Cutest Couple - Second Excerpt

“Marc?” Bree stepped closer, the scent of her shampoo wrapping around him. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing. Everything. With a muffled growl, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into him. She gasped, her mouth opening, and he swept his tongue inside. Even ten years later, he still recognized the softness of her lips, the little groan that escaped her before she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back.

This was no innocent peck between old friends. This was heat and desire and passion, tongues stroking, teeth nipping, breath panting. They were two strong-willed people, fighting for dominance. He slid one hand down her back to cup her ass, tugging her hips forward until their bodies met from shoulder to knee.

In response, she slipped one foot between his, arching into him. She gripped the back of his head, her nails scoring sharp little stings in his scalp. Her teeth nipped at his mouth.

It was anger and lust, white-hot and clear as glass.

It was every emotion he’d felt since last night rolled into one.

Turning her, he backed her blindly into the locker bank. Urging her leg up, he wrapped it around his waist, rocking into her in a steady rhythm that built and built. Her head dropped back, banging against the metal locker with a hollow thunk.

He ripped his mouth away from hers, sliding his lips down her cheek to her jawline, feathering over the
column of her neck, until he reached the sensitive spot where her pulse raced right under the skin. He mouthed over it, grimly satisfied at her gasping cry. Then he latched on and sucked.

Bree whimpered brokenly, tilting her head back to the side to give him better access, until he pulled away.
Already he could see the redness rising on her pale skin.

She was marked, where anyone could see.

It shouldn’t please him as much as it did.

(c) Kate Davies, 2013, Carina Press

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Cutest Couple - First Excerpt!

Less than two weeks to the release of Cutest Couple, book two in the Girls Most Likely To trilogy. So how about an excerpt to start the day off right?

***


What the hell was she doing?

She’d had the opportunity. When he’d first walked over to the bar, turning his back on the door, she’d had the perfect chance to run. He’d never have noticed her slipping out.

And now it was too late.

Because there he was, standing in front of her, just inside her comfort zone. She couldn’t break eye contact to save her life. She felt like prey, watched by a predator that was no less frightening for being so familiar.

He’d never hurt her. Never physically. But she remembered how emotionally wrecked she’d been by the aftermath of their breakup, and had no intention of opening herself up to that pain again.

“Hello, Bree.”

“Marc.” Her heart was beating too fast, her breathing rapid and shallow. If she wasn’t careful she was going
to start hyperventilating.

“You look good.”

She wasn’t sure how he could tell, considering his gaze had never left eye level. “Thanks. So do you.”

Actually, “good” was an understatement. His blond hair, now cut military-short, accentuated his bone structure in a way the soft curls of high school hadn’t managed. His eyes were more noticeable, the piercing blue framed by those thick dark lashes she’d always envied.

He’d filled out, too, his lanky teenage frame now tautly muscled and toned.

Bree gritted her teeth. All the memories, all the emotions were clamoring for attention, and she was a little
weak.

She looked around. No one was riding to her rescue. Instead, they were surrounded by people avidly notwatching their meeting. Probably hoping for fireworks or a blowout on a reality-TV scale. Where the hell was Tess when she needed her?

Bree took a step back. “I didn’t expect you to be here tonight. You didn’t RSVP.”

“Nope,” he said with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it or not.”

“What changed your mind?”

Marc leaned forward. “You.”

(c) 2013, Davies, Carina Press

Preorder from Amazon     Barnes and Noble    Carina

Countdown to Most Likely To Succeed!

Five days to go!

How about a new, never-before seen excerpt:

Kelsey put the phone on speaker and set it on her dresser. “I don’t think I can make it tonight,” she lied.

“Bullshit,” Tess said, her voice echoing over the phone line. “You just don’t want to run into Nathan again.”
   
Kelsey stood in front of the mirror and held up a red sweater.
    
No. She tossed it on the bed. “I’m just really busy.” Which was not only a lie, but a lame one at that.
And why was she trying on clothes for an event she’d just said she couldn’t attend?

Clearly, she had issues with internal consistency.

“Busy doing what?” Tess snorted. “Come on, cut the crap and get down here before I drag you kicking and screaming."

“I can’t.” She shoved the pile of clothing out of the way and sat down on the bed. “I made a complete fool out of myself today. And I haven’t thanked you yet for making it possible, have I?”
   
“How was I supposed to know he’d show up at the door in nothing but a towel? Which, by the way, you should be thanking me for, minus the sarcasm, thank you very much.”

Kelsey grabbed the phone from the dresser and took it off speaker. “Okay, yes, the visual was—impressive. But he started asking me questions and I...” She swallowed. “I panicked.”
   
Tess’s voice softened. “You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of, Kelsey. I wish you could get past that and just enjoy the reunion.”
   
Kelsey picked at a loose thread on the blue-and-green sweater next to her. “I know.”
   
“So put on something sexy, come have a few drinks and enjoy yourself. Better yet, get a few drinks into Nathan and enjoy him.”
   
“Tess!”
   
“What? It’s not like there’s a wide pool of candidates for a fling here in Silverton. Face it. You’ve had the hots for him for years. Why not take advantage of the short time he’s in town to act on it?”
   
Preorder Most Likely to Succeed here!

Countdown to TACOM - The Final Excerpt!

Curious to know a little bit more about Tom Cameron, the hero of Take A Chance on Me? For the final excerpt before release day, I thought I'd share a snippet that focuses on him. Enjoy!

*****
The main parking lot was largely empty by the time Tom left his customary post at the entrance to the school. Most students were on their way home or busy in after-school activities. Still, just to be sure, Tom made it a habit to walk the halls of the school every day after school. You never knew what might be going on in the dark recesses of the old building.

He started in the basement, peering around corners and testing doors. Everything was locked up tight as a drum. Evidently, the art teacher had finally taken his advice and started locking her classroom.

He’d collared some not-so-bright students there after school one day, apparently under the impression that the smell of art supplies would mask the odor of their marijuana. They hadn’t counted on the smoke drifting under the closed door and out into the hall.

Everything checked out downstairs, so he headed back up. His pace slowed a bit as he reached the Language Arts wing. She’d probably gone home already. And even if she was still there, he wasn’t about to disturb her again today. No, he’d just check the door and keep walking.

Still, he felt the briefest letdown when he reached her classroom and saw that it was already locked and dark. Against his will, his mind dredged up an image of Jessica from this morning, the professional cut of her dark blue jersey dress doing little to hide her curves.

Even weighed down with paperwork, she had a look that put his libido on simmer.
He shook his head and turned around, heading for the next hallway. She was a fellow staff member, and therefore off-limits. Tom didn’t date co-workers. Not even co-workers as attractive as Jessica Martin.

To be honest, he didn’t date anyone, co-worker or not. Oh, his sister occasionally took her life into her hands and accidentally invited a female to dinner on the same night he came over, but nothing ever came of it. He wouldn’t let it. None of them were worth lowering his guard for.

He hadn’t consciously decided to live a solitary lifestyle, but that’s what had happened. It wasn’t a bad life, he supposed. He had a nice apartment in a quiet part of town. He could eat cold canned spaghetti over the sink and not worry about getting hell for it. He never had to share the remote control. He could sprawl across the bed without someone complaining how he was on her side.

Of course, there was also the silence. The half-empty closets. The embarrassing moments when he turned to comment on an article in the morning paper and no one was there. The times he woke in a cold sweat in the middle of the night and reached blindly across the king-size bed, only to find empty space.

The nightmares were diminishing in number with time, thank God, but not in intensity. He could still smell the sharp tang of gunpowder, feel the sticky warmth of someone else’s spilled blood. Like Lady Macbeth, he sometimes wondered if his hands would ever be clean.

Four years ago, that nightmare had been real. But even then, back when his king-sized bed had held two, there was no one he could have turned to for comfort.

No, the only person he could truly depend on was himself. And sometimes, in the middle of the night, he wasn’t even sure about that.

*****

Just one more day, y'all! :)

Countdown to TACOM - Excerpt the Second!

Here's another peek at Take A Chance On Me, out Tuesday from Samhain:

*****
“This is totally amazing!”

Tom smiled as he watched Jessica lean against the thick green railing, a chill wind rushing through her tousled red-brown hair. She spread her arms wide, bracing herself against the railing of the small deck overlooking the front of the ferry.

