THE DIRTY BLONDE by Tim Smith

THE DIRTY BLONDE by Tim Smith

Vic Fallon Book 3

A tough private eye gets involved with a blonde beauty in a search for her missing husband—but how many more wives are waiting in the wings?

Former cop Vic Fallon is content to live in Sandusky, Ohio, on his disability settlement and take the occasional private eye job when he isn’t fishing. He doesn’t really want to get involved in a missing persons case, but when Amy Bergen arrives from Tennessee looking for her estranged husband who’s avoiding divorce court, Vic is taken in by her southern charm and agrees to help her. His search brings him into contact with a local gangster wannabe, a crooked cop and a gambling syndicate. When another woman shows up claiming to be the missing man’s wife, the case takes a bizarre turn. Can Vic find the wayward husband before all of his wives catch up with him? Will his feelings for Amy develop into something more than professional?

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~Excerpt~

Detective Dave Becker sat behind his desk at the Sandusky, Ohio Police Department, looking at the complaint report in his hand. He reached up with his free hand to tug at the open collar of his short-sleeved shirt, then lightly scratched behind his ear. The air conditioner was on but not working efficiently enough to impact the late June heat. He exhaled a slow breath and looked at the woman seated across his desk. She was a petite, busty blonde in her early thirties, about five-feet-five with light blue eyes, who had traveled to the northern Ohio village from Tennessee. Becker mentally prepared himself for the speech he was about to give.

“I’m sorry, Miss Bergen, but this isn’t really a police matter. You say your husband…”

“Ex-husband,” Amy Bergen corrected in a voice that had a slight southern drawl. “I mean, he will be my ex as soon you track him down and get him to sign the divorce papers. Then I can get together with my new beau.”

“As I was saying, this really isn’t something we can help you with.”

Amy looked surprised. “You do look for missing persons, right?”

“Yes, but your husband…”

“Soon to be ex-husband.”

“Right. Your soon-to-be-ex-husband isn’t technically missing. You say he left…where did you say you were from?”

“Lenoir City, Tennessee. It’s just outside Knoxville.”

“He left Lenoir City and you think he came here, but if he isn’t wanted for a crime and there are no outstanding warrants, there’s nothing we can do.”

She exhaled an exasperated breath. “Well, I just find that hard to believe. Back home the police would’ve served those papers and made him sign them.”

Becker shrugged. “I’m sorry, but unless the police or court issues a warrant, we can’t do anything.”

“There must be something. I tracked that polecat to this part of your lovely state on my own. He can’t be that hard to find.”

Becker opened his desk drawer, withdrew a business card then handed it across the desk. “That’s the card for someone who may be able to help you.”

Amy scrutinized it. “Vic Fallon,” she recited then looked at Becker. “What is he, some high-priced private eye?”

“Not exactly. He’s a friend who used to be a cop. He does this sort of thing once in awhile. If you can’t reach him at the number on that card, try Freighters Lounge on Marblehead.”

“Try what on where?”

“Freighters Lounge is a local bar where he hangs out. Marblehead Peninsula is about ten miles from here. Just go west on State Route 2 and follow the signs. Anyone can tell you how to get there if you get lost.”

Amy stood and politely extended her hand across the desk. “Thank you for your time, Detective Becker.”

Becker smiled, shook hands with her then watched her leave his office. He lowered his eyelids slightly. Oh, if only I weren’t married…

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WHO GETS THE FRIENDS? by Tim Smith

WHO GETS THE FRIENDS? by Tim Smith

Two lonely souls get a chance to make their Christmas wish come true.

When Tom Harris won back his freedom after a bitter divorce, he looked forward to getting a fresh start in life. What he didn’t realize was that his former wife had taken their mutual friends as part of the settlement.

He feared that he’d be alone forever until he met Jessica Mays, who was recovering from the loss of her one true love.

Can these two broken souls find some common ground to make a relationship work? Will Tom discover that there really is life after divorce?

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~Excerpt~

Tom entered Boston Stoker a little before 3:30 the following afternoon and looked around. Jessica wasn’t there yet so he eased himself into a booth to wait for her. I didn’t think to get her phone number last night. I hope she shows.

A few minutes later the door opened and Jessica stepped in. She spied Tom and approached. He stood and smiled, looking her over. She had on a pair of cream-colored slacks and a lime green shirt with the hospital logo embroidered on the left side. She surprised Tom by giving him a hug before she sat.

Tom resumed his seat. “How was work?”

Jessica groaned and rolled her eyes. “Not worth talking about. I had to work the geriatric ward today and those old folks were cranky.”

A server came by to take their orders. When she departed, Jessica continued. “What have you been doing today?”

“Not much. I found an old movie on TV I hadn’t seen in a long time.”

“Which one?”

“The Big Sleep. Ever seen that one?”

“Is that the one with Bogart and Bacall?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Surprised you weren’t watching football.”

“I’d rather watch a movie. I’m not a real big sports fan.”

Their coffee and biscotti arrived. Jessica took a sip, then picked up one of the biscuits.

“I don’t meet many men who aren’t into sports.”

Tom took a drink. “Disappointed?”

“No, not really. I’m not much into it, either, except for NASCAR.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “That’s interesting. What about NASCAR fascinates you?”

“The skill of the drivers. What really hooked me was the first time they flashed a close-up of Dale Earnhardt.”

Tom laughed. “Is that the type you go for, the bad boy?”

She giggled. “Not necessarily.” She sipped her coffee. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What type do you go for?”

“You’ve got me stumped. I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Then let’s make it easy. How do you feel about busty bleached blondes?”

“I could take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

Her eyebrows arched. “That’s a first. What about tall women who could look you in the eye?”

“As long as they aren’t looking into my soul, they’re okay.”

“You’re turning into more of a puzzle than I figured.” She paused. “What about redheads?”

Tom grinned. “At the risk of getting slapped, I’ve always heard that red hair is indicative of intense passion. Is that true?”

A teasing smile played across her lips. “Maybe.”

“You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you?”

She patted his hand on the table. “Down, boy.”

Tom sipped his coffee. I’m thoroughly enjoying her company. She’s so easy to talk with. “What made you decide to go into nursing?”

