Let Devlin Take Your Heart For A Ride........
Let Devlin ride into your life and
heart.
Devlin roars into Gracie’s life on a
motorcycle in Devlin’s Grace from
Rebel Ink Press as the first chapter begins. She’s scared but she’s intrigued
too. Readers get their first taste of
Devlin in a brief prologue so they’re aware he served in Iraq. And it’s evident the attraction is mutual.
Devlin is far from the ideal date. He’s
more than a little rough around the edges and he struggles with many things
including PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). He rides on the wild side of life and by his
own admission he’s more than a little wicked.
After all, his nickname is ‘Devil’.
Since Gracie’s a good girl and a college student, you might expect her
to turn tail and run but she doesn’t.
Instead, she responds to him with an openness he hasn’t experienced
until now. Devlin is more than a little
prickly but Gracie, despite her natural shyness, can be pushy. And she dares to move closer when everyone
else tends to back away from the former Marine.
Devlin is a flawed hero. He’s human
but he’s not without redeeming qualities. And Gracie looks beyond the mask,
probes deeper behind the façade. The
more she knows him, the deeper her feelings become. Their love story possesses some poignant
moments and I think it’s because he’s not perfect but they work together in
spite of their issues.
When I decided to get serious about writing fiction I didn’t set out to
write romance, just tell stories. It wasn’t
until after I’d finished the third one I realized I was writing romance and it
worked for me. I strive to write about everyday people who are often in
extraordinary circumstances, real people with quirks and flaws and troubles.
Watch the book trailer:
From Devlin’s Grace, here’s an excerpt:
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“I don’t sleep much, anyway.”
His hesitant manner hinted maybe he
didn’t usually volunteer such personal information any more than she invited
men up to drink coffee or rode motorcycles.
Her hand trembled the tiniest bit as Gracie put her cup up to her
lips. Dev made her nervous, but he
evoked a growing sense of tenderness, too.
And his presence leached out a lot of her usual bashful reserve. Deep weariness shadowed his eyes and haunted
his face, she noted, so she asked, “Why don’t you?”
This time, his mug shook between his
hands. After a heavy moment of silence,
he sighed. “You can’t expect the devil to have sweet dreams, darlin’. Thanks for the coffee. I’ve got to go – morning comes early and I
have to work.”
When he held out the cup, Gracie
noticed the scarring on the underside of his left arm. Dead white skin mottled with angry red
patches and rough ridges indicated he’d suffered serious burns. She noticed similar scars on the side of his
neck and wondered how much of his body had been affected. Everything she’d learned screamed at her to
say nothing, to ignore what she saw, but Gracie followed instinct. After accepting the cup, she put it down on
the end table and touched the old burn.
Her fingers brushed against the coarse skin and marveled to find it
cool. She expected heat, but it would’ve
gone long ago. Dev started to jerk away
from her, but when she touched him, he stopped.
Like a bird poised for flight, he remained still as she stroked the
damaged area.
Before she could speak, he pulled
his arm back and with a defiant glint in his eyes, he removed his t-shirt. “If
you want to see the scars, you can see them all,” Dev said, voice harsh and
hoarse.
He revealed a torso dappled with terrible raised welts, both back and
belly. These scars were worse than the
others. Raised red ropes twined like
vines over his flesh, fused and almost melted.
The agony Dev endured was beyond anything she could imagine and Gracie’s
eyes brimmed with tears. They spilled
over, down her cheeks with silent hurt.
One glance at his face, set hard and as stoic as a statue intensified
her empathy. She laid her right hand on
his back, his scarred flesh beneath her touch and with her left she touched the
center of his chest.
Beneath her hand his
heartbeat thumped, rapid but steady. His
eyes locked with hers and in them Gracie glimpsed flickers of his personal
hell. Confusion showed up, too, along
with regret and maybe shame.
Whatever she did or said now would
be pivotal, she sensed. Based on her
actions he’d either leave and be gone from her forever, something she didn’t
want, or a new beginning would emerge, delicate and fragile. If she took time to think, she’d be lost so
Gracie mined deep into her woman’s soul.
When words came, she spoke them, her voice soft and yet as constant as
the evening stars. “Oh, Dev, it must’ve
hurt so much.”
“I don’t want your pity,” he said, a
snarl transforming his face into something wolfish, alien. “Don’t feel sorry for me, babe. I don’t need charity and I sure as hell don’t
need you to tell me some dumb ass feel good bunch of shit. So quit crying over me. Maybe it makes you feel better, but it makes
me mad.”
“It isn’t pity,” Gracie told him. “I
admire you. It takes a lot of courage to
overcome hurts like this. I hurt for
you, but I don’t feel sorry for you. I
hate you had to go through such pain, but I’m crying because I care.”
His hard face softened a little. “Why?”
In this raw moment, she could give
him nothing but honesty. “I don’t know, but I do.”
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/devlins-grace-lee-ann-sontheimer-murphy/1113805013?ean=2940015838688
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From
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author page: http://www.amazon.com/Lee-Ann-Sontheimer-Murphy/e/B004JPBM6I
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