Runaways is now available for the Nook

Yep, you read that right. I’ve finally managed to figure out Nook Press, which wasn’t exactly as hard as I thought it might be. I want to put a shout out to Valerie Douglas, (http://www.valeriedouglasbooks.com/) who told me the site I needed to go through.

SO if you haven’t read Runaways, which has been described as a great blend of Heroes, Nikita and Alias, now you can add it to your nook.

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/runaway-samantha-allard/1120138049?ean=2940150421066

Here’s a taste of the first chapter.

The whole room smelt of unwashed bodies and cigarette smoke. Every time I arrived at the place that kept my pay check hostage, a part of me died inside. Hell, I’d have preferred being strapped into a chair with a one-eyed drunk dentist. The dancers strutted across the stages moving to a steady under beat of music. The eyes of men half hidden by shadow and smoke watched them with hungry eyes.
The whole place made my skin crawl. I moved around the people who crowded near the stage. How did I end up in a place like this? A question I’d asked myself a lot but it only had one answer, choices and my lack of them. I scowled over my shoulder as someone brushed their hand against my jean clad butt. The urge to break the fingers of the drunk man nearly overwhelmed me. Even in the dark, he caught the murderous look in my eyes. He spluttered out an apology as I stalked away.
Fluent in three languages and able to assemble a sniper rifle blindfolded, and here I served beers to men whose eyes never strayed too far from my chest. The price for invisibility. To fade into the background like a chameleon. I didn’t want to be dragged out of bed by my past one night.
A few of the regulars sat at the bar, crowded on either side by more men waving money. They were the ones who came for the drinks and not much else. They were all different. The only thing they shared was the same expression. The sign above the door read The Golden Eagle but it really needed, a place where dreams come to die, written underneath it. The girls who worked the poles and small stages wore G-strings so thin, dental floss had more substance. The ones who waited on the tables didn’t wear much more.
I ducked under the counter. From the slightly vacant look the staff sported, it hadn’t been a good night, but if I managed to get through the shift without wanting to put a bullet into someone, I considered it to be a victory.
“Is it too much to ask that we keep the beer stocked? You know we’re a bar, we should at least have the basics?” A voice cut through the noise. I didn’t even have to glance across to recognize the snarky tones of my roommate.
“People didn’t come here to hear you complain.” Another one of the bartenders snapped back.
Nicki snorted. “Yeah, they came for beer. It doesn’t look like they’re going to be getting much of that either.”

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