Oh my, I’m thrilled to have the illustrious, incomparable and totally cool Vonnie Davis back again! đ
Calisa, Iâm thrilled to be back on the ranch. Today I want to talk about a FREEBIE on Amazon this week. Free, ya gotta love it!
Oh, I love free, too! Tell us about the book, V. What sub-genre is it?
This is book two of my romantic suspense trilogy and is entitled RAIN IS A LOVE SONG. Each of these books begin in Paris and then move to other locales. This book takes place in Paris, Budapest and Asheville, North Carolina. Each book in the series involves a different romantic couple, yet all are fighting or running from the same band of terroristsâThe Red Hand.
I would love to visit Paris. I know youâve been. Can you see my green? Why choose this city for the series?
The City of Light is my favorite place in the whole world next to wherever my six grandchildren are. You know how that is, Calisa. Nothing measures up to our grandkids. In my heart I feel they are Godâs way of showing us the world needs to go onâand we need to protect Mother Earth for their sakes.
Oh, I so agree. I keep threatening to get the heck out of Oklahoma with the tornadoes, but the kids are here⊠I know what would be fun! Tell me three facts about your grandchildren.
Three? ButâŠbut there are so many things to share⊠Okay. Three, it is. Josh, the second to the oldest of my grandchildren, recently returned safely from serving in Afghanistan. Eleni, my oldest granddaughter, is a freshman in college and majoring in psychologyâso she can figure out her grandma, no doubt. Ryan, my scholar-athlete, can do square roots in his head. And although Lauren was born with only one hand, she is an excellent swimmer. Yes, I know thatâs more than three, but Iâm a romance writer not a mathematician. <cheesy grandma grin>
I know. I could never stop at just three either. Letâs try again. Tell us your three favorite movies of all time.
Because I love conspiracy theories, Iâd have to say âJFK.â Another favorite is âThe Great Debatersâ with Denzel Washington. All of the Bourne movies because thereâs the underlying thread of conspiracy and political intrigue. And since Iâm a James Bond nut, all of the 007 flilms. Oops, I almost forgot my favorite romance, âPretty Woman.â Oh, and âThe Blues Brothersâ just because itâs so dumb, yet full of music I love.
I am so shaking my head at you. You killed the three with Bond alone. Iâm giving you one more try with this counting business.
Tell us three facts each about your hero and heroine in this romantic suspense book. Three! In bullet form, so we can see youâre counting properly.
Why, Calisa, you act as if I canât count. Iâll gladly do whatever you say. This is your ranch, after all. <bats eyes demurely>
Uh-huh *rolls eyes* Youâre not foolinâ anyone. Start counting. <hides cheesy grin>
- Jean-Luc LeFevre, with a father from Paris and a mother from Budapest, is an agent with the French counterterrorism unit and is also an ex-Maritime Commando, the French equivalent of our SEALS.
- He enjoys books on history, seeing to the safety of those he cares about and black lace on his women, of which there have been many until he meets an annoying American woman whom he finds too aggressive and damn annoying.
- Working undercover is his forte (pun intended), yet he financially supports an orphanage in Budapest because of his fondness for children and to atone for his sisterâs abduction while he was supposed to be watching her.
~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~
- Gwen Morningstar lost her husband, her best friend since childhood, while he served in Iraq when their daughter, Rhiannon, was only two.
- A control freak, Gwen is a crime scene photographer for the North Carolina State Police and also takes classes in things like karate, plumbing, car maintenance and pole dancing.
- Her sister Alysonâheroine in book one of the seriesâlives in Paris, so when Gwen visits she sees Jean-Luc, a man she takes a perverse pleasure in picking on just to see the tick in his eye worsen.
Didnât think I could do it, did you?
So…we’re not counting that extra little tidbit you sneaked in? Yeah, thatâs right. I noticed how you slipped her added little fact in Jean-Lucâs three⊠Really, just check out the second part of #2.
Iâm afraid to ask if you brought along an excerpt.
Of course I did. Iâm afraid itâs kinda long thoughâŠbut I wanted to share the opening scene.

It wasnât the hardened man who eased his motorcycle to the curb that snagged Gwen Morningstarâs attention. Nor was it the wide spread of his shoulders or the way his black jeans hugged his muscled thighs like a pair of loverâs hands. For sure, it wasnât the long scar on his right cheek or the small silver cross that dangled from his ear. No, it was his pristine-white angel wings that dragged on the pavement.
