Wenona Hulsey: IN THE SPOTLIGHT

I'd like to welcome fellow Alabamian, and paranormal romance author, Wenona Hulsey to my blog.  A lover of all things written, as a child, she could be found reading anything from Edger Allen Poe to the back of cereal boxes. Today you will find her with an ebook reader glued to her hands, except for when she's writing or spending time with her family.

Now, a little about Wenona in her own words...

How about I start out by telling you a bit about myself?  I like to know the person behind the pen, so why not? I’ve written for as long as I can remember, kept journals off and on from about nine years old, but really got into writing about a year ago. While searching for a creative outlet at a time in my life when I felt like I was living in a rut, this is what came easiest to me. I started working on my first novel, Burden of Blood, and it moved along remarkably fast.  I guess that could be contributed to my recent binge of reading all books labeled paranormal romance.  I had an idea of what I wanted and put it to paper.

As I neared the end of this book a fascinating novelette idea popped into my head and Blood Awakening was born.  It works as back story to two of the main characters in Burden of Blood, giving more detail and insight into who Nicole Keenan and her best friend Kat were before their world was turned on its head.  I would consider Blood Awakening more of a thriller-suspense with a dash of paranormal-comedy thrown in.  But Burden of Blood is full on Paranormal Romance with hot warriors and Gothic fairies in leading roles.

I'm currently working on book two in the Nicole Keenan series which is titled Blood of Fire.  I hope to have this one published in spring of 2012.

Okay, I'll stop yammering and give you all the juicy details about my books, and a bit on where you can find me if you want to chat.  Thanks so much for letting me join you today, Lisa!

Blurb

Nicole, a small town Alabama girl, and her best friend Kat take a weekend trip to Panama City, Florida. Kat looking to have a good time and Nicole hoping to escape the pain of losing her mother for a little while. Little did Nicole know, the escape would awaken a ancient power that is hidden in her blood. A power that evil wants for its own and will do whatever it takes to have it.

This short story is a look into best friends', Nicole and Kat, life before a centuries old grudge and Nicole's emerging powers rips them apart. A power that Nicole wants no part of as it brings her to her knees and forces her to walk away from her small town life and everyone she loves.

Blood Awakening ebook can be found on Amazon, B&N and Smashwords for 99 cents.

Blurb

No one wants to know everyone’s darkest secrets, especially not police officer, Nicole Keenan. All she wants is a blissfully normal life in the small, Alabama town where she was born. But as generations of power running through her veins start to wake up, an ancient grudge is ignited that threatens to push her over the edge. She can hardly believe in what she is, let alone that a dark force will not stop until she's joins them. Or is dead.

Nicole Keenan's life enters into a dangerous dance with warriors and gothic fairies. Southern tradition collides with Irish folklore as she learns about love, heartbreak, and The Burden of Blood.

Excerpt 

Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity but, in reality, was only a matter of milliseconds.  Nicole watched anger boil up inside of the man and his face turned hard as stone.  He began to turn slowly, as if he were going to obey, then, with one fluid motion, he pulled a pistol from the back of his waist band and swung it in her direction.
 
Nicole had already moved to the back of her car before the man had the gun cleared from his back.  He stared in confusion as he readjusted his aim in the direction of the trunk firing off two shots.  “Quick little thing ain’t you?” he chuckled menacingly, “I’m not going to jail bitch.”
 
Nicole began easing around the side of the car, being careful to stay low to the ground as she moved silently.  She watched the guy moving towards the back of her car with his gun stretched out in front of him, waiting like a snake for the chance to strike.
 
As soon as his feet were past her front tire, she lunged forward across the hood of her car in a body slide, catching him by the waist while using her small frame’s momentum to send them both crashing to the pavement.  She grasped onto his arms, dropping her own gun so she could keep him from regaining control of his.  With a hard push, the man managed to pull one arm free of her grip.  He slammed his fist into her face with such force it knocked her off his chest, onto his shoulder.  Stars danced across her vision, as blood trickled from her nose down onto her lips.
 
The man shoved her body, moving her off his pinned arm.  He stood and pointed his gun towards her head as he raked his eyes across her body.  “Maybe you and I should have a little fun before I finish this.  I do like an aggressive woman.” He reached down grabbing a handful of curls that fell from the tight bun she wore and yanked her to her feet.  He began popping buttons open with his free hand as a dark grin played across his face.
 
