In this scene from Eruption: Yellowblown™ Book One, Boone, the Geology TA who is also Violet’s freshman-crush-starting-to-turn-into-sophomore-boyfriend, first breaks the news. Neither of them fully understand the potential impacts, though Boone has a better idea than Violet.

EXCERPT

“You’re starting to freak me out,” I said. He looked like he was going to tell me someone had died, but he didn’t know anyone in my family, and surely the Dean of Students would not give him the responsibility of passing on bad news after three weeks of talking.

“Sorry,” he said. “I can’t decide if I’m freaked out or not.” He took a deep breath. “Yellowstone is erupting.”

I stared at him, not a flicker of comprehension illuminating my dim-bulb mind. Nothing. “Yellowstone? The place with the, umm, geysers?” Obviously I’d heard of Yellowstone, never been there, not sure I could place it on a map in the murky part of the U.S. between where I lived and Hollywood.

“Yeah. Yellowstone sits over a hotspot that’s been around for millions of years.”

“Instead of steaming it’s now erupting? As in lava erupting?” We’d covered igneous rocks in a very general way already so I knew hot liquefied rock below the ground was called magma and, when it erupted, became lava.

“Dr. Potter says nobody knows what it’s doing. It blew this morning. I mean explosively blew. All the local sensors went offline. Satellite pictures show a big brown cloud of dust. Like two hundred miles across.”

Boone’s voice shook a fraction. I put my hand on his forearm. He sat back so he could hold it in his.

I asked, “Do you have friends out there, or family?”

“Not close. Dr. Potter knows I’m from Nebraska. He asked me where—made me point to it on a map. He said my family might want to stockpile supplies, or better yet, leave.” He paused, prompting me to scoot to the edge of my seat. “My house is nine hundred miles away from Yellowstone, Violet.”

END OF EXCERPT

I’ve incorporated little science tidbits throughout the book, but especially in the next scene after this excerpt, to give the average reader a respectable understanding of Yellowstone and some geological concepts. If you’d like to know more about the science, I’m in the middle of a series of blog posts about it, starting with I’m a Geek about Yellowstone, some low-key talking points to impress your friends that I then expand upon in subsequent posts.

BLURB for Eruption: Yellowblown Book One.

I’m in the middle of the perfect college semester, hundreds of miles from Mom, with an awesome roomie and my freshman crush finally becoming a sophomore reality—Hotness! I’m figuring out calculus, I’ve got both hands on the handlebars and the wind of freedom in my hair. What on earth could slow my roll?

How about if the Yellowstone volcano erupts for the first time in 630,000 years, spewing a continuous load of ash (crap) all over North America? Think that’ll put a kink in my bicycle chain?

Make that kinks, plural, because here’s a scientific fact I’ll bet you didn’t know. Nothing ruins the perfect semester like a super caldera. Now that I’ve made you smarter today, maybe you can tell me how to keep my life cruising in the right direction—no to Mom, yes to roomie, double yes to Hotness!—during a global disaster?

My lame name is Violet and, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m not hanging from the side of a cinder cone on the last page of this trauma, but there’s definitely more to come. Unless, of course, humans become extinct and then there’s not. Duh.

Buy it now  on Amazon

Eruption is book one in the Yellowblown™ Series and is a BTS eMag Red Carpet Finalist.

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EXCERPT

He handled the large SUV easily, without the usual jerkiness of a guy trying to impress a girl with his mad driving skills. We drove through the depressing remains of an old steel town before he pulled in at a parking lot in a place called Duquesne. He came to my side of the SUV even though I already had the door open. I slid down out of the seat. His hand on my arm stopped me from reaching back in for my pack.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Before I get all sweaty and disgusting.” His kiss ignited sparks. I stepped in to press against him. A lift to my tiptoes brought me to the perfect height for my thighs to nestle against his. My arms slipped around his neck, all the encouragement he needed to deepen the kiss.

His hands drifted from my shoulder blades, down my back, to my hips. I squeaked against his mouth when he took a possessive grip on my behind.

He pulled away to look down at me with hooded eyes. “You look so hot in this little skirt. If you rode around campus there’d be a trail of guys jogging behind you.”

