Enter to win a print copy of Troublemaker
By: Linda Howard
Releasing
December 27, 2016
Avon
In Troublemaker by Linda Howard, being a government operative is dangerous work, but being ambushed and almost killed has Morgan Yancy needing to rely on others to get him back into tip-top shape. When his supervisor organizes for him to lay low at the one place no one expects the man to send him to, Morgan comes face-to-face with the one woman that could change his mind about relationships, if she's willing to give him a chance.
Isabeau 'Bo' Maran can hardly blame Morgan for showing up on her doorstep, expecting for her to accept the fact that he's come to stay with her to recuperate from the injuries he sustained when someone ambushed and almost killed him. Letting Morgan into her home isn't easy, because it's hard for her to trust, but for all his secrets and the dangerous aura he exudes, she's intrigued. Together, can they discover who tried to kill him before they try again?
Romantic suspense -- I believe -- is one of the best genres, and Ms. Howard has penned a really good one in this book, which starts off slow but after what happens to Morgan and then the various incidents that put the heroine in danger, it was engaging, fast-paced and a story that had me determined to discover answers to the questions that continued to surface. Will Morgan recover fully from his injuries? Will Bo be able to help Morgan figure out why someone tried to kill him? Will something happen to one of the main characters when the bad guys finally discover where Morgan is hiding out at?
As for the dialogue, it was intense due to the main characters back stories. Bo doesn't trust men and it isn't easy for her to give Morgan a chance, because he has the ability to hurt her not only physically but emotionally as well. Since the more she gets to know him, the more she could see herself becoming attached. However, there were some light-hearted moments through this story that had me smiling. Bo's dog is a real hoot the way she can understand human speech and Morgan's reaction to her made me like the hero even more, as he couldn't quite believe she was so intelligent, and yet, the dog proved him wrong.
I really liked Bo. She was a strong and brave heroine that would do anything for her friends and those that needed her help. It wasn't always easy having to deal with the town folk, especially with what was happening with a couple on the verge of divorce, but she managed by standing by her principles. By never giving up on what she believed was the right thing to do for everyone involved. Also, I could understand why she fought her attraction to Morgan. She's been hurt before and doesn't want to go through that again. However, the hero doesn't give up on her. The way he gives her time and space, so she comes to her own conclusion about what should happen between them had me cheering for this couple. Bo needed Morgan just as much as he needed her, and eventually, their strong chemistry spilled over onto the pages nicely.
While Morgan, he's a real fighter. It seemed he could have easily given up on wanting to get better, because he'd barely survived, and yet, he fought hard to regain his old self. It was a real challenge the way he pushed himself and was a little dispirited by not achieving what he was hoping to accomplish the first time around, but he didn't give up because he knew he didn't only have himself to protect but he also had to keep Bo safe.
Overall, Ms. Howard has penned a really good read that encompasses a good dose of romance and suspense to keep me as a reader entertained from start to finish, although there wasn't as much suspense as I thought there would be. Really, I thought the main characters would have had to defend themselves at least one more time from the people wanting to hurt the hero. The way this story ended had me on the edge-of-my-seat with what happens to one of the main characters. Would Morgan and Bo be able to protect each other? Would one of them have to sacrifice themselves for the other? I would recommend Troublemaker by Linda Howard, if you enjoy romantic suspense.
OVERALL RATING:
BLURB:
A thrilling, fast-paced novel of romantic suspense from sensational New York
Times and USA Today bestselling author Linda Howard.
For Morgan
Yancy, an operative and team leader in a paramilitary group, nothing comes
before his job. But when he’s ambushed and almost killed, his supervisor is
determined to find out who’s after the members of his elite squad—and why. Due
to worries that this unknown enemy will strike again, Morgan is sent to a
remote location and told to lay low and stay vigilant. But between a tempting
housemate he’s determined to protect and a deadly threat waiting in the
shadows, keeping under the radar is proving to be his most dangerous mission
yet.
The
part-time police chief of a small West Virginian mountain town, Isabeau “Bo”
Maran finally has her life figured out. She’s got friends, a dog, and a little
money in the bank. Then Morgan Yancy shows up on her doorstep. Bo doesn’t need
a mysterious man in her life—especially a troublemaker as enticing and
secretive as Morgan.
The harder
they fight the intense heat between them, the closer Morgan and Bo become, even
though she knows he’s hiding from something. But discovering the truth could
cost Bo more than she’s willing to give. And when Morgan’s cover is blown, it
might just cost her life.
It was
dark, the other side of nine-thirty, when he pulled into his parking slot at the condo. It had been late when he’d docked
the Shark, then he’d cleaned his tackle and locked it away before
heading home. He’d also made a brief stop at a grocery to cover his basic food
needs; he hooked the plastic bags on his fingers and dragged them with him as
he slid out of the seat. A click of the remote locked the truck.
The condos
were at least thirty years old, six rows of two-story buildings made of brick
and pebbled concrete. He supposed the effect was supposed to be modern and
uncluttered—and maybe it had been thirty years ago, but now it was nothing more
than butt-ugly. Each ground-floor unit, like his, had its own little patio,
while the upper-story condos had balconies that struck him as fairly useless
but that were used a lot during the summer for grilling and such.
The plastic
bags rustled and banged against his left leg with every step, reminding him of
why he hated buying groceries. After the fact, he always thought that he should
throw a backpack in his truck and leave it there for hauling in what few
groceries he bought, but he wasn’t home often enough for it to be a habit so
he’d forget about the backpack. He’d also almost forgotten he didn’t have any
coffee left, but the grocery’s sign had caught his eye and he’d whipped into
the parking lot without time to signal, resulting in a few indignant horn
blasts. Couldn’t be helped; he had to have coffee.
