Excerpt #2 from 'On a Night Like This'

Check out this excerpt from #1 NY Times Bestselling Author Barbara Freethy's first book in the Callaway family series… Then Read on for more information about this blog tour and all its great prizes!

Sara met the first firefighter as soon as his feet hit the sidewalk. "My father is trapped in the basement," she said. "The door is off the laundry room by the kitchen. Aiden Callaway went to get him, but they haven't come out yet."

"Aiden?" the guy echoed.

She nodded, not really surprised that the firefighter seemed to know Aiden since so many of the Callaways worked in the department.

"Wait here," he told her.

She crossed her arms in front of her waist as the firefighters entered the house. Everything would be okay, she told herself. Aiden was with her father, and they were both going to be fine.

Aiden must have seen the flames from next door and in typical Aiden fashion, he'd run straight into the house without waiting for backup. The Callaways had never been short on courage; sometimes on good sense, but not on guts. And Aiden didn't just end up in trouble; he often went looking for it. At least, he had when he'd been younger.

It had been more than ten years since she'd seen the very attractive guy-next-door, who had been the object of the most intense crush she had ever had in her life. Aiden had been a bad boy and she'd been a very good girl. But one reckless night had taken their relationship to a new level. Then Aiden had brought it all crashing down.

Her gut clenched at the memory of what had been the best and worst night of her life. She'd put Aiden out of her mind for a long time, but now he was back, and so was she.

Only temporarily, she reminded herself. This wasn't her home anymore and never would be.

"Sara?"

She turned to see Lynda Callaway, Aiden's stepmother, crossing the lawn at a brisk pace. A tall, willowy blonde, Lynda Callaway moved gracefully, like the dancer she'd once been.

"Are you all right, Sara? I couldn't believe my eyes when I drove around the corner and saw the fire engines and the smoke. What happened? Where's your father?"

"He's inside. So is Aiden," she added.

Lynda paled at that piece of news, her gaze flying to the house. "Aiden? Aiden's here?"

"Yes. I guess he saw the smoke. He broke down the front door." She glanced back at the house. Smoke was pouring through the front door, flames still visible through the windows in the dining room. What was taking them so long? "Aiden went to get my father. He fell down the basement stairs. I didn't want to leave him, but I couldn't move him."

Lynda put a reassuring hand on her arm. "You did the right thing."

"I think he broke his leg."

"Your father is a strong man. He'll come through this.

She'd always thought he was strong, but when she'd seen him on the floor, he'd looked surprisingly fragile and suddenly very human.

"How did the fire start?" Lynda asked.

"He was cooking. I distracted him when I showed up. We were upstairs arguing, and we didn't smell the smoke right away. What is taking them so long?"

"They'll want to be careful moving him," Lynda said, putting her arm around Sara's shoulders.

It had been a long time since Sara had felt such a motherly touch, and the emotion of it brought tears to her eyes. She'd been a strong, independent woman for a long time, but right now she felt like an uncertain girl who was really, really happy not to be alone.

They stood in quiet for a few moments, watching firefighters attack the fire from both inside and outside of the house. She saw two men up on the roof, using axes to make some sort of a vent. Their work was efficient and apparently done without any sense of fear. She'd been inside that heat, and she couldn't imagine volunteering to go back in.

"How do they do it?" she muttered. "How do you do it, Lynda? The fire was so terrifying, so out of control, and it was only in the kitchen. How do you not worry every time your husband or sons leave the house?"

Lynda smiled. "I've had a lot of practice. I trust in my husband, my children, their fellow firefighters and their training. That gets me through." She paused, her smile fading away, her gaze turning back toward the house. "I can't believe Aiden is here. He's been impossible to reach the last few weeks. I wasn't sure when or if we'd see him again."

"Really? Why?"

"He's had some trouble in his life."

"Isn't that usually the case with Aiden?"

"This time is different."

Before Lynda could explain, Aiden came out on the porch, carrying her father over his shoulders. They crossed the lawn and then, with the help of another firefighter, her dad was placed on the gurney and attended to by the waiting paramedics.

Sara moved as close as she could get, relieved to see that her father was awake and able to answer questions, but it was clear he was in a lot of pain. Once they had him stabilized on the stretcher, he was loaded into an ambulance.

"I'll meet you at the hospital," she told him.

"No, I need you to stay here, Sara. Keep an eye on my house."

"I'll take care of everything," she promised. "Then I'll come to see you."

The ambulance doors closed. A moment later, he was on his way to the hospital.

"Do you need a ride?" Lynda asked her.

"Uh, no," she said, trying to pull herself together. Everything was happening so fast her head was spinning. "I have a car. I'll wait until the fire is out, and then I'll go."

"You've grown up into a beautiful, capable woman, Sara," Lynda said with an approving gleam in her eyes. "Your mom would be proud."

"I hope so. I still miss her."

"So do I. And so does your father."

"That's not easy to believe."

Lynda gave her a knowing look. "Your father is a difficult, complicated man. I've lived next door to him for twenty years, and I don't feel like I know him any better now than when he first moved in. Since your mom died, he's become even more reclusive."

She nodded, her attention distracted by Aiden's approach. Now that they were outside, she could see him more clearly. As his gaze met hers, she felt a familiar rush of adrenaline. He'd always had the ability to unsettle her, to make her feel off balance, dizzy, her heart beating too fast, her words getting choked in her throat. It was silly to feel that way now. Her teenage crush had ended long ago. She certainly didn't intend to go back there.

Unfortunately, Aiden was still a very good-looking man, even with ash in his brown hair, sweat on his brow, a three-day growth of beard on his face and tired blue eyes. Add in the faded jeans with a rip at the knee and a T-shirt that clung to his broad chest and strong shoulders, and Aiden was still as hot and sexy as ever, maybe more so.

Sara drew in a breath, trying to dampen down her physical response. She could handle it now. She didn't need to get all worked up about a man who had only once seen her as more than his sister's best friend and the girl next door, and that one time had ended in regret on his part.

Fortunately, Lynda broke the awkward tension between them.

"Aiden," Lynda said. "I can't believe you're home. Why didn't you call me back?"

"I figured you'd see me soon enough." He paused. "Are you okay, Sara?"

"I'm fine. Thank you for saving my father."

He shrugged, as if what he had done had been of little consequence.

"I've been leaving messages for you for three weeks, Aiden," Lynda said.

"I needed some time to clear my head," he replied.

"Well, I'm glad you're finally home. I've been so worried about you since—"

"I'm fine," Aiden said, cutting Lynda off. "I'll be over to the house in a minute."

"All right," Lynda said, obviously sensing that this wasn't the time to grill her son. "Sara, please stop by later and let me know how your father is doing. In fact, come for dinner. We eat around seven, but any time you get back is fine. I'll save you a plate."

"That isn't necessary."

"You won't be cooking in that kitchen tonight. Just come by," Lynda insisted. "There's always room for one more at our house."

"Okay, thanks."

With Lynda gone, she shifted her weight, crossing her arms, then uncrossing them, wishing that Aiden would stop looking at her with those incredible blue eyes.

