LUKE’S REDEMPTION
by
ANNI FIFE
Chased
by her criminal kingpin father, Katya
Dalca runs to New Orleans and straight into the arms of Luke Hunter.
Sucked into the carnal
world of the French Quarter, she succumbs to Luke’s potent sexuality. He not
only steals her breath, he steals her heart, and the only leverage she has
against her father.
She’s left with no choice but to pick up the pieces and
rebuild her life alone.
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Undercover
DEA agent Luke Hunter thought his newest assignment—recover a stolen flash
drive to gain the trust of the Russian mob—was like any other.
But his target
brings him to his knees, and after one taste of her intoxicating beauty, he's
in too deep. Doing his job means walking away, leaving his heart behind with
nothing but a promise to reunite. It's a promise he can't keep.
When
Katya's past reaches out and her world unravels, her only hope is the one man
she is most vulnerable to—Luke.
EXCERPT from LUKE’S REDEMPTION
(When Katya first meets Luke, he is operating undercover as Michael.)
I snuggled deeper into
the cosy bedding, lazy and heavy-limbed. Shifting slightly, warmth spread
through me as the slight stickiness between my legs brought with it delicious
memories of the night before. I never dreamed that I could be so wanton, so
wildly desperate for one man’s touch.
And
boy, did he touch!
His potency evident in every aching muscle in my body.
Mmmm. Heat flickered as his
musky scent infused my senses.
“Katya.”
I loved his voice.
Especially when he said my name, so deep, rich like dark molasses.
“Katya!”
I forced my lids open.
And drowned in sensual, male beauty. “Hi,” I purred. And it was a purr. I
sounded like a sated cat. Inching a hand out from under the covers, I reached
up, hungry to stroke his rough morning stubble.
He reared back as if
stung.
What?
My hand hovered midair
as he lowered himself to a chair that was pulled up close to the bedside.
How
did that chair get there?
Was he watching me sleep?
Sluggish, I looked at
the window. The curtains were drawn together but didn’t quite meet. Faint light
trickled in. It was barely morning. I looked back at Michael and cold started
to seep in. Shit. He was fully clothed,
he was even wearing his jacket. Only his hair looked out of place. He obviously
couldn’t find the cord that I’d enthusiastically pulled from it like a wild
woman, and now it hung loose to his shoulders. Bed-hair. Do men get bed-hair?
He was still. Hands
clasped together, elbows resting on his knees. Here, but not here. Only his
eyes flickered as they roamed intensely over my face. Such wickedly, beautiful
eyes. After he came inside me they had turned an inky-blue, almost black.
Now, they were deep
shards of navy. And they sent ice cascading through me.
I was still naked and he
was fully clothed. I jerked upright and pulled the covers to my chin. My
stomach quivered, only it wasn’t in a sexy way.
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