Mmm...first encounters. I love it when characters in both movies and novels meet for the first time. It sets the tone for what's to come. Sometimes there's snap, crackle, sizzle...or maybe there's that slow burn of borderline contempt that you just know is gonna be fun to watch.
Today we're getting a glimpse of "Fur Ball Fever"...yes, it's as fun as it sounds...and Maureen has been kind enough to offer a giveaway from one of the comments. Yay!
YOU MUST COMMENT WITH YOUR EMAIL ADDRESSS TO BE ELIBIBLE TO WIN! DON'T FORGET!
YOU MUST COMMENT WITH YOUR EMAIL ADDRESSS TO BE ELIBIBLE TO WIN! DON'T FORGET!
Lust at First Sight: Guest Blog
& Giveaway
Many thanks, Amber, for the chance to be
a guest blogger on Lust at First Sight. It’s great to be here to share the
first meeting of the heroine (Grace Donnelly) and hero (Nick Jackson) from Fur
Ball Fever.
One lucky reader who comments on my posting
will be randomly selected to win a copy of one of my ebooks, either Fur Ball Fever
or my award-winning paranormal romantic suspense, The Jaguar Legacy.
So without further ado, I hope you
enjoy my excerpt:
Although the sun
barely streaked the sky with orange, Grace Donnelly's morning had already
thundered downhill with the speed of a Japanese bullet train. As much as it
galled her to come crawling, she needed Nick Jackson's help, she needed it now,
and she refused to leave without it.
In her opinion he owed her. Big time.
Once she reached
her destination Grace stopped walking. Set alight by the rising sun, Nick’s
house glowed amber in its setting of faux-Victorian seaside homes. Four months
ago she’d have unlocked the door and dashed inside for some chocolate breakfast
pastries, a triple espresso, and a little early morning delight. Not
necessarily in that order. Today she wished she was doing anything else—like
cleaning toilets perhaps, or undergoing root canal surgery.
In case Nick was
watching she smiled
with a serene, I've-got-it-all-together confidence she was far from feeling.
A cascade of excited yaps jolted her back to reality. She tightened her
grip on the schnauzer’s leash and made soothing noises. Undeterred, Murphy strained toward familiar turf.
“Behave, Murphy.
We are so, <so> over Nick,” she
said, more to convince herself than to calm the dog. She gave his wiry head an
affectionate scratch as she studied the house. “We don’t need an overbearing
chauvinist to make us feel fulfilled.”
Murphy gave a
mighty tug.
She let him pull
her across the street, along the walkway, and up onto the front veranda. As
she’d foreseen, the vine she’d planted last spring had climbed the trellis to
provide dappled shade. She could hear Sublime belting out the alternative rock
Nick loved. Based on the gurgle of water gushing through pipes he was in the
shower.
Suppressing a
twinge of conscience she jabbed the doorbell. Bad luck for him, but the first
forty-eight hours were critical in crimes of this nature. As Security Director
of the gated community where they lived, he controlled access to the
surveillance system. The security video was her best bet for identifying the
crook who’d broken into her house last night and turned her world upside down.
The chimes faded,
leaving only the thump of rock music and Murphy’s enthusiastic panting.
Overhead a bird tootled its greeting. She took it as a sign of encouragement
and punched the doorbell again.
The music stopped in
mid-sentence. Behind the house, clearly audible in the morning stillness, waves
sighed against the Jersey Shore.
Grace withdrew to
the patch of landscaping stones out front to toss a pebble at the second-floor bathroom
window. She smoothed a palm over hip-hugging jeans, guaranteed, according to
the label, to diminish butt and thighs. A crimson tank top maximized the
cleavage Nick adored.
The window swung
open, releasing a cloud of steam, a billow of curtains, and a muttered curse. Murphy
yipped his adoration. She shaded her eyes against the sun’s dazzle to squint at
the dripping figure. Her platform sandals, selected for the height boost,
wobbled on the uneven ground and spoiled the cool, collected image she wanted
to project.
A familiar bourbon
and cream voice said, “For crying out loud, it’s way too early for …” Nick’s gaze
locked onto hers. His mouth flattened into a thin line. Streaky brown hair,
sable now with dampness, spiked against his forehead.
She beamed an
airy, carefree smile in his direction.
Predatory grey
eyes were cold as the North Atlantic in January. “Well, well, well,” he
drawled. “If it isn’t Grace Donnelly, girl crusader.”
He leaned out a
little more, providing a breathtaking view of powerful shoulders and a manly
expanse of torso. From the way his face creased into a sardonic smile she knew
he hadn’t forgiven her.
Not that there was
anything to forgive.
Although her heart
galloped in her chest, she met his gaze with queenly calm. No way would she let
him glimpse how much she’d missed him during the four months since their
romance had crashed and burned. “My goodness,” she chirped, going for the light
approach, “don’t tell me you’re still calling grown women ‘girls’.”
