Welcome to Mid Week Tease, where my author friends and I post a little something from a WIP, flash fiction piece or from some of our published work for you, the readers. As always, a HUGE thanks to fellow author Sandra Bunino for creating this weekly event.
Since several of my MWTeases have been from Rise of the Lost Prince, I wanted to share the news. That story has been accepted for publication with Evernight Publishing. Looks like a February, 2015 release :) *Throws Confetti*
This week I'm going to be sharing from Trouble in Paradise (A Paradise Ranch Novel) which is a contemporary erotic western romance, and one of the WIPs I'm working on.
Here a first look, unedited excerpt from Trouble in Paradise.
“Hell’s bells,” I muttered under my breath, whacking my palms on the steering wheel of the Ford.
Tucker serviced this pick-up only a week ago, nonetheless with an engine splutter before dying, I sat inside the hot as Death Valley cab and watched plumes of smoke waft out from under the hood. Perhaps my Grandma hadn’t been too far wrong in calling Tucker Macinroy a crook.
Rolling my neck along my stiff shoulders, I stared out the side window and into the electric blue sky. People say bad luck isn’t personal, it just happens, but ever since moving back home to run the ranch I’d inherited, I had the distinct feeling I was swimming in my own personal sea of rotten misfortune.
Heaving an exasperated sigh, I hit the latch to pop the hood, slid out of the truck, and slammed the driver’s door behind me. I didn’t have the time, or the patients, to deal with being stranded in the parking lot of the hardware store with a bed full of roofing supplies, which by the way, needed to be at the ranch three hours ago.
After propping the hood up, I stood on my tip toes, waved my hand about in an attempt to keep the smoke from my face, and glanced at the guts of the truck, as if I would know what I was looking for, but I supposed the doing made me feel I was taking proactive measures about the situation, until the coughing started. Perhaps sticking my head beneath the hood wasn’t the best idea.
Covering my nose with one hand, still swiping the foul air with my other, I took a step back. The breeze kicked up and blew another puff of nasty at me. I coughed yet again and stomped my sandal covered foot on the pavement, irritated.
I stopped waving the tendrils away and bristled at the sound of the deep male voice before I spun around to see the one person who could add to my piss-poor mood, and send my internal kiss-my-ass-o’meter into the pegged out territory of epically snarky attitude.
“Do you think?” I snapped.
Kale McNab, a.k.a. the devil, chuckled then ran his fingers through the strands of his brown-sugar colored hair, mussing them.
“I was trying to find out when you interrupted me.”
“By all means,” he said, gesturing with his arm out in a cheesy game show host kind of way. “Don’t let me stop you. Commence with the show.”
My eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You know. All that jiggling about, and hand waving you were doing. It was cute.”
“Jiggling about?” I lifted my chin and set my shoulders. “Cute?” I asked, piqued.
“Yeah,” he said, strolling past me to peek over the front of my pick-up. “Do you know anything about motors?”
“No,” I said.
“So why look under the hood?”
Ugh. Even after all these years, the guy was just as infuriating as he was when he was a boy tormenting me on our bus rides to and from school.
With nothing else to do, I watched him poke around under the hood, seeing the cords in his forearms flex. Why, oh why, did the devil need to wear muscle hugging T-shirts and worn button fly blue jeans?
A second later, he shook his head. “Sutton. Looks like your motor is shot to shit.” He returned his attention to me with those green eyes of his. “You better call Tucker to come tow it, because…” he patted the top of the front wheel well. “This old Ford isn’t going anywhere without one.”
I turned on my heel.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Back inside the hardware store to have them unload the bed of the truck and to call Macinroy.”
He caught up to me and kept pace. “Has anyone ever told you you’re sexy as hell when you’re ticked?”
I slowed. He followed suit. I Stopped. So did he. I turned to gawk at him. Kale met my gaze. “You can’t be serious.”
His lips quirked up at the corners while he stood there oozing confidence and dangerous bad boy charm. “I assure you. I’m always serious when it comes to sexy women.”
I rolled my eyes. “How is that working out for you?”
“This whole slicker’n owl shit thing you have going on,” I said, making an air circle with my hand in front of him. “Do women really fall for your line of crap?”
He laughed. “Crap, huh?”
“Kale, you’re so full of it, I’m surprised your eyes aren’t brown.”
“Hell.” He reached out and swiped a stray lock of hair from my face, his knuckles briefly brushing against my neck. I stiffened at the unexpected contact. “You really do know how to cut a notch in a guy’s ego.”
“I’m sure your ego can handle a notch or two.” I resumed my trek to the front doors of the store. For some reason, he kept pace. “Why are you following me?”
“Darlin’,” he said in a pitying, “You poor clueless little thing” manner which made me grit my teeth. “I was on my way to your ranch, but I saw you jumping and waving around at the front of your truck, and thought I’d pull in here and see if I could lend a hand.”
“Flint called you about the horses?”
“I wasn’t jumping,” I said.
“You were darn sure doing a fine imitation then.” I snorted. He chuckled. “And just so we’re clear,” he said. “I’m not following you. Since I’m ultimately heading in the same direction you are, I thought—”
“You thought you’d irritate me to death and give me cheese-ball lines about being sexy when I’m miffed?”
“Is it just me who puts a hitch in your giddyup, or does—”
“It’s you,” I said, assuredly.
You can find the introductory novella, Welcome to Paradise for 99 cents here:
Barnes & Noble
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