Reader Recommendation – Racing Peril
It’s no secret that January Bain is one of my favorite authors so of course, I’ve already previewed a copy of Racing Peril. I also just one-clicked it from Amazon for my personal collection, and you should too because January’s book is a thrilling tale of loss, lust, love, and justice denied until fully realized. The characters leap off the page showing raw and palpable pain that makes the climax and conclusion all the more sweet and satisfying but don’t think you get any time to wallow around in angst. No way! With a sex traffic ring to bring down and a smoking hot love story, there’s too much action for any downtime.
Book one in The Tetrad Group series.
Revenge. Greed. Murder. And an insatiable passion…
Silk O’Connor resolves to take justice into her own hands on the steps of an LA courthouse. The scumbag who killed her sister is holding a press conference, set free by a corrupt justice system bought off by his rich father. Inconceivable. There is no way she can just let him walk away.
Jake Marshall is a decorated war hero on leave, filling in for a friend at Sterling Security—and protecting the very man who used his car as a weapon and murdered Silk’s only family. The war has left him with PTSD, fighting to salvage his own sanity, and a sniper is the last thing he needs.
The two clash when Jake finds Silk preparing to mete out her own frontier-style brand of justice from the courthouse roof…and the adrenaline-fueled high-stakes world of sex trafficking it ensnares the pair in tests them to their absolute limit.
And when Silk enters this den of depravity, she knows only one thing for certain, she may never come out alive.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get off me!” she screamed in instant pain. Both mental and physical. She had failed. The worst possible outcome.
“Is anything broken?” a strong male voice asked, the low timbre of the tone vibrating through her.
“Who the fuck cares!” she screamed, attempting to push him off along with the rifle she still clutched. He pulled it from her hands, checking that the safety was reengaged, and laying it aside.
Instead of letting her up, he rolled her over and straddled her hips. He grasped her hands as she flailed about, striking out at him, wanting to cause him pain. Tears began rolling down her cheeks. A sob escaped from her chest, loud, as all the terrible anguish that had built up since the accident broke free, a tidal wave of emotion born of pain and loss.
He held her steady as the tsunami flooded through her, a force far beyond her control in charge. Unavoidable. Unstoppable. It pushed her heart to release its crushing burden. The pain of the accident. Images of her sister in her coffin at the funeral. The pitifully small number of mourners to say goodbye to a young life cut so tragically short. The first clod of earth hitting the top of her casket—all the heart-bruising moments locked in her brain of the past few weeks, fucking her up. Then the images came from further back. Happier memories of her and Ashley in simpler times. Watching a movie together. Playing a favorite video game. Cooking up a feast to celebrate one of their birthdays. And her sister’s favorite—shoe shopping. All the record of her sister she would have to last a lifetime.
Her loud sobs eventually turned into soft hiccups. A catharsis born of the trauma and guilt she could no longer escape left her fighting exhaustion, yet strangely eased, some of the overwhelming tension that had driven her for weeks gone. Her other senses rushed in to fill the void. She became aware. Too aware.
She renewed her struggle to release herself from his tight grip. He held on and she stared up at eyes protected by lenses too dark to see anything through. But what she could catch sight of around the sunglasses shocked her. Thick black hair cut military-style, a lantern jaw with a scruff of dark shadow, well defined cheekbones, and a black T-shirt stretched tight over broad shoulders tapering to a trim waistline. Tribal tattoos snaked down his golden forearms. His thighs felt powerful through the thick black fabric of his jeans. A big strong man. A warrior in his prime. And his body pressed hers to the hot roof.
“Let me up! This roof’s scorching my ass.” She wasn’t as embarrassed as the occasion would normally demand. He deserved her tears, stopping her from administering justice. She owed him nothing. Nothing.
“I need to search you for weapons first. Then, if you promise not to shoot me, I’ll let you up.” His low voice spilled into the air like musical notes from deep inside his broad chest. He was so close she could not help breathing in his musk, the fragrance of something undefinable tickling her senses. A distant memory of a similar wonderful fragrance buried somewhere in her past escaped, demanded attention. Sandalwood and citrus with undertones of musk.
“Yes. I promise I won’t shoot you, for heaven’s sake. Not unless you drove drunk and used your vehicle as a killing weapon—” She took as deep a breath as she could manage with the man pressing into her. He seemed to become aware of her discomfort, easing himself off a bit though not letting her go entirely. If he would only take off the damn sunglasses. His eyes might give the game away.
The seconds ticked by.
She swallowed hard.
New thoughts crept in. Strange thoughts. Adrenaline-infused thoughts that fired in her brain, forcing it from revenge mode to survival mode in an instant—or maybe it was lust mode, created by the nearness of death staring her right smack in the face. She still couldn’t be sure she’d leave the rooftop in one piece, but something told her this man would not harm her. At least not intentionally.
Perspiration broke out, the heat of his groin as he straddled her beginning to get her full attention. Her nipples tightened. She prayed it was not noticeable. Her thoughts disgusted her and excited her, all at the same time. Being held so tight, unable to do anything about it, was making her hot. Too hot. She renewed her struggles to push him off. God, I’m no Anastasia Steele, right?
“I’m going to search you now. Nothing personal. It’s standard procedure.”
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About January Bain
January Bain has wished on every falling star, every blown-out birthday candle, and every coin thrown in a fountain to be a storyteller. To share the tales of high adventure, mysteries, and full blown thrillers she has dreamed of all her life. The story you now have in your hands is the compilation of a lot of things manifesting itself for this special series. Hundreds of hours spent researching the unusual and the mundane have come together to create books that features strong women who live life to the fullest, wild adventures full of twists and unforeseen turns, and hot complicated men who aren’t afraid to take risks. She can only hope her stories will capture your imagination.
If you are looking for January Bain, you can find her hard at work every morning without fail in her office with her furry baby, Ling Ling. And, of course, she’s married to the most romantic man! Who once famously remarked to her inquiry about buying fresh flowers for their home every week, “Give me one good reason why not?” Leaving her speechless and knocking her head against the proverbial wall for being so darn foolish. She loves flowers.
If you wish to connect in the virtual world she is easily found on Facebook. Oh, and she loves to talk books…
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