yet another snow day (which really means ice or sleet here, but you know ;) Anyway, I am so, so excited about the fact that Shredded comes out NEXT WEEK! I can't believe it. It seems like I've been waiting forever for Z's story to be available. To celebrate, here's another excerpt Shredded, the first in my new Extreme Risk New Adult Series.
In this intense and exhilarating New Adult series debut, a hotshot snowboarder and a rebel with a cause try to let go of the past—and find a future with each other.
Twenty-one-year-old professional snowboarder Z Michaels is the bad boy of Park City, Utah. He’s always had his pick of any girl in town—and on the competition circuit. But underneath his cool exterior is a young man in turmoil, trying to take the edge off tragedy by overindulging in sex and shredding the slopes. In fact, Z’s rash behavior is a thinly veiled attempt to blunt his emotional suffering with physical pain.
Ophelia Richardson isn’t like any girl Z has ever met. Though she’s from New Orleans, she’s no Southern belle—and she’s not shy about being miserable in frozen, godforsaken Park City. But after nearly dying in the same drag-racing accident that killed her boyfriend, she needs a place to heal, both physically and emotionally. The last thing Ophelia wants right now is a boyfriend—especially one as rich and reckless as Z. But Ophelia soon discovers that he isn’t what he seems. If anything, Z may be even more damaged than she is.
Feeling alone in the world, Z and Ophelia find a connection unlike any they’ve ever known. But their tormented pasts pull them in every direction, forcing their relationship into a downhill slide before it even begins—unless they can find the strength in each other to trust, grow, and love again.
Advance praise for Shredded
“Z from Tracy Wolff’s Shredded is so hot he will melt your heart!”—New York Times bestselling author Monica Murphy
“Shredded features two gorgeously damaged characters and an amazingly written story that kept me on the edge of my seat! Love it!”—Toni Aleo, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Assassins series
Z’s smile is back and for the first time I realize it’s not the smile I’m used to. Not the little half smirk, half grin he gives the world. No, this smile lights up his face. It creases his cheeks and the skin around his eyes. It’s a real smile, I realize with a mixture of discomfort and delight. For the first time since I met him—other than in bed last night—I think I’m getting to see the real Z. The one only Luc and Ash and Cam ever get to see.
“Good. You get dressed and I’ll make coffee.” He drops a quick kiss on my forehead before turning away.
I watch him walk away, my eyes glued to his very fine ass even as I wonder who actually looks that good in a pair of thick snowboarding pants. The answer is no one. No one, that is, except Z Michaels.
Though I dragged out my shower forever, I race through getting ready. I don’t know how long Z is planning on staying—probably not long—and I don’t want to miss a minute of the time I can spend with him. I know it’s a bad idea, know I’ll be disappointed if I put any hope at all into this thing between Z and me.
Which is stupid, I tell myself as I scramble into a pair of leggings and a fluffy green oversized sweater. It’s not like I want anything from him except breakfast. It’s just that it might be kind of nice to be his friend. I don’t have any, and he doesn’t have many. . . .
I don’t know. It’s just that there seems to be a lot more to him than what he lets people see. I want to know what’s there.
By the time I get a little bit of makeup on and my hair dried with a diffuser—which takes forever—Z has breakfast laid out on my tiny table. Chocolate croissants; breakfast sandwiches with egg, cheese, and bacon; fresh winter fruit salad.
“That’s a lot of food,” I tell him, eyes wide.
“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got a few different things. Plus, I eat a lot, so . . .” He ends with a shrug.
“Right.” Sudden comprehension dawns. “The snowboarding thing.”
“Yeah. The snowboarding thing.”
I grab one of the plates he put on the table, heap it high with fruit and a big chocolate croissant, then grab a fork and my coffee before crossing to the bed.
“You want to eat there?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“Don’t you know? There’s nothing better than breakfast in bed.”
“Nothing? Damn. Obviously I did something wrong last night.”
“Fishing for compliments is unattractive,” I tell him with a grin. “Especially when you know just how you did everything last night.”
“Oh, yeah?” He grabs a plate, shovels an astonishing amount of food onto it. “You think I did everything right?”
“I did come like nine times.” I watch as he settles next to me on the bed. “And then you brought me chocolate for breakfast. I’m not sure what more of a job performance review you want.”
“The chocolate’s the key, huh?”
“I’m not going to lie. It helps.”
“I’ll remember that.” He leans forward, presses soft kisses across my jaw and down my throat. “And for the record, you came ten times.”
That startles a laugh out of me. “You kept track? Wow, Z, you’re a real romantic.”
He arches a brow at me. “In some circles, ten orgasms be considered romantic.”
“In some circles, orgasm could be considered romantic.”
“Well, then I’m ahead of the game.”
“Which is exactly how you like it.”
“Damn straight,” he says with a nod. “But if you want, we could go for eleven, just to make sure.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “How come I think eleven is actually code for twenty?”
“Because you’re a smart girl.” He reaches over and rubs his thumb firmly over my nipple. Heat streaks through me, and I arch into his touch, despite myself. “And a sexy one.”
My breath catches in my throat as he puts our plates on the floor before sliding his hand over my stomach and into my leggings. Still, I manage to ask, “You think I’m sexy?”
“Now who’s fishing for compliments?” he whispers as he strokes gentle circles around my clit.
The boy knows what he’s doing—God, does he know what he’s doing—and it only takes a minute or two before I’m trembling over the edge of orgasm number eleven.
“And for the record,” he whispers against my lips in between long, drugging kisses, “I think you’re very sexy. I also think you did everything right last night, too.”
I roll my eyes, nip at his lower lip. “Well, obviously.”
He laughs. “That’s some ego you’ve got going on there.”
“Not really,” I say as I shift to kneel between his knees. “After all, you’re still here, aren’t you? I figure that’s all the performance review I need.”
“Yeah.” He turns serious fast. “I’m still here.”
“In case I didn’t say it earlier, I’m really glad you are.” I tug his pants down below his knees. “And since you are . . .” I deliver a long, lingering lick to his very aroused cock, then suck it deep into my mouth.
He doesn’t say anything else for a while, but then again, neither do I.
Thanks for checking out this #Extreme Wednesday! Make sure to check back next week for another excerpt :)