>Saturday Showcase: Devil Take Me by Betty Womack

>I’m running late with my Saturday Showcase because I left town for a couple days and forgot to post it. Shame on me! But I wanted to share this book with you anyway:

Devil Take Me by Betty Womack
ISBN: 1-59632-154-7
Publisher: Loose ID, available as e-book.

BLURB:
“Two agents, each with their own romantic and real demons to conquer, learn that they must fight together–against a South American drug lord, against a deadly mission, against pasts that will keep them from finding a true and abiding love…That is, of course, if they can keep their hands off one another long enough to stay alive…”

REVIEWS and QUOTES: (What other’s say.)

Reviewer: Pat Grant, JERR – Rating: 5 – Heat Level: H
From the start, Betty Womack’s Devil Take Me grabs the reader by the throat, holds tight and doesn’t let loose until the last paragraph. Ali and Gun are perfect: smart, sexy, tough and perfect for each other. The action moves swiftly, dropping these two wounded people into gut-wrenching danger peppered with sarcasm, tender moments and laughter. The relationship unfolds naturally because beneath the sizzling game of one-upmanship the two-play is a genuine -if grudging- respect. These two sharp-shooting agents may be uncomfortable with the “L” word, but they watch each other’s back vigilantly and know that you never leave a partner behind. Devil Take Me is a page-turning daredevil ride that you’ll read more than once. It’s definitely on the keeper list.
Reviewer: Melissa, Enchanted Ramblings – Rating 4.5 stars – Sensuality Rating: sultry
Enhanced by a tantalizing plot, Devil Take Me gives us an intriguing couple with Ali and Gun. The sexual tension between is so hot the pages smoke. When they finally come together, it is beautiful and very climactic to read. With both fighting past hurts, it is any wonder these two have a hard time compromising and committing. A beautiful job for Betty Womack. I highly recommend Devil Take Me

