I'm starting with Ruined, my brand new erotica from Random House. It comes out January 7, 2014 and I"m so, so, so excited about it! The cover reveal is going on over at Romance at Random today, so you can check everything out over there! I'm also posting a quick excerpt here just to whet your appetite. Hope you like it!
He was the last man I should love … but the first I ever could.
Ethan Frost was a visionary. A genius. Every woman’s deepest, darkest fantasy—even mine. And, somehow, I was his.
He stole into my life like a dream. Turned my reality upside down and made my every desire come true—especially those I never knew I had. He demanded everything I had to give. Gave me everything of himself in return.
But dreams don’t last forever, and ours was no exception. Because my nightmares were darker, and my wounds deeper, than I could ever reveal. And much as Ethan wanted to protect me, the secrets we didn’t know we shared could only tear us apart.
And here's the snippet:
“Where does
it hurt?” he asks after he stops in front of me.
“Hurt?” My mouth is so dry I can barely get the word
out.
“Your
hip. Where’s the bruise?”
“Oh,
right.” I yank my eyes away from his
too-pretty face, gesture awkwardly to the top of my hip. “Here.”
I try to
take the ice pack from him, but he brushes my hand away. Then slowly, gently, presses it to my hip.
His fingers
are big and warm where they rest against my waist, a direct contrast to the
cold of the ice pack. For long seconds,
I don’t move. Don’t breathe. I can’t.
Not when he’s so close that I can feel the brush of his hair against my
cheek as he tilts his head down to watch what he’s doing.
“Is this
the spot?”
“Yes.” My breath breaks on the single syllable.
His head
jerks up then, his gaze locking onto mine.
I’ve never seen eyes so intensely blue—or so turbulent, like the
storm-tossed Pacific as it beats against the shore.
The way
he’s looking at me is overwhelming.
Terrifying. Mesmerizing. Like he wants
to devour me and at the same time shelter me.
I stand frozen—nothing so much as prey to his predator—while I wait to
see which instinct will win out.
“Where does
it hurt?” he asks after he stops in front of me.
“Hurt?” My mouth is so dry I can barely get the word
out.
“Your
hip. Where’s the bruise?”
“Oh,
right.” I yank my eyes away from his
too-pretty face, gesture awkwardly to the top of my hip. “Here.”
I try to
take the ice pack from him, but he brushes my hand away. Then slowly, gently, presses it to my hip.
His fingers
are big and warm where they rest against my waist, a direct contrast to the
cold of the ice pack. For long seconds,
I don’t move. Don’t breathe. I can’t.
Not when he’s so close that I can feel the brush of his hair against my
cheek as he tilts his head down to watch what he’s doing.
“Is this
the spot?”
“Yes.” My breath breaks on the single syllable.
His head
jerks up then, his gaze locking onto mine.
I’ve never seen eyes so intensely blue—or so turbulent, like the
storm-tossed Pacific as it beats against the shore.
The way
he’s looking at me is overwhelming.
Terrifying. Mesmerizing. Like he wants
to devour me and at the same time shelter me.
I stand frozen—nothing so much as prey to his predator—while I wait to
see which instinct will win out.
“Where does
it hurt?” he asks after he stops in front of me.
“Hurt?” My mouth is so dry I can barely get the word
out.
“Your
hip. Where’s the bruise?”
“Oh,
right.” I yank my eyes away from his
too-pretty face, gesture awkwardly to the top of my hip. “Here.”
I try to
take the ice pack from him, but he brushes my hand away. Then slowly, gently, presses it to my hip.
His fingers
are big and warm where they rest against my waist, a direct contrast to the
cold of the ice pack. For long seconds,
I don’t move. Don’t breathe. I can’t.
Not when he’s so close that I can feel the brush of his hair against my
cheek as he tilts his head down to watch what he’s doing.
“Is this
the spot?”
“Yes.” My breath breaks on the single syllable.
His head
jerks up then, his gaze locking onto mine.
I’ve never seen eyes so intensely blue—or so turbulent, like the
storm-tossed Pacific as it beats against the shore.
The way
he’s looking at me is overwhelming.
Terrifying. Mesmerizing. Like he wants
to devour me and at the same time shelter me.
I stand frozen—nothing so much as prey to his predator—while I wait to
see which instinct will win out.
