J. Kenner's Blog, page 35
May 24, 2017
SURPRISE! Bitch Slap releases June 2nd!
Bitch Slap releases June 2nd!
He didn’t know if he wanted to slap her… or kiss her.
Bitch Slap
The first time I met her I wanted to slap her.
The second time, I knew I had to have her.
As for the third time, a gentleman doesn’t tell.
So I guess it’s a good thing I’m no gentleman… right?
Let’s get this out of the way, right off the bat: I love women.
I love the way they look. The way they smell. The way they feel. Especially the way they feel. And I’ve pretty much made it my mission to give each and every woman who shares my bed the ride of her life.
Then I met her. Bitchy as hell and completely uninterested in me. And damned if I didn’t want her. Crave her. I told myself I only wanted to tame her. That it was all about the challenge.
I never expected to break through that ice queen exterior and find the softness underneath. Never expected how wild she’d be between the sheets or the way she’d cry my name with such sincere intensity when I totally rocked her world.
Most of all, I never expected to fall for her.
But I did.
And the question is, now that I know I want her, how the hell do I go about keeping her?
Add it to Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...
Notification when live:
TRAILER:
The post SURPRISE! Bitch Slap releases June 2nd! appeared first on JKenner/Julie Kenner.
SURPRISE! Bitch Slap is releases June 2nd!
Bitch Slap releases June 2nd!
He didn’t know if he wanted to slap her… or kiss her.
Bitch Slap
The first time I met her I wanted to slap her.
The second time, I knew I had to have her.
As for the third time, a gentleman doesn’t tell.
So I guess it’s a good thing I’m no gentleman… right?
Let’s get this out of the way, right off the bat: I love women.
I love the way they look. The way they smell. The way they feel. Especially the way they feel. And I’ve pretty much made it my mission to give each and every woman who shares my bed the ride of her life.
Then I met her. Bitchy as hell and completely uninterested in me. And damned if I didn’t want her. Crave her. I told myself I only wanted to tame her. That it was all about the challenge.
I never expected to break through that ice queen exterior and find the softness underneath. Never expected how wild she’d be between the sheets or the way she’d cry my name with such sincere intensity when I totally rocked her world.
Most of all, I never expected to fall for her.
But I did.
And the question is, now that I know I want her, how the hell do I go about keeping her?
Add it to Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...
Notification when live:
TRAILER:
The post SURPRISE! Bitch Slap is releases June 2nd! appeared first on JKenner/Julie Kenner.
May 7, 2017
Literacy and little flash drives!
I recently gave out some of the most darling custom flash drives — thank you USB Memory Direct! — and I’ve been so psyched by the feedback! So glad you guys are loving not only the drives but also the pre-loaded books!
It’s such a great way way to get promotional books out to you guys, that I may have to bring more with me to the Romance Writers of America conference in Orlando for the Literacy signing and the Indie signing!!
And by the way, the Literacy Signing is open to the public! It’s in July, and proceeds go to (you guessed it!) Literacy!
You can learn about the Literacy Signing by clicking this link.
I hope to see some of you in Orlando!
The post Literacy and little flash drives! appeared first on JKenner/Julie Kenner.
April 11, 2017
Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! FINAL INSTALLMENT
IT’S RELEASE DAY! And here’s the final snippet of Chapter Three of t Anchor Me (the fourth full-length book in the Stark series!)
I hope you enjoy … and I hope you grab a copy of ANCHOR ME, on sale NOW!! (woot! releases balloons!)
***
(If you missed yesterday’s post, you can find it here.)
Chapter Three … the conclusion
Unfortunately, after being poked and prodded and monitored by two efficient paramedics, we don’t have a definitive explanation for my fainting spell, and worry still lines Damien’s face.
The only upside is that they don’t insist that I go to the hospital, but they do want me to see my own doctor soon, as my blood pressure is low enough for concern.
Damien thanks them, then starts to type something out on his phone as I watch them pack up and return to the ambulance. They pass Misty, who has moved to the driveway and is talking with three curious neighbors and, probably, cursing the moment Damien and I darkened her doorstep.
