Diane Alberts's Blog, page 25
August 27, 2013
Another exclusive TAKE ME excerpt, and a giveaway!
Yep, the last book in the Take a Chance series is live! Want to see what the last one is all about? Then go forth and buy! And if you haven’t read the other books in the series, that’s okay! They are all stand-alone books that are about different (but related) couples!
Here’s the HAWT cover:
And the blurb:
Married in the morning…
Professional heartbreaker Mike Worth thrived on the chase—and dancer Morgan Collins represented the ultimate prize. But there was no way he was going to throw away his single-man status…not even for an elusive redhead with sparkling eyes and mile-long legs. So how did he let one drunken Vegas night end with I do instead of hell no?
Morgan’s life revolved around her career and she had no intention of letting a man interfere—even if Mike made her question all her rules about love. At his urging, she reluctantly agreed to give their spur-of–moment marriage a chance. But once their trial-honeymoon ended, would she choose to follow the dance and leave her unforgettable husband behind?
The buy links:
Amazon Barnes and Noble iTunes Kobo
And now, an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from TAKE ME:
“Oh, hell no,” he muttered to himself. “She did not just do that.”
He’d known Morgan wanted him. Could see it in her eyes. But instead of kissing him, she decided to get revenge on him. If he weren’t so damned turned on right now, he’d be impressed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been shot down. But right now he had an issue to resolve—and his target was leaving the building as if her sweet little ass was on fire.
Mike practically leapt out of the booth and chased after Morgan. The little minx was good. Real good. If he hadn’t seen the way she reacted to him, he would accept the play she’d just laid down and go home defeated. But he’d seen the desire in her eyes when they almost kissed. And when she grabbed his shirt, for a second she pulled him closer instead of pushing him away.
She wanted him as much as he wanted her—but she was running from the desire.
He, however, wasn’t going to run from it. Hell, no. He craved more. Though he teased with his buddies and made himself sound like a man whore, it had been almost six months since he’d gone home with a girl. Six months since he’d met someone who made him want to take her home. And now Morgan came along, stormed into his world, and decided to leave him hanging like that?
No fucking way.
He wasn’t kidding about not wanting relationships. He was a single man and proud of it. But he wasn’t letting her get away with that move. Not tonight.
When he caught up with her outside of the bar, he captured her arm and spun her against the brick wall outside the door. People moved all around them, shoving their way down the crowded Strip, but he felt like she was the only one here with him. It was only the two of them and he wasn’t letting go until she at least admitted she wanted him.
He pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the spot by placing an arm on either side of her body. She breathed heavily, her cheeks flushed a fetching pink, and glared up at him, challenging him without a word. Instead of trying to wriggle loose of his grip, she grabbed his shoulders so she held him in place, too.
His cock hardened to painful extremes and he pushed against her. “My turn to tell you what I think,” he said, breathing into her ear.
“Fine. Go ahead.”
“I think you’ve gotten your little revenge and you liked it. You got me good. I’ll admit it. I also deserved it.” He rotated his hips against her soft belly and she swallowed a whimper. “But I also think you’re a smart girl and you know if we go home together, you’ll be a hell of a lot happier at the end of the night than you would be alone in your bed.”
“Oh yeah?” She tilted her head back and he saw the challenge in her eyes. Man, she was a little spitfire. He liked it. “What makes you think I’d be alone? I hate to break it to you but you’re not the only man in Vegas.”
White-hot jealousy coursed through his blood. Ridiculous jealousy. But it was there, nonetheless. He wanted this woman to be his tonight. Not some other man’s. “No, but I’m the only one who will make you feel like this.”
He slid his thumbs under her chin to hold her in place and their mouths collided. The second their lips met, all hell broke loose. She shoved at his shoulders, and he stumbled backward. For a second, he feared he’d misread this woman. Feared he’d basically accosted a woman in the street—a woman who had no desire for him after all. He held his hands up, his heart dropping to his stomach.
“Look, I’m s—”
She flung herself at him. He winced, expecting her to sock him in the eye like he deserved. But instead, she wrapped her arms and long, lean legs around him, barely giving him time to catch her and hold her up. And then she kissed him. Everything felt right in the world again—including the woman in his arms. She belonged there and he wasn’t letting her go any time soon.