The unexpected compliment made me blush. Oh sure, the ex had tried to get in my pants, but he’d never told me I was hot. And men followed Mia, not me. “You look pretty good yourself,” I whispered. I ran my hands across his shoulders, muscular under the thin quick-dry fabric clinging to them. “And, for future reference, I don’t mind sweat. At least, not yours.”

His eyes smoldered. “That’s some good information right there.” He rocked my hips into tighter contact with his. His hands were strong and confident, a man’s hands, meant to make a woman pliable. That’s what they did to me, anyway.

Something in his expression urged me to initiate another kiss, this one searching and tender, like we’d each admitted something special to one another when we’d hardly said anything at all. I pressed against him, demanding more. He gave, one hand still cupping my ass while the other centered on my back. His firm hold, the way it told me exactly how he wanted me to stand, inflamed me, from the top of my tingling scalp to the bottom of my curling toes.

A car horn tooted merrily from the road. I dropped my face to his chest, his smell making me nuzzle the smooth cloth and wonder about the firm flesh I felt beneath. He slid his hand into my hair to cradle my head as he watched the vehicle drive away.

“Shoot,” I said into his shirt.

“Not a good spot,” he said gruffly. “Let’s take this ride.”

END OF EXCERPT

If you want to know more about Boone and Violet’s story, click here to visit Eruption’s page on this website.

I’m happy to report that book two in the series, Rhyolite Drifts, is with the editor. I’m waiting to see how extensive her comments are before I set a release date, but it will be soon!!!

Make sure to check out the other Hot Kisses by clicking the blue froggy button or by visiting the Book Boyfriends Cafe page.

That got me thinking about fictional fathers I’ve created. I’ve written at least one horribly cruel father, and three who are somewhat disconnected, and a few characters whose fathers have died, though I’ve given a couple heroes and heroines relatively normal family units. Violet Perch is one of the normal ones because, in Eruption, part of the journey is watching this white-bread American family deal with the eruption of the Yellowstone super caldera. In this short excerpt, Violet is still at college. Phone communications have been spotty due to problems with landlines and cell towers. Her dad finally reaches her while she’s in the car with the new boyfriend her parents don’t know about. She and Dad have already talked about all the important stuff, like everybody being safe and having food, etc. Then….

“It sounds like you’re in a car,” Dad said.

“Oh, well, I, umm, I…a guy took me to a rail trail south of Pittsburgh.” Dang it, I hated when home life infringed on college life.

“A guy? What guy?” Dad’s tone went from conversational to stern alertness.

“We’re almost back to campus. Gotta go.”

“Wait. What guy?”

I sighed. “Dad, I’m fine. I’ll text you later. Say hi to Mom and Sara, okay?”

He grumbled, but hung up. I suspected this wouldn’t be the end of it. As soon as he told mom I’d been out with a boy, my phone would light up big time.

Boone quirked a brow. “I guess your parents don’t know about me?”

“No,” I admitted. “Do yours?”

So, tell me in the comments about the first character who comes to mind when you think of a fictional father. He can be either good (the wise Odin) or horrible (Darth Vader).

Eruption is book one in the Yellowblown series. I just sent book two off to the editor so it’s definitely coming in the first half of 2015!!!

BLURB

I’m in the middle of the perfect college semester, hundreds of miles from Mom, with an awesome roomie and my freshman crush finally becoming a sophomore reality—Hotness! I’m figuring out calculus, I’ve got both hands on the handlebars and the wind of freedom in my hair. What on earth could slow my roll?

How about if the Yellowstone volcano erupts for the first time in 630,000 years, spewing a continuous load of ash (crap) all over North America? Think that’ll put a kink in my bicycle chain?

Make that kinks, plural, because here’s a scientific fact I’ll bet you didn’t know. Nothing ruins the perfect semester like a super caldera. Now that I’ve made you smarter today, maybe you can tell me how to keep my life cruising in the right direction—no to Mom, yes to roomie, double yes to Hotness!—during a global disaster?

My lame name is Violet and, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m not hanging from the side of a cinder cone on the last page of this trauma, but there’s definitely more to come. Unless, of course, humans become extinct and then there’s not. Duh.