Below, white-capped waves crashed against the edge of the car deck, leaving puddles on the walkways and riming the safety ropes with salt.

She turned around, laughing with delight. “You were absolutely right. This is exactly what I needed.”

He flashed a cocky smile. “Told you so.”

“I think it’s what we both needed,” she said. “It’s wonderful to set the stress and pressure aside for a few hours.”

“Glad you enjoyed it.” Tom squinted into the distance. “We’re about fifteen minutes from docking.”

Jessica sighed. “Then back to reality. Thanks again, Tom.”

“You still have a couple of minutes. Sure you don’t want to do the whole Titanic thing? I promise I won’t let you fall off the front of the boat.”

Jessica rolled her eyes at him. “I’m feeling better, but I’m not exactly king-of-the-world material. And I don’t think there are any icebergs in Puget Sound.”

Tom nodded. “It’s cold, but it’s not that cold.” He reached out and pulled her coat collar closer together, tucking the fringes of her scarf around her neck to block out the wind.

She stilled, her eyes darkening as she stared at him. Tom’s grip tightened on her coat, his fingers clutching the fabric. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his head to hers.

Their previous kisses had been spontaneous combustion. This one was a steamy, languid dip in the Olympic Hot Springs. He tasted her lips slowly, placing soft nibbling kisses from corner to corner. Angling his head, he pressed his mouth against hers and swept his tongue across her lower lip.

Her mouth opened on a sigh and he moved forward, noting with pleasure the exact point where the chill of the outdoor air gave way to the heat of Jessica’s mouth. His ears tingled and his cheeks were close to numb from the winter wind howling across the small ferry deck. But inside, he would swear he was running one hell of a fever.

She was close, so close, but with all the layers of clothing between them she might as well have been against the opposite rail. Tom groaned, gripping her lapel as he continued the kiss, his overactive imagination helpfully supplying a reminder of the sweet curves buried under all that winter wool. Thank God he was bundled up just as tightly, or she would be getting a very clear picture of how much he was enjoying this repeat performance.

Suddenly, the ferry gave a pitching roll, shuddering as it lifted above the waves and heaved down again. They stumbled apart, both clinging tightly to the other’s coat and breathing heavily.

Through sheer force of will, Tom unclenched his fingers and released Jessica’s now-wrinkled charcoal gray winter coat. He ran a hand through his wind-tossed hair, sucking in a deep breath. The air was thick with exhaust from the ferry engines, combined with the tang of salt spray and impending rain. And overlaying it all was the crisp citrus scent of Jessica.

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chest. He watched as a shuddering sigh traveled the length of her spine. Even through his winter layers he could feel the heat of her breath as it puffed against his solar plexus. A shiver wrapped around his midsection.

She mumbled something into his coat, but the combination of rushing wind and rumbling ferry engines drowned out any chance of hearing it. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leading her back toward the relative warmth and bright lights of the main cabin.

But before they could go inside, she grabbed the lapel of his coat and dragged him past the doorway into the darkened alcove under the stairs to the upper deck.

“What are you—?” His statement was cut off when she wrapped one hand around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.

She began talking between kisses, her words almost lost in the feverish embrace. “I. Don’t. Want. To. Stop.”

Countdown to TACOM - Excerpt the First!

Did you know that Take A Chance On Me comes out in just four days?

I'm a little excited about it.

*bouncebouncebounce*

So this weekend, I'll be posting excerpts and teasers, giving you a little taste of the book before its release date on Tuesday. Here's the first excerpt - enjoy!

*****

Tom picked up the pace as he rounded the corner, anxious to put some space between himself and Jessica’s classroom. Finally safe in his office, he closed the door and dropped into his chair. He held his hand out in front of him, flexing it slowly.

All she’d done was place her hand on his. A brief physical contact. Nothing more.

So why was his hand still—tingly, for want of a better word? And he didn’t even want to think about the tingles still echoing in other more personal parts of his body.

He cursed under his breath and crossed his arms. He was sounding like some giddy teenager. And heaven knew his hormones were acting like they were back in high school.

The problem was, the two of them seemed to keep on touching each other—at the pizza place, in the theater, just now in her classroom—and he had this same reaction every single time. There was no reason such casual contacts should have such an effect on him.

And the non-casual contact…

Shit. That kiss yesterday still wouldn’t leave him alone. Just now, in her classroom, it was all he could do not to grab her and try for a repeat.

He brushed a hand through his hair, leaving it rumpled and tangled. Jessica Martin disturbed his orderly life, bumping up against his wall of professionalism and knocking it down bit by bit. Until she’d arrived on the scene he’d had no trouble keeping his distance from co-workers.

Now, without even realizing it, he was searching her out, looking for an excuse to interact with her. If he’d been smart, he would have stuffed the paperwork in her mailbox and avoided this situation today altogether. But no, he had to bring it to her door—and then he ended up encouraging her in this insane plan to direct a Shakespeare play.

The woman was a bit bent. And so was he for letting her get to him like this.

He’d been on his own for years now, and up until a few days ago he hadn’t questioned that status. He’d learned the hard way that the only person he could trust was himself. It was safer to keep people at arm’s length.

Unfortunately, it was getting harder and harder to keep Jessica Martin there.

Excerpt Thursday - FOOD!

She had chocolate on her upper lip.

It took every ounce of willpower Alex had not to reach across the little table and remove it for her. To take the tip of one finger and smooth it away—oh, God, to lick it off…

Alex shifted in his chair, thankful that Brynn was oblivious to the effect she had on him. She chattered away, cupping the stoneware mug in both hands, closing her eyes in delight as she sipped the hot drink.

He shouldn’t even be there. He should be in his office, reading over applications for the Laurivenia Trust. The annual ball was coming up in just a few weeks and he still hadn’t decided which projects were the most deserving of funding.

But he’d heard Brynn out in the hall, stomping and muttering, and he was up from his desk before he even realized what he was doing.

Alex picked up his own mug and took a sip. It was smooth and rich, the perfect comfort drink. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had hot chocolate. He was more likely to be served fancy espresso drinks. But as soon as they reached the empty kitchen, Brynn had insisted on preparing enough for both of them. She had puttered around the kitchen, plucking ingredients from the huge walk-in pantry, even sending Alex to fetch a container of cream from the industrial-sized refrigerator.

She was at ease in the kitchen, keeping up a running monologue while she whipped and stirred and blended. Her earlier embarrassment seemed to have faded, and Alex was glad. He enjoyed listening to her talk. They could have been any couple, hanging out in the kitchen after a night out.

Except he was the crown prince of Laurivenia and she was his daughter’s nanny.

He could stand it no longer.

“Chocolate.” He pointed to her upper lip. Her tongue darted out, pink and inviting, to lick the creamy spot away. Alex ground his teeth together and fixed his gaze over her shoulder.

“All gone?” She laughed self-consciously. “Way to make a good impression, right?”

“You have no need to worry about the impression you make.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I think.”

Against his better judgment, he looked back at her. A tiny smile played across her lips. Her face, clean of makeup, was fresh and bright despite the late hour. An air of innocence and enthusiasm wrapped around her like a cloak.

But that was the question—was it real, a part of her, or something she only donned for special occasions?

He no longer trusted his instincts in such matters.

Alex sighed, pushing his half-empty mug away. This wasn’t something he wanted to deal with tonight.

“I’m sorry.” Brynn jumped up to clear their mugs away. “I’m sure you have far more important things to do than sit here keeping me company. You can go ahead and leave. I’ll find my own way back.” She grabbed a cloth from the sink and began swabbing the table, her nervous energy keeping her in perpetual motion.

Alex stood, too, and covered her hand with his own. Her hand stilled, as did the rest of her body. “Leave it.” He pulled the cloth from her unresisting fingers and tossed it into the huge stainless steel sink. Then he tugged her around the table until they were standing face to face.

Brynn sucked in a quick breath, too shocked to act blasé about the whole thing. A more sophisticated person would just roll with it, she was sure, but Brynn knew she was about as far from sophisticated as it was possible to be.