Her tongue slid into his mouth, entwining with his, and she buried her hands in his hair, yanking him closer. The heels of her cowboy boots dug into his ass and her nails scraped his scalp. She seemed like the type of woman that would draw blood first and ask questions later.
And, damn, that was fucking hot.
He deepened the kiss, fighting to take back control, but she battled him. They grappled with each other until she ended up with her back against the building, her body draped around his, and her tongue in his mouth.
And him?
He practically came right then and there, just from a kiss. She was that good. He tore his mouth from hers and she attempted to recapture it. When he lifted his face so she couldn’t reach him, she bit down on his neck.
“Jesus Christ, woman.” He drew in a rasping breath and shuddered. “Your place or mine? Mine’s a ten minute taxi ride away.”
“Mine’s five.” She hopped off of him as if she hadn’t just been practically attacking him and lifted her arm. A taxi stopped immediately. “Let’s go.”
He never got the attention of a cabbie that fast.
—————————-
Last but not least–enter to win a copy of the first three books, Try Me, Love Me, and Play Me!
GIRL ON TOUR by Caisey Quinn is out!
at the following retailers:
AMAZON
BARNES & NOBLE
KOBO
Synopsis:
An up and comer trying to make a name for herself…
KYLIE never expected to be stuck on a tour bus with a pampered princess and her boyfriend’s ex.
A troubled artist struggling to hold onto his career…
TRACE thought he was finally getting to do things his way. Until the label added co-headliner Gretchen Gibson, the only person in country music with more issues than him, to his No Apologies tour.
Surrounded by tabloid rumors and people they can’t trust, Kylie and Trace need each other more than ever. But the choices they make will change everything.
Because chasing your dreams and following your heart don’t always lead you to the same place…
Excerpt:
She pulled up the web browser on her phone and did the one thing Trace had told her never to do. She Googled herself.
COUNTRY COUPLE UPDATE: IS THE HONEYMOON ALREADY OVER FOR CORBIN AND HIS LATEST FLING?
She clicked the link and read the few lines talking about her and Trace. Her vision blurred but she could read the main points. All they do is argue, says a source close to Ryans. She scrolled down the screen. There was more. For a second, everything was tinged in red. They’d had one minor disagreement since being apart. Over Mia, who’d been listening in on her conversation. She’d put up with the crazy chick being cold and distant and sometimes downright hateful. But this was bullshit. And Kylie intended to tell her so.
Below that was a link to another article. One that almost caused her to forget about the situation with Mia entirely. Almost.
TROUBLED ARTISTS TRACE CORBIN & GRETCHEN GIBSON CELEBRATE THEIR UPCOMING CO-HEADLINING TOUR WITH A NIGHT OUT ON THE TOWN.
She couldn’t even read the article because she was too distracted by the pictures. Her surroundings began to spin as bile rose in her throat. Her stomach clenched and her entire body tingled with a painful intensity similar to what she imagined being electrocuted would feel like.
Struggling to swallow, she clicked on the album featuring the grainy photos of Trace and Gretchen. The first showed him checking her out while they played pool. The next one was of the woman licking Trace’s neck as they took body shots off one another. With each click Kylie’s heart pounded harder. Her hands trembled as she swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at the image of Trace holding Gretchen in his arms in the middle of a bar.
There has to be an explanation. There has to be. She just hoped it wasn’t something along the lines of he was out having a good time, getting wasted with Gretchen Gibson, like he’d be doing for the entirety of his tour. Even though that was exactly what it looked like.
Giveaway:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
About the Author
Caisey Quinn lives in Birmingham, Alabama with her husband, daughter, and other assorted animals. She is the author of several New Adult Romance novels featuring country girls finding love in unexpected places. She is currently working on Girl in Love, the third and final book in the Kylie Ryans series. You can find her online at www.caiseyquinnwrites.com.
You can also find her on:Twitter | Facebook | GoodReads
August 26, 2013
TAKE ME (Take a Chance #4) is out! Here’s an EXCLUSIVE excerpt and giveaway!
Yep, the last book in the Take a Chance series is live! Want to see what the last one is all about? Then go forth and buy! And if you haven’t read the other books in the series, that’s okay! They are all stand-alone books that are about different (but related) couples!
