Read an extended excerpt from Tara Quan’s FIREWORKS AT MIDNIGHT @LaylaTarar #1NS #NewAdult
I’m becoming quite the frequent visitor here at Jessica’s starry pied-à-terre. Those who’ve been enticed by my two previous excerpts might already know Dulcina “Sweets” Gato, the smartass heroine who stars in my latest paranormal romantic comedy, Fireworks at Midnight. As the title implies, this witchy 1Night Stand is set on New Year’s Eve, and yes, I’m now officially out of holidays (aka book releases) for this year.
As is the case with many new adults, Sweets is a struggling college graduate who is just coming to terms with the thrills and perils of newfound independence. Add a pinch of magic, supernatural mayhem, and Madame Eve’s renowned matchmaking service, and we’ve got the beginnings of a stormy love story. Here’s a sexy sneak peek…
FIREWORKS AT MIDNIGHT
A Witch’s Night Out, 3
by Tara Quan
Recent college graduate and part-time cat familiar Dulcina “Sweets” Gato is having the worst New Year’s Eve in living memory. End of year expenses trigger serious cash flow problems, and her microwave just went up in smoke. To make matters worse, her best friend’s overprotective big brother is back in town, and his return threatens to put a huge crimper on her nocturnal activities. The only thing she can look forward to is Madame Eve’s 1-Night Stand service. After all, she’s sick and tired of being a 21-year-old virgin.
Enforcement Agent Mikal Knight is a warlock on a mission. Having finally scored a transfer to Washington, D.C., he’s now at liberty to pursue the object of his desires—his baby sister’s best friend. But first, he has a vigilante to track down and a mysterious matchmaking service to investigate. Sent on an undercover operation, he resigns himself to a pointless 1-Night Stand on New Year’s Eve. As luck would have it, his mystery date’s identity might let him kill several birds with one stone.
Genre: Paranormal Romantic Comedy, Interracial/Multicultural
Sweets shook her head as she waited inside Mikal’s Chevy Tahoe. The guy couldn’t be more obvious about working for Enforcement. She didn’t know why Council folk loved these clunky SUVs. It might be reliable and useful on an IKEA trip, but a car should say something about its owner. Given, the man who’d driven her to Starbucks could be counted on for unfailing support and would come in handy if she ever got around to buying furniture, but he was by no means generic. He deserved to drive something memorable—something unique—and not a soulless means of getting from point A to point B.
If she ever scraped together enough cash to buy a car, it’d be a Beetle or a Mini Cooper, and she’d never pair black-leather seats with the same color exterior. Being stuck in this monochromatic pristine box threatened to give her hives.
When had he become the epitome of boring? She missed the boy who’d annoyed all their neighbors with his motorcycle, the guy who got her and Shelley their first fake IDs. Ever since he’d morphed into a responsible peon, had a security clearance, and drew a steady paycheck, his mere existence turned her into an unsuccessful loser by comparison.
Playing with the seatbelt’s metal clasp, she looked up through the sunroof. Light glinted into her eyes, and, in a hazy precognitive rush, the glass was gone.
The sky shifted from bright blue to an ebony expanse dotted with white twinkling stars. The car’s confines should have been cold, but a warm circling breeze licked her skin. She sat on the same seat, facing the opposite direction. Bare shoulders occupied her vision; strong hard legs rippled under her ass. Cinnamon, mint, and sweat filled her lungs, all laced with an undertone of pine. She kissed a beard-covered jaw, trailed her lips down a corded neck, and explored a muscled chest the color of chocolate.
Calloused palms slid up her back. Strong sure fingers unhooked her bra and smoothed the straps off her shoulders. Coarse facial hair rasped over her nipple before a hot, wet mouth closed over it and sucked. Her shoulder blades hit the dashboard. His swirling tongue feasted on her breast. His hand shoved her legs apart. He circled her clit with his thumb, pulsing over it until her head rolled back.
She spotted fireworks through the glass, flashes of red, white, and blue reflecting off rippling water. Her own voice echoed in her ears—pleas she’d never dreamed of voicing.
