First off – Happy Birthday to my hubby, Charlie!!! Love you babe. :love: :heart:
Today you get a little taste of Surviving Demon Island.
13 Days until it releases! :fire:
So before we get to the excerpt, here’s my question for the day. Do you like book excerpts? Not like to read anything from the book before you buy it? Do excerpts entice you to buy or do they not matter one way or another? Do you ever take the time to read them on an author’s website or not?
Surviving Demon Island
(c) 2006 by Jaci Burton
“Tough,” she grumbled. She threw a white tank top over the bra, slipped on socks, and jammed her feet into her boots, cursing when she couldn’t quite get the laces to work. What was wrong with her fingers this morning, anyway? She stormed into the bathroom and punished her teeth with the toothbrush, hoping to scour the taste of him from her mouth. Then she yanked out a few thousand hairs with her hairbrush and glared at herself in the mirror while she braided her hair, attempting to remove every remnant of the feel of his hands running through the tendrils last night.
Right. Like anything would erase his touch, his scent, his taste, from her memory banks. He was burned there and he was staying and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
She was so screwed. Or she hadn’t been screwed, and that was the problem.
Gah! This was why she buried herself in her work and didn’t do men and relationships and feelings.
She stormed out of her bungalow and flew smack into the chest of the one man she wasn’t ready to face yet.
“In a hurry?” he asked, both dark brows lifting over inquisitive gray eyes.
“Hungry,” she mumbled, trying to push past him. He moved in front of her, halting her progress, then looked around them as if he were gauging whether they were alone.
“Hey, Gina. About last night.”
“I’d rather not talk about last night. It was a mistake.” Oh, hell. Why had she just said that? Why didn’t she just drag him inside her bungalow and make him finish what they’d started?
Because it would be so damn easy to get close to him, that’s why. And because she was a total coward.
“You sure about that?”
“About what? About whether it was a mistake or whether I want to talk about it?”
His lips curled upward, and her mind registered that she’d had her mouth on those lips. Tangy with the taste of whisky, full, with just a hint of roughness around the edges where his beard stubble was. He’d be like that inside her, too. Tangy, rough, and oh so perfect. Damn, damn, damn.
“About both, I guess. Either way, I’m sorry we were interrupted.”
So was she. Very sorry. So why couldn’t she say that to him? Instead, she shrugged and wrapped her arms around her middle, trying not to focus on the way he was studying her. “Wasn’t your fault. We just got carried away. Shouldn’t have happened.”
“I don’t think you believe that.”
“I don’t think I want to have this conversation.” Now she did look up at him. “Look, Derek, things could get way too complicated between us, with the game and all. I really don’t think we should start this, no matter how good it—”
She really had to learn to keep her mouth shut.
“No matter how good it could be,” he finished for her. “And you’re probably right. We shouldn’t. But it would have been good. Damn good. Enjoy your breakfast.”
He walked away, leaving her more achy and miserable than before, all because she was too damned afraid to let him in.