Spotlight & Giveaway: The Price of Grace by Diana Muñoz Stewart

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Diana Muñoz Stewart to HJ!

Hi Diana and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Price of Grace!

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

Thanks so much to Harlequin Junkie for inviting me to do a guest blog post. I absolutely love this question
 
When I was in New Orleans for BookLovers 2019, I went out to dinner with a group of writers. This led to that and we ended up, with the help of a bartender, inventing a drink called the Meet Cute. I love me a good meet cute, and I am particularly fond of the one in THE PRICE OF GRACE.
 
Hidden under the backseat of an old Cadillac, Gracie is on a mission with her vigilante siblings. She trying to sneak into a sex-slaver’s compound and turn off the electric fence, so her siblings can get inside. She ends up, trapped under the seat during a firefight. And who should come along but FBI undercover Special Agent Leif “Dusty” McAllister.
Dusty is posing as the head of security at the sex-slaver compound as a favor to Gracie’s brother, Tony. At least that’s what he’s told Tony. In truth, Dusty worked his way into the slaver’s organization not to bring down the sex-slavers—though he wouldn’t mind that—but to get in with the Parish family and uncover their vigilante activities.
 
Back to the middle of the firefight. Alerted by Tony that Gracie is in the car, Dusty makes his way over there and inside the car. Here is what happens…

There was no way Gracie could stay trapped inside this sweaty can of a space for one more fudgin’ minute.
Justice’s voice came through her headset again. “Gracie. They’re in. They’re—”
An alarm sounded. Her heart sped up—way up. It outpaced a Ducati. She needed out of this hidey-hole now.
Her sweaty, numb fingers flip-flapped against the metal escape lever like a fish on the deck of a ship.
The pop, pop, pop of Justice’s gun came through her headset before it clicked off. Why was Justice shooting? Did it have anything to do with the alarm?
Crud.
This never would’ve happened if she’d still been with John. She’d probably be a soccer mom, have a garden and soft moments.
Okay, stop, Gracie. Focus on squeezing that metal between your fingers. Not regret. Not the man you lost. Not the child you had to let go.
Easier said—thought and repeated again and again—than done. She thought of John all the time. And their son. Tyler. At work. At rest. At play. And now. Here in this sweaty, uncomfortable, uncertain place. Because she was afraid. And her biggest regret was losing them.
Stay calm. Hard enough to breathe squeezed inside the metal curve of this seat. Her fingers cramped, her wrist angled back, she grasped at the latch, pulled. The muscles in her wrist yelped. The spring gave with a dull click.
Breathing heavily, she pushed against the padding. The seat cracked open then stopped dead. Fudge buckets.
More shots. Close. Someone fired from behind the car. Someone used the car for cover. Someone fired at her sister. At Justice. Whoever was shooting at her sister was so dead.
She angled her knee to aid her pushing hand. The seat began to give way.
Hopefully, Justice would keep whoever was firing too busy to peer through the heavily tinted windows into the car’s interior.
The car door opened. “Let me help you there, Gracie.”
She flinched, banged her head. Ouch. Southern Accent? Southern Accent and he knew her name? What the hell was going on?
The car shifted. Guy must be big. There was a creak, and the seat was yanked open.
Air. She sucked it in, turned and pulled her shoulders loose. Freed. She sat up and blinked at fresh air and man.
Uhm. Oh. She stared straight into the startled face of way-too-handsome. Sunset-brown hair topped by a USA ball cap, a big, easy grin defined by the persistent crease of overused dimples, labor-tan skin, and the sexiest nose she’d ever seen. A roughly carved block, his nose added challenge and strength to a sun-rugged portrait.
Her heartbeat skittered between the dread of tense alarm and the uncertainty of unexpected arousal. Her skin heated to a temperature rarely seen outside a volcano. Of course.
The sensitivity in her body painted every emotion upon her skin in hues of red. From pleased pink to rust-colored anger to chili-red lust. Didn’t matter if it was an insult, compliment, or an unexpected sexual attraction that hit her like a bomb, the result was clear on her face.
Top most embarrassing moment, please take a step down.
His eyes bounced along her body. The red-velvet bra. The matching thong. The ruby piercing snuggled in her bellybutton. The tattoo along her right side—a woman’s long, elegant hand curved with vicious scarlet nails, clutching an enchanted apple, holding it out, as if implicitly offering it to the person now consuming her body.
Consuming her body with eyes of thickest amber, eyes drunk on sun, sex, sand, and Southern Comfort.
The heat from his gaze reached out and licked her. Every inch of her grew hotter. Her face. Her hands. Between her breasts. Lower.
The man reached down blindly, groped and found his two-way.
He lifted the two-way to his mouth but spoke to her before he spoke into it. “Darlin’, don’t be upset by this. I’m on your side. Trust me.”
He clicked the radio on. In Spanish, he gave instructions for his men to go out and hunt Justice. He clicked off.
Don’t be upset? Did the man realize that was her sister? Teeth clenched, she reached down and extracted her gun from the hidden compartment. She aimed at him.
A muscle along his thumb twitched, but he kept his Glock 19 down, smiled.
He smiled? Was he trying not to laugh? Oh, buddy, let’s see how quickly I can wipe that smile off your face.
“No. No,” he said, clearly reading her intent from her furious face. “Don’t shoot. I’m working with Tony. I had to send those men so Walid wouldn’t suspect us.”
Tony? “My brother never mentioned you. And you just sacrificed my sister so Walid, a sex-trafficking supervillain, won’t suspect you?”
Her finger tensed around the trigger.
He shook his head. Smile gone. His gun hand remained down. Smart. “I did that so Tony still has a chance. And your sister is good. Honest. Those guys can’t shoot. No fooling. One of them shot himself in the foot trying to take his gun out two months ago.”
“Gracie?” Justice’s strained voice came through her headset.
Gracie clicked her mic on with a flick of her jaw. “Go. I’ve got American Ninja Warrior.”
He did smile at that. “I’m Agent Leif McAllister. FBI.”
FBI? Nuts and bolts. The email. The email she’d sent via a secure site to the FBI. The one she’d sent when Tyler was sick and she was helpless to go to him and it all seemed Momma’s fault. The stupid email that proved her a traitor to the family and Momma’s secret society, the League of Warrior Women. She swallowed a wave of panic. “FBI? In Mexico?”
“Yeah, well, I’m sort of off duty right now. No need for the agent part, actually. Just thought that would make you more comfortable. My friends call me Dusty.”
“Dusty?”
“Been told I could talk a stone to dust.” He reached out with his free hand. “I’m going to help you out of here. Okay?”
“You touch me and I will shoot.”
His hand dropped. Good. Nothing like getting the boundaries set from the get-go.

