Wyatt Wolf is a warrior, a man without fear. At least that’s the picture he presents to the members of his Navy SEAL team. He’s a stone-cold killer with a reputation as a woman magnet, and needing no one.
But appearances can be deceiving. Inside Wyatt is a man torn by love and betrayal. His only need, his one weakness—Chance—a woman from his past he can never have, can never trust. Wyatt will be forced to see her and face the old feelings that have haunted him for years, because something inside him, an entity of violence and lust, is fighting for control of his mind. And his only chance of survival depends on a love that will be pushed to the very edge.
That Which Survives
When a string of murdered scientists lead the police and the corrupt leader of a covert agency to Senna Laserian, she becomes embroiled in a series of events that take her ever closer to discovering the deadly secrets of her past.
Konnor, ex-military and ex-operative of the same covert agency shadowing Senna, may be the only person who can save her. The question, however, may well become, who will save him from her?
A Matter of Trust
An ex-Army Ranger trapped within his own mind finds himself coming perilously close to saying to hell with life. He is a prisoner, held hostage by an inability to communicate. When all hope seems lost, someone new appears in his life.
She’s down on her luck, running out of options and needs a job in the worst way. When she answers an ad to be a “care-giver” for a wealthy couple’s son, she’s expecting to meet a child. Her “ward” is anything but a child and he wakens feelings she cannot afford to had.
Against a backdrop of breathless sexual interludes and the uniting of two kindred spirits, it’s a race against time—and a ruthless family that will stop at nothing, even murder—to find the artifact and be the custodians of the immense power it holds.
Targeted Age Group:: 18-60
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I like writing about people placed in extraordinary circumstances, and people faced with the challenge of confronting things they didn’t believe to be possible.
Wolf Tale was inspired by an old Cherokee tale.
That Which Survives was inspired by a conversation I had with a group of friends after watching a show about ancient artifacts and theories about alien involvement
A Matter of Trust was inspired by meeting a guy who could not speak and wondering what life would be like if you lost the ability to communicate.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I honestly don’t know where the characters come from. They just appear when I start writing and take on a life of their own. I am sure they are all inspired by someone I have read about, seen or heard of, but I can’t point to any one thing that makes a character take on life.
Behind them automatic weapon fire broke the silence of the night. Rapper’s voice sounded in the earphones of the headset. “Rock and roll, boys. We’ve got contact a little sooner than planned.”
The three men crouched behind a stack of crates at the side of the wooden shed were moving before Rapper’s words were finished. Magnet jumped and kicked out at the same time. The weathered, wooden door of the shed cracked and splintered under the impact. Its rusty hinges gave way and the door burst inward. Magnet rushed in with DJ and Fish covering him from behind.
A short, wiry man with faded brown hair was already whirling with a gun in his hand, while a young, raven-haired woman screamed and clutched her discarded dress in front of her nude body.
Before the man could pull the trigger, Magnet fired two rounds from his handgun. The first slug hit the man in the middle of the chest. The small crimson circle had not yet begun to spread out over his shirt before the second bullet found its mark in the center of his forehead. As the man’s lifeless body fell, the woman seemed to forget the dress and made a mad dash for the window. Magnet yelled for DJ to stop her. The words were barely out of his mouth when a man burst in behind them.
Magnet dropped and rolled, squeezing off three rounds. The man moving into the shed went down but there was another behind him who retreated outside, taking cover to one side of the door and firing inside.
DJ slammed the woman to the floor and fell on top of her, shielding her with his body as he raised his weapon. Fish jumped behind a crate and took aim at the door.
Magnet took a quick look around then hissed in the mic of his headset. “Secure the building!” Not waiting to see that his orders were followed, he took off out the door in time to see their adversary running toward a dark warehouse to one side.
Heedless of the sounds of gunfire and the explosions that rocked the terrorists’ compound, Magnet pursued his target. Stretching out his long legs, he closed to within a couple of yards of the man. He launched himself into the air and tackled the man from behind, taking him down face-first into the dirt.
No sooner had he landed, he jabbed the barrel of his handgun into the base of the man’s skull and yanked him to his feet. The sounds of gunfire abruptly ceased and an eerie stillness fell on the compound.
“Magnet?” He heard the voice in his radio—the voice of his commanding officer.
“Okay, Skipper. One prisoner. Send Bones. DJ and Fish have a woman in custody in the shed.”
“Bones, you read that?”
“On my way.”
Magnet listened to his commander as he waited for Bones to come take charge of the prisoner.
“Rapper?” A burst of static accompanied the commanding officer’s question.
“Anybody down?” the commander asked.
“Not here,” Rapper replied.
“No injuries. Turning over the prisoner to Bones,” he answered as a short, stocky man with almost white-blond hair approached him.
“Okay,” the commander replied. “Let’s get the goods loaded and get the hell out. Chopper’s ETA is five minutes. See you at the LZ.”
