ELITE GHOSTS
For more
than two years they’ve been ghosts. Nothing but names on empty tombstones. Men
and women forced to fade into the background after being pulled from the
rubble. Dead Marines saved from a fate worse than death, but ordered to stand
down while their lives disappeared all around them.
Some knew it
could happen if a mission exploded. Double crossed by more than just Red Wolf.
But now is their time to be reborn from the flames of a Phoenix. No longer
imprisoned in the shadows. A half-life between them and their future. To make
things right coming back to life is their only option.
Loyalty is
their salvation but damage is always more than skin deep.
A new hope.
A new family. Elite Ghosts.
Target: Tungsten by Heather Long
Bradley
“Tungsten” Peck. Marine. Lover. Friend. He’s the man who can get anything, find
anyone, and accomplish every goal. At least he was, before he lost the only
woman who mattered…he won’t stop until he gets her back or she puts a bullet in
him.
Zinc's Heart by Rebecca Royce
Zinc has nothing to prove--and everything to lose.
Lithium’s
Rescue by Sabrina York
He will save her…unless she saves him first.
Thallium's Submission by
Anna Alexander
From
now on the only orders he will follow are hers.
Nickel’s Wounds by Saranna
DeWylde
Hell
hath no fury like a Marine who’s lost her way. Beauty was once her currency,
but for a woman who can’t feel anything but agony, she has nothing left. Except
the vengeance that could destroy the one man whose love could teach her how to
save herself.
Titanium’s Sacrifice
by Jennifer Kacey
Titanium.
Warbucks. Commander. Brother. He is all of those things. And none of them.
Giving up everything to save the men and women under his command was easy until
it comes to one…last…sacrifice.
Lithium’s Rescue by Sabrina York
He will save her…unless she saves
him first.
Michelle
Parsons is on the run. She has evidence of a plot that could destroy the
country, but in order to stop her boss and his extremist cohorts from taking
over the US Senate, she needs to get the information into the right hands.
Trouble is, her contact, the only man she trusts, has been neutralized. She’s
all alone. No one can help her.
No
one, but the Elite Ghosts.
It’s a
shame then, that when Benedict Butler—Codename: Lithium—shows up to bring her
in from the cold, she doesn’t know if she can trust him or not. And when their
relationship evolves into something more…he’s not sure he can trust himself
either.
She
does something to him, changes him. Heals him, somehow. And in the end, it’s
difficult to say who rescued whom.
Read an Excerpt of Lithium’s Rescue!
Michelle stared at her phone as the
realization that Ralley was watching her every move—had been watching her every
move—whipped through her in a howl of horror. She should have known. She should
have guessed.
She was well aware of ASTCORP’s
capabilities—of the sensitive information they collected and processed…and how
they got it. She should have assumed Ralley would keep the same leash on his employees.
The thought of being watched, listened to,
spied on infuriated her.
“Fuck you, Ralley,” she snapped, though he
had long ago ended the call. Still, she was certain he heard. He had ears
everywhere.
The hell she would wait here for someone to
come and collect her.
If Ralley knew everything—and she had to
assume he did—she’d never walk away from such an encounter.
She went inside and yanked the curtains
closed, even though she knew, if Ralley had eyes on her, he’d be using a
thermal scan as well. Shutting him out made her feel better. Then she quickly
collected her purse, cash stash and a change of underwear—as well as a knife
from the kitchen—and headed for the door.
She had no idea where she was going, other
than away, but that would make it harder for Ralley to find her. She didn’t
have family or friends outside work. No predictable patterns. She’d slip away
in the night to the bus station or the train station and hop on the first
transport out of town. Wherever it was going, she would—
She froze as the horrifying sound of a lock
snicking shot through the silent room.
Her eyes widened. She lifted the knife.
Hell! Why hadn’t she turned off the lights?
The door eased open with an eerie creak. No
one stood in the opening, but Michelle knew better. Someone was there. The
barrel of a Sig appeared, capped with a long silencer. Michelle sucked in a
breath and ducked back against the wall. When a hand emerged, she slashed it
with the knife and, when it clattered to the ground, she executed a roundhouse
kick into the doorway in the spot she assumed a face might be.
