Wednesday, January 8, 2020


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. January Bain will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Book three in the TETRAD Group series

Alysia has spent the last ten years avoiding relationships, but the night her life implodes, she meets Nick. Now all bets are off.

Haunted by her past, Alysia’s desperate for answers. She needs Nick and the group sworn to aid those unable to go to the law for help, because TETRAD will do what law enforcement cannot or will not—believe her when she says she knows who’s after her.

My name is Nick Wheeler and I’m with TETRAD, where I use my unusual skillset to best advantage. But what I didn’t expect is to become involved with a trauma nurse, or for it to become so deadly, with the stakes rising hour by hour.

I’m Alysia Rossini. One look at Nick Wheeler and I know he’s the one to help me forget the past. But is it fair to expose him to such danger? And will I live long enough for the chance to be with him?

Read an Excerpt


What was that?

Alysia stopped in mid-twist, hand poised above the toilet tank handle, ready to flush. There. Another faint footpad. Someone was in the house, advancing down the hallway, step by cautious step. Not a nightmare, but real this time. Her mouth dry, her throat tightening, she tried to move. Why, oh why didn’t I kill him when I had the chance? Why did I resume CPR and save his evil ass? Because I swore to help others. It’s why I went into nursing in the first place. And I didn’t want to become like him. The idealistic thought hadn’t comforted her then and provided even less comfort now, because she had a terrible fear that if she had to do it all again, she might not come out the same person.

She couldn’t unfreeze her body—every cell, every muscle, every fiber of her being was paralyzed by fear. The memory of another time slithered in between one heartbeat and the next, squeezing the life out of her like the pythons that she’d feared most when visiting the reptile house as a child. It pulled her under, took over. Filled her conscious mind with excruciating torment while her body remained frozen in place, bricked and mortared by the powerful image. There. A closer squeak of protest from the old wooden floorboards. A whiff of odor she couldn’t identify. Move, damn it!

She broke free of the terror in a rush of self-preservation driven by a single gossamer strand of willpower. She picked up her cell phone sitting on the edge of the sink and lunged for the window, thrust up the lower pane with hands trembling to the point of not seeming under her control, and pushed one foot over the ledge to climb through the small space. Her heel caught on a sharp nail head protruding through the wood frame. She swallowed the hurt. Pulling her other foot up and over the sill, she jumped.

Dizzy from waves of night terrors flooding in with a vengeance, she padded across the icy asphalt shingles on bare feet. She forced herself to think, to remain in the moment. It would be too easy to succumb to her worst fear, to allow the past to sweep away all she had worked so hard to build. To just lie down and die, have it over with. The pain. The guilt. The sleepless nights.

Then the image of her father filled her brain, encouraging her to keep moving. Don’t let evil win, sweetheart. Suddenly he was right there with her, beckoning her forward in the night, an in corporeal image hovering between life and death. Between this world and the next, comforting and bittersweet, because in her heart she knew it wasn’t real. Instead he was lying in his grave by her mother’s side hundreds of miles away.

Fortified by the vision, she halted at the edge of the roof and looked downward. It was at least twenty feet to the blurry ground below. Why didn’t I put on my glasses? Or bring the Beretta from the nightstand? For the same reason she hadn’t switched on the bathroom light—it was the middle of the night and there was no need. And bright lights bothered her over-sensitive eyes. She’d only brought her phone in case of an emergency at work or with Kate. No hope for it now. She had to go over the edge. Maybe the two feet of heavy snow would break her fall? Or not. Better a broken limb than what waited inside.

There would be no quick end to her life—she knew that with dead certainty. The realization made her push down the panic threatening to grab her by the throat and paralyze her yet again. Why hadn’t she ended it all on the highway all those months ago? She shook her head. Too late for regrets. She knew it was him, back to finish the job. The last witness.

She eased her body down past the eaves and dangled in mid-air, her phone held precariously between her teeth. When her arms could no longer support her, her muscles trembling with the strain, she let go. She plunged into a snowbank, her skin shocked and freezing from the icy snow crystals enveloping her. So strong was the wind that it pressed the flimsy fabric of her nightdress tight against her bare skin and whipped long auburn strands of hair into her face.

About the Author:
January Bain has wished on every falling star, every blown-out birthday candle, and every coin thrown in a fountain to be a storyteller. To share the tales of high adventure, mysteries, and full blown thrillers she has dreamed of all her life. The story you now have in your hands is the compilation of a lot of things manifesting itself for this special series. Hundreds of hours spent researching the unusual and the mundane have come together to create books that features strong women who live life to the fullest, wild adventures full of twists and unforeseen turns, and hot complicated men who aren’t afraid to take risks. She can only hope her stories will capture your imagination.

If you are looking for January Bain, you can find her hard at work every morning without fail in her office with her furry baby, Ling Ling. And, of course, she’s married to the most romantic man! Who once famously remarked to her inquiry about buying fresh flowers for their home every week, “Give me one good reason why not?” Leaving her speechless and knocking her head against the proverbial wall for being so darn foolish. She loves flowers.

If you wish to connect in the virtual world she is easily found on Facebook. Oh, and she loves to talk books…


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