I know you guys are used to paranormal stories from me, but the story of Turning Home came to me out of the blue and I could not stop thinking about it. Within a week I had half of the book already written. I'm loving the characters, and I can't wait to hear what you guys think of them too.
Turning Home will be told from both the girl - Brooke Kingsley- and the guy - Dylan Crawford- point of view, and is scheduled to release in late July/early August!
Turning Home will be told from both the girl - Brooke Kingsley- and the guy - Dylan Crawford- point of view, and is scheduled to release in late July/early August!
This snippet is an unedited version.
“Gun it,” he called, taking a step away from the tires. His hands and the knees of his jeans were covered in mud. He swiped his forehead with the back of his arm and met my eyes in the side mirror. Realizing that I was staring, I brought my attention back to the windshield and pressed on the gas. The truck rocked forward, the engine revving against the suction of the mud.
“Stop,” Dylan yelled.
I pressed on the brake and looked in the side mirror again. Bubbles of loud laughter fell from my lips when I saw what had happened. The tires had splattered Dylan from head to toe in mud. My hand went to my mouth as I tried to silence my amusement. I shrieked when the driver’s side door whipped open and Dylan looked at me with a mischievous glint in his green eyes.
“You think that’s funny?”
He was reaching for me before I could respond, pulling me out of the truck. He slung me over his shoulder and spun around a few times. I gripped his shoulder so tightly, I was afraid I would draw blood.
“Put me down,” I said through another fit of laughter.
“You want down?” Dylan’s hands skimmed my legs, his fingers raking over my skin in a hot caress. I stopped laughing, catching my breath as I paid attention to his every move. He slipped one of my shoes off and then the other, walking back over to the truck and throwing them inside the cab.
“What are you doing?”
“You wanted down,” he said, “I didn’t think you’d want to get mud on those fancy shoes.”
He wasn’t really going to set me down in the mud, was he?
He sure as hell was.
He lowered me off his shoulder, my body sliding down his until my bare feet landed in slimy earth. I gasped, kicking up one of my heels and cringing at how gross it felt against my skin.
“I cannot believe you just did that.” I held onto his arms to steady myself. When I was sure I had my balance, I turned and worked my way back to the truck. As I took a step forward, one of my feet snagged in the muck and down I went. I landed on my butt and cringed when I felt the squishiness of the dirt beneath my body.
Dylan’s laughter filled my ears, enraging me. Didn’t he know how expensive my clothes were? I twisted around and eyed him with disdain. Before I knew it, I had a handful of mud and I was throwing it at him. It landed on his left leg, splattering against his already dirty jeans.
“Oh, someone wants to play, huh?” he bent down and dipped his hand in the mud.
“What?” I gasped. “No, you better not.”
I braced my hands on the ground and worked to get my legs beneath me, slathering them in more dirt. I had never been this filthy in my life. My Chloe shorts and Calvin Klein silk top were ruined. When I was finally on my feet again, Dylan walked over to me and ran his dirty finger down the bridge of my nose. He smiled and my anger disappeared at the playfulness in his eyes. All I could think about was getting him back. Bending down, I grabbed two handfuls of mud and flung it at him. Some landed on his face while the other hit his shoulder. I took off running when he starting getting more sludge. We chased each other around the truck, launching handfuls of mud at one another. Dylan dipped down, disappearing from my view. I lifted myself up on my tiptoes, craning my neck to see the other side of the truck when he came running around the back end. I squealed and took off toward the front, laughing.
Dylan’s arms enclosed around my waist and I let out another excited shriek, falling into fits of laughter. I felt his chuckles against the side of my throat as his arms held me tighter against his chest. I have traveled to many places: Italy, Europe, Mexico, but my favorite place in the world was right where I was—in Dylan Crawford’s arms. Or maybe that was the butterflies in my stomach and the sputtering of my heart clouding my judgment.
“You are something else, Brooke Kingsley.”
