As of right now I don’t have the cover for this but I will updated it when I get it…

Unleashed will release October 2009!

And don’t forget about the contest…

Danny Taggart is the biggest, boldest badass of all the Gemini Men. There’s only one thing a woman can do with a man this hot, hard, and ready for action….

Tall, dark and rippling with muscle, Danny Taggart takes no prisoners. But when his latest case puts him up close and personal with the woman who once left him raw and aching, he’s shell-shocked. Caroline Medford is still hotter than hell. But she’s also got her pretty grip on the truths that have shaped him into the soul-ravaged warrior he is today. Burned once, Danny’s plan is to satisfy his craving for Caroline and walk away. Yet once he has her warm and willing beneath him, he can’t get deep enough—or close enough. Not even when danger threatens to destroy everything he’s ever fought for. Including the only woman he’s ever
loved…

“I’m so sorry.”

Danny was grateful his sunglasses hid his eye roll as he braced himself for another hug. His hand was stiff from endless handshakes, his brain numb from the meaningless condolences.

I’m so sorry. That’s what everyone said. But what were they sorry for? That she was dead? That they’d wasted years searching the globe for her when she was dead and buried practically in their own back yard? That Anne Taggart was in such a state when she disappeared that it was plausible – even probable- to most of the people who knew her that she’d walked out on her family?

Danny was really fucking sick of all these “I’m sorries.”

“At least now you have closure.”

Danny bit back a retort and returned his Aunt Cheryl’s embrace after she uttered the only words more annoying and offensive than “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t sure what kind of closure he was supposed to appreciate when the discovery of his mother’s body raised about a thousand more questions than it answered, like, starting with how did she end up dead in the first place and who the fuck decided an unmarked grave in a redwood forest was an appropriate resting place?

But he didn’t figure his Aunt Cheryl, who they hadn’t seen in over a decade, was up to discussing any of those hard questions.

Cheryl, his mother’s younger sister by two years, pulled back and clasped his right hand in both of hers. A niggling ache clutched his chest as he took in her carefully styled, chin length hair, its sunny blond color no doubt aided by a hairdresser, her lightly lined skin and watery blue eyes. Cheryl looked a lot like her older sister, and Danny knew this was the closest he’d ever get to seeing his own mother age.

He fought the urge to yank his hand away, slam himself into his jeep and haul ass back to his house so he could run for the hills and get good and gone for a few hours, maybe a few days this time.

He stood firm, returning Cheryl’s affectionate squeeze while he fought the blackness threatening to swallow him whole.

“If you need anything, anything at all, let me know, okay? You have our number right?”

Danny nodded, humoring her, bending his head so she could place one last, teary kiss on his cheek. He had no doubt she was sincere. In this moment, right this second, she meant he could call her for anything if he or his brothers were so inclined. But Aunt Cheryl and her husband lived outside Minneapolis, near her own children. Other than birthday cards and Christmas cards, they hadn’t had any contact once the initial stir caused by Anne’s disappearance died down. He didn’t blame her – she needed to get on with her life half a continent away. Still her offer to “be there” – whatever the fuck that meant, rang just as hollow as the endless “I’m sorries.”

Cheryl was followed by an endless stream of mourners, people he’d never met or barely remembered who’d shown up at Menlo Presbyterian today, supposedly to mourn Anne Taggart.

Or to rubberneck and rehash one of the biggest local scandals of the last decade was more like it.

He shook infinite hands, endured endless maternal pats as he watched Cheryl walk over to his father. The grim knot in Danny’s gut tightened as he watched his father woodenly return her hug. God, he hoped Cheryl didn’t say anything about closure horseshit to Joe. This was the last kind of closure Joe needed. The kind of closure that was going to drive his father into an early grave if they didn’t find something, anything, to point them in the right direction.

But this case was so cold it bordered on permafrost, and the police seemed content to leave it that way. Danny, Derek, and Ethan had been working non stop to find something – anything to go on, retracing her last days, going back through every pocket and purse and leftover scrap of paper she left behind.

And Joe had sat by through all of it, saying little, doing less, as he worked his way through a bottle of Ketel One vodka.

Danny was very afraid Joe was going to lose himself in the bottom of a bottle if they didn’t find something soon.

Finally the last of the mourners trailed out, and Danny made his way over to where his father stood with his brothers, along with Toni and Alyssa. Alyssa was doing her best to take one for the team, posing for the cameras and granting interviews to everyone as she tried to deflect the press’ attention away from the family. Danny uttered a curt no comment as he plowed his way through the throng and went to stand at his father’s side.

