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Now, read on to discover this new book which is being released on Friday, January 25th from fellow 5Prince author, Denise Moncrief!
Presents
CRISIS OF IDENTITY
by
Denise Moncrief
Genre: Romance Suspense
Release Date: January 25, 2013
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-939217-28-8 ISBN 10: 1939217288
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-939217-30-1 ISBN 13: 193921730x
Crisis of Identity:
Tess Copeland is an operator. Her motto? Necessity is the
mother of a good a con. When Hurricane Irving slams into the Texas Gulf coast,
Tess seizes the opportunity to escape her past by hijacking a dead woman’s
life, but Shelby Coleman’s was the wrong identity to steal. And the cop that
trails her? He’s a U.S. Marshall with the Fugitive Task Force for the northern
district of Illinois. Tess left Chicago because the criminal justice system
gave her no choice. Now she’s on the run from ghosts of misdeeds past—both hers
and Shelby’s.
Enter Trevor Smith, a pseudo-cowboy from Houston, Texas,
with good looks, a quick tongue, and testosterone poisoning. Will Tess succumb
to his questionable charms and become his damsel in distress? She doesn’t have
to faint at his feet—she’s capable of handling just about anything. But will
she choose to let Trevor be the man? When Tess kidnaps her niece, her life
changes. She must make some hard decisions. Does she trust the lawman that
promises her redemption, or does she trust the cowboy that promises her nothing
but himself?
Bio for Denise Moncrief
Denise wrote her
first story when she was in high school—seventeen hand-written pages on
school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she read. She
earned a degree in accounting, giving her some nice skills to earn a little
money, but her passion has always been writing. She has written numerous short
stories and more than a few full-length novels. Her favorite pastimes when
she’s not writing are spending time with her family, traveling, reading, and
scrapbooking. She lives in Louisiana with her husband, two children, and one
very chubby dog.
How to contact Denise Moncrief:
Twitter: @dmoncrief0131
EXCERPT from Crisis of Identity:
The room
had already filled five times with sea-soaked bodies. The dead lay
head-to-foot, column-by-column, row-by-row, ten by twenty. Victim 973 had
scrawled her Social Security number down her left arm just as she’d been
instructed. I noted the number on my log and moved on, trying hard not to think
about the person, concentrating only on the morbid job some pushy cop forced on
me.
Across
the high school gymnasium, a man worked the other end of the column. As his
stealthy glances trailed me around the gym, the acid in my overwrought stomach
churned every time our eyes met.
“Want to
take a break?” His sudden question reverberated throughout the cavernous space.
I curled
one tendril of hair around my left ear. “Sure.”
I
followed him into the locker room, grabbing a foam cup and filling it with
tepid coffee. The man did the same from another urn. The burnt brew left traces
of bitterness in my mouth. I rubbed my tongue over my teeth in a vain attempt
to remove the acrid leftovers.
My mind
turned off for a few precious moments as I ignored the makeshift morgue on the
other side of the wall. The man’s strong, masculine bass invaded my mental
hideaway. “They’re starting to smell ripe.” He gulped down another ounce of
artificial stimulant, staring at me over the rim of his cup.
My
insides flipped. “It’s been four days.”
He nodded.
“Most of these don’t have numbers.”
“Makes it
harder to identify them.”
He leaned
against a locker. “This group must have thought they were invincible.”
“Doesn’t
everyone?” I tossed my cup into the overflowing trash. “Think they’re
invincible, I mean."
“Certain
death. How do you interpret that? I
think it means, ‘I stay. I die.’ Must not have sunk in until it was too late.”
His sarcastic attitude unsettled me, made me want to defend the dead.
“They’ve
been warned before and nothing happened.” When the locals ordered an evacuation
two years before, it proved to be a false alarm. The residents of the Texas
Gulf coast weren’t so easy to convince this time. It seemed no one learned a
lesson from Hurricane Katrina. “And…we’re not dead.” Our eyes locked.
Someone’s
presence warmed my back. The site supervisor stood over my shoulder and
repeated his prerecorded rant for the millionth time. “Mandatory is mandatory.
The dead ignored the warning to their own peril. If they wanted to stay put,
the least they could do is write their soc number on their arms...just like
they were told to do. How many times did the news people make that
announcement? Write your number on your arm if you plan to stay. How hard is
that?”
I shifted
away from him. I didn’t dare write my number on my arm.
“Suppose
the two of you take a few. You look wasted, and these guys…” He waved his hand
toward the gym. “Aren’t going anywhere.”
