Showing posts with label Book Excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Excerpt. Show all posts

March 16, 2016

Excerpt Reveal! Ride Hard, Raven Riders MC #1 by Laura Kaye


A shy and distrustful woman running from a controlling ex-fiance seeks shelter with an outlaw motorcycle club with a tradition of protecting those who can't defend themselves, and falls under the watchful eye of the club's mysterious and intense leader who's intent on discovering all her secrets

Brotherhood. Club. Family.

They live and ride by their own rules.

These are the Raven Riders . . .

Raven Riders Motorcycle Club President Dare Kenyon rides hard and values loyalty above all else. He’ll do anything to protect the brotherhood of bikers—the only family he’s got—as well as those who can’t defend themselves. So when mistrustful Haven Randall lands on the club’s doorstep scared that she’s being hunted, Dare takes her in, swears to keep her safe, and pushes to learn the secrets overshadowing her pretty smile.

Haven fled from years of abuse at the hands of her criminal father and is suspicious of any man’s promises, including those of the darkly sexy and overwhelmingly intense Ravens’ leader. But as the powerful attraction between them flares to life, Dare pushes her boundaries and tempts her to want things she never thought she could.

The past never dies without a fight, but Dare Kenyon’s never backed down before . . .




So much better out here,” Haven said, the night air cool against the tingling warmth of her skin. Although she was pretty sure that not all of the heat burning through her insides was from the alcohol—her unusual flirtatiousness and closeness to Dare over the past half hour had made her desperate with a heat that had nothing to do with her drinking game.

She walked to the railing and leaned against it, chuckling a little at herself for needing the support it offered. She felt so damn free, and it was a heady, exhilarating thing.

“What’s funny?” Dare asked, settling a hip against the railing right beside her. Arms crossed, jaw ticking with tension, dark eyes blazing, he was staring at her like he wanted to reprimand her or devour her. Oddly, neither alarmed her the way she would’ve expected it to.

Haven shook her head, leaning it back and letting her gaze float over the night sky. Blurry points of light swam in the moonlit heavens. It was beautiful and peaceful despite the pounding bass beat of music thumping from inside the clubhouse. “Not funny, just good. Happy, you know? Being able to do something a little . . . scary, but knowing I’d be safe doing it.” When Dare’s gaze narrowed, she shrugged. “I don’t know.”

A long moment passed before Dare finally spoke. “You are safe here, Haven. Never doubt it.”

Peering up at him, she nodded, all kinds of words sitting on the tip of her tongue, challenging her to let them fly. “It’s weird feeling safe—or at least safer—after a lifetime of not. It makes me want to try things I could never let myself try before. It makes me . . .” She shook her head and dipped her chin.

Dare stepped closer, his thighs coming up against her hip. He lifted her chin and made her look at him. The contact combined with the command in the gesture lanced white-hot desire through her veins. “Makes you what?”

“Want to feel alive,” she whispered, her heart suddenly racing in her chest.

Dare’s jaw ticked again as his gaze swept over her face. She didn’t think she was imagining the raw emotion pouring off of him and wrapping around her, but she wasn’t sure if she was reading that emotion right or projecting her own desire onto him.

“Do you feel alive, Dare?” she asked, the alcohol flowing through her and the night spinning around her like she was walking through a dream.

“Jesus,” he bit out.

The rough desperation in his voice made her wet between her legs. “Just once,” she whispered, not sure what she was asking him for.

But he seemed to know. Because his hand was suddenly tangled in her hair and his mouth was suddenly on hers, claiming, probing, tasting. Haven moaned and parted her lips, inviting him deeper.

Dare jerked back from her, his fingers rubbing roughly over his lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

On instinct, Haven’s body pursued his, pinning his back to the railing. “Please don’t stop,” she said as her hands gripped his shoulders. She had the strongest urge to climb him, to wrap her legs around him, to grind against the hard bulge pressing electrically against her belly.

“Please,” she whispered, tilting her mouth toward his. “I liked it.”

Dare’s hand cupped the back of her head. “You’re killing me.”

“Dare,” she said, her body restless against his.

In a move that sent the world spinning, he flipped them around so that she was the one pinned against the railing. He pushed his legs between hers and leaned down over her, forcing her to arch her back, to yield, to open to him.“Tell me what you want from me. Say the words,” he said, his eyes absolutely on fire.

