Wednesday, 16 April 2014

Excerpt for Sydney Aaliyah Michelle's Teaser Post

#1 - 
I gnawed my lower lip and prayed Troy wouldn't notice my sweaty palms as we walked back to the dorm hand in hand.
"Why do you look so serious?"
I loved the way he looked at me but wished he would stop watching me. I couldn't hide anything from him.
"I'm a little concerned about what all"—I pointed to the two of us—"is happening right now, between us."
"A little concerned?"
"Okay, totally freaked out," I said. "You are the big man on campus, and social situations tend to give me an anxiety attack."
"I am not the big man on campus," he said as we passed a life-size poster of him standing in front of a team of the newest recruits with the title, “UT's Football Future.”
I stopped and studied the photo.
"Okay, that doesn't mean anything." We continued walking. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable when you’re with me."
"I know. This isn't your issue. It's mine."
When we reached the courtyard by the dorm, I led Troy to a table, and we sat down. He kept rubbing the inside of my wrist with his thumb, and I had to tap my foot in order to concentrate. I needed to get this out now while I had the nerve. I didn't even know if these were the type of conversations boyfriends and girlfriends had.
"Are you sure your ready to date me?" I asked. It seemed like a reasonable question.
"Why would you ask that?"
"You're nineteen years old, and the hottest guy on campus. You should be dating around, hooking up with girls.” 
"If it makes you feel any better, I spent enough time in my life hooking up with girls to know with certainty," he said.
"Know what?"
"That I want to be with you."
I searched his face. I had no control over my own insecurities. I had allowed guys to use me in the past, but I needed to develop a new approach to go along with my new life. What better person to experience a new approach then with my oldest friend? But still. 
"After eight years, I got my best friend back. If it didn't work out—"
He put his hand behind my neck to make me face him.
"I don't want to lose you again,” I whispered.
He leaned over to kiss me, trying to convince me with his lips. "I'm not going anywhere."
I believed him.

#2 - I needed some water. I stepped out of bed, but instead of the cold, solid tile, my foot felt skin. I pulled my foot back up. I thought Darcy might have fallen out of bed, but that wasn’t possible, unless her text was from last night.
 I lay back down on my stomach and peered over the side. A half-naked man lay sprawled out on his stomach. Recognition of last night flooded my brain in steady waves. When I stepped on him, he shifted, but he didn't wake up. With no shirt on and his head resting on my stuffed Longhorn, he looked adorable. I reached down to wipe the hair off of his face. More of last night came rushing back to my conscious mind.
"Troy?" I whispered.
"Aw, good morning," he groaned, but didn't open his eyes.
"Why didn't you sleep in Darcy's bed?"
He opened his eyes and looked up at me.
"I was scared Darcy would come home and crawl into bed with me. The floor was safer." With some effort, he rolled over on his back. "This floor is not very comfortable."
The blanket covering him slipped down his waist, and I had an unobstructed view of his abs and chest. Even though my head ached and soreness spread throughout my joints, it all vanished at the sight of his body from this angle.
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
"Not bad. How about you?"
"I've got a headache, and I noticed I'm not wearing the same clothes I had on last night, but I don't remember changing." I reached down and touched his arm. "I don't remember much of last night once we got home."
"Well, we came back to the dorm and brushed our teeth. We changed you into your PJs—I promise I didn't peek—and I put you to bed."
I ran my fingers down the center of his chest.
"I was going to leave when Darcy got home, but she never did."
As my hand moved lower, he grabbed it.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Come up here."
"I can't move just yet," he said
"Then I'll come down there." I rolled out of bed and landed on top of him a little harder than I intended.
"Ughh," Troy said.
"Sorry." A memory from last night popped into my head, and I tried to get up.
"Hey, where ya going? You just got here." He pulled me down and kissed me. I lost the thought as I ran my hands down his abs, but it came back.
I sat straight up remembering what happened last night, what I'd said. What we talked about. But did he?
"Do you remember last night?"
"Most of it.” Troy pulled on my arm, coaxing me back down, but I pushed his arm away.
"Did I tell you about what I was like in high school?"
"You told me you used to weight somewhere between one eighty-five and five hundred pounds." Troy chuckled, then sat up to kiss my neck. I pushed him back down and looked at his perfect chest and his flat abs, and the five-hundred-pound fat girl inside me panicked. I had to get up. I didn't want to crush him, but he tightened his grip.
"Hey, wait. I don't care what you used to look like. I bet you were cute with chubby cheeks."
"You can't say that. You didn't know what I was like back then."
"That's what you used to look like, but look at you now. You're so hot. Your body is amazing." He ran his hand up my shirt and settled on my stomach. Instead of pushing it away, I held it in place as I looked down at him.
My eyes watered, but I blinked the tears away. "I thought you said you didn't peek."
"Well, I may have peeked a little." He sat up and wrapped his arms around me. He kissed my ear and whispered, "You're so beautiful."
I looked in his eyes, gauging his intentions. Guys in high school mastered the art of telling me what I wanted to hear to get me to sleep with them.
Straddling his lap, I knew he wanted me. But the way he looked at me, it wasn't all he wanted from me.
I pushed him down. He started to protest, but stopped when I pulled my shirt over my head.
The grin on Troy's face gave me chills.
He hesitated as he reached up, but I took his hand and placed it over my heart. He moved his hand over one breast and then moved to the other. He squeezed it and as my nipple rubbed against his rough palm, I gasped. He sat up and covered my neck and collarbone in kisses. He worked his mouth down to my chest and licked his lips before placing them on my breast. I giggled and moaned at the same time. He worked his mouth to the other one. It felt amazing, but I wanted to feel more.
 I lifted his chin to kiss him. I pushed him back down as I pulled the blanket over our heads. He let out a throaty sigh as my hips moved back and forth over him. I kissed him deep as I reached down to his waistband.