Nicole let him get about four buttons open, revealing the ample cleavage which was draped in a black lace bra, to keep his attention while she sent her palm crashing into his nose, causing him to release her in order to cup his bleeding nostrils.  She powered an uppercut into his chin, sending him stumbling backwards, then a quick kick to his knees dropped him to the ground.
 
The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance as she grabbed the man’s arms, placing them behind his back while he continued to groan in pain.  “Guess we’ll have to put that fun off for a few years, baby,” she whispered in his ear, with a laugh.  “You’re going to jail for a long fucking time.”

Burden of Blood (Book 1 of the Nicole Keenan Series) ebook can be found on Amazon and B&N.

Wenona is also an avid social net-worker who loves to meet new people. You can friend her on Twitter, like her on Facebook or follow along on her Blog.

I'd like to thank Wenona for taking the time to guest on my blog. If you haven't read Blood Awakening and Burden of Blood, run out and grab your copy today!!

And while you're here, I'd love more site members. Just click the join button on the right-hand side of the page.  

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In the Spotlight

Each week I will showcase authors of various genres on my blog. Today, Stephy Smith is "In the Spotlight" with her Contemporary Romance, Shawnee's Creek. But first, a little insight into the author behind the book.

Stephy Smith grew up in the Northwest Texas Panhandle and still lives within a few miles of her childhood home. She owns her own ranch, takes care of her mother, and shares her home with three dogs and a chinchilla.

Other than writing, she loves to read, garden, ride horses, paint and do just about any kind of arts and crafts. Her love for history, museum's, historical markers and sites along roadsides, old houses and walking through cemeteries tempts her creative imagination. Where there's history there's mystery and ghosts! She writes young adult, sweet historical romance and contemporary western romance.

You can find Stephy's novellas, Lizzie and the Rebel, Rescued from the River, and Shawnee’s Creek at Astraea Press, Barnes and Nobel, Amazon

Blurb

Shawnee Turner spent five years on a ranch in Colorado. She worked hard to forget Emory Creek’s smell, his touch, the taste of his lips, and the heartache he caused. When the ranch sold and she lost her job, she is forced to face him with his job offer to come back. Her mind already made up to turn his offer down, she couldn’t deny her need to see his face just one more time. She had to find out if she cared for this man, or if she was keeping his memory alive of her own free will.

Emory Creek couldn’t wait for Shawnee to come back to work for him. The beautiful spunky woman had a lot of explaining to do when she got back. He never figured out why she left in the first place, but the need to see her again outweighed the need to know why. The love he had for Shawnee still burned with an intense desire. This time around, he had to convince her, he was her man.

Excerpt

Pool balls clanked together, Alan Jackson bellowed to be propped against the jukebox, while whoops and hollers filtered through the wooden door.

Shawnee and Cheyenne entered the dimness of the Lonely Steer Bar and Grill. They stepped to one side of the door and let their eyes adjust to the darkness then zigzagged through the crowded room to the bar.

“Two colas, hot wings, and an order of fries, if you got ‘em,” Shawnee called to the bartender. Shawnee slid a cola in front of Cheyenne.

Food in hand, they wove their way past pool tables, pinball games, and a dartboard to an empty table near the dance floor. A woman escorted her man in their direction, leaning one way and then the other toward them.

“Pick up,” Shawnee reached for her drink and food. Cheyenne followed suit until the intoxicated couple slithered past.

Cheyenne swiveled the straw in the glass. “I’m getting butterflies about tomorrow, Shaw.”

“If it makes things any better, I’m kinda nervous, too. At least we’ll be working together. It’s not like we haven’t been to a sale barn before,” Shawnee tilted her head to the couple shuffling their way to the dance floor.

“I know, just the thought of strange people, good-looking cowboys; you know I’m not comfortable around them anymore.” Cheyenne’s eyes scanned the room. Her last job consisted of working as an unsupervised vet tech.

Shawnee followed her gaze. “You know, most of these guys are wanna-be cowboys and not real ones. They’re gonna be different than the ones you’ll work around.”

“They’re still men. I haven’t been around men in so long they just make me a little jumpy.” Cheyenne glanced as the dance floor filled with couples.

Shawnee twisted to face the bar. A tall, dark-haired man headed in their direction. His slow, easy saunter and broad, muscled chest sent a strange quiver down her spine.

