by Harper Sloan
Uh, say what?
"Dani? I'm no good at reading between the lines. I might have two little sisters, but unfortunately they never taught me much about how y'all's minds work."
She looks over at me, her green eyes bright with emotion, and clears her throat a few times, pushing her long raven hair behind her ears before talking. I can see the nervousness rolling off of her tiny body.
"Can I be honest with you, Cohen?"
"Oh course, Dani. You know that."
Her eyes widen when she hears my sisters start yelling from upstairs. It won't be long before they fly down the basement stairs to where we're sitting like two twin tornados of sass.
"If you don't want those two overhearing you, now would be a good time, Dani."
She blushes more. "I'm going to miss you, Cohen. I know you don't look at me like I look at you, but one day, you're going to come back and I'll still be waiting for you. Waiting for you to see me like I see you. Mark my words, Cohen Cage. One of these days, you're going to be mine. And until you're ready...I'll be here. I'll be waiting."
Before I can even get a breath in my lungs to respond, Frick and Frack come running into the room, talking about who knows what. I just sit there frozen, my jaw slack and my eyes on Dani. Before I know it, they're pulling Dani off the couch and running out the back of the house.
What the hell just happened?
I'm going to keep this short and sweet this time. (Yeah, right!)
First and foremost, to my husband and daughters. Thank you for putting up with my own special brand of crazy while I'm in the middle of writing a book. You put up with a crazy messy house, my moments of complete space-outs and comatose mornings after bring up all night working. I don't know what I would do without you guys.
To the best damn PA in the world, Danielle Calcote. Without you, I honestly don't know what I would do. You keep me from needing one of those fancy straight jackets. #SJ Thank you, from the bottom of my cold heart, for everything that you do for me day in and day out. Don't let this go to your head... but you pretty much are always right. (I can hear Lara yelling at me now for feeding that ego)
Mickey Reed - Girlfriend, you are a gem! You took me in, fixed my mess, and handed him back with a beautiful bow. Your notes are invaluable and I'm looking forward to where we go next. Now, forgive me for not letting you edit this. ;)
To my betas, my team of kick ass ladies that help make my books better and better. I love you ladies more than you could ever know. Danielle, Debi, Amber, Elle, Becky, and Lara. THANK YOU, I love you all!
Katie Mac. I'm not really sure I could ever thank you enough. You held my hand and love me like one of your own. I love you to pieces.
Melissa Gill - I still don't know how you can handle my insane mind. LOL! I'm so lucky to have you as my graphic queen. All you need is a few seconds chatting and you deliver an image/design like you plucked it straight from my head. And you put up with my crazy PM's throughout the day and all hours of the night. Hehe! <3
Brenda Wright, Oh, B! Book four and you're still by my side and I know I'm lucky as hell to have such a great friend in you. You never stop showing me just what it's like to have a real friend willing to drop anything to help. I love you!
Angela, Katie and Kelly - Really... do I need to express the ways I love you? HA! You girls have been with me from the beginning and beyond that. I couldn't imagine doing this without y'all and our daily messages... and facebook stickers, those really are a must.
Debi Barnes, Jessica Adams, and Julie Bales - thank you for letting me pick your brains about twins! <3 <3 I'm sure it's completely normal to get random messages asking about your sex life while pregnant! (Julie - I totally love you in a way that is probably lesbehonest.)
Heather Horton - You made preemie research so much easier! Thank you for sharing your story with me!
Dr. Erin Ricker - Thank you!! I love that I was able to get help from you with my doctor research! Who would have thought, 28 years ago playing Barbies and listening to Paula Abdul that we would be here! HA! Thank you so much for helping with all the medical questions!!
To the bloggers, reviewers, authors and readers that take the time to read my books. Every review, message and post means the world to me and I can't thank you enough for continuing on my crazy train. <3 <3 <3
My street team, for believing in these boys and me. You're pimping and encouraging means the world!
Chelcie, I love you. So much. True friends are hard to find, but we found each other and I'll be forever thankful for that.
