by Angela Smith | Feb 14, 2018 | Books
Valentine’s Day is one of those days that many dread, many love, and many ignore. Me? I’ve been married so long that we try to celebrate each other throughout the year, which is very important, so we don’t generally make a large fuss on Valentine’s Day. But I do love the red, and the hearts and flowers and chocolate! And any excuse for wine and/or champagne!
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What I love most is the fact Burn on the Western Slope has a Valentine’s Day scene. It was such a fun scene to write, and is still a fun scene for me to read again and again.
Even better, Burn on the Western Slope is available in a 3 book set for 99 cents! Whether you prefer Kindle, Nook, Kobo, or many others, you can find this set on just about any platform. If you prefer print, Burn on the Western Slope is available (not as a set) in print.
Buy links on my page here.
And now for an excerpt! In this scene, we see our hero, Garret, up on stage singing karaoke, and our heroine, Rayma, thinking of … well, you’ll see. We also meet Chayton, the bartender and Garret’s brother, and Naomi, Reagan’s cousin. Those two end up together in the next novel, Fatal Snag.
Side note: I absolutely LOVED writing Reagan and Naomi! Some of my favorite characters, if a writer could choose.
Enough babbling! Here’s the excerpt:
After downing the Valentine drink, she asked for another, urging the dizziness to hit. The more the merrier tonight. She yearned to get wild with this guy like she’d never been wild before. To hell with the damn consequences. She was tired of worrying about consequences and right now, didn’t see why two bright, responsible people should cause many. Who cared if he was a neighbor? Who cared if she might accidentally run into him after they had sex?
Who cared if he professed only to be friends? Friends slept together all the time.
“How is it?” Chayton asked.
Warm and ready. She stifled a giggle as she turned and handed him the empty cup.
“Wonderful. I need another.”
“That good, huh?”
“I’ll run twice the distance tomorrow on the treadmill,” she said, though she hadn’t gotten on a treadmill once since she’d arrived in Montana. “Hit me with another one.”
“You go girl.” Naomi struck her shoulder against Reagan’s.
“I’m in lust,” Reagan said, staring at Garret. He sang another song, a low, guttural, sad song that wrenched her heart in two.
Damn, he was sexy, and his voice was sexy, and his hair, his eyes, his hands…
A man sat beside her. A man who couldn’t hold a candle to the one she currently lusted after, and she declined a dance. She drank another cocktail and by that time, the room spun.
It felt good. No, it felt great.
After a third song, this one quick and screeching, the crowd roared and asked for more. “It’s someone else’s turn,” Garret said as he dismissed the crowd with a wave.
Chayton already had a Guinness ready for Garret when he arrived.
“That was great,” Naomi told him.
“Thanks.”
“You didn’t tell me you were a singer,” Reagan said, the twitter in her voice hovering between desperation and completion, like she knew she was about to have the most magnificent sex of her life.
“I’m not technically. I like to sing and do it for fun but I’m not a singer.”
“Better than a lot of singers I know.” She swept a finger across his silken cheek, something she’d been dying to do since she first met him. “You could quit your day job, whatever that might be.”
“It’s your turn.” That same guttural voice in which he sang kept her on the brink of losing her composure, or her sanity, or her clothes.
“What?” She plunked a hand over her chest, steadying her pounding heart by planting her heel, which had been propped on the barstool, on the floor. “Oh no, oh no, not me.” If he did have an urge to sleep with her, that would change as soon as he heard her sing.
“Oh come on,” Naomi said. “I’ll do it with you. We’ll sing ‘It’s Raining Men’ or something like that.”
“You want me to make a total fool of myself, don’t you?”
“Yes. Come on.” Naomi pulled her up, and she gave Garret one last lingering look before following her cousin to the stage. Her legs wobbled as she walked up one step, two steps, to the stage.
Her heart pounded in her throat but Naomi, the perfect being she was, broke the tension.
“We’ve never done this before,” Naomi said, shaking her hips, looking cute, and gaining applause. “So don’t be too hard on us.”
They had a blast, and Reagan couldn’t hear how bad she sucked over the loud speakers. Other women joined in the fray, and before long the entire crowd sang.
But she couldn’t take her eyes off Garret, who stood by the bar and watched.
“Okay, okay,” she told Naomi when their second song ended. “I gotta go. I’m gonna see if that hunky man wants to go home with me tonight.”
“What about me?” Naomi asked.
