Hi Everyone,

I had a fantastic time at the signing yesterday at Altamonte Mall. I was so excited to see so many familiar faces

Now, it’s back to work on the third book in the Club X series. You’ll be happy to hear that this will be Cal’s book Cal has a pretty big secret and it is about to come back to haunt him.

I hope you are enjoying Choices. Have a great week!

Excerpt 7

The next day at school, Mallory couldn’t help but look for him everywhere she went.  At lunch, she finally spotted him across the cafeteria.  To her dismay, he was sitting with Cherie Brightwater.  She paused for a minute, her tray in hand, as she watched Cherie lean across the table to put her hand on Jackson’s arm. 

“Mallory, did you forget where we normally sit?” Leah asked sarcastically, coming up behind her.

She followed Leah to the table, barely seeing anything as she took a seat across from her.  What could he possibly see in Cherie Brightwater?  She wasn’t even that pretty!  Sure, she had a reputation for going all the way, but he saw through that.  Didn’t he? Leah continued to chat animatedly about her latest science experiment debacle, but all she could do was steal glances at the pair across the room.  She felt like a fool.  After last weekend, she thought…well, she didn’t know what she thought. 

But she certainly didn’t expect this! 

“So, Mr. Keller tells me that if one more thing blows up in his classroom, he’s going to fail me.  And, I’m like I never said I was a science genius!”  Leah paused to take a bite of her hamburger.  When she looked up, she asked, “Have you even heard anything I said?”

Her head snapped around.  “What?  Of course, I did.  Mr. Keller is a jerk.  No big news there.  No one likes him.”

Leah’s gaze drifted to the couple on the other side of the room.  “Isn’t that your date?”

Mallory glanced over nonchalantly.  “He was just my date for the barbeque.  It was nothing serious,” she refuted.

Leah’s eyebrows rose, as she shook her head.  “Well, it looks like it might be serious with Cherie Brightwater.  How long do you give her before she climbs over the table and sits on his lap?”

She turned her head to see Cherie Brightwater lean across the table to kiss Jackson.  On the mouth!  Her temper began to boil, and even though she told herself she had no claim on him, she could barely stop herself from running over and slapping the other girl. 

Why was he doing this? 

“I hadn’t noticed,” she dismissed.

Leah let out a sarcastic laugh.  “Yeah right!  And I actually like science! Why don’t you give him a dose of his own medicine?”

Giving Leah a quick nod, she stood up.  “You’re right.”

Walking over to Derrick, she wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and leaned into him.  “I’ve missed you,” she whispered seductively into his ear.

His surprise was evident.  “You have?”

She leaned in closer, her mouth next to his ear.  “You know I miss you when you’re gone.”

His hands came up to imprison hers around him.  “Well, I guess we will have to fix that.  Do you want to get together after school?”

“I can’t wait,” she said, turning to place a lingering kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll give you a ride home.  Meet me in the parking lot,” he instructed firmly.

“Sounds good,” she replied, leaning in to press another kiss on his cheek.  To her surprise, he turned giving her his mouth as his hand held her head.  His friends began to hoot and holler as he prolonged the kiss.  Finally, he let her go giving the other occupants of the table a satisfied grin.

Stumbling back to the table, she tried to ignore Leah’s amused look. 

“That certainly went a little farther than planned,” Leah observed, shaking her head.

She couldn’t bring herself to look around the room after what had just happened.  “Did he even see us?”

Her friend offered her a sad smile.  “Oh, he saw all right.”

“And?”

Her lips formed a grim line.  “And then, he left.”

Mallory’s head whipped around to see Cherie Brightwater sitting with her friends.  Jackson was nowhere in sight.  “Where did he go?”

“Out the back door,” Leah offered, taking another bite of her sandwich.

She grabbed her purse and books.  “I need to run to my locker before class.  I’ll see you later.”

She walked out the back door following the sidewalk that led to the area most of the kids called “the smoker’s wall.”  There he was.  A thin veil of smoke hovered over him as he leaned against the building.  When he saw her coming, he quickly looked the other way.  She squared her shoulders, as she began to walk past him.  Realizing that he had no intention of stopping her, she spun on her heel to confront him.

“You know, you could do better than Cherie Brightwater.”

One side of his mouth quirked up, as he took a long drag of his cigarette.  “Thanks, I’ll take that under advisement.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she retorted.

He pushed off the wall, dropping his cigarette on the ground.  “It means I don’t need advice from you on who to date, considering…”

Her eyes narrowed.  “Considering?”

 “Considering your current tastes,” he explained.

“Is that why you left?  Because you didn’t want to see me with Derrick,” she prodded.

“It didn’t look like you needed a bigger audience,” he bit back trying to push past her, but she grabbed his arm. 

“Why are you doing this, Jackson?”

His eyebrows rose.  “Doing what?”

Her gaze lowered.  “I thought that we…”

He looked down at the hand that restrained him.  “Look Mallory, I don’t know what you think happened this weekend, but whatever it was, it’s over.”

His words were cruel, meant to cut.  And they did.  She felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest.  Why was he acting this way?  What had she done wrong?  She wanted to scream at him, hit him, but none of those things would make her feel better and she knew it.  Had she been wrong about him?  Had she completely misjudged him? 

A single tear slid down her cheek, making him feel like the biggest ass in the world.  All day he told himself that he had to do this, even if he didn’t want to.  The die was cast.  It wouldn’t do any good to start something they couldn’t finish.  Still, as he looked into her wounded eyes, he wanted to pull her against him.  Seeing her with Lange made him crazy.  If he hadn’t left when he did, he would’ve made an even bigger mess by beating the other boy to a pulp.  

He reached out to wipe the tear away, causing her to look up.  Her mouth fell open inviting him to break every promise he had made to himself this weekend. 

God, he wanted to. 

His head began to descend toward hers. 

“Hey Hart, you want to take your hands off my sister!” Curtis yelled, as he and his friends walked over to the pair.

Jackson turned to face him as several of the boys crowded around him pushing Mallory to the side.  Before he could get to her, one of them grabbed him from behind pinning his arms behind his back. 

“Get your hands off her!” he bit out, as Mallory struggled against one of the boys.

Curtis stood in front of him, his brown hair slightly ruffled.  “She’s my sister, Hart.  I’ll say who touches her and who doesn’t,” he added with a sneer.

Wrestling one of his arms free, he tried to turn, but another boy grabbed him.  He tried to move, but with two of them holding him, he didn’t make much progress.  His gaze flew to Mallory, who was fighting against the boy holding her. 

“Curtis, make him let me go!  You can’t tell me what to do.  You’re not Daddy!”

Curtis glanced over at her shaking his head.  “It’s a good thing Daddy isn’t here to see this or you would be in bigger trouble than you already are.  Did you think I wouldn’t find out about the Buchman’s party? What the hell were you thinking?”

“It’s none of your business,” she retorted.

“I think it is when my sister decides to take up with the town scum,” he bit back.  “Hold her, and shut her up!”

At his instruction, the other boy covered Mallory’s mouth.  Curtis turned his attention back to Jackson.  “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Jackson saw the fear in her eyes and knew he had to do something…quick.  “Why don’t you fight me like a real man?  Or is this the only way you can win?”

Curtis’s eyes narrowed.  “Shut up, Hart!” 

He threw the first punch.  It connected with Jackson’s abdomen, and he winced as pain shot through his stomach.

“Real men don’t need two guys to hold me back!  A real man would take me on himself!”

Another punch landed on his chin snapping his head to the side and causing his jaw to throb painfully. 

“Chicken shit!” Jackson muttered, despite the pleading he saw in Mallory’s eyes for him to stop.

The next punch landed in his ribs.  His head fell forward at the intensity of the pain.  The other two boys were supporting most of his weight now. 

Curtis snorted.  “Let him go,” he instructed.

When they released him, he barreled into Curtis, both of them falling to the ground.  They wrestled.  Jackson threw several punches making Curtis grunt in pain.  Several of the boys pulled Jackson off him, throwing him to the ground as they kicked him in his already-injured side.  He was able to grab the legs of several of the boys making them stumble and fall, but there were too many.  Then, as quickly as it started, it was over, and Jackson was left on the grass alone.

Mallory ran over to him, her hands caressing him.  “Jackson, are you okay?”

He slowly got to his feet trying not to show the pain that sliced through his entire body.  “I’m fine,” he mustered.

“I’m so sorry,” she said gently, a worried look marring her perfect face.

Stumbling over to the wall, he placed a hand on it for support.  “Sorry that I got hurt?  Or sorry that he is your brother?”

“Both,” she admitted sincerely.

At that, he smiled.  “It’s okay.  We can’t pick our family.”

“If I could, I would return him,” she confessed ruefully.

He laughed, the motion making him grimace at the slice of pain it caused.  “Don’t worry, Mal.  I’ll live,” he assured.

Her hand came out to stroke his arm.  “At least let me give you a ride home.”

He gripped his side, as he tried to ignore the tenderness he found there.  Before he knew what she was doing, she grabbed his arm sliding it around her shoulders to help him shift his weight.  When he started to protest, she looked up at him to shake her head. 

“You can’t be a tough guy all the time,” she chided.

Unable to fight any longer, he allowed her to help him into her car.  Somehow, his plan had gotten way off track today.  As he watched her navigate through the city streets, he realized that he would not be able to discard her as easily as he thought.  Pushing someone like Mallory Westfall away was not a task he would accomplish without effort.  When she made up her mind about something, she didn’t give up. 

“I can’t believe Curtis did that,” she muttered, her fingers gripping the steering wheel.

“I can,” he replied.

“I hate him.  He is such a jerk.”

“No arguments there, but he’s still your brother,” he reasoned.  “Turn right up ahead.”

Pulling onto the small dirt road, they drove past a small abandoned fruit stand to the right.  Despite the advertisements of watermelon and cantaloupe, it was bare today.  “You’re going to turn left at that entrance between the trees,” he explained, pointing to a small opening.

Mallory followed the road around a curve.  Corn fields flanked the path.  When they rounded the bend, the cabins came into view.  “Ours is the one with the blue shutters just up ahead,” he instructed, his expression blank. 

Pulling her car over to the side, she shifted into park.  He quickly climbed out leaving her to trail behind him as he climbed the steps.  He could only imagine what she was thinking.  The cabin was a far cry from the Westfall estate. 

“Well, thanks,” he said, in an effort to dismiss her.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” she asked expectantly.

He let out a long sigh.  He didn’t want to invite her in, didn’t want to spend any more time with her, when he knew what the ultimate outcome would be.  Still, his mother had not raised him to be rude. 

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, as he pulled open the door.       

Mallory Westfall was about to invade his world, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Stay Tuned for more of Choices…

Hi Everyone,

I hope you all had a wonderful Halloween!  It was fun to see all of the spooky costumes.

If you are in the area next week, please make sure to stop by and see me.  I will be at the Altamonte Mall in Altamonte Springs signing copies of Den of Desire and The Pleasure of Sin on Saturday November 7th, from 2-5.  I would love to see you there!

Have a great week,

Shauna

www.shaunahart.com

Excerpt 7

The next day at school, Mallory couldn’t help but look for him everywhere she went.  At lunch, she finally spotted him across the cafeteria.  To her dismay, he was sitting with Cherie Brightwater.  She paused for a minute, her tray in hand, as she watched Cherie lean across the table to put her hand on Jackson’s arm.   

“Mallory, did you forget where we normally sit?” Leah asked sarcastically, coming up behind her.

