Welcome to Jenna’s Journal where today I’m interviewing the hero and heroine from Katie Harper’s soon-to-be released book from Decadent Press, Never Say Just. Thank you so much, Katie, for bringing Kat and Shooter here today. From your blurb and excerpt, this seems like it’s not an ordinary love story and I can’t wait to find out about these guys.
Let me start out with the basics. Kat and Shooter, what was your first impression of your writer?
Kat: Harper and I have been friends for a while. I knew she’d write me well. Though sometimes I wish she didn’t tell the whole world exactly what is going through my head all the time. That bit about a chastity belt made from emotional baggage wrapped around my lady parts could have been left out.
Shooter: Harper’s good people. I’m glad she gave me an insight into the mind of Kat. It’s kept me from killing her a few times.
Kat: HEY!
Okay, guys. Kat, a question for you. How did you get into your murder for hire occupation? Why did you get out of the business?
Kat: I was recruited by a defense contractor when I was eighteen. I’d just lost my parents and I was alone. They gave me a family. When I went through the psychological testing they found that I had the moral flexibility to kill. I was really, really good at it. I quit when I found out I’d killed an innocent man.
That is so understandable. Ummm, Shooter, what an appropriate name for you. I noted in the excerpt that you say you kill people for a living. Does that make for competition between you and Kat at all? Do you consider yourselves sort of a Mr. & Mrs. Smith?
Shooter: HAHAHAHAHA!! No, we are not Mr. & Mrs. Smith. I am a sniper for the United States Marine Corps. Yes, I kill people, but not in the same way Kat killed people. The only competition between me and Kat is in the sparring ring.
Kat: And I’m up by two.
*Grins* Sounds like some healthy competition there. How did you two meet?
Kat: He thought he needed to save my life. It was cute really.
Shooter: Cute! If we hadn’t shown up when we did, you’d be rotting in some swamp somewhere.
Kat: No, I wouldn’t.
Shooter: Whatever.
Uh, Kat you have a daughter? How old is she? How has motherhood changed your life?
Kat: She just turned six. Sam gave purpose to my life. Before her I really didn’t have anything I could be proud of. She is my saving grace.
A lot of mothers feel that way. Children are a wonderful thing to be proud of.
Now, Shooter, if you could be in any other profession, what would you do and why?
Shooter: The Rat Bastards would tell you I’d be a therapist. But if I could do anything, I’d be a professional fisherman.
Intriguing! Another profession where you have to rely on either yourself or a select “band of brothers.”
I was wondering, Kat, what was your most difficult assignment? Why?
Kat: That’s tough. There are different types of difficult. There’s difficult because the target is hard to get to. There’s difficult because you kind of agree with what they’re doing. There’s difficult because you’re stuck in the ass end of nowhere with nothing but a stack of MREs and high powered rifle for company. The mission I hated the most was when I had to play a hooker to kill a North Korean nuclear engineer. I had to act like I actually liked the guy. Nice is not one of my strong points.
Here’s one of those questions romance authors always ask. Shooter, what is your idea of a romantic evening?
Shooter: Ha! I know you think I’m going to say something like cleaning our guns together, but I’m more traditional than that. I went to an OPEC fundraiser with Kat in Paris a few weeks ago. We had dinner at this café next to the river. It was your typical movie Paris evening. I thought it was perfect.
Kat: Lame.
Well, I don’t think that’s lame at all. You seem quite the romantic at heart, Shooter. *Smiles at him*
So, Kat, a “romantic” question for you. What first drew you to Shooter? What qualities does he possess that are attractive to you?
Kat: From the first day I felt comfortable around Shooter. For the first time in years I felt like I could let down my guard. Of course I saw that as a huge vulnerability and fought it tooth and nail, but I eventually gave in. I feel safe with Shooter. I’ve never felt safe with anyone.
And finally, would you guys like for your writer to create a sequel for you? Why or why not?
Shooter: Hell yes! I want the rest of the Rat Bastards to have to go through having their love lives splattered all over the world like I have. It’s been miserable. I can’t believe I said some of the stuff I did. And even though she doesn’t make me look like a total freaking Nancy, she doesn’t make me look like a tough nutted Force Recon Marine either. My story’s done. It’s their turn to suffer.
Kat: Ditto.
