NYTimes and USA Today bestselling author Shannon McKenna releases the third, standalone installment of The Obsidian Files! IN MY SKIN, features Luke, a renegade supersoldier with blocked memories that only the fiery beauty Dani can help him restore. Fans of JUST ONE TOUCH by Maya Banks, JR Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood and Cynthia Eden’s Lazarus Rising Series will devour this thrilling tale of deadly danger and burning desire.
Author: Shannon McKenna
Series: The Obsidian Files (Book 3)
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Publisher: Self Published
Release Date: June 19 2018
Edition/Format: 1st Edition/ Format ~ eBook & Print
Blurb/Synopsis:
Come back to me …
Luke remembers a few things. Just not his last name, or anyone he ever knew. He knows that he’s a supersoldier, genetically enhanced and loaded up with brain implants. He just escaped from a year-long hell of captivity, and to protect his family and friends from his tormentors, he blocked his memories. Now he needs those memories back, fast … or he and those he loves will die agonizing deaths.
Luke’s dangerous plan to reconnect with his past—and stay alive in the present—has drawn his enemies’ attention to the tough and sexy Dani LaSalle. He’s duty bound to protect the luscious beauty from the evil pursuing them, but he can’t control the scorching desire she awakens in him.
Dani’s strict routine has been trashed by Luke’s explosive arrival. This rock-hard slab of valiant, smoldering manhood appears out of nowhere, saves her life, spirits her away to his mountain lair and bewilders her with tales of sadistic researchers, enhanced assassins. Is this gorgeous, problematic sex god just plain crazy—or is she? But Luke can do things with his mind that are just as wild as what he can do with that body … and she can’t say no.
And there’s no time to wonder. As their passion burns hotter, Obsidian moves closer ... and Luke and Dani must place their lives and their hearts on the line just to survive …
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Copyright © 2018 Shannon McKenna
The room had one queen-sized bed. If he was lying next to her on it, no way was she leaving that guy alone. Not even after violent trauma and the wound still throbbing painfully in her thigh. Crazy, but so what. She was alive and kicking and in one piece, thanks to him.
She wanted to feel something good and true and excellent. Luke fit the bill.
Bye-bye, cartoon kittens. They could wait for a Netflix and popcorn and sex-with-socks-on night. She was going with the hot red stretch lace. Just as she was. Unretouched.
And in the mood for some intense sexual healing.
Dani wriggled into the outfit. Hoisted her boobs up for maximum lift. Hiked the panties up extra high. She pushed the door open, stepped out and struck a pose.
For nothing. Luke was in a digital trance. One hand manipulated a tablet, the other was tapping madly over the laptop’s keyboard. He’d looped his devices into a chain and his brain was the connector. No attention to spare for sexy lingerie.
But she wasn’t giving up. By no means. “How’s it going?”
“So far so good,” he said. “I’ve pinpointed the location of the second shipment, and the combination for retrieving it. All the backup equipment needed to activate the slave soldier and make it function. Coordinates for the pickup of the wetware are included.”
She tugged at the lacy shoulder strap, adjusting it. Luke still hadn’t noticed what she was wearing. “What the hell is wetware?”
“It’s a Manticore term. It refers to the slave soldier. He could be dormant, possibly suspended in fluid. There’s a file on him. I89VY262. I haven’t gone through that one yet. C drive on the laptop, if you’re interested.”
“I am interested,” she said. “But later.”
“The equipment is in a self-storage unit at an E-Z-U-Store in Serrati Flats, California,” he said. “About a hundred and fifty miles north of here.”
“I suppose you want to get going right away?”
“No, we’ll wait.”
She was startled. “Why? Aren’t we in a hurry?”
“You went through hell today. You need a decent night’s sleep. In a real bed.”
Well, bless his heart. How sweet. The bed part he’d gotten right.
She walked toward him slowly. Swaying her hips. Still nothing. He was locked and loaded in data processing mode. His eyes reflected squares of blue from the screen. A stream of files rolled constantly down it. Like she was peering directly into the data churn in his brain.
He was about to get forcibly reminded that he was not a robot.
She stepped between him and the desk and sat down on his lap.
Luke went rigid. “Holy fuck, Dani.”
She leaned in so her tits were right below the level of his nose. Nipples on red alert from being so close to him. She put her arms around his neck, running her fingers slowly through his hair. Inhaling his hot male scent. “I like the red outfit the best,” she said, her voice low and husky. “Do you?”’
The room had one queen-sized bed. If he was lying next to her on it, no way was she leaving that guy alone. Not even after violent trauma and the wound still throbbing painfully in her thigh. Crazy, but so what. She was alive and kicking and in one piece, thanks to him.
She wanted to feel something good and true and excellent. Luke fit the bill.
Bye-bye, cartoon kittens. They could wait for a Netflix and popcorn and sex-with-socks-on night. She was going with the hot red stretch lace. Just as she was. Unretouched.
And in the mood for some intense sexual healing.
Dani wriggled into the outfit. Hoisted her boobs up for maximum lift. Hiked the panties up extra high. She pushed the door open, stepped out and struck a pose.
For nothing. Luke was in a digital trance. One hand manipulated a tablet, the other was tapping madly over the laptop’s keyboard. He’d looped his devices into a chain and his brain was the connector. No attention to spare for sexy lingerie.
But she wasn’t giving up. By no means. “How’s it going?”
“So far so good,” he said. “I’ve pinpointed the location of the second shipment, and the combination for retrieving it. All the backup equipment needed to activate the slave soldier and make it function. Coordinates for the pickup of the wetware are included.”
She tugged at the lacy shoulder strap, adjusting it. Luke still hadn’t noticed what she was wearing. “What the hell is wetware?”
“It’s a Manticore term. It refers to the slave soldier. He could be dormant, possibly suspended in fluid. There’s a file on him. I89VY262. I haven’t gone through that one yet. C drive on the laptop, if you’re interested.”
“I am interested,” she said. “But later.”
“The equipment is in a self-storage unit at an E-Z-U-Store in Serrati Flats, California,” he said. “About a hundred and fifty miles north of here.”
“I suppose you want to get going right away?”
“No, we’ll wait.”
She was startled. “Why? Aren’t we in a hurry?”
“You went through hell today. You need a decent night’s sleep. In a real bed.”
Well, bless his heart. How sweet. The bed part he’d gotten right.
She walked toward him slowly. Swaying her hips. Still nothing. He was locked and loaded in data processing mode. His eyes reflected squares of blue from the screen. A stream of files rolled constantly down it. Like she was peering directly into the data churn in his brain.
He was about to get forcibly reminded that he was not a robot.
She stepped between him and the desk and sat down on his lap.
Luke went rigid. “Holy fuck, Dani.”
She leaned in so her tits were right below the level of his nose. Nipples on red alert from being so close to him. She put her arms around his neck, running her fingers slowly through his hair. Inhaling his hot male scent. “I like the red outfit the best,” she said, her voice low and husky. “Do you?”’
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Shannon McKenna is the NYT bestselling author of seventeen action packed, turbocharged romantic thrillers, among which are the stories of the wildly popular McCloud series and the brand new romantic suspense 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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