Authors: Jennifer Ryder
But there’s something about Eevie. She’s different to any girl I’ve met.
And I want her.
More than anything else right now, I want her. But I have to play it cool. I don’t want to fuck this up.
I
can’t
fuck this up.
It’s been a lifetime since I bought her that champagne. She hasn’t come over as I’d hoped, but when our eyes meet, it tells a different story. Her eyes tell me she wants to, but she’s holding her ground, and I like it. She’s not going to throw herself at me. She’s strong, and confident, but beneath that, I don’t know why I sense it, she’s fragile. She probably just wants to be sure.
Eevie holds my gaze as she glides across the room towards me. The crowd makes way, as if creating a path from her to me.
She
is coming to
me
. She’s brave; I’ll give her that. I bet she’s been wondering why the hell I haven’t manned up and gone to her. I know why, but at least now I know I’m in with a chance. Fuck chance—I’m all in.
From her silky brown hair falling in waves, to those subtle curves and killer legs, she is more beautiful than I remember. She wears a sly smile like she has a secret. I wonder if I’ll get it out of her tonight.
Simply stunning
. The countless times I’ve tried to picture her since we last met—soaking wet in a towel that barely covered her, and those sweet giggles that made my chest ache—any memory I conjured pales in comparison.
Whoever is talking to me, their words become white noise. The background fades. There is only her. Hold it together Aidan, and DON’T fuck this up.
She presses her shimmering, supple lips together.
Fuck
.
I bet those lips will feel incredible sliding against mine, against my skin, around my …
Her palm glides gently over her neck, sweeping her hair over her shoulder, a rosy glow left in its wake. I swallow the lump in my throat that might as well be an apple.
“Eevie … how are you?” I say, unable to contain my smile.
Her cheeks flush, matching her chest …
Eye contact, Aidan
.
Eye contact.
The crowd pushes us closer together, and she stumbles, practically falling into my arms.
Exactly where I want her
. I move to steady her, but reluctantly lower my arm when she releases her grip, having gained her balance. I’m somehow disappointed with the withdrawal of her touch, but feel like a winner when she doesn’t step back. Any closer, and we’d be touching again.
I drink in her subtle scent, a tantalising fusion of something like vanilla and honey. I shut my eyes for a second. It can’t be possible that she smells as fine as she looks.
Breathtaking
.
And then she smiles. I’ve been aching to see it, and there’s no mistake that this smile is just for me.
“Great thanks, Aidan.” She sighs. “I owe you a drink, I think. What can I get you?” Her blue-green eyes threaten to see straight through me. I imagine sweeping her up in my arms, and carrying her out of here.
Baby steps.
Let’s have a little conversation first.
AIDAN
NOW
I have a serious case of blue balls. It can’t be healthy. Not that I haven’t tried to alleviate the problem myself.
It’s been two weeks since I’ve had my girl in my arms, in my bed. It’s been doing my fucking head in, this ‘missing’ feeling inside. I’ve been away racing, and Eevie all but banned me so she could get through her mountain of assignments. Apparently, I’m too much of a distraction.
As hard as the wait has been, I love the fact she’s strong, determined, and working hard for her future. Even if that means I have to sacrifice time with her.
I pull up out the front of her building, and get out and lean back against my Ute. Silently chanting for my heart and my cock to calm the fuck down, I pull out my phone. I’ll never make the drive home at this rate. We’ll have to pull into a deserted lane or something, and do it in the car.
“I’m downstairs, babe,” I say as soon as she picks up.
“Be right down,” she says, almost singing.
My heart pounds when the foyer door opens, and out she jogs, slowing down to a walk when our eyes meet. Her grin is as bright as the afternoon sun, and I stare like a stunned mullet, watching her as her long hair flows in the breeze as she approaches. It’s like that night all over again, but there’s no sexy red dress, only a skin-tight pair of jeans, and a plain, black top which hugs her curves just the same. And she looks just as stunning.
And today, I’m gonna ask her. The question that’s been on the edge of my subconscious for weeks.
Closer still, she looks down at my arms crossed over my favourite grey shirt, and her mouth twitches before she runs her tongue over her bottom lip.
Tease
. I always have to fight her for this shirt, but I thought, fuck it. I couldn’t have her, so next best thing is wearing the shirt
of mine
she struts around practically naked in. Maybe we
should
fight over it. I’d like to see what the make-up sex is like.
Of course, thinking of just that, I flash her the dirtiest smile I can muster. And she loves it. Because she knows what this smile means. It’s a countdown to getting her naked. It’s only a matter of time before she’s calling out my name, and clawing her nails down my back.
Eevie stops at my feet and drops her bags, her sweet vanilla scent making my cock harden. She links her hands around my neck, pressing the length of her slim body against me. She breathes in deep.
“Missed you,” I say, my voice low as I sweep the hair from her face. Possessed with urgency, I grab behind her neck, and slam my mouth into hers. Her mouth tastes so fucking sweet—her sticky lips like candy, and her hot tongue a delicacy. The painstaking wait for this is suddenly forgotten.
I try to find my voice before I pull my lips from hers, and let out a long breath.
Ask her
.
I can’t. Instead I threaten, “Hurry up and get in the car, before I do you on the lawn.” But she doesn’t have a damn clue how serious I am.
I slap Eevie’s sexy arse to move her along, and she squeals. It only makes my cock harder.
When did I get to be such a pussy?
Yeah, I know when. It was the day this girl owned
m
y heart.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Spike, book two of the Spark series.
Sneak peek at Spike, book two of the Spark series:
PROLOGUE
EEVIE
As I flip through my mail out the front of my apartment complex, a folded piece of paper falls to the ground. I pick it up, expecting some kind of advertising drivel.
