Anna Richland on Tour: The Second Lie



PrizePhoto_TheSecondLieAnna will be awarding a set of En Route notecards, gorgeously illustrated by Kate Pocrass (because falling in love with an Immortal Viking is a wild journey!) to a randomly drawn winner (INTERNATIONAL) via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn host.





The Second Lie (The Immortal Vikings #2)

by Anna Richland



A woman desperate to achieve her dreams.

To reassure wealthy clients, Christina Alvarez Mancini invented a jet-setting British owner for her Napa Valley wine collection service. Success has brought her close to buying her own winery, when irregularities at a London wine auction threaten her business.

A man in love with a good plan.

Stig, an immortal Viking thief, knows he’s found the perfect role. The California woman who created his character won’t discover what he’s up to in England until after he’s pocketed the money he needs. Then Christina walks into the auction preview, ready to ruin his plans, and he knows his boredom has ended.

Secrets that turn deadly.

By the end of the night, these two rivals must cooperate to escape kidnappers, British authorities, media and a pair of mysterious watchers. That’s when a game Stig’s played for a thousand years puts Christina’s life at risk.

Can two people whose identities are based on lies trust each other enough to survive?



At the beginning of Chapter Three, Christina is caught investigating after other patrons have left the wine auction.


“The lady is with me.” Geoffrey—or Stig, as these men called him—slid through the narrow opening to insert himself between her and the gray-haired man. He held one hand behind his back and curled his fingers into his palm as if he wanted her to get to her feet. “I hope you gentlemen have finished interrupting my private party.”

Her legs barely functioned. She had to brace on the back of the bar to heave herself to her feet, thighs screaming as muscles unfolded. Cramp or no cramp, she wouldn’t let go of the familiar heft of the wine in her other hand. She prayed her legs didn’t collapse and send her sprawling, prayed none of them could see her shake.

Now he wiggled his fingers as if he wanted her to move closer. She had the feeling he wasn’t the worst man in the room, and she couldn’t stay in the corner, so she slipped underneath his arm. His warmth was welcome after so long on the tile floor.

Her right hand with the bottle was trapped low behind his back, but he urged her closer and nudged her left elbow until her empty hand threaded itself under his tux jacket and across the starched white shirt. It was warm that close to his skin.

She understood what charade he had in mind.

“Geoffrey.” She drew out the final e sound and tucked her head against his shoulder as if she was tired. That part at least was true. “Can we go to the hotel? I picked a wine and waited like you told me to.”

The hand cupping her shoulder squeezed in what she suspected was approval. “As soon as I finish with this business, my dear.” He nuzzled into her hair, and she expected him to whisper instructions, but he just breathed.

Improvising was not her forte. She looked into his eyes and saw a spark of encouragement. The con man was daring her, but to do what?

She looked at the other two. “I didn’t know you invited—” she tilted her head and slowly licked her lips, an attempt to seem more intrigued than worried, before she smiled, “—friends.”

“They’re leaving.” Then he swiveled his chest enough that her hand brushed against something hard under his jacket, in the space over his rib cage.

She’d watched enough television to know it was a gun. In a holster.

This wasn’t her fight, so she reminded herself to exhale normally. There was no chance in hell she would pull that out. Using a gun wasn’t in her plan. “I think I’ll go now.” Too squeaky, she tried again. “I’ll get a cab.” That sounded better. She let her hand slip out from his jacket, away from the gun, away from the man who would carry one. “See you later, okay?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

He meant something by that, but she didn’t know what, so she turned to walk past the man with the eye patch. This was the test.

“You’re not leaving.” He looked from Stig to her, one side of his mouth drawn up while he stared at her legs. “We can use her.”




Author Bio and Links:

Anna lives with her quietly funny Canadian husband and two less quiet children in a century-old house in Seattle. The perpetual drizzle is a good excuse to drink more coffee. She’s a former US Army officer who now writes The Immortal Vikings series from Carina Press and also the author of His Road Home, a novella which Publishers Weekly called “Tantalizing … a raw, emotional story” and the website SmartB*tchesTrashyBooks gave an A rating.

She donates a portion of her book proceeds to two charities: the Fisher House Foundation, which provides housing for families of wounded soldiers in the US and Great Britain, and Doctors Without Borders, which delivers emergency medical care in more than sixty crisis zones world-wide.

To sign up for Anna’s newsletter, find out more about her books, and read longer excerpts, please visit her website at, her Facebook page at AnnaRichlandAuthor, or her Goodreads page at [.


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