Audio Tour, Excerpt & Giveaway:
Nightcrawler by Patricia Logan
Trackers, Book 1
I’ve always been a sucker for a guy with muscles and a handsome face. If that makes me sound shallow, maybe I am. I’ve never had a real relationship, unless you consider the guys in my Marine Corps Recon unit. I had a great relationship with those guys. Yeah, yeah, I know we’re splitting hairs. These days, long after my retirement from active duty, the only kind of relationships I really do now are with fictional characters. I love to read, and in fact lately, I’ve been frequenting the pages of my favorite blog, Bestreads, to escape my real-life job, one I’m not very well suited for. One reviewer on there—Nightcrawler—absolutely slays me. He always makes me laugh, steering me clear of some of the worst trash out there when I’m not trying to earn money as a bounty hunter. Maybe someday the right man will come along, and he won’t simply be a book boyfriend. Someday. Lately, I can’t get intrigued by any of the guys I’ve met in bars. Hookups are becoming less and less interesting for me. I’m a reader and of late, I’m also a half decent reviewer. I work exclusively for a blog called Bestreads, working under the name of Nightcrawler and I’m not ashamed to admit, I try to make them funny. In my line of work as a recovery agent for a big insurance company, I’m finding my off hours much more pleasurable. I think about my next review and my next blog post all the time. Whenever I put up a funny two-star review, I dream of the guy who might be at home reading it, but pretty sure the kind of man who reads me, is probably living in his mother’s basement. Still, I’m a romantic at heart. Someday I might just run into him in one of my stories. Someday.
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Before I registered what was about to happen, a shot rang out and a searing hot barb hit me in the side, whipping me around. I had no time to think before Huerta grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the kitchen, shouting at me to run. A second bullet whizzed past my head, striking the paintwork of the doorjamb between the dining room and kitchen, sending stinging shards of wood exploding outward and hitting me right in the face. “Run!” Huerta screamed, still holding onto my bicep and dragging me through the kitchen. We made it as far as the door to the garage before a third shot slammed into the six-burner Viking range hood six inches away. Huerta yanked me through the door, slamming the solid wood fire door shut as three more shots rang out, burrowing into the closed door. That fucker meant to kill us, and my brain had finally fully caught up to what was happening. We scooted around the Lamborghini, making our way to the final door, spilling out into the side yard, with Huerta still pulling me along. The Marine finally let go and sprinted to the iron gate to slam open the slide bolt, yanking it open. We both crashed through it and ran as fast as we could to the ivy-covered wall. I was panting like a freight train, sucking in air, feeling like I was going to pass out as I watched Huerta make a running leap, scrambling up the wall. He stopped at the top and changed position to his belly, hanging half over as he reached down with both hands. “Take my hands!” he shouted. When I just stood there in shock looking up at him, he screamed again, “Take my fucking hands, Raven! I’ll pull you up!” It took the clang of the metal gate behind me to make me move. That maniac was right behind me, so I grabbed Huerta’s hands with both of mine. He slipped over the side, probably scraping his belly on the cinderblock wall as he used his own weight to pull me up and over. We both landed on our asses on the grassy parkway strip. Before I could register what had just taken place, Huerta was up, holding out a hand. “Give me your keys!” “What?” I asked, grabbing my side as the pain finally made itself known to me. “Give me your fucking keys, Raven! My truck is parked all the way around the block and if you haven’t noticed we’re being chased by a crazy man with a fucking gun! Not to mention the fact that you’ve been shot!”
About the Author
International bestselling author Patricia Logan, resides in Los Angeles, California. The author of over 75 books and nearly 60 audios including several #1 bestselling gay romances, lives in a small house with a large family. She loves to write about male heroes and the men who love them. Found families are a particular theme throughout her books. She likes to think that she infuses a wide variety of life’s experiences in every book and please trust her when she says all her books come packed with emotion and unbridled humor.
When she’s not writing her next law enforcement mystery, her next BDSM, or her next paranormal romance, she’s watching her grandchildren grow up way too soon and raising kids who make her proud every day. One of her favorite tasks is coaxing nose kisses from cats who insist on flopping on her keyboard while she types. Married to a wonderful man for nearly 40 years, she counts herself lucky to be surrounded by people who love her and give her stories to tell every day.
Pick up your favorite Patricia Logan Book from Amazon
Check out her Audio titles at Audible.com
Email her at patricialogan.author@yahoo.com. She loves to hear from readers more than anything and will respond to all emails.
