Showing posts with label April Zyon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label April Zyon. Show all posts

Join @AprilZyon with new release #menage #romanticsuspense Teaser #giveaway

Hot new #menage #romanticsuspense from @AprilZyon and @evernightpub Read a teaser Enter the #giveaway


Their Weapons Maker
Heroes of Olympus, Book 3
Published by Evernight Publishing
Written by April Zyon
Cover and banner by Jay Aheer
Video by April Zyon



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Blurb:

Rachael Dunfries isn’t ready to die. She'll fight tooth and nail to survive the gutless attack that put her in the hospital—even hire protection to keep her safe. Falling in love with the men looking after her was not part of the plan.

Discovering the threat won’t be an easy battle to win, but Dieter Adler-Faust and Wyatt Aragon are as ready as they can be. The fight that ensues isn't what they had planned. A new level of war has been declared. For the love of their woman, they’ll do whatever is necessary.

An attack too close to home has everyone scrambling. Rachael is in danger, Wyatt’s injured, and the battle lines are drawn. It’s a fight they can’t lose if they want to finally have a chance at a life together.


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Excerpt:

“You do realize I was busy, right?” Ares’s growl echoed in the room made of white marble and gold. “I was kicking ass in a game. What’s so fucking important?”

“Your descendant.” Apollo stood before the well and looked into it. “She’s safe, for now, but she won’t be for long. She should be getting out of the hospital in a couple of days.”

“Hospital?” Ares’s chest tightened in fear as he rushed to Apollo’s side. “Why?” The anger from being summoned so abruptly during his game immediately evaporated when his brother told him his descendant was in the hospital. There the brothers stood one on each side of Rachael’s bed looking down at her.

“We were to meet for lunch, and when she didn’t show, I flashed to her apartment. I found her in a pool of blood and called an ambulance. She’d been shot. I assisted in repairing a bit of the damage, but you know our hands are tied on what we can and can’t do.”

“Fuck.” Ares carded his fingers through his hair angrily. “Who?” 

“Uncertain. She’s not exactly out of the public eye, so it could just be some idiot human trying to destroy her.”

Ares snorted. “She’s so much like her Great-Many-Times-Over Grandmother. Always determined to ensure that the masses have what they need no matter what it costs her.”

“That’s very much Rachael. She’s more than that, however, as you should know. She’s exceptionally brilliant with tactics.”

“Has the faction in charge of her protection been mobilized yet?”

“They have. I killed one of them because he was going to shoot an air bubble into Rach’s IV line to ensure she died when she went in for her last blood transfusion.”

“Fuck.” Ares looked over the pale young woman in the bed. “So, she did inherit that genetic trait?”

Apollo nodded.

The girl could cause widespread bloodshed by causing wounds that would fester and grow, a trait she’d inherited from Ares. But because she didn’t know how to use the ability, she only ended up hurting herself: she had anemia and required frequent blood transfusions.

“So aside from that, she’s okay?”

“She nearly died, and her soul had to be tugged back into her body, but she’s a fighter.” Apollo touched the girl’s cheek. “I’m worried because she’s seen the other side, but Hades has seen her and knows exactly who she is. I saw our uncle when I pulled her soul back from the fogs of death—we’re going to have issues. If it weren’t against the rules, I would say we need to take her to Olympus where we could guarantee her safety.”

“Not even Olympus is safe, brother. You know this as well as I do.” Ares sighed and ran his hand over his jaw. “When she’s released, I will take her to the farm. In the meantime, watch over and protect her? I will see about getting the Scions here in the interim to keep watch as well.”

“You’re certain they’ll be able to keep watch over her and keep her safe?”

Ares glared at Apollo. “I believe in them. You need to as well. They have kept your descendant safe, haven’t they?” 

“True. How is she?”

“Good. In love. I think her brother is ready to beat her lovers bloody, but she’s safe. She’s where she belongs. You should come and see her.”