No, she was more suited for the wide-eyed, slack-jawed idiot role.

He looked down at her, his gaze calm and steady. Brynn felt pinned in place, like a deer in headlights. Nothing short of an earthquake could have moved her from that spot.

“It is late. Allow me to escort you to your rooms.”

Brynn nodded, her eyes wide and unblinking. He squeezed her hand once, then let go. Before she had time to miss his touch, his hand came to rest in the small of her back, and he steered her toward the door.

A tiny part of her realized that she should be taking the opportunity to pay attention to the path back to her suite, but the other ninety-nine percent of her conscious mind was focused on the feel of his hand on her back. Heat seemed to radiate from him, warming her skin and sending a tingling sensation throughout her body. She found herself wishing that they could take the scenic route back to her rooms. Say, through Belgium.

But all too soon she found herself in front of her door, and Alex had dropped his hand, leaving her oddly unsettled. She shook the sensation away.

“Allow me.” He opened the door with practiced ease. It swung inward, revealing the dim light of the fire that had burned low in the grate while she was out on her cocoa run.

“Thank you.” She glanced up at him. “For everything.”

He nodded, his face impassive. Then, with an abruptness that startled her, he leaned over and kissed the edge of her mouth where he’d pointed out the chocolate before. Feather-light, his lips barely touched hers, but an instant, aching tug of desire curled through her. He pulled back, eyes fixed on her mouth. Was his breathing as unsteady as hers?

“You missed a spot,” he said, a rough edge to his voice, before turning and striding away.

She stared after him in stunned disbelief long after he had disappeared down the hall.

(c) 2008 Samhain Publishing

NOW AVAILABLE

NNN Excerpt Thursday - Meet the Heroine

A staccato rap on the door put him on alert. He wasn’t expecting a contact until the bust went down. The last thing he needed was to blow his cover too soon.

"Come in." He sat back in the folding chair. The door opened, and she walked in.

It was the customer. Or rather, The Customer. The one he’d noticed right off, even over the wince-inducing shock of seeing his colleagues in the audience. Of all the places he might expect to see a woman like this, a sleazy strip club was pretty much last on his list.

The first thing he’d noticed about her was her hair. Flame red, with a hint of curl, it swooped around her shoulders like that cartoon babe from Roger Rabbit, all sexy and sort of retro. A half-smile curved full red lips. And her body—have mercy.

What the hell was she doing at Strippendale’s?

"Can I help you?" He prayed the rickety chair wouldn’t collapse and dump him on his ass.

"Yeah," she said, and licked her bottom lip. Shit, who needed a collapsing chair? That little nervous gesture almost dropped him to the floor. "I, uh, really liked your…" She waved her hand around. "Uh, your show."

Hell. If the guys down at the station knew he was getting groupies, he’d never live it down. Then again, a groupie who looked like a long tall shot of sex might not be such a bad thing, either.

"Thanks," he drawled.

"I’m Caroline," She held out her hand.

He shook it, trying not to react to the softness of her skin contrasting with the firmness of her grip. "Tony," he replied, motioning her to sit.

Too late, he remembered that he had the only chair, but before he could offer it to her, she had perched on the counter in front of the mirror. Her skirt hiked up, giving him a splendid view of her long, slim legs.

Why, why, why did he have to meet her here?

And why tonight, fifteen minutes before the operation was shut down for good?

"And I, uh, was wondering…" This time, she bit that poor abused lower lip. He wanted to take it home and lavish it with loving care. Oh, the things he could do with that lip…

Okay, man, focus. "Wondering what?"

She fiddled with her purse, then took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you were available."

Hallelujah!

"You know, outside the club." She looked him straight in the eye for the first time tonight. "How much do you charge?"

Damn.

Just like that, his private fantasy turned into another nail in Strippendale’s coffin.

"I really liked you," she continued. "So I was wondering, do I have to clear this with someone, or do you work privately?"

This had to be the first time she’d done this. Otherwise, she’d know that management handled all the gigolo action.

Just her bad luck she decided to take a walk on the sleazy side tonight.

He sighed inwardly, wishing he had met her somewhere else, under very different circumstances. He didn’t understand why the hell someone who looked like her felt the need to pay for sex.

"What are you willing to pay?" If she took the bait, he’d have no choice but to haul her in with the rest.

"I don’t know." She colored a little, an interesting contrast with her gorgeous hair. "I’ve never done this before. Is two hundred enough?"

"Sounds about right." He stood up. Even in her high-heeled shoes, she only came up to his shoulder. Brushing past her, he pushed the door all the way open. "What do you say we head back into the club and finish our negotiations there?"

She smiled at him, and it was like a fist to the gut. Why did she have to be so sexy, so enticing, so—sweet? Her smile had none of the hard-edged cynicism he had grown used to over ten years of working vice.

But if he’d learned anything during those years, it was never to trust appearances.

He held the door for her, taking the opportunity to check out her assets as she walked past him into the hallway. Then he escorted her out of the backstage area—and straight into hell.

NNN Thursday Excerpt: Meet the Hero

Meet Detective Tony DiMarco, hero of Strip Tease:

Well, tonight had been a massive waste of time. She bent over and reached for her purse, which had migrated under the table during the evening. Her fingers brushed the straps, but it was beyond her reach. Cursing under her breath, she twisted underneath the tabletop and stretched a little further.

Suddenly, music blasted from the ancient sound system, startling Caroline and making her jump, smacking her head against the underside of the table.

Tossing out a few more curse words for variety, she wriggled out from under the table, rubbing her head.

Then she stopped, riveted on the stage in front of her. She was tempted to pinch herself, just to make sure she wasn’t fantasizing the man who’d appeared onstage.

And oh, what a fantasy he was! The faux police uniform looked spray-painted on, showcasing a drool-worthy body. His arms flexed and bunched as he released each button on his tight shirt one by one. It fell open to reveal a wide, muscled chest, with the perfect amount of hair—not too fuzzy, not nonexistent—and sleek, lightly tanned skin that begged to be touched.

He stripped off the shirt, tossing it away as he began to work on the fly of his pants. Caroline swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, as she noticed that the rest of him seemed as large as what had already been revealed.

The music throbbed in the air around her, the theme from a popular police show adding a strong drumbeat as he stripped down to a well-filled-out, and extremely small, brief.

Caroline was gripped by a sudden urge to scream for him to take it all off, even though she knew this was as far as he was going to go. The other strippers had all stopped at their skivvies, which hadn’t bothered her a bit.

Not until now.

Now, she would buy a round of screaming orgasms for the whole room if she got to see Officer Friendly do the full monty.

The music ground to a halt and the lights dimmed, announcing the end of the act. She sat back, disappointed, as he flashed a grin but nothing else while he made his way offstage.

She glanced around, not surprised to find the few other women in the club just as enthralled as she was in the latest act. The partiers had even abandoned their investigation of the X-rated gifts piling the table and were chanting for his return.

Until that moment, Caroline would have given Strippendale’s another three months in business, if that. There was probably a very good reason the club had no competitors, because really, how much of a market was there for a women-only strip club? The audience tonight had been pathetically small. But with a man like that showing off his assets, the club might stand a fighting chance.

Another song started playing, and Caroline shook off her musings. This guy, whoever he was, would be perfect for Mollie’s bachelorette party. And she’d better get backstage and find out if he was available before she lost her chance—and her nerve.

NNN Excerpt Thursday - Fight/Argument

Here's the full scene for this week's theme - check out all the teasers on our blog!

LESSONS IN LOVE

“Your…Highness?”

Alex sat up as the door to his private office flew open. Brynn Dexter stood in the doorway, one eyebrow arched in silent question. She was trying to look composed, but he could see the tremble in her stiff posture from across the room.

Behind her, Mrs. Agincourt answered her question. “Philippe Alexandre du Charbonneaux, Prince of Laurivenia, mademoiselle,” she said with a puzzled frown.

Belatedly, he realized that he had not informed his secretary of the deception. He was—what was the American phrase? Oh, yes. Busted.

Equal parts anger and embarrassment vied for domination of Brynn’s expressive features. “Prince, is it? Well, I suppose that’s close to principal.” Indignation laced her voice. “I apologize for not recognizing you, Your Highness.”