Here’s the HAWT cover:
And the blurb:
Married in the morning…
Professional heartbreaker Mike Worth thrived on the chase—and dancer Morgan Collins represented the ultimate prize. But there was no way he was going to throw away his single-man status…not even for an elusive redhead with sparkling eyes and mile-long legs. So how did he let one drunken Vegas night end with I do instead of hell no?
Morgan’s life revolved around her career and she had no intention of letting a man interfere—even if Mike made her question all her rules about love. At his urging, she reluctantly agreed to give their spur-of–moment marriage a chance. But once their trial-honeymoon ended, would she choose to follow the dance and leave her unforgettable husband behind?
The buy links:
Amazon Barnes and Noble iTunes Kobo
And now, an EXCLUSIVE excerpt from TAKE ME:
Morgan Collins ignored the weight of that man’s stare with the stubborn determination that had been rightfully handed down to her from a long line of stubborn Irish women.
But, really.
Of all the arrogant, insufferable, no good know-it-all’s in the world, that man sitting in her seat was definitely the worst. And then some. First, he stole her booth and didn’t even care. Then he topped that off with accusing her of being a stripper and trying to send her off sans the dance he’d thought she was trying to deliver.
She didn’t know which was more insulting—the fact that he’d automatically assumed she was a stripper, or the fact that he hadn’t wanted her to dance for him at all. Like, what the hell was his problem, anyway? How had he even known she was a dancer? Maybe he had recognized her from the stage. That could have led to his snide assumption about her being a stripper. Some men didn’t know the difference between a Vegas Showgirl who danced because she loved the art, and a stripper who took her clothes off for money.
She wasn’t one of those girls.
She danced because she was a dancer. She didn’t know a life without dancing and hoped she never would. Dancing was her life. The thing that made her happiest and most fulfilled. A burst of masculine laughter crossed the loud bar and she looked over her shoulder. It was him, all right. How bad was it that she recognized his laugh already? He’d been over there, in her seat, for two hours now. Laughing with his buddies, tipping back the drinks.
While she’d been stood up by her blind date.
She was supposed to meet some guy her friend had hooked her up with but the jerk hadn’t even bothered to show. Between that dating disaster, the audition she’d gone on earlier that she was sure she’d blown, and the asshat in her booth, her self-esteem had taken a blow today. A big one.
As she watched him in what she hoped was an un-obvious manner, his group of men all stood up and exited the bar. Leaving only one behind—the same one who’d insulted her. He slid back into the booth, spread his legs across the seat, and stared back at her.
Wait. Back at her? Oh, crap, she was still staring, wasn’t she?
He cocked a brow at her but she refused to look away. She’d been caught. Might as well make herself look cocky and bold instead of skittering away like a frightened lamb. When she didn’t back down, he grinned and pointed at the seat opposite of him—the other half of the booth that was quite empty now. He wanted her to sit with him.
Should she?
Before she even realized she’d made a decision, Morgan was crossing the room with her half empty whiskey sour in her hand. His gaze skimmed over her body and she didn’t miss the light of appreciation in his eyes. He might have sent her away earlier but he liked what he saw. Good. Maybe she’d get him all riled up and horny, and then leave. It would serve the jerk right.
You know what? That’s exactly what she would do.
She sauntered over, a hand on her hip and a seductive smile on her lips. She knew how to play men like him. She’d been dealing with his type all of her life. They thought they owned the world and all the women in it, all because they were hot. She’d caught a little bit of his green-yellow-red light speech—and she knew he lived by that rule. Run when the relationship got serious.
Little did he know, she lived by it, too. She just called it self-preservation instead of having a fancy freaking name for it.
She stopped in front of the booth and shot him a look from underneath her lashes. Men loved that garbage, and from the look in his eyes, he was no different. He was eating all of this up like a kid in a candy store. “Are you ready to give me my seat back? Or did you just call me over here to insult me some more?”
“I called you over here because you’ve been watching me,” he said, lifting his mug to his lips. “And I’ve been watching you watching me.”
Darn, she’d been caught. Best to play it off like it meant nothing. Because it didn’t mean anything. At all. “If I was watching you, it was only because you’re in my seat.”
He patted his muscular thighs. “If you want it so bad, come get it.”
She eyed his lap. Did she dare? The temptation was definitely there. What would he do if she sat on him? Called his bluff?