“You’re not invited.”
“But where am I supposed to sleep?”
Reagan’s giggle sounded a tad tipsy, a tad silly, and a whole lot horny. “With Chayton.”
Reagan moseyed down the stage, attempting to appear sexy even after all the drinks she’d consumed. She couldn’t remember anymore. She didn’t care. The drinks provided the courage she normally wouldn’t possess, and she needed the courage to kiss Garret again.
“Water, please,” she said to Chayton.
“You’re not going to get up there and sing?” Naomi asked Chayton.
“Are you kidding? I can’t sing to save my life.”
“You and Garret are brothers. You didn’t inherit the singing gene?”
“Half-brothers. He took after his mother. I took after mine.” His eyes grew shuttered, his voice harsh and remote, as if to say no more questions. He turned away to tend bar. Reagan met Naomi’s gaze and shrugged.
“That’s obviously out of the conversation piece,” Naomi said.
Reagan hadn’t seen Garret since she left the stage and she looked around, eager to find him. A man and woman dressed in red hearts performed a skit. Cupid came along and had the crowd roaring with laughter.
Reagan couldn’t pay attention. Where was Garret?
“How’s everything over here?” Chayton asked as he returned. “More water?”
“Where’s Garret?” Reagan flicked a piece of make-believe lint from her sweater. She didn’t want to appear too interested, but the words gushed out more suddenly than she intended.
“He had to leave,” Chayton said. “He does that sometimes.”
by Angela Smith | Feb 14, 2016 | Books
Happy Valentine’s Day! Whether you celebrate or not, it’s a new day, and I hope it’s a day full of love.
Liberation is being released today, and I have a special excerpt never seen anywhere else. Also, this week, the first in this novella series is free, so be sure to grab that if you haven’t already. It won’t cost you a thing.
Here’s an excerpt of Liberation:
Marianne settled on a chair across from Ben, watching him strum a guitar, his head lowered, eyes closed, lost in the music. Firelight flickered across his downturned face, lips pursed, unmoving. The men sat around the fire, some talking, some listening. Leath wrapped his arms around his wife, and whisked her off to a makeshift dance floor under the stars.
The chords caught in her throat. Her breathing stilled as flames licked across her skin. He lifted his face, met her eyes, and started singing.
She was a goner. Nothing in her life mattered at this moment except this man, this experience. She could stay this way forever, lost in his gaze, under the stars, the flames snapping between them a sign of the undercurrents between them.
She wouldn’t worry about her business. She’d quit it for night after night like this. Ben’s baritone voice quieted her soul, made her realize the battle was worth fighting.
He blinked. Glanced down to rasp more tunes. The soldiers joined in a chorus of love and war and good times to be had. She breathed again, but her throat was heavy, longing for more, longing for forever.
Brooklyn and Leath danced nearby, their shadows like a mystical light of guidance. Love did exist. Despite hardships, catastrophes, heartache and war, love could overcome. If one was willing to fight.
She was willing to fight.
The fire weakened, but the blaze in her heart grew stronger. Mark rose and threw on another log. Ben ended the song and asked if someone else wanted to play.
“Sing another,” Brad urged, and so Ben sang another.
When the song ended, and Ben asked again if someone else wanted to sing, Brooklyn asked for the guitar. “You going to help me again, Leath?” she asked.
All of her worries, regrets, and expectations fled when Leath sat near his wife and wrapped her in his arms, her back facing his chest. She strummed the guitar as Leath fingered chords.
Peace exploded around her. To see her best friend with her husband, the brother she’d held dear, and the other soldiers who seemed so content sitting around the fire and connecting with the music. She couldn’t fathom what they faced overseas, but the stories she’d heard hadn’t been good. The stories of them coming home were even worse.
Brooklyn and Leath’s voices melded together in a song that made Marianne believe in forever love. Her dad had that kind of love with her mom, her grandparents before them. The war might destroy relationships, lives, and hope, but it could never destroy the type of love that brought families back together.
Her eyes burned. The wood snapped, making Ben jump. He met her gaze and wiggled his brows, then stood and approached. “Would you like to dance?”
“Love to,” she breathed.
Her body swayed with his, the chorus of soldiers joining in the song like a sweet, eternal mating call.
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by Angela Smith | Feb 13, 2016 | Books
In honor of Valentine’s Day, Goodreads had a list of fictional weddings that make them swoon, and it made me think of Garret and Reagan’s wedding!