Excerpted from The Price of Grace by Diana Muñoz Stewart. © 2019 by Diana Muñoz Stewart. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
 
If you’d like to learn more about the Parish family, the family behind the League of Warrior Women, there’s a post for that! You can find it here: https://dianamunozstewart.com/women_behind_black_ops_confidential/
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: Paperback copy of The Price of Grace by Diana Muñoz Stewart

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Book Info:

Who can you trust
When family, truth, and love are all on the line?

Gracie Parish knows the true cost of trust. Rescued as a child by the infamous Parish family, she became a member of their covert sisterhood of vigilantes. Gracie saw her most precious relationships destroyed by secrecy. She learned long ago to protect her heart as well as her family’s secrets.

Special Agent Leif “Dusty” McAllister will do anything to uncover the truth about the Parish family’s covert operations. Dusty knows Gracie is his ticket in. He’ll use everything he’s got—fair, unfair, and just plain wrong—to break through her defenses. But the more he gets to know Gracie and her family’s mission, the harder he starts to fall. Neither one is sure they’ll get out of this with their lives—or their hearts—intact.

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Meet the Author:

Having earned her MFA in Creative Writing, Diana Munoz Stewart went on to write several novels that garnered awards and recognition in the paranormal, science fiction, and contemporary romance genres. A believer in the power of words to heal and connect, she blogs and provides web-content on health, writing, and social issues. Learn more or connect with Diana at dianamunozstewart.com, facebook.com/DMSwrites/, and on Twitter at @dmunozstewart. She resides in Pennsylvania.

Author Website: dianamunozstewart.com