as how she’d never done it, but cozying up to him at a hundred miles an hour would probably be amazing.
“I’m safe,” Garret said as he dropped his hand.
“You’re what?” she asked, meeting his eyes. Maybe he was a good guy in most people’s standards, but he made her heart beat too fast to be anything but dangerous.
“I’m harmless. Several people in town will vouch for me.”
“But I don’t know them either.”
∞
Fatal Snag by Angela Smith
Blurb:
Hollywood fashion consultant Naomi Fisher is happy to use her obsessive-compulsive planning to assist with her cousin's wedding, but her history with the sexy and sullen Chayton Chambers, the groom’s brother, terrifies her. When the groom is kidnapped at his own wedding, Chayton and Naomi rush to find an important relic to satisfy the ransom before her cousin becomes a widow before a bride. Naomi trades garters for guns as survival, and love becomes a deadly game impossible to resist.
Fatal Snag excerpt:
From the hushed voices and quick glances between Garret and Buchanan and the other officers in the room, Naomi knew something was up. Garret and Buchanan disappeared for a time, and when they came back in she noticed him squeeze Reagan’s hand tighter and thought she heard Chayton’s name. Garret’s face revealed no clues.
Was Chayton dead?
An officer came to stand by him. He fixed his hand on Garret’s shoulder and leaned down to say something in Garret’s ear. A shadow crossed Garret’s face.
Long, drawn-out seconds passed. Silent seconds. Naomi’s thought processes were past the point of rationality as every fear—past and present—rushed forward. She was about to jump up and demand an explanation when a door slammed, the reverberation like a cannon straight through her heart.
When Chayton walked into the room, Naomi was struck with shock the force of a tsunami. Waves surging, striking her off balance. Crushing. Washing over her, crashing down, choking her. Water in her chest. She wheezed, unable to breathe. Her thoughts tumbled with the force of the waves. The swell receded, releasing her, leaving her in a wake of relief. As she regained her momentum, her breath came in short, liberating gasps. Her heartbeat steadied. Warmth tingled her skin. She wanted to run to him, hug him, tell him how grateful she was that he was alive. Limbs shaking in exhaustion, she couldn’t stand.
Buchanan stood and shook his hand. She remained seated, her eyes focused on him as he spoke to Buchanan, trailing him as he sat across from her. His gaze found hers, forcing out the terror of his potential death. He reached out and curled his hand in hers. Warm. Assuring. Alive. She let out a weak smile, her body unable to fully express everything she felt. Relief overflowed in tears she managed to choke down.
She’d never felt so safe or so joyful. She’d feared he’d get himself killed, and they still had so much to straighten out with the police.
Her mouth was dry. She couldn’t speak if she wanted to. Garret bantered with him, but Naomi couldn’t follow the conversation. All she could think about was Chayton. He was alive. Unharmed.
Then she noticed Caleb beside him. Caleb, a friend who had never evoked those types of emotions in her. He winked at her and she smiled, returning her gaze to Chayton.
Chayton slouched in his chair and kept one hand up on the table, the other lightly holding Naomi’s. He spread out his knees in a casual stance, like he had no care in the world. Like he hadn’t almost lost his life. And as far as Naomi was concerned, she’d been pressured to the point of breaking. Being left alone in a hotel with a distraught woman. Being nearly kidnapped. Nearly smashing her face in the windshield—prevented thanks to the seatbelt. It’d been a hell of a day.
“Life with these boys will never be normal,” Naomi commented to Reagan, who was sitting beside her.
Reagan laughed and turned to her, her eyes gleaming. “No, it won’t, will it?”
Chaos was right up Reagan’s alley. She liked spontaneity and surprises.
Not Naomi. When she’d left Air Dog a few months ago, she couldn’t wait to leave. She couldn’t live the spontaneous lifestyle her cousin was so wrought to live. Picking up and moving didn’t bother Reagan, probably because she’d done it since she was a child. But Naomi needed roots, and those roots needed stable ground.
But now, the graffiti Chayton painted on her heart would be impossible to erase. She didn’t want to leave. She never wanted to leave. So maybe Chayton was a little careless. He was still the most thoughtful, intelligent, and strong-willed man she’d ever known. And she loved everything about him. Internal scars and all.
He leaned into her and bunked his nose on hers, still wearing that blasé, devil-may-care attitude. “Are you okay?” he asked. Maybe the look in his eye was casual, but his voice was full of emotion.
Her toes, her knees, her thighs, her belly, her neck, her ears trembled as the whisper-soft breath of his words branded her.
“I am now.”
∞
About the Author:
Angela Smith LOVES talking to readers.
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