Santa’s Got 2 Presents Just for You, Courtesy of @LiviaQuinn #FREE #books



I’d like to thank N. N. Light for allowing me to say:


Merry Christmas to my readers. May we all let the spirit of this wonderful season – the peace, kindness and love for each other carry through the coming year.


Santa came ho-ho-hoing down the chimney with two free ebooks just for you – the first book in my Destiny Paramortal series, Storm Crazy – and Hard Days Knight, the first in my Contemporary Military Romance series. Here’s the info. I hope you pick them up and enjoy!


Here’s wishing all of you a prosperous New Year!






Title   Storm Crazy

Author Livia Quinn

Genre  Paranormal Urban Fantasy


Book Blurb  

Welcome to Destiny, or should I say Middle Earth…


I’m Sheriff Jack Lang. After an exciting career as a Navy pilot, Destiny seemed like the perfect place to settle down – safe, sane and secure. But that ship sailed when I met Tempest Pomeroy – sexy redheaded mail lady and trouble magnet. Tempe never fails to test the limits of my patience or the law. Every time I think it’s the last straw, up pops another haystack.


My name is Tempest Pomeroy, and my human job is delivering the mail. I’m also a Paramortal like my family, or I’m supposed to be. If I didn’t have a few little talents, I’d think I was adopted. To say I was having a bad day would be like saying Katrina dropped a little rain on New Orleans. My brother’s genie bottle is missing, my mother’s AWOL, and the sheriff and my ex-lover are squaring off like yard dogs staking a claim over a poodle. I am no one’s poodle. I’ve denied my heritage for most of my life but all this chaos is a sign of my quickening Tempestaerie power.


Oh, and the sheriff? He thinks he’s settled in a normal, quaint small town—like Mayberry?! We’ll see how that turns out… Things better settle down soon, ‘cause I’m about to go Storm Crazy.



I installed Pomeroy in the empty jail cell but didn’t lock it, although I was tempted to see if she’d try her hand-me-down skills on one of my locks. Pulling a case file from the desk drawer I remembered I’d promised to call Jordie.

“Where’s Tempe?”

The voice sounded like it belonged on a classic western, laced with tequila and cigarettes. I turned to face a tall man dressed in black. I could almost hear the cheesy “Good, Bad, and Ornery” music in the background. His name would have been Diablo.

I hadn’t even heard the door open. I thought of the covert operatives I’d met while serving in the Mideast. Intimidating, with his wet slicked black hair, dark eyes and stubbled jaw—this man would be hazardous to your health. His face held no expression, hands hanging loose at his sides, but I recognized a seasoned warrior when I saw one. Battle-ready.

“Who’s asking?”

“Dylan McGuinness, Special Investigator.” He pulled his black leather jacket aside to expose his badge.

What was he to Tempe? I wondered, as I pointed to the chair by the door. “Have a seat.”

He hesitated for a minute then, after taking stock of his surroundings, lowered himself onto the chair. Spring-loaded… dangerous… and proprietary were my impressions.

“What is your relationship with Tempest Pomeroy?” I asked and was blindsided by an irrational stab of… jealousy?

His lip quirked in tandem with an eyebrow. “What’s it to you? I’m here on official business, Sheriff…” he eyed the name plate on the desk, “…Lang.” I didn’t know the man but felt an instinctive dislike and distrust. What was his association with Tempe?

“State your business then—McGuinness, was it?”

I wasn’t sure how it happened, but we seemed to be in some kind of pissing contest. “Ms. Pomeroy didn’t have a phone call so how did you know she was here?”

“Why didn’t she get a phone call, if you’ve arrested her?” His thumb and index finger rubbed his whiskered chin and it wasn’t lost on me that he hadn’t answered my question.

I was feeling a perverse sense of non-cooperation. I didn’t just not want to answer. I wanted to have it out with Diablo…take it outside, so to speak. Where was that coming from? Talk about irrational. And I prided myself on my rationality. I regrouped.

“She’s not exactly arrested—yet. I’m still thinking on it.”

McGuinness’ narrowed eyes failed to conceal the workings of his quick lethal mind, and if I guessed correctly, a fondness for my prisoner. Her comment about misplaced trust came to mind, and I felt myself bristle. I made fists under the table trying to push down the ugly green emotions roiling up inside me. Once again, I had nothing to go on, but my instincts were screaming in his presence.

