The Second #ShakenDirtySaturday :)

Hi Everyone,
Hope you guys had a great week!  Mine was busy, but good-- lots of writing done-- so I'm happy :)  Today I'm putting up another excerpt from Drive Me Crazy, the second book in my Shaken Dirty rocker series.  And in case I haven't mentioned it before, can I tell you how much fun I had writing Quinn and Elise?  They made me laugh every day :)  Hope you like them, too!  And remember, my publisher is doing a special promotion, so you can get Drive Me Crazy for $.99 at both Amazon and Barnes and Noble!  Check it out :)

Blurb:

His rival’s in his bed, and this rocker is ready to play.Former rivals Quinn Bradford and Elise McKinney are not friends, at least not anymore. As teens, all they cared about was psyching each other out before concerts. But when Quinn—now the keyboardist for Shaken Dirty, the hottest rock band on the scene—returns to his hometown and hears about the car accident that shattered Elise’s career, he’s determined to make things right.
Elise wants nothing to do with an arrogant rock star, despite how bad she so clearly wants him, so Quinn kidnaps the stubborn little piano player and whisks her back to his mansion. A little seduction might be just the thing to keep Elise under his care…and in his bed. But amid pranks both childish and very adult, their past comes rearing back to haunt them. And it might be more than either of them can forget.

Excerpt:

Moving slowly so that she had plenty of time to stop him, he wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her gently toward him. Her eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t protest. Didn’t pull away. So he kept tugging her closer, kept leaning forward himself until his face was only an inch or so from hers.

Then he paused, waited. Watched. Her broken breath was a warm caress on his face, her pulse a wild thing under the deliberately soft clasp of his fingers. He knew she was waiting for him to make the next move, for him to kiss her, but on this he wanted no misunderstanding. Not when her eyes were wide and her chest was rising and falling rapidly. Not when she looked terrified and confused and exhilarated all at once.

No, this kiss, their first kiss in a decade, would have to come from her.

So even though his body was on fire, even though he ached to pull her against him and take everything he wanted—everything she had to give—he waited. And waited. And waited. Until his every nerve was screaming, his every cell straining toward her with an intensity he couldn’t control.

He was about to say to hell with it and pull her to him, when Elise finally made the move he was waiting for. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips—her sweet, hot, gorgeous lips—softly against his. Once, twice, a third time. Then she started to pull away.

But he was having no part of that. He wanted more, needed more. From the moment he’d first set eyes on her again in that hospital bed, he’d craved her. Dreamed her[af1] [TD2] . Now that she was here, in his kitchen and his arms, there was no way he was letting her go without a proper taste.

This time, he was the one who closed the distance between them. He was the one who brought his mouth to hers. And he was the one who kissed her, really kissed her, for the first time in a decade.

It was even better than he remembered.

Her lips parted on a moan, and he swept inside—to explore and taste and feel. She was hot and sweet and so responsive that he couldn’t help the answering groan that welled up in his own throat as he deepened the kiss.

He’d been right. She still tasted like strawberries, but with a rich overlay of sweet and salty caramel that was new. It was a flavor he was rapidly becoming addicted to. One he wanted to taste again and again and again.

He stroked his tongue along the roof of her mouth, brushed it over the side of one cheek and then the other. Swept it between her teeth and her upper lip, pausing to play with her sensitive frenulum for just a moment.

She gasped, the fingers of her uninjured hand coming up to clutch at his shirt even as her tongue came forward to meet his own.

His hand tightened on her neck at the first whisper of her tongue against his. He pulled her closer, pulled her into him until her breasts were against his chest and her mouth was completely open, completely vulnerable, to him.

And then he took her, took everything she was offering, everything she had to give. Gave her everything he could in return.

He was ravenous as he plundered her, tangling his tongue with hers. Licking at her lips, the corners of her mouth, the insides of her teeth. He wanted to explore every part of her, to re-learn her, to figure out everything he’d missed since he’d walked out. To memorize her so that he would remember this even after she left again.

He pulled her closer, wrapped his free arm around her back and plastered her body to his. She gasped, moaned, and he wanted more. Always more. Just like when they’d been kids.

But they weren’t kids anymore, hadn’t been for a long time. It was that thought, more than any other, that brought him back. That had him pulling away from Elise when all he really wanted to do was sink into her.

She had real problems, problems that wouldn’t be fixed by a kiss or a quick tumble onto the closest flat surface. And that was all he could offer her. All he’d ever been able to offer her. It hadn’t been enough when they were seventeen and it sure as shit wasn’t enough now.

