Until the End by Juno Rushdan – Spotlight and Giveaway

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Juno Rushdan who is celebrating the upcoming release of the third book in the Final Hour series, Until the End. Enter the Rafflecopter at the end of the post for a chance to win a set of Every Last Breath and Nothing to Fear.

He’s strong. Fierce. Relentless. And he may be her only chance of surviving the night.

Gray Box operative Castle Kinkade always gets the job done, no matter how tough the assignment. But when he agrees to protect white-hat hacker Kit Westcott, Castle’s loyalty is tested like never before. Trapped in the closest of quarters, protective instincts flaring, he can feel the ice surrounding his heart melt…and he knows he’d do anything to keep Kit safe.

Even defy the rules that shaped his life.

Castle is the last person Kit should confide in, let alone be attracted to, but he’s the only ally she has left. Under threat of imminent attack—and a chilling conspiracy that hits too close to home—Castle and Kit are forced to put their hearts and lives on the line…and stop at nothing to face the greatest danger the world has ever known.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Did you find out why they changed security protocol?” Jess asked, driving the armored truck along the dark, deserted road stretching before her like a giant black hole.

“Nope.” Roger stared out the passenger window. “I don’t care either.”

She tried ignoring the dread that always bubbled in her gut on Route 15. This road was the worst part of their quarterly drive making deliveries from Nexcellogen to Fort Detrick.

Her gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. All clear. She half expected to find the boogeyman chasing up behind them. So ridiculous. Nothing was different about this run—except the sidearms she and Roger both carried. A new security requirement that substantiated the unnerving rumors among the drivers about the nature of their cargo.

Roger tapped his fingers against the gun on his hip like he was itching to shoot something. “Be grateful Nexcellogen didn’t replace us with retired cops. And the hazardous duty pay they’re giving us means more money for our kids’ college funds.”

Jessica wasn’t turning her nose up at an extra thousand per delivery, but it didn’t whitewash the fact they now had to carry lethal weapons and hadn’t been told why.

“I heard Fort Detrick handles the biological defense program,” Jessica said. “There’ve been whispers we’re transporting engineered toxins.” The kind of whispers that fueled her nightmares and painted her and Roger as Satan’s little helpers.

“It’s none of our business.” Roger raised his palms. “We’re paid not to ask—”

Pop! Pop! The truck jerked and swerved. That was damn loud. It sounded like exploding balloons or gunshots, followed by a whiffling noise. She slowed down and tightened her grip on the wheel.

“What the hell?” Roger asked. “Did we blow a tire?”

“More than one. But how on earth—”

Her head snapped around at the growl of a roaring engine. Blinding light cleaved the darkness on her left—and on the right!—from both sides of the crossroads. Headlights bore down on them.

Oh God! She threw her arm up, shielding her eyes from the onrushing light.

It happened fast. Too fast.

Two vehicles bigger than theirs, traveling at twice their speed, T-boned them on either side. The thunderous crunch of metal smashing into metal swallowed her scream.

Her head whipped back, slamming on the headrest and then forward into the airbag. The grinding force of the crash jarred every bone in her body.

Everything inside her hurt like a son of a bitch.

The airbag deflated. Her vision was fuzzed, dizziness eating away at her brain.

Roger stirred. “Jess, you okay?”

She wiped the moisture leaking from her nose. Blood streaked her hand. “Yeah. You?”

The semis that had pinned them wheeled into reverse, pulling back from the armored truck in an agonized squeal of metal. Headlights flicked on in front of them from a third vehicle.

She squinted at the light, letting her eyes adjust. Two men appeared in the road, dressed in black, wearing ski masks and carrying guns.

Roger drew his weapon and aimed it at the windshield.

“Don’t shoot,” Jessica said. “They can’t get in.” The glass was bulletproof. Doors, shell, and cabin were reinforced. There were no external door locks. The onboard sensor had detected the accident on impact. Police and hopefully an ambulance were already dispatched. “We have to sit tight. The cops are on the way.”

