Archive for the ‘Lindsay McKenna’ Category

EXCERPT #3 DANGEROUS by Lindsay McKenna

May 13, 2018

DANGEROUS by Lindsay McKenna EXCERPT #3

Sloan Kennedy is a badass and she makes no apologies for it.

Sometimes it is more dangerous to try and love someone who walked away from you than facing a firefight….

DANGEROUS by Lindsay McKenna
Book 10, Delos Series
Release: 5.14.18
Pre-order now!!!!

EXCERPT 3, Chapter 1

Sloan…
Dan missed her so damned much he couldn’t put it into words. He’d met her at Bagram, at a canteen. She was an 18 Delta combat medic attached to a Special Forces A team, one of the few women in that role. But damn, that woman knocked him off his feet, grabbed his heart, and never let it go.

Closing his eyes, he finished off the last of his beer. Just thinking about her again, about their torrid affair with one another, made him feel hope. But the crash changed everything. Stretching out on the old couch, he pushed his legs to the other end of it, settling his head against the arm of the sofa. He closed his eyes.

Sloan…

Even as he was coming out of the worst of his nightmare, he remembered their love affair. He pictured her oval face, those kind, understanding gray eyes. He could still feel her long fingers sliding across his body. She had poured all her nurturing care into him, and it made the dirtiness, the terror, and shame he carried over the helo crash, dissolve. And she’d been his until he’d been a jerk and walked out of her life without an explanation. He had no one to blame but himself. Like everything else in his life, he destroyed the good.

Dragging in a ragged breath, he felt sleep taking hold of him again. Sloan…I miss you so damned much. I wish I hadn’t been such a coward…I’m sorry I hurt you. You saved my life that night. You and your team. And I repaid you by walking out of your life and never telling you why.

Grief slid through him, wrapping around his slowly beating heart—grief over losing Sloan. She had been so damned special, and cool and calm in a firefight. He could still remember her whispering words of hope in his ear as she’d leaned over him, trying to stop the bleeding from his shattered right arm that night. Dan knew he was bleeding out from that bullet wound he’d sustained in the cockpit. They could have all died that night, but the captain of the A team got them out of there and into one of the thousands of limestone caves that peppered the Hindu Kush, hiding them from the Taliban.

Dan remembered everything from the days in those darkened caves. The Taliban were crawling around the mountains, hunting them. If the Army tried to send another helo in to rescue their sorry asses, it would have been destroyed.

Through it all, Sloan had tended him. They had been lovers for a year and a half before that, still going together when Dan crashed and got wounded.

The last thing Dan thought as he drifted off into an exhausted sleep was that the joke was on him. It was all his fault that he’d lost the only woman he’d ever, truly cared about, and he ended up living to remember it all—every last detail of that night whether he wanted to or not.

BACK COVER COPY:

Sloan Kennedy and Dan Malloy met at Bagram and shared a passionate month-long affair. Their relationship was supposed to be no strings, but Sloan fell hard for the Night Stalker pilot. Things changed after the two were involved in a rescue mission that ended in the death of Dan’s co-pilot. Riddled with guilt over the accident and the loss of his friend, Dan walked away from Sloan and his military career.

Four years later, Dan is a pilot for Delos, flying team members to their various charities in Sudan. When chatter starts up that terrorists are targeting one of them, Dan is assigned a security escort from Artemis on his next mission. He is shocked when his bodyguard turns out to be the woman who has haunted his dreams for years — Sloan Kennedy.

Thrown together again, old feelings bubble to the surface, but danger is lurking nearby. Sloan and Dan will be lucky to walk away from this mission with their lives-and hearts-intact.


Sloan Kennedy was a badass and made no apologies for it.

LINKS:

Apple/iBooks
https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1360421515?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Dangerous+by+Lindsay+McKenna&type=ebook

KOBO.com
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/dangerous-66

BN.com
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dangerous-lindsay-mckenna/1128209201?ean=2940159028648
Come visit me at: http://www.lindsaymckenna.comStay tuned for the next excerpt!

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DANGEROUS by Lindsay McKenna EXCERPT #2

May 9, 2018

DANGEROUS by Lindsay McKenna EXCERPT #2

Sometimes it is more dangerous to try and love someone who walked away from you than facing a firefight….

DANGEROUS by Lindsay McKenna
Book 10, Delos Series
Release: 5.14.18
Pre-order now!!!!

EXCERPT 2, Chapter 1

One moment, Dan was conscious in the flailing helicopter. The next, his helmet was struck hard, snapping back his head against the seat, the force of it stunning him into semi-consciousness.

He heard the A-team leader screaming at him to egress. Groggy, he barely lifted his eyelids, his NVGs still in place. He saw several members of the team sprinting toward the wounded helicopter now on the ground. They were screwed. This bird wasn’t going to ever get off the ground again. More noise, screams, and orders, filtered through his semi-conscious state. Trying to unsnap the harness, he found his wounded right arm wouldn’t work. Pain raced up the limb as he fumbled with the clip, trying to get it to release. The smell of fuel was everywhere. The blades were slowing down, the engines off. But he hadn’t been able to reach the fuel bladders to shut off the fuel to the engines. Kerosene was leaking into the helicopter now, the smell making him nauseated. One bullet…one bullet could blow this thing up, and they’d become an instant fireball.

