I can’t believe there’s only two weeks to go until MARKED releases! In some ways this feels like my very first book, because it’s a new genre and new series. I’m just as excited for readers to get their hands on MARKED as I was when STOLEN FURY launched.
I got a great review today from Strictly Reviews. I won’t post the entire review (you can click the link to read the whole thing), but here are a few squee-worthy lines:
“Marked by Elisabeth Naughton is one damn fine book for readers to add to their collection.“
and this one…
“This is one of the rare books that you can’t help but devour in one sitting.“
In addition to the great review, yesterday I received something very cool in the mail. Take a look:
Yes, that’s me with no make up and, as my 5 yr old says, “Hair that’s curled under, not out like it should be.” But it’s a working day, so that’s my excuse.
Oh, and before I forget…I have to show you this AWESOME water bottle my CP, Joan Swan, made for my release contest. (She’s an author you need to be on the lookout for!) I seriously have to get me one of these!!!
So since MARKED is releasing in TWO WEEKS! I thought it would be fun for the next few days until my contest starts on Saturday, to give you a few snippets of the book. I hope you enjoy!
“What do I smell?”
The spoon in Casey’s hand clattered to the stovetop, bounced off the surface and hit the tile floor at her feet.
Soup splashed onto her sweater and jeans, and she hissed in a breath.
“Skata,” Theron said, moving toward her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Casey reached for the hand towel hooked over the oven- door handle. She swiped at the mess on her stomach and down her thighs.
Smooth, Case. Real smooth.
“I did not mean to startle you.”
Her hand paused at the sound of that sexy accent, then she gave herself a mental shake and continued wiping her clothes. The man moved like a silent shadow, even injured as he was. She was sure she’d only heard the shower turn off moments ago.
“You didn’t,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I was thinking about something else.”
He bent at her feet to retrieve the spoon. She looked down and followed him with her eyes as he pushed to stand, then wished she hadn’t.
He towered over her. Nearly six and a half feet and at least two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle. His hair was damp from his shower, brushed back from his face and just long enough to curl at his collar in a way that begged her to run her fingers through the damp mass. The long- sleeved black T-shirt she’d bought for him was snug against his muscled chest and arms, the faded Levi’s riding low on his lean hips. Beneath the cuffs of his jeans, his bare feet peeked out, looking ridiculously masculine against her pale pink tile floor.
She swallowed a groan as she flashed on what that body looked like stark naked. The long roped muscles, chiseled angles, hollows and planes that she could now envision way too well. The scars across his chest lived in her mind now, along with that arrow of dark hair that pulled her attention down until just the memory made her blush.
Injured, she’d found him wildly attractive, but now, semihealed and well rested, he was more than that. He was danger on a stick, dangled out in front of her like candy for a child. Every woman’s sex fantasy come true. And for some insane reason he was standing in her kitchen, watching her with wary eyes.