“I can’t. Not yet. Let me ensure that Rach is safe and then I will.” Apollo looked down at Rachael and stroked her cheek again. “Your men need you—that team needs you. You’re going to create weapons for them to use in this war. Wake, sweet Rachael. Wake and come back to the land of the living.”

Ares bowed to his brother. “For all that you do, thank you.” He was gone in a flash.

****

Rachael heard herself flatline, the shrill sound of one long and seemingly never-ending tone. As she floated outside of her body, she watched the paramedics working on her. Rachael looked over her shoulder at the fog rolling toward her with a bright light in the center of it. She looked back to her body again.

Rubbing her bodiless hands over her arms, she shook her head and whispered, “Fight. Fight, damn you!” she demanded, even as the fog rolled around her ankles.

She felt the gentle touch of the past of the happiness and safety that she had at all times before any of the incidents had started. She felt the security the fog offered her, but she fought it off.

There it was.

The same shrill note.

She knew there was safety in the fog, but Rachael had never been one to go where it was safe. She reached out and latched onto her body with her soul as she was lifted and pushed into the back of an ambulance.

She watched with detached amazement as the man in the back of the ambulance with her seemed to move with the vehicle, keeping her body still even as the driver drove like a bat out of hell.

He was good, this man working on her. She had to admit to that.

She heard it again. Beat… A loud alarm… Beat… The same alarm…

“Fuck.” The man working on her stabbed her with a devilishly long needle, but as an ethereal soul floating free, she felt nothing.

Sensing a presence at her back, she looked over her shoulder and saw him: a massive and imposing man demanding she release him. He was wrong. Something about him was very wrong.

Suddenly there was something new, a bright light inside of the fog, sunshine in its purest form. It surrounded her and pulled her from the vicious shadow of a man as he screamed and raced toward her corporeal form.

****

Rachael was jerked back to reality when a jolt of electricity raced through her veins. She heard someone saying, “We have her back.”

****

When her eyes opened next, she saw her Uncle Adam standing above her.

“Water?” she croaked.

“Of course, ma petite.” He brought a straw to her lips. It was odd; for a moment, her Uncle Adam looked like he was emanating light as bright as sunshine on a rainy day. Very strange indeed. 
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Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074TDLVSR/
Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/their-weapons-maker-mfm
Evernight: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/their-weapons-maker-by-april-zyon/
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/742448


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The lovely @AprilZyon visits the blog today with new release 'Knights of Ares: First Contact' #SciFi #eroticromance

As some of you now know I have decided to self-publish a couple of books. This isn’t something that I took too quickly, in fact it’s something I’ve agonized over for a while now.
As you all know I once wrote as Honor James. I was with another publisher and wrote a series called Knights of Ares. I loved these men and when I left the publisher I thought that I would lose them forever. I couldn’t do that however, but part of me needed a fresh start as well.


                                               
So….
All six books of the Knights of Ares series have been re-written (I only saved the names of the men because they were so close to my heart) and I’m going to self-publish the series. I hadn’t intended on this series coming out yet – however I guess I uploaded it far too soon to the retailers and boom, here it is!

So, without further ado here is the first book of the series.


The Knights of Ares are a joint Navy SEAL and Army Ranger team that has been tasked with a new war. One that needs to be kept from being discovered, at all costs.

Mikhail “Wolf” Rossov and Gareth “Gunner” Gruffyd are part of the team that are fighting a war no one knows is happening. Out on the job, they end up saving a woman who turns out to be more than they could have believed. 

Morgan Berry is a kindergarten teacher. The most dangerous part of her job is a wide spread flu epidemic in her class. Being a teacher is all she’s ever wanted, she never thought she’d soon be part of something bigger. 

Kidnapped to become a pawn in a dangerous, violent game, Morgan has only one hope. For her men to come to her rescue, before it’s too late. She knows that they would walk through the fires of hell for her. But will they make it in time?


