Today I'm happy to host my fellow Scene13 author (authors with books being released 2013) and a fellow author at Spencer Hill Press, Jennifer Allis Provost. Her book, Copper Girl will be released June 25th:
Now for the giveaway:
First price: An ARC of Copper Girl
Second: A necklace like the one Micah gives Sara
Third: Barnes&Noble $10 gift card
What to do to enter: SEE BELOW
Back cover matter:
Sara had always been careful.
She never spoke of magic, never
associated with those suspected of handling magic, never thought of magic, and
never, ever, let anyone see her mark. After all, the last thing she wanted was
to end up missing, like her father and brother.
Then, a silver elf pushed his way
into Sara's dream, and her life became anything but ordinary.
Author bio:
Jennifer Allis Provost is a native
New Englander who lives in a sprawling colonial along with her beautiful and
precocious twins, a dog, a parrot (maroon bellied conure, to be exact), two
cats, and a wonderful husband who never forgets to buy ice cream. As a child,
she read anything and everything she could get her hands on, including a set of
encyclopedias, but fantasy was always her favorite. She spends her days
drinking vast amounts of coffee, arguing with her computer, and avoiding any
and all domestic behavior.
Friend me on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jennallis
Follow me on Twitter: @parthalan
http://jenniferallisprovost.com/
http://jenniferallisprovost.blogspot.com/
CHAPTER ONE, Part I
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
My office, like most modern offices, cranked the air
conditioning down to Arctic proportions during the summer months. Consequently,
we workers arrived in the morning dressed in sandals and sleeveless tops,
donned heavy sweaters upon reaching our desks, and ended up shivering by noon.
Ironically, when our workday ended we were hit by a wall of oppressive heat the
moment we stepped outside the main doors. No, this wasn’t a flawed system in
the slightest.
That day, I wasn’t having it. I had the grand idea of
spending my lunch hour outside, away from the icy wind stiffening my fingers
and chilling my neck. After I unwound myself from the afghan I kept in my desk
(and only used in the summer months), I gathered up my lunch and my phone and
headed out for an impromptu picnic in my car.
What I hadn’t considered was that the office runs the air
conditioning so cold because it was, well, hot outside. Very hot, in
fact. So hot that the cheese was melting in my sandwich and the lettuce looked
like something that had washed ashore months, maybe even years, ago. I was
parked in the shade and had taken down my car’s convertible top, but I still
couldn’t manage to get comfortable. I’d already shed my sandals and cardigan,
which left me wearing my sundress and…
Dare I?
I glanced around the parking lot of Real Estate Evaluation
Services, the ‘go-to firm for all your commercial real estate needs’, according
to the brochures. No one, human or drone, was taking a noontime stroll, and, by
virtue of my being on the far side of the lot, no cars were near mine. Most of
my coworkers didn’t even have cars, so the lot was rarely more than half-full.
What was more, from where I sat, I couldn’t even see the office.
I dared.
I took a deep breath and channeled my inner wild woman, then
leaned the seat back and slipped off my panties. Removing that small bit of
cotton made an incredible difference, and the heat became somewhat bearable.
Enjoyable, even. Was that a breeze?
Ignoring my decrepit sandwich, I fully reclined the seat,
set the alarm on my phone, and closed my eyes. A nap. Now that would
make today bearable.
***
Suddenly, he is there.
Here.
Kissing me, holding me.
I know I'm dreaming, because he's perfect. His lips are
soft but insistent, his hands gentle. I glide my fingers across his back,
feeling thick cords of muscle, before sinking my fingers into his hair. It’s
superfine, like cobwebs, and when I crack an eyelid, I learn that it’s silver.
Not gray or white, but the elegant hue of antique candlesticks and fine
flatware. Cool.
I squeeze my eyes shut again, not wanting the dream to
end any sooner than it has to. He kisses me once more, and I can’t help melting
against him. His hand travels up my leg, up past my hip… shit! No panties!
I try twisting away, but he already knows. I feel his
mouth stretch into a smile, and he moves to nuzzle my neck. "What’s your
name?" he murmurs.
"Sara," I reply. "Yours?"
"Micah." By now, his hands have traveled to my
waist, and he slides one around to stroke the small of my back. "Why did
you summon me, Sara?"
"I didn’t," I protest. "I don’t know
how." I would say more, but he nibbles a trail from my neck to my
shoulder, and pushes my dress to the side. As for me, I let him.
Micah raises his head, and I get a good look at him for
the first time. His eyes are large and dark gray, like thunderheads, his
features chiseled into warm caramel skin, and his unruly mop of silver hair
seems to float around his head. He wears an odd, buff-colored leather shirt,
made all the odder in this heat, and matching leather pants and boots. Boots?
"You did summon me," he insists. "My Sara,
you must tell me why."
"Does it matter?" I ask. I pull him back to me, kissing him
with all the passion I’ve never felt with anyone during my waking hours. Micah
kisses me back, fingers deftly unbuttoning my dress while his other hand rubs
my lower back. I’ve never felt so free, so alive as I do in Micah’s embrace,
and I have no intention of rushing this. None at all.
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