Alison Kent's Blog, page 13

This Time Next Year & Holiday Kisses – COVERS!!!

This time last WEEK, I was in the car with the husband driving from a family wedding in Dallas, Texas to the Novelists, Inc. conference in St. Pete's Beach, Florida (that would be approximately 1100 miles one way, and we made the return trip of 900 miles to Houston in a single DAY, oy). And during the trip, my cover for my Carina Press novella THIS TIME NEXT YEAR and the cover for the anthology HOLIDAY KISSES arrived. You'll be able to buy the 4-pack, or each novella individually. Pop over to see the covers for the stories by HelenKay Dimon, Shannon Stacey, and Jaci Burton!

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Saturday Snippet – in the workplace

Here's an oldie but goodie bit of romance in a rather unconventional workplace. From A LONG, HARD RIDE…

Thursday a.m.

"Whip! I gotta have that torque wrench or I ain't never gonna get this done."

"Take a look in the far chest, Sunshine. The second drawer. I got it out of there earlier."

"Well, it ain't in there now. It ain't in any of 'em. Drawers or chests. I done looked."

Hunkered down outside the Corley Motors rig, Trey "Whip" Davis straightened from where he'd been securing an extension cord against the race pit flooring, and mentally retraced the day's steps.

He'd had the torque wrench with him when he'd grabbed for his Blackberry to call Butch Corley, his driver, only to realize he'd left the PDA on a shelf in the hauler's workshop. He'd obviously set down the tool when he'd picked up the phone, but crap on a cracker.

What was the deal with his head?

This wasn't like him, being off kilter, disorganized, careless. He was making stupid mistakes. It had to stop. And it had to stop now. He headed for the racing trailer's open door. "Take a breather, guy. Grab a corndog. Get a cup of coffee. I'll rustle it up."

Sunshine got to his feet, twisted and stretched, gave Trey his trademark sunny smile – one that reddened his already ruddy complexion. "Can't turn down that million dollar offer. See ya in a bit, Boss."

Trey watched his assistant crew chief hop onto the team's four-wheeler and make his way toward the concession stands, zigzagging through the haulers, pop-ups and motor homes turning the Dahlia Speedway pits into a virtual campground.

The late morning sun shone off the reds, greens and yellows, blues, blacks, and whites of the various teams' logos coloring everything from trucks and T-shirts to ball caps and tattoos. It was a sight Trey would never tire of, and he was going to miss it like hell.

When Corley Motors pulled out early Monday morning following this weekend's Farron Fuel Spring Nationals, he'd be temporarily handing off his crew chief duties to Jimmy Gale, aka Sunshine, and staying in Dahlia – the town where he'd lived the first twenty years of his life – to take care of some personal business.

He knew that weight had everything to do with his mind being on the fritz, knew clearing away those obligations and solving the puzzle of his father's downfall had to be done if he intended to remain in the top fuel game.

And he did. That was why he'd made arrangements with his crew and his driver for the time away.

It was either do so, or find himself canned as Butch Corley's tuning boss, and he'd worked too hard to let that come to pass. No mechanic with a lick of sense wanted to work with a has-been. The ones who'd jumped ship and left his father floundering had proven that.

Knowing Sunshine couldn't resist a conversation any more than he could a corndog, Trey stepped up into the hauler's workshop, figuring he had a free thirty minutes while the other man schmoozed the vendors setting up around the track.

The rest of the crew would arrive tomorrow to prepare for Friday's first round of qualifying. There would be no downtime over the weekend; work would continue from dawn to dusk to dawn again, the team tweaking their tuning formula to guarantee a performance the Corley fans wouldn't forget.

This break was the last one Trey would have until at least Sunday night. By the time Sunshine got back, all hands would be required on deck and -

"You know, the last time I saw you standing still, you had your pants around your ankles."

What the hell?

"And it's nice to see my memory hasn't failed me. You do have a fantastic ass."

Glowering, Trey turned. The woman in the doorway had the sun at her back, which put her face in shadow. It didn't matter. He knew without question who it was standing there giving him the eye. Had known who was speaking the moment he'd first heard her voice.

That didn't mean he was able to answer without taking a deep breath first. "Cardin Worth. It's been awhile."

