Title: The Lost and Found Author: E.L. Irwin Genre: New Adult Publisher: Blue Tulip Publishing
“I was created in an act of violence. I just survived an act of violence. I just committed an act of violence against someone else.”
Recent high school graduate, Crimson Sage lived the all-American suburban life in Virginia—until her perfect world is shattered. Now Crimson and her little brother Ethan are forced to leave the only home they’ve ever known to move across the country with a grandfather they’ve never met. Anger, fear, and depression become her constant companion as Crimson tries to deal with not only the death of her parents, but the truths she learns about herself—that the man she’d always believed to be her father, wasn’t, and that she’d been conceived in an unsolved rape. Crimson would have continued her downward spiral if not for the intervention from Josiah, her grandfather’s foreman. Josiah forces Crimson to face the fact that she is still alive and has a life left to live.
As Crimson rediscovers who she is and what she’s truly made of, she finds strength, love, and acceptance in the arms of Josiah. And she’ll need all of it, because in addition to facing the ugly truths about her past, Crimson must also face some new challenges—one that wants to destroy her budding relationship with Josiah; and another that wants to destroy Crimson herself.
I knew I was the one who began this conversation — I’d spilled my guts, shared my awful past with him — but I no longer wanted to talk about Billy or my past. I looked away briefly and then right back at him. Josiah’s eyes were on me — those piercing blue eyes. I abruptly changed the subject, needing to be on firmer ground, “What are your tattoos anyway?”
Josiah grinned, his gaze intently fixed on me, then asked, “Are you trying to get me to take my shirt off?”
I blushed and stammered, “No! I… I just wondered is all. Keep your clothes on.”
Josiah chuckled darkly and then was quiet. He was on his feet in an instant, his tall frame dwarfing mine. He lifted his arms above his head and in one smooth motion, peeled his shirt off. I stared at him in fascination. He was more beautiful, more rugged, more untamed than I’d imagined. My eyes roved slowly over him, his chest, his arms, his shoulders. He was fairly muscled — not body-builder hard, where everything looked direct and intentional, proportionate. He was an artful display of a working-man’s roughened and toughened body. Cut. Chiseled. Rugged. Beautiful. A sprinkling of dark red hair curled across his chest.
On each pectoral plane, right above the nipple, a sun was tattooed in shades of black and yellow. The center of each sun had some sort of design in it — I couldn’t tell what it was until I got to my feet.
Josiah stood still. He didn’t move, even as my fingertips lightly grazed over his skin. My stomach tightened as I realized the center of each sun was a scar. My gaze flickered up to his in question.
“Courtesy of my mother, for my fifth birthday. I’d asked for a cake. She burned me instead.”
I swallowed back nausea, my throat tight. I steadied my breath and looked at his arms, his neck. Josiah turned around. Wings. Wings were tattooed across his back and shoulders. The tattoo began just to the outside of his spine; the leathery wings were extremely detailed in shades of black and gray and blue. The wings had hooks. Claws? I’m not sure what they’re called, but those claws curled up the back of his neck and around to just under his ears. At the points just over his shoulder blades were two more burn marks; these were bigger, more defined. The tattoo artist had done an amazing job incorporating the scars into his work. Gently I grazed one fingertip along the wings, up his neck then down to the scars.
Josiah glanced over his shoulder at me; his eyes sparking with some inner turmoil, some heat. “Those were from Dad. He wanted to get me something, too.”
“That’s sick,” I whispered past the lump in my throat. How could anyone do that to his own child?
“Billy helped me get the ink done when I turned eighteen, to mark myself over their ugliness, with something of my own choosing.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Why do people always say they’re sorry, even when they’ve done nothing wrong?
“I told you, it’s gotta be nice to know you’re wanted. I was born to both my parents — who never cared a crap about me. The state had to take me away from them. A stranger took me in. You were born to a mom who loved you and wanted you. Circumstances took that away from you. I learned to live, to survive. You will, too.”
“It’s hard,” I said, my eyes drifting over the muscles under that ink.
Josiah turned to face me. Now my eyes were staring at his chest. “I know,” he said. “Giving up is easier. But giving up is for cowards. You’re not a coward. You’re a fighter — you just never knew it before.”