"So, is the fire almost out?" she asked.

"Looks that way, but you won't be able to go inside until the fire inspector signs off."

"When do you think that will be?"

"Depends," he said. "Could be an hour or more."

"I'm lucky my dad lives right next door to firefighters. Although it doesn't sound like you live at home anymore."

"Not in a long time," he said shortly, his gaze drifting toward his childhood home.

She stared at his profile. In his early thirties now, Aiden's features had become better defined, his jaw stronger, his blue eyes harder and more cynical than she remembered.

His gaze returned to hers, and she couldn't help wishing she looked a little better. She knew she was more attractive than she'd been in high school, because once she'd left her father's house, she'd discovered makeup and hair products, short skirts and high heels. Unfortunately, she'd dressed herself down to visit her father, pulling her hair back in a knot and wearing gray slacks and a button-down blouse that did little to show off her shape. The fire had made her sweat, and she could feel her hair falling out of her bun, so it wasn't her best moment.

Not that she cared, she reminded herself. There had been plenty of men in her life since high school, since Aiden. She was no longer his adoring fan.

She searched for something to say, something smart, witty, casual, but nothing seemed right. There had been a time in her life when she'd lived to catch a glimpse of Aiden, and another time when she'd hoped never to see him again, but now here he was, here they were, and she couldn't think of a damn thing to say.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. "So…"

"So," he echoed. "It's been a long time."

"Yes," she agreed, feeling irritated with her awkwardness.

"How did you set the kitchen on fire?"

"I wasn't the one who was cooking," she said.

Aiden gave her a doubtful look. "You're saying your father did that? Your father who lives by a rulebook and never ever takes a misstep? The man who can do no wrong and cannot tolerate failure in others?"

"Yes. Apparently, he is human," she replied, not surprised that Aiden's assessment of her dad was so spot on. He'd grown up next door, and her father had yelled at the Callaway boys on more than a few occasions.

"Are you living here now?" Aiden asked.

"No, just visiting. What about you?"

A shadow crossed his eyes. "I'm not sure of my plans."

Before she could press for more information, one of the firefighters joined them. "Callaway? What are you doing here?"

"Helping out," Aiden said shortly.

Something sparked between the two men, something intense and angry. Sara felt like she'd just landed back in the middle of another fire. Aiden had always had a million friends and he'd been a guy's guy. To see someone who obviously hated his guts was surprising.

"Quite the hero. You always land on your feet, don't you?" the other man sneered.

"If you say so," Aiden said evenly.

Fury burned in the other man's eyes a split second before he pulled back his arm and punched Aiden in the face.

Aiden stumbled backward, his hand flying to his right eye.

Sara gasped in surprise, startled by the unexpected attack. "What's happening?" she asked, but no one was listening to her.

"That was for Kyle," the man said. "And this—"

Before he could finish his statement, one of the other firefighters intervened, grabbing his pal's arm. "That's enough, Hawkins. Get in the truck."

Hawkins looked like he wanted to argue, but after giving Aiden another scathing look he reluctantly followed orders.

"What just happened?" Sara asked.

Neither man seemed inclined to answer her. After exchanging a long look with Aiden, the firefighter gave her his attention. "The inspector just arrived. He'll let you know the damage and when you can go inside."

"Thanks," she said.

The firefighter gave Aiden a hard look and then headed to the truck.

"Okay, what was that all about?" she asked Aiden.

He rubbed his rapidly swelling cheekbone. "Nothing."

"That man didn't hit you for nothing, Aiden. He said it was for Kyle. Was he talking about Kyle Dunne?"

"Leave it alone, Sara."

"What happened to Kyle?"

Aiden's jaw tightened. "He died, and it's my fault."

His blunt words shook her to the core. Kyle Dunne was the same age as Aiden. They'd been friends since kindergarten. Now he was dead? Why? How?

It was clear Aiden had no interest in giving her more details; he was already moving down the sidewalk.

"Aiden, wait," she called, but he didn't turn his head.

As he walked toward his truck, she noticed a limp in his stride. He'd suffered an injury of some sort. At the same time that Kyle had died?

Why would anyone blame Aiden for his best friend's death? There was no way Aiden would have let Kyle die without trying to save him. Aiden was a born protector. She'd just witnessed him in action when he'd rescued her father, a man he didn't even like. Aiden would have put his own life on the line for Kyle.

Memories of Aiden and Kyle together flashed through her mind. She could see them playing catch in the street until well after dark, hosting poker games in the room over the garage for all their high school friends, getting dressed up in suits for their senior prom. Kyle was dead? He'd always been so much fun, a joker and a prankster. Kyle and Aiden had caused a lot of trouble together, and they'd been closer than brothers. Aiden had to be reeling. No wonder there had been so much worry in Lynda's eyes when she'd mentioned Aiden.

As Aiden pulled his bags out of his truck, she was torn between wanting to ask him more questions and wanting to put some distance between them.

He was the one guy she'd never been able to forget, the one guy who still haunted her dreams. The last thing she needed to do was talk to him. She had enough problems to deal with. She turned her back on Aiden and headed across the lawn to talk to the fire inspector.

About the Callaway Blog Tour & All Its Great Prizes!

This is the week you finally meet the Callaways! Not only are they all over the web as part of their extraordinary blog tour, but they are also out and about in your neighborhood. That's right; we're celebrating the print launch with Ingram by throwing a party all over the world! Make sure to follow this tour closely for your chance to win gift cards, swag, autographed books, and other incredible prizes.

All the info you need to join the fun and enter to win amazing prizes is RIGHT HERE. Remember, winning is as easy as clicking a button or leaving a blog comment—easy to enter; easy to win!

To Win the Prizes:

1. Purchase any of the Callaway novels by Barbara Freethy (optional)
2. Enter the Rafflecopter contest on Novel Publicity (go here)
3. Visit today’s featured social media event (that's where the HUGE prizes are)

About The Callaways: The Callaways were born to serve and protect! In Barbara’s new connected family series, each of the eight siblings in this blended Irish-American family find love, mystery and adventure, often where they least expect it! Each book stands alone, but for the full enjoyment of the series, you might want to start at the beginning with On A Night Like This! Get the eBooks via Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, or Kobo.

About the Author: Barbara Freethy has been making up stories most of her life. Growing up in a neighborhood with only boys and a big brother who was usually trying to ditch her, she spent a lot of time reading. When she wasn’t reading, she was imagining her own books. After college and several years in the P.R. field, she decided to try her hand at a novel. Now Barbara is a #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author loved by readers all over the world. Her novels range from contemporary romance to romantic suspense and women's fiction. Learn more on her website, Facebook page, or in her Street Team.

Excerpt From 'On a Night Like This'

Check out this excerpt from #1 NY Times Bestselling Author Barbara Freethy's first book in the Callaway family series…Then Read on for more information about this blog tour and all its great prizes!

Her father stared back at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Why are you here, Sara?"

"I wanted to be here for your birthday. It's been a long time since we've shared more than an email. We should talk, catch up with each other."

"Why on earth would you want to talk to me?"

