Spotlight & Giveaway: A Cop’s Second Chance by Sharon Hartley

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Sharon Hartley to HJ!

Hi Sharon and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, A Cop’s Second Chance!

Tell us about the book with this fun little challenge using the title of the book:

Using CHANCE:
C is for CYRUS: a 12-year old kid who thinks it would be cool to join a gang.
H is for HOT SHOT: A star basketball player, who steals petty cash for a new pair of shoes.
A is for ALETA PORTER, my heroine, who learns to forgive herself and that she is worthy of love.
N is for NOT A PRIEST: Sean O’Malley is an undercover cop …. definitely not a priest.
C is for CHARACTER GROWTH: Every character above changes and grows by the end of the story,
EXCEPT:
E is for EVIL and/or EX: BUBBA BURNETT, Aleta’s ex, who is too far gone to learn a thing.

Please share the opening lines of this book:

BUBBA BURNETT STEPPED into the cell. The sound of the lock engaging behind him shot a surge of fury up his spine. The anger lodged in his brain, and his field of vision narrowed, making it hard to see the tiny room. When the guard moved away, his steps crisp and determined, Bubba lifted his chin and howled.

Please tell us a little about the characters in your book.

Aleta Porter is a woman who grew up with wealth and privilege, but her parents were more interested in their careers than their daughter. Aleta runs wild, becomes involved with drugs and gangs, almost dies from an overdose, but survives and turns her life around.
Sean O’Malley’s brother was his best friend, but his brother was murdered as part of a gang initiation. Sean becomes a police officer determined to stamp out gang activity.
Because of her brush with death, Aleta believes everyone deserves a second chance, while Sean thinks all punks belong in jail. Something has got to give when they are forced to work together at Sunshine Center, a church-run after-school haven for troubled kids.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

I used the villain’s point of view in this story, something I don’t usually do. I had sooo much fun going over to the dark side. It was somehow liberating to think like a bad guy! Strangely, Bubba Burnett became one of my favorite characters to write.

What first attracts your Hero to the Heroine and vice versa?

Sean interrupts a confrontation between Aleta and a gang member, believing that he’s rescuing her. Not! She was doing just fine and insists Sean handled the situation all wrong. He thinks she’s naïve, but loves Aleta’s feisty attitude.
Sean is working undercover at Sunshine Center pretending to be a priest. Aleta doesn’t believe for a minute that Sean is really a priest – no priest could possibly look that good or act so forcefully – and is horrified when she finds herself physically attracted to him. Working with her kids changes Sean’s attitude, and Aleta falls in love with the man beneath the badge.

The First Kiss…

She continued to move toward him, never breaking eye contact.
“I thought nothing got to you,” he said.
“I thought so, too.” She stood before him, close enough to touch—and oh, God, he wanted to touch her—her head tilted up to his. “Turns out I was wrong.”
Feeling the soft whisper of her breath on his chin, Sean stared down at her.
“What are you doing, Aleta?”
“I’m not sure.” She placed her hands on his shoulders. “I’m rather new to seduction.”
“You’re trying to seduce me?”
She nodded and slid her hands around his neck. “Why didn’t you kiss me last night?”
“Do you want me to kiss you now?”
“Yes, please.”
Sean lowered his mouth to hers and forgot where he was and what he’d been doing. He’d wanted to do this the moment he’d laid eyes on Aleta.
Making soft noises in her throat, she opened willingly to him. He crushed her against him, loving the feel of her soft yet strong body, and felt himself harden.
He broke their kiss and stared down into her face, trailing a thumb across her smooth cheek. Her dark eyes appeared dazed. He suspected his were unfocused as well. He worked with this woman every day, at least temporarily. Before last night, he’d entertained ideas of taking her to bed, but this had gotten complicated. Before he went any further, he needed to be honest with her. She should know what kind of man he was.
“Do you still want to know why I didn’t kiss you last night?”
“No,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t?”
“Not if you keep kissing me now.”
“If I keep kissing you, I won’t be able to stop.” He slid his hand from her cheek to cup the curve of her amazing backside. “And you won’t want me to.”

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would you use for the audition of the main characters and why?