To the girls of the IRAC. Do I have the right words to express my love for you? Nope, I do not. But, I will say that our group is amazing and each day you ladies show me just how lucky I am to be apart of it.
Excerpt from FALLEN CREST HIGH by Tijan.
My hands clenched the gas nozzle tightly and I couldn't take my eyes off of him.
Logan Kade, my soon-to-be-roommate. While I watched through the window, he laughed at something his friend said. Lydia and Jessica saw who was in the other aisle and quickly went to flirt with them. The friend looked interested, but Logan skimmed a bored eye over them and went back for something more inside the store.
I hadn't seen the Kade brothers up close, not in a long time, but I'd heard plenty about them. Logan was a junior, like me. Mason was a year older. Both were good looking and Mason was rumored to be six foot one with a muscular build. He played defensive lineman for a reason on his football team. Logan had the leaner build, but he was an inch shorter.
I snorted to myself. I couldn't believe I even knew these details. As I cursed my friends inside for their gossiping ways, I glanced back at the Escalade and froze once more. Two green eyes stared back at me.
Mason had been filling up his vehicle and watching me the whole time.
I swallowed painfully and was barely aware that my gas was done. I couldn't look away from him.
Logan was handsome. There was no doubt about that, but he had nothing against his older brother. Now I understood why so many gossiped and whispered about the Kade brothers. The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up and my eyes were locked with his in some sort of battle.
I couldn't look away. I just knew that.
His friend rounded the vehicle and leaned beside him. Both watched me and I saw the grin come to his friend. He crossed his feet and looked like he was at the movies, popcorn and all.
Then he said something and Mason smirked at me.
"Mase, dude. Candy flavored condoms." Logan leapt across the lot and did a small dance when he handed a box to his brother.
I knew I shouldn't have been watching, but I couldn't stop myself. I was riveted by both brothers. Logan was bobbing his head in rhythm with the music that blared from the gas station's speakers while Mason hadn't taken his eyes from mine.
That's when I knew without a doubt that he knew who I was.
I sucked in my breath and my knees trembled for a moment. What'd I do? Did I do something? Then I remembered my mom sitting in between all those boxes, tears down her face, and an empty bottle of wine beside her.
Fuck them. And fuck their dad.
My mom wasn't a saint. I knew that for sure, but she'd been with my dad for the last seventeen years. Now she cheated? Now she decided we should move in with her new boyfriend and his family?
Fuck them all.
My eyes hardened. Mason's narrowed. I sneered at him before I went inside to pay. When I came back out, Lydia and Jessica were still in the bathroom; Mason passed me to pay inside. He wore a black leather jacket over a black shirt and jeans. His black hair was cut short and his eyes held mine in some form of trance as he passed by me. His jacket rubbed against me, he passed so close, and we both turned to watch the other.
My heart faltered for a moment.
The same hatred I felt for him was in his eyes.
Fuck him.
I lifted my lip to sneer at him and I knew he read the message because he narrowed his eyes, but shouldered insid
e the store.
I sighed and went to my car to wait. Logan and their friends were inside the Escalade, laughing about something. Then the door pinged its exit and I stiffened. I knew who'd be coming again.
I looked, I couldn't help it, and met Mason's gaze as he neared me. He paused, close to my car and looked like he was going to stop. I lifted my head up, ready for whatever he was going to lay on me, but two cars screeched to a halt not far from us.
His eyes snapped up. "What the hell?"
"Hey losers!" a guy yelled and cursed at them as he ran from the car with something smoking in his hand.
"Oh hell!"
"Mason!"
Logan and their friends were out of the car in an instant. Mason rushed past me and I stood there, shocked, as all four dragged the guys from the other cars. Logan grabbed the smoking thing from the guy's hand and gave it to his brother. Mason took it and threw it in the first car. And the rest of the doors were flung open. Guys from that car poured out. Then another smoking thing was produced and Logan flung it into the other car.