“Bullshit! Nexcellogen gave us guns to protect ourselves!”

The taller of the two men made a throwing gesture, bringing his hand from his shoulder straight out toward them.

A spear-shaped instrument resembling a harpoon shot into the windshield, puncturing the glass. Long prongs ejected like steel fingers, hooking onto the inside of the windshield.

Bulletproof but not spike-proof. That’s not good.

“Christ! What do we do?” Roger yelled, the 9mm shaking in his hand.

Saying a quick prayer, Jessica fumbled for her cell phone. They needed help. Right now! But the cops were already on the way, so who to call?

“They’re going to get in!” Roger waved his gun wildly at the figures on the other side of the windshield. “Jess, we’ve got to do something.”

The engine of the vehicle in front of them revved. The safety glass splintered into a mass of spiderweb cracks around the steel prongs.

Jessica’s heart lurched. Panic swelled. She dialed 911, her fingers moving on instinct.

The windshield began to buckle, the safety film still holding together.

“Oh, fuck!” Roger opened fire.

Bullets ricocheted around the cabin. Searing heat bit into Jessica’s side, tearing through her belly while her ears rang from the percussion of the shots. She dropped the phone and gripped her stomach. Hot blood seeped through her fingers. “I’m…I’m hit.”

The windshield popped out of the frame. Something whizzed into the cabin and clattered to the footwell. A deafening bang and a startling flash battered the confined space.

The world turned stark white. A great roaring silence filled her ears. She grabbed her head, disoriented, her senses swimming, just as someone dragged her out of the truck cabin and onto the cold pavement.

Pain exploded in her side and nausea climbed up her throat.

The man pressed something to her wound and patted her cheek with a gloved hand. “I’m sorry.” Not a man. A woman’s voice rose over the fading high-pitched hum in Jessica’s ears.

The back doors of their armored vehicle were hoisted open. Two people climbed inside.

Jessica shifted her head, looking underneath the truck. Roger was facedown on the ground, his wrists cuffed behind his back. Another individual stood near him.

“You weren’t supposed to have guns, Jessica,” the woman said.

They knew her name. How?

The woman took Jessica’s weapon and tossed it. “No one was supposed to die.”

Die! “I c-can’t die.” She was only forty. Too young to die.

“Yankee?” the woman called to the tall, broad-shouldered man stepping out of the truck, a metal container in his hands. “Did we get it?”

“Smallpox, anthrax, and Z-1984,” Yankee said. “How bad is she?”

“The bullet punctured her liver. The blood is black.”

“Sierra, leave her,” Yankee said and turned. “Whiskey, Victor, blow the trucks.”

“The pain will end soon,” Sierra said. Then she was gone from sight.

That thought wasn’t reassuring. Pain was good. It meant Jess was still alive. Where were the cops and ambulance?

Explosions rocked the night. Twin fireballs burst from the Mack trucks, painting the darkness red and orange. Heat licked her face but failed to warm her body.

She was so cold. Bile flooded her mouth. A growing numbness crept up her side as fear choked her, twisting her heart.

Still no sirens. Hope fled. The bloodcurdling realization sank in that she was going to die on this godforsaken road…all because someone wanted to steal the deadliest biotech ever created.


Excerpted from Until the End by Juno Rushdan. © 2020 by Juno Rushdan. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

About the Author: Juno Rushdan draws from real-life inspiration as a former U.S. Air Force Intelligence Officer to craft sizzling romantic thrillers. Although she is a native New Yorker, wanderlust has taken her across the globe. She’s visited more than twenty different countries and has lived in England and Germany. When she’s not writing, Juno loves spending time with her family. She currently resides in Virginia.


Buy the book at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iBooks, Kobo, BAM, or Bookshope.

a Rafflecopter giveaway
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Nothing to Fear by Juno Rushdan – Guest Blog and Giveaway

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Juno Rushdan who is celebrating the upcoming release of Nothing to Fear, the next book in the Final Hour series. Enter the Rafflecopter at the end of the post for a chance to win a copy of the first book in the series Every Last Breath.

The clock is ticking.
Fearsome Gray Box operative Gideon Stone is devoted to his work and his team. He’s never given reason to doubt his loyalty…until he’s tasked with investigating Willow Harper, a beguiling cryptologist suspected of selling deadly bio-agents on the black market.

He knows she’s innocent. He knows she’s being framed. And he knows that without him, Willow will be dead before sunrise.

Thrust into the crossfire of an insidious international conspiracy, Gideon will do anything to keep Willow safe…even if that means waging war against his own. With time running out, an unlikely bond pushes limits—and forges loyalties. Every move they make counts. And the real traitor is always watching…

The Final Hour Series:
Every Last Breath
Nothing to Fear (coming August 2019)
Until the End (coming early 2020)

Enjoy an Excerpt

Willow’s car nosedived down a long ramp that mouthed open to three lanes. Vehicles lining the two on the left were stopped at a red light.

She grabbed the wheel and veered toward the empty right lane.

Relief flashed through her. But as quickly as it came, it was gone. Her car had no brakes and was on a collision course with a major intersection of traffic.

Pressure welled in her chest.

Figures. She’d just had the most highly charged experience in her short life with a guy she was crazy attracted to, and now she was going to die. After living a neutral—

Neutral. She shifted from drive to neutral and dragged the tires against the concrete curb. The friction would shave off some speed but not enough. Not while pitched downhill on a trajectory sending her right into traffic with the cruise control jammed at sixty.

She had to avoid causing a domino effect of collisions in the intersection. Cranking the wheel, she plowed over the curb, scraping the undercarriage, and climbed the grassy berm over uneven terrain. Her gaze flickered up to the rearview mirror and to a red Jeep speeding up behind her.

A concrete barricade ahead stole her attention and her breath. She spun the wheel, turning into the main street traffic. Cars squealed, braking. Another skidded and rear-ended a truck.

The Jeep bulldozed up beside her in the left lane, horn honking.

What was she supposed to do? What could she do?

The four-wheel-drive vehicle nosed past her bumper and crashed into her car, forcing her to make a hard right—straight into the parking lot of a grocery store.

A woman yapping on her cell phone while rooting in her purse crossed in front of them. Willow’s chest turned to a block of ice.

The Jeep that had run up beside her tapped her car to the right, engaging her focus.

She steered away from the woman to the side of the building and a vacant part of the lot.


The sound of her name penetrated her shroud of fear. She looked over through the Jeep’s open passenger-side window.


He signaled to her, punching his hand down and yanking his fist up toward his shoulder. She glanced to her side.

Gear selector? No.

Emergency brake. He wanted her to pull up on the emergency brake.

She gripped the handle and wrenched up. The car whipped into a wild spin. She gasped. Light swirled into a haze of gray. Nausea flooded her in a violent wave. Her body shivered like it wanted to splinter into a hundred pieces.

Pressing her head against the seat, she released the wheel and crossed her arms, hands to her shoulders. The tail of the car crashed into something, shattering the back window. The vehicle rocked, jostling her forward.


A dense pillow punched her, throttling her back. A white cloud engulfed everything. The airbag sucked up the space around her. A scream strangled in her throat and died.

Dust and white powder clogged her nose and esophagus. She choked on the remnants of terror.

Her car door swung open. “Willow! You okay?”

A loud pop echoed. Her airbag deflated with a hiss, as if it’d been cut. She drew in a shuddering breath and waved to clear the congesting dust from her face.

Gideon whipped a double-handled knife closed and reached for her.

A whimper slipped from her lips as she cringed, raising her arm. It was all too much—losing the brakes, the sound of metal grating, hitting vehicles. Almost dying. She needed to breathe, gain her bearings, before he touched her.

“I want to help you from the car and make sure you’re okay. I won’t hurt you.” He reached for her slowly. “Okay?”

Shutting her eyes, she clutched the strap of her purse still draped over her and nodded.

