Welcome to the eighth stop in Donna Michaels’ Book Tour for Captive Hero. She has two great prizes she’s offering up on this blog tour. After you read about her book, stop by the bottom of this tour stop to find out how you can win a free download of any of Donna’s back list, plus a $15 Amazon Gift Card!
Test flying an invisible plane—unreal
Time-shifting to WWII—unbelievable
Capturing a hero—unavoidable.
When Marine Corps test pilot, Captain Samantha Sheppard accidentally flies back in time and inadvertently saves the life of a WWII VMF Black Sheep pilot, she changes history and makes a crack decision to abduct him back to the present. With the timeline in jeopardy, she hides the handsome pilot at her secluded cabin in the Colorado wilderness.
But convincing her sexy, stubborn captive that he is now in another century proves harder than she anticipated—and soon it becomes difficult to tell who is captor and who is captive when the more he learns about the future, the more Sam discovers about the past, and the soul-deep connection between them.
As their flames of desire burn into overdrive, her flying Ace makes a historical discovery that threatens her family’s very existence. Sam’s fears are taken to new heights when she realizes the only way to fix the time-line is to sacrifice her captive hero…or is it?
Can love truly survive the test of time?
The door suddenly jerked in and to the right with such force Sam stumbled forward into the cabin.
Before she could regain her equilibrium, something big hit the back of her calves and knocked her to the floor—hard.
Intruder? So help me, if he hurt the captain…
Instinct kicked in. Knee thrust upward, she made contact with a solid object and heard a muffled oath before she rolled in the opposite direction. Large hands gripped her waist, and despite her clumsy attempt to hold on to the threshold, he yanked her back.
Yeah, coming here without a weapon had been a real good idea.
Fast and precise, she drove her elbow into the vicinity of her assailant’s jaw and sent a sharp jolt up her arm. She swallowed a cry of pain and rejoiced in his second muffled oath. Two for me. With a quick roll, she scrambled to her knees and began to rise when a heavy weight hit from behind, dropped down and pinned her face-first to the cold, wooden floor.
“Not so fast. Sam is it?”
That familiar, deep voice split the silence, while hot, panting breathes stirred more than the hair on her neck. Uncontrollable shivers covered her skin as recognition stole the fight out of her. This wasn’t an intruder. It was Captain Mitchell. Thank God. He was safe.
But she wasn’t.
The instant she stopped struggling, her body became deliciously aware of every hard, solid inch of the six-foot-two-inch frame completely covering her from head to toe.
Holy Black Sheep.
The urge to wiggle just so he’d press tantalizingly closer was almost more than she could bear. If only I was on my back… The errant thought sent a wicked quiver straight to her core.
You’re a Marine. You don’t give in.
Sam tamped down her burgeoning desire and willed her voice to convey calm. “Let me up, Captain. I can explain.”
“No, and damn right you can.” He lifted up slightly, easing some of his weight.
Thank goodness…I think.
Instead of knocking him off balance and regaining the upper hand, she drew in a few breaths and refrained from retaliating. She’d abducted the man. He was out of his element. She needed to keep things civil.
Mistake number one.
A swift motion had her arms yanked behind her back, while he wrapped her crossed wrists with something strong and thin. Fishing line? Oh, hell no!
“What in the world do you think you’re doing?”
“Damn it, Captain. You let me go, now.” She thrashed from side to side, trying her best to free her legs from his shifting weight.
“No,” he said, and granting her earlier wish, pressed closer.
Funny, she wasn’t as happy about the pinning as she’d originally imagined.
Unable to move, and barely able to breath, she stilled. Best to see what he wanted, and bide her time until he let his guard down. And he would let it down, of that she had no doubt. Men always did.
Cold from the floorboards cooled her heated skin as she twisted her face to the side. What little breath his weight would allow funneled into her lungs. “You can get off me now.”
“Captain.” She tried to draw in another breath but only coughed. “I c-c-can’t brea…”
He lifted a mere fraction, but the extra space was enough to fill her lungs with a proper amount of air. “Thanks.” She coughed again.
In the next instant, he hauled her up off the floor and pulled her to the center of the sprawling living room. Alarm raced down her spine. He’d moved the furniture to the side. Damn man must’ve had this planned for days. Could she blame him? Of course not. He was a Marine. She would’ve done the same.
Plopped onto a wooden chair, arms hooked around the back, she clenched her teeth against the pain ripping her muscles. Dammit. If he wasn’t a Black Sheep, she’d kick his ass. Turning the tables on him would not be a problem. But she refrained. Barely.
He doesn’t understand, her mind reminded. You plucked him from the middle of war and dropped him in the middle of nowhere. Therefore, you will not give him a permanent limp.
Discipline once again kicking in, she relaxed her shoulders and the stiffness from her arms, and soon the sting of her restraints lessened.
“Now, Captain,” she said as calm as possible. “Kindly tell me what the hell you think you’re doing?”
“Why, I should think that was obvious…Sam.”
