Never Say Just by Katie Harper
Releasing June 19th 2012 by Decadent Publishing
Hold onto your hats folks I have a fantabulous fellow Friday flasher in the house today. She is Katie Harper and her debut, Never Say Just, is about to rock out from Decadent Publishing. Click away my friends, add the book to good reads, visit Katie’s blog by clicking on the sweet cover on the left or check out her links below her bio (including Facebook and twitter, okay here too). To start we have a fun Q&A session from the stars of Never Say Just, the Rat Bastards, followed by a bit about Katie, the blurb and an excerpt. Take it away Katie…
As the creator of the Rat Bastards, I totally get why very single one of them is in need of some serious therapy, possibly electroshock. Since none of my characters would agree to seeing a counselor, I have decided to allow the Rat Bastards to interview each other, kind of like group therapy. I expect the sessions will end in bloodshed, but really that just makes for good blogging.
*The Rat Bastards sit on various chairs and couches in the library of Hell Kat’s house, affectionately known as the Kat House. Hell Kat slouches, arms folded over her chest, pissed that she’s about to be questioned.*
Horndog: *Rubs his hands together sporting an evil grin* Hell Kat, enquiring minds want to know, were you ever actually a human with human emotions or have you always been an android?
Shooter: Dog, cut it out. Ask a serious question.
Hell Kat: No, I’ll answer. If you’re asking if I’ve ever cried at a Hallmark commercial, the answer is a resounding no. If you’re asking if I’ve ever felt guilt, remorse or sorrow…only when I want to. Next question.
Doc: We were all there when you tortured the man who’d had a hand in kidnapping your daughter. My question is, have you ever killed someone you were “interrogating”?
*Shooter growls low in his chest.*
Hell Kat: Yes, but I brought them back to life. I wasn’t done with them yet.
Martinez: I’m not gonna do it.
Horndog: Yes, you are, as an uninitiated member of the Rat Bastards, you have to do our bidding.
Martinez: I’m not asking that question.
Horndog: The hell you say. You will or you’ll never be a real Bastard.
Martinez: If I ask your question, she’ll kill me.
Horndog: Then you’ll be awarded Rat Bastardhood posthumously. You took an oath Marty, are you going to go back on your word, your word to the Rat Bastards?
Martinez: She’s a Rat Bastard and she doesn’t deserve to be asked this question.
Hell Kat: Oh, will you just ask the damn question already!
Martinez: I hate you guys right now. *sigh* Hell Kat, you’ve seen Horndog and Shooter naked, who has the better, fill in the blank, I’m not gonna say it!
Hell Kat: Shooter, and not just because I have to say that, Horndog tips to the left, if you know what I mean. *Everyone snickers. Hell Kat points at Horndog and shoots a glare through him.* That’s for making Martinez ask such a stupid question.
Tongue: Ouch! Horndog, you really should have seen that one coming. OK, now me. When we were kids you slept with a pink Care Bear. Do you still have the bear and do you still sleep with it?
Hell Kat: No.
Shooter: LIE! You keep it on the side of your bed and whenever you have a problem you can’t work out you grip that thing like it’s your life raft. I’ve seen you do it.
Hell Kat: You are in so much trouble.
Shooter: What are you going to do?
Hell Kat: I’m planning on replacing your favorite appendage with a piece of cooked spaghetti.
Shooter: You wouldn’t do that love.
*Shooter’s holds Hell Kat’s chin between his thumb and forefinger*
Switch: All right, cut it the hell out. I don’t want to see the two of you go at it on the floor. Sam is waiting for me and I want to get this kumbaya circle over with. Hell Kat, on the docks a couple months ago you killed a guy by breaking his neck, what is your favorite way to kill?
Hell Kat: I don’t have a favorite way. If someone is going to be surrounded by an army of body guards, a long distance shot is best. If they let their guard down around pretty women, dressing as a tramp and carrying a garrote is preferred. If the target has a family, an injection of succinylcholine looks like a heart attack. Most of the time you won’t have a family member hunting you down for vengeance. Every situation is different and besides, you don’t want to develop a modus operandi, it’s tactically stupid.
Shooter: My turn, we’ve spoken to the killer Hell Kat, I want to speak with the woman Kat Boudreaux. Mrs. Boudreaux, the people of Bayou Boudreaux have no idea how much you impact their daily lives. You pay for every child to have a private education, when someone’s spouse dies you pay off their house, Bayou Boudreaux has zero unemployment because you give everybody a job, when a child is born you start a college fund in his name with a generous donation, I could go on all day. Why do you do this and why do you do this anonymously? *Hell Kat shifts in her seat* It’s OK they’re Bastards, you can trust them.
Hell Kat: I have done terrible things in my life. I have killed, tortured and destroyed lives. I have to prove to the world and to myself that I’m not a monster. Yes, I can do things that would make most people fall into a catatonic stupor, and I agree that sometimes those skills are necessary, but I have to prove that I’m more than that. That’s the whole reason I started Archer International, to use my talents to save people. To fight for people who can’t fight for themselves. I know you guys tease me about what I’ve done and what I can do and I hate that it’s true. The sad fact is the world needs people like me, people who are willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done. Why can’t I do whatever it takes to save a life?
Shooter: And that’s why I love you.
Horndog: And that’s why we haven’t fed you to the alligators for the sake of humanity.
*Shooter smacks Horndog on the back of the head.*
Katie’s bio
Katie Harper started writing when two people showed up in her head and wouldn’t leave until she told their story. They had a party, invited a few friends over. Now she spends her days doing the bidding of imaginary people. She lives in a city made for sin on the edge of a desert with her daughter, no pets and enough lemon bundt cake to feed a refugee camp.
Twitter ~ Facebook ~ Blog
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.
S.J. Maylee 