excerpt – Carla Swafford, Author

I felt like it was time to share an excerpt from Fake Play.

First, here’s the blurb.

Nothing like waking up in Vegas wearing only a gigantic diamond ring while sprawled out next to an equally naked stranger.

Connor Ellison

Yeah, yeah, I’m Atlanta Edge’s best winger and biggest prankster, but the coaches and PR department have given me an ultimatum: I must own up to my ill-considered stunt and stay married until the end of the run for the Cup or I’ll find myself being traded.

Lily Jones

I want nothing to do with his insane demand. But he convinces me the best decision is to play along. If we remain married and pretend to be in love, he’s offer to save my ice rink from bankruptcy. What’s another sacrifice for my family? I can put up with him until the end of the hockey season. Then we can go our separate ways.

Easy-peasy. No way will they go to the finals. And it’s not like we’ll fall in love or anything.

Now for the excerpt.

   “You like what you see?” He lifts his arms.
   “Yes. I like looking at you.” I spot several ugly bruises on his ribs, right shin—the area that at times becomes exposed between the skate and pads—and in the middle of his chest. That one worries me. He got it as a result of a slap shot during the game in Toronto. I watched it on the wide screen TV above the concession stand at work. I cringed when he blocked it, even pads can’t protect a person from a dark bruise. Without pads, he would most likely have been badly injured or dead. “What did your trainer say?”
   “He iced it. He’ll check it again before the game tomorrow.” He runs a finger across my lips. “I’m okay.”
   Nodding, I rub my hands over and down his chest, avoiding the bruise. “You’re more than okay.”
   He chuckles.
   The sparse hairs tickle my palms as I follow the thicker trail to his stomach. He sucks in air. I know it’s not to hide a beer gut, he doesn’t have one, but from my light touch. His cock, still hard from my play, jerks as if reaching for my hand.
   My lips quiver.
   “Are you laughing at my dick? You better not.” His teasing tone causes my lips to quirk up into a big smile for a second.
   “I would never laugh at your beautiful penis.” I stroke it with the tips of my fingers and glance up for a moment.
   What is it about him that makes me want to pet and play with him? I’ve never really been comfortable doing all of this foreplay. Not that I haven’t. If you want a real relationship with a man, you know sex in many variations will be involved. They are sexual beings, and treat it like food and air. Just a part of living. While most women require their emotions to be engaged.
   Though I will admit, I find I prefer sex over sharing feelings, but at the same time, I like to ignore both whenever possible. I guess that’s another reason my boyfriends break up with me. They often said I’m hard to read. But with Connor, he’s different. That’s why I decided to go to bed with him even knowing mentally a divorce will be more difficult.
He gets me.
   Oddly, none of my old boyfriends played hockey. Oh, they watched it, but that’s not the same. Maybe it’s the reason I feel closer to Connor. He understands the pressure and the dedication of the sport.
   Why am I thinking of hockey when I’m touching this sexy man’s cock?
   “You’re grinning again. You really need to stop before it hurts my ego.”
   “I doubt I can do much damage. It’s a pretty big ego.
   “Thank you, but it’s average for my height. Obviously, the other men in your life were sad representations of manhood.”
   No longer able to hold back, I laugh so hard tears come to my eyes. He joins in. This is the strangest foreplay I’ve ever been part of.
   While still laughing with me, he pushes on my shoulders and my arms windmill as I land on the bed.
   “Perfect. The way I want you. Legs and arms spread out.” Before I can feel any embarrassment at my unladylike display, he lands on top, being careful to catch himself before flattening me. “If I had known you were so much fun in bed, I wouldn’t have waited so long.”
   “Who says I’d willingly fall in bed with you before today?”
   I’ve never imagined being naked in bed with such a sexy man and comfortably talking about our bodies. I feel a low boil of excitement and yearning. Yet, I’m not afraid of coming across as naive and ungraceful as I usually do in intimate times like this. Our attitude is like old friends enjoying each other’s bodies. Is this how it is to have a friend with benefits? Though we’re married, it’s only a technicality.