Her heart was a runaway train in her chest, frantic and picking up speed. The thought of giving voice to her desires was terrifying and thrilling and dizzying all at once.

“I want your mouth,” she said. The words sounded odder out loud than they had in her head, but they were more accurate than asking him to kiss her—because her mouth wasn’t the only place she wanted his.

“Jesus,” he rasped again, his mouth coming down on hers once more.

The whimper she released was part relief, part anticipation. It had been so long since she’d kissed someone that she felt a little uncertain, but Dare’s intensity barely allowed her the capacity to worry about it. He was like a dark storm bearing down on her, relentless, magnetic, all-consuming.

Rough callouses from his hands scratched against her cheeks as he guided her. Hard breaths spilled over her lips, and the wet slide of his tongue tasted like whiskey and desire and man. Her hands found the soft length of his hair, and her breasts pushed against the hard plane of his chest.

Then her lips were freed as his mouth slid over her skin—exploring her cheek, her jaw, her ear, her neck. He hiked her up to sit on the wide railing, the move surprising a gasp out of her, especially as he crowded the space between her legs, pushing himself closer, bringing his erection against the place between her legs craving friction, hardness, so much more of him. Maybe even all of him.

One strong arm wrapped around her back and held her steady, while the other hand stroked her hair, her face, her breast. The soft groans and breathy grunts spilling out of him were delicious and thrilling, and bolstered her confidence that she wasn’t the only one losing herself in this moment, in these touches. She almost couldn’t believe this was happening, and part of her was certain she must be dreaming. Because Haven Randall didn’t have beautiful things in her life. At least, never before.




Laura is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty books in contemporary and paranormal romance and romantic suspense, including the Hard Ink and upcoming Raven Riders series. Growing up, Laura’s large extended family believed in the supernatural, and family lore involving angels, ghosts, and evil-eye curses cemented in Laura a life-long fascination with storytelling and all things paranormal. She lives in Maryland with her husband, two daughters, and cute-but-bad dog, and appreciates her view of the Chesapeake Bay every day.


July 24, 2015

Book Excerpt & Giveaway!! The Bride Wore Denim (Seven Wives for Seven Cowboys, #2) by Lizbeth Selvig


When Harper Lee Crockett returns home to Paradise Ranch, Wyoming, the last thing she expects is to fall head-over-heels in lust for Cole, childhood neighbor and her older sister's long-time boyfriend. The spirited and artistic Crockett sister has finally learned to resist her craziest impulses, but this latest trip home and Cole's rough-and-tough appeal might be too much for her fading self-control.

Cole Wainwright has long been fascinated by the sister who's always stood out from the crowd. His relationship with Amelia, the eldest Crockett sister, isn't as perfect as it seems, and with Harper back in town, he sees everything he's been missing. Cole knows they have no future together—he's tied to the land and she's created a successful life in the big city—but neither of them can escape their growing attraction or inconvenient feelings.

As Harper struggles to come to grips with new family responsibilities and her forbidden feelings for Cole, she must decide whether to listen to her head or to give her heart what it wants. 


His dad had owned and worked the neighboring ranch. The Crockett daughters and the Wainwright son had all stayed friends through high school, even though Cole had chosen Amelia, her elder sister by two years, for, first, the homecoming dance, then Snow Ball, and finally prom, and the years of exploring their adjoining ranches on horseback and hanging out being ranch kids had ended. Cole and Amelia had become The Super Couple—gorgeous on gorgeous. Harper had let her secret Cole fantasies fade away, finished high school, gone off to her wild and failed college years and kept track of Cole and Amelia only the rare times she visited Paradise Ranch and they were all home at the same time. 

At one point, the family had considered Cole and Amelia all but married. But then, unexpectedly, Super Couple had broken up, amicably they’d insisted, three years ago. 

Everyone was still friends. 

Well, except for the fact that Harper’s father had purchased Cole’s family ranch the year before the break-up, and Cole had disappeared for eighteen months without a trace.

But he’d come back. He’d worked for Sam Crockett on Paradise Ranch the past two winters, and everyone said he was fine. They loved having him.

“Earth to Harpo.”

Harpo, she mused. He’d given her that nickname . . .

