Quill and Ink Book Tours Presents: A Governess Should Never... Lure A Spy - The Governess Chronicles: Book 4 by Emily Windsor

 

 

A Governess Should Never… Lure a Spy

(The Governess Chronicles – Book 4)

Emily Windsor

Genre: Regency Romance

Release Date: Thursday, 11^th April 2024

Heat Level: Sensual. Moderate. Open door but romantic.

 

Notes: This book is written in British English spelling.

 

A Dangerous Spy. An even more Dangerous Governess. 

 

“So tell me, Miss Jones, why should I employ you as governess?”

A question to rouse fear within the breast of any prospective governess, unless…she wasn’t a governess at all.

Yet Amelia must secure this position by whatever means necessary as this gentleman, dubbed The Scandalous Hugh Cadwalader by fashionable society, is not all he seems. Behind the elegant finery and azure eyes is a dangerous warrior of a man, a tenacious spy for the Crown.

One who might just have turned traitor…

 

“Just one more question, if I may…”

With her perfect references and perfect demureness, Miss Jones appears…perfect.

Feminine guidance and distraction are required for his inquisitive ward while Hugh Cadwalader hunts a traitor in the alleys of London’s Rookery.

But can such perfection be all it seems? And was that a glimpse of golden fire within those amber eyes?

 

The Dangerous Spy and… The More Dangerous Governess.

One should never judge a governess by her perfectly forged references or a spy by his unblemished Hessian boots, for behind both facades lay passion untamed, subterfuge unbound and a quest for justice.

A battle of wits with only one winner… Love.

 

With theatres of glister and glamour, nights of shadow and menace, hairpins of poison, and…being pressed to a desk by a shirtless masculine chest, the vocation of governess has never been so perilous – to the heart.

 

The Scandalous Hugh Cadwalader first features in Book 2 of this series, A Governess Should Never... Deny a Duke. This is his story.

Contains sensual scenes.

Purchase Links:

Available in e-book and paperback.

Amazon US

Amazon UK

 

Get The Governess Chronicles Series

A Governess Should Never… Tempt A Prizefighter – Book 1

A Governess Should Never… Deny A Duke – Book 2

A Gentleman Will Never… Forget A Lady – Book 3

 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08XB6NZ2B

Excerpt:

No. 14 Hanover Square, Mayfair, London. May 1817

 

“So tell me, Miss Jones, why should I employ you as governess?”

Curse it.

And Amelia lowered her gaze to the mahogany desk in order to portray thoughtful repose.

What a devious question.

Especially as there were countless reasons why the gentleman should, in fact, not employ her as governess.

She’d never educated a young lady in her entire twenty-four years of life, knew naught concerning the history of art, cared less about the proper use of semicolons, was quite hopeless at all musical endeavours and hadn’t the faintest idea what…tatting was.

Yet how arduous could it be to keep a fifteen-year-old girl occupied?

Just give her a book to read, surely?

So, with a surreptitious intake of breath, Amelia clasped her hands in what she judged to be a suitably demure fashion and raised her lashes to the gentleman who prodded her so.

A Mr Hugh Cadwalader.

His lustrous blue gaze caused that intake of breath to hitch somewhat, so she pursed her lips in a prim manner and sniffed. Governesses always sniffed. But as to his question… “I am well-versed, Mr Cadwalader, in all subjects that a young lady might have need of during her Season.”

Such as how to evade a marriage-obsessed mama at a ball, the varied usages for a yard length of silk sash and the extrication of oneself from the clutches of a lascivious duke with merely a dance card pencil.

“I see.”

Amelia thought that reply most enigmatic. “You have my references?”

“Yes,” he drawled, gathering the papers before him. “My man of affairs has attempted to verify these references, yet it seems your past employers are either not of the living or not currently residing within these isles.” With agile slender fingers, he leafed through them. “Lord Fowler is pursuing parakeets in the Amazonia, Lady Bassett is sifting through sand dunes in the former Mesopotamia, Lady Clifford is scouring Constantinople for the Ark and Lady Padgett is scouring Paris for her errant husband.”

