Excerpt - The Secret Brokers

Dallas rubbed his hand over the
back of his neck and silently cursed. If Carl Bordonaro had ventured outside
the safety of his New Orleans lair, then something big had to be up. His
thoughts quickly turned to Nicci. Perhaps something had happened to her. He
then shook off his apprehension. He knew she was safe with her husband, David
Alexander. David would have contacted him before now if there had been a
problem. He and David had been in touch constantly ever since he had returned
to New York to take over Simon La Roy’s network of specialists. Burying himself
in Simon’s business of buying and selling secrets had kept Dallas going over
the last several months. It was only at night, alone in Simon’s king-sized bed,
when the past caught up with him. His thoughts would always stray back to Nicci
in the darkness. He missed reaching for her, touching her skin, and holding her
slender body against his. That was the hardest part of loving someone—letting
go. He sighed once more into the silence of his office, then squared his
shoulders and headed for the door. Time to get back to work.

    
When Dallas walked into the drawing room, he saw a short, round man in
his early sixties, with a bald head and a pasty face, admiring Simon’s
collection of ancient Greek vases. He was dressed in a tailored gray suit, wore
thick, black-rimmed glasses, and seemed to sport a five o’clock shadow despite
the early morning hour.

      “Loutrophoroi?” the man queried in a
deep voice as he turned from the mahogony display cabinet.

    
Dallas eyed the black and red vase the man had been admiring. “They
belonged to Simon. I have no idea what it’s called.”

    
“Used for weddin’s and funerals in ancient Greece, I believe,” he
said in his thick New Orleans accent. The man lifted his big brown eyes to
Dallas. “Quite a collection the little guy had,” he added, seemingly amused.

    
“He was an avid collector of art and antiques.” Dallas placed his hands
behind his back and stepped into the room. “Lance gave me the impression that
you never left New Orleans, Mr. Bordonaro.”

    
“Oh, I leave all the time,” Carl Bordonaro acknowledged as he surveyed
the room. “The feds try to keep an eye on me, but there are ways to get around
their tails. Lots of ways.”  He held his
hand out to Dallas. “And you can call me Carl.”

    
Born and raised in the tough Irish Channel of New Orleans, Carl
Bordonaro had learned from an early age to embrace a life of crime in order to
get ahead in the world. His underworld dealings had landed him on every FBI
Most Wanted List for the past fifteen years. But like many Louisiana
politicians, Carl Bordonaro seemed immune to federal indictment, having
survived five arrests with no criminal convictions.   

                 Dallas took Carl’s hand. “How is Lance?”

    
Carl Bordonaro gave Dallas a firm handshake. “Waitin’ anxiously to
become a great uncle.”

    
Dallas let go of the man’s hand. “From what David tells me, she doesn’t
have long to go.”

    
“Yeah, Lance told me Nicci is due in another few weeks.” Carl dipped his
head. “I mean Jenny, of course. Still haven’t quite gotten used to her new
identity yet. I guess she’ll always be Nicci to me.” He paused and stared into
Dallas’s eyes for a moment. “And to you too, I think,” he suggested with a
grin.             

    
“So what have I done to garner this unexpected visit?” Dallas asked,
desperate to change the topic of conversation.

    
“It’s not what you have done, my friend. It’s what you’re about to
do.”   

    
Dallas raised one eyebrow. “About to do? I’m not sure if I like the
sound of that.”

    
Carl moved toward a mahogany chair not far from the display case. The
chair was upholstered in the same blue and cream fabric that covered the walls.
He looked from the chair to the walls and shook his head.

    
“Simon La Roy always was a flamboyant little guy.”

    
Dallas eased his way across the room to a chair close to Carl’s. “He
tried not to let his sexuality influence his business, but his restraint did
not seem to undermine his decorating skills. All in all, he was a very private
man.”

    
“Yeah, well.” Carl sighed as he took his chair. “Now he’s a very dead
private man. Lucky for you the world wasn’t too upset to hear of his passin’.”
He looked about the room once more. “Seems you have worked yourself right in
here. Lance told me you have had very little opposition to your takin’ over his
business.”

            “Once it was finally leaked
to the press that Simon was dead, there was little to no resistance
encountered. Many of Simon’s past associates were more than pleased to hear of
his death. Seems the man had only enemies—myself included.”  

    
Carl Bordonaro sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his
protruding belly. “Glad to hear that I was of some help to you and David last
summer.”