She got it right. Her assailant flew back
with a bellow, slamming into the wall in the hallway. She bolted forward
through the door, but he rallied quickly and caught her around the waist. With
a howl, she kneed him in the crotch and gave him a healthy punch to the
kidneys. She knew all the spots where a man was weak. She’d been trained for
hand-to-hand combat since birth.
But he was trained too, and he was bigger.
Stronger. A stocky, burly sort with a squashed in face and piggy eyes. And
speaking of piggy eyes, when he slammed into her, launching them both back into
her apartment onto the floor, she gouged at his.
His response was a clout to her cheek.
It stunned her, but only for a moment.
A moment too long.
He captured both her wrists in one hand and
pulled a long KA-BAR from its sheath.
The bastard smiled then, revealing a hatred
for dentistry. “He wanted you alive, bitch,” he growled in a thickly accented
voice. Russian, if she wasn’t mistaken. Funny what little details filtered in
when one was about to die. “It wouldn’t be hard to convince him this couldn’t
be helped.”
It was disturbing, the way his eyes glinted
as he set the blade to her neck, as though slicing it would bring him a great
deal of pleasure.
A flicker of movement behind him caught her
attention and her gaze shot to the doorway. She didn’t even bother to wince
when his compatriot appeared. It was hardly a surprise. These sorts rarely
worked alone.
She didn’t know why her focus locked onto the
newcomer’s face, why something rose within her, a wail of denial, a wash of
regret. Because he was, this second villain, drop dead gorgeous.
In that second, that fleeting moment of time
before she died, a great wave of sadness swamped her. In another world, another
universe, another dimension, if such things existed, she would want a man like
him. He was tall. Broad. Beautiful.
Their gazes clashed and his eyes narrowed. A
muscle bunched in his cheek. Something that might have been cold fury rippled
over his features.
And then he moved.
To her shock, he grabbed her assailant around
the neck with a muscled arm and levered him to his feet. The knife clattered to
the floor. The first man howled and flailed, kicking and scratching at the second
in a frenzy to be free. He whipped down, throwing the second man over his
shoulders and onto the ground—but the beautiful warrior bounded to his feet and
faced his foe with a snarl.
They circled each other, there in the foyer
of her apartment, each taking the others’ measure. Michelle would have run, but
they were blocking the door, damn it all anyway.
She grabbed the knife though, as it was in
range, and scuttled back. She needed to be ready to face the victor when this
was over. She had no idea why they were fighting over her, no idea who the
second man was, but it hardly mattered. She wasn’t leaving with either of them.
She didn’t trust anyone.
It was probably completely idiotic that deep
down, in the well of her soul, she hoped the handsome man won. Being handsome
didn’t make him a good man. In fact, it often meant the opposite.
The two men came together in a bone-crunching
rush. The fight was furious. Fists and grunts and pummeling. The dull thuds of
flesh on flesh. The crack of bones. The wet retort of splattering flesh.
It quickly became clear, the pig-eyed man
didn’t stand a chance.
The warrior, the beast, demolished him with
clout after ruthless, savage clout. With one crushing punch, he sent the
smaller man teetering back onto the carpet. He didn’t move.
Michelle paid him little mind. She kept her
eyes on the victor, the large and looming man with a sinfully beautiful face.
Though she held the knife before her, it trembled.
He stared down at the broken man and his lips
quirked in what might have been a smile. Or not. He cracked his knuckles and
turned his attention to her. His eyes were cold, emotionless. His expression
harsh.
“Strip,” he said.
Just that one word.
Strip.
Elite Ghosts Buy Links
Jigsaw
Puzzle
Trailer
Sabrina’s Tiara Giveaway!
About
Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New
York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart
and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and
contests. Get updates, alerts and giveaway announcements from Sabrina here: http://eepurl.com/bj8tKb.
Christmas with Angel 