She followed Leah to the table, barely seeing anything as she took a seat across from her.  What could he possibly see in Cherie Brightwater?  She wasn’t even that pretty!  Sure, she had a reputation for going all the way, but he saw through that.  Didn’t he? Leah continued to chat animatedly about her latest science experiment debacle, but all she could do was steal glances at the pair across the room.  She felt like a fool.  After last weekend, she thought…well, she didn’t know what she thought. 

But she certainly didn’t expect this! 

“So, Mr. Keller tells me that if one more thing blows up in his classroom, he’s going to fail me.  And, I’m like I never said I was a science genius!”  Leah paused to take a bite of her hamburger.  When she looked up, she asked, “Have you even heard anything I said?”

Her head snapped around.  “What?  Of course, I did.  Mr. Keller is a jerk.  No big news there.  No one likes him.”

Leah’s gaze drifted to the couple on the other side of the room.  “Isn’t that your date?”

Mallory glanced over nonchalantly.  “He was just my date for the barbeque.  It was nothing serious,” she refuted.

Leah’s eyebrows rose, as she shook her head.  “Well, it looks like it might be serious with Cherie Brightwater.  How long do you give her before she climbs over the table and sits on his lap?”

She turned her head to see Cherie Brightwater lean across the table to kiss Jackson.  On the mouth!  Her temper began to boil, and even though she told herself she had no claim on him, she could barely stop herself from running over and slapping the other girl. 

Why was he doing this? 

“I hadn’t noticed,” she dismissed.

Leah let out a sarcastic laugh.  “Yeah right!  And I actually like science! Why don’t you give him a dose of his own medicine?”

Giving Leah a quick nod, she stood up.  “You’re right.”

Walking over to Derrick, she wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and leaned into him.  “I’ve missed you,” she whispered seductively into his ear.

His surprise was evident.  “You have?”

She leaned in closer, her mouth next to his ear.  “You know I miss you when you’re gone.”

His hands came up to imprison hers around him.  “Well, I guess we will have to fix that.  Do you want to get together after school?”

“I can’t wait,” she said, turning to place a lingering kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll give you a ride home.  Meet me in the parking lot,” he instructed firmly.

“Sounds good,” she replied, leaning in to press another kiss on his cheek.  To her surprise, he turned giving her his mouth as his hand held her head.  His friends began to hoot and holler as he prolonged the kiss.  Finally, he let her go giving the other occupants of the table a satisfied grin.

Stumbling back to the table, she tried to ignore Leah’s amused look. 

“That certainly went a little farther than planned,” Leah observed, shaking her head.

She couldn’t bring herself to look around the room after what had just happened.  “Did he even see us?”

Her friend offered her a sad smile.  “Oh, he saw all right.”

“And?”

Her lips formed a grim line.  “And then, he left.”

Mallory’s head whipped around to see Cherie Brightwater sitting with her friends.  Jackson was nowhere in sight.  “Where did he go?”

“Out the back door,” Leah offered, taking another bite of her sandwich.

She grabbed her purse and books.  “I need to run to my locker before class.  I’ll see you later.”

She walked out the back door following the sidewalk that led to the area most of the kids called “the smoker’s wall.”  There he was.  A thin veil of smoke hovered over him as he leaned against the building.  When he saw her coming, he quickly looked the other way.  She squared her shoulders, as she began to walk past him.  Realizing that he had no intention of stopping her, she spun on her heel to confront him.

“You know, you could do better than Cherie Brightwater.”

One side of his mouth quirked up, as he took a long drag of his cigarette.  “Thanks, I’ll take that under advisement.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she retorted.

He pushed off the wall, dropping his cigarette on the ground.  “It means I don’t need advice from you on who to date, considering…”

Her eyes narrowed.  “Considering?”

 “Considering your current tastes,” he explained.

“Is that why you left?  Because you didn’t want to see me with Derrick,” she prodded.

“It didn’t look like you needed a bigger audience,” he bit back trying to push past her, but she grabbed his arm. 

“Why are you doing this, Jackson?”

His eyebrows rose.  “Doing what?”

Her gaze lowered.  “I thought that we…”

He looked down at the hand that restrained him.  “Look Mallory, I don’t know what you think happened this weekend, but whatever it was, it’s over.”

His words were cruel, meant to cut.  And they did.  She felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest.  Why was he acting this way?  What had she done wrong?  She wanted to scream at him, hit him, but none of those things would make her feel better and she knew it.  Had she been wrong about him?  Had she completely misjudged him? 

A single tear slid down her cheek, making him feel like the biggest ass in the world.  All day he told himself that he had to do this, even if he didn’t want to.  The die was cast.  It wouldn’t do any good to start something they couldn’t finish.  Still, as he looked into her wounded eyes, he wanted to pull her against him.  Seeing her with Lange made him crazy.  If he hadn’t left when he did, he would’ve made an even bigger mess by beating the other boy to a pulp.  

He reached out to wipe the tear away, causing her to look up.  Her mouth fell open inviting him to break every promise he had made to himself this weekend. 

God, he wanted to. 

His head began to descend toward hers. 

“Hey Hart, you want to take your hands off my sister!” Curtis yelled, as he and his friends walked over to the pair.

Jackson turned to face him as several of the boys crowded around him pushing Mallory to the side.  Before he could get to her, one of them grabbed him from behind pinning his arms behind his back. 

“Get your hands off her!” he bit out, as Mallory struggled against one of the boys.

Curtis stood in front of him, his brown hair slightly ruffled.  “She’s my sister, Hart.  I’ll say who touches her and who doesn’t,” he added with a sneer.

Wrestling one of his arms free, he tried to turn, but another boy grabbed him.  He tried to move, but with two of them holding him, he didn’t make much progress.  His gaze flew to Mallory, who was fighting against the boy holding her. 

“Curtis, make him let me go!  You can’t tell me what to do.  You’re not Daddy!”

Curtis glanced over at her shaking his head.  “It’s a good thing Daddy isn’t here to see this or you would be in bigger trouble than you already are.  Did you think I wouldn’t find out about the Buchman’s party? What the hell were you thinking?”

“It’s none of your business,” she retorted.

“I think it is when my sister decides to take up with the town scum,” he bit back.  “Hold her, and shut her up!”

At his instruction, the other boy covered Mallory’s mouth.  Curtis turned his attention back to Jackson.  “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Jackson saw the fear in her eyes and knew he had to do something…quick.  “Why don’t you fight me like a real man?  Or is this the only way you can win?”

Curtis’s eyes narrowed.  “Shut up, Hart!” 

He threw the first punch.  It connected with Jackson’s abdomen, and he winced as pain shot through his stomach.

“Real men don’t need two guys to hold me back!  A real man would take me on himself!”

Another punch landed on his chin snapping his head to the side and causing his jaw to throb painfully. 

“Chicken shit!” Jackson muttered, despite the pleading he saw in Mallory’s eyes for him to stop.

The next punch landed in his ribs.  His head fell forward at the intensity of the pain.  The other two boys were supporting most of his weight now. 

Curtis snorted.  “Let him go,” he instructed.

When they released him, he barreled into Curtis, both of them falling to the ground.  They wrestled.  Jackson threw several punches making Curtis grunt in pain.  Several of the boys pulled Jackson off him, throwing him to the ground as they kicked him in his already-injured side.  He was able to grab the legs of several of the boys making them stumble and fall, but there were too many.  Then, as quickly as it started, it was over, and Jackson was left on the grass alone.

Mallory ran over to him, her hands caressing him.  “Jackson, are you okay?”

He slowly got to his feet trying not to show the pain that sliced through his entire body.  “I’m fine,” he mustered.

“I’m so sorry,” she said gently, a worried look marring her perfect face.

Stumbling over to the wall, he placed a hand on it for support.  “Sorry that I got hurt?  Or sorry that he is your brother?”

“Both,” she admitted sincerely.

At that, he smiled.  “It’s okay.  We can’t pick our family.”

“If I could, I would return him,” she confessed ruefully.

He laughed, the motion making him grimace at the slice of pain it caused.  “Don’t worry, Mal.  I’ll live,” he assured.

Her hand came out to stroke his arm.  “At least let me give you a ride home.”

He gripped his side, as he tried to ignore the tenderness he found there.  Before he knew what she was doing, she grabbed his arm sliding it around her shoulders to help him shift his weight.  When he started to protest, she looked up at him to shake her head. 

“You can’t be a tough guy all the time,” she chided.

Unable to fight any longer, he allowed her to help him into her car.  Somehow, his plan had gotten way off track today.  As he watched her navigate through the city streets, he realized that he would not be able to discard her as easily as he thought.  Pushing someone like Mallory Westfall away was not a task he would accomplish without effort.  When she made up her mind about something, she didn’t give up. 

“I can’t believe Curtis did that,” she muttered, her fingers gripping the steering wheel.

“I can,” he replied.

“I hate him.  He is such a jerk.”

“No arguments there, but he’s still your brother,” he reasoned.  “Turn right up ahead.”

Pulling onto the small dirt road, they drove past a small abandoned fruit stand to the right.  Despite the advertisements of watermelon and cantaloupe, it was bare today.  “You’re going to turn left at that entrance between the trees,” he explained, pointing to a small opening.

Mallory followed the road around a curve.  Corn fields flanked the path.  When they rounded the bend, the cabins came into view.  “Ours is the one with the blue shutters just up ahead,” he instructed, his expression blank. 

Pulling her car over to the side, she shifted into park.  He quickly climbed out leaving her to trail behind him as he climbed the steps.  He could only imagine what she was thinking.  The cabin was a far cry from the Westfall estate. 

“Well, thanks,” he said, in an effort to dismiss her.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” she asked expectantly.

He let out a long sigh.  He didn’t want to invite her in, didn’t want to spend any more time with her, when he knew what the ultimate outcome would be.  Still, his mother had not raised him to be rude. 

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, as he pulled open the door.       

Mallory Westfall was about to invade his world, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Stay tuned for more of Choices…

Hi Everyone,

I hope that you are all enjoying Choices. Jackson is one of my favorite characters. Hopefully, you all feel the same way.

As for what I’m reading, I just finished Shiver by Maggie Stievwater! It is about werewolves. If you are a Team Jacob fan, I highly suggest that you pick it up. You will not be disappointed. Now, I am reading The Perfect Liar by Brenda Novak and I can’t put it down.

I hope you all have a great week

Chapter 6

What the hell was he doing here? 

            Jackson pulled his bike to a stop beside the outer gates of the Westfall estate.  This was a big mistake, and he knew it.  He felt like an idiot for going along with this ridiculous plot of hers.  Agreeing to meet her outside the gate was a sure sign that things were not on the up and up.  It made her plan to capture a “big surprise” all the more obvious. 

            So, why was he still here? 

Was he fueled by some perverse curiosity to see where this hatched scheme would end? 

            Definitely.

            He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket sliding one into the crook of his mouth.  Bending over to light it, he inhaled deeply.   

            If he had any sense, he would stand her up. 

            A wicked grin took hold of his mouth at the thought of her face when she realized that she had been left waiting.  It would serve her right for coming up with such a cruel prank.  Just as he was about to leave, she appeared between the bars.  The gate squeaked as she closed it behind her, before walking over to stand beside him.  Her auburn hair was pulled in a tight ponytail.  Long legs were revealed by her pink miniskirt.  His hands twitched involuntarily with the need to travel their length.  The outline of her breasts was visible through her white shirt.  The strings to her blue bikini top peaked out of the collar.  He repositioned himself on the seat as he felt a familiar hardening. 

            “Are you ready?” she asked, her eyes bright with mischief.