Dan tried weakly to escape, but couldn’t. He felt more than saw two A-team members squeezing into the cockpit area. His brain wouldn’t work. He tried to tell them Andy was wounded, but all that came out was a grunt. The pain was so bad that he felt faint from it. Someone leaned over him, instantly releasing the buckle, the harness opening. Whoever it was, quickly helped him get rid of the nylon straps and he was being hauled out of his seat and into the area behind the cockpit.

He heard things. A woman’s voice? He knew that voice! It was Sloan Kennedy. What the hell? And then, someone jerked the cord from his helmet out of the ICS, and he heard nothing more. Bullets were snapping and flying all around them. The helmet protected Dan’s ears up to a point; all sounds were muffled. He couldn’t make out what was being said by the two soldiers who were dragging his sorry ass out of that helo, trying to save his life. And then, Dan lost consciousness because his wounded arm slammed into the opened door, the agony arcing upward, swallowing him whole.

Jerking into an upright position on his soaked bed, his breathing came in ragged, harsh gasps. He pushed his shaking fingers through his short black hair. Moonlight filtered through his second-story apartment. A commercial jet was taking off from the airport nearby, the sound of the engines vibrating through the thin glass of the open window near his bed.

Damn!

He got up and gripped the dresser nearby, hanging his head. All of the emotions he felt the night of the crash coming back, gutting him once again. He needed a cold beer. Dan glared at the clock on the dresser. It was three a.m. He forced himself out of the tiny bedroom and down the narrow hall to the bathroom. He stunk of fear, sweat still rolling down his chest, the adrenaline making him feel like someone had ripped the skin off his body, leaving him vulnerable to everything about that crash years earlier.

Would the crash ever stop replaying in his dreams? Dan fumbled for the light switch. The bathroom was small, like everything else about this apartment. A cockroach raced up the yellowed wall opposite the plastic-enclosed shower stall. He slammed his palm against it, killing it. The little bastard. The apartment swam with cockroaches. They infested everything, no matter what he did. Never mind the landlord piled garbage outside the building half a story high, and the garbage truck never came around once a week, as it should. He hated Sudan for its lack of basic cleanliness. But it was better than the alternative. People lived in grass huts with dirt floors around them in most places. Here, at the port on the Red Sea, there were stucco homes, but only the rich could afford them. Everywhere else it was squalor, and tents made from pieces of corrugated aluminum. He’d seen this in Afghanistan. Now here.

Dan wanted that beer—he craved it—but he needed a shower first. He felt hot, sweaty, and fevered, turning on the tap for cold water. In October, the heat in Sudan still climbed into the eighties during the day and hovered near seventy-five at night. His air conditioner, if it could be called that, was barely working.

The tap water was tepid but felt damned good as it poured over him. He tipped his head up, eyes closed, his hands on either side of the stall to stop himself from falling because his knees were still shaking. Dan appreciated the water like it was life itself—and in Sudan water was life in this mostly desert country.

He opened his eyes because when they were closed, it dragged him back into the crash—the smells, the sounds, the icy coldness biting into his flight suit covered body. He shook with tension, his breath slowing, but still uneven as he oriented himself to the here and now.
This friggin’ nightmare always hit at full moon time, at least once, sometimes twice in a seven-day period. Those nights were raw, and he bled from his soul. Hot tears jammed into his eyes, and he pressed his brow against the shower stall, closing them, their salty trails spilling into the corners of his opened mouth. He never cried. Not ever. But every time the nightmare happened, he cried no matter how hard he fought against it.

Because of him, Andy had died in that crash when an AK-47 bullet struck his chest. Both A-team medics tried to save his life as the firefight blazed around them, but it was no use.

He was passed out as two of the Special Forces team members carried him out of that helo. He’d awakened minutes later, one medic working over him, the other, working over Andy. Dan could still hear Andy’s gasps and cries. He would never forget that night or the pleading from Andy. That crash was his fault.

His wife Sable was without husband now and their two little girls, Olivia and Karen, without a father. His two crewmen in the rear had also been injured, but not half as bad as Andy and Dan. Andy died an hour later. The rest of them survived to remember it.

God, if only I’d hammered that bird to the ground. Why didn’t I?

Dan felt destroyed by that one question. If he’d stuck the bird, the Taliban wouldn’t have had the target they acquired. Their bullets would have hit the rear side of the helo. Everyone would have been protected to a degree. Andy would still be alive.
He was such a screw-up.

Stay tuned for the next excerpt!

BACK COVER COPY:
Sloan Kennedy and Dan Malloy met at Bagram and shared a passionate month-long affair. Their relationship was supposed to be no strings, but Sloan fell hard for the Night Stalker pilot. Things changed after the two were involved in a rescue mission that ended in the death of Dan’s co-pilot. Riddled with guilt over the accident and the loss of his friend, Dan walked away from Sloan and his military career.

Four years later, Dan is a pilot for Delos, flying team members to their various charities in Sudan. When chatter starts up that terrorists are targeting one of them, Dan is assigned a security escort from Artemis on his next mission. He is shocked when his bodyguard turns out to be the woman who has haunted his dreams for years — Sloan Kennedy.