Buy the book:

All Romance Ebooks - https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-firstcontact-2036708-348.html
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01FI4EG0W/
Amazon CA – https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01FI4EG0W/
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01FI4EG0W/
Barnes & Noble –  *coming soon
Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/635616
Kobo - https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/first-contact-21

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 Read an Excerpt

Location: Classified…
It was good to be back on American soil. While he thought of himself as more Russian than American, America had been his home for all his life and would always be home.
Stepping out of the steam from the bathroom, he finished toweling off as he padded into the locker room. Nodding to his teammates who were scattered around in various states of undress, he grabbed up a pair of jeans and pulled them on.
Three weeks since their mission to extract the CIA operative from Greece without anyone, official or not, the wiser. While it hadn’t been smooth, they’d gotten in and out without alerting anyone that they’d ever been there. Bad guys notwithstanding of course.
Buttoning up his fly, Mik crammed his feet into a pair of boots. Grabbing his shirt, he hauled it on before dropping to sit on the bench to do up his boots.
They’d been in various meetings and sessions to debrief since they’d gotten out of Greece with the operative. All they knew about her was her code name for the op, Sugar. Not exactly fitting given the venom she’d directed their way the entire flight out of the country and then back to the States. But then again, she hadn’t looked all that happy before they’d met her so, really, who was he to judge.
What her mission had been in the country he couldn’t say. But since they were, currently, on friendly terms with Greece, who the fuck knew. Especially when it came to the spooks. Those guys just loved to root around in the darkest of corners looking for enemies and, if they couldn’t find one, making new ones.
Getting to his feet, he stomped them a little to settle the boots in place. Just as he grabbed his leather jacket, the door into the locker room crashed open and four MP’s came in.
“Sorry, sirs. The Admiral has requested your presence, immediately.”
Shooting his team mates a look Mik knew it wasn’t an actual “request.” No one, an Admiral especially, needed four heavily armed MP’s to pass on a “request”. No, it was an order that if not obeyed, he would bet the MPs had very specific and detailed instructions about what to do.
Shrugging into his jacket, he leaned against his locker as his cohorts got dressed. Not a one of them in any apparent rush. While the MPs had said immediately, and he was sure the Admiral had meant yesterday, they weren’t really going to just give in. That wasn’t how a one of them was made. He watched his fellow team members as they all seemed to gravitate into their duos, as usual. He wasn’t surprised when Gareth shot him a small crooked grin. The men weren’t couples, but they all worked together very well and at least where he and Gareth were concerned, shared women more often than not.
Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he hid his smirk as James “Fury” Ashton asked one of their team, Anton “Viper” Lueger, which shirt went with his eyes better. Always pushing the envelope that one. Catching the look on the MP’s faces and the way they were fiddling with their sidearms, he cleared his throat. Catching everyone’s attention he gave them a couple of signals out of sight of the MPs.
It got everyone moving faster. If a bunch of highly trained military cops were that twitchy, something big was going down. No need to provoke them more than absolutely necessary.
Leaving the locker room as a unit, they all shared a look. No one had a clue what was going on and not a one liked it. Especially since they’d all just been told they had three weeks leave. Which, in their minds, meant they got to leave, no questions asked. Not good.
* * * * *
Twenty minutes later Mikhail could not believe how fucking right he’d been. “Excuse me, sir. I mean zero disrespect, sir, but are you off your fucking rocker?” he asked.
His teammates all nodded. Yeah, every single one of them had been thinking it. He was just the craziest of the bunch to actually say it out loud. But it was part of his rep, and he so did love to live up to his rep.
“I wish,” the old man said. He rubbed a hand over his military regulation cut and looked at them all.
