Not to get Liam Neeson on your asses, but the fact is that Peyton Riley has a very specific skill set. She’s good at her job and has just gotten off a major project when she crosses paths with the gorgeous snake-in-the-grass calling himself Carson Varis. He’s taken her against her will, but to where, and to what end? She’s got days to figure this out and escape–before her boss finds out where his favorite specialist has disappeared.
Carson Varis has got an eye for art and a mania for professionalism. No one does work-life balance like he does. But a certain fiery redhead has gotten his goals in a twist. He has his employer’s order to fulfill, but can’t get the memory of her body (and her hair, and her deep blue eyes, and oh, that mouth) out of the way. Can he get it together and pull off a job well done?
Targeted Age Group:: 18-49
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I love romance, but I also love heists and crime fiction. John le Carre’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy blew me away, and I also like fun, non-plausible movies like Kingsmen and The Losers. I wanted to combine both of these things that I love — romance and heists — and the idea for the Takedown trilogy was born.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
My main character, Peyton Riley, has to destroy other people’s livings for a living. I thought of what it would take to be good at a job like that. Peyton is pragmatic, wily, smart — a keen observer of human behavior, and she can be a bit ruthless. She has a survival instinct that’s very strong, and I explore that further in book 3.
Book Sample
“Gustave!” Carson cried as the older man lunged.
He gripped her arms, bound to the chair, with such force that she yelped in pain. “You caused my sister’s death, you witch!” he screamed in her face. “Was it worth stopping the acquisition that a poor woman had to lose her life?”
“I—I didn’t mean for her to die!” she yelled back, the panic that she’d been mastering surging through her body, a lunatic tide, burning and acidic. “I’ve never—in all my time—no one’s ever been hurt—”
“Ha!” Gustave cried, and then he laughed maniacally. “‘No one’s ever been hurt’? Do you truly believe that, cheri? That when you destroy a person’s livelihood, they are not ever hurt?”
They stared back at each other—she watching every flicker of muscle in his face for an approaching strike, he as though at something unpleasant stuck under his shoe. The revulsion in his face was clear. “Nagore may have been the first woman who’s life you ended, but you have killed others before, oh yes, cheri, scores of them—killed their worth, killed their estimation, killed them in their minds so they walk among us like zombies—and you have done it all, Mademoiselle. You have blood on your hands!”
“What do you want from me?” she cried.
He gripped her arms again and shook her. “You owe me my sister’s life!”
“I cannot bring her back!”
“Then you are in my debt!” He stood and appraised her, a dead calm stealing over his face as he looked her up and down. “Oh yes, dearest. You are in my debt.”
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