*The winners of the swag giveaway are Jermetria, Linda and Shadow! Thanks so much for your support and for taking the time to visit my blog!*
Welcome to my swag giveaway to celebrate the release of my sophomore novella For the Love of the Game! I will be giving away 3 prizes this weekend. Answer the questions below and you’ve entered to win!
This quarterback is making the greatest play of his life…
Quiet bookstore owner Morgan Reed can’t wait to lie on the beach on her much-needed tropical vacation, but getting tackled by a tall, green-eyed stranger playing touch football isn’t exactly what she had in mind. Neither is falling for said
stranger, or going along with the eccentric islander who sends them off with a
mock wedding. But all’s fair when it comes to vacation romance, and Morgan has
plenty of time to get back to reality when she gets home.
When he slams into the beautiful Morgan on the beach and sends her to the infirmary, superstar quarterback Seth Blake insists on helping her recover—if she agrees to share his bungalow with him. Seth is nothing less than smitten, and the best part is that the beauty has no idea who he is. But when he finds out that their little “wedding” was the real thing, Seth finds himself in a sticky situation.
Especially when Morgan finds out the man she fell for isn’t at all who he made himself out to be…
Morgan Reed was long overdue for a vacation. It occurred to her while doing inventory in her quaint bookstore last week that she’d read almost every book in the travel section, but she’d never seen any of the scenic places. Her world had never seemed quite as small as it did once she made the realization.
When she told Teresa, her travel agent, she wanted to get lost on an island, Teresa took her cue and began furiously tapping on her keyboard.
“I want to get lost at sea if possible.”
Theresa’s eyes narrowed as she read the screen. “There’s a new destination, just started doing business with them a month ago. Very secluded. All-inclusive, the rooms are beautiful. They don’t allow cell phones or newspapers. Just days of endless bliss on a deserted island.”
“How deserted? I won’t be seeing Gilligan and the Skipper, will I?” Morgan winced.
“No, silly. Deserted as in no obnoxious people standing on the beach gazing at a beautiful sunset with cell phones in their hands.”
“I’ll take it,” Morgan said. The idea that no one could contact her was the most appealing part of the package. She longed for the days when cell phones were things you carried for emergencies only. Now it was a cure for boredom in most, and brought out bad driving habits in others. Paradise sans technology sounded like a good idea to her.
After tunneling through all the frivolous crap in her spare bedroom closet, Morgan finally located her suitcases. The large, pale pink suitcase and matching carry-on had seen better days; they looked like props from a seventies movie. She surveyed them and had to admit the style was a bit old-fashioned. An old airport luggage tag was still attached. When she leaned closer, she realized the tag bore a date from seven years ago when she went to Vegas. Seven years! What had she been doing for seven years?
Oh yeah, she’d spent the last seven years trying to keep her dream of owning a bookstore alive. The bookstore was her life. A quiet and organized life and she loved it, even though sometimes it was hard to keep afloat.
Whenever she got the blues, she would read one of the books in the travel section. She read about Fiji, the Cayman Islands, Australia, Hawaii, and Scotland. All of these places had rich histories set against the backdrop of a cinematic dream. It took a book about stress falling off the shelf and onto her head one day to make her take action.
Morgan walked to her desk in the living room and began jotting notes. First, she would get a new set of luggage. Then she would sift through her summer wardrobe and see what was salvageable. She wasn’t much of a summer dress-up person, so maybe a visit to the mall was in order as well. She would have to go to her dad’s house and get her passport. She was pretty sure it was still current. Now if only she could break in in the middle of the night and get the passport without having to inform her father she was going on vacation alone.
Morgan knew why they treated her that way. She had gotten lost during a family camping trip at Lake George when she was fifteen. After storming away from the family when one of her brothers had told her she was too young to get on a Jet Ski, Morgan had walked around for hours, refusing to admit she was lost. Finally she’d happened upon another family, who’d called the ranger’s office to report she’d been found. Four hours later, a ranger dropped her off at the hotel. Her father’s initial relief was followed up with the lecture to end all lectures. And to make matters worse, the brothers chimed in for good measure.
