Welcome Today's Featured Author
Isobelle Cate!!!
You &
I (The Second Chances Series Book 2)
Serenity wanted to escape her past. Matt needed to finish his mission. Danger insisted on keeping them together.
Excerpt:
Shock immobilized Matt, the blood rushing out of his face.
“Hurt you? Serenity, why the hell would I want to hurt you?” He took a step forward and Serenity cowered, pushing herself against the corner of the wall.
“Don’t come any closer!”
His mouth dried and he balled his hands into fists. Shit! What happened? He stopped and slowly crouched to her level.
“Serenity...I’m not going to hurt you.”
Serenity’s eyes were glazed with panic and desperation. From the wanton woman he held in his arms, she had changed to a broken girl with fear radiating from her in waves. It was so quick Matt didn’t know what to do. She was looking through him and not at him. Matt’s chest tightened. What the hell happened to her? Dammit, he was losing time. He looked up at the window, black hues of the sky shading off slowly to midnight blue. He looked back at her. He damn well couldn’t leave her this way.
“Serenity?” Her eyes were clearing up but the tinge of trepidation still hung heavily around her. “Serenity, please talk to me.”
Her blue eyes lost that dazed look but they were devoid of emotion, as though a curtain had fallen to cover what she really felt inside. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured almost to herself. “I lost it there for a moment.” She slowly stood up and, Matt followed. She watched him, the wariness gradually disappearing. She tilted her head to look at the window. She swallowed, looking anywhere but at him. “It’s nearly morning so—”
“Stay.” Matt said. “I’m not taking no for an answer so don’t even try finding a reason not to.” He took a step forward. Her body slumped against the wall behind her as though in defeat. When he gathered her into his arms, Serenity froze before she gradually relaxed, placing her arms around his waist and held on. Tight. Her breathing was slow but she took huge gulps of air every time.
“Do you know that you smell good?” Her head rested on his chest while her nose tickled the side of his neck. “If I could bottle this up and keep it with me, I would.”
Matt relaxed and snorted. “I smell of sweat.”
“No, Matt,” she pulled away to look up at him. “You smell of safety. And where I am right now, that’s more than good enough. It’s perfect.”
Matt kissed her forehead and held her close again. Sighing he spoke, “I have to go. Stay here, please. I’d rather have you here safe than have you upstairs in your room screaming the house down.”
Serenity’s pursed her mouth to stop herself from smiling but soon failed.
“There,” Matt touched the corner of her mouth with a kiss. “That’s much better. When I come back we’ll talk.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Matt stepped back. “No, Serenity. Whatever you’re trying to run away from, you need to stop and get your bearings. If you don’t you’ll keep running and when there’s nowhere to turn, where will you go?”
She looked at him with sadness that seemed to be deeply rooted inside her. Matt just wanted to find that unseen force causing her pain and beat the crap out of it. He wanted to stay and talk to her some more but his spidey sense was driving him loco.
“I’ll see you later and I expect you to be here when I come back.”
“Is that an order?” She gave him a soft smile. This time he was glad that it reached her eyes.
“No, babe. It’s a request.” Matt curled his hand around her nape and brought her mouth to his, giving her a kiss that shook him down to his feet. He ended the kiss and placed his forehead against hers. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With one more hard kiss, he was gone.
About Isobelle Cate:
Isobelle Cate is a woman who wears different masks. Mother-writer, wife-professional, scholar-novelist. Currently living in Manchester, she has been drawn to the little known, the secret stories, about the people and the nations: the English, the Irish, the Scots, the Welsh, and those who are now part of these nations whatever their origins. Her vision and passion are fuelled by her interest and background in history and paradoxically, shaped by growing up in a clan steeped in lore, loyalty, and legend.
Isobelle is intrigued by forces that simmer beneath the surface of these cultures, the hidden passions, unsaid desires, and yearnings unfulfilled.
Shock immobilized Matt, the blood rushing out of his face.
“Hurt you? Serenity, why the hell would I want to hurt you?” He took a step forward and Serenity cowered, pushing herself against the corner of the wall.
“Don’t come any closer!”
His mouth dried and he balled his hands into fists. Shit! What happened? He stopped and slowly crouched to her level.
“Serenity...I’m not going to hurt you.”
Serenity’s eyes were glazed with panic and desperation. From the wanton woman he held in his arms, she had changed to a broken girl with fear radiating from her in waves. It was so quick Matt didn’t know what to do. She was looking through him and not at him. Matt’s chest tightened. What the hell happened to her? Dammit, he was losing time. He looked up at the window, black hues of the sky shading off slowly to midnight blue. He looked back at her. He damn well couldn’t leave her this way.
“Serenity?” Her eyes were clearing up but the tinge of trepidation still hung heavily around her. “Serenity, please talk to me.”
Her blue eyes lost that dazed look but they were devoid of emotion, as though a curtain had fallen to cover what she really felt inside. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured almost to herself. “I lost it there for a moment.” She slowly stood up and, Matt followed. She watched him, the wariness gradually disappearing. She tilted her head to look at the window. She swallowed, looking anywhere but at him. “It’s nearly morning so—”
“Stay.” Matt said. “I’m not taking no for an answer so don’t even try finding a reason not to.” He took a step forward. Her body slumped against the wall behind her as though in defeat. When he gathered her into his arms, Serenity froze before she gradually relaxed, placing her arms around his waist and held on. Tight. Her breathing was slow but she took huge gulps of air every time.
“Do you know that you smell good?” Her head rested on his chest while her nose tickled the side of his neck. “If I could bottle this up and keep it with me, I would.”
Matt relaxed and snorted. “I smell of sweat.”
“No, Matt,” she pulled away to look up at him. “You smell of safety. And where I am right now, that’s more than good enough. It’s perfect.”
Matt kissed her forehead and held her close again. Sighing he spoke, “I have to go. Stay here, please. I’d rather have you here safe than have you upstairs in your room screaming the house down.”
Serenity’s pursed her mouth to stop herself from smiling but soon failed.
“There,” Matt touched the corner of her mouth with a kiss. “That’s much better. When I come back we’ll talk.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Matt stepped back. “No, Serenity. Whatever you’re trying to run away from, you need to stop and get your bearings. If you don’t you’ll keep running and when there’s nowhere to turn, where will you go?”
She looked at him with sadness that seemed to be deeply rooted inside her. Matt just wanted to find that unseen force causing her pain and beat the crap out of it. He wanted to stay and talk to her some more but his spidey sense was driving him loco.
“I’ll see you later and I expect you to be here when I come back.”
“Is that an order?” She gave him a soft smile. This time he was glad that it reached her eyes.
“No, babe. It’s a request.” Matt curled his hand around her nape and brought her mouth to his, giving her a kiss that shook him down to his feet. He ended the kiss and placed his forehead against hers. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With one more hard kiss, he was gone.
About Isobelle Cate:
Isobelle Cate is a woman who wears different masks. Mother-writer, wife-professional, scholar-novelist. Currently living in Manchester, she has been drawn to the little known, the secret stories, about the people and the nations: the English, the Irish, the Scots, the Welsh, and those who are now part of these nations whatever their origins. Her vision and passion are fuelled by her interest and background in history and paradoxically, shaped by growing up in a clan steeped in lore, loyalty, and legend.
Isobelle is intrigued by forces that simmer beneath the surface of these cultures, the hidden passions, unsaid desires, and yearnings unfulfilled.
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