I picked this excerpt because it’s one of my favorite scenes. It shows that during making love it’s okay to laugh and joke around.

A reminder, be on the look out in September about some announcements.

Keep reading, especially romance.

Carla

An Atlanta Edge Hockey, excerpt, Fake Play, My Books, Savage Champion

Newsletter: Author Carla Swafford’s First Audio

Posted on May 6, 2024May 21, 2024 by Carla Swafford, Author

Yep, Savage Champion will also be my first audio and with a real live person(s). It should be released by the fall. As soon as I have a date, I’ll pass it on. If it goes well, I hope to have my other books narrated (gradually). By the way, Savage Champion rose to #203 (Enemies to Lovers) under Amazon’s ebooks. The 99 cents for the ebook will change after Memorial Day to $6.99. So buy it while the price is low.

Oh, if you don’t remember, Savage Champion is a standalone. I plan on more vampire, shifter, and other paranormal stories. They may be in the same “world” but not dependent on each other.

In Honor of The NHL Play-Offs, An Excerpt of Fake Play

Connor Ellison’s POV

For the next twenty game-clock minutes, my attention is plastered to the opposing team trying to protect their home ice. I manage to play without sneaking a look at Lily. When the buzzer sounds for intermission, I gamble I can handle another peek without going blind to my surroundings.

She’s exactly where she’d been before the game started. Fuck, she looks so good. My jersey fits her just right. Even from across the ice, I see her eyes bright with excitement. It’s a hell of a game so far, but I managed to get a point for an assist. Her head turns to the person next to her. For a second, jealousy swamps me, until I see the man has to be in his seventies. From what I’ve experienced so far, Lily doesn’t have a weakness for much older guys.

Tearing my gaze away, I follow my teammates off the ice.

“If Coach doesn’t kick your ass for letting your gonads control your attention, I sure as hell will.” Nick slaps my back.

Can’t get mad at the man. He’s right. No more asking Lily to come to games. My mind refuses to stay on what’s important. Far back in my brain a little voice sneers, “Like she’s not important to you?”

More significant than I should feel in such a short time.

We listen to Coach chew us out and then give the usual pep talk. Then back on the ice.

The second period is a jumbled mess. We miss passes, have too many interceptions, play like a bunch of girls —shit, if Lily read my thoughts, she’d cut my dick off—play like zombies. Yeah, that’s a better analogy.

Somehow we pull it together in the third period. We even edge by New York and win in overtime. I dare to check her out while in line to knock helmets with Liam in congrats on the win.

She’s jumping up and down, waving. I lift my hand and slam into a teammate. We barely remain upright on our skates.

“Fuck, Elly. What’s wrong with you?” Big Ryan gives me the evil eye with good reason.

“I think I’m in love,” I mutter beneath my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Love? Yeah. And I have no idea how to handle it.

Finally Back To the Southern Crime Family

Once again, I’m working on Sen’s story. Hopefully, I’ll have it finished before the end of the year. Maybe it’ll be early enough to get published before Christmas too. We’ll see.

Hey, be sure to tell your friends about my books and get them to sign up for my newsletter. Pretty please. 🙂 CLICK HERE.

Hugs,

Carla

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Newsletter: Author Carla Swafford – ARCS & Happy Irish Day

Posted on March 17, 2024June 21, 2024 by Carla Swafford, Author

Am I Irish? Well, per 23 & Me, I am. The report didn’t show the exact percentage as it was mixed in as British & Irish (83%) along with many other smaller percentages. And Ancestry DNA doesn’t actually say it, but in the small print it shows Northern Ireland to be included under Scotland (38%). Of course, Britain includes Scotland. Yes, I’m aware the Irish immigrated to Scotland and vice versa. But when I was growing up, I heard Dutch, German, and Welsh, not a word about Irish or Scottish. Goodness, I had no idea I was a Scot until just a few years ago when a cousin of mine gave me a copy of the family tree school report (1960s) he’d done after talking with my maternal grandfather. Live and learn, right?