Their two friends were still punching some of the other guys. Mason and Logan started punching the rest. It wasn't long before the cars were filling up with smoke and I got the first whiff of fire.
"Oh no," I muttered to myself and dashed to the store. After I flung open the door, I screamed, "Lydia, Jessica, get out here now!"
They rushed from the back section and stared, dumbfounded at me. "Sam, what's going on?"
I latched onto Lydia's arm and dragged her out with me. "We're leaving. Now."
Jessica followed behind, but braked in the middle of the lot. Her eyes were wide as she took in the sight before her.
I shoved Lydia inside the car and twisted around. "Get lost! The cars are going to explode."
Mason and Logan's friends heard me and stopped. They grabbed Logan first, but all of them dragged Mason away from the guy he was punching. Fury lit up his face, but when Logan said something in his ear, he turned and leapt for his Escalade. As he climbed inside, his eyes met mine for a second.
To purchase Fallen Crest High: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B009ZOZP0W
Excerpt from Ignite by Tessa Teevan I fucking hate you sometimes...
The words replay in my head as if on loop. Like I've died and gone to Hell, where I'm tortured with those five cruel words over and over again. The words that came from the same lips that used to whisper "I love you" as he held me in the middle of the night. The lips that, at one point, couldn't wait to say "I do." Those beautiful lips I thought I'd spend the rest of my life kissing. "I fucking hate you..." Yep, definitely Hell.
Hell on Earth, that is. I'm still here. He's the one who's gone. The love of what I thought would be my life, the man I married, the one I was so sure I'd wake up to every single morning until the good Lord decided to bring me home. The same man, who, on what was unknowingly his last day, spoke those five heartless, torturous words he will never, ever get the chance to take back. That man's gone, and I'm still here, broken and alone.
I'm not a complete idiot. Just an overly dramatic one at times. I know my husband loved me. He'd loved me for more than seven years, and that didn't change. We just spent the morning lying in bed for a few extra minutes so we could be close. He fingered my hair as he told me he loved me and was looking forward to the weekend getaway we had planned. He wasn't going through the motions; he meant every word as he gave me a preview of what he had planned for our downtown Chicago hotel--if we ever decided to get out of bed and hit the road. It's just that I can be a raging psycho when I'm PMSing. Then throw in a wine hangover and I turn into Satan's worst nightmare. Every month it's either intense cramping for four days or my husband wonders where this crazy bitch stashed the sweet woman he married. Suffice it to say, I was not cramping this month.
I understood his frustrations with me when I was like that, and any other time I would've just ignored those words because I usually deserved them. I knew he'd end up doing something to make me laugh in the moments that followed because neither of us could stay mad for long. This was different. He'd never used the word hate before. It caught me by surprise, and at the time, I was extremely thankful for the sunglasses on my face as I looked out the window at the fields of towering windmills on the Indiana countryside.
Hate. I hate onions. I hate Ohio drivers in the winter. I hate anything sparkly-vampire related.
I hate a lot of things, I really do, but it's a strong emotion I only use when thinking about trivial things. My husband, though? Never, not once, have I ever felt hatred towards him, and it tore me in two to hear him say those words. And what's worse is that I'll never hear him say anything again.
We never did make it to Chicago. I don't remember much about that accident. Actually, I don't remember the accident at all. A car accident. I used to think that was so cliche. Couldn't life be a little more creative? And now, here I am, widowed at twenty-six because of a damn car accident I have no memory of, only splotchy nightmares that just give me snippets of what happened.
The eye witness and police reports say that a young college student was running late to get onto the Purdue campus for his early afternoon classes. He cut us off, clipping the front end of our car. We ended up spinning into oncoming traffic where we were hit by an SUV on the driver's side. He was killed instantly. I was knocked unconscious. When I woke up the next day in an Indianapolis hospital, I knew.
"Mrs. Tate, I wish we could have done something, but he was killed on impact. Take solace in knowing that he felt no pain..." The doctor continued, but his words were drowned out in my mind, replaced by others.
