Flying High: Book Blitz
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Flying High: Book Blitz

Harry crossed the street. No one crossed after him, but whoever was after him was closer now.
He could feel it.
That cold stab of dread, sixth sense, gut feeling. Like icy fingers down his skin.
And if someone was after Harry, it wasn’t good. He was the hunter, never the hunted. If he was the mark . . .
Christ. He was the mark.
Harry ducked past two women, slipping through a narrow utility alley, and he ran. He was being chased now, silent and fast. At the end of the alley, he turned left and went through an open door, up a set of stairs to the roof, his heart hammering.
He ran along the roofline, exposed but faster than on the street. He heard footsteps chasing behind him but didn’t dare turn around, and as the muted whirr of a bullet pinged past his head, he jumped.
He knew the sound of that gun. It was a SIG Pro 9mm with a suppressor.
French special forces, standard issue.
He landed on a first-floor balcony, using his momentum to leap again, this time to the ground. Pain shot through his ankle but he kept moving, down another alley, and through an open door and into a darkened hall.
Hands grabbed him, spun him and pinned his back against the wall as the door closed behind him. In half a disorienting second, Harry pulled his gun to his assailant’s head at the same time he realised he had a pistol pressed against his.
Eyes flashed in the dark, familiar and close. A man’s body pressed him hard to the wall, their chests heaving. A hand covered his mouth.
“Shh.”
Harry didn’t dare breathe, his finger on the trigger, still aimed at the man’s head. The cold press of metal against Harry’s temple told him to wait.
The sound of feet outside came running. The crackle of a radio, a French voice just outside the door. “I’ve lost him.” The footsteps faded, and only after a long moment did the man move his hand from Harry’s mouth.
Harry could see then who it was.
Asher Garin.
Asher fucking Garin.
Adrenaline exploded through Harry’s veins and he started, pushing his pistol harder into Asher’s temple. Asher gnashed his teeth. Anger and defiance flashed in his eyes. “Keep quiet or you’ll kill us both,” Asher hissed, barely a whisper.
His words didn’t make sense.
Asher had saved him?

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Romance for some? Book Blitz

“So this is where you’re hiding from me.”
Fuck.
I hung my head and fisted my hair.
“I take it you saw me in there?” His voice hadn’t changed. “I saw you too. You tend to stick out in a crowd.”
Get the fuck away from me.
Since the ground wasn’t gonna swallow me whole, I steeled myself and stood up again, and I came face-to-face with Archie for the first time in five years. But as memories demanded I hurled every curse in the book at him, another part of me froze up, and I just stared.
Even under the cover of darkness, with barely any light from the porch, he was too damn beautiful. And no level of darkness could conceal the vulnerability in his eyes. Maybe that was why I couldn’t say anything harsh.
I’d seen that vulnerability before, when he’d known that our evening together was about to come to a swift conclusion. There was no forgetting the cold that’d filled me when I’d understood what was going on.
“You look good, Greer,” he offered.
Christ. I folded my arms over my chest. “Why are you here?”
He took a step closer. “I’ve been looking for you. For the…past year.”
I narrowed my eyes. Did he think I was stupid? “Try again. Because this isn’t the place that pops up if you’re looking for me.”
“No,” he conceded. “I found the business you share with your brothers first. Then I found their Facebook accounts, your nieces and nephews on Instagram and Snapchat, your two sisters-in-law on Instagram and Pinterest…” He released a breath. “You learn a lot about a man through the social media eyes of his family members.”
Stalker warning.
“An entire family on social media—except you,” he said. “Until I stumbled upon a comment section under one of your nephews’ accounts. Crew, I think his name was…? Someone named Finlay Ridge had wished him good luck, and there you were.”
I was, but I wasn’t. It was the name of my farm. I used the account for the food collective groups I was in. And, of course, to stay in touch with family and friends, but I hadn’t made a single post in public, nor had I uploaded any photos.
“From there, I went through all your friends…”
“I hear warning bells,” I replied dryly.
He nodded and looked down at the grass. “Can’t blame you. I got obsessed. I wanted to know everything about you.”
Fuck him. He couldn’t say that shit to me.

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Which colour suits? Book Blitz

Beau
Not even the noise-canceling headphones could drown out his shout. My fingers paused in flying over the keyboard but resumed when nothing else followed.
A moment later, he yelled again. I glanced up out of the blue-toned bubble the monitors always surrounded me with. He was not a peaceful sleeper. I normally ignored him, but tonight I couldn’t. Tonight he was annoying me more than usual.
Shoving back one side of the headphones, I listened anew.
“No,” he wailed, and something twisted in my gut.
I tossed the headphones onto my desk, moving out from behind my setup, adjusting the beanie I wore as I strode toward the bedroom. Pushing open the door without knocking, I folded my arms over my chest in the doorway.
“Hey,” I called.
He seemed too big for the bed as he thrashed around, breathing heavily and muttering too low for me to understand.
Sighing, I stepped into the dark room out of the light spilling in from the living room. His forehead was damp with a sheen of sweat, his messy dark hair matted in it.
“Wake up,” I intoned, still staring down.
His body stilled for a brief moment, making me think I’d managed to wake him. “I’m trying to work,” I bitched, turning away.
A keening sound filled the room, followed by a broken sob. Footsteps faltering, I turned back, realizing he was still trapped wherever he was. The pain etched in his features made my chest tight, and a sudden need to comfort had me leaning over him.
“Daeshim,” I called.
His face softened just a bit, and it made something inside me ease.
“Daeshim.” I called out to him again, this time reaching out to tap his cheek.
He moved so fast I didn’t even realize what was happening until I was on my back, pinned beneath him. The mattress was soft, but maybe it only felt that way because the body pinning me in place was rock hard.
“What the hell are you doing?” I grunted, trying to shove him off.
His eyes snapped open, but there was no one home. An uneasy feeling wormed around inside me, my fight-or-flight response coming in hot.
I shoved at his shoulders again, watching his face contort in menace. Daeshim was basically a gangster. A criminal and an asshole. He was also my roommate. I’d never been scared of him.
But as his hands shot out, locking around my neck to squeeze, fear bloomed.
I opened my mouth to yell at him, but all that came out was a strangled sound. Panic assaulted me, bursting over everything else and making me feel like I was fighting even though all my physical movements stopped.
Get it together! A voice demanded inside me, effectively stopping the absolute control of the panic.
Grunting, I twisted under him, but his weight pushed me harder into the bed.
Wheezing and eyes bulging, I grappled at his arms, digging my nails into them, trying to pry away his hands.
The set of his mouth was grim, and his eyes glittered with that creepy, empty, nobody’s-home look.
“Dae—” I wheezed, twisting and slapping his arm. “Daeshim.”
He blinked, and I was able to drag in some air before he started strangling me anew. He was in there.
I just have to—
The thought cut off as spots started to swim before my eyes. It was do or die. Literally.
Letting my body go lax under his, I put every last bit of effort into the fist I clenched at my side.
Then, just before this asshole overpowered me, I launched a right hook into the side of his head.

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