Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Her Man Flint by Jerri Drennen

Welcome Jerri Drennen and the super-cool, super spy novel Her Man Flint

Her Man Flint
By Jerri Drennen


If James Bond and Cleopatra Jones had a daughter, Adriana Kent would kick her ass.

Everything Adriana knows about being a top-notch, undercover agent she's learned from her partner, Flint Morgan, in and out of the sheets. That is, until he's caught between those same bed linens with another woman. Heartbroken, Adriana refuses to forgive him. But when 'the other woman' is found dead in Flint's apartment, she steps up to prove his innocence--he might be a womanizer, but he's no killer.

As Adriana closes in on a suspect, she's kidnapped and sent overseas to a sadistic prince who collects women like priceless pieces of art. Now this tough as nails agent finds herself playing the helpless courtesan to a man hell-bent on breaking her spirit. Flint arrives in the nick of time, dressed as a harem girl, fighting off randy guards and surly camels to rescue Adriana so they can fly back to the states to find a way to exonerate him for murder.

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On today's "Talk To Me, Susan" we're doing a thing called, "He said, She said", or in this case, "she said, he said" Our first two guests hail from Denver, Colorado. They're an ex-couple who remain partners on the job. Please put your hands together for Adriana Kent and Flint Morgan. We'll start with Adriana. I'd like you to tell the audience a little bit about yourself and what your problem is with Flint.

"Hello! I'm a special agent with the Department of National Security. The man sitting next to me is my partner, Flint, who I'll just say is a cad and a jackass. The two of us used to share a bed until I found him on our mattress with a red-haired bimbo, who just happened to be working for a guy who's on our most-wanted list. This alone only reiterates in my mind how incredibly sloppy Flint has gotten, but you can't tell him this since he's a cad and a jackass. I think I might have already said that, but I'm hoping if I say it enough, it'll sink in. Let me just mention here that I've worked hard to get to where I am in the agency and I refused to allow my distaste for Flint to destroy the career I've built. When things were starting to get back to business as usual, this fake-breasted fem-fatale ended up with a bullet in her head. In Flint's apartment. The gun used in the kill shot, his. For whatever reason, I felt obligated to help get his sorry ass out of trouble. Okay, maybe obligated isn't the right word, and to be brutally honest, I have this crazy obsession with Flint's ass. Can I say ass on television? I mean, you could literally bounce a quarter off the thing, or is it mine you can? I'm not sure. All I know is that I couldn't let him be railroaded into a murder he didn't commit. What kind of partner would I be if I did?"

So, Flint, do you have a rebuttal for what Adriana said?
"She is so full of herself. It is true that I was in bed with this redhead, but I don't remember a damned thing about it. Until today I refused to admit that to Adriana. I mean, why not let her think I had the night of my life with the woman (I might have said those exact words to her at the time). I was angry since she was playing mouth-to-mouth with some doctor she'd met when she ran her Porsche off the road while trying to apply makeup. You think a guy would do something so stupid? But I digress. Anyway, so, maybe there was a lack of judgment on my part drinking myself into a stupor the night I met this lady, but I wasn't thinking clearly at the time. I was actually contemplating strapping on the old ball and chain with Adriana. How crazy is that? And, on the record, I never asked her to save my sorry ass. She volunteered and got herself kidnapped and sent overseas to some prince who intended to tame her wild ways. Like that would ever happen. Anyway, I rescued her from a fate worse than death--becoming yet another concubine to this lecherous fiend. Truth is, and I'll deny I said this if asked again, I love Adriana. Too bad she only loves one person--herself!

Well, Adriana?
"First, I wasn't putting on makeup when I had that accident in my Porsche. I was deliberately run off the road by a pair of goons who worked for the dead woman's boyfriend. As far as the doctor he's talking about, Flint had already destroyed our relationship long before I started dating him. Mister Morgan likes to embellish things to make himself look less like a cad. As far as him loving me. Huh! The man doesn't know what the word means."


"I don't know what she's talking about."

"Exactly. I rest my case."

Okay. Now, it's time to poll the audience? What do you all think? Do you agree with Adriana? Is Flint a cad and a jackass. It's time for you to decide. When we come back from commercial break, we'll have an answer. Then, we'll move on to our next couple who come to us from Washington D.C.

Excerpt 1

Adriana swatted Billy’s hand away. “Stop it. I’m fine.”

Billy nudged her down. “You’re not fine, you have a concussion. The doctor said you have to stay in bed.”

“Nonsense, it’s just a little bump. I feel okay.” She tried to sit up straight, but a wave of dizziness hit and sent her back to the pillow.

“See, I told you. You need rest.”

“Maybe you’re right. But I’m not staying here all day. I have things to do. I’ve already missed my session with Antonio.”

Adriana pounded the mattress with her fists, which sent a sharp, knifelike pain through her head.

She sighed. More than anything, she hated feeling helpless.
Billy sat in the chair next to her bed. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Adriana turned to face him. “A black sedan rear-ended me twice. I tried to keep the Porsche on the road. Oh God, how’s my car?” She gnawed anxiously at her bottom lip. “Is my baby okay?”