She lowered herself onto his thighs, wriggling her butt to get comfortable. Positioning herself sideways on his lap, she saw that his bright sea green eyes went all wide and he set his mug down with too much force. She fought back a grin. Yeah, he definitely hadn’t expected her to take his suggestion.
His hands flopped to his sides like a fish out of water, as if he was uncertain of what to do with them. “Uh, okay. That works.” He gave a hoarse laugh and ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. “So, what’s your name? I feel like I should know it, since you’re on my lap and all.”
“Morgan.” She sipped her whiskey sour. Her hand didn’t shake at all, even though the glass felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Hopefully, only she knew how fast her heart was beating over the fact that she was sitting on a strange man’s lap. She purposely didn’t ask him what his name was. “Where are all your buddies?”
“They went home.”
“And you didn’t go with them?”
“Nah.” A corner of his mouth tilted up. “The bachelor party is over and I’m a big boy. I live alone.”
“Aww. Are you getting married, sweetheart?” She cocked her head and fluttered her lashes. “How cute.”
Of course, she already knew it was a different guy. Probably the hottie who’d been at the bar when she’d sat down because blondie had given his stoplight speech when he said the bachelor wasn’t here. But instead of revealing her theory, she decided to act like God hadn’t given her the good sense to know left from right.
Men liked that, too.
“Not me. My best friend’s the one getting married.”
She played with her hair, wrapping a fiery curl around her finger. He eyed her hands, his eyes hot and intense on her. So freaking easy. “And you didn’t want to hire him a stripper? Some best friend you are.”
“Yeah, well, he’s marrying my baby sister so he doesn’t get to see that side of me for his bachelor party.” He shifted his weight on the booth, unsettling her precarious perch on his legs. She quickly regained her balance on his lap. “No stripper or hookers or any other shit like that. Not when it involves my baby sister.”
Oh, so he had a soft spot for his little sister, huh?
That was actually kind of…cute. Damn it. Now she knew why he’d sent her away. It hadn’t been an insult to her. He was being a protective older brother.
Her righteous anger deflated, leaving her sitting in a strange man’s lap for no reason. She grasped at straws to get the anger back. “Are you calling me a hooker now?”
His cheeks turned red. “No, of course not.” He took a drink of his beer. “About that, I’m sorry about earlier. I just saw your bra thing under your top,” he gestured to the strap of her beaded bra, “and assumed you were here because one of the guys hired you.”
“It’s fine.” She slid off of his lap and stood. Her anger was gone and she didn’t feel right sitting here with him anymore. “Well, it’s nice meeting you and all but I’m going to call it a night.”
He canted his head. “Let me buy you one more drink? To make up for my mistake?”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I think it is.” He rose and stepped into her personal space. Damn, he was hot and tall. Like, really tall. She was five-seven and he towered over her. She wanted to back off, to give herself room to breathe, but that would make her look weak. Not the image she wanted to give him. “I have to insist.”
She stared him down—even if she had to look up at him to stare him down—and he did the same to her. Man, this man had alpha male written all over him. And she liked it. She had come here for a date…
“Fine. One drink, Mr.…?”
His eyes lit up with satisfaction. “Mike Worth.”
“Well, Mr. Worth.” She slid into her side of the booth now that he’d emptied it. “I’ll have a whiskey sour. You go grab it and I’ll sit here and keep our seat safe. I hear there’s a jerk going around and stealing seats tonight.”
He shot her an amused look and headed off for the bar. Hot damn, he looked as good going as he did coming. The jeans he wore hugged his tight butt and she had a feeling he spent a lot of time in the gym. That made two of them.
As he ordered drinks, she pulled out her red lip-gloss and reapplied, checking to make sure she didn’t have raccoon eyes or something else equally embarrassing. She’d woken up at five thirty for the audition, then spent all afternoon rehearsing for the Monday night show she was an alternate in. It involved a lot of high kicks—Rockette style—and she ached from hip to toe.
He slid into the booth opposite of her and handed her the drink. He’d gotten the same. “Here you go, Morgan.”
“Thanks, Mike.”
She stirred her drink with the tiny red straw all bars gave, and watched him. He scanned the room around them, then turned the power of those baby blues on her. Although, upon closer inspection they were more sea-green than blue. She liked the ocean color even more than blue.