Mik couldn’t believe how old the Admiral looked right then. Sharing a worried look with Marius, he shook his head. “Sir, this is crazy. I might buy that Marius might believe in the Greek Gods, growing up as he had, but coming from you,” he shook his head again. “I’m sorry sir, but I’m not buying it.”
“You’d better,” a new voice said. One that was deep, bowels of hell deep, and sent a shiver down every man’s spine.
Spinning Mikhail stared up, yeah up, at seven and a half feet of solid muscle covered in leather. Holy shit, where the fuck had this guy come from?
“Olympus by way of Athens,” the large male said. He turned his blacker than night eyes to the Admiral. “Andrew, sorry I’m late. Had a small family matter to attend to.”
“No apologies needed, come on in and grab a seat. I think I’ll let you tell them the rest of this, as they don’t seem to be taking me seriously.”
The large man chuckled and, not kidding, Mikhail could have sworn the room actually pitched and rolled like the deck of a battleship on high seas.
“They are trained to believe what they can see, hear and touch, Andrew. Of course, they are not going to just take you at your word,” the male said. He walked around them all, he was light on his feet too, and took the seat that the Admiral had offered.
Shooting Marius a look, he saw the same WTF expression he was sure was on his face. The guy was on a first name basis with the Admiral and seemed to be buying into the same delusion, too. This would be interesting to hear.
“It’s not a delusion, Mikhail,” the guy said. “The Greek Gods are real, all of us.”
“So, we’re to believe you’re one?” Meirion “Saber” Jamison asked.
“Yes,” the male told them.
“Right,” Thomas “Brick” Gordon drawled out in his Southern manner. “Which one, just so we keep it all straight and shit?” he asked.
The Admiral looked like he was either going to shit himself or be sick. Not a look one expected of a career military man who’d been through more wars than most could lay claim to. And all on the front lines for the most part.
“Ares,” the male said.
“God of War,” Stefan “Orion” Patras said softly. “Son of Zeus and Hera.”
“Bingo,” the big male said. “Got it in one. Which, considering your heritage, I’d be truly miffed if you hadn’t.”
Shooting his Greek teammate a look, Mik shook his head. “Okay, I have a question, if we’re all going to play along with this delusion.”
“It’s no delusion and yes, the Gods are real.” Ares, or whoever the fuck he was, got up from his chair. He pushed it out of the way and settled with his feet spread so they were right under his shoulders.
A flash of light and they were staring at the guy in full battle regalia. As in, ancient armor with one hell of a big ass sword in hand, tip to the floor. Oddly enough, the guy even seemed bigger.
And he was walking straight toward Mik.
Standing his ground Mikhail notched his chin up to keep eye contact with the guy. Which was a lot harder than he’d thought now that they guys eyes were silver swirling pools, much like a whirlpool, trying to suck him in.
“Military men are always the hardest to convince,” the God, or whoever he was, said. Then he smiled, perfectly straight white teeth no less, and lifted a hand. “Let’s see if I can’t convince you, shall we?”
Mik would have protested, but he wasn’t quick enough. The Gods' hand landed on his shoulder and suddenly he was being torn apart and then rebuilt molecule by molecule. He saw the beginning of the world, Zeus’s creation of man, the “birth” of the other Gods and times in history that even scientists and the best historians could only make educated guesses on. He saw battlefields where the God before him was in the thick, covered in blood and other bodily gore.
He watched as cities burned, crumbling into dust, and civilizations fell. He watched the march of the Roman empire across Europe and their eventual retreat. Cities rose, fell, changed, grew and then technology began to come into sight. Then they were back in the room, in the present and he was staring up into a pair of swirling silver eyes.
The hand on his shoulder squeezed before falling away. “Believe now?” the deep voice asked softly.
Stumbling back Mikhail groped for a chair and fell into one when it was close enough. Shivering he couldn’t tear his eyes off the guy. “What the fuck?” he asked.
Ares just nodded. “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Another flash and he was back in his leather striding back to the head of the table to sit down once more. “Gentlemen, sit,” he told the rest of the team. “We have a lot to discuss and very little time.”
He could feel the worried eyes of his teammates on him, but he couldn’t say anything. His mind was still fighting to resolve all he’d just witnessed and make sense of it. And he was failing miserably.