Thrown together again, old feelings bubble to the surface, but danger is lurking nearby. Sloan and Dan will be lucky to walk away from this mission with their lives-and hearts-intact.


Sloan Kennedy was a badass and made no apologies for it.

LINKS:

Apple/iBooks
https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1360421515?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Dangerous+by+Lindsay+McKenna&type=ebook

KOBO.com
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/dangerous-66

BN.com
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dangerous-lindsay-mckenna/1128209201?ean=2940159028648
Come visit me at: http://www.lindsaymckenna.comStay tuned for the next excerpt!

DANGEROUS by Lindsay McKenna EXCERPT #1

May 1, 2018

Sometimes it is more dangerous to try and love someone who walked away from you than facing a firefight….

DANGEROUS by Lindsay McKenna
Book 10, Delos Series
Release: 5.14.18
Pre-order now!!!!

EXCERPT 1, Chapter 1

What the hell! Dan Malloy groaned in his sleep, his body covered in perspiration, the bedsheets twisted and caught between his lower legs. His breath came hard and fast. It felt as if his heart was going to rip out of his chest, the pounding so loud that it sounded like kettle drums pulsing in his ears. He heard the blades of the MH-47 Night Stalker he was flying. Heard the calm voice of his copilot, Lieutenant Andy Gantry, talking to the Special Forces A team hidden nearby in the inky darkness on a rocky slope in the Hindu Kush mountains. They had been out for nearly three weeks hunting HVTs, high-value targets.

The winds were erratic, trying to toss the bird around. His Nomex gloves were soaked as he gripped the cyclic and collective, his booted feet playing lightly on the rudders, trying to bring the helo in and not crash it.

His teeth ached, he was clenching them so tightly, his entire focus oriented to the green dials in front of him, trying to land safely to pick up the twelve-member team. The weather was stormy and quixotic, trying to throw Dan off course. Below, through his NVGs, he saw the chem lights tossed out by the A team to show him where to land. Sweat trickled down his temples. His nostrils flared as he smelled the kerosene used to power the MH-47. His only focus was landing this damned thing. Lightning flashed, blinding him momentarily.

Shit! Blinking, Dan halted his descent, trying to give his eyes time to adjust.

He knew that Taliban often camped for the night in nearby wadis that ran vertically up and down the rugged slopes of these mountains—and there was one within a thousand feet from where he needed to land. Dan wished for an Apache escort and an overhead drone right about now, but none had been available. A drone had infrared capability and would have been able to pick up the heat signature of anyone hiding nearby. The MH-47 had that same capability, but that instrument went belly up halfway to their assigned LZ, landing zone. Now, they were blind, and it bothered the hell out of him.

Dan mentally cursed, knowing that the inclement weather conditions would have torn the drone apart with the sixty-mile-an-hour wind gusts pummeling his helo, throwing it off course from landing, again and again. The storm was racing directly down at them—and it was a violent son-of-a-bitch. But Night Stalker pilots, the cream of Army aviation, were expected to fly through all weather conditions to pick up a black-ops group. These were brave men and women who got the job done, despite the challenges and potential life-and-death of their assigned mission.

His eyesight came back, and he began to breathe again, nudging his helo forward toward the landing zone once more. In the back of his mind, he knew if Taliban were camped in that nearby wadi that they could throw an RPG and AK-47 bullets at his bird. They would aim for the rotor assembly to stop the blades from turning. The MH-47 had two rotors, and one sat up near the pilot’s cabin, the other was near the rear of the helicopter. If either were hit by a bullet, they’d crash–and they’d all die.

Son-of-a-bitch. He’d been on hellacious missions before, but this one took the cake in his many years of experience. Thunderstorms would pop up at the most unexpected times simply because these dragon-toothed mountains made their own weather. Right now, he was at nine-thousand feet on a steep scree slope. The A team had found the levelest spot for them to land, but it was not level at all. They’d done the best they could, being hotly pursued by Taliban. Landing on a slope was perilous. It was possible, but with a thunderstorm looming over them, and the possibility of tangos in that nearby wadi, Dan knew they were trapped between a rock and a hard place. His chief gunner had the ramp down and was sitting behind the fifty-caliber machine gun, looking for the enemy.

Andy’s calm voice continued to give him directions and elevation. There was so much that could go wrong. His body was so tense Dan thought he might snap in half. His fingers ached, the perspiration making them slippery.

Come on…come on…

He focused again on the chem lights, tiny green dots on the black skin of the mountain slope. The wind gusts were powerful, and the bird shuddered violently. The engines changed and deepened, Andy played with the throttles between their seats, trying to give Dan the power he needed to neutralize the gusts.

Everything slowed down to movie frames for Dan as he eased his reluctant helo forward. Closer and closer, he inched the thumping, vibrating beast toward the LZ. Just let me get to it. Let me land without incident. His ears were keyed to the sound of the engines. The adrenaline raced through his bloodstream, heightening his clarity, making him aware of all sounds, smells, and sensations until his whole world became his senses. It gave him an edge. It allowed his hands to make the subtle moves on the instruments to get the bird on hard ground.

