Denise Franklyn has known Mackenzie Vaughn since she was a little girl. He’s been her best friend through all the good and bad. For a time they drifted apart, but when trouble comes knocking on his door she’s there for him.
Mackenzie Vaughn’s career as a surgeon involves lots of tension, and rapid decision making. When someone kills his boss after a confrontation, Mack quickly becomes the prime suspect. Thankfully Denise is by his side as his name is cleared.
But the bodies keep dropping. All are individuals linked to Mack. When the FBI are called in all Mack can do, and hope for, is to keep Denise safe from what’s quickly becoming some very dangerous circumstances.
The jangle of the phone ripped Denise out of sleep. Squinting at the clock, she groaned into her pillow. She couldn’t ignore it, not that it appeared ready to be ignored. Fumbling a bit for it in the dark, she put it to her ear. “Huh?” she grunted.
There was a long silence before his voice was there. “Denise?”
Blinking, she woke up quick. “Mack?” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”
“Shit,” he muttered. The word was slightly slurred and took a long time to come out.
“Mack, you’re scaring me, what’s wrong?” Sitting up, she shoved her hair out of her face. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m, uh. Shit, I’m at your front door.”
Stunned, she froze with one leg out of the bed. She couldn’t have heard that right. “You’re where?”
“Outside your door,” he mumbled again.
Not sure if she believed him, she slipped from the bed, scooping up and slipping into her robe as she raced through her condo. Padding down the stairs, she dashed to the front door to stare at the security monitor next to the door. Son of a bitch, he was there.
“Why are you here?” She asked the question as she unlocked her door, disarming her alarm at the last second before tearing the door open. Gaping at him, she hung up the phone. “Jesus, Mack, get in here.” Grabbing his arm, she dragged him into her home.
He looked like he’d been run over by a truck. For a guy that rarely had a hair out of place in his expensive, stylish hairdo that looked like he’d just crawled out of bed, he was a wreck.
“I shouldn’t have come,” he said. He was scraping his hands through his hair repeatedly.
“Hey,” she whispered. Laying a hand on his arm, she rubbed the tense muscles, then wrapped her hand around his wrist and pulled him to the sofa. “Sit down, Mack. Sit and I’ll get you a drink. Don’t you budge,” she ordered.
Once he had his ass on the cushions she went to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, she dumped in some ice and then poured two fingers of the scotch she kept just for him. Since he didn’t visit all that often, it was still mostly full. A moment of consideration and she took the glass, and the bottle back into the living room.
“Here.” She passed over the glass before sitting down, two feet of space between them. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
He shook his head, draining the glass fast enough Denise felt her own throat burning. “No, not right now,” he said.
She knew that tone. It was the one he used when he had a problem and was trying to work it out for himself.
Moira Callahan is a Canadian born and raised author. She loves to write, especially when it involves steamy, and wildly hot, sensual stories. Though she’s not willing to fence herself in with just one genre, her first love is the Romantic story. She’s not picky about what the sub-genre might be, as long as it has a HEA ending—her only real concern when writing a story.
As an author she prefers to write strong alpha males and women who know exactly who they are. She easily recognizes that no human being is perfect and therefore, neither can her characters be. “Writing must come from the heart but must also utilize the brain. Characters should be strong but also have a weakness to make them as real and as like-able as possible to the reader.”
You’ll find her characters are less than perfect, just as she proudly claims to be. She likes to write them with a trait that is all her and then borrow a trait from a friend to round out their personality. This, she says, is to make them the most perfectly imperfect person she possibly can.
Moira always ensures that everyone knows how thankful she is to her best friend. For pretty much everything. Mainly though she is forever grateful for the encouragement to get back to writing. And then the “mild” harassment necessary to get her to finally submit her first book to Evernight Publishing in March of 2014. Which Moira was ecstatically pleased to have accepted.
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