I promised an excerpt from Sovereign of the Dragon–and since you already got an excerpt for Beauclerc Island, I think it's called for : -)
I’m also going to give you a fresh new excerpt for The Montgomery Chronicles, Book 4: Family Matters that releases on March 22nd.
Before I do that, let me give you the free story links one last time, and the March contest info.
I'm having a contest where you could win either these Jasper earrings, or the blue and green Springtime earrings:
First, check out my free stories at Coffee Time Romance~~here's the entire set so far:
Sovereign of the Dragon – Part 1
Sovereign of the Dragon – Part 2
Sovereign of the Dragon – Part 3
Got the dragon from here: http://draconian.com/links/link_to_us.htm
And then there’s Beauclerc Island: my new FREE story at Coffee Time Romance– but you have to sign up for it.
As I've said, it's a “group friends” only
There will be two contest winners–both will win one of my books –reader's choice–and one of these two pairs of earrings.
When you’re done, come back to my blog or my other blog and leave a meaningful comment about either story-If you do, you’ll be in the running to win one of two pairs of earrings and a copy of one of my new releases in electronic format.
Now, last but certainly not least, The Montgomery Chronicles, Book 4: Family Matters that releases on March 22nd from Melange Books–I'm having a release party at the TRS Party site on that day..
So, here is the lovely cover by A. Bratt.
How many Were's could manage to find their mate and lose her all at the same time? Yancey Montgomery's mate has been right under his nose for at least a decade. When he makes her his, he also chases her off. What will it take to convince the delicate little werewolf that he is a worthy mate?
Never had Sue been so glad to be back in America, and now she was moving into Old Moon, the town where her best friend lived. What could be better than that–there was no drama at Tracey's place…or so she thought.
This is an exclusive, one-time only excerpt :- )
(1)
"Hey there, girl! What's cooking?"
Looking up, Sue saw KiKi making her way up the sidewalk toward her. KiKi had inherited a small townhouse a block up and was obviously on her way over to visit with Sue.
"Pasta Carbornera. Want some?" Sue offered, waggling her eyebrows at KiKi suggestively.
"Naw, but thanks. I got me another bad date to get through tonight. Might as well enjoy the free meal."
It had become something of a running joke since that first day in the grocery store. Everywhere KiKi went, men of all sizes, shapes, and descriptions would hit on her. Some were nicer than others of course, and some were more subtle and polite. It didn’t matter, every single one of them flopped if she accepted a date.
"It's a curse," KiKi said now, throwing her head back and resting the back of her hand against her brow in a dramatic pose. "There's just too much glorious black bounty here for any one man to handle," she sighed.
"You've been reading those bodice rippers again, haven't you?" Sue countered dryly.
"You know it, sugar!" KiKi looked around conspicuously before leaning forward. "I just finished this one," she whispered, slipping a worn book out of her pocket.
The cover was a burning orange with a florid painting of a dark-skinned man in the foreground, the sun glinting off of his bald pate. One of his arms wrapped around the waist of a waifish woman whose blonde tresses tumbled over her shoulder, stark against his mocha forearm. His other hand twisted in the low neckline of her gown, an obvious rent developing in the fabric. In the background, a large, plantation-style house blazed, tongues of flame licking the sky.
"Any good?" Sue murmured, slipping the book into her own pocket. She only hoped she could get it into her room before Peyton came home. Her choice of literature was private. That KiKi shared her mania for long, angst-y, period romance books was an unexpected but welcome bonus for Sue.
"It's hot," KiKi said simply. "Can you believe it's more than twenty-years-old?" Sue looked up, startled. The book was in pretty good condition for being such an old paperback. "I know," KiKi breathed, awe sounding in her voice as she glanced at the pocket that hid the book. "I found it in my momma's stuff. She told me where to look for it when I went to see her. It'll knock your socks off!"
"She told you about it?" Sue asked, shocked.
"Yeah." KiKi grinned. "I look just like my aunt Eula did– her little sister. She thought it was about time I started reading the big girl books."
Shaking her head, Sue gathered her mail, absently noticing a postcard. "You sure you don't want to come in for an-a-" she flapped her hands helplessly. She knew what she wanted to say, but she just couldn't translate it right now. "Ah…a cool drink?" she finally managed.
"It looks like you might need a cool drink in a minute," KiKi teased, looking significantly toward Peyton's SUV as he pulled into the drive.
Both women waved automatically as he followed the driveway around and parked near the side door. Neither moved as Peyton slid out of the driver's seat and stepped to the back of the vehicle, leaning in to reach something. They sighed in unison as the fabric of his pants pulled taut, outlining his well-formed derriere.