Amelia held his gaze. “How unfortunate.” And tilted her head. “But if you find me acceptable on all other counts, might I suggest a period of probation until my references can be verified?”

That should give her enough time to search this townhouse, question the servants, note Mr Cadwalader’s movements and read any of his pertinent correspondence, all in order to write a comprehensive report for her superior at the Foreign Office.

For Amelia’s talents lay not in punctuation or musical endeavours but in subterfuge for the Crown…

 

About the Author

Regency Romance with Warmth, Wit & Well-tied Cravats.

Emily grew up in the north of England on a diet of historical romance and strong tea.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t study Regency slang, so she did the next best thing and gained a degree in Classics and History instead. This ‘led’ to an eight-year stint in engineering.

Having left city life, she now lives in a dilapidated farmhouse where her days are spent writing, fixing the leaky roof, battling the endless vegetation and finding pictures of well-tied cravats.

 

More about me can be found at:

https://www.amazon.com/author/emilywindsor

https://books2read.com/emily-windsor

https://facebook.com/AuthorEmilyWindsor

https://www.instagram.com/emilywindsorwritesregency/

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/emily-windsor

https://www.goodreads.com/EmilyWindsor

https://uk.pinterest.com/EmilyWindsorBks/

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/gehNKr

 

Guest Post:

Hanover Square, Mayfair

 

The Scandalous Hugh Cadwalader, hero of ‘A Governess Should Never… Lure a Spy’, lives in one of the most fashionable parts of Mayfair – Hanover Square. It covers some 4 acres, with the central garden enclosed by iron railings, and was made more famous by its proximity to St George’s Church where many an aristocratic Ton wedding took place (in fiction and in history!)

 

The development of the Square began in 1714, just after the accession of King George I who was also Elector of Hanover, and hence the title bequeathed to the Square.

Only a few of the original houses remain intact as most were demolished and rebuilt as offices but there are photos of gorgeous No. 16 and No. 20!

 

St George’s Church is a mere 100m south. When I got to visit a few years ago, I couldn’t resist taking the photo below – trying for the exact same position of the engraving from 1787. I loved the old church but the narrowness of the street and all the cars overwhelmed it somewhat!

Work on the foundations began in 1721 and apparently there were constant complaints from the inhabitants of Hanover Square about all the building materials stacked in their Square – nothing changes!!

So if you enjoy a romantic tale set in Regency London with a dangerous spy and a more dangerous governess, check out ‘A Governess Should Never… Lure a Spy.’

 

Giveaway:

Emily is offering a $50.00 Amazon Gift Card.

The giveaway is open internationally.

Runs from 12:00 AM EST April 10 – 12:00 AM EST May 3, 2024

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/30806ff51/?

 

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Join our team and become a Tour Host

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Book Blitz ~ SIR, Yes Sir by L. L. Ash

 

Sir, Yes Sir
L. L. Ash
Publication date: April 12th 2024
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Ashton

One single moment changed everything. After receiving life-altering injuries on my last operation, I was forced to retire early. What was I if not a Raider and a Marine? When my brother in arms Tommy (Gun) Blair offered his home up to me to finish my recovery, I snatched up the opportunity with both hands because I had nowhere else to go. Amidst all my calculations, however, I realized that I’d missed one significant detail. Freya, Tommy’s daughter. She’d been a kid last time I’d seen her. She was definitely NOT a kid anymore. Living up to her namesake, the daughter of my best friend was beautiful, sweet, and deadly. If Tommy knew the kinds of things running through my head, he’d kill me in my sleep with a rusty spoon. Didn’t matter though. The woman was temptation embodied, and despite all my training, discipline and control, she was the one weakness that I just couldn’t give up.

