I haven’t had a good read in a while. Partially because I have spent my book budget for the year, so I’m not buying the books I really want to buy (like Victoria Dahl’s and Shannon Stacey’s newest which came out this month), and partly because my library doesn’t carry a lot of romance.
So, what I’ve decided is on days I don’t have a Friday read, I’ll share a one page-ish snippet from one of my books. So, today’s snippet is the first page of a manuscript that’s in proposal stage (query, synopsis, and three chapters). Once I get assigned my new editor at Entangled and get everything situated with the whole Seven-Night Stand series, hopefully I’ll be submitting it.
Excerpt from Lead me Home:
The little house on stilts vibrated in time with a loud banging sound. Drake Hudson opened one eye, noticed the world beyond the curtained window was still dark, and rolled onto his stomach.
But burying his head into the musty smelling pillow didn’t stop the banging or the shaking, which is when his brain finally engaged enough to put everything together.
House on stilts. Illinois. Dad’s heart attack. The ferry.
Shit.
Drake scrambled out of bed, knocking the ancient, and apparently non-functioning, alarm clock off the battered nightstand. It clattered to the threadbare carpet floor, finally going off way too late to save his sorry ass.
Drake accidentally kicked the clock, which hurt like hell, but at least it stopped its rusty clanging. He hopped on one foot out of the tiny bedroom toward the reverberating banging on the door.
He was used to tight spaces and less than stellar accommodations, being a freelance travel writer and blogger wasn’t exactly earning him five star accommodations-yet. Still, Dad’s seldom-used, rickety shack sandwiched between the Illinois and Missouri Rivers was at the very low end of places he wanted to be, no matter how briefly.
Steeling himself for the fury of a woman stood up, Drake opened the front door. Before he’d even finished the action, Claire was pushing her way in. She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Dead.”
They both looked down to where her finger dug into bare skin. She snatched her hand back. “Oh, for Christ sakes, put some clothes on.”
Nicole Helm 