The confusion in his eyes made her realize just how far apart they'd drifted. "Because you're my father. You're my family. We're the only ones left."

"Do you need money?"

"This isn't about money. Mom would not have wanted us to end up like strangers. We need to improve our relationship."

He stared back at her for a long moment, then said, "There's nothing left for you here, Sara. I wish you well, but we both need to move on. If you stay, it won't go well. We'll only disappoint each other."

Her chest tightened, the finality of his words bringing pain as well as anger. Her father was like a brick wall. She kept throwing herself at him, trying to break through his resistance, but all she ever achieved was a new batch of emotional bruises.

"You're a grown woman now," he added. "You don't need a father."

"Not that I ever really had one," she countered, surprising herself a little with the words. She was used to holding her tongue when it came to her dad, because talking usually made things worse.

"I did my best."

"Did you?"

A tickle caught at her throat and her eyes blurred with unwanted tears. She had not come here to cry. She sniffed, wondering why the air felt so thick. It took a minute to register that it was not her emotions that were making her eyes water, but smoke.

The same awareness flashed in her father's eyes. "Damn," he swore. "The kitchen—I was cooking—"

He ran out of the room, and she followed him down the stairs, shocked by how thick the smoke was in the entry.

She was on her dad's heels when he entered the kitchen. The scene was unbelievable. Flames shot two feet in the air off a sizzling pot on the stove. The fire had found more fuel in a stack of newspapers on the counter that had been left too close to the burner, those sparks leaping to the nearby curtains.

Her father grabbed a towel and tried to beat out some of the flames, but his efforts only seemed to make things worse. Embers flew everywhere, finding new places to burn, the heat growing more and more intense. Moving to the sink, she turned on the faucet and filled up a pitcher, but it was taking too long to get enough water. She threw some of it at the fire, but it made no difference.

"Move aside," her dad shouted, grabbing two hot pads.

"What are you doing?" she asked in confusion.

He tried to grab the pot and move it to the sink, but she was in the way, and he stumbled, dropping the pot in the garbage. She jumped back from an explosion of new fire.

"We have to call 911," she said frantically. But there was no phone in the kitchen, and her cell phone was in her bag by the entry. "Let's get out of here."

Her father was still trying to put out the fire, but he was getting nowhere.

"Dad, please."

"Get out, Sara," he said forcefully, then ran into the adjacent laundry room.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"I have to get something important," he yelled back at her.

"Dad. We need to get out of the house." She coughed out the words, but she might as well have remained silent because her dad had vanished through the laundry room and down the back stairs to the basement. She couldn't imagine what he had to get. There was nothing but gardening tools and cleaning supplies down there.

She started to follow him, then jumped back as the fire caught the wallpaper next to her head, sizzling and leaping towards her clothing.

"Dad," she screamed. "We need to get out of the house."

A crash echoed through the house. Then all she could hear was the crackling of the fire.

Sara ran through the flames and down the stairs into the basement. A single light bulb dangled from a wire over the stairs, showing her father in a crumpled heap on the cement floor.

She dropped to her knees next to his still body. He was unconscious, blood under his head, and his right leg was twisted in an odd position. She put a hand on his chest. His heart was still beating.

"Dad," she said. "Wake up."

He blinked groggily. "Sara?" he asked in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"The kitchen is on fire. We need to get out of the house." A glance back over her shoulder revealed smoke pouring through the open door at the top of the stairs. There was no way out of the basement without going through the kitchen.

Her father tried to sit up, but quickly fell back, groaning with pain. "My leg is broken. You go."

"I can't leave you here. That's not an option."

"You can't carry me. Go. Get help."

"I'll be right back," she promised.

She ran up the stairs, shocked and terrified when she saw how much worse the fire had gotten in literally minutes. The heat was intense. She could barely breathe, and there was a wall of flames between her and the only way out. She couldn't afford to be scared. Grabbing a towel off the top of the nearby washing machine, she covered her nose and mouth, and prepared to make a dash for it.

Before she could move, a figure appeared on the other side of the flames—a man.

A wave of relief swept through her. Help had arrived.

He barreled through the fire and smoke, batting away the flames as if they were troublesome bees. When he stopped in front of her, her heart jumped again.

"Aiden?" She lowered the towel from her face. He was the last Callaway she wanted to see.

About the Callaway Blog Tour & All Its Great Prizes!

This is the week you finally meet the Callaways! Not only are they all over the web as part of their extraordinary blog tour, but they are also out and about in your neighborhood. That's right; we're celebrating the print launch with Ingram by throwing a party all over the world! Make sure to follow this tour closely for your chance to win gift cards, swag, autographed books, and other incredible prizes.

All the info you need to join the fun and enter to win amazing prizes is RIGHT HERE. Remember, winning is as easy as clicking a button or leaving a blog comment—easy to enter; easy to win!

To Win the Prizes:

1. Purchase any of the Callaway novels by Barbara Freethy (optional)
2. Enter the Rafflecopter contest on Novel Publicity (go here)
3. Visit today’s featured social media event (that's where the HUGE prizes are)

About The Callaways: The Callaways were born to serve and protect! In Barbara’s new connected family series, each of the eight siblings in this blended Irish-American family find love, mystery and adventure, often where they least expect it! Each book stands alone, but for the full enjoyment of the series, you might want to start at the beginning with On A Night Like This! Get the eBooks via Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, or Kobo.

About the Author: Barbara Freethy has been making up stories most of her life. Growing up in a neighborhood with only boys and a big brother who was usually trying to ditch her, she spent a lot of time reading. When she wasn’t reading, she was imagining her own books. After college and several years in the P.R. field, she decided to try her hand at a novel. Now Barbara is a #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author loved by readers all over the world. Her novels range from contemporary romance to romantic suspense and women's fiction. Learn more on her website, Facebook page, or in her Street Team.

Excerpt from There Comes a Prophet

Please enjoy this series of excerpts from the deep, dark dystopia, There Comes a Prophet, by David Litwack. Then read on to learn how you can win huge prizes as part of this blog tour, including a Kindle Fire, $650 in Amazon gift cards, and 5 autographed copies of each book.  

Excerpt One: The Longing

“Is this what you want me to do, Orah, run like a coward?” “Not to run, but to be careful, especially with the vicar so near.” “Only one in three are taken.” “It’s not worth the risk, Nathaniel. Or have you forgotten the look of those who have been taught? The far off stare, the dreams seemingly ripped away.” Dreams ripped away. What good were dreams if they stayed unfulfilled? Since coming of age the month before, Nathaniel had brooded on one thought — life was passing him by.  