Writing Tip

Probably like you, I read a lot of books. Nowadays, I stick to romances because my spare time is limited, but many years ago, I read historical non-fiction and celebrity biographies and autobiographies. Back to fiction. One of the things I’ve been noticing in current books is dialogue being broken up by one speaker. Let me give you an example.

This is the accepted way.

“Damn. You better be glad I didn’t know you had this on.” he leaned over and ran his tongue along the string of pearls. “We would’ve never made it to the wedding.” The heel of his palm rotated, and she bowed her back. “Hold onto the headboard.”

She stretched and grasped beneath the edge above her head. As she suspected, her breasts lifted out of the corset.

JAKE, A SOUTHERN CRIME FAMILY NOVEL.

The following is the confusing way.

“Damn. You better be glad I didn’t know you had this on.” he leaned over and ran his tongue along the string of pearls.

“We would’ve never made it to the wedding.” The heel of his palm rotated, and she bowed her back.

“Hold onto the headboard.”

She stretched and grasped beneath the edge above her head. As she suspected, her breasts lifted out of the corset.

JAKE, A SOUTHERN CRIME FAMILY NOVEL

I would read this as the first sentence is Jake. Second sentence is Angel. Third is Jake. Because dialogue is only broken to another paragraph when it’s another person speaking. Side note: If they talk at the same time, it’s still in separate paragraphs, but the narration mentions it’s spoken at the same time.

Anyway, I suggest buying The Elements of Style by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White (also known as Strunk and White). The book is thin, but packed with a ton of information. They tell you how to make your writing clear.

I’m certainly not perfect (if you read my newsletters, I almost always have an error in them), but I refer to the little book mentioned in the previous paragraph and Grammar for Dummies when I have a questions. Love the “For Dummies” books.

Savage Champion ARCs

Is anyone interested in receiving the ARC of Savage Champion? All you need to do is read the book and do a review on Goodreads. Yep. Good or bad. Email me at Author Carswafford @ Gmail .com (leave out the spaces) with your USPS mailing address. My copies should arrive the end of the month and I’ll mail out to you then. You must be a subscriber, and sorry, must be in the U.S.

Blurb, Excerpt, Tropes

If you haven’t read my earlier newsletters talking about it, here’s a little info on Savage Champion and an excerpt. See if it is your type of genre.

The blurb.

When a private investigator tracks down a client’s lost sister, he discovers she’s not lost or the client’s sister. The woman is a vampire on a campaign of vengeance. Somehow he must stop her killing spree and protect her at the same time.

Tori Amherst

I died years ago.

In my savage new life, I revenge the helpless.

But a hunter came. A human. A former cop. Now a private eye.

His body, his blood, and his wounded soul are perfect.

Then I discover I’m not a champion, but a terror.

Ronan Michaels

I died in her arms.

But I woke to a new life full of hate.

She hides a truth. I hate secrets.

I crave her body, her blood, and her lost soul.

Then I discover the lies.

I will get my revenge and she will be mine.

(In The Middle of Chapter One)

Tori

Out of the corner of my eye, I noted the Mustang idling a block away. He was good. Certainly better than the others who’d tried to track me over the last few years. But if the truth were told, I really didn’t care if he followed. What was there to worry about?

I’d checked in with the Alabama master vampire over an hour ago. He’d been happy to see I’d returned home. If he hadn’t been my master—the vampire who created me—I would need his permission to stay in his domain. This would ensure they wouldn’t send an enforcer or assassin to remove me.

My only concern, momentarily, was the man following me. If he’d been a vampire, I would merely ask him to state his business. But with his being human, there was a different protocol. For now, the questions were, what did he want? And was he part of the LVH?

The Legion of Vampire Hunters drove white cars and vans, and it was unlikely they owned a sporty blue car like his. Possibly a human private detective had decided to follow me. Didn’t he know curiosity killed the cat? Or the nosey investigator?

I grinned, flashing my deadly canines. It didn’t matter if someone saw them. In and around the club, others would only think I was part of the crowd, pretending to be a child of the night. Little did they know the real thing was among them.

