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Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Read an #Exclusive #Excerpt from Dead In Her Tracks by Kendra Elliot! (#Giveaway)




25707051Dead in Her Tracks 
(Rogue Winter #2)
by Kendra Elliot
Kindle Edition, 99 pages
Published November 17th 2015 by Montlake Romance
ASINB00YG3S9UU
On Christmas morning, Solitude, Oregon, unwraps murder…

This wasn’t how Police Chief Zane Duncan expected to spend his first Christmas with fellow officer and girlfriend Stevie Taylor. But when a local motel calls in the discovery of a dead body, the couple’s holiday takes a grim turn. This is the second murder in Solitude within the week, despite the fact that their primary suspect is already in custody. Together, Zane and Stevie must face a disturbing truth—their small town may be harboring two killers.

As their investigation digs deep into the backgrounds of newcomers and longtime residents alike, Zane and Stevie also struggle to adjust to life under the same roof. Even if the stress of homicides and cohabitation don’t bring an end to the couple, the murderer lying in wait just might.


Excerpt:
“Time for a sound check,” observed Bruce.  

Stevie accepted the mic, ran her other hand down the cord like she’d always carried one, and moved to the center of the stage. She looked over her shoulder back at Donald, asking a question. He shrugged and held up a palm in a questioning motion. She turned back to the room and took a breath, lifting the mic to her mouth. The first line of Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man” filled the room and everyone stopped in their tasks to listen. The throaty lyrics oozed from the speakers, and the hair on Zane’s arms stood up. 

“I don’t know why she doesn’t do that for money.” Bruce muttered. 

Zane often heard Stevie sing while she was cooking or driving, but during those times her singing was casual and carefree. On the stage she caught her groove and her emotions came through in the lyrics. She met his gaze from across the room and everyone else faded away. 

The only one who could ever reach me was the son of a preacher man. 

“Wow. She’s good,” said a new voice next to Zane, pulling him out of the moment. “You’re a lucky bastard.” 

Zane turned to see Andrew Reynolds watching Stevie. He wanted to punch the developer for destroying the moment. 

“You’re still in town, Andrew?” At least he seemed sober tonight. He smelled of soap and his button-down shirt was freshly ironed. 

A shadow crossed the developer’s face. “No reason to go home.” He clamped his lips together, and Zane knew he was holding back. 

“What happened?” Zane hoped he wouldn’t regret asking. 

A bloodshot gaze met his. “Wife called to tell me she’s filing for divorce. Merry Christmas.” 

Regret flooded Zane. “That sucks.” Andrew didn’t seem like the type to share his life history, and Zane really didn’t want to know more. He was moving forward in his relationship; it seemed like bad luck to acknowledge crumbling ones. 

“Guess I’ll hang around a few more days for the party,” Andrew said. “I’m in no rush to go back home. Life moves a little slower down here. Drove me crazy at first, but now I kinda like it. Who knows? Maybe this trip was fate. Perhaps I’ll talk to the boss and request I be put in charge of the O’Rourke project.” He folded his arms across his chest, and Zane caught sight of the bruises and scratches on the backs of his hands. 

“What happened to your hands, Andrew?” He took a harder look at the developer, his brain racing. The man had a mobile job, he was frequently on the road, and he’d arrived in Solitude just as things were going to hell. 

Andrew studied his hands, twisting his lips. “I might have let off a little steam on the bathroom door of my motel. Charlie already added it to my bill. How much do you want to bet he doesn’t replace the door and leaves it with gaping holes for the next guest?” 

Zane knew it wouldn’t be replaced. 

Applause and whistles sounded through the hall, and Zane swore as he realized he’d missed the rest of Stevie’s song. She bobbed in a brief curtsy, her face shining with pleasure, and handed the mic back to Donald, who appeared starstruck. She jumped off the stage and worked her way toward Zane. 

“Let me know when you want to perform at a gig,” Bruce said. “I know you think the guys I play with are a bunch of irresponsible hacks, but I could find you solo work without a problem.” 

“Hotel lounges every weekend? No thanks.” She held Zane’s gaze, giving a wide smile. “I like my day job.” 

His leg muscles went weak. 

A smooth country ballad came through the speakers, and two couples dropped Patsy’s tasks to start spinning about the dance floor. 

Stevie held out a hand to Zane. “Dance with me?” 

He didn’t pause. He grabbed her hand and ditched Bruce and Andrew. 

He held her tight to him, guiding her through a simple two-step. “Will your mother mind?” he asked. 

“Not one bit. She can turn off the music if she wants people to get back to work.” 

Zane glanced at Patsy, who was beaming at the three dancing couples. “Your mom is a romantic. She won’t be the one to turn it off.” He nodded at a couple in their seventies who had joined the dancers, the man looking at his wife as if she were the only woman in the room. 

Someday. 

He looked into Stevie’s brown eyes and wanted the music to never end. Simply being around this woman made every day better. Happiness welled up inside him, and he couldn’t stay quiet. “Marry me, Stevie. Make me the happiest man in Solitude.” 


Rogue Winter #1





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