For a moment Alex wished that she could go back to calling him by his given name.
But that was impossible. If she was going to work for him, royal protocol must be
followed.

And in a flash of realization, Alex recognized that he did want Brynn to take the
position. Despite her youth and good looks, despite his wholly inappropriate attraction
towards her, she was the right choice for Carissa. Her experience, her personality, her
enthusiasm made her a perfect match. It would be selfish to decide against her based on
his past experiences. Those mistakes would not happen again.

Now, he just needed to convince her to stay.

She had come a few steps into the office and was standing by the chair opposite his
desk, arms crossed over her chest. “Perhaps you would care to explain why you
pretended to be the principal of the Laurivenia Academy. Was it a test? I guess I failed
Tabloid Reading 101, since I didn’t recognize you.”

“It was not a test.” He slapped a hand on his desk. “And I did not pretend to be the
principal. You made that assumption.”

“I see. So it was my fault. Is that your idea of fun? Making the stupid American look
like an idiot?”

He drew himself up. “I won’t dignify that with a response.”

“Whatever.” She fisted her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “I’d just like to know
why I’m in the office of the Prince of Laurivenia and not the Laurivenia Academy.”

The time for deception was over. He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Because there is no Laurivenia Academy.”

“What?”

He waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. “The academy was merely a—front, I believe it is called, for the actual position.”

Alex recognized the look on Brynn’s face. Behind the coolly polite expression, she was definitely counting to ten.

“Are you telling me I was hired to teach a fictitious class in a fictitious school?”

"I suppose you could say that.”

She shoved her fingers through her hair, pulling it back tightly from her forehead. “Oh, my God. My mother was right.”

“About what?” he asked before he could help himself.

She ignored him, pacing back and forth in front of his desk. “I quit my job. I flew
halfway around the world. I got in a limousine with a strange man. Men, if you count the
driver. And my dream job doesn’t exist?”

He focused on the last part of her tirade. “Not in that specific form, no.”

“And what, may I ask, is the actual position?”

“Private tutor for my daughter, Carissa.”

NNN Excerpt Thursday - First Scene

Today's excerpt is from Challenging Carter, the final novella in my Strip series. Hope you enjoy!

"You have got to be kidding me."

Carter looked up and smiled. "And good morning to you too, sunshine."

Dani narrowed her gaze at him, jaw set. "Don’t try to sweet-talk me, you spendthrift."

Ah, so that was the issue du jour. Carter leaned back in his ergonomic chair, fingers laced behind his head. He kicked one foot onto the desktop. "Spendthrift. I can never remember—does that mean stingy?"

"You know damn well what it means." She slapped a computer printout on the desk next to his foot. "Reckless with money. Extravagant. Wasteful."

"Hey, now." Carter shifted his sports-sandal-clad foot slightly to the left. "Watch the prototype."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion for just a minute before she glanced down at the sandal and rolled her eyes. "New product?"

He nodded, lifting his foot off the desk. He tilted it to the right and back again. "For the spring line. This new closure we’ve developed is going to knock Velcro on its ass."

"If you say so." She looked dubious, which was pretty much her daily facial expression. Then she scowled again. "And don’t try to distract me."

"Ah, but it’s such a lovely sandal," he crooned, waving his foot back and forth, back and forth, in a soothing motion. "You’re getting veeeerrry sleepy…when you wake from this trance, you will no longer be concerned with the bottom line…"

Dani pinched her lips together. Carter could tell she was trying hard not to laugh.

"So tell me, oh Mistress of the Spreadsheet." He removed his foot from the desk and rolled his chair in close enough to prop his elbows on the desktop. "What evil use of money is so offending your delicate sensibilities this fine morning?"

She leaned in and pointed at the paper in front of him. "A trip to Hawaii?"

Ah. The e-mail. Carter shrugged one shoulder. "Some of the best surfing around," he explained. "It should be a good incentive, don’t you think?"

"Incentive? A weeklong, all expenses paid, luxury resort trip to Hawaii?" Her voice rose before she caught herself and lowered it again with a glance to the office door. "Do you know how much that’ll cost?"

He patted her hand and stood. "Yes, I do. I checked rates online before setting it up."

"So it’s a done deal." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Really, Carter, you should run these things by me first."

"Always better to ask forgiveness rather than permission." He rounded the desk to stand in front of her. Then he tilted his head down and batted his eyelashes at her. "Forgive me?"

With a groan, she dropped her head. "Why do I keep this job?"

"Because I’m so darn cute." He lifted her chin and tapped it with a mock-punch. "And I let you abuse me financially."

"It’s called a budget." She drew the word out like she was talking to a five year old. "Bud-get. I’m your senior financial analyst. Paying attention to the financial bottom line is what I do. Somebody has to."

"Poor, misunderstood numbers-cruncher," he said, one hand flung dramatically over his forehead like a character in a silent movie. "A lone voice crying out in the wilderness."

"Oh, stop it." A thread of laughter laced the muttered comment.

"Trapped forever in a world with people who like to spend money…"

"Okay, Mister Spend-It-All, you might as well explain the rest of the message to me."

"What, about the Wellness Challenge?" He grinned and sat on the desk, feet swinging. "It’s gonna totally shake up the culture around here."

"Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of." She straightened the jacket of her boring-as-oatmeal suit. He’d been trying to get her to adopt the casual-Friday look the rest of the staff wore at Outdoor Sports Equipment, but so far had run into a brick wall there, too. Something about making an impression on the people outside the company that she dealt with on a regular basis.

As if OSE’s very healthy financial status didn’t manage that for her.

He tucked his hands into the deep pockets of his khaki beachcomber pants. "I had this brainstorm," he said over her groan. "We’ve got a corporate membership in the fitness center downstairs—"

She held up her hand. "Don’t remind me. I warned you it would be a ridiculous expense."

"Nothing ridiculous about it." He ticked off the benefits on his fingers. "Increased morale, reduced absenteeism, improved job performance. Offering membership as part of the benefits package is win-win."

"Except right now nobody’s using it." She tugged her suit jacket closed.

"Yeah, well, that’s what the Wellness Challenge is all about," he said. "I really want people to get the most out of the health center. I’ve got some ideas about new directions we can go, and they’re tied to health clubs. What better way to get some input from staff, encourage healthy choices, and build a more productive team?"

"You’re losing me," she warned, eyes narrowing.

"It’s a point system." He rubbed his hands together. "We’ll start with a work-up from a trainer, get a baseline for blood pressure, cholesterol, weight, body composition. That kind of thing. For the next ten weeks, you get points for using the health club, working out with a trainer, participating in group fitness classes. At the end of the ten week session, you get another work-up, and earn points for reductions in blood pressure and cholesterol, as well as for improving your muscle to fat ratio. The top point-earner gets the trip to Hawaii."

"What if someone chooses not to participate?"

"That’s their prerogative," he said mildly. "But I don’t expect many people to turn down a chance to win a trip to Hawaii."

"Having to get weighed in for a work-related activity? No, thanks."

"Oh, come on," he wheedled. "Your personal trainer is like your doctor. Your lawyer. Your priest. No one sees those numbers except the two of you. All anyone else ever knows is how many points you earned, period."

"I’m sure you’ll get a good response from the staff." She picked up the e-mail printout and tucked it in her briefcase. "Count me out, though."

"Sorry."

She blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"Your participation is non-negotiable."

"You just said employees could choose not to participate."

He shrugged. "You’re different."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You are a lawsuit waiting to happen, aren’t you?"

Carter snorted. "You’re as likely to sue me as you are to join in the Polar Bear swim next New Year’s."

"Hey, it could happen." She looked offended. "And the Polar Bear swim? Jump in Puget Sound on January first? You’d have to be nuts."

"It’s invigorating."

"It’s insanity," she tossed back. "But I already knew that about you."

"You know me better than anyone else here." He nudged her with his elbow. "Come on, Dani, you’ve been with me since the beginning. You’ve never backed down from supporting a new endeavor, even when you thought I was crazy. This Challenge is important to me. Important to where I see the company going in the next few years. I could really use your support."

She grimaced, but he knew he had her. That I-can’t-say-no-dammit look was just way too familiar.