“I helped take care of my grandmother before she died and when I saw how the nurses took such good care of her, I decided it was what I wanted to do.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Why did you choose the finance industry?”

“I’ve always been good at math and thought a business degree would ensure me a solid career. Nothing glamorous about it.”

“At least you’re honest. A lot of people wouldn’t admit that they only got into something for the money.” She took a drink. “So what’s the story behind your newfound bachelorhood?”

Tom looked at her for a moment. “Do you really want to talk about that?”

“Mm-hmm. I’d just like to know what pitfalls to watch out for.”

He laughed. “Okay, I’ll give you the Cliffnotes version. Things were going okay until one day I did the unthinkable.”

Jessica held up her hand. “Don’t tell me—you forgot your wedding anniversary or your ex-wife’s birthday.”

“Close. I remembered her birthday, I just forgot to take out a second mortgage to get the gift she expected.”

“You said expected.”

“That’s right. Why?”

“You didn’t say wanted. That tells a lot about a person’s character.”


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WARNING SHOT by Tim Smith

WARNING SHOT by Tim Smith

Nick Seven Series #3

A former spy and his lover get dragged into a conspiracy involving a political assassination.

Nick Seven and Felicia Hagens left the CIA for the laidback ease of the Florida Keys, leaving behind a life of intrigue. When Nick’s former mentor becomes part of a conspiracy with international repercussions, Nick breaks his self-imposed exile to stop him.

The case throws Nick and Felicia into a juggernaut of espionage, government cover-ups and political assassinations. Will they succeed in stopping the plan in time? Can their relationship survive another unwanted adventure?

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~Excerpt~

  “You just made the trip worthwhile.” He slipped his hand inside his black leather jacket and felt the butt of his Walther PPK out of habit, reassuring himself that it was still there. “How’s Verna?”

“Not bad. I won’t tell her you asked, though. You know how she feels about you.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to spark an argument,” Nick dryly replied. “I still don’t know what I did to make her dislike me so much.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t take much to incur a person’s wrath. You know that. She’s tired of all the moving around. Bombay two years ago, Morocco, then Germany, now stateside. She wants to settle down.”

“Where?”

“She keeps talking about Florida.”

“You gonna get out to keep her happy?”

Gadge looked at him. “With the world going to hell the way it is? You know better. She signed on for the full ride and knew it. Ten, twelve more good years, then maybe I’ll think about it.”

“A company man to the bone,” Nick stated. “Bet when you cut yourself you bleed red, white and blue.” He smiled wistfully. “Actually that isn’t a bad idea. I’ve been thinking about Florida myself.”

“I heard through the grapevine that you’d been talking about getting out.” Gadge hesitated. “Nicholas, I adored that wife of yours and I know you took her death hard, but you kept your graveside promise to avenge her murder. Is that why you want to get out?”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. This isn’t the kind of chatter I wanted to indulge in. I’ve been trying to move on. “It opened my eyes and made me rethink my priorities. Let’s focus on the job.”

Gadge chuckled. “Clickety-clack, clickety-clack. Another piece of the puzzle falls into place.”

Gadge quickly shifted his eyes to the brownstone as a man emerged and casually descended the front steps. He nudged Nick with his elbow. “There’s our pigeon.”

“How do you want to work this?”

“You take him on foot. I’ll cruise ahead and box him in.”

Nick quickly eased his tall lean frame out of the car, transferred his gun to his coat pocket, then zipped up his jacket. He shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed the street, taking a position a half-block behind the other man. The subject was in his thirties with brown hair in a shag cut, medium build and decked out in a plaid wool jacket. He kept his hands in his pockets as he strode at a fairly rapid clip down the street.

The man stopped at the next block as Gadge cruised past him. He gave the car a fleeting glance, then crossed the street. Nick maintained his distance while wondering where the man was going. The suspect slowed his pace as he saw the brake lights on Gadge’s car light up when he pulled to the curb. Nick slowed as well, thinking that something was about to go horribly wrong.

The man abruptly turned and pointed a Glock nine millimeter pistol at Nick. Nick stared back with a blank look while slowly withdrawing his gun from his pocket, trying not to spook him. The man glanced in the other direction at Gadge Harmon quickly approaching, then refocused his attention on Nick. He squeezed the trigger twice.

Before Nick could aim his gun he felt the sting of a bullet hitting him in his left arm. He returned fire without perfect aim, missing his target. Nick feinted to his left as the man fired once more. The shot found its way into Nick’s left side.

He crumbled onto the sidewalk, trying to break his fall with his other hand. Nick lay on the cold concrete and lapsed into semi-consciousness, his head swimming with pain. He heard the sound of heavy footsteps running toward him but couldn’t open his eyes. After a moment the feet ran in the same direction the first man had taken.

Nick pushed himself to his feet and breathed deeply. The pain seared in his side and arm. He looked down the block and saw Gadge Harmon chasing the shooter. Nick followed as quickly as he could on wobbly legs with his gun drawn.

Gadge entered an alley on his left with Nick following by a good twenty paces. When he got to the entrance Nick saw the man they were pursuing standing atop a garbage can at the rear of the alley, attempting to scale a fence.

Gadge fired a warning shot over the man’s head. “Halt!”

The man looked around, saw Gadge approaching and raised his hands. He climbed down from the can, tossed his weapon on the ground then stood with his hands in the air. Gadge stopped when he was within three feet, took careful aim and fired two shots in rapid succession. The bullets imbedded themselves in the man’s chest. He cried out, tumbled backwards against the garbage cans and let out a final rush of breath.

What the hell was he thinking? “Gadge!” Nick called out.

Gadge turned in surprise and looked at Nick leaning against the corner of the building, cradling his left arm and rapidly sucking in air. Gadge glanced at the dead man then back at Nick. His eyes were filled with confusion and his mouth was agape.

“I—uh—I…thought he killed you, Nicholas,” he quietly intoned.

Nick slumped against the building and slowly wagged his head. “Aw, Gadge,” he lamented. “No.”

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SNOWFLAKES AND PALM TREES by Tim Smith

SNOWFLAKES AND PALM TREES by Tim Smith

Two people celebrating Christmas in Key Largo are surprised by the sudden appearance of a former lover. What could possibly go wrong?

