Hey Guys!
So starting this month I am going to be doing Teaser Tuesdays and Throwback Thursdays. The teasers will be short, unedited passages from upcoming books. Some of the passages may not make the final cut, which will give y'all a glimpse at my earlier drafts :-) The throwbacks will be my favorite passages from already-released novels! For the throwbacks I am open to requests.....
This first teaser is from Fragile Facade, the third volume in the Blind Barriers Serial Series.
Book Name: Fragile Facade, Blind Barriers Volume #3
Release Date: March 21, 2014
Asher, an After Hours shopping bag slung over one shoulder, had been attempting to navigate his way through the narrow aisle between tables. Bull in a china shop was the phrase that came to mind. His tall, athletic frame was too big for such a small space, and the bag of books just added to the problem. It was that bag of books that been the culprit. From the way he was apologizing profusely to a dreamy-eyed blonde in what looked like last night’s party clothes who was rubbing the back of her head, I surmised that he’d bumped into her while trying to pass by. I wasn’t positive about the course of events, but it seemed as though she’d been startled and spilled her mimosa upon being knocked upside the head. Too make matters worse, she was wearing white satin shorts.
Instead of ranting and raving at him like any normal person would have, the girl was cooing about how it was, “no big deal” and “really, the shorts were last season anyway.” I rolled my eyes, any and all traces of sympathy gone when Asher’s latest admirer placed her hand on his waist – she was still sitting and he was standing – to drive home the point that, “accidents happen” and “if he’d like to make it up to her, dinner was always an option.”
I liked Asher a lot. He was funny, easy to talk to, and, let’s face it, undeniably hot. But apart from our initial meeting I’d given little thought to our relationship progressing any further than friendship. Now, though, as I watched the blonde bat her big doe eyes up at him, I had the urge to smack her a second time with Asher’s bag of books. The violent feelings surprised me, and made me a little ashamed.
Before I could obsess over whether my feelings for my neighbor were truly romantic or four years at a cliquey high school had just given me a strong dislike for handsy hussies, Asher sent me a pleading glance. His brown eyes seemed to be saying, “Raven, do something.” Luckily, before I had to make a decision whether to intervene, the hostess who’d seated me appeared with napkins and a fresh mimosa for the girl.
“I’ll take it from here,” she told Asher pleasantly. Then, she pointed to where I sat, chewing my thumbnail into a sharper weapon, and added, “Your girlfriend is just over there.”
Visibly relieved and without bothering to correct her girlfriend assumption, Asher thanked her, apologized one last time to the blonde, and hurried over to me, now cradling the bag of books to his chest. He plopped down in the chair opposite mine, red-faced, and pretending like he didn’t notice all the people staring at him.
“You okay there, killer?” I asked.
“I can’t believe I did that,” he muttered, making a great show of opening his menu. “Thank god she’d been drinking and was so understanding.”
“Uh huh,” I said, the teasing tone I’d used a moment before gone. In his embarrassment, Asher didn’t seem to notice. I was pretty sure that being drunk had nothing to do with why she’d been so nice about the situation.
Asher’s eyes sparkled when he glanced over the top of his menu. “I feel awful, but it was so hard not to laugh when I was apologizing.”
I smiled, somehow mollified that he too thought the whole thing was comical.
Kristoph returned with our drinks, and once again recited his lines about the specials. Asher and I both ordered lox platters with sweet potato homefries.
Asher had been the one to call and invite me to brunch this morning, but I’d been on verge of calling him to tell him about the latest developments with Lark. Talking through the clues had really helped, and I was hoping maybe he had some theories about the latest journal entry.
“That’s so weird,” agreed Asher after I’d finished explaining the two wildly different versions of Lark and Blake’s first encounter. “What do you think it means? Which one do you think is true?”
I held up my hands, palms up, and shrugged. “I was hoping you’d have some ideas. Given that she’s left behind this trail of breadcrumbs, I’m guessing that one of the entries is a clue. But I don’t know which one is true.” I shook my head, rethinking that last statement. “No, actually, that’s not true. The first one, where she says they met at the Met thingie, is the real story.”
Asher watched me thoughtfully as he took a long drink from the mocha I’d ordered at the coffee bar. The act was oddly intimate, like I really was his girlfriend and we shared drinks – and a whole lot more – all the time. I liked how comfortable he was around me, I decided.
He set the paper cup down in the middle of the small table. “What makes you say that?”
“Not sure,” I admitted. “It’s just, well, I don’t know how to describe it exactly. But when she writes about Blake, I can feel how much she loves him. How much they mean to each other. I didn’t feel that when I read the entry about meeting in the park.”
Asher had been watching me with rapt attention, his brown eyes thoughtful and inquisitive. His expression softened as I spoke, and his gaze lowered to my chest. At first I was taken aback, almost offended that while we were discussing an extremely important topic he was ogling my boobs. Then I looked down. I’d unconsciously placed my hands over my heart while talking about Lark’s love life.
I blushed and gave an embarrassed little laugh.
“She’s gotten under your skin, hasn’t she?” guessed Asher.
“Yeah, I suppose so. I mean, I’ve been reading her journal. It’s sort of hard not to feel like you know someone after you’ve read her private thoughts. Is that stupid?”
“No not at all.”
Asher reached across the table, and held out his hand to me. Tentatively I placed my palm in his and he squeezed gently. “I think it’s amazing that you are willing to help someone you have never met.”
My blush deepened and I had to avert my eyes so Asher wouldn’t know how nervous I was. I was by no means a hand holding virgin. But an older, wiser, hot guy? That was uncharted waters for me.
“Last night I got the impression that you though investigating her disappearance on my own was stupid,” I said, attempting to lighten the mood.
“Last night,” Asher began, but was interrupted when Kristoph materialized with our bagels and lox.
While we ate I filled him in on my middle of the night trip to Lark’s apartment, and the Tough Nut To Crack receipt in her desk drawer. I explained about the clothes, still with their tags, hanging in her closet, pointedly leaving out the fact that I’d borrowed and was currently wearing said clothes. I also left out the part about me falling asleep in Lark’s bed while listening to her iPod. I wasn’t embarrassed about it like I was about wearing her clothes, but it sounded a little too Single White Female.
“Don’t do that again,” Asher scolded me after I’d finished the part about going to the apartment in the middle of the night. His expression had turned hard and disapproving.
“What? Why?”
“Raven,” he began, setting down the second half of his bagel to let me know how important he found his next words. “From what you’ve told me, it sounds like Lark was involved in some pretty bad shit. People might be looking for her. And not –” he held up his hand when I opened my mouth to interrupt. I abruptly closed it, pursing my lips together in a great show of restraint. “And not just her parent, the authorities, and her friends. Like I told you the other night, I am willing to help you in any way I can. Let me help. Please,” his tone softened, “please, do not go running off in the middle of the night alone. Next time wait until the sun comes up. Hell, knock on my door and I’ll go with you.”
“Nothing bad happened to me,” I grumbled. Why was he treating me like a naughty child? Whether my earlier feelings of jealousy were indicative of romantic interest, it was clear he did not reciprocate.
“This time. And something bad did happen to her. I’m worried about you.”
I dropped the snarky attitude. “You’re right. And I’m sorry,” I said. “I promise, no more late night adventures alone.”
Unfortunately that was a promise I was unable to keep.