Fevered Souls by S.K. Falls Blog Tour (Excerpt & Giveaway!)

 

About the Book

 

Fevered Souls by S.K. Falls

Release Date: August 5, 2013

Series: Fevered Souls, Volume 1

Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance

Buy It: Amazon | B&N

 

Description from Goodreads:

After I left for college, I thought I’d never see Eden again. But I found myself headed back four years later, destitute and unable to find a job anywhere else. Still, I was adamant nothing would keep me there for long.

Then I met the intoxicating Dax Allard. Copper-colored eyes, skin that emanated an exceptional heat, and a host of strange talents… It wasn't long before I was drunk on him.

But Dax’s past was darker than mine, teeming with ancient secrets. Falling for him could cost me my life.

I had two choices: walk away or deal with the perilous consequences.

It was no choice at all.

Volume I is the compilation of five episodes of the serial novel (essentially an omnibus), and runs about 60,000 words. It is the equivalent of the first book in a trilogy of novels.

 

Excerpt 

 

I felt his presence behind me even though he was silent as a jaguar stalking its prey. Swinging around, my heart racing for reasons I didn’t understand—it certainly wasn’t fear—I came face-to-face with him for the first time.

Invisible electricity crackled through the air in the five feet of space between us. I knew in my gut that if I crossed the room and grabbed his arm—his quite nicely muscled arm, my brain noted—the current between us would be strong enough to kill me.

But the look on his face… It was an expression I'd never seen on anyone else's face, ever. His eyes were wide, but was it surprise? Alarm? Hostility? I might even have mistaken it for fear, but what did a man well over six feet tall have to fear of a skinny chick like me? The idea was laughable. And yet his lightly-shadowed jaw was clenched so tight, a thick vein in his neck stood out.

Letting my eyes run over him, I noticed that his entire posture was conflicted—on the one hand he seemed to be leaning forward, as if to take in all of me, but on the other, his feet were rooted firmly to the spot, as if he didn't dare take another step.

Well, he might be conflicted, but I wasn’t. Everything about this man seemed to draw me in instantly; his height, his broad shoulders, the way his shirt hugged what was sure to be a well-sculpted body. Even his tousled hair, so dark it was almost black, appealed to me on the basest level. I’d never felt an attraction like it.

A sigh worked its way past my lips. It seemed to break the spell on Dax Allard. He cleared his throat, averted his eyes from me, and, walking as closely to the bookshelf-lined walls as possible, entered another foot into the room so that we were within speaking distance.

It seemed to me from simply looking at him—his crisp collared shirt, the clearly expensive beige pants, the shoes that probably cost more than my mom’s monthly mortgage—that he was used to doing things his way, the way he liked. But somehow, he looked flustered now. I wondered if I'd done something to offend him, because he continued to fiddle with his cufflinks and refused to meet my eye.

"Miss Beaumont," he began. His voice was deeper than I'd imagined, a little bit like sandpaper would be if it was a sound. It was still beautiful in the way a particularly gorgeous piece of rock can be art. He had a French accent just like Oscar, but his was mixed in with an American one, enough so that it was barely a hint.

"Mr. Allard," I replied, when he didn't go on. His gaze landed on mine then, that look of alarm or surprise or anger in it again. Now that he was closer, I noticed his eyes were a strange color I'd never seen before—a sort of coppery red-brown.

He looked away again, but he still didn't stop fidgeting. "I'm afraid...I'm afraid Oscar made a mistake. The position—it's already been filled."

I was so absorbed in the way this confident man's voice hid just a hint of a tremble that it took me a full five seconds to comprehend what he'd said. When I did, my face drained of color. "What? But—"

He shook his head and, to my intense irritation, began to make his way back toward the door. "Sorry."

I could feel anger turning my cheeks bright pink. "Wait a minute," I called to his back. "This—This isn't fair!"

            He half-turned toward me, his face rigid, eyes blazing. I could've sworn the room actually got about ten degrees warmer. "Hasn't anyone told you, Miss Beaumont?" he said. "Life's not fair."

 

About the Author

A huge fan of spooky stuff and shoes, I enjoy alternately hitting up the outlet malls and historic graveyards in Charleston, SC where I live and imbibe coffee. My husband and two small children seem not to mind when I hastily scribble novel lines on stray limbs in the absence of notepads.
Since no writer’s biography is complete without mention of her menagerie of animals, you should know I have one dog that doubles as a footstool, a second that functions as a vacuum cleaner, and a cat that ensures I never forget that my hands are, first and foremost, for pouring cat food.

 

Author Links:

Website | Goodreads | Facebook | Twitter 

 

Giveaway

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♥Jessica(: