Meet Zoey & Nate in
this sexy, emotional stand - alone!
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Blurb
You don’t know when…
You don’t get to choose if…
When it’s time to join…you’ll know.
You might think you want to be a
member—but trust me this is one club you don’t want to join. It’s not a place
where people go to live out their deepest, darkest sexual desires—there are no
handcuffs or blindfolds.
The 27 Club only admits those who die
young and tragically. My brother was recently bestowed membership and joined
many of our ancestors before him. I know I’m next. This is my destiny, and I
was ready to yield.
But then I met Nate. He awakened a
sensuality in me that had never been explored, never satisfied. I knew then I
could no longer accept my destiny. Nate’s presence controls me. I’m overwhelmed
by his touch, his words; my every thought is consumed by desire. I believe he
was brought into my life for a reason.
Nate doesn’t believe in destiny.
But I do.
And if there’s a way to cheat it—I must.
Excerpt (Never posted before)
My jaw practically hits the table.
The chocolate crêpe!
I can’t believe it.
Harnessing all of my willpower, I fight the sudden
inclination I have to leap around the table and jump onto his lap. I always
tell people I prefer dessert before a meal, but never has anyone taken me
seriously.
Never.
Tension coils deep in my belly. Lust flows through my
veins running faster and faster with each passing second. I look over at him
and as soon as I see his face, I can feel myself coming unhinged. Urges I can’t
deny surface. The need to know the taste of his lips, to feel his hard body,
to be able to lick the chocolate he just ordered off his
chest, and to slide my tongue down his stomach so I can taste him.
Looking thoughtful, his return gaze slowly changes to one
of concern. “Have you stopped planning for your future because you don’t think you
have one?” he asks softly.
Remnants of our conversation must have been lingering in
his mind. Slamming my eyes shut, all of the erotic images I had conjured up
immediately disappear as I fight to breathe.
Suddenly the air becomes thick in my lungs and I can’t get
it out. I take deep calming breaths. As the haze around me dissipates and I
fight off the panic attack, I hear a fumbling in front of me. I force myself to
lift my lids. Nate is attempting to open my clutch. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to get you your inhaler.” Panic seems to drown out
the deep green of his eyes.
I push to my feet and give him a disbelieving look. “I’m
not having an asthma attack.”
“You’re not?” He sounds uncertain.
Shaking my head, I set my napkin on the table. “Excuse me,
I have to use the ladies room.” I walk inside the restaurant, realizing I have
no idea where I’m going. Looking around, I find the bathrooms immediately.
Just as I pull the door open, a hand covers mine. “You’re
upset.”
I drop my head. “No, I’m fine.”
Fierceness grips his voice. “You’re lying.”
Summoning all of my willpower, I raise my eyes.
Nate lifts my chin. “You didn’t let me finish. I’m trying
to understand you. I want to know why, if you believe in destiny, you’d change
your path. Why wouldn’t you do what you had always planned on doing? Why change
your course? Personally, I think destiny is bullshit. I also think not pursuing
your dream is bullshit too.”
Caged by his body, his scent, his presence, I look up into
his burning eyes and I can see compassion there. I believe he wants what’s best
for me. If I think I know him through my brother, he thinks he knows me through
my brother as well. And Zach wanted me to continue my education. His dream was
that someday I’d be Dr. Zoey Flowers. Nate knows this.
“Zoey?” Nate’s voice is questioning. Low. Maybe even
slightly fearful.
“Nate”—I press my finger to his lips—“I think I need to
tell you something about myself.”
“What?” he asks.
In all our e-mails after my brother’s death, I never
mentioned the real reason for my delay in coming to Miami. I keep my eyes open
even though I want to close them. “I had a breakdown shortly after Zach died. I
took a leave from my job. I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t plan one day,
let alone the next. And somewhere during that time, I let any plans I had for
the future fall to the wayside. I don’t know what I want anymore.”
Shock appears on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me in any
of our e-mails?”
The truth is hard to admit. “I actually looked forward to
your weekly e-mails. But I did lie to you. It wasn’t work that kept me from
coming to get my brother’s things. It was me and my inability to cope.”
Nate stares down at me.
My entire focus is on him. “Don’t think I’m crazy. I’m
not. Really, I’m not.”
His gaze continues to pin me in a way that makes me think
he understands me.
It holds me in place. Keeps me calm.
“Zoey, God, I don’t think that at all,” he breathes. “I
can understand how that would happen.
With everything coming at you at once, and the shock of
Z’s death, coupled with the revelations about your family, it was just too
much. I get it.”
I just stare at his lips, longing to kiss him. My body is
filled with so many wants and needs, and all these new urges I’ve never felt
before.
And all I want is just for him to set me free.
