Cowboys, Cowboys, Everywhere!

Today is release day for author Natalie Acres.  Cowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts is the third book in her Cowboy Boots series with Siren Bookstrand.  She discussed writing of her Cowboy Boots and Cowboy Sex books on my Not Enough Time in the Day blog.  Here she shares with us another blurb and some hot excerpts.  Enjoy!  

Blurb:

Seduction turns deadly when Abby Rose, an agent with the Underground Unit, decides to put a provocative spin on revenge. Her plan to sleep with a cartel leader backfires when fellow operatives refuse to let Abby face her enemy alone.

Abby’s fellow agents begin the fight of their lives. After discovering Abby will use her body to lure in the man who killed her father and their command leader, seven highly trained special operatives cope with high tensions as each man comes to terms with feelings they never acknowledged.

This team isn’t fighting for another cause or plotting the best way to take out their mark. The stakes are much higher. These men will take up arms and meet their greatest challenge as they work together to protect the woman they admire and love.

Categories: Erotic Romance, Contemporary, Menage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys
Word Count: 55,715
Heat Level: SEXTREME
Published By: Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Excerpt:

Copyright © 2011

EXCERPT PG 17 for Language

By looking at their past assignments, these men and this woman could walk through fire. The larger teams generally had more weaponry training, and for this particular mission, the Northern Underground Unit would certainly have their skills tested in the coming weeks.

A lot was at stake. This operation was the exception and far from the norm. Each individual there had an intimate understanding of what was required and what they stood to lose.

Their well-respected leader, Conrad McDaniels, was murdered in cold blood along with his wife and four children. Gruesome deaths claimed their friend and superior. From what Brock discovered, every agent present formed a personal relationship with the McDaniels family.

Tears welled in several of the operatives’ eyes at various times during Brock’s presentation. Those weren’t tears of sadness. These fellows were angry. And the lady invented a new definition for rage. Her pale skin had remained blood red since she’d arrived there.

Brock could relate. Another Underground Unit, the Midwestern division, recently lost one of their operatives, and the fallout had been horrific. The team went on a killing spree, eliminating anyone connected to their agent’s death. It was personal then, too. The Midwestern group was a pack of brothers, and when they lost one of their own, the payback was like nothing Brock had ever witnessed.

Returning to the overhead, Brock said, “I’m here today for several reasons. I’ve been asked to deliver intelligence on your upcoming operation. This isn’t just another classified mission that will bring you face-to-face with an enemy. The man who took away your leader, bombed your headquarters, and set fire to houses and flats believed to be owned by your unit plans to make his second home in Southwest Virginia.

“When the target isn’t in Chicago overseeing Club Sex, he’s in my neck of the woods, and that bothers me. My brothers and I want him eliminated before he makes Abingdon, Virginia, another war zone. We fully expect him to become our problem just as he’s been yours.

“I don’t have to tell you what to expect. You already know. You’ve seen what this man is capable of, and you have the scent of his blood.

“You have a disease on your hands, an outbreak that should’ve been contained years ago. Since those who’ve gone before you failed to handle the problem, you now have an epidemic. The time has come to settle old scores.

“This will be the most important detail of your lives. If you fail to settle unresolved debts, you will die. In this situation, on this particular operation, winners leave with the wind in their lungs. Losers take their last breath.

“Juraz Mendete, your target, doesn’t mess around. No one gets close to him. The only outsiders he’s allowed into his home have ultimately ended up in his bed. Three women have done so in the last ten years. Two of them are dead.”

“Where do we find his woman?” Ace Bristol asked.

Brock stood next to the wide screen and clicked the remote a few times. Locating the image of Juraz’s companion, he said, “Meet Mendete’s submissive.”

“She’s not much to look at,” Ace remarked.

Brock shrugged, noting the woman’s cold, glassy eyes. “Thanks to recent information received from an insider frequenting Mendete’s club, we’ve learned Juraz has grown tired of his current sex kitten. Some believe he’s looking for a replacement.” Brock studied the only woman in the room. “Abby Rose?”

“Yep, that’s me,” she answered.

To some, her reply might have come across as a saucy response laden with irresistible flavor, but Brock had studied her like a science. Her retort was anything but flirtatious and friendly.

