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Category Archives: Cover Excerpt

Cover Reveal – Going Under – S. Walden

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Going Under
Author: S. Walden
Genre: New Adult
Release Date: March 19, 2013

Description:

Brooke Wright has only two goals her senior year at Charity Run High School: stay out of trouble and learn to forgive herself for the past. Forgiveness proves elusive, and trouble finds her anyway when she discovers a secret club at school connected to the death of her best friend. She learns that swim team members participate in a “Fantasy Slut League,” scoring points for their sexual acts with unsuspecting girls.

Brooke, wracked with guilt over her friend’s death, decides to infiltrate the league by becoming one of the “unsuspecting girls,” and exact revenge on the boys who stole away her best friend. An unexpected romance complicates her plans, and her dogged pursuit of justice turns her
reckless as she underestimates just how far the boys will go to keep their sex club a secret.

(This is a New Adult fiction book with mature themes. It contains explicit language and descriptions of sexual violence.)

Excerpt (Chapter One):

I left the bathroom in a hurry, turning the corner for the foyer and slamming into him. The force of the
hit was so great that I stumbled backwards, nearly falling on my bottom if not for his outstretched hand.
I grabbed it before going down and wobbled on my too-high heels, clutching him as I worked to regain
my balance.

“God, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. I looked at his face then, unprepared to see something so beautiful. I think I gasped. And then I averted my eyes out of sheer embarrassment.

“I really should watch where I’m going,” he said.

He still held my hand, and I let him. I couldn’t remember who I was or where I was going. I couldn’t remember where I had just been. I only knew that a very cute boy . . . no, he was more than cute. He was gorgeous. This very gorgeous boy was holding my hand, and I had only one thought. I wanted to make our handholding more intimate. I wanted to lace my fingers with his.

“I think I should,” I mumbled.

I chanced another look at him. I made a conscientious effort not to gasp as I took in his light blue eyes. I’d never seen eyes that color. Bing Crosby had nothing on this guy’s eyes, and Bing’s eyes were the
color of the Mediterranean. No, the eyes I looked into now were so light blue they looked translucent. I thought if I stared a little longer I could see right inside his head, to his brain, and I don’t know why that
turned me on so much. I wanted to witness the workings of his mind, the firing synapses, information traveling safely inside neurons to different parts of his body. A few made it to his hand, and they must have told him to keep holding mine because he didn’t let go.

I stared shamelessly, licking my lips at one point. He stared back just as boldly. I wanted him to like what he saw. I wanted him to think I was sexy. I wanted him to feel the same instant attraction I did. I’d never
felt it before. Not really. Not even with Finn. It was unsettling, and I wondered how people functioned after being smacked upside the head with it. Instant. Physical. Chemical. Primal. Just rip my clothes off, I thought. Just rip my clothes off and do me right here in the hallway!

He smiled and released my hand. I thought he did it reluctantly, like his brain ordered him to and he finally acquiesced. I smiled back, a flirty grin. I pulled my ponytail forward over my shoulder and played with the strands. I bit my lower lip. And then reality came crashing down like a hailstorm, large lumps of ice banging my head and screaming at me in unison.

“YOU’RE AT A FUNERAL!”

I looked at the gorgeous guy, and my face went white.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

He stared at me for a moment before saying, “Are you okay?”

I shook my head and started towards the sanctuary doors. He followed behind.

“I’m awful, I’m awful, I’m awful,” I whispered over and over. I didn’t care if he could hear.

What the hell was I doing? Trying to flirt with a guy at my best friend’s funeral? How could I even forget for a second that I was at a funeral? I was supposed to be carrying around heavy, black sorrow to match my black dress and black heart, not batting lashes and fantasizing about sex with a stranger. Was I so ridiculous that a hot guy could make me forget to have any kind of decency? Or shame?

I rounded the corner and saw my mother waiting for me. And then I ran to her, threw myself into her arms, and burst into a fit of tears.

“Brooklyn,” she whispered, holding me in a tight hug. “It’s okay,” she cooed as she stroked my hair.

“I’m a terrible friend!” I wailed. I saw the fuzzy outline of a boy walking past us tentatively through the doors.

“No, you aren’t,” my mother replied.

“Yes, I am! I don’t even know why I’m here! Beth hated my guts! She wouldn’t talk to me all summer!”

“Brooke,” Mom said. “I want you to calm down. Now, we talked about this. You knew it would be hard, but she was your best friend for all those years. Do you think she wouldn’t have wanted you here?”

“No, I don’t!” I cried.

“Yes, she would,” Mom said. “Now we have to go in.”

“I can’t!”

“Brooke, Beth was your best friend,” Mom said, trying for patience.

“No she wasn’t! Not after what I did! I ruined everything! I’m a freaking slut!” I sobbed, shaking my head from side to side.

“Sweetheart, don’t say words like ‘freaking’ and ‘slut’ in a church,” Mom replied.

I only sobbed louder.

“You can do this,” Mom encouraged.

I stood my ground, shaking my head violently, refusing to go in.