She wore black Converse sneakers, low-riding jeans, and a black Dahlia Speedway logo T-shirt. His pulse began to hum, but not because of the way she looked in her clothes. Humming was what it had always done when she was around.

What it had done even before the pants-around-his-ankles incident all those years ago. "How the hell are you?"

Pulling off her sunglasses, she came further into the trailer, her long black ponytail swinging. "I'm good, Trey. You?"

"The same." He looked on as she laid down the glasses, as she picked up and fondled the wrench he'd come for. He'd always thought she had the most graceful hands, had always wanted to feel the touch of her fingers . . . "What brings you out here so early race weekend?"

"I'm actually looking for my grandfather." Her gaze came up, intense, searching. "Have you seen him?"

"Jeb? No." Trey shook his head. He hadn't remembered her eyes being so blue. Her body being so . . . fine. But he finally did remember his manners. It didn't matter that her grandfather was someone he really didn't care to see. "Is he doing okay?"

A comma of a dimple fondly teased one side of her mouth. "Flying as right as ever, thanks."

"And you? You're doing okay?" Because he sure as hell wasn't.

Her smile took pity, her gaze softened. "We already did that part."

"Right. Sorry. My mind's – "

"On the race?"

Actually, it had gone back seven years to the night of the kegger celebrating her class's high school graduation. The night of the pants-around-his-ankles incident.

He still wondered how long she'd been standing there, how much she'd seen. If she'd been as turned on as he had. If she dreamed about that night the way he did, for no reason that made any sense.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Farron Fuels is always a big one for Butch."

"For all of Dahlia," she reminded him sagely, her hometown pride strong.

He nodded in response, knowing her family, along with the others whose businesses thrived on the spring drag racing series, would get the bad news soon enough.

Without the Fisks – the Speedway's current owners – coming through on their promised repairs and improvements, Corley Motors wouldn't be back. And with his ties cut from Dahlia, that meant neither would Trey.

Cardin turned the torque wrench over in her hands, a thoughtful crease appearing between her arched brows. "It has to be strange to have grown up here, yet never visit. Except during the Farron Fuels."

He wanted to tell her it wasn't strange at all. That these days he didn't think of Dahlia as anything more than another quarter mile strip of asphalt he needed to get his driver down as fast as he could. But he didn't say anything, just waited for her to dig deeper for whatever it was she wanted.

She did, switching from a gentle trowel to a more painful pick. "Don't you miss hanging out with Tater? Seeing your other friends? Spending time at home?"

He shook his head. This wasn't his home.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Hmm." Her tone said she didn't believe him. "There's not anything about Dahlia you miss?"

"Nope."

"Or anyone?"

"Nope."

"Not even Kim Halton?"

Kim Halton had been the girl on her knees when his pants had been around his ankles.

"There is one thing." He might as well tell her since it was highly unlikely he'd get another chance.

"What's that?"

"I miss seeing you."

"Pfft." She fluffed her fingers through her bangs, hiding behind her hair and her hand. "When did you ever see me before?"

He wondered if her refusal to look him in the eye meant her cool was all a ploy. Then he wondered how much of the truth she really wanted. He went for broke. "You mean besides the time you stood there and watched Kim blow me?"

Color rose to bloom on her cheeks, but it was her only response until she gave a single nod.

That one was easy. "I saw you at school, in the halls, shaking your ass on the football field. I saw you in Headlights every time I came in for a burger or a beer."

"That was a long time ago, Trey," she said, her voice broadcasting her bafflement. "At least – "

"Seven years," he finished for her.

Her frown was baffled, too. "You say that like you've kept track."

"I have." He knew exactly when he'd moved away from Dahlia.

"I don't get it. You were two years ahead of me. We can't have exchanged more than a couple dozen words."

Words had nothing to with the heat she'd stirred in him then. That she still stirred now, a stirring he felt in his blood. "So?"

"So, there's no reason for you to miss seeing me."

"None you can think of, you mean."

"Whip – "

"Hold up." He lifted a hand. "Forget about me missing you. Let's talk about the nickname instead."

That got her to laughing, a throaty, bluesy sound that tightened him up. "Hey, I had no idea it would stick. You can blame that on Tater."