When Tom McCoy fled to The Florida Keys a year ago to get over a bad break-up, he never dreamed he’d meet beautiful Brooke Devlin, who was recovering from her own romantic mishap. They’ve returned to celebrate a magical year together—but when a former lover unexpectedly appears, there’s trouble in paradise.

Will Tom and Brooke get around this unwanted intrusion and have a happy holiday? What other surprises will they find under the Christmas tree?


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~Excerpt~

Brooke entered the room, wearing a large t-shirt that barely covered her butt. “Everything all right? You look tense.”

Tom put on the most relaxed air he could muster. “Everything’s fine.”

She slinked toward him then rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’m dressed down for the night but you’re way behind me.”

He caressed her shoulder. “Guess I should do something about that, huh?”

She kissed him. “Only if you want to show me how much you enjoy my company.”

Tom led her to the bedroom, pulled her close then kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth with his tongue. Brooke returned his heat by devouring his mouth while unbuttoning his shirt. Tom slipped his hand under her t-shirt to rub her back, then gently caressed her butt. Brooke slipped his shirt over his shoulders, then moved a hand to his groin, fondling him through his pants.

Tom quickly stripped off his clothes while Brooke pulled her shirt over her head. They reclined on the turned-down bed and resumed their kissing. Tom let his hand roam over her torso, rubbing her breasts then slipping between her legs to run his finger along her wet slit. Her scent was a libido-boosting blend of Giorgio Red and personal arousal. Tom’s **** hardened when Brooke stroked it.

Brooke rolled him onto his back, slithered down his body, then took his hard-on in her mouth, lovingly sucking and stroking him. Tom closed his eyes and moaned softly as Brooke moved her mouth up and down, causing him to swell. She teasingly ran her tongue around his swollen head, then swallowed his entire length again.

He pulled her leg toward him. Brooke changed her position to straddle him while keeping him captive in her mouth. She lowered her ***** to his mouth. Tom opened her with his fingers and began licking her. Her musky arousal added to his own lust as he flicked his tongue over her, lapping up her juices. Brooke sucked him with more fervor when Tom sucked her hard clit between his lips. He massaged it with his lips and tongue, feeling it swell until Brooke took in a rush of air and emitted a muffled cry of pleasure. After she came, Tom licked her again, sucking out her climax.

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NEVER LOOK BACK by Tim Smith

Today on our Cyber Launch Party Blog we are celebrating the release of NEVER LOOK BACK, a new Nick Seven Adventure from author Tim Smith and eXtasy Books.

NEVER LOOK BACK by Tim Smith

A former CIA spook and his lover are pulled into a deadly masquerade by a rogue agent from their past. Who will win?

Nick Seven and Felicia Hagens left the CIA to carve out an idyllic anonymous life in The Florida Keys. The last thing they wanted was to be used by their former employer as pawns in America’s war on terror.

Nick and Felicia navigate a complex maze of intrigue and double-crosses while dealing with a rogue agent from their past who has a score to settle. When Felicia becomes part of the scheme the stakes get higher and more personal.

Can Nick keep her out of harm’s way or will he finally be outwitted? Will Felicia stay with him or return to Barbados?

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~Excerpt~

Nick lay in bed trying to go to sleep, but after the evening’s events it wasn’t possible. He closed his eyes and slowly exhaled a relaxing breath. He opened his eyes when he felt Felicia’s hand gently running along his chest. He raised his head and looked over at her. Her eyes were open and she stared at him.

He sat up and leaned against the headboard. A wisp of moonlight shone through the open curtains and highlighted her soft brown eyes.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

She slowly shook her head while moving her hand down his torso. “Nothin’ wrong. I just don’t feel like sleepin’.”

“Want to talk about it?”

She scooted over then kissed him. “Don’t feel like talkin’, either.” She paused. “You saved me tonight—again.”

He put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. “You’re worth it.”

Her hand moved further south. “Seein’ you show your tough side makes me hot.”

She leaned in and kissed a light trail along his cheek while her fingers roamed the back of his neck. “I just feel so close to you,” she whispered. “When all hell broke loose you didn’t hesitate. You wanted to make sure I didn’t get hurt.”

Nick peered into her eyes. They gave off a soft glow in the dimness. He felt something inside, a warmth and a longing to bond with Felicia in the most intimate way, to make her a part of him. He gave her a deep kiss and felt her breasts moving against his chest and her hand fondling him into hardness.

“I’m feeling pretty close to you, too,” he said.

Felicia slithered down his body and took his hard-on into her mouth. She lovingly sucked him while her hand squeezed and stroked. The fingers of her other hand raked his chest. Nick moaned softly as Felicia got him fully hard. He wanted to pull her to him but knew this was her seduction. He reached down to play with her nipple, tweaking it between his fingers until it was hard and puckered. Felicia purred and sucked him harder and deeper, working her throat down his length. She teasingly ran the tip of her tongue along his swollen head, making him jerk and pulse.

Nick’s breathing rate accelerated. “I love it when you do that.” He opened his eyes and looked at Felicia’s head bobbing up and down, increasing his excitement.

“Felicia, I need you,” he panted.

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LIDO KEY by Tim Smith

LIDO KEY by Tim Smith
A Vic Fallon Mystery
She’s a young trophy widow involved in a bizarre sex scandal. He’s her former lover, a busted cop turned Private Investigator. Consider the possibilities.

Vic Fallon has worked on some strange cases since he left the Police force to become a Private Investigator, but when a former lover asks him to look into a bizarre blackmail demand, it’s one for his memoirs. Vic hasn’t seen Ariel Weston since his last trip to Siesta Key, Florida, three years earlier. The end of their affair wasn’t amicable, and Vic swore that the next time he saw Ariel he’d drown her with the nearest Piña Colada. When Ariel gets caught up in a potentially embarrassing sex scandal, she appeals to him for help. Vic reluctantly agrees but finds himself in a real quandary when he realizes they still have feelings for each other.
The case pulls Vic out of his northern Ohio comfort zone to the Sunshine State, where he crosses paths with a corrupt local cop, a famous writer with a taste for booze and women, and a sleazy strip club owner who knows more than he’s letting on. Throw in one very cute Latina who develops a crush on him and the puzzle becomes more complex.
Can Vic solve Ariel’s problem before the blackmailer ruins her life? Will Ariel convince Vic to give their failed relationship another chance?
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~Excerpt~

     Vic sat on a white plastic chair on the beach at his resort, watching the setting sun. People walking along the water’s edge were silhouetted by the mix of yellow, purple and blue while the evening tide lazily lapped ashore. After his encounters with Bronson and Broussard, Vic had spent the rest of the afternoon doing research on the Internet, but he found it difficult to focus. Part of me wants to solve this puzzle while another part isn’t in a hurry to go back home. Which one will win?

