A relentless rebel
supersoldier must seduce a mysterious beauty in his quest to rescue his
brother, but gets more than he bargained for when their passion rages out of
control… and releases a monstrous killer hellbent on their destruction...
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About My Next Breath:
Title: My Next Breath
Author: Shannon McKenna
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: August 29, 2017
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services
Format: eBook
ISBN: 978-0-99779-413-7
Zade Ryan. Rebel
supersoldier. Nearly superhuman. On a desperate quest to rescue his missing
brother Luke by any means possible. To do it, he must seduce the elusive Simone
Brightman, inventor of the ingenious and deadly tech used to capture Luke and
hold him prisoner, location unknown. Zade will do whatever it takes to get
close to Simone. Her mysterious beauty and highly sexual allure have him at a
disadvantage, but time is running out . . .
Simone is fighting battles of
her own, on her own. Until Zade—six foot four of sinewy muscle and lethal
combat skills—rescues her from street thugs and leaves her breathless. His
smoldering black eyes and overpowering sensuality—and his seductive invitation
to spend one wild, unforgettable night with him—prove too tempting to resist.
Their passionate encounter unleashes scorching desire that neither can control—leaving
them vulnerable to their enemies who watch from the shadows and wait. And when
they are lured into a trap by a monstrous killer hellbent on their destruction,
they must fight with every weapon they have to save Luke, and each other.
Because one night together
could never be enough—and they might not live to have another . . .
Excerpt (for those posting
Promotional Spotlights):
An excerpt
from MY NEXT BREATH
Copyright
© Shannon McKenna 2017
Damn, now he’d lost the sound thread again. He reached for it—listening harder . . . yes.
Rubber boot soles on the wet pavement. He’d know that little squeaky-squeak
song anywhere. He’d memorized its exact rhythm and pitch.
Less
than a block away now. He was already getting a whiff of her. Warm, female
smells. He seriously dug that honeysuckle shampoo. Couldn’t wait to sniff it at
close range.
He
stepped out of the shadow of the awning. Raised his hand to signal the men
waiting down the street. One raised his hand in response. They were ready. She
was an easy target, parking an almost new Audi on a badly lit street like this.
His
heart raced as his augmented sensory processor kicked into high gear, as if
revving for combat. Which was overkill. He didn’t need an ASP jolt for this.
The Obsidian researchers had wired him and rewired him during the Midlands
experiments on their quest to produce the ultimate, relentless war machine. The
data that speed-scrolled over his field of vision whenever he was stressed was
a constant reminder of how they’d changed him. Permanently.
But
he ignored it. He’d stolen himself back. He and all the rest of the Midlanders.
He was more than what Obsidian had tried to make of him. Fuck them all.
Tonight—for
her—he needed to be funny, smart and unthreatening, for starters. And good in
bed, if he got lucky. Past experience suggested that he would. It was bad form
to get cocky about it, but whatever. A guy could hope.
In
fact, he quivered with hope. Watching Simone for two whole months had kept him
perpetually half-hard. It wasn’t like she was doing anything sexy. On the
contrary. She mostly just sat there on the bed, cross-legged in a thick snarl
of wires and cables, surrounded by screens, dressed in leggings and a
sweatshirt. Braless. Eyes narrowed with ferocious concentration as she typed so
fast and hard the detached wireless keyboard bounced against the mattress.
He
was in a groove with surveillance monitoring. Forget sleep. Pill-induced or
natural, it wasn’t happening while he was watching that woman. And after their
escape from Obsidian’s research facility at Midlands, he’d sworn never to
inflict sentinel sleep on himself again. Constant vigilance turned the
strongest into short-circuited robots. It didn’t matter how skillful he was at
alternating his brain hemispheres, resting one while using the other and
blah-blah-di-fucking-blah.
He
was good at it, yeah. And so? He was good at a metric fuckton of unspeakable
things. That didn’t mean he would ever do them again.
But
he’d do any number of unspeakable things for a chance to know what happened to
his brother. Watching Brightman prance around in her underwear was no chore.
She was so damn pretty it just turned his head around.
She
was almost upon him. His ASP processor sent a fire-hose of data scrolling
wildly up both sides of his field of vision. His senses sharpened to a level
beyond painful. He hadn’t expected this. Bullshit timing.
Her
footsteps echoed in his ears, boom-scrape-squeak. Her soft breathing,
the quick and steady drum of her heart. He smelled the warm mix of her hand
lotion, her wool coat, the leather of her boots, the swish of her long skirt,
the brush of the tights between her thighs. He smelled the coffee she’d had not
long ago and a hint of the vanilla flavored creamer she’d lightened it with.
Whiffs of the perfume she used to wear back in her corporate days wafted out of
her purse like little ghosts.
He
also smelled the festering mouth-breathers who waited across the street.
His
heart thudded loudly. In a few seconds he’d see Simone in the flesh. The
mysterious ex-fianceé of Noah Gallagher, Zade’s friend and fellow Midlander
rebel.
A
woman who might or might not hold the key to the last possible clue that could
lead him to his brother.
Or
to his brother’s bones.
That
thought stabbed through him like a thin blade of ice just as Simone Brightman
rounded the corner and hit his line of vision.
About Shannon McKenna
Shannon McKenna is the NYT
bestselling author of sixteen action packed, turbocharged romantic thrillers,
among which are the stories of the wildly popular McCloud series and the brand
new paranormal series, The Obsidian Files. She loves tough and heroic alpha
males, heroines with the brains and guts to match them, villains who challenge
them to their utmost, adventure, scorching sensuality, and most of all, the
redemptive power of true love. Since she was small she has loved abandoning
herself to the magic of a good book, and her fond childhood fantasy was that
writing would be just like that, but with the added benefit of being able to
take credit for the story at the end. Alas, the alchemy of writing turned out
to be messier than she'd ever dreamed. But what the hell, she loves it anyway,
and hopes that readers enjoy the results of her alchemical experiments. She
loves to hear from her readers.
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