Nancy S. Thompson’s Leverage


This is one crazy ride! Leverage is everything a great thriller should be, it’s violent, sexy, suspenseful, and smart! Nancy S Thompson kept me on the edge of my seat through the entire novel. The opening was fantastic. I was hooked completely in the beginning and then over and over again throughout the entire story. I never got bored, I never felt the need to flip ahead, and I had a hard time putting my Kindle down at bedtime.

The rollercoaster ride begins with Hannah’s son Conner, who is now a college student in wet and rainy Seattle. Nancy’s descriptions of the city makes you feel like it’s another character in the story, but it’s nothing compared to the tragic and painful way she describes Conner’s feelings as he trudges through tragedy in the first few chapters of the story. Once you’re on the ride, Nancy never lets up. It’s one crazy thing after another as Ty and Hannah both slowly intertwine into the story. The drama unfolds masterfully as one tragic thing turns into another, sending the trio on a ride that forces them to question everyone they thought they could trust.

If you’ve read The Mistaken, you don’t want to miss Leverage. It’s a prologue and an epilogue all in one. You’ll get Ty’s backstory and learn where he really comes from and how he really got tangled up with the Russian Mob. You’ll walk away from Leverage exhausted from the adventure but satisfied with the tearful ending.

If you haven’t read The Mistaken, you can still enjoy Leverage, but you’ll be missing out on the incredible story that brought Hannah and Ty together, not to mention one hell of a thriller involving Nick, Jill and more of the Russian Mob.


Four years ago, Tyler Karras’ quest to avenge his wife’s death led to all out war with San Francisco’s Russian Mafia. With the Bratva’s collapse and its king, Dmitri Chernov, long dead, all Ty wants now is to put it behind him and enjoy a second chance at life with his new bride, Hannah, and the child they’re expecting any day. But Chernov’s heir, Grigory Dmitriev, has returned, bitter and determined.
He wants his kingdom back, and he’s more than willing to leverage Ty’s new family to get it.

First he targets Conner, Ty’s brooding nineteen-year-old stepson, manipulating the boy into a vortex of sex, drugs, alcohol, and gambling. Then he turns his sights on Hannah. At eight months pregnant, she’s the ultimate bargaining chip. With both their lives in jeopardy, as well as his unborn child, Ty has little choice but to do as Grigory commands—even if that means assassinating the new leadership resurrecting within the Bratva.

But Tyler swore he’d never kill again. He buried that monster four years ago and means to keep it that way. Grigory, however, makes that vow impossible to keep.

With his new family on the line, Ty will cross further into
the dark side than he ever has before, challenging everything he believes about
himself, and forcing him to face the ghosts of his past. Only then will Ty
discover if he has the strength to do the unspeakable, to sacrifice his last
chance at redemption and save the lives of those he loves most.


I stood there, motionless, unsure, and let my eyes flutter shut. God, how
many times had I imagined this? I never allowed my mind to go much further,
because I knew she could never be mine, and I never wanted to harbor any resentment
toward my best friend for possessing something I coveted. But Leo was gone now,
and here she was, offering herself up to me. I realized it was just the grief
and loneliness, but I felt it, too. I wanted something, someone to take that
pain away, so I let my body take over.
I parted my lips and felt Katy’s tongue sweep along them, first the top,
then the bottom, before her teeth nipped it, and she sucked my lip between her
own. My hands started at her waist and smoothed up her body, along her ribs, and
around her back, pulling her in tight. I felt her fingers weave through my
hair. She pulled then pushed, indecisive, yet in need. Our breathing grew
hectic and heavy, and our hands drifted over body parts they’d never before
dared to touch. 
She gasped when my hand slipped under her rumpled t-shirt and took hold
of her breast. Can’t say I hadn’t ever dreamed of doing that. And just as I had always suspected, it filled my hand
perfectly. Katy’s knees nearly buckled when I ran my thumb over her nipple then
took it between my fingers, rotating it gently, slowly. 
She pulled her mouth from mine and let her head loll back, the perfect
opening to explore her neck with my mouth. She drew into my body, allowing
herself to feel and be overwhelmed, yet succumbing to her sorrow at the same
time, and sobbing into my shoulder. She clawed at my jacket and tore it from my
body then pushed my t-shirt up over my head in one swift movement. I felt her
nails rake across my back, reasonably sure she’d drawn blood. I hissed through
my teeth and threw my head back, but Katy didn’t stop. 
She ripped open the button and zipper on my jeans and slid her hand
inside my shorts. Again, I inhaled sharply, only this time, I groaned
afterwards as her fingers found and wrapped themselves around me, squeezing
with just the right amount of pressure. 
It was almost too much, too unexpected, too emotional. I feared
completely losing control. I grabbed for her hand and tried to pull back, but
Katy used my momentum and pushed me onto my bed. Her lips found mine once
again, biting, sucking, kissing, everything she could do to keep me in the
moment. And God, it worked. 
My hands behaved of their own accord and pushed her t-shirt over her
head, then her sweatpants down over her hips, taking her delicate lace panties
with it. She cast everything aside and flipped her hair over her shoulder, then
sat astride me, her gaze pinned to mine, her eyes heavy with both passion and
grief. Her movement slow and deliberate, Katy slid off my lap and onto the floor,
tugging my jeans and briefs as she went, peeling them off after removing my
shoes and socks. 
Her hands moved languidly from my ankles to my knees and up the inside of
my thighs before laying claim to the very essence of me, first with her hands,
stroking and squeezing, then with her mouth, torturing me with her tongue and
her teeth, sucking and pulling while her hand stroked up and down. And just
when I thought I couldn’t take it any more, I pulled up on her head and bucked
beneath her practiced hands. She jumped up and straddled me once again, using
her hand to guide me into the deepest part of her. 
Her slick flesh enveloped me in a warmth so tight and wet, I thought I
would explode into a million pieces. I groaned like I was about to die, and my
hands twisted the rumpled bed sheets. But then Katy held still for the briefest
of moments, her hands on my chest and her hair cascading like a waterfall over
her shoulders and down her bare breasts. 
I reached for my forehead, overcome with my need to release. I looked up
at Katy, and, at first, thought I saw the smallest of smiles turn up the right
side of her mouth, but it was too brief, and I couldn’t be sure. She started
moving against me once more, her motion controlled and with a purpose. Her flesh
tightened hard around the length of me, pulsing in a frantic rhythm with each
measured thrust. I couldn’t take it. I covered my face with my hands and tried
to think of something else, anything but the blessed torment this woman was
putting me through.  


Nancy is a sunny California transplant currently living in dreary Seattle, Washington with
her husband of twenty-four years, their son, a student at Seattle University,
their giant snow dog, Jack, and his kitty, Skye. She works as a freelance editor
and also has her own interior and architectural design business. When she’s not
writing, editing, designing, or marketing—a rarity these days—Nancy keeps
herself busy by cooking and baking, that is, when she can pull herself away
from Facebook, also a rarity.





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