She returned the wrench to the shelf, her fingers lingering, her lashes as thick and dark as the bristles of an engine brush as she lifted her gaze coyly to his. "At least most people think it's about you cracking the whip over your team."

That was because most people hadn't been there to hear the gossip about him whipping it out for Kim Halton.

He was lucky their secret had stayed close. That no one knew he couldn't have cared less about Kim. That, instead, he'd wanted the girl watching from the doorway as Kim stroked him. The one too close to his doorway now.

He moved to block it. "I suppose it could've been worse."

"You're right." She paused, added, "I could've called you . . . Speedy."

Ouch. But he grinned. "Maybe I was wrong when I thought I'd missed seeing you."

"I'd say that's a distinct possibility." Coy was gone, a come-on in its place. "Especially since I'm right here, and you're still missing seeing me."

He was pretty sure his definition of missing and hers of the same word were two different things. That didn't mean she wasn't right. That he wasn't overlooking something vital.

He crossed his arms and widened his stance, furrowing his brow as he gave her an obvious once-over. "I'm seeing you now."

Her tongue slicked quickly over her lips. "You're too far away to see much of anything."

There were less than three feet between them. He came closer. "Is this better?"

"You tell me," she said from where he'd backed her into a waist high storage locker.

He leaned in, flattened his palms on the stainless steel surface, one on either side of her hips, and hovered, her body heat rising, his breathing labored and giving him away. "Not as better as it needs to be."

Her hesitation in replying wasn't about uncertainty, or impropriety, but about making him sweat, making him wait, making him want and ache. He was doing all of those things, strangling on the tension that was thick in the trailer around them, and robbing him of his air.

Finally, she moved, her hands coming up, her palms pressing to his chest, her fingertips finding his nipples and rubbing circles where they dotted his shirt. He shuddered, and she tipped forward, nuzzling her nose to his throat.

He closed his eyes, inhaled, caught the scent of her shampoo, of her sun-heated skin, of her perspiration that was sweet, a damp sheen. Keeping his hands to himself had seemed smart, but she made him too stupid to care.

He held her upper arms, her shoulders, sliding his hands up her neck to cup her face, her cheeks, her jaw, sliding them down to her ribcage and the promise of her breasts.

There was no sense for any of this, no reason, no rhyme. He had no idea what had really driven her here, and the climb of his temperature left him unable to figure it out, or do anything but feel.

She met his gaze, parted her lips, pushed up on her sneakered tiptoes to find his mouth. He bent to make it easy for her, but mostly he bent for himself. Her tongue slipped between his lips to tease and seduce and show him the years he'd missed out on.

He couldn't let himself wonder about or regret any of that now because she was here, and he didn't want to miss any of what was happening. Her hunger was that of a long separation, a desperation, neither which he understood or which fit.

What he did understand were her hands at his waist, tugging up his T-shirt, slipping beneath. Her fingers threaded into the hair on his belly, then into that on his chest. She toyed with his nipples, his chest hair, and drove him mad.

He broke the kiss because he had to, and rested his mouth at the corner of hers to catch his breath, his control. Her lips parted. He felt the urgent beat of her heart all over. "Cardin, why are you here?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. It's been so long. I wasn't sure. I need – "

"Yo! Whip! Where you at? You'll never guess who I found holding a corndog in each hand."

Sunshine was back, and Trey had no choice but to set Cardin away, his question unanswered, her reply incomplete. He looked down, trying to find something to clue him into the truth, seeing only the flush of her arousal.

His own strained obviously and would take time to calm. "We'll finish this later."

"Yo! Whip!"

"Be right there," he called toward the still open door, smoothing down his shirt as Cardin checked that nothing was out of order. "You heard me, right?"

"That we'll finish this later?" She nodded.

Good. But also . . . "And you'll tell me then what you need?"

She didn't answer. She brushed her mouth one last time against his before turning, snagging her sunglasses and hopping from the trailer to the ground.

Trey took another few seconds to gather himself, grabbed for the torque wrench and walked from the rig's interior into the white hot light of the sun.

He squinted, then shook his head at the irony of the interruption as he recognized Jeb Worth climbing off the four-wheeler. That settled one thing at least.

Cardin looking for her grandfather was not as far-fetched as Trey had thought. Whether or not finding Jeb was what had brought her to the Corley hauler was yet to be seen.

