Reader's Edyn: Blitz: Deceived (Alias #5) by Lisa Hughey

**Deceived by Lisa Hughey**

Good Morning, Everyone! So thrilled to see you all today! We have another new-to-me author and book! Please allow me to feature on the blog Lisa Hughey and her latest release, DECEIVED …

**LISA HUGHEY **

**BIO**

USA Today Bestselling Author Lisa Hughey has been writing romance since the fourth grade, which was also about the time she began her love affair with spies. Harriet and Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys later gave way to James Bond and Lara Croft and Jason Bourne.

Exploring the complex nature of a profession that requires subterfuge and lies fascinates her. She loves combining her two passions into fiction. As evidenced by her Black Cipher Files series.

Archangel Rafe was her first foray into the paranormal but after spending time in the Angelic Realm, it won't be her last. At their heart, the Seven novels are about the dynamics of family relationships. But the really hot Archangels don't hurt.

And recently she's been immersed in the Stone Family novellas, four stories about a blended family of brothers and sister who have a lot more in common than they realize. But of course she couldn't just write about family and romance. There are complex plots, bad guys, and suspense too.

Lisa loves to hear from readers and has various places you can connect with her, although, shh, Twitter is her favorite.

To find out more about Ms. Hughey please visit:

**DECEIVED**

Publication date: February 3, 2020

Series: Alias #5
Genres: Adult, Romance, Suspense

**BLURB**

He’s done rescuing people. She doesn’t want to be rescued. They’re both about to be disappointed.

The next installment in the ALIAS world features disgraced partner Marsh Adams who is seeking redemption and Ayesha Brown, an up and coming artist with a huge problem. This reverse heist, bodyguard for a woman in peril interracial romance features a strong family theme.

**EXCERPT **

The terror that had frozen her brain was wearing off. And a lot of other things started to register. Such as… “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was planning on rushing in to save the day, but you took care of it all on your own.” There was approval in his voice and…wonder?

She had. Even if she had been flat-out terrified. “My Gramps always said to use what you’ve got.”

“He’s an interesting guy.”

She didn’t think he meant it as a compliment. But before she could snark back at him, he glanced down.

A small puddle of blood pooled on the floor.

“Shit. Hold on.” He lifted her in his arms as if she were a twig.

“What are you doing?”

He ignored her and strode over to the counter where she kept her supplies. He set her on the utilitarian Formica gently and lifted her foot. He winced. “Clean towels anywhere?”

“Drawer to your right.” He retrieved a hand towel and dampened it with water and proceeded to clean out the cut on the bottom of her foot. If you had asked her this morning if Marsh Adams had a nurturing bone in his body, she would have said, “Not a chance.”

Instead he carefully extracted the chunk of glass she’d stepped on with a gentleness that was unexpected.

“Band-Aids?”

Yes. She had a lot of Band-Aids. She tended to cut her hands and skin when she was working with other media.

“Bathroom,” she said huskily. “Top drawer on the left.”

“Be right back.” He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone in a subtle caress. And then he was gone.

Back again a minute later, he carefully coated the cut with Neosporin and pressed a Band-Aid over it. His thumb mimicked the caress on her face, stroking over the arch in her foot in a seductive rhythm. Her eyes were glued to that mesmerizing caress.

Heat rose between them, fierce and intense. He cradled her foot in his big palms, the calluses on his fingers indicating that he didn’t just sit at a desk.

Her lady bits responded to the fairly innocuous touch as if he had stripped her naked and put his hands all over her. Electricity arced, zapping her clit. Tingles spread throughout her body in a wave of desire. Praise Jesus, this man pushed all her buttons.

Then she dropped her gaze. Marsh Adams had a gun—a gun!—in a holster on his right hip.

“You have a gun?”

He smirked. “Typically bodyguards do.”

Well, that put her back up. “I said I didn’t want one.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

Fuck. He had a point.

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