Don’t let anyone steal your dream. It’s your dream, not theirs.
~Dan Zadra
May 7th, 2012
Okay, need some help today, y’all. I’m not much of a fan of reading books in first person but I want to give it another shot…so…suggestions??
Here is the cover for the first in my upcoming series from Total E-Bound. Emmy Ellis did an amazing job with this one. I’m so excited about it’s release.
Meet, Dominic, the eldest Stark brother and his adventure in Crete with Dr. Verity Andrews.
Dominic paid and took his drink. Lifting the bottle to his lips, he froze when his gaze fell upon a sight he’d not been able to vanquish all day long. His mystery woman. I’m not missing out on talking to her again. With one quick swallow, he walked in her direction.
She faced toward the water, talking with a group of people and he had no problem taking in her profile. The gentle breeze blew the fabric of her dress around her legs. The pale material contrasted beautifully with her darker skin. It was a sleeveless dress with a handkerchief hem; otherwise he didn’t know anything about it. Aside from the fact it made him hard as steel in his pants. Women walked before him in less clothing and Dominic couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. Moments before he reached her side, she slipped away and headed down towards the water.
Increasing his speed a bit, Dominic dodged a woman in a revealing bikini and made his way down to the shoreline. The closer he got the tighter his throat became. In the softer light he could pick up on the subtle yellow hint in her dress. The urge to wrap his arms around her almost took him to his knees.
Clearing his throat so he didn’t scare her, Dominic waited for her to turn toward him. Her dark eyes widened at the sight of him and he knew she was surprised to see him there. For a moment they stood in silence and stared at one another.
“Hi,” he finally said over the sound of the surf lapping upon the shore.
“Hello.” A slight smile curved up her full, kissable lips.
Her voice was a low alto and stroked along his skin, bringing him to a fevered pitch. There lingered the hint of an accent as if English weren’t her first language. And that was with just one word. ”Am I disturbing you?” he asked, noticing how much deeper his voice sounded.
“No. Not at all, just…” she shrugged and smiled.
“I understand.” And he did. Sometimes you just needed to get away. The breeze blew around them, bringing to his nose the scent combination of rosewood and black current. Damn, she smells good. Reaching out with one hand he said, “I’m Dominic.”
His heart sped up when her hand curled around his, palm to palm. “Verity. Nice to finally meet you.”
Verity. What a beautiful name. He chuckled. “Well, I would have introduced myself earlier, but I wanted to make a better first impression than standing before you all sweaty.”
She arched a brow and the way her eyes moved over him he wondered if she would have minded him doing that. “How could you be certain we’d meet again?”
Dominic skimmed his finger over the pulse in her wrist before stepping a bit closer to her, loving the way her nose flared and she licked her lips. “I’m confident.”
Verity stepped closer to him, the ends of her hair brushing along his skin courtesy of the wind. He looked at her, trailed his gaze over her graceful neck, around which sat a thin silver chain and a pendant that rested against her skin just above her breasts. Swallowing hard he raised his eyes and found himself staring into a pair of dark hazel eyes. Damn!
“I bet you are,” she said in an amused tone.
“Comes with the territory,” he said with a wink.
“The Y chromosome?”
Dominic laughed. “You’re quick, I like that.” He reluctantly released her hand. “What are you doing here in Crete? Vacation?”
“I’m here in Crete because I live here, but I’m here at the party because some people dragged me.”
“Didn’t want to come?”
She shrugged. “Well, large parties aren’t my thing.”
Dominic gave in to the urge to touch her and brushed some hair back from her face. “What exactly is ‘your thing,’ Verity?”
An ex-marine and a homicide detective. What do you get when they meet and sparks fly? Meet Ian and Fallon…
The taxi pulled up to her childhood home. Fallon paid the driver, took a deep breath, and got out. I can’t believe Pops is gone. Picking up her duffle bag, 
she walked up the steps, unlocked the door, and entered the silent house. The door clicked behind her, the sound reverberating through her empty soul. She was alone. Her bag hit the floor as she turned on a light. Her eyes swept the room. Memories danced before her. With another deep breath, she proceeded further into the room. It all looked the same. Light tan carpet and comfortable but old furniture.
The walls were covered by myriads of photos. A small smile crossed her face as she looked at her family. Why did Pops have to die?
“I miss you, Pops,” she said absently as she retrieved her satchel and headed towards the room she had used while living there.
Pushing open the door, Fallon was shocked to see that nothing in there had changed since her last visit. Her patchwork quilt still covered the twin bed. Over the pillow hung a framed cross-stitch her foster mother, Nadine, had made for her.
FALLON DELU MADDOX
She set her olive green bag on the dark cherry rocker and touched the framed work. The thread was vibrant red and sat on a white background. A new wave of tears threatened.
Fallon turned a complete circle, pausing as she was met by her reflection. The dark brown eyes staring back at her seemed dull and lifeless. Looking intently at her image, Fallon touched her face. Funny, she didn’t remember her face being that tired looking, there were bags under her eyes. Again tears threatened and this time she allowed them to escape. She was safe here. No need to be tough as nails. No one watched over her shoulder at how she behaved.
For the time being, she could be what her body needed to be. A child who had just lost a parent. Not a United States Marine. Not a hard-ass, take-no-shit instructor. Just a mourning child. A half-stumble landed her on her bed where she promptly curled up with her one-eyed doll. The sobs came and after a fashion so did the much needed sleep.
Voices woke her. Loud, angry voices. Fallon was instantly awake as she ascertained where the yelling was originating.
“Clay,” she whispered, getting out of bed and going to the door.
She would recognize the graveled baritone of her brother’s tone anywhere. The one she didn’t recognize was the one in the discussion with him. Still that ripple of familiarity danced across her skin, just as it had at the cemetery. So, whoever it was, the same person had exchanged blows with her brother.
Pressing her ear to the door, she eavesdropped on the two men.
Her brother was yelling. “I don’t give a flying fuck what bullshit story you told Herschel! I’m not buying. I want that report.”
“It was a gang hit,” a deep voice countered.
“Fuck you. That area is a neutral one, we both know it, and Herschel knows it as well.”
“The whole place was shot up. It’s just a case of wrong place, wrong time,” the unknown male responded.
She heard her brother growl low before the sound of flesh against flesh reached her. “Oh Clay,” she muttered, yanking open the door and moving swiftly down the hall.
Rounding the corner, she narrowed her eyes at the sight of her brother pressed up against the wall, unable to move an inch. There was a gun pressed against his back.
She reacted immediately. Within seconds, Fallon slammed the larger man to the floor, his gun skidding out of reach.
What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise.
~Oscar Wilde
Hoping everyone has a wonderful day!
Weekends don’t count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless.
~Bill Watterson
Without music, life would be an error.
~Friedrich Nietzsche
I have just three things to teach: simplicity, patience, compassion. These three are your greatest treasures.
~Lao Tzu
