Dear Readers,

I've always loved romantic suspense, and I'm thrilled to see my next Intimate Moments, STRANGER IN HER ARMS, with its gorgeous cover, heroine with a secret, and sexy hero arriving on shelves in February.

Thelma Zirkelbach aka Lorna Michaels

E-mail me at lmichaels@zyzy.com or visit my website.

Here's an excerpt:

A man stood beside the door. Tall and lean, he was disheveled and soaked from the rain. He was a stranger. She didn't open her door to strangers, storm or no storm.

If she'd met him here before, she'd have remembered him. He had the kind of face a woman would notice. Eyes as gray as the stormy skies, a firm, sensuous mouth above a square jaw, and the hint of a cleft in his chin.

He punched the doorbell again. Reaching up to be sure the dead bolt lock was fastened, she called, "Yes?"

"Sorry to bother you," he said, "but I need to use the phone."

She wasn't about to fall for that ploy. He might be dangerously handsome, but on the other hand, he could be just plain dangerous. "Give me the number and I'll call.”

"I don't know it. I've had an accident, and I..." He grimaced, and she heard him draw in a sharp breath.

Nervously, she chewed on her lip. What should she do? Send the stranger back into the storm? Cruel. Let him in? Foolish.

The gun.

"Just a minute," she called and darted into the bedroom. She pulled her revolver out of the dresser drawer and returned to the door. Thanks to her course, she knew how to use the gun and if the guy tried any funny stuff, she would. More confident now, she turned the dead bolt.

The man straightened, waited.

Christy opened the door.

He came inside and halted, staring at the gun. Slowly, he raised his arms. "I won't hurt you."

"No, you won’t." She gestured for him to walk ahead of her. "The phone's that way.”

"Thanks. I'll make a call and then..." He staggered forward. "...and then...I'll be...on...my..."

He fell heavily against the side of a chair, dislodging a lamp from the table beside it. The lamp crashed to the floor and broke, but Christy hardly noticed. Her eyes were on the man. He'd landed on his stomach, and she could see an ugly wound on the back of his head. His hair was matted with blood, he lay spread-eagled on her living room floor, and he didn't move.

E-mail me at lmichaels@zyzy.com or visit my website.