A concrete
support pillar and some tall shrubbery partially blocked his view of the condo
building, something that grated but the homeowners’ association wasn’t willing
to do away with part of its mature landscaping and shady trees just because he
didn’t like it. He couldn’t explain that the greenery provided points of ambush
because civilians simply didn’t get shit like that, so he dealt with it. It
wasn’t as if he had a lot to worry about; the crime rate in these units was
very low, and was in fact a selling point for the young families who made up
the majority of residents.
Still—habits
were a bitch, but he couldn’t ignore half a lifetime of training. To keep from
walking around a blind corner, he swung wide into the street the way he always
did so he was approaching straight on; there wasn’t a lot of traffic in the
condo development, and he didn’t often have to wait until a car passed.
But even
with a direct approach, he still didn’t like it. Sometimes, such as now, he
liked it less than at other times, and he couldn’t have said why. He didn’t
have to; instinct was what it was.
He stopped
in his tracks.
Sometimes .
. . such as now.
The sudden
surge of awareness was like an electric shock, sending all of his senses into
hyperalert. He instinctively moved his right hand to the pistol snugged into
the holster at the small of his back even as he tried to pick up any movement
in the shrubbery that shouldn’t have been there, anything that was responsible
for making the back of his neck suddenly prickle. He couldn’t see anything, but
still his senses were screaming. Something was there, even if it wasn’t
anything danger—
The thought
hadn’t completely formed when the shadows of the shrubbery moved slightly,
black on black. More adrenaline shot through his system, and Morgan acted
without thought, training taking over as he dropped the plastic bags and dove
to the left, leaving his right hand free as he pulled his weapon.
His body
was still airborne, stretched out, when he saw a faint flash and a sledgehammer
hit him in the chest.
He had two
distant but clear thoughts: Suppressor. Subsonic round.
He slammed
to the ground, the impact almost as jarring as the sledgehammer to the chest.
He rolled with it, the pistol grip fitting into his palm as if his hand and the
weapon had been made together, one functioning unit. One part of his brain knew
he’d been hit and hit hard, but the other part stayed ruthlessly focused
outward, intent on doing what he needed to do. He fired toward where he’d seen
the flash, the sound sharp in the crisp night air, but he knew only a rank
amateur would stay in the same place so he tracked his next shot away from the
shrubbery, following the barely seen black-on-black shadow, and pulled the
trigger again.
His mind
disconnected from the shock waves of pain rolling through his body because that
was the only way he could function. His thoughts raced, analyzing probabilities
and angles of fire, selecting the best option even as adrenaline overrode the
devastation and kept his body moving. Without being aware that he was moving,
he rolled behind a fireplug, and didn’t realize where he was until he was
already there. A fireplug wasn’t much cover, but it was some.
His vision
was wavering, things rushing at him then drawing back, as if pushed and pulled
by an invisible tide of air. Peripherally, he was aware of entrance lights
coming on, of curtains being pulled back as his neighbors peeked out to see
what the hell was going on. He blinked fiercely, trying to stay focused.
Yes—the increase of light brought a man’s form into dim view and he fired a
third shot, controlled the upward kick of the muzzle, fired again. The dark
form toppled to the ground and lay still.
God, his
chest hurt. Shit. This had really fucked up his tattoo.
His vision
wavered again, but he grimly held on, keeping his weapon trained on the downed
threat. “Down” didn’t mean “out.” If he let go, let the darkness come, the
other guy might get up and finish the job. Dead didn’t count until it was
confirmed dead, and he couldn’t confirm shit right now.
But doors
were opening, people were shouting. The sounds were distorted and strangely far
away, the lights fading. Through the growing shadows he thought he saw some of
the braver souls venturing out, investigating the gunfire. Words swam at him,
around him, and some of them sank into his consciousness.
“Shawn! Are
you crazy?” A woman’s voice, both angry and afraid.
“Just call
the cops,” said a man—maybe Shawn, maybe someone else.
“I already
did,” said a third voice.
“What the
hell is going on?”
More noise,
more voices added to the chorus as people began approaching, cautiously at
first, then with more confidence when nothing else happened. Morgan tried to
call out, say something, make any kind of noise, but the effort was beyond him.
He could feel his breath hitching as the distant pain rolled closer, like a
tidal wave that was about to swamp him.
This
might be it for me, he
thought, and was almost too tired to care. He tried to control his breathing
because he’d heard that hitching sound before and it was never good. He didn’t
have to hang on long, he thought—maybe half an hour, if people would get the
lead out of their asses and get him to the hospital. But half an hour seemed
like an eternity when he wasn’t certain he could hang on even one more minute.
He rested
his head on the concrete sidewalk, feeling the chill of it. His outstretched
hand was just resting on the winter-dead grass at the edge of the sidewalk and
he had the distant thought that it was kind of nice to be touching the earth.
If this was it for him, well, it sucked to go, but all in all this wasn’t too
bad, considering all the grisly ways he could have gone.
But, damn
it, he was fucking pissed because if he died, he didn’t know who had
killed him or, more importantly, why.
Someone
bent over him, a vague shape swimming out of focus. He had to send MacNamara a
warning, and with his last ounce of strength he gasped out, “Ambush.”
Linda
Howard is the
award-winning author of numerous New York
Times bestsellers, including Up Close
and Dangerous, Drop Dead Gorgeous, Cover of Night, Killing Time,
To Die For, Kiss Me While I Sleep, Cry No
More, and Dying to Please. She
lives in Gadsden, Alabama with her husband and two golden retrievers.