EXCERPT #2
Coffee Beans Part I
The wind howls and the palm trees whip against the windows
as the storm seems to make its way closer to landfall. Thunder booms and
lightning lights up the room, startling me. No, not lightning—a lamp.
“Hello, Zoey.” The voice is deep and husky.
As the sound registers, I scream. I quickly sit up and
scan my unfamiliar surroundings. My eyes immediately land on the silhouette of
a man standing beside me, and I scream again, this time scrambling off the bed
in terror.
In this moment, my heart stops beating, my lungs stop
breathing, and my brain stops thinking. I’m petrified.
The man raises his palms up in surrender. “Zoey, I’m Nate,
Z’s friend. You don’t have to be scared. I’m not going to hurt you.”
My fear must be evident. I stare at him for a few long
moments, both alarmed and trembling. Only once realization sets in, that yes,
this is Nate, my brother’s best friend, do I attempt to calm my ragged breaths.
He takes a cautious step back. “Just cover up with
something so we can talk.”
Oh my God, my clothes.
Tangled sheets catch on my limbs as I climb back onto the
bed and unsuccessfully try to pull the covers over my practically naked body.
Before humiliation grabs complete hold of me, I give up and dive for my soaking
wet shirt lying on the floor.
Sliding the cold fabric over my head, I pull it down to
cover my panties and stand up, quickly crossing my arms over my chest to shield
any signs of the chill I’m feeling.
Not great, but better. At least I can look at him with a
little dignity.
Finally, I glance up and my gaze catches his. As soon as
it does, he drops his eyes.
The photos I’ve seen of him over the years, when my
brother would text me a funny shot—a selfie of him and Nate at some top chef
restaurant, at the beach, or at a coffee house—didn’t nearly do him justice.
Those shots were goofy poses with baseball caps turned backwards and funny
faces. Not that I didn’t think he was good looking in them, because I did, but
there’s just something different about him.
I blink and focus on the matter at hand. “You scared the
shit out of me. What are you doing here?”
Staring at the ground, he leans against the door jam. “You
beat me to the punch. I was just about to ask you the same question.”
“Why would you ask me that?”
He raises a brow. “I guess I’m just curious.”
I sigh, feeling confused.
His gaze lifts, and those eyes, those bewitching emerald
green eyes, stare back at me. “Not that I mind that you’re here. It’s just—a
little warning would have been nice. That’s all.”
His tone is more bemused than apologetic.
I’m not sure what to think.
With a straight and confident stance, I clear my throat.
“I e-mailed you earlier today to let you know that I was coming for the
weekend. I’m really sorry about the late notice, but I decided at the last
minute.”
He reaches into the pocket of his low-slung jeans and
pulls out his phone. After a few taps and scrolls he looks up at me. “I guess
you did. Here it is. I’m usually on top of my e-mails but today my . . .
schedule was full. Had I seen your message, I would have tried to rearrange my
plans.”
“That’s fine really. I managed. It’s not a big deal.”
I steal a glance at my reliable Timex—just after midnight.
What is he doing in my brother’s house in the middle of the night? Just as I’m
about to ask him, my eyes catch sight of the way he predatorily walks around
the room and I’m momentarily distracted. He moves like a panther— slowly
circling his prey, keeping his distance, not too close, but close enough to
pounce if he feels the urge. He settles back against the wall, just a little
closer now. “Zoey, did you hear me?”
I swallow. “Sorry, what?”
His tone grows more insistent. “I said I would have at
least sent a car for you. You shouldn’t be out in this weather on your own.”
My brow furrows. Why is he still talking about the
airport?
When I don’t respond, he crosses his arms over his chest
like he owns the place.
It’s then that reality sinks in. And as cliché as this
sounds, I am not going to let Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome intimidate me. It’s
time to take charge. “There was no need. I managed just fine. But if you didn’t
know I was coming, can I ask what you’re doing here?”
Confusion seems to have taken over his thoughts as he
steps even closer—moving with a lethal grace that makes my body start to hum. I
can’t help but study him as his features come into clear focus. His body is
long and lean. His hair is dark, the most unusual shade of brown, maybe like
the color of expensive chocolate, but not exactly. His eyes are languid, watchful,
and the most beautiful shade I’ve ever seen—darker than emeralds or the deepest
of forest greens. His
lips look full and soft. He is handsome in a way that is
unlike anyone I’ve ever seen.
My mind is going haywire.
A look of realization seems to cross his face as he stares
at me.
“Nate, why are you at my brother’s house in the middle of
the night?” I ask him again.
With a smirk, he ignores my question. Instead of answering
me, he opens the door beside him. It’s a closet, Zach’s closet to be exact, and
he steps right in, again like he owns the place.