“Do you want some juice?” Caroline asks. “I bet Misty has a cooler of juice boxes. Or I can run to the market.”
“No, really, it’s fine. But thank you. I think you’re right. I’m not used to the heat anymore.” This time when I start to get up, Damien helps me, his phone now back in his pocket. “I’ll go see my doctor when we get home just to be sure,” I add, certain that Damien just sent a text to his assistant, asking that she schedule that very appointment for the second we return to LA.
“Actually, we’re going now,” Damien says. “There’s a walk-in clinic just a few miles from here.”
I, however, am done being Invalid Nikki. “The hell we are. I’m standing. I’m walking. See?” I circle him to prove my point as Caroline graciously moves toward Misty, obviously wanting to avoid getting caught up in a marital power struggle. “I probably just need food and air conditioning. So let’s go get some lunch and then head back to the hotel so I can work on tomorrow’s presentation.”
“After the clinic. No—” he continues, cutting off my protest. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Dammit, I am. I was just light-headed. How many times do I have to say it?”
“You were out cold for a full minute, baby. You didn’t even stir when I carried you out here.”
“But I’m awake now.” I force myself to take a mental step back. To breathe. I don’t like doctors. I never have. My memories of doctors are tied up with my mother’s ploys to get me prescription appetite suppressants because “she’s such a pretty girl, but her hips and thighs have a tendency toward chubby,” or my own attempts to hide my self-inflicted scars, always fearing that some doctor would notice and insist I see a shrink.
“How about a compromise?” I suggest. “Hotel now, but if I start to feel dizzy, we’ll go to the clinic.”
For a moment, he says nothing, and I imagine the debate raging in his head. His desire to please me versus his concern and his need for answers. Finally, though, he nods. “All right, Ms. Fairchild,” he says, using my maiden name as a term of endearment. “It looks like we have a deal.”
I return the smile, feeling smug. Then I take a step toward Caroline and Misty, intending to say goodbye. And that’s when my smugness vanishes.
That’s when the nausea consumes me.
That’s when I bend forward in a sudden, unexpected spasm and vomit all over Misty’s pristinely manicured lawn.
***
That’s it, folks! I hope you enjoyed this three-chapter peek into Anchor Me … and I hope you grab a copy of the book, on sale now!!!
And if you’re just now meeting Nikki & Damien, why not grab of copy of Release Me, the book that started it all!
The post Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! FINAL INSTALLMENT appeared first on JKenner/Julie Kenner.
April 9, 2017
Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! Day 9
Sooooooo close to more Damien! We’re starting Chapter Three on Day 9 of the countdown to Anchor Me (the fourth full-length book in the Stark series!) … and that means another snippet for you!
I hope you enjoy … and come back every day before release day (April 11) for more of the countdown!
***
(If you missed yesterday’s post, you can find it here.)
Chapter Three
“Nikki!”
Damien’s voice—tense, afraid—seems to wrap around me. Something tangible that, maybe, I can cling to. That I can use to pull myself back.
“Sweetheart? Baby? Come on. That’s it. You can do it.”
I feel the warmth of his body surrounding me. Cradling me. His words are soft with encouragement, but the gentleness only hides an undercurrent of fear. I imagine his face in front of me, coming in and out of shadows.
Then I realize that it’s not my imagination. Instead, my eyelids are fluttering open, my body trying to return to normal even though my mind is still lost in this odd netherworld where time seems so painfully slow and Damien’s arms so deliciously warm.
“That’s it, baby. You’re going to be fine.” I see the worry that tightens the lines around his mouth. That sharpens the amber of one eye and transforms the onyx depths of the other into a hopeless abyss. Then he turns to speak to someone else, his voice low and strained. “Where the hell is the damned ambulance?”
“On its way. I think I can hear the siren.” Caroline stands behind him. Her brow is furrowed, and she’s twisting her hands. Farther back, Misty clings to her little boy, her expression pinched, and I wonder if she is concerned about me or about what her new neighbors will think.
I hear the approach of sirens, too, and despite the summer heat, my skin prickles from the ice water that suddenly floods my veins, the chill pushing me all the way into consciousness. With a vague sense of wonder, I realize we’re back on the front lawn. But I have no idea how we got here.