            The objections he had so recently pointed out seemed to dissolve instantly.  “Yep,” he muttered, his voice sounding foreign.

            When she climbed on the seat behind him and he watched her legs slide around his, he knew it was over.  One way or another, he was going to have to see this through.  His body demanded it.  When he agreed to this, he had unwittingly become her plaything, and though he didn’t like it, he was no longer the ultimate decision-maker.  She pressed her cheek against his back, her arms folding around his middle.  He winced as he noticed the bulge in his pants was becoming more and more noticeable.  All he could do was pray that they reached the Buchman house before his precarious position became embarrassing.

            By some stroke of luck, he was able to do just that, and as they stood together on the front steps, he said a silent thank you.  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.  As if she could feel the weight of his stare, she turned to give him a playful wink.  The teasing smile she offered was almost his undoing.  She was way too cocky for her own good, which was probably what he found so damned attractive about her.  Behind that grin, there was no shame. 

            She was going in for the kill, and he was just along for the ride. 

            The door swung inward to reveal Teddy Buchman, a chicken leg held firmly in his hand.  Upon seeing them, his eyes widened.  His gaze traveled back and forth between them for a moment before realization set in.

            “Well, well, well!  Somehow, I don’t think you got an invitation, Hart.  What, did your bike break down?” he inquired with a derisive sneer.

            “He’s with me, Teddy,” Mallory chimed in.  She laced her arm through Jackson’s, leaning in to press against his side.  “He’s my date.”  When she looked up at him dreamily, he knew he should have put a stop to things earlier.

            Teddy offered a crude snort.  “I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing, Mallory.  All right, fine by me.  Come on in,” he relented, moving aside so they could enter. 

            Jackson sighed heavily.  This was going to be worse than he thought.  Up until now, he hadn’t been sure how far she would go.  But her performance just now confirmed that she was willing to go all the way.  When they stepped through the French doors onto the back porch, it appeared the party was in full swing.  Kids were jumping into the pool, splashing each other.  Some of the boys had girls on their shoulders and were deep in the middle of a chicken fight.   Most of the adults had gravitated to the side of the house, where tables were set up with red and white checkered tablecloths. 

            Several heads turned as they came out.  He felt the curious stares from the girls, and the suspicious ones from the boys.  Mallory’s meddling had assured that this was definitely going to be a day for the Princeton history books.  Jackson Hart had just invaded the nice and tidy world of the rich and he wasn’t sure any of them would ever be the same again.

            He followed Mallory over to a group of kids who were standing beside the pool.  “Hey Mallory, we didn’t think you would ever get here,”  Leah called out running over to join them.  

            Mallory tucked her arm in his causing Leah’s eyebrows to arch. 

            “So, what took you so long?” she added in a teasing voice, her gaze flicking back and forth between them.

            Mallory rolled her eyes dramatically.  “Not what you’re thinking, I’m sure,” she chided.  “Leah, have you met Jackson Hart?”

            Jackson looked down at the girl.  Her red hair was short and swung playfully around her ears.  Her bikini nearly matched her hair, but was partially covered by a damp towel wrapped tightly around her waist.  He held out a hand, which she gave a firm shake. 

“Nice to meet you,” he offered distractedly.  His eyes flickered to the group of boys who were huddled together frowning as they overtly stared at them.

            “You, too!  Mallory’s told me…”  She paused for dramatic effect.  “Almost nothing about you, so I guess you’ll have to fill in the blanks.”  At Mallory’s look of censure, she gave her a wicked grin.

            “Leah!”  Mallory scolded.

            “Well, I see my work here is done.  If you guys want a soda, there’s plenty in the cooler.  I’m going to go find Tim and see why he’s not paying enough attention to me.”  Leah walked over to the group, stopping briefly to chat before taking a seat.

            One of the boys headed their way, and Jackson tensed. 

“What are you doing here, Hart?” 

            His eyes narrowed and his chest bowed out.  Sensing the change in his demeanor, Mallory quickly intervened.  “He’s with me, David.” 

David’s blond hair was still slicked back from the pool, and his wet swim trunks were creating a puddle of water around his feet.  Jackson didn’t know David well, but he knew him well enough to know that he was nothing more than a self-centered rich kid who probably never had to work a day in his life.

            “And just what made you think you could invite him?  I mean, my parents invited you, Mallory.  Not him!”

            Jackson took a menacing step toward him, causing Mallory to put a restraining hand on his chest. 

            “You got a problem, Hart?” David yelled, as several of his friends came to stand behind him.

            “Nothing I can’t take care of right now,” he bit out.

            “Come on, Hart!  Let’s go,” David prodded, as he glanced behind him, giving his friends a satisfied nod. 

            “No!” Mallory screamed.  “Let’s just go, Jackson,” she begged, coming to stand between them as she stared imploringly at Jackson.

            “You don’t have to go, Mallory,” David explained with a sneer.  “I’m sure Hart can find his own way home.”

            He was just about to respond, when Mallory turned to David.  “If he’s not welcome here, then neither am I.”  She spun on her heel, taking Jackson by the arm and leading him out despite his obvious reluctance.

            Once they were safely on the bike and headed out to the main road, she called to him, her voice muffled by the wind.  “I don’t want to go home, yet.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere, just not home,” she admitted.

He drove to an old abandoned barn on the outskirts of town, parking his bike out back.  After helping her off the bike, he walked over to pull open the weather-beaten door.  Watching her walk around the room, he noticed the tension in her shoulders.  He could only imagine how she felt right now.  Mallory Westfall had actually been thrown out of a party.  It wasn’t something that happened to people like her.  In truth, he was a little bewildered himself.  The scene that David Buchman caused did not surprise him in the least.  In fact, he had expected it, had been prepared for it. 

What surprised him most was her reaction. 

He had expected her to ditch him once she realized she had pushed them too far.  Instead, she had held her head high and walked out right along with him.  Her motives were still unclear.  Had she done it because she didn’t like being called out or was there another reason?  One thing he knew for sure was that he needed a cigarette—bad.  He walked over to lean against the wall pulling one out to light it. 

She fiddled with the pockets on her skirt.  “I’m sorry about what happened.  I still can’t believe that they threw us out,” she confessed, refusing to meet his eyes.

He snorted.  “Can’t you?  Isn’t that why you brought me there?  To stir the pot?”

Her eyes widened at his accusation.  Deep down, she knew he was right.  When she invited him to the barbeque, it had been in an attempt to make her father angry.  She just wanted him to realize that he couldn’t control everything she did.  She was sick and tired of him expecting her to bend to his every whim.  The fact that Jackson knew what she was up to all along, and still went with her made her feel even worse. 

Walking across the room, she took a seat on a small wooden bench that had been left behind.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry,” she admitted softly. 

He shook his head.  “Don’t sweat it.  I knew what I was getting into.”

She couldn’t help but voice the question that had been plaguing her.  “If you knew, then why did you come?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he dropped his cigarette and stamped it out with his foot.  “I don’t know.  Curiosity, maybe?  What about you?  Was it just your idea of fun to get me thrown out?  You thought you would teach me a lesson.  Try to put me in my place?”

“No,” she replied.  “No, I swear it wasn’t like that.  I admit that I wanted to make my father angry, but I never imagined they would throw us out.  I was just tired of him trying to plan my life for me.  That’s all, I swear.  I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

He pushed away from the wall.  “I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?  Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Pain sliced through her heart.  She wasn’t sure why his opinion of her was so important, but it was.  Walking over to him, she placed a hand on his arm.  “I really didn’t mean it like that, I swear.”

She could feel the muscles in his arm flex under her fingers.  Before she could stop herself, she leaned in to press her lips against his.  At first, he didn’t respond.  He merely stood there while she explored the fullness of his lips with her own.  But, then, she felt his arms close around her waist drawing her in deeper.  Her hands came up to blaze trails through his hair.  Her tongue tentatively traced his lower lip.  A low growl escaped his throat. 

Then, he took control.  His tongue demanding entrance to the warm hollow of her mouth.  She moaned softly at the sweet sensation of being claimed.  She pressed her body against his wanting more.

Before she knew what was happening, he pushed her away. 

“I should take you home,” he said gruffly, his eyes clouded with passion.

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion.  She wanted to protest, but the fierceness of her own emotions were too new, too unsettling.  It wasn’t like she hadn’t been kissed before.  She had, but never like that.  It seemed ironic that Jackson Hart could awaken things in her that were so intense, when all others failed.   When he climbed on the bike in front of her, she pressed herself tightly against him.  Resting her cheek against his back, she knew that she was in trouble.

She was falling in love with Jackson Hart.

And she wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from her.

Stay Tuned for More of Choices…

Hi Everyone,

Wow! It has been a busy October! Last week I was at the Southern Women’s Show. Thanks to everyone who stopped by

Also, November 7th I will be at the Altamonte Mall doing a booksigning for the Adult Literacy League. Make sure to stop by and say hi if you are in the area and remember the first 100 people to buy a book receive a goody bag full of free books and promotional materials!

Excerpt 5

She had to be insane. 

It was the only thing that explained being here today.  All night she tossed and turned over her decision to let her son spend the day with Jackson.  The “if’s” of what could happen were not good.  Even as she drove down the dirt road that led to the cabin, she told herself she was a fool.  Handing her son over to a lion whose claws were out was not a good idea, especially when those claws were out for her blood. 

            What if Jacob unwittingly led Jackson straight to the truth? 

            She wasn’t sure she could face him if he knew what she’d done, what she had kept from him.  And Jacob!  Would he ever forgive her for lying to him all these years?  She could stand against one, but both would be a fight she wouldn’t win.  Father and son were too stubborn to ignore even the slightest hint of deception.  Of that, she was sure.  To back out now would only generate questions she didn’t have answers to.

            She pulled her car to a stop beside the jeep.  Jacob bounded out of the backseat, before she could move the gearshift into park.  Sighing heavily, she climbed out of the car to watch Jackson step out onto the deck letting the screen door slam behind him.  His black hair was tousled and his Aerosmith t-shirt had several noticeable wrinkles.  After a quick greeting, he led Jacob around to the shed on the side of the house. 

A feeling of dread swept through her. 

            Was she really about to turn her son over to Jackson Hart?

            When they reappeared, their arms were wrapped around several cans of paint.  Jacob ran up the steps to begin spreading out a drop cloth as Jackson put the cans on the steps.  His gaze strayed to where she waited and he crossed the distance to join her. 

“We should be done by two,” he casually informed, running a hand through his hair. 

            Mallory stared past him to where her son was already beginning to work.  Never once did he glance up.  “Jacob, I’ll pick you up at two, then,” she called over Jackson’s shoulder.

            He cast an irritated look her way.  “Whatever, Mom,” he yelled with a scowl of frustration.

            She tried to maintain her wobbly smile at his curt dismissal.  Her gaze returned to Jackson, who was still looking at Jacob a frown marring his features.  To save herself from any further embarrassment, she muttered a quick, “Well, I better get going.”

            She fumbled for her keys as she raced to the car trying to hold back the tears she knew were on the way.  Just as she reached for the door handle, Jackson caught up with her grabbing her arm to spin her around.  “You actually let him get away with talking to you like that?” he asked incredulously.

            “He’s been through a lot,” she defended, unable to return his gaze for fear of breaking down in front of him.

            “He shouldn’t be talking to you that way.  You’re his mother,” he observed in a harsh tone.

            His ready defense shocked her.  “That’s why I get the brunt of it.  He knows I’m not going to leave,” she explained solemnly.