He untangled her fingers from his shirt, then gently dropped her hand back into her lap before standing up. He didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to see the accusation in her eyes for so blatantly taking advantage of her when she was injured and medicated and vulnerable.

But in the end, he couldn’t not look, his eyes seeking and finding hers like they were meant to be. And what he saw there nearly brought him to his knees all over again. Passion, not accusation. Need, not mistrust.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, dreamy. Her cheeks flushed, her nipples hard little points pressing against the sheer fabric of the blouse Jamison had bought for her to wear home. And her lips. Those damn lips that had haunted his dreams for years after he’d walked away from her, were red and swollen and so tempting it took every ounce of willpower he had not to bend down and take another bite. One that would only end when they were in bed and he was inside her.

That last was the thought he needed to get him moving away from her as fast as his hard, aching body would carry him. He’d made love to her and left her once, when he’d been young and stubborn and too stupid to understand how doing so would shatter them both.

No way in hell was he going to do it again.

---

Exclusive Excerpt from Shattered!!!

Hi Everyone,

First of all, I want to say thank you, thank you, thank you for making my release week for Shredded so fabulous!  I have the best fans in the world and I love you guys :) Okay, enough mushy stuff.  I thought, as a thank you, I'd post a quick little excerpt from Shattered, the second book in the Extreme Risk series, since everyone's been asking about Ash ...  So, here it is, with no further ado!

Blurb:
The Extreme Risk series—Tracy Wolff’s edgy, emotional take on the New Adult genre—continues with the story of a lost soul and the fearless beauty who inspires him to take a flying leap back into life.

Ash Lewis has poured every last ounce of his blood, sweat, and tears into reaching the very top of the professional snowboarding world—until the unthinkable happens. After the biggest competition win of his career, Ash’s mother and father are killed in a tragic accident. Unable to handle the idea of going back out on the snow to pursue the dream his parents shared with him, Ash feels that he has no choice but to walk away from snowboarding forever. Then he meets Tansy Hampton.

Wild, fun, and impulsive, Tansy has a different look and a new passion every week. As a cancer survivor who spent the past several years waiting to die, Tansy has a fresh perspective on life—even if she doesn’t have a clue about what she actually wants to do with it. But she’s determined to find out, and that means making the most of her time while she still can.

From the very beginning, their chemistry is intense. But while Ash can’t stop chasing the ghosts of what can never be, Tansy stays firmly focused on the possibilities the world holds for her—and for them. She’s already picked up the pieces of one shattered life. Now she’s determined to help Ash do the same.

Excerpt:

It takes about fifteen minutes before the shop is empty again, and then Ash is back, lounging indolently against the counter as he rubs a strand of my hair between his fingers.  My hair is short—really short, thanks to the last round of chemo—so his hand is only a few inches from my scalp.  The knowledge that he could easily brush his knuckles over my forehead or down my cheek makes the proximity even more enticing.

“You stayed,” he says.

“Yes.”

“That surprises me.”

I narrow my eyes at him, confused.  “Why?”

“You don’t seem the type to wait around for something like that.”

I’m really confused now, but I’m determined not to let him see it.  I’ve already made a big enough idiot of myself in front of him.  It’s past time for me to act like a rational person.  “I told you I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah.”   He lifts his arms palm up, gesturing to the empty room as if to say, talk away.

“I—“  I pause, duck my head.  “I was actually hoping we could talk somewhere a little more private.”  The shop isn’t packed, but it’s definitely busy.  Already I can see someone waiting next to the door, as if he’s thinking about coming in.

Ash’s brows hit his hairline this time.  “Somewhere private?”

“Is that okay?  Like I said, I can come back later if that’s better.”

“It’s fine, but—“  He breaks off when his cell phone buzzes.  He doesn’t look at me as he pulls it out of his pocket and reads a tweet.  For a second, just a second, his face seems to crumple.  Just as quickly, a blank mask settles over him and he’s typing something back, rapid-fire.

I want to ask if everything’s okay— if he’s okay—but it seems inappropriate.  So for long seconds I don’t say anything and neither does he.  Silence stretches taut between us.

“You still up for talking?” he asks, a strange emphasis on the last word as he ducks out from under the counter and walks toward the door.

“Yes!”  God, Tansy, eager much?  “I mean, of course.”

He nods, flipping the small sign on the door so that the side that reads “will return in ten minutes” and has a picture of a clock on it, is facing outward.  Then he’s grabbing my hand and all but dragging me behind the counter and into a room in the back.