Vic smiled at the memory of their poolside romp the night before and found himself drawing comparisons to the previous times. I shouldn’t do that but it’s hard not to. Ariel still has it—looks, passion and more heat than a kiln. I almost wish she hadn’t dragged me into this. Almost.

He was startled by a familiar smoky voice over his shoulder.

“How did I know this is where I’d find you?”

Vic looked up at Ariel, dressed in a light blue sarong with a floral print. She held a silver bucket filled with long-necked green bottles and had a folded beach blanket draped over her arm. Vic looked her up and down.

“Slumming?” he asked.

Ariel laughed and held out her hand. Vic took it, stood, then walked with her toward the water. When they were within fifty feet of the incoming tide, Ariel spread the blanket on the sand. She set the bucket in the middle, then sat cross-legged and pulled her dress just over her knees. Vic joined her and took two of the Mojito wine coolers from the bucket. He opened them and handed one to Ariel.

“Just like old times,” he commented.

“Remember how we sat out here, staring into the night and talking about who knows what?”

“That who-knows-what covered a lot of things, as I recall.” He took a drink and placed his hand on Ariel’s knee. “What you told me last night. That was tough for you to admit, wasn’t it?”

Ariel smiled shyly and looked down. “Okay, you got me. Let’s talk about something else. What did you do today?”

Vic took a drink. “I ran into a friend of yours this afternoon.”

“Who?”

“A cop named Broussard.”

Ariel took a long swallow of her drink, then cradled the bottle in both hands while looking ahead. “Yeah, I know him.”

“What’s the story with that guy?”

“Former high school football jock who became a cop when he blew his knee and couldn’t get a college scholarship. Pretty good at his job, from what I hear.”

“Uh-huh,” Vic skeptically replied. “Ariel, I’ve been doing this long enough to know a peevish lover when I see one. Broussard’s more protective of you than I am of my mother. Try again.”

Ariel took a deep breath. “Eric Broussard was a mistake. One night before Hal died we had one of our knock-down drag-outs and I stormed out of the house. I went to The Dry Dock to drown my anger and there was Eric.”

“He give you a shoulder to cry on?”

“And a pillow to wake up on. I broke things off after a couple of weeks but he had trouble letting go. Since I became single he’s been sniffing around me like a bloodhound on a manhunt.”

“That explains the third degree he gave me. He can’t stand the idea of someone else sitting in his canoe.”

Ariel laughed and looked at him. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never a canoe.”

Vic smiled. “No offense intended.”

“None taken.” She took a long swallow. “So what’ve you been doing the last three years?”

“I spent the first few months trying to get over you.”

“Did you succeed?”

“Barely. After that I got on with my life. What about you?”

“The same. You may not believe this, but I really had a tough time getting you out of my system. You don’t know how many times I was tempted to pick up the phone and call you, to explain why I did what I did.”

“What stopped you?”

Ariel looked at him. “I figured you’d hang up on me. Was I right?”

Vic glanced down for a moment. “Maybe. Since we’re being up front, there were times I almost called you, too.”

“And?”

He looked up at her. “I was afraid of what I might say. I was pretty pissed off when I left here and even after time passed I didn’t know if I could be civil toward you. It’s also the reason I never came back here. I think I was afraid I’d run into you and say something I’d regret.”

“I knew you were a hard-ass but I never figured you for the vindictive type. But I think you not calling and telling me what a self-centered bitch I was backs up something I always liked about you.”

“What’s that?”

“You were always considerate of my feelings. The whole time we were together you didn’t try to control me, you were interested in what I had to say, and you treated me like a person instead of a one-night stand.”

Vic grinned in embarrassment. “Stop it. I treated you the same way I treat everyone.”

“And here I thought it was because I was special.”

Vic gazed dreamily at her. “You are special, Ariel. That’s why I was so attracted to you.”

She gave him a playful smile. “You mean it wasn’t because I was good in bed?”

“Okay, that didn’t hurt your attractiveness factor, but I realized I liked you for what you are.”

“And what’s that?”

Vic paused a moment. “Someone who’d been knocked around by life but didn’t let it get them down. You just got back on your feet and kept punching. It’s a quality I’ve always admired.”

“Thank you.” She drained her bottle and placed it in the bucket. “You want to know what really drew me to you?”

“What?”

“You were the first person I’d met in a long time who didn’t want something from me because I was loaded. That didn’t impress you and I was pleasantly surprised. What really did it, though, was the night we had an expensive dinner at Ophelia’s on The Bay and you insisted on paying the check, even though I had a tab there. That really told me something about you.”

Vic placed his hand on her knee and rubbed it. “It was worth it. That was the most romantic place I’d been to down here, and I was getting to share the evening with someone very special.” He laughed softly. “Remember the first time we went to the Mar-Vista on Longboat Key? You were meeting me there but the hostess wouldn’t let me wait at the bar because the reservation wasn’t in my name. She treated me like I was a party-crasher trying to get into a Miami Beach club.”

Ariel laughed. “Then when I showed up she almost lost her tan. Remember the look on her face when I asked her if she really needed her job?”

Vic’s laughter subsided. “Yeah, I do. That told me something about the pecking order down here. I guess money really does talk.” He took a swallow before continuing. “Knowing what I do about you, I still can’t see you getting along with that kind of attitude.”

“It’s all part of the little power games people think they have to play to impress everyone. Either you play along or you pick up your marbles and go home.” She reached over and ran her hand along his thigh. “But don’t ever change the way you think.”

She stretched out on the blanket, crossing her feet at the ankles. “What else did you do today?”

“I visited Derrick Bronson to see what light he could shed on things.”

