Supernatural Saturday: Superhero Sneak Peek

Registration Closing in Five Days – Don’t Miss Out on this Great Class
August 22, 2012
Combined Boot Camp with Candace Havens – New Start Date
August 30, 2012

Pre-Order Today
 I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am about my upcoming September release of Yesterday’s Heroes. The book marries my two loves of superheroes and romance. So to celebrate the kids going back to school and my upcoming release, enjoy the teaser excerpt after the jump and pre-order your copy today and get it downloaded on the day of release!

Aurora “Rory” Graystone 

Codename: Halo
Abilities: superior reflexes, I.Q. and aptitude for calculating probabilities
Mission: find missing teammates

Rory knows she’s being watched, and she’s not about to let the hunter catch her in his trap. She’ll confront her stalker, a man she suspects is involved in the disappearances of other superheroes–if she can ignore the sensual heat that fills her every time he’s near…

Michael Hunter
Codename: Hard Target
Abilities: expert tracker and sniper
Mission: kill Rory Graystone

One of five desperate men sent back in time to save the future, Michael believes eliminating Rory is the key to his mission. But even as he takes aim, a split second of doubt causes him to miss his shot.

Drawn together by passion, and on a collision course with fate, can Rory and Michael work together to change the future? Or have they set in motion the horrific history the time-travelers are trying to prevent?

Black
hair, so dark it was blue, filled his scope. The sweep of it kissed Aurora
Graystone’s cheeks, emphasizing the pixie nature of her bone structure and the
fine porcelain of her skin. He knew the lashes fringing her eyes were the same
dark, luscious color. More startling than her hair or skin were her eyes, so
deeply violet they swept his soul like an unheard sigh.
He’d seen photographs of her.
They didn’t do her justice.
Michael Hunter lifted his eye from the
scope and tilted his head left, the crack of relief easing the pressure on his
spine. He followed the target’s lithe figure as she stepped out of the
boutique, her hands loaded with designer bags. He was fifty yards away, sixty
yards up, and the distance did nothing to diminish the strain of the white
t-shirt over her pert little breasts. He let his gaze drift below her neck. The
interior of the shop had to be colder than the exterior. Her nipples stood at
attention lovingly moulded by the soft cotton.
Sweat trickled along his hairline, but
his bandana soaked it up before it reached his eyes. For months he’d watched
her.
For four weeks now, he had dared closer
contact, tracking her, studying her and attempting to penetrate the perimeters
of her life.
The target shopped. She visited with
friends. She dressed simply. Today, snug jeans cupped her tight little ass and hugged
a pair of long legs he imagined would grip just perfectly around his broader
frame and larger hips.
His cock jerked at the thought,
stiffening to a full salute in his khaki fatigues. He fought the urge to shift
to a more comfortable position, the erection a painful reminder that he needed
to stay focused on the task at hand.
What
did it matter? She was about to be dead.
He followed her path, cross hairs moving
smoothly over the curve of Aurora’s—the
target’s
—neck. Her pulse beat steadily beneath the vulnerable flesh. He
imagined she tasted of the cool oranges and tart lemons he’d scented when he deliberately
bumped into her the night before.
Fuck.
The target. Michael. The target. She’s just another damn target. Keep your eyes
on the prize.
Her hips rolled as she paused at the
window to a cosmetics shop. She perused the window display, bags held
carelessly in one hand. The target tilted her head, one finger gliding across
her gloriously full lower lip. Her hand dropped to her pocket and she palmed
open a small lipstick.
She
cut her hair.
The transient thought bounced across his
consciousness, much like a rock skipping across the water. It rippled through
his thoughts. Why did she cut her hair?
It didn’t matter. She was just another target.
Michael flexed the finger that rested against
the trigger, gliding it over the cold metal as though outlining her kissable
mouth coated with “fuck me red” color. She didn’t need it. Her ripe figure was
curved perfectly and his palms itched with the desire to scrub over her,
teasing her flesh, torturing it until her sexy-little-mouth pleaded for
release. His cock jerked in agreement.
Michael closed his eyes and exhaled,
forcing his heart rate back to a sluggish, disinterested pace. He was a Boomer.
Bio-mechanical recon one. This was his task. He’d been chosen for just this
moment. When all else failed, he could do the job.
When he opened his eyes again, his target
was on the move, disappearing into the coffee shop. She would be six minutes
before she stepped back out. Six minutes to enjoy her morning foray into this world’s
preoccupation with shopping. Six minutes to savor the black Arabican brew he
had learned Aurora preferred.
Six
minutes to live.

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