            Jackson stared down at the woman who had stolen his sleep for the past few nights.  The bags under her eyes confirmed that he was not alone.  He wasn’t sure why the scene with Jacob disturbed him so much, but it did.  Her lack of reaction to Jacob’s callousness was unsettling. 

“And you just take it?”

            “I’ll be back at two,” she informed curtly, pulling her arm out of his grasp.  She turned back to look at Jacob for a moment, her indecision clear. 

             “He’ll be fine, Mal.”  Her eyes met his and held for a fleeting moment.  “Unless you want to stay?”

            He wasn’t sure why he made the offer, but before he could stop it it was out there.        “I have some errands in town.”  Her fingers fumbled as she unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel. 

            Jackson watched her drive away.  She was running again, but she couldn’t run forever.  Before he left, he would have the answers he needed, the answers he had been denied.  In truth, he wasn’t sure that hearing her admit what she had done would fill the hole she created years ago, but it was worth a try.  When he left Princeton this time, she would not be able to close her eyes to the pain she caused.  For the first time in her life, she was going to own who she was.  He just hoped that she did it soon, or the town was going to have a hell of a lot more to gossip about.

Fifteen years ago

            “Come on, Mallory,” Derrick pleaded.

            “Derrick, I told you no,” she repeated, she hoped for the last time. 

He had been pestering her all week to attend the Buchmans’ barbeque with him.  Despite her countless refusals, he would not let it go.  After what happened at the dance a couple of weeks ago, she didn’t think she could stand to spend another minute with him, let alone an entire evening.  Between Derrick and her father, they were making her life miserable.  They were determined to make everyone in town think that she and Derrick were dating. 

            He grabbed her arm to prevent her from walking away again.  “Mallory, everyone will be expecting us to go together, including your father,” he reasoned with a wounded look.

            “Well, I guess they will all be disappointed then!  Now, let go of my arm!”

            Suddenly, his grip tightened painfully.  His eyes narrowed and the vein on his neck began to pound furiously.  “No!  It’s time you stopped playing games with me!” 

She looked up at his face.  Fear made her heart beat faster.  His eyes were almost black.  In all the time she spent with him, she had never seen him like this. 

            “I suggest you let her go,” a harsh voice instructed from behind.

            Derrick glanced over her head.  “This isn’t your business.”

            “If you don’t let her go, it will be,” Jackson retorted, his deep voice booming.

            Mallory held her breath, every nerve in her body on edge.  Derrick’s eyes pinned her with a look of disgust, before shifting to look at Jackson.  “What are you going to do about it?  You gonna make me?” he challenged.

             “You’re about to find out,” Jackson assured.

            Before she knew what was happening, Derrick released her, shoving her toward Jackson.  His arms came up quickly to catch her. 

“Take her.  She was never good for much anyway,” Derrick spat, before stalking off into the distance. 

            A shiver raced up her spine at the feel of Jackson’s hands on her body.  His worried look made her move away quickly to avoid further embarrassment. 

“Are you okay?”

            “I’m fine.  He just surprised me, that’s all.  I never expected him to act that way,” she confessed.

            He glanced in the distance, his expression unreadable.  “People aren’t always what they seem.”
            She turned to face him trying to muster her best smile.  “So, I guess this makes two times you’ve saved me.”

            Shaking his head, his gaze traveled over the length of her body in a way that left her breathless.  “I’m nobody’s hero,” he admitted with a lazy grin.

            “You were for me today.  I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you,” she offered softly.

            Jackson stared down at her slim figure.  He could think of more than one way she could thank him.  His hands curled into fists in the pockets of his jeans as he stamped down the thoughts that raced through his mind.  It wouldn’t do any good to think about things like that with a girl like this.  She was off-limits, and had been ever since they were both born.  Still, despite the internal pep talk, he felt his erection thicken.

            “Actually, there’s a barbeque at the Buchman’s, and I don’t have a date,” she hinted shamelessly with a precocious smile.

            He walked over to the stack of books he had left forgotten on the steps behind him.  “That’s too bad,” he agreed over his shoulder, ignoring her obvious attempt to rope him in.

            To his dismay, she followed behind him. 

“Well, it wouldn’t be if you take me,” she observed, all of her subtlety gone.

            His notebook lay open, his pen cradled in the center.  He quickly scooped it up.

“What are you writing?” she asked curiously, peaking around his shoulder as he slammed the book shut.

            “It’s nothing,” Jackson dismissed a little too quickly.

            “You write?”

            He grimaced at her obvious interest.  “Sometimes,” he replied.

            “What do you write?  Can I read some?”

            His grip on the book became painful.  He didn’t let other people read what he wrote.  It was too personal, like they would be able to see into his soul.  Even his mother, who had begged on occasion, had yet to read a single line.  His writing was private.  It wasn’t something he was ready to share with the world. 

“No.”

            His curt refusal brought an embarrassed blush to her cheeks.  “Sorry,” she apologized.  “So, will you take me?” 

            He turned to face her.  The smile on her face, he was afraid, would damn them both.  She batted her eyelashes playfully causing an unwelcome stir in his lower region.  He knew he shouldn’t go.  She was obviously baiting someone with his presence at the event.  Still, the thought of seeing the faces of all those stuck-up snobs when he came in did have its perks. 

            Even as he told himself he shouldn’t, his hand came up to trail along the side of her cheek causing her mouth to fall open.  

She was playing a game with him. 

A game she obviously thought she was going to win. 

What would happen if he began to play a little game of his own?

Stay Tuned for more of Choices…

Hi Everyone,

I hope that you are all enjoying my blog book, Choices.  I’m sure, like me, you are all getting ready for Halloween.  This is one of my favorite times of year.  It’s when a person’s creative side can definitely come out.

Excerpt 4

The rest of the day seemed like an eternity to Mallory.  Every few minutes, her gaze would be inevitably drawn back to the novel he left on the counter.  She would never understand him or his motives.  All she knew was that whatever Jackson Hart did these days, it certainly wasn’t in her best interest. 

She was just counting out the register, when she saw Jacob in the window.  She waved him in.  “How was school?” she inquired with a smile.

The door shut behind him, his dark brown hair still blowing in the breeze.  His faded brown corduroy jacket almost completely concealed the blue polo shirt he wore beneath it.  His jeans were faded, but not from long years of use, the washed-out color was factory generated.  The tennis shoes he wore, made famous by a basketball star, had been something he just had to have.  Mallory couldn’t keep up with the latest trends, but she didn’t have to worry.  Jacob was all too happy to keep her apprised of what was cool to wear to school.

“A pain in the ass,” he answered candidly.

“Jacob Daniel Lange!” she yelled.

“Sorry, but it’s true,” he said, kicking his feet against the bottom of the counter.

“You know how I feel about that kind of language, Jacob,” she admonished.

“I know.  You can use it, but I can’t,” he retorted with a roll of his eyes.

She gave him a stern glare.  Ever since the divorce, he seemed to feel he could say anything to her.  Her first instinct was to punish him severely, but in the end she usually backed down.  Soon, she would have to put a stop to his acting out.  She couldn’t let him think this was acceptable.  Somewhere, in the middle of her own personal trauma over the divorce, she had loosened the reigns on her son’s behavior.

And now she was paying the price for it. 

“I try very hard not to use that kind of language, Jacob.  And you need to do the same.”
            “Whatever,” he bit out on a harsh sigh.

She closed the register drawer, grabbing her coat from the stool.  “Are you ready to go to dinner?”  Coming around the counter to follow him out the door, she took care to make sure the lights were off and the door was securely locked.

She had hoped Jacob’s sour mood would sweeten by the time they reached Dick Clark’s, but unfortunately, it hadn’t.   When they slid into a booth, he grabbed the menu ignoring the waitress’s chipper greeting.  By the time their drinks came, he was slouched low in the seat. 

“Didn’t you have a math test today?” she asked, as she took as sip of her soda.

He let out a sarcastic grunt.  “When am I ever going to use Algebra anyway?”

She wasn’t really sure she had ever used Algebra in her adult life, either; but, she forced herself to play devil’s advocate.  “You can use Algebra for all sorts of things,” she assured evenly.

He held up a hand to halt her.  “Spare me the pep talk, Mom.”

She sighed heavily.  Her son was becoming a smart ass, and she wasn’t sure what to do to stop it.  In less than a year’s time, he went from a straight A student on the basketball team to not wanting to participate in anything, especially conversations with her.  She glanced around the small interior of the restaurant just in time to see Jackson Hart come through the front door. 

Great, just what she needed to make a bad day worse. 

She quickly lowered her gaze to the placemat, which held a sketch of the restaurant along with facts about when it first opened.  Feigning interest in the cost of a tenderloin sandwich in the fifties, she tried to ignore the man who was lithely moving toward her.  She told herself not to look up, that he would hopefully soon be seated far away from her, but curiosity got the better of her.  She raised her head only to find him hovering over her. 

“Small world,” he observed.

“Isn’t it though?” she replied, trying to muster her most congenial smile.

 He gave Mallory an expectant look as he glanced over at Jacob.  “So, are you going to introduce me?”

All of the air in her lungs seemed to vanish in an instant.  Somehow, she regained enough of it to say, “Jacob, this is Jackson Hart.”

Her son’s eyes widened as he quickly slid out of the booth extending his hand to Jackson and giving it a firm shake.  Mallory stared at him in amazement. 

Was this really the same child she was just having dinner with? 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hart.  I’ve read all of your books.” 

Suddenly, she felt like she was in the middle of a science fiction movie.  Had her son been invaded by an alien force that compelled him to be pleasant?  The warmth of Jackson’s smile when he gazed at him made her insides shake.

 ”You’ve read my books?”

Jacob bobbed his head excitedly.  “Yes, sir.  My favorite is Twisted Paradise,” he beamed.  “Do you want to have dinner with us?”

“Honey, I’m sure Mr. Hart is too busy to have dinner with us,” she interrupted.  Jacob was beginning to take this nice act a little too far.

Jackson turned to give her a look of admonishment.  “Actually, I don’t,” he said turning back to her son with a grin.  “I would love to have dinner with you.  Thank you, Jacob.”

Jackson motioned his head toward Mallory.  Just when she thought he was obviously kidding, he sat down next to her forcing her to move over.  Jacob returned to his side of the booth completely enamored with their new dinner guest.  Mallory scooted in as far as she could, trying desperately to ignore the heat of his leg pressing against hers. 

“So, you liked Twisted Paradise?  It wasn’t too violent for you?” Jackson asked with raised eyebrows.

Jacob shook his head.  “No sir, I thought it was great.”

The waitress appeared at their side, and Jackson quickly ordered a sandwich.  All through dinner, Mallory watched her son talk to Jackson in the most animated tone she had heard him use in months.  Although she didn’t completely understand it, Jackson Hart was the one person who seemed to have the ability to bring her son out of the funk he had been in since the divorce.  It was disturbing to watch how easy their encounter was.

Especially, when her own were so difficult. 

“I’m going to go to the restroom,” Jacob said standing up to head toward the back of the restaurant.

Jackson leaned an elbow on the table turning to face her in the booth.  “Good kid you have there,” he observed with a casual smile.

“He has his moments,” she replied keeping her gaze trained on her plate.

“Don’t we all,” he agreed with a chuckle.  “How old is he?  Thirteen, fourteen?”

Panic made her blood pressure shoot up.  Did he know?  Would he guess?  The look in his eyes told her that she didn’t have much choice but to answer.  “Fourteen,” she heard herself say.

His jaw clenched and his hand curled into a fist.  “So, you were screwing Lange even then?” he bit out angrily.

He didn’t know.

He hadn’t guessed the truth. 

The realization was tampered with the knowledge that he thought she was a whore. It hurt more than she wanted to admit. 

“You can think what you want, Jackson.”

He leaned in closer.  His chest rubbed against the side of her arm leaving a trail of fire in its wake. 

“I just want to hear you say it, Mallory.  For once in your life, I want you to own up to every dirty thing you’ve ever done.”

Before she could reply, Jacob returned. 

“Jacob, I was thinking, if you want to earn some extra money, I could use some help at the cabin,” Jackson offered. 

Mallory’s head whipped to the side to stare at him.  He switched gears so easily it made her head spin.

“I’d love to!”  “He can’t!”  Mother and son both spoke at the same time.

Jackson looked back and forth between the two of them, his amusement clear.              “Come on, Mom.  You know I’ve been saving up for a Yamaha YZ250,” he cried out.

At Jackson’s apparent confusion, she tilted her head to the side murmuring, “A dirt bike.”

Jackson’s eyes widened and he nodded his head appreciatively.  “Don’t worry, Mal.  I won’t let him get into anymore trouble at my place then he would on a dirt bike,” he promised with a mischievous wink.

An unwelcome fluttering began in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the wink or his use of the familiar nickname.  With both of them staring at her, Mallory knew she had only one option if she wanted to avoid further questioning. 

“Fine, but only for a few days.  I’m sure Mr. Hart has to be getting home,” she relented.

“Actually, I was thinking about sticking around for a while,” he explained.

“What?”

He smiled at her obvious unease.  “Well, I have some work to do around the cabin.  I was going to sell it, but now I’m starting to reconsider.  After all, it would be a nice, quiet place to write.”

Mallory twisted the napkin in her hands.  He wasn’t serious.  He couldn’t be.  He was just trying to rattle her, and unfortunately, it was working.  When the waitress came with the check, Jackson quickly threw out several bills.  She stilled his hand with her own.

“I can’t let you buy dinner.” 

Jackson’s gaze remained on the hand that covered his own.  She quickly pulled it away, uncomfortable with his intense scrutiny. 

“I insist,” he replied firmly.

“But…” she began.

He gave her a look of warning.  “I’m not letting you pay for dinner, Mallory.”

She let out the breath she had been holding as her gaze returned to her son.  The look on his face told her that the bizarre encounter was not lost on him.  She could only guess what he might be thinking right now. 

Jacob followed Jackson out the entrance leaving her to trail behind them, apparently forgotten.  As she followed them out, she realized that for now she had successfully dodged the bullet.  Jacob was enthusiastically detailing the highlights of the dirt bike he wanted when she caught up with them. 

“Do you need a ride back to your car?” Jackson offered.

“No,” Mallory dismissed, ignoring her son’s look of protest.  “The fresh air will do us good.”

“Oh Jacob, I have something for you,” he explained, leading them both to the parking lot out back.  He reached inside the front seat to pull out a manuscript.  He handed it to Jacob.  He finished the book six months ago, and was waiting for the final edit to come in.  Jacob stared down at it with reverence.  “It’s a copy of my new book.  Maybe you can help me think of a title?”  

Jacob’s eyes lit up at the request.  “Thanks,” he said walking to the back of the truck already reading the first page.

Before she could walk away, Jackson grabbed her arm.  He pulled her against him, his voice low in her ear.  “I haven’t forgotten, Mallory.  You will tell me everything, before I leave.”

“I’m not telling you anything, Jackson.”

“Then, I guess I’ll just have to stay.” 

 

Stay Tuned for More of Choices…

Hi Everyone,

I’m sooo excited to announce that Den of Desire, the second book in the Club X series, is a #1 Bestseller!!!

I also wanted to let you know that The One Nighter is now available at http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/torrid/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=140&zenid=a64e746a975c7849244b1e2d4349accf

Now, for Excerpt 3 of Choices…

Excerpt 3

Jackson stood by the door of the funeral home not wanting to take another step further.  Shock had prevented him from making the arrangements over the phone before he left Florida.  He hadn’t wanted to face the truth, then. 

Now, he had no choice. 

Time had run out, and he had to make the decisions he had been putting off.  Mallory’s visit didn’t help.  He wasn’t sure why she had come.  He only wished she hadn’t.  Somehow, she always found a way to turn his world upside down.  Seeing her had stirred emotions that he wasn’t ready to deal with.  He had berrated himself the whole way here for his physical reaction to her.  He wasn’t sure how his body could betray him for a woman he hated so much, but then again his body had never been under his control when she was around. 

            “You must be Mr. Hart,” an elderly gentleman said coming out from one of the rooms in the back.  He closed the distance between them holding his hand out to Jackson. 

Jackson took it, giving it a firm shake.  “Mr. Kale?”

Mr. Kale’s white hair was neatly trimmed around ears that stuck out a little bit.  His pale blue suit was a generation behind the times, and his wire rimmed glasses looked like they might have been repaired on the side too frequently to last much longer.

He nodded at Jackson.  “If you want to follow me, we can take care of the arrangements in here.”

Following him into a sitting room on the left, he couldn’t help but notice the way the tan carpet crunched beneath his feet.  Mr. Kale motioned for him to sit on an overstuffed ivory couch.  A fluffy, white hand-stitched pillow was pushed into the corner of the cushions.  Tables equipped with boxes of Kleenex sat on either side.  Jackson wondered how many boxes they went through in a year.  Nobody died in Princeton without a visit to Colvin’s funeral home.  As the only funeral home, they pretty much had the market cornered. 

Mr. Kale pulled out several binders that held glossy photos of caskets.  His jacket stretched over his arms as he laid them on the table.   He pushed his glasses up a little higher on the perch of his nose as he looked up at Jackson. 

“Fortunately, for you, your mother already made most of the arrangements,” he explained, grabbing a folder labeled HART from the table. 

“She did?” Jackson asked, his surprise evident.

“You know your mother.  She wanted to be prepared.  Nothing left to chance.”

A somber smile crept across Jackson’s face.  It sounded like something his mother would do.  He glanced at the choices she selected for her “send-off” party.  Despite the wealth he had accumulated over the last few years, her choices remained modest.  He wished that he had been able to spend more time with her before she died.  But his quest for success had robbed him of the opportunity. 

He just always thought there would be time.

Time to spend with family.

Time to do the things he wanted. 

In all the years he had been gone, he had never once regretted the amount of time and energy he spent on his pursuits…until now.  Through the years, his single-minded focus on achieving his goals had been the only thing that kept him sane.  Now, with his mother’s choice of casket and plot laid out before him, he thought of how much he had missed in life. 

He had no family left. 

He was truly alone. 

Everything, especially success, had a cost.  Even if you didn’t know what it was up front, you still had to pay.  And he had, in full.

In spite of his need to give her something more elaborate than she was accustomed to, he knew he would comply with her wishes.  An hour later, he found himself sitting in the flower store amid yet another set of books with different displays.  After he muddled through the decidedly feminine choices, he pushed open the door stepping out onto the sidewalk to take a deep breath.  All he had left to face was the viewing and the funeral. 

He felt empty, barren, deserted. 

He glanced around the city streets.  Streets he knew so well, but now felt like a stranger in.  A small shop on the corner caught his eye, The Bookworm.  Maybe a book was just what he needed to relight the fire.  When he was younger, he had been able to disappear in books.  Then, when he began to write his own, he disappeared in his characters.  It had always been a safe place he could retreat to. 

But, for the past four months, he hadn’t been able to write anything he was proud to put his name on.  He felt tapped out, and it scared him.  He told himself that it was just a momentary burnout, but the longer it continued the more fearful he became.  The one constant in his life had always been his writing.  It had been a friend when no one else was there. 

He could depend on it.

Until recently. 

When he got closer to the store, a smile crept across his face.  The shop was charming.  The bottom half of the exterior was covered with classic book titles, as if they were stacked on a bookshelf.  A bright caricature of a bookworm held center stage with a top hat and a cane on the picture window next to the name of the store. 

Now, this was a place he could feel comfortable.

He pulled the door open, causing the small bell above it to jingle.  Scanning the front bookshelves, he noticed a prominent display of his books to the left with a large sign that read Princeton’s own local author, Jackson Hart.  He couldn’t help but chuckle as he picked up one of his titles.  Fifteen years ago, no one would’ve dared put his name on anything they wanted to sell.  Now, they were all lining up to capitalize on his fame.

“I’ll be right there,” a woman called out from the back of the store. 

The hair on the back of his neck stood up.  It couldn’t be, he thought, quickly dismissing the idea.  Glancing at the other books on the shelf, he took a few steps to peruse some of the other titles.  He was just about to pick up a new Stephen King novel, when she popped her head around the corner of the aisle. 

“Finding everything…”

Jackson stared at her unable to believe the cruel irony.  It was fitting that the second he found some kind of peace she would have to ruin it. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked curtly.

Her eyebrows rose at the terse inquiry.  “This is my shop,” she answered.

Snorting, he shook his head.  “That sounds about right.” 

For his luck, he wanted to say, but didn’t.

She walked over to the counter, putting the stack of books she’d been carrying down.  “Looking for anything in particular?”

Her question took him by surprise.  His gaze lowered to the book he had just picked up.  “Something to take my mind off things,” he replied absently.

The carefully disguised despair in his voice brought her head up.  She stared at him for a moment before looking away.  He looked so desolate.  Her visit was probably partially responsible.  It had taken its toll on her, as well.  Still, he didn’t want her sympathy.  He had made that very clear at the cabin earlier. 

“If you like King, I have some of his older books in the back.”

He closed the distance between them causing her head to come up. 

“Why, a bookstore?”

His question stunned her momentarily, but she quickly recovered her composure.  “I’ve always liked to read.  A person can pick up a book and feel like they’re somewhere else.  I don’t know.  I just always thought there was something special about that.”

A hint of a smile ghosted across his face.  “I remember,” he murmured.

She tried to ignore the way it made her feel that he still remembered the tiniest details.  “Besides, this town needed a bookstore that wasn’t twenty minutes away.”

“What are you reading now?” 

Mallory tried to stop her heart from beating so fiercely, but his nearness wouldn’t allow it.  “Mostly murder mysteries,” she answered. 

His lazy grin took her by surprise.  “I thought you liked romance,” he chided.  Before she could reply, he continued.  “I remember you used to read two or three a week.”

When her lips parted, his gaze followed the movement. 

“I don’t read those anymore,” she admitted softly.

“Why?”

“Murder mysteries seem more realistic to me these days.”

He exhaled, his eyes scanning the small shop.  ”You have a point.  But people still believe in happily ever after, because the books still sell.”  He paused for a moment before continuing.   ”So, what happened between you and Derrick?”

Her eyes widened.  “What do you mean?”

“Why, the breakup?  I thought you two were the perfect couple,” he added sarcastically.

He hadn’t heard the gossip. 

She wasn’t sure how anyone could be in this town for more than eight hours and not hear about her very public divorce and the reason for it.  But somehow Jackson hadn’t been informed.  Suddenly, she realized why.  Jackson was not one for idle conversation.  He had never been one to gossip with the crowd.  After all, he had been a victim of those same whispers for years.   

“No one is perfect,” she replied noncommittally.

He leaned a hip against the edge of the counter, his face coming devastatingly close to hers.  “So, what finally did it?  Did he realize just how fickle you could be?  Or was it the fact that you slept around?”

Before she could stop herself, her hand came up to slap him.  A red mark began to form on his cheek. He grabbed her arm, yanking her against him.  Their bodies pressed against each other from head to toe. 