Eevie,
We have never met, but it is really important
I speak with you. I used to go out with Aidan.
Can you please call me. We need to talk.
- Tara Woods
A mobile phone number is scribbled beneath her name. I swing my head around, wondering if it was only just put into the slot. Is she here? How the on earth does she know where I live?
I reread the note. Is this some kind of sick joke? Why would Aidan’s ex-girlfriend need to speak with me? What could be so important? Does she want Aidan back?
My heart squeezes tight in my chest, each question adding to the sudden sensitivity of my stomach.
As far as I’m concerned, I like pretending he hadn’t slept with anyone before me. Some may call it ignorance, but it works for me. I’d never asked Aidan about his ex for a reason. I don’t want to know about her. I don’t want to know what she might have had with him.
Call me possessive. But. He. Is. Mine.
When I get upstairs, I crumple up the letter, and throw it in the bin. There’s no way I’m calling
her
. I’d rather stick a dirty fork in my eye. I shake off the black thoughts that followed me up the stairwell. I’m back on track, and right now, I don’t have the head space to cope with a psycho ex.
I turn on my laptop, and flip through my notes. I’m determined to finish my uni research report on psychosocial interventions.
How ironic
. This is clearly
not
the time to be thinking about unstable ex-girlfriends.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Here is the part where I ugly cry, like I’ve been forewarned by so many of my darling author friends. And yup. It’s happening right now as I type these words.
This book will be more personal than any other book I will write because I’ve been Eevie, in more ways than I will publicly admit. I was the nerdy girl in school who kept her nose clean, studied hard, but got bullied anyway. My life at nineteen was a sharp contrast to my friends. I was the glue keeping my family together when my mother had a nervous breakdown. I had to be. The needs of my family came before mine, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
When I was out from under the shadow of that responsibility, full of hope and innocence, when it came time for a relationship, boy, was I in for a rude shock. Nothing went right. And that’s where I’ll leave that trip down memory lane!
When I started writing
Spark
, which I had originally titled
Eevie: An Emotional Journey
, I told no one. Not even my darling husband, Ben. For sixteen years, honesty has been the cornerstone of our relationship, and for six long weeks I kept it from him. I couldn’t sleep because characters were bombarding my thoughts. And I was guilty as all hell for keeping it to myself.
When it came time to confess that I was writing a book, it was as if I was telling him I’d been unfaithful. But when I spilled, he was nothing but supportive. He said, and I quote, “So basically you’re writing about me? Yeah, you are
so
writing about me.”
Ben is my Aidan. My hero. He is my best friend, my lover and THE most amazing father to our two adoring cherubs, Ashlee and Tommy, who at seven and four have dirt bikes and that thrill-seeker never-hold-back attitude in their blood. As if he wasn’t already superman, he’s a fucking comedian. He makes me laugh. Every. Single. Day. Thank you, Ben, for being my rock. Always.
My cherubs, who are growing up so fast, are more self-sufficient by the day, particularly when Mummy is writing or ‘networking’. Really, I’m giving them a gift, right? Even though my mind regularly wanders off with handsome and deeply troubled characters, please know that you are by far my greatest gifts, and I hope one day you find something that you are as passionate about as I am about telling stories. When you find that something, whatever it is, Daddy and I will be there to support you every step of the way.
My mother, who understands she can never read my story, was completely supportive, and said it would be good therapy. She was right, as mothers always are (please remember this, kids). Her advice: “Follow your dreams. They know the way”.
Along my journey I have met so many amazing people, too many to individually mention, but there are a few in particular I would like to personally acknowledge.
My critique partner, Lorraine Eljuga, a talented author in her own right. We met at a workshop, and have been chatting and reviewing each other’s work since. Lorraine helped me find my voice, do my characters justice, and taught me so many things. Thank you.
Secondly, Belle Aurora. After selflessly pimping my name out, Belle helped me build a following on Facebook, and thanks to her advice, I gained the confidence in my writing to go indie. I was honoured that Belle beta-read
Spark
for me, and I know the epilogue is all the better for it.
Thank you to Rebecca Berto from Berto Designs, for giving me such a beautiful cover, and a vision for the remaining books in the
Spark
series. It’s better than I could have hoped for, and as well as a talented author, and advocate for self-publishing, she works magic with her creations.
Lastly to Lauren McKellar, editor extraordinaire and talented author. I’m glad to have met you, for so many reasons. I was doubting my whole story after a couple of knockbacks, but you believed in my story, because it is unique, and I know that thanks to your help,
Spark
is the best that it can be. (You’ll be pleased to know I got in trouble for making said editor cry when she read this).
To my family and friends, beta-readers, bloggers, fellow authors and dedicated fans who have helped me along the way, and also contributed to the occasional hangover. YOU have all made this journey such an extraordinary experience. Without all of you, I wouldn’t have gotten
Spark
the attention I feel it deserves.
To you, the reader. I am deeply honoured that you chose my story to read. I hope that if you enjoyed it, you’ll tell a friend. And I’d be forever grateful if you posted a review.
Jennifer x
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A sexy imagination, a life-long love of books, and a sucker for romance, Jennifer Ryder couldn’t stifle her creativity any longer. Writing steamy adult romance has become her new focus.
Living on a rural property in New South Wales, Australia, she enjoys the best of city and country. Her loving husband is ever willing to provide inspiration, and her two young cherubs, and sheep that don’t see fences as barriers, keep life more than interesting.
For news on my future releases, you can contact me in the following ways. I’d love to hear from you!
Twitter: @jenniferryder01