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April Zyon brings an excerpt from her story, Tiger's Mate, #paranormalromance @aprilzyon


Streak politics, and differences in opinions forced Kurt Owens to choose his own path. While it may be outside of the law in many regards he sees it as ensuring justice for the true victims of crimes when the system fails them. It’s his way of seeing the guilty pay, and keeping his own inner beast in check with the violence, and blood it craves.
Everyone thinks having a super power would be great. Alexa Harold would beg to differ. She’s been cursed to see ghosts, the dead not yet having gone to their final resting place, or judgment, or wherever they belong. They track her down, and harass her until she’s ready to go mad. Learning early in life what she needs to avoid has been the only saving grace in keeping her sanity intact.
Then she sees a man who couldn’t possibly be real. It was just her luck that such a prime specimen would in fact be deceased. Only he isn’t, and he’s taking notice of her. With a little temptation, some mystery, and a taunt he leaves her wanting more.

Kurt never thought he’d find his mate outside of the streak, or streak functions. While those of a supernatural inclination aren’t exactly rare, they have had to be careful and keep their population down. Alexa is the woman for him the only one he could ever want or need. And when her life is put in danger by his own past Kurt won’t stop until everyone understands to get to this tiger’s mate, they’ll have to get through him.

Excerpt:
Wrapping his hand around the fresh longneck the bartender slid his way, Kurt lifted it to his lips to take a long drink. His contact was late. Never a good sign when the guy who did all his go-between work wasn’t on time. Especially when it was payday.
Kurt would give the man another half hour before hunting his ass down. Any longer than that and the ditzy blonde at the other end of the bar might garner up some courage to come talk to him. Her friends had been daring her to since they’d caught sight of him. So far she’d resisted their urging despite the number of hungry looks she’d sent his way.
While he had zero problems hooking up with some random, preferably nameless, chick in a bar, that one looked like serious trouble. He could have given anyone a multitude of reasons why. Namely he knew she was trouble by the two thousand dollar shoes, one and a half thou handbag, and he didn’t even want to tally up her outfit. Kurt wasn’t a connoisseur of fashion, not even close, but he’d been around enough to start to recognize the brand names. He had to be observant in what he did, as otherwise he’d end up dead.
He took another long pull from the bottle, camouflaging his perusal of  the group so that they wouldn’t  perceive it as interest. The blonde was downing shots.  Freaking fan-fucking-tastic. If she put enough down, she’d likely get up the courage to actually wobble over in her overpriced stilettos. Not what he wanted tonight. He was here to get paid for the job he’d completed, and then he was going to find a place where no one knew him to crash for many hours of peaceful slumber.
Tensing, he felt someone getting close he let out a breath. Only the waitress. He’d chosen the end of the bar with the wall to his back so he could see the entire place, and so no one could get too close without him knowing. While it sucked if he had to bail, it was tactically the wisest location in case trouble came calling.
And blonde bimbo was making her move. Son of a fucking bitch. She tottered across the bar, closing the distance between them as he waved the bartender over for another cold one. Relief crashed through him as his contact slid onto the empty seat at Kurt’s side.
“Sorry, man, fucking accident six blocks over fucked me right up. I’m late. I sincerely apologize. Didn’t know it was there until I was in the thick of the shit. It’s truly amazing how perfectly decent human beings turn into the Grim fucking Reaper when there’s a DOA at a crash. Couldn’t get a single one of them to move enough to let me through. Fuckers all looked at me like I was the douchebag.”
Lenny signaled the bartender when he’d finished his spiel. Kurt gave the man a few moments to take a drink before he acknowledged him. “No worries,” he said quietly. He didn’t bother mentioning he’d been mere minutes from heading out to hunt his scrawny ass down. No reason to upset the little guy unduly. Besides, Lenny knew what Kurt would do to him if the man didn’t show up for a meet.
“I tucked it into the usual spot,” Lenny said. Which meant Kurt’s payment was secured in Kurt’s truck in the lockbox in the back. “I may have another gig for you. I’ll need to do some background, and check a few of the less clear details, but I should know something in a couple of days.”
Kurt gave a slow nod. The blonde was back at the table of idiotic sorority types downing more shots. “Shoot me a text for a meet when you feel confident about it.”
While Lenny might give the impression of being the unreliable sort, Kurt did trust him. To a degree. The man brokered all the deals, kept Kurt out of it all, and ensured Kurt got paid for what he did. Doing what he did, it wasn’t like Kurt could set up a web page and advertise. That was just begging for a one way ticket to a ten by eight cell for life, if not the chair.
Tipping his beer up he did another visual sweep of the place. Movement from the end of the bar near the girls caught his attention. Son of a … bikers, why the hell is it always bikers? Most were good guys even if they did shit that had the law on their asses most of the time. Then there were the wannabes who acted tough, blew smoke, and basically started shit. The guys making lewd gestures to one another about the sorority sisters were very definitely in the second category.
Big, scary looking, and assholes. They’d also been drinking so it was a situation ripe, and ready to explode. Setting his beer down Kurt turned slightly. “You may want to finish that up, and clear out. There’s about to be trouble in here.”
Kurt was itching for a fight. His last job had gone smoothly, too smoothly for him. He was a hands-on sort that liked to get good and bloody. The biker assholes might finally give him a way to let off a bit of steam. And if he happened to break a few of their bones or faces, all the better in his mind. While Kurt’s conscience didn’t pipe up all that often, there was no way he’d risk the guy that was his go-to man.
“Uh, shit, right.” Lenny chugged the last of his beer quickly. He reached to his pocket.
“I got it, go.” Kurt pulled off a couple of bills to pay for his beers and Lenny’s. The man took a cut off every job Kurt completed, which was all of them because he was that fucking good, but Kurt still paid for his drinks at every meet.
“One of these days I will pay for a drink, you know.”
“You can try, but we both know who has the better and faster moves. Now go. You’re no use to me in a hospital.”
“The love and concern for my wellbeing I feel pouring off you warms my heart.”
Hearing the sarcasm Kurt turned his eyes on the other man, and growled. Not some pissy ass sound a human could make, but a sound only a born predator could pull from the bowels of his gut.
Tiger's Mate is part of the Bad Alpha anthology published with Evernight Publishing. I am honored to be part of this anthology with these other amazing authors. 
Find April Zyon:
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The fab April Zyon has a new Massey Texas #series novel out, Forever Mine, erotic #western romance #giveaway