Freya

I’d never met a man like him. Ashton was solid, confident, rigid, and bold. He also had the body of a god. No joke. But I was just the kid of his best friend. Seeing a man as powerful as him bow to the agony of injuries and PTSD…it broke my heart. It also proved that he wasn’t just a fighting machine. When he started working at Dad’s dealership with us, I started to get to know the man instead of the legend, and I loved what I found. Good with his hands, and loyal to a fault, I fell so deep in love with him it’s almost disgusting. Too bad he was my father’s best friend and would never love me back.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

“Sorry,” Freya said from…yep, the kitchen. “Mom’s been into that stuff ever since I can remember. She thinks that good thoughts and crystals can heal just about everything.”

“You don’t buy it?” I asked her.

She just blinked at me.

“She once tried healing my broken arm with obsidian and selenite. It took me two hours to convince my mom that a couple of pretty rocks weren’t going to reset my bones.”

I whistled.

“How old were you?”

“Eight. Eight and a half, I think.”

Holy shit.

“Where was Tommy? Your dad, I mean.”

“Working. In Afghanistan, I think. He’d been gone for months before it happened. Mom always got super sucked into that stuff when he was away for a while.”

“I’m sorry, kid,” I told her, which made her bristle.

“I’m not a kid, you know that, don’t you, Ashton?”

Oh, I fucking knew it. I remembered the feel of her very grown-up breasts pressing against my chest while I was having a full on mental breakdown in the employee bathroom at work.

She’d never brought it up though. After Tommy had led me away, Freya never mentioned the incident again. Maybe she just wanted to forget the traumatizing moment, and I could respect that. I’d taken full advantage of her sympathetic and loving heart, and I knew it.

But I digress.

I didn’t remember things being so bad. Tommy had mentioned that he’d needed to leave the Marines to be with his wife and daughter, but he’d never mentioned how bad it had evidently gotten. Had Freya been dealing with being the grown-up in the house ever since she was a kid? Maybe our pasts were more similar than I ever realized.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” Freya said as she dipped to look into the fridge for something.

Damn, that ass…

“I’m afraid that maybe your head will explode or something,” she mused.

I barked a rusty laugh, just as she stood and graced me with a grin over her shoulder.

“You’re insane,” was the only comeback I had, because maybe she was right.

I was thinking way too hard about her and that peachy ass when I should’ve been focused on other things. “Is Tommy still at the dealership?”

She nodded, then slid over a beer to me.

“You know him. Workaholic.”

Yes, I did, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. He had such an amazing life to come home to, why would he choose work over this?

I grunted instead of answering, but took the beer happily.

“So?” she asked after a minute. “You took the day to go to the base. How’d it go?”

I didn’t fucking answer. I didn’t want to.

Funny though, as it turned out, I didn’t need to.

“Oh…Ash…” she moaned, sadness and sympathy coloring her cheeks.

“Guess my nickname Citizen really matches now,” I grunted out, thinking it would be funny, but my voice cracked like a prepubescent boy, showing my emotions.

Freya came right around the counter and took me into her arms, beer and all where she squeezed me harder than anybody had ever hugged me before.

“You’ll be ok,” she muffled a whisper with her face in the crook of my neck and shoulder. “You’ve got us, and we’ll be your team.”

An unwelcome tear started slipping out of my eye, and I quickly tried sucking it back up before she could notice. But funny that, tears don’t suck back up like snot.

When she let me go, Freya looked into my face and lifted her hand, sweeping the trail of that singular tear away.

“You’ve got us,” she said, looking me right in the eyes. “If you need a wingman, I’m your girl. I’ll help get you laid and help you find a place when you’re ready. I’ll even watch sports with you, even though I hate everything other than hockey and MMA.”

I snorted a laugh, which made her sad lips turn into a small smile.

“I appreciate that,” I told her, pressing my palm to her cheek now. “But I’m ok. I don’t need a wingman. I can get laid all by myself. As for sports, what other real sports are there other than hockey and MMA?”

She snorted a laugh, legit making snot burst out of her nose, which made her cheeks flame with embarrassment.

I laughed too while she hurried away to the bathroom to get away from me.

That girl was too much.

And fucking everything.

