Leather and Lies by Celeste Straub - Book Tour + Giveaway
Romantic Suspense
Date Published: 10-3-18
Publisher: 5 Prince Publishing
For twenty-four-year-old Skye Winters, criminal profiling is the perfect career: helping solve cases without all the emotional baggage. When her cousin, Kortney, becomes the latest in a string of young women to vanish, Skye’s professional and personal lives collide. Cue the nuclear mushroom cloud.
Amid the fallout, Skye meets Wes Carson, the mysterious and smart-mouthed new biker in her father’s motorcycle club. She tries to ignore their chemistry, even after accepting Wes’ aid in the search for Kort. Then one spontaneous afternoon takes them over the edge, forcing Skye to consider she might be in love. Too bad it’s with a liar.
Unraveling Wes' lies leaves Skye ensnared in an FBI investigation, making her question her profiling skills and her heart. With Wes in danger, her affection overrules her caution with disastrous results. Will Skye survive to solve the case, save Kort, and still salvage a relationship with Wes?
Excerpt
An amused half smile flits
across Wes’ face in the pause after his introduction. “You must be Skyelar,” he
continues. “All your dad can talk about is the great job you just got in D.C. A
profiler for the FBI or something like that, right?”
My face flushes. Shifting, I rub my suddenly sweaty
palms along my shorts before tugging at the hem of my tank top. The ensemble
would not have been my first choice had I known I would be coming face to face
with a complete stud.
You
should have introduced yourself when you shook his hand. Ugh. Now he probably
thinks you’re socially inept.
“Nice to meet you, Wes,” I finally reply, finding my voice and manners.
“Call
me Skye. I’d love to work for the FBI someday, but my new job is with the D.C.
police.” Pausing, I decide to get the awkward interview done and over. There
might not be time once a dozen hungry bikers raid the food. “So, my mom tells
me Dad offered you a place to stay.”
He appraises me with a
perceptive smile. “Ah. You’re to profile me and report to the boss. Right?”
I blink, taken aback. Well, no
point beating around the bush now.
“Everything you say can and will
be used against you in the court of Mom.” My voice stays playful. I’m not
trying to make the man feel like he’s under interrogation. Except he is.
Wes chuckles. It’s a deep and
pleasant sound I immediately want to hear again.
“Perhaps I should plead the
fifth?” he asks.
“That would just make me wonder
what you’re hiding.”
I tilt my head to the side,
studying him. His brown eyes lock with my blue and I see secrets. I inhale, the
air thinning to Mt. Everest proportions. The void between us pulsates with
caged energy. I can’t help noticing the subtle swirls in his dark eyes, like
milk chocolate melting in a double boiler.
Can
he sense your secrets as easily as you sense his?
The unsettling thought rips me
from my trance as I break the stare first, blood warming.
“I’m an open book,” Wes offers,
hands out and palms up.
I narrow my eyes, planting my
hands onto my hips. Those secrets I sensed in his eyes don’t raise any alarm
bells, just an honest curiosity as to what he’s hiding. “No. If you were, you
would have a social media presence.” His eyes widen slightly. “I already
Googled you.”
He seems to rein in the surprise as his arms cross. “Find anything interesting?”
he asks casually. Much too casually.
He
knows you didn’t find a damn thing.
“You have a terribly common
name,” I grumble through gritted teeth.
With a smirk, he leans in. “I know,” he whispers.
Boy, I’d like to wipe that smug
look off his lips. Or kiss them.
Where
did that come from? Keep it together, Winters. He’s just a pretty face.
“Well, I’ll happily report to
Mom you’re a sociopath who will murder us in our beds. I’m sure you won’t mind
staying at the lovely Motor Coach Inn. I hear their amenities are five stars.”
His face blanches, arms falling
to his sides. Now it’s my smile that turns smug.
“Okay, look…” he runs a hand
though his hair. Toeing the carpet, he speaks to the floor. “I just went
through a divorce. It wasn’t particularly amiable, so I deleted my Twitter and
Facebook accounts. I would really appreciate the opportunity to stay here for a
little while.”
Sliding my hands off my hips, I tuck my thumbs into my back pockets and
take pity on him by changing the subject. “So, you’re friends with Dave?”
Wes looks up from the floor as
he shakes his head. “I’m not sure I’d classify us as friends. We work and ride
together, but otherwise we run in very different circles.”
I catch the timbre suggesting he
has no desire to ever run in those circles, either. Mentally, I take back the
strike I gave Wes when I first learned of his association with Dave.
“And what do you do for Amazon?”
“I’m a shift manager.”
Okay, so he’s comfortable in
leadership roles. Works and plays well with others, even people like Dave who
he may not like much. Finally, a glimpse of his personality.
“Sounds exciting.” I can’t hide
the sarcasm.
He shrugs. “It’s a paycheck.”
“But you’d rather be doing
something else.” I sense it. “What’s your dream job?”
“Powerball winner,” he shoots
back with a cheeky grin.
I laugh. “That’s everyone’s
dream, but it’s not a job.”
He takes a step closer, then
another, until only a few inches separate our bodies. A whiff of sandalwood
cologne invades the air between us. He bends closer to my ear, as if he’s about
to impart some great secret. “I’d like to be a spy, like James Bond,” he
whispers.
I laugh harder this time and he
rewards me with another lopsided smile. After Kort’s disappearance, the levity
comes as a welcome distraction.
“Is it because of the gadgets,
guns, or girls?”
“Definitely the women,” he
replies, a flippant smile gracing his face. “I’m hiring for a Bond girl, if you
want to apply.”
He’s flirting with you!
My brain freezes, groping for a
witty response. The already charged air between us practically sparks. I grip
the edge of the bar for dear life, needing to say something or risk crossing
that paper-thin barrier into awkward silence, but my brain reboots too slowly.
With my thought-to-mouth filter
not yet fully operational, I blurt, “Sign me up.”
About the Author
Celeste Straub is a hopeless romantic who enjoys plotting the slightly sadistic journeys her characters go on before they finally reach their happily-ever-after. She enjoys a quiet country life in northeastern Pennsylvania, residing on a piece of the old family farm with her husband, son, and two cats. Writing as a hobby since childhood, Celeste spends her days as the grant writer and operations director for a local non-pro3t agency focusing on public health issues. When she’s not penning steamy romance scenes in her spare time, her interests include traveling, visiting amusement parks, collecting baseballs, hiking, and reading.
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