Saturday, August 5, 2017

Book Spotlight on Saving Mr. Perfect by Tamara Morgan (GIVEAWAY)

When an FBI agent marries a jewel thief sparks flies in this tale of clearing one's name and counting on love and honor to discover the truth.  Keep reading to get a tempting taste of Saving Mr. Perfect by Tamara Morgan, with its flirty and thrilling action, then add it to your bookshelf.  In honor of this second installment in the Penelope Blue series make sure to fill out the form below for the chance to win 1 of 3 copies of the first book in this series too!

She’s a famous jewel thief.
He's FBI.
What's that saying? Keep your friends close...and your husband closer.
Being a retired jewel thief certainly has its perks.
1. Oh, wait.
2. No it doesn’t.
Without the thrill of the chase, life’s been pretty dull. Penelope gardens, drives her gorgeous husband up the wall, and watches as her old world slowly slips away. But what’s that old saying? When one thief closes the door…a copycat jimmies open a window.
And now all fingers at the FBI are pointed at her.
Set up to take the fall for thefts worth millions, Penelope have no choice but to strap on her heels and help her FBI agent husband track the thief. Grant might not think he needs a partner, but this is one case only a true professional can solve. Besides, she’s got to know who’s been taking her bad name in vain.
Let's just hope curiosity doesn't kill the cat burglar.


“So does this mean we have a deal?” A smile plays on Penelope’s lips as she continues her full-bodied assault on my sanity. I find out why when she lowers her voice to a purr and adds, “Partner?"
“Yes, Penelope,” I say, liking the sound of that word on her lips more than I thought I would. A partner implies longevity. A partner promises forever. The thought of losing her to Christopher’s machinations causes a visceral reaction, but losing her in any capacity does that. “This means we have a deal."
The full implication of what I’ve done is borne on me when she jumps back, releasing a delighted squeal and clapping her hands. The coy temptress is gone as quickly as she came, replaced by the resilient, mischievous woman I first fell in love with.
Damn, but it feels good to see her again. I only wish it was me and not the promise of life-threatening danger that drew her out.
I groan. “What did I do in a past life to deserve you in this one?"
“You probably started a school for underprivileged youth,” she replies with a laugh. “No—a dozen schools for underprivileged youth. And an orphanage to match each one. I bet you even won a Nobel Peace Prize."
“Either that or I was a mass murderer."
“Yeah. That too.” She grins. “Should we seal this thing with a kiss or a handshake?"
I reach for her. “Oh, I’m definitely picking the first one."
It’s not the most official way for an FBI agent to contract with an independent investigator, but I don’t care. It’s how this FBI agent and this independent investigator are going to do things.
She tastes, as she almost always does, of cotton candy. I never know if it’s her terrible diet that causes spun sugar to spout from her mouth, or if it’s part of her bewitching charm, but kissing her is always a feast for my senses. If she’d let me, I’d hold her here and keep kissing her until she begged me for mercy. Each curve of her body is worthy of hours of exploration, and hours of exploration in her arms are exactly what I need right now.
But of course, Penelope refuses to play along. She always refuses to play along.
“Don’t you dare try to keep me vertical right now,” she says and grabs my tie. Wrapping it around her fist, she tugs until I can feel the chokehold around my neck. “We’re taking this thing horizontal immediately."
“Or what?” I ask, my voice strained—and not because of the tie. “You’ll strangle me?"
“It’s what you deserve,” she says and tugs again. This time, she brings my face level to hers and nips playfully at the side of my mouth. “No taking your time today, Grant Emerson. I need this to be fast and hard."
I don’t bother asking why. For me, sex with Penelope has always been a transcendental experience; so much more than the fusing of two bodies, I like to think it’s the fusing of two souls. Unfortunately, she doesn’t see it the same way. For her, sex is more like a game—a power play that usually finds her coming out way ahead. In this, as in all things, she likes there to be a fight.
Which is fine in theory. Fighting this woman is easy. Fighting this woman is fun. Winning against her? That’s a different story.



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