Author Bio:

L.L. Ash is a Washington-born writer who has traveled and lived across the western coast of the US. Ash has been writing fiction since she was a pre-teen, and while her writing has improved since then, her love for literature has not changed.

Oftentimes you can find Ash reading an indie romance or enjoying a historical fiction. Dabbling in culinary arts and music, Ash has been an artist for decades but found her true love and passion in romances.

Website / Facebook / Twitter / Instagram

Enter to win HERE!

—

Teaser Tuesday ~ AXEL - Hounds of Hell MC by Jamie Targaet

 

 

Hounds of Hell MC, Book 3

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense

Date Published: April 19, 2024

 

 

Sadie -- I finally found the courage to escape my abusive boyfriend, but I didn’t make it far. I’m holed up in a small Virginia town called Mercy. There will be no mercy for me if my ex finds me. Thanks to Axel, the gorgeous biker who towed my car to his garage, I have a place to stay and a job at the town’s greenhouse. I also have the hope that I might have a second chance at love one day, with Axel.

Axel -- When I got called to tow a broken-down car to my garage, I found the beaten and battered angel who owns it on the run from the devil. Here in Mercy, with me, she’s healing and learning to live again. When her ex figures out Sadie’s here, even his mafia ties can’t protect him from me. His entire mafia family can’t take back what’s mine and there’s going to be hell to pay when they try.

EXCERPT

Axel

 

It was a cold February morning. Alexander Harper had just sat down with his first cup of coffee when his phone hummed in his pocket. When he pulled it out and looked at the screen, he saw the call was from Cowboy Pete’s, a local gas station just off the interstate.

“This is Axel,” he said, using the road name he’d been given by Razor when he’d been a prospect.

“Hey, hon. How are you?” He recognized Elsie Damron’s voice. She’d worked at the gas station since he was a kid.

“Cold,” he said. “What can I do for you today?”

“A young lady stopped for gas a little while ago,” Elsie explained. “She filled it up but now her car won’t start.”

“You give her bad gas?” Axel asked, grinning.

“No,” Elsie said. “Well, I hope not. There’s smoke rolling out from under the hood. Looks like it’s overheating to me. Can you come take a look at it?”

“Yeah.” Axel knew the quiet morning was too good to be true. Putting the call on speaker, he placed his phone on his desk, grabbing a tie from his desk drawer to pull his hair back from his face. “Did you already call Tyler? I appreciate the business, but it would be a lot closer, and cheaper, to tow it to his place.”

“Yeah, I know,” Elsie said, her voice dropping to a loud stage whisper. “But I think you would be better for this particular situation.”

“Okay, I’ll head that way,” he told her. “What’s she driving?”

“He’s going to come get you,” Elsie said to someone there with her. To Axel, she said, “Yeah, it’s an older sedan. A Lincoln, I think. What model year is your car?”

Axel couldn’t make out what the other person said.

“It’s a 2002 model,” Elsie told him.

“Give me thirty minutes,” Axel said, ending the call.

Taking his coffee with him, Axel headed back into the shop. His twin brother Ryder was working on an SUV brought in yesterday. Ryder looked up when he saw Axel approach.

“Where you off to?” Ryder asked.

“Got to tow someone in,” Axel told him. “I’ll be back.”

When Axel reached Cowboy Pete’s with the tow truck, there were several cars there. They had a halfway decent grill inside the station, and it was a popular breakfast stop for town regulars and travelers alike. He pulled into the lot and parked, heading in to have Elsie point out the lady and her car.

Elsie grinned when she saw him at the counter. “Thanks for coming, hon. She’s a couple of spaces down from where you parked. The black Lincoln.”

“You bet,” he told her, seeing it in the window behind the counter where the older lady stood.

“Axel?” Elsie called as he headed for the door.

“Yeah?”

“If I can do anything for her, you let me know, okay?” And the kind older woman meant it.

“Will do,” he told her, curious now about what he was walking into.

