Believe Series, Book One
Trista Jaszczak
Genre: romance/fantasy
Publisher: Front Porch Romance
eBook released June 18, 2013 and paperback fall 2013
Word Count: 62,921
Cover Artist: Charisma Knight: Designs by Charisma
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/WW-os9YuHx8
Amazon | Goodreads | ARe | Publisher
Blurb:
Follow Sam Wentworth through the winding back roads of Louisiana, on a desperate escape from her past, where she falls into the arms of the unlikely and sometimes unwilling hero, Ethan Parker.
When circumstances and fate seal the two together, entangling them with his six older brothers, Sam finds her life changing in ways that she never imagined. Filled with feuding families and a little old bayou magic, can Ethan put aside everything he has ever known to keep Sam safe from the dangers that their lives and their love possess.
Excerpt:
Chapter One
Red
This is it. This has to be it! My entire life has been spent with someone holding me back. Always holding my life in their hands and controlling my every move. Not now, not anymore. I’m taking my life in my own hands. This is my new beginning, my long awaited, well-deserved fresh start. I kick back a little more on the throttle of my motorcycle as the wind whips into my helmet and leather jacket. It’s not quite the January weather I’m used to. The weather is milder and the wind is much warmer down here in Louisiana. It’s nice and kind of comforting. My surroundings have completely changed. I’m miles away from Kentucky. I take a quick peek around. The road has been quiet for a few hours. It’s nearing dark. This also means I risk bigger animals coming out. Surely, they have deer down here in Louisiana. I’ll have to find a place to lay my head anyways.
I’ve been riding for hours. It becomes uncomfortable on a motorcycle and I have to be nearing the end of this tank of gas. Not to mention, my ass just so happens to be killing me. I peer at a few road signs and see the few upcoming towns, nothing more than a local diner or two and a handful of gas stations. Not even your typical cheap motel. I really am in the middle of nowhere. The tent in my saddlebags will certainly come in handy tonight. At least, it’ll do until morning. Another 20 miles until the next town, that doesn’t seem bad if I keep my 75 mile an hour pace. I relax and begin to look forward to a peaceful night’s sleep. Until the loud sputtering from my motorcycle jolts me back to full awareness.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” I cry out from underneath my helmet. I’d misjudged my mileage and with no gas gauge, I had no way of telling when I’d run out of gas. I’m luckily able to roll my bike to a slow and steady stop off on the shoulder of the road. I shake my head, wanting to give myself a good hard kick for not being more careful. I glance around as I hop off. Figures, I am surrounded by nothing but woods and my guess, swamps and nearly 20 miles away from any town. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I would make use of the tent in my saddlebags. I let out an exasperated sigh as I undo the chinstrap to my helmet, yanking it off my head and let my hair fall around my shoulders. I bite down on my lip and contemplate. I can’t leave my bike here on the side of the road. I can’t walk 20 miles and back just for gas with it already so dark either. I have no choice. I’ll walk my bike into the woods and set up camp. People do this all the time, right? No big deal. It’s not like the big bad wolf will jump out and get me. I peer into the woods.
Darkness has already fallen over the trees. They stand quiet and still as even the animals, it seems, have all gone quiet for the night. I laugh off the thought of the big bad wolf. I guess it’s alligators I have to watch fordown here. Or, is it crocodiles? I shiver, put on a brave face and straddle my bike once more. It’ll take all my strength to waddle it down the ditch and into the woods over the uneven terrain. I figure a short way off the side of the road and into the woods and I should be fine. Enough to be out of the line of traffic but not enough to get myself terribly lost. As I wiggle the bike down the small slope I begin to exert myself on the flat but rough terrain as I push the bike forward, throwing my petite body into it as much as I can. I grunt as I give one more strong push forward. The bike lurches along slowly as my helmet clangs against the already scratched black paint. I groan, aggravated with myself more than ever for letting the gas tank get bone dry.
“What in the hell are you doing?” I stop dead in my tracks. I hadn’t heard a single footstep, not even a twig. I swallow hard and throw myself off the bike, flipping out the kickstand as I do. I turn slowly to see a rugged looking man staring hard at me. His dark washed jeans are splattered with dirt and debris at the bottom, suggesting that he has been romping in the woods beyond. His heavy boots are caked in a layer of thick mud that’s starting to dry in certain spots. He places his hands on his hips, making his leather jacket open to display a well-fitted tee shirt that I can see defined chest muscles, visible even under the moonlight. His gray eyes shine and shimmer under the light of the full moon as they glare at me in an almost threatening way. No, not threatening. Warning me of something and somehow worried. His brown hair is styled fairly nice, which is surprising considering the 5 o’clock shadow on his face. He’s much larger than me. Well, almost everyone is larger than me, but he must be over 6 foot tall. Huge compared to my tiny 5’5” frame.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
***
About the Author:
Trista Jaszczak (pronounced Jazz-ick) is a writer, military spouse and a mother. She is originally from Hamilton, Ohio but calls home where ever the military sends her and her family, which is currently Anchorage, Alaska. She has a great love for writing, the outdoors, fitness, guitar and the arts.
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