Damn him and his stupid attractiveness.
Under his scrutinizing stare, she shifted her weight in the booth and blew out a soft breath. Her hair fluttered from the exhalation. “You’re staring,” she said.
“I am?” He seemed to shake himself out of a stupor. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it. But, you know, I can’t quite place your accent. Where are you from?”
She raised a brow. “Texas.”
“Ah. Texas.” He glanced under the table. “That explains the boots—which I like very much, by the way.”
She inclined her head in thanks. “Let me guess—you’re born and bred in Vegas?”
He grinned. “Yep.”
“And you’re probably a bookie or a professional gambler or something like that, aren’t you?” She pointed her hand that held her drink at him. “Wait. Are you a stripper?”
He laughed. Actually laughed. Her pulse leapt at sound.
“Sure. We’ll go with that.”
So he wasn’t any of those things. Some part of her wanted to press for more information. To find out what he really did, but what was the point? It’s not like she actually cared, right? “Okay, then.”
“So you know what I can’t figure out?” He leaned across the booth and met her gaze. She inhaled deeply and held it. The man could seduce with his eyes. “Why are you here, on a Friday night, all by yourself?”
She hesitated. Should she tell him the truth and let him know she’d been stood up, or make it sound a little less embarrassing? Shrugging, she said, “My plans fell through last minute.”
“Ah. That makes more sense than you being all by yourself.”
She toyed with her straw and bit down on the corner of her lip. He stared at her mouth and her stomach clenched. The way he looked at her right now made her think about bringing him home and…
No. Not happening.
She forced herself to sit up straight. To stop swaying toward him, even though she hadn’t even realized she was swaying toward him until she moved back. “Because it’s so hard to believe I might not have plans?”
“A woman that looks as good as you do always has plans.”
Oh God. That shouldn’t have made her want to jump his bones. She needed to back off. Or return to the old plan of getting him all hot and bothered before she left.
“Well…” She licked her lips, her heart racing at the way his gaze heated up. “Maybe you’re my plans now.”
He growled and she shivered at the guttural sound. “That’s fine by me.”
Propping her elbows on the table, she reached for his hand. The touch of his skin on hers sent a small electrical-like shock through her blood. She almost dropped his hand, but he turned his wrist and caught her fingers before she could retreat. Guess she had to keep up her act…though it was starting to feel less and less like an act by the second.
“Maybe I’d like to go home with you tonight and show you just how much I like the growl you just made by making you do it a hell of a lot more,” she said, tracing circles on his knuckles.
He caught her other hand and pressed a kiss to her wrist, pinning her down with his eyes. Yeah, this man liked control almost as much as she did. “That could be arranged.”
“Hm.” She licked her lips again, not dropping his stare. “And maybe I want to go home with you right now.”
He pulled her across the table so she was practically lying across it, then leaned in until his mouth was at her ear. “Maybe I’d like that, sweetheart.”
The solid surge of desire caught her off guard. This was supposed to be a game—a way to teach a lesson to the man who’d automatically jumped to nasty conclusions about her. The very same man who spoke about women like they were stoplights instead of human beings. She wasn’t supposed to want him. It was time to finish it and go home. Alone. “You know what I think?”
He ran his fingers through her hair, his touch feather light. “No, but I think you’ll tell me.”
“I think…” She lifted her face to his, their lips no more than a breath apart. The desire to close the distance, to see if he was a good kisser or not, consumed her, but she stayed on target. “That you smell good.”
And he did. Damn him.
His fingers flexed on her and he moved in for the kiss. She pulled free and slid a finger in between their mouths, denying him the kiss he sought. He moved back and looked down at her in surprise. The surprise faded away into frustration. “What are you doing?”
She placed a hand on his shirt, curling her fist into the material and pulling him just a little bit closer. For a second, just a tiny second, she debated keeping him there. Debated forgetting about revenge, and instead debated getting a fabulous orgasm out of this man instead.
“I’m thinking,” she flicked her tongue over his lips, “that next time you call a woman a stripper, you should be absolutely sure she is one first. Have a good night with your hand, sweetheart.”
She shoved him back in the booth, stood up, and left him there. She couldn’t resist stealing another look back at him. And what she saw shot little thrills of anticipation shooting up her spine, then back down to twist her stomach into knots.