“Over LZ,” Andy reported calmly. “Ten feet…nine feet…eight feet…”

He couldn’t just swiftly plop the helicopter down. No, it had to go carefully, or he’d get into hover-out-of-ground effect, which meant the invisible cushion of air that the helo rode on, was suddenly gone. If that happened, the MH-47 would drop like a rock out of the sky.

“…seven feet…”

God, let me get this bird down. Let me get it down safely.

His hands ached, feeling like a raptor’s claws frozen around the instruments as he prayed to keep that cushion of air between them and the uneven, rugged ground. Sweat stung his eyes, and he blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision.

“…six feet…”

“…five feet…”

“…three feet…”

Dan felt the tires touch the slope.

At the same moment the bird touched down, a seventy-mile-an-hour gust slammed into the helicopter. Instantly, Dan felt the cant to his right, getting knocked over. His feet and hands acted in a blurred dance as he lifted the bird into the air, leaping skyward, trying to stop the blades from churning into the slope, shattering them into hundreds of razor-like pieces. He had no choice but to turn the helo, so the cockpit faced that wadi as he tried to grab ascending air coming up the slope to give him a lift instead of crashing.

Suddenly, the Plexiglas across the cockpit exploded inward. Thousands of small fragments rained down around Dan. He heard Andy give a squawk of surprise.

They were being attacked!

More bullets poured into the cockpit, singing past his helmet. He heard Andy scream. Heard sudden orders being roared to him by the A team on the ground.

And then, the fifty-caliber machine gun blasted through the darkened interior of the bird, hammering like pulses against Dan.

He took a huge risk, dropping the bird six feet. The helo slammed into the ground.

Dan groaned, the harness biting deeply into his shoulders as it hit the rocks. He saw the A team hidden nearby, firing their rifles in the direction of the wadi where the Taliban were attacking. He wanted to curse. There was no time!

The bird bounced up into the air. Dan used every skill he had to control the helicopter’s wobbling hop off the slope. Somehow—God only knew how—he got it back down on the earth, but it wasn’t where he was supposed to land.

More bullets snapped furiously through the cockpit.

Dan felt his right arm, the one holding the cyclic between his legs, go numb. When he tried to move it, there was no response. He felt warm blood pouring down his arm. Tried to force his limb to work. The helo was being brutally hammered with AK-47 fire.

Dan yelled at his two crewmen to egress. He swiftly shut down the engines, seeing Andy slumped to his left, his helmeted head resting on his chest, the harness still holding him in the seat. He needed to escape with Andy.

Suddenly, the whole night lit up with an RPG being fired. It missed the MH-47 by six feet, but the wall of fire raced toward the opened cockpit. Rocks sailed like missiles through the broken Plexiglas, striking Dan.

One moment, he was conscious. The next, his helmet was struck hard, snapping back his head against the seat, the force of it stunning him into semi-consciousness.

Stay tuned for the next excerpt!

BACK COVER COPY:
Sloan Kennedy and Dan Malloy met at Bagram and shared a passionate month-long affair. Their relationship was supposed to be no strings, but Sloan fell hard for the Night Stalker pilot. Things changed after the two were involved in a rescue mission that ended in the death of Dan’s co-pilot. Riddled with guilt over the accident and the loss of his friend, Dan walked away from Sloan and his military career.

Four years later, Dan is a pilot for Delos, flying team members to their various charities in Sudan. When chatter starts up that terrorists are targeting one of them, Dan is assigned a security escort from Artemis on his next mission. He is shocked when his bodyguard turns out to be the woman who has haunted his dreams for years — Sloan Kennedy.

Thrown together again, old feelings bubble to the surface, but danger is lurking nearby. Sloan and Dan will be lucky to walk away from this mission with their lives-and hearts-intact.


Sloan Kennedy was a badass and made no apologies for it.

LINKS:

Apple/iBooks
https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1360421515?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Dangerous+by+Lindsay+McKenna&type=ebook

KOBO.com
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/dangerous-66

BN.com
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dangerous-lindsay-mckenna/1128209201?ean=2940159028648

RELEASE DAY! LONE RIDER by Lindsay McKenna

April 9, 2018

Hi Readers!!!

I’m always fascinated by how stress or when threat or real danger intrudes in on a person’s life. What do they do? How do they react to it? What does it do to their daily rhythm of life? How does it change. How do THEY change to the threat that stalks them.

As a romance novelists for 35+ years, I’ve been stalked several times. I can tell you that when ugly, threatening content came over my fax machine from one of them, I threw the fax machine away so I wouldn’t get them. I had gone to the police but they said without more info or the man actually attacking me, they couldn’t do anything until a crime was committed. Stupid and I was furious. I finally went to a friend where I lived, who had been in the FBI. I gave him the faxes and other information. He made a call. The faxes stopped. I never knew who my stalker was.

That was the first time. The second time, I had no idea that I was being stalked until I walked out the front door of our home one morning and there he was. He’d just rode in on a 2-mile dirt road on his bike-and found me. I was completely shocked and frightened. My husband was away on a business trip. I was alone. And I felt horribly stripped and vulnerable. I managed to put on a good mask of being upset and told him to leave or I’d call the police. That he was not welcomed on private property. He left. I collapsed and cried because I felt like a hunted animal with no weapons or way to stop him if he decided to do differently.

