Excerpt from Always!

Hey, loves! 

If the blog/website looks a little different, that's because it is. I decided a change was in order, and I wanted a clean look with a black and white theme. So, that's what I worked on for three days straight, and I quite like the changes. 

Now, onto the good stuff. 

Always (Cross + Catherine, 1) is releasing October 2nd, 2017. So, just ... 12 days away now. I cannot wait to share this first book with you all. 

If you have been following along with me on Twitter, or even Facebook occasionally, then you know I have also finished Revere (Cross + Catherine, 2), and it will release in November. 

If all goes well, Unruly (Cross + Catherine, 3) will publish in December. 

Back to back to back. Awesome, right? 

For those wondering, both book 2 and 3 end at HEA points. Book 3 was simply another facet of life that tested boundaries and pushed love to make them solid. So, I decided to write it. 

Now, for Always ... 

I thought I would share a teaser today with you all. One of Cross, and maybe next week, I will share one of just Catherine. we'll see ... 

Always is currently on Pre-Order. 

Grab your copy at one of the following: 

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CA | Amazon AUS
Barnes & Noble | iTunes | Kobo

(Also, there's some graphic teasers down below in a slideshow to enjoy)

​And now the teaser: 

***

Rick tapped the wrapped meth bricks with one finger, and nodded when the other man shrugged. The gang leader bent down to grab something from the bag at his feet, and from the other side of the table, Rick likely couldn’t see what the guy was going to pull out.
Cross could see, though. That’s why he was there. To watch a made man’s back.
Nothing more.
“Four G’s?” he heard the man ask.
“Four,” Rick confirmed.
Money, Cross thought. The gang leader should have pulled out money.
Cross saw a gun come out instead. He didn’t even think about it. He just reacted to what he knew was going to be a bad situation for all four men in the bar, and the old barkeep snoring away on his stool behind the cash register.
The gold-tinted Eagle his step-father had given him for his eighteen birthday months ago came out from behind his back, and pointed across the room at the threat without him really considering the actions. It was second nature—instinct. Cross flicked off the safety, and cocked back the hammer just as the gang leader lifted his own gun to point at Rick.
A single bullet plugged into the guy’s temple barely even a half of a second after Cross pulled the trigger. The Eagle was one vicious weapon, with a kickback that could injure a weak wrist, and a force that could send a body flying.
That’s exactly what it did.
The gang leader’s temple blew apart, blood gushing, and brain matter spraying.
Zeke slammed back into the chair he sat on at the same time the barkeep fell off his stool with a painful grunt as he hit the floor.
“Holy motherfucker,” Zeke said low, his eyes stretching wide. “How can you be that fast, and with that good of an aim? Jesus. You get to be one or the other, but not both, asshole. It’s not fair.”
Practice. And a really good appreciation and understanding of guns. Years’ worth of both things.
“Can’t help you’ve got shit for aim,” Cross said instead of explaining his skill.
Rick’s gaze slid to Cross’s from the other side of the room, appreciation and thanks being conveyed without actually saying it. He didn’t need to say it, really. Rick was the Capo, and Cross was the solider. He was given a job to do, and so he did it. He didn’t have to like the prick he was working for, but he did have to respect him.
That’s what Wolf taught him. That’s what men like him did.
“You made a mess, principe,” Rick said.
Cross tucked his weapon into the holster at his back. “Yeah, seems so.”
The barkeep poked his head over the bar top.
Rick chuckled at the sight of the man. “All’s good, Roger. Cross took care of it, go back to napping.”
“There’s a body on the floor, Rick.”
“I’ll have the boys carrying it out the back, no worries.”
“There’s brain on the wall,” Roger mumbled, looking green in his cheeks.
Zeke hid his laughter by taking a drink of beer.
Cross smirked into his own glass.
“I’ll get it cleaned up—go back to sleep.”
Roger pulled down whiskey from the shelf instead, and started sipping straight from the bottle.
“Check that bag,” Cross said, “and see if he actually brought cash, or if this was his plan from the jump.”
Rick pulled the bag out from under the weight of the dead man’s legs. “There’s a bit in here, but not enough for what he wanted to buy.”
“How many deals have you done with him?”
“A few.”
“This spot for each pickup?” Cross asked.
Rick sighed. “Yeah, principe, what the fuck about it?”
“He’s just one of several that’s going to start trying to pull shit on you, man. They’re noticing that you’re using the same place for a pickup, and that you either don’t have much backup, or the place is usually empty. They don’t follow rules like us—there’s no morals in this business when you’re supplying street gangs. If they think they’ve got an opening on you, then bet they’re going to take it. That’s all I’m saying.”
Rick’s jaw clenched.
Cross shrugged. “Probably should change venues a bit, or mix it up. Also, have someone else do the deal once in a while. Keep it fresh, and then it messes with them so they can’t make plans like that fucker tried to do today.”
Zeke shot Cross a look across the table.
“What?” he asked his friend.
Rick was waving at Roger to pour him a glass.
“Nobody likes an arrogant know-it-all, man, especially not in this business,” Zeke said.
Whatever.
“Let his ass get killed, then,” Cross said, pushing away from the table.
He had better places to be, anyway.
Cross did his job, so …
“Where the fuck are you going, principe?” Rick asked from behind Cross.
He kept heading for the bar’s front entrance. “Places to be, Rick.”
“You’ve got a mess here to clean up.”
Cross passed the body a look, unaffected. His first kill had been Derik in the winter, and this was his second. He had seen people get shot, once when he was just a kid, and a couple of times in his teens when bad shit went down while he was with Wolf. That was just the nature of this business.
Sure, the sight of the corpse with the side of his head blown apart was grisly, but it didn’t bother Cross all that much. He was still going to go on with his day, eat dinner, and sleep just fine when night came.
That was life.
Their life.
“I’m not cleaning that up,” Cross said as he reached the door. “Like I said, places to be.”
“Like where?”
“Got a girl to take to prom.”
And he was already running late as hell. 

​Hugs, loves!