We first meet Garret and Rayma in Burn on the Western Slope, but in the second (standalone) novel, Chayton and Naomi now get their chance (if they can ever stop arguing), and we celebrate Garret and Reagan’s wedding. I had such a fun time with this scene. Here’s an excerpt from Fatal Snag, where Naomi is walking down the aisle as her cousin’s bridesmaid, and has a hard time keeping her feet from going Chayton’s direction.
Excerpt:
The music began and the wedding planner’s nod indicated time for Naomi to step through the door. She gripped her flowers, letting the infusion of tulips, freesia, and dahlias steady her.
She paused at the entrance as the flash from the photographer’s camera caught what she hoped was a stunning smile, then stepped down the aisle, her dress gliding behind her. Glancing at Garret, she smiled. Her eyes trailed to Chayton. Her heart dropped. She nearly lost her footing and hoped no one noticed her wavering walk. Breathing deeply, she tried not to focus on him or think about how much she wished this was her wedding and she walked down the aisle toward him, her groom.
God, what was she thinking? How could she be so stupid? Her, marry Chayton?
Afraid she would veer his direction, she focused her attention opposite him, where she would stand.
She’d never seen a more gorgeous male. The black tux Chayton wore accentuated everything sexy about him, including his broad shoulders and lean, muscular frame. His thick hair, though combed immaculately, possessed that wild, disheveled look she loved.
She stepped past Garret and stood on the other side of him, facing the crowd of onlookers who waited for Reagan to emerge.
Underneath her skin, she buzzed with an underlying energy of excitement, nervousness, and longing. Reagan didn’t have to hide the fact she loved Garret with all her heart, and Garret returned her love tenfold. It was obvious every time he looked at her. Chayton’s mere presence made Naomi feel out of place. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms. She wanted to scream out her feelings for him in public so everyone would know. And she longed for him to share those feelings.
No, no, no. She couldn’t let it happen. Her feelings were just desire. Lust made her heart tremble so. Not love. No, no.
Yes, yes. Love wrapped itself tightly around her, stifling her breath, quickening her pulse. She glanced at Chayton, but he watched the door, his jaw clenched. The music introducing Naomi stopped. The wedding march started. Everyone stood in awe and respect when Reagan stepped through the door. Naomi forced herself to focus on Reagan, not Chayton.
Guests emitted ahs of delight. Although Naomi had been with her moments ago, she was still taken away by her cousin’s joy and beauty. Her wedding gown was made of silky satin, sequins beading the neckline, sheering into the straps and behind the back to cut into a V style. The long, flowing train fell to the floor in delicate softness, moving gracefully behind the bride as every sequin sparkled.
A tear escaped as Naomi watched Reagan glide down the aisle with her father. Her throat burned, her chest pounded and more tears bubbled deep in her chest, threatening to erupt in blubbers of weeping.
Months ago, when Reagan and her father had been kidnapped by a madman working for a jewel fencing mafia, Naomi was in California stressing over whether or not her cousin would live. Chayton had been involved in her rescue. This wedding was the happiest day of her life. The happiest of Naomi’s for it was a reminder of the importance of small things. She hoped to have a chance to talk to Chayton later, if he would listen.
Naomi faced the preacher as he asked who would give Reagan away. As her father gave his daughter to Garret, Naomi chanced a look at Chayton. Her heart flipped when he caught her gaze and gave her a small smile. He hadn’t smiled at her all day. She felt he’d given her a piece of him, and she treasured the precious gift.
Later, she hoped they would dance. Talk. Make love. Commemorate a new beginning.
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by Angela Smith | Feb 12, 2016 | Books, Introspective
I love Valentine’s Day! The red, the hearts, the love quotes! Funny thing is, I don’t celebrate. Maybe because it’s way too close to my birthday, among several other family member’s birthdays, or because my husband and I don’t see the need to anymore since we’ve been together so long. I think it’s a great time for new lovers, those who need that extra push, and even children! I always loved it as a child, and I think it’s a great time to show appreciation and respect to those we love (it doesn’t always have to be romance)!
As a child, I always loved the old shoe boxes we decorated, and the care we took in slipping each Valentine card into those boxes. My coworkers and I were just talking about that today, and how memorable and fun it was, and she mentioned her son’s class doesn’t do that. I’m not sure if school stopped doing that or what, but I think it’s sad.