She kept her passport at her father’s house not only because it would never be misplaced there, but because her dad was comforted by the idea that he would know when she was leaving town.
While writing all these things down, a wave of serenity washed over her. Ten glorious days on an island with nothing to do but watch the sun set while pondering the mysteries of life. She smiled and screamed into a pillow. Oh my God! I am going on vacation!
You can buy For the Love of the Game at the following retailers:
Check out an excerpt of my debut novella Ebb Tide, released July 2012 and my short story Masquerade in the Halloween Heat anthology, released October 2012.
Coming Soon! My novella Shutter. Details to follow soon!
Join me on my literary journey as my sophomore novella For the Love of the Game will be released next Friday, 11/9/12! Stay tuned for my swag giveaway event!
For the third time that evening Morgan regained consciousness. The pain medication the doctor had given her made her euphoric and sleepy. When she’d come to, a nurse had informed her she had a bruised rib but nothing was broken. She lay in bed watching the white ceiling fan above her rotate, thinking of how quiet and sterilized the office seemed. She heard a sound from the corner of the room and turned to see the muscle head guy who had run into her on the beach, sitting in a chair opposite her, watching.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, confused.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry about running into you like that. I didn’t see you.”
“I don’t take it personally. Nobody ever does. Besides, you were too busy flexing for the beach bunnies,” Morgan said, flashing a condescending smile. So what if he was six foot three and gorgeous? That didn’t give him the right to steamroll over people on the beach.
“Was not,” he scoffed.
“If you weren’t, then you had a bad case of tunnel vision. Ever think of trying out for a team? I could be your reference to confirm that you could tackle someone pretty good.”
“You know football?” he asked with an amused smirk.
“Steroid-pumped overgrown men on a field trying to throw a ball back and forth and scoring points.”
“Well, that’s the layman’s explanation for it. It’s more complicated than that, though. And minus the steroids.” He coughed. “I can explain it to you.”
Men and their posturing about sports. Morgan held up a hand. “No need. First you injure me; now you want to bore me to death. I have no need to fill my brain with random trivia about things I don’t care about.”
“Well, sports are a meaningful way of exercise, keeping in shape, strategizing, and it has a place for those of us who weren’t selected for the IQ Olympics.” He chuckled as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his leg over his knee. “What slogan will tomorrow’s shirt have on it? Your SAT scores? I’ve rather enjoyed reading your T-shirts the past three days.”
“I wouldn’t want to make the rest of the island feel inferior to me. Especially since they’re a bunch of muscle head jocks running around. I would fear for my safety.”
As he shifted slightly in the chair, she noticed how finely sculpted his body was and reaffirmed why he was out running around like an idiot. Every inch of exposed skin was muscled, well-defined, and lean. His shoulders were wide, but his waist narrowed, and he looked as if he ate five pounds of pasta for breakfast. But the face was in great contrast to the body. He had soft, striking features and piercing green eyes, giving him a hint of a boyish look, but she knew he hadn’t been a boy in a long time. And his smile was perfect and rehearsed, like he’d practiced it a lot. It seemed more controlled than natural. Did he feel the need to put on a pleasant mask all the time? Smiling on command wasn’t an easy thing. She’d ruined many a family photo because her two-second freeze frame would expire before the picture was taken. She wondered what would make him smile genuinely.
“Did you know that you moan in your sleep?” he asked in a low Southern drawl, surprising her.
“I do not.”
“I was wondering if your husband told you that.”
“I’m not married.”
“Hmm. Then maybe that’s why you moan in your sleep.” He smiled.
Morgan returned the smile. “I think I know what tomorrow’s T-shirt is going to say.”
“What’s that?” He leaned in closer to the bed.
* * *