Though I already knew the answer, I asked the question anyway, “Are you a fighter?”
“I learned to be.”
“Will you teach me?”
“I will.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His voice was soft, almost gentle, but with a piercing quality to it, reaching deep inside me, bringing me to the brink.
I felt like I was on a cliff, on the edge of a precipice, like a huge abyss opened before me and right now I couldn’t even see the bottom. His voice pushed me closer to that edge, pressing me on. I wanted to take that step, to listen to the urging and trust him, but I had to know something first. “Why?” I whispered. “Why are you helping me? Why did you wake me up and make me choose?”
Josiah stared at me for one long moment, his blue eyes gazing into mine. They flickered down to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “Because you needed to know you were still alive. Because I saw something I recognized in you.” He paused then said, “Because if you didn’t wake up, I’d never be able to do this.”
Josiah stepped closer to me, our bodies a whisper apart; my eyes focused on the suns on his chest. He raised his hands to my shoulders, trailed them up my neck, to my jaw, my mouth. He grasped my chin and lowered his head to mine. His lips were firm, gentle, hot, and a little dry — they possessed mine effortlessly. His hands moved around to the back of my head, wove themselves through my hair, gripping me, holding me.
Whoa. I was definitely alive. In this moment I was glad I was alive. My world, my awareness, my focus narrowed to him — his mouth on mine. The feel, the taste, the texture of him. I kissed him back, let my hands travel over his shoulders and feel his strength. Josiah gave that strength to me; he enveloped me in it, surrounded me with it. I completely trusted him.
“I’m a reader, a writer, a woman in love with her man.”
A child of divorce and abuse, E. L. Irwin found escape in reading and writing, and through the school of hard-knocks, learned to be a fighter. She’s a self-described romantic-rebel who wears her heart on her sleeve and tends to shoot from the hip on subjects that matter. She enjoys riding horses, wearing heels, shooting her X D.40, tattoos, and of course, a good book and hot coffee.
Title: A Tale As Old As Time Author: Mya O’Malley Genre: Paranormal Romance Publisher: Blue Tulip Publishing
Some tales as old as time have deep, dark secrets that are never meant to be uncovered. Jackson, a recently separated man, steers clear of women, even his sexy southern co-worker, Kristen. An unlikely friendship between the two begins as they partner up to solve a cold mystery, one dating back to 1871. The seaside pub in which they are both employed becomes a setting of intrigue and danger.
What starts out as an intriguing way to pass the time becomes an obsession of sorts as Jackson bonds with the spirit Mille, an agonized soul who’s seeking closure and true love at a deadly price. This jealous spirit will stop at nothing to see that Kristen is no longer a threat in her manipulative plan.
Add to the plot a beautiful, mysterious stranger named Emily, who captures Jackson’s heart but leaves him wanting more. Jackson’s got his hands full of women with issues. Will Mille find that true love is more than meets the eye or is she destined to spend eternity trapped in a house filled with heartache?
Wow! This is one of those stories that really sucks you in. It has a very steady pace and Millie's story is so compelling that you have to keep reading. Jackson and Kristen make a wonderful sleuthing team - they each bring different strengths and perspectives to solving the mystery. There are also wonderful supporting characters - I especially love Shelby and Amelia!
While there are typical ups and downs in each romantic relationship that is part of this tale, there are also a few twists, some expected and others unexpected - that on hindsight shouldn't have been so unexpected! It was truly a delight to get to know Jackson, Kristen, and Millie - to experience the love and loss that truly is "a tale as old as time."
Warnings ~ some mild language
Honest disclosure ~ a review copy was supplied
They stood before the bookstore. It appeared that it had just opened; the welcome sign was swinging from the inside. Glancing at his watch, Jackson saw that it was nine-thirty. A bell sounded as Kristen opened the door. Several people were already browsing the store. Checking the sign on the door, Jackson noted that the opening time was nine o’clock. The sign was still swinging. That’s odd. Clearing his thoughts, he followed Kristen’s lead to the front counter. An elderly woman who appeared to be in her early eighties greeted them.
“Good morning, may I help you?” His voice creaked with time.
