Tracey Cramer-Kelly's Blog, page 2
February 15, 2022
Fighting Fire: Free Chapters
Reno, Nevada, Fire Department – Station 3 “Kade!” The voice came over the intercom at the same time Riley Carmichael’s shot on the 4-ball missed the pocket. “Your wife is here!” Riley turned—along with everyone else in the room—to gauge the reaction of her partner and fellow firefighter. Kade Phillips frowned. It was unusual for …
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January 25, 2022
Rockin’ It Home – Free Chapters
CHAPTER 1 Atlanta, Georgia Ben peeked out at the audience. Sold out. He couldn’t help smiling to himself; not bad for a guy from a Minnesota Iron Range town of 981. All he’d wanted to do was make a living with his music. He’d never expected to become a famous rock star. But apparently he …
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January 18, 2022
Protecting His Heart – First Chapters Free
PROLOGUE: 20 years ago Twelve-year-old Ian McCleary peeked up at Kent Lawson as he paced the hospital exam room. His best friend’s dad was a big man but had never made Ian feel scared. Not like his own dad. Ian stared at the floor, cradling his right arm with his left hand. It didn’t hurt …
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January 6, 2022
Rumble: Chapter 1
RUMBLE is one of four complete romances in the ROAD TO ROMANCE collection. Order here! Lazarus “Laz” Lowenstein leaned his Harley-Davidson Roadking onto its kickstand and squinted at the modest bungalow in front of him. How had he let Roger talk him into this? As the editor of the uber-popular online blog Go Forth, Roger …
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December 8, 2021
CrossOver: Chapter 1
CrossOver is one of FOUR complete romances that can be found in the Dream Machines Collection. Order here!
“Hey Vaughn! Your motorbike people are here!”
Vaughn Rogers looked up from where he crouched next to a pristine Harley-Davidson Nightingale.
For the hundredth time, he wondered how he’d let Laz talk him into wrenching on a dirt bike. His boss was always helping someone out; it was a wonder that Lazlo’s Dream Machines turned a profit every year. But since Vaughn himself had been a recipient of Laz’s help, he could hardly say no.
He glanced out the bay windows at the battered RAM truck; the dirt splattered all over the sides was a dead giveaway that he was about to meet Laz’s current charity case.
He sauntered toward the truck as a man who looked to be in his early forties jumped out. “You Archie?”
“Yeah,” the man said. “You Vaughn?”
“That’s me.”
Vaughn’s attention was drawn to a woman getting out of the passenger side of the truck. She was a petite thing, her hair in a ball cap with a ponytail pulled through it. She was dressed in a tight-fitting T-shirt and frayed cut-off shorts that revealed very shapely legs. He’d bet his Jim Beam she had a shapely ass to go with those legs.
Archie stuck his hand out, and Vaughn tore his eyes off the girl’s legs to shake his hand. “I really appreciate you taking a look at the Kawasaki,” Archie said.
“No problem,” Vaughn said.
Archie turned to the woman, who’d come around the front of the truck and stood with her hands in her back pockets. “This is my daughter, Gabby Johnston.”
Daughter? Damn. Vaughn would have to check his libido at the door… “Hello.”
She nodded, but her eyes were covered by sunglasses. Up close, he could see a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and Vaughn was distracted by a sudden urge to brush his lips over each one of them.
“Gabby, can you help Vaughn unload while I go talk to Laz for a minute?” Archie said.
“I think I can manage,” Gabby said with just a hint of sarcasm.
Archie gave her a sidelong glance and turned toward the stairs leading up to the offices. “You have any questions about how the Kawi should ride, she’s the one to ask,” he tossed over his shoulder as he walked away.
“You mean she’s—?”
Gabby was the racer?
His gaze returned to the pixie-like woman.
Gabby’s eyes narrowed as she pulled the sunglasses off her face and tucked them in her ball cap. “Yeah,” she said. “I race. You got a problem with that?”
Feisty. He liked that.
“Doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. Just seems like a rough sport for a girl.”
Wow. If eyes could shoot daggers, he’d be severely wounded right now.
“I think you mean a woman,” she said.
Vaughn preferred his women on the back of his Harley Deuce. Or on their back anywhere else, for that matter. He smirked. “How old are you?”
Gabby scowled at him. “None of your business.” She pivoted toward the back of the truck. “I’ll get the ramp and back it off.”
“No need.” Vaughn physically lifted the bike out of the truck bed and set it on the ground. As he straightened, he caught her checking out his arms.
This was nothing new; women liked his biceps and tattoos.
He lifted one eyebrow at her.
“What?” She crossed her arms and her scowl deepened. “Like you weren’t checking out my legs earlier.”