A hand waved in front of her face. She shook her head to clear it, and suddenly she was staring at him, having missed every word he’d said to her. And there were flutters, deep and unmistakably caused by his proximity

“Oh! What?” She blinked.

He laughed again. “Are you all right?”

No. No, no, no. This was unacceptable. As happy as she was to see him, these were not the memories she’d been after. This was not a reaction she wanted—this electric anticipation that had been thrumming through her body ever since he’d walked into the church that morning almost late for the service. 

“I’m just fine. Sorry.”

“You still do it.” He peered at her, grinning again.

“Do what?”

“Go off into that little artist’s daze. I always wondered what you were seeing while you were in those trances. Usually you’d disappear after one of them, and we’d find you in some corner painting or drawing. But you weren’t big on showing me your work, so I was left thinking you’d gotten some great vision or prophecy. Like now.”

She nearly choked on her laughter. “I do not do that! And believe me I was having no visions of any kind. I was seeing three chickens laughing at me, so I was plotting revenge.”

That was a lie, but he didn’t need to know it. 



Lizbeth Selvig writes fun, heartwarming contemporary romantic fiction for Avon books. Her debut novel, The Rancher and the Rock Star, was released in 2012. Her second, Rescued By A Stranger was a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award nominee. Liz lives in Minnesota with her best friend (aka her husband Jan) and a gray Arabian gelding named Jedi. After working as a newspaper journalist and magazine editor, and raising an equine veterinarian daughter and a talented musician son, Lizbeth entered Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart® contest in 2010 with The Rancher and the Rock Star (then titled Songbird) and won the Single Title Contemporary category. In her spare time, she loves being a first time grandma to Evelyn Grace as well as to hike, quilt, read, horseback ride, and play with her four-legged grandbabies, of which there are over twenty, including a wallaby, two alpacas, a large goat, a mammoth-eared donkey, a pot-bellied pig, three sugar gliders, and many dogs, cats and horses (pics of all appear on her website www.lizbethselvig.com). She loves connecting with readers—contact her any time!

June 5, 2015

Excerpt & Giveaway! Flukes, Flukes #1 by Nichole Chase



Meena has a secret guarded closely by her family—a secret as dangerous as the sea and buried just as deep. When court-appointed community-service workers are assigned to Flukes, the family-owned animal sanctuary, everyone is on high alert. It doesn’t help that Meena finds herself attracted to sexy-as-sin Blake Weathering, one of the new workers. If he wasn’t so distracting, she might be able to land Flukes a much-needed cruise-line contract.

Blake Weathering, the first in his family to attend public school, has developed a tough image. Unfortunately, it lands him in trouble. Now banned from his high school graduation ceremony, getting his diploma is dependent upon a community-service gig cleaning up fish crap. No diploma, no trust fund fortune—and no way to escape his overbearing father. The last thing he needs is the distraction of a mysterious girl with teal eyes who pulls at his heartstrings.

When Blake discovers Meena’s secret, they are both thrown into a desperate search for information about her past. Two worlds pull them in opposite directions, and they will have to fight to hold on to all that really matters.



“He’s friendly.” Blake’s voice was amused and he automatically scratched under Mitch’s chin. She squee’d loudly and spit water at his face. 

“Mitch is a girl.” He held his hands up to ward off her wet assault and I couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t seem irritated by Mitch’s antics, just amused and wet. 

“My apologies, Mitch. I did think it was weird that you were so pretty if you were a boy.” Blake reached out a hand and scratched her chin again. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes. “Did you tell her to do that?”

“What? Oh, the splashing? No. She’s just sensitive.” Jallia came over and rolled onto her side. I traced my hands over her belly and cooed under my breath. The baby was healthy and happy. He was going to be a big boy. “Not long now, Jallia. You’re going to have your son out and playing in no time.”

Mitch nosed her mother for a minute, checking the baby as well. After a minute, Stormy started making noises about being hungry and I laughed. I set the fish bucket between Blake and Ime. “Here, feed them, but don’t let them knock the bucket over.” Mitch rose out of the water and flopped onto the decking between us. “Mitch! You got my clothes wet!” I yanked the bucket out of the way and pushed Mitch back into the water. 

Stormy darted through the water and opened his mouth for Blake to deposit some fish. It didn’t take us long to empty the bucket and I enjoyed answering Blake’s questions. He was smarter than I had given him credit for.