    
“Which is, I am sure, why you are here, Carl,” Dallas replied with a
slight grin.

    
“I figured cleanin’ up that mess at David’s place entitled me to ask for
a favor.”

      Dallas leaned back in his chair,
scowling. “A favor?”

    
Carl ran his hand over his bald head. “I want you to do a job for me, a
job you and your organization are well suited for. Now, I’m a man of
considerable influence, and could entrust this job to any one of my associates,
but none of them are as skilled as you in gatherin’ exactly the kind of information
I need.”

    
“What kind of information are we talking about?”

            “Secrets,” Carl answered.
“Simon La Roy was known around the world as the man to go to when one needed
secrets uncovered. As his successor, you’re the man to see. And with our past
dealin’s together, I figured you were a man to be trusted.”

    
“Who’s the target?”

    
“Target? Odd chose of words.” Carl raised his dark eyebrows worriedly.
“I don’t want her killed, Dallas.”

            “Target is the person who we
are sent to investigate. My people don’t eliminate.”

    
Carl smiled. “Of course.” He nodded his head as he looked down at his
stubby hands. “There was a former associate who knew a great deal about my
business ventures. His name was Earl Yeager. Three years ago, Earl was
diagnosed with cancer and spent his last days in a hospital bed. He was given
the best of care, and I paid to have private nurses see to his comfort. One
nurse became very close to Earl—so close, in fact, that I think he may have
told her a few secrets about me. If these secrets were released to certain
federal agencies, it could cause problems for me and several other men
throughout the country.” He looked up at Dallas. “Some of these other business
men want this young woman killed, just to make sure she doesn’t talk, but I
can’t do that.”

    
“Because you want to find out what she knows first?” Dallas inquired.

    
Carl shook his head and sighed. “Her father and I are…old friends. He
was a liquor distributor in New Orleans. For forty years he supplied my house
and businesses with liquor. Ed Pioth was good to me, and I’ve known his
daughter, Gwen, since she was born. I attended her christenin’ and her first
communion, so you can understand my dilemma.”

    
“You want me to send out a specialist to find out what she knows. See if
this Earl Yeager said anything that the feds could use against you and
your…friends?” 

    
Carl stared into Dallas’s eyes. “I can’t afford for anyone else to be
involved at this point.” He pointed at Dallas. “I want you to go and find out
what the girl knows.”

    
“Me?” Dallas balked. “I’m right in the middle of taking things over
here. Simon’s death was only leaked to the press a few weeks ago. I can’t just
hop on a plane and—“

    
“I would consider it a personal favor,” Carl interrupted.

      Dallas warily eyed the man and then shook
his head. “And being a personal favor to you would mean what for me exactly?”

   
“That whatever you need from now on, I will do everythin’ in my power to
accomplish.”

    
Dallas took a deep breath and mulled over the man’s words. Carl
Bordonaro was a powerful friend to have, and considering the instability of the
business he was trying to operate, a man with such connections could only prove
to be an asset in the long run. Dallas leaned forward in his chair and rubbed
his face in his hands.

    
“Tell me about the girl,” he finally said.

    
“Do you like animals?”

    
Dallas sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “Animals? What is she, a
vet? I thought you said she was a nurse?”

   
 “Yes, Gwen is a nurse, but she is
also an animal lover. She lives on a farm outside of New Orleans where she
keeps her rescued race horses.”

    
Dallas fidgeted slightly in his chair. “I live in New York City, Carl. I
don’t know anything about horses.” He gave the man an impatient glance. “Tell
me more.”

   
Carl nodded his bald head. “All right. Gwen is thirty-four, divorced,
with no children. Her husband was a physician from a very wealthy family in
Houston. Needless to say, her divorce settlement left her more than well off.
She bought a fifteen-acre farm in a place called Folsom, on the north shore of
Lake Pontchartrain. She retired from nursin’ after the divorce, but she took
the private duty job as a favor to me.”

    
“Which would explain why you are here,” Dallas clarified. “But if you’re
such an old family friend, why don’t you just talk to the girl yourself?”

    
“I already have. But that ain’t enough…you and I both know that. The
people I’m lookin’ to appease wouldn’t take my word that the girl knows
nothin’, but they will take yours. And there is another reason I want you with
her.” Carl paused and turned his eyes down to the cream-colored Oriental rug
beneath his feet. “Until other interested parties can be—let us say,
distracted—away from the girl, I need to know she’s safe. And with you she will
be,” he asserted in his deep voice.