Available at Amazon

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EXCERPT

He panted in even, deliberate puffs by the time we reached the edge of campus, but he hadn’t given up. He’d stayed on my back wheel. I did a cool down loop on the local streets before guiding us to the dorm.

I stepped off my bike and reluctantly removed my helmet. My stubby ponytail was mostly intact, though much of the front section of my hair slipped from the skinny hairband. I did my best to tuck the errant strands behind my ears.

He arranged his own gear then looked at me with the green stare again, more intense than before. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“I’m sure we freshman all look alike.” I extended my hand. “Violet Perch.”

“Boone Ramer.” He took my hand and, though our palms were hot and sweaty, he continued to hold it, lighting a fuse of attraction that sparked up my wrist and past my elbow. “Violet. Unusual name. I’ll remember it now.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a curse,” I said as the heat passed my shoulder to go straight to my skort.

“I didn’t mean unusual bad. It’s nice. Feminine.” He released my hand while his eyes touched me, sliding down my pink jersey and along legs I knew weren’t particularly long but had hints of muscle definition.

I knew what I was. In our world of breast enhancements and thigh gaps, I didn’t have the right dimensions to attract a guy in Boone’s league, especially with my sports bra smashing my itty bitty titties down to nothing. Helmet hair, sweat stained armpits, padded bottoms, and black sturdy shoes completed the non-seductive, flat-chested ensemble. I was all in.

His face sharpened in a way that suggested he might like what he saw. My nostrils flared in immediate, misguided response. God, he was magnetic.

“You’re in good shape,” he said appreciatively. “I bonked on the last hill but you pulled me up.” He waggled his brows at me. “Couldn’t let you make me look bad.”

My face flushed beyond exercise-induced red. “You did good.” We wheeled our bikes toward the door and I’d almost worked up the courage to ask if he’d like to ride together again when a trilling voice called his name.

Twyla Blakelock, who’d ignored me at a rush party last week, bounced up to press her glossy lips against his mouth. Her nose wrinkled. “Ewww, you’re all sweaty,” she said.

What kind of moron touches him and says Ewww, I thought. You’re ewww, Twyla.

“Hey, I’ll see you later,” I said out loud, eternally grateful for the guy who came out the door at the right time to hold it for me.

END OF EXCERPT

Eruption probably isn’t as spicy as some of the books in this hop, and the payoff takes awhile due to an apocalyptic eruption of the Yellowstone caldera, but Boone and Violet are worth the wait. Especially Boone.

BLURB

I’m in the middle of the perfect college semester, hundreds of miles from Mom, with an awesome roomie and my freshman crush finally becoming a sophomore reality—Hotness! I’m figuring out calculus, I’ve got both hands on the handlebars and the wind of freedom in my hair. What on earth could slow my roll?

How about if the Yellowstone volcano erupts for the first time in 630,000 years, spewing a continuous load of ash (crap) all over North America? Think that’ll put a kink in my bicycle chain?

Make that kinks, plural, because here’s a scientific fact I’ll bet you didn’t know. Nothing ruins the perfect semester like a super caldera. Now that I’ve made you smarter today, maybe you can tell me how to keep my life cruising in the right direction—no to Mom, yes to roomie, double yes to Hotness!—during a global disaster?

My lame name is Violet and, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m not hanging from the side of a cinder cone on the last page of this trauma, but there’s definitely more to come. Unless, of course, humans become extinct and then there’s not. Duh.

Eruption: Yellowblown Book One is available at Amazon.

Make sure to visit all the other tension scenes on this Hot for Friday hop this week!

Or join the fun at http://www.bookboyfriendscafe.com/2015/02/hot-for-friday-hot-and-bothered.html

EXCERPT

I’d spent months forcing myself into mental placidity where Boone Ramer was concerned, the mantra “not into you” repeating like an endless ride through “It’s A Small World” at Disneyland. Now, unexpectedly, I climbed the rails right before the steepest drop of “Thunder Mountain.” Dark. Disoriented. Exhilarated.

“You’re not like most girls, are you?”

The confusing question spurred me to blurt my own, a thought barely formed in my mind, much less my mouth. “Do you want to go to the Valentine’s formal with me?”