“What happened?” My voice is raspy, but it’s enough to send relief washing over the three faces around me.
Carolyn steps forward, and though she puts her hand on Damien’s shoulder, her eyes are on me. “Nikki, sweetie, it’s going to be okay. It’s probably just the heat. Nothing to worry about at all.”
I try to push myself more upright. It’s harder than it should be—I’m light-headed and unsteady—and when I see fresh worry on Damien’s face, I stop trying and simply let him hold me. “I fainted?” Of course, I did, but the thought is so startling that I can’t help but state the obvious as a question.
“You scared the crap out of me,” he says.
“I’m okay now.” I speak firmly, as if saying the words will make them true. Then I try to shift to my knees so that I can push myself all the way up to standing, but Damien holds me down.
“No, you don’t.” He holds me firmly in place. “Sit and rest until the ambulance gets here.”
I grimace at the thought of being examined here on Misty’s landscaped front lawn. “Honestly, it’s not like I got bit by a rattlesnake or suddenly came down with Ebola. I just got light-headed. It’s no big deal.”
“It is to me,” he says, and with those simple words, my argument dies on my tongue. I’m fine—I know that I’m fine—but Damien needs the reassurance, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to fully erase the fear from his eyes.
***
Be sure to pop back tomorrow to continue reading Chapter Three of Anchor Me, available April 11. Grab your copy now!
And if you’re just now meeting Nikki & Damien, why not grab of copy of Release Me, the book that started it all!
The post Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! Day 9 appeared first on JKenner/Julie Kenner.
April 8, 2017
Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! Day 8
Sooooooo close to more Damien! We’re continuing Chapter Two on Day 8 of the countdown to Anchor Me (the fourth full-length book in the Stark series!) … and that means another snippet for you!
I hope you enjoy … and come back every day before release day (April 11) for more of the countdown!
Note: If you’re coming at this page from Facebook, click HERE to jump immediately to where the snippet left off.
***
(If you missed yesterday’s post, you can find it here.)
Chapter Two … Continued (Day 8)
Behind us, I hear Misty speaking to Damien. “I’ll wipe off his hands before he gets in the car. And feel free to look around as much as you want. It’s kind of a maze in there, though. We haven’t unpacked a thing.”
Caroline and I pause, and I watch as Misty hurries off after Andy, who’s running as fast as his little legs will allow toward the Rolls Royce. Damien turns but hesitates before walking toward us, his expression unreadable. Then he cocks his head just slightly, and when his brows rise in inquiry, I see everything he’s not saying aloud. I’m sorry. Are we okay?
The fist around my heart loosens, and I draw a breath, wait a beat, and then extend my hand. For an instant, relief flickers in his eyes. Then his expression clears, and he joins us, locking his hand with mine.
Caroline looks between us, then smiles so brightly that I have to wonder if she’s picked up on the tension. Not that I’m about to ask. Instead, we continue to the house. “How many times did I walk you home when you and Ollie were little?” Caroline asks as we step onto the porch. “Or come over here to drag Ollie back home when you two spent the day in your pool?”
“A lot,” I say, letting the memories distract me. The truth is that Ollie rarely came over here. When we were allowed to play together, we both preferred his house. Only in the dead of summer did we stay here to enjoy the pool, and then only after my mother had assured herself that I was covered head-to-toe with sunscreen. God forbid the beauty queen get a sunburn or freckles.
“Go on, sweetie,” Caroline says. “I’ll wait for you two out here.”
I nod, and when Damien squeezes my hand in silent support, I realize how clammy my palms have become. The door is already ajar, so I use my free hand to push it open. I swallow and then, before I can lose my nerve, I step over the threshold.
I hesitate, not sure what I expected. Memory-shaped ghosts drifting down from the ceiling? My mother’s face looking back at me from the hall mirror? Her voice ordering me to go to my room and rest because it’s almost nine o’clock and I need my sleep before that weekend’s pageant?
But there is nothing. It’s just walls. Just tile and hardwood, paint and wallpaper. I feel my body relax, and when I meet Damien’s eyes, the corner of his mouth curves up in a smile of understanding.