“Yes, we were here yesterday, and your granddaughter mentioned that you would be available to speak with us about ghosts.” Kristen jumped right to the point. The woman’s eyes opened wide and Jackson was surprised to see that her face seemed at least ten years younger at the mention of ghosts.
“Ghosts, you say? You’ve come to the right place. I’m Shelby, resident ghost expert, what would you like to know? By the way I run a ghost tour; it should be coming up soon if you’re interested.” Something about the way Shelby rambled on reminded him of his own sweet grandmother who had passed when he was a child.
“No, I don’t think the tour is quite what we’re looking for,” Jackson interjected. “We work over at Millie’s and we’d like any information you have on the ghost stories over there.”
“Oh, Millie’s?” Something not unlike fear swept over Shelby’s face. It was there for the briefest of moments and then it was gone. “That one is interesting. It’s a long story and there are plenty of theories, but nothing has ever been solved. If there are any ghosts that I’m intimidated by, it’s her.”
Great. “Aren’t you intimidated by other ghost stories? Why her?” Kristen straightened her back.
“Oh, some ghosts are quite pleasant. Take Amelia, here. She keeps me company, makes me laugh sometimes…”
Jackson spun his head around and saw the sign was still moving. Lifting a finger, he opened his mouth to speak.
“Yup, that’s her. She plays tricks all day long; she really does have a sense of humor. Sometimes she flips that sign around during working hours so that customers think I’m closed. Not especially good for business, but funny, nonetheless.”
“But…” Jackson was rendered speechless, something that didn’t happen very often.
“How do you know her name is Amelia?” There she went again, taking the words out of this mouth. Kristen had her elbows propped up on the counter now.
“Oh, she told me,” Shelby stated, her jaw set.
“Great.” Jackson turned his head, gazing at the shelves in the bookstore.
“What does she look like? Is she young, beautiful?” Kristen urged, her eyes wide.
“She’s quite pretty and does hold some dark secrets. For instance, she told me that Millie is troubled, deeply troubled and that she has revenge on her mind.”
“Millie? That’s our ghost’s name?” Jackson called out.
“Oh yes, Millie’s was named after her,” Shelby began only to be interrupted by a customer. “Excuse me, I have to ring up this sale. My granddaughter is due any moment and then I can sit and chat.”
“I think we’re getting somewhere,” Kristen whispered.
“I don’t know if I like where this is headed. I mean, if I were to buy into this whole ghost story and that’s a big if, I don’t like the fact that she’s seeking revenge.” He must be losing his mind, the way he was being sucked into all of this, it wasn’t like him to believe in such things and if he had he not seen that movement in the window that night, he would be a firm non-believer. Even that swinging sign would cause him to have doubts. That sign… ugh. He was turning into a typical tourist.
“Don’t tell me you want to back out now, that you’re scared. You’re scared, that’s it, you’re scared.” Kristen’s mouth hung open in disbelief.
“I am not scared,” he pronounced a bit too loudly. “It’s just that we’re investigating a mystery, now we’re getting sidetracked with ghost stories.”
“You are scared,” Kristen gasped dramatically. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” She couldn’t contain her laughter.
“I hate you, do you know that?” But his own grin escaped as Shelby stared at the two of them from the register.
The granddaughter had to pick today of all days to be late for work. Half an hour later, after watching Shelby ring up purchase after purchase, they finally sat with the woman. Kristen was loaded with questions, firing them off in rapid succession.
“So this Amelia, what time period is she from?”
“Did she personally know our Millie?”
“Was it a brothel?”
Holding his head in his hands, Jackson shook his head. “If you’d just let Shelby speak, you might just get some answers.” Kristen glared at him, but held her tongue.
“Amelia is indeed from the 1800s. She doesn’t say so much as she speaks in riddles. From what I can gather, Amelia tells me that Millie was the mistress of the owner.”
“Todd Alcott,” Jackson interjected, feeling pieces of the puzzle start to fit together.
“Yes, Todd Alcott. A slippery man, from all accounts. There was a fire, which was filed away as an accident, but I don’t think it was an accident. I think that poor woman was trapped for some reason and won’t rest until she sets things right, whether it’s revenge or justice.” Placing her hands on her lap, Shelby shrugged her shoulders.
“What do you know about the third floor?” Jackson inquired.