Excerpt Two: The Teaching

Thomas stared out, trying to see to the opposite wall. It had to be close, because he could feel his boots pressing against it. But try as he would, he couldn’t penetrate the darkness. There was no glimmer to help, only the darkest dark he’d ever known. No moon, no stars, no hint of light. A dark to haunt one’s dreams. Sometimes, he’d startle to the grating of the ceiling cover being removed. Light would pour into the room, flooding him with exhilaration…He’d stand, stretch his stiff limbs and look into the plump faces of the vicars surrounding him, seniors all with their decorated hats. They, in turn, would look down on him sympathetically before beginning a litany of the horrors of the darkness…  

Excerpt Three: The Secret

Nathaniel had forgotten his dilemma. The idea of the keep had awakened something in him he thought he’d lost forever. “But who’ll solve the puzzle?” “The founders of the keep believed a new generation would arise that would seek the truth at all costs, even at the risk of their lives. Some few from that generation would take the lead. These would be called seekers, and their task would be to solve the puzzle and rediscover the keep.” “But what’s in the keep?” “The chain started so long ago, Nathaniel. Even the keepers don’t know any more. The keep may not even exist.” “Ancient magic?” “More. Something the Temple fears. Something that might change the world.” Nathaniel’s hands were shaking. I’d be a seeker if I could.   As part of this special promotional extravaganza sponsored by Novel Publicity, both Along the Watchtower and There Comes a Prophet by David Litwack are on sale this week. What’s more, by purchasing either or both of these fantastic books at an incredibly low price, you can enter to win many awesome prizes. The prizes include a Kindle Fire, $650 in Amazon gift cards, and 5 autographed copies of each book. All the info you need to win one of these amazing prizes is RIGHT HERE. Remember, winning is as easy as clicking a button or leaving a blog comment--easy to enter; easy to win! To win the prizes:

1. Pick up Along the Watchtower at its discounted price of $2.99 on Amazon
2. Get There Comes a Prophet at its discounted price of 99 cents
3. Enter the Rafflecopter contest below
4. Visit the featured social media events
5. Leave a comment on my blog for a chance at a $100 prize.

Along the Watchtower tells of a tragic warrior lost in two worlds; a woman who may be his only way back from Hell. Get it on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or iTunes. There Comes a Prophet A thousand years ago the Darkness came—a time of violence and social collapse. Nathaniel has grown up in their world of limits, longing for something more. For what are we without dreams? Get it on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or iTunes. David Litwack, the once and future writer, explores the blurry line between reality and the Visit David on his website, Twitter, Facebook, or GoodReads.

Exceprt From Mother's Curse by Thaddeus Nowak

Please enjoy this excerpt from the exciting and beautifully written YA fantasy, Mother’s Curse, by Thaddeus Nowak. Then read on to learn how you can win huge prizes as part of this blog tour, including a Kindle Fire, $450 in Amazon gift cards, and 5 autographed copies of each book.   Feeling slightly better for having a bit of light to keep with her, she continued down the street, occasionally looking through a window to see the remains of a room. After the third storefront she passed, she wondered at the reason all of the furniture and even drapes, carpets, and accessories had been left behind. Even in the desperate flight from Antar, people were still taking their belongings. They removed their drapes, even ones far less decorative then what Stephenie suspected were here. Why would everyone desert a city and yet leave almost everything behind as if they were simply going across town to visit a friend? She was hesitant to consider an answer. This city had been deserted and abandoned for a long time. Antar castle and city above had been there for as long as memory could recall and the original castle even before then. Had any of those above known about a city deep in the rocks under their feet, there would have been stories.

Stephenie used her stolen crystal to look into a shop that reminded her of a bakery, with a large oven in the back wall and the remains of shelves still partially attached to a side wall. The sparkle of something shiny and shaped like a pendant caught her eye. Looking closer at a mass on the floor, she paused and then stepped quickly away from the window as a shiver of fear rolled down her spine.

She closed her eyes, but the unmistakable image of a human skull laying on the floor would not leave her sight. She shivered again and looked up and down the street. Perhaps they didn’t leave.

Mustering her courage, Stephenie slowly approached the window again. She forced herself to look at the mass on the floor. Wiping away some of the dirt on the window, she could make out the arms and runners of a rocking chair mixed with what was likely clothing and the decayed bones of the person who’s head had rolled several feet away after the chair had collapsed. Bits of hair and desiccated skin clung to the skull, which was fortunately staring away from the window. The person died sitting in a chair and no one came to remove or bury the body?

Stephenie sniffed the air and thought about the strange odor she had been noticing since she had entered the city. It was a musty sweet smell. “Is this a plague city?” She felt her throat tightening with each breath and again quickly retreated from the window. She turned toward the way she had entered the city, ready to run back to the large doors and flee, but the dryness of her throat and the sound of water stopped her. If this is a plague city, then I am as good as dead and I might as well die after I’ve had something to drink.

 Slowly, she turned around and continued down the street, no longer bothering to look into the store fronts. The rot and death they held did not interest her anymore.

She passed several side streets, but continued following the slowly turning main street because the sound of water was getting louder in the direction it was heading. After a short time, the street opened into another large plaza at least a hundred feet in diameter. Several streets exited the round plaza, but at the very center, lit with several points of glowing light was a fountain. Its water pushed up from a center mound and cascaded down several stone statues into a series of white marble bowls. The fountain was a dozen feet high and thirty feet across.

 Drawn by thirst, Stephenie quickly reached the edge of the fountain and could feel a cool mist splashing over her. Knowing she would die slowly and painfully from whatever disease had killed the residents of this city, she did not care if the water was poison as long as it tasted fresh. Taking a small sip, she tested the flavor and found it cleaner than what she was used to in the castle. Scooping up more water with her hands, she drank deeply before noticing how dirty her hands had become. After quickly rubbing away the dirt, she moved a couple feet away and continued to drink until her stomach felt full.

Relieved of her thirst, she sat down next to the fountain and buried her face in her wet hands. She sobbed with frustration and relief in one confused wail. While she would not die of thirst, how was she going to get out and warn her father and Joshua about her mother’s betrayal? She cradled her cut arm in her lap and leaned back with her eyes closed. I’ve got light and some water, but what good would warning everyone do if I bring a plague to them? She shook her head. Damn it, why do the gods hate me so? Fundamentally, she knew her tie with Elrin, even if a result of her mother’s doing, was her real damnation. She could not bring herself to worship the demon god and she dared not seek out the other gods for fear the priests would sense her connection to Elrin.

Opening her eyes, she stared at her foot prints along the cobbled street. A lone trail to remind her that she had to do whatever it was she was going to do on her own. There was no one to help her.

She sat silently staring into the distance for some time. Then she blinked her eyes, uncertain that she was not imagining it, but after a moment, there was definitely a strange luminescence moving down the street. As it grew closer, she scrambled to her feet, recognizing the dim outlines of a human form. The apparition was moving in her direction. She quickly moved away from the fountain, but as it closed on the fountain, it appeared not to notice Stephenie at all. Instead, it held its, or her, hands as if carrying something. When it reached the fountain, it leaned over as if scooping up water.

