Sunday, March 25, 2012

Excerpt for Demon Protector

Action and adventure, love and romance all in one story.

Here's an excerpt from my current release Demon Protector from Bradley

“Please don’t hurt me. If you do, I’ll…I’ll stab you!”
Scarlet told her assailant,as she frantically patted
the pockets of her pants in search of something sharp.

“Hurt you?” He chuckled."Mon chaton fĂ©roce, I have just saved you.
Why would I hurt you?”

“Well, because you are in my bubble of mist. And ... And...”
She stared at him in sudden recognition. “You're Mr. Coffee!"

"Is that what you call me?” He sounded amused.
“Please take down your shield so that we can get out of here.
More may be coming!”

“More? More what? Who are you? What do you want?
What makes you think I am doing this?” she demanded, holding out her hands.

“Because you are doing it. I’ll explain when we are safe.
Now relax and let the shield down.”

Relax? She realized that that was when the mist had
disappeared – when she relaxed.
Holy hell! But how could she relax?
A drop-dead gorgeous man was standing in a ball of blue haze
with her. The black T-shirt that had been so perfectly sculpted to his body at the coffee shop was ripped, and
his jeans... Well, she’d like to rip them, as well, and look at those
thigh muscles. How had she not noticed the size of his biceps before
now? Or the size of his chest? Or the size of his—

"Hey! Hello?" Mr. Coffee waved his hand in front of her face.

She could feel the heat radiating from his body.
They were so close that she could have just leaned
forward and licked him. His face was shadowed
with a little stubble, and his dark features looked sexy.
His green eyes were even more beautiful up close, and
his dark hair made her want to reach out and feel his
buzzed hair. She struggled to remember why she had been so
afraid to say hello to him.

Lord have mercy, she was a sucker for an accent, too, and
she’d hit the jackpot with this one.
French, the language of love. She nearly came in her pants when
he started speaking to her. Maybe that was why
he drank French Vanilla.

She’d have to find out what he had called her.
It better not turn out to have been something nasty! He had
scratches on his face, probably from the fight he’d just had with
the shoe-loving freaks. How dare they mess up
the beautiful man’s face? His body looked like that of a sex god.
Six months wasted.

Those broad shoulders were meant to be clung to as
he fucked whoever up against the wall... What the hell
was she thinking? He was still a stranger.
No fucking the man who is trying to take you.
God, I miss sex... She tried to rein in her renegade thoughts.
Jesus Christ, get focused, woman!

To read  more check out Bradley Publishing