Like a bunch of good lemmings, the herd of reporters trailed Alyssa out to the parking lot. She threw them a wave over her shoulder, motioning to Derek that she’d call him. As the crowd moved, Danny could see one last mourner exit the dark interior of the church.

He did a double, then a triple take.

No fucking way.

His breath caught and his nostrils flared as he took her in. He knew the thick black waves spilling to her waist, the mouthwatering curves elegantly draped in black wool. Her dress went from neck to wrist to knee and should have been modest, but only served to highlight the lush swell of her breasts, the deep curve of her waist, the sexy flare of her hips. The heels of her black pumps tap tapped their way down the concrete steps and headed in his direction.

He dragged his gaze up to her face. Her luscious mouth was painted red and set in determined lines. Even though the sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, like him she wore sunglasses, her oversize frames hiding half her face. As though, like him, she didn’t want to chance anyone getting a peek into her soul.

Caroline fucking Palomares.

No, he reminded himself. Caroline fucking Medford.

Raw emotion spun up inside him, threatening to take him down. Lust. Anger. And a bunch of other crap he wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.

As she strode toward him, shoulders back, hips swinging like she had every right to be walking back into his life, today of all days, he struggled to put the lid back on the swirl of emotion struggling to break free. He reminded himself savagely of who she was. Caroline Medford.

Wife of James Medford, rich attorney twenty years her senior. The same James Medford who could give her the affluent lifestyle he hadn’t realized she coveted until it was too late.

The same James Medford she may very well have killed to keep herself in fast cars and high fashion.

She was not the seventeen year old who’d promised she’d never leave him when she gave him her virginity. She was not the twenty year old who’d sobbed when he’d announced his plans to join the Special Forces after he graduated from West Point. She wasn’t even the twenty two year old who’d told him to fuck off one final time before walking out on him without another word.

As she drew closer he focused on those differences. She was thinner, for one, he noticed as she got closer. And older, her mouth bracketed by fine lines that came from stress and age. Not to mention the wardrobe. He bet her outfit topped out at over a grand, even more if you counted the purse. A far cry from the wardrobe of a girl from a working class neighborhood who shopped at discount stores and went to private school on scholarship.

She was nothing like the girl he’d known, and he was nothing like the dumb kid who’d entertained romantic illusions like true love and happily ever after.

He took of his glasses, feeling a smile curl his lips for the first time in several days as she stumbled a little.

She was off center. Just the way he liked it. And he was in perfect control. Because Caroline Medford meant nothing to him.

© Jami Alden. All rights reserved

Kept by Jami Alden (website seriously needs to be updated)

Here is a look at the second Gemini Man, Derek Taggart, who will be hitting the shelves tomorrow in Jami Alden’s newest release KEPT.  She will be here Febuary 24 to chat with us as well as there will be a contest or two.

Enjoy

Ethan and Derek Taggart: they’re the men of Gemini, and when it comes to sheet-scorching undercover work, nobody does it better. The only one they answer to is big brother Danny – that is, until the right women come along to grab the reins and crack the whip as hard as the Taggart men like it…

Security is Derek Taggart’s game, and he plays it straight – no margin for error, no time to fool around…except with one hot little number who changes everything. He takes her home when she needs a ride – one she’ll never forget. The problem is Derek can’t forget her, a total about-face for a guy who keeps his enemies closer than his lovers. Then he finds out the sexy dynamo is Alyssa Miles, notorious party girl and darling of the gossip rags. It’s time to walk away and never look back, which would be a hell of a lot easier if his agency didn’t desperately need the high-profile gig her family’s offering: a minor detail that consists mainly of Derek watching Alyssa 24/7. Keeping an eagle eye on every inch of Alyssa’s nubile body isn’t exactly a hardship – the problem is keeping his hands off and his brain on when things go dangerously wrong…

Derek Taggart. His name suited him. Hard and tough with plenty of sharp edges. He was beautiful in a way that reminded her of the harsh granite faces of the Grand Tetons. Rugged and chiseled, with great eyes, square jaw and cheekbones that stood out beneath his skin.

One look at him and she knew he wasn’t a party guest. She would have noticed him immediately if he’d been in the crowd. His size alone would have drawn her attention. He wasn’t merely tall, he was huge, towering over her, but from what she could tell it was all hard muscle. But it didn’t take a psychic to see he wasn’t part of this crowd, that he was here to work and he took his job very, very seriously.