A sparkle lit her gaze. “Ah, yes. Well, the third floor housed the grand ballroom, where the fire was said to have started.” Shelby shared as she fiddled with her pearl necklace.
“What else?” Jackson could see that she was struggling to remember the facts.
“If I recall, Millie herself was said to have loved dancing the night away in the grand ballroom, guests have claimed to have seen her ghostly image dressed in an elegant modern day red gown, rumor has it she stole it from a guest room, she must have admired it so much.”
“Dancing?” Jackson had to admit the sight would startle him.
“Yes, legend has it she’s been looking for a partner all these years. Just the right partner, which apparently has been difficult to find after all this time,” Shelby mumbled, as if in a trance.
“Could we try to speak with Amelia ourselves? Ask her some questions?” Kristen asked, glancing around the store. Oh for heaven’s sake.
“Kristen we’ve taken up enough of Shelby’s precious time, I think we should get going.” Jackson couldn’t believe that she would even suggest trying to speak with this ghost.
Shelby straightened her posture, focused now on Jackson and Kristen. “Oh, it’s no problem. I love talking about this ghost business, it’s just that I doubt Amelia would speak to you. It took me about seventy years to gain her trust. My parents owned this store before me and I saw her as a child, nobody else did, but I saw her, clear as day. She wouldn’t speak to me for years to come, trust is hard to establish with these spirits, apparently.”
He could relate to that. Finally, someone was making sense. “Okay, then let’s just go,” Jackson pleaded.
“Can we just take a look around? We won’t be long,” Kristen inquired.
“Of course, take your time.” Shelby kissed them each on the cheek and wished them luck with their investigation. “Oh and if you find out anything else, be sure to let me know.” It seemed that more and more people were becoming invested in finding clues to the mystery.
Shelby turned around, holding her finger in the air. “Oh, how could I have forgotten to tell you? One more thing. Kristen, be careful dear, she doesn’t like other women. It’s been said that she even pushes women, so I would be careful over there at Millie’s.”
This was getting creepier by the moment. It was one thing to entertain the existence of ghosts when he felt they were benign spirits, but something different altogether when he wondered if this Millie was not the sweetheart he believed her to be.
***
“Hi, welcome to the Museum by the Shore. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the area, but this town is rich in history. Feel free to look around and ask any questions,” the gentleman offered. Jackson figured the man for about eighty years old. It would be great if he could still get up and out the door to volunteer at the man’s age.
“Hi, we’re here to find out if there’s any information on Millie’s Pub and Bed and Breakfast. We both work there, and we’re interested specifically in the fire from the 1800s and legends of hauntings.” Jackson got right to the point since Kristen was still sulking.
“Well, well, it seems you’ve come to the right place.” The man chuckled. “I’m Bill by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Bill. I’m Jackson and this here is Kristen,” Jackson replied, shaking the man’s hand. Kristen followed, and smiled widely for Bill.
“You two make a fine couple, if I may say so,” Bill grinned, allowing his eyes to dart back and forth between the two.
“Oh, we’re not a couple,” Kristen corrected Bill immediately. Of course she did.
“Are you sure?” Bill’s eyes squinted as he gazed at them.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Kristen announced.
Clearing his throat, Jackson changed the subject, guiding them back to their focus. “Where should we begin?”
Bill pointed to a showcase in the back of the small room. “There are some clippings of articles written about the fire and the woman who was killed,” Bill shared. “Old Millie herself. Actually the poor thing wasn’t that old at all, she was only in her early twenties when she passed.”
“What else do you know?” Kristen asked, moving closer to Bill.
“Not much, how about you take a look at everything and then if you have any other questions, I’ll be right over here, finishing my coffee.” Bill ambled back over to the counter. “You’ll see that there’s a brush and a ladies bag on display that belonged to Millie,” Bill added from over his shoulder.
“Wow, would you look at that,” Kristen stated as she pointed to the items. They don’t make things like that anymore. Intricate patterns were etched on the backside of the brush. Beside the brush sat some faded turquoise decorative combs. The brush, bag, and combs all had hints of the turquoise color.
“She must have liked that color,” Jackson added, gazing down at the items. His gaze was drawn to the newspaper clippings in the next showcase. He scanned the article and then went back to read more thoroughly in case he had missed something. “Look, it says here that she loved to dance.” Jackson nudged Kristen, who was still entranced with the combs.
