"Combustible tension and wonderful adventure provide for a steamy sexy romantic suspense."
Reviewed by Darlene Kendall
Posted September 8, 2011
Romance Suspense
Investigator Storm Buchanan did not expect her latest
assignment to coincide with Rafe Savage's case. Rafe works
for her family's rival agency, the Wakefields. The
Buchanan's agency is family owned but both agencies have
people with special gifts. Storm's gift of manipulating
minds is hard on the love life until Rafe, whose mind she
can't control, doesn't mind at all which is a good thing
since she would love nothing better than to get him in her
bed. Wishing won't make it come true; her family would have a
fit if she took up with the enemy.
When Rafe's vision
shows Storm in danger they begin a game of cat and mouse
with someone who is determined to get their hands on
both of them for reasons unknown to either. The escalating
danger to Storm and Rafe has the agency's founders
declaring a timeout. Now is the time to join forces if
they want to keep everyone safe while they discover who and
what is after their people.
Combustible tension and
wonderful adventure provide for a steamy sexy romantic
suspense with enough twists and turns to keep readers
impatiently flipping the pages. From page one I knew
STORMING HIS HEART would give me a few hours of
entertainment and I was right. The Wakefield and Buchanan
agencies are like the Hatfield and McCoy feud except Ms
Harte's feud has passion, humor, suspense, and lovable
people. I loved this story and look forward to reading
more of this series from an author who never fails to
deliver exceptional stories.
SUMMARY
She’d give anything to lose control.
A Westlake Enterprises Story
Storm Buchanan’s talent for mind control comes in handy as
an investigator for a private agency, but it’s hell on her
love life. Men bow to her every whim, so there’s no
challenge. Where’s the fun in that?
Maybe that’s why she can’t trust herself around Rafe
Savage. The smug, sexy, annoying investigator for a rival
firm is the one man who seems impervious to her power.
Worse, when he kisses her, she all-too-willingly slips
under his control.
Rafe’s gift for seeing into the future doesn’t usually
blindside him…until it comes to Storm. The beautiful
seductress assaults his control on all fronts, and the
spontaneous flashes of her life in danger have his every
instinct on alert.
When attempts on both their lives escalate, Storm and Rafe
must stick together to find a madman bent on vengeance.
While it’s no surprise that their enforced proximity has
their bodies going up in flames, neither expects lust to
melt into love. Or that they’ll need every ounce of their
combined skills to fight for a future that could die before
it’s born.
Warning: Beware a heroine with mind control, a sexy hero
with attitude, annoying siblings, smug psychics, sexualized
danger, and a psychotic villain who can’t be caught
ExcerptStorm spotted the study door and hurried. A glance at
the bedside clock showed she was running out of time. She
dragged her shoes with her, careful to leave no evidence of
her presence behind.
Using the codes Thorne had also appropriated from
Locklen’s mind, she unlocked the door and entered. The
light from the bedroom illuminated the moderate space. She
noted the shelves of old books, nautical charts and
antiques encased in glass. And there, atop his large
mahogany desk, a wrought iron statue of Captain Michael G.
Locklen, founder of the family’s dynasty. That statue meant
the jewels were close.
A sudden bang made her jump. Outside, the wind shrieked
and blew a tree limb against the study window overlooking
the back gardens. With her luck, the power would go out.
Not needing more of a headache than she already had, Storm
closed the heavy drapes and the study door before turning
on the desk lamp. Shadows darkened the corners of an
already dim room, but she didn’t dare expose herself with
more lighting.
In this room, Locklen relied on simple locks to secure
his valuables. His antiquated security matched the aged
valuables he held dear. She made short work of his desk
using a lockpick she’d hidden in the heel of her shoe. A
search through his things turned up nothing. She tapped her
foot in frustration.
"Where are you?" The statue was here, therefore the
jewels had to be here. She looked again around the room and
noticed an antique lamp standing over a plush leather
reading chair. It was hard to see since the desk light
didn’t illuminate much more than the top of the desk.
Storm approached the lamp for better study. She still
didn’t want to turn on the main light on the off chance one
of the guards patrolling outside the house might notice.
And then she saw it. A sparkling, emerald necklace atop the
lampshade, right in plain sight. From a distance it had
looked like part of the lampshade’s decoration. Relieved
she’d finally found it, she reached for the necklace.
"Move and you’ll be very sorry," a voice whispered in
the darkness a split second before someone yanked her back
against a hard frame and covered her mouth with his hand.
Storm froze. She didn’t necessarily need to see this
intruder to get him to bend to her will, but eye contact
always strengthened her bond. She struggled to get free.
"Don’t scream or I’ll gag you," he threatened and
released her mouth, keeping his hand close should she try
to yell.
"I don’t know who you are, but I’m sure you don’t want
me," she whispered, her voice smooth, like the deceptive
calm before a hurricane. She concentrated on an image of
herself walking out of the study. "Why don’t you just let
me go and I’ll forget you were ever here?"
The arm around her tightened—not what she’d
expected. He secured her hands behind her back with a speed
that betrayed expertise then turned her around.
Unfortunately, she could see nothing of his face but brown
eyes and a firm mouth through his ski mask.
Those eyes... Damn it. She knew those eyes. Her own
widened. "You were at that bar trying to steal my witness
three weeks ago," she said, wishing she didn’t sound so
breathless.
"Whose witness?" he drawled, humor in his deep voice.