“Is that it?  You like it rough now?”

“Bastard!” she hissed through her teeth, as she tried to pull her arm free of his grasp.

“Back to my old nickname, are we honey?  Well, I’ve been called worse.”

The gruff tone of his voice and the feel of his body against hers made her soften in all the wrong places.  She cursed herself and him for the reaction her body was having to his nearness.  His other hand slid around her waist making any chance for escape impossible.

For a moment, the only sound was their breathing. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, her tone defeated as she felt her body giving in to him.  Her nipples hardened against his chest. 

His eyes darkened, and his head dipped lower to bring his mouth closer to hers.  “I don’t know,” he admitted softly.  Her eyes widened as she felt his breath waft against her lips. 

The bell above the door jingled as an elderly woman with a cane walked in.  Mallory and Jackson sprung apart, but not before the other woman caught a glimpse of the embrace.  After a brusque “Excuse me”, Jackson disappeared out the front door leaving Mallory to lean heavily against the counter.  She had expected rage, fury; that she could’ve dealt with.  But she had been completely unprepared for this last onslaught.  She could deal with his anger. 

But his passion…that she wasn’t so sure about.  

Stay Tuned for more of Choices…

Hi Everyone,

Things are about to heat up!  I hope that you are all enjoying my book, Choices.  And I hope that you check out my Club X Series from Whiskey Creek Press Torrid.  You can find it at http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/torrid/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=140&zenid=a64e746a975c7849244b1e2d4349accf

Chapter 2

After a stop at the grocery store, Jackson drove the fifteen miles to his mother’s cabin on the river.  The entrance was well-secluded by trees.  He turned the jeep onto the steep hill of the dirt road following it around a field of corn.  One thing you could count on in Indiana, he thought with a smile, corn fields.  It was the local staple.  Many times as a kid, corn fields had been the perfect hiding place when he wasn’t ready to come home despite his mother’s reminders that it wasn’t their property.   Only children had the purity of mind to see open land instead of property lines. 

He parked the jeep in front of the cabin sliding out to walk around to the back.  After retrieving his bags from the trunk, he made his way to the front porch.  The soothing sounds of flowing water and birds chirping made him smile.  An animal’s paradise.  He climbed the five steps to the front door.  After living in Florida for the past twelve years, where change was expected, he wasn’t quite ready for the similarities to the days of his youth. 

The cabin was fairly small with wooden paneling on the outside.  Blue shutters still adorned the windows reminding him of the long hours it took to paint them.  Now, the paint was chipped and peeling.  He grimaced.  His mother had needed him more than she would ever admit.  And, for his own selfish reasons, he had left her here to fend for herself.

He shook himself mentally pushing through the door.  There would be plenty of time for guilt later.  He stepped inside, completely unprepared for the familiar scents that washed over him.  Standing in the middle of his mother’s house, he felt her presence all around him. 

A patchwork quilt covered the back of the small brown couch, which sat to his left.  A blue recliner accompanied by a wooden coffee table sat in front.  The big screen television on his right was the only obvious display of wealth in the house.  His mother had never been one for glitz. 

He remembered the first time she visited him in his condo with its sleek black lacquer tables and leather couches.  She had shaken her head in disdain saying the place didn’t feel like a home.  She had told him it needed a woman’s touch.  He had laughed at her suggestion. 

A woman! 

That was the last thing he needed.

His long strides brought him to the small walk-in kitchen, and he set the bags down on the bar.  He put everything away trying desperately to focus on the task at hand rather than face the brutal reality.  Standing here in her house, surrounded by her things, was a stark reminder that she was really gone.  She wouldn’t be walking through the front door.  Pain sliced through his chest at the thought that he would never see her again. 

He tried to busy himself with getting everything settled, before taking a seat on the couch.  Letting his head fall back on the cushion, he popped open a beer, silently wishing that he had bought something stronger.  When he brought it to his mouth, he lifted his gaze and saw it. 

Jesus! 

A portrait of Jesus hung on the wood paneled wall staring down at him.  The picture had been a legacy from his grandmother.  It had been placed strategically in her house to overlook the candy dish she set out.  He would never forget the way the eyes seemed to follow him around the room.  Even now, it still made him uncomfortable. 

His past was all around him. 

And if he wasn’t careful, it would consume him. 

After four beers and a lot of Andy Griffith reruns, sleep thankfully took over.  When he woke up the next morning sprawled out on the couch, he was instantly sorry that he had not taken the time to go to bed.   He winced as he got to his feet, his back aching.  Walking into the small bathroom, he flipped on the water in the shower and turned to take a look at himself in the vanity mirror.

His bloodshot eyes said it all.  Shedding his clothes, he stepped into the shower only to groan loudly at the cold rush.  He should have remembered that well water never quite warmed as quickly as city water.  By the time it got hot, he was done and already pulling a towel around his hips.  A car engine purred in the distance, and he slid the curtains on the bathroom window aside.  A silver Mercedes was pulling in next to his jeep.  

Shit! 

The last thing he needed was visitors, especially visitors who arrived in a Mercedes.  He hastily made his way to the bedroom to grab a pair of jeans as he heard the first knock.  His hair still wet, chest bare, he crossed the room to open the door.  He blinked, as if that might clear the vision from his eyes. 

But it didn’t. 

She was really here. 

“Hello, Jackson.” 

Jackson stared at the woman who had destroyed his life years ago.  Her auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose curls.  Memories of that hair spreading across his chest made his jaw clench.  Hazel eyes held flecks of gold, and her cheeks were perfectly highlighted with blush.  Her full lips were a shade too dark for his taste, and her high collared pink polo shirt could not hide the gentle swell of her breasts.  The dip of her waist made his hands burn with the need to span its length. 

What kind of changes would he find if he stripped her down right now? 

If he bared her? 

Despite her traitorous heart, she was and always would be a vision of perfection.  He hated her for that.  Hated her for the ache she could still create in him.  He felt his manhood stir and hated her even more for the reaction.

So, he did the only thing he could do.

He fought back.

“Still slumming after all these years?” he bit out gritting his teeth. 

Her hands closed into tight fists at her side.  “I came to pay my condolences.”

He let out a crude snort as he walked back into the house leaving the front door wide open. 

Realizing that it was the best invitation she was going to get, she walked in closing the door behind her.  She wasn’t exactly sure why she had come.  She’d told herself that she only wanted to pay her respects, but a part of her knew it was a lie. 

All morning she coached herself for a backlash, a tirade of verbal abuse.  But nothing prepared her for his current state of undress.  Whoever said Jackson Hart looked good was clearly insane.  He looked amazing.  His black hair fell into curls around his face, still wet from the shower she had obviously disturbed.  Green eyes widened at her presence causing the faint lines around them to pull tight.   His chest was bare, muscles glistening in the light.  A ring of hair circled each taut nipple reminding her of how it used to tickle her lips.  A thin line of hair seemed to form a path into the wasteband of his jeans.  Her body burned at the memory of feeling him covering her.       

Dear God, why was he still able to affect her like this?

When he came back into the room, he had thankfully pulled on a white cotton t-shirt.  She breathed in a sigh of relief as she allowed herself to glance around the room.  It had been years since she had been in the house, but oddly it remained just as she remembered.

“So?” he prompted brusquely.

Mallory took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry about your mother.  I liked her.  She was a kind woman,” she observed softly.

He glared at her, his continued silence adding to her unease.  Realizing that if she was waiting for help she was doing so in vain, she continued. 

“I wasn’t sure you would come back.”  She hadn’t meant to voice it allowed, but before she could think of something else, it was out there.

“I’m not cold-blooded like you.”

She supposed she deserved that, but it still cut deep.  Her gaze rose to meet his.  His anger was almost palpable and she had to muster all of her strength to face it. 

“I wasn’t sure if you would want me at the funeral,” she corrected.

He ran a hand through his damp hair.  “What I wanted never seemed to matter too much to you.”

His fierce look was almost her undoing, but she was determined to remain strong. 

“It matters now,” she replied firmly.

He rolled his eyes letting out a disgruntled groan.  “I don’t care what you do, Mallory.  Your actions haven’t concerned me for a long time.”

The finality of the statement didn’t shock her.  She had expected as much after what she had done.  Still, she couldn’t help but feel intense pain at the verbalization.  “Well, if you need anything…” she said trailing off turning to leave.

He let out a harsh chuckle at the mere notion of calling her for help.  

“So, how are things with Derrick?  Everything you’d hoped it would be?” 

When she faced him, guilt clouded her features.  “Oh, I guess you haven’t heard.  We’re divorced.”

He whistled and his eyebrows arched.  “I’ll bet daddy had a field day with that one,” he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Yes, well,” she replied.

“So, what now?  Who’s next on the chopping block?”

“What?”

“Who’s the next victim?”

She knew what he was doing. 

But she refused to let him get the rise he was so desparately searching for. 

“I don’t have any victims,” she denied. 

“That’s not how I remember it.  I remember quite a few casualties along the way.”

“You seemed to have done okay for yourself,” she countered.

“Would you be here if I hadn’t?”

The contempt in his eyes was too much, and she was forced to look away.  “People change,” she answered evenly.

“Not you.”

She tried to tell herself that he was just lashing out because of his recent loss.  She tried to tell herself that coming to his house to pay her condolences and calling him an ass at the same time would defeat the purpose. But the truth was that she was getting closer and closer to not caring. 

“I should go.”  

When she reached out to grab the doorknob, she heard him say, “Never could stand a fair fight, could you?”

Damn him! 

She spun around to face him.  “Jackson, I am trying very hard to remember that you are in a lot of pain right now,” she said, having been pushed way beyond her limits.  She refused to stand here all day and let Jackson Hart degrade her.  She had been walked on for too many years, not to push back.

“The last person I need pity from is you, Mallory,” he bit out furiously.

She shook her head, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath.  “I just came to pay my respects, Jackson.  That’s all.  Think of me what you will.  You always have.”

With that, she left.

She didn’t want to hear any more, didn’t want to face any more of the anger she had seen in his eyes.  As she drove back to town, she realized she was a fool to think they could actually be civil to each other.  Too much had happened between them to be forgiven. 

They were sworn enemies now. 

But it hadn’t always been that way. 

Fifteen years ago

Derrick sat beside her at the table, his friends clamoring around him to discuss the latest football game.  She rolled her eyes. 

Why had she agreed to the date?

The answer came to her with glaring clarity. 

Because her father had insisted.

Derrick was a star quarterback for the Princeton Lions, and his parents had money.  All of the makings for a wonderful relationship, or so her father thought.  In truth, she wasn’t the least bit attracted to him. 

Not that he wasn’t handsome.  Even with her sitting next to him, all of the girls were making eyes at him.  With his blond hair feathered perfectly and his flawless smile, almost any girl in town was his for the taking—except Mallory.  His athletically toned body did nothing to set her heart a flutter.  Instead, he had the opposite effect on her.  Her main complaint with him lately was that he was mind-numbingly boring.  If she had to listen to the story of how he won the big game one more time, she thought she would puke. 

Tonight, he had convinced her to come with him, but she refused to let him drive.  Finally, after a lot of hesitation on his part, they agreed to meet at the dance.  He had been waiting for her at the entrance wanting everyone to know that they were together.  She wished she could share his enthusiasm.  Giving him a quick sidelong glance, she realized he was still droning on about the local coach refusing to let him call all of the shots.

In all the time she had been here, he hadn’t asked her to dance once.  It was no surprise, though.  Derrick wasn’t the best host, and he definitely wasn’t solicitous of anyone’s needs except his own.  She quickly made a hushed excuse about a headache leaving him to stare after her as she made her exit.

