When Maris Graystone, author of the political column The Scrivener, and
the mysterious Michael Kinder, meet, sparks fly. Their love affair
intensifies against the backdrop of the dramatic world events of 1991. Michael appears and
disappears at unpredictable moments, leaving Maris limp and lovelorn. Looking
for safe harbor for her emotions and her body, she accepts the advances of a
dashing French diplomat.
Torn between the luxury and
comfort of Émile and his Paris flat, and the romance of international intrigue
with Michael, she must choose…but which one?
To
celebrate the release of For
the Love of a Spy: the Scrivener and the Handyman I thought I’d treat you to an excerpt.
Our heroine, Maris, is in Paris when she gets a
strange telephone call telling her a man is dead. She fears it’s the man she
loves, but the caller did not specify. She is distraught, then afraid.
Excerpt: Tailed
She had to get out of the apartment. She grabbed her purse and stumbled
down the broad circular stairway, running blindly down the street. At the end
of the block, she turned left, heading toward the Place de l’Opéra. She
crossed the busy square before the Opera House and made her way down the
Boulevard des Capucines to the Madeleine. She found a bench and tried to calm
down.
She regarded the Napoleonic-era church with sad eyes. Normally, its
perfectly balanced Greek lines soothed her. Not today.
As she worked on her breathing, a tall man in a heavy, fur-trimmed coat
sat down on the bench next to her. He stared straight ahead. Maris watched him,
a little perplexed that a Frenchman would ignore a beautiful woman sitting
beside him. Oh well, I’m not exactly well-coiffed this morning.
She stood up abruptly, and the man rose as well. She turned down the
Rue Royale, heading toward the Place de la Concorde. Something made her turn
around. The man was right behind her, matching her stride. She went right at
the circle and headed up Avenue Gabriel. He still followed her. She noticed he
wore dark glasses—hardly necessary in the pale autumn light. She quickened her
pace. Her heart pounded. What is going on? Could this be the man who had
called her? Why hadn’t he spoken to her then? Should I stop and see what he
wants? No! Every instinct screamed. Don’t let him catch up with you.
She ducked into a linen shop, people crowding in behind her. They were
apparently having a sale. Maris sidestepped a diminutive Frenchwoman with
hennaed hair towering in outrage at the proprietor’s unwillingness to come down
on the price of a tablecloth, and crouched behind a display case, hoping no one
would draw attention to her strange behavior.
She waited a full ten minutes, panting raggedly. When at last she
steeled herself to peek over the case, the man was nowhere to be seen. At the
door, she peered right and left. No sign of him. She insinuated herself into a
crowd of tourists heading down the avenue de Marigny. A sign on her right said
Le Marché des Timbres. I remember this. It’s the open-air stamp market I
used to go to that year I was in school at Sèvres. She turned into it.
The kiosks were closed. Oh, right—it’s open on Thursdays. That was
my day off from school. What day was it, anyway? Friday. Friday?
Now, what…Oh no. She’d almost forgotten the state dinner with the
Russian delegation tomorrow night.
Émile had told her to find a suitable dress, a formal gown. She took
one last sweep of her surroundings. Whoever her stalker was, he must have given
up. Hopefully for good.
I Heart Publishing, Dec. 27, 2018
Romantic suspense; Action/Adventure; Contemporary
Romance; Spies/Espionage
220 pp.; ebook 74,000 words
Spicy (PG-13); 3 flames
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