A Highlander's Passion and Sneak Peek Sunday

The opening of A HIGHLANDER'S PASSION

Kenzie Denune pedaled the bicycle harder, her thighs burning from the exertion. Thanks to a car that refused to start, she was going to be late fer her job interview at Iverson Loch Manor. Grunting and pounding from the shrubs ahead, near the road’s edge, snagged her attention.

Naked shoulders glistened in the afternoon sun. Back muscles bulged and undulated with every thrust. “Bloody hell. Come fer me. Come.”

In all of Mathe Bay in the Scottish Highlands, only one deep masculine voice had the power to raise the hair on her arms like this. A man with braided russet-colored hair that brushed broad shoulders inked with a bear’s claw marks, woven into an intricate tribal design—Bryce Matheson. Damn him to hell. Who’s he shagging in broad daylight? Out in the open, no less. Has he no shame?

Not that she cared one Scottish whit, fer she dinna. Not after he’d cast her aside over a year ago to wallow in the memories of the wife he’d lost years earlier from complications in childbirth. Och, the man could romance a woman fer some physical release, he just couldna move forward and commit.

Kenzie snapped her eyes from the randy spectacle and forced them straight ahead. She struggled to keep control of her bike’s handlebars on the pitted rocky lane. With every meter gained on the decline, the auld bike bounced along faster and her arse was airborne more often than on the narrow seat. Her jaws jarred together and she bit her tongue fer the second time.

“I canna keep pounding at ye like this all bloody day. Me back is about to give out.” Bryce moaned and groaned again as if he were in the throes of ecstasy. The bear-shifting bastard. She eased up on the brakes to whiz past his love nest of bushes and brambles.

BUY LINKS: http://amzn.com/B00N6PD78S
Barnes & Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-highlanders-passion-vonnie-davis/1120261295?ean=9780553394641

Honky Tonk Hearts Sneak Peek Sunday #twrp #SPeekSunday

Every Sunday, a group of writers share SIX paragraphs of either a published book or a work in progress. Our aim is to showcase our writing voice and entice you to read more of our writing.

 

I've been working heavily on my work in progress all week, so instead of sharing any of it, I'm giving myself a much needed break. So, we're leaving the Gulf side of Florida and heading to Texas, near the old famed highway of Route 66, near Amarillo. There's a honky tonk along that rundown road called The Lonesome Steer. It's Friday night and Tyler Desmond is there shooting pool when he's accidently hit in the neck with an errant dart thrown by a woman named Lacy. Now, Lacy has a bit of a nervous problem. Once she gets rattled, she can't shut-up. She just keeps on talking...and talking.

 

 

She leaned up on her cowgirl boots. Warm breath feathered across his neck. “Show me where the dart hit.”

He merely pointed. By now his head throbbed more than the wound. Woman, for the love of heaven, shut up.

Fingertips ran over his skin, and he felt current zap clear to his calloused feet. “Honestly, you can barely see it. Might want to rub a little antibiotic cream on it before you go to bed tonight, though. That’s what I do when I get a paper cut, or slice my finger cutting veggies. Should be okay in a day or two. A little iodine wouldn’t hurt, but then not everyone likes iodine.”

God, the woman’s like a verbal buzz saw. Pain pounded the backside of his eyeballs, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

“Let me buy you a beer. The least I can do is compensate you in some way. Like I said, it was an accident.” She pursed her full, pink lips again—a bad sign. “Funny thing about accidents…”

To shut her up and bring some relief to his headache, Tyler did the one thing he knew would stop her incessant chatter.  He kissed her.

 

 

BUY LINK: http://www.amazon.com/Back-Where-Belong-Honky-Hearts-ebook/dp/B00BK9QVKI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1397359143&sr=1-1&keywords=back+where+you+belong

 

TO READ ALL THE OTHER DELIGHTFUL SIX PARAGRAPHS OUT THERE FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT TODAY, CLICK ON THIS LINK ... http://sneak-peek-sunday.blogspot.com/

 

 

WIP Sneak Peek Sunday #SPeekSunday

According to my contract, I'm to turn in my manuscript to my editor at HarperImpulse in eight--count 'em ... 8--days. I've got roughly 20,000 words to write and edit. Color me "nose to the computer screen." But the great color for today is our Sneak Peek Sunday banner.

I'm thinking I need a pair of shoes to match the blue in the banner, don't you? Okay, so I'm a shoe freak. Don't judge...

 

But matching shoes aside, on Sneak Peek Sunday, a group of writers share SIX paragraphs from either a published work or a work in progress. Since I'm spending every free moment, writing so I can meet my deadline, looks like you're stuck with six from book one of my Firemen's Wild Heat series, set in Clearwater, Florida. The title to this work in progress is To Catch a Flame.