“And it gives us a last name. Millie Summers, huh.” It seemed a fitting last name for their ghost.
“Are there any photographs?” Kristen finally lifted her head up from the counter.
“No, we have no idea what she looked like,” Jackson announced. He would love to see a photo of the woman. In his head he was beginning to form his own image of Millie. He pictured her to be elegant and beautiful.
“She was blonde, a petite thing, quite the striking woman, from what the people who have seen her tell me,” Bill interjected from his spot across the room. The man’s hearing was certainly intact.
“Who has seen her?” Kristen asked, heading over to Bill.
“My wife for one, but she’s not around anymore.” Bill’s head dropped to the floor.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Did your wife say anything else?” Kristen urged in a gentle voice.
“Just that she was unearthly, surreal. My wife, Tara, her name was, told me that she’s seen many ghosts around here but Millie was the saddest of all and the most worrisome.”
“Did Tara say why?” Jackson inquired.
“I don’t know, she said that she herself wasn’t threatened but had heard of the ghost pushing other women, those she felt threatened by,” Bill shared, shaking his head. “I’d steer clear of that one if you could.”
“How could other women be a threat to her at this point?” Jackson wondered aloud.
“Legend has it that she won’t be at peace until she finds her man. God help the man she finds. In order to complete herself and become free of this world, she needs to find her one true love. But it gets worse, she’ll have to bring him with her to the afterlife.”
“She told your wife this?” Jackson was incredulous.
“Oh not in so many words, but the point got across loud and clear. Luckily she didn’t set her sights on me.” Bill laughed loudly.
“I don’t like this.” Jackson felt that all too familiar chill return. Something about this whole story didn’t sit right with him. They should probably just let it go.
“Oh no, you’re in this with me ‘til the bitter end. What? Are you afraid that Millie’s got the hots for you?” It was the first time all morning that Jackson had seen her light up. It seemed he was stuck in this investigation of theirs until Kristen grew tired of it.
“Yeah, yeah. Funny girl,” Jackson sighed.
“Stranger things have happened; your fellow here is a handsome guy.” Bill directed his comment to Kristen.
“He’s not…” she began before being interrupted by Bill’s laughter.
“I know, I know…” Bill’s laughter faded as he sipped his coffee.
“Bill, thank you, you’ve been a big help,” Jackson said, enjoying the banter.
“No problem. I didn’t mention this before, it slipped my mind, but I don’t think it was an accident, the fire, I mean. I think there was foul play involved,” Bill shared.
“I think you’re onto something there. We agree and we’re trying to expose the crime. Maybe then the poor woman will be at peace,” Kristen stated.
“If only it were that simple.” Bill sighed as he turned his head away.
Mya O’Malley was born and raised in the suburbs of New York City, where she currently lives with her husband, daughter and three step-daughters. The family also consists of a boxer, Destiny and a ragdoll cat named Colby. Mya earned an undergraduate degree in special education and a graduate degree in reading and literacy. She works as a special education teacher and enjoys making a difference in the lives of her students.
Mya’s passion is writing; she has been creating stories and poetry since she was a child. Mya spends her free time reading just about anything she can get her hands on. She is a romantic at heart and loves to create stories with unforgettable characters. Mya likes to travel; she has visited several Caribbean Islands, Mexico and Costa Rica. Mya is currently working on her seventh novel.
Celia is in desperate need of a change--a change of scenery, a change of pace, and a complete redo of all relationships. Not knowing what else to do, she opens a map, closes her eyes, and lets fate decide her future. Then she packs her meager belongings and buys a one-way ticket to a little town on the fringes of Oregon's Deschutes National Forest called Sisters. She's wanted a family for years. Will she find one in Sisters?
What Celia doesn't plan to find is a strange Chinese woman whose meddling ways keep throwing her in the path of a handsome, but reserved, forest ranger. But no matter how kind or dependable Silas seems to be, there are some things in Celia's past that neither of them can escape, and this time, the damage might be too much to mend.
Author Karey White
Karey White grew up in Utah, Idaho, Oregon, and Missouri. She attended Ricks College and Brigham Young University. Her first novel, Gifted, was a Whitney Award Finalist.
