In Search of Truth by Sharon Wray – Spotlight and Giveaway

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Sharon Wray who is celebrating the upcoming release of In Search of Truth, the third book in her Deadly Force series. Enter to win a bundle of Every Deep Desire and One Dark Wish.

Buried treasure… buried feelings…all about to surface…

Anthropologist Allison Pinckney is stunned when she inherits the key to a seventeenth century pirate cipher that makes her the target of two brutal arms dealers. Now, to save those she loves, she must solve the cipher. With this perilous mission growing ever more dangerous, she reluctantly seeks help from ex-Green Beret Zack Tremaine, the one man she’s been avoiding. Because if she gives into her long-buried feelings for him, it could cost them their lives.

Zack Tremaine is haunted by regrets. Years ago, he betrayed his men and lost the only woman he ever loved. Now that his men are caught in a fierce rivalry between two deadly enemies, his only hope is to team up with Allison. She holds the secret to a pirate treasure, and he must take the chance to save his men and redeem his honor. Even if she breaks his heart…again.

Enjoy an Excerpt

Through the window, Allison watched the lights in the garden flicker on, and then go out again.
Zack came up behind her and rested his chin on top of her head. “No one knows, do they?”

The whispered words struck her heart with the force of a broadsword. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. She blinked and her face felt hot. The still air had made it hard to breathe.

No. No one knows.

Except she couldn’t get the words out.

“I know how hard it is to carry a secret. To act normal in public, like you’re happy and everything is great, only to know that it’s all a lie.”

She clenched her fists until her nails cut into her palms.

Was he thinking about what happened to his men in Afghanistan?

She felt him swallow and shifted to study his face. Dark stubble lined his jaw, his lips had thinned, and his gaze was fixed out instead of in, as if he were looking for someone.

“When my parents killed themselves at Bayou Saint George, my grandfather was governor of Louisiana. He was obsessed with things like family name and had never been able to accept the fact that my mother refused to marry my father. Or my mother’s mental illness. Grandfather floated the story that they’d gotten married and, after going to Bayou Saint George for their honeymoon, had been murdered by escaped convicts.”

“You never told me that.”

“My grandfather turned Emilie and me into coconspirators. We were kids, terrified and alone, so we went along with the bullshit story. Years later I went to college and met Stuart. While Stuart’s family can be difficult—­”

She snorted.

“—­they were emotionally connected. They had traditions and memories. They’d built a foundation that, while not friendly, seemed honest and true.”

She agreed reluctantly. She didn’t like Stuart’s family, mostly because they’d never accepted her, but they stuck by each other.

“That’s when I decided I wanted a real family—­a real family who lived by the truth instead of falsehoods.”

Again, she agreed.

“Then I met you, a beautiful woman who had a family history filled with as much violence as mine. Watching you was like looking in a mirror. I saw the pain and loneliness caused by silence and fear. For the first time, I realized how the weight of secrets and lies could crush a person—­or at the very least, cause a person to make choices out of fear.”

Her shoulders shook. She sank to the floor and struggled to breathe.

Zack sat down next to her. “You’re hyperventilating.”

Her breaths came out faster and shorter.

“Allison.” Zack held her face between his hands. “Look at me.”

She closed her eyes and tried to lie down. If she could get to the cooler floor, she’d be okay.

“It’s okay.” Zack’s voice softened. “You don’t have to keep this secret anymore. I know.”

Besides Zack and Maddie, no one else knew.

Except for Isabel. Her dead husband’s mistress.

“Stuart is dead.” Zack’s voice was so soft, it wouldn’t even be defined as a whisper. “You don’t have to pretend any longer. Stuart had no right to throw you out of this room, no right to shut you out like you were worthless, like your feelings didn’t matter. And he sure as hell had no right to make you feel like this was all your fault or make you believe you were incapable of loving others.”

She hiccupped a few times before saying, “I couldn’t be what he needed.”

Was that her voice? So shaky and low? Trembling like a daisy stripped of its petals?

“No. Stuart couldn’t be what you needed. He failed you. When he realized that, he was so wracked with guilt he had no idea how to handle it. He shut you out, not because he hated you but because he couldn’t bear to hurt you anymore. Not being able to love you the way you needed to be loved was his greatest shame. Not being able to protect you was his greatest failure.”

“How could you possibly know this?”

“Stuart was one of my best friends as well. Before I left for Afghanistan, we used to talk.”

“About what?”

“Things that men talk about.” Zack pulled her onto his lap and held her against his chest.

She turned until she faced him. Nicholas Trott now lay half on her lap, while she was tucked into Zack’s. She was surrounded by the two heartbeats of those she loved the most. Even if one had that wet dog smell.

Her chest tightened, and she closed her eyes again. Did she love Zack? She honestly didn’t know.

“Allison.” Zack trailed tiny kisses along her face and down her neck. “You’re not alone. You no longer have to carry the burden of being the abandoned wife in private and the loving wife in public. You no longer have to be anything other than who you were meant to be.”

“Zack.” She barely recognized her own voice. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You’re not, sweetheart. The sad truth is you never were alone.”

She was too busy gasping for air to argue. She’d confessed her greatest secret to the man her husband had always been insecure around and felt lighter than she’d ever felt in her life. What kind of woman did that make her?

Zack stood, pulled her up as well, and they followed Nicholas Trott to her room. When they got there, the power clicked on again. The AC fans whirred and the outdoor garden lights bathed the room. That’s when she saw, in the shadows near her bed, a man holding a gun.

***
Excerpted from In Search of Truth by Sharon Wray. © 2020 by Sharon Wray. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

 

About the Author: Sharon Wray is a librarian/archivist who studied dress design in the couture houses of Paris and now writes stories of adventure, suspense, and love. She’s a three-time Daphne du Maurier® winner and an eight-time RWA Golden Heart® Finalist. Visit her online at sharonwray.com. Sharon lives in Northern Virginia with her husband, teenage twins, and Donut the Family Dog.

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

a Rafflecopter giveaway
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One Dark Wish by Sharon Wray – Spotlight and Giveaway

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Sharon Wray who is celebrating yesterday’s release of One Dark Wish, the second book in her Deadly Force series. Enter the Rafflecopter for a chance to win a copy of the first book in the series Every Deep Desire.

Her life must be forfeit for his to be redeemed

Historian Sarah Munro is not used to being shot at, but that’s just what happens while she’s poking around cemeteries on Georgia’s Isle of Grace, searching for the key to a centuries-old cipher. Her quest has unwittingly drawn the attention of two deadly enemies intent on destroying each other—and anyone who gets in their way.

Ex–Green Beret Major Nate Walker is on a mission of his own: to restore the honor of his men. To do that, he is required to stop Sarah—or one of his own men will die. Caught in the middle of a deadly rivalry, Nate can’t afford to trust the woman standing in his way. But his heart says he can’t afford not to…

Praise for Every Deep Desire:

“Everything I love in romantic suspense…Twisty plots, fantastic characters, and pitch-perfect pacing. Fabulous!”—Allison Brennan, New York Times bestselling author
“Excellent…darkly compelling.”—RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars
“Phenomenal!… Filled with action and passion that will leave you breathless.”—Joyfully Reviewed
“Intriguing, with steamy romance and forbidden love… You will not be able to turn the pages fast enough!”—Fresh Fiction

Enjoy an Excerpt

PROLOGUE

“The man bowed.” Sarah Munro hiked her straw bag higher on her shoulder and followed the officer down the Savannah Police Department’s hallway. He held a cell phone to his ear, and she yanked his arm. “And a woman died tonight.”

He nodded, but his deep frown, as well as his dismissive wave, told her he wasn’t too concerned about the murder. Or the fact that Sarah had found the body in the Savannah Preservation Office’s courtyard fountain.

Was a death in the historic district so commonplace that it didn’t warrant its own investigator? Frustrated, she followed him around the corner toward the second-floor landing when her cell phone buzzed. A text from her father. Where are you?

She halted near the stairs, her fingers hovering over the phone’s keyboard. She debated how much to tell him. Then again, he probably already knew.

She texted, I’ll be home soon.

Someone bumped her as they passed, and she moved closer to the vending machine that carried only rows of Coke cans. Her officer stood nearby, talking on the phone, while federal, state, and local LEOs congregated in groups around the open area. Her father had told her that the city had numerous task forces, all trying to combat the rising crime rate. She and her dad had returned to Savannah nine months ago, and in that short time, they’d both noticed the uptick in drug use and violence.

It’s dark. I’ll come get you, her father texted back.

No. Not only did she not want her father worrying about her, he wasn’t supposed to drive. I’m leaving soon. Drink your tea.

I hate that tea. It tastes like sh*t.

Despite the ache in her chest, she smiled. Yes, he hated the tea. Yet it was the only thing that helped with his recurring seizures. And if he thought that being even more cranky than usual meant she’d ease up on the herbal leaves, he was wrong. I don’t care. Drink it.

She glanced at her officer—who was still on his phone—and debated leaving. If the cops wanted her statement, they knew where she worked. The same place where a woman had been murdered. “I’m leaving, Officer. But I know what I saw.”