His head shook “no” too quickly, automatically, as if I’d offered him a cube of disgusting, moldy cheese. “I can’t,” he added, in case I hadn’t gotten the unequivocal message.

I looked past him into the warmth of the library, wishing I could reverse the clock and return to “It’s A Small World.”

No such luck. The bottom of the roller coaster dropped, leaving me, well, screwed. In less than five minutes I’d gone from time-to-study-French-verbs to a fresh hell of obsession for Boone Ramer.

Not.

Into.

You.

“Okay,” I said as I ducked around him. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Violet, wait,” he said when I was halfway to the door.

END OF EXCERPT

BLURB

I’m in the middle of the perfect college semester, hundreds of miles from Mom, with an awesome roomie and my freshman crush finally becoming a sophomore reality—Hotness! I’m figuring out calculus, I’ve got both hands on the handlebars and the wind of freedom in my hair. What on earth could slow my roll?

How about if the Yellowstone volcano erupts for the first time in 630,000 years, spewing a continuous load of ash (crap) all over North America? Think that’ll put a kink in my bicycle chain?

Make that kinks, plural, because here’s a scientific fact I’ll bet you didn’t know. Nothing ruins the perfect semester like a super caldera. Now that I’ve made you smarter today, maybe you can tell me how to keep my life cruising in the right direction—no to Mom, yes to roomie, double yes to Hotness!—during a global disaster?

My lame name is Violet and, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m not hanging from the side of a cinder cone on the last page of this trauma, but there’s definitely more to come. Unless, of course, humans become extinct and then there’s not. Duh.

Eruption is book one in the Yellowblown™ Series and is available at Amazon.

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A few weeks ago I posted some concise talking points about Yellowstone so you could sound smart at your holiday gatherings, and I promised a continuing path to geekdom. Join the journey today, as I expand on point number one. Yellowstone is hot like a romance hero. Well, duh, everybody knows that. It’s gorgeous, steamy, and explosive.

But why is it hot? Deep underneath Yellowstone—from eight to sixteen kilometers depth, according the the United States Geological Survey (USGS)—lies a chamber of magma forty to eight kilometers wide. (Magma and lava are molten rock. Magma is lava that hasn’t erupted yet. If you can see it above the ground, it’s lava. If it’s still hiding underground, it’s magma.)

Not all of the chamber is full of melted rock. Some areas are probably solid or semi-solid. The point is there’s a minimum of something like 12,800 cubic kilometers (8,000 cubic miles) of freakin’ hot rock sitting down there. It heats everything above it, including creating super-heated water, hence the geysers, bubbly mud pools, and hot springs. Occasionally this gentle release of heat isn’t enough and it erupts, usually in a small way and other times like a Roman candle. As in one-thousand times the Mt. St. Helens eruption.

That epically large potential is why Yellowstone is known as a super volcano. (Call it a super caldera if you want to be really geeky and correct, which you do.) We’ll get into the “super” part more next time, but a caldera is an area of volcanic activity that sinks to fill the void left when a volume of magma exits. While we picture most volcanos as cones sticking up, a caldera is a saucer dipping down. If they were belly buttons, calderas would be innies. They make beautiful lakes, such as the aptly named Crater Lake.

If you have any questions about what I’ve written so far, ask away. I’ll do my best to answer or let you know if there is a future post that will address it.

Next step on the path to geekdom? The geographical size and eruption history of the Yellowstone caldera.

I was logging onto my Yahoo account, minding my own business, when an article about Yellowstone caught my eye. Since my current writing project centers around an eruption of Yellowstone, obviously I had a professional obligation to read said article. And then read every article linked within said article. I even understood most of it, though the unit “microstrain” must have been invented since I graduated with my geology degree in 1989.

Many folks, when I mention Yellowstone, say something like “Oh, it’s so beautiful there, I can’t wait to go back,” or “Visiting Yellowstone is on my bucket list.” The eruption concept of my series fuels a few to admit worry about impending volcanic activity at the USA’s first national park. (They get an A for even knowing about the possibility. I recently had a reviewer who actually asked in the middle of the review if Yellowstone was really a volcano. As if I would invent that plot twist, and as if he/she couldn’t have answered that question with a five-second online search. Definitely not a geek.) For those of you now scratching your heads, here is a list of key talking points about Yellowstone. If you have geek-like tendencies, you might want to know more, which is why I’ll tackle some of these as single topics in 2015.