    
“Then let’s pull her out of there and put her somewhere I can keep an
eye on her.”

    
Carl’s brown eyes returned to Dallas. “Then she would look guilty and I
would be caught in a finger pointin’ game with those other interested parties.
No, the girl must stay put on her farm for now and not be seen as changin’ her
routine in any way. Let’s just say there is someone already watchin’ her and if
she were to be moved, a lot of problems would suddenly develop for me.”

    
“Who’s watching her?” Dallas questioned.

      “Some former associates of yours at the
FBI. Seems they’re also pretty interested in what the girl knows.”

    
“And another reason why you can’t just sweep in there and take her
away,” Dallas pointed out.

    
“So you see my dilemma. I need someone on the inside close to the girl,
makin’ sure she doesn’t talk to the feds, and also makin’ sure she stays alive
until I can learn what she knows. I have assurances from the individuals who
want the girl eliminated that a certain amount of time will be allotted for you
to learn her secrets, but I will need you to move as quickly as possible.”

    
“How long do I have?”

    
“Two weeks,” Carl declared.

    
“Damn it.” Dallas jumped up from his chair. “Do you know how hard it is
to set up a target and then gain their confidence? What you are asking takes
months, not weeks. How can I get this woman to confide in me in two weeks
time?”

    
Carl stood from his chair. “In my experience, there are only two methods
that can get a woman to talk quickly; torture and sex. I leave the choice up to
you.”        

    
“I don’t torture people, Carl.”

     He gave Dallas a
mischievous grin. “I know.”

Gust Post - Alexandrea Weis

Alexandrea Weis stopped in for a guest post. Here's a little about this amazing woman. 

Alexandrea
Weis is a registered nurse from New Orleans who has been published in
several nursing journals and textbooks. She has been writing novels and
screenplays for over twenty years. Her first novel, To My Senses, was a
finalist for commercial fiction in Eric Hofer Book Awards, a finalist
for romance in the Foreword Magazine book of the Year awards, and a
finalist for romance in the USA Book Awards. Her second novel, Recovery,
won the Gold Medal for best romantic suspense from The Reader's
Favorite Book Awards and was named best Romantic Suspense by the NABE
Pinnacle Book Awards in 2011. Her third book, Sacrifice, closes out the
Nicci Beauvoir Series. Her fourth book, highlighting her love of
rehabbing wildlife, called Broken Wings, is now out in paperback and
ebook.

Ms. Weis is also a permitted wildlife rehabber with the
Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries and when she is not writing, Ms. Weis
is rescuing orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives outside of New
Orleans with her husband and a menagerie of pets.

Blog site: http://alexandreaweiscom.blogspot.com/
website: http://alexandreaweis.com

   

 GUEST POST

 The rhythm of the
resurrecting city of New Orleans is reflected everyday in the unified heartbeat
of its determined residents. And no matter the devastation, New Orleanians will
continually fight to hold on to their beloved little bastion eight feet below
sea level. Like the memory of a first kiss, the warmth of New Orleans pervades
your soul and forever becomes a part of you. To travel among the wide oaks and
antebellum homes of the Garden District makes for beautiful postcard pictures,
but it does not give you a true indication of what it means to be a New
Orleanian. You have to immerse yourself in the old world atmosphere and varied
traditions of the people of this town in order to understand them, and,
hopefully, become one of them.

     You need to dine
in the myriad of exceptional restaurants and take part in a heated discussion
about where to find the best bowl of gumbo. Spend a Monday morning drinking
coffee and chicory in an old uptown kitchen while learning how to cook the
perfect pot of red beans and rice. Experience the wrong way to eat a muffaletta
sandwich, the right way to shuck an oyster, and the only way to eat a beignet.
And you will always have to remember that if your food isn’t boiled, blackened
or fried, it just ain’t cooked.   

          You will want to traverse the different
sections of the old city divided not by points on a compass, but by proximity
to the Mississippi River or Lake Pontchartrain. Because no one in the Crescent
City could ever tell you where to find the south end of town, but they could
recite by heart the neighborhoods along the bend in the river. From the
Bywaters to the Irish Chanel, from Lakeview to the infamous Ninth Ward, so many
smaller sections alive with their own unique histories make up this city. Each
part of New Orleans has a rich heritage based on the struggles of its French,
Spanish, Irish, African, or Italian founders.