“It’ll live. But it’s going to need some grill work.” Billy raised a questioning eyebrow. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?”

Adriana clutched his arm. “No. But for Heaven sakes don’t tell Flint. He’ll make a big stink about it. Promise me.”

“He has a right to know.”

“Who has a right to know? And what?” Flint asked from the doorway.

Adriana’s gaze flew to him, now leaning against the open door in a pair of cut to fit blue jeans, and a black sweater that clung to every muscle and contour of his chest and shoulders. He looked incredible.

She caught herself before she audibly sighed.

Memories of his naked, wonderfully toned chest against hers stirred her senses.

For a year and a half she’d gotten used to having Flint around—a year and a half spent cohabiting. And in that time, she’d fallen in love, even when most of the time he’d been a conceited horse’s ass. Now she desperately wished she hadn’t lost her heart to him because it hadn’t mended the way she’d hoped it would.

It had been six months since he moved out. Long, agonizing weeks of missing his toothbrush in the cup next to hers, his dirty socks scattered on the floor, or waking to his latest baritone rendition of some Barry White tune he knew. She missed that most of all. Hell, she missed everything about the man, including his inflated ego, and at times it hurt so bad she couldn’t even look at him. But their relationship was over, and she had to move on.

“The doctor told me you took quite a blow to the head. I’d say you’re lucky. We both know how hard it is.” Flint’s words brought her attention back to him.
“So what happened?” He looked to Billy for the answer.
“She ran off the road.”
“You ran off the road? Where you putting on make-up again? I told you, you should never do that while you’re driving.”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking.” Adriana turned away. She couldn’t look him in the eye and lie. He’d always been too good at reading her.
“How’s the Porsche?” Flint asked.

“Leave it to you to ask about my car before asking how I’m doing.” Adriana snorted, then looked at Billy, her eyes thanking him for not telling Flint the truth.

Flint’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “You know how much I love that car.”
Adriana’s stomach tightened. Right. He’d loved her car, but never her.

“What do you want, Flint? Did you come here to see if I’d died so you could have my baby? If so, I’m sorry to disappoint you. Wait, I thought you were in D.C.”

“I was. I flew back when I heard you were in an accident.”
She frowned. “Why? I should warn you now that I’m leaving the Porsche to Billy.”

She gently fingered the huge bump on her forehead. What she wouldn’t give for a mirror. She was sure she must look a mess, and with Flint standing just inches away, looking like he’d stepped off the cover of GQ, she felt a little self-conscious.

“Billy wouldn’t know the first thing about handling a car like that and you know it. He’d kill himself.” Flint stepped over to the bed and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Thanks.” Billy glared at Flint.

“Hey, just trying to keep you alive.”

Adriana pushed Flint’s hand away. “Right. You’re just itching to get your hands on my car, but let me tell you this, Flint Morgan, I’m not going anywhere for a long time. So you needn’t worry about the Porsche.”

“Calm down. I don’t want your damn car.”

“How’s the patient?” a handsome, dark-haired man in a white lab coat asked, as he made his way into the room.

“I’m fine.” Adriana smiled demurely at him. “Can I go home now?”

He smiled down at her. “That depends on whether you’re planning to rest or not. If you’re not, then no, if yes, then we’ll see what we can do about getting you discharged.”

Adriana’s heart skipped at beat. The man definitely had a winning smile, with his straight white teeth and deep inset dimples on either side of his mouth.

“Thank you, Dr–?”

“Terrell. Mike Terrell.”

“Nice to meet you, Mike. So, will you let me go home if I promise to stay in bed?” She batted her lashes at him. “You’re welcome to come over and check on me if you’d like.”

His smile widened. “Is that an invitation?”

Beside her Flint snorted.

Adriana scowled at him, then returned her attention to the doctor.

“That depends.”

“On,” Mike asked.

“If you’re married or not?” She glanced at Flint and caught him rolling his eyes.

“No, not married, or dating anyone right now.”

“Really?” Adriana’s gaze held the doctor’s for what seemed like minutes. “How nice for me.”
Flint cleared his throat. “Before the two of you go down on each other right here, I gotta go.” He turned and bolted out the door, leaving everyone in the room looking dumbstruck.

“What’s with him?” Dr. Terrell asked, obviously confused by Flint’s outburst.

Adriana shrugged. “He’s just mad I didn’t die and leave him my Porsche.”

Author Bio:

Jerri Drennen was raised on a farm in a tiny town in Minnesota where the winters were long and being stuck inside awarded her the opportunity to read and tell stories. Years later, after moving away from family, marrying her husband of twenty-five years and having their four children, she started writing when her youngest was three. Eleven years and many manuscripts later, she has one contemporary romance and three romantic suspense novellas with Samhain Publishing, a category romantic suspense at The Wild Rose Press and two action-adventure romances at Liquid Silver Books. Now, she's trying her hand at self-publishing.

Twitter  @jerri47


Jerri said...

I wanted to thank you for hosting me today!

Mila Ramos said...

Thank you Jerri!!! So a cute story for you...I was reading your blurb out loud to a friend and my niece said that if James Bond and Cleopatra Jones had a baby, it would be super sneaky spy named Incognito.

Thought that would make you smile!