"Great!" He grabbed a brochure from his desk and slapped it into the palm of her hand before she could change her mind. "All the group fitness classes are listed on the form inside the front cover. Just sign up for one of them and turn it in. You’ve already got a membership, even if you haven’t used it yet. Make sure you sign in before each class to get the attendance points. And you’ll be meeting with Heidi on Wednesday at six."

"Heidi?"

That wrinkle between her eyebrows was too damn cute. "Your trainer."

Dani let out a low groan. "Somebody kill me now."

Carter laughed. "Hey, you never know. You might end up surprising yourself and winning that trip to Hawaii."

"Damn straight," she grumbled as she headed for the door, the flyer clutched in her hand in a death-grip. "After putting up with this nonsense for the next ten weeks, a vacation in paradise will be the least I deserve."

NNN Excerpt Thursday - First Kiss

And now for something completely different!

My new group blog, Nine Naughty Novelists, has started Excerpt Thursday, where each of us posts a snippet of a scene around the same theme, with links to a longer excerpt. So every Thursday I'll be posting the full excerpt here. This week the theme is "First Kiss". My excerpt is from The Devil Inside. Enjoy!

Sam narrowed her eyes. "It’s two in the morning, Cody. I’m tired and cranky and not in the mood. So save the cheesy innuendo for a better occasion, buddy."

"Yes, ma’am." He subsided on the pillow, allowing her to check his bandages and injuries with no further commentary.

She worked quickly and efficiently, refusing to let herself think about Cody’s comments.

Much.

And she’d told him she wasn’t in the mood? Liar.

The check-up finally finished, she pulled the covers back up and reached to turn off the light.

Cody stopped her with a hand on her arm.

Startled, she looked down at him. "Did you need something?"

"Just this," he said, reached up with his uninjured arm and threaded his fingers through her sleep-tousled hair. Then, tugging gently, he urged her head down toward his.

Part of her insisted she put a stop to it, right now. He was injured, on medication, and in her care.

It would be unprofessional.

But a bigger part, the part that had been crushing on Cody since she was barely in her teens, told her professional side to shut the hell up and let her enjoy the moment. God knew if it would ever happen again.

Closer, closer, until her eyes drifted shut and she pressed her lips to his.

He whispered a kiss across her mouth with infinite delicacy, pulling back a bit before touching his lips to hers again. His mouth was an intoxicating combination of soft and firm, and she sighed against his lips. She could feel his mouth curve into a little smile.

He intensified the kiss then, his lips molding to hers, his thumb tracing the curve of her neck. Her pulse beat crazily beneath his touch, and she sat down on the edge of the bed, no longer certain her legs would hold her up.

Then he stroked his tongue into her mouth, sending a rush of heat through her that would not be denied. Surrendering to the pull of desire, she met him stroke for stroke, groaning against his mouth as their tongues tangled and their breath mingled. His hand slid lower, cupping her breast, and she gasped as he circled her nipple with his thumb. This was what she’d wanted, what she’d desired for so long…

Growling in frustration, he pulled away, his hand dropping against the comforter as he sank back into the pillows. "You’d better go." His voice was raspy, his expression fierce.

Oh, God. What had she done? With a little gasp, she stood and staggered a few steps back from the bed.

"I’ll, uh, see you in a few hours," she stammered, and backed out of the room. Even after she’d turned the corner into the hallway, she could barely restrain herself from touching her mouth.

She’d studied physiology and human sexuality. Even so, she could have sworn her lips were actually on fire.

How could such a delicate touch cause such a strong reaction?

Cody’s voice carried into the hall. "Maybe you’d better wear your robe next time."

Hell, yeah. She’d wear a snowsuit if she had to. Anything to protect her from the fire burning between them.

Because if she wasn’t careful, she was the one who was going to get burned.

Friday Fun

Holy smokes, has it really been that long since I posted?

Two conferences in one week does that to a person, I suppose. Finally, though, my big presentation at work is done and I can spend a little more time here.

Just for fun, I thought I'd post a short excerpt from Ritual Love, just because I'm in the mood for a time travel. :) Then, anyone who comments between now and Monday morning will be entered for a chance to win one of the books I brought back from the Rose City Romance Readers' Luncheon. Your choice!

Have a great weekend. And enjoy!

***

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

“Samhain,” he said.

“What about it?”

“‘Tis the time when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is lifted. And if the dead can walk among the living, why could a living soul not travel across time, as well?” He shoved a hand through his hair. “It explains much. Yer strange clothing, yer words, yer mannerisms.”

“Setting aside the fact that I could say the same thing about you, it’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Time travel doesn’t exist.”

“Are ye so blinded to the world beyond yer ken, ye canna consider the possibility?”

“Of course I canna—can’t—consider it. I’m a scientist, for God’s sake!”

“And what would that be?”

Moira blew out a frustrated breath. “Someone who believes in facts and reality, who researches and predicts and accepts the natural world as it is, not someone who indulges in fantasy or wishful thinking.”

“And ye know all of the world as it is?”

“No, but…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Can ye devise another explanation?”

“Well, no, but…”

“But ye are unwilling to consider this explanation, at least for tonight.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Explain it.”

“Gladly.” Aedan stretched his legs out in front of him. “First, ye are right ignorant of life today.”

He lifted a hand. “Not to say ye are a fool, just—unschooled.”

Unschooled? After two advanced degrees?

“Ye know naught about Columba, nor the struggle between his people and ours. Ye talk of things I know nothing about. Ye believe me to be something I am not, and I know naught of what you are.”

“How do I know you aren’t just pretending?”

He leaned toward her until their faces were mere inches apart. “I dinna lie, and I dinna pretend. Can you say the same?”

“Of course!”

His expression darkened. “Then I dinna understand why ye keep denying the truth, and yet call me the liar.”

She glared at him. “Okay, not a liar, but not grounded in reality, either.”

“Reality.” He snorted. “Ye deny reality.”

“I deny reality? You think I’ve traveled fifteen centuries back in time!”

“And why could this not happen?”

“Because the only way that it could happen is magic, and magic doesn’t exist!”

He regarded her with something uncomfortably close to pity. “It must be a sad, empty time ye live in.”

She opened her mouth, but clamped it shut again. How could she argue with him when she’d come to Iona because of that very reason? Once Gran was gone from her life, the magic had disappeared, too.

It didn’t mean she believed his fairy-tale explanation for what had happened tonight. But he was right.

Her life was sad. And empty. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him so.

Instead, she closed her eyes. At least she didn’t have to look at his too-perceptive, too-attractive face.

Why did he have to be so gorgeous, when he’d obviously been dropped on his head as a child?

Because face it, the man was about as close to perfection as she’d ever seen. She squinted one eye open, inspecting him surreptitiously in the dimness of the cave. His light brown hair was just past shoulder-length, tied back with a leather thong at the base of his neck. Rich brown eyes, the color of bittersweet chocolate, gazed out at the darkness beyond the cave. A fierce strength suffused his face, reminding her of a bird of prey.

The rest of him was just as impressive. A bronze torc circled his neck. Broad, strong shoulders strained against the rough woolen cape fastened across his chest. Underneath, he wore a tunic of the same indeterminate color over leggings that hugged his powerful thighs.

“And do ye like what ye see?”

Her gaze flew upwards in time to see the smug look on his face. “I wasn’t…” But of course, she had been, so she just clamped her mouth shut and glared at him.

In response, he laughed softly and settled back against the wall of the cave opposite her, his long, muscular legs pressing against hers. Moira tried to shift, but in the cramped confines of the cave she didn’t have anywhere to move. Instead, the friction of their legs rubbing against each other sent an unwelcome shock of sexual awareness through her.

No, dammit. She did not want this man.

Well, she didn’t want to want him, anyway.

“We have many hours until the dawning,” he said. “Ye may sleep if ye wish.”

Yeah, right. The last thing she wanted to do was fall asleep with a man who’d kidnapped her.

“I’m fine.”

He shook his head. “Ye are a stubborn one, aren’t ye?”

“Me?” She threw up her hands, which she’d forgotten were tied together until they smacked her in the forehead. Swearing, she let them drop back into her lap.