Magnet returned to the shed and walked in, expecting to find DJ and Fish waiting with the female prisoner. They were there, all right, but what he saw made his eyes narrow in anger. The woman was lying on her back with her arms above her head. DJ was kneeling on her hands and holding a knife at her throat while Fish was pumping away between her legs.
Magnet’s eyes took in the welling blood on the woman’s face from fresh cuts and the lacerations that ran down her legs. A cloud of black rage billowed inside him. His eyes burned as if they were on fire and a pressure swelled in his chest. Without warning blackness closed in around him.
With a shout, Wyatt sat and looked around, his breath harsh and rapid. Sweat poured from his body and his heart pounded like a drum, fast and hard. He threw off his sweat-drenched shirt, rose from the bed, and walked downstairs to go outside. The cool air of the mountains he called home chilled his skin but did nothing to ease the inner fire of torment.
The dream was always the same. He would wake with his heart in his throat, his chest heaving and heart pounding, as a blackness darker than any hell he could imagine swept over him. He raked his long black hair back from his face and leaned his arms on the porch rail to stare out into the darkness.
He hadn’t planned on coming home to the mountains of North Carolina, but life had a way of forcing situations on you from time to time. And this was one of those times. He’d been given an indefinite leave from the SEALs so that he could come home.
Only one night there, and already he was wishing he were out on a mission with his SEAL team. At least there he understood the rules of the game and knew how to play. Here he wasn’t sure about anything. Most of all himself.
* * * * *
“Give me one legitimate reason you cannot attend!”
Chance tried to ignore the demanding, arrogant tone and blew out her breath slowly before replying. “Father, I’ve already explained. I can’t just drop everything. I’m in the middle of a story and—”
“Your goddamn job!” Maurice Davenport barked, not allowing her to finish. “You’d think you were the bloody president of CNN instead of some underling producer. Honestly, Chance, I can’t believe that you’d let that silly job of yours come before your own mother’s birthday ball!”
“She’s not my mother.” Chance’s voice took on a sharp edge. “And my job is not silly. Just because—”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Maurice cut her off again. “In fact, I won’t tolerate any more excuses from you. You will attend Patricia’s birthday ball. You will not spoil things for her again. Is that clear, young lady?”
Chance’s nails bit into her palm as her fist clenched, but her voice carried only a hint of her anger. “I’m sorry, Father, but I won’t be there. Give Patricia my regrets and I’ll talk to you soon.”
She could hear Maurice shouting as she cradled the receiver. She closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair and took a couple of long, deep breaths, releasing them slowly. With some measure of calm restored, she opened her eyes and turned her attention to the computer monitor on her desk. Her eyes moved over the words on the screen but her mind paid no attention. It was directed elsewhere.
Her stepmother Patricia’s birthday celebrations were at the top of her list of least favorite things. Every year Patricia insisted on having some lavish affair, each more grand than the last. The last one Chance had attended was three years ago. After that she had refused to attend any more. It had been held at the family’s home on the coast and Patricia had made a fool of herself as she always did, parading around in a fortune in diamonds and gold, decked out in her thousand-dollar bikini and showing off her latest cosmetic improvement.
In truth, however, Patricia was not the real reason Chance refused to attend any more of the parties. The real reason was the fear of who she might run into. Three years ago Wyatt had shown up unexpectedly with his latest woman in tow.
When she realized that she had not read a word of the report on the screen, Chance turned away from the monitor. Her eyes fell on the only picture that sat on her desk. Midnight black eyes set in a face of carved masculine lines stared back at her.
She studied the face. It was the kind of face women created in their fantasies. Too handsome to be real, but not perfect and smooth in the way many beautiful men are. There was nothing effeminate about it. It was totally masculine, the kind of face one would imagine belonging to an ancient warrior in native mythology.
She sighed and picked up the picture. After a moment she put it facedown in the top desk drawer. She should have done that a long time ago. In fact, she didn’t understand why she had it to begin with. It was just another reminder that things don’t always work out the way you want them to.
With a wish that she had the courage just to get rid of the picture altogether, she closed the drawer. Wishing was fruitless. She would never get rid of it. And even if she did, it wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t get rid of her feelings. She didn’t believe anything would ever do that.
About the Author:
Ciana lives in Florida with the love of her life. When asked for more information, she will confirm the following facts:
2. Happily married with two fantastic children and four amazing grandchildren
3. An artist and photographer
4. Loves animals of the warm and fuzzy variety but reptiles give her a major case of the creeping willies
5. Loves playing disc golf
6. Is hooked on video games and Left 4 Dead (and L4D2) are her favorite games.
7. Loves to work out and looks forward to her daily workouts
8. Is a fan of television shows like Justified, Game of Thrones, The Newsroom and The Blacklist
9. Likes operating power tools
10. Likes all types of music and always has the sound system turned on.
10. Loves to hear from readers
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