He grinned and tipped an imaginary hat. “Guilty as charged.”
His ready admission seemed to throw her for a loop, because she opened her mouth, then closed it again.
He found himself wondering what she’d been about to say. Amused and slightly flustered by his thoughts, he pushed the bike into the bay. “No kickstand?” he said.
She gave him a look that said he was an idiot. “Racing bikes don’t have kickstands,” she said. “You got a triangle stand?”
“Yeah, we got triangle stands,” he said, ready to give as much as he got. “For big-ass motorcycles like Harleys. Not for a tiny thing like this.”
She huffed, then headed for the truck. He couldn’t help it; he checked out her ass. He’d been right about it.
But she was Laz’s friend’s kid, and as such, she was off-limits.
Ready to read more? CrossOver can be found in the Dream Machines Collection. Order here!
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November 4, 2021
Prologue: TRUE SURRENDER Military Romance
When Major Aaron Bricewick is rescued from Afghanistan terrorists, he thinks the worst is over. But his biggest battle – the battle for his heart and soul – is just beginning…
© Tracey Cramer-Kelly
PROLOGUE
Major Aaron Bricewick jerked his head up, biting back a gasp.
Had a sound wakened him, or was it just pain that had brought him to consciousness?
He lay still in the dark, straining to make out any further noise. It must be night; he couldn’t hear the muted sounds of vehicles.
The third night in this basement cell.
This night there’d been no bread and water.
Though the sounds of his captors made his heart race and his stomach clench, this silence was unnerving. Even the occasional movement on the floor above him had stopped. Had his captors fled? Or were they out wreaking havoc elsewhere?
He flinched at the scuttling sound of his only company. Though he’d never seen the rats, his mind now conjured up images of them crawling on and over his lifeless body.
Move, Bricewick.
He shifted. The clinking of the chain attached to his right wrist sounded unnaturally loud. He placed that hand against the floor and pushed himself to a sitting position, swallowing the groan as best he could.
He reached for the jug he knew was beside the door, but the fingers of his left hand were stiff and swollen, and he had trouble gripping it.
“If you don’t give us what we want, we’ll take you apart piece by piece!”
The voice in his head was the one called Rashid—the only terrorist in this group who spoke English.
Would Aaron have done it if he could? Hack into the system and give up military intelligence? He was no Navy SEAL or Army Ranger or Special Forces operative trained to withstand interrogation and torture. He was a computer guy, for God’s sake.
But he hadn’t had to make that choice. He’d been locked out of the computer system, probably the moment the higher-ups realized he was missing. He’d tried explaining this to Rashid and his henchmen, but there was no rationalizing with terrorists.
Instead, Rashid had calmly picked up a club, informed Aaron he intended to kill him—and smashed both the computer and Aaron’s hand.
He’d never known pain like that.
It was Scott who’d torn strips from his own clothes, his lips moving in silent prayer as he fashioned a makeshift bandage for Aaron’s broken fingers. He, too, had been interrogated, but as a civilian contractor, he had no military rank—a fact that seemed to make him less of a target for the terrorists’ ire.
Which was a good thing—if there was any good to be found in this situation—and it had become Aaron’s mission to keep that spotlight off Scott.
And Cheryl.
Oh, God, what had the terrorists done with them?
He swallowed the bile that pushed into his throat; throwing up again would only make things worse. Private Cheryl Young had only been his clerk for four months; she didn’t know anything that would be of value to the terrorists. He’d tried to protect her, too, but had it done any good?
God, if you’re there, protect them. Hell, protect me too, if you really do care about sinners.
He raised the water jug to his lips, but it was empty. He let it fall to the ground, then dropped his head against the cold wall at his back.
He had regrets about his life: his estrangement from his father… not being there when his mom and stepfather died… the woman he should have married and made a life with.
Holly.
Memories played as if on a reel as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Holly in Duluth, snow falling soft and white against her black earmuffs, laughing at his first attempts to ski. Holly running on the beach in Hawaii, her tawny hair tossed by the wind. That impossibly small bikini and those long legs wrapped around him as they made love there in the surf…
Scritch!
Aaron’s eyes flew open.
That’s not the rats.
He strained to hear something more.
Yes, there it was again.
His breath caught in his chest. Were these sounds good or bad? Were the terrorists coming to finish him off?
God, give me courage. The prayer came easily to his overwhelmed psyche.
The sounds were louder now.
And closer.
His body tensed.
BAM!
He jerked at the unmistakable sound of a door being kicked in, then again with the second Bang! when it hit the wall.
Sudden light blinded him. “Major Bricewick?”