Immediately, Aedan was up and at her side. “Are ye hurt, lass?” He ran his fingertips over her forehead, searching for a bruise or lump. “That was quite a wallop.”

“Stop,” she insisted, but it came out as more of a plea than a command. The breathless quality of her voice made her blush.

His hand stilled, and he looked into her eyes. She could see his Adam’s apple bob. “If it is what you wish,” he said, withdrawing his hand slowly.

As soon as his touch was gone, Moira was struck with a pang of regret.

Maybe she was the one who had been dropped on the head as a child.

“I do regret the need to bind ye.” He crossed his arms over his chest as if to keep himself from touching her again.

She held his gaze as she lifted her arms, holding her wrists out in mute appeal.

“Nay, I canna.”

“What do you think I’m going to do? Fly out of here?” She dropped them back into her lap with a huff of frustration. “God, you are the most stubborn, pigheaded, obnoxious…”

“High praise indeed, from ye.” He quirked a brow. “For I am sure that you are familiar with those qualities in yerself.”

“Is that some fancy way of saying ‘it takes one to know one’?” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I even bother.”

There was a long silence. Then Aedan said softly, “Perhaps because talking makes the hours of
darkness easier to bear.”

A shiver danced down her spine. Hadn’t Gran said almost the same thing more times than she could count, when nightmares drove Moira from her bed? They’d sat at the scarred wooden table in the farmhouse kitchen, drinking hot chocolate and talking.

“What is it, lass?” He leaned forward and placed a hand on her knee. “Is something disturbing ye?”

“I’m fine.” She shifted, dislodging his hand, and he pulled back. She wasn’t about to tell him how his touch sparked a flame that traveled through her entire body.

Was it some kind of sexual Stockholm syndrome, or what? And why, dear Lord, why did it have to happen to her?

“I’m fine,” she said again. “In fact, I’m a little tired.” She faked a huge yawn that mostly served to prove to herself that she never would have made it as an actress. “Good night.”

Then she scooted as far away from him as possible, given the confines of the cave, and rolled over to pretend to sleep.

(c) 2007 Kate Davies

Blog Party -- Excerpt One!

It wouldn't be a blog party without a sneak peek at the upcoming release, now would it? So without further ado, here's the very first look at The Devil Inside...

Cody woke to darkness.

Where the hell was he?

“Are you awake?” A cool hand smoothed the hair back from his forehead.

“Unfortunately,” he muttered, which made her laugh softly.

Her. Her who? Damn, he’d been on the road for a long time, but forgetting the woman he was with…

That was bad. Even for him.

The room, what he could see of it, was unfamiliar. Not surprising, considering how many days he spent on the circuit each year. But this wasn’t a hotel room.

And he couldn’t place the woman standing next to the bed.

It didn’t help that his brain felt stuffed with cotton, and the room kept wavering in and out of focus.

“Pain pretty bad?” She leaned over him, straightening the sheets. He knew that scent. Why didn’t he recognize the woman?

Okay, start with the basics. It was night. The shadows in the room were deep and quiet. And his mystery woman, the one now checking the bandage on his arm—holy hell, how had that happened?—was wearing a nightgown.

The light from the hallway spilled into the darkened room, putting her face in shadows but turning her virginal white gown almost transparent. She probably thought the long-sleeved garment was modest, but with the light behind it, Cody could see every curve of her body.

Damn.

His groin tightened, an instinctive response to this woman. He did know her. Or at least his body did, if his instant hard-on was a clue. Gritting his teeth, he searched his fogged, noncompliant brain. Why couldn’t he place her?

“Hang on,” she said, turning toward the nightstand. The light through the thin fabric outlined one taut nipple.

Hell. He was clinging by his fingertips here.

She held out a couple of pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “It’s time for your next dose,” she said, helping him to a semi-upright position. As she leaned over him, her chest brushed against his arm. He tightened his jaw for reasons other than the pain coursing through him.

She tipped the pills into his palm, but he shook his head.

“I’m okay.” He hoped she couldn’t see the sheen of sweat on his brow that proved he was a liar.

She pursed her lips, obviously not fooled. She set the medicine down on the nightstand, within easy reach. “Your call.”

He closed his eyes, willing the room to stop swimming.

She sat down next to him, careful not to jostle the bed. Lifted one eyelid, then the other, which was kind of weird. “What year is it?”

“What?”

“How about the president? Do you know who’s president now?”

There was that scent again, something sweet and fresh, like fresh-baked vanilla cookies. God, she smelled good. He captured her hand with his and tugged gently. “Stop asking foolish questions and come back to bed.”

She didn’t move. She didn’t say a word. But her tension level spiked off the charts.

“What is it?” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Come on, baby.”

“I’m not your baby, Cody.” She tugged her hand from his and stood. “And I haven’t been in your bed for thirteen years.”

Thirteen years? He stared at her.

“Not that you were particularly happy to find me there. Booted me right quick. You were pretty insistent on that.”

He’d kicked her out of bed? Was he insane?

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” She shook her head. “Do you remember getting thrown off the bull? The ambulance ride? Hospital? Anything?”

“I’m a little confused,” he admitted.

“Please tell me you remember signing the release papers…”

He probably looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Crap.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I knew I should have stayed away. The rodeo is nothing but trouble.” She glared at him. “And that goes double for you, Cody Ringo Shaw.”

Oh, shit. Nobody knew his middle name except family and… “Sam?” No wonder she sounded familiar, looked familiar.

Hell, even smelled familiar.

“Got it in one,” she said dryly. “You’re good.”

Cody struggled to sit up, gasping as pain hit him from all over. Damn, he was in worse shape than he thought.

“Sam, I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “Forget it.”

“Why am I—”

She cut him off. “Rodeo accident. You’re on bed rest for the next seventy-two hours. After that, who knows?”

Bed rest? “Here?”

“Yep.” Sarcasm lurked behind the terse reply. “Lucky me.”

Shoulders set, she stalked out of the room.

Lucky? Cody fell back against his pillows. It seemed his luck had just run out.

(c) 2009 Kate Davies, Samhain Publishing

Hooked -- First Excerpt

A blog party just isn't a blog party without some excerpts, don't you agree? So here's the first of them, a PG-rated introduction to the characters and the story. Enjoy!

Captain Dylan was flirting with her.

Not blatantly, of course. Just a little extra eye contact, a smile that promised more. A touch on the shoulder to steady her when the boat lurched down yet another monster wave. Some pseudo-concerned expression meant to weaken her defenses.

Her defenses were already weak enough, thank you very much.

Her face was green and her hair was limp and tangled from the constant barrage of salt spray. The smell of diesel and burnt coffee, combined with the continual roll of the boat, made her stomach heave. She was decked out head to toe in completely inappropriate “outdoorsy” resort wear, clothes so new the creases hadn’t even been worked out yet.

She looked ridiculous.

So why in the world was he coming on to her?

She glanced around at all the other passengers. Maybe the fact that she was the only female on the charter fishing trip had something to do with it.

Great. She was a target by default.

Well, this couldn’t go on. She was in town for work, not a roll in the hay. Especially with a devil-may-care fishing boat captain like Dylan. Her father’s example had taught her well—stay away from playboys.

“Look.” She swallowed down her nausea as the boat pitched down another rolling wave. “I appreciate the thought, but you’re wasting your time.”

“Excuse me?” Slate-blue eyes reflected the rich color of the ocean under the cloudy sky. A puzzled frown settled over his features.

She waved a hand vaguely between them, then clutched the slick railing again as the boat struggled its way back up the wave. “I’m sure lots of women are flattered when someone like you hits on them, but I’m not one of them.” Madison winced inwardly at the snobbish tone in her voice. Dimly, she wondered when she’d started channeling her mother.

“You thought I was hitting on you?” Amazingly, he looked almost insulted, his shoulders pulling down and back as he straightened.

“Flirting. Whatever.” She could feel a deep blush creeping up her neck. “I mean, it’s nothing personal. I’m just not interested.”

A muscle worked in Dylan’s jaw. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Madison nodded briefly, grateful that the confrontation was over. She turned to go, only to be stopped by a strong, calloused hand on her elbow. Even through the damp khaki sleeve she could feel heat spread up her arm. An unfamiliar warmth settled in her chest as her heart raced out of control. Startled, she stepped away, tugging her arm from his grasp.

