Greetings, lovelies, and welcome to another tantalising instalment of Teaser Tuesday, the blog series where I share snippets from upcoming and past releases, and works-in-progress, and also let author buddies play.
Can you believe it’s only THIRTEEN sleeps until Wayward Heart releases?
I’m still impatiently waiting on my author copies to arrive so I can gaze dopily at them, give the cover a caress or twenty, and sigh heavily at the pure romance of it while imagining myself in that clinch. I was asked on Twitter the other day what Digby looked like in my head and I had to reply that I couldn’t remember because when I think of Digby now all I picture is that cover model. Total babe. I may have to kiss him. A lot.
Which is not weird. Nope. Not at all. Not really.
Okay, maybe a little bit but authors are meant to be a bit eccentric, aren’t they?
Anyway, moving on…
Wayward Heart releases December 12th. Pre-order the ebook today from Amazon, Kobo, iBooks and Google Play, or the paperback from Booktopia, Angus and Robertson Bookworld, or your favourite retailer. Go on, it’ll make you feel good and you’ll get to stroke the Sexy Snog Man. You’ll even be able to kiss him in the privacy of your own home if you want. Surely worth it for that opportunity alone?
Now for a taste of Wayward Heart and its hero Digby Wallace-Jones, a man who outwardly has everything but who inside is broken with grief over the death of his fiancé Felicity. The poor darling. I may have to give him an extra kiss to help him feel better.
Digby flicked off the car radio. The last thing he wanted tonight was an announcer’s cheer. What he did want Digby had no idea, but it wasn’t that upbeat inflection or yet another bloody love song. He hated love. He hated everything.
Levenham’s fringes gave way to highway. The speed limit increased to 110 kilometres an hour. He eased his foot down. The lights of his Mercedes scorched the darkness with blazing tunnels of white. He liked the car’s power, the panther speed of its response. Perhaps if he’d bought a Merc instead of that useless Jeep he’d have made it to Rocking Horse Hill in time to prevent Felicity’s panicked flight to the quarry. Seconds had mattered that night. And he’d been late.
He sped westward, aware he’d have to turn south soon to avoid any glimpse of the district’s other ancient volcanic cone. There were so many of the things, scattered like acne across the plains of western Victoria and into this lower corner of South Australia. Since the accident Digby couldn’t stand the sight of them. Once harmless hills were now symbols of the earth’s treachery and triggers of pain. He knew his feelings were irrational. The hills weren’t alive. They possessed no conscience. They just were. Still he charged them with blame.
The night was clear and a three-quarter moon cast the rural terrain in an eerie, spectral glow. The kilometres ate away, gobbled by his leaden foot and the car’s supremacy over the land. To the left on a rise, a crop of silvery wind turbines stood in formation like alien creatures about to attack. Digby slowed as his turnoff appeared.
The road was narrow and isolated, but fully sealed and in reasonable condition. Familiar with the route and confident it was unlikely to be patrolled, Digby lowered every window then pressed his foot down dangerously hard. His grip tightened as the car surged. Fence lines and the occasional shed flew past. Wind blasted across him, buffeting the car’s interior. The land blurred as he lost himself in the sensation of speed and noise and his imaginary race towards her.
It wasn’t enough. It was never enough to drown the echoes in his head.
Find out more about Wayward Heart and how I came to write it in Of Beaches And Brothers, And Friends To Lovers, the story behind Wayward Heart. For another excerpt and more, check out the Wayward Heart book page.