“Where was your room?” he asks as we move through the foyer to the open-style living area.
“That way.” I point to the long hallway that leads off to the right. “My mom was in the master bedroom, all the way on the other side of the house. But Ashley and I were both down here.”
“Show me.”
“I doubt it’s going to look anything like what it did when I was here,” I say, but I’m already heading that way. I’m right, of course. The walls are a plain, flat white where they had once been a pale pink. I’d wanted lime green. Something funky and fun and a little bit obnoxious. A counterpoint to the so-good-they’re-smarmy manners and perfectly proper clothes that had been foisted on me for my entire life.
My mother, of course, had vetoed that plan, because little girls who win pageants are the kind of girls who love pink. Girls who follow the rules. Who don’t make a fuss or cause trouble.
Girls who don’t have opinions of their own.
At least that’s what every word out of my mother’s mouth seemed to imply. I’ve learned better since, and I know several women I respect who’ve done the pageant circuit. But back then, I had my mother in my head. And every time I won a pageant, I had to wonder what that said about me. Was I truly that boring and empty-headed? Was that really all I was good for?
I remember going to Ashley, curling up among the pile of pillows on my big sister’s bed and whispering that I hated our mother. That I hated pink. That Mother was mean and I wanted my walls to be my walls and it wasn’t fair and why couldn’t I ever do anything I wanted, and on and on and on.
“Do you know what she did?” I ask Damien, after I’ve told him all of that. “She came home from school the next day with a tiny jar of lime green paint she’d swiped from the high school art department.” I blink back the tears that have gathered with the memory. “She told me I needed some green, and so we painted a tiny green square right behind my bedside table, and then we took a pencil eraser and wrote our initials in the paint. It would have been right about here,” I say, leading him to the far side of the room and pointing to a pile of boxes.
He bends, moves a couple of the boxes aside, and then crooks his finger for me to join him. I do, then suck in a breath when I see what he’s found. It’s been covered, but I can still clearly see the hint of a green square beneath the flat white. And in the middle—more texture than image—are the initials NF and AF.
My knees go weak, and I let myself slump to the ground, Damien’s arms going around me to cushion my fall.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” I murmur, my back to his chest.
“I’ll never be anywhere else.”
I nod, acknowledging the simple truth that is the shining miracle of my life as I lean back against him, grateful for his warmth and strength.
“I don’t want to remember,” I admit. “And yet just being here—it’s all coming back. Good. Bad. It’s crashing over me like waves. All these memories, and I don’t have the strength to stop them coming.”
“Then don’t,” he says. “Let go, baby. Let the tide take you. I’ll be your tether. I’ll always pull you back home.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, lost in the magic of his words. In the promise that he will always protect me. That he’ll always love me.
A shiver cuts through me. Not from a chill. Not from fear. But from the simple realization that I should have known that kind of all-encompassing, unrelenting love from my mother. But I’d had to find it in my sister. In my friends.
In Damien.
“My mother didn’t have a clue,” I whisper. “Not even an inkling of how to be a mother.”
The tears flow freely now as I recall the day I got the phone call that Ashley was dead. My mother’s flat voice that she’d killed herself. And not flat with regret or mourning, but with disapproval. As if Ashley hadn’t lived up to expectations.
The irony, of course, was that it was expectations and insecurities that had killed my sister. Her deep-seated certainty that she had no clue how to be a wife. That when her husband left her for another woman, it was proof that she was a failure—just like my mother had always said.
She’d killed herself because she’d believed she was nothing. But to me, Ashley had been everything.
“We were sitting here when she told me she was going to get married. On the floor beside my bed. And she said she was going to have a good life and be a better mom than ours.”
My words tumble out as fast as my tears. I love Ronnie and Jeffery, my niece and nephew, but Ashley’s child should have come first. I wanted so badly to be Aunt Nikki. To be the very best aunt ever, just like Ashley had said. “She never got the chance.”
Suddenly, the loss of my sister is like a physical pain in my chest. I turn in Damien’s arms, bury my face against his chest, and sob.
I’d come to this house wanting to exorcise my demons, but now it seems like the ghosts are everywhere.
