Welcome back on this 20th day of April. We are now two thirds of the way through the month. *Cringes*.....Oh, should I have not reminded you of this? Okay, Okay, I retract that statement then.
Enough about me and my statements. How about I move over and let today's guest have the floor! *Shuffles away, dodging tomatoes and flying objects*
Alter Ego
by Amber Lea Easton
I canceled a date about a month ago. It didn't feel right--in fact, it felt creepy so I followed my
instinct and backed out. Does this make me a chicken...someone afraid of diving back into the
dating world? Hardly. I’ve lived long enough to trust my gut instinct over social pressure.
Apparently, my solo lifestyle freaks people out so I’m constantly getting the “you need to get
back out there” speech. I write love stories and am a big fan of the male species so how can I be
content as a single woman? Must be my alter ego writing those sex scenes because the real me
is...what? Uptight? A mouse? A wallflower?
Hardly. I like sex. I like men. I like letting loose. I particularly enjoy flirting and getting wild.
In fact, I’ve often said that I need a keeper--someone to reel me in when I get a little out of hand.
I have experienced euphoria and sorrow in the name of love. I’m passionate about everything.
But some people don't see that side of me because I don't trust them. Because they don't see that
side of me, they say things like my writing must be the product of my alter ego or question why I
don't enjoy talking about my work with them. (Of course it is all said with a laugh...but we all
know that the most cutting things can be dismissed as a joke that isn't quite a joke.)
I have been hurt a lot in my life. I can be guarded, it's true. Unless I feel 100% accepted around
someone, the unguarded me doesn't come out to play. Instead, I smile politely and evade
personal questions because something screams "JUDGMENT" to my ears. I sometimes shield
myself from further betrayal and heartache by retreating behind a mask that says Back-Off-And-
Move-Along.
I have lived a big often messy but always interesting life. I have experienced love, loss, grief,
adventure, triumph, violence, terror, compassion and bliss. If you don't know that, then it's safe
to assume that I don't trust you enough to let you close.
Trust isn't a given. My intuition is right 100% of the time. I trust it. I trust myself. If that inner
voice cautions me against opening up, then so be it. I have earned the right to protect my heart.
So, no, the romance writer is not a manifestation of an alter ego. I am the sassy heroine of my
story--occasionally dark or funny or sad or balsy or silly or profound. I am simultaneously the
mysterious woman in the corner observing from the shadows and the loud woman laughing from
the sheer joy of being alive. I am a contradiction. I am content calling my own shots, taking up
the entire bed, solo-parenting my kids, being accountable to no one and writing the night away.
If people don't see me that way, then they have not earned that all-access pass to my life yet.
Perhaps what I allow the world to see is the protective shell surrounding a ball of fire.
I wonder...do horror writers ever get asked if they have the life experience to pull off a novel
about slasher-psycho-zombie-vampire-mutant-escapees-from-the-mental-asylum-who-go-on-amurderous
rampage? Nah. I bet not.
Title: Kiss Me Slowly
Author: Amber Lea Easton
Publisher: BookStrand.com
Length: 315 Pages
Genres: Contemporary Romantic
Suspense
BLURB:
Trapped
in a set-up that could have him in jail or dead by Monday, Jonathan
Alexander trusts no one in his inner circle. It’s Saturday. His
only hope is Grace Dupont, the best forensic accountant in Miami. But
there’s a glitch with that idea. She’s also his ex-girlfriend
who'd rather watch him drown than throw him a life vest. Going to her
feels desperate…because he is.
Grace
enjoys seeing Jonathan squirm. On your knees boy, she thinks as he
pitches for her help. Always a sucker for the dark-haired-blue-eyed
boys, she risks her precariously balanced life of secrets to help
him. Helping him slaps a target on her back–she’s the key to
proving his innocence and that’s a bad, bad thing.
Tangled
up in a whirlwind of conspiracy, murder, million dollar money trails
and diamond smuggling, Jonathan and Grace flee to the sea to stall
for time to prove his innocence. Romance sizzles beneath Florida
Keys’ sunshine. Both scoff at happy endings. Both doubt justice.
Both know each kiss could be their last.
EXCERPT:
He
was beyond pissed at this guy’s audacity. His perpetual shadow
leaned against the front of a closed dress shop, Panama hat pulled
over his eyes, arms folded across his chest, and watched the office
door without trying to hide in any way. “Look at him standing
there, not even bothering to hide.”
“He’s
been skulking around here all day. I think he’s harmless.”
“He’s
following you now? That can’t be good.” He pulled her closer to
his chest and into the shadow of the entrance.
When
she sighed, her breasts heaved against his arm. He cursed every
inappropriate thought that rushed through his mind. No time for sex
with an ex. This situation didn’t exactly scream romance.
“You
weren’t kidding about being trapped in some B movie, were you?”
She twisted against him in an attempt to break free of his hold.
“Stop
it.” All of her gyrating distracted him from Panama Hat Man.
He
broke off his words when she bent his wrist backward until he thought
it would break. Cursing under his breath, he released her and rubbed
the pain in his left hand.
She
stalked across the street toward the man, slippers slapping against
the pavement, hips swaying beneath the thin cotton dress that skimmed
her thighs, and hair bouncing against her bare back.