“Yeah, all these guys in here just want to rub belt buckles and have a good time.” She stared as the man’s back pockets tightened across his hips until he took a seat. Leaning across the table, she lowered her voice, “I wouldn’t mind unpacking his saddlebags.”

Cheyenne’s nervous giggles drew Shawnee out of her fantasy world with the cowboy. “We better go, Shaw, before you jump the innocent guy. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

The twins finished their meals and weaved their way to the door. Perfume, sweat, animal manure, and alcohol faded as the cool, refreshing breeze escorted them to Shawnee’s pickup.

“And now for you old timers, I’m going to play an oldie but goodie,” the announcer on the radio said. Your Cheatin’ Heart echoed in the car as Shawnee and Cheyenne sang their version of the tune along with Hank Williams.

When they pulled into the drive, they continued to bawl out ‘will tell on you’ until they walked through the door. After a laugh over their non-prosperous singing careers, they went to separate rooms.

“What have we done, Cheyenne?” Shawnee whispered in the dark. It was hours later before sleep took over. She tried to hide her insecurities the best she could.

These jobs were excellent opportunities for them, and Shawnee didn’t want to discourage Cheyenne one bit. The fiery depths of Cheyenne’s insecurities since the accident taunted Shawnee to quit her job as an accountant and seek a position with her sister.

Cheyenne had taken on the world and let it trample her soft heart into mush. Shawnee couldn’t, and wouldn’t, let Cheyenne know she was just as skeptical about starting the new job. In the wee hours of the morning, Shawnee closed her eyes.

“Lord, Mom, Dad, please watch over Cheyenne.” Their images flashed in her mind as the small prayer escaped from her lips.

She slept through the alarm blaring. The familiar creak of the door brought her awake. “Get up, Shawnee. You’re not gonna cause me to be late for the first day on the job.”

Moonbeams danced across the wall enhanced by the tiny branches blowing in the breeze outside the window.

“It’s still dark, Cheyenne. I just got to sleep.” She pulled the covers around her neck.

“You gotta hurry. It’s five and we have to be there at six. Get a move on, Shaw.”

Cheyenne’s footsteps stomped up and down the hallway. Shawnee knew she better hurry and dress before Cheyenne changed her mind.

The smell of coffee greeted them in the kitchen. Cheyenne poured two travel cups full and handed one to Shawnee.

Cheyenne pushed the garage door opener and scurried to the passenger side of the pickup. Shawnee rubbed the goose bumps on her arms as the cool early morning air rushed under the door opening. She slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

The lights of the truck glowed down the highway to the Lost Boys Livestock Auction. Shawnee sipped her coffee until they entered the parking lot of the yellow brick building. They sat in the vehicle for a few moments. Jitters crept down her spine.

“Well, let’s get this over with.” Cheyenne glanced over to Shawnee and pulled in a deep breath.

~**~

Emory Creek sat under the cover of darkness. His pickup was the only vehicle in the gravel lot. A dark green truck pulled in and he gazed at the occupants. The wheat hay straw he was chewing on stilled in his jaw.

He sipped coffee from a travel mug and squinted through the early morning dimness at the two women who exited the other vehicle. His heart jumped at the recognition of the woman who’d rattled him with her eyes at the bar. “Well fry up the chicken and pass the gravy,” he whispered as the woman passed in front of his pickup. His mind was still a little fuzzy from a restless sleep.

As he’d walked by their table the night before, her outward stare made him uncomfortable. He’d strained his ears to listen to the conversation the twins were having. Despite the discomfort, he had been thoroughly intrigued with the beauty. What kind of coincidence could it be since Carla was the one who hired the twins? Here they were in his parking lot, walking to the door; and then the hesitation before reaching for the handle.

“Go on in, go on in.” He crossed his fingers until the two disappeared behind the closing door. He let out his breath. A few sips of coffee blended with the faint taste of the wheat; he opened the pickup door and flicked the chewed straw to the ground.

There wasn’t much difference in the twins. He couldn’t help but notice how the smaller one held herself with more confidence than the larger one. Her hair was a tad darker and her-self assuring attitude was one to expect from a larger city and not a rinky-dink town like Twist and Turn, Texas. He glanced at her resume with renewed confidence in his sister for hiring the girls.