He was looking at her like she’d just declared war on him…and he intended to win.
—————————-
Last but not least–enter to win a copy of the first three books, Try Me, Love Me, and Play Me!
August 24, 2013
AHHH! PLAY ME is climbing the charts!
This is me right now:
Have you checked it out yet? I’d love, love, love it if you could! Here’s the link. Maybe share it on your pages/twitter/FB or with some friends?
If you did? It would make me do this:
…maybe even a little bit of this:
…if I got to watch PLAY ME climb up the charts even more!
August 23, 2013
Want to win an early ARC of Finn #1.5?
Then help me get Out Of Line to 1,000 Goodreads adds by the release date of September 10, 2013!
If we can do this, one LUCKY WINNER will get an eARC of the novella that comes between book and and book two EARLY.
Let’s do this!
Goodreads link:
Cover:
Blurb:
Desperate to break free…
I’ve spent my entire life under my father’s thumb, but now I’m finally free to make my own choices. When my roommate dragged me to my first college party, I met Finn Coram and my life turned inside out. He knows how to break the rules and is everything I never knew I wanted. A Marine by day and surfer by night, he pushes me away even as our attraction brings us closer. Now I am finally free to do whatever I want. I know what I want. I choose Finn.
Trying to play by the rules…
I always follow orders. My job, my life, depends on it. I thought this job would be easy, all the rules were made crystal clear, but when I met Carrie Wallington, everything got muddy. She’s a rule I know I shouldn’t break, but damn if I don’t inch closer to the breaking point each time I see her. I’m ready to step out of line. And even worse? I’m living a lie. They say the truth will set you free, but in my case…
The truth will cost me everything.
August 21, 2013
Want to help spread the word of TAKE ME’s Monday release?
Then fill out this form!
We’re having a blitz to spread the news, and would LOVE to have your help! If you do, I’ll be all:
Go here and say YES! 
*thanks for the GIF, emotionalreply.com!
Another chance to grab an ARC of OUT OF LINE!
You can enter to win a paperback ARC of OUT OF LINE over at Goodreads! What are you waiting for? DO IT!
Goodreads Book Giveaway
Out of Line
by Jen McLaughlin
Giveaway ends September 01, 2013.
See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.
August 15, 2013
So, uh ARCs of #OutOfLine went out last night (GIF post)…
And this pretty much sums up how I feel right now…in GIFs.
and this…
and a little bit of this…
Yep. But on that note, don’t forget to add it to your Goodreads shelf. If we reach 600 adds (and we’re really close) not only will you get thirty pages BEFORE it comes out, but you’ll also get an extra FINN SCENE.
Oh, and enter to win a signed paperback below, too.
Now, enter to win a SIGNED paperback advanced readers copy (ARC) of Out Of Line before anyone else can buy it! Enter below to win!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
August 13, 2013
Pages 20-25 from #OutOfLine! Almost to our goal of 600 adds!
If you missed the first fifteen pages, click here and then here.
PLEASE SHARE THIS LINK SO WE CAN GET TO OUR GOAL OF 600! WE ONLY NEED LESS THAN 100 ADDS TO GET ANOTHER FIVE PAGES AND A BONUS NOT-IN-THE-BOOK FINN SCENE!
SPECIAL CONTEST:
I’m offering up a special contest. For every 100 adds we get on Goodreads for OUT OF LINE before the release (September 10th), I will reveal 5 pages of the book early!
If the book hits the goal of 600 adds before the release, not only will you get thirty pages of the book early–but I will release a bonus scene from Finn’s POV! I will also choose random people who use the tag #OUTOFLINE on twitter and facebook, or adds the book to their TBR list, to receive swag!
Please let people know to add the book to goodreads in order to get these excerpts released.
Add it to your Goodreads shelf here!
And now, pages 20-25–since we reached 500 adds in the first week–let’s hit our goal of 600 adds! If we reach the goal, you not only get thirty pages of OUT OF LINE early, but you’ll get a bonus Finn scene, too!
(Carrie’s POV, continued on from before)
A warm flush spread through my body. No one ever paid for me. The few people I had hung out with in school had always been relying on me for purchases, but no one here knew how much money I had. No one knew my father was on the short list for presidential candidates. The anonymity was a refreshing change of pace. “Thank you. I’ll get the next one.”