“Are these markings from the other dolphins? They look like teeth scrapes.” Blake leaned close to Stormy and peered at the teeth rakings on his melon. 

“Yeah. Some of them are from playing, roughhousing. Some of them are from being irritating. He is a nosy guy.” I ran my hand over Stormy’s head. “Most of them fade pretty quickly. They shed their skin every two hours.”

“Wow. Didn’t know that.” Blake looked down at the water and frowned. “So my legs are covered in dead dolphin skin. Nice.”

He was so engrossed at looking at his legs in disgust, I couldn’t help myself. It was the perfect chance to get payback for his insulting Flukes. I shoved his shoulder, pushing him into the water. “Now it’s all over you.” 

Mitch laughed her dolphin laugh, but Jallia scolded me. When Blake came up sputtering, he glared at me. Mitch spit water at him, but he ignored her and swam to the platform. I thought he was going to sulk until he got closer. He looked up at the last minute and his mischievous smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. His brown eyes twinkled and I knew I was in trouble. I tried to get up and out of the way quickly, but he was faster than I thought. His strong hand closed around my ankle and dragged me into the water. Mitch darted down to me and I grabbed onto her dorsal fin. She surfaced quickly and scolded Blake with sharp whistles. 

“She had it coming!” Blake held his hands out in front of him and laughed. He splashed water at me and I returned the favor. Mitch and Stormy joined in, but Jallia swam away, not in the mood for playing. His smile was infectious as he played with the dolphins, not minding when they dunked him or pushed him around. I found myself watching more than playing because I liked seeing him look so happy. 

“You had it coming first. Calling Flukes a hellhole.” I laughed at his fake hurt look.

“I apologized! And it’s not like I didn’t notice that I was getting all the crap jobs last week.” He pretended to hold his heart. “I’ve paid my dues. What else can you want from me?”

“Fine. We’re even.” I rolled my eyes and shifted a little farther away from him. There was something compelling about him, something that made me want to be closer. He was dangerous.

“Looks like you lost something.” He tapped his head and I frowned.

“Ugh. My hat.” I looked around and saw it floating toward the sandy bottom. I took a deep breath that I didn’t need and dove after it. When I came back up, Blake was looking at me with wide eyes. “What? It’s my favorite.”

“How deep is this part of the cove?” He looked down and frowned. “What? Eighteen, twenty feet?”

“Something like that.” This part of the cove was twenty-eight feet. Mentally, I berated myself for being so stupid. I should have sent Mitch or Stormy after my hat, but I didn’t want teeth marks on it. 

“Heh.” Blake looked at me, his eyebrows drawn together. 

I hauled myself onto the platform and felt his eyes following me, making my heart jump in my chest. He pulled himself out of the enclosure and peeled his shirt off. The boy was gorgeous and he knew it. The exact kind of guy I should avoid at all costs. He twisted the shirt in his hands, wringing as much water out as he could.

“What next?” Blake slung the wet shirt over his shoulder.

The water droplets that ran down his chest drew my attention like a moth to flame. My fingers itched to touch him. I scrambled to my feet and backed away from him slowly while squeezing the edge of my shirt. Needing a distraction, I picked up the bucket and turned toward the ladder.

“The others should be here soon. I need to go help Dad with the assignments and then we can come up with a plan for the crews.” I didn’t look back at him after climbing the three short rungs, trying to shake the weird spell he seemed to have on me.




Nichole Chase is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Suddenly Royal, The Accidental Assassin,Flukes, The Dark Betrayal Trilogy, and several short stories.

Nichole lives in Georgia with her husband, energetic daughter, superhero dog, Sulcata tortoise, and two cats. When not writing, you may find her reading, painting, crafting, or chasing her daughter around the house while making monster noises.




March 24, 2015

Book Excerpt! The Dead Room by Stephanie Erickson


322 years after the apocalypse, the world has changed, but her people have not. Secrets, lies, and manipulations endure among a small group of survivors taking refuge on an island in the Northern Pacific.

No one knows what claimed so many lives over three centuries ago, and no one asks, except Ashley Wortham. She can feel the secrets around her, begging to be uncovered.