He unfastened her seatbelt. One strong arm slipped under her legs, the other curled around her shoulders. He lifted her out the car, tucking her against his large frame.

Particles clung to her nostrils, burned her throat, and filled her lungs. She coughed and raked in a glorious breath of fresh air.

Gideon’s long legs stretched quickly, carrying her to his car. In his powerful arms, warm and solid, a blanket of calm covered her, dampening her chaotic thoughts save one.

She was safe with him.

He opened the passenger’s door and set her inside, but she didn’t want him to let go. Not yet.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Everything had unraveled in minutes. Trying to slow the car, the parking lot. Gideon helping. She still couldn’t make sense of it.

Gideon crouched in front of Willow and examined her, smoothing his big hands over her face and her hair. He tilted her chin up. “Did you hit your head? You might have a concussion.”

Staring into his wide eyes, now darkened to the bluish gray of a stormy sky in this light, her breathing slowed and her bunched muscles uncoiled. He looked shaken, off beat from his normal steady cadence.

“Willow? Are you all right?”

I’m okay. How bizarre since she’d almost died. “Everything is fuzzy, but I didn’t hit my head. I don’t think I have a concussion.”

“You can get it from whiplash. A doctor should check you.”

Before she voiced objections, a sheriff’s car pulled into the lot, lights flashing, siren muted. Gideon patted her knee and left her side. He spoke to the officer, pointing to her car, waving his hands in the air as if explaining everything that’d happened.

What exactly had happened?

This morning, nothing was wrong with her brakes. She’d had the car checked recently, never pushed the service due date. Yet she’d nearly been killed.

Excerpted from Nothing to Fear by Juno Rushdan. © 2019 by Juno Rushdan. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

About the Author: Juno Rushdan draws from real-life inspiration as a former U.S. Air Force Intelligence Officer to craft sizzling romantic thrillers. Although she is a native New Yorker, wanderlust has taken her across the globe. She’s visited more than twenty different countries and has lived in England and Germany. When she’s not writing, Juno loves spending time with her family. She currently resides in Virginia.


Buy the book at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iBooks, IndieBound, BAM, or Kobo.

a Rafflecopter giveaway
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Every Last Breath by Juno Rushdan – Spotlight and Giveaway

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Juno Rushdan who is visiting with us today to celebrate the upcoming release of Every Last Breath, the first book in the Final Hour series. Enter the Rafflecopter at the end of the post for a chance to win a copy of the book.

48 hours
2 covert operatives
1 chance to get it right

Maddox Kinkade is an expert at managing the impossible. Tasked with neutralizing a lethal bioweapon, she turns to the one person capable of helping her stop the threat of pandemic in time: the love of her life, back from the dead and mad as hell at her supposed betrayal. Recruiting Cole to save millions of lives may be harder than resisting the attraction still burning between them, but Maddox will do whatever it takes…even if it destroys her.

When Maddox crashes back into Cole Matthews’ life, he wants to fight back. He wants to hate her. But the crisis is too strong to ignore, and soon the two former lovers find themselves working side-by-side in a breakneck race to stop a world-class killer with a secret that could end everything.

The clock is ticking.

The Final Hour Series:

Every Last Breath
Nothing to Fear (coming August 2019)
Until the End (coming early 2020)

Enjoy an Excerpt

12:21 P.M. EDT

No thought of how far he’d have to run, how long he had to push, Cole held a singular focus: catch the Ghost.
To keep Maddox safe, he had to reach the devil first.

Extending his stride in a flat–out sprint, Cole gave it everything. His shoulder hurt like hell.

He was gaining on him. Less than thirty feet, chipping away at the distance with every hot lungful.

Just ahead was the Gallery Place Metro—-one of the busiest stations in DC. A throng of passengers streamed in and out of the cavernous entrance. The Ghost wove between people, darting to the left then right, flowing like a stream of water around stones.

Don’t lose him. Stay close. Almost there.