Somehow I don’t think either of you suffered quite that much at Katie’s hands. Thank you both for coming here today. And thank you, Katie, for letting me borrow them for a while. They are quite a pair! If you want to check out more of Kat and Shooter (and I suggest you do) below are a blurb and excerpt:
Blurb:
Haunted by her past of murder for hire and skinning people alive to gather vital intelligence, Kat Boudreaux wants nothing more than to hide away in her sprawling mansion with the love of her life–her daughter. But then Private Gump and his band of Bubbas land on her doorstep. Her brother and his unit of misfit Marines insert themselves with the misguided need to protect her from someone hell-bent on vengeance.
For Shooter, it’s love at first sight, though he wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it. When Kat is nearly fatally injured while saving his life, he knows he’s found the woman for him. Together, they fight side by side to get to the bottom of the threats. Kat’s daughter is kidnapped and this ex-assassin mom reverts back to old habits to save her. Saving Kat and her daughter is easy, taming the shrew that is Hell Kat Boudreaux might meaning losing his favorite appendage.
Excerpt:
Shooter leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Bar?” Oh God yes. Yeah, this evening will be brought to you by Jack Daniels and Jim Beam. I ordered a shot of whatever was closest and downed it. Shooter handed me a mint julep while he sipped his scotch. Bless that man. I scanned the room for the enemy. I had honed this skill over several missions for GSA. It’s amazing how quickly things come back to you when you were threatened.
My gaze fell on the first threat, Louise LaLourie. Why her parents had named her Louise with a last name like LaLourie was completely beyond me. Of course she had sported several other last names over the years but she always returned to LaLourie. At one time she desperately wanted to be known as Louise Boudreaux. But, I was married to my husband at the time and he had shown her the no trespassing sign right away. Louise held a flute of champagne in her hand, her cunning eyes searched for the next Mr. LaLourie. Her sights fell on me and she stalked forward. I’m not kidding, she stalked, like a lioness, toward me. I looked over at Shooter. I needed to warn him that the most bedded woman in New Orleans was on the prowl. He was busy at the bar fighting for his constitutional right to get good and shit faced completely missing my look of caution. Since I knew Louise watched me I smiled and prayed the words “die, bitch, die” were not tattooed on my forehead.
“Oh my gawd Are you finally out of mourning?” Her accent was so thick you could cut it with a K-Bar. “I understand grieving, but honey you can’t put yourself in cold storage for the rest of your life. But you are looking great. Look at you. I was afraid you’d locked yourself up in that big ole house and either ate or drank yourself to death. I am so relieved to see you looking as good as ever. Who are you wearing, darlin’? You look positively wonderful.”
Of course her compliments were about as real as her boobs, but I smiled back and said, “Versace.”
“Donatella?” Louise asked with pity in her voice.
“No, Gianni. It went up for auction at Sotheby’s a few years ago and I just had to have it. Though this is the first time I’ve worn it.”
Edna could look forward to a big, fat Christmas bonus this year. The envy on Louise’s face was priceless. It was worth coming to this damn ho down, and I mean ho down, just to see her face turn a lovely shade of green. She would have given a lot to own an original Gianni but she didn’t and I did. Take that you nasty bitch.
Shooter took that moment to turn around and hand me another cocktail. His eyes went big and he tried to take a step back but the bar was in the way. I hadn’t taken in what Louise wore until that moment. She wore a black, too tight to breathe, strapless Dolce and Gabbana that made her boobs spill over the tops. Truth be told I had that same dress in my closet at home. But I would never choose to accessorize it with a purple leopard bra that poked strategically above the neckline. Her lecherous eyes zeroed in on Shooter. She had the sniper in her sites and he was about to feel the full force of Louise’s slut-o-matic up close and personal.
“Well, hello. You must be Kat’s brother?”
“No, Louise,” I interrupted, “This is my date.” I choked on the last word.
Louise didn’t care. She wouldn’t care if a man was in bed with his wife on their wedding night, she believed all men were available. “And what is your name, gorgeous?”
“Shooter,” he smiled and leaned into her gaze a slight come and get me smile smeared across his face. I seriously wanted to pop his eyes out with a shrimp fork but I reigned in my rage.
“And what is it that you do, Mr. Shooter?” Translation: Can you afford me? She said as she pressed herself up against his body shamelessly exposing all her voluptuous assets.
He raised his hand and extended a finger. Shooter pushed the tip of his long thick finger into the center of Louise’s forehead forcing her to take several steps backward. His gaze had gone from playful to deadly. “I kill people,” his whisper was sinister.
And if you want to read even more of Never Say Just, you don’t have long to wait. Katie Harper’s first novel releases on June 19th from Decadent Press.
next stroke, which he slowed so digit and dick kept pace. The slide outward, just as slow, pushed her to the brink. One more would topple her headlong into an orgasm she’d feel for days to come.
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