Authors: this is a great opportunity to spotlight a few lines or even a paragraph or two from a new release or backlisted title. Readers: you get to sample some delicious snippets! We’ll do our best to tease, titillate and tantalize you into the weekend.
Today I'm offering snippets from my newest release The Ivory Road: Outback Dreams, an action/adventure sci-fi/fantasy with romantic elements, and Book 2 in the The Ivory Road serial. Iliana has returned to her world and is in Australia to start filming a movie, but she's still reeling from the adventure she swears she had in the Karobis desert.
She threw herself out of her chair, grabbed the woolen blanket from the rocking chair, and settled herself on the hope chest near the window. She turned her head toward the stormy sky and let the tears fall. No matter what reality claimed, she’d had a helluva experience with Brandon Crowe. Aristotle had been as real to her as the chauffeur and Martin the bag boy.
Iliana sighed and closed her eyes, letting her tears slide down her cheeks. She’d deal with reality in the morning. Her sobs quieted after a while and she drifted into a doze. The house creaked around her as the wind picked up outside and she thought she heard voices. Bits of conversation, muffled by distance and doors, hit her awareness.
“Don’t worry, Crowe. I’ll go look for Iliana. I’m sure she didn’t mean to go.” The voice sounded like Aristotle’s smooth tenor. As if a horse can have human tones.
“Where could she be?” Brandon’s baritone rumbled through her, warming her chest with familiarity and longing.
I’m here, Brandon. I didn’t mean to leave you.
“And you’re sure my companion took nothing beyond one bag?” Frustration filled Brandon’s voice.
“Yes, master. Walked out alone as plain as day.”
Iliana wanted to jump up and down, wave frantically, or scream to get his attention, but she couldn’t reach him. His eyes filled with bewilderment and worry. I’m here, Brandon. I swear.
He swung around, looking into the distance. The world beyond swirled out of her sight, but the tension mantling his shoulders pulled at her chest and made her whimper.
She jerked awake and sat up, clutching the woolen blanket to her chest as her heart thundered under her hands. The sun had set, but the sky retained some of the sun’s evening light. Motion outside her window attracted her attention. Another Range Rover parked in the driveway outside the house and the driver got out to unload someone’s bags.
Iliana almost turned away until the passenger stepped into the light from the porch. She gasped and pressed her hands to the window. “Brandon.”
The man looked up straight at her as if he’d heard her exhalation and her breath froze in her throat. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt under an Aussie duster raincoat, and a wide brimmed hat sat on his head. He appeared clean-shaven and wore his hair cropped close to his head. The driver handed him an umbrella and he was lost from her view.
Iliana sat back and blinked a few times, trying to get her breathing under control. Can’t be Brandon. That has to be Taggart Crowe, coworker. Costar. Not Brandon.
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