Two psychics – one serial killer.
Someone is stalking women and murdering them in Key West. Levi Wolfe and Trudy Tucker join forces to help identify the murderer and stop him. Levi can channel the deceased victims and Trudy can tap into the mind of the killer. As a psychic detective team, they’re formidable. As lovers, they discover that they’re insatiable. But if Trudy can see through the killer’s eyes, can the killer see her?
“Now that you’re here, I know we will make tremendous progress,” Quintara said, hugging Trudy close for a few moments. “Where’s the dog?”
“Back at the RV park. I was afraid she’d be bored listening to us drone on about dead people and murderers.” Her gaze moved of its own volition to the man standing quietly, unnervingly behind Quintara. His thick, black hair lay in tousled waves, and the lower half of his face was shadowed by tomorrow’s whiskers. He wore perfectly tailored black trousers and a gun-metal gray shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His blue eyes glinted at her, framed by sooty lashes. He towered above Quintara’s five-foot-two frame.
Trudy’s mouth went dry and she knew she was staring at him, but it she couldn’t tear her gaze away. It was a sin for a man to be that pretty, she thought with a twist of malice. His winged black brows brought more attention to the arresting blue color of his eyes. His nose was perfection, his jaw line was square and infinitely masculine, and his chin bore the barest hint of a cleft. He oozed sex appeal like it was part of his DNA.
“Hello, Tru,” he said, his voice husky and deep.
Tru? She bristled a little. “Hello, Leviticus,” she rejoined, arching a brow in an effort to appear on equal footing with him even as nerves erupted in her stomach.
He frowned for a second at the use of his Christian name, but then his lips slid into his trademark, slightly lopsided grin that made her stomach do a somersault.
“Children, be nice,” Quintara said.
“I thought I was.” Levi stepped away and motioned to the bar. “Care for a drink, Tru?”
Grudgingly, she decided she liked the way he said her shortened name, even though it made it sound as if he knew her well – which he didn’t. “Is there juice?”
“Of course. Orange, Papaya, Pineapple—.”
“Pineapple sounds good.” Trudy sat beside Quintara on the rattan sofa. The living room faced a sliding glass door that gave a view of white sand, palm trees, and a slip of the ocean. The doors to the bedrooms that flanked the dining area were closed. Levi handed her a tall, frosted glass of juice. He smiled at her as his long fingers slid against hers on the slippery glass.
Trudy drew in a breath and told herself to chill out. He sat in the rattan chair to her right, crossed his legs, and flicked a white thread from his black trousers. He was the picture of calmness and she felt as if her chest was full of butterflies.
“Do you two have separate rooms?” Trudy asked, trying to drive past her nervousness and get Quintara’s goat.
Levi smirked and glanced at a cackling Quintara.
“Levi’s too busy seducing all the pretty television anchor women to want to share a room with a well-rounded, older enchantress like me. Isn’t that right, Levi?”
“You’re the one who was announcing your room number to every waiter and barkeep we ran into last night.”
“And a lot of good it did me,” Quintara said, flipping her string of red beads and puckering her lips in a pout. “But let’s talk about murder.” She glanced from him to Trudy. “Have you felt anything, dear? He’s been talking to you, hasn’t he?”
Trudy fidgeted on the sofa. “Yes, a little. I don’t know . . .”
“You do know,” Quintara said, her tone scolding, scalding. “You have felt him?”
“Yes.” The word almost stuck in her throat. She glanced toward Levi and flinched when she saw that he was completely focused on her. Talk about intense! It was like she was being blasted by a laser beam. “He’s thinking of murdering a barmaid that he knows. But I’m not entirely sure—.” She caught the rapier-edged glance Levi and Quintara exchanged. “What?”
“You have the right person, dear.” Quintara nodded to a folded newspaper on the coffee table. “A barkeep was murdered last night. He mutilated her.”
Author of more than 50 novels, Deborah lives in Oklahoma. She has been a full-time writer since she graduated from the University of Tulsa. Her background as a reporter for newspapers helped her to write fast and enjoy research. After she sold her first few books, she quit newspaper work to become a freelance writer and novelist. Deborah's first novel was published in the late 1970s and her books have been published by Jove, New American Library, Harlequin, Silhouette, and Avon. She has been inducted into the Oklahoma Authors Hall of Fame and she is a charter member of the Romance Writers of America. She is also a member of the Author's Guild. She was the first recipient of the Janet Dailey Award.
Through His Eyes (April, 2012) is her first romantic suspense book. It has paranormal elements and is erotic. She plans at least two more books featuring Levi Wolfe and Trudy Tucker.
Too Tough to Tame
"This is a Wonderful Book."
The book is funny and touching. I have read this book over 50 times already and I never get tired of it. Tess is so cute while Storm is strong and loving. They made a great couple. -- Amazon review from Snowstar
Tough Talk and Tender Kisses
This is definitely the best novel in the "Tough Man" series. The entire series is great; this one just happens to be my favorite. I absolutely adore Reno Gold (hero) and I love how he wins Adele with love and humor.-- Amazon review from A. Gideon