ALETA’S HANDS WERE fisted so hard that fingernails dug into her palms.
O’Malley was a cop?
Of course he was. A lot of things made sense now, like why she hadn’t found anything on the internet about him. For safety reasons, most cops kept their lives private.
She didn’t know what to react to first. Fury that he had lied, hurt that Father Mac would hide the truth from her or disappointment that Hot Shot could do something so very, very stupid.
It all sucked.
She glared at O’Malley, but he didn’t look the least ashamed. She bit her lip, wanting to curse at him. She’d known he wasn’t a priest. But a cop? Oh, my God. She used to have such good radar for cops.
Unfortunately, ripping O’Malley a new one would have to wait. Father Mac must have had a good reason to hide the truth, and apparently Hot Shot hadn’t figured out that the bogus priest was a police officer. Likely because he was wearing the clerical collar. That tended to confuse people.
O’Malley released the cuff from her desk, and recuffed Hot Shot’s wrists behind his back.
Hot Shot fixed pleading eyes to hers.
She took a deep breath, hating the sight of one of her kids in restraints. No matter how pissed she was, Hot Shot had to be her priority.
It was up to her to figure out a way to save him.
“Wait,” she said. “You can’t do this.”
“Yes, I can.”
“If you process him, you’ll ruin any chance he has for an athletic scholarship.”
“He should have thought about that before he ransacked your desk.”
“I would have paid it back,” Hot Shot said. “I swear.”
O’Malley raised his brows. “How? Do you have a job, kid?”
“He sometimes does odd jobs around the parish to earn money,” Aleta said.
“So why didn’t he come to you and ask for some extra work before he broke into the gym?”
“Technically he didn’t break in if he had a key,” Aleta said.
“He stole the key.”

If your hero had a sexy-times play list, what song(s) would have to be on it?

Florida-Georgia Line: “Talk You Out of It”
Luke Bryan: “Strip it Down”
Keith Urban: “Blue Aint Your Color”

If you could have given your characters one piece of advice before the opening pages of the book, what – would it be and why?

Nope. I wouldn’t have given them any advice. Both of them had to go through their journeys to learn what is important in life.

What are you currently working on? What are your up-coming releases?*

I’m finishing up a mini-series, The Rookie Files, and editing the last two books. The fourth book in the series, “Her One and Only Hero,” will be out in January of 2020.
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: For US only. Five print copies of A Cop’s Second Chance, plus a $25 Barnes and Noble gift card to one grand prize winner. If out of US, efile for copy of book.

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: If you witnessed someone you know committing a serious crime (like murder!), would you testify against them even if it put your life in danger?

 
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Excerpt from A Cop’s Second Chance:

