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taylorgibbs Sep. 25th, 2012 06:50 am)
taylorgibbs Sep. 25th, 2012 06:50 am)Bleeding Out was released into the world last night, and most of the link are now live!
This is the fifth in my Strategic Affair series, featuring Ronan and Steel, two former Special Ops men recruited to a secretive agency.
Check out the gorgeous cover that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wintermute_lj made. All the important book info is under the cut.
Ronan almost lost Steel when their assignment went to hell. Now that he knows Steel’s fate, Ronan has a hell of a lot of emotion to burn off. Will they bleed it out together or will this drive a wedge between them?
Bleeding Out is part of the serialized story Strategic Affair. Each installment stands alone, but read together, Ronan and Steel’s story sizzles!
Find it at Amazon, Smashwords (many formats) and ARE (many formats).
iBookstore, B&N, Kobo, and Sony links coming soon.
And here is an excerpt!
The world had disappeared into a maelstrom of shouting voices, bright lights.
And pain, a hell of a lot of pain.
He couldn’t feel pain if he was dead, could he?
Steel didn’t think so, but he was too woozy to try to figure it all out. He hurt, he was one big steaming ball of ow, punctuated with the pinch of needles, and voices, and…
He was happy to drift away.
Steel awoke to find himself moving, the rough, jerky movement of the gurney making him think he was on pavement rather than the smooth movement of wheels over hospital floors. He wanted to ask questions, but he was too damn contented to drift, the cool evening air brushing over him. He rolled when told to and seemed to be transferred to another mechanism. “Relax. Sleep,” a gentle voice told him. “We’ll have you secure soon, sir.”
Not a sir, he wanted to reply, but he was so goddamn tired.
He allowed himself to let his guard down enough that the world went fully black again.
The next time he awoke, he actually opened his eyes, squinting at the glare from interior lights of…was it a van? An ambulance?
There was a gorgeous redhead sitting next to him, who might have been his type if he liked girls as much as he liked guys. She had some serious hardware strapped to one shapely thigh, straps wrapping over muscles clearly defined despite the twill knit of her cargo pants.
He looked up to her face, glancing over an impressive chest, and met green eyes set into a gorgeous face. She had to be in her late twenties to early thirties. Thin but curvy, a technical belt bisecting her breasts.
“Serious hardware,” he mumbled. Damn, he was slurring; that was good stuff he’d been given. He was floaty and not in any pain, but he seemed to be able to start concentrating and focusing, at least in small doses. And he was happy to have no pain, right now, anyway.
“We try,” she replied. “How bad do you feel? I can give you a little more Demerol, but I’ll kill your thought processes for a while. I’m Jenna Nevis, by the way. Barry has me guarding you, Steel.”
“Demerol?” Damn, that was why he felt so good. “How bad?”
“You took three bullets,” she explained, motioning to his left side. “One in the flank, fractured a rib. That’ll hurt for a while. One in your left thigh, up high.” She touched the outside of hers right by the hip. “And one lower down by your knee. You also got hit with some shrapnel, wood chips from the table you’d sheltered behind when it was hit.
“Ronan and Patrick?” He didn’t much care what was wrong with him right now. He was conscious—that had to mean something. He had to be sure that Ronan was okay, and that their charge had made it out alive—hopefully uninjured.
“They’re fine. Everyone in the club made it out okay. A few bruises I think, but you were the only one who needed medical treatment.” She sighed, pulling on her ponytail and what he suspected had to be a nervous habit.
“Where are we?”
“On the 405, heading for a secure location where you can recover and we can figure this out. Barry, Ronan, and Patrick are there, along with some of our best men.”
“Our best men?” Maybe he was slow, but he couldn’t quite grasp what she was saying.
“I’m Barry’s second in command, sir. Welcome aboard Kidson. We’re glad to have you.”
“I bet,” he shot back with what he hoped was a sarcastic smile, but in reality, it was probably more like a grimace.
This is the fifth in my Strategic Affair series, featuring Ronan and Steel, two former Special Ops men recruited to a secretive agency.
Check out the gorgeous cover that
wintermute_lj made. All the important book info is under the cut.Ronan almost lost Steel when their assignment went to hell. Now that he knows Steel’s fate, Ronan has a hell of a lot of emotion to burn off. Will they bleed it out together or will this drive a wedge between them?
Bleeding Out is part of the serialized story Strategic Affair. Each installment stands alone, but read together, Ronan and Steel’s story sizzles!
Find it at Amazon, Smashwords (many formats) and ARE (many formats).
iBookstore, B&N, Kobo, and Sony links coming soon.
And here is an excerpt!
The world had disappeared into a maelstrom of shouting voices, bright lights.
And pain, a hell of a lot of pain.
He couldn’t feel pain if he was dead, could he?
Steel didn’t think so, but he was too woozy to try to figure it all out. He hurt, he was one big steaming ball of ow, punctuated with the pinch of needles, and voices, and…
He was happy to drift away.
Steel awoke to find himself moving, the rough, jerky movement of the gurney making him think he was on pavement rather than the smooth movement of wheels over hospital floors. He wanted to ask questions, but he was too damn contented to drift, the cool evening air brushing over him. He rolled when told to and seemed to be transferred to another mechanism. “Relax. Sleep,” a gentle voice told him. “We’ll have you secure soon, sir.”
Not a sir, he wanted to reply, but he was so goddamn tired.
He allowed himself to let his guard down enough that the world went fully black again.
The next time he awoke, he actually opened his eyes, squinting at the glare from interior lights of…was it a van? An ambulance?
There was a gorgeous redhead sitting next to him, who might have been his type if he liked girls as much as he liked guys. She had some serious hardware strapped to one shapely thigh, straps wrapping over muscles clearly defined despite the twill knit of her cargo pants.
He looked up to her face, glancing over an impressive chest, and met green eyes set into a gorgeous face. She had to be in her late twenties to early thirties. Thin but curvy, a technical belt bisecting her breasts.
“Serious hardware,” he mumbled. Damn, he was slurring; that was good stuff he’d been given. He was floaty and not in any pain, but he seemed to be able to start concentrating and focusing, at least in small doses. And he was happy to have no pain, right now, anyway.
“We try,” she replied. “How bad do you feel? I can give you a little more Demerol, but I’ll kill your thought processes for a while. I’m Jenna Nevis, by the way. Barry has me guarding you, Steel.”
“Demerol?” Damn, that was why he felt so good. “How bad?”
“You took three bullets,” she explained, motioning to his left side. “One in the flank, fractured a rib. That’ll hurt for a while. One in your left thigh, up high.” She touched the outside of hers right by the hip. “And one lower down by your knee. You also got hit with some shrapnel, wood chips from the table you’d sheltered behind when it was hit.
“Ronan and Patrick?” He didn’t much care what was wrong with him right now. He was conscious—that had to mean something. He had to be sure that Ronan was okay, and that their charge had made it out alive—hopefully uninjured.
“They’re fine. Everyone in the club made it out okay. A few bruises I think, but you were the only one who needed medical treatment.” She sighed, pulling on her ponytail and what he suspected had to be a nervous habit.
“Where are we?”
“On the 405, heading for a secure location where you can recover and we can figure this out. Barry, Ronan, and Patrick are there, along with some of our best men.”
“Our best men?” Maybe he was slow, but he couldn’t quite grasp what she was saying.
“I’m Barry’s second in command, sir. Welcome aboard Kidson. We’re glad to have you.”
“I bet,” he shot back with what he hoped was a sarcastic smile, but in reality, it was probably more like a grimace.