She watched him, stationed up on the gallery like a sentry guarding a tower. His weight from foot to foot as he surveyed the crowd, looking ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. The jacket of his suit pulled tight as he folded his massive arms across his chest. His gaze slid back to her, and even from across the room and one story down, she could feel its heat. It unknotted the tension in her neck, slid down her spine, and sent a warm glow shimmering down her thighs.

This time he didn’t break the stare, and it was she who reluctantly turned away. She continued to work the room, shilling for silent auction bids on the small fortune in diamonds that adorned her finger and wrist. Through it all she could feel him looking at her, his gaze like firm, warm fingers tracing over her skin.

Being stared at wasn’t new. She’d lived in a fishbowl her entire life, first thanks to her mother’s then to her own publicity attracting antics. Yes, sometimes it chafed, never more than recently, but Alyssa had grown so used to being looked at, watched, and judged that she was almost immune to it.

“…disgusting. Mindy is sixteen, and because of Alyssa Miles she thinks it’s okay to go around dressed like a whore and sleeping with everyone in sight.”

The snippet of conversation pierced Alyssa’s warm glow. Almost immune.

Alyssa turned and gave the woman a guileless smile as though she hadn’t heard a single barb.

She blocked the woman’s comments out, instead focusing on him. His stare, sliding over her like a hot flame. He wanted her. She could feel it. That, too, was nothing new. Not because she was extraordinarily beautiful. But she knew she had her appeal and had played up her image as a sultry, playful sexpot in the press. Now it was all but guaranteed that men looked at her and thought of only one thing.

But this was different. Derek was different.

He had no idea who she was.

A delicious thrill had shot through her the moment realization had dawned in the study. When he walked into the room, all of her senses had gone on high alert. Not only was he a strange man, he was an attractive strange man. No. Scratch that. A smoking-hot-set-the-skin-of- your-inner-thighs-on-fire man. The last thing she wanted was for him to notice her reaction to his dark, sun streaked hair, chiseled jaw and acres of muscles.

So when he’d tried to hustle her back to the party, she’d done what she always did in those situations. Put on her “don’t you know who you’re dealing with” act and tried to shoo him away like the insignificant insect she pretended to think he was.

But he wasn’t having any of it. He didn’t care who she was. Because he didn’t know who she was.

He hadn’t so much as quivered an eyelash when she told him her name. She couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

Derek, who was already a blatant ten, shot up to fifteen on the hotness scale. When he shook her hand she’d felt scorched all the way down to her red toenails.

And he felt it too. She could see the surge of awareness in his eyes, the blast of desire, quickly shuttered by his dark gaze. But he couldn’t hide it. Not completely.

The thrill shot through her again and it was all she could do to keep still as another socialite held Alyssa’s arm so the woman’s husband could admire the platinum cuff. He wanted her. And not like other men wanted her. He didn’t want the crazy sexy party girl or the notorious heiress.

He didn’t want to fuck her so he could brag to his friends and the media about how he’d nailed Alyssa Miles and it really wasn’t all that great after all.

He didn’t want to fuck her so she could introduce him to a producer, a director, or a record label executive.

Derek Taggart looked at her and saw a gorgeous girl he met at a fancy party and wanted to get with. As simple as that.

Sure, he probably saw her as a rich bitch – her initial response insured that, much to her regret. But she could get past that. Her public persona was another beast entirely. It wasn’t an image she cultivated, but once established she used it to her advantage, and had thought she’d made peace with the fact that it would forever taint every interaction she had with another human being.

But she felt gut-deep thrill from knowing a man like Derek wanted her. Not the image. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone wanted her for herself.

There was nothing to be done about it, though. As the night wore on, Alyssa didn’t have another opportunity to speak to Derek, even though she knew he tracked her every move. She considered sneaking back to the study, just to see if he’d chase her down, but as the silent auction drew to a close she was surrounded by guests who all wanted one last look at Van Weldt Jeweler’s exquisite designs.

“I’m going to walk Mother and Daddy out,” Kimberly leaned down to speak quietly into Alyssa’s ear.

“But they haven’t even done the auction yet,” Alyssa said, frowning. She knew her father would want to stay and find out how much his donated jewels had fetched.

“I know,” Kimberly replied, her voice lowering so no one else could hear. “But I’m afraid Mother is about to lose it.”

Alyssa looked across the ballroom, where Grace clung to Oscar’s arm. As Alyssa watched, Grace weaved, barely noticeable to the untrained eye. Her social smile was gone and her mouth was pursed tight.

