Twisted
Lost # 2
Lost # 2
By: Cynthia Eden
Releasing April 28th, 2015
Avon
In the second seductive Lost novel from
New York Times bestselling author Cynthia Eden, an obsessed Last Option Search
Team agent goes looking for trouble—and finds her in the Big Easy.
Dean
Bannon comes to New Orleans for one reason only: to track down a missing
sixteen-year-old girl. That’s before he meets the drop-dead gorgeous con artist
who makes him want to lose his legendary control.
With
her past, Emma Castille doesn’t claim to be psychic. She just notices things
other people don’t. Like the fear in a runaway’s eyes-or the pain in an ex-FBI
agent’s heart. Her chemistry with Dean is blistering, but Emma follows her
passion . . . not someone else’s orders.
Then
a madman breaks into Emma’s home and leaves a twisted message: “You’re next.”
Now Dean refuses to let her out of his sight until he pries every last secret
from her full, sexy lips. And suddenly Emma’s aching to give him everything he
wants.
Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2015/03/twisted-lost-2-by-cynthia-eden.html
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22864480-twisted?ac=1
Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/136350-lost
Award-winning author
CYNTHIA EDEN writes dark tales of paranormal romance and romantic suspense. She
is a New York Times, USA Today, Digital Book World, and IndieReader
best-seller. Cynthia is also a two-time finalist for the RITA® award (she was a
finalist both in the romantic suspense category and in the paranormal romance
category). Since she began writing full-time in 2005, Cynthia has written over
thirty novels and novellas. Cynthia lives along the Alabama Gulf Coast. She
loves romance novels, horror movies, and chocolate. Her favorite hobbies
include hiking in the mountains (searching for waterfalls) and spelunking.
Excerpt
“You’re not psychic.”
Were they back to that?
She put her hands in her lap. Emma didn’t believe in making
nervous gestures. She didn’t believe in giving away anything at all with her
body language.
“What you are …” Ah, now he did smile. Her father
would have called it a shit-eating grin. The more PC term was probably a
Cheshire cat smile. Whatever the name, that smile annoyed her. “What you are,
Ms. Castille … is a criminal. A fraud.”
Maybe she should grab her chest and dramatically gasp. She didn’t.
“Wonderful for you,” Emma said. “You pulled up a background report one me.” She
let her eyes widen a bit. “It’s amazing just what one can find if a person
knows how to use a search engine.”
A furrow appeared between his eyes.
“How about I say what … you are?” Emma asked him.
“A washed-up FBI agent who snapped on the job. You held your control tight
every single day, but the bad guys—they just didn’t stop, did they? You hunted
them, you stopped them, and more appeared. While you were fighting the system,
they kept coming, and the bodies kept piling up onyour watch.”
He shot right back to his feet. The folding chair slammed down behind
him.
“You and your father bilked desperate people,” he accused. “You
told them you were psychic, that you could help find their missing children.
And you—”
“We found them.” Two girls who’d vanished. They’d found them.
“We just didn’t get to them in time.” And she would not go
back to that place.
She motioned toward Manuel. He knew the signal meant he could take
over her booth. There was no way, no way,that she was going to stay
there with that prick while he slammed the most painful moments from her past
in Emma’s face.
Manuel, pale, tattooed, with piercings in his lips and eyebrows,
quickly claimed her spot.
Emma jumped to her feet. Muttered her thanks, and fled right past
the guy she was starting to think of as Agent Jackass.
She pushed through the crowd. Wasn’t there always a crowd in
Jackson Square? And that was why she loved the place. It was so easy to vanish
in a crowd. To be anyone.
The crowd closed around her.
To be no one at all.
She hurried around the back of the cathedral. She knew the streets
so well. Her home was close by. Emma would get inside and forget Agent Jackass.
I’m being followed.
Emma stilled at the intersection. A horse-drawn carriage rolled by
her. Voices called out.
And he touched her.
Emma didn’t flinch. Didn’t scream. She looked down at the hand on
her shoulder. “When a woman runs away from you, that means you need to stay the
hell away from her.”
His hold tightened on her. “You and I aren’t done.”
She looked up at his face. Had she really thought the man was
handsome? Annoying, that was all Dean Bannon was.
“I need to find that girl, and you’re the only lead I have so
far.”
“Then you’re not a very good investigator.”
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