The Marine’s unfriendly tone sent shivers of the wrong kind down her spine. Her blood froze. This can’t be good. She lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. She also refused to look him in the eye. The last time had completely disoriented; not at all what she needed right now.
With her gaze fixed on his regulation tan shirt, she stared at the uniform, hoping to find the view safer.
Broad shoulders forced the material to hug his lean frame. Damn. He sure had wonderful muscle definition for someone born before the fitness craze. Her mouth dried. And the waxing craze. Ah hell. He had hair, too. A light sprinkling peaked out from his collar, teasing her with thoughts of what else his uniform concealed. She gave herself a mental shake and concentrated on the situation at hand.
“What’s obvious, Captain, is that you’re being a jerk. So you’d better spell it out for me. What are you doing?”
He stepped closer without a reply.
More intimidation tactics. Instinct cried out he wasn’t going to speak until she looked up. Damn, stubborn…
“I’m not interested in playing ‘who’s the baddest Marine’ with you. It’s been one hell of a long week. I’m tired, hungry, and thanks to you, I’m sore, so let’s call our tussle a draw.” Composed, her voice belayed the turmoil swirling in her gut. Fine, he wanted her to look up, she’d look up.
With fingernails biting into her palms, she tipped her head and stared into a pair of unmerciful, cold, blue-green eyes. Beset with an overwhelming urge to swallow—okay, gulp; his unfriendly gaze demanded she gulp—Sam’s cowardly side did an about-face and her chin lifted higher.
“Well? Do you always treat women this way? Does man-handling make you feel big and strapping?”
Frosting further, eyes now more blue than green narrowed as his clenching jaw cracked out an ‘I’m losing my control’ tune.
Way to go, Sam. She pushed him into pouncing tiger mode and was the only flesh around. At least she possessed the good sense to back down. Usually. Too bad she left good with common back on the base.
“Okay.” Keep your mouth shut. Zip it. “Can I take your silence to mean there’s a reason you attacked me and tied me up?”
Muscled arms folded across a broad chest, while a humorless grin crossed his face. “Oh, there’s a reason all right, Sam. A very good one.”
“And your reason is?”
His grin disappeared, along with her breathing.
“To capture the captor.”
R Rated Excerpt:
What the hell was he holding? A slingshot?
A very expensive, sexy slingshot. No, Mitch’s mind insisted. It was underwear. Samantha had a matching top. His gaze shot to the purple bra. The skimpy scrap of satin had to be underwear. Fuck me. His mind instantly conjured up a vision of the temptress wearing the decadent scraps. His groin dutifully hardened.
Damn, sexy spy.
His gaze sought the purple satin in his hand again. Son-of-a-bitch! Maybe it was both. Underwear which doubled as a weapon. A small shaft of admiration broke through his haze. Ingenious.
“Um, if you’re done inventorying my bag, I’d like my clothes now.”
He dropped the slingshot at the same time his gaze ricocheted to the towel-wrapped agent dripping in the bathroom doorway.
Holy mother of God.
She was naked. Thanks to him.
In a towel. Thanks to him.
Dripping in the doorway. Thanks to him.
Try as he might, Mitch couldn’t get his mind past those facts. The same thoughts shot through his head over and over again. Probably because the sight of the sexy vixen sent all the blood rushing to his groin—where it now throbbed with painful precision.
Damn. She was pin-up worthy. The fierce urge to nibble, stroke, and lick had him squirming in his seat. That…and his zipper bit unmercifully into his swollen dick.
He blinked and attempted to focus on her face. Nothing doing. What a pair of gams. His gaze stayed glued to the legs he had known would be a sin to cover. Long and lean, curvy and supple, they gleamed under the glow of the fire since the sun had set. I should be the only thing allowed to cover those beauties.
Shit. Where the hell had that thought come from?
“Yo? Captain? Earth to captain? My eyes are up here.”
He heard her words, followed by a clicking noise. Mitch blinked again, and realized the woman was not only snapping her fingers, she was smiling.
“That’s better,” she said. “So, can I have my clothes back?”
Hah! That wiped the smile from her smug face. Shit. Wait. Now she was striding closer, green gaze glistening like twin emeralds, a bounce rippling through gorgeous, full breasts, despite the tightly wrapped towel.
Heaven help him, she grabbed the edge of the table and leaned closer. His mind went blank. What a view! Her delectable cleavage and all that silky skin filled his horizon. She was flawless, supple and he wanted desperately to explore.
“What do you mean, no?”
He jumped, and reluctantly ripped his gaze from her mind-drugging curves. “What?”
“I want my clothes. Now.”
She reached for a pile. But he was quicker. He grabbed her wrist, and a damn fission shot through his body again. What the hell? She yanked free and stepped back.
Ignoring the pounding in his veins—and both heads—he slowly rose to his feet, positioning himself between her and the table. Hell if he’d allow her to take anything until he knew it was safe.
“I’m not done yet.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.” She groaned. “It’s just my clothes.”