“Oh and I reminded Bryan to pick you up in the back by the servant’s entrance so you won’t have to deal with the photographers.”

Alyssa nodded, grateful her sister had remembered. In the past six months, Alyssa had done a complete one eighty with the press. Now, unless she was with her family or doing publicity on behalf of the company, she avoided reporters like the plague.

Which only served to make her a more tempting target. She knew that along with the hired photographer there were dozens of paparazzi outside the Bancrofts’ mansion in Atherton, waiting for a glimpse of Alyssa, hoping she’d do something stupid like slip and fall and lose her top or show her underwear.

Finally the auction was over and most of the guests were milling around the front door, waiting for their cars and limos to arrive.

Alyssa did another scan of the room, tamping down her disappointment when she didn’t see Derek. Stupid. What do you think is going to happen?

She closed her eyes, memorizing his face, taking that memory of desire in his eyes and curling it close.

She retrieved her coat from the coat check and slipped out the back entrance, down the short driveway that led to the street on the side of the house opposite the front door.

And waited. She looked at her watch. It was still early, not even ten. But the crowd at these things always skewed older, and Alyssa figured they all needed to get home and tucked into bed before midnight.

Another ten minutes passed, and Bryan, the driver from the car service still wasn’t there. Annoyed, she flicked open her cell phone and called.

Bryan’s town car had been clipped on the freeway. Another car was en route, but it would be at least a half an hour before it arrived.

Alyssa bit back a curse.

“What’s up with you going where you’re not supposed to?”

The deep gruff voice slid around her, grabbed her and wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t have held back her smile if she wanted to.

His eyes were hidden in shadow, but his mouth curved into a half smile, and a dimple creased the left corner of his mouth. His lips were firm and full and she knew they’d be hot against her skin.

“Do I even want to know why you’re hanging out at the servant’s entrance looking like you’re about to stick your thumb out?”

“I didn’t want to have to deal with the crowd on my way out. And now my driver got into an accident, so it looks like I’m stranded for a while.”

He was silent for several moments, and though his eyes were shadowed she could feel him studying her.

Ask me.

“Can I give you a ride home?” He almost looked shocked that he’d asked.

She didn’t let that stop her. “Sure,” she said without hesitation.

A slight frown creased his forehead, but he gave her a curt nod and left without another word to get his car.

As she waited she shifted on her sky-high heels, restless, alive with anticipation. After so many months on her best behavior, a reckless urge was pulsing through her. Uncontrollable, unstoppable. She needed to forged the consequences and do something outrageous.

But this time it wouldn’t be for attention, publicity, or her father’s censure. This time it would be all for herself. She’d been so good, watching her every move for so long. Surely she deserved a little treat?

A silver Audi rumbled up to the driveway and Alyssa wasted no time sliding into the passenger seat. The leather was cool against her bare thighs, and the interior of the car was full of his cedar and soap scent.

He backed out of the driveway and turned the corner, passing the snarl of limos and guests crowding the circular driveway of the Bancrofts’ estate.

“Where to?”

Nerves warring with desire, Alyssa rummaged in her bag and dug out her lip gloss, slicking on a coat to give herself something to do.

Derek stopped at a stop sign. “Where are we going?”

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly bone dry. What she was about to do was crazy. Stupid.

Necessary.

“You know, it’s so early,” she said, and turned to face him. She kept her eyes locked with his and placed her hand deliberately on his thigh. “And I’m not quite ready to go home.”

He stared at her hard for what felt like an eternity. His thick, dark brows drew together in a harsh scowl.

Her stomach bottomed out as she realized he was about to turn her down.

“You want to get a drink somewhere?”

The moment of truth. She slid her hand farther up his thigh, delighting in the swells and ripples of rock hard muscle hidden beneath wool gabardine. “I’m not much for crowds. Why don’t you just take me back to your place?”

Quack and ye shall receive.

Meljean Brook has agreed to give TGTBTU an exclusive excerpt from Demon Night, available February 5.

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Word around blogland is that it is as awesome as Demon Angel and Demon Moon. Brace yourself fangirls, we have the first FOUR chapters!!!! It’s okay, only two weeks until you can get your hands on the rest.

If you haven’t yet been introduced to the world of The Guardians, you can start here. And you can check out her updated “Primer” that will help you get up to speed on her amazing world and awesome characters.

Enjoy the excerpt (that means click here )!

And when you are done, go check out Book Binge where Holly (our often guest reviewer) has a review up of Demon Night.

Lawson’s review is now up for Demon Night!