Title: Shiftless – Book Three of the Night Shift Series

Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press

Release: June 19

Buy Links:

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Blurb: Night Shift is the city’s thin, silver line- and some nights it’s thinner than others.

 

It isn’t the fact he almost died last night that’s thrown Night Shift officer Kit Marlow. He’s used to that. It’s the fact that instead of a werewolf trying to rip his throat out, it was his friend and colleague who tried to put him in the ground.

Well, ‘friend.’

Now Marlow’s been framed for a murder he didn’t commit by a man who’s committed more than his fair share. Half the cops in San Diego want to see Marlow behind bars for what he’s supposedly done, and the other half want him dead before he can tell his side of the story. The problem is that he can’t tell them apart.

There’s only one person in town that Marlow can trust, even though he knows he shouldn’t drag Cade Deacon into his problems. The sharp-tongued CEO of a private security firm might have gotten close to Marlow over the last few weeks, but taking on the SDPD is a lot to ask.

Marlow doesn’t have much choice, though. If he can’t clear his name before the last full moon of the month sets, he might not see another one. That’d be a shame since Marlow would really like to spend the night with Cade without needing protective gear.

 

 

First of all, thank you so much for having me! I’m thrilled to be here with my new release, Shiftless by TA Moore, which completes the Night Shift trilogy! I believe it is still technically a novella, although it’s the novella that kicked the other novellas out of the nest and ate all the food!

For the blog tour I’ve written a short story set in the Night Shift world. I hope you enjoy!

 

Chapter One

 

At midnight the Crates were the stuff of nightmares. A high-walled pen that stank of wolves, blood, and the thin, chemical stink of rapidly metabolizing tranquilizers. It was impossible to keep a wolf tranqed all night long—their body adapted to the drugs—so any pulled in early were up and howling by the wee hours. The guards positioned along the top of the wall were issued ear-protectors along with stun guns and radios to call for help.

They weren’t Night Shift. They didn’t get to carry silver. So if the shit hit the fan, they were out of luck.

Dawn changed all that. Embarrassed, naked people shuffled through queues to be signed out or—if they were going home to a mess—pulled aside by loss adjusters or family liaison officers.

It still felt oppressive. The back of Marlow’s neck always started to itch whenever he drove through the reinforced metal gates. It was one of the oldest structures in San Diego, and the claw-scored granite walls had soaked up generations of inchoate, primal rage, and hunger.

There was always a dark, heavy atmosphere inside it, like it was angry about something it had seethed over for a long time.

Marlow had nightmares about it. Not often, but sometimes. They were always the same. The heavy gates would slam behind him, and the guards would drag him over to one of the crates to chain him up until he turned back into a wolf. Nobody would listen when he told them he’d never shift.

He supposed it gave him something to talk to the department shrink about… and a reason he didn’t often come down here.

“…I what?” an older man, grey hair long enough to touch the shoulders of his city-issued sweatsuit, spluttered. “At Miriam Davies’s house? I…We dated for a few months twenty years ago. I haven’t seen her since. Not until I bumped into her at the coffee shop. I didn’t even know where she lived or…”

Two bodies across at the next booth, a woman with ear-length black hair and the fed-up expression of a regular tapped her bare foot as she listened to the explanation for how she got here.

“So, same as the last time?” She held her hand out and wriggled her fingers impatiently. “I know I need to get a new job, okay? It’s not that easy, and my boss doesn’t know I’m the one who pissed in his office. He still doesn’t, right?”

Marlow paused as he glanced her way. He’d brought her in two months ago—well, he assumed, since at the time she’d been eight-foot-tall and covered in hair—for the same issue. They usually wouldn’t, but she’d been unusually resistant to being moved on.

Nice to put a face to the muzzle, he supposed. She really did need to get a new job.

She looked up and gave him an annoyed glare as she shoved her signed paperwork over the counter. Marlow turned his attention back to the corrections officer in front of him. C.O Vernon, barely twenty and with a hot, red pimple on the back of her neck just above her collar.

She seemed young for the job, but Marlow had been a beat cop at that age. So… Maybe he was just tired.

“Wait here for a second, sir,” Vernon asked politely as they reached the small, pre-fab office shoved into the corner of the Crate. “I’ll just see if Associate Warden Brunell is free to speak to you.”

She hopped up the rickety metal steps and tapped on the door. After a second, she nudged it open and poked her head inside.

“Somewhere to see you, sir,” she said.

“Fuck off,” a faintly muffled voice said. “Now?”

“…yes.”

“Did anyone tell the dickhead we work nights?”

“…don’t know, sir,” Vernon said after a pause. “He probably knows. He’s Night Shift.”

“For…don’t bury the lede, Vernon,” Brunell said sourly. “Bring him over.”

 

TA Moore –

TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide. As her grandmother always said, ‘she’d laugh at a bad thing that one’, mind you, that was the pot calling the kettle black. TA Moore studied History, Irish mythology, English at University, mostly because she has always loved a good story. She has worked as a journalist, a finance manager, and in the arts sectors before she finally gave in to a lifelong desire to write.

 

Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.

 

Website: www.tamoorewrites.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TAMoorewrites/

Twitter: @tamoorewrites

 

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