“Did you catch him early enough in the day to get some coherent answers?”

“Yeah, but he couldn’t really tell me anything.”

“You know he bases most of his sleazy characters on people who live down here, don’t you?”

Vic looked at her with raised eyebrows. “No, I didn’t. Anyone ever get legal with him about it?”

“A few people tried but he’s always careful to change enough details so they’re more caricature than character. One of these times, he’s going to get careless and meet an end fitting enough for one of his villains.” Ariel faced Vic and pointed her index finger at him with her thumb in the air like a pistol. “Bang, between the eyes.” She held her finger straight up and blew imaginary smoke from the tip.

Vic laughed. “Okay, which book do you appear in?”

She gave him a shocked look. “You don’t remember the nymphomaniac axe-murderess from Nights Can be Deadly?”

“That was you?” Vic asked in mock surprise. “No wonder I liked that character.”

She leaned over and kissed him. Vic placed his hand under her mane of hair and massaged her neck while thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth. Ariel’s scent was natural and intoxicating, a bit of perfume mixing with her personal chemistry to arouse his senses and libido. The sound of the tide rushing onto the beach provided the perfect background music, bringing back memories of long-ago nights.

He pulled back slightly and peered into her eyes while playing with a strand of her hair. “You still know how to get to me.”

“That goes both ways. In fact, I’m going to let you in on a little secret— I don’t think anyone’s ever gotten to me quite like you do. Does that surprise you?”

“Yeah, it does. Why?”

“When we make love, you’re more interested in making me a part of it.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“A lot of guys make me feel like a spectator. You don’t.” She brushed his cheek. “To the victor go the spoils. Remember when I said that after we made love?”

“Uh-huh. Remember what I called you?”

She giggled. “Love Buns. I always thought it was cute.”

“Know why I called you that?” Ariel shook her head. Vic placed his hand on her ass and gave her a firm squeeze. “Because you have the cutest butt I’ve ever seen. It even looks good when you’re naked.”

She cupped his cheek. “Thank you. Want to take your canoe for a ride?”

“I don’t know, Captain. The water looks rough.”

“Take some Dramamine.” She kissed him again, then whispered in his ear. “Let me be your little plaything tonight. Anything you want to do. Just let your imagination run wild.”

“After last night, I don’t think there’s much imagination left.”

She ran her fingers over his brow. “Last night was make-up sex. Tonight it’s all about making love. You do remember the difference, don’t you?”

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MEMORIES DIE LAST by Tim Smith

MEMORIES DIE LAST by Tim Smith

A Nick Seven Book

A former CIA spook, the woman he always wanted but couldn’t have, and a nemesis from their past all come together in an explosive mix of intrigue and espionage.

What happens when your life is turned inside out by something from your past that won’t leave you alone? Former CIA operative Nick Seven finds out when his peaceful life in The Florida Keys is disrupted by the appearance of an old nemesis he thought was buried alongside the painful memory of a personal tragedy. Nick reluctantly gets back into the spy game to settle an old score and is pleasantly surprised to find himself paired with beautiful Felicia Hagens, a former co-worker from Barbados. Together they uncover a complex maze of intrigue, espionage and high-level government corruption. The assignment gets more complicated when they realize they have unrequited feelings for each other. Can Nick finally hit the elusive target and reclaim his personal corner of paradise? Will Felicia return to Barbados or stay with the rugged former spy she’s always had a secret thing for?

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~Excerpt~

She reached behind her, unfastened her bikini top then shrugged it off, giving her firm breasts their freedom. She stretched her arms back, pushing her chest forward slightly to give Nick the full view. “Gettin’ hot out here in the sun. Think it’s any cooler down below?”

Nick’s eyes lustily scanned her from top to bottom. “Why don’t we find out?”

He stood then followed her into the cabin. Gotta be this sea air.

When they reached the cabin Felicia continued to make herself comfortable by peeling off her bikini bottom and stretching out on the bed. She pulled one leg toward her torso while the other one stretched lazily in front of her. Nick pulled his shirt over his head then stripped out of his shorts and briefs.

“Hey, Sailor,” she teased. “Lookin’ for a good time?”

Nick lay next to her on the bed. “Sure. Know where I can find one?”

Felicia playfully smacked his arm. “That’s not settin’ the mood.”

“Maybe this will.”

Nick pulled Felicia close and kissed her while she ran her hands along his muscled torso. He moved one hand to her breast and played with her nipple until it was hard. Felicia drove her tongue into Nick’s mouth in response. After a few moments she moved her lips to his neck and nuzzled him.

“Mmm, you smell nice,” she whispered.

“So do you. Don’t ever change that perfume.”

Felicia laughed seductively. “That turn you on, Tough Guy?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Felicia slid down his body and wrapped her soft hand around his hardening cock. She held it straight up, then teasingly flicked her tongue over the tip, causing Nick’s cock to jerk and pulse. He looked down at her as she slowly, agonizingly, ran her tongue around his swollen head, not giving him the relief of taking him into her mouth. While she licked and teased him she stroked and squeezed his shaft with her hand, then ran her tongue down the length of his shaft then back up again. Nick’s pulse rate increased the longer she tortured him.

She put him out of his misery by taking him into her mouth, lovingly sucking him. Nick felt lightheaded from the passion Felicia was giving him. He heard her moan softly in satisfaction. She pulled her mouth upward and kissed the tip of his cock while stroking the shaft.

“I love doin’ that to you,” she whispered.


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THE BUNDLE by Tm Smith

THE BUNDLE - A Vic Fallon Mystery by Tim Smith

Vic Fallon had little use for the rich and famous when he was a police detective and his attitude hasn't changed since he was forced to turn in his badge. When pop singer Kimberly Daniels returns to her hometown of Cleveland, Ohio to promote her latest album, Vic reluctantly agrees to be her bodyguard as a favor for a friend. He isn't told that she has a death threat hanging over her head, with no shortage of suspects.

The set-up takes a bizarre twist when her stalker shows up and Vic uncovers a family secret Kimberly would like to keep hidden. Things get more complex when they develop a strong attraction for each other, in spite of their different lifestyles. Can Vic ensure Kimberly's safety until she returns to LA? Will Kimberly decide to ditch her glitzy celebrity life and stay with the rugged ex-cop she's fallen for?

