Saturday, May 1, 2010

Need a Hero?

Because I've got one for you-an unlikely one. He's definitely rough around the edges, but what a man!

Meet him in my new book Holding Out for a Hero.

First a set-up, then an excerpt:
Abigail Benton finds herself doing community service in inner-city Clavania when she meets Eli, a homeless man, who has a knack for showing up just when she needs him.

Here's an Excerpt:

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Eli’s eyes had been roving all over the room. His question surprised me because I wasn’t even sure he had been listening to what I was saying.

“I don’t get what?”

“That this isn’t Kansas, Abigail. And you don’t have any ruby slippers to protect you. Those men will cut you. They’ll do things to you I don’t even want to think about. If you have to go to the center, fine. If you have to work at the shelter, do it. But don’t stop anywhere on the way and don’t linger in your duties, or you could end up in a bad way. A very bad way.” Eli had yet to make eye contact with me. He finished off the first sandwich, took the napkin from the table and wrapped it around the second one.
“I’m scared enough without your lecture. I do get it, okay?”

A smile quirked his lips. Raising his face, he studied my ceiling for a few seconds. Then his eyes finally settled on me. Hunger swirled in their dark depths, and not for food, for me.My breath caught in my throat. The intense stare from his eyes struck me like lightning, and I felt tingling throughout my whole body. In a swift movement, he stood and the chair turned over. I stood as well. Stalking over to me, he stopped just shy of touching me. His breath warmed my cheek, the heat of his body radiated outward.

Was he going to kiss me? He moved so that his mouth was near my ear. The hair of his beard brushed my cheek. What was he waiting for? What was he going to do? What should I do? Little stars danced before my eyes, and I realized I was holding my breath. I willed myself to suck in some air, and when I did, my breasts touched his chest. There were barriers of clothing, but in that moment it didn’t matter. I knew the second he felt me, because his breath hissed.

“Good. I want you to be scared. I want you to get it. But I don’t think you do. The men at the shelter talk about you. They wonder what you taste like.” His low voice reverberated through me. He paused and let that bit of information sink in.

My heart skipped a few beats.

“You should stop making yourself so available,” he whispered before stepping away, picking up the paper wrapped food, shoving it in his pocket, and letting himself out of my apartment.

Holding Out for a Hero by Jennifer Johnson
Resplendence Publishing , available now digitally

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