Posts in category Broken

Snippet Saturday… author’s choice…

Going with BROKEN, one of my older titles…

broken

He opened the door—

And stopped dead in his tracks as somebody all but fell into his arms.  Somebody…a woman.  And not Theresa.

He caught her just above her elbows, automatically steadying her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft and low.

Then she lifted her face and Quinn found himself gazing into the biggest, brownest eyes he’d ever seen in his life.  Feeling a little dazed, he studied her face while she stammered out another apology.

Quinn barely heard it.

He was too busy staring at her mouth.  A very pretty mouth, a cupid’s bow mouth slicked with deep, vibrant red.  Under his hands, he could feel silken smooth skin and unable to resist, he stroked a thumb along her inner arm.

Her skin was soft, soft and warm.  He was also pretty sure she had the creamiest, most flawless skin imaginable.  Her shoulder-length hair was a shade caught between blonde and brown, nondescript, but for some reason, he found himself thinking about tangling his fingers in that hair and holding her head still while he kissed that red-slicked mouth.

Well, hello…he could all but feet his libido kicking up as he stared at that mouth.  Every last one of his senses tuned in on her—

The way she looked…sex and sin.

The way she smelled…sex and sin.

The way she sounded…sex and sin.

The way she felt…the way she might taste.  Sex and sin. He knew it without a doubt.  She’d taste like sex and sin.

His mouth was all but watering.

“Ahhh…excuse me,” she said, tugging against his light hold.

“Uh…yeah.”  He uncurled his fingers and let go, although he hated every second of it.

She immediately backed away, putting a good five feet in between them and eying him nervously.  In that moment, he was acutely aware of the fact that he hadn’t bothered shaving that morning, or the morning before.  He was also acutely aware of the wrinkled state of his gray T-shirt and the worn jeans he wore.  He hadn’t gotten into the habit of wearing the unofficial uniform worn by most of the guys who worked for Gearing, but he’d swapped out the black T-shirt that read Bond Enforcement for a plain one. Wearing those particular shirts outside of work had ended up causing him a headache or two so when he remembered, he changed out of them before leaving the office.

She continued to stare at him, her face expressionless and her eyes measuring.  She might have just continued to stare at him indefinitely if Theresa hadn’t come bustling down the hall.   “Quinn?”

Tearing his eyes away from the unknown woman, he smiled at his landlord.  It no longer seemed so weird to smile at somebody—as in he didn’t worry his face might crack if he wasn’t careful.  Still, the smile on his face did feel odd.  “Hey, Theresa.  I didn’t know you had company.”

She beamed at him.  “This isn’t company.  This is your new neighbor.  She just moved in to the upstairs apartment. Sara…I’d like you to meet Quinn Rafferty.  Quinn, this is Sara Davis.”

Sara.

Neighbor.

Staring into Sara’s dark brown eyes, his heart sank just a little.  Great.

Some people collected books.

Some people collected knickknacks.

Some people collected coins.

Theresa collected lost souls, as evidenced by the fact that he was living in her basement after she’d charmed him into changing her tire outside Dierburg’s a few months earlier.

The last woman to stay in that apartment had ended up being a battered woman hiding out from her ex.  Before that, it had been a girl who’d been all of nineteen, with two kids and a third on the way.   When that one had left, she’d ended up stealing from Theresa and skipping out on the piddling amount of rent that Theresa had coming.

If Sara Davis was living in Theresa’s upstairs apartment, that made her pretty much off limits.  It didn’t matter that his dormant sex drive was all of sudden flaring up on him.

The last thing Quinn needed to be around was another lost soul, not when he still struggled to find his own.
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Other authors to check out…

Myla Jackson
Lauren Dane
Leah Braemel
Caris Roane
Eliza Gayle
Jody Wallace
McKenna Jeffries
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon
Lissa Matthews
Felicity Heaton
Mari Carr

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Randomness….on Tumblr and on Broken

I dunno what exactly Tumblr is supposed to do.  I did see that I could import my blog feed and twitter.  That’s pretty easy.

And I see that I can update things from Uberr-which updates twitter, tumblr and facebook, COOL!  Anyway.  I did it.  I’m on Tumblr.  Sorta.

Now about BROKEN.  I got home from the hospital Saturday and my phone was ringing. I ignored it.  I just didn’t feel good enough to talk.  But I should have answered.  It was a call to let me BROKEN had finaled in the romantic suspense category of the GDRWA‘s Bookseller’s Best contest.