Axel returned to the tow truck, spotting the black Lincoln that was just three spaces to the right of him with no cars parked in between. It looked like someone was sitting in the driver’s seat. Walking up to the car, Axel tapped on the driver’s window. The lady jumped in the seat, startled. Axel saw a flash of red curls before she peered up at him through the window.

Now Elsie’s words made sense. The young woman’s left eye was black and almost swollen shut. Her nose was swollen and bruised, her lip split. Someone had beat the fuck out of this little lady. Slowly, she opened the door and got out of her car. Her careful movements told him her face wasn’t the only thing that hurt her this morning. Axel stepped back to give her room as she closed the door and leaned back against it.

The way she wrapped her arms protectively around herself and the fear in her green-eyed gaze had him pausing. Now he knew why Elsie called their garage. Tyler wasn’t a bad guy, but he was gruff and lacking in most social niceties.

This young woman before him looked like she’d been through hell and was expecting more.

“Hi there,” Axel said. “Elsie called me to come look at your car. What’s going on?”

“It overheated I think,” she said quietly. “I was okay for a couple of hours. But then it would heat up and it would start smoking. I would stop and let it cool off. I stopped here to get gas and let it cool off again. When I tried to restart it this time, it wouldn’t.”

“Would you pop the hood for me?” Axel asked.

She scrambled back into the driver’s seat, searching for the lever to do that. Just when he was about to offer to do it for her, she found it.

Axel lifted the hood and removed the radiator cap. Walking back around to where she sat behind the wheel with the driver-side door open, he said, “Try starting it.”

It did start but looking into the radiator, he saw the coolant start to bubble up like a milkshake. Walking back toward her, he saw white smoke coming out of the tailpipe in the rear. Well, that wasn’t good news.

“Turn it off,” he told her.

She did as he said, climbing back out of the car.

“Yeah, that’s a blown head gasket,” Axel explained. “The smoke coming out of the back is coolant getting into your exhaust system. It’s not supposed to do that.”

“Can you fix it?” she asked. “H-how long will it take?”

“I can fix it,” he said. “How long it will take depends on a couple of things. I need to find a replacement for the head gasket and if there’s any damage to the engine, we might need parts for that too. Once we have the parts we need, I can have it fixed in two or three days.”

Axel could tell that wasn’t the answer she was hoping to get. It was probably a good idea to get all the bad news out at once.

“It’s also going to be expensive,” Axel told her. “You’re probably looking at two to three thousand dollars to fix it.”

Those big green eyes were getting shiny with tears and Axel felt a tiny bit of panic creeping in. He was no damn good with tears. Never had been. He had to find some way to make the situation the little lady was in less terrible.

“Where are you headed?” he asked. “Do you have any friends or family we can call that will come help you out?”

Dropping her gaze, she shook her head.

“Where are you heading?” Axel tried again.

She shrugged for an answer.

“Do you know if your insurance covers towing?” he asked. If nothing else, it looked like he was going to be towing her back to his garage.

She shook her head. Pretty red curls swung with her movements.

“Do you have your insurance information in the car? We could call,” he offered.

“I don’t have it,” she told him.

Didn’t have a destination. Didn’t have insurance information? What the hell was the situation here? When he gave her the cost of towing the car, she reached into the pocket of her coat, pulled out a credit card, and handed it to him. It was brand-new and shiny. Axel doubted it had ever been used.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m going to run this, and we’ll be on our way.”

She scrambled back into her car like a scared mouse. Axel shook his head as he headed back to his tow truck, reaching in to get the card reader they used for payments. The name on the card was Sadie Downing.

What the hell happened to Sadie?

He ran the card. The transaction went through which surprised him. He walked back to her car, tapping on the window to return her card. Again, she scrambled out of her car, looking around nervously.

Axel just had to ask. “Are you okay? The local hospital is on the way back to the garage.”

“I’m fine,” she said a little too quickly.

“Okay.” He would leave it at that. “Why don’t you go ahead and climb in the tow truck? I’ll get your car hooked up and we’ll get going.”

“Thank you,” she said quickly before making a beeline for the truck, hastily climbing into the cab.