I gulp in air, then try to force words out past my tear-clogged throat. “Please,” I beg. “Please, can we just get out of here?”
“We’re already gone.” He kisses me gently, then takes my elbow to lead me out of the room. But I just stand there beside him for a moment, hating how weak and fragile I feel. I try to gather myself, determined to get out of this house without Caroline or Misty seeing any evidence of pain on my face.
And yet I can’t manage. My knees are weak. My skin clammy. I start to take a step to the door, but the world seems to turn inside out, and me along with it.
I have only enough time to look up at Damien—to see the worry etched on his face—before the grayness takes over, and I collapse into my husband’s arms.
***
That’s it for Chapter Two!
Be sure to pop back tomorrow to start reading Chapter Three of Anchor Me, available April 11. Grab your copy now!
And if you’re just now meeting Nikki & Damien, why not grab of copy of Release Me, the book that started it all!
The post Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! Day 8 appeared first on JKenner/Julie Kenner.
April 7, 2017
Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! Day 7
More countdown to Damien! We’re continuing Chapter Two on Day 7 of the countdown to Anchor Me (the fourth full-length book in the Stark series!) … and that means another snippet for you!
I hope you enjoy … and come back every day before release day (April 11) for more of the countdown!
Note: If you’re coming at this page from Facebook, click HERE to jump immediately to where the snippet left off.
***
(If you missed yesterday’s post, you can find it here.)
Chapter Two … continued (day 7)
“We can always give Elizabeth a call for her new address,” Damien says dismissively, as if we call my mother all the time. “To be honest, we came mostly for the house. I’ve never seen Nikki’s childhood home,” he adds, and I’m absurdly grateful that he didn’t tell these women the truth: that it’s me, not him, who’s driving this train. That I want—no, need—to see the inside of the house I grew up in. A house that was never a home. And maybe, just maybe, if I walk through it one last time, I can finally, truly leave it behind.
Damien flashes Misty the kind of smile that always makes me go weak in the knees. “Since we’re here, I wonder if we could go inside?” When she hesitates, he nods toward the Phantom. “While we’re in there, feel free to let that little guy check out the Rolls.”
“Oh!” Her eyes go wide, then she smiles and looks down at the child, who’s plunked himself on the grass and is poking at the ground with a stick.
Damien squats down so that he’s almost eye-level with the boy. “What do you say, Andy? Want to go take a look inside the big car?”
His eyes go wide as he looks up at his mother and then to Damien. Then he nods slowly, apparently afraid that if he shows too much enthusiasm, we’ll all laugh and tell him we were just kidding.
“He’s adorable,” I say, then grin as Damien stands up again beside me. “And he looks like a handful.”
Misty laughs. “You have no idea. Or maybe you do?” she looks between the two of us curiously. “Any kids?”
“Not yet.” I flash my Social Nikki smile. “But we have a niece about his age and a nephew who’s coming up on two.”
Caroline rests a hand on her hip. “Well, I think you need to get busy,“ she says. “I’d love to be Auntie Caroline. Goodness knows Ollie’s isn’t making any progress toward giving me grandchildren.”
“Someday we will,” Damien says as he slides his arm around my waist.
“I certainly hope so.” Caroline smiles fondly at both of us. “You two would make beautiful babies.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Damien adds, as he pulls me closer and presses a kiss to my temple. “Nikki’s going to make an incredible mom.”
I tense, my demeanor shifting from socially friendly to icily polite. This isn’t a conversation I want to have right now. Not with a stranger. Not with Caroline. Not even with Damien, and I’m frustrated that he so seamlessly slid into the role of eager father. We’ve talked about this over and over, and I’d thought we were on the same page. Someday, yes, I want to hold our child in my arms. But neither of us are ready for kids yet. There are too many barriers, too many challenges. And the fact that he’s now speaking so cavalierly about something so important makes my insides twist up. Especially since I can hardly call him out while we’re standing on a lawn in Dallas and I’m so goddamn vulnerable already.
Fuck.
