The Race is On! Catch Me #RomanticSuspense #NewRelease

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January 29, 2016
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Set in Morocco, London and Switzerland, Catch Me takes Anya and Max on a powerful journey full of passion and chemistry that sparks on the page from their first dance to their last.

Maxwell Sauvage was born into a life of privilege…and boredom. As a “security consultant” to the powerful, he enjoys pitting his wits against the most intricate of security systems for business and pleasure.

Anya Swift is a woman with high-class tastes and a high-octane need for adventure. As an operative for International Art and Antiquities Recovery she stays just on the “right” side of the law, while satisfying her desire for the finer things and her thirst for adventure.

When a high tech camera catches Anya taking The Fortunate Buddha from the French Ambassador’s vault, Max is eager to help the provocative thief for his own reasons, not the least of which being that he set the camera. But after one stunning night of passion, Anya disappears. Now Max must find Anya before the Ambassador’s men and claim the thief for his own, but they are running against a clock, danger and deception.


The rope would hold. Her timing ran perfectly even
under the clock for the bag, tag, and replace. High above, the ambassador’s
guests celebrated the New Year’s Eve ball. Orchestra music penetrated the
reinforced shaft walls. Hovering five feet above the pressure-sensitive floor
of the ambassador’s private vault, Anya Swift—recovery agent
extraordinaire—flipped on the rope, tightening her abdominals so she hung
upright rather than upside down.
The change in position made the ascent easier and
reduced the chance of nausea. Excitement skittered through her belly as she
shimmied up the rope. The sweet scent of the vanilla lotion she’d applied
earlier mingled with the saltier tang of sweat.
Never get too excited before a job finishes. Her
butterflies would have to stay in their cocoons until the Fortunate Buddha
could be returned to where he belonged. Five minutes before her absence at the
party could become an issue. 
Clearing security as a disheveled guest might be
overlooked; clearing security after a prolonged absence with a valuable stolen
object in her possession invited trouble. One did not tempt the hands of fate,
for fate possessed a mean right hook.
The weight of the idol pressed along her spine.
Crafted of gold, the religious icon wore a ruby solitaire in its belly button.
The value of the Fortunate Buddha lay not in precious stones or metals, but the
legend of good luck it brought to temple visitors who prayed while rubbing its
ruby-studded belly. True or not, her job meant retrieving the Buddha from the
hands of the thieves who’d removed it from the Taiwanese temple.
I am so taking next week to spend time working on
my tan.
The inane thought might seem out of place under
more ordinary circumstances, but the inane kept her sane. The strong, tensile
cord coiled into a compartment in her belt as she ascended. If not for the
sound sensors, she’d whistle.
I can work on my tan, eat at the cafes on St.
Ville Riches, and maybe even read Mom’s last manuscript. I told her I would
read it last week, but it was Moscow and then Tel Aviv and then Morocco and,
silly me, I left it at home. I am so….
The fuel spurring her absurd thoughts sputtered
out on an empty tank of shock. Halfway up the shaft, strung between the hatch
and a hard place, she stared right into the lens of a slender, flat cam pressed
into the wall. Casual surveillance would call it a rivet in the structure, but,
up close, the lens glowed with a faint red light.
An undocumented camera.
In the vault.
Staring right at her.
Anya considered her options. Slide down the rope
and return the Buddha—accepting failure for her assignment—or continue up and
leave the party as swiftly as possible. Her watch vibrated a warning. The loop
on the security cameras lasted forty-five seconds. Not enough time to descend,
replace, and ascend again.
The red light stared at her unblinkingly.
I am so screwed.
She could spare just five seconds for the mental
debate. The memory of Max’s familiar face drifted across her mind’s eye. She’d
seen him at the party earlier, but she came to Morocco for a job, not a flirt.
Now she would have to combine both.
She continued her ascent, barely clearing the
access hatch and closing it with the borrowed code before her watch signaled
the loop ended. Every camera below recorded live once more.
Ready or not, Max. Here I come.

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