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Excerpt:

Vic took off his coat, tossed it on the bed in his assigned bedroom then loosened his collar, removed his tie and contemptuously flung it onto the dresser. He slipped off his shoulder holster, hung it on the back of the chair at the desk and checked the safety on the Smith & Wesson .45. He took out the bottle of Passport scotch he’d brought with him, pouring some into a glass, followed by two ice cubes from the bucket.

He eased himself into the padded club chair at the small cocktail table, stretched his legs in front of him and exhaled a deep breath. He had returned to the suite at nine after grabbing dinner at John Q’s Steakhouse across the street, followed by a long walk around Playhouse Square to view the city after dark. He hadn’t seen Kimberly or Pasta when he returned, but heard the sound of her voice behind the closed door of the master bedroom. He had performed another cursory check of the suite before retiring to his quarters to unwind. A day of mingling with the fast and beautiful set left him wishing the job was over so he could return to his comfort zone.

He became aware of a presence and looked at the open doorway. Kimberly stood there, dressed in a pink velour jogging suit with her initials embroidered in red sequins on the left breast. She wore no shoes or socks. Her hair carelessly outlined her face, adding a degree of sexiness. Vic noted that the zipper on her top was halfway down, and she wasn’t wearing a bra. She offered a tentative smile that still retained a hint of shyness.

“Do you always drink alone or would you mind some company?” she asked in a soft, husky voice.

Vic set another glass on the table and pushed the bottle toward her. She settled into the chair across from him, poured some Scotch into her glass and added ice. She took a long swallow then set the glass on the table.

“Won’t Pasta object to you drinking with the hired help?” Vic asked.

“Right about now, Pasta’s cruising the bars, looking for a cock to wrap his lips around. Won’t see him until morning.”

Vic laughed softly. “That answers one question I had.”

Kimberly gave him a look of surprise. “You thought Pasta and I were…?”

“Uh-huh.”

She laughed at the notion. “I wouldn’t pass the physical, but you’d better be careful.”

“I’ll sleep with my gun under my pillow.”

Kimberly took another sip and looked at Vic with a sultry glow. “You’re not what I expected. When Evan said he retained an ex-cop to look after me I thought you’d be older, with a pot belly and no hair.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I’m not disappointed.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, held it for a moment then slowly exhaled. “It feels good to be back home.”

Vic sipped his drink then cradled his glass while looking at her, appreciating her beauty. He mentally compared what he now viewed in person to what he’d seen in the press and on the occasional TV show. The cameras didn’t lie. Kimberly Daniels was a beautiful woman. He recalled a sexy lingerie spread she’d done in a men’s magazine the year before and wondered if those photos were accurate as well.

“Are you really the sentimental type or was this trip a publicity stunt?”

Kimberly opened her eyes and laughed softly. “I could tell you weren’t too enthused about accepting this job.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I can read people pretty well.” She laughed again. “But I loved the way you stood your ground with Pasta. He’s not used to people talking back to him.”

“I’ll apologize to him over breakfast. Just what is his function?”

Kimberly downed the last of her drink and poured another. “He’s my personal assistant. I’d be lost without him.” She took a small sip. “So what’s my celebrity ass worth these days, bodyguard-wise?”

Vic eyed her for a moment. “Does it really matter?”

She shrugged. “Guess not, as long as you’re not complaining.”

“If I have any complaints I’ll let you know.” Vic refreshed his drink and changed the subject to something more pleasant. “I used to watch you on a local TV show when you still used your real name. You sang a few of the classic love songs and put me in mind of Sarah Vaughn. I really got hooked on the way you sang It Had to Be You. That’s always been one of my favorites and you nailed it.”

Kimberly smiled warmly at him. “Thank you. I love those songs. I grew up listening to them and memorized all the words.”

“Why not cut an album of standards instead of pop?”

“I wanted to with this new one, but my handlers wouldn’t let me. They all said the same thing. Give the public what they’ve come to expect. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Maybe we’ll do that project next year.” She smirked. “I hate being handled.”

“Why put up with it?”

“It’s part of the game and you have to play by the rules. Don’t you have rules to play by?”

“Only the ones I make up. Why did you change your name when you got out of here?”

“The TV producer in L.A. who discovered me thought Callie Buchovic was too ethnic and suggested I change it to something sexier. Probably afraid people would expect me to play an accordion and sing Who Stole the Kishka?” She tucked a leg under her on the chair and appeared comfortable. “So tell me about yourself.”

“There isn’t much to tell. I used to be a detective with the Sandusky P.D., got shot in the line of duty a few years ago, still have trouble with my leg because of it and I take the occasional job to keep from getting bored. Other than that, I live on the lake in Sandusky, fish, drink too much and generally do whatever the hell pleases me. End of story.”

Kimberly laughed. “I know that isn’t the whole story. Evan told me all about you.”

Vic took a drink. Note to self: go to L.A. and kill the little bastard. “What did I leave out?”

“That you live in one of his vacation homes he uses as a tax write-off, you used to be married but it didn’t work out and you two roomed together in college. Before you got shot saving your partner’s life you were being investigated for beating the shit out of someone you arrested. Evan came to your rescue when they wanted to press charges.”

Addendum to the note: book the flight tomorrow. “Guess we all live in a fishbowl. How did you go from being Callie Buchovic, local singer, to Kimberly Daniels, big time recording star and reputed diva?”

She arched her eyebrows. “Reputed? I’d better talk to my publicist. Let’s see…after I was on that local show you mentioned I got a call from a network scout for the reality show So You Think You Can Sing? I won the national competition and was contacted by a record producer, then I had to get an agent, then an entourage and then my life snowballed into something I lost control of.”

Vic picked up on the indifferent tone in her voice. He was actually relieved to discover that the whole tabloid enfant terrible thing was all hype. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

She looked into her glass and slowly swirled the contents before answering. “To be honest, there are times when I wish I was still a blue collar girl from Parma, Ohio. Do you ever get to Los Angeles?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Why not?”

“Too many people moving too fast. I like my life a little more low-key. Hell, this is the first time I’ve been to downtown Cleveland in a couple of years.”

