Ride the Tide
by Julie Ann Walker
Publication Date: 11/24/2020
Once a fighter, always a
fighter...
Former Navy SEAL Mason McCarthy is done being a fighting man. Now he and the Deep Six Salvage crew are working feverishly to find the wreck of the Santa Cristina and its legendary sunken treasure. Unfortunately for Mason’s peace of mind, chatty, brilliant historian Alexandra Merriweather has joined the hunt and there’s no avoiding her. Alex is exactly the kind of distraction Mason can’t afford right now…or maybe ever.
When a murderous enemy from
Mason’s past threatens the Deep Six, he must rely on old instincts and the
skills he honed from years of running black ops to make sure nothing touches
Alexandra. But with their lives on the line and the adrenaline running high,
it’s inevitable that sparks will fly.
Author
Website: https://julieannwalker.com/
Purchase
Links:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2KQvvO5
Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/2AaPa66
Books-a-Million: https://bit.ly/2Ae4Sxg
Bookshop: https://bit.ly/3kzyFmM
Apple: https://apple.co/2zPYZGe
Indiebound: https://bit.ly/3gPlmfM
Chapters Indigo: https://bit.ly/3izTUDx
Read an Excerpt:
Mason “Monet” McCarthy had a
problem.
She was five feet tall. Had
curly red hair that was only fifty percent tamed under the best of conditions,
and one hundred percent out of control this early in the morning. And she was
sitting at a table by the window watching the multicolored ships of the shrimp
fleet as they rocked precariously with the wave action out near the horizon
while her fingers absently fiddled with the corner of a book.
Oh, and she was also studiously
ignoring him.
She was wicked good at that
last part. Was making a frickin’ hobby of it, as a matter of fact. Not
that he could blame her, considering what she’d offered him.
And what he’d turned down.
Her name was
Alexandra Merriweather. Alex for short, which was a ridiculously masculine
moniker for such a tiny wisp of a woman. One with skin like porcelain, eyes the
color of Colombian emeralds, and a laugh as sweet and tinkling as a music box.
She was his problem
because…well…he liked her. Like, liked her liked her. And if
his cheating ho of a wife… Scratch that. Rewind… That would be his cheating ho
of an ex-wife—had taught him anything, it was that he wasn’t fit to
like a woman like Alex.
Not anymore.
All the years schlepping his
ass through countless missions, maiming and killing in the name of the flag,
had turned him into something…not normal.
That was the phrase Sarah had
used when he came home early to surprise her for her birthday, but instead
found her screwing his ex-best friend in their marriage bed. Surprise!
“What d’you expect,
Mason?” Sarah’s expression had been
so sincere. “You’re gone all the time, and when you’re here, you’re not
normal.”
Copy that. When it came to a
life of violence, the effects were biological, physiological, and
psychological. It was the price of being a warrior.
So even though he’d been
heartbroken by her betrayal, he’d never worked up much anger over it. Then and
now, there was no way to deny the truth. Mason McCarthy was no longer capable
of living an ordinary life with the house, the wife, and the two-point-three
kids.
The only reason he was sitting
in this hotel bar now, a bona fide civilian, was because of a deathbed
promise he and the rest of his teammates had made to Rusty Lawrence, the eighth
man in their SEAL unit. Barring that, Mason figured he would’ve kept on running
and gunning until he found the bullet with his name on it.
With a fingertip, he traced the
scrolling black letters inked on the inside of his left forearm. For RL they
read. Picturing Rusty’s craggy face, he tried to determine whether to curse the
sorry sonofabitch or thank him for forcing them all to make that vow and wave
their fond farewells to the navy.
A call of “G’morning, asshole!”
cut into his thoughts. Turning, he found Ray
“Wolf” Roanhorse standing behind him.
Since he’d yet to determine how
good the morning was or wasn’t, Mason grunted his reply. Wolf, used to Mason’s
wordless responses, bent to scratch Meat’s exposed belly.
The fat English bulldog slept
on his back beside Mason’s barstool, dick and balls on display for the entire
breakfast crowd, and his snores nearly drowning out the cries of the seagulls
coming in through the hotel’s open windows.
Meat was the only thing Mason
had taken from the divorce. He’d let Sarah have their restored three-decker
in Southie, along with the furniture and all the minutia that went with a
“normal” life. But Meat? Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but he’d have
crossed hell with nothing but a bucket of ice water before he’d let her keep
his dog.
“A wise woman once said, ‘If
you risk nothin’, you risk everythin’.’” With the unaffected ease
that came with being supremely fit, Wolf settled himself onto the barstool next
to Mason’s.
The two of them had become
instant friends when they’d been teamed up as swim partners way back in
BUD/S—Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL—training. And through all the
intervening years, Wolf had never run out of inspirational quotes. He fancied
himself a scholar of the world’s philosophers and religions.
There were times, including
this one, when that could get damned annoying.
Instead of answering, Mason
kept quiet. He hoped his silence conveyed his wish for more coffee and less
talk.
“I said,” Wolf said
louder, “a wise woman once—”
“First off,” Mason muttered
irritably, “what part of this face”—he pointed to his scowling mug—“makes you
think I’m in the mood for morning convo?”
“You’re never in
the mood for conversation,” Wolf drawled, his Oklahoma accent making the
words sound twice as long as they normally would. “Don’t matter what time of
day it is.”
“Second off,” Mason went on as
if Wolf hadn’t spoken, “what’s that supposed to mean anyway? If you
risk nothing, you risk everything?”
“It means you should pull your
head from your ass and go for it. Take her up on what she’s offerin’.”
Wolf stuck a cocktail straw between his teeth and hailed the bartender to put
in an order for a Bloody Mary. Hitching his chin toward Alex’s table, he added,
“Come on, man. You know you want to.”
Mason hadn’t been kidding when he said he wasn’t in the mood to talk. But he sure as shit wasn’t in the mood to talk about Alex and her heart-stopping offer.
***
Excerpted from Ride the Tide by Julie Ann Walker. © 2020 by Julie Ann Walker. Used with
permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks
Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
No comments:
Post a Comment