This Valentine’s Weekend, I have big plans. I’m helping host a baby shower for a friend on Saturday, and my husband and I are actually going out on Valentine’s Day, but that’s only to see Deadpool! Can’t wait to see it! Then, of course, there’s the new episode of The Walking Dead! And let’s not forget the big news: Liberation’s release day!
To celebrate here, I wanted to share a snippet of Valentine’s Day from Burn on the Western Slope.
In this scene, we see our hero, Garret, up on stage singing karaoke, and our heroine, Rayma, thinking of…well, read the excerpt and you’ll see. We also meet Chayton, the bartender and Garret’s brother, and Naomi, Reagan’s cousin. Those two end up together in the next novel, Fatal Snag. Join me tomorrow for an excerpt from their story, and on Sunday for a special excerpt from Liberation!
In this particular scene, Chayton, who owns a bar, is hosting a Valentine’s party. If you like what you see, you can always pick up a copy of Burn on the Western Slope here.
Without further ado…
Excerpt:
That weekend, Reagan and Naomi went to Air Dog, sporting grins and laughter. She tried to convince herself she wouldn’t care if Garret didn’t make it to the Valentine’s Party at Air Dog. It’d be best if he didn’t. Something about the red hearts gave Reagan a crazy longing to truly experience love and devotion. To have red roses and dark chocolate delivered to her door. Silly, silly thinking.
Red lights glimmered across the ceiling, emitting low, sexy illumination. A beam of lights corralled atop the dance floor, emanating a stream of colors. Tables flaunted small red candles and white bears.
The décor wasn’t set for sweet. It was set for sexy.
Chayton stood behind the bar with a bright red jersey shirt advertising the number sixty-nine. Only he could look good wearing a shirt like that. With extra help, he tended a flurry of customers. The other bartender was the woman she knew as Simone. The lights flickered off blonde and cherry streaks to make it appear outrageous in an appealing way.
Just the kind of woman Chayton would like. Reagan perceived Naomi’s sigh more than she heard it.
“Ladies, ladies, welcome.” Chayton retrieved two glasses hanging above the counter. “What can I get you? You want to try my Valentine Rose?”
“What’s that?” Naomi asked.
“My specialty. You have to try at least one.”
“Hit me,” Naomi said, and glared when Chayton winked. And here Reagan thought they were getting along.
“And you, Reagan?”
“I’ll try it,” she said, trying not to be too conspicuous as she searched for Garret. Even if it was best he didn’t come, she longed to see him. It wouldn’t be hard to blend in here. Masses of people swarmed the bar and the dance floor brimmed with patrons.
Reagan watched Chayton concoct the beverages. Naomi focused her attention away from the bar.
“I thought you and Chayton were friends,” Reagan said.
Naomi nodded. “We are.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Chayton returned, furnishing their requested beverages.
Reagan popped a couple bucks in the tip jar. “What’s going on tonight?” she asked.
“Entertainment night. Tourists and locals play music, tell jokes, karaoke, whatever they want to do onstage as long as it’s legal. Gets pretty crazy but it’s loads of fun.”
“Where’s Garret?” Naomi asked, as if she knew Reagan was dying to ask but wouldn’t.
He nodded behind them before turning to another customer.
Reagan swiveled her chair to look. Garret stood on stage, a guitar strapped around his neck. The loud music overhead stilled and Garret sat on a chair in the middle of the stage. The lights dimmed.
Reagan swallowed. The pulse in her throat ached. A bright flash of panic seared her eyes. She blinked.
His hair, mussed to perfection, coasted across his forehead and curled at his neck. She resisted the urge to jump him, right there on stage. Her thoughts grew naughtier as she imagined the stage lights illuminating their bodies as they made love.
Reagan gripped Naomi’s hand. “Ohmigod. He sings.”
“That’s yet to be determined,” Naomi said.
“He’s a Greek God.”
“Yes, he is.”
“And I haven’t slept with him yet.”
Naomi coughed as her drink sputtered to her nose. Reagan slapped her back with the palm of her hand. Okay, not the best move if her friend had been choking, but whatever.
“Yet?” Naomi asked.
“I should live a little dangerously, right? I can’t help that the first guy I see is fine, intelligent, and sings. Remember, I’m being wild? Leaving my safe little past behind?”
“Okay, so you’re ready to make the first move?”
“Give me a few more of these,” Reagan said as she held up her drink, “and I will.”
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