“Have fun tonight.” Aleta gave her colleague a wave, and hurried across the parking lot. Cyrus and Ice Pick broke off their conversation when she approached. Too bad. She’d been hoping to catch at least a word or two. She’d love to know what they were talking about.
“Hey, Cyrus,” Aleta said, making her voice cheerful.
Cyrus looked away from his new friend, guilt stamped all over his face. What nonsense had Ice Pick been feeding the kid? No doubt how cool he’d be if he would only join his gang. Wrong.
Ice Pick’s eyes narrowed, assessing her.
“I’m Aleta,” she said, wishing she’d worn something more authoritative than her coaching uniform of navy shorts and a yellow Sunshine Center T-shirt. He might be a recruiter, but so was she. She’d flipped more than one gang member over from the dark side.
She held out her hand to shake, but he ignored her. The gangbanger towered over her, and her original impression that the dude was a lightweight was altered by his impressively developed biceps.
She dropped her arm. “And your name is?” she asked, pretending this jerk hadn’t just dissed her.
“Why you want to know my moniker?” he demanded. Hostility flowed off him like a wave of negative energy.
“Because you’re a friend of Cyrus’s, right?” Aleta smiled at the boy.
Eyes wide, Cyrus glanced from her to Ice Pick and back.
“Cyrus is my good buddy,” Aleta continued.
Ice Pick laughed. “So you want to be my friend, too?”
“Why not?”
“I have enough friends, lady.” Ice Pick grinned at Cyrus, displaying a mouth full of gold teeth. “Like I told you, Mr. Alonso, I got friends in this world that take good care of me.”
“My name is Aleta.”
“I heard you.”
“Have I done something to offend you?”
Ice Pick shrugged and glanced over her shoulder.
Aleta resisted the urge to look behind her. How insulting. He wouldn’t even make eye contact. And he’d called Cyrus “Mr. Alonso.” A kid like Cyrus basked in that shallow kind of respect.
Time for chitchat was over. She needed to exert her authority. Most importantly, she couldn’t let Cyrus see her display any fear of this gangbanger.
“What are you doing here, sir?”
Ice Pick focused on her again. “You a social worker or something?”
Aleta placed her hands on her hips. “Something like that.”
“She’s my basketball coach,” Cyrus said, speaking for the first time.
Knowing how much courage his words had taken, Aleta again smiled at her young client. Cyrus had all but defended her to the enforcer of the Devil’s Posse.
Ice Pick dragged on the cigarette as his gaze raked her body in a dismissive sweep. He blew the smoke in her face. “Yeah, right. A b-ball coach that’s a bitch? I don’t think so.”
Aleta inhaled deeply and released the breath slowly. “Please watch your language,” she said, refusing to let her anger surface. Losing her temper wouldn’t help this tricky situation.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll have you removed from the property.”
“Yeah?” Ice Pick dropped his cigarette to the ground and stepped toward her. “You and who else, bitch?”
“Like the lady said, watch your language.”
The words, spoken by a steely male voice, contained an unmistakable threat. Aleta gaped at the unfamiliar man who’d appeared beside her, a man wearing a priest’s collar who was even taller and larger than the gangbanger. Who was this strange priest? She’d been so focused on Ice Pick, she hadn’t heard his approach.
The priest stared down the gangbanger with a piercing gaze that wasn’t the least spiritual or forgiving.
The gangbanger glared back.
“Do you have business at Sunshine Center?” the priest demanded in that same deep, authoritative voice. Totally unlike any voice she’d ever heard in confession. His dark clerical shirt appeared crisp and brand-new, not limp like Father Mac’s frayed robes.
“So what if I do?” Ice Pick asked, with a glance to Cyrus. “What’s it to you?”
“State your business.”
Ice Pick leaned against his tricked-out car, his red-and-yellow oversize jersey a clear contrast to the metallic blue of the hood. “And what if I don’t want to?”
“Then you’ll need to leave. You’re trespassing.”
Ice Pick laughed, as if he considered that idea ridiculous. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”
“I’m Father O’Malley, a new assistant priest in this parish.”
The priest had uttered the words as if he were a United States marshal from the Old West who’d taken over a new town with serious outlaw trouble.
Ice Pick made a face of disbelief. “So? I don’t have to do what you say.”
“Yeah,” Father O’Malley said, leaning forward on the balls of his feet, “you do. And before you leave, you will apologize to this lady.”
“Apologize for what?”
“For your language.”
Still resting casually on his vehicle, Ice Pick shook his head. “What? You think you’re some kind of badass honky priest?”
“No. I think you’re a pathetic little punk.”
Aleta sucked in an audible breath. Uh-oh. Now he’d done it. He’d dissed Ice Pick.
Ice Pick leaped to his feet. “Who are you calling a punk?”
“You. If you don’t know that, then you’re a stupid punk.”
“Shit, you and this bitch can just suck my—”
O’Malley sprang forward and slammed Ice Pick’s face into the hood of the car. The priest jerked the gangbanger’s arm behind his back in a hold that would break his right arm if he resisted.
Her heart thudding against her chest, Aleta glanced to Cyrus. The kid stared at the priest with his mouth wide open. Do I look that surprised, too?
“I told you to watch your language,” Father O’Malley said. “Now apologize.”
And the priest wasn’t even breathing hard.
“Shit, man. You’re going to break my arm,” Ice Pick complained, his mouth twisted in a grimace.
The priest shoved Ice Pick’s face harder against the blue metal of the car. “Try again.”
“’Pologize,” Ice Pick managed in a strangled voice.

Father O’Malley wrenched the gangbanger off the hood with one hand, opened the driver’s door with the other and shoved him inside.
“You’re not welcome here,” the priest told him. “Don’t come back.”
“You’re a dead man, priest,” Ice Pick said, his voice venomous, staring straight ahead.
“Threats from punks don’t scare me,” O’Malley said. “Get out of here.”
With the car’s tires screeching, Ice Pick peeled out of the parking lot.
“Wow,” Cyrus said when the bright blue car was out of sight. “That was awesome.”
“No, it was not,” Aleta said. “Violence is never the answer to our problems.”

Excerpts. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

His mission is everything—until he meets her…

After losing his brother to gang violence, Miami cop Sean O’Malley goes undercover determined to stop gang recruitment in the area. But his black-and-white views are shaken when he meets Aleta Porter, a beautiful social worker with a less than pristine past.

Working closely with Aleta is the kind of distraction Sean doesn’t need. But when a threat from Aleta’s past reemerges, Sean will have to decide what comes first: his duty…or his heart.
Book Links: Amazon | B& N |
 
 

Meet the Author:

Sharon Hartley is so fascinated by cops and the dangerous people that complicate their world that she attends every citizens’ police academy she can find. Having worked as a court reporter for many years, Sharon plays “what if” on her old cases and comes up with fictional ways to inject them into her stories. After time on the computer creating plots where the bad guys try to hurt the good ones, she calms herself by teaching yoga, plus hiking, sailing and birding in the natural world. Sharon lives in St. Petersburg, Florida, with her soul mate, Max, hundreds of orchids and a Jack Russell Terrorist.
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