I pull out of his embrace, and when I do, Damien catches my eyes. I see the apology on his face, but I’m not in the mood. I’m too off-kilter as it is, and so I just shove my hands in the pockets of my summer skirt. For a moment, I think he’s going to say something else, but then he turns his attention back to Misty and tells her that the car is unlocked.
As they speak, I head toward the house with Caroline beside me. With each step, my feet feel heavier and my pulse quicker. It’s silly, I know—it’s not as if I’ll find my mother lying in wait—but I haven’t been back in this house in years, and now that I’m about to walk inside, I’m positively crackling with nerves. I want Damien beside me. I want his hand in mine. And I’m angry and hurt and pissed that just a few little words have dropped a wall between us. Angry at him. And, yes, angry at myself, too.
***
Want more? Be sure to pop back tomorrow for more of Anchor Me, available April 11. Grab your copy now!
And if you’re just now meeting Nikki & Damien, why not grab of copy of Release Me, the book that started it all!
The post Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! Day 7 appeared first on JKenner/Julie Kenner.
April 6, 2017
Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! Day 6
More countdown to Damien! We’re continuing Chapter Two on Day 6 of the countdown to Anchor Me (the fourth full-length book in the Stark series!) … and that means another snippet for you!
I hope you enjoy … and come back every day before release day (April 11) for more of the countdown!
Note: If you’re coming at this page from Facebook, click HERE to jump immediately to where the snippet left off.
***
(If you missed yesterday’s post, you can find it here.)
Chapter Two … continued
“Your mother?” Her nose crinkles in confusion.
“Elizabeth Fairchild,” Damien clarifies. “She owns—or used to own—this house.”
“We just closed on it yesterday.” On her hip, the boy squirms, and she lets him slide down her leg, where he stands clinging to her like she’s the safest haven in the world.
“Do you know how long the house was on the market?” Damien asks as the little boy inches toward the Phantom.
Her forehead furrows as she studies Damien. “Wait. I know you. You’re that tennis—”
“Nikki?”
Another woman’s voice cuts her off, and I jump a bit. Both at the sound of my name and at the familiarity of the voice. I look toward the house, and my heart leaps at what I see. The woman on the porch is cast in shadows, but I recognize her instantly. “Mrs. McKee?”
I hear the tremble in my voice, but I don’t care. I launch myself forward, and by the time I cross the lawn, she’s stepped off the porch and is hurrying to meet me. I fling myself into her arms and let her wrap me in a tight, loving hug. I soak it in, the affection and support from this woman I’ve known my whole life, and who, for so many years, I’d pretended was my real mother. I’d dreamt that sooner or later I’d learn the truth, and Ashley and I would move in with her family. Because how the hell could Elizabeth Fairchild really be anyone’s mom?
When we finally break apart, my cheeks are wet with tears. Damien is beside me again, and I reach out. He takes my hand automatically, then nods at Mrs. McKee. “You must be Ollie’s mother,” he says, referring to my childhood neighbor and one of my two closest friends.
“Please, call me Caroline. And you’re Damien, of course.”
“Oh! That’s it! You’re Damien Stark!”
“This is Misty,” Caroline says, gesturing to the excited young mother. “She and her husband just moved from New Hampshire. I’ve known her father for years.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Damien says, as Misty’s jaw hangs open.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally meet you,” Caroline says to Damien. “And it’s been far too long since I’ve seen you, young lady.” She beams at me with the kind of sincere affection I’ve never seen in my own mother’s eyes. “I had no idea you were in town.”
“I didn’t think to tell you,” I admit. “I didn’t even tell Ollie I was coming to Texas. I’m here for business. I have a meeting tomorrow and—” I cut myself off, frowning. “The truth is, I came here to see my mother. Do you know where she moved?”
Caroline shakes her head. “We didn’t stay in touch once Arthur and I downsized to our condo in University Park. It’s just a few miles, but it feels like the Grand Canyon. But I heard through the grapevine that she wanted a smaller place, too, and when I learned that the house was on the market, I mentioned it to Misty and her husband. That was about two months ago, wasn’t it?”
Beside her, Misty nods. “We only dealt with our real estate agent, though. And the house was already vacant when we first saw it.”
“Mama! Mama!” Her little boy tugs on her hand. “Car! Please! Wanna see the big car!”