Rumors spread around how she and her sister came home from college and had been riding in the car with their parents when an intoxicated man hit the vehicle head on, killing the parents and a brother. The twins had moved into the house after their graduation and hadn’t made known any attempt or desire to leave. The one called Shawnee had been a straight A student in college with a degree in accounting, and the other had an A minus in animal husbandry. Both women would be a definite asset to his company.

The one thing he hadn’t counted on was the mind-tingling wish to meet the woman in accounting, not only for her number skills but to satisfy the urge to get to know her better. If she’s as attractive on the inside as the outside she would get along with the rest of his crew just fine.

The other one, Cheyenne would be snatched up as soon as Mason laid eyes on her. She seemed to him more laid back and shy. Just Mason’s type of woman, he mused.

He entered the building from the side door and lurked in the darkness. He wasn’t accustomed to eavesdropping on conversations, but he needed to know how easily roused the women could become once the men got hold of them with their complaints.

A scuttle of boots slammed against the polished floor. He could tell Mason’s walk anywhere. Mason had worked for him since he bought the place. There was never a better cowhand as far as Emory was concerned.

The one thing he was concerned about was the new girl under Mason’s care. He knew Mason wouldn’t cut her any slack; he just didn’t want Mason to make her cry and storm from the place. Mason was hard-core when it came to working the pens, but he would treat the woman the same as he would any man, for her safety.

Working the pens proved dangerous and unyielding at times. If someone didn’t pay attention, the prevention of getting hurt or causing serious bodily harm to someone else became a priority.

At any rate, Mason’s job was to get both of the women settled in their jobs. This would be the test of all time. Never had a woman applied for a job in the back with Cheyenne’s experience. Emory stood in the dark hall listening to Mason and Cheyenne’s giggling. He rolled his eyes and prayed Mason wouldn’t let him down.

Shawnee made her way across the hall to the office. Her professional demeanor impressed him. His mind tried to fit the pieces of the wild woman staring at him openly to the mild mannered professional in the office. Although he was no saint, he sure wasn’t in need of a trouble-making woman behind a desk to upset the men out back. They had wives and most had problems with women they chose to live the happily-ever-after with.

I've personally read Lizzie and the Rebel and Rescued from the River and enjoyed them immensely. If you're a lover of Sweet, Contemporary and Historical Romance, or need a refreshing change of pace, please check out these wonderful titles. Shawnee's Creek is sure to be a delightful read as well.

Pick up your copy today at Astraea Press, Barns and Noble or Amazon

Find Stephy Smith on the net at:

Website

Facebook 

Twitter

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A Celtic Lover's Magic

 Coming March 3, 2011 to Pink Petal Books!

http://pinkpetalbooks.com/Coming-Soon.html

 Blurb

Liam Macauley inherits what he believes to be a mansion in Ireland from an uncle he’s never known. The moment he sets foot on Irish soil, he’s plunged deep into ancient Celtic magic, and the course is set to fulfill a millennia old prophecy.

Caileaan, descendent of the Sidhe, ancient gods of Eire, the Tuatha De Danann, longs to dig her toes into freshly turned earth, toil side by side with a husband, birth his children, know what it is to be loved and alive as one with humans. 

In a battle of darkness and light, will the evil Fomhoire destroy the promise made to Caileaan along with her world as she knows it?  Or will Liam, using his newfound powers, rein triumphant, winning his heart’s desire in the process?

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Happy Release Day-Tess MacKall!

I'd like to wish my friend, Tess MacKall a very happy release day! Twelve Days of Love isn't her first title with Ellora's Cave, and it won't be her last. She's a wonderful writer, and her characters are real to life and OH, so sexy! Go grab a copy! Run, don't walk!  I promise you'll find some sizzle between the pages to warm you on a cold winters day. :)

Title: Twelve Days of Love
Author: Tess MacKall
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing

ISBN: 9781419931017

MSRP/List Price: $10.40
Our Cover Price: $5.20

Buy Link: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9071-twelve-days-of-love.aspx

BLURB:

Eden Riley left her high school geek days far behind. Or so she thought. But when she returns to her hometown and comes face to face with the local heartthrob, sparks ignite like a chemistry set on crack. Super-smooth Nick Lancaster sets her nerves jangling and thrusts her libido into overdrive. But can the former geeky girl overcome her insecurities and jump his sexy bones?