Trey had a feeling it was something a whole lot bigger – and with a whole lot more baggage – than that.

For more Saturday Snippets:

Anne Rainey

Jody Wallace

Eliza Gayle

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Mandy M Roth

Myla Jackson

Taige Crenshaw

Vivian Arend

Alison Kent

HelenKay Dimon

Shelli Stevens

Lauren Dane

Lacey Savage

TJ Michaels

Shiloh Walker

Snippet Saturday – a gift

Choosing a Snippet Saturday scene featuring a gift was pretty easy since I have a Christmas novella, THIS TIME NEXT YEAR, coming up in the Carina Press anthology HOLIDAY KISSES – and Christmas is all about gifts! Enjoy!

*****

Dillon stared at the tongue-in-groove ceiling of Donota Keating's guestroom, wondering if Brenna was sleeping in the room above. Or if her bed was farther down the hallway, as far away from his as her grandmother could manage.

The thought had him smiling, though his wry grin became more of a grimace as he sat up. He had no problem abiding by his hostess's rules, but he didn't like the idea that she'd kept him from Brenna for any reason but propriety.

And something told him grandmother and granddaughter had done a lot of talking at his expense while he'd tended to Ranger after dinner last night.

Really, though, what did he expect? Donota knew almost as much of his history as he'd spilled to Brenna, and he could hardly blame her for wanting her granddaughter to steer clear from damaged goods.

He tugged on his socks and his jeans, buckled his belt and found his boots. After yesterday's huge lunch and equally big dinner, not to mention the cookies he'd grazed on all day, his stomach shouldn't be rumbling, but it was. Rain or shine, breaking dawn meant coffee. And seeing to Ranger's feed.

He slipped on his shirt and, boots in hand, started toward the kitchen. Halfway down the hall, he passed the living room and glanced in, at the tree Brenna and her grandmother had decorated while laughing like schoolgirls, tossing popcorn and cranberries at each other and him, their squeals bringing down the house and breaking loose chunks of the armor he wore.

And that was when he saw her asleep on the floor, not in the room above his at all. She was wrapped in the quilt from the rack behind the sofa. Throw pillows from the pile he'd seen in the rocking chair were scattered around her, cushioning her head, tucked to her chest, trapped between her legs.

She looked warm and cozy and comfortable, and then he realized she wasn't asleep. Instead she was looking at him.

"Good morning," he said, leaving his boots at the room's entrance and crossing to the tree. "You're up early."

"Up late, you mean," she said, pushing to sit, her legs stretched out in front of her.

"You haven't been to sleep?"

She shook her head, scraped a fall of hair from her face. "Gran and I stayed up half the night talking."

"When I came in from tending Ranger, you said you were headed to bed."

She shrugged, smiled softly. "That had been the plan."

Hmm. "What changed it?"

"That," she said, inclining her head, her gaze searching out his gift boxed under the tree.

He hadn't planned to bring it, had stuffed it at the last minute into Ranger's saddlebag. Something told him giving it to her here, at her grandmother's house cloaked in the familiarity of Christmas, would make a bigger impact.

And making an impact was the whole point of the gift. "You want to open it?"

"Can I?"

"Your call," he said, crossing his ankles and folding down to sit facing her. "You're the one who knows the house rules, not me."

"We don't really have house rules," she said with a laugh, reaching for the box and pulling it into her lap. "I don't have anything for you."

"It's not that big of a deal. Besides, you made me cookies."

"And then ate half of them myself."

"Some gifts are better when shared."

She dropped her gaze from his to her lap, her cheeks going pink. "I guess some are."

He thought about having her in his bed, wondered how he'd ever sleep again without her there. They'd be leaving Donota's after the big noon meal in order to get back to his cabin before dark. And with the storm over, he could get her to Raleigh tomorrow. Another week and she'd be looking down on the Atlantic from forty thousand feet.

He didn't want her to go. He had no expectation that she'd stay, no right to ask her, no claim to stake. This gift was all he had. "Are you going to open it?"

She pulled the pinecones from the top, stripped away the tape holding the flaps together. Then gripping two in her fists, she said, "You're making me nervous."

"Do you want me to leave?" He didn't want to, but he would.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's Christmas morning. This is where you belong."