“Was there something else?” Even to her own ears she sounded horribly snippy, but the embarrassment of the situation, combined with her seasickness, did away with her usual restraint.

“Just a question.”

She gave a slight nod, barely moving her head in an effort to keep her nausea under control.

“You said, ‘someone like you.’ What exactly did you mean by that?”

(C) 2008, Siren Publishing

And a quick note: I'll be off-line for the day, attending a family reunion. So, apologies in advance for not replying to comments right away. And I'll see you all tomorrow!

Lessons In Trust -- Excerpt Two

Happy Friday! Here's another taste of Lessons in Trust, coming Tuesday from Samhain Publishing!

Lucia’s first thought included a word that would have curled her mother’s hair.

How dare this—this man force his way into her life, taking over her orderly existence with his demands and his arrogance and his supercilious attitude?

As if he had every right to order her around.

She was a princess, dammit!

Lucia was never inclined to pull rank based on an accident of birth. Yes, there were benefits to being a member of one of Europe’s last ruling families. She’d never been one of those oh-poor-me-doomed-to-living-a-life-of-luxury types. But it was a rare occasion for her to demand her own way simply because of her title.

This was one of those times.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” She crossed her arms. “There is no possible way for you to stay here.”

Her new babysitter, of course, ignored her. Striding past her down the hallway, he opened the door to the guest room that connected to her bedroom via the shared bathroom.

No hesitation.

How in the world did he know the layout of her apartment so well already?

Unsettled, she followed him down the hall. She hated being at a disadvantage. “You can’t stay here,” she said again, just in case he hadn’t been paying attention the first time.

He glanced at her briefly before turning around and heading back to the front door. “You don’t have a choice,” he said over his shoulder.

Lucia gritted her teeth. How dare he speak to her like that!

“I’m going to get my duffel out of the trunk,” he added. “Lock the door behind me.”

And with that, he was gone.

Lock the door. Sure, she’d lock the door for him. Twisting the deadbolt with far more force than necessary, she resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at the closed door. She was an adult.

She’d act like one.

Turning on her heel, Lucia stalked back to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and surveyed the contents.

It was a good thing she’d eaten at the reception, because the contents of her refrigerator were sadly lacking. A carton of eggs, a container of milk, some cheese so old she was afraid to unwrap it. She reached for the bottle of wine, then thought better of it and grabbed a bottle of water instead. She’d had a glass of champagne earlier tonight, and she had a feeling she would need her wits about her.

Mr. Delmonico certainly wasn’t going to hold anything back.

And she was not even going to think about the sensual implications of that statement.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. “I’m back, Your Highness,” a deep voice sounded from the hallway.

As if it could have been anyone else.

“I’m afraid your trip has been wasted.” Lucia raised her voice slightly as she walked over to the door. “I have no intention of letting you back in here tonight.”

A long silence followed her statement. She could almost feel him glowering at the door.

Then: “Excuse me, Your Highness?”

“Just what I said,” she replied, though her heartbeat had accelerated at the hostile tone in his voice. “You will not be staying in my home.”

“I don’t think you understand,” he growled. “It’s not your decision.”

“And I don’t think you understand,” she shot back. “I will not have a strange man in my home overnight. I will be perfectly safe here tonight. You have my word.”

He laughed, a short humorless bark that did little to reassure her. “Fine. Have it your way.”

She stood at the door, listening to his retreating footsteps. A little surprised that he’d given up so easily, Lucia walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of water she’d abandoned when he’d knocked. She drank half of it in one swallow, suddenly parched.

Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was spending so much time at the reception.

Maybe it was the man.

She shook her head, dispelling the notion. Mr. Delmonico was nothing. Nobody. An aberration in her orderly, self-determined life. Her brother meant well, but she was more than capable of choosing her own bodyguards.

She could even give a little. If she had to tolerate Mr. Delmonico’s presence during the day until Alex returned from his honeymoon, so be it. But she’d be damned if she would allow him to invade her private life after hours.

She stalked out of the kitchen, switching off the light as she went. A wave of exhaustion swept over her, and she covered a yawn as she walked down the hall to her room.

She took off a shoe and tossed it in the general direction of the closet, then balanced against the wall to tug off the other. That one she left on the floor as she headed for the en suite bathroom.
She reached behind herself to pull down the zip on her dress, more than ready for a long soak in a hot tub. Damn, it was just out of reach…

“Need some help?”

Lucia bit back a scream as she whirled around. Mr. Delmonico was leaning against the wall next to the window, arms crossed over his wide chest.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nice language, Princess.” He quirked a brief smile. “I was waiting for you.”

“How…” She shook her head. “How did you get in here?” It made no sense. She distinctly remembered locking the door. And her apartment was on the top floor.

“That, Your Highness, is the million dollar question.” He pushed away from the wall and stalked toward her, reminding her of nothing more than a panther approaching his prey. “Let’s just say, I got in. And it was pathetically easy too.”

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

“No.” He leaned in, his breath hot against her cheek. “It’s supposed to scare the hell out of you. Because if I can get in, so can the bad guys.” He paused, letting it sink in. “Under the circumstances, I suggest you change your position on where I’ll be staying tonight.”

“I—” She swallowed. “I don’t want you here.”

“I don’t really care.” He stepped back and grabbed a black duffel bag off the floor next to the window. “Just do me a favor and try to be reasonable for once.”

“How dare you—”

He cut off her feeble protest with a glance. “I dare, Your Highness, because it’s my job. I dare because I’m the best at what I do and I won’t be second-guessed by some pampered princess who wouldn’t know how to take care of herself if her life depended on it. Which, by the way, it does. Most of all, though, I dare because I promised your brother I would keep you safe. And I’ll be damned if I let you or anybody else get in the way of me keeping my word.” He hefted the bag over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning. Knock on the guest room door if you need anything.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving her staring at the empty doorway, wondering just when her life had spiraled so out of control.

(c) 2008 Kate Davies

I'll be posting over the weekend as well -- hope to see you here!

Lessons In Trust -- First Excerpt!

They rode back to her apartment in silence.

His announcement had been met with a disbelieving glare and a great view of her back, as she whirled around in search of someone to contradict his claim. The other palace bodyguards, however, backed him up, leaving the Ice Princess with nothing to do but fume.

She’d tried to hunt down Leo, but it was no use. Prince Alex had given him a cabin in the countryside as thanks for many, many years of service, and he was already moved in. And none of the other security staff would take her anywhere, despite pleas, bribes, or even commands.

Eric bit back a smile. It seemed warnings from the prince carried more weight than threats from the princess, even one who was responsible for all the hiring and firing at the palace. The impotent fury of this woman scorned was almost palpable inside the limousine.

"Thank you for the ride back to my apartment. However, you will be reassigned by tomorrow," she said now, looking out the side window of the limo.

"No disrespect intended, Your Highness, but that’s unlikely." He glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

"As personnel director, I have that right," she retorted. "I have final say over my personal employees."

"Normally, yes," he said, earning another barely-restrained glare from her. "Not in this case."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

He shrugged. Looking in the rearview mirror again, he caught her glance. Even in the dim interior of the vehicle, he could see the clear blue eyes flashing fire. "I was hired independently by Prince Alex. He has left strict orders that no one except me is to drive you anywhere or act as your bodyguard. You’re stuck with me—at least until he returns from his honeymoon."

"That’s two weeks!" She shook her head. "Unacceptable. And what was he thinking, hiring someone for me? That’s my job. I do the hiring. I choose my own staff. I have no intention of abdicating my responsibility."

"Funny, I feel the same way." The limo slid to a stop, idling at the red light. "Regardless of your feelings, Highness, you don’t have any choice. The fact is, you need me."

"I don’t need anyone."

"Judging by the lame excuses for bodyguards that you’ve chosen for the past few years, that’s pretty obvious."

The fire was back. "What do you know about my bodyguards?"

He shrugged. "I know that you intentionally pick old men or boys you can push around. People so intimidated by your role in society they’d rather slit their own throats than contradict you. Which is all nice and good until you need someone to actually protect you. That’s where I come in."