“What are you doing?” I ask impatiently.
He comes back into the bedroom with a pair of sweatpants
and a T-shirt in his hand. “You’re trembling. How about you get changed and we
sit down to talk?”
The audacity of this man is beyond comprehension. From his
e-mails he seemed nice, but then again, you never can tell what lurks behind
the words on a computer screen.
He stares and his small smirk really irritates me. “Take these,
they’re mine. I’ll wait downstairs while you get changed.”
If I weren’t standing here, chilled and in my underwear, I
might just tell him to go to hell. But instead I reach for the clothes, and as
I do, I start to wonder if he’s been squatting in my brother’s house. Once the
clothes are in my hands, his mouth spreads into a slow, easy grin.
Annoyance grabs hold of me as I pivot on my bare feet and
head toward the bathroom, making sure not to glance over my shoulder. When I
hear heavy footsteps, I let my body fall back and shut everything out of my
mind for a few short seconds.
What is going on?
When I’ve gathered my composure, I quickly strip out of my
wet clothes and redress. Then I make the mistake of looking in the mirror. A
wet dog would look better than I do right now. In an effort to improve the
image, I grab a towel and wipe the black mascara from under my eyes. Then I use
my fingers to comb through my mass of curls and try to calm them, but that’s
nearly impossible.
Okay, better—but not great.
Who cares anyway?
It’s not like I’m trying to impress him. In fact, I’ve
never tried to impress a man.
Ever.
Coffee Beans Part II
Time to get down to business.
I stomp out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The TV is
on and I can hear the weatherman announcing the same info the driver relayed to
me. “Tropical Storm Angela seemingly having stalled out once it passed over
Cuba is picking up wind speed as it makes its way toward the Florida Keys.”
The rain is still beating down, but there are no calls for
evacuations so I can only assume I am fine staying here.
Determined to get this conversation over with, I’m stopped
dead in my own tracks. Nate is standing in front of a built-in coffee maker,
waving his hand frantically up and down cursing under his breath,
“Motherfucking piece of shit.”
“What happened? Did the Miele not do what you told her to
do?”
He turns.
I feel like I’m watching him in slow motion.
Without warning, the air crackles.
He’s momentarily taken aback, but then a look of amusement
crosses his face. “Zoey Flowers, you are . . .”
Words pop into my head—sexy, beautiful, hot as hell,
fuckable.
Where did those come from?
That grin lingers on his mouth. “Your brother’s sister,
without a fucking doubt.”
Tears prick my eyes. Not the words I hoped to hear, but so
much more meaningful.
His face contorts, the glow of amusement gone from his
eyes, shadowed by something darker. He sets two cups of coffee on the counter
that separates us. “Hey, I’m really not good at this stuff. I didn’t mean to
make you cry.”
I swipe the drops away. “No, really, it’s okay. I just
miss him. That’s all.”
Nate’s hands grip the counter and his head falls. “Yeah,
me too.”
Silence sweeps the vastness of the space, but strangely
it’s not uncomfortable.
His gaze lifts. “Zoey, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
I can’t help but be charmed. “It’s nice to finally meet
you too, Nate.”
He clears his throat and a bit of shyness seems to cross
his face.
I fear I might be staring, so I avert my gaze to look down
at the counter and it lands on the two cups. “Are those lattés?”
His head lifts at the same time mine does. The connection
is immediate—a jolt of electricity travels between us and I swear I see a
little smile—not a smirk, but an actual smile on his face.
The most adorable boyish grin.
My belly flutters and I can’t help but return the smile,
feeling a little shy myself.
“Yeah, well that’s what they’re supposed to be. I didn’t
know what you drank, but thought I’d try these.”
I move closer, close enough that my hipbones nudge the
edge of the counter. “Lucky for you, I’ll drink anything made with coffee
beans.”
Then it hits me, that his hair is the color of the finest
imported coffee beans.
“Yeah, lucky for me,” he repeats.
Taking a seat on one of the barstools, I blow on the top
of the latté. The froth is not exactly froth-like, more like big soap bubbles
or maybe clumps of soured whipped cream.
“You’re a schoolteacher, right?” he asks.
“Something like that,” I say. “I’m employed by the
University of Rochester. You’re a landlord, right?”
His lips tip up a fraction. “Something like that.”
I laugh. “Just kidding. I know all about you—big
successful CEO of an up-and-coming development company, who buys unprofitable
businesses, turns them around, and then sells them.
Zach said you are very business savvy.”
This is true, but what I fail to mention is Zach told me
so much more about him.
He raises one brow in the sexiest way. “You’re going to
make me blush if you keep talking like that. But it sounds to me like you’re
leaving some crucial things out. I’m sure your brother must have given you some
dirt on me.”
