Glenys O'Connell, Author of Romantic Suspense and Mystery Novels

What happens when old sins demand redemption?

Lauren, a love-shy wildlife artist and the two powerful men who love her are caught in a sinister triangle of deceit and betrayal when old sins demand redemption.

What would you do if a madman is out to get you?

Print Version Now Available from Amazon:

Amazon.com ISBN: 978 - 1 - 60435-915 - 5

Ebook from Red Rose Publishing

              “I’m warning you; put her down!” Paul’s stentorian voice commanded and Lauren decided he was right. Struggling in the iron clasp of Jon’s arms, she, too, demanded to be put down.

                “Right away,” he conceded, swinging open the passenger door and depositing her on gently on the leather seat in the warm cab of his Jeep.

                “I’ve already alerted the police. There’s no way you can get away with this,” Paul stated, holding Jon’s eyes with his own. “Just let Lauren go and we’ll talk, maybe sort out something.”

                “There’s nothing to sort. She can’t stay here.”

                “She can’t go with you.”

                “She’s in no condition to deal with this…”

                “And she’s the cat’s mother,” Lauren interjected, knowing she probably sounded ridiculous, but tired of hearing the two men fighting about her as if she was a bone.

                “Lauren, I’ve called the police. We’ll see how he can explain this to Chief Ohmer,” Paul told her, his eyes never leaving Jon’s face. At that moment, as though they had conjured him up, they heard a blast of the police siren as Ohmer himself turned into the Haverford Castle driveway.

Moments later, he’d surveyed the wreckage of Lauren’s home, checked that she herself was uninjured, called for scene-of-crime backup, and fixed a cold eye on Jon Rush.

                “So, Mr. Rush, how do you explain yourself?”

                “I don’t have anything to explain.” Rush’s voice was flat, authoritative.

                “Then who trashed Lauren’s place?” Ohmer asked.

“Who else would want to, except some corporate scum?” Paul interjected, drawing a daggers-glance from the police chief.

                “Easy now…” Ohmer warned, but Lauren interjected.

                “No, Paul, finish what you were going to say. I liked the sound of it.” Lauren knew shock was making her giddy, but an attack of the giggles seemed preferable to howling at the moon and tearing her hair, which was her only other apparent option. All three men swiveled to look at her.

                “Hysterical,” Paul judged.

                “Overwrought,” Jon agreed.

                “Getting madder by the minute,” Lauren chimed in.

                “So who could hate her enough to do this?” Jon asked Paul.

                “I wouldn’t think she’s got that many enemies,” Paul replied.

                “No, but she does have an attitude,” Jon commented sagely.

                Paul burst out laughing.

                “Now, just you wait a minute. One moment you’re calling him out for ravaging my home and kidnapping me, the next you’re making jokes at my expense? What is this, the Men’s Club routine?” Lauren demanded, and both men shamefacedly lost their amusement. Chief Ohmer turned away to greet another police car with the backup personnel he’d requested.

                “Lauren, I don’t know what you believe, but I certainly did not, would not, do something like this.” Jon’s eyes held hers, but Lauren looked away.

                “Go and look at the painting on my easel—what there is left of it,” she told the two men.

As they left, she leaned her head forwards against the chilled glass of the windscreen, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. It had been okay to keep up the slapstick while Jon and Paul were there, somehow it had defused the situation, and besides, she couldn’t really take seriously the concept of Jon Rush trashing her home.

                But if not him, who?

           PRINT VERSION                                                                                             EBOOK VERSION

Winters & Somers
By:  Glenys O'Connell (eBook under pen name of Lydia Grace)
Published By: Red Rose Publishing
ISBN # 978-1-60435-087-6 Heat Index

Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Microsoft Reader, HTML, Mobipocket
Available from All Romance eBooks http://allromanceebooks.com/

Red Rose Publishing http://www.redrossepublishing.com/

 EBOOK VERSION

Also Available from: Fictionwise http://www.fictionwise.com/

Mobipocket www.mobipocket.com and other stores.
Price: $5.99

About the book
PI Cíara Somers makes a good living testing the ‘temptability quotient’ of men for their insecure lovers…but when NY homicide cop and author of red hot romances, Jonathon Winters, makes her take him on as a partner in her Dublin agency, he gets the wrong message from her raunchy style..…especially when he wants her for himself.

Somers isn’t the type to let a man push her around – the incorrigible Grannie Somers raised heto be her own woman. But when she discovers that even Grannie drools over Winters, she can’t help but wonder what it would be like to indulge in one of the fantasies that have millions of women reading his romantic books.