EXCERPT: (You be the judge!)
Five men walked into the alley. Several of them lit cigarettes, talking and laughing like old friends. Their words were indistinct, but their actions said they were pleased as hell with themselves, slapping each other on the back and laughing like a bunch of hyenas. One of the men gestured toward a black sedan, went to it, and popped the trunk. The others joined him and stood looking inside.
As if on cue, they brought out an olive drab, three- or four-foot-long cylinder, sighting it like a kid with a BB gun. Ali’s heart hammered. A Stinger missile.
All hell broke loose. Supervisor Hamm’s order to go penetrated her brain and fired her blood. Go, go, go screamed in her ears and spun through her tensed muscles.
The sound of boots on wet brick and the jingle of equipment on belts echoed in the icy air. She heard Hamm yelling at the hoodlums.
“Stop. Federal agents. You’re under arrest.” The guy holding the missile dropped it and turned to run. Hamm shouted rapid-fire orders at him. “Get your hands up. Walk backwards to the sound of my voice. Don’t turn around.”
Action became a blur. One of the men turned to fire a shotgun. He was brought down by Supervisor Hamm and fell face forward onto the bricks. Another hoodlum fought being arrested and struggled violently while being subdued. The rest of the gang took off with a trio of agents in pursuit. She sprinted down the alley to nab the tallest one.
“Stop. Federal agent. You’re under arrest.” Ali could’ve sworn he shrugged.
She kept a wary eye on the man she had singled out. He had the chance to get away, but he stayed where he was, barely lifting his hands in surrender. She briefly wondered why he showed little concern at the prospect of spending life in a federal penitentiary, such an arrogant calm.
Had he heard her over Supervisor Hamm’s yelling and the general mayhem? Her hand was steady as she aimed her Walther PPK at a spot between her target’s broad shoulders. She yelled at him again.
“Freeze. Put your hands on top of your head.”
The tall one looked over his shoulder, and her adrenaline spiked.
“Kiss the wall, mister.”
Her palm hit the center of his broad back, and she pushed against him. For a fraction of a second, she hesitated. Her senses devoured his incredible scent. Her taste buds quickly identified the exotic blend of cedar leaf and something oriental.
Disgusted by her momentary lapse of sanity, she pushed him closer to the grimy wall and then ran her hands over his narrow hips and hard rear. She carefully slid her hand around the lean expanse of his waist.
“That’s getting close to sexual assault.”
Ali couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She raised her head and yanked on his arm, trying to touch the back of his neck with his thumb. Her reward was his grunt. She had done hundreds of body searches and knew she had not violated her prisoner.
Anxious to be rid of the wiseass, Ali snapped the cuffs on his wrists behind his back, checking twice to make sure they were nice and tight. “Spread your legs.”
A well-placed kick to his ankles and he obligingly parted his long legs. An evil whisper touched her lips and she did the unthinkable. She made the arrest personal. “Your perfume is nice. What do you and the rest of the girls call it?”
Damn. If she were lucky, he hadn’t heard her dumb comment and she wouldn’t have to explain the blunder. She looked up, able to clearly see the guy’s profile in the glaring security lights. His features were chiseled under a bronze complexion, lean cheeked and masculine a’ la one of those cultivated two-day-old-looking beards. On him, the scruffy look was sexy.
She clenched her teeth and went on with the frisk that seemed to take forever. He coughed and she reacted.
“What did you say?”
He laughed softly. “That’s twice.”
She leaned closer to hear him.
“My nuts. You squeezed them, not once, but twice.”
“Keep your mouth shut.”
His easy laugh should have made her angry, but it didn’t. Rich and smooth as vintage whiskey, it conjured up memories of deep, passionate kisses in the shadows of a late summer afternoon. Somewhere in the past, she had experienced that. She hated him for guessing her dilemma in deciding if she wanted to feel him up or frisk him.
Thankfully, he submitted mutely to the rest of her search. While her hands explored lean, hard muscle and sinew, she wasn’t thinking of a lowlife creep.
As she checked between his legs, Ali noticed the heat radiating from his inner thighs. Thinking like that could bring about her immediate dismissal from the agency. That had been one of the first things she had been taught at the academy. He’s not a man. He’s a criminal.
Would this damned search ever end? She clenched her teeth and shoved her hand up under his jacket, pressing her fingertips into warm, firm flesh, fighting the urge to go ahead and enjoy the feel of a hard, tight man.
When she roughly turned her prisoner around, she stared in fascination. Hello, Lucifer . Someone had told her the devil was beautiful. They had been right. Deep, dark sin smiled down at her from eyes black as midnight. Straight black lashes framed his fathomless gaze, a slash of ebony brows tying it all up in an enticing, sensual dream.
Disgust registered as she realized her mistake in focusing on his face. His gaze locked with hers, forcing her to identify the unmistakable gleam of male interest and challenge there. She returned his penetrating gaze with what she hoped was complete lack of emotion. Just like she had been trained to do. But, that had been so long ago. Maybe she was starting to lose her edge.
The ploy hadn’t worked, if she read his wolfish smile correctly. The bastard knew she was shaken to the core. She jumped when Supervisor Hamm yelled at her from across the parking lot.
“Donavon! Get your man ready for transport.”
Grateful to be moving on, Ali grabbed her prisoner by the handcuffs. “Walk.”
He didn’t resist; more like he leaned against her and sniffed her neck.
“You son-of-a-bitch.” Furious, she pushed him ahead of her. “I hope they fry your ass.”
She stepped back to watch as Rance shoved him in a car. He looked back at her before the car drove away. Her pulse hammered. What was her problem? Policy said no personal feelings allowed on the job. Ali had never found that a hard rule to follow. Until now. She turned away from the epitome of temptation and wondered if this sting would ever end.

Also available from Loose ID: Devil’s Heart by Betty Womack

And writing as P.J. Womack, from New Concepts Publishing: The Secret, The Man In Her Life, and Just One Look

About Annie Rayburn/Carol Burnside

As an author of sizzling romance, Annie takes contemporary settings. and incorporates twists with sci-fi and paranormal elements.
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