He shrugged. “If I let you have a next time. You might kill me with boredom during the shopping trip.”
“Haha. So funny.” I grinned, then decided to get some payback for the trick he’d played on me last night. “Do you think I can find a Swarovski-encrusted surfboard? I’m willing to go in every single store in San Diego if needed.”
“Oh, hell no.” He shot me an incredulous look and turned a little bit green. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
I blinked innocently and managed to keep a straight face. “Is that a no?”
He grabbed our coffees and handed me the bigger one. Once I took it, he shoved his sunglasses up his nose. “No. It’s fucking fabulous.” He shot a quick look at me. “Oops. Sorry.”
“For what? Cursing?” I laughed at the absurdity of it. Who the heck apologized for cursing? “Sometimes I say fuck too. I’m not a little kid, you know.”
He took a sip of his coffee. How did he do that? I would have burnt my tongue. “It feels like you are at times. Like you could be my little sister or something.”
Sister? Ouch. Guess I knew where I stood with him. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.” He looked at me. “What about you? Are you jailbait?”
“No.” I looked down at my cup. How much should I tell him about myself? I wanted to make friends. To be normal for once, but I couldn’t be stupid. “I’m nineteen. I took a year off and went abroad before starting college.”
He took another sip of coffee. “That’s a good idea. It’s how I would have done it, if I’d gone the college route.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries and had no idea what a friend should or should not say to that. Or if we even were friends yet. “You still could if you wanted to. Do you want to?”
“Maybe someday, when I have time.” He laughed. “Right now? I’m good in my career field.”
“Well, you never know. You might decide to go officer someday.”
He shot me a weird look. “Maybe.”
“There’s that word again.”
“It’s a good word, especially when life is filled with maybes.” He stopped in front of a surf shop on the beach. “This would be a good place to start. I can’t promise Swarovski, but there might be something pink.”
“I don’t do pink. It doesn’t match my hair.”
“Heaven forbid,” he said, holding the door open for me. “We can’t have that.”
“Darn right we can’t.” I ducked into the store and took a cautious look around. Surfboards of every imaginable color lined the left wall, while wetsuits filled up the other half. In the back, a bunch of boogie boards hung on the wood wall. Maybe boogie boarding would be a safer choice. It wasn’t too late to change my mind…
No. Not happening.
A blonde girl wearing a bikini underneath a transparent top stood behind the counter texting. She looked up when the bell on the door chimed, quickly assessing me before moving on to Finn—and staying there. She straightened and smoothed her hair. “Hello. Welcome to Surf ’s Up. What can I do for you?”
Finn smiled at her a little bit too widely, and his eyes dipped far too low to be staring at her face. Jerk. “My friend here needs a good beginner’s board.”
The girl looked at me again, but quickly turned back to Finn. “The blue one in the back is good for her. Perfect size.”
“You think?” Finn walked over to the board in question and cocked his head. I followed Finn, but practically got shoved aside by the worker. I struggled to right myself before I went legs over head in the rack of wetsuits, but Finn caught my elbow without even looking my way. “You should watch where you’re going, Ginger.”
“I told you.” I tried to pull free of his grip, but he didn’t budge. “Stop calling me that.”
Finn looked at me. “Why? It’s cute.”
“Says who?”
“Me.” He dropped his hold on me and turned back to the employee, who’d been watching him as if he was her next meal. “So this will work for her?”
The employee moved closer to Finn, brushing up against him. And Finn, the perv, didn’t move away. Of course not. He was a guy. The girl ran her fingers over the board, caressing it as if it was a person instead of an inanimate object. “Yes. The lines are smooth, and the finish flawless.”
“What do you think, Ginger?”
I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but didn’t bother to correct him again. No matter what I said, he would use it. “Sold. I’ll take it.”
Finn turned to me with wide eyes. “Really? That quick?”
“I don’t care what it looks like. If you say it’s good, it’s good.”
He tugged on his ear and looked at me as if I had sprouted two heads overnight or something. “All right. Next up? A suit.”
I turned to the employee, using the no-nonsense tone Dad used when he wanted shit to get done. “I’d like a blue and white one, to match the board.”
“Measurements?” The girl eyed me. “I’m guessing 32A?”
Total, petty lie. I was not a 32A, and it was obvious. “No, I’m—” “34C,” Finn replied, grinning. “Am I right?”