For more Saturday Snippets:

Anne Rainey

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Myla Jackson

Taige Crenshaw

Selena Blake

Vivian Arend

Alison Kent

HelenKay Dimon

Lauren Dane

Lacey Savage

Shiloh Walker

SEAL of My Dreams – The Website is LIVE!

SEAL of My Dreams

Snippet Saturday – an early look at Undeniable

For today's Snippet Saturday I thought I'd share an early scene from what I'm working on now – UNDENIABLE (working title), the first book in my Dalton Gang series to be published in November 2012 by Berkley Heat. (That means there will be some HEAT!) And, yes, I know it's a LONG time away, but I think it'll be worth the wait.

(Also, isn't Dax worth waiting for???)

*****

Whatever else might've changed in Crow Hill during his absence, Dax Campbell knew he could count on Lasko Ranch Supply for more than his need for feed. Land owners, ranch hands, old-timers, and those aiming to fuel the gossip mill gathered in the parking lot before breakfast to shoot the shit of the day, or at lunch to share the food that flowed as freely as the news.

Like all communities of folks making their living off the land, Crow Hill knew about getting the word out. Trucks passed on a country road and occupants traded the latest. A driver dropping hay bales at one ranch carried stories from the last. Drifters looking for work brought with them the grim truth of what they'd learned at the place they'd tried before.

Dax wasn't after the grim truth or stories or the latest. His reason for hanging out at the feed store was all about getting laid. It had been way too long since he'd taken the time, even had the time for that particular pleasure. And being out of touch all these years meant scoping out the lay of the land.

Word of the inheritance he'd be sharing with Boone Mitchell and Casper Jayne had reached him in a bar outside of Bozeman. He'd been drunk, he'd been cold, and for the first time in years, he'd been homesick. Not for the place he hadn't seen since the summer after high school, but for his boys.

Learning of the passing of Tess and Dave Dalton on top of that ache had almost done him in. He'd loved the Daltons, considered them family. They'd been there when his mother had taken up the causes of less privileged children instead of seeing to her own. They'd encouraged him to live his life his way when his father insisted he follow the path of all Campbell men.

Dax had wanted to cowboy—not go to college, and definitely not to law school to add Esquire to the end of his name. Tess got that. Dave got that. Casper and Boone got it, too. They'd sent him packing with promises to keep in touch. He hadn't, and had nothing but his vagabond life to blame.

But that night in Montana, finding out he'd lost the Daltons had him missing his boys with an unimaginable hurt. Every good memory of his teenage years was connected to Boone and Casper. The summers they'd spent working the Dalton Ranch were the best times of his life.

In fact, outside of honoring the Daltons' wish that he help keep the place they'd poured their hearts and souls into from being sucked up by Crow Hill's First National Bank, the only thing that would've brought him back to Texas was raising some Dalton Gang hell. But he needed a woman—or two, or three—to do it up right.

"Campbell! Was wondering if you were planning on showing your beat up old face around here. Not that I couldn't have gone the rest of my life without seeing it."

Dax let the screen door slam behind him before he turned toward Bubba Taylor who was just as gap-toothed and curly headed as he'd been in high school, though now carrying a gut that appeared over the years to have never met a beer it didn't like. "Now, Bubs. I don't think my face is any more beat up than your wife's."

A chorus of sharp snickers and a couple of guffaws punctuated Dax's words. Bubba, proud of getting in the first shot, seemed at a loss for another, which pretty much reflected the IQ Dax remembered him displaying most of the time.

Josh Lasko, another classmate who, word had it, had taken over running the store from his dad, made his way out from the register, his boots clomping on the worn plank floor. He offered Dax his hand for a hearty shake. "It's good to see you, Dax. Damn good, but c'mon now. Cut Bubba some slack. It's a wonder he's got a wife at all when you look at the face God gave him."

Dax pretended to consider the ugly mug of the man in question, asking of Josh, "You sure it was God?"

That loosened Bubba's tongue. "Hey now. What's with all the ganging up on Bubba here?" Hands out, he looked to his posse for help. Getting nothing but murmurs and shrugs, he dug for a comeback, snickering. "I ain't the one who screwed myself out of a hilltop mansion and into a ranch so rundown it ain't worth a salt lick."

Dax had done plenty of screwing, true, and the fallout hadn't done a damn thing to help his situation at home. But neither his history with women or that with his folks had squat to do with his partnership in the Dalton place. "That's the difference between you and me, Bubs. I know the value of a salt lick. You want to insult my property, you'll have to do better than that."

"It wasn't your property I was aiming for," Bubba tossed back, turning to his cronies with a smirk at having gotten in the last laugh.

Dax let him have it. The hours he was working these days, catching up with friends he might want to see already took time he didn't have. Wasting it on the likes of Bubba Taylor wasn't a luxury he cared to indulge in.

"Gentlemen." He nudged his hat brim up a notch, gave Bubba his back and walked to the register with Josh. "Wondered how long the woodwork could hold them back."

Josh gave a single shake of his head. "Might've been a bit longer if you'd picked up any manners out wherever the hell you've been."

It had been five years since he'd last counted the places he'd worked. Before that… He didn't even want to think about the miles he'd driven, the horses he'd rode to ground, the cattle he'd herded. "I've been everywhere, man. I've been everywhere."

The corner of Josh's smile dimpled. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about."

Dax shrugged. He was who he was. "I left in a hurry. Didn't have time to head back to the hilltop mansion for any etiquette lessons."

The other man leaned forward on both elbows, his head low as he spoke for Dax's ears alone. "Bubba and his bunch? You gotta expect some of that, leaving like you did, then coming back to take over a property a lot of folks could've been putting to good use. Rain's been in short supply. Makes grass hard to come by. Too many animals being sold at a loss because of it."

Nothing Dax didn't know, or hadn't seen employers face over the years. Ranching ran in the blood of a lot of families, but that didn't keep hearts from breaking when troubles bit deep. "I came back for Tess and Dave. And for my boys. Not because I had some grand dream of ranching in Crow Hill."

"And not because of your family?"

He'd been back a week, Boone and Casper a couple weeks longer. He hadn't seen his folks or his sister yet; he hadn't seen much of anything but the back end of cows and the bottom of bank accounts, but the inevitable was on its way. "Found an attorney in Dallas to take care of my third of the partnership papers. His legal advice didn't cost me an arm and a leg and a soul."

"I hear that," Josh said, giving Dax cause to wonder if his old man billed clients a price similar to what he'd demanded from his only son.

But Josh didn't give him time to ask. "So what brings you to town today? That lawyer of yours get you up to speed on your payables? Cuz I was thinking of taking a round the world cruise, and if you pony up, I can do it."

At least Josh's reminder of the state of Tess and Dave's affairs didn't grate in the way of so many others. Josh's grandfather had wrangled cattle on the King Ranch along with Dave Dalton, years before the two would make their way to south central Texas. That had Josh, too, counting the Daltons as family, the Dalton Gang an extension.

But it didn't mean Dax and the boys weren't still on the hook for the debt. They did, however, have a secret weapon in Boone's sister, a loan officer at the First National Bank. "With the budget Faith's got us on, you should be able to afford the drive to the port in Galveston real soon. Maybe even the gas to get back."

Josh straightened, laughing, but the sound was cut off by a loud round of catcalls rising from the corner. Dax looked over his shoulder in time to see Bubba and his bubbas nearly topple the barrel holding their card game as they jockeyed for position at the window.

Elbows gouged and shoved. Boot heels landed on boot toes. Hats were jerked from heads to clear lines of sight. Reminded Dax of a bunch of bawling calves jammed into a chute. "Looks like someone needs to put a lock on the beer cooler."

"Nope," Josh said. "Looks like lunch." He circled the counter and headed for his own window, this one tucked on the far side of an old wardrobe now stocked with square cans of unguent and dark brown bottles of antiseptics and thick leather gloves.

Curious, Dax followed, leaning a raised arm along the window casing and squinting into the glare of the sun.

The view that finally came into focus looked like way more than lunch to Dax. The woman bent across the front seat of the pickup, dragging a big brown, grease-spotted grocery bag into her arms, had the most gorgeous ass Dax had seen in weeks. 'Course, the only asses he'd seen during those weeks belonged to the calves he'd been working, but still.

All he needed now was for the front side to be as outstanding as the back. She straightened, wrapped one arm around the bag, and turned. Her dark jeans rode low on her hips and bunched around her boot vamps. The shoulder-hugging sleeves of her T-shirt showed off some mighty fine guns. But it was the way the same shirt lay flat against her belly and scooped low on her C-cup chest that made his mouth water.

He blew out the breath straining his lungs to bursting, not exactly proud of the groan that came out on its tail.

Hallelujah, and come to Papa.

Josh chuckled. "You know who that is, don't you?"

Dax lifted his gaze to her face. Dark wavy hair, shoulder length, shining like strong coffee in the sun. A wide mouth with sweet peachy lips, and big bright eyes. Green, he'd bet. To go with the freckles on her nose.

And, no. If he'd ever met this woman, he would know things about her no other man did. "Not a freakin' clue."

"Then let me be the one to fill you in on some of the better things that have happened since you've been gone." Josh slapped Dax on the shoulder before walking away. "That, my man, is Arwen Poole."

For more Snippet Saturday excerpts:

Anne Rainey

Jody Wallace

Selena Robins

Eliza Gayle

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Mandy M Roth

Myla Jackson

Taige Crenshaw

Selena Blake

Vivian Arend

Beth-Ann Mason

HelenKay Dimon

Shelli Stevens

Lauren Dane

Lacey Savage

TJ Michaels

Shiloh Walker

I'm here! I'm here!

Man I have been BUSY! So busy that just today I finally mailed out all the promised packages from my last giveaway, gah. And all that bookshelf cleaning I was doing so I could rearrange our office? Haven't managed to do that yet! Soon, though!

I did, however, finally update my website today, woot! You can read more about my November and December releases: This Time Next Year, a novella in the Carina Press anthology HOLIDAY KISSES, and Twenty-One Hours, a short story in the Bell Bridge Books anthology SEAL OF MY DREAMS.

I've almost finished with the new SEAL of My Dreams website (it's a placeholder now) which will tell more about how Christie Ridgway and I wrangled nineteen authors to write short stories for this charity antho.

AND, I FINISHED writing TWENTY-ONE HOURS, my SEAL story, and got it sent off to the anthology's editor today, yay! (That picture to the left was my inspirational image for my characters Shane Gregor and Teri Stokes.)

In other exciting news, I'm having a new website designed and hope to have it put together by the time my end of year stories release. Also, I've been reading some GREAT books. I want to talk about them, but that means finding the time and these days I have none!

In not as exciting news, I'm going to fall off the face of the earth again for the next few weeks. My first Berkley Heat book (cowboys, yay!) is due on November 1st. It's going really well, but I've got a family wedding next month and a conference, so need to get it finished early so I can enjoy our trip without having to do any work!

Snippet Saturday – Weather

Here's a frosty cold excerpt from my upcoming Carina Press Christmas novella aptly titled WEATHER THE STORM!

*****

Cold. So cold. Her nose and left eye throbbing. Her foot jammed under the brake pedal. Teeth chattering, Brenna pushed away from the steering wheel to sit up. The airbag plopped onto her lap like a pancake.

Groaning, she remembered…the too hot heat, the deer in her headlights, the amusement park ride into the ditch. Her car was nose down, no longer running. Her door, when she tried it, wouldn't budge. And her phone, when she found it, still had no bars.

She collapsed against her seat. Wasn't she the picture of a damsel in distress? Stupid deer. Stupid car. Stupid driver. At least Gran knew she was on her way and would eventually call out the cavalry, right?

Right?

For the love of Pete. If she'd pulled off her gloves and tossed her coat from her lap and left the car's heater alone, she'd be sitting in Gran's cozy kitchen by now. Drinking spiced cider. Filling up on glazed sugar cookies. Gran fussing over the biscuits in the oven and the soup on the stove.

Instead, visions of a tiny motherless Bambi had her stranded and now starting to shiver in the bone-cutting cold.

The tips of her fingers and toes were numb. Her breath frosted in the air as she blew it out in an attempt to remain calm. She grabbed her coat and struggled into it, then reached down to work her foot free.

Pain shot up her shin. She grimaced, pretty sure her ankle was sprained. Not that it mattered. She couldn't sit here and freeze to death. Unfortunately, getting out of her car wasn't going to be as simple as had been getting in.