It didn’t take Axel long to hook up her car and get them on the road. Sadie, if that was her name, huddled quietly in the far corner of the cabin with her head leaning on the window. While he normally appreciated the silence, just now it was awkward. He really wanted to ask her what happened. Who did that to her face?

One thing was pretty certain. She was on the run, and she was afraid. Looking at her, he understood why.

 

About the Author

Jamie Targaet is the author of the Hounds of Hell MC. She's anxious to introduce you to this club of gorgeous, dominant men and the lucky women who surrender to them. The ride is going to get wild at times, not going to lie. But there's thrilling action, scorching hot sex scenes, and all the feels. 

Jamie writes erotic romance for Changeling Press, a little fanfiction on the side, and she's an aspiring horror writer in another life. She enjoys time with her family (including the fur babies). She likes good horror movies and shows, emo metal and classic rock, and time spent in other worlds writing and reading. She loves hearing from readers and is looking forward to hearing from you.

 

Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Amazon

Author’s Website

 

 Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

 

Pre-Order Today

Teaser Tuesday ~ Quantum Consequences - Physic, Lust and Greed Series by Mike Murphey

 

 

Physic, Lust and Greed Series, Book 5

 

Sci-Fi

Date Published: 05-16-2024

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

 

After foiling the political ambitions of a would-be American dictator, time-traveling lovers Marta Hamilton and Marshall Grissom return to their life in the Caribbean only to confront the murder of a friend and inherit responsibility for a gutsy 10-year old boy. Throughout their unlikely and tumultuous relationship, Marta has harbored suspicions that her time-traveling companion is not being honest with her. Is Marshall really the bumbling, good-hearted klutz she has come to love and trust? Or is he the cunning, cold-blooded assassin Gillis Kerg suspects him to be? In this fifth tale of physics, lust and greed, a bizarre parallel universe and a monstrous product of artificial intelligence will impose a costly consequence requiring both Marta and Marshall to face the truth of her most haunting question:  “Who are you, Marshall Grissom?”

 

 

Excerpt

 

Everyone familiar with Marshall Grissom and Marta Hamilton knew Marta was the scary one.

Marshall towered six foot seven and was as wispy as a soda straw. Clumsy, self-effacing and kind. In contrast, Marta stood barely five feet, sinewy, built like a marathoner. Although her romantic liaison with Marshall had softened some of her bristles, she could be as mean as a mamba snake and unforgiving as a loan shark.

Once she’d allowed someone to pick their way through her tangled emotional defenses, though, her loyalty was fierce. Which was why she was quick to respond when she heard a man yelling from the dock beside Cecil’s boat, Somewhere Over China.

“Come on, old man! Come out here!”

Marta scrambled to the deck of Dontchaknow—a thirty-two-foot Bavaria tied bow to stern with Cecil’s ketch-rigged Tayana in Grenada’s Prickly Bay Marina. On the dock a hulking man, his belly peeking out from under a T‑shirt that strained to contain beefy biceps, swayed a little, like a long-distance sailor who hadn’t quite found his land legs.

“Come out, you, and bring Baptiste! His mama want him home right now,” Cecil’s would-be assailant bellowed in a Caribbean-Creole accent.

Cecil emerged onto his boat’s deck, brandishing a speargun.

“Stop right there, Ignace Aguillard,” Cecil said. “Baptiste doesn’t have to go anywhere with you. You hit this boy. Go away, or we’ll call the constable.”

“I’m da only father he got,” Aguillard answered. “Boy sass me, need to get hit. Boys gotta learn respect. Put down that toothpick you holdin’, you, or I come up there and stick it up your ass.”

Marshall clambered up on deck after Marta. “What’s going—”

The question died on his lips as Baptiste peeked from behind Cecil, revealing a black and purple shiner that closed his left eye.

“Marshall,” Marta said, “go below and get the flare gun.”

Instead, Marshall vaulted over Dontchaknow’s lifelines, landing with surprising agility onto the narrow dock.