1. Yellowstone is, at its essence, a volcanic caldera. That’s why it’s hot and steamy, like a great romance hero.

2. The potential of Yellowstone is massive. It is part of an elite club known by commoners like us as super-calderas. There is no firm definition of what constitutes a super-caldera, but to even apply to the club, a volcano must have emitted in a single eruption at least three hundred cubic kilometers of stuff. (Picture a solid block with each edge long enough to reach from New York City to Baltimore, Maryland.) Some scientists hold the bar quite a bit higher, at one thousand cubic kilometers. Yellowstone has done all that and more, so it’s a gold card carrying member.

3. Volcanoes are just local events, right? Wrong. Remember the volcano in Iceland that screwed up air travel in Europe for several weeks in 2010? During it’s troubling second phase, it ejected one quarter of one cubic kilometers of stuff, or a cube with edges equal to something like the long side of a city block in Manhattan. That is a trifling sneeze compared to a super-caldera (see point 2.)

4. Yellowstone will probably not erupt, and is much more likely to do so in a small way, like a tiny garden wedding as opposed to the mass weddings of the Unification Church.

5. Though even Yellowstone isn’t monitored as overwhelmingly as curious scientists would like, we’ll probably have warning signs of a massive eruption, so as long as you have a go-bag for the southern hemisphere, you’ll be fine. Or you’ll at least survive longer than the rest of us.

6. Of course, Yellowstone isn’t the only super-caldera to worry about.  There are at least six known on Earth. If any one of them cuts loose in your lifetime, buckle up.

Curious enough to dash down the path of geekdom? Here’s the article that got me meandering into this blog post in the first place, or you can follow my blog so you know when I post the next fact-filled blast.

And here’s a link to my Pinterest board where I collected images for my series. There are some really impressive photos of volcanic eruptions! I definitely want to see an active volcano in person some day, though I hope it is one that is sort of gurgling along, like Kilauea, not a super-caldera with the potential to end life as we know it.

EXCERPT

I glanced around the room again, in the midst of a minor panic attack and, seeing my bike, remembered the first time I’d ever talked to Boone, for real. Last September, on a gorgeous Saturday evening, I’d taken my old bike—a heavy blue Neanderthal compared to my Giant—for a quick spin to escape the freshman roommate from hell who’d gotten high, or drunk, or both—in the middle of the afternoon, no less—and drained her cell phone battery with sobs to her hometown boyfriend. When I tried to be sympathetic, her wordless snarl told me she didn’t want my support, though I’d tattled to our RA on my way down the hall. I really didn’t want to return from biking to find my cray cray roomie dead from an overdose.

After my responsible escape, I’d ridden four or five miles out of town then looped back on the country roads. At the first stoplight, a biker came toward me on the perpendicular street. He nodded at me and looked away then looked back at about the same time I recognized him. Boone freakin’ Ramer. The unexpectedness both jazzed and horrified me. Hotness, all to myself, yes, but he was seeing me in a helmet, sports sunglasses and a water bladder backpack.

“Hey,” I said.

He wore sunglasses, too. The reflective orange lenses hid his eyes, but not his frown. “Aren’t you a freshman at Western Case?” he asked. His voice was nice, not crazy deep but definitely masculine, and he spoke with a slow cadence, in no hurry at all.

“Yeah,” I said. Scintillating. Brilliant.

“What’d you think of the game?”

“What game?” I scooted my bike farther onto the shoulder of the road as a car cruised past.

“The football game. Today. At home.”

“I don’t follow sports much. Was it good?” Those maddening mirrored glasses hid everything. His extended silence couldn’t be a positive sign.

“Are you lost?” he finally asked.

I glanced around. “I don’t think so. Do I look lost?”

His self-deprecating smile thinned his lips but showed no teeth. “No, sorry, most students only ride far enough to find beer.” He moved his head in a way that suggested he was checking out my gear. “I should’ve noticed you weren’t dressed for a grocery run.