Grave
Vengeance
Grave # 3
Grave # 3
By: Lori Sjoberg
Releasing Jan 19th, 2015
Lyrical Press
Blurb
Handsome
and haunted, he's a reaper who prefers to work alone. But Fate has other plans
for him and the sassy secret agent who shot him in another life—if their pasts
don't catch up with them first.
Dmitri
Stavitsky has never played well with others—a Soviet KGB spy in life turned
reaper after death, his work of bringing souls to the other side is best done
alone. But orders from the top soon place him alongside fellow reaper Gwen
Peterson, the American counter intelligence agent who took his life so many
years ago.
Now, as a
ghost from Gwen's past resurfaces with the power to steal reapers' souls, the
two have no choice but to set aside their differences and apprehend the rogue
together. But their cross-country mission soon ignites feelings Dmitri thought
he was no longer capable of—for the woman who helped destroy him. With an
ancient force and a small army against them, he'll have to let go of old grudges
or risk his future with Gwen...as Fate hangs dangerously in the balance.
Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/01/grave-vengeance-grave-3-by-lori-sjoberg.html
Goodreads
Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23404029-grave-vengeance?from_search=true Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/114553-grave
Buy Links:
Excerpt:
“Uh-uh,” she
said with a shake of her head. “I’m driving.”
The vein in his
forehead felt like it was going to burst as he stomped down the parking lot
after her. “I’m not riding shotgun in my own car,” he snarled.
“You are
tonight.”
He made another
grab for the door handle and the car shot forward again. The thought of
wringing her neck flashed through his mind, but then he thought of what Samuel
would do to punish him and the notion lost its appeal.
“I could do this
all night, but we’re running low on time. The big boss is expecting us in less
than an hour.” The smile fell away from her face, revealing the no-nonsense
bitch he’d known during his Cold War days. “Get in. The passenger side’s
unlocked.”
Some men were
nice to look at. Others, you couldn’t look away from. And then there was Dmitri
Stavitsky.
He was taller
than her, around six foot four, and had the powerful build of a gymnast. The
shirt he wore did nothing to conceal his thick, corded arms or the broad
expanse of his chest. His thighs strained against the confines of his jeans. He
carried himself with an air of confidence that most men found intimidating and
most women found irresistible. And even though Gwen despised him as much as he
despised her, she had to admit he wore it well.
Gwen could feel
his eyes moving over her while she drove, and she resisted the urge to squirm
in her seat. “What?”
The passing
streetlights played over the planes of his face. He hadn’t shaved in a day or
two, and his jaw was shadowed with stubble. It made him look almost as
dangerous as he was.
Almost.
Back in the day,
he’d been one of the KGB’s top agents. For nearly a decade, he worked within
the borders of the United States, stealing some of the country’s most valuable
secrets. What he couldn’t steal he usually destroyed with calculated and
ruthless efficiency. He killed defectors before they could spill their secrets
as well as killing anyone else deemed an enemy of the Soviet Union. The full
extent of his treachery was never determined; he’d taken those secrets to the
grave.
“You cut your
hair.” During the Cold War, he’d spoken with a flawless American accent to mask
his true identity. The habit died when the Iron Curtain fell, and now his rich,
deep voice contained a blend of both Russian and American, with the former
growing more pronounced when he got pissed off. Like now.
“So nice of you
to notice.”
One corner of
his mouth twitched. “It makes you look like a boy.” Bastard. Her grip tightened
around the steering wheel. “Like I give a damn what you think.”
He laughed under
his breath. “I think you do.” The smirk on his face vanished when she ground
the gears. “Careful! It took me two days to rebuild the transmission.”
“Sorry.” Not
really. She totally meant to do that. “Third’s a little sticky.” She held back
a smile as she hooked a right onto Alafaya Trail.
Dmitri raked his
hands through his short, dark hair. He was a few weeks past the time for a cut,
and the ends curled around the nape of his neck. “Why are you here, Gwen?” Her
name sounded like poison on his tongue.
Good question.
Her current base of operations was on the opposite side of the country, along
the American side of the border with Mexico. Samuel had been vague on the
details when he contacted her late last night with orders to fly to Orlando for
a special assignment. She hated the idea of working with Dmitri, but knew
better than to refuse an order. After all, the Big Kahuna wasn’t known for his
gentle demeanor. The quicker they got the job finished, the quicker they could
return to their normal routines and forget the other existed.
“Samuel sent
me,” she replied with a shrug, knowing he’d understand the way the boss
operated.
He nodded, his
expression grim. “And why did you steal my car?”
“Because I
could.” And because she knew it would piss him off. It was the way things had
always worked between them. They’d lost their humanity and become reapers
together, and had been at each other’s throats ever since. Two Cold War relics,
passing through the modern age. “You really need to install a better anti-theft
system. Anybody with a screwdriver can hot-wire this thing in less than five
minutes.” She’d done it in three.
She could have
sworn he growled.
Author Info
Lori
was a born a coal miner’s daughter. No wait, that’s not right. Actually, she was born a carpenter’s daughter.
Her mother was a housewife/homemaker/stay-at-home mom – whatever the
politically correct term is these days.
Basically, she made sure Lori didn’t get into too much trouble, a task
easier said than done.
Growing
up the youngest of three girls, Lori never had control of the remote. (Not that
she’s bitter about that. Really. Okay, maybe a little, but it’s not like she’s
scarred for life or anything.) That meant a steady diet of science fiction and
fantasy. Star Trek, Star Wars, Twilight Zone, Outer Limits – you name it, she
watched it. It fed her imagination, and that came in handy when the hormones
kicked in and she needed a creative excuse for being out past curfew.
After
completing her first manuscript, she joined the Romance Writers of America and
Central Florida Romance Writers. Now she exercises the analytical half of her
brain at work, and the creative half writing paranormal romance. When she’s not
doing either one of those, she’s usually spending time with her husband and
children of the four-legged variety
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