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with USA TODAY Bestselling Author 

Julie Miller!


  May Book Giveaway!
Entry Deadline May 24th


One Good Man by Julie Miller


Congratulations to Jennifer Byers of Michigan! She won a copy of one of my earlier releases in my April Book GiveAway Contest. Like many of you, she knew that the heroine in KANSAS CITY COVER-UP wouldn’t shoot the hero because he’d “kissed” her <g>.

This month I’m giving away a copy of any available book from my back list for print or digital readers, winner’s choice. Please check my Book List page and throughout the site for story blurbs to see about all your choices!

To enter,
read the excerpt from my very first Harlequin book, ONE GOOD MAN, which is finally being released in digital format in June. Answer the easy question at the end. Then email me your answer, along with your contact information. My dog, Maggie, will put her nose to work and select a winner from amongst all the correct entries. Deadline to enter is May 24th.








Rules for Julie's Contests

  • One entry per person.
  • By entering, entrants grant permission for their name to be posted on the Julie Miller web site at and in Julie's newsletter.
  • Winners will be chosen by random drawing from among all entries.
  • The odds of winning depend upon the number of participants.
  • Void where prohibited.


May 12 - 17

RT BOOKLovers Convention, Dallas, TX

July 21 - 25

Romance Writers of America Annual National Conference, New York City  


Julie in San Antonia, TX at the 2014 RWA National Conference


50 Book pin presentation is Craig Swinwood-CEO Harlequin Enterprises, Dianne Moggy-Editorial Director, HQ Ent, Moi, Leslie Kelly-fellow 50-book award recipient, Lorianna Sacilotto-VP, HQ Ent

Sitting beside me at the Harlequin party is Linda O. Johnston


BJ Daniels, Delores Fossen and me


Julie in Atlanta, GA at the 2013 RWA National Conference

Julie with good buddy B.J. Daniels

Delores Fossen, Julie Miller, B.J. Daniels



Julie Miller at the PRW 20th Anniversary

Julie's local writing group, the Prairieland Romance Writers, celebrates 20 years of excellence in romance fiction at an anniversary Open House in Grand Island, NE
Prairieland Romance Writers celebrates 20 years of excellence in romance fiction!


Author Julie Miller

Authors Scott and Julie Miller

Kearney, NE Booksigning, The Sequel Bookshop
Julie Miller, and Scott & Julie Miller


Independence, MO Booksigning
L-R Saranna DeWylde, Julie Miller, Janette Kenney, Sherri Shackelford, Cheryl St. John

Julie in New York City at the 2011 RWA National Conference

Julie Miller--Times Square

View of Times Square from Julie's hotel room

Julie Miller @ Transformers movie premiere

Julie at the Transformers movie premiere (Hi, Bumblebee!)

Julie Miller--Times Sqaure & Broadway

Times Square and Broadway

Julie Miller--RWA NYC 2011

My roomie, Elle James, Brenda Jackson, and my agent Pattie Steele-Perkins at the RWA booksigning

Julie Miller--RWA NYC 2011

The massive Literacy Autographing at RWA



Julie in Los Angeles, CA, at the 2011 RT BOOKreviews Convention

""The Do's & Dont's of Series Romance " workshop with Judy Duarte, Candace Havens, Julie Miller and B.J. Daniels.

"Lights! Camera! Party! the Series Romance Way" Reader Event
Back row: Kira Sinclair, HelenKay Dimon, B.J. Daniels, Lynn Raye Harris
Middle row: Judy Duarte, Crystal Green, Rebecca York, Candace Havens, Janette Kenney, Jan Hambright, Delores Fossen, Brenda Jackson
Front row: Kathleen O'Reilly, Kimberly Lang, Jade Lee/Kathy Lyons, Carol Erickson, Julie Miller


At the Booksigning

View from my hotel The Westin Bonaventure  in downtown L.A.

Went to hear Dean Koontz speak. Delightfully witty and educational! (and one of my fave authors!)

Barn View from my hotel, the Hollywood sign in the distance up in the Hollywood Hills.




One Good Man by Julie Miller



Copyright  ©2000, Digital Copyright ©2015 by Julie Miller

Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A.









Chapter One

            What a hell of a day.

            Mitch pushed the door buzzer on the Gothic fortress of a house north of the Plaza and waited.  He hated sucking up to the commissioner like this.  But when the man in charge of his next promotion called and asked for a personal favor, Mitch was hardly in a position to refuse.

            A house check was so routine, he normally would have assigned it to a uniformed patrol.  He’d have passed it on to his staff sergeant for her to assign it to a uniformed patrol.  He’d even offered to send two of his best detectives in his stead.  But Commissioner Reed had insisted on privacy.