Nothing suits former jock and debate team star Nick more than sparring with the one-time nerd. He’s just itching to get up close and personal with her high-velocity curves and tangle with her on the nearest bed.

With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, all bets are off when Cupid draws back his bow and Nick has only twelve days to convince Eden she belongs with him, in his heart and in his bed.

EXCERPT:

Jingling bells mounted above the flower shop door alerted Eden that a customer had entered the store. She pushed the stem of a pink sweetheart rose into the small wedding bouquet she had just started and wiped her hands on her green wraparound smock. As she turned, she caught a man’s reflection in the glass doors of the refrigerated case.

She couldn’t help but pause and stare. His tall, lean silhouette appeared to be standing there among all those leggy gladiolas and giant spider mums perched in their vases. He reached up to the service counter with one hand and touched the small African violet sitting near the edge. For a moment it looked as though he’d brushed his hand over the big snowy-white spider mum in the cooler.

Eden moaned slightly, his touch so obviously tender. Warm tendrils of longing tiptoed over her skin. She shuddered with the sensation, mentally chiding herself for giving him even a second thought, much less allowing him to affect her physically.

But Nick Lancaster had always worked his way under her skin, even in high school.

He was wet panties and get-naked-quick in one fine-looking package. Bottled sin. A walking aphrodisiac. And all that with just a “hello”. Why did she torture herself with this insane crush? She wasn’t exactly his type, was she? Eden patted her tummy to remind herself of the paunch that sometimes forced her to unbutton her jeans after she’d eaten. Yeah, it hadn’t disappeared, still there.

Nick tilted his head to the side as if to peek into the back of the shop where she stood watching, his mirrored reflection in the glass doors so damn lifelike she took a step back. An exaggerated sigh blew through the workroom’s open doorway, a sure-fire sign his patience had grown thin. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and glanced up at the ceiling.

Eden squared her shoulders, inhaled a deep, cleansing breath and stepped into the showroom. Both Nick’s eyebrows quirked when she appeared and he grinned. She nodded, smiled and planted herself on the opposite side of the counter. He looked too damn delicious today in his dark green Polo shirt and navy blazer. Why did he have to be so handsome?

“Hi, Nick. I might have known I’d be seeing you. The countdown has begun, hasn’t it?”

A distinct V formed between his brows, his grin fading into a frown. “Countdown?”

“Yeah, countdown.” Eden gestured toward the large, heart-shaped day calendar on the wall behind her.

Emblazoned in sparkling gold against the bright red background over the heart’s two humps were the words “Valentine’s Day Countdown”. The number twelve was displayed in bright red and centered inside a pale blue and white wisp of a cloud with Cupid sitting on top, his bow drawn.

Nick focused over her head. “Oh!” Then he frowned even harder. “Well, what was that crack about ’might have known I’d be seeing you’ all about?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

He pursed his luscious lips and squinted his gorgeous green eyes. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“Where the hell did you get that idea?”

It never failed. Every time he came into the shop, they ended up arguing. She always managed to make some snarky comment, and of course, he picked up on it. They’d been at odds since their freshman year of high school. Both had joined the debate team and had never seen eye-to-eye on a single subject.

Slowly but surely they’d gravitated to different ends of the spectrum in popularity too, which hadn’t made things any easier. He, with his Adonis good looks and nothing-but-net shooting ability, naturally floated to the top; she, with her wide hips, pimply face, geeky glasses and penchant for all things artistic, sank to the bottom.

Now here they were, all these years later, no further from that high-school type of relationship than when they’d started. Except Nick had taken over his father’s string of Chevy dealerships and she had moved back home last year, forsaking her managerial position at an up-and-coming art gallery in New York to take over her ailing mother’s flower shop.

Times and situations changed but evidently people didn’t.

“If you don’t want me as a customer, Eden, why don’t you just say so?” He leaned forward, folding his arms over one another on the counter’s faux granite surface, watching her intently.

Lemon drops. He always smelled of lemon drops—and some expensive cologne she couldn’t remember the name of. God, she wanted to reach over and ruffle that thick, wavy black hair of his. Oh shit. Wet panties alert! He managed to do it to her every time without even trying.

And oh how she wished he would. Fat chance.

“I do want you as a customer,” she said succinctly, trying to put an end to the verbal scuffle.