He didn’t recognize the voice, but it was definitely American. Profound relief rendered him mute.
“Oh, my God!” Another voice—one he recognized.
“Scott?” he croaked.
Scott was alive!
“Get the flashlights out of his face.”
More figures and voices filled the tiny space. Dim light bounced off the walls and someone knelt beside him. Swore. “Hand me the cutters.”
“Hang in there, Sir.” He felt hands on his forehead, his neck, his back. The weight fell from his wrist.
“Major.” It was that first voice again. “We’ve got to get you out now. Can you make it?”
He nodded.
Hands grasped his arms and pulled him to his feet. White-hot fangs tore through his legs and he cried out.
No. I will not pass out!
His rescuers braced their arms under his knees and around his shoulders, forming a human sling. They carried him up a stairwell and across a darkened yard, each step jarring nerve endings that screamed in agony.
Oblivion beckoned… and then, suddenly, the dull thud of doors, the low growl of a motor, and the sway of a moving vehicle.
Words flowed over and around him:
“Need an IV.”
“Cold compress.”
“Medevac.”
Focus. He needed to focus. “Scott?”
“I’m here, Aaron.”
“Cheryl… is she…?”
“She’s okay.” Scott’s voice was fading.
“Mister Olson was able to lead us to both you and Miss Young.” It was that second voice again—the one who’d cut the chain.
Scott. Scott had saved them…
He struggled to form words.
“You’re gonna be okay.” Scott’s voice broke. “It’s over, Aaron.”
It’s over.
Aaron clung to those words as American soldiers laid him on a gurney. His last memory of Afghanistan was of helicopter blades spinning above and an oxygen mask closing over his face…
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November 1, 2021
Book Sales to Benefit Cru Military
As a former Army combat medic (and current EMT), soldiers and their families are near and dear to my heart.
Every year at this time, in honor of Veteran’s Day and all our soldiers and their families, I choose a veteran-focused charity to which I donate a percentage of all my book sales (usually more) during the month of November.
(This applies to all my books, although if you are a military romance fan, you may especially enjoy TRUE SURRENDER or the ARMY RANGER SERIES).
This year I’ve chosen to support Cru Military, an arm of Cru Ministry that focuses on servicemembers and their families.
Cru Military’s strategies address the spiritual needs of cadets and midshipmen at service academies, recruits in basic training, active duty members, national guardsmen, reservists, veterans, retirees, combat trauma and PTS sufferers, spouses, marriages, and families.
The organization also trains individuals, churches, and ministries seeking to minister to the military community (the Bridges to Healing Ministry).
When you purchase any of my books throughout November, you not only get a great story, but you help veterans, too! So check out my books and get started!
Footnote: When Cru Military recently asked a group of Army soldiers and their spouses, “What are the greatest challenges you face?” every single one of them spoke about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
“Our military members fight two wars – one on the battlefield…and one in their souls after they return home. For thousands of veterans and their families, despair has become an unwelcome, but constant companion.”
Cru Military was founded to reach those hearts!
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October 8, 2021
Excerpt: Calling the Curveball Sports Romance
© Tracey Cramer-Kelly
Anticipation made Kira’s jitters return as she and Jamie cleared the table together. Every time their hands brushed, it sent a tingle all through her. And the way he was looking at her now—like he wanted to have her for desert—made her panties damp.
“Fire?” he said.
Oh, he was going to be the death of her!
Without waiting for her response, he got busy piling logs in the fireplace. She got a very good view of his backside, broad and strong. God, she wanted to trace that tattoo from its origin on his arm, over his shoulder to his chest…
“I love real fireplaces,” he said.
As he crouched in front of the fire, blowing gently on the fragile flames, she imagined holding those ass cheeks in her hands. She didn’t want to wait any longer; she was going to take matters into her own hands… literally.
She stood and moved toward him as he stood too.
As if he’d anticipated her move, he caught her hands in his and pulled them around his waist. She melted into him and their mouths collided, the hunger evident on both sides. His hands went into her hair. Her hands went lower, to that ass she’d been admiring just moments before.
She felt his breath hitch, and he side-stepped. This put his back against the wall—a fact she took full advantage of as she pressed her body against his—and she could feel his arousal against her belly.
She broke their kiss only to trail her tongue down his neck to that place near his collarbone—a place she hoped was as sensitive as she suspected. “Good God…” he breathed, confirming her suspicion—and causing a throbbing ache to radiate from the center of her thighs.
All thoughts of not appearing needy flew out the window, and she tugged at his shirt. “I want you naked,” she said.
Their mouths locked again, and she ran her hands up under his shirt.