Because I’ve had too many times of being stalked, I wanted to write about it. In Lone Rider, Tara Dalton is a combat photographer over in Afghanistan. She’s not a helpless woman by any stretch. Eventually, PTSD makes it impossible for her to continue her military career and she comes home to Wind River Valley. She left at age 18 with a scarred past. She had been kidnapped at sixteen by a local Elson brother, who was into drug running. And he had been obsessed with her for years. And he did something about it. Tara manages to be found and rescued, but not before the scarring from such a capture would brand on anyone.

Now, at 28, she is home for good. And she’s coming back to the valley where she was born-and where she’d been kidnapped. Not having a choice, she tries to focus on the future, not the past. Getting a job at the Bar C, meeting Harper Sutton, a combat medic, now a wrangler, things look more even and ‘safe’ for her to adjust. She doesn’t expect to fall in love with this quiet cowboy who listens with his heart. He’s truly a healer, being a medic, and she begins to regain her strength and confidence in herself.

BACK STORY:

The new novel from the bestselling author of Lone Rider.

No one can outrun the past forever . . .

As a combat photographer in Afghanistan, Tara Dalton saw things she won’t ever forget, as much as she would like to. And after returning Stateside, she can’t fight her way past the PTSD that’s haunted her ever since. Desperate to make a change, she joins her old friend Shay at the Bar C Ranch, where a group of ex-military vets are putting their lives back together one step at a time—including one strong, gentle bear of a man who makes her feel safer than she has in years.

Harper Sutton fell farther than he ever imagined after his tour of duty as a medic was up, and he’s not proud of it. But at the Bar C, he’s doing work that means something, and he’s training to be a professional paramedic. That’s enough to concentrate on, until Tara comes to share his place at the ranch. The shadows in her eyes are darker than simply memories of war, and every moment he spends with her opens up parts of himself he’d thought long dead. But as Tara’s troubled past threatens the present, it will take trust in each other to fight for a future together…

Ebook/paperback/audio available 3.28.18

available now in ebook/paperback/audio
http://www.lindsaymckenna.com

RELEASE DAY on Lone Rider by Lindsay McKenna!

March 28, 2018

Hi Readers!

at last! RELEASE DAY for Lone Rider!
RELEASE DAY for Lone Rider by Lindsay McKenna!

At last, Book 5 of the Wind River Valley series is available in ebook and paperback! Audio, too!

Here is the Publisher’s Weekly review on it!

Available on all platforms!

I hope you enjoy reading Tara and Harper!

http://www.lindsaymckenna.com

Happy READING! Or Listening! 😉

RELEASE DAY! Sanctuary by Lindsay McKenna

February 1, 2018

RELEASE DAY! Sanctuary by Lindsay McKenna
Book 8, Delos Series
Romantic Suspense

Excerpt #1
https://wp.me/pBmdA-DpR
1.28.18
Exceprt #2
https://wp.me/pBmdA-DpV
Excerpt #3
https://wp.me/pBmdA-DpZ

Chapter 1 from Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Sanctuary-Delos-Book-Lindsay-McKenna-ebook/dp/B0774RG6S1/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1517494725&sr=8-1&keywords=Sanctuary+by+Lindsay+Lindsay McKenna

CONGRATULATIONS to all my readers who have impatiently waited for this ‘edge of your seat’ book!!! Happy reading!

#3 EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT from Sanctuary by Lindsay McKenna!

January 31, 2018

Sanctuary by Lindsay McKenna
Delos Series, Book 8
Release Date: 2.1.18

Pre-order now!
Paperback, ebook and audio

Tucking her phone into the white straw purse hanging over her right shoulder, Teren nodded. Again, women here never led the way; rather, they followed the men. She was curious about Nolan having been in Sudan before. He walked like he owned the place, but it wasn’t arrogance. It was utter male confidence of the finest kind. She’d seen that same type of confidence in Captain Taban, the man who had won her deepest respect. It was quiet authority that no one dared breach or challenge. And yet, when Nolan barely turned his head, she saw his profile, felt his protectiveness envelop her even though she was a few feet behind and to the left of him.

Farida, Kitra’s director, had been urging her to leave and go stateside, back to her family home in Somerset, Kentucky, but to do that, Teren would have to revisit her past. She’d grown up in the small town, mostly full of devout Christians, and their set of morals and values were strong and unwavering.

She’d honestly tried to live up to that impossibly high bar of expectations but had failed. Not only had she paid for it personally, she’d also lost the baby she’d been carrying. Teren had been profoundly shamed by her family, who had lived in that area for over a century. The generations before her had been hardworking farmers, plowing the land, raising cattle, and keeping their large families fed. To go home was to resurrect a past between her and her parents and the townspeople who lived there. None of them ever forgot-or forgave her for-the sin she’d committed.

Teren had tried to go home once, but after a few days, she felt the shame, the guilt, the horrible grief of loss, and she’d had to leave. And all the friends she’d grown up with were now married and had housefuls of children.