She loves to travel, read, bake treats, and spend time with family and friends. She and her husband are the parents of four great children. She teaches summer creative writing courses to young people and is currently working on her next book.
I have loved every book by Karey White that I have read - and Broken Things to Mend is no exception. Her stories are always sweet and heartfelt - the struggles that her characters face are real, the characters' emotions and struggles are realistic, and the characters are well-developed. I couldn't help but fall in love with Celia and Silas - they both have difficult pasts, pain that not only is carried with them but that has affected who they are today. While they both have their struggles, they are also both strong, determined individuals who want to rise above their troubles. But, the most important thing they share, that is the basis on which their love is able to grow, is that they are geniunely good people, trying to do what is right and to help others. They aren't perfect, but they are able to work together to make the best of their situations and find happiness together.
Warnings ~ none, clean read
Honest Disclosure~ I received a copy in participation with this blog tour
Blog Tour Giveaway - $50 Amazon Gift Card or $50 in Paypal Cash
Ends 2/2/16
Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
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The amazing Rose Gordon has a fabulous sale going on right now for her Groom Series. Each full-length novel is only $.99 for a limited time! See below for a brief synopsis of each book along with the answer to a reader's question for each. Don't miss out on the Giveaway at the bottom of the post!
The overly scientific, always respectable, and socially awkward Alexander Banks has just been informed his name resides on a betrothal agreement right above the name of the worst chit in all of England. With a loophole that allows him to marry another without consequence before the thirtieth anniversary of his birth, he has only four weeks to find another woman and make her his wife.
Q: Does lawn chess exist?
A: I have no idea. I just thought it sounded fun to play chess with life-sized pieces. If it's really a game, I'll be adding a set to my Christmas list this year...
Marcus Sinclair, sixteenth Earl of Sinclair, has lived the last thirteen years as a recluse following an accident that left him heavily scarred. Though a recluse, Marcus has still managed to fall in love. The problem? The woman he’s taken with is none other than the sister of the lady he was once betrothed to!
Q: Where can I get a copy of Lady Bird's Ladybird Memoir? I've searched google, but cannot find it.
A: Oh my! I hate to disappoint anyone who might have an interest in reading this little treatise, but it does not exist outside of my imagination. And no, I do not currently have any plans to write such a book...
As Patrick Ramsey, Viscount Drakely's, girls are getting older he realizes they need a mother—and a governess. Unable to decide between the two which they need more, he marries an ordinary young lady from the local village in hopes she can suit both roles. But this ordinary young lady isn’t so ordinary after all, and he just might have to risk his heart once more or wind up alone forever.
Q: Lord Presumptuous and the Motherness--where do you come up with this stuff?!
A: Unfortunately, this kind of craziness just bounces around in my head! My grandpa always had nicknames for people and in turn, I do the same thing. Where they come from exactly, I don't know--they just stick!
Despite his three engagements, the thrice-jilted baronet, Sir Wallace Benedict, has trouble when it comes to those of the fairer sex. Twenty years old and still unmarried, Edwina Banks, has taken it into her mind to see that Sir Wallace get his much-deserved and long awaited happily-ever-after. Because truly then, she can find hers, too... Or can she?
Q: Is Wallace (fill in the blank)?
A: (This was a question I got following the release of Her Reluctant Groom, but I wanted to list it here.) I had multiple questions about Wallace. So instead of telling everyone what he isn't, I'll tell you what he is. Wallace is a young man who had his heart broken at a young age, thus resulting in a chain of events such as more than one public jilting, and a lot of speculation... He's not a fit candidate for bedlam. He's not psychotic. He's not a spy. And he's certainly not interested in men. Autistic? Maybe so, but extremely sweet, nonetheless.
For Tracey Rooks, life with her grandparents on a Wyoming farm has always been simple. But after her grandmother's death, Tracey is all her grandfather has. So when Eagle Elite University announces its annual scholarship lottery, Tracey jumps at the opportunity to secure their future and enters. She isn't expecting much-but then she wins. And life as she knows it will never be same . . .