"Who are you?" But she knew. Just her luck that of all
the agents she might have run into, she had to encounter
the one she had nightly fantasies about. Rafe
Savage—sexy asshole extraordinaire.
Thorne’s rumor had turned out to be true. Westlake was
definitely involved.
Buchanan Investigations was one of two firms of its
like—a top-notch investigative service whose
investigators possessed psychic abilities. Though their
paranormal talents remained fairly secret, the success of
the firm did not. The only fly in the ointment was the
equaled success of their competitor, Westlake Enterprises.
It just figured the only man Storm found even remotely
interesting worked for the enemy.
"Maybe I should be asking you that question," he rumbled
in a low voice. "You stole my witness, started a bar fight
I had to clean up and left before we could be properly
introduced. Now you’re here in the middle of my business
once again."
Oh man, Savage was even bigger and faster than she
remembered. And just as sexy, something she had no business
thinking about with the job on the line.
Now how to distract him until she could collect the
jewels?
"I can almost hear you plotting." He pushed her into the
leather chair, forcing her to sit with her hands behind her
back, and turned on the antique light. Removing his mask,
he studied her as she squinted under the light’s glare.
Dark brown hair cropped a face filled with hard planes and
a granite jaw, to say nothing of his lethal stare. No two
ways about it, Savage was not only tough but incredibly
handsome. And he works for Westlake.
It was disgusting how often she had to remind herself of
that fact.
"Storm Buchanan. In the flesh. So many times we’ve run
into each other, but this takes the cake. You look
different tonight." He ran a gloved finger over her
collarbone, eliciting an involuntary shiver.
Storm tried to shrug off the arousing intensity of his
touch, both thrilled and unnerved he knew exactly who she
was. He’d never before called her by name. "Don’t you want
to let me go?" She tried again to command him and had no
luck. Strong-willed bastard. She couldn’t see well under
the dim light. Was he looking at her face or her figure in
the slim-fitting dress? At his appreciative whistle, she
bet on the dress.
"Oh no you don’t, sweetheart." He grabbed something out
of his back pocket and bent down in front of her. His lips
quirked into a surprising grin. "Much as I’d like to gag
you with this, I think it’d do better as a blindfold."
Blindfold? Shit. He knew about her ability, or at least,
he thought he did. Storm didn’t need to see her opponents
to manipulate them, but the eye contact helped. To give her
an edge, her uncle had insisted they plant evidence to the
contrary. She’d always wondered how deep Westlake’s
information ran. Now she knew. How to play this
off...? "Come on, you don’t need to blindfold me. I already
know what you look like. It’s not like I’m going to tell
anyone you were in here. If I’m found in here, I’m in big
trouble."
"I know." He finished tying her blindfold and
stood. "The earrings, bracelet and ring are fixed to the
underside of the lamp, in case you were wondering."
"Gee, thanks." Smug bastard.
"You know, I really didn’t come here for this. But then,
I wasn’t expecting to run into you again anytime soon, and
what do you know? Fate’s smiling on me tonight."
She could hear a large smile in his voice, mocking them
both.
He continued, "The last time we met, you stole my
witness."
"And the time before that, you left with the files I’d
been sent to collect. We’re even."
Warm breath fanned her cheek and she clenched her
thighs, alarmed to feel herself respond.
"Even? I don’t think so. You have a bad habit of turning
up in the wrong places, sweetheart."
Controlling a shiver, she shot back, "Well, sweetheart,
maybe you’re the one with the bad habits. Be a good boy and
go home. Locklen is mine."
He chuckled. "You sure you want him? Hell, you can have
him. But I’m not leaving until I get what I came for."
With her eyesight blocked, her other senses were
magnified. Storm could smell the sexy maleness of him
standing so close, could feel his gaze moving over her body
like a lover’s hands. She did her best to deny her
attraction, but she couldn’t. For some reason, Savage got
to her the way no one ever had. She wanted to strangle him
at the same time she wanted to kiss him blind. "Well, why
are you here? What do you want?" she snapped.
"What do I want? Hmm, let’s see. I have a beautiful
woman all tied up and helpless before me. I also have a bag
full of jewels easily worth a cool million. What to do,
what to do?"
She gritted her teeth and tried to manage a bit of room
between her wrists, made all the more uncomfortable because
she couldn’t stop flaunting herself. Every time she
shifted, she inadvertently thrust her breasts toward him.
Damn it. What had he used to bind her? Would it have been
too much to ask for simple rope?
"Good luck getting free. Plastic cable ties are a real
bitch to get off," he answered her unvoiced question with
way too much cheer.
"It hurts." She shifted and cursed inwardly when the
dress slid between her thighs, exposing a length of leg
from two dangerously high slits.
"Suck it up, princess." When she squirmed again, he
groaned and warned, "You don’t want to do that."
"Screw you." Storm was disgusted with herself tonight.
Where the hell had her discipline gone? Bound, helpless and
incredibly aroused by some arrogant jerk who worked for
Westlake, she felt more like an amateur Nancy Drew than a
professional investigator. She continued to struggle but
stilled when she felt his lips against her neck.
Her stomach clenched, her nipples hardened and the
sensitive flesh between her thighs throbbed. Instinctively,
she drew back into the seat, away from the danger in front
of her. Or was that behind her? Over her?
He whispered into her ear, "Don’t move, my little
rabbit. Not just yet."
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