“So? What was that crack all about?”

“Nothing. Just pointing out the countdown is all. I’m a florist. Valentine’s Day is important to me.” Actually, her remark had been a direct jibe regarding his frequent flower-buying miles. He constantly had arrangements delivered locally and wired over a three-state area with each card signed, “Yours, Nick”.

“Your mother is a florist. You’re a stand-in.” He grinned, wet his index finger with his tongue and painted the air with an imaginary mark. “Score one for me.”

Her mouth dropped open. She had a damned art degree in her back pocket. He, on the other hand, had dropped out of college after year two thanks to a bum knee and the fact he’d no longer be able to pump up his already over-inflated ego with the roar of the fans. How dare he call her a stand-in!

“I’ll have you know that I started working in this shop when I was twelve years old. Every day after school, weekends, all summer long too. I’m the one who made those sweet little corsages for all your high-school dance dates. So don’t say I’m not up to the job.”

He jabbed the rigid fingers of his left hand into his right palm—time out. “Chill, girl. Damn. You’re gonna pop a blood vessel one of these days.” He shook his head. “I was joking, messing with you. But I really meant that as soon as your mother was feeling better, you’re gonna be out of here and back to that fancy New York art career of yours.”

Did she detect a note of jealousy? Impossible. Nick Lancaster had it all. Well, except for his divorce, that is. Her mother had told her all about it right after Eden had taken over the shop. Nick had shown up on Eden’s third day to place an order and their customary enmity from high school had picked up right where it had left off.

Eden had related the entire scene to her mother at home that night and was shocked to learn that Nick and his wife, Jenna, had called it quits. He’d caught her dead-to-rights with her masseuse.

The vision of Jenna’s toothy white smile, platinum pony-tail and deep cleavage bouncing up and down right along with the whimsical sashay of blue-and-white pompoms rollicked in Eden’s mind. The cheerleader prom queen sure had screwed up her life. How the hell could she ever want anyone but Nick?

Eden tucked her fingernails into her palms and squeezed, jolting herself back to the present. Who was she to talk? Her judgment where love was concerned wasn’t so great either.

She picked up the order book and scratched out Nick’s name on the appropriate line. “I won’t be going back to New York.”

“What do you mean?” He leaned in closer.

The lemony scent became downright heady. Have mercy. Her nipples poked at her thin cotton sports bra. Tingles of lust wound their way straight to her pussy. Maybe she should start keeping a supply of clean panties on hand.

He rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“You looked like you spaced out for a few seconds.”

“Just thinking. Now what would you like to order today?”

He shook his head. “Not so fast. Why aren’t you going back to New York?”

“Mom’s not going to be able to return to work. She’s now on dialysis.”

He glanced down at the floor then back up at her. His usually devilish eyes had softened. “I’m sorry to hear that, Eden. Your mom is a nice lady. I hope her condition improves.”

Eden averted her gaze. He was being nice. And Nick Lancaster’s “nice” wasn’t something she could take. As long as he played the fool with her, she could handle him, but this side? No.

She pressed the pen against the paper. “Thank you. So how many dozen roses? One for each of the Twelve Days of Love? A dozen different women or just one special lady this time?”

He choked with laughter, sputtering, “The Twelve Days of Love?”

She rolled her eyes. “Florist marketing. If you can have the Twelve Days of Christmas, why not the Twelve—”

“Days of Love,” he finished in a sarcastic tone.

Eden perched her hand on her hip and stared at him.

He licked his lips. Lusty butterflies fluttered in her lower abdomen, sending a delicious pleasure-pain to body parts she didn’t even know she had. Her stomach somersaulted. She wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. Damn. She had to stop doing this. They didn’t even like each other. She wasn’t his type—no pompoms. He’d laugh his ass off if he knew how I felt. As long as she didn’t see him, she was fine. But if she had to talk to him, be near him…

He came around to her side of the counter. “How long have we been rubbing each other the wrong way?”

Eden skirted past him and walked over to the display window. She twisted a pot of heavily leaved philodendron so its back side faced the sun. “Forever. I’ve got a wedding tomorrow, Nick. I hate to rush you, but…”

When she turned from the window, he was standing in front of her almost nose to nose. She stumbled backward and he caught her, resting his hand at her waist. He stared into her eyes. How had she failed to notice those little gold flecks swimming in the dark green depths of his? His breath soughed warm over her face—more lemon drops and something else—his unique male scent.