Cole knocked a man out of the way and slipped through a narrow opening in the pedestrian herd. The entrance cleared ahead, and there was Novak.

The Ghost zipped past the station agent, Metrorail vending machines, and vaulted over the turnstile in one fluid motion.

Steamrolling forward into the musty air and under the fluorescent lights of the station, Cole hopped the turnstile.
Maddox’s pounding footsteps weren’t far behind.

Cole cut to the east side of the Metro station, keeping sight of the Ghost. Escalators to the trains on the lower level were around a corner. Hopefully, passengers lining the moving staircase would slow Novak down.

What if he deployed the weapon in the station or on the Metrorail? The virus would spread fast with no way to contain it.

Novak hesitated at the escalators and snapped a glimpse over his shoulder, not looking the least bit winded. Their eyes met, and that freakish smile hitched up Novak’s mouth. In a flash, he whirled, facing the escalator.

Then he jumped onto the wide metal panel running between the escalators and slid down.


Breathless, Cole reached the escalator and peered over the side. Down a long, steep descent running several stories below ground. Really fucking long and very steep.

Sonofabitch. Novak had no limits and kept pushing the line. Cole hated heights, but that lunatic was getting away, and Maddox was closing in. No time. No time to think.

He vaulted onto the steel divider flanked by the two escalators.

“Dude, you’re crazy,” quipped a teenage kid getting off.

It felt a hell of a lot crazier than it looked. With the constraints of the narrow panel, Cole was forced to roll onto his side as Novak had done. Maddox’s pounding footsteps drew closer. Not giving himself a chance to chicken out, he let go and gravity took him.

In a lightning rush, he zipped down cool, smooth steel feet first.

“Cole!” Maddox’s voice echoed overhead.

His jackhammering heart blasted into his throat, followed by his stomach. He slid down the tight divider like a slick stone.

The faces of gawking onlookers were a blur. He braced, leaning back against the steep, eighty–foot decline. He almost swallowed his tongue.

To control his breathless descent, he thrust his forearms out to the sides.

Bad idea.

His sleeves dragged against the rubber handrails, the friction turning his quicksilver slide into a jerky ride. He feared flipping over the side onto the steel teeth of an escalator.

Weightless, helpless, he drew his arms in close to his body.

Not every Metro in DC had bumpers. The puck–sized discs didn’t stop a fall, only turned a person into tenderized meat by the time they reached the bottom. He was grateful not to face any here.

The ground below was a desperate hope rushing toward him, coming at him fast. But it was the longest eight seconds of his life.

Wild exhilaration wrestled with fear.

Fear was better.

It’d keep him sharp and hungry. Keep him alive.

Novak reached the bottom and glanced up at Cole before disappearing in the direction of the Red line.

Swooshing off the metal panel, Cole’s feet stumbled finding the floor. The electric surge rising in him was akin to being born again. He fell to one knee and sprang forward, following the trail of twisting heads and necks craned over shoulders.

The corridor spilled onto the westbound platform. People stood shoulder to shoulder. Jam–packed with kids, from teens to middle-schoolers, in a patchwork of yellow, green, light–blue, and red T–shirts.

Damn it. Summer camp field trips.

Across the tracks, the eastbound side was worse. He glanced at the inbound train sign overhead—-three minutes ETA.
Three minutes before the Ghost could be lost in the wind.

Dim lighting in the concave tunnel turned needle–in–a–haystack into finding a needle in a pine forest, at night. Red LED lights lined the bumpy tiles along the edge of the platform but did nothing to brighten the landscape. Chest heaving, he slowed his breathing while scanning for a dark ball cap, black backpack. Anyone in long sleeves.

He shouldered past people, weaving around a huddle of kids and chaperones in light blue T–shirts that read Ride the Summer Wave. Every ten steps, he checked his rear, ensuring he hadn’t missed the Ghost, somehow overlooked him in the sea of passengers.

Maddox made it down, rushing onto the eastbound side across the tracks. She scoured the platform.