Odd that Parisians hurried past without so much as a second glance. As if seeing a mountain of a man riding a Harley with angel wings flowing down his back was as common as citizens carrying unwrapped crusty loaves of bread in their hands. No one gawked as their feet tattooed a staccato beat on the busy pavements of the City of Light. Few things fazed Parisians, it seemed.
âMommy, look, itâs Jean-Luc.â Her daughter, Rhiannon, breathed in childhood hero worship before she exploded from her sidewalk cafĂ© chair and rushed toward the man in angel wings.
âIâm not quite sure how I feel about her attraction to him.â Gwen watched over the rim of her demitasse, sipping the espressoâs strong brew and inhaling the richness of its aroma. Jean-Luc LeFevre scooped Rhiannon into his arms and slowly circled, laughing that deep rich laugh Gwen so enjoyed. God, the man was glorious decked out in perilous black and angelic feathers.
âWhy? Youâre certainly attracted.â Her sister, Alyson, shifted in her chair, her hand over her swollen abdomen. âYou date him each time you come to Paris.â
âYes, and we always end up rubbing each other the wrong way.â Gwen set her cup on the saucer. âRhiannon wants a father more than anything for her sixth birthday next month.â She expelled a long sigh. âIâm afraid sheâs fostering hopes. I donât like the idea of her being disappointed.â
âArenât you fostering hopes?â Her sister laid her hand over Gwenâs and smiled her soft smile. âI see how you look at him.â
Jean-Luc removed his feathered wings, and evidenced by Rhiannonâs bubbling excitement, he was going to let her try them on. Gwen tugged her camera from her bulky shoulder bag at her feet to snap pictures of her daughter in angel wingsânot that her daughter wasnât already an angel with her halo of blonde curls and sweet personality.
âHopes?â She adjusted the shutter speed on her old camera and shook her head. âNo. I have no illusions where heâs concerned. This is my third trip to Paris to see you, and he gets more abrupt toward me with each visit.â
Alyson gazed at the man for a second. âHeâs never been anything but polite toward me.â
âYeah, well, not to me. Tell that husband of yours he needs friendlier agents working under him.â She pressed the Nikon to her eye and snapped a few shots of Rhiannon.
âYet you keep flirting in that bodacious way you have. Maybe if you toned it down a notch, heâd relax around you more.â
âCanât do it. I enjoy rattling his he-man cage too much. He gets that twitch in his eye. Makes him twice as appealing.â She winked at Alyson. âPersonally, my sister-the-matchmaker, I think youâre the one harboring hopes. You want Daddy married to your widowed mother-in-law and me married to Jean-Luc. One heck of a stretch since the man hasnât spoken to me since we went dancing a two nights ago. Besides our lives are back in the States. My job. Rhiannonâs school. Our home.â
 âMommy! Mommy, look, Iâm an angel.â Gwenâs attention pivoted to her daughter.
âIndeed you are, sugar pie.â She centered her angelic child in the frame and adjusted the lens before she snapped more shots while her daughter preened and turned, glowing that effervescent radiance her Rhiannon possessed. How nice to take pictures of living beings and beautiful surroundings instead of the horrific scenes she recorded as a crime scene photographer.
If only that white van wasnât parked there, she could get the unusual architecture of the Pompidou Museum in the background. Still, with her trained eye, she knew the pictures would be enchantingâan excited child, a pair of huge angel wings and a smiling government agent. If only heâd aim one of those smiles at me. Once, just once.
âYouâre mumbling again.â Alyson shot her a gotcha look and laughed. Goodness, had she expressed her wish out loud?
After Jean-Luc reattached his wings and approached their table, he knelt in front of Alyson. âHow are you feeling?â His large hands wrapped around her sisterâs baby bump. âHowâs my goddaughter today?â
Lord, just the sound of his deep voice and thick French accent made her stomach do twitchy things. Of course, he would pointedly ignore herâthe jerk. Heâd make over Rhiannon, Alyson and the baby, but not one word for her. She had a hunch as to why, too. She scared him. This was a man used to doing the chasing, not being chased. Not that she was determined in her pursuit, but she did enjoy his discomfort at her flirting.
She raised her demitasse again and motioned to him with it. âSo, why the wings, handsome? Doing your impersonation of a Hellâs Angel?â
Jean-Luc blinked twice as he regarded her with cold grey eyes. The thin scar that ran from his cheek to his jaw only added to the fierceness of this austere man. Red slowly crept up his thick neck. His eye twitched, which pleased her.