I fucking hate you sometimes.
To purchase Ignite: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00GAB28OY/
Excerpt from PUSH THE ENVELOPE by Rochelle Paige
Flowers...check.
Chocolates...check.
Champagne chilled and ready to go...check.
Noise-canceling headphones so I didn't have to listen to whatever noises were going to float up from the rear cabin...check.
This was so totally not the normal pilot's checklist. When I talked to Dad over the summer about offering Mile High Club charter flights so we had some extra money coming in to cover my room and board at college, I had no idea how the idea would take off. I'd figured I would take a couple flights out each month so Dad wouldn't have to scrimp on anything so that I could live on campus. He really wanted me to get the whole college experience, especially since I had chosen to stay in town for school.
Who knew there were so many middle-aged housewives looking to spice up their marriages? I usually had three to four flights booked each week now. At a cool grand per booking, we made enough to cover my room and board and maintenance on the planes, and we even had money left over to pay off my student loans and to cover my tuition for my next two years. I guess they're right when the say sex sells!
Since the flights were offered in the evening, they didn't interfere with my classes. Dad wanted as little to do with this venture as possible. He had told me that this was my idea, and he expected me to run with it. Talking about anything connected to sex with his daughter wasn't really high on his list of things to do. I figured I was lucky that he was willing to let me use the Cherokee for the flights. I just had to make sure I booked them when I was able to be in the pilot's seat. The last thing I wanted to do was screw my grade point average over because I was skipping too many classes to pilot the flights I was only offering so I could pay for school in the first place.
Today's flight was due to depart in about thirty minutes, so the lucky couple should be here any minute now. I needed to get my butt in gear so I would be ready when they arrived. The plane was set up for their romantic rendezvous. I was dressed in my charter pilot gear of loose khaki pants and a Hewett Charters polo shirt. I'd pulled my long brown hair back in a low ponytail. This appearance seemed to help the wives feel more comfortable with the idea that their pilot was a twenty year-old girl. Add into the equation that I am passably attr
active and I could have a problem on my hands with my paying customers. So I did what I could to make sure I presented myself as a capable pilot and nothing else.
I know it's crazy for some people to picture me piloting a plane, but I started flying with my dad before I ever got behind the wheel of a car. He lived to fly and taught me to love it as well. I had my permit when I was sixteen, earned my private license when I was seventeen, and got my professional license when I turned eighteen. Some days it felt like I spent more time during my life up in the air than I did on the ground.
Yet another reason Dad wanted me to live on campus this year--so I could hang out with girls and act my age. Dad and I had been two peas in a pod forever, and now he worried that I needed to have a normal life with girlfriends, parties, and boys. I admit that my upbringing wasn't exactly orthodox, but I was happy with the way things were. I just wished Dad would understand that.
Damn, it sounded to me like my housewife of the day had gone all out for this trip based on the click of her stilettos hitting the tarmac. I didn't understand how women could walk on shoes that looked like skyscrapers to me. Guess that was just the tomboy in me, much to my best friend's dismay. Time to get my head in the game so I didn't scare off the paying customers.
"Welcome to Hewett Charters," I greeted the middle-aged couple as they made their way towards me. "You must be Mr. and Mrs. Williams?"
"Yes, that's us," tittered the platinum-blond woman as her husband looked at me quizzically. I guessed that she hadn't used their real name in the hope that they could keep their trip private. She needn't have had that concern since I offered complete confidentiality.
"Thank you for booking your flight with us today," I said. "Everything is all set, and we can be in flight as soon as you are ready to go. Did you have any questions before we board?"
"Ummmm, are you our pilot?" asked Mr. Williams.
"Yes, I'm Alexa Hewett. Don't worry. You're safe with me. I've been doing private sightseeing tours for a couple years and have had my pilot's license for almost three years. I might be a little young, but I grew up with my dad in the cockpit of a plane. I can assure you that I am fully qualified to take you up," I answered.