   As part of this special promotional extravaganza sponsored by Novel Publicity, the price of the Mother's Curse and Daughter's Justice eBook editions are just 99 cents this week. What’s more, by purchasing either or both of these fantastic books at an incredibly low price, you can enter to win many awesome prizes. The prizes include a Kindle Fire, $450 in Amazon gift cards, and 5 autographed copies of each book. All the info you need to win one of these amazing prizes is RIGHT HERE. Remember, winning is as easy as clicking a button or leaving a blog comment--easy to enter; easy to win! To win the prizes:

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Mother's Curse is a coming of age story about the youngest Princess of Cothel and her efforts to save her father and brother from her mother's schemes, while at the same time, coming to terms with what it means to be a witch. Get it on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or iTunes. Daughter's Justice continues Stephenie's journey of discovery, where she must overcome national opposition to her being a witch as well as lead her friends and protectors on a mission to stabilize her countries finances. Get it on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or iTunes. Thaddeus Nowak is a writer of fantasy novels who enjoys hiking, photography, and the outdoors. Visit Ted on his website, Twitter, Facebook, or GoodReads.

Excerpt: Come a Little Bit Closer by Bella Andre

Enjoy the following excerpt for COME A LITTLE BIT CLOSER…

Gravity was the story Smith Sullivan had been waiting his entire career to tell. It wasn’t a big-budget, smash ’em up blockbuster. Nor was it a period film with impeccably researched costumes and accents. Instead, it was a pure, honest story about love and family and what really mattered.

And he was staking his entire reputation on the deceptively simple story.

If ever there was a time for focus, for pure and total concentration, it was now and through the next eight weeks of filming. He couldn’t afford to let anything—or anyone—distract him from making the best movie he had in him.

Only, as he followed Valentina to his trailer, her waist, hips, and legs gorgeous in her form-fitting pencil skirt, he already knew holding that intense focus wasn’t going to be easy.

Valentina Landon had attracted him from the start with her exotic looks which she downplayed into cool, businesslike reserve. He couldn’t miss the slightly seductive tone to her voice, or the fact that her scent was pure, rich sensuality. If she thought she was putting anyone off with her suits, soft golden hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, and the thick-framed glasses she slid on when she was poring over contracts, she was way off base.

Didn’t she know that all those carefully constructed conservative elements made a guy like him want to find out just how deep her passions ran? Especially when she was so intent on hiding them. Not, of course, that she’d even come close to letting him find out the answer to that question.

During rehearsals, she was always either with her sister or making her way out of a room the second he walked into it. He’d been impressed with her business acumen during the past weeks with regard to Tatiana’s career, as well as how well she took care of her sister on a personal level. Valentina didn’t hover, but at the same time, she was there whenever Tatiana needed her.

As the second-oldest brother in a family of eight siblings, Smith knew just how hard it was to watch over his brothers and sisters while also letting them spread their wings and live their lives without his constant interference. Family meant the world to him, but he craved his independence, and his work, too. It was a constant balancing act, but one he wouldn’t have given up for all the peace and quiet and spare time in the world.

From the beginning of his career just after college, he’d started with whatever scraps he could get and built on from there. He knew people thought he’d been handed his acting career, that his looks had paved the road with gold bricks and Hollywood stars. In truth, those looks had made being taken seriously so difficult that after the first couple of years of countless auditions, he’d almost taken one of the dozens of underwear commercials he’d been offered. Until, finally, an older actor had given him his chance to prove that he was more than just a pretty face. Smith had grabbed that chance with both hands, and when the movie was a box office hit, other doors finally started to open.

It was one of the reasons he’d been so interested in casting Tatiana Landon. Yes, Valentina’s younger sister was beautiful. No question, she was going to be a star, one way or another. But when she worked, he saw several qualities in her that he recognized and admired. Determination. Concentration. And joy.

Yes, he thought, as Valentina threw open his trailer door without waiting for him to let her inside, there was much to admire about the Landon women. Particularly the older sister he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since he’d met her in that initial casting meeting two months ago.

Talk about determination and concentration. Valentina had clearly taught her sister everything she knew. And when Valentina was with Tatiana, when they were laughing together the way sisters did when they were very close, her own joy rang out loud and clear.

Smith had just stepped inside and closed the door behind him when Valentina turned and faced him down.

“My sister is not going to become one of your little playthings.”

Momentarily taken aback, Smith simply echoed, “Playthings?”

Valentina didn’t have the obvious, more conventional beauty of her younger sister, but to Smith that made her face even more alluring. A man had to look under the surface with Valentina, but once he did, he was paid back richly with the contours of high cheekbones, incredibly long, unpainted lashes, eyes that tilted up slightly at the corners, and a cupid’s bow on full lips that couldn’t help but whisper of sex and heat no matter how tightly they were pursed.

Just the way they were right this second, in fact.

“Tatiana and I have been in this business for ten years,” she said in a frosty voice. “I know exactly how this world works, Mr. Sullivan.”

He had to cut her off, then, if only because he hated the way she used the Mr. as yet another way to keep distance between them. Not another damn person on his set called him Mr. Sullivan. He wouldn’t let her do it, either, whatever her reasons for wanting to keep her distance.

“Call me Smith. Please.”

Her mouth tightened even further, her eyes flashing yet again even as she nodded and said, in a very soft voice, “Smith.” Her long, slender fingers twisted in her grip as she stared back at him. “You’re older. You’re successful. You’re extremely good look—”

She stopped just short of the full word and it was all but impossible to keep himself from smirking just a little bit. And from saying, “Thank you, Valentina. I’m glad to know you think so.”

Her eyes widened at the way he spoke her name, with more than a little heat. Any woman looking for his attention would have noticed she had it weeks ago. Then again, she hadn’t been looking for his attention—had stopped just short of running from it, in fact.

Valentina was the opposite of every woman he knew in Hollywood. Instead of trying to draw attention to herself, she worked to keep it away. Smith had transformed himself into so many different characters over the course of his career that he knew all it would take were a few simple changes to her hair, clothes, makeup, and the way she held her body as she stood across from him, to shift her message from back off to come closer.

She was an incredibly intelligent woman. Only, despite that, he didn’t think she realized just how much the mystery of her was drawing him in, making him want to discover who she really was. And why she was so intent on deflecting the male attention she deserved. Especially his.

Nor did she realize just how refreshing it was to finally meet a woman who wasn’t beyond eager and ready to throw herself at Smith Sullivan’s feet. Especially just when he’d been worried there wasn’t a woman alive who could see beyond his fame and all the shiny things that came with it.

Now, as he watched her work to bank her anger, it occurred to him what an excellent actress she would have been. Emotion simmered just beneath the surface of her eyes, her mouth, her skin, all covered with an outward calm that could fool even the closest observer. A shared family trait, though one Valentina had perfected for real life, whereas her sister merely played it out for the camera.

One sister so contained, the other so open.

Smith couldn’t help but wonder—had Valentina sacrificed her own openness so that her sister could have such freedom?

She gestured to the pile of phone numbers that littered his desk, her upper lip curling slightly. “You have plenty of women falling for you. More than enough for any man to enjoy making his way through.”

If he hadn’t been in a hurry earlier that morning, he would have thrown the numbers away instead of just dumping them on his desk. With anyone else, he likely would have explained just that. But he found he didn’t like having to defend himself to Valentina, especially when he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I meant it when I told you I wanted you to come to me if anything was wrong,” he said in an even voice. “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to pull me aside this morning, but I’m afraid I don’t yet understand what’s bothering you.”