And here she was: single and alone-and lonely. But not lonely in all ways, because Kitra soothed her wounded heart and scarred soul. Her family loved her. They had tried their very best to move beyond their intractable beliefs to forgive her. Some days, Teren believed they had done it. Other days, it was painfully clear that the people in the community had not forgiven her for her actions. She was the town’s “bad girl” and her reputation was forever ruined. It was a sin that kept on giving, and kept resurrecting itself every time she was home. It was just too much for her to deal with.

As she passively followed Nolan, her mind lingered painfully on the past. Could it be that this crazy feeling had taken over because she hadn’t been home for the last three years? Talk about confusing! Teren had her life all sorted out, organized, every hour accounted for. She was needed, respected, and loved at Kitra. In fact, the village would plunge into chaos if she weren’t there with the magic of her computer skills, her knowledge of electronics, and the world at large, far outside the country of Sudan. Here, she had a sense of purpose and knew she made a positive difference, and that meant everything to her. She worked closely with women who had been badly abused, raped, or kidnapped and forced into sex slavery or marriage. Teren felt lucky in comparison to them. All she’d received was abuse and the loss of her baby. These Sudanese women, with fear embedded beyond their eyes, had fled to Kitra to heal, to be protected from abusive husbands and families, to learn a trade and then be able to confidently start their lives all over again.

Their children would not starve. The women would not be beaten again, or end up with a nose or ear cut off, or have acid thrown into their faces because they were “bad wives” to their husbands, or worse, stoned to death.

The village of Kitra was Teren’s life preserver, just as it was for the Safe House Foundation, whose entire reason for being here was to act as a protective haven for such women, no matter what tribe, skin color, or nationality they were. If they came to the gates of Kitra, small children or babies in arms, Farida’s team took the young mothers in. Then they were fed and received medical care, as did their children. Each woman was given a hut of her own, clean and with rugs on the hard-packed clay floor, and mats, mosquito netting, and sleeping bags for all. She was then taken to Samar, the female psychologist, who was thirty-five years old, but seemed like she was a thousand years old to Teren. Samar had even helped her sort out much of her own guilt and shame.

Her mind moved forward as they left the escalator, and she saw Nolan read the overhead sign written in Sudanese Arabic, telling him which carousel would be dumping out his luggage.

Teren again noted how few women were here at the airport. She disliked certain Sudanese traditions and longed for the freedom not to wear a tob or other concealing garments. Instead, she longed to throw her leg over a horse and wear her beloved jeans and sleeveless tees. She could do that at Kitra, but not outside the walls of the village, where she again adopted the bearing of a meek, subservient woman. It was the only part of working in Sudan that she rebelled against. On most days Teren could handle it, but on other days, not so much.

At least she had the freedom of American clothes and she could move freely about the huge, enclosed, thriving village. It felt wonderful. Right now, she longed to be back within the embracing walls of Kitra, wanted to tear this tob off her body, and toss it aside. But to do something that stupid would land her in Sharia court, and more than likely she would be publicly whipped or stoned to death for her insult to Islam.

There was just something about Nolan Steele that made her feel rebellious and want to throw off the trappings of her soiled past so she could feel free once more.

Nolan turned and eased the handle of his laptop bag into her hand. “Hold this for me for a moment? I see my luggage.”

Her fingers curved, closing around the canvas and leather handle. “Sure.”

He smiled at her then, that same deep warmth gleaming in the depths of his eyes, nurturing the spark of hope he seemed to bring her. Hope for what, Teren wasn’t sure, but there it was. Nolan walked toward the baggage carousel where she saw two green canvas bags. Vaguely, she remembered Ayman’s having had one too. They were called duffel bags by the U.S. military, if she remembered correctly. She watched as Nolan easily pulled them off the carousel, one in each hand.

“You okay carrying my laptop if I carry these?” he asked, halting in front of her.

She smiled faintly. “If I can wrestle a hundred-pound sheep to the floor of the shearing shed, I think I can handle a ten-pound laptop. Let’s go out those doors to your right. The parking lot is just across the roadway, and my hafla is nearby.”

“Sounds good. I’ll lead the way.”

Teren realized Nolan knew what a hafla was: a minibus that had a flatbed component, the most prevalent vehicle in and around Khartoum. She hadn’t been looking forward to teaching her security contractor about Sudanese customs after he arrived, and it was a pleasant surprise to know that he knew Sudan and its conventions.

Often, she had to drive into Khartoum to pick up items that required a flatbed truck. Kitra had no fancy cars, and her hafla had no air-conditioning in this ninety-five-degree Fahrenheit heat.

Teren breathed another sigh of relief as Nolan moved out of the cool air-conditioned terminal and into the dry, scorching sun overhead. She wondered what else he knew. How often had he been in Sudan? And why? Teren had lots of questions for him.

The corners of her mouth curved as she held the lightweight, floaty hijab to her head. It would be a sin in this country to have it slide off, revealing her hair.

http://delos.lindsaymckenna.com/book/sanctuary/

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT #2 Sanctuary by Lindsay McKenna

January 30, 2018

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT#2

Sanctuary by Lindsay McKenna
Delos Series, Book 8
Paperback, ebook and audio

Teren wasn’t prepared when she spotted him at the exit doors of customs, along with several other Sudanese businessmen dressed in their robes. He was moderately built, wearing a tan T-shirt beneath a loose-fitting khaki jacket and trousers. Their eyes briefly locked upon one another, and Teren’s heart began to accelerate. He was here! Why did it feel like a homecoming instead of a first meeting? Her lips moved and then tightened, and instead, she lifted her hand.