And then tonight…er, well, early this AM, actually, I got an email…apparently BROKEN is also a romantic suspense finalist in the Golden Quill Contest with Desert Rose RWA.  Um, yay!!!!

 

 

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Qs for Broken

Have you read Broken?

If so, can you help me out?  (FYI, if you haven’t, you might not want to read the questions-they’ll probably involve some spoiler stuff).

A friend of mine heads up a book club and she wants to put together a page on book club discussion questions for books in the genre and she asked me for 10-12 questions on a book of mine-we decided on Broken.  But I’m clueless about what to ask… can you help me?  Here’s a link to her site if that will help give you ideas.  Toss out your suggestions… help me save my brain… O.o

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Wow… how cool… about Broken

I saw this today.  How very, very cool…

Best Literary Fiction Book
Wolf Hall, by Hilary Mantel

Best Eclectic Book
Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins

Best Non-Fiction Book
Louisa May Alcott: The Woman Behind Little Women, by Harriet Reisen

Best Cultural Book
Girl in Translation, by Jean Kwok

Best Kidlit Book
Is Your Buffalo Ready for Kindergarten?, by Audrey Vernick, Illustrated by Daniel Jennewein

Best Speculative Fiction Book
Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins

Best Spiritual/Religious/Inspirational Book
Her Mother’s Hope, by Francine Rivers

Best Young Adult Book
Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins

Best Audiobook
Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins

Best Thriller/Mystery/Suspense/Crime Book
So Cold the River, by Michael Koryta

Best GLBT Book
Will Grayson, Will Grayson, by John Green and David Levithan

Best Historical Fiction Book
Cleopatra’s Daughter, by Michelle Moran

Best Romance Book
Broken, by Shiloh Walker

It’s over at the Book Blogger Appreciation Week site and they’ve got a lot of really awesome things going on in book blogger land this week.  I don’t know who nominated Broken, but thanks so much.

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BROKEN…now available

Broken 3.02.2010

With his belly rumbling a reminder at him, he sauntered down the walkway and followed it around the house. His nostrils flared and he caught the scent of something absolutely divine—spaghetti. The lady was making spaghetti and when she made spaghetti, she also had homemade garlic bread.

Suddenly, Quinn was damn glad he hadn’t hung around after he’d turned over Blanford. If he’d been given another job, he would have missed out on what was rapidly becoming his favorite meal, with a woman who was rapidly becoming one of his favorite people—and that was no small feat. Quinn could count the people he really liked on one hand. Until Theresa had smilingly bowled him over, he would have had a finger left over after he counted up his friends.

He opened the door—

And stopped dead in his tracks as somebody all but fell into his arms. Somebody . . . a woman. And not Theresa.

He caught her just above her elbows, automatically steadying her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft and low.

Then she lifted her face and Quinn found himself gazing into the biggest, brownest eyes he’d ever seen in his life. Feeling a little dazed, he studied her face while she stammered out another apology.

Quinn barely heard it.

He was too busy staring at her mouth. A very pretty mouth, a cupid’s bow slicked with deep, vibrant red. Under his hands, he could feel silken smooth skin and unable to resist, he stroked a thumb along her inner arm.

Her skin was soft, soft and warm—the creamiest, most flawless skin imaginable. Her shoulder-length hair was a shade caught between blonde and brown, nondescript, but for some reason, he found himself thinking about tangling his fingers in that hair and holding her head still while he kissed that red-slicked mouth.

Well, hello . . . he could all but feel his libido kicking up as he stared at that mouth. Every last one of his senses tuned in on her—

The way she looked . . . sex and sin.

The way she smelled . . . sex and sin.

The way she sounded . . . sex and sin.

The way she felt . . . the way she might taste. He knew it without a doubt. She’d taste like sex and sin.

His mouth was all but watering.

“Ahhh . . . excuse me,” she said, tugging against his light hold.

“Uh . . . yeah.” He uncurled his fingers and let go, although he hated every second of it.

She immediately backed away, putting a good five feet between them and eying him nervously. In that moment, he was acutely aware of the fact that he hadn’t bothered shaving that morning, or the morning before. He was also acutely aware of the wrinkled state of his gray T-shirt and the jeans he wore. He’d finally gotten into the habit of wearing the unofficial uniform—a black shirt with Bond Enforcement printed on the front and back, and either jeans or black fatigues—worn by most of the guys who worked for Gearing.   He wore the Bond shirts for work, but usually changed before leaving. Wearing those particular shirts outside of work had ended up causing him a headache or two.

