Welcome to another Snippet Saturday. Today’s theme is Author’s Choice. Check out my excerpt from and then blog hop around to read the others!
Going up for auction couldn’t be that bad, could it?
After her oversexed grandma talks her into signing up for the ‘Buy a Dame’ fundraiser, Jessica Davis gets a makeover and goes on the auction block. She never expected the roughly sexy man who’d buy her, or the plans he had in store.
Josh Thomas came to Leaf Island after his grandpa died to do some hard core thinking. He hadn’t planned on buying a woman for the weekend and then falling hard for her. She seems equally enamored, but will she still want him when she finds out the one thing he’s been hiding?
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I pictured the man and how he’d looked at me in the hall. Not like I was the fat girl who got picked last, but like I was prime rib at the local steak house. The little flutters in my tummy started again.
“Ladies,” I turned and inclined my head regally. “I know this must seem awfully frightening to you. But if it raises money for the children, then I will honor the outcome of the auction.”
A few of the girls sighed and actually looked impressed. God they were easy. Anna just folded her arms across her perky tits and frowned.
“Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you. If you come back with Chlamydia you have only yourself to blame.”
Jeez! Now she was flinging STD’s at me? Like I was going to actually sleep with Mr. Tattoo?
All of a sudden, I thought about his rigid biceps under my hands, the way his entire body had looked so hard, so muscular. What would he be like in bed?
Would he be wild and dangerous, just like his image? The thought was unexpected and made the fluttering in my stomach turn hot and move down between my thighs.
“Have fun, ladies.” I shouldered my tote bag and left the room, my heels clicking on the linoleum floor.
Mr. Tattoo waited for me near the Exit sign, watching me as I made my way down the hall. My bravado and excitement slipped a little with each step closer to him. Twenty-four hours. I would be with this man for twenty-four hours.
“Jessica Davis.” A slow smile spread across his face. “So you’re gonna be my bitch for the weekend.”
My feet stumbled. He’d just called me his bitch. How the hell was I supposed to react to that?
“Uh, I guess so. Although you might not wanna call me your bitch if you want to keep me on your good side.” I took the last few steps that separated us. “I don’t remember seeing you around the island. You’re not local are you?”
He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Technically I’m from Seattle.”
Ah, that made more sense. But what was he doing on Leaf Island?
“My grandpa was Randal Thomas. He owned the Fisherman’s Feast.”
My eyes widened and suddenly I wasn’t looking at a grown man, but a sixteen year old boy who’d loved to attack me with squirt guns. Who’d made me shriek while chasing me with the fish he’d just caught. Who’d been my first kiss so many years ago.
He nodded. “Ah, so you do remember me.”
It suddenly seemed hard to swallow. “Yeah, I do.”
Josh Thomas. Now I recognized him. It’d just been a little hard with the tattoos and goatee. Talk about a change! He used to spend his summers on the Island. Man, I hadn’t seen him since the summer I turned sixteen. After he graduated high school and our little kiss was long forgotten. By then he’d moved on to Tina Schillings who’d already slept with half the teenage boys in town.
“I was sorry to hear about your grandpa, Josh.”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and offered a brief smile. “Yeah, me too. He was a good guy. I would have gotten down here earlier, soon after the funeral, but some things came up.”
Somebody passed us in the hall, bumping into me and sending me stumbling up against Josh. Once again, he reached out to steady me.
“Thanks.” I looked up and our gazes locked. I watched his pupils dilate, heard him inhale quickly. My stomach did a little flippy thing again, and I stepped away quickly.
“Are you ready to go?” His voice had turned gruff.
I nodded, and my new bangs fell into my eyes. I pushed them away.
“All right.” He gave a quick nod. “Follow me.”
Welcome to another Snippet Saturday. Today’s theme is Emotion. Check out my excerpt from and then blog hop around to read the others!
One man wants her heart. The other wants her dead…
Holding Out for a Hero, Book 1
Eleanor Owen needs to get out of Chicago and quick. It’s not that she doesn’t want to obey the subpoena to testify against her drug-trafficking ex-boyfriend. It’s making it to the witness stand alive, should a dirty cop make good on his threats.
Tiny, remote Wyattsville, Oregon looks like the perfect place to disappear, but it’s hard to blend into the woodwork when one of the town’s infamous namesakes sends her heart racing. Worse, Mr. Tall, Hot and Packing is the town sheriff, which means she should stay as far away from him as possible.
Tyson Wyatt is positive the sexy new girl in town is hiding something. Question is, what? He vows to feel out her secrets—including what she feels like beneath him. Preferably naked. Until then, he’s not buying the story she’s selling.
Their chemistry is sheet-melting hot, and Ellie realizes much too late that the man with the badge is as dangerous to her heart as her ex is to her life…
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Ellie set the book she was reading down with a sigh and lifted her head to gaze out the window. Beyond the hills and trees, there was the faintest hint of blue. The Pacific Ocean.
Longing twisted inside her and she bit her lip. She was so tempted to say screw it all, leave the house she’d rented and go explore the beach. Or the cute little part of downtown she’d only been to once. Good God, anything to get outside.
It wasn’t that the house was awful or anything, it was wonderfully quaint and cozy. A small, two-bedroom cottage with a great kitchen and nice view. She knew the house inside and out. Had explored every nook and cranny, knew every spot where the floorboards creaked, had discovered that the hot water had a tendency to scald.
It was like she’d lived here for years. When, really, it had only been five days since she’d gotten off the Greyhound bus in the larger neighboring town and then taken an expensive taxi ride into Wyattville.
Five days since she’d emptied her bank account and fled Chicago. She’d paid cash for everything, having hidden her bank and credit cards before leaving. Fortunately, the couple who’d rented her the house had been more than happy to accept cash as her deposit and two months worth of rent.
Hearing the soft bubble of water from the kitchen, Ellie stood and headed for the kitchen to check on her eggs.
Maybe she could go into town today and buy some more groceries, though she really didn’t need any, since she’d bought a ton during her one and only trip to the store.
The whole point of her being here was keeping a low profile, not that there was a chance anyone would figure out who she was. How could they? The trial might have been hot news in Chicago, but she was in a small town in Oregon.
As she peered into the pot of eggs, watching them spin over themselves in the water, her stomach growled. Soft-boiled eggs and toast had always been her favorite. She’d grown up on it. It was good old-fashioned comfort food, and right now she needed the comfort.
Ellie pulled the pot from the burner and was about to reach for a spoon, when the sound of crunching tires hit her ears. She stilled and listened carefully, but there was no mistaking the sound. It was a car, and it seemed to be coming down her little dirt road.
With the pot still in her hand, she rushed to the window.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. Her heart slammed against her ribcage and her mouth went dry. “This isn’t happening.”
But the writing on the side of the approaching white car clearly identified it as a sheriff’s vehicle. How in the hell had they found her?
When a tall man unfurled himself from the car, she stumbled away from the window, her empty stomach churning and her hands shaking so badly that the water sloshed over the side of the pot, scalding her hand.
Ellie thrust the pot back onto the stove as her head moved from side to side in denial. There was no way she was going back to Chicago. She couldn’t testify. She was as good as dead if she got on that witness stand.
Terror stretched its cold hands through every inch of her body, and when a knock came at the front door, she completely lost it and fled out the back.