 

==+==+==+

 

“Your hair looked okay before, peanut.” Quinn smirked at Milt. “See, that’s the difference between men and women. Men don’t diddle with their appearance. They know perfection when they see it. Am I right, Milt?”

 

The old guy extracted a small black comb from his back pocket and skimmed it over the seven grey hairs plastered to his scalp with some kind of hair goop. Nodding, he slipped the comb into place again. “That’s exactly what I used to tell Louisa.” He crossed himself. “God bless her soul.” He hiked up his baggy khaki pants with the insides of his elbows tucked against his belt. “A man does not mess with perfection.” He hip-wiggled a couple foxtrot steps, humming some ancient tune.

 

Cassie’s jaw dropped and her gaze ricocheted from Milt to Quinn. “Let’s state the facts correctly, shall we?” She planted her hands on her narrow hips and swayed her shoulders one at a time for some kind of goofy feminine emphasis. “Women like change. We have no fear of experimentation the way you men do.” She pierced Quinn with a look. “When was the last time you tried a new kind of food? Or a micro-brew beer?” She spun toward Milt. “When was the last time you wore navy blue pants? Every time I see you, you’re wearing khakis.” Turning her harangue back on Quinn, she pointed to his comfy Nikes. “You need new sneakers. You’ve been wearing those raggedy things for the three years I’ve known you.”

 

She poked a fingernail through a hole in his beloved Puddle of Mudd t-shirt. “And this faded, tattered rag belongs in the trash bin!” One swift tug and the hole grew from the circumference of a dime to fist-size. “See? It’s like tissue paper!”

 

Quinn couldn’t believe she’d torn his favorite shirt. Hell, the thing was barely ten years old. His gaze slowly swept from his ravaged, quality rock and roll wear to her green eyes, snapping with righteous indignation.

 

“Women also like variation in our sexual positions while, according to ninety percent of my female customers, their men do it the same way over and over.”

 

===+===+====

Can you imagine the explosion that happened next?

 

Don't forget to visit all the other lovely writers sharing their awesome SIX on their Sneak Peak Sunday. Click on this link for the listing...

 http://sneak-peek-sunday.blogspot.com/

 

Have a fabulous week!!!

 

Sneak Peek Sinday #ScottishParanormalRomance #SPeekSunday

Has a week gone by already? It seems just a couple of days ago that many writers gave you a sneak peek into a published work or something they were working on. Each Sunday, we share SIX paragraphs to whet your appetite to read more of our writing. 

Part of my loss of time this week was my excitement over LoveSwept/Random House's cover reveal for book one of my Highlander's Beloved Trilogy. A HIGHLANDER'S OBSESSION is available for pre-order most anywhere you can order books online.

Available for Pre-Order

SET UP: Paisley can telecommunicate with animals. So when she and her gram travel to the highlands, land of bear-shifters, she hears a man's thoughts and thinks she's lost her mind. Only the man's thoughts she's heard is, unbeknown to her, part bear. In this scene, she's telling her grandmother...

Gram raised her cup and held it in front of her lips. “You heard his thoughts or heard bells ring?”

“Very funny. I heard his thoughts. Scared me so bad I fainted.” She swiped at falling tears. Childhood fears and insecurities resurfaced. Feeling helpless didn’t sit well with her. She was, by nature, a fighter. “You don’t think I’m crazy, do you? You won’t send me away?” Listen to me. I sound like a scared child.

Flannel-clad arms enveloped her and drew her close. The scent of the baby powder Gram was so fond of comforted her. “My precious child, no one separates us. No one.” Gram pressed a kiss to her damp hair. “When you think about it, it’s not that much of a stretch. You can hear animals’ thoughts. Some people would say we humans are animals too. I think this is just a natural progression of your gift.”

“Gift? Oh, Gram, it’s more curse than gift.”

“Nonsense. Look at all the animals you’ve been able to help. Veterinarians around the country contact you when they have a difficult patient. Your talent, your gift, is in demand.

 

"Still…” Her grandmother’s eyes held that ornery sparkle. “I think it’s telling the first person’s thoughts you heard were that of a handsome-as-hell man in a kilt.” She pursed her lips. “By his thunderstruck expression, I’d say he was just as taken with you as you were with him.”

