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» "Seducing the Saint” seduced my socks off. A very intriguing, hot read." Chris-Night Owl Romance, 4 hearts
» "Melissa Schroeder is a welcome addition to the Cave! She brings a hot, steamy, sexy story in Seducing the Saint. Lots of fiery emotion and sweaty sex to keep you interested until the last page is read." Tina, Two Lips Reviews
» "Ms. Schroeder writes a mean plot that keeps the reader on the edge of her seat and adds a sweet twist at the end." Val, five hearts, Love Romances and More » "Above all Seducing the Saint is a FUN book, Ms. Schroeder's characters have fun with each other, and one expects she wants her readers to have a good time as well, I know I did." Mickey, A Simply Romance Reviews Outstanding Read, A+ » "Each page enticed me to read the next one." Aris, Alternative-Read.com
A burst of laughter from the back of the room caught her attention. Instinct told her she’d found him. Carefully, she walked through the room, avoiding eye contact but keeping a close eye on hands, tentacles and other appendages. Throughout the area people drank, played kinos and danced. The all horn band’s techno beat had several people out on the floor, but most of them were too wasted to dance. They were here to forget, because most of them lived lives to be forgotten. So they would drink, they would smoke and they would forget the other life forms they’d killed. Or would kill. Even tonight, she thought as she kept an eye on a group of Awsarians. Short, round, and purple, the race was known for their love of killing for pleasure. Or for a price. She ignored the chill running down her spine and willed herself not to sweat. Libby knew just how to handle herself in situations such as these. She came well-equipped with a laser on her hip, hand gun in her boot, and more than a few knives. Sterling Wainwright didn’t raise a fool. As she neared the group, she noticed females outnumbered the males. Inwardly she snorted. It figured that some of them would probably see her as a rival. She reached the outer edge of his admirers. From the looks of some of them, they had to be mercenaries. Tall, dressed in dark colors, they were heavily armed and had a lean, hungry, cold look in their eyes. Brady’s deep baritone flitted over the crowd and she sighed. He was telling the story of the mines on Alcazere. She shook her head. The man needed new material. And, he always got the story wrong. Libby was the one who came up with the idea of rappelling into the mines at night. Brady fought the idea, since he has a little problem with dark places. Her father, for once, had listened to her. She eyed the crowd again, walking around the outer rim. Shoving her way to the front wouldn’t work. Besides, even if she could, she didn’t want to chance touching some of them. Who knew what weapons they hid, or what toxins some of them could spurt? There was only one way to get Brady’s attention and that was to steal the audience. “I think you have that wrong, Brady. You didn’t want to do the jump, remember?” All conversation stopped around the table and a chorus of curious eyes swung her way. The group parted in front of her and she felt a wave of satisfaction, however snarky, that she had stolen a bit of his thunder. She ignored the fact that her pulse had jumped and that her mouth had suddenly gone dry. Long ago, it would have heralded another stuttering fit, but she’d gotten over her infatuation with the idiot. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t little Liberty Wainwright.” She couldn’t see him as she waited for a tall, yellow skinned Semian male to step out of her way. The irritated look the alien shot her with his blue green eyes told her Brady had won another admirer. When she finally made it to the table, she cursed herself for the shiver running down her spine. He looked the same. His ebony hair, a tad too long and needing a trim, did have a bit of gray threaded through it. A few more laugh lines had appeared around his cobalt eyes. His nose had been broken, again. It just made him even more attractive. He was surrounded by females, of course. Brady always liked women of every shape, size and species. Including, she was sure, the human bimbo sitting on his lap. “I see you’re still holding court in bars, Brady. And that’s Dr. Wainwright, to you, dickhead.” His lips turned up into a mocking smile. She curled her fingers into the palm of her hand. Smacking him would probably land her in hot water. It always had before. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her wrinkled shirt and pants, her dusty boots. Slowly, he brought his attention back to her face. “I thought the last time you saw me, you said you wanted nothing to do with me.” Yeah, she had said that, as she was heading out the door. She meant it at the time. “This has nothing to do with you…or me. It has to do with Sterling.” His eyes narrowed and he frowned. “I haven’t seen him in months.” “You or anyone else.”
“Sterling and I…we had a disagreement about a year ago.” His eyebrow rose and that damn smile returned. “What was it over this time? You thought he was taking too many risks, and he thought you had your panties in a wad about life?” She swallowed the retort she really wanted to make. Something that would be anatomically impossible for him to do. It galled her that she needed his help, but she did. And, to rescue her father, she would do anything. “No. It had to do with my divorce.” -top-
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It figured she’d find him here. Liberty Wainwright studied some of the worst scum of the universe through the haze of reefer smoke. Just her luck that Brady St. James would spend his time working out of a bar where saying the wrong thing could get your throat slit. She glanced around the room looking for him. At six foot four, he was usually easy to find. And, knowing him as well as she did, she knew there would be a crowd of admirers surrounding him. Brady loved an audience.