She smiled wistfully. “Sometimes I miss being here. Life was simpler then. Not so many people trying to grab a piece of me.”

Vic looked at her again but in a different light. Beneath the surface this wasn’t some grande dame commanding attention, but an angelfish navigating in a sea of sharks. “I don’t really keep up with these things, but wasn’t there something serious going between you and that actor, Justin Truax?”

Kimberly laughed. “Only in his publicist’s imagination.” She took another drink. “He escorted me to a music awards show and suddenly we were an item. There’s a lesson for you: in Hollywood, be careful who you’re seen having dinner with. The press will have you married off or pregnant by the early edition.” She smiled slyly at Vic. “Were you asking about my availability for a reason?”

“Nothing more than idle curiosity.”

“Sure,” she skeptically replied. She drank the last of her Scotch and poured another slug. “Ever have any regrets in your life?”

“A few.”

“Such as?”

“Not hanging onto the gal who got away, picking the wrong lotto numbers, making the career choice I did. That’s about it.”

After taking another sip, Kimberly set her glass on the table. She looked at Vic with a silly expression on her face, leading him to believe she had probably had a few too many. She reached over, took hold of his hand and turned his palm upward. She looked into his eyes with a sultry gaze and lightly ran her fingertip along his palm.

“Ever regret never having made love to a famous singer?” she asked.

“What makes you think I haven’t?” he countered.

“Touché.” She released his hand, sucked down the last of her drink and suppressed a hiccup. “So tell me something, Vic: why should Pasta have all the fun tonight?”

Vic set his glass on the table and stood up. “Maybe we should discuss this when you’re not so… tired.”

Kimberly gave a wicked chuckle. “Wow, a gentleman. Don’t meet many of those where I live.”

Vic placed his hand on her elbow and gently prompted her to her feet. “Yeah, I get all Sir Galahad when I see a lady in distress. Come on.”

He escorted her to her room down the hall. When they arrived Kimberly abruptly turned, took his face in her hands and kissed him. Vic put his hands on her shoulders out of reflex, enjoying the kiss. He got a whiff of her perfume, but couldn’t place it. Whatever it was, it mixed perfectly with her body chemistry.

Kimberly looked up at him and smiled. “See you in the morning?”

“I’ll be here.”

He walked back to his room. Note to self: lock the door!

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THE VENDETTA FACTOR by Tim Smith

THE VENDETTA FACTOR

Former CIA spook Nick Seven doesn't realize what he's up against when he takes on the mob in this suspenseful, quirky adventure by Tim Smith.

When former CIA agent Nick Seven did a favor for his friend, gambler Rock Moretti, he didn't know that his innocent gesture would place him in the middle of a turf war between two crime families, each fighting for control of the lucrative Miami market. Nick's peaceful life in the Florida Keys becomes a battle of wills as he must call on his instincts to outwit both Dons, as well as a Justice Department prosecutor with a personal agenda. When Nick becomes the target of a hired assassin, he realizes that he has his own vendetta and thirst for revenge.

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“Vendetta Factor” excerpt


It was nearly midnight on Key Largo and the continuous party atmosphere showed no signs of slowing down. The evening sea breeze had cooled off the temperature somewhat as waves of deep blue water from the Gulf of Mexico rhythmically lapped up on the shore, leaving traces of white foam behind. Silent flashes of heat lightning several miles away lit up the sky, backlighting a handful of gray clouds while the red, blue and yellow neon lights of Cricket’s Yacht Club reflected on the water’s rippling surface at the inlet, offset by the steady flashing red light of a nearby conning tower. A lone white Flamingo stood in the shallow water near the outside deck, oblivious to the frivolity surrounding him while patiently waiting for any morsels of food that might come his way.

People entered the club to get a drink and enjoy the jazz being played by the quartet in the lounge while the real action took place in a private dining room. An amber haze of cigarette and cigar smoke hung in the room like a cloud. Two men sat at a green felt-topped table, each with a dwindling stack of poker chips in front of them while a dozen observers stood around, watching the action and the eight thousand dollars in the center of the table. The two players each held five cards and looked intently at each other, knowing that one of them would soon walk away from the table richer than when they had sat down two hours earlier.

Rock Moretti was hunched forward, both meaty forearms resting on the edge of the table. He was in his shirtsleeves, his silk paisley tie was loosened, and matching suspenders held up his ample trousers. His trademark Cuban cigar was wedged tightly in the corner of his mouth as he aggressively, impatiently puffed it.

Nick Seven, dressed in khaki slacks, a black cotton shirt with a palm tree print and tan loafers with no socks, leisurely rested his tall lean frame in his Captain’s chair while casually drawing a puff of smoke from one of Rock’s illegal imports. He stared at Moretti through lowered eyelids, a slight non-committal smile adorning his tanned face, waiting for his opponent to make a decision.
“Raise ya a thousand,” Moretti growled, tossing ten one-hundred dollar chips into the pot.

Nick paused a moment, never breaking eye contact as he removed the cigar from his mouth, exhaled a large billow of bluish-gray smoke then slowly rolled the cigar between his thumb and forefinger. “Call,” he said, matching the bet.

“Showtime, Nicky. Whattaya got?”

Nick hesitated again, the semi-smirk not leaving his face. “Two pair.”

Moretti chuckled softly as he laid his cards on the table. “Full house. Jacks over tens.” He continued chuckling in satisfaction as he began to rake in his winnings.

“Excuse me, Rock,” Nick interrupted. Moretti stopped and looked at Nick as he began laying his cards on the table one at a time. “When I said two pair, I meant a pair of red Kings and a pair of black Kings,” Nick said as he flipped the Ace of Hearts kicker onto the table.

The spectators began laughing softly as Moretti slumped back in his chair, his eyes taking on a look that would slice through steel. He glared at Nick for a moment before a smile began to dimple his pudgy face as he slowly nodded his head in appreciation. “Lucky Nick,” he said.

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MISTLETOE AND PALM TREES by Tim Smith

MISTLETOE AND PALM TREES by Tim Smith

Christmas in Key Largo, Florida...palm trees, bright blue waters, tropical temperatures and two people feeling the sting of a bad break-up. When Tom McCoy fled there to forget his latest romantic debacle, the last person he expected to meet was beautiful Brooke Devlin, who is trying to heal from a mishap of her own. Their mutual attraction is strong, but is it real or just rebound? Will their holiday affair last beyond checkout time, or become the stuff Spring breaks are made of?