PRE-ORDER SITES ARE: http://amzn.com/B00ILX9WC0
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-highlanders-obsession-vonnie-davis/1118735296?ean=9780804179300

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Santa Wore Leathers Goes to Print in June #HarperImpulse #SPeekSunday

Today is Sneak Peak Sunday. I get to share a snippet AND make an announcement. Every Sunday, various authors share SIX paragraphs of their work, either something already published or a project they're working on to entice you to take a closer look at their writing. At the bottom of my six, you'll find the link to the listing of other authors who are participating. You'll find a nice variety of genres and writing styles.

My Christmas novella, Santa Wore Leathers will be available in print on June 28th. My publisher, HarperImpulse, was originally set up to be the romantic eBook publishing arm of HarperCollins, which most of you know is a UK corporation. Yesterday, HarperImpulse announced that after June of this year, ALL of its books (over 20,000 words) will go into print format two months after the eBook is released. Those eBooks already published were put on a schedule for their paper transition. Santa makes his print debut the end of June. Whoot!

 

 

So, of course, it's only appropriate I share 6 paragraphs from this novella. Becca and Dan Wolford, known to everyone simply as Wolf, have argued. They live next door to each other in townhouses in Clearwater, Florida.

Becca fingered for her door key hidden in the hanging fern on her porch and wiped off the dirt before sticking it in her lock. Going over to Wolf’s had been a huge mistake. Huge. She’d gone to the trouble of getting made up and squeezed into her best dress for five minutes of birthday party and ten minutes of lecture. Damn, annoying man.

“Becca! Becca, wait up.” Hurried footfalls sounded behind her and a hand coiled around her arm. Wolf turned her to face him. “I was offensive back there. I’m sorry.” Just why did you have to make him so handsome, God? Even in the dark, his voice is deep and sensual. Couldn’t you have taken some of his abundant sexiness and used it to make him more pleasant? ’Cause this guy is one rude piece of work.

She jerked her hand from his grasp. “First, you can stop putting your hands on me. Earlier today you said you were sorry for flirting with me, as if I wasn’t the type of woman you found attractive.”

“That’s not true. I find you very attractive. What man wouldn’t?”

She chose to ignore his forced compliment. After all, she’d gotten all dressed up for him and he never once told her how nice she looked. Nice? Hell, she looked hot, the big jerk. “Now you’re apologizing for being impolite and insulting. Tell me, do you ever do anything you don’t regret later?”

He backed her against the door, his dark eyes glittering in the soft light spilling onto the porch from her desk lamp near the window. Her tummy did a little twitchy thing when his thighs bumped hers. His fingers forked in her hair, angling her head so their gazes locked. “Believe me, you annoying woman, what I’m about to do next I don’t plan on regretting.”

 

This novella is the kick-off for several novels in the Firemen's Wild Heat Series. Many of the fire and marine rescue men you'll meet in Santa Wore Leathers, you'll meet again in the full-length books, featuring their romances with a touch of suspense. First up will be Cassie and Quinn's story in To Catch a Flame.

 

BUY LINK FOR SANTA WORE LEATHERS IS: http://amzn.com/B00GFD6X34

 

TO CHECK OUT OTHER SUNDAY SNEAK PEEKS, GO TO ~ http://sneak-peek-sunday.blogspot.com/

A Glimpse of Paris #romanticsuspense #SPeekSunday

I can't believe an entire week has passed since I posted my last Sneak Peek. Perhaps it's because I've been battling the same chapter. Writing, deleting, writing, banging head on keyboard, deleting, re-writing the previous chapter in hopes the chapter from hell that follows will eventually become a heavenly chapter to read.

Speaking of heavenly, the sneak peek I'm sharing today was written about my favorite city--Paris. If money weren't an issue, I'd live there. But a small one-bedroom apartment in the City of Light, with a miniscule walk-thru kitchen, runs about the same as a three-bedroom rancher with garage here in the States. 

I have two romantic suspense novels set in Paris, books one and two of the Red Hand Conspiracy. Today I'm sharing a snippet from book one, Mona Lisa's Room. By the way, the cover for this book just took first place in the Mystery/Adventure category of the EPICon event this weekend. The cover artist, Rae Monet, is fabulous.

This book has also won the HOLT Medallion Award of Merit in two categories: Best Romantic Suspense and Best Book by a Virginia Author. In this sneak peek Alison, an American high school art teacher, has unwittingly foiled a bombing attempt at the Louvre ...

 

Alison was unceremoniously hauled to Paris police headquarters, the Prefecture de Police, and interrogated for nearly three hours by various detective teams, each more stern-faced than the last. Visions of being locked away forever in a French dungeon flashed in front of her like a neon “No Exit” sign. She had zero rights in this country. No passport. No one to help her. If they were to grant her one phone call, whom would she call? The American Consulate. Surely they would help.