He took a corner
of the towel and dabbed his neck. “Still the same fire-breathing feminist I see.”
Gah! “That’s the nicest thing you’ve
ever said,” she replied, hoping her unruffled expression hadn’t congealed into
a grimace.
His eyes scanned
her face. “I barely recognized you with dark hair.”
The return to her
natural color was a small but meaningful step toward reclaiming her power. With
a jaunty flip of her hand she said, “I needed a change.”
He leveled his
gaze at her. “That’s not exactly the change I was hoping for, darlin’.” All
traces of moonlight and magnolias vanished from his voice. “I was thinking more
along the lines of a big old attitude shift.”
“My attitude’s
peachy. Let me in. I need to talk to you.” He’d managed to get under her skin
already, dammit. Remembering her objective she added a belated and heartfelt,
“Please.”
“You’ve had all
summer to talk to me.” He paused long enough to make her fidget before
continuing, “Seeing as how you hung up on me three times, I figured you were
happy with the way our little arrangement ended.”
She lifted her
chin a notch. Sure, he’d called. And each time, he’d refused to listen to her
explanation. Did he seriously expect her to roll over and apologize? Her temper
spiked, simmering close to the surface. She reined herself in enough to say,
“Can we discuss this inside—like two adults?”
His silent scrutiny
made her want to squirm. After an eternity he said, “Only if you’re here to
admit you’ve developed common sense and prudence over the summer.”
How dare he think for one moment he had the
right to lecture her? She enunciated her next words with precision. “I don’t
want to have this conversation through a bathroom window. Let me in.”
“Not until you
admit that what you did on our last date was dead wrong.”
She reviewed the
events of that fateful date. Okay, so her actions might have been a tad
risky—okay, make that downright dangerous—but how could she have ignored
someone who needed help? She’d only been protecting her elderly neighbor from a
robbery. Surely Nick knew another heart attack would have killed poor old
Elvira.
She drew in a
calming breath. “I did what needed doing.”
“You risked your
life.”
“I had no choice.
If I hadn’t—”
“You nearly got
yourself killed. I hate it when my dates do that.”
“The bullet missed
by a mile.”
“The bullet missed
by a hair. You might not be so lucky next time.”
“But you saved me.
No harm, no foul.”
Nick’s throaty
growl left no doubt about his agitation. With visible effort he collected
himself. “You’re a loose cannon, darlin’,” he drawled. “Keeping you alive and
out of trouble takes too much out of a man.”
His icy tone
jolted her back to her senses. “Wait,” she said, remembering she needed to
watch the security video. “You’re the Security Director of Saltwater Estates.
I’m here on official business.”
The air sizzled
between them. When he spoke, his tone was curt. “In that case, Ms. Donnelly, I
suggest you phone to schedule an appointment.” He pulled his head inside and
started to close the window.
She forced her
tongue around the next words. “Please, Nick. I need your help.”
The window halted
its inward swing. His face reappeared.
A white knight
couldn’t resist the call of a damsel in distress. That was the upside of
dealing with a male chauvinist. Concentrating on looking needy, which wasn’t
too difficult all things considered, she added, “It’s an emergency.”
He merely grunted,
but she noted his eyes brightened with interest. She dangled one final carrot.
“It’s life-and-death. I’ll explain everything once you let me inside.”
Silence.
She let out her
breath and was preparing to admit defeat when he ground out the words she needed
to hear. “You’ve got exactly five minutes.” His head disappeared.
Find out what happens next. Is
Nick wearing only a towel and a scowl? (Spoiler Alert: Yup!) Does he agree to
help Grace or does he have his own agenda?
Maureen’s
Books
Universal Amazon URL for Fur Ball Fever by Maureen Fisher: http://amzn.to/150fiHb
Universal Amazon URL for The Jaguar Legacy by Maureen Fisher: http://amzn.to/13PIvaQ
Maureen’s
Website
Please check out my website at http://booksbymaureen.com for more details
about yours truly, my books, and more blog postings.
DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT FOR A CHANCE TO WIN!
9 comments:
Many thanks for this opportunity to connect with readers, Amber.
You're welcome, Maureen! Can I be eligible to win one of your books or am I disqualified? :-)
I love the banter and the reason Nick was mad took me by surprise! LOL! I can relate to running after the bad guy. I can tell Grace is going to be fun!!!
This sounds like an exciting book. Thanks for sharing. Preiners2@gmail.com
Nice job of letting the reader know that she was well aware of the things that normally went on in the house.
Thanks for sharing this excerpt. I am always looking for new authors to read. Diannagilmore@yahoo.com
This book sounds great! Will definitely put this on my must read list!
sharibelle@yahoo.com
Amber, I would never disqualify you.
I love the writing style. I am looking forward to reading more. Thanks for teaser.
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