So today’s snippet is another oldie ( like, 2017!) but a goodie that’s currently on sale.
A SHOT AT LOVE was the second book in the Will Cook For Love trilogy from Lyrical/Shine and features photographer Gemma Laine and FBI agent Kyros Papandreos. Both are alphas, have fiery tempers – altho Kyros can keep his in check better – and both can’t deny the attraction they feel for one another. I loved this book because Gemma was my first kick-ass heroine!!
Photographer Gemma Laine is looking for arresting faces on the streets of Manhattan when her camera captures something shocking—a triple murder. In that moment, she becomes a target for the mob—and a top priority for a very determined, breathtakingly handsome, FBI special agent. With deadlines to meet and photo shoots on her calendar, Gemma chafes at the idea of protection, but every moment she spends under his watchful eye is a temptation to lose herself in his muscular arms . . .
With two of his men and one crucial witness dead, Special Agent Kyros Pappandreos can’t afford to be distracted. But Gemma is dazzling—and her connection to Kandy Laine’s high-profile cooking empire makes her an especially easy mark for some very bad people. Keeping her safe is much more pleasure than business, but as the heat between them starts to sizzle, Ky is set to investigate whether they have a shot at love . . .
She tucked the phone into her back pocket.
“I’m Special Agent Pappandreos. I need to speak with you about what you saw.”
“Special Agent?” Those delicate brows furrowed under her bangs. “Like, FBI?”
Jesus, where does a woman get a voice like that? Whiskey laced with honey and rolled into one smooth pitch.
“Yes. I understand you witnessed the shooting? You photographed it?”
She nodded. “I was working when it all started. I took a series of shots while it was happening.”
His gaze flicked to the camera she held in one hand. “I need to see those pictures.”
His first impression of her height had been correct. She was maybe three or four inches shorter than his six-foot-one frame. As she moved closer, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight at attention. She smelled as good as she looked and his nostrils flared from the scent of sweet cherries blended with some hot exotic spice.
“It all went down so fast,” she said. “But I got some good shots.” Handing him the camera, she added, “Press this button to advance.”
The first few pictures showed his witness ambling along the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. There was a smug, satisfied smile on his face as he was flanked by the two agents assigned to protect him. Ky pressed the button a few times. Another series of pictures showed the impact of the bullets as they pierced one of his agents, the next detailing the second man as a single shot impaled the center of his forehead. Shock, horror and stark fear replaced the smile on his witness’s face as he bent forward and appeared to run from the bullets. The next few photos showed him struck and then felled by several shots, all clustered in his chest. Ky depressed the advance button again. The photographer had moved to view a black van with no windows on the sides nor any identifiable markings on the body. He wanted to curse when he saw it, thinking the van would be a dead end, when he flipped the advance button again to see she’d zoomed in on the license plate.
Elated, he glanced up and found her eyes trained on him. “I need you to come with me.” He grabbed her arm.
“Where?” She stretched across him and tried to take back her camera.
Ky held it up and away from her reach. “My office. I need a written statement from you about what you saw. It’s better to do it now, right away, so you don’t forget any details, anything of importance.”
“I never forget details,” she said, reaching across him again. “Can I please have my camera? I don’t like anyone carrying it but me.”
“This piece of equipment is the only link to finding out who killed my men. It’s not leaving my hands.”
She stopped and tried to pull her arm out of his grip. Ky tightened his grasp.
“Look, Agent PappaJohn—”
“Pappandreos,” he corrected. It was a common mistake, one he’d heard a number of times in his career, but hearing her say it, wrapping the syllables around those pouty lips with that husky voice, for some reason charmed him.
“Whatever.” She swiped her free hand in the air. “I want my camera.”
“You’ll get it back, I assure you.” He started walking, giving her no choice but to follow.
Before she could protest again, he stopped.
“Jon?” His partner turned from the interview he was conducting with a restaurant waiter. “Can you have someone escort Miss Laine back to the office? She needs to have her statement written up.”
“Wait a second,” Gemma said, wrenching her arm from his grip. The smooth, natural warmth in her voice had turned to frosted ice. “I’ll be happy to give you a statement, but I want my camera. Now.”
“I won’t break it, Miss Laine, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Then stop holding it like it’s a cheap piece of tin! Give it back to me. I’ll hold it.”
“This is digital, right?” Jon Winters stepped between them and asked.
“Yes, and it’s very expensive,” Gemma said, still trying to take it from Ky’s hand.
“We really only need the SD card then, Papps, not the camera.”
“True.” Ky examined the device, found the button to expel the memory card and depressed it. He took the card and slipped it into his pocket. “Here.” He handed the camera back to her.
“Wait a minute.” She clutched it to her chest as if she were protecting a child from a threat. “You can’t keep the card. All my work is on it.”
“We won’t erase anything you need,” Ky told her. “Or let anything happen to it.”
“This is ridiculous.” Gemma blew at her bangs. “How do I know you won’t keep it as some kind of evidence? I haven’t uploaded the pictures I took today. I need those shots.”
“I told you you’d get the card back,” Ky said, his patience wavering. “Now we’re wasting time. Jon?” Dismissing them, he walked away and over to the scene of the shooting.
And look for all the books this holiday season – they are currently all on sale!
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