"You are one lucky white woman–I hope you know that. That was the best set of hindquarters I've seen in a long time."
As Peyton pulled the door closed, Sue turend away and focused back on her conversation with KiKi. "I know he's hot, KiKi. How could I not? But he's…well, at least ten years younger than me."
"Don't be a fool, girl. He's got it bad for you. You got it bad for him. Let tomorrow take care of itself." KiKi stood up straight, making her five-feet-three-inches seem imperious as she looked down her nose haughtily. "Now, you think on that. I got me a loser to get gussied up for." With that, she turned away, conveying herself elegantly the length of the sidewalk. Halfway up the block, she looked back at Sue. "Go on in that house! One of us ought to keep company with a decent man. It sure don't look like it'll be me tonight!"
(2)
The week had been long, especially with the main backup singer leaving so abruptly. With little else to do, Lakon, Mya, Yancey and Myles were listening to tracks already assembled for their next album. The last song had played and the quiet sound of static filled the small room. They’d absently left the tape playing while they discussed which tracks to keep and which to do over.
Suddenly, the noise of a slamming door and the beginnings of a casual conversation between two young women issued from the surrounding speakers. When Lakon would have turned it off, Myles grabbed his hand, and with his other, rewound the conversation.
“Hey, Philly,” he recognized Ashley’s voice as he heard her enter the recording booth. “The sound engineer said someone was in here and I thought it was probably you. Hiding out from Yancey, huh?” Her voice was high with forced cheer.
Yancey shot to his feet
“This is a one hundred percent Yancey-free zone. It’s the only place I can avoid certain emotional stress and trauma right now,” the little Were, Philly, answered in a rueful voice. “In fact, witness the complete absence of drama. Silence, blessed silence all around you…aside from my dulcet tidings, of course. You’re not working at the truck stop tonight? How’d you get here?”
. “That’s her!” he shouted. “It’s got to be…”
“Shh,” Myles hissed. He wanted to hear every word Ashley had to say. She hadn’t spoken to him in weeks.
“When’re you going to see him again?” Ashley asked the other girl.
“We’ll come back to that. Tell me what’s wrong.” Philly’s voice was firm. A distinct snap and rustle of paper could be heard for about forty seconds and then, “Ultra-humongo epic fail,” Philly breathed with a low whistle, apparently responding to something on the paper. “This is woeful sad, Ash. I know you wanted to give him some credit, but it looks like he is stupid. I told you, men are dunce bags. Didn’t I tell you that? I know I did, prolly right after Yancey screwed me over and threw me out like a used wrapper.”
Yancey winced while Myles vacillated between anger and creeping fear. Whatever was on that paper had elicited anger and hurt. The insults from that little flower petal that Ashley called her best friend were barbed and painful. What had he done this time?
“No, Philly, he’s not stupid,” Ashley countered. She paused and then, “Okay, not any more stupid than most men,” she amended, much to Myles’ and Lakon’s annoyance. “See, its cause and effect. I’m slow but I’m sure and I can take a hint.” Ashley’s voice sounded resolute.
Myles’ brow furrowed and he looked around the room. She wasn’t making much sense. No one said anything. At least he wasn’t the only one who had no idea what Ashley and Philly were talking about.
“That whole “if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again” thing is a vicious manipulation masterminded by centuries of pathetic losers, Ashley. It’s all about getting to the end without being torn to bloody, humiliated shreds by the pitiless, ravenous hell-beasts gaining on you.” Philly sounded alarmed and fervent, leaving Myles and his cohorts completely confused.
Are they even having the same conversation…?
Myles couldn’t help but wonder how Ashley followed her friend’s thought process at all, actually.
“No, really, I get it. See, if this newspaper photo is any gauge, much like the other three hundred or so over the last year alone, he doesn’t really want to be my mate. He’s running back and forth between the start and the finish and sampling all the runners.” Myles shot to his feet.
And that's all I have for you guys today. I hope you enjoyed yourself. I know I did. Thanks so much, Coffee Time Romance for having me here today.
J.J. Massa
www.jjmassa.com
Twitter, Facebook, my Blog NCP Space my new ~free~story at Coffee Time Romance-
- About the Author
- Posts in the Past
I firmly believe that there’s too much stress in the world. Therefore, I’m trying to do my part to get rid of it.
I write my characters into stressful situations and then try to write them a happy ending. Everyone needs to win one sometimes, right?
I love animals and have a houseful. I love music–all sorts of music. That’s how I learned that my daughter’s parrot likes crooners…you never know when your guilty secrets will pay off 🙂