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Excerpt:

They continued eating in silence for a few minutes. Tom tried to not let his eyes wander over her upper chest but it was difficult to resist, since Brooke had left the top three buttons on her top undone. He felt the almost unwelcome arousal beginning again and had to force his mind in a different direction. The evening’s young and we’re just getting to know each other. Don’t get any premature ideas.

“I had the strangest feeling today,” Brooke began, “going sightseeing by myself. This is the first time I’ve ever taken a long vacation alone.”

Tom thought of his own feelings since he arrived the day before. “Kind of an empty feeling, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It was almost like it didn’t feel right, discovering new things and not having anyone to share it with. Kinda strange.”

“Why didn’t you bring a friend with you?”

“All of them had plans or were getting ready for the holidays.”

“For what it’s worth, I think it was pretty gutsy of you to come by yourself. Shows a lot of character strength.”

Brooke glanced down and smiled shyly. “Thank you. Does it feel strange for you, being here alone?”

“Yeah, it does. I haven’t taken a long trip by myself in years and I’ve been feeling the same things.”

Her eyes took on a sultry look accompanied by a small smile. “So what’s a lonely girl to do with herself for a whole week in a tropical paradise?”

“Find an equally lonely guy to bum around with.”

“Where would I find such a guy?”

“They’re all over the place.”

“Maybe I should run an ad.” She placed her hand on his on top of the table. “Unless you’d like to apply for the job.”

“I’d be happy to provide references.”

She gave him a playful look, one that made her green eyes twinkle. “What are your qualifications?’

“Let’s see: I’m here, I have no plans, and I find you very attractive.”

“What’s your availability?”

“At your service, twenty-four-seven.”

Her look turned sly. “Does that include nights?”

“Of course.”

She laughed. “You’re hired. How soon can you start?”

He squeezed her hand. “I just gave notice on my last job.”

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NEVER TRUST YOUR DREAMS by Tim Smith

NEVER TRUST YOUR DREAMS

The covert intelligence community got more than they bargained for when they crossed Nick Seven in this romantic topical thriller by Tim Smith.

Nick Seven left the CIA for the tranquility of the Florida Keys, thinking he'd found an idyllic life in paradise with Felicia, his dream lover from Barbados, and that his life of intrigue was once again in the past. The last thing he wanted was to be used by his former employers as an unwilling pawn in America's war on terror.

As Nick and Felicia maneuver through a complex maze of treason, assassination and government corruption, they cross paths with a rogue agent with a personal agenda, a mentally unstable killer, and a wealthy industrialist with ties to several terrorist organizations. When Nick is set up as the fall guy for a murder he didn't commit, and Felicia becomes part of the agency's scheme, the stakes become higher and more personal. Nick's quest to get out from under the CIA's thumb and regain control of his life forces him to realize that what dreams may hold, nightmares also share.

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“Never Trust Your Dreams” excerpt:

Nick went home to pick up Felicia then proceeded to Crickett’s. The lunch crowd looked good, judging from the nearly full parking lot. He parked in his reserved spot and went inside, stopping to press the flesh with some of the usual business crowd that stopped in for their three-Martini lunch. Felicia went behind the bar and started talking to Raul.

Going to his office Nick opened the door but stopped in surprise as he saw J. P. Overman standing before him, dressed in his customary tailor-made suit. Overman had the countenance of a well-sculpted statue that was adorned with a perpetual scowl. He also possessed all the warmth and wit of a cigar store Indian, but not as much personality. His cold steel-gray eyes glared at Nick and when he spoke, his voice took on a grandiose tone of inflated self-importance.

“How did you get in here?” Nick demanded.

“You stood me up,” Overman angrily replied, ignoring the question. “I told you to be at my home at ten o’clock this morning. I don’t like it when people don’t do as they’re told.”

“And I don’t like being ordered around by some two-bit Caeser in overpriced threads,” Nick retorted.

“Let’s cut the crap,” Overman curtly replied. “You killed my daughter, and you’re going to hang for it.”

“Why would I kill your daughter?”

“Greed. You wanted to get your slimy hands on my money and when she cut you off, you got angry.”

Nick breezed past Overman to walk behind the desk, sat down in the swivel chair, leaned back and swung his legs onto the corner before lighting a cigarette. Overman made a face.

“Don’t smoke in my presence,” he ordered.

Nick took another deep drag and slowly blew a stream of smoke in Overman’s direction, giving him a look of amusement laced with boredom. “You forgot something, J.P. It was my decision to stop seeing Kristine. And I don’t need your money, or the bullshit that comes with it.”

“That’s Mr. Overman to you,” he angrily snapped.

Nick chuckled softly. “Whatever you say, J.P.”

Overman smirked at Nick. “Look at you,” he continued with a tone of total disgust. “You’re a worthless piece of slime. You killed people for a living and you do business with gangsters and street scum.”

“And I suppose your slate’s clean?” Nick countered. “That thousand dollar suit won’t hide the dirt. How did you really amass all that wealth, J.P.?”

“Don’t think you can squirm out of this by changing the subject, you bloodthirsty bastard,” he angrily continued, his voice rising along with his blood pressure. “You cast my daughter aside so you could shack up with some barefoot wetback then killed her so she wouldn’t interfere with your lecherous lifestyle.”

Nick narrowed his eyes into a squint and looked hard at the tycoon. “You’re coming dangerously close to pissing me off, J.P. I’m a fair man, so here’s my offer: you can take yourself and your racism the hell out of here under your own steam, or I can help you.”

Overman fumed, his face tensing up. “All right, Seven, I’ll leave. But you haven’t heard the end of this.”

“I wasn’t listening to the beginning of it,” Nick quipped.

Overman turned and rapidly walked out of the office, nearly knocking Felicia over on the way, and emphasized his exit by slamming the door behind him.

“Who was that?” Felicia asked.

“That was the one and only J.P. Overman, father of the deceased.”

“He gonna make trouble?”

Nick stared at the closed door for a moment. “Only if I let him.”

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