“I’ll tell you exactly what’s bothering me: You and I both know the power you hold. We also both know that my sister is perfect in this film.”

He nodded in agreement. “You just heard me tell her that.”

“And it meant the world to her.” But instead of looking happy about it, a flash of deep-seated worry crossed Valentina’s face. “Tatiana looks up to you. She has never been so committed to a production. All she wants is to do her best for you, and I know she’s going to give a thousand percent to do just that.” Her gaze was direct, unblinking, as she said, “And in return, I want you to give me your word that you will not cross any professional lines with her.”

Damn it, he hadn’t signed Tatiana to star in his film with nefarious plans of seduction. He’d signed her because she was a great actress who was going to get better and better.

Were it not for two unfounded accusations in the span of minutes, he would have taken the time to answer Valentina more carefully. But as it stood, she’d been questioning his honor since the first second he’d met her sister. Silently, perhaps, but it had been there nonetheless.

His honor was everything to him, and now he felt like a bear poked one too many times by a long stick, coming out of his lair grumpy and with teeth bared in warning. Which was why he gave her an answer he knew was bound to aggravate more than soothe.

“Your sister has already signed the contracts.”

Instead of backing off at what many people would have construed as a warning, Valentina came closer to him, so close that he could smell the lavender in her shampoo.

“I asked around about you before we signed on for this movie. Everyone told me you were different.” Her eyes slid again to the phone numbers on his desk, then back to him. “But you’re just the same as everybody else, aren’t you?” Fire leapt to new heights in her eyes as she told him, “I don’t give a damn what she’s signed. If you do one single thing to hurt my sister, if you dare toy with her emotions or her body, I’ll—”

“Damn it, Valentina,” he said in a voice loud enough to break through to her, “I’m not going to seduce your sister!” He had to work to gentle his voice as he said, “Tatiana is young and beautiful and I’m going to work like hell to make sure she wins an Oscar for her performance in my movie. But I don’t want her.”

And yet, even as he reassured her about his intentions toward her sister, there was no way for him to keep the silent words I want you from hanging in the air between them.

He was sure that was what had her taking a step away from him as she said, “I saw the way you grabbed her and kissed her after the scene. And I saw the way she looked at you—like you hold the key to the secrets of the universe.”

It was because he had two sisters and a mother he loved that he realized just how badly he’d misplayed this situation with Valentina. Instead of going on the defensive and throwing the signed contracts in her face like the big bad movie star who only had to snap his fingers for the world to fall at his feet, he should have done whatever he could to reassure her that Tatiana was in safe hands.

“Your sister did such a great job with the first scene that I got excited, and I wanted her to know how thrilled I am to be working with her. But I honestly don’t think she took my enthusiasm for her performance in the way you thought she did.”

He could see that Valentina was still wary, but she took a deep breath and finally backed down enough to say, “I sure hope not.”

He’d thought her eyes were a dimmer green than her sister’s, but now he could see that they were a beautiful hazel, a clear green on the inside, deep brown on the outside. Smith had never been much interested in perfect, even less so after so many years in Hollywood where people hired doctors to rip them open and put them back together until they looked like the dolls his sisters had played with as kids.

He was also finally close enough to see the slightly dark smudges beneath the delicate skin under her eyes.

“It’s got to be exhausting being your sister’s watchdog all the time.”

“I’m not her watchdog. I’m her sister and I love her. I—” She sighed, letting her exhaustion come through for a moment. “I just need to make sure she’s safe. Always.”

“Your sister is lucky to have you to protect her, Valentina. But who’s protecting you?”

Her eyes met his again, wide with surprise...and an answering desire that she could no longer effectively mask as her hazel eyes dilated until the green near her pupil pushed out all of the brown along the rim.

Hot damn if he didn’t want to kiss her beautiful mouth as she lifted her chin and her eyes flashed at him one more time.

“I don’t need anybody to protect me.”

She walked out of his trailer without a backward glance.

...Excerpt from COME A LITTLE BIT CLOSER by Bella Andre ©2012.

The Sullivans are on tour with Novel Publicity. Follow along for your chance to win amazing prizes. We've got special romantic swag baskets for each book, an iPad Mini, Kindle Fire, Nook Color, and Kobo eReader, and Amazon and iTunes gift cards. WOW! You'll also get introduced to this amazing contemporary romance series via excerpts as well as interviews with and guest posts from New York Times and USA Today best-selling author, Bella Andre. You'll definitely want to learn more about the family that has captured the world's heart. All the info you need to join the fun and enter to win amazing prizes is RIGHT HERE. Remember, winning is as easy as clicking a button or leaving a blog comment--easy to enter; easy to win! To Win the Prizes:

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About The Sullivans: In this sexy, emotional and funny contemporary romance series, each member of the Sullivan family will eventually find true love...usually where he or she least expects it. Get the eBooks via Amazon US, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, the iBookStore, or the Kobo Store. Audiobooks are also available for the first five in the series (with more coming soon). Plus, keep an eye out for paperback editions coming from Harlequin Romance starting Summer 2013.

About the Author: New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Bella Andre has always been a writer. Songs came first, and then non-fiction books, but as soon as she started writing her first romance novel, she knew she'd found her perfect career. Known for "sensual, empowered stories enveloped in heady romance" (Publishers Weekly) about sizzling alpha heroes and the strong women they'll love forever, nearly all of her novels have appeared on Top 10 lists at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple and Kobo. Her books have been Cosmopolitan Magazine "Red Hot Reads" twice and have been translated into nine languages. Winner of the Award of Excellence, The Washington Post has called her "One of the top digital writers in America" and she has been featured by NPR, USA Today, Forbes, and The Wall Street Journal. She has given the keynote speech at Book Expo America on her self-publishing success and has sold more than one million books. If not behind her computer, you can find her reading her favorite authors, hiking, swimming or laughing. Married with two children, Bella splits her time between the Northern California wine country and a 100 year old log cabin in the Adirondacks.

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Excerpt: Let Me Be the One by Bella Andre

Enjoy the following excerpt for LET ME BE THE ONE…

Fifteen years ago, Palo Alto High School

Victoria Bennett couldn’t take her eyes off Ryan Sullivan, who was laughing with some of the guys on his baseball team, as she headed through the high school parking lot toward the art store on University Avenue.

None of the other girls in her tenth-grade class could take their eyes off him, either, so at least she didn’t stick out. Not for that reason, anyway. Her clay-stained fingers and clothes—along with the “new girl” sign she felt like she was wearing during her first few weeks at every new school—did that with no help whatsoever from Ryan...or his ridiculously good looks.

Normally, she could have gotten over his pretty face without much trouble. As an artist, she always worked to look beneath the surface of things, to try to find out what was really at the heart of a painting or sculpture or song. That went for people, too. Especially boys who, as far as she could tell, only ever told a girl what they wanted to hear for one reason.

No, what had her stuck on Ryan Sullivan was the fact that he was always laughing. Somehow, without being the class clown, he had a gift for putting people at ease and making them feel good.