“Brooklyn Wright!” Mom hissed pushing me away and grabbing my upper arm. She squeezed too tightly, and I squeaked in discomfort. There was no more tenderness in her voice.

“Get yourself together. This isn’t about you. So stop making it about you. You’re going into that sanctuary and you’re going to pay your respects to your friend, and you’re going to make it about Beth. Do you understand me?”

I swallowed hard and wiped my face.

“Do you understand me?” Mom repeated.

I nodded grudgingly, and she took my hand, leading me through the doors.

© S. Walden, 2013

Author Bio: S. Walden

S. Walden used to teach English before making the easy decision to become a full-time writer. Easy because once she completed a full-time graduate program, there weren’t any teaching jobs anyway! She lives in Georgia with her very supportive husband who does not read fiction and has a difficult time understanding why her characters must have personality flaws. She is wary of small children, so she has two Westies instead. Her dreams include getting through her next big writing project (a three- part series) and owning and operating a beachside inn on the Gulf Coast. Her husband’s dreams for her include getting her Ph.D. so that he can tell people he’s married to a doctor. She loves her fans and loves to hear from them. Email her at swaldenauthor@hotmail.com and follow her blog at http://swaldenauthor.blogspot.com where you can get up-to-date information on her current projects.

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email: swaldenauthor@hotmail.com

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Posted by on February 3, 2013 in Cover Excerpt

 

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Cover/Excerpt Reveal – Just for Fun – Rosalind James


Just for Fun
Author: Rosalind James
Series: #4 in the Escape to New Zealand series
Release Date: 8 December 2012

Description:
What if the person who broke your heart turned out to be the only one who could mend it?

Nic Wilkinson is a responsible, organized, disciplined rugby player at the top of his game. Emma Martens is a sometimes-scattered, often-emotional, and always-broke would-be designer with a big chip on her shoulder where Nic’s concerned.

They have no history together, except one perfect week. Nothing in common anymore, except the most important thing of all.

Getting together again would be messy. Complicated. Scary. And, just maybe, worth every risk.

Excerpt:
“Mum!” Zack burst in through the front door. “It was brilliant!” He kicked his shoes
off impatiently, dropped his rugby boots next to them before struggling out of his jacket. Nic
followed him in, grabbed the jacket and hung it on the brightly painted rack next to the door
when Zack would have dropped it on the floor.

Emma reached out for a hug that, Nic saw, the boy was still willing to give his mother,
at least here at home. Her eyes met Nic’s as she looked over her son’s head. How did she
always look so soft? So . . . pettable? She was wearing another sweater, that was all, he told his
troublesome libido. Another light, lacy one, prettily trimmed once again. A pale pink cardigan
with pearly shell buttons, edged in cream, over a long stretchy top and leggings. She looked like
an invitation to cuddle. Like the best blankie ever.

“Can Nic stay for dinner, Mum?” Zack asked excitedly, offering a welcome distraction
from his wayward train of thought. “He could help me tell you all the things we did. We’re
having spaghetti!” he told Nic. “It’s really good.”

“Can’t, mate. Sorry,” Nic put in hastily at Emma’s instinctive shake of the head. “But I’ll
have a glass of water, if one’s on offer.”

“Sit down,” Emma told him. “Please.”

Nic slipped off his own shoes before heading to the couch with Zack. “Cheers,” he said
as she came back from the kitchen to hand each of them a glass, then took her own seat in a
small armchair next to the couch, the only other option the little room offered.

“You look tired,” she said abruptly. “And bruised. Are you OK?”

“Just a bit confused on the sleep schedule, still,” Nic admitted. “I took a wee pill on the
flight home, but it never works that well.”

“It’s a long way, Mum,” Zack put in. “South Africa’s really far.”

Nic took a long drink of the cold water, looked around for something to set the glass
on. “Coaster?”

“Just put it down,” Emma told him.

“Don’t want to spoil this,” he said, looking more closely at the coffee table. The simple
rectangle had been transformed into a forest of ferns, with native birds peeping out from
underneath fronds, perched in trees. The parson-throated tui making a meal of red fruit, the
colorful, stumpy takahe on the forest floor, tiny fantails darting overhead.

“You can’t,” Emma assured him. “It’s all enamels. Everything in this house is pretty
indestructible.”

“Did you find the ruru yet?” Zack asked him, leaning forward.

“Don’t tell me,” Nic said. “Let me look.” Zack watched him eagerly as he searched and
finally pointed triumphantly to a notch in a tree where the owl blended into the bark. “There.”

“You did this too, eh,” he asked Emma. “Nice.”

“I did everything. That’s my decorating theme. Things I made.”

“I like it,” he assured her. The warm colors of the lounge seemed to cocoon them. Two
walls were a rich caramel, the others a warm yellow. She didn’t even paint every wall in a
room the same color, he realized. Well, at least in the kitchen it was all the same. Purple. He
wondered what color her bedroom was. How it looked. And found himself wishing, against
every better impulse, that he could see it.

 
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Posted by on November 30, 2012 in Cover Excerpt

 

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