She was pondering the nuts and bolts of climbing out one or the other of the—thank God—manually operated windows, when the wind began to howl and the already blowing snow whipped into what in minutes would be a full-on blizzard. Lovely.

With no street signs and a starburst crack in the center of the GPS screen, she couldn't be certain how far she was from Gran's. She'd driven this road often, but the accident and near whiteout conditions had her crazy disoriented. And mental confusion was one of the first signs of hypothermia.

She closed her eyes, swallowed, and tried not to panic, but her teeth were chattering, gooseflesh pebbled her skin, and the car's interior was rapidly turning into an icy tomb. Tears welled and she brushed them away, sniffing.

Cold. So cold. And tired. And very very scared.

#

Bang! Bang!

"Hello! Miss! Hello!"

Brenna's eyelids fluttered open. Had she been asleep? Dreaming?

"Miss! Hello!"

Thud! Thud!

She glanced toward her window, saw a fist, a coat…a man.

He leaned down, a big black Stetson pulled low on his face, and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Can you roll down your window?"

She cleared the glass with her sleeve and nodded, reaching for the handle. Frigid air sucked the remaining warmth from the car's interior, slapped her in the face, stole her breath, started her teeth chattering anew.

"Are you hurt? Can you move?"

"My ankle. It's sprained or bruised." It wasn't broken. Of that much she was sure. "I can move."

"Okay. If you can, turn your back to the window. I'm going to slide my arms under yours and lift you out."

Nodding again, she did as he instructed, ignoring what felt like nails hammering her head. Then he was there, big, strong, hefting her out of her seat. She pushed with her good foot, winced when she tried with her bad.

But she was sliding out, her shoulders, her butt, finally her legs. He eased her to her feet, and she hobbled to lean against the car.

"Thank you," she said, but the wind whipped her words away, the same wind pelting her with ice shards.

"C'mon," he yelled, reaching for her. "We've got to get you out of here and warmed up."

She needed her purse, her clothes, Gran's Christmas gifts. But he didn't give her a chance to tell him any of that. He scooped her up as if she weighed no more than a snowflake and turned, and that's when she saw his horse.

The big chestnut beast had snow-frosted lashes and a similarly dusted mane. His breath puffed out in clouds as he snorted. Her rescuer lifted her into the saddle, then swung up behind, scooting her onto his lap before wrapping his thick sheepskin coat around her.

He smelled like leather, like hay, like the deep green woods and the snow. His chest behind her was broad and warm, his thighs beneath hers solid. Like her, he wore gloves, but she could tell his hands were big, and obviously capable as he reined the horse around and away from her car.

She tilted her head back, "I almost hit a deer."

Having leaned down to catch her words, he nodded, then brought her tighter against him with an arm across her middle. She really should be much colder than she felt, and had to be nearly delirious because all she could think about was how treasured, how protected, how small and feminine and faint she felt.

And how romantic it was to be rescued by a knight in a black Stetson on horseback.

For more Snippet Saturday excerpts:

Anne Rainey

Jody Wallace

Eliza Gayle

Mari Carr

McKenna Jeffries

Myla Jackson

Taige Crenshaw

Denise A. Agnew

HelenKay Dimon

Lacey Savage

Shelli Stevens

Shiloh Walker

TJ Michaels

A steal of a deal!

Could they make it any easier to say yes? Look at that price!

Happy Birthday to ME!

The Ultimate Chocolate Cupcake, Drama Queen (chocolate w/ raspberry center), Strawberry Amaretto, Italian Cream - from the Ooh La La! Bakery

A freebie read & winners!

First up, if you'd like to read LOVE IN BLOOM, you can get the digital copy free from Smashwords (epub, pdf, html) for the rest of this month. Use coupon code: YH72K.

Here are the winners of the Emma Holly books:

Personal Assets – Julie

Strange Attractions – Karen C

All U Can Eat – Mariee

Cooking Up A Storm – Jen B.

Here are the winners of the Shannon McKenna books:

Out of Control – Tonya

Standing in the Shadows – Ellie F

Y'all send your mailing addresses to ak@alisonkent.com!

(FYI, I use Random.org to pull all my contest winners!)