She continued to stare at him, her face expressionless and her eyes measuring. She might have just continued to stare at him indefinitely if Theresa hadn’t come bustling down the hall. “Quinn?”

Tearing his eyes away from the unknown woman, he smiled at his landlord. It no longer seemed so weird to smile at somebody—as in he didn’t worry his face might crack if he wasn’t careful. Still, the smile on his face did feel odd. “Hey, Theresa. I didn’t know you had company.”

She beamed at him. “This isn’t company. This is your new neighbor. She just moved in to the upstairs apartment. Sara . . . I’d like you to meet Quinn Rafferty. Quinn, this is Sara Davis.”

Sara.

Neighbor.

Staring into Sara’s dark brown eyes, his heart sank just a little. Great.

Some people collected books.

Collected knickknacks, or coins.

Theresa collected lost souls, as evidenced by the fact that he was living in her basement after she’d charmed him into changing her tire outside Dierburg’s a few months earlier.

The last person to stay in that apartment had been a battered woman hiding out from her ex. Before that, it had been a girl who’d been all of nineteen, with two kids and a third on the way. When that one left, she’d stolen from Theresa and skipped out on the piddling amount of rent.

If Sara Davis was living in Theresa’s upstairs apartment that made her pretty much off limits. It didn’t matter that his dormant sex drive was all of sudden flaring up on him.

The last thing Quinn needed to be around was another lost soul, not when he still struggled to find his own.

Have you entered to win the Nook?

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Broken…. Final Snippet!

Broken 3.02.2010

“Go to hell,” she snarled.

“I told you I’d find you,” he said again.

“I told you . . .”

“I told you . . .”

“I told you . . .”

Sara came awake with a start—she was alone in the bed.

Some dreams she forgot before she ever woke.

Some dreams lingered with her for days. She wasn’t entirely sure which one this was. A jumbled mess of images bounced around in her mind and she slowly forced her body upright. Various aches and pains made themselves known and she grimaced. The muscles in her legs screamed at her and between her thighs, she was swollen and sore.

It was dim in the room, only the faintest light seeping in from under the curtains. There was one wall sconce on, the light so faint it served no purpose other than illuminating the way should somebody need to make a trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night. She squinted at the clock on the bedside table and blanched as she realized it was past ten.

Shit. She should already be on a train, heading to New Mexico by now.

Pushing her hair back from her face, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. That was when she saw Quinn.

He was standing at the door, his back resting against it.

She swallowed the yelp that tried to come free and made herself smile. “Hey.”

He didn’t respond.

It was quiet in the room, one of those awful, weighted silences. She hated it. Frowning, she reached out and grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around herself. “The silent treatment is starting to piss me off, Quinn.”

He shrugged. “I asked you some questions earlier and you wouldn’t answer them.”

“I can’t.” Or at least, she wasn’t supposed to . . . but she could, and she wanted to, and if he’d just stop acting so fucking weird . . .

“Maybe if I give you an idea on where to you start, it might be easier for you to answer those questions.”

His voice sounded almost normal. Her heart skipped a beat. Seeking out his face in the dim room, she strained to pick up some kind of clue. Some kind of warmth. Tell him—

It was time. That was for damn sure.

She licked her lips and tried to figure out where in the hell to start.

He reached out and hit the light switch. She flinched at the sudden brightness, turning her head away. That was when she saw it. A piece of paper sitting on the little bedside table. It had several creases on it, like it had been folded up for a while.

Dread flooded her. Blood roared in her ears as she stared at the paper. It looked so innocuous—something she could tear to shreds, something she could set a match to and it would be gone in seconds.

A piece of paper and just the sight of it made her gut clench. She recognized the picture immediately. One very similar to it had been carried in her wallet for ages. It had been two years since she’d seen that image the last time.

She skimmed the brief paragraphs on the page, the blood in her veins turning to ice. Her heart went crashing down to her feet and suddenly, Quinn’s bizarre behavior didn’t seem so bizarre.

Sure hoped you remembered to pay Theresa her rent before you split.

We shouldn’t do this.

You shouldn’t do this.

You can’t be mine.

There was a laugh bubbling up in her throat, hysterical laughter, the kind that too easily turned to tears. Closing her eyes, she thought silently, You fucking moron.

But she didn’t know if it was directed at him . . . or at her.

Have you entered to win the Nook?

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