Release Date: 2/25/2015
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Evernight Buy Link:
Author: April Zyon
Series: Massey Texas

Author Stalking Links 
Author Website: www.april-zyon.com

Blurb:
When handed the Intel on a potential threat Martin Carver had no idea it would be what led him back to the town of his birth. At age nineteen he’d left Massey, Texas in his dust. But now when the life of someone he loves being threatened even the claustrophobic town won’t keep him from protecting her. And God help those after her.
Taking over her father’s practice had always been in the cards for Athena Rhodes. What she didn’t expect was to take over from him was the baggage that came along with the business. Law abiding woman that she is, Athena reaches out to get some help. Not in the cards was having the only man to ever hold her heart walk through the door, and tell her he was there to get her out from under the mob.
Everyone has always believed Martin to be the classic do-gooder. Building homes in third world countries, off saving the whales from drilling platforms, or any number of stories that have filtered through Massey through the years. To find out every single one of those stories were nothing more than fairy tales is one thing, to find out he’s actually an FBI agent will take some getting used to.
Athena’s running out of time, the mob having set a time limit on what they require her to do. If she fails to follow their demands to the letter it will mean her father’s life. Unsure what to do she will lean heavily on Martin, and hope he doesn’t let her fall.
The clock is against them to keep the woman Martin loves and her dad safe. He’ll do whatever it takes to end the threat rising against them. Because he’s got an all or nothing plan. What could go wrong? 