But the nine elders who govern the island guard their secrets jealously. They believe the islanders know what they need to, and they hide their secrets behind a ruse of peace. But when Ashley, and her best friend Mason, go down the rabbit hole, no one is prepared for the truths they uncover. What will they do when they discover the downfall of humanity lies within their own island, deep inside the dead room?


The body lay on a two-piece metal pyre in the center of the clearing.
Nothing more
than the skeleton of a table, the pyre was simply used for the display and
transport of the bodies. Burning the dead was a custom from the time before.

The corpse’s blue cotton, long-sleeved shirt was buttoned all the way to
the top to
hide his injuries, and the matching navy slacks had recently been pressed.
With his
hands folded over his abdomen, Wesley looked rather dashing. Ashley wished
her match
had actually been dashing in life.

She wondered who would wear that outfit next. Nothing was ever wasted on
the island.
Not even the clothes of a dead man. She herself had worn the clothes off a
dead
woman’s back. Squeamishness was a luxury no one could afford.

Although “new” clothes were made on the island, from animal skins and the
cotton
grown in the farmlands, they were typically reserved for the higher
ups—elders,
doctors, and the like. Cotton was difficult to grow in the cold climate,
and the
clothes were made entirely by hand. Once it had been worn and patched a
few times by
those with power, new clothing was eventually passed down to the lower
branches of
society,

But, it wasn’t just clothing that moved on after an islander died. All of
their
belongings were redistributed among those in need. The dead’s family
wasn’t allowed
to keep anything they didn’ tneed. Sentimentality was a lost emotion to the
islanders. Reusing everything was essential, even if the previous owner
was a dead
man.

It had only bothered her once—the first time she’d seen one of her
father’s outfits
on another man. Even then, at the tender age of ten, she’d understood it
was bound to
happen eventually. She just hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. Only
a week
after his funeral, she’d spotted one of her neighbors walking down the
road in her
father’s clothes. She ran to him, hoping her father’s scent might still
linger on his
shirt. But the man neither embraced her nor offered her any sympathy. He
only looked
at her with wide eyes,the horror and disgust plain on his face.

Death on the island was such a strange thing. She’d lost track of how many
funerals
she’d been to in her lifetime—at least one a month. Unexpected deaths,
like that of
her match, added to the average.

Only three of the losses had actually meant something to her—her mother,
her father,
and now Wesley. Her father’s funeral was, of course, devastating, made
more so by the
fact that they’d shared the same first name. Everything the elders said
about him
could have also been applied to her. How they were thankful for “Ashley’s
life,” how
they wished “Ashley peace.”It sent shivers down her spine.

Once, she’d asked him why they shared a name. His mother’s name had been
Ashley, he’d
explained, as had her mother, and her father before that. On and on, down
the line,
the name had traveled, until it had reached Ashley. And one day, as was their
tradition, it would go to her own child.

The funeral for her mother, who had been taken by a simple cold that
escalated into
something much worse, was nothing more than a hazy memory. Still, Ashley
missed her
mother terribly and felt incomplete without her. She searched for her
whenever the
jasmine got caught on the wind, because her mother had loved to wear the
flower
behind her ear.

Wesley’s funeral was a problem. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt
about it. The
loss of her parents had left her feeling completely alone. She’d hoped to
find love
again with her match, but he’d left her terribly disappointed.

Now that he was gone, her emotions warred with themselves. Relief was the
biggest
player fighting for space in her mind. Relief to have escaped the abuse
and the
pressures of being the next elder’s wife. Guilt came in at a close second,
but not
because she regretted killing her match.

It was because her best friend was being blamed for it.



Stephanie Erickson has always had a passion for the written word. She pursued her love of literature at Flagler College, in St. Augustine, FL, where she graduated with a BA in English. She has received several honors in her writing career, including recognition in the 72nd Annual Writer's Digest Competition. 
After graduation, she married and followed her husband in pursuit of his dream. The Cure and The Blackout were written to reignite Stephanie's passion, when she found the time. Now that he is settled in his career, it's her turn to devote more time and energy into writing.
The Dead Room, a post apocalyptic novel is available now exclusively on Amazon!
Watch for Unforgiven, book two in the Unseen Trilogy, coming in June 2015!
Stephanie, of course, loves to read and write. She also enjoys living on the beach on the Florida's Treasure Coast. Most of all, she and her husband are in love with their baby girl.