Sunday, October 21, 2007
You Again by Dayna Hart
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Staunchly telling her parents at the age of three that she was going to be a writer when she grew up, Dayna Hart has taken some time to achieve her goal. Sidetracked by real life, distracted by good-looking men and failing miserably at a succession of ‘real job’s, she’s finally come back to the dreams of her childhood.
Her stories reflect this; full of the whimsy of her childhood, when fairies lurked in the garden, if only she could see from the corner of her eye. Still distracted by good-looking men, they often make their way into her stories, which is the best place for them, as she is happily married to one good looking man, and raising three future good-looking men of her own.
Find out more at www.daynahart.com
(See post below)
ABOUT THE BOOK:
Part I: Cherry
"Wild Cherry" is the music
industry's newest wild child. Her attitude and outrageous behaviour hide a secret, one she intends to keep at all costs. One man, however, threatens everything. A reporter who wants to write the real story. Mac is the one man she shouldn't let past her defenses, and yet, she can't seem to keep him away.
Part II: Laurel
When he first walks into the bookstore-cafè, Laurel is drawn to Drex, though she couldn't explain why. The headaches begin soon after. She begins remembering things, though she can't tell if they're real, or simply the tortured imaginings of her mind. When she collapses at Drex's feet, she needs to learn the difference. Or die trying
PART I: CHERRY
She slid into line, unsurprised when he slid into place behind her. She was surprised, however, to see a miniscule pair of red lace panties dripping between his fingers. When he stopped a few steps behind her, she whirled on him, letting her fury show on her face. "You again? Don't you have anything better to do than follow me around?"
A slow lazy grin spread across his face with the slow inevitability of sunset. That was answer enough, but he drawled, "No, Ma'am," anyway. The combination made Cherry's knees weak, but she forced herself to stay upright. This was not the time, the place, and certainly not the man to make her lose her grip.
Cherry took a moment to eye him carefully; the tight jeans, the faded T-shirt, the thick neck corded with muscle. He should have been a stripper. He's built to make women imagine him naked. With that thought, the image rose in her mind, and her cheeks flushed. Her eyes drifted to the tiny panties now dangling from one of his long fingers. For some reason, they made her angry, and she snapped, "I don't think they're your size," glaring at them indignantly.
"They aren't for me," he said, his tone neutralizing her acidic thoughts.
Spinning on her heel to avoid his gaze, she glowered at the cashier, who was taking her time serving the woman in front of her. Turning her back on him was a big mistake. He took a quickstep toward her, standing so close she could feel the heat of him against her back. His lips against her ear, his breath was hot on her neck when he spoke. "Well, you're used to star treatment. You gonna throw a tantrum and get yourself noticed, Ms. Wild Cherry?"
"I was rather enjoying the anonymity." She hissed the words through clenched teeth, and he didn't hear them. Remember my last tantrum, Mac? She hoped he didn't have a camera crew waiting somewhere and took a gamble that he didn't. Tilting her head to look up at him over her shoulder, she ran her tongue over her full red lips and offered him a coy grin. "Do you want me to throw a tantrum, Mac?" Screwing her face into Cherry's patented scowl and inhaling deeply, she stopped when he pressed a long finger against her lips.
"Don't," he said, and his voice was rough. One arm wrapped around her to press his finger against her lips, and she was pressed tight against him, her back against his stomach. She was all too aware of the heat of his skin, the muscles that tensed against her. "You're next," he said, and she looked into his eyes, confused. Laughter clear in his eyes, he jutted his chin toward the cashier. Cherry realized the woman ahead of her had left, and it was her turn to be served.
Flushing, she moved forward, ignoring how cool the air felt on her body where his had been.
PART II: LAUREL
She placed the metal pitcher of milk under the steam-nozzle to froth. He was staring at something, and she followed the line of his gaze to find he was staring at his hands. They were strong, capable looking. Hunting for a ring, she noticed the scars instead. Small and white against his tanned skin, they reminded her of maggots. The pressure built in her head; the beast stretched again. Through the pain, the maggots seemed to writhe, sliding off his hands, onto the counter. Toward her. Wide-eyed, she stared at them. Her heart beat against her ribs, and her head pounded in rhythm with it. Pain across her hand broke the spell. She had moved the pitcher, and the mixture of water and steam was streaming over her skin. She had the presence of mind to turn off the machine, but otherwise, she couldn't seem to move. Instead, she stared at her hand, her mind numb. The Cowboy launched himself across the counter. He pulled her elbow, moving her hand toward the sink, fumbling with the taps with his other hand. "We need to rinse it," he said when her eyes caught his. She looked at his hands. Strong, capable hands. The scars still scored the back of them, but they were inert. Just the marks of an old wound.
You Again by Dayna Hart
Publisher: Freya's Bower
$2.00 from Freya's Bower