And when Somers finally gets her first real case – to capture the notorious jewel thief dubbed The Diamond Darling – she has to survive the help of her weird relatives, the landlady from hell, two stoned friends, a stray dog – and Winters himself….

EXCERPT:

Cíara’s cell phone bleeped as they roared across town in Winters' truck.
The number that came on her screen was Margaret Mary's, but the whispering voice at the other end was so low it was hard to hear. "Say that again?" Cíara said, her heart thumping. Then, to Winters: "Step on the accelerator – Margaret Mary's in the flat to get her stuff – and someone's breaking in!"
Visions of her pregnant friend suffering the same treatment – or worse – as Margaret Henley if the burglar discovered her made Cíara sick with fear. Leaning forward in the seat, her own foot pressing an imaginary accelerator as Winters wove in and out of the gathering evening traffic, she tried to move them forward with sheer force of will. Seeing the tense lines of her body, Winters leaned over and squeezed her clasped hands. The grateful glance she gave him in reply made his heart thump – and the moment's inattention earned him a few pithy words from a taxi driver who was cutting in ahead of him.
Winters parked in the side street leading to the green in the centre of the square of Georgian-style houses. Cíara pulled off her strappy high-heeled sandals
and threw them in the back seat of the truck as she prepared to follow Winters silently down the street.
"Where would your bathroom be?" he asked her quietly when they reached the front of her house.
"Winters, this is hardly the time –oh, I see. The bathroom for my kip would be around the side. I did leave it open – but just a crack."
She followed him and, looking up, they saw the small frosted glass window now stood open to its widest point. A drainpipe passed by a convenient foot or so from the window, and they caught the glimmer of a flashlight from the darkness inside.
Swinging around the back of the house, they crept in through the small back room that was used as a laundry for all seven flats in the building, into the main hallway, and up the stairs. Cíara’s heart was thumping madly and once more she was glad of Winters' solid presence, this time ahead of her and between her and whatever lay ahead.
She muttered a curse as she fumbled with the keys, and Winters took them from her, holding the jingling keys quiet in his big palm as he inserted the right key into the lock. It opened with a contained click! And they slipped inside.
At the same moment, a dark figure came out of Cíara’s bedroom, holding a small torch shielded in one hand. The other hand was rifling through the meager contents of Cíara’s jewelry box.
“You dirty bollix! Did you really think you could get away with this?" Ciara roared, launching herself forwards. She was caught in strong arms and flung backwards, and only saved from a fist in the face by Winters' intervention as the big man put himself between her and the Diamond Darling.
There was a loud thud as the two men crashed to the floor, still struggling, and then Cíara heard Winters cry out as the Diamond Darling turned the heavy mahogany jewelry box into a weapon against the detective's temple.
Flicking on the light, Cíara saw Winters lying dazed on the floor as the black clad figure standing over him preparing to land another blow. Her vision blurred as she saw the thin line of blood on Winters' face, then she launched herself in fury at his attacker.
"Take your miserable junk!" The intruder screamed, tossing the contents of the box in Cíara’s face as he ran towards the back of the flat. Cíara went down on her knees beside Winters, pulling his head into her arms.
"My God, Winters, are you dead? Please be breathing – I didn't mean all those horrible things I said," she muttered, rocking his prone body. And rejoiced in the unbelievable sense of relief as his eyes opened. “I love you!”
Winters was dead. He knew he was dead, because he was in heaven, his head cushioned on the breast of an angel. An angel who as calling his name, with tears in her eyes. An angel who said she loved him and regretted all the evil things she'd wished on him.…an angel who looked just like……Cíara!
Cíara saying those things? Reality hit home. Winters sat up with a suddenness that made his head spin.
"You're all right? You gobshite, I thought you were dead!" The angel yelled.
Winters clutched his head. "Please don’t shout," he tried to speak softly, but his own voice echoed loudly in his head. Then a dark figure sprinted from the back of the flat, making for the only door after a fruitless search for an exit.
Cíara jumped up. "We've got to go – he's getting away."
Winters swore as reality flooded back into his consciousness. Cíara was ahead of him, barreling through the open door. The Diamond Darling, the thug who'd thumped her grandmother, was not going to get away lightly. But she had to admit, it was comforting to have Winters bounding along behind her. For a moment there, when she'd thought he was dead, nothing else had really mattered. Not even revenge on that lying pond scum thief…..