I turned in his arms so that I could see him and giggled at how dirty his face was. He had a smear of mud across his bottom lip and I found myself reaching up to brush it away. His lips parted beneath my fingertips, and suddenly neither of us were laughing anymore. My eyes snapped up to his and then I was on my tiptoes kissing him.
“Gun it,” he called, taking a step away from the tires. His hands and the knees of his jeans were covered in mud. He swiped his forehead with the back of his arm and met my eyes in the side mirror. Realizing that I was staring, I brought my attention back to the windshield and pressed on the gas. The truck rocked forward, the engine revving against the suction of the mud.
“Stop,” Dylan yelled.
I pressed on the brake and looked in the side mirror again. Bubbles of loud laughter fell from my lips when I saw what had happened. The tires had splattered Dylan from head to toe in mud. My hand went to my mouth as I tried to silence my amusement. I shrieked when the driver’s side door whipped open and Dylan looked at me with a mischievous glint in his green eyes.
“You think that’s funny?”
He was reaching for me before I could respond, pulling me out of the truck. He slung me over his shoulder and spun around a few times. I gripped his shoulder so tightly, I was afraid I would draw blood.
“Put me down,” I said through another fit of laughter.
“You want down?” Dylan’s hands skimmed my legs, his fingers raking over my skin in a hot caress. I stopped laughing, catching my breath as I paid attention to his every move. He slipped one of my shoes off and then the other, walking back over to the truck and throwing them inside the cab.
“What are you doing?”
“You wanted down,” he said, “I didn’t think you’d want to get mud on those fancy shoes.”
He wasn’t really going to set me down in the mud, was he?
He sure as hell was.
He lowered me off his shoulder, my body sliding down his until my bare feet landed in slimy earth. I gasped, kicking up one of my heels and cringing at how gross it felt against my skin.
“I cannot believe you just did that.” I held onto his arms to steady myself. When I was sure I had my balance, I turned and worked my way back to the truck. As I took a step forward, one of my feet snagged in the muck and down I went. I landed on my butt and cringed when I felt the squishiness of the dirt beneath my body.
Dylan’s laughter filled my ears, enraging me. Didn’t he know how expensive my clothes were? I twisted around and eyed him with disdain. Before I knew it, I had a handful of mud and I was throwing it at him. It landed on his left leg, splattering against his already dirty jeans.
“Oh, someone wants to play, huh?” he bent down and dipped his hand in the mud.
“What?” I gasped. “No, you better not.”
I braced my hands on the ground and worked to get my legs beneath me, slathering them in more dirt. I had never been this filthy in my life. My Chloe shorts and Calvin Klein silk top were ruined. When I was finally on my feet again, Dylan walked over to me and ran his dirty finger down the bridge of my nose. He smiled and my anger disappeared at the playfulness in his eyes. All I could think about was getting him back. Bending down, I grabbed two handfuls of mud and flung it at him. Some landed on his face while the other hit his shoulder. I took off running when he starting getting more sludge. We chased each other around the truck, launching handfuls of mud at one another. Dylan dipped down, disappearing from my view. I lifted myself up on my tiptoes, craning my neck to see the other side of the truck when he came running around the back end. I squealed and took off toward the front, laughing.
Dylan’s arms enclosed around my waist and I let out another excited shriek, falling into fits of laughter. I felt his chuckles against the side of my throat as his arms held me tighter against his chest. I have traveled to many places: Italy, Europe, Mexico, but my favorite place in the world was right where I was—in Dylan Crawford’s arms. Or maybe that was the butterflies in my stomach and the sputtering of my heart clouding my judgment.
“You are something else, Brooke Kingsley.”
I turned in his arms so that I could see him and giggled at how dirty his face was. He had a smear of mud across his bottom lip and I found myself reaching up to brush it away. His lips parted beneath my fingertips, and suddenly neither of us were laughing anymore. My eyes snapped up to his and then I was on my tiptoes kissing him.
