I’m a summer person. Every year, right after the Christmas celebrations, I start looking forward to the end of winter and the start of spring. It’s much nicer to be outside when it’s warm and the first leaves begin to unfold. I enjoy working in my garden, clearing away the remains of winter, raking the dead leaves, and watching nature come alive again.
Then comes the best time. When it’s warmer, you can take longer rides through the woods. There are fewer insects, so they won't bother you or the horse. I enjoy the long daylight and warmth during summer. I don’t mind the heat either. You can relax in the sun, read a good book, or ride your bike along the river. It’s a great time!
I dread the end of August, when the nights grow cold and the days are no longer warm. My horse doesn't mind though — he’s got fur! LOL! I get the blues in September, knowing that summer is over and fall will bring gusty winds, rain, and fewer hours of sunshine. It’s time to harvest the last apples in my garden and prepare for winter. The outlook is never pretty: cold days and cold nights. I leave for work in the dark and return home after dark. It's a good time to stay home, write, or read a good book to distract myself from the nasty outside world.
Most of my books were written during the darker half of the year. Here, I present an excerpt from the final installment of my Bodyguard series featuring Jazmin and Ethan.
In this final adventure, Jazmin and Ethan face different fates, separated from each other. They must both solve the riddles that circumstances throw at them, and neither knows how the other is faring. While Ethan protects the Secretary of State, Jazmin must partner with a wounded CIA agent who escorts her from a bombing site to a safe house. There, she has to take care of him.
A Bodyguard in Bolivia
Excerpt
Marcus looked at her with pain in his eyes. He hadn’t changed his position on the rug in the bathroom and looked even paler than before.
She knelt beside him. “Hey, welcome back.”
“Did you run some knives through my body?”
“Yes, but only blunt ones. How do you feel?”
“Shitty. Like fucked and stepped on by some heavyweight vin-Diesel-type.” He swallowed. Briefly, a smile broke through as he looked at the sweatpants and T-shirt she had borrowed from his cupboard. “Nice wardrobe. It appears we’ve got the same outfitter.”
“Your blood ruined my Gucci two-piece. Can you get up?”
“It’s nice and warm here.” He begged with his eyes. “I always wanted to spend time on a rug. I’ve never done that before.”
In spite of her worries, Jazmin was touched. “I’ll help you up. It’s better for you to lie in a bed than on the floor, don’t you think? Come on,” she insisted when he didn’t move. “You made it this far. You’ll make the three steps to the bedroom, too.” She took away the blanket.
Marcus gasped when he tried to push off the ground one-handed. “Fuck! That’s not gonna work.”
“I said I’d help. God, you’re one stubborn mule.” Jazmin grabbed his upper arm. “Get on your knees, then slowly onto your feet. I’ll steady you.”
“That hurts, too.”
“You have a cut on your thigh. I stitched you up.”
“And took away my pants, too? That’s what I call thorough.”
“Shut up and move!”
Swearing under his breath, Marcus got to his feet, his head hanging, and panted like a runner. He leant heavily on her, but shuffled into the bedroom, biting his lips. “Home, sweet home.”
“Have you always been a sarcastic idiot?” Jazmin asked.
He sat on the bed and she arranged the pillows for him to lean against. When he strained to inch backward, she lifted his legs on the mattress, then glanced at his face and saw his grin.
“I’ve been an idiot until the day of my promotion to sarcastic idiot. But thanks for the praise.”
Jazmin lowered her chin, smiling in spite of the situation. She felt caught in an absurd scene from a Jim Jarmusch movie, where tragic and comedy walked side by side.
“It’s a good sign you aren’t slapping my idiotic face again.”
Jazmin shook her head. “I didn’t want you to collapse.”
“Not so soon. Anyway.” Marcus touched her hand gently, and she felt him shiver. “Of all the deep-in-shit things that happened today—I can’t say how happy I am you helped me out.”
“You saved my life.” Her voice was small, and the terror of the tragedy hit her with might and main. “My life, but…” She turned away and wept, her face hidden behind her hands and shoulders heaving.
“Jazmin…”
“I…I’ll get you the blanket.” She fled the room, only to stop in the corridor, blind with tears and shaken by fear. She knew nothing about the incidents at the conference building, nothing about the fate of the others, and nothing about the man in the bedroom. In all the tragedy of the day, he could be the one pulling the strings behind the bombing.
· * * *
It was an editor’s choice book in the month of its release
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You and I are exact opposites with weather, Ann. I loathe summer. I don't like to sweat or be warm or face endless sunshine (I'm in the Palm Springs' area so endless sunshine and heat are a given). I like 75-78 degrees.
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed your excerpt. Your guy on the cover is a total hottie. :)