Alright, alright! I got a little bit excited with the prospect of the Zoo coming out this Friday. It still is, but the cover isn’t quite ready yet. Have you ever met scifi writers? They can be soooo nit-picky! So, instead of waiting on the totally cool finished cover, here’s the snippet with the draft cover. Sorry it’s late. Be sure to check on Friday for when the book launches! You can visit our Facebook page, Twitter, or the main page of LMBPN.com

Chapter One

München, Bavaria, Germany, Oktoberfest

Long canvas tents, rimmed by flapping pennants in red, gold, and black, were full to nearly bursting. Drunken laughter and the comforting swirl of multiple languages bounced off the old cobblestone road and the leaning buildings. It was abnormally balmy for late September and the sun added to the over-all poached feeling of everything. People gladly showed skin, heated by alcohol and the sun.

Charles Tillman was sitting inside, staring into the deep amber of his beer. He’d looked the bar up online, and it had great ratings from the men at the nearby Army base. He felt more comfortable knowing the swirl of men and women around him was comprised of mostly military personnel.

A woman, her auburn hair in twin milkmaid braids, her cleavage spilling over her violet dirndl, leaned forward and tapped him on the arm. “Hallo.”

He angled his broad shoulders slightly toward her. She already displayed a somewhat glassy look that matched the sloppy nature of her smile. “Hey.”

She giggled and clapped her hands. “Are you American?” she squealed.

Charles tried not to flinch. “Sure am, sweetheart.”

She sighed and listed closer to him. “I love American men.”

His half-smile faded when she hiccupped and tilted even further. She was pretty but he didn’t take advantage of drunk women. “Nice meeting you,” he said, purposefully angling his shoulders away from her.

He caught her pout in the mirror above the bar. The waitress, who spent most of her time darting in and out from behind the bar, leaned across it. “How very gentlemanly of you. You always have so much control?” Her gaze raked over his tall frame and lingered on the bulging muscles of his biceps and the hint of the edge of a Semper Fi tattoo that peeked from beneath his black t-shirt sleeve.

Charles shrugged. Drained his beer.

“I get off at ten,” she said as she scribbled her number on a coaster. She slid it and a fresh beer toward him with a wink. “Just keep that in mind.”

Before he could reply, a new patron leaned against the bar, sliding into the vacant stool to his left. Charles took in the newcomer quickly—tall, wiry, and a little nerdy, but with an underlying confidence that was intriguing. He had a sort of coiled power in his lanky limbs.

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