Waved in by the bouncer, I threaded my way through the thick, pulsating crowd inside. The smell of sexually excited bodies filled my senses. The music thumped through my body. Couples swayed on the dance floor, many grinding pelvises together more than dancing.

As a human, I had enjoyed the night life and the pounding music. As a vampire, I absolutely loved it. So many sensations to drink in. I closed my eyes for a second and inhaled the wonderful smell of humanity. Liquor had nothing over heated bodies and hot blood. The high was better than a manmade drug, legal or illegal.

Strategic black lights lit the large room, leaving several dark corners, ideal for feeding. And I regularly exploited them. Dim lighting wasn’t a problem for me. Vampires’ night vision was excellent.

Tonight, blood didn’t drive me to the night club, but the need for human company. A frantic feeling saturated the air in the nightclub. A sensation in the air to live for the moment for tomorrow might never come. Like many, I believed in the fast-paced world—live fast, die young, and leave a good-looking corpse.

I sniggered at the ironic thought. I was a step above a corpse.

Coming to a stop at a corner booth, I stared at the young couple occupying the V-shaped bench seat. They completely ignored me. Their arms and legs entwined, clothes in disarray. I leaned over the table and lightly tugged at the man’s sleeve and then fanned five one-hundred-dollar bills in front of his face.

“What’s that for?” His eyes widened with interest.

“The booth?” With a hint of a smile, I waited for his decision.

He shrugged, snatched the cash out of my hand, and pulled the protesting girl out of the booth, heading toward the bar.

I slid in until my back was against the corner. A great place to see the majority of the room. With one leg tucked beneath me, I waited to see if my stalker had followed.

A little bit of time passed before he walked into the club. Though I’d seen him distinctly in the dark as he followed me in his Mustang, seeing him this close was a treat. So masculine and striking.

I studied him. He appeared to be six-foot, maybe six-one, late twenties. Looking at the lines around his eyes, I changed it to early thirties. His wind-tossed dark hair gave him the air of a poet or musician. Thick strands framed his lightly tanned, high-cheekboned face giving him an untamed look along with his five o’clock shadow. He had an aquiline nose above pouting lips. The type of lips that I would enjoy sucking and licking, and having the favor returned.

What would it be like to touch him, taste his blood? A shake of my head cleared my mind of that notion. Hunger for blood was always below the surface, but tonight my hunger was for what I sensed in the man.

Not since my reincarnation had a human interested or attracted me to such an extent I almost felt as if he spellbound me. But he wasn’t a warlock. Otherwise, I would sense the magic surrounding him.

While I studied him, I sensed his discomfort with the nightclub. Was he wondering how many were actually vampires? Would he be disappointed to find I was the only one in the club tonight? Did he actually know there was such a creature?

He was good. Not once had he looked my way, but still he maneuvered through the gyrating crowd and stopped at the bar nearest to my booth. He motioned to the bartender and leaned over, probably so he could be heard. The bartender nodded and began to pull a draft.

Without glancing around, he sat on a stool and lifted his gaze, staring straight at me.

Such soulful hazel-green eyes. I sighed. Vampire vision was a blessing. Had he sensed me? Obviously, he knew where I sat. I was alone. Did he feel my interest? Was he psychically sensitive? Was that why my attraction for him was so strong?

Of course, the overwhelming question was, why was he following me? Well, I could wonder about him all night. Or with certainty, I could learn my answers the easy way. I gave him a big smile.

That’s a little taste. The book has a prologue that shows how she became a vampire. It is a gruesome beginning. And there’s another gruesome scene in the book where they chop up a zombie. I wanted to warn you in case it wasn’t to your taste.

Like my other books, it does have sex scenes throughout and a lot of curse words. It is a spicy romance with suspense and mystery tied in.

Here are the tropes: Human vs Vampire, Alpha Hero, Dark Secret, Secret identity, Redemption/Revenge, Person in distress, Protector, Second Chance, Under a Spell.

Well, have a fun time drinking green beer and getting pinched.

Thanks.

Carla