“Wow,” I say after a second, my eyes struggling to adjust to the dimness.  “It’s really dark in here.”

Ash doesn’t answer.  I start to turn around to see what’s going on—I’m beginning to feel like I’m the only one not in on the punchline—but then he’s there, right behind me.  His chest resting against my back, his palm flat against my stomach.

“What—“  I squeak and I know I sound about three years old, but holy shit!  Forget jokes, I feel like I’ve tumbled down the rabbit hole.  “What are you doing?”

“I thought that was obvious,” Ash answers, his voice low and amused.  His hand is rubbing soothing circles against my abdomen and part of me wants nothing more than to melt into him.  To let him touch me however—wherever—he wants to. 

“It’s …. not,” I gasp after a second, using every last ounce of sanity I have.   It’s harder than it should be, but I’m blaming that on his proximity. 

On the heat he’s radiating. 

On the fact that his lips are—right now-- skimming over the curve where my neck meets my shoulder

I shudder before I can stop myself.

“Huh.”  His lips form a smile against my skin, his breath hot against the nape of my neck.  “Maybe I should try something else, then.” 

And he does.  Oh God, he does.  One, two, three open-mouthed kisses going in a vertical line up my neck, from my collar to my hairline.

His tongue licks out a little on the third one and my brain fogs over.  I mean, literally fogs over.  I’ve always wondered what that expression means and now I know.  Everything around me is hazy, muddled, and my body is melting into his.

This is crazy, right?  I have to be imagining it because this doesn’t happen.  Not in real life.  Not to girls like me.

I mean, no guy has ever come close to touching me like this before—and I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do here.  It’s embarrassing, really, how inexperienced I am for my age.

  I’m nineteen, but I’ve spent most of the last ten years in and out of the hospital as I battled cancer.  Rhabdomyosarcoma, to be exact.  Which means, except for a couple very awkward kisses that came after very awkward dates—set up by my friends or family because they felt sorry for me—I have zero experience with guys.  And I certainly have no experience with guys like Ash.

Part of me wants to go for it.  It’s the same part that promised myself after this last round of chemo, after the doctor told me I was finally—finally—in remission, that I was going to live my life to the fullest.  To experience everything I’ve missed in the last ten years.   And it’s not like I don’t want to know what sex feels like.  I do.  I really, really do.

But when I decided to make up for lost time, it had never occurred to me that one of the experiences I’d missed was a nice to meet you fuck in what looks like some kind of storage room.  With a really hot professional snowboarder who obviously doesn’t suffer from the same confidence problems I do.  And who I am supposed to be asking for help.

The thought of my job, of why I came here, is enough to pull me back from the brink.  I step away from Ash, clear my throat.  Try not to swallow my own tongue as I struggle to find words-- any words—to get this meeting back on the right path.

“What—“  My voice cracks straight down the middle, so I take a deep breath and start again.  “What’s going on here?”

Ash steps forward, rests his hands on my waist this time.  “You said you wanted to talk.” He lowers his head, like he’s going to kiss me and I know—I know—if his lips come into contact with mine I’m going to forget my own name let alone everything I’m supposed to do.

I slam my hands against his chest, push him firmly away.  “Yes, talk.  Talk.  Not screw.”

“Huh.”  His face is close enough that I can make out the confused expression he’s wearing.  “Really?”

“Yes, really.  I mean did you really think I meant …”  I let the ending dangle there, too embarrassed to say it again. 

He shrugs.  “Well, yeah.  I thought it was a euphemism.  I mean, it usually is when a girl comes looking for me.” 

It usually— Who is this guy? “Seriously?  I mean, you really fuck girls you just met in the storage closet behind where you rent out lifejackets to five-year-olds?”

He reaches over, flips on a light.  For long seconds, we stare at each other, blinking, as we try to adjust to the sudden change in brightness.  Finally, he shrugs.  Grins this little, shit-eating, self-deprecating curve of his lip that makes my stomach flutter all over again.  “I mean, not always in the storage closet.  There are a lot of other places to do it.  There’s the coat room, the changing room, the bathroom—“

“I get it!” 

New Trailer for Shredded :)

Today I thought I'd share with you the fun trailer my publisher made for Shredded, my brand new new adult book.  It's the first book in the Extreme Risk series, and I'm thrilled it's finally available.  And don't forget to stop by tomorrow to check out a sneak peak of Shattered, the second book in the series!  Have a great rest of the week :)