     Then head over to
Canal Street, where the local term “neutral ground” was created in the early
1800’s. In those days, the wide thoroughfare was first used as a common market
area between the feuding French and Spanish occupants of the city. Take a
streetcar ride down legendary St. Charles Avenue to see the world renowned
Audubon Zoo. Along the way, soak up the different styles of Victorian, Greek
Revival, and Colonial architecture represented by some of the city’s finest
homes. Let the soothing rocking motion of the streetcar ease your cares, as the
sweet scent of magnolias streams in from the open window beside you. At the end
of your streetcar ride, walk the broken cobblestones of the French Quarter, and
take in the alluring sights of the tightly packed Creole cottages. Listen for
the seductive sounds of Jazz music resonating around you, the smell of great
food hovering in the air about you, and let your imagination linger on the
romantic wrought iron balconies above you. Make your way to Jackson Square and
take in the tall spires of St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest Catholic cathedral
in the continental Untied States. Walk through the adjoining Cabildo Museum,
where the Louisiana Purchase was signed in 1803. Stroll on over to the
Moonwalk, by the edge of the Mississippi River, and enjoy the calliope music
coming from the Delta Queen Riverboat. After you have learned to bargain like a
pro with the vendors at the French Market, then saunter down the shady
sidewalks of Esplanade Avenue. The street made famous by Tennessee Williams and
his tale of hidden desire. Finally, let yourself wander the narrow alleys of
St. Louis Cemetery Number One, where you can visit the above ground tombs of
famous former residents Marie Laveau, the voodoo queen, and Paul Morphy, the
chess phenomenon.

     But there is
another, more important, criteria for being an ingrained member of this
eclectic southern city. You have to learn to appreciate life. Not the
day-to-day hurried existence that shortens the lives of stockbrokers and
businessmen, but the easy lust for the fulfillment of the senses. For
everything about New Orleans is tailored to the forgotten art of
self-gratification. In these days of such soulless existence, it is a
heartwarming relief to find a place unashamed of its abundant way of life. No
one in New Orleans regrets the way they live, they only regret when they have
to leave it.

     So the next time
you think about my hometown, don’t linger on the unforgettable disasters of our
past. Instead, revel in what makes our city unique, shamelessly flamboyant, and
stoically unapologetic for its transgressions. New Orleanians have moved on
from Katrina. Despite the numerous media attempts to bury the residents under
clouds of negative press and dim outlooks, the people remain resilient. Because
they know that when Mardi Gras is over, crawfish season is right around the
corner. We may have paid a heavy price for our time in paradise, but we know
that somewhere up in the heavens, someone is answering our prayers. After all,
the Saints did finally win the Super Bowl.       

.

Trailer - Take It Like A Vamp

Review - The Demon Side

When worlds collide… Every kid has problems. Every kid has even more problems when they move to a new home. But when a kid with problems moves to a new home that has a Demon living inside it—look out! Etta’s world is about to spin out of control when she encounters her new roommate—and Rahovart, that ancient trickster, is in for a few surprises too. So don’t mind all the crashing and rumbling; that’s just the normal noise Angels and Demons make when they’re fighting an epic war in the attic. One thing’s for sure: Etta and Rahovart will have to go through Hell to Heaven and back again before that old Victorian home in Quantico Town finally quiets down…

*-*-*-*-*
My review:

This is not your average demon tale. And I am not sorry about that at all. From the little I knew about this book starting it I wasnt sure what to expect. I was happily surprised by what I found. This is a great story from a new author that I cant wait to read more from.

This is a story about demons, angels and a girl who can see them. We have mystery, action, paranormal and a touch of romance. Ra who is our main character is not your typical demon. Yes he works for the evil side and is supposed to encourage people to be bad so they end up in Hell. But you really get a feeling he just doesnt care. His origins as a demon as mysterious as well. He has this history that he doesnt quite remember. And we get to discover this history with him. We also get to see him interact with another demon, angels and the humans that have moved into his house.

The story moves at a quick pace and you dont want to put it down once you start. It is completely unexpected and the ending was fantastic and completely surprising. I seriously can not wait to see what we get next from the author.

Erin Kellison Contest at Bitten by Books

Bitten by books is have a great contest with Erin Kellison.

Go here for the post and details. And the Rafflecopter is below as well. Please remember to leave all you comments on the BBB post to count.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Alluring Reads: The Cover Madness Giveaway!

Alluring Reads: The Cover Madness Giveaway!:  In celebration of the epic amount of cover reveals we have been treated to this past week, Giselle from Xpresso Reads and I have decided t...

Trailer - In The Midnight Hour