How does he know Zach told me all about his inability to
commit, his obsession with work, and his need to always be in control? He never
spoke of him in a demeaning way though. No, rather Zach seemed to idolize this
man. The words integrity, hard working, and respectful always followed anything
that might have been construed as negative. Zach once mentioned that he thought
something must have happened that triggered Nate’s extreme behavior.
He could understand that.
Honestly, so could I.
“Z never could give a compliment without making sure to
put a little bite in it. My guess is he would have said something like this:
“Big shot asshole of some rising
development company.”
I shrug. He did have my brother pegged. “Maybe it did go
more like that.”
He smirks, and God help me. I have to look away.
I try to tuck my emotion aside by sipping on my latté. It
tastes more like water, but the coffee lover in me is distracted by the trouble
that’s watching me.
His eyes seem to darken as they follow the liquid into my
mouth and then down my throat.
His breath seemingly goes shallow as if he’s picturing my
mouth on something else.
My imagination must be in overdrive. I shake it off and
point to my cup. “Not bad.”
He takes a sip of his and practically spits it out. “Not
bad! It tastes like shit.”
I can feel my lips turning upward again. I swear I haven’t
smiled in so long that I snap and just let the laughter roll through me—my body
quaking, my hair bouncing like a lion’s mane.
Nate stares flabbergasted, and I can see his body tensing.
Once I’m finally able to speak, I manage to say, “Really,
it doesn’t taste terrible. You just have your timing and ratios off, that’s
all. Steam the milk a little longer, and add more beans.”
He sets his cup down and gives me a skeptical look.
“I used to work at a coffee shop when I was in college. I
can show you if you like?”
Our gazes lock.
When he doesn’t respond, reality crashes down around me. I
can’t let this become flirtatious.
I clear my throat. “Well, anyway, can we get back to why
you’re here in the middle of the night? You can be honest with me—have you been
staying here?”
A muscle twitches along Nate’s jaw, but he doesn’t answer
me. Instead, he picks up his cup and turns to the sink, dumps his full latté
down the drain, and then walks to the back of the house in the darkness.
My head twists so my eyes can track him.
He flicks a light switch on and twists his own head.
I know he must have caught my stare, and God knows what
possessed look I might have had on my face. I quickly turn back.
“Zoey, I think we need to talk.”
“I know we do. And Nate, it’s okay. Really. I don’t mind
that you’ve been staying here,” I reassure him as I turn back around.
He opens one of the many sliding glass doors and the sound
of the storm gets louder. “Come over here. I want to show you something.”
Something draws me toward him.
He’s a man of authority. I can tell he’s used to getting
his way, but I’m not usually one to submit to dominance. I’ve been around it
enough at work—male professors are the poster children for authoritative
personalities.
But still I move forward, approaching him with caution.
The sound of the waves crashing against the shore is
beautiful. With the door open the smell in the air is pungent in the most
delicious way, or maybe that’s Nate—clean, fresh, manly.
Without realizing it, I’m standing right in front of him.
I get lost in the wind, the air, the sound—and him. I tilt my head back to look
at him. I’m tall, but he’s almost a head taller than I am—he must be six-two.
Something about his proximity makes my body feel possessed.
It’s nothing like I’ve felt before.
He steps out the door and onto a covered deck, scrubbing
his stubbled jaw. “I told you I’m shit at this kind of stuff so I’m just going
to get this over with.”
Relief takes over.
Here it comes.
Finally!
Review:
4 out of 5 stars Kindle Copy for Review
When it is your time to die, you have no choice as it
happens. Even who think that you are
destined to die before your 28th birthday like majority of your
ancestors?
Zoey recently turned 27 and her brother recently passed away
before he turned 28 in a tragic motorcycle accident. He is a recent member of the 27 Club, people
who died young and tragically. I know
I’m next on the list as a club member.
Zoey finds herself at her brother’s place which actually was
his best friend’s Nate place while he actually lived down by the water. They are instantly attracted to each other
but he keeps her at arm’s length since her brother once told him to stay away
from me since he is a player but she continued to push him until he caves in.
She is confused about her brother’s world and who he really
was. His naked sketches that she stumble
on to his extra way of earning money that he told me was from selling his
work. Who were really her brother and
his dealings with a sex club?
Nate awakens feelings that Zoey never felt before as she
finds herself wanting a future with him despite they both went in without
expecting a future together. Can they be
able to give each other what they need to grow old together?
Additional
Teaser
About the Author:
I live in Florida with my husband and four kids. I've always
had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, I
wanted to teach at the college level but that was not to be. I went on to
receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise my family.
I currently work part-time with my husband and full-time embracing one of my
biggest passions—writing.
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