Excerpt Book III

I know the ink has hardly dried on Book II but this just came busting out of me for Book III. Thought I'd share. :)

Noah

I race down the Grand Couloir, in Courchevel, France. The icy wind slaps my cheeks as I slalom between jagged rocks, kicking up sprays of snow, faster and faster, down and down, until I’m nearly vertical. My heart pounds, my breath in my mask bellows like a charging boar. Adrenaline pumps in my veins instead of blood. 
The slope angles up. A cliff. I don’t turn, I hunch down and then there’s nothing beneath my skis and I’m flying…

…I’m flying, gliding, the nylon flaps above me. I grip the bar in a white-knuckled vise. The air is warm and the sky is gold and blue—twilight has fallen over Kahului. My glider dips and soars, and I feel the wind’s changes. I move with it, flying higher and higher, until the islands are puddles of sand wreathed in green.

I swoop low, curve up, nearly flip. I let loose a cry of triumph, and ride the edge of the current, higher still, until I can almost touch the sun, like Icarus, only I don’t burn. Not me. I soar.

And when I’m high enough, I drop the glider down into a nosedive, my harness straining until it breaks apart, the nylon tearing away, and it’s just me playing chicken with the ocean, and I will not blink first. I streak down, hands ready to cut the water like a knife. I’m diving…

…I’m diving off La Quebrada, Acapulco, one hundred and thirty-six feet high with five seconds of safe depth before the waves recede again. A three second journey, and I crow my triumph even as my heart plummets with me. My nerves are electric fear—that perfect sizzle that is nearly orgasmic, nearly unbearable.

The water rushes to meet me and I cut it perfectly, an arrow into the cool green-blue, down, down, where gold motes dance in the viridian infusion. I don’t stop, I don’t even slow. I can’t. Down deeper, and I begin to choke on my victory. My lungs constrict, my eardrums explode, and still I go down. The water is now dark green, now dark, now black. So deep. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. My head strikes the jagged teeth of the sea and all I know is pain…

…A scream tears out of my throat, one last scream, I think, before I drown in the black abyss. But no, I can’t breathe and then I can. I can scream, so I can breathe. I’m not submerged. I’m not lost in the deep. I’m in a bed, in New York City, my body covered in sweat, my hands clutching the sheets.

Relief sweeps through me like the adrenaline once did, and I open my eyes. But my eyes are already open. I’m no longer in the black deep but I’m just as blinded. Blind.

I’m blind.

What I Will and Won't Do as a Romance Novelist: A Handy List

1. No billionaire CEO's who are assholes/broken/tortured and who buy the heroine for the night--or longer--or in some other way make her "his." I have--and will again--have a rich guy now and then but he's not going to fit the mold as described above.

2. If the guy is an asshole in general, (H in my third book starts out as one) the h isn't going to be impressed. She will not be "intrigued" or seek to "fix" his asshole-ness. When he sees the error of his ways and ceases aforementioned asshole behavior, only then will the h give him a chance.

3. No covers featuring naked torsos. I'm a big believer in "never say never" but in this area, I'm going to go for a different, unified look for all my covers that eschews that trend. Hopefully this will make them stand out a bit.

4. Diversity. If the main characters aren't POC, then someone sure as shit will be, and not for the sake of being hip and cool--a white gal shoe-horning in some diversity to show how "open-minded" she is. The world is a big place filled with lots of different people. Therefore different people will show up in my books, in minor or major roles, in all races, creeds, and sexual orientations. It just makes sense.

5. Long stories. I don't/can't/find it impossible to keep it short. I like being submerged my worlds for a bit and I want to fill them out to make them as realistic as possible. So if you like short reads, my stuff probably isn't for you. (the exceptions being purposely short shorts or holiday novellas)

6. No insta-love. Insta-attraction, yes, but the real love takes time, even if the physical action gets going sooner.

7. Big, fat, over-the-top HEAs. Looks like each book's ending is going feature a proposal or wedding at some exotic local already referenced early in the book as a sort of clue. Love me some schmaltz and fluff, esp, if it took a long time for the characters to get there.

In no way do I mean to disparage authors who do or do not employ one or more of the above in their novels. To each her own. But the romance field is a big place and if I have to "market' or "brand" my stuff in some way, then this list is to that end.

I like good people. Good people who are doing the best they can. I like respect between the H and h. I like stories where the love is strong and sweet, and the sex hot but emotional as well, and I love building up to a (hopefully) satisfying relationship that the reader doesn't have to worry about later. :)

Cover Reveal: Unbreakable