Excerpt:
County Line
Massey, Texas
He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there staring at the sign announcing, “Welcome to Massey, TX Population 5,609 and growing!” but the hood under his ass was cooling, and the sun had reached its highest point. Hell, it was starting the slow slide toward the horizon.
It had been a long, long time since he’d been home. The last time he’d been there he’d flown in for his pop’s funeral, stuck around for the meal, and then got the hell out of Dodge. Since then, he hadn’t been home once. He called, though, every single weekend right after his mother had finished breakfast on Sundays. They would chat for exactly one hour and fifteen minutes. No more, no less. The woman always had enough gossip to fill that time, so he rarely had to say much of anything.
Yet, here he was. Staring into the abyss of the quintessential small town. Ranches and farms spread out as far as the eye could see and beyond. Nestled in the middle was Massey. His hometown, and the place he’d burned rubber to get away from the moment he’d turned eighteen. Unlike his brothers, Martin had always hated coming back. To him, it had felt claustrophobic. Whether from his family’s expectations, or from his own uncertainty about the future, he didn’t know.
This time was no different. So, there he was, sitting on the hood of his ‘66 Mustang. While she maintained her shape, he’d given her a few tweaks over the years. A new paint job when he was eighteen, and a new hemi engine when he was twenty-two. There were a few other not exactly legal additional elements to Eris, named after the goddess of chaos, strife, and discord. His brothers had actually named his car, but he’d let it stick. Hell, he’d even gotten a little name plate that was attached to the dashboard right over the speedometer.
Martin shook his head, leaning back on his hands as he continued to stare in the direction of the town. He remembered back in high school a rumor Frank had told him about. His older brother had apparently also started it, but he denied it with a smirk every single time Martin confronted him.
According to the “rumor,” if a girl managed to talk Martin into taking her out a date, she prayed he’d be driving Eris. If he showed up in his pop’s old pickup truck, then she knew she would be getting walked to the front door, given a peck on the cheek, and he’d promptly leave to never call her for another date. But if he showed up in Eris, the girl would be getting a tour of the backseat, on her back, and things would be a rocking.
Not once had Martin ever taken a girl out in Eris. There’d been one he’d thought about, right before leaving town for good, but she’d been too young, and he definitely hadn’t needed that sort of thing to follow him or her around for the rest of their days.
Athena Rhodes. Named for the virgin goddess of reason, intelligent activity, arts, and literature. A more perfect name for the woman in question there never would be. She’d always had an ethereal quality about her, always thinking before leaping, and was the one woman who still had him jolting up out of bed in the middle of the night from the dreams she starred front and center in.
Not the teenage version of Athena Rhodes either. Nope, he knew exactly what she looked like as of four weeks ago. Hell, he even had her photo in the folder sitting on the passenger seat of his car. The rest of what was in the folder was why he was there, despite digging in his heels with the director of the FBI. Fucking bastard found it funny that Martin didn’t want to go home for a visit and deal with the trouble Athena found herself in. In the director’s mind, it was two birds, one stone. In Martin’s, it was a colossal fuck up in the making. Especially if Athena was anywhere near it.
Athena, bane of his existence. She’d been just starting to come into the woman she would one day be when he’d left Massey. Now she was more than he could ever have imagined. Five-foot-seven, long, rich red hair the color of a wine with hints of copper and strawberries. Green eyes that could lighten with amusement or darken like a coming storm. Athena had the stereotypical redhead temper, though he knew from his mother’s gossip she rarely showed it any more. So she’d gotten it under control. Should be interesting to test that theory.
Pale golden skin, just a hint of a tan, with a smattering of freckles over her nose and upper curve of her cheeks. A slightly rounded face with amazing bone structure, straight nose, slightly pointed chin, gave her face a heart-shaped look. A long ,elegant neck he’d imagined nibbling on in his quest to discover if there were freckles anywhere else on her body. His dreams said yes, but Martin didn’t think he’d really ever find out.