He gave her a bare nod, his eyes narrowing, and every nerve in her body reacted to that swift, intense perusal he gave her.

And then, just as quickly, he lifted his chin, his gaze sweeping around the noisy, busy airport. She had the distinct impression he was actually a lordly leopard in disguise, calmly surveying his kingdom, not a stranger coming to a strange country. He walked like a hunter, light on his feet, avoiding any living animal in the immediate vicinity.

She watched in amazement as he threaded his way through the crowd. He moved like water flowing around rocks, disturbing nothing, gaining no one’s attention. Teren’s respect for him as a security contractor rocketed.

His shoulders were broad, squared with pride, his hand on a single bag that appeared to hold a laptop. His right hand was free. And as his gaze swept to her once again and briefly halted, Teren felt in that one, scorching moment, he had memorized her from head to toe.

It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t lust. It was something indefinable, but just the power of it stirred up the heat simmering in her lower body. Once he was clear of the bustling crowd, his gaze locked on hers once more, and Teren felt as if she were being surrounded by such intense protectiveness, it stole her breath away.

Protection! It had been so long since she’d felt safe. So long…and he seemed to be invisibly embracing her, the sense of safety he radiated even stronger the closer he drew to her.

For once in her life, Teren found herself speechless. Their gazes clung to one another, and something passed between them that made her throat tighten. She fought back old, wounded emotions as she absorbed the look in his eyes, feeling his quiet authority and power. Now she lifted her chin and realized that, on some level, she didn’t want him to step away from her. It was the craziest, most out-of-this-world sensation she’d ever felt!

Almost dizzied by his palpable masculinity as he drew to a halt about four feet away from her, she stared up at Steele-gawked was more like it. Teren suddenly felt like an innocent eighteen-year-old who held all the hopes of the world in her heart.

Steele was a stranger. Ex-military. Black ops. So different from the world she lived in that what he was bringing with him was alien to her culture. Then his eyes warmed as he smiled down on her, and she felt heat sheeting through her, arousing her dormant body, ripping away all her fear, the sense of danger that always hovered around her. She felt a fire sparking to full life deep within her body, as if on some unknown plane of existence, she was meeting him after a long absence.

“Ms. Lambert?”

His voice was low and quiet. The vibration, though subtle, tingled through every cell within her. Teren barely nodded. “Yes.” The word came out smoky and soft, so unlike her. Nolan Steele brought out her female quality with just his mere presence.

Looking deeper into his eyes, Teren didn’t see arousal or lust. What she saw, however, was even more powerful: gentle understanding and yes, compassion burned in his eyes, aimed directly at her. How could that be?

She felt tongue-tied, scrambling inwardly to snap out of that magical cocoon he’d just woven around her. The feeling left Teren unsure of herself-normally, she exuded a quiet confidence wherever she went. Whatever magic he possessed made her feel excruciatingly female, and she gratefully absorbed it.

Steele gave her a wry smile, his eyes crinkling, the lines in the corners deepening. “Are you all right? You look a little dazed.”

Teren felt heat burnishing her cheeks. She never blushed, but she was now. She managed an apologetic, “I’m sorry…long day.” Well, that wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth. “The heat, too.” She lifted her hand gracefully toward the automatic doors.

“Understandable,” he agreed with a nod. Holding out his hand, he said, “Nolan Steele. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Lambert.”

His large hand engulfed her thin, narrow one, and the touch of his callused palm sliding against hers sent wild electric sensations up her lower arm. His fingers were long, strong, yet gentle, as he lightly squeezed her hand in return. Teren felt his latent strength, reminding her once more of that proud leopard who, while in repose, looked tame and nonthreatening-but he wasn’t. Skin against skin she sensed much more and couldn’t hold off images that had nothing to do with a simple “hello.”

Unsteadily, Teren pulled her hand free, her skin vibrating with his energy. “Do you have luggage?” she asked, trying to restore the impression of competence she’d brought with her.

“Yes.” He broke contact with her flawless gray eyes, which brought to mind the color of the sky just before dawn. “I’ve been here before, and baggage is that way.” He pointed in the direction of the highly polished hall that led to the right.

She blinked, her mind slowly returning online. “You have? I mean, you’ve been in Sudan before?” The way his lips parted in a grin, part boyish, part secretive, told her that Nolan wasn’t wearing his game face. He was being genuine.

Wyatt had warned her that she probably wouldn’t be able to read him or know what he was thinking or feeling. But that wasn’t true, at least not here and now. It was as if they were both standing before each other, exposing themselves boldly and fearlessly. She could almost feel his essence, and it swept her away in a glorious cloud of heat, light, and promise.

“Yes, ma’am. In fact, I’ve been here too many times,” he assured her. Nolan knew better than to cup her elbow and guide her down the massive, gleaming hallway leading to the escalator down to baggage. This was a conservative country, and a strange man could not touch a woman. Only family could touch family, and even then, it mattered which person in the family it was. Earlier, when they shook hands, any passerby would automatically think they were related and from the same family. They would think nothing of the greeting. Nolan gestured and said, “This way.”