His brows shot up. “Really?” He reached behind him for the strange little packet of pills he’d found. “Then where the hell do you wear these?”
A small smile tugged at her lips, and son-of-a-bitch, a spot of color seeped into her cheeks. She was blushing. Why was she blushing? Spies don’t blush. Do they?
“You don’t wear them. Y-you take them.”
He waved the packet. “No shit.” What did she think, he was an idiot? His heart hammered and he wondered just what she’d planned on doing with the pills. He stared hard at his blushing abductor, but spoke soft. “You plan on drugging me, Samantha?”
Amusement flittered through her remarkable eyes. “No. Not unless you’ve grown a pair of ovaries.”
There wasn’t anything funny about…Wait? Ovaries? He glanced at the pills.
“They’re my birth control pills, Mitch. Give me them.” She stepped closer and reached for the packet.
Birth control what? He held the pills out of her reach and frowned down. “Control birth?” Shit. “Are you pregnant?” Cripes, he hoped not. Not after the way he manhandled her today.
“No!” She shook her head, her shoulders rounding in exasperation. “I’m not pregnant. The pills prevent pregnancy.”
Was that even possible? Maybe. He wouldn’t put anything past the Germans.
He folded his arms across his chest, his body heating before he even got the words out. “So, you are planning to seduce me.”
“What? Oh for the love of…” Her mouth clamped shut, eyes glittered and body stiffened. “If you must know, I need the hormone therapy to help with cysts. I have to take one pill a day at the same time every day, and I’ll need one first thing in the morning. Now, give me my damn pills!”
Before he could react, she lunged for the packet and gripped the bottom edge. Damn, she was fast. He pulled while she tugged, and he tried desperately to ignore the soft curves brushing his body or the mouthful of wet hair tickling his face. God, she smells great. More vanilla. He inhaled and a layer of warmth increased the heat already throbbing inside. Touching her was out of the question. He’d just have to keep twisting and lifting.
Several more seconds of sweet torture and he finally got the upper hand. Success. He ripped the pills from her grasp.
“Dammit, Captain,” she growled, her warm breath hitting his chin.
Didn’t the woman know how to give up? Apparently not. She continued her delicious assault, pressing against him, reaching, trying to crawl up his body for the damn packet. Fuck. She was potent.
All the struggling loosened the towel which softly thudded on to his right foot.
“Shit!” She released him and bent down to grab the wayward towel, brushing his throbbing body along the way.
He went still. Very still. He didn’t even dare to breathe. But he did look. Oh, hell yeah, he looked.
The whole right side of her was in his line of vision. Her smooth back and fantastic ass mesmerized, drew him in until he became dizzy from not breathing. He closed his eyes and gulped in air. Damn, the things he wanted to do to her. Eyes opening, he stared at the naked beauty clutching the towel in front of her in a feeble attempt to cover up.
Too late. He saw every last glorious inch of the front of her body. God, she was mouthwatering.
How? His racing pulse stopped for two beats, then tripped into hyper speed. She was unhindered. No hair. Nothing. Just smooth, soft, silky…
His gaze lingered in the barely concealed section where her hand now held the towel in place. Was it a German thing? Hell, it didn’t matter. A strong urge to touch her and taste her, to sink deep inside tore through his body with unrelenting force. He fought back a groan. Fuck. He was hard enough to pound spikes into concrete.
“P-please, Mitch,” her soft plea rattled him.
Make that railroad ties. His dick was hard enough to pound railroad ties. With one swing. And no hands. He dragged more air into his lungs, praying it would unfog his brain as he slowly lifted his gaze to her face.
A Word From Donna…
Captive Hero –Book One in my Time-shift Heroes Series: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009XLK6CY is available now at Amazon. The second book –Future Hero will release this summer.
I also currently have a novella out through The Wild Rose Press. Cowboy-Sexy is part of their Honky Tonk Hearts Series, and is now available in several eBook formats. And on Amazon for kindle here: http://www.amazon.com/Cowboy-Sexy-ebook/dp/B009KEXE2S/ref=pd_rhf_dp_p_t_1
A little bit more about me…
Multi-published in eBook and print, I write from short to epic, sweet to hot across several romance genres through The Wild Rose Press, Whimsical Publications, and this book–Captive Hero marks my first foray into self publishing.
I’m married to a military man for over twenty-six years. We have four children, several rescued cats, and live in Northeastern Pennsylvania, where we enjoy all four seasons…although, I’d love to enjoy summer a bit longer and winter a bit less.
NOW ONTO THE PRIZES…
HOW CAN YOU WIN?
READ BELOW AND FIND OUT!
To be eligible for a free download of any of my backlist plus a $15 Amazon Gift Card, simply sign up for my newsletter at the bottom of my Home page www.donnamichaelsauthor.com then email me with the address you used to sign up so I can verify and then add your name to the ‘pot’. At the end of the tour, one name will be randomly drawn and I will email the winner.
Thank you, and good luck!
Learn more about me and my titles at my website: www.donnamichaelsauthor.com
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