Two thick fingers filled her, spreading as she spasmed. A scream ripped from her throat. “Mi—”
The door opened with the quiet click characteristic of new cars, shattering her erotic daydream. Her breaths shallow and her panties damp, she dug her nails into the leather beneath her hands. The back of her head met the seat. She’d never experienced a vision that vivid—one lush with scent, sight, touch, and sound.
With a frowning glance, the vehicle’s owner slid inside and handed her a cardboard cup. “This should get you in a better mood.”
Wiping sweat off her forehead despite the nippy air, she accepted the huge container. Nothing would come of the premonition—as nothing had come of all the ones that came before. She’d broken her rule and allowed them to be alone in an enclosed space. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again any time soon.
Taking a calming breath, she focused on sounding as normal as possible. “How’s this a regular coffee?”
“I got you what you always get in winter—a venti pumpkin-spice latte.” He sealed them in and started the engine. With the turn of a knob, heated air hit the tree-shaped freshener. Its scent mingled with his spicy aftershave. After that vision, she almost moaned at the imagery the smell invoked. She’d been sexually frustrated to begin with, and having him so close propelled her libido into overdrive.
Fanning her burning face, she grumbled, “It’s not what I asked for.”
“Don’t be such a cheapskate. I told you, it’s my treat.” He settled against the backrest, his head angled in her direction. Sipping his drink, he released a long breath, the corners of his lips lifting to form an expression of pure bliss.
Her nipples tightened into sharp peaks, and she doubted the cold had caused it. “Thanks, but—”
“My sister’s brainwashed you, hasn’t she? How about you buy me a triple-shot espresso in a few weeks?”
She tried to wrangle her thoughts back into some semblance of coherence. “Nice try. You’ll be back in New York in a day or two.” If not, she’d self-admit into an insane asylum.
“Sure about that?” He looked too smug for comfort.
An unprecedented flood of excitement and elation threw her off balance. What the hell? She should be scared shitless, not so happy she almost jumped out of her seat at the thought of him quitting. “Enforcement doesn’t operate in the District—not in the open, anyway.”
“Things change.”
Pure unadulterated fear eliminated any lingering embers of desire. “Since when?”
His brows drew together. “Since a fire mage short-circuited a hotel elevator and ice sculptures of Godzilla made headlines. Why are you freaking out?”
She had two reasons but chose to voice the less-important one. “Why do you think? If they find out—”
“There’s no they. It’s just me.” He tapped her cup’s plastic cover. “Drink this before it gets cold.”
Her brain ceasing to function at optimum levels, she savored the bittersweet drink of the gods. She needed an exit plan, pronto. None came to mind. “So, you’ll cover for me?”
He shook his head. “Nope. You’ll register. You’re not a scared fourteen-year-old anymore. You want to be an adult? Instead of insisting I can’t pay for your coffee, own up to what you are.”
Beads of cold sweat chilled her forehead. “They’ll take me away—lock me up in some white building—”
“Not on my watch. I’ve worked for them long enough to know they won’t force you into anything you don’t want. You’ll have to get tested at the Institute, they’ll ask me to keep an eye on you, but they’re not monsters, they’re—”
“Old-school, black-caped, cauldron-stirring, out-of-touch-with-reality warlocks and witches who still believe in blood pentagrams and animal sacrifice.”
Her hand shook hard enough she had to lower the coffee to her lap. He raised his gaze to the clear tempered-glass roof. “Where do you witches get these conspiracy theories? Do I look like I own a cauldron?”
Fireworks at Midnight is available from:
Amazon | Amazon UK | ARe | B&N | Decadent | Kobo
Add to GoodReads
Globetrotter, lover of languages, and romance author, Tara Quan has an addiction for crafting tales with a pinch of spice and a smidgen of kink. Inspired by her travels, Tara enjoys tossing her kick-ass heroines and alpha males into exotic contemporary locales, paranormal worlds, and post-apocalyptic futures. Her characters, armed with magical powers or conventional weapons, are guaranteed a suspenseful and sensual ride, as well as their own happily ever after. Learn more at www.taraquan.com
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Google+ | Goodreads | Pinterest | Amazon
