WILD CHILD (coming June 2018)
Jackson Sparke, former Navy SEAL now private investigator, has lost everything. Could the one woman who promises to give him the world be more terrifying than anything he’s faced so far?
I’m reaching out to see who might be interested in joining my street team as I prepare for the launch of WILD CHILD, the sequel to SUMMER GIRL.
Don’t know what a “street team” is? It’s a group of people who hit the streets (literal or virtual) to help promote a new book in exchange for the early peeks and the chance to win *fabulous* prizes like gift cards, books, and swag. (I’ve got some awesome swag, by the way.)
I’m looking for people who love to read, love romance, are active on social media, and might even love having a supporting character named after them.
Here’s the working back-cover blurb for WILD CHILD, though it may ultimately change closer to next summer’s publication date:
I have never been to a place so tiny. So backward. So…insignificant. Compared to New York, Chicago seemed pint-sized. This Little Bear Island could fit in Chicago’s armpit. Still, a job is a job. After surviving Afghanistan, what’s twenty-four hours in po-dunk hell?
Tonight, my company Sparke Investigations is providing private security for a celebrity bride and groom who wanted their nuptials to be off the grid. Mission accomplished. This is where I come face-to-face with Natalie O’Brien. “The hostess with the mostess,” they tell me. Truer words were never spoken, at least in the looks department. She might be ten years younger, but this redheaded bombshell could seriously knock me off my game, that is, if it wasn’t for that sharp tongue of hers.
I’d keep dodging those verbal bullets, except the woman I hired to assist me on my next assignment bails. Natalie is the only woman in a 100-mile radius who not only looks the part but has the steady nerves and rebel attitude I need to get the job done. Couple that with her desperation to get off this tiny island, and the deal is done.
Now we’re stuck in my Escalade, criss-crossing the country with her sweet scent filling the cab, and her smart mouth making it hard to stop fantasizing about what could happen when the job is done. Good thing it will all be over soon. I can get back to New York, and she can get back to that tiny island of hers. So why does the thought of saying goodbye make my blood run cold? Couldn’t have anything to do with the pregnancy test I found in the bathroom.
Interested in joining my street team? Sign up here!