I blinked at him, taken off guard by that statement. Was it normal for a guy to know that crap? “Dude. What the heck is wrong with you? And why do you know that?”
“I’m kind of an expert in the frontal area.” Finn grinned, and his eyes sparkled. “It’s my thing.”
“Obviously,” I drawled, smiling.
He shrugged. I gave the rest of my measurements to the worker, and within ten minutes we were finished shopping. I carried my wetsuit and coffee, and he carried my board for me. I headed toward the ocean, so eager to hit the water I could barely stand still, and then sat down on a bench. He eyed me, but didn’t sit. “That was a hell of a lot faster than I expected. I didn’t even bring my board with me.”
I took a sip of my coffee and watched the waves crashing on the sand. A surfer effortlessly rode one in, and a bunch more of them bobbed out in the water. They made it look so easy. So simple. I knew it was anything but. What the heck was I thinking? I couldn’t do this, could I? If my father knew…
I straightened my back. The hell with that. I was going for it. The fact that my father didn’t approve only made me want it more. Childish? Sure. Who cared? I was allowed a little bit of rebellion now and then. “Do you want to go to your place and get it?”
“I could, I guess.” He looked over his shoulder toward the road. “Do you want to wait here for me?”
“Can’t I come?”
He hesitated, shifting on his feet. “I only have a motorcycle. I’m not sure you want to ride that.”
A motorcycle? Hell to the yes. Dad called bikes donor cycles. Told me if I ever even thought about setting foot within ten feet of one, he’d ground me for life. I wasn’t ground-able anymore, was I? God, this freedom I now had was exhilarating. A girl could get used to this kind of life. “Oh, I’d love that.”
“Seriously?” he asked, looking a little pale. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
I propped my hand on my hip and stood. “Why not?”
“I only have one helmet.”
“So what? I’ll be fine. I trust you.”
He looked up at the sky. “You might,” he mumbled under his breath.
Then he perked up. “What will we do with your board?”
“I’ll have the store hold it for me.”
He sighed. “I guess I’m out of arguments.”
“I guess so,” I said cheerily, my heart accelerating at the mere thought of climbing on a bike with Finn. “Cheer up. You’re acting like my dad again.”
He stiffened. “Stop saying that.”
“Then stop acting like him,” I said, smiling to show I was teasing him. “You better be here when I come back out, or I’ll skin you alive.”
I grabbed my stuff and headed toward the store. After a quick conversation with the employee, I came back out and found Finn standing there, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. I held my hand out and waited for him to take it with bated breath. I don’t know why I did that. We weren’t dating. We weren’t even friends yet. I couldn’t resist. He stared at my hand for a second, muttered something under his breath, and closed his fingers around mine. A shot of electricity skittered up my arm, making me jump slightly.
What the heck had that been?
His eyes darkened and something weird twisted in my belly in response. Something I was only loosely familiar with. Desire. I was a virgin, but I’d read about sex enough times to recognize the sensation. And I would bet my favorite pair of Converses that he was feeling it, too.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice deeper than usual.
“So ready,” I said, peeking up at him through my lashes. “I’ve always wanted to ride one, but my dad wouldn’t let me.”
He perked up. “Maybe we shouldn’t. You know, if your dad would be mad.”
“Oh, please. I’m nineteen.” I tugged him toward a Harley I could only assume was his. “I’ll ride what I want to ride.”
He groaned under his breath. “I bet you will.” When we reached the bike, he grabbed the helmet off the handle and slid it over my head. I tried to pull back, not wanting to wear the ugly thing in front of him, but he didn’t let me. “My bike. My rules. You wear the helmet.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” He gently slid the helmet the rest of the way down over my head, making sure to keep my hair out of my eyes as he did so. My heart did a weird little flip flop at the way he watched me, his eyes hot and his lips soft. His touch, gentle as it might seem, held a strength behind it.
“How do I look?”
“Perfect,” he said lightly. Then he climbed onto the bike and looked over his shoulder at me. That look he gave me was the look that so many books described. Like he was inviting me to fall into his arms and stay there forever. God, I wanted to. His muscles flexed, teasing me with his perfection. “Climb on and hold on as tight as you can.”
I swallowed hard and slid on the back of the bike.
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