And his hand—was it on fire? He took it away and the temperature of her skin where he’d been touching her plummeted.

“What will you be doing that night?” he asked.

“Wh-what night?” Surprised she’d found her voice, she hurried back to the counter and picked up the order book again.

“Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “I’ll be lucky to get out of here by nine. And love will be the last thing on my mind, I can assure you.”

“No date, huh?”

“I don’t have time for dating. Can we do the order?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets before he moved back over to the counter. “So you didn’t leave any broken hearts in New York?”

Where the hell is he going with this? And why?

“I’m not exactly every man’s idea of the perfect date. Now if you don’t mind—”

“What’s a man’s idea of a perfect date?”

Exasperated, she blew out a burst of air. “I don’t know and don’t care. I have more important things to do these days than worry about the likes and dislikes of men.”

“What’s more important than love? You’re the florist.” He pointed to the Twelve Days of Love calendar.

“Exactly what is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re willing to sell the product of love but you don’t believe in it.”

“And you’re driving a Mercedes but you sell Chevys.”

Nick propped his hip against the counter, grinning. “Nobody’s ever challenged me the way you do, you know that?”

“Nobody’s ever pissed me off the way you do. You know that?”

His expression sobered. He looked wounded. “I don’t mean to.”

Deep down she knew that. Guilt crested inside her. “I guess we’re just oil and water, Nick. No harm done.”

An awkward silence rose between them. They just stood there staring at each other until Eden couldn’t take it another second.

“You still want to place the order?”

“Yeah,” he said, soft and low, in an almost-defeated manner.

A few minutes later, Nick had placed an order for roses to be delivered on Valentine’s Day to seventeen different women. With every name and address he read to her from his BlackBerry, Eden jabbed the paper a little harder with the pen. Her stomach churned at the thought of all those women. In her mind, she pictured them with pom poms, blonde hair and long, tanned legs.

And they giggled.

Yep, she was definitely wasting panty moisture on thoughts of Nick. Her five-foot-four, big-hipped frame capped off by average-sized breasts would never stand a chance against all those big-busted beauties. Even her soot-black hair was a sharp contrast to what Nick wanted.

“All right. I think I’ve got everything. I have your credit card on file. How about the card? The usual ‘Yours, Nick’?”

“Yeah.”

He sounded dejected. She would too if she’d just spent seventy bucks a pop on seventeen different women. No. That wasn’t it. Nick had money. Apparently their antagonistic relationship had gone a bit too far today.

Maybe this was his last order. How would she feel if that was the case?

“Thanks, Eden.” Nick headed for the door, stopped short just as he reached it, waited the space of a few seconds, then opened it. The bells jingled. He continued to stand there with his back to her. A car alarm blared out in the street. He closed the door and marched back to the counter.

Eden just knew he was going to cancel the order and that would be the end of Nick and her silly schoolgirl crush. Head held high, she braced herself for whatever he was about to say.

“I think it’s a case of practicing what you preach,” he said matter-of-factly.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re right. I should drive a Chevy and you should believe in love.” His shoulders relaxed and he let out a long breath as if he’d been holding in what he’d said. And now that he’d spit it out, he seemed relieved.

“We’re back to that?”

“Yes, and I think we should do something about this,” he twirled his finger in front of him, “this oil-and-vinegar thing we have going on.”

“Water. Oil and water. You mean try to get along?”

“Whatever. And exactly. After all, it’s that time of year. The Twelve Days of Love.”

She smiled. “Okay, Nick. I’ll try if you will.”

Maybe they could get along. Of course, it wouldn’t help the physical side of things as far as she was concerned. But he didn’t come into the shop more than a couple of times a month. It might be nice not to feel so angry and wet when he left the next time.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at your mother’s house at seven.” He strode toward the door.

It was as if the floor fell out from under her. She grabbed the countertop. Blood rushed to her head and her heart drummed so loudly she thought surely the vibrations would bring the roof down on top of her.

“What!”

Nick spun on his heel. “Seven o’clock. Jeans will be fine. Twelve days, Eden. Twelve days of practicing what you preach. I’ll be driving a Chevy when I pick you up too.” He yanked the door open so the bells jingled, grinned, offered her a little salute and closed the door behind him.

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