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“Take care of what’s mine.” #MFRWhooks

 

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In a small town, in a popular bar, beautiful women disappear. This could just be a coincidence, but private investigators, Carson, Matt and Nathalie don’t believe in them. So they go undercover.

 

However, when one of the missing women turns up dead, the trio is disturbed to learn the woman bore a striking resemblance to Nathalie; they increase their efforts. When Nathalie disappears from the same bar, Carson and Matt will do anything to find her.

 

*Contains explicit descriptions of sex, strong language, and descriptions of violence.*

 

Excerpt

For months, they’d been on the trail of a serial abductor. He chose young women, all of them with gray eyes. Other agents had tried to lure the killer with women who held contacts, but he never bit. And as his team had the only gray eyed agent, his partner was elected as bait.

Of course, she was more than happy to do it, especially if she could save another family from burying a daughter.

“So what can I get for ya?” Nathalie's voice, though raised, remained at a decent level in his ear.

Carson scanned the crowd and found her standing close to a good looking blond. He offered her an easy smile. “I’ll take whatever you have on tap. and maybe your phone number.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet, but I’m taken.” She wiggled the third finger of her left hand. The diamonds winked in the flashing light. Another feature the abductor went for, women who were engaged.

“Lucky man.” the blond said.

“I’ll be right back with your beer.”

Nathalie glanced across the room and shook her head. Matt flashed a thumbs up and Carson nodded. Carson made his way along the way to the DJ booth. He slipped inside.

“I don’t like this.” Carson said as soon as he closed the door behind him.

“And you think this is a walk in the ****** park for me?” he demanded.

For a moment, Carson studied the hard set of Matt’s mouth. All evidence of the earlier jocularity was gone and in its place fear.

“With the way you’ve been joking lately, one would think you do this everyday.”

“Humor is my defense mechanism.” he snapped.

“And punching people is mine, but you don’t see me acting on impulse.”

The two men studied one another for a long moment, until Matt looked away to start the next rotation of songs.

“She means just as much to me as she does you,” Carson stated quietly. “I don’t want to see her hurt anymore than you do.”

Matt leaned close to Carson, before he brushed his lips across the other’s mouth. “Take care of what’s mine.”

 

 

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Sin-Eater #MFRWHooks

 

Huemac, a half-breed, covets ultimate power, but he needs two things—access to the royal family and an ancient artifact. He attains the former by seducing the Emperor’s sister, and then steals the latter.

 

Moctezuma, the newly crowned Emperor, comes from a long line of powerful gods known as Sin-Eaters. He desires peace among his people, but an ancient prophecy warns of war.

 

Huemac discovers the incantation to activate the fabled Athame of Souls, a mythical weapon capable of entrapping souls. His quest to rule is within his grasp. Only one thing stands in his way—Moctezuma.

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“Indulge Your Inner Romantic”
 

Excerpt

Huemac stared at the piece of parchment in his hand. A servant had delivered it some fifteen minutes past. It was a formal invitation to dinner with the royal family. He sneered at the gold-embossed writing. Summoned as if he were a subservient being.

 

He tossed the invitation aside, having already given his affirmative reply to the servant. With a glance over his shoulder to ensure the door was closed and locked, he glided to a wooden-and-brass chest at the end of his bed. He shoved it aside with a grunt. Next. he grasped the lip of one of the massive stones that made up the floor. Sweat beaded then rolled down his face from the effort.  He hefted the stone with a grinding sound. His muscles quivered, but he set the rock aside in front of the chest. Huemac knelt, then placed his arm in the floor opening all the way up to his shoulder. After a moment of probing the damp, cool space his fingers closed around a bundle of cloth. He pulled the object out, then sat back.

 

He unrolled the cotton with great care to reveal a dagger in a worn leather sheath. Emeralds, rubies, and opals adorned the gold hilt. He pulled the blade free. The honed metal glinted dully in the light with a dim glow. An ominous moan reverberated around the room. The sound raised the hairs on the back of his neck and set his teeth on edge. It seeped around and through him, drawing him closer to the dagger’s razor-sharp edge. He sheathed it with a snap. The mournful song stopped. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He needed to find the incantation that would allow him to control the knife. Without those precious words, he would be as susceptible as the other gods.

 

Perhaps he would use his dinner invitation to peruse the library once more.

 

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“Safe from what?” #MFRWhooks

 

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In a small town, in a popular bar, beautiful women disappear. This could just be a coincidence, but private investigators, Carson, Matt and Nathalie don’t believe in them. So they go undercover.

 

However, when one of the missing women turns up dead, the trio is disturbed to learn the woman bore a striking resemblance to Nathalie; they increase their efforts. When Nathalie disappears from the same bar, Carson and Matt will do anything to find her.

 

*Contains explicit descriptions of sex, strong language, and descriptions of violence.*

Excerpt

Quiet sobbing bounced off the cinderblocks, before a creak overhead cut through the sound.

“Shh,” Ruth hissed. “He’s coming.”

Thump-thump-thump. Agatha stared at the exposed floor joists and followed the dull creaks and thumps with her eyes. If she leaned far to the left she could just make out a set of rickety steps at the far end of the room.

Were they in a basement or cellar? It had to be a cellar since the floor was solid packed dirt and not concrete. She touched the wall. Cool, but not damp. She squinted at the mortar. New. She swung her attention to the bars and wood at the front of the cell.

The iron held a faint sheen or newness, same as the door. No warping or dullness to give it that old and neglected feel. She sniffed the air. The faint scent of fresh cut wood filled her nostrils. She sniffed again. Was that varnish she smelled?

Clomp-clomp squeak. Tension rose. Agatha tightened her hands into fists at her side. She held her breath as the footsteps came closer. His scent, a subtle woodsy pine, hit her first.

“Good evenings, ladies,” he greeted. His voice was low and gravelly, like he’d been a chain smoking hardcore drunkard all his life. “I trust you’re giving our new edition the rules?”

“Why did you bring me here?” Agatha demanded.

He moved closer, but his face remained in shadows. “To keep you safe?”

“Safe from what?”

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