When the door to the interrogation room opened and two men walked in, the testosterone level rose by a factor of five. If one were to categorize the first man, middle-aged with graying temples and silver-framed glasses riding low on his nose, as good-looking, one would have to call the younger man striking. Or, as Gwen, her free-spirited sister, would say, “Oh my God, he’s make-my-panties-damp gorgeous.”

Although the young man wasn’t overly tall, he was excessively male. Sex appeal oozed from every pore on the man’s skin. Alyson’s body responded which surprised her.

She judged him to be around thirty, with the firm and muscled, yet slender build of many European men. He had an olive complexion and short, wavy black hair styled like that of a GQ cover model. His eyes were dark and angry. What’s his problem? I’m the one held here against my will, hungry and thirsty. And, dammit, I have to pee.

The older man sat while Mr. Macho Male prowled the room like a tightly-reigned panther. “Ms. Moore, I’m Field Supervisor Henri Moreau. I head the French task force on counterterrorism. The irritated man behind me is my second in command, Niko Reynard.”

The young man deigned to spare her a nod in greeting. Oh, she knew the type. She nodded once in return with a dose of her own attitude. After all, she hadn’t been a teacher all these years without perfecting a piercing glare. One of his eyebrows quirked in response. She raised her chin and held eye contact with him for a few seconds. Touché. Okay, so she was being bitchy, but after all she’d been through, frankly she didn’t care.

BUY LINK: http://amzn.com/B00A553HLY

 

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Sneak Peek Sunday by Vonnie Davis

Welcome to my segment of Sneak Peek Sunday, where various authors share six paragraphs from either a published work or a work in progress. Just enough to entertain, to entice, to spark your curiosity.

Today I'm sharing from my historical novella set in a fictional town of Cicero Creek, Wyoming Territory, shortly after the Great Fire of Chicago in 1871. A MAN FOR ANNALEE is a "sweet" romance with a feisty heroine and a hero who finds her both comical and annoying.

Here's my six. The opening scene of the book that literally starts with a bang...

Gunfire jarred Annalee Gallagher. She straightened in her seat, her heart pounding. Another bullet zinged past the stagecoach, and the older couple sitting across from her gasped in unison. Heaven help her, she’d escaped one nightmare only to find herself in the middle of another. 

The broad-shouldered man who’d been drowsing against her jerked upright and drew a pistol from his holster in a blur so fast Annalee wondered if he hadn’t been holding it all along.

 

He fired six shots out the window before leaning back to reload. “Think I winged one.” Was he speaking to himself in affirmation or bragging to the occupants of the stagecoach?  

One thing for sure, though, Annalee wanted a look at the gunmen. Did they resemble the criminals in her dime novels? She slowly leaned toward the open window next to her. Surely one peek wouldn’t hurt. Thus far her journey from Chicago to Cicero Creek, Wyoming Territory had been blessedly uneventful. She’d met none of the miscreants and bloodthirsty Indians written about in her books, so the thrill of living through a stagecoach robbery, like those in stories she’d read, warred with her sense of self-preservation. 

If she’d had her wits about her, she’d be afraid, or so she told herself as she glanced out of the window, hoping to see the highwaymen. With her mind and heart so absorbed with grief this past week, this incident, no matter how perilous, was a welcome respite. 

The gunmen were out of her line of vision, but the pounding of their horses’ hooves grew closer. More shots rang out. The stagecoach driver cracked his whip and bellowed an order to the team of horses. “Hi-ya! Go! Go!” The stage swayed precariously as it accelerated over the bumpy road. Gritty dust blew into the coach with such force the air seemed alive with it.

 

BUY LINK:

Amazon ~ http://www.amazon.com/Man-Annalee-Vonnie-Davis-ebook/dp/B00E4WJ5VA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1393727946&sr=1-1&keywords=a+man+for+annalee

 

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SEE YOU NEXT WEEK.

 

Sneak Peek Sunday

Welcome to my stop on Sneak Peek Sunday. At each stop, we're serving up six paragraphs of a published book or a current work in progress.

So, I'm giving you a peek into book one of my Firemen's Wild Heat series, with a working title of To Catch a Flame. The series is contracted with HarperImpulse. If you've read my novella, Santa Wore Leathers, you've met the men of this fire and marine rescue station and you've heard mention of Quinn and Cassie. This is their story...and this is how I see Quinn...

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

     Quinn Gallagher was dead meat.