Pre-order: right now!
Release Date: 2.1.18!
contact me at: http://www.lindsaymckenna.com

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT from Sanctuary by Lindsay McKenna!

January 28, 2018

Sanctuary by Lindsay McKenna
Delos Series, Book 8
Paperback, ebook and audio
Release date: February 1, 2019

Back Story:
Shy country girl Teren Lambert is used to being in the background…and she likes it that way. After losing her innocence-Teren lives with the guilt of that fateful day. She only feels whole helping the women and children at the Delos Charity’s Kitra Safe House in Sudan. But her new bodyguard brings to life feelings within her thought long dead. He is her sanctuary.

Ex-Delta Force operator Nolan Steele knows the agony of losing someone he loves. And it’s something he never wants to relive, so he guards his heart as strongly as he guards lives. But though he fights against it, he can’t help but be drawn to Teren’s quiet beauty. While on a mission to protect her and the women at the safe house, Nolan sees a familiar pain in her soulful eyes. Can he find the strength to love again?

EXCERPT:
Teren waited patiently outside the customs area at the Khartoum, Sudan, airport. She had her cell phone in hand, scrolling through messages from her two office assistants. Her mouth tugged at the corners as she looked up at the double doors, expecting Nolan Steele to come through them at any moment.

His color photo flashed on her screen. He had an oval face and large, hawkish marine-blue eyes that reminded her of the ocean’s depths. His mouth was something else-sensual, yet firm. He was almost painfully good-looking-far too handsome for his own good! He probably had an ego the size of Jupiter. She hoped not, because the moment the email from Wyatt Lockwood had appeared on her laptop, her whole body reacted to the stranger’s photograph. Those eyes…so full of secrets and, Teren sensed, pain. It didn’t appear on his unlined thirty-year-old face, but it was there.

She was just a year younger than him. She thought back to when she’d been an idealistic eighteen-year-old, filled with hope and the belief that the world was essentially a good place. She found out differently later that year and after her own traumatic experience, Teren had quickly revised her views about men. From that time on, they had been creatures she couldn’t understand or relate to. She’d become gun-shy around them, and now, over a decade later, she still felt that way.

But as she studied Nolan’s face, Teren felt her heart slowly begin to open, like petals on a lotus. Not wanting to feel like this, fighting it, she clicked her phone’s screen off but left the phone on, because he had her phone number in case they missed each other here at the busy, crowded airport.
A potpourri of spicy scents filled the air. Men wore either light-colored silk business suits or the traditional jalabiya, a loose-fitting garment, collarless, ankle-length, and long-sleeved. Some wore caps, others turbans. Because it was August, a season of dry, blistering heat, the jalabiyas were either white, cream, or tan, made of cotton-linen or silk, to deflect the burning rays of the sun outside this air-conditioned facility.
She nervously smoothed her tob, a head-to-toe gown of white cotton topped by a white silk hijab, the traditional scarf Muslim women wore over their heads when in public. She wasn’t Muslim, but Teren tried to fit in, not stand out. Knowing how dangerous it was to be a white, American woman in this third-world country, she didn’t want to draw attention to herself any more than necessary.

Normally, she wouldn’t have been here waiting for someone at the airport. She liked the red clay walls that surrounded Kitra, the sense of safety that was always there because Captain Ayman Taban ran his security force like the military man he’d been for twenty years.

So, where was this Steele guy, and was that even his real name or a cover one? After talking with Wyatt by sat phone, she knew he was going to be her personal bodyguard, and that he was ex-military, but Wyatt hadn’t said anything more than that. Tapping her slippered foot, Teren began to feel restless. She didn’t like being out in such a huge, bustling area with so many men and so few women. She knew she’d stand out because of her lighter skin.
In Khartoum, she dressed conservatively, the niqab, over her brow and nose, only a slit for her eyes, trying to hide her skin color. Here at the airport, her face was fully visible, the scarf draped around her head, neck, and shoulders. Steele had to be able to identify her once he came through the doors of customs. Sudan wasn’t a safe place in many areas and it was especially dangerous to a woman who stood alone without a male escort in tow. Too many terrorists were lurking around, and it always made her tense. Her nervousness this afternoon was heightened because she felt inexplicably drawn to Nolan Steele.

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LINKS
Amazon

BN.com
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sanctuary-lindsay-mckenna/1127448236?ean=2940158773372

KOBO.COM
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/sanctuary-182

Apple/iTunes/iBooks
https://linkmaker.itunes.apple.com/en-us/details/1305504349?country=us&mediaType=books&term=Sanctuary+by+Lindsay+McKenna

Ebook/paperback/audio (Tantor Media)

BOXCAR CHRISTMAS by Lindsay McKenna blog and contest!

January 5, 2018

BOXCAR CHRISTMAS by Lindsay McKenna
a deep, incisive blog on why I wrote this book. And there’s a giveaway contest as well!

http://harlequinjunkie.com/spotlight-giveaway-boxcar-christmas-by-lindsay-mckenna/

http://www.lindsaymckenna.com