            Mitch pocketed the electronic gate key the commissioner had given him to get onto the estate grounds, and wondered just what kind of fool’s errand he’d been sent on.  His boss had been closemouthed to the extent that Mitch knew very few details about what he was even checking for.  “It’s an old family friend,” he’d said.  “Just see if there’s any trouble.”

            Trouble?  Like what?  A break-in?  Vandalism?  A lunatic relative running around naked and embarrassing the family?

Why the hush-hush discretion?

If he was honest with himself, Mitch didn’t really mind doing such a favor.  He missed having regular contact with the people who really needed the police’s help, instead of spending most of his hours talking to the press or running the administrative end of Kansas City’s Fourth Precinct.

But not this kind of house.  Not these kind of people.

The commissioner didn’t know what he was asking of him.

Mitch checked his watch and then smoothed his leather gloves back into place.  It was 6:00 p.m.  Surely no one went to bed this early anymore.  Maybe the gray November air had driven the residents to the far wing of the house, where they nestled in front of a fireplace, sipping cognac to chase away the chill of the evening.

He punched the doorbell again, laying on the buzzer for an impolite length of time.  They could damn well send the servants to answer the door, the tips of his ears were feeling the bite of Missouri’s damp winter.

“This has to be a wild goose chase,” he muttered to himself, ready to climb back into his Jeep Grand Cherokee and phone Reed on his private line to report no one at home.  This was probably some test of his loyalty before the new assistant commissioner was named in January.

Well, Mitch Taylor didn’t play games.  If he got the job because he was the best qualified, then fine, he deserved it.  But if the selection would be based on politics, he didn’t have a prayer.

Schmooze or you lose, the commissioner had once advised him.  If that was the case, Mitch was bound to lose.

His annoying second-guessing was cut short by the crackle of static from a hidden intercom panel.  “Yes?”

Mitch looked up toward the source of the raspy voice and located the speaker and camera recessed behind the carved walnut paneling lining the front door.  He stepped back, reached inside his coat and pulled his badge from his belt.  Holding the identification beside his face, he looked up at the camera.

“I’m Captain Mitch Taylor, KCPD.  I’d like to ask you a few questions, ma’am, and, if possible, check the premises for you.  We got an anonymous call that there was some trouble here.”

Following orders, he left out the commissioner’s name and treated this like a routine investigation of a reported disturbance.  Then, confident that the ID and his authoritative voice would reassure the woman this visit was simply standard procedure, he clipped the badge onto the breast pocket of his coat and waited to be let in.

“There’s no trouble here.”  The woman responded too quickly and too breathlessly for him to believe her.

Ah, hell, if Reed had sent him out on a domestic violence call without any backup…

Mitch reached inside his coat and unsnapped the holster beneath his blazer.  His guard-dog hackles went up at the possibility of facing a cop’s most dreaded call, but he forced his voice to remain calm and evenly pitched.

“Ma’am, if you could just come to the door, I’d like to speak to you face-to-face.”

Before the intercom went silent, he heard a flurry of activity.  Mitch’s initial suspicions flared a notch.  He adjusted his tie, never blinking his gaze from the doorknob.  Then, through the double blockade of the front door and storm door, he heard the distinctive sound of a solid object crashing to the floor, followed by a stifled yelp.

His hand stilled on the knot of his tie.

“Ma’am?” he called.  “Ma’am, are you all right?”

Nothing but dead silence answered him.  Rusty warning signals that had kept him alive when he worked on the street labored into overdrive.  A spot at the nape of his neck tingled with awareness whenever he sensed something was wrong.  Right now, the skin above his collar tickled him like crazy.

He unholstered his Glock 9mm pistol from beneath his suit jacket.



Damn.  This was supposed to be routine.  A polite introduction, sorry to disturb you and goodnight.  Some routine.  More like a shot in the dark.  He’d wake the commissioner tonight and find out exactly what kind of wild ride he’d been sent on.

But first, he had to protect that woman.

“I’m coming in,” he announced.

Mitch flipped his gun around, clutched the barrel and hammered at the glass in the locked storm door.  When it shattered, he reached inside and opened it.  The wooden door inside was locked, as well.  Taking two steps back, he released the safety, aimed his weapon and fired two rounds into the locking mechanism.

The wood splintered around the knob, and the door loosened from its frame.  Leaning his shoulder against it, he braced his legs and pushed.  The door swung open and he stumbled inside.

The lights in the house immediately flashed on, and a loud, repetitive alarm blared to life.  The woman screamed from the back of the house, yelling a warning over the din.

“Routine, hell!”

Question:  In what city does this story take place?




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