Before she could catch herself, she put her fingers to her lips...and wondered what it would feel like if he kissed her.

She yanked her hand away from her mouth. Not just because dreaming of his kisses was borderline pathetic given the utter unlikelihood of that scenario, but because she needed to stay focused on her art.

She wasn’t just another tenth grader mooning over the hottest boy in school.

She was studying her muse.

Vicki had never been much interested in sculpting formal busts before. Old, dead, overly serious guys in gray didn’t really do it for her. But it had only taken a few minutes near Ryan at lunch her first day on campus to be inspired to capture his laughter in clay. She wished she could get closer to all that easy joy—if only to figure out how to translate it from her mind’s eye to the clay beneath her fingers.

Yes, she thought with a small smile, she was perfectly willing to suffer for her art. Especially if it meant staring at Ryan Sullivan.

The light turned from red to green and she could have picked up her pace and made it across the street. Only, she’d been having such trouble getting the corners of the eyes and mouth just right on her Laughing Boy sculpture. Knowing there wasn’t a chance that Ryan or his friends would notice her, rather than leaving the school grounds, she closed the distance between them in as nonchalant a manner as she could, while surreptitiously watching him from beneath the veil of the bangs that had grown too long over her eyes during the summer.

A few seconds later, his friends high-fived him and walked away. Ryan bent down to finish packing up a long, narrow black bag at his feet, which she guessed held his baseball stuff.

What, she wondered on an appreciative sigh at the way the muscles on his forearms and shoulders flexed as he picked up the bag, would happen if she talked to him? And what would he say if she outright asked him to pose for her?

She was on the verge of laughing out loud at her crazy thoughts when she heard a squeal coming from the parking lot. In a split second she realized an out-of-control car was whipping straight toward Ryan.

There wasn’t time to plan, or to think. Vicki sprinted across the several feet between them and threw herself at him.

“Car!”

Fortunately, Ryan’s natural athleticism kicked in right away. Even though she was the one trying to pull him out of the way, less than a heartbeat later he was lifting her and practically throwing her across the grass before leaping to cover her body with his.

She scrunched her eyes tightly shut as the car careened past, so close that she could feel the hairs on her arms lifting in its wake. Breathing hard, Vicki clung to Ryan. Wetness moved across her cheeks and she belatedly realized tears must have sprung up from landing so hard on the grass.

The seconds ticked by as if in slow motion, one hard, thudding heartbeat after another from Ryan’s chest to hers and then back again from hers to his. He was so strong, so warm, so beautifully real. She wanted to lie like this with him forever, more intimately, closer than she’d ever been with another boy.

Only, voices were rising in pitch all around her, and suddenly, the reality of what had just happened hit.

Oh my God, they’d both almost died!

She was starting to feel faint when he lifted his head and smiled down at her.

“Hi, I’m Ryan.”

The way he said it, as if she didn’t already know who he was, pierced through her shock. He acted like it was normal to be sprawled over a girl. Which, she suddenly realized, it probably was. For him.

Definitely not for her, though.

Her lips were dry and she had to lick them once, twice, before saying, “I’m Victoria.” The words, “But my friends call me Vicki,” slipped out before she could pull them back in.

His smile widened and her heart started beating even faster. Not from shock this time, but from pure, unfettered teenage hormones kicked into overdrive by his beautiful smile.

“Thank you for saving my life, Vicki.” A moment later, his smile disappeared as he took in her tear-streaked cheeks. The eyes that she’d seen filled with laughter so many times during the first two weeks of school grew serious. “I hurt you.”

She would have told him no, and that she was fine, but all breath and words were stolen from her the instant he brushed his fingertips over her cheeks to wipe away her tears.

Somehow, she managed to shake her head, and to get her lips to form the word no, even though no sound followed.

His laughing eyes were dark now, and more intense than she’d ever seen them. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to land so hard on you.”

“I’m—”

How was she supposed to keep her brain working when he’d begun the slow, shockingly sweet process of running his hands over the back of her skull, and then down to her shoulders and upper arms?

One more word. That was all she needed to get out to answer his question.

“—fine.”

“Good.” His voice was deeper, richer, than any of the other fifteen-year-old boys. “I’m glad.”

But as he stared down at her, his expression continued to grow even more intense and she found herself holding her breath.

Was he going to kiss her now? Had her life just turned into the quintessential after-school-special fantasy, the one where the artsy girl caught the eye of the jock and the whole school was turned upside down by their unlikely but ultimately perfect and inevitable pairing?

“One day, when you need me most, I promise I’ll be there for you, Vicki.”

Oh. She swallowed hard. Oh my.

He hadn’t given her a kiss...but his promise felt more important than a mere kiss would have been.

Before she realized it, he was standing up again and holding out a hand to help her up, too. Instantly missing his heat, the hard muscles pressing into her softer ones, all the lies she’d been trying to tell herself about Ryan simply being a muse scattered out of reach.

“Can I walk you home?”

Surprised that he wanted to spend more time with her, she quickly shook her head.

He looked equally surprised by her response, likely because no girl on earth had ever turned him down.

“No, I can’t walk you home?”

She fumbled to explain. “I’m not going home. I was actually heading over to the art store to pick up some supplies for a new sculpt—”

She barely stopped herself from rambling on about her latest project. Why would Ryan Sullivan care? Besides, she reminded her racing heart with brutal honesty, he probably had some pretty cheerleaders waiting on him. And they wouldn’t need an out-of-control car to get him to lie down on top of them.

Because no matter how tempting it was to believe that she had suddenly been cast in a happy-ever-after fairytale romance, the truth was that getting that close to Ryan had been nothing more than a fluke of fate.

And Vicki remained the star of her artsy, and often lonely, move-to-a-new-town-every-year-with-her-military-family teenage life.

Only, for some strange reason she couldn’t understand, Ryan wasn’t running in the opposite direction yet. Probably because he felt like he owed her after she’d saved his life. After all, hadn’t he just told her that he would be there for her one day when she really needed him?

“What are you getting supplies for?” He asked the question as though he were truly interested, not just acting like it because he felt he should.

“I’m making a—” Wait, she couldn’t tell him what she was making. Because she was sculpting him. “I work with clay. Lately, I’ve been trying to capture specific facial expressions.”

“Which ones?”

Never in a million years did she think she’d ever speak to him, let alone have this long a conversation. But, what shocked her most of all was just how comfortable she felt with him. Even with all of her teenage hormones on high alert, Ryan was, simply, the easiest person she’d ever been around.

And she wanted more time with him than just five stolen minutes on the high school lawn.

Her nerves were starting to back off a bit by the time she told him, “I started with all the usual expressions every artist knows best.” She played it up for him. “Tears. Pain. Suffering. Existential nothingness.”

His laughter made her feel like she could float all the way to the art store and back.

“Sounds fun.”

“Oh yeah,” she joked back, “it’s a riot. Which is why I’m trying something different now.” She took a breath before admitting, “I’m working on laughter.”

“Laughter, huh?” He grinned at her. “I like it. How’s it going?”