She was halfway home when the engine on her BMW began to smoke. 

Great!

The perfect end to the perfect night. 

She quickly got out walking around to the front.  She wasn’t sure why she bothered.  She didn’t know a thing about engines.  A dark cloud poured out from under the hood causing her to cough loudly.  Waving her hands through the air briskly, she tried to swat it away.  Glancing back and forth down the quiet country road, her arms gathering around her middle.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a motor in the distance.  She mumbled a prayer of thanks for the stroke of luck.  Maybe she wouldn’t be stuck out here all night, after all.  As the sound came closer, she realized that it wasn’t a car.  It was a motorcycle. 

Wonderful.

 It was just what she needed to ruin her dress.

She watched him pull up behind her car, easing the kickstand down as he killed the motor.  “It looks like you could use some help,” he said.

“Yes, please.  Smoke just started pouring out.”

As he walked around to look under the hood, Mallory took a moment to check him out.  Jackson Hart was what her father would say was “the wrong type of boy.”  She had heard the other girls talking about him.  Leah thought he was the hottest boy in school.  Staring at him, Mallory had to admit that she could see why.  His faded jeans hung low on his hips.  His black hair was neatly trimmed.  His worn leather jacket stretched over his arms as he reached under the hood. 

He turned to face her, wiping his hands on his jeans.  “Your radiator is bone dry.  You’ll have to add some water before you can get it out of here.”

Mallory’s gaze focused on the fullness of his lips and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss him.  “Okay,” she stammered.

He looked around for a moment, before offering, “I could take you home.”

“That would be great.”

When they reached his bike, he held out a hand to help her get on.  She took it, trying to ignore the erratic beat of her heart as she climbed onto the seat awkwardly.  He sat down in front of her, revving the engine.

“Hold on,” he instructed.

And she did.

Present Day

Mallory tried to hold back the tears as she drove home.  If she had known all those years ago how things would end, would she have ever gotten involved with him?   Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as she realized she already knew the answer.  Her love for Jackson had been a fire that had consumed her.  And despite the way it ended, she wouldn’t give up the memory.

That kind of love was only meant for the young. 

Only they had the strength to sustain themselves when it burned out. 

All that was left now was pain and anger.  She had seen it in his eyes.

But would he still hate her if he knew the truth?

Stay Tuned for more of Choices…

Hi Everyone,

I’ve been a little lax on posting lately, I know.  It has been a busy summer.  I’ve got a new book coming out on October 1st called The One Nighter.  Some of you might remember it! 

I’m starting a new blog book just for YOU!  Each week I will post a new excerpt   Choices is about a young love lost, and the hope that things will be made right.  Jackson and Mallory are two of my favorite characters.  I hope you love them as much as I do!

Choices

By Shauna Hart

Excerpt 1

Princeton, Indiana 

Why the hell had he come back?

His mother was gone.  Facing the town where he grew up would not bring her back.  He glanced up at the green sign as he merged onto US41.  It read, 3 Miles to Princeton.   His jaw clenched.  The decision to fly into Indianapolis instead of Evansville was no fluke.  He thought the three hour drive would give him time to get his head together.  He wasn’t ready to face things.  He needed more time.  Burying his mother would be one of the hardest things he ever had to do. 

But there was another reason that he didn’t want to come back to Princeton. 

Her. 

Fifteen years had passed since he left, and in all that time he had never looked back.  The memories were too painful.  Staying away was an last ditch effort at self-preservation.  But staying away hadn’t lessened the pain or the knowledge that the one person he trusted the most was the one who struck the cruelest blow. 

He wasn’t going to kid himself that people like her changed.  Even if she had, the memory of what she had done would never leave him.  For years after she betrayed him, he couldn’t get her out of his mind no matter how he tried.  The rose colored glasses had been smashed a long time ago.   He had spent half his life trying to make something of himself, trying to prove that she had been wrong to throw him away.  When he made the New York Times Bestseller List as a novelist, he had even thanked her for being such a calculated bitch.

            But things were different now.  He wasn’t some low class boy she could push around.  He was a successful author whose last book sold thousands of copies.

            Even now, as much as he wanted to rub his success in her face, he didn’t want to see her.  Seeing her would only make him remember what a fool he had once been.  When he thought about how he had fallen for her lies, it made him sick.  He had never let a woman get that close again.  Sure, he dated, but he had never let any of them mean something.  It was too dangerous.  He had learned that lesson the hard way.

            He slowly maneuvered his car around the old town square. So much had changed, but so much remained the same.  The City Hall building still sat proudly in the center looming down over all the inhabitants of the town.  He could remember coming to see Santa Claus here.  Perched on the steps, he would hand out candy canes to the children.  Did they still do it each year?  An Asian restaurant had replaced the old Five and Dime store where he spent many allowances on toys and bubblegum.  Like people, places changed, even when we aren’t ready for them to.

            Finally, he turned onto Prince Street looking at all of the historic houses that lined the road.  Tree branches created a canopy that filtered the glare of sunlight.  He passed Colvin’s funeral home taking a deep breath.  His mother lay inside waiting for him to make decisions he wasn’t ready to face.  He had seen her through the years, but he had never once come home.  His mother was the only thing that had kept him sane, the only person who refused to allow him to give up. 

            She had saved him from himself.

            Her death had been sudden.  No time for last words.  No time for goodbyes.  He had spoken to her on the phone on Sunday.  She sounded fine, healthy.  By Monday night, she was gone.  Heart attack, the doctor said.  She hadn’t even made it to the hospital.  Pain speared through him at the cruel twist of fate.  His mother, who had given him everything, had died alone.  His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.

            Colvin’s could wait. 

            For now, he needed to eat.  He eased his car into the back parking lot of Dick Clark’s Family Restaurant.  It was the one thing that never changed in this town, and it was beginning to be the last lone holdout to a time most had forgotten.  He walked around the side of the building looking at the carefully manicured trees that replaced the cement where many had carved their initials.  He smiled when he saw that the pickup window on the outside was still there.  Many nights he had come here with his friends to get ice cream.  He glanced at the side parking lot in front remembering the first time he brought her here.

            But getting mired down in his past, especially the part that involved her would not do him any good.  He took the few steps up to the entrance and walked inside.  He slid into a booth beside the waitresses’ station.  His mother had waited tables here for years.  He could remember many summer days when they ate lunch together on her break.  The place had definitely changed since then.  The jukebox that had once been a fixture was gone.  The red booths were now black.  And the black and white checkerboard floor had been replaced with carpet. 

            Yes, things changed.

            A young waitress who couldn’t have been more than twenty walked over to take his order.  Her blond ponytail bounced around her shoulders as she grabbed the pad from her apron.  “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, her eyes studying him curiously.

            “I’ll have a cherry coke,” he replied, his eyes still scanning the room.

            When she returned with his drink and a menu, she leaned over to place her hand on the edge of the table.  “You new around here?” she inquired, her eyes searching his.

            He couldn’t stop the grin that came from the necessary small town intrusion of privacy.  “Not exactly.  I used to live here a long time ago,” he answered.

            “You look familiar.  Have we met before?” she observed quickly.

            He chuckled.  Probably because my picture is on the back of thousands of books, he wanted to say but didn’t.  He wasn’t ready to let people know he was back yet, and word traveled fast in a town as small as Princeton. 

“I think I would have remembered you,” he chided.

            He opened the menu to signify that the conversation was over, but the girl did not take the hint. 

“I know who you are!  You’re that writer!  Jackson Hart!” 

He did his best to put on a good publicity smile before turning to her and nodding.  “Oh my God!  You’re like famous!” she exclaimed.

            The girl’s exuberance was beginning to draw stares from the other people in the restaurant.  “Not really.  I’ve just been lucky,” he responded humbly.

            She scooted into the booth to sit across from him, her job apparently forgotten.  “My name’s Ellie.  How do you come up with all that stuff?  I mean, I can barely write my term papers!”

            He chuckled.  “It’s nice to meet you Ellie.  You know, I think I’m going to have a breaded tenderloin sandwich.  I haven’t had one in ages.”

            She laughed a little nervously, as she jerkily wrote down his order.  “Oh, sure.  I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve never met anyone who actually got out of this town and did something with their life.”

            Guilt made him sigh heavily.  He leaned back in the seat to look up at her, her brown eyes downcast.  He understood how she felt.  One day, not so long ago, he had walked in her shoes. 

            When she started to walk away, he called to her.  “It’s me that should be sorry.  I had a long flight.  And I’m just a little tired.”

            Her face brightened instantly.  “Don’t worry about it.  I understand.  I’ll put your order in right now.  You’re probably starving.”

            He watched her shuffle over to the kitchen.  At least he wouldn’t have that on his conscience.  Being here was harder than he thought.  The familiar smells invaded his senses reminding him of moments he wanted to forget.  It always amazed him how a drift of perfume could transport a person so effortlessly back to their past, to memories they wished to leave behind.  At the moment, he needed an air purifier they were so strong.

            After answering a million questions, leaving a big tip, and successfully lightening Ellie’s spirits, he walked out to the parking lot.  He sighed heavily.  He wouldn’t be here long, only long enough to pack everything and sell the house.  He might not even see her.  But when he reached the jeep, a sense of foreboding told him it wasn’t going to be that easy.  He looked around taking a deep breath.   

This would definitely go down in history as the longest week of his life.

            “Did I tell you that Jackson Hart is back in town?”

            The question made Mallory Westfall’s fork stop in midair between her plate and her mouth.  “What?”

            Leah Clark stifled a laugh as she nodded.  “That’s what Ginny Thomas said.  She saw him walking in to Dick Clark’s earlier,” she said leaning in further.  “And from what I heard, he’s looking better than ever.” 

            Mallory didn’t doubt that for a moment. 

Jackson Hart had always looked good—too good. 

Fifteen years had passed since she’d last seen him, fifteen long years.  She wondered if he had changed.  Just thinking of his face made her ache in places she thought dead.  She had seen the announcement in the paper that his mother passed away.  Losing a parent wasn’t easy.  She ought to know. 

            Fifteen years.

Fifteen years and he had never come back. 

After what she had done, she couldn’t blame him.  All these years she had tried to forget him, tried to ignore the articles in magazines and the interviews on television.  Remembering was too hard.  The look in his eyes the last time she saw him still haunted her.  

Pain. 

Anger. 

It had all been there. 

She shifted in her chair under Leah’s knowing glance.  Not many people knew how serious her relationship with Jackson had been.  Most people thought they were barely acquaintances.  Only Leah knew the truth.  That her feelings for Jackson had been real.  Leah had been her best friend for as long as she could remember, and she knew her too well.  In most cases, that fact was a blessing, but in the case of Jackson Hart it was a curse. 

            “That’s interesting,” she replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as she possibly could.  The sparse salad that was supposed to be lunch blurred before her.  So much pain had been caused by the choices she had made. 

            Jackson was just one of the casualties.

            Leah’s eyes narrowed as she continued.  “Isn’t it?  I wonder if he’ll stay in town.”

            The thought made Mallory’s body tense.  He couldn’t stay in town.  He just couldn’t.  If he did, her little house of cards would fall.  “Surely, he won’t,” she said as much to herself as to Leah.

            “Don’t look now, but it’s your favorite person,” Leah muttered sarcastically, her eyes fixed on the door.

            Mallory slowly turned to see Darcy Sampson stroll through the entrance, her blond curls bouncing around her shoulders.  Tight jeans hugged the curve of her hips.   The scoop neck of her pink sweater revealed far too much of her ample bosom for appropriate company.  Their gazes met and hung briefly before Mallory turned back to face Leah.