“So, what do I have to do to spring her?”

“Depends. If you can keep her away from my crime scene, I’m tempted to let you have her,” I said, with implied double meaning.

He nodded. “I might be able to handle that. She has a sit-to with her boss in less than an hour, and if she doesn’t end up suspended, she’ll be busy working all day. I have to get a couple statements from her this evening or tomorrow.”

I winced as I remembered her comment about being fired over picking up Jordie. “How well do you know her?”

McGuinness’ head tilted, and he hesitated before answering. One black eyebrow arched, he asked, “What’s it to you?”

Ah, there it was.

“Just curious if you know her brother, River.”

He nodded. Contemplating again. This guy wasn’t one to run off at the mouth.

“I know River.” He inhaled, his shoulders relaxing finally. “I talked to Tempe earlier; she was concerned about him.”

Oh, she did, did she? “Why talk to you?”

“I guess she thought I might be able to help.”

“Again, why you? Why not the cops, her mother?”

“I was a friend of the family.”

“Was a friend?”

“Am a friend.” McGuinness’ head tilted again, elbow on my desk. One big fist came up to casually prop up his chin. “Sheriff, is this going somewhere? Should I be calling a lawyer?” The man didn’t rattle.

“You know about the body we found at the clubhouse.” It wasn’t a question. I got the feeling he knew a lot more about this whole situation than I did.

“I was in touch with her because of UM’s involvement and an ongoing investigation that happened prior to this incident. When I talked to her, she was upset that River hadn’t shown up on his job site, yesterday morning.”

“So her concern about her brother has something to do with this stolen amphora?”

Oh, he was good. There was just the slightest flash of—alarm? Recognition? It was gone so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it.

“His amphora probably went missing about the same time he was last seen.”

I would come out better questioning the unskilled liar in my cell than this P.I. But even pros slip up now and then. He’d known when River was last seen.

“When was that?” I asked.

“The contractor said his man saw him Sunday night at the Wasted Turtle.”

“Well, he’s probably sleeping it off somewhere, then.”

“Apparently you’ve never met River.”

There was another space in time where we marked our proverbial territories, then I made sure he knew I had his number. “Work undercover much, McGuinness?”


Buy Links (Get it FREE)








Hard Days Knight web NEW final 03302016 copy


Title      Hard Days Knight

Author    Livia Quinn

Genre     Contemporary Military Romance


Book Blurb 

Is he a real hero, or just a pretender?

Ex-Navy officer Luc Larue knows how it looks when the sexy cop and her partner respond to a silent alarm at the grocery where he stopped for a six-pack. Luc’s job with KPI requires certain…attire and equipment.

The tall, dark and deadly looking mercenary Delilah Burke confronts at the robbery scene is sexy as sin, but is he a hero or a conman?

Each day reveals more to Del of the enigma that is Luc Larue. The guy is pure gold, perhaps too good to be true. Then, trouble arrives from his past and Del is faced with a choice. Will she believe the evidence against Luc, or trust her heart?



“Was there something else you needed… Mr. Larue?”

He chuckled easily. “Yes, actually… Officer Burke.”

His eyes were on her chest and when Del looked down she realized he hadn’t been admiring her bust—darn—but looking at her badge. Her brows furrowed.

“Sorry, I was looking for your rank, Off—may I call you Del?”

Delilah started to protest but really, what was the point? He wasn’t a suspect, and he seemed like an okay guy—Navy reservist, gainfully employed, heroic citizen and all. She put the whole sense of “wrongness” yesterday down to the oddities of the circumstances and his attire. That gave her the slightest pause, because she was known for her instincts and she’d been wrong about him. Oh, come on, Del, you were doing your job, covering the bases.

She didn’t really want to encourage someone who’d been a suspect for even those few seconds,  but he was way too easy to like, and she was getting those boy-howdy-would-we-like-to-jump-his-bones urges out of a rarely heard from region below her gun belt. She sent the little miscreants a Now-is-not-the-time message. They ignored her as well, whining when Luc placed one hip on the corner of her desk, allowing her to catch an enticing whiff of his scent, mingled with some kind of musky after shave. An image of him standing in front of his mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist as he applied that after shave… earth to Burke. Earth to Burke! The man is speaking.