Being so close to the full wattage of his smile made her breath catch in her throat. In an effort to cover her all-too-obvious reaction to him, she scrunched up her face. “Put it this way, I think I’ve started to resemble all those other expressions.”

“Even the existential nothingness one?”

As if she were watching the two of them from a distance, Vicki knew she’d always look back to that moment as the one that mattered most. The one where she fell head over heels in love with Ryan Sullivan. 

And not because of his beautiful outside.

But because he’d listened.

And, even better, because he’d appreciated.

“Especially that one,” she replied.

He picked up her bag from the grass. “Sounds awesome. Mind if I tag along?”

Okay, so maybe the two of them didn’t add up on paper, but Vicki couldn’t deny that they had clicked.

“Sure,” she said, “if you don’t have anywhere else you have to be.”

He slung his equipment bag over his other shoulder and walked beside her. “Nothing more important than hanging out with a new friend.”

This time, she was the one grinning at him. In the two weeks since she’d moved to Palo Alto with her family, she hadn’t done a very good job of making friends at the high school. As an Army brat who moved more years than not, she’d stopped making the effort a long time ago when she realized how hard it was to not only break into fully formed cliques, but also to maintain long-distance friendships once she inevitably left town.

Ryan made everything seem so easy, though, as if the only thing that wouldn’t make sense was their not hanging out.

By the end of their trip to the art store and back, she knew all about his seven siblings, he knew she had two annoying little brothers, he’d told her what he liked about baseball, she’d told him what she loved about sculpting, and she’d been invited to dinner at the Sullivan house.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

The best one she’d ever had.

* * *

Present day, San Francisco

Ryan Sullivan threw his car keys to the valet as he shot past him. The young man’s eyes widened as he realized that he was not only about to drive a Ferrari into the underground parking lot, but that it belonged to one of his sports idols.

“Mr. Sullivan, sir, don’t you need your valet tag?”

Ryan took his responsibilities to the fans seriously and made it a point never to let them down. But tonight the only thing that mattered was Vicki. Even though a half-dozen missed connections over the years had kept them from meeting up again in person after high school, they’d kept in touch through email and phone calls.

Vicki was his friend.

And he wouldn’t let anyone hurt one of his friends.

Ryan pushed through the dark glass doors to the exclusive hotel foyer and made himself stop long enough to do a quick scan of the glittering room. The Pacific Union Club wasn’t his kind of place—it was pretentious as all hell—and he hadn’t thought it would be Vicki’s usual stomping grounds, either.

So why was she here? And why hadn’t she told him she was finally coming back to Northern California after so many years in Europe?

He’d been hanging at his brother Chase’s new baby celebration when her texts had come in.

I need your help. Come quick.

Ryan had cursed every one of the thirty-five miles into the city from his mother’s house on the Peninsula. He’d texted Vicki again and again to get more information, and to make sure that she was okay, but she hadn’t replied.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so worried about anyone...or so ready to do battle. Vicki wasn’t the kind of woman who cried wolf. She wouldn’t have sent him those texts just to try to get his attention. She was the only woman he’d ever known apart from his sisters and mother who had ever been completely real with him, and who didn’t want anything from him besides his friendship.

His large hands were tight fists as he surveyed the cocktail lounge, his jaw clenched tight.

Damn it, where was she?

If anyone had touched Vicki the wrong way, or hurt her even the slightest bit, Ryan would make them pay.

He was famous for being not only the winningest pitcher in the National Baseball League, but also one of the most laid-back. Very few people had a clue about Ryan’s hidden edges, but it wouldn’t take much more to set him off tonight.

He grabbed the first person in uniform, his grip hard enough on the young man’s upper arm that he winced. “Is there a private meeting room?”

The young man stuttered, “Y-yes, sir.”

“Where is it?”

His hand shook as he pointed. “On the back side of the bar, but it’s already reserved toni—”

Ryan hightailed it through the lounge and it shouldn’t have been that hard to get through the crowd, but it seemed that every single person in the room either got up to buy another drink or was trying to get his attention.

When he found a subtly hidden door just to the side of the bar, he nearly knocked it off its hinges in his hurry to open it.

Ryan saw the flash of Vicki’s long blond hair first, her killer curves second.

Thank God, she was here, and in one piece.

But his relief was short-lived when he realized he’d interrupted her and her cocktail companion just as the man’s hand was sliding onto her thigh.

Vicki jumped off her seat as Ryan strode into the room. The terror that had been on her face when the other man touched her leg slowly morphed into relief at his arrival.

Her companion, on the other hand, was clearly surprised to see Ryan...and he wasn’t happy about it, either. The man was probably in his fifties and was obviously loaded. Or at least wanted people to think he was, holding meetings in a place like this, wearing a handmade suit.

Quickly conjuring up an expression of surprise, Vicki said, “What are you doing here so early, honey?”

...Excerpt from LET ME BE THE ONE by Bella Andre ©2012.

The Sullivans are on tour with Novel Publicity. Follow along for your chance to win amazing prizes. We've got special romantic swag baskets for each book, an iPad Mini, Kindle Fire, Nook Color, and Kobo eReader, and Amazon and iTunes gift cards. WOW! You'll also get introduced to this amazing contemporary romance series via excerpts as well as interviews with and guest posts from New York Times and USA Today best-selling author, Bella Andre. You'll definitely want to learn more about the family that has captured the world's heart. All the info you need to join the fun and enter to win amazing prizes is RIGHT HERE. Remember, winning is as easy as clicking a button or leaving a blog comment--easy to enter; easy to win! To Win the Prizes:

1. Purchase any of the Sullivan ebooks by Bella Andre for just $4.99 (optional)
2. Enter the Rafflecopter contest on Novel Publicity (go here)
3. Visit today’s featured social media event (that's where the HUGE prizes are)

About The Sullivans: In this sexy, emotional and funny contemporary romance series, each member of the Sullivan family will eventually find true love...usually where he or she least expects it. Get the eBooks via Amazon US, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, the iBookStore, or the Kobo Store. Audiobooks are also available for the first five in the series (with more coming soon). Plus, keep an eye out for paperback editions coming from Harlequin Romance starting Summer 2013.

About the Author: New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Bella Andre has always been a writer. Songs came first, and then non-fiction books, but as soon as she started writing her first romance novel, she knew she'd found her perfect career. Known for "sensual, empowered stories enveloped in heady romance" (Publishers Weekly) about sizzling alpha heroes and the strong women they'll love forever, nearly all of her novels have appeared on Top 10 lists at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple and Kobo. Her books have been Cosmopolitan Magazine "Red Hot Reads" twice and have been translated into nine languages. Winner of the Award of Excellence, The Washington Post has called her "One of the top digital writers in America" and she has been featured by NPR, USA Today, Forbes, and The Wall Street Journal. She has given the keynote speech at Book Expo America on her self-publishing success and has sold more than one million books. If not behind her computer, you can find her reading her favorite authors, hiking, swimming or laughing. Married with two children, Bella splits her time between the Northern California wine country and a 100 year old log cabin in the Adirondacks.

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