     Cassie Wolford marched to the side door of Fire and Marine Rescue Unit Thirty-two in Clearwater, Florida. She swiped the entry pass she’d purloined a year or so ago from her oldest brother and yanked the handle when the light in the security lock turned green. Propping her hip against the door, she maneuvered the large box containing the remainder of her birthday cake through the doorway. Quinn better have a damn good excuse for being a no show at my party last night.
     She’d asked him twice if he was coming and, both times, he’d used that wicked smile on her before claiming he wouldn’t miss her twenty-first birthday for the world. So unless he was inside hobbling on crutches with two broken legs or wore a body cast from nose to knee, he was about to get his jaw jacked. I don’t care if he does have a body built for sin and I want to be his number one sinner.
     With both of her brothers serving as firemen in this top-notch unit, Cassie knew her way around the building. She entered the firemen’s living quarters, slapped the cake on the large dining room table and pivoted toward conversation floating in from the TV area amid the battle sounds of a warrior game on Wii.
     Masculine laughter, deep and sensual, slithered straight to her core before spreading out to spark all her nerve endings. Quinn Gallagher did that to her, no matter if it was his laughter, his voice, or his eyes that fluctuated between blue and grey. Why is it always Quinn? Why not a guy who is as crazy for me as I am for him? But no, I have to fall hard for Mr. I-Could-Give-a-Shit.
     One quick glance in his direction, and she sucked air. Quinn, in his typically jovial manner, was recanting a story to her older brother, Jace, and a new fireman she’d yet to meet. All Quinn wore was a white towel slung low around his narrow hips. Water drops lazily forged a trail down his tanned and toned body. Moisture dripped from his freshly shampooed dark hair, trailed over his perpetual five-o’clock shadow and plopped onto his collarbone, hardened pecs and washboard stomach, skiing the hills and valleys over every ridge of his abs. Oh, to be a droplet of water.

***Enjoy your day as you make your rounds to the various stops on Sneak Peak Sunday! And have an awesome week!!

Sneak Peek Sunday!

#SPeekSunday

Welcome to Vintage Vonnie on Mother's Day. I hope all you moms are having a love-filled day.

I'm sharing the first six paragraphs of Back Where You Belong. This story is my second entry into the Honky Tonk Hearts series, that requires one pivotal scene taking place in the Lonesome Steer Honky Tonk outside Amarillo, Texas, along the famed Route 66.

What the hell?

Tyler Desmond whirled away from the shot he was about to make at the pool table to grasp for whatever caused the sudden, stinging pain at the back of his neck. When his fingers closed around a dart, he yanked the offending object out, searching through the crowd in the Lonesome Steer Honky Tonk for the bastard who dared throw one at him.

His cousin Billy Wayne leaned in close as if to examine the dart’s point of entry. “Damn, that’s gotta hurt.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed on the culprit. The object of his wrath stood about eight feet away, her face glowing red like embers in a branding fire and eyes mushrooming when his gaze zeroed in on hers.

He handed his cue stick to Billy Wayne and growled, “Not as much as one female’s about to. You can be damn sure of that.”

Three women, her friends no doubt, scurried back to their table, leaving her to face him alone. He slowly sauntered toward her, gathering his words as he approached. He’d cut many men to size with his acidic tongue. This woman would be no different.

 

BUY LINK: http://www.amazon.com/Where-Belong-Honky-Hearts-ebook/dp/B00BK9QVKI/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1368316254&sr=1-1&keywords=back+where+you+belong+honky+tonk+hearts

 

 

Sneak Peek Sunday by Vonnie Davis

SIX PARAGRAPHS FROM RAIN IS A LOVE SONG

French counterterrorism agent Jean-Luc is working undercover as Marcus Blackstone. He's just showered and is wearing nothing but water drops and a towel.
Room Service Scene...

“This is Marcus Blackstone in room three-oh-nine. I ordered condoms, but you didn’t deliver enough. I need more than what you left in my room.” He ran a hand over his hard chest. “How many?” His gaze swept to Gwen. “At least three times as many as you just brought.” He stopped talking and watched her. “Make that four times as many.”

“This is maple flavoring, I think.” Swirling her tongue across the top of the pastry to capture more of the sweet chocolate, Gwen moaned. “This is the richest chocolate I think I’ve ever eaten.” Jean-Luc’s attention was locked onto her mouth.

His eyes narrowed and the towel wiggled. “Send me five. Five times as many.” His voice cracked like a pubescent boy.

She untied the belt to her robe and ran a hand over her bare skin. When a dollop of cream accidently dripped onto her breast, he groaned. The towel tented.

 

Men. They really were so easy.

“Gwen, so help me God.” He turned and yelled into the phone, “Bring them all. You heard me. Every freakin’ condom you’ve got. Hurry, damn it!”