The students at Eagle Elite are unlike any she's ever met . . . and they refuse to make things easy for her. There's Nixon, gorgeous, irresistible, and leader of a group that everyone fears: The Elect. Their rules are simple. 1. Do not touch The Elect. 2. Do not look at The Elect. 3. Do not speak to The Elect. No matter how hard she tries to stay away, The Elect are always around her and it isn't long until she finds out the reason why they keep their friends close and their enemies even closer. She just didn't realize she was the enemy -- until it was too late.
I pushed open the door and immediately threw off my jacket, followed by my shirt. Then I addressed my skirt. I heard chuckling.
My hands froze on my skirt’s zipper. I looked up.
Nixon lay across my bed. “Please, don’t let me interrupt. Continue.”
I flipped him off.
He laughed harder.
I quickly pulled on the tank top I’d worn to bed and thrown across the chair. “What do you want?”
“Not sex, but thanks for the offer.”
“I was not…” I took three deep breaths. Arguing got me nowhere with Satan. “Why are you here?”
“Waiting for my sister. What else?”
I exhaled in relief.
“What, you disappointed I didn’t want an afternoon screw?”
“Not at all.” I sat far far away on Monroe’s bed. “Besides, if you needed one, all you’d have to do is knock on any door on this floor. Just be sure to use protection. I know how you are about germs.”
“Only yours,” he sang.
I threw a pillow in his direction, hoping to smack him in the face. He caught it mid-air and scowled. “Can you at least wait for her outside?”
“Nope.”
“Why?” I ground my teeth together. At the rate I was going I would have nothing left to grind.
“Because, I like your bed. It’s comfortable.”
“It has my germs and I swear to you I drooled all over my pillow last night.”
He shrugged. “I only hate germs on people, not objects.”
Nixon looked at his watch then put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.
“Why?”
“Why what, Farm Girl?”
“Why don’t you like people touching you? Is that your rule or an Elite thing?”
“You ask a lot of questions for someone so stupid.”
That stung, but I was too tired to let it sink too far into my consciousness. “It is the only way to find out how to survive in this place.”
“You’ll survive, if you follow the rules. I thought I told you that.” He propped up on his elbow. “The system works, Trace. I know you think I’m an asshole, but if I was nice, they would eat you alive. Wouldn’t you rather I do the tasting?” He smirked.
Damn, I was literally itching to punch him in the jaw.
“Why can’t everyone just be nice and get along?”
He groaned into his hands and stood. “Maybe I will wait outside.”
“You do that.”
He walked to the door and then stopped. “Has anyone made fun of you today?”
“Is this a trick question?” I asked, jumping off Monroe’s bed. “You make fun of me all the time!”
“Other than me.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Tell me the truth.”
“N-no,” I stuttered. “No one made fun of me today[ce1] .”
“I guess my point is made.”
“The hell it is.” I bent down and picked up another pillow to throw at his face. “You think you have that much power? To protect me from them? You think you’re that much better? That what you do is better than what typical college kids could do to me?”
His eyebrows rose. “Care to make a wager?”
“Fine!” I poked him in the chest.
Nixon closed his eyes as if in pain. “Please don’t touch me.”
I backed off but only because he’d said please.
“I’ll stop bothering you…but when I win—when you can’t take it anymore—when you are living in hell every single day, I want to hear it from your lips. Not Monroe’s, not Chase’s. I want you to approach me. I want you to tell me…”
“Tell you what?” I whispered.
“That you need me.”
“When hell freezes over!” I snapped.
“Bring a parka, because life’s a bitch and you just bought a first class ticket, sweetheart.”
I was still in a crappy mood when Monroe finally arrived. True to his word, Nixon sat outside, at the door, waiting for her. Why he didn’t text her or call her I have no idea.
I couldn’t really hear what they were saying. But Monroe was yelling, and Nixon was yelling, and I was pretty sure one of them was going to throw a punch.
So I was really surprised when Monroe bounced into the room with a wide smile on her face. “Guess what!”
“You killed your brother?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not that lucky, no.” With a huff she sat on her bed. “The Elect are throwing a party tonight and I get to bring you!”
Excuse me while I pull out my pom-poms. “Swell.”
Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency
and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking
coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from
readers! Want to be kept up to date on new releases? Text MAFIA to 66866! You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken
or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com
