by: Jacqueline Corcoran
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release Date: May 17, 2021
Publisher: Entangled Amara
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The secrets in the artwork are just the beginning...
Elle Dakin is shocked when she’s given the opportunity to fly to Paris to attribute a newly discovered painting to her favorite artist. After all, why would they choose a broke, struggling Art History doctoral student for such an honored task? When she arrives in Paris, she realizes the deal was too good to be true—suddenly she’s neck deep in a murder, an international art theft, and threats to her safety. Thank goodness Ryan, an art exporter, comes to her aid, protecting her from the dangerous side of Paris and those who would try to harm her. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s sinfully handsome…until she discovers he has just as many secrets as everyone she’s met on this trip of a lifetime gone wrong…
The last assignment undercover FBI agent Ryan DeLong wants is to investigate art theft. But here he is, stuck in Paris, chasing down the thieves of a million-dollar masterpiece. The only bright spot is Elle, the shy but enchanting doctoral student who teaches him about more than just the beauty of Surrealism. He can’t tell her the truth of his identity, plus he refuses to get romantically involved with anyone while he’s on a case. But when he learns Elle also has things to hide, he begins to doubt everything he thought he knew about her.
In the J. Edgar Hoover Building, Ryan deLong sat across from the chief of the FBI Art Crime Team. Ryan didn’t like facing his back to the door. He wanted to see what was coming at him from behind.
Kevin Greene flicked at a packet of sweetener, opening it with deliberate movements. “You need a haircut.”
“That’s why you called me in here?” Ryan rifled his hand through his hair. He had just taken off his hat coming in the building.
Kevin’s eyes were magnified behind his glasses. The office smelled of scorched coffee wafting out of a mug that said, World’s Greatest Dad. The surface of Kevin’s desk was as clear as the ice rink at the Smithsonian Ryan had hurried by on his way to work.
“Don’t cut it.” Seeing Ryan’s questioning look, Kevin said, “They wear it longer over there.” A grin broke open the stiff demeanor of his face. “You’re going to Paris. We had a theft last night—or rather, early this morning,” Kevin said. “A Luc.”
Finally, some action.
Most of Art Crime was pursuing cold cases, chasing leads that had closed up years before, heck, decades, even centuries. Ryan frowned, struggling to recall the name “Luc.” He knew Kevin was testing him. Ryan hadn’t slept well last night, and his brain felt like sludge. French—he got that much. “Surrealism?”
Kevin couldn’t resist throwing in a little lecture. “Post-World War One, disillusionment in Europe, the power of the unconscious, Freud?”
“Marc Luc.” Ryan snapped his fingers. “Marc Luc and Yves Tanguy.” They did similar schticks—blobby forms in empty landscapes. Existential dread or some such. “Most people like one or the other.” He didn’t like either. He wasn’t a fan of the Surrealism movement as a whole. Call him prosaic, but he was Renaissance, if anything.
Kevin nodded in approval. “Very good.” He pointed his monitor toward Ryan. “Expectation of Time.”
Yup. Lumpy shapes in a blue wash.
As Ryan studied it, Kevin gave background information on the theft. “It was stolen from a private home in Chicago. James Egart, CEO of Ameritrac corporation.”
He got the picture—wealthy businessman art collector. That was yet another reason not to like Art Crime — catering to the wealthy, not national security. And, until now, it had been only a desk job, no out in the field at all. That’s what he craved. But administration thought he needed the kind of calm environment Art Crime provided.
Ryan reminded himself to focus. This was his chance, and he had to pay attention, despite his objections, if he was to ever get out of here. Kevin had made him a deal. If he solved a big case, not just a five thousand dollar Ming vase, but something in the priceless category, Kevin would give him the recommendation Ryan wanted to return to Counter-Terrorism.
Kevin Greene flicked at a packet of sweetener, opening it with deliberate movements. “You need a haircut.”
“That’s why you called me in here?” Ryan rifled his hand through his hair. He had just taken off his hat coming in the building.
Kevin’s eyes were magnified behind his glasses. The office smelled of scorched coffee wafting out of a mug that said, World’s Greatest Dad. The surface of Kevin’s desk was as clear as the ice rink at the Smithsonian Ryan had hurried by on his way to work.
“Don’t cut it.” Seeing Ryan’s questioning look, Kevin said, “They wear it longer over there.” A grin broke open the stiff demeanor of his face. “You’re going to Paris. We had a theft last night—or rather, early this morning,” Kevin said. “A Luc.”
Finally, some action.
Most of Art Crime was pursuing cold cases, chasing leads that had closed up years before, heck, decades, even centuries. Ryan frowned, struggling to recall the name “Luc.” He knew Kevin was testing him. Ryan hadn’t slept well last night, and his brain felt like sludge. French—he got that much. “Surrealism?”
Kevin couldn’t resist throwing in a little lecture. “Post-World War One, disillusionment in Europe, the power of the unconscious, Freud?”
“Marc Luc.” Ryan snapped his fingers. “Marc Luc and Yves Tanguy.” They did similar schticks—blobby forms in empty landscapes. Existential dread or some such. “Most people like one or the other.” He didn’t like either. He wasn’t a fan of the Surrealism movement as a whole. Call him prosaic, but he was Renaissance, if anything.
Kevin nodded in approval. “Very good.” He pointed his monitor toward Ryan. “Expectation of Time.”
Yup. Lumpy shapes in a blue wash.
As Ryan studied it, Kevin gave background information on the theft. “It was stolen from a private home in Chicago. James Egart, CEO of Ameritrac corporation.”
He got the picture—wealthy businessman art collector. That was yet another reason not to like Art Crime — catering to the wealthy, not national security. And, until now, it had been only a desk job, no out in the field at all. That’s what he craved. But administration thought he needed the kind of calm environment Art Crime provided.
Ryan reminded himself to focus. This was his chance, and he had to pay attention, despite his objections, if he was to ever get out of here. Kevin had made him a deal. If he solved a big case, not just a five thousand dollar Ming vase, but something in the priceless category, Kevin would give him the recommendation Ryan wanted to return to Counter-Terrorism.
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This book sounds exciting. And, I love any book set in Paris.
ReplyDeleteReally pumped to learn about your suspense themed book.
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