He ignored her, and she turned toward the stairs.

“Sarah?” A male voice cut through the station’s din, ringing phones, and metal chairs scraping along seventy-year-old linoleum.

She blinked one man into focus. Tall, broad shoulders, long blond hair tied at the base of his neck, angular face, and deep, ocean-green eyes. The kind a girl could lose herself in. “Nate?”

Was that her breathy voice? She swallowed, and a warm flush rose from her neck to her cheeks. She wasn’t sure why, but since meeting Nate Walker yesterday, she’d felt shaky and incoherent and…restless.

Does he know what I did to his map?

“I heard what happened.” He touched her arm before shoving both hands in the front pockets of his jeans. His biker jacket stretched across his shoulders, the black leather rustling with the movement. “Are you okay?”

“I wasn’t hurt.” She stared at the red-and-white vending machine and blinked. Daughters of cops didn’t cry. They endured. “This is my fault, Nate. I’d asked my assistant to do some research for me. I had no idea she was staying late.”

“This isn’t your fault.” He leaned in closer, the scar on his cheek appearing deeper and more ragged. His pine-scented aftershave tickled her nose. “I’m sorry.”

She wiped her palms on her chiffon skirt, relieved he didn’t seem to realize she’d secretly photographed the seventeenth-century map he’d brought to the preservation office for her to look at. The map included the only layout she’d ever seen of the remote, colonial-era Cemetery of Lost Children on the Isle of Grace. Even though the property’s owner—and Nate himself—had both told her to stay away, she was determined to visit as soon as possible.

She was a terrible person. “My dad was a police chief in Boston, so unfortunately I’m used to things like this. I’d just hoped Savannah was safer.”

“Nate?” A man built like a wrestler with long, black, braided hair yelled from the lobby on the first floor. “We gotta go, man.”

Nate ignored him and kept his attention on her mouth. “I couldn’t help but overhear. What did you see?”

She licked her lips. “You’d never believe me.” She wasn’t sure she believed it herself. Loud voices downstairs distracted her. Two military policemen in full uniform and carrying weapons had entered the station. “That’s odd. What do you think they want?”

Nate took her hand and led her into a nearby alcove. “What did you see?”

She pressed her hands against his chest. His heart pounded, and he radiated heat like an engine revving. “What are you doing?”

“Nate?” The man with the braid ran up the stairs. “Time to go. Now.”

“Please, Sarah. Tell me.”

The MPs were right behind Nate’s buddy.

“In the shadows, I saw a man bow.”

She heard Nate’s sharp inhale right before he kissed her, his gentle hands on her shoulders at odds with his demanding lips. His warmth wrapped her in an erotic haze and he tasted like mint and summer breezes.

Had she moaned? Good golly Moses.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Nate broke off the kiss because the man with the braid had taken his arm and dragged him down the hallway to the emergency exit, the MPs on their heels. Chills scurried along her arms, and she wrapped her sweater around herself. She touched her swollen lips, still stunned. Still tasting his peppermint mouthwash. Still inhaling his scent that reminded her of freshly cut grass and pine trees.

Nate glanced at her before he hit the metal exit and disappeared. The door slammed shut with a loud reverb. Apparently, he’d locked it as well. When the MPs couldn’t force it open, they turned and ran past her, one of them brushing her skirt as they headed toward the stairs.

What do MPs want with Nate Walker?

“Miss Munro?” The officer who’d been ignoring her touched her elbow. “I’m ready for your statement.”

She pulled away, her attention on the MPs racing out the front doors. She was a woman who sought the truth in both her professional and personal life. But tonight’s revelation was more than a cheap magazine tell-all. It was an earth-shattering event that stripped away the delusions she’d been carrying her entire adult life. One delusion in particular: when Nate’s lips had touched hers, she discovered she’d never truly understood what it meant to be kissed.

“Ma’am?”

She nodded. She’d give her statement. Then go home to her father. But as she followed the officer into an interrogation room, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever see Nate again. No. If she was being honest with herself, which she always tried to be, she wondered if she’d ever kiss Nate again.

***
Excerpted from One Dark Wish by Sharon Wray. © 2019 by Sharon Wray. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

About the Author: Sharon Wray is a librarian/archivist who studied dress design in the couture houses of Paris and now writes stories of adventure, suspense, and love. She’s a three-time Daphne du Maurier® winner and an eight-time RWA Golden Heart® Finalist. Visit her online at sharonwray.com. Sharon lives in Northern Virginia with her husband, teenage twins, and Donut the Family Dog.

Website

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

a Rafflecopter giveaway
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