            A year ago, her husband Derrick had announced after almost fifteen years of marriage that he was leaving her for Darcy.  She had heard whispers for a while that the two had been having an affair, but refused to believe them.  Burying her head in the sand was a trait she had picked up long ago.  But when Derrick asked for a divorce, hiding was no longer an option.  After six months of battling with each other in court, they had finally put an end to the farce that was their marriage.  The only victim in the fight was her son, Jacob.  Mallory couldn’t help but notice that the other people in the restaurant were staring and beginning to whisper. 

            The affair and subsequent divorce had been the town’s hottest gossip, and a year later it still had not died down completely.  If she hadn’t had the store, she wasn’t sure she would’ve survived it.  It had been her father’s idea originally.  He told her that she needed to find something that excited her, something she could do with her life.  That was an understatement.  She hadn’t been truly excited in years.  However, the small used bookstore, appropriately named The Bookworm, did provide the distraction she needed to get through most days.

            “Do you want to get out of here?”  Leah asked, her features laced with concern.

             Mallory glanced around the small restaurant counting the curious stares she was receiving.  “No,” she replied with a sigh.  “It would only feed the frenzy.”

            “How is Jacob doing?”

            “Stoic, as always.  I never know what he’s thinking.  He says he’s fine, but he won’t talk about his father.  I don’t know if he will ever forgive him.”

            Leah sneered.  “And, why should he?  Derrick Lange doesn’t deserve forgiveness from anyone after what he did.”

            It was the ready response from everyone she was close to, but deep down she knew the truth.  Derrick wasn’t the only person at fault for the dissolution of their marriage.  After the anger and shame subsided, she had spent a lot of time learning to face that. From the beginning, things between them hadn’t been right.  She had only married him at her father’s insistence, and she spent years regretting her decision. 

            For a while, she tried to make it work, thinking that she would come to love him.  At times, she had even convinced herself that she did.  But she never really had.  He had eventually seen through her charade, and he had never forgiven her for it.  In the end, she had suffered more from the embarrassment he caused, than from his absence. 

Only one man had ever been able to arouse intense feelings in her well-guarded heart. 

Now, he was back. 

She only hoped she was strong enough to face him and the choices she made.

Stay Tuned for more of Choices…

Hi Everyone,

I wanted to invite you all to a book signing I am doing with Karen Rose and Alyssa Day! I’ll be signing copies of The Pleasure of Sin and my latest book Den of Desire!

Here is the official blurb:

Join us Saturday, August 8, 2009 at 1:00 p.m. as New York Times Bestselling authors, Karen Rose and Alyssa Day, and our own local authors, Shauna Hart and Catherine Kean sign their latest books! B&L Books is located on 434 next to Outback restaurant in Altamonte Springs.

For more information, check out their website: http://bandlbooks.com/ I hope to see you there Shauna

Hi Everyone,

I hope you are all having a Spectacular Saturday!  Here is a sneak peak of my new novel Den of Desire available from Whiskey Creek Press Torrid at http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com/torrid/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=429.

DEN OF DESIRE by Shauna Hart

What was she doing here?

She still couldn’t believe that she’d let Lexi talk her into this. She knew that time was running out. After all, the deadline for her next erotic romance novel was only a month away, and she hadn’t written a single word. Readers expecting the next Mara Templeton novel were definitely going to be disappointed if she didn’t find some way to spark the muse. The two words that every writer dreads couldn’t have struck at a worse time.

Writer’s block.

Like the nemesis in the Harry Potter series, it was something that every writer feared but didn’t dare speak of aloud. But after a messy breakup two months ago, it had become her constant companion. She couldn’t deny that her breakup with Dan had been a shock. It wasn’t every day she found her boyfriend in bed with another woman. Still, it wasn’t like their relationship was a hot one. It wasn’t even lukewarm. After living together for four months, anything hot about their relationship had died a lonely death within the first few weeks.

So, why was she having this problem?

It was a good question.

One that she didn’t have an answer for.

Now, as she stood outside the club, she wondered if her problem wasn’t a bout of insanity. She looked up at the large X that hung over the door. At night, it would light up half of the block. But now, in the light of day, it was little more than an outline. She willed herself to knock, willed herself to be bold and brave like the characters in her books, but a part of her wavered.

When Lexi’d offered to take her to the club, she’d refused. As much as she wanted to be as wild and free as Lexi was, the truth was that they were complete opposites. She had never done anything like the things Lexi did. Until recently, it had seemed like her life was right on course. She had a successful career and a solid relationship. Now, she was beginning to see how naïve she had been.

Sensing that she was nervous about visiting the club, Lexi had set up a private walk-through with the owner during the day. She could still remember her friend’s good-natured prodding.

“What have you got to lose? Maybe if you walk around the place, you will get a few ideas. I know that I always do,” she said with a wink.

She knew Lexi was right.

What could touring the club when it was closed hurt?

She raised her hand to knock mere seconds before it was pulled open. Her gaze rose to meet an arresting pair of green eyes. One eyebrow arched.

“Miss Templeton?”

She offered him a timid smile. “Yes, I’m here to meet…”

“Joe Gates,” he replied, holding out his hand.

She wasn’t sure what she had pictured when she thought of the man who owned the hottest sex club in town. Maybe bald, with the look of a pervert? But she definitely hadn’t expected him to be so…sexy.

Why would a guy like him be working in a place like this?

She placed her hand in his, noting how large it felt as it closed around her own. Instead of shaking it, he pulled her inside, closing the door behind them.

“Lexi said you wanted a private tour,” he said.

Despite the darkness, she could feel his eyes traveling the length of her body.

“Yes,” she managed.

He pulled a remote out of his pocket to press a button. Instantly, the room was flooded with light. Mara looked down the long narrow hall, her surprise evident. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting.

But this wasn’t it.

The place looked like little more than a glorified basement with track lighting. After everything she had heard from Lexi about how wonderful the place was, this was definitely not what she had envisioned.

He walked ahead of her, and she followed behind him.

“Normally, I wouldn’t grant a request like this, but Lexi’s a friend,” he observed.

Mara’s eyebrows arched. She couldn’t help but wonder what his definition of a friend was. Had they slept together? Her gaze fell to the way his ass filled out the pair of dress slacks he wore. The man definitely wore pants well. His black hair curled over the collar of his royal blue dress shirt, which was stretched over wide shoulders.

She could see why the place stayed in business. The man was a walking advertisement for sex, even if he did seem to have a slight attitude problem. He turned the corner, and her eyes widened. Rooms lined either side of the walls, their interior lights blinking on in chorus as she walked past. Her attention was immediately drawn to a room on the left. A circular bed rotated in the center. The interior of the room was draped in purple satin.

A glance to the right revealed a stark contrast. Chains were suspended from the ceiling and the floor. A variety of toys hung from the pegs at the back of the room. She turned to look at him only to find him watching her intently.

“I’m sorry if it’s an inconvenience,” she muttered, her brain still a little scrambled from the view. She felt his gaze on her body, and her nipples tightened against the thin material of her dress.

“I didn’t say that. I just think it’s a waste of time,” he explained casually.

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

He walked over to her slowly, coming to stand before her. Reaching over, he twirled one of her blonde curls around his finger. “I don’t think you can understand what the club has to offer until you experience it firsthand.”

His words robbed the air from her lungs. She could feel the heat of his body against hers. And it felt good. Too good. Her eyes met his, and his full lips slid into a smile. Her mind went to forbidden places.

Places where naked bodies met.

She had to get a hold of herself before she did something stupid.

“Look, Mr. Gates…”

“Joe,” he corrected.

“Joe. This isn’t exactly my first book,” she reminded him curtly.

His gaze lifted to the ceiling for a moment as he replied. “Yes, I know. I’ve read them.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together. “You’ve read my books?” she asked, her surprise evident.

He stared at her but didn’t elaborate.

“And?” she prodded.

His eyebrows rose, his lips curling on a smirk. “They were…okay.”

Her eyes widened. “Okay?”

He tilted his head to the side at her reaction. “Yes.”

She drew in a deep breath in an attempt to reign in her temper. “So, you didn’t like them?”

“I didn’t say that. I just mean that it was obvious that you haven’t experimented much.”

She let out a huff of aggravation. “I’m not exactly a virgin, Mr. Gates,” she replied, her lips pursed.

His eyes traveled over her body in blatant interest. “Not exactly,” he agreed.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a lot of nerve?” she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

His mischievous grin made her want to slap him. “I got the memo.”

“For your information, I’ve been with a lot of guys,” she offered.

In reality, all of three, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Really? Then I am sorry.”

She nodded. The man’s arrogance was astounding.

“I’m sorry that none of them could take you the way you want to be taken.”

“They took me just fine,” she countered defensively.

One eyebrow arched. “Not enough. And not the way you wanted them to,” he explained.

“Why do you think you’ve suddenly become such an expert on me and what I want?” she challenged.

His smug grin nearly did her in. “I read your books.”

She sighed heavily. He took a step closer, his hand coming up to curl around her nape. His thumb trailed along the line of her jaw. Her mouth parted of its own volition as he leaned in.

“You want to be taken, Mara,” he said, his breath wafting over her lips. “You want to be taken so deeply that you only exist for pleasure.”

All rational thought seemed to disappear with his nearness. As much as he irritated her, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have his lips against hers, his tongue seeking out every hidden part of her mouth.

“I…” she stuttered.

“I could show you. But not while the club is closed.”

She told herself to back away, to tell him to go to hell, but her feet stayed rooted to the floor. She couldn’t deny that she was intrigued. The smoky depth of his voice teased her with something she had fantasized about for years but never admitted out loud. True, she had been with other lovers, but none of them had been able to take her to the heights she had heard Lexi muse about. Maybe deep down she had begun to believe that she would never reach them.

But as Joe’s body pressed into hers, she wondered…

“I don’t…” she began.

His finger came up to cover her lips, effectively silencing her. “Don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to feel what your characters feel?” he taunted.

Oh, God.

She did.

More than she could ever admit.

To herself. And to a stranger.

“Because until you do, you’re cheating yourself and you’re cheating them.”

She forced herself to look away from the smoldering heat in his gaze, and he dropped his hand.

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Gates. But I’m just not into…” She trailed off, unable to describe the events that took place here.

His answering smile mocked her cowardice. “Yes, you are. You wouldn’t write about it if you weren’t curious.”

He took her hand, leading her over to a large picture window. Inside, a rectangular table covered in black leather was the only furniture. Straps lined the sides.

“Imagine what it would be like. Blindfolded. Strapped down. Completely bare. All you can do is feel.”

His words made her body cry out to be filled. She could feel his erection against her buttocks, and despite the warning in her head, she wanted more.

“Have you ever been taken like that? Given your body so completely to another?”

No.

She hadn’t.

She had never thought she could or wanted to. But standing before him, feeling him against her as she listened to the husky sound of his voice, she realized that she did.

“Come to the club tonight.”

His breath teased the sensitive skin of her ear. It made her want to agree to anything he asked.

“I…”

He turned her to face him. “I’m not asking you to participate, Mara. Not yet, anyway. I just want you to see it. I want you to see what people experience when they come here.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “Just to watch?”

He smiled, his gaze feeling as intimate as any touch she had ever experienced. “Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen,” he assured her.

That, she was afraid, was the problem.

You can check it out at Whiskey Creek Press Torrid or www.shaunahart.com.

Have a wonderful weekend,

Shauna