She shrugged. Why not?

“I have a proposition for you.” Ha. Now they’d stopped whining and were fist pumping, yes!

No, she thought, gritting her teeth.

“Wait, you haven’t heard me out,” he said, frowning.

Great, she’d spoken out loud. “I’m sorry, I was…had my mind on something else.” Like the way he filled out that t-shirt. The cut of his torso, the way those muscles bunched at the slightest of movements, how that gleaming black hair would feel in her hands.

“Hear me out, please. I need a female officer for a BE day.”

Oh, right, some kind of kinky sex game where he’d “be” the bad “Merc” and she’d “be” the one with the handcuffs.

He smiled, watching her thoughts move across her features as that scene presented itself.  “Officer, you’ve got a dirty mind.”

She wasn’t usually so readable. She scowled at him. “Larue, I don’t have all day.”

“Luc,” he reminded. “Okay, I’m serious. There’s a group of kids I’m presenting a program to Saturday afternoon. My expert for Saturday had to back out due to his wife going into labor early with twins.”

“You’re not by any chance talking about Detective Dunbar?”

“Yeah. So you know Tony. He’s done it for me the last couple of times. He’s always a hit with the young ladies.”

“He would be.” Tony Dunbar was an Italian charmer with five daughters and six sisters. “He’s charmed some of the most intractable suspects into confessing. What exactly is it, Larue?”

“Saturday is what we call BE day at LTF—that’s  Larue Teens Forward, the old gym turned teen center.” Del had heard of the teen center, and, she couldn’t help it—the report about possible deviant behavior at the martial arts studio crept into her mind.

“It’s a pretty big deal. Some of the kids bring friends who are interested in seeing what the group is about. We have experts in different fields in weekend clothing answering questions about what they do.”

“Kind of like a career day?”

“Like that, but many of these kids were cast aside, expelled or otherwise fell through the cracks of society. We work to bring them back on their own terms into a stable and safe environment through mentoring.”

Damn, if she didn’t watch it, she’d fall for this guy. And he was so not her type. They were at it again, aww, yes he is, he’s-our-type—Del ignored them. “So what would I do? I don’t have much psychology o—”

“No, no. Just show up in your weekend clothes and if someone wants to know more about what you do or why you became a cop, you just share your story, answer questions about the job, and maybe steer someone away from some of those misconceptions or negative stereotypes about law enforcement. I think it will be good to have a lady cop. Get the young men asking questions for a change.” He grinned.

Please nothing from the spectators. She was having enough trouble resisting this guy’s potent charm. Was it a façade or was he the real thing?

“I don’t know.” She wanted to do a bit more research into those reports in his file.

“Hey, I understand if you have plans. Why don’t you talk to Tony and let me know tomorrow. If you’re going to ditch on me I have to find somebody else.” He handed her another card.

“I’ll think about it,” Del said.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d more than think about it. Talk to Tony.”


After he’d gone she flipped his card around with her fingers. It read, Larue Enterprises and his logo was, “Challenge, as necessary as the air we breathe.”

The man had to have a triple load of testosterone. With that background and a job in private security he’d probably turn out to be an overbearing chauvinist with violent authoritarian tendencies. She’d be crazy to get any more involved with him.

She hit the intercom. “Gail, get me Tony Dunbar’s cell.”

It wouldn’t be the first time she did something crazy.


Buy Links (Get it FREE)









Livia Quinn Head Shot_M9A0603 square sml copy

Author Biography

D.C. native, Livia Quinn, lives and writes by the bayou in Louisiana. She’s written eleven books in her Storm Lake series, both paranormal and contemporary romance. While working as a plant manager, computer trainer, mail lady, professional singer, and small business owner she has stocked her brain full of great characters and fodder for her stories, and she can’t wait to share them with her readers who’ve said, “It’s like a mini-vacation from the real world.” “Run don’t walk to the buy button.”  “This book made me swoon.”


Social Media Links


Her brand new Website:





Livia’s Author Central page




Independent Author Network


If you enjoy southern small town paranormal or contemporary romance join the

Livia Quinn’s Facebook Reader Group



Want to leave a comment? All you have to do is click below and comment.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s