Cole pressed forward. Most bodies stayed stationary or paced one to two feet within a localized space. He caught glimpses of one person with a blue ball cap and backpack. Drifting slowly. Snaking around shifting figures. Cole bulldozed his way to the thin male.

Metallic bitterness coated his tongue. He clasped a hand on the man’s shoulder and wrenched him around.

A wide–eyed young man with olive–toned skin stared back. “Hey, buddy, what’s your problem?”

“Sorry.” Cole raised his palms and backed off.

Red LED lights across the tracks on Maddox’s side flashed. A train was coming.

Two minutes until his westbound train arrived. He stepped up his pace through the milling flock of people, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. His sixth sense, the electric worm, carved a wriggling path from his skull down his spine, fizzing and spitting sparks across his nerve endings.

The rumble of the eastbound train resounded. Cole glanced back to see lights and Maddox peering down the tunnel at the inbound train. Dread churned his gut.

He faced forward and caught the Ghost’s steely gaze at the other end of the same platform. No baseball cap. The maniacal grin on full display. A moment. Less. A millisecond. Cole pushed toward him, storming through the gaggle of day campers.

Novak made his move. A bloodcurdling scream rent the air as the Ghost leapt off the platform, arm locked around a woman, hauling her over the side along with him. He let go of her and dashed across the westbound tracks, avoiding the electrified third rail.

Bounding over a strip of lighting in the middle, Novak rushed across the eastbound tracks. He jumped, pressing his hands onto the platform, and lifted his body with the fluidity of a gymnast. The flat–faced train whizzed into the station on the opposite side, concealing Maddox and the Ghost from sight.

Red lights flashed on Cole’s platform. He ran to help the fallen woman. Elbowing anyone in his way, he rushed to the far end.

The eastbound train on the other side stopped and the doors opened.

Cole swept paralyzed gawkers to the side and reached down to the plump woman in the light yellow T–shirt, Pirates and Princesses Summer Camp written across the front. Out of his peripheral vision, cowering children shrieked and whimpered.

“Come on.” He beckoned to the stunned woman clambering to her feet. “Take my hand.”

Chimes dinged from the train across the way, and his skin prickled. Doors were about to close.

“Let’s go, lady,” he snapped at her, trying to get her moving.

Lights of the approaching westbound train on his side did the trick.

A horn blared, kicking the woman into action, hustling to the platform. She grabbed both his hands and he held tight to her forearms and heaved. Thankfully, she was lighter than she looked, but his back still protested. A black kid in his late teens, with headphones on, helped him tug her the rest of the way up onto the platform.

“You okay?” Cole asked.

She nodded, and tears streaked down her cheeks. Covering her face with her hands, she broke into sobs. Yellow T—shirts gathered around her, and Cole shot to his feet.

The train on the other side pulled out. The steel cars vanished down the dark tunnel. He swept a frantic gaze over the platform.

Cole’s blood drained from his head as a hot ball of panic burned a hole in his gut.

Maddox and the Ghost were both gone.

About the Author: Juno Rushdan draws from real-life inspiration as a former U.S. Air Force Intelligence Officer to craft sizzling romantic thrillers. However, you won’t find any classified leaks here. Her stories are pure fiction about kick-ass heroes and strong heroines fighting for their lives as well as their happily-ever-after.

Although Juno is a native New Yorker, wanderlust has taken her across the globe. Fortunately, she is blessed with a husband who shares her passion for travel, movies, and fantastic food. She’s visited more than twenty different countries and has lived in England and Germany. Her favorite destination for relaxation is the Amalfi Coast, Italy for its stunning seascape, cliffside lemon groves, terraced vineyards, amazing pasta, and to-die-for vino.

When she’s not writing, Juno loves spending time with her family. Exercise is not her favorite thing to do, but she squeezes some in since chocolate and red wine aren’t calorie-free.

She currently resides in Virginia with her supportive hubby, two dynamic children, and spoiled rescue dogs.

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Buy the book at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iBooks, Kobo, Indiebound, or BAM.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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