Book Blitz: Close Contact

Swindled, Negotiations, Red
by Megan Mitcham
(Close Contact #1-3)
Publication date: June 2016
Genres: Adult, Romance

These 5,000 word short stories are the perfect serving of sizzle before bed.
Swindled – Releases June 14
Close Contact Volume 1
Newbie detective Harper Lang baits international thief Magnus Declan with her best assets and discovers she’s not the only one with tempting snares.
Negotiations – Releases June 21
Close Contact Volume 2
When Detroit’s lead negotiator Paige Cline and Special Response Team captain Donovan Wolfe go head to head, they negotiate a fiery response.
Red – Releases June 28
Close Contact Volume 3
After losing a patient, famed neurosurgeon Alexis McCrae needs an escape and her pilot Captain Warren knows just the right spot.


USA Today bestselling author Megan Mitcham was born and raised among the live oaks and shrimp boats of the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where her enormous family still calls home. She attended college at the University of Southern Mississippi where she received a bachelor's degree in curriculum, instruction, and special education. For several years Megan worked as a teacher in Mississippi. She married and moved to South Carolina and worked for an international non-profit organization as an instructor and co-director.

In 2009 Megan fell in love with books. Until then, books had been a source for research or the topic of tests. But one day she read Mercy by Julie Garwood. And Oh Mercy, she was hooked!

Megan lives in Southern Arkansas where she pens sizzling suspense novels. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest & Goodreads. For news, giveaways, and exclusive offers sign up for her newsletter at!

Author links:



Determined to search the kitchen and back rooms before heading home, Harper flushed. The door opened and a giggle accompanied two sets of shoes. Reaching for her matching lace thong, she continued righting herself.
“But someone’s in here,” a woman whispered.
Harper hurried to smooth her dress and split before the chick pulled out a bag of smack. There was only one person worth arresting tonight, and his voice was deeper than that.
“I know,” rumbled the voice she’d swear her mind conjured.
She’d listened to that gooey caramel tone for hours on end. Following along with the translations hadn’t diminished its panty-dropping effect. But that couldn’t be Declan. Not after the stunt he’d pulled.
A throaty moan split the air. Harper flushed rooftop-in-July-hot and clamped a hand over her own mouth. She didn’t want to get caught in the middle of a fuck-fest, unless she was center stage. If it was in fact Magnus Declan, she had to know. Yet, she couldn’t risk chasing him away by barging out of the stall unprepared.
“Ooohhh yes,” the woman groaned, “right there.”

Curse her body to hell and back. Harper’s lady boner swelled to life as though it garnered the attention being awarded another. Releasing her mouth, she inhaled a deep quiet breath and steadied one hand on the metal wall. With the other, she grabbed her clutch from the top of the paper dispenser. One more fortifying breath and she leaned toward the gap between the door and stall.


        “You know exactly why I’m here, and I’m not leaving until I get an explanation. You’re trying to railroad my career, and I won’t allow it.”
            “Did you come?”
            “What?” Paige retreated a step.
            “You said I fucked you.”
            After a silent moment she surged forward. Her pretty breasts lead the charge.
            “I’ve been through boot camp, hell week, FBI training, and a shitty marriage. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than dirty talk to intimidate me. So, cut the crap.”
            “Did you come?”
            “This morning in the shower, but it had nothing to do with you.” A confident smirk played over her lips.
            “Then I didn’t fuck you.” He canted his head.
            “Oh?” The smack of palms against gently curved hips, drew Donovan’s gaze from her pouty mouth.

            “No.” He let his gaze linger before dragging it up the swell of her breasts, and smooth column of her neck. “If I had, you’d have come again and again, and this morning in the shower you would have been thinking of me on top of you, inside you, filling you, pushing you.”


        “So,” he said, in a conspiratorial whisper, “Mazatlan?”
            “Excuse me?”
            He smiled and the October day seemed unseasonably hot. “Mazatlan, Mexico. It’s not as pretty as Cabo, but much better for getting lost.”
            “Getting lost?”
            A chuckle rumbled in his chest.
            “Look, I won’t say a word. The way I see it, the guy had it comin’, but we might want to ditch the other two,” he said, hiking a thumb toward the waiting flight attendant and co-pilot. “They gossip like school girls.”
            When words failed her, the gorgeous, funny and young pilot hefted her luggage he’d extricated from the Mustang. He also pulled the bags from her shoulder. As he did, the pads of his warm fingers grazed her clavicle, one of the many body parts she’d like to forget the name of... with him. His head inclined toward the jet.

            “This way, Dr. McCrae. I’ll fly you anywhere you want to go.”

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