"I’ve had no complaints about the service I’ve received."

"Of course not. You get to call all the shots. But not anymore. Things have changed."

She snorted. "Indeed. My brother has lost his mind."

"Better than losing his only sister." At her shocked silence, he continued. "Prince Alex has reason to believe that your life is in serious and immediate danger. I’ve been hired to make sure you stay alive."

Blog Party -- Excerpt #2 (it's almost here!)

Just a few short hours until Home For Christmas goes on sale! To fill those hours, here's another excerpt to enjoy. It's from a bit earlier in the book.

Home For Christmas

c 2007 Kate Davies

Samhain Publishing

Ethan hefted the evergreen wreath out of the back of the SUV, grimacing a little at the unexpected weight. The guy at the tree lot had tossed it in there like it was made of tissue paper. How in the heck was this monstrosity supposed to stay put? He’d lay even money that it would fall right off the door hanger from the sheer bulk of it.

Oh, well. It still looked nice, and Sophia would be able to figure out what to do with it. She was a genius at those things.

A smile softened the line of his mouth. He could just see her, soft wavy brown hair bundled up on the top of her head, little bits of it curling down around her face like she’d completely forgotten it was up there. Her hazel eyes would light up with surprise when she saw the wreath, and she’d say—

“What are you doing here?”

Ethan looked up. He wasn’t even to the porch yet, still wrestling the decoration up her walkway, but she’d already opened the door.

“Merry Christmas.” He heaved the wreath another foot or two. “Brought you an early present.”

“Uh, thank you.” Her eyes darted from side to side. “You really shouldn’t have.”

Concentrating on the wreath, Ethan almost missed the tone of her voice. She sounded—upset. Distracted. Not at all like the sweet, positive Sophia he knew.

“You okay?” Finally at the porch, he leaned the wreath against the railing and climbed the steps. He brushed a curl away from her face. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I, uh—”

A thud resounded from inside the door, and Sophia’s daughter poked her head out. “That’s the last of them—hey!” She rushed over to give him a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Thanks,” he said. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on your way across state with lover boy.”

She smacked him on the shoulder, just as she did every time he called Robert that. “We’re heading out in a few minutes. In fact, I have to get going. Maybe you can talk some sense into Mom.”

“What?” His head swiveled from daughter to mother. “What are you talking about?”

Samantha glared at her mother. “You haven’t told him yet?”

“Samantha,” Sophia said, shooting her a look that was full of warning.

Sam let out a huge gust of a sigh, then gave her mom a hug. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

“I love you. Be safe,” Sophia said.

“You too,” Samantha said, which made no sense. How much trouble could Sophia get into here at home?

Especially when he’d be keeping an eye on things, like always?

Sam gave him another hug, pausing long enough to whisper “call my cell” in his ear when Sophia wasn’t looking. Then she was off the porch and in her car before he could ask her why the hell she was acting like a double agent.

Shaking his head, he turned back to Sophia. “Tell me what?”

“Hmm?” She was fussing with the red velvet bow at the top of the wreath.

“Sophia.” He waited until she looked up. “Samantha asked if you’d told me yet. Told me what?”

“Oh, nothing.” She bit her lip. Then, squaring her shoulders, she said, “No, that’s not true. Samantha is mad at me for making some plans for the holidays.”

“She’s going to be gone, anyway. Why would she have any say in it?”

“Exactly what I said!” Sophia smiled at him. “I knew you’d understand.”

She’d been smiling at him for over a decade now, since he and Dan started their property management business together. It was only in the last six months or so that it had started knocking him on his ass.

Even now, his breath hitched when she turned the full wattage of her smile on him.

He cleared his throat. “So what kind of plans?”

“Oh, you know.” She waved one hand, as if that explained everything. “Just wanted to do something…different this year.”

Ethan nodded. Last Christmas had been hellish for all concerned.

“So I—”

A honking horn interrupted whatever she was going to say. A flash of—was it relief?—washed across Sophia’s face.

“There’s my ride!”

Ethan turned, confused, to see the airport courtesy van idling in the driveway behind his SUV. “Your ride?”

By the time he looked back, Sophia was already locking the front door, several suitcases piled around her feet. “With the new check-in procedures, I want to be sure to get there in plenty of time.”

“Check in? Get where? Where are you going?”

She hesitated. “On an adventure,” she said finally.

“And adven— Sophia, have you lost your mind?”

“Probably,” she said, a dimple appearing in her left cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

“Get back from where?” He couldn’t seem to do much more than repeat what she’d just said, but damned if she hadn’t completely pulled the rug out from under him. “What about Christmas?”

Her gaze softened and she placed one gloved hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry to do this in this way,” she said. “I know it’s not very fair of me.”

The driver beeped his horn again. Didn’t the jerk understand this was important?

Sophia was busy gathering her suitcases, though it was obvious she wouldn’t be able to carry all of them in one trip. With a mounting sense of dread, Ethan picked up the last two and followed her to the van.

The driver got out to stow the bags. Sophia started to climb into the van, but Ethan stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Can’t you at least tell me where you’re going?”

She shook her head, tears shining in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t. This is something I have to do on my own.”

Ethan just stared at her. It was as if she’d turned into a stranger overnight. Who was this woman, and what had she done with his Sophia?

She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll explain everything when I get back.” Then she vanished into the van.

He watched in disbelief as the van pulled out of the driveway and trundled down the road. His Sophia. Who was he kidding? She was as much a mystery to him now as she’d ever been.

Probably more.

Eyes narrowed, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed Samantha.

She answered in one ring.

“Okay, kiddo, I think it’s time someone told me what the hell is going on.”

Blog Party -- Never Seen Before Excerpt!

Since you guys have been great about stopping by and posting during my blog party, I thought I'd put up an excerpt that hasn't been posted ANYWHERE yet. Enjoy!

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

e-book, December 18, Samhain Publishing

Now in print in THE PERFECT GIFT anthology

(c) 2007 Kate Davies

She still couldn’t believe he was here, on board the ship. Her first glimpse of him had told her more about her own feelings than she had acknowledged up until that point. Because as much as she pretended to be angry with him for intruding on her act of independence, the first emotion she’d felt when she saw him was pure, unadulterated relief.

Followed very closely by a hefty dose of lust.

Sophia pressed a hand to her middle, trying to hold back the attack of nerves that threatened to overtake her. She was in her mid-forties, for heaven’s sake. She was a widow with a grown

daughter. She wasn’t supposed to be panting after good old reliable Ethan.

But “supposed to” had all but disappeared from her vocabulary over the past few weeks as she’d planned her trip. She’d made a conscious choice to grab hold of what she wanted, to make it happen.

What she wanted, she had to admit, was Ethan. The fact that he was here was a hint that he might not object to being grabbed.

What if she was misreading the situation? What if he really was only here out of some misplaced sense of obligation to her—or, worse, to her late husband?

Oh, God, if he was here to keep an eye on her because he felt it was what Dan would have wanted…

No. She wouldn’t think like that. She couldn’t.

A knock at the door pulled her attention away from the swirling turmoil of her thoughts. “Just a minute,” she called, picking her wrap up from the bed where she’d discarded it. Then she opened the door.

Ethan was standing there, looking at her with a combination of intensity and something she couldn’t quite name. “You look beautiful.”

“So do you,” she replied, then laughed. “Or, well, handsome.”

“Thanks.” He smiled. “Either works for me.”

He wore a long-sleeved, cranberry-colored knit shirt with black slacks, maybe a bit too warm for the humid night, but the combination of casual and pulled together just looked right on him. His hair, still a little damp from the shower, curled a bit at the temples. A rush of desire, so strong she could almost touch it, washed through her.

He smiled, a slow, lazy grin that warmed her from the inside out. “Ready to go?”

“Sure,” she said, slipping past him through the doorway. It was a tight fit, and her shoulder brushed against his chest as she exited the room.

Even that little touch made her a bit weak in the knees, and he put a hand on her elbow to steady her. “I’ve heard it takes a while to get your sea legs,” he murmured.

She smiled weakly and closed the door behind her. The seismic shift in their relationship was so big, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever find her balance again.