Part of Series
Enter the seductive world of Shannon McKenna, where passion and suspense are intertwined, and love is the riskiest venture of all . . . ON THE EDGE Nobody's home at the millionaire's estate on remote Frakes Island. And nobody seems to be watching. Becca Cantrell dives in for an illicit midnight skinnydip—and gets hauled out by a towering, hard-muscled guy with burning dark eyes. He seems to be in charge. Good. The man is the embodiment of her most intense fantasies. And she's up for risky thrills . . . Nick Ward can't tell her that he's spying on a vicious Russian crime boss. Becca could be his worst enemy: an assassin sent to kill him, a call girl sent to distract him, or the worst scenario of all—a clueless innocent. Anyway he looks at it, she's trouble: beautiful, bare, dripping-wet trouble. The kind he can't resist. She's not scared. After one taste of his hot mouth, Becca soon discovers just how fearless she can be. She'll need it, too—because things are about to explode on Frakes Island, launching Becca and Nick into danger they could never have imagined—and a passion that could destroy them both.
Author
Also wrote five category romances under the penname Shannon Anderson ::From The Author's Website:: HOW IT ALL BEGAN I started writing my first romance novel in secret. I was working a temp job in an insurance office in Manhattan at the time, and the office manager had made it clear that even if there was nothing to do, I still had to look busy—never one of my big talents. I felt bad about the wasted time, though, and I needed something to round out my other chosen career, which was singing. Yeah, that's right. Most artists choose a more practical Plan B to back up their improbable Plan A. Me? No way. "Long Shot" is my middle name. So I sneakily set up a Document 1 and a Document 2 with a spreadsheet on it. If my Boss du Jour walked by I could quick-like-a-bunny switch screens, and whenever the coast was clear, I went back to my story. Not that I was slacking, mind you. If there was work to be done, I did it. The sneakiness felt familiar, though, because I've been teased about reading romances since I was a kid. I think the day I finally grew up was the day I stopped trying to cover up what I was reading on the bus, train or subway. Let people think whatever they like. It wasn't until I moved to Italy (details of that Long Shot provided later on) that I got serious about writing, though. I found myself with many long, quiet days alone with nothing to do, so I slogged my way bravely to the end of the manuscript and sent it out. Everybody rejected it-except for Kensington. I wrote for them for a few years, and then made a bid for an erotic novella for the new Brava imprint, and oh joy, they accepted it. Then I wrote BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. And so on, and so forth. That's how I started. I can't think of anything I'd rather do. I never knew it would be so scary, and so hard . . . all that solitude and silence, a blank computer screen, and no one to blame. But still. It's worth it. It's great.