“Marshall, no!” Marta called.

Aguillard turned to confront this new threat.

“Now you in trouble, you!” Baptiste shouted with all the venom a ten-year-old could muster. “Dis da one I tell you about. He a famous killer, not afraid a’ da likes a’ you.”

Aguillard glanced at Cecil, still pointing his speargun, then back to Marshall. He laughed. “You who dis boy been yappin’ about? I break you like a stick.”

Marshall looked around, blinking, as if surprised to find himself in the middle of this confrontation but quickly collected himself. “You hurt Baptiste? He’s just a little boy.”

“Believe me,” Aguillard said, “gonna hurt you a lot worse.”

Aguillard took a step forward.

Bugger, thought Marta. Her only weapon, a flare gun, was below deck. She saw Cecil lean forward, the speargun steady in his hands.

“What are you doing, Marshall?” she said. “You can’t—”

Aguillard charged with Marshall dead in his sights.

“Run, Marshall!” she yelled.

Marshall appeared frozen, paralyzed with fear.

“Oh no!” Cecil called, tracking Aguillard with his speargun, finger on the trigger.

Marshall flinched but stood his ground as Aguillard gathered momentum.

Marta wondered if Marshall wanted flowers at his funeral.

At the last instant before impact, though, Marshall stood tall—almost on tiptoe—and executed an elegant spin, like a matador’s pase natural, allowing Aguillard to brush past him, only a whisper of space between them. As he passed, Marshall gave Aguillard a backhanded nudge with just enough pressure to alter the big man’s trajectory.

Aguillard careened off the dock into fifteen feet of warm, green water, then came up sputtering and cursing. Marta appeared at Marshall’s side, carrying an aluminum dinghy oar. Aguillard swallowed a mouthful of seawater and gagged. Marta swung the oar with all her might, striking him on the head.

Baptiste had leapt onto the dock and stood beside Marshall and Marta as they watched Aguillard sink. Bubbles drifted to the surface, their wet little pops waning in frequency.

Eventually, Baptiste said, “Somebody don’t do somethin’, he gonna drown.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Marta said.

Cecil joined them. They regarded her with imploring eyes.

“Oh, all right,” she said. “Marshall, go to the beach.”

Marta dove in, grabbed Aguillard by his hair and kicked toward shore.

Marshall helped haul him onto the gleaming sand where Aguillard lay unmoving, turning a curious shade of blue.

“Um . . . shouldn’t we, you know . . . do mouth-to-mouth or something?” Marshall asked.

“Not my mouth,” said Marta. “And not yours either, if you want it to have anything to do with mine.”

“We can’t just let him—”

“Oh, I suppose not,” Marta said.

She jumped into the air, then using her whole weight, slammed her elbow onto Aguillard’s chest, which made a cracking sound. Water spewed from his mouth as he gagged and gasped.

“Roll him onto his side,” Marta said.

“Okay, now what?” Marshall asked.

“If he doesn’t get up and walk away in an hour, we’ll call someone to haul him off.”

“I think,” Marshall said, “the tide’s coming in.”

“Then I guess he’d better hurry.”

About the Author

Mike Murphey is a native of eastern New Mexico and spent almost thirty years as an award-winning newspaper journalist in the Southwest and Pacific Northwest. His debut novel, Section Roads, has been recognized by Indie Reader Discovery Awards, Reader Views Reviewers Choice Awards, The IAN Book of the Year Awards, the Somerset Contemporary Fiction Awards, and the Independent Publishers Book Awards. His novel, The Conman has been recognized by the International Book Awards, the eLit Awards and the Manhattan Book Awards. His award-winning Physics, Lust and Greed Series includes Taking Time,  Wasting Time, Killing Time and  The Outlaw Gillis Kerg. “We Never Knew Just What It Was… The Story of the Chad Mitchell Trio” is his first non-fiction work. Mike loves fiction, cats, baseball and sailing. He splits his time between Spokane, Washington, and Phoenix, Arizona.

 

Contact Links

Website

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