Tell Me Why by Sydney Snow

Tell Me WhyTell Me Why by Sydney Snow
My rating: 5 of 5 stars


From USA Today Bestselling Author, Lacey Weatherford, TELL ME WHY, a New Adult Contemporary Romance! 
**Recommend for 18+ due to mature themes and adult subject matter. 

"I love the heartache, passion, love, and hot sizzle that this book has! Absolutely incredible story that left me wanting more, and by far one of my favorite "Lacey Weatherford" books yet!!" Christina Racich, Pretty Lil Page Turner 

"Tell Me Why will make you think and feel things you never could have imagined!" Raquel Ariemma, Roc n' Read 

Anna Vasquez has had enough. Torn after finding out her best friend committed suicide, she's determined to find out why this horrible thing has happened. But when she falls for her best friend's brother, Caleb, she learns a terrible secret. Suddenly she's left with questions and wondering if love really can conquer all.

My review

This is a story about heartbreak, love and can easily happen in life.
It is a HEA, and I found it to be emotional and well written.

This was a very great read and everybody will love it

View all my reviews

Book Blitz. The Replacement by Rachael Wade

Book & Author Details:

The Replacement by Rachael Wade
Publication date: January 27th 2014
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult

*Contains sexually explicit content and mature subject matter, including language and elements of abuse.*

A gritty New Adult drama about a young woman’s self-destructive quest to find purpose, self-worth, and love in a broken world.

My name is Elise Duchamp. I’m twenty-three years old and I’m known as the town whore.

No, not the kind who exchanges sexual favors for money. The other kind. The kind who gives it all away for free, whenever and however she likes. I am that girl. The one everyone whispers about and the one none of the girls seem to like, because all of their boyfriends either want to sleep with me or already have. Promiscuity is my thing—the kind that slowly, violently turns my insides black, but gives me something I need.

All things considered, I’m not completely reckless. I’m safe, and contrary to popular opinion, I do have a heart. I live in a world of careless choices, and with those choices come careless people. I cannot judge them, because I am one of them. I too bow down to the altar of the self-serving. I am not a good friend. I am not and never could be anyone’s girlfriend. I’m convinced any goodness in me shriveled up and died long ago.

But I am a replacement. That is something I know how to be, and this is a story of the lengths I’d go to in order to keep it that way.



“Stop!” I shriek, thrashing on his lap like a fish out of water. “Ryder, stop!”
He digs at my hip again, sending me tumbling into an endless fit of laughter. My lungs burn because I can’t breathe and my sides ache from the exertion. I topple over and land on my side, and Ryder comes with me, sliding on top of me in one smooth, swift movement. “I think we’ve played enough games for today ,” he says, running the palms of his hands up the sides of my thighs. His thumbs roll slow, soothing circles into my skin before hooking into the sides of my panties to peel them down my legs. My laughter subsides and I look up at him, my chest heaving as I regain my breath. We lie there on the floor in a tangled heap of limbs, while the fire’s warmth gives Ryder’s face a soft glow.
Small pops crackle from the fire and gravitate toward us, saturating the silence.
Lowering his forehead to my shoulder, Ryder kisses the skin there. “Do you feel it yet?”
“Feel what?” Desolation? Helplessness? Excitement? I feel all of those things.
“This.” Ryder’s hand slides down my chest and torso like silk, slipping beneath my skirt, easy as breathing. I gasp as his fingers slip inside of me. “Desire. The same kind I feel for you.”
“You know I do.”
He strokes me for a moment then stops, leaving me panting while he reaches back to the couch to pick up the bowl of ice cream. It’s melted now, each color swirling together like mixed paint. “Feed me,” he whispers, lifting the bowl to me.
My dazed gaze drifts to the bowl. I hesitantly sit up on my elbows and cradle it, watching him curiously as I begin to spoon him the milky leftovers. He accepts a spoonful, then another, groaning in appreciation. He pushes the spoon away when he’s satisfied and I set the bowl down, watching as he brings my hand to his lips. Sucking one finger then the next, he moves slowly from tip to tip, drawing me farther and farther away from our question-and-answer session.
“Ryder,” I breathe.
He closes his lips over my right index finger and sucks, drawing it slowly from his mouth. The mixture of cool and warm coats my skin, and I wonder how I’ll ever enjoy ice cream without Ryder after tonight. “I really want this,” he says. “Us.”
I shut my eyes and he moves in, brushing his lips against mine. “You have us. Right here.”
“Do I?”
My eyes drift open.
He deepens the kiss, murmuring against my mouth. “I’ll never just drive away, Elise Duchamp.”
The words zap me like a stun gun. My voice comes out in a light rasp. Small and breathless. “I’ve hurt people, Ryder.”
He studies me for a moment but doesn’t respond, only deepens his kiss. I cave into him, letting him devour me whole. I don’t know what I can give him. I don’t know if I have anything at all. But I do know that Ryder Jacobson is trouble.
The good kind.  

Rachael Wade is the Amazon bestselling author of The Preservation Series, The Resistance Trilogy, and the upcoming sci-fi series, The Keepers Trilogy. When she’s not writing, she’s busy learning French, watching too many movies, and learning how to protect animals and the environment. Visit her and, or come chat with her on Twitter via @RachaelWade

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