âWhen one is undercover, one makes himself a part of his surroundings.â He gave that arrogant French shrug Parisian men used as if it were a part of their DNA. âHere in the land of the avant-garde, anything shocking works.â Then, as if to indicate he was through with her, he looked at Alyson once more. âWhereâs Niko?â
âHe went for tickets to the museum so I wouldnât have to stand in line. Oh, here he comes now.â
Jean-Luc stood and turned. Somehow the angel wings running the length of his back to his calves made him look two degrees more lethal, which perplexed Gwen. What a strange paradox he was. Muscles and macho attitude blended with a fondness for children.
Alyson was right; she was definitely attracted. Wasted dreams where he was concerned. Another week and their trip would be over. She, Rhiannon and her father would return to the States.
Rhiannon sidled up to Jean-Luc and leaned against him. His arm wrapped around her narrow shoulders; a natural move on his part, but another endearing one for Rhiannon who glanced up at him with worshipful eyes. Maybe she needed to squelch her desires for this man and focus on keeping an emotionally safe distance between her daughter and him.
âRhiannon, come sit by Mommy and eat the rest of your pastry.â The girl reluctantly obeyed.
âProblems?â Niko, Jean-Lucâs immediate supervisor at the French counterterrorism unit, asked before he bent to kiss his wifeâs upturned face.
âYeah, we need to talk. I learned some things from the man I met at that cafĂ© off Place Pigalle.â
Niko nodded. âYouâve got five minutes, and then Iâm taking my ladies to the museum.â The two men walked toward a quieter area down the street.
Gwenâs gaze followed them, their conversation obviously intense by their body posture. They certainly made the testosterone level in this artsy neighborhood rise, especially Jean-Lucâs very masculine bearing. Even those wings couldnât detract from the manâs sexual aura.
âYouâre drooling.â Alyson reached across the table and dabbed at Gwenâs chin.
âOh, I am not.â She batted at Alysonâs hand, and both of them laughed. âOh, honey, I miss you so much. Why did you have to fall in love with a Frenchman and move here?â
âFifi! Fifi, come back! Little girl, grab his leash, please.â A frantic dog owner ran toward them, pointing to her runaway poodle.
Rhiannon scampered toward the dog, making clicking noises with her tongue to attract the dogâs attention just before snatching its leash.
Gwen tensed. Something was off. How did this woman know her daughter spoke English and not French? True, many Europeans spoke English, but she had this ominous feeling. Motherâs intuition.
âRhiannon, stop. Come back.â She stood, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
âOh, merci beaucoup!â The dogâs owner stopped beside the van, one hand on it to steady herself and her other pressed to her chest, as if catching her breath. âYou are a dear child. Could you bring her to me, please? Iâm so out of breath.â
She didnât sound out of breath.
A chill sprinted down her spine and Gwen started to run, intent on reaching her daughter. âRhiannon, stop!â In her haste, her foot got tangled in the strap of her bag and she tripped. Air whooshed out of her when she hit the sidewalk. She scraped her chin and bit her tongue. Her eyes watered in response.
To her horror, the side door of the white van flew open. Outstretched hands like tentacles from the vehicleâs dark interior grasped her daughter and yanked her inside.
âMommy!â Her childâs wail of fear tore at her soul.
Bile rose in Gwenâs throat. My God, this canât be happening. âNo! Stop!â Panic, searing hot, yet bitter cold, tornadoed through her system. Rhiannon!
Alyson screamed for Niko.
Gwen scrambled to untangle her foot from her bag. âNo! Not my daughter! Stop them! Theyâve taken my child!â She flung the offending bag aside and dashed for the van as it sped away. The vehicle took aim at Jean-Lucâs motorcycle and crushed its back wheel in the process, then careened into the street.
Heavy footsteps pounded behind her. A blur of white feathers sprinted by. The vehicle, trying to weave through traffic on the two-lane street, slowed. Jean-Lucâs long legs ate up the distance. He leapt onto the back bumper and scrambled for the top. The van spun around the corner with an avenging angel clinging to its roof.
* * *
THIS IS A FREE DOWNLOAD ON AMAZON UNTIL SATURDAY. DONâT MISS OUT!!! HEREâS THE LINK: http://www.amazon.com/Rain-Love-Song-Conspiracy-ebook/dp/B00BK9QV3K/ref=pd_rhf_se_p_t_1_NMZE
You brought an excellent selection, Vonnie. I forgive all the others! And you brought Niko back too, canât go wrong with that! đ Thanks for hanging and entertaining (as is your perfect style!) and I canât wait to get my copy!