Friday, June 5, 2015

Happy Release Day Rhys Ford

Murder and Mayhem
Dead women tell no tales.
Former cat burglar Rook Stevens stole many a priceless thing in the past, but he’s never been accused of taking a life—until now. It was one thing to find a former associate inside Potter’s Field, his pop culture memorabilia shop, but quite another to stumble across her dead body.
Detective Dante Montoya thought he’d never see Rook Stevens again—not after his former partner’d falsified evidence to entrap the jewelry thief and Stevens walked off scot-free. So when he tackled a fleeing murder suspect, Dante was shocked to discover the blood-covered man was none other than the thief he’d fought to put in prison and who still made his blood sing.
Rook is determined to shake loose the murder charge against him, even if it means putting distance between him and the rugged Cuban-Mexican detective who brought him down. If one dead con artist wasn’t bad enough, others soon follow, and as the bodies pile up around Rook’s feet, he’s forced to reach out to the last man he’d expect to believe in his innocence—and the only man who’s ever gotten under Rook’s skin.

Murder and Mayhem Excerpt
The large case he’d set up as a wall between the front and
the back of the store was broken as well, but from what he could see, the movie
props he’d placed there were intact, although he couldn’t say the same for the
enormous papier-mâché griffin he’d found at a Harryhausen tribute auction.
Peppered with bullet holes, its body and head were marred with crumbling white
holes, a scatter pattern large enough to make Rook’s stomach turn.
“Shit, they were trying to kill me.” He leaned back, trying
to do a visual count on how many bullets pierced through the window and into
the shop while he’d been plastered to the floor to avoid being shot.
“Go in but do not touch.” Rook echoed what his grandfather’s
lawyers told him, trying to absorb the destruction. “I can’t even move without
touching something. And how the hell am I going to document the damage? What
isn’t damaged? Fricking lawyers.”
“Are these the same lawyers that told you to return to the
scene of the crime and screw up any residuals that might be here?” Montoya’s
deep voice rumbled out of the darkened doorway leading from the storefront to
the elevator up to Rook’s apartment. “If they wanted you to be thrown into
jail, they could have just left you there instead of this catch-and-release
program we’ve got going.”
Montoya looked… good. Again. Too good. Too ruffled, too
scruffy hot, with broad shoulders and his burned burned-honey eyes fringed with
thick, long lashes. A hint of a dimple threatened to spread when his mouth
quirked to the side, and Rook had to swallow around a lump in his throat when
Montoya shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, sliding his black leather
jacket back with his elbows to expose his gun harness.
Even from a few feet away, the man was a tall, dangerous
complication in Rook’s life. One he wanted as badly as he didn’t want him
around. Rook wasn’t sure what was worse—being accused of murder or being tailed
by a man he’d gladly bend over for but who wanted him in handcuffs instead.
“What are you doing here, Stevens?” Montoya’s rumble tickled
Rook’s belly, licking hot flames down his crotch and over his ass. “You
shouldn’t even be here. What were you thinking?”
Rook had just the smartass answer to throw back at the
detective. A burning slap of a sting mingled with a bit of a flirtation hot
enough to make the man blush. It would have been an epic moment. One to balance
out the unbearable want Montoya seemed to rake up inside of him and caustic
enough to push the man’s buttons while pushing him away.

Read an excerpt and Purchase Murder and Mayhem here:


About Rhys Ford
Rhys Ford
was born and raised in Hawai’i then wandered off to see the world. After
chewing through a pile of books, a lot of odd food, and a stray boyfriend or
two, Rhys eventually landed in San Diego, which is a very nice place but
seriously needs more rain.

Rhys admits to sharing the house with three cats of varying degrees of black
fur and a ginger cairn terrorist. Rhys is also enslaved to the upkeep a 1979
Pontiac Firebird, a Toshiba laptop, and an overworked red coffee maker.

My Blog:

And at the
Starbucks down the street. No really, they’re 24/7. And a drive-thru. It’s like

My books can
be purchased, folded and first chapters read at Dreamspinner Press.

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