To top off his perfect woman’s image, Athena had some meat on her bones. She was built like a woman, sturdy, and not like one of those twigs from Hollywood that would blow over if you sneezed in their direction. She was, quite literally, his dream woman given form. Or maybe, he should say, she was the woman of his dreams, if only he had the nerve to tell her.
His other problem with the woman. She got him all twisted up inside, and turned him into a babbling fool. Or she had. Martin really hoped she still didn’t have that particular effect on him. ‘Cause that would just be the fucking icing on the cake for this whole damned trip.
The sound of an engine pulled his attention back, and he let out a sigh when the truck got close enough for him to recognize it. All the time in the world seemed to have passed, and the damn pickup truck that was used around the Carver Ranch was still exactly the same. Squinting slightly at the reflection off the windshield, he waited for his brother to swing it around and park it behind the Mustang.
The crunch of boots to gravel told him where his big brother was, yet still, he waited. Only when the other man slid onto the hood next to him did he give a nod. “Frank,” he said quietly.
“Martin.” That was it, nothing else.
Course they didn’t really need to say much of anything else. Despite rumors to the contrary, ones sort of started by him, he and Frank had worked together more than once. They even talked on a fairly regular basis. While Frank had worked for a different branch, and under different mandates for the US government, Martin had always been his brother’s contact inside the bureau.
“Eris is looking good,” Frank said after another ten minutes of silence.
“She held up well on the drive. Only got a bit cranky with me outside of Dallas. But a quart of oil and she was purring like an overgrown kitten again.”
Frank snorted out a laugh at that. “I can’t believe you still have her.”
“Dude, she’s family. Quit trash talking my car.”
Hands up, Frank cracked a grin. A real grin. As in teeth and everything. While Martin was staring in shock, he missed what his brother was saying. “What? Sorry.”
“I asked you how long you plan on sitting out here. According to Willard, you’ve been here since eight this morning. It’s now nearly two in the afternoon.”
Heaving a sigh, Martin shoved his hands through his pale blond hair. Out of all the Carvers, his was the lightest in color, but his eyes were the darkest. The oddities of the familial gene pool. “Working up the nerve to drive across the county line is all.”
“Uh-huh. You do know that Mama’s already heard you’re here. And the fact you are sitting here, and not at her kitchen table where she can smother you with all that built up motherly love, means you are in seriously deep shit, little brother.”
Martin winced at that. Yeah, his mama would hug him, weep all over him, and then likely bean him with her rolling pin. Theresa Carver was in no way a pushover. She might play the part occasionally to lure the unaware in close, but then she struck. She could make a grown man in a full rage cry like a little girl in under two minutes. Without even batting a lash. She was that good.
“So, what has you here?” Frank asked.
Normally, he wouldn’t discuss it, but Frank still held his beyond top secret clearance level, and likely would as long as he was still breathing. “Athena Rhodes, or rather her dirty, lowdown scoundrel of a father.”
Frank’s head whipped around to look his way. “Shit. You got handed that one?”
“Yup.”
“Well fuck me.”
Yup. Pretty much Martin’s exact thoughts on the matter.
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A small aside about the series, Massey Texas, from the author...

I’ve always been fascinated with Cowboys. I know, most people are but to me there is just something super sexy about a man who is willing to work his ass off for a living. Something that’s incredibly hot about a man who knows how to work the land with his own hands.
When I originally started Massey Texas with Rhys Hollister and Gwen Baker I never dreamed that one of the families central to the story would stand up and take center stage, but they did. The Carver Family stood out pretty much from the get go in this series and they had to have their stories told.
Massey Texas has been a wonderful thrill-ride fro me, each time the characters spoke they tended to throw me for a loop, so to speak, and I loved every single moment of it.
While I’m tentatively ending this series at this book, the 9th in the series, it doesn’t mean that I will never revisit it one day in the future. After all, there were a couple of babies born to the Carver family that might eventually need their stories told!
I truly hope that you have all enjoyed the Massey Texas series as much as I have, and I hope that you will continue to read the books that I put out as either April Zyon, or Honor James.

~~~ Peace and love my friends, and be good to each other!

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