He growled. It was a sound of frustration, desire… and something else.
And then he tensed. And he pushed her away.
His strong arms held her at arm’s length. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “We need to stop. I need to stop.”
“But…”
“I just… I’m not ready.”
“I know what a man feels like when he’s ready, and you are most certainly—”
“Not like that.” Jamie dropped his hands from her sides and turned his back on her. “I want you so badly that way that it hurts.”
She watched in disbelief as he stepped away, adjusting himself as he did so. “All that talk over the last couple weeks,” she said. “I thought we were on the same page. Did I get that all wrong?”
He stopped pacing. “No.”
“What then?” she demanded.
He didn’t answer.
“It was just to lead me on, then drop me when it went too far?” she continued.
He swept the air with his hand. “I’m not ready.”
“Yeah, you said that already.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m not ready for…” He sighed in frustration. “…for what it means.”
She went still, her desire for him morphing from the physical to something more scary.
“With you,” he finished.
Before she could fully analyze that statement, he slid his hand around her neck, drawing her into him almost carefully, as if trying not to brush her against his crotch. “I just need a little time,” he said.
She thought about his wife. Six years. She was only two past Karl and she was ready for something real again. His wife had died… did that make it so different?
He released her, his gaze over her shoulder. “I think I’ll get more firewood,” he said. He left her there, confused, hopeful… and still damned turned on.
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October 6, 2021
The Curious Case of Kindle Vella
I thought about Kindle Vella all summer (I even surveyed my subscribers about their interest). I had a new story (a soccer romance) I thought would fit the ‘serialized’ nature of the Vella, titled DELAY OF GAME.
I finally took the plunge, and the first episode of DELAY OF GAME went live on September 8.
Five more episodes posted with no problem. And then… trouble with a capital A (as in ‘Amazon’)!
Have you ever heard the phrase “a chink in the armor”?
It refers to an area of vulnerability, such as a weak spot in a figurative suit of armor.
I used that phrase in DELAY OF GAME episode 7, and Amazon blocked the episode. I believe they did this because their ‘bots’ read that phrase as a racial slur.
I was entirely willing to change the phrase, but after a week of emails to Amazon support (and even a phone call with a live human being), they gave me no way to make the change. The EDIT button remained stubbornly un-clickable.
In the meantime, I heard from friends and readers who were having issues accessing Vella (never a good thing!).
To be completely honest here – I got fed up. Amazon expects us authors to bring our readers to their new platform and does nothing to help us do so.
The upshot is that I requested that DELAY OF GAME be unpublished from the Vella platform.
To those who were following DELAY OF GAME, I apologize. I have another option for this story that I’m now exploring, so stay tuned!
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September 9, 2021
Delay of Game on Kindle Vella
I’m all about reaching as many readers as I can, so of course I had to try Amazon Kindle Vella!
In fact, the first episode of my new soccer romance (DELAY OF GAME) went live September 8!
New episodes will be posted every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Read them here!
Kindle Vella is a serialized fiction app where you “unlock” episodes of stories you want to continue reading (think of it like TV-show episodes). It’s just one more way for readers to discover new stories (and for authors to generate a little revenue from our work!).
You can read the first three episodes for FREE! After that, you use “tokens” to purchase additional episodes.
Not sure how to read on Vella? Open the Kindle app on your smart phone, click on the “Discover” link (mine’s at the bottom), then click on “Kindle Vella.” For quick access to my story, type DELAY OF GAME or TRACEY CRAMER-KELLY in the search bar… and start reading! (Or read on your computer here!)
An act of violence…
Hunter McKinley may be a star soccer player on his high school team, but he’s a little wild—perhaps because his mom’s busy caring for twins and his special needs sister, and his dad’s “faith stuff” is more important than Hunter. When a senseless act of violence puts Hunter’s life in the balance, it’s his best friend’s college-aged sister who comes to his aid—and unknowingly plants a seed that will take years to blossom.
Faith grows…
Jo Donnelly never imagined she’d find her life’s calling—to be a paramedic—on a soccer field. But as years pass, she finds herself being tested in ways she never anticipated. While Hunter is growing in his newly discovered Christian faith, supported by his college friends, Jo is seeking answers to an aching loss. Why would God let bad things happen to good people? Can she open her heart and let both Hunter—and God—into her life?
Their fate is to be determined…
What is found can be lost again. The former college athlete is now a pro soccer player, but without his support group, Hunter finds it’s easy to surrender to the temptations of the world, while Jo is being challenged by her own crisis of faith. Do they have the courage to surrender to love and the joy God has in store for them? Or will their love end as it began, in a tragedy that may destroy what’s taken two decades to grow?
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