Brock probably understood Abby better than the men working alongside her. According to military intelligence, Abby was deadly when provoked, and apparently since her boss and his family lost their lives, she’d been in rare form.

He’d spent sleepless nights wondering if Abby had a more personal relationship with Conrad McDaniels, perhaps an undocumented intimate connection no one publicly acknowledged. If so, he needed to know.

Relationships, particularly hidden affairs, had a way of clouding one’s judgment. The unit couldn’t afford mistakes.

Since Conrad’s death, Abby’s behavior had been placed under a microscope. The higher-ups believed she was unstable. Some claimed she’d transformed into a Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde. Brock didn’t buy their assessment in its entirety.

Prior to their meeting, Brock talked to several team members. The guys held Abby in high regard. Their admiration was duly noted.

Brock picked up a bulging folder and nodded toward the thick packet as he handed the documents to Porter, seated at his immediate right. “Pass this back.” A beat later, Brock said, “Abby, you’ll be the most valuable, but also the most vulnerable, agent on this mission. That said, you’re expected to follow orders. Step out of line, and I’ll pull you off this case myself. Time won’t be wasted when and if a replacement becomes necessary.”

“I suppose you have someone else standing in line to jumpstart a devil?”

She made a good point, but he could provide an answer Ms. Rose most likely didn’t expect. “Actually, I do. Veronica Remington has volunteered and is standing by. If something goes wrong, she’ll take your place.” And the Remington men were pitching a fucking fit over this, too. Veronica was the last resort, and Brock hoped like hell he didn’t have to call Sloane and ask him to send Veronica inside.

Abby shook her head. Blonde curls tumbled across her shoulders. “Mr. Donovan, I don’t have to paint you a picture. If I’m pulled off this case for any reason, you’ll have to put me down like a rabid dog. I won’t go away. I’m not backing down. I can fly solo and achieve a satisfying end result like anyone else affiliated with the Underground Unit.

“I’ll try to follow orders—I always do—but just so we understand one another, I’m not stepping aside for anyone. I respect Veronica, but—”

“But what?” Brock demanded. “She doesn’t have a pussy in this fucking mess?”

Excerpt:

Rated R for content and language

Ace snarled. “I will spank her when this is over.”

“Sure you will,” Casey said. “About like Porter plans to put a dildo in her pussy and paddle her twat.”

“I never said that,” Porter said, keeping a keen eye on Abby.

“Talk about that kiss and I’ll deck you,” Ace said.

“Damn, those lips were sweet,” Porter teased.

Ace faced him. “I wasn’t kidding.”

Porter took a deep breath. Sometimes Ace’s attitude was a real obstacle. He was a smart-ass SOB when he wanted to be. Standing about six foot four, Ace was nothing more than layers of muscle. The only soft spot the man possessed was the one Porter held in high regard, too—Abby Rose.

“I say we take him out right here,” Casey said, always ready to jump the gun.

Casey looked like a kid, and very often Porter reminded himself Casey wasn’t a child, hard to do since the guy looked like a surfer boy of about eighteen. Only a year separated them. Porter was twenty-nine. Casey followed only a year behind.

Still, Casey was a trained killer just like the lot of them. Under normal daily circumstances, he was such a klutz and a clown, but when he aimed his gun and pulled the trigger, no one had a more accurate shot.

Fowler folded his hands atop the table. “I’m ready for this to be over.”

“What’s wrong, Fowler,” Ace taunted him. “Afraid Juraz is gonna tap that?”

“He won’t be a-tappin’ that. I’ll promise ya.”

Porter and Ace exchanged a knowing stare. Porter shook his head in warning. It wasn’t worth the argument. They all recognized the possible scenarios. The best they could hope for was the most favorable. If Abby went to bed with Juraz, they wanted her to kill him before she was forced to fuck him.

Unfortunately, they needed information from Juraz before she pulled the trigger. And he probably wouldn’t open his mouth unless she first opened those long, shapely legs.

Copyright © 2011

Thank you for joining us for The First Annual Natalie Acres Boot Scootin’ Boogie Blog Tour.  Make sure you stop off at the other blogs on the way and say hello!  You may just win a prize at the end!