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Sins of the Father (Perception Book 3)

Sins of the Father (Perception Book 3)
Melina Brooks thought she had put the past behind her. Jilted by the love of her life, the exotic beauty shuns romantic relationships to concentrate on work — earns a doctorate in psychology, has a thriving clinical psychology practice, and after only three years of teaching college, she is the newly appointed Chair of the Psychology Department at Addington College. With everything in her life organized and running smoothly, what could go wrong?

Grant Drake, the gorgeous hunk who vanished from her life ten years ago, is named the new President of Addington College. Bound by a promise he made ten years ago, he cannot explain the reason for his abrupt disappearance, but he hopes to regain Melina’s trust and love.

Grant’s return turns Melina’s life upside down when she discovers the attraction between them is alive, well and hot. Struggling with the undeniable desire he awakened, Melina fights to keep him at bay and her desire under control. With her focus on recapturing normalcy and control over her life, she never notices the menacing stalker lurking nearby.

In the midst of their investigation of the disappearance of several young women in the past few months, Dallas Special Detectives P. J. Burdette and Max Fabiani search for a link between the missing women. Then a sixth woman disappears and P. J. believes Melina may be in danger.

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About the Book

Meet the Author:

Liz Cowan was born in Budapest, Hungary; graduated from the University of Oklahoma with a degree in philosophy and a minor in English; and writes a weekly humor column.

Reading and writing have been HER favorite pastimes since early childhood. During summer vacations, she checked out huge stacks of books from the library and in a couple of days returned for more. Her reading preferences run the literary gamut, including fantasy, science fiction, mysteries, romance, biographies, poetry, etc.

“With my mind bursting with stories of my own, writing was a natural progression for this bibliophile. “

Besides working as a legal assistant by day and plotting new stories at night, she loves working in her flower garden and writes a weekly humor column.

Her published books include:
Fractured Proverbs and Twisted Thoughts–a humorous take on original and familiar sayings, written as E. Cowan.

The Dionysus Connection (Perception Series #1)
The Marathon Man (Perception Series #2)

Sins of the Father (Perception Series #3)



Best Book Bit:

P.J. expected to see Max scowling down at her, but instead her eyes collided with the piercing amber eyes of the most stunning male specimen she had ever seen. His unwavering gaze held her captive. She felt a connection between them as though an invisible thread was suddenly attached to her belly and he was somehow reeling her in. Without a word being spoken, the stranger lit a flame deep inside her, and she was powerless to fight it. To control it. To put it out. This can’t be happening. She was far too levelheaded for such a sudden burst of lust to rock her world. It had to be an out-of-body experience of some sort. Could it be a new esper ability?

Although the man was across the room standing with his back against the closed door, P. J. saw his hands were fisted in his pockets and realized his relaxed stance was just an illusion. His eyes were riveted on her, unwavering and intense. Briefly, she wondered about his height, since the top of his brown hair streaked with gold nearly touched the inner edge of the door frame.

Dressed in a dark Armani suit, gray shirt and black tie, he was “bad boy and sin” in a mouth-watering package. With his broad shoulders and a tapered waist, there was no doubt in her mind that under that suit was a body of rock-hard muscle. His healthy tan brought to mind the word “golden” and she guessed his preferred environment was the outdoors rather than an office.

The impulse to escape from the room, from the tall, virile stranger nearly won out, but his mesmerizing tiger eyes seemed to paralyze her, turning her mind to mush. Something she had never experienced before with any man. In fact, nothing P. J. felt or thought while assessing the unnerving stranger was familiar, especially the way he heated her blood just by looking at her.

“Are you looking for Max?”

The man with the chiseled good looks most often found in drawings of mythical Nordic gods smiled, revealing deeply grooved dimples bracketing his sensual mouth.

“I was,” he replied, his low bedroom voice wrapped around her, weaving a spell which held her captive. She snatched a breath and held it for a heartbeat before expelling it as a sigh.

“He’s not here,” she managed to say.

As they assessed each other in silence, she sensed confidence emanating from the man — confidence as natural as a second skin. And yet, the hint of arrogance so often found in such undeniably good looking men did not put her off as similar behavior from other men always did. Why not?



“So I see,” he replied, glancing around the office.

He pushed away from the door and moved toward her with slow deliberation, never breaking eye contact. A lock of his golden brown hair fell across his forehead partially covering his right eye. He thrust it back in place, but when the unruly lock fell again, he ignored it. Nothing was going to divert his attention from the breathtaking golden goddess.

Then, only the desk stood between them.

She looked tense. Her finely drawn features and porcelain complexion gave her an air of fragility as she watched him with guarded sapphire blue eyes. He felt a momentary twinge of guilt knowing he was the cause of her wariness.

The tip of her tongue darted out and he was riveted as it traced her full kiss-me lips. To his surprise, he suddenly ached to taste those luscious lips.

“Since Max is out, who might you be?”

“P. J. McConnell. I’m Max’s new partner,” she replied, blushing.

“A woman who blushes, how extraordinary,” he remarked. “But P. J. sounds so masculine, and you are most assuredly a female,” he murmured, drawing out the last word.

With his fingertips braced on top of the desk, he leaned toward her.

“Tell me, what does P. J. stand for?”

Her breath hitched before she answered in a low, barely audible voice, “Patricia Jean.”

“Patricia,” he repeated, hesitating for a few heartbeats. “If I’m not mistaken, the name means patrician or one of noble descent. Fair maiden, tell me of your noble lineage.”

PJ.’s low chuckle seemed to ease her obvious tension, but had the opposite effect on his groin.

“Did I say something funny?” he growled, not amused by her reaction to a variation on a well-practiced and usually successful line.

“No. It wasn’t what you said,” she began, then paused and shook her head. “On second thought, perhaps it was. That nobility line was so off the mark. My family is Scottish and Irish with heaven only knows what else thrown in for good measure. We are really quite ordinary people, with no claim to royal ancestry that I’m aware of. In fact, if you knew my family, you would be laughing as well,” P. J. replied with a slight shrug and self-deprecating smile.

Tawny eyes locked with sapphire blue.

“I will get to know you, and your family, Patricia. You can count on it.”

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