Thursday, April 25, 2019

Red Zone by Janet Elizabeth Henderson - Blog Tour and Giveaway

Red Zone
by Janet Elizabeth Henderson
Series: Red Zone, #1
Genre: Science Fiction Romance
Release Date: April 22, 2019

Welcome to the new world. Things have changed just a bit. Big Brother’s not only monitoring important things like what toilet paper you buy—it now has direct access to everything you see thanks to the mandatory implant you get at birth. And Friday Jones has seen something she wishes she hadn’t.

Now she has all kinds of undesirables after her—some to straight up kill her and others who want to steal what’s locked in her head. So, she’ll need the help of a ruthless mercenary, Striker, if she has any chance at survival. That he’s a jerk, who she wants to punch in the face, well…a dying woman sometimes has to make tough choices.

Striker’s special abilities have kept him in the shadows for a reason. He has no interest in getting mixed up with the smart-mouthed, hard-headed women no matter how his body reacts. But then he discovers what’s in her head and all bets are off.

Friday’s lungs burned from gasping for air. Her heartbeat pounded loud in her ears. Her thigh muscles cramped. Too much time sitting in front of a computer. No time exercising, not even the recommended thirty minutes a day. She’d been too busy to fill her quota.

There was a loud blast. Metal crashed. Voices shouted. Footsteps pounded the dirt behind them.

Striker suddenly stopped, making her crash into his back. “They’re in. We won’t make it to the end of the tunnel.” Large hands clasped her shoulders. “We need to fight. Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Of course.” She tried to ignore her roiling stomach. She could do this. She didn’t have a choice.

“Take this.” He pressed a gun into her hands. It wasn’t one of the laser guns Enforcement used, but one that fired bullets. They weren’t uncommon, but she’d never used one before. She was grateful for the darkness, as it meant Striker couldn’t see her tremble as she took it.

“All I do is pull the trigger, right?” He swore. “You said you knew how to use a gun.”

“A laser gun.”

He cursed again. “Point and shoot. The trigger is in the same place as a laser gun, but it isn’t coded to a print, and there’s no projection to help you aim for your target. The only real difference is there is more recoil with this gun. Be ready for that. Only shoot if they get past me. I don’t want you hitting me in the back.”

She nodded, even though it was too dark for him to see her. She could do this. Point and shoot. Easy. Just don’t think about the target being people.

“I can’t see where I’m shooting.” But she could hear. The running feet were getting closer.

“Just face the way I point you and fire when I shout. Or, if someone who isn’t me comes at you, feel free to pull the trigger, then, too. You’ll know it isn’t me because Enforcement wear lights on their vests. But remember, if you hit me, the deal is off.”

How could he joke? “You’re huge and take up all the space. I can’t fire around you.” Oh God, if he dies, what will I do? 

“If this goes as planned, you won’t need to fire at all.”

“You have a plan?” It was impossible to hide her disbelief.

He chuckled as she felt fingers trail over her cheek, starling her with the gentle offer of reassurance. “Yeah, I have a plan. Don’t worry, bébé, I’ve lived through worse than this.”

I grew up in Scotland, but after I met my Dutch husband in America we decided to move to New Zealand and that's where we've settled. We bought a patch of land that we've filled with other people's unwanted animals - we didn't advertise for them, they found us! So far we have three miniature horses (we took in two and were surprised 11 months later when a third appeared - yep, we know nothing about horses!), three anti-social alpacas, a grumpy cow, one pet sheep who wants to live in the house, a crazy goat who keeps eating my manuscripts and an escape artist chicken who breaks into our house through the cat flap. And that's just the pets who live outside the house - don't even get me started on the demented, farting dog who keeps burying my shoes! On top of this I have two small girls, one DIY obsessed husband (I said "obsessed" not "skilled") and a 92 year old neighbor who thinks she lives with us.

In between cuddling animals and herding kids, I write books. If you'd like to sign up for my newsletter, which happens sporadically - usually when books are being released - then you'll find a form on my website. In the meantime, happy reading!

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