He
would have chased her even if she weren’t potentially following a
psychopath.
Panama
Hat Man walked toward the beach, his stride quickening with their
approach.
“Wait.
Stop. I need to talk to you.” She disappeared down the path leading
between the buildings to the beach.
“Grace,
come back here.” He jogged toward the path, panic just a breath
away from consuming him. He glanced over his shoulder as he ran,
conscious of the unlocked building but concerned about Grace’s
safety.
Night
slowly overtook twilight. Lights from the sidewalk cafes and bars
illuminated the street at their backs. Only a handful of people
strolled the beach at the waterline in the distance. He watched her
jog over the sand, getting further away from the streetlights.
Panama
Hat Man disappeared.
“This
is a bad idea, Grace,” he said when he caught up to her.
“This
whole thing is a bad idea. I don’t need this drama.” She shouted
the words over her shoulder as she paused to yank the slippers from
her feet. “I quit. Done. Finito.”
“And
you think I do?” He grabbed her elbow. “I don’t want you to
quit, just stop following this guy. You could be walking into a trap.
Maybe he wants you to follow him, ever think of that?”
Of
all the qualities she had to retain as an adult, it had to be
recklessness. So much for the sophisticated, calm,
I-have-it-all-together façade.
A
piercing pop sliced through the air. Sand exploded at their feet.
Another shot—definitely gunfire.
He
pressed her to the ground as another shot went off. His hands covered
her head while his body shielded hers. A brief scan of the horizon
showed nothing except sand, strangers running in the opposite
direction of the shoreline, and the blackness of the ocean.
“He’s
shooting at us?” she asked against his neck, hands fisted in the
material of his shirt.
“Still
think I’m paranoid?” he asked against her forehead.
“I
quit, I really do quit.” Her nails sank into his shoulder as she
clung to him.
Another
pop sliced the air. Strangers screamed. Someone yelled for the
police.
Searing
pain ripped through his left shoulder. Rolling from her, he half
crawled, half pulled her further into the darkness and in the
opposite direction of the Panama Hat Man.
He
kept his head down and tugged her away from the lights.
“You
think you’re being followed so you drag me into it, thanks a lot.”
She stumbled in the sand next to him, bringing him down with her.
“Brilliant plan.”
In
one move, he hauled her to his side and ran until they stood in the
shadows beneath a lifeguard tower. Chest heaving, he shoved his hands
through her hair.
“Are
you okay? Are you hurt?” he asked, gaze scanning her for any sign
of injury.
“Stop
touching me.” She slapped his hands away, eyes snapping with fire.
“My life was complicated enough, Jon Ryan. I didn’t need you
making it worse. Damn you.”
“You
had to follow the guy, didn’t you?” Rage at the situation at
large zeroed in on her. “For being a so-called genius, that was an
idiot move.”
She
punched him in the shoulder. “Who is this guy? Why is he shooting
at us?
Pain
ripped through his left arm and burned down his back. Sharp, burning
pain. “If I knew the guy, I’d kick his ass. Stop hitting me.”
She
held her fist up to her face and studied the blood that stained her
fingers. “You’ve been shot,” she repeated several times before
lifting her gaze to his. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you
were shot?”
“I
didn’t know.” He rested the back of his head against the stilt in
the shadows of the lifeguard stand. He needed clarity. This entire
situation had escalated far beyond his scope of comprehension. None
of it made sense.
“How
do you not know that you’ve been shot?” She rubbed the blood from
her hand over the front of his shirt while looking down the beach and
toward the shadows with extra-wide eyes. “I lost my slippers.
They’ll look weird on the beach, won’t they? Not many people live
on this block, especially not so close. The police will make the
connection.” Eyes overly wide and chest heaving beneath the thin
cotton material, she pressed her hand against his arm and stared up
at him. “Jonathan, we’re out of time.”
Coldness
seeped through his bones. Someone had shot him, but he knew
instinctively that Grace had been the target. She had the ability to
prove his innocence. Someone wanted her out of the picture.
BUY LINKS:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/rUH17M
Barnes
and Noble: http://bit.ly/vafDAb
Bookstrand: http://bit.ly/v0HczI
VIDEO BOOK TRAILER:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Amber
Lea Easton grew up in Hartford, South Dakota, where she spent her
time daydreaming of big adventures over the horizon under a giant
blue South Dakota sky. Now living in Colorado, she is an avid
traveler who incorporates her real life travels into her novels as
much as possible (minus the illegal activities her characters become
immersed in--she swears). To her, setting is another character in the
novel and often serves as an inspiration. Although she is a romantic
suspense author, she's an avid reader of all genres or "whatever
turns her on in the moment". Love is her motivation for all
things--whether it be writing, traveling, playing with her dogs or
hanging with her two teenagers--if it's not done with love, then
what's the point?
To
stay up to date with Amber Lea Easton's new releases and events,
check out her website at http://www.amberleaeaston.com,
subscribe to her author blog at http://amberleaeaston.blogspot.com
or email her at amber@amberleaeaston.com.
Follow her on Twitter as @MtnMoxieGirl or on Facebook.
Thanks for hosting me today, Nikki!
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