This Valentine’s Day get Swept Away. I have to admit I love reading books where I knew there will be a happy ending. And so far my writing has led to the happy ending of getting published. My debut novel, To Hiss or to Kiss, releases March 1. I’ll be debuting the cover on Feb. 18 on Facebook. Come join my event.

Here’s a snippet:

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His whisper tickles my ear, his breath warm against my neck.

The voice sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. I shiver.

“But you aren’t safe here. There are cameras around the house.”

My mind whirls, trying to figure out what to do. My body is still frozen with panic.

His hold on me tightens. “I am going to back us out of here, and then we can talk.” He starts to pull me farther into the shadows behind the barn, and something clicks in my brain. I go limp to make it harder for him to carry me. The man doesn’t even lose a beat taking on more weight. He chuckles softly.

That just makes me mad and I start thrashing my newly unencumbered legs, trying my best to get his shin or twist my foot up higher to his groin, but he quickly grabs my legs with one arm, negating my struggle. He’s now got me almost sideways across his body to keep one hand over my mouth and the other clamped around my thighs like a vise, but I keep writhing—or at least trying to writhe. I kick back from my knees, but my heels just connect with air. Too bad I’m not insanely flexible. To my still panicking mind, it just seems silly to stop at this point, though.

“I’m trying to help you. If you insist on this thrashing I will be forced to immobilize you further so the noise doesn’t alert anyone.”

I wonder how he would do that and imagine this man’s bulk holding me down on the ground. It’s not a wholly unwelcome thought, which is all kinds of fucked up. My hormones seriously need a good talking to. I redouble my writhing, part of me wanting to know if and how he’ll carry out his threat. The rational part of me rolls her eyes.

I wiggle my upper leg free enough that I get a pretty good whap against the outside of his hip, and I hear a soft whumpf of pain from him.

“That’s it.” He drops me to the ground on my back and then repositions himself over me, recovering my mouth with one hand while trapping my legs with his before I can even think about screaming.

When I recover from the shock, I’m in for a new one. My eyes widen as I make contact with emerald green eyes that are startlingly familiar.

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