“Hush, Andy.” Misty’s voice is as gentle as her smile, but when she looks up at me, it’s confusion I see on her face. “Your mom didn’t tell you she moved?”
“She’s probably in one of those corporate apartments, waiting for her new place to be ready and didn’t want to bother you with a temporary address.” Caroline’s off-the-cuff explanation comes easily, but the tension around her eyes reflects both understanding and commiseration. Because the truth is, Caroline knows more details than most about the rocky relationship between my mother and me. Not that I ever told her—and not that she ever said a word to me—but I’m certain that Ollie shared some of what I’d confessed to him. And I will be forever grateful for the times that Caroline let me stay late at her house under the guise of doing homework, or when she fed me a Hershey’s bar and made me promise to keep it a secret because if word got out, all the neighborhood kids would want one.
In other words, I am certain that Caroline knows damn well that the thought of keeping me up to date never crossed my mother’s mind. As far as Elizabeth Fairchild is concerned, I’m a prop, not a daughter. If she needs to use me, she’ll contact me. Otherwise, out of sight is very much out of mind.
I know it shouldn’t bother me. After all, I don’t want that woman in my life. And yet, as I look at the tender expression on Misty’s face as she kisses her little boy’s forehead, I can’t deny the overwhelming sense of loss that washes over me.
But how the hell can you lose what you never even had?
***
Want more? Be sure to pop back tomorrow for more of Anchor Me, available April 11. Grab your copy now!
And if you’re just now meeting Nikki & Damien, why not grab of copy of Release Me, the book that started it all!
The post Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! Day 6 appeared first on JKenner/Julie Kenner.
April 5, 2017
Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! Day 5
More countdown to Damien! We’re starting Chapter Two on Day 5 of the countdown to Anchor Me (the fourth full-length book in the Stark series!) … and that means another snippet for you!
I hope you enjoy … and come back every day before release day (April 11) for more of the countdown!
Chapter Two
A chill cuts through me, a cold sweat breaking out over my whole body as Damien eases the limo in behind the van, then kills the engine.
I turn to him, searching his face for the answers I need, but of course he doesn’t have them. And for one quick, horrible moment, I’m overwhelmed by the sensation of being swept out to sea, pulled away from everything warm and safe until I am cold and alone and drifting without anything to anchor me.
Outside the car, a little boy of about four runs across the lawn toward us, his eyes wide. A woman who’s probably five or six years older than me hurries behind, calling for him to stay away from the car.
I watch the boy, as mesmerized by him as he is by the Phantom. Then his mother reaches him and swings him around, making him laugh before she settles him on her hip, and he snuggles close, his thumb going into his mouth.
I exhale, only then realizing I’d been holding my breath.
“Come on,” Damien says gently, reaching for his door.
“But she’s not here.”
He brushes a lock of hair off my cheek, the touch as soothing as his voice. “But the house still is.”
He’s right. I’d been focusing so hard on my plan to see my mother that I hadn’t thought about the other memories that surrounded her. Memories made inside the walls of this house. I think of Ashley, who would now be about the same age as that young mother, and suddenly I want nothing more than to see the room that had once belonged to her. “You’re right.” My voice is thick with the tears I’m determined not to shed. “Do you think we can go in?”
“We’ll go in,” he says in the same firm, confident voice I’ve heard in both the bedroom and the boardroom. Immediately, I relax, because no matter what else went wrong today, I am certain that somehow, someway, Damien will get me inside that house.
He gets out, then circles the car to open my door. It’s early summer, and a wall of Texas heat slams into me, overwhelming the lingering cool inside the air-conditioned car. Damien helps me out, and by the time he shuts the door behind me, the mother and her son have reached us.
“May I help you?” Her voice has the clipped, polished tone of someone raised in the northeast.
“I—I’m Nikki Fairchild,” I say, figuring that under the circumstances, she’ll recognize my maiden name. “I was looking for my mother,” I add lamely when she just stands there, apparently not recognizing the name at all.
***
Want more? Be sure to pop back tomorrow for more of Anchor Me, available April 11. Grab your copy now!
And if you’re just now meeting Nikki & Damien, why not grab of copy of Release Me, the book that started it all!
The post Countdown to Damien & Anchor Me! Day 5 appeared first on JKenner/Julie Kenner.
April 4, 2017
Anchor Me – Countdown to Damien Stark – Day 4
Rock on! It’s day 3 of the countdown to Anchor Me (the fourth full-length book in the Stark series!) … and that means another snippet for you!
I hope you enjoy … and come back every day before release day (April 11) for more of the countdown!
Chapter One … continued (part 4)
(If you missed yesterday’s post, you can find it here.)
I draw a breath. “Almost there. And I’m fine,” I add before he has a chance to ask. I’m not fine—not entirely—but I’m hoping that by saying it, I’ll banish the hideous aching in my gut and the nausea that is starting to rise up inside me.
“Just tell me when.”
I nod, and for a moment, I picture us driving past, just going on and on until we’re out of the neighborhood, back in Dallas proper, and far, far away from the memories that are now washing over me like wave after wave crashing onto a sandy shore. Me locked in a pitch-black room because little girls need their beauty sleep, and Ashley whispering to me through the closed door, promising me that nothing is lurking in the dark to hurt me. A stylist tugging and pulling on my long, golden hair, ignoring my tears and cries of pain as my mother stands by, telling me to control myself. That I’m embarrassing her. My mother gripping my arm as she tugs me up the walkway to register for my first pageant, my eyes still red from the sting of her hand on my kindergarten-age bottom, a reminder that beauty queens don’t complain and whine.
I think of a dinner plate with the tiniest portion of plain chicken and steamed vegetables while my mother and sister eat cheesy lasagna, and my mother telling me that if I want to be a pageant winner, I need to watch every calorie and think of carbohydrates as the devil. Then her mouth pursing in disapproval when I insist that I don’t care about being a pageant winner. That I just want to not be hungry.
I was never good enough. Too chunky, too slouchy, too lackluster. Even with an array of crowns and titles, I never met her expectations, and I don’t remember a time when she ever felt like mother or friend. Instead, she was the strict governess of stories. The wicked stepmother. The witch in the gingerbread house.
My older sister Ashley escaped her clutches by the simple act of not winning the pageants she entered. After several failures, my mother gave up. And though I tried to fail, too, I was cursed with crowns and titles.
For years, I’d thought that Ashley had the better end of the deal. It was only when she later killed herself after her husband left her, that I understood how deep Ashley’s scars had run. Mine were physical, the self-inflicted scars of a girl who took a blade to her own skin, first to release the pressure and gain some control, then later to mar those pageant-perfect legs and end the madness of that horrific roller-coaster.
Ashley’s wounds were under the surface, but still deep. And at the core, both mine and my sister’s scars were inflicted by our mother.
My heart races, and I force myself to breathe steadily. To calm down. We’re almost there, and if I’m going to see my mother, I need to be in control. Show even the slightest weakness, and she’ll pounce on it.
And, yes, I’ve grabbed the upper hand before—I sent her back to Texas after she tried to take over planning my wedding, ignoring what I wanted in favor of her own skewed vision—but in Dallas she definitely has the home-court advantage.
“Nine-three-seven?” Damien asks, referring to the address, and I nod.
“The first house on the left after the bend,” I say, and I’m proud of how normal my voice sounds. I can do this. More than that, I *want* to do it. Clear the air. Wash away all the cobwebs.
Basically, I’m doing the parental equivalent of burning sage in a house tainted with bad memories.
The thought amuses me, and I’m about to tell Damien when the car rounds the bend and my humor fades.
Moments later, my childhood home comes into view. But it’s not my mother’s Cadillac parked in the drive. Instead, I’m staring at two unfamiliar Land Rovers, a Mercedes convertible, and a moving van.
So where the hell is my mother?
Want more? Be sure to pop back tomorrow for more of Anchor Me, available April 11. Grab your copy now!
And if you’re just now meeting Nikki & Damien, why not grab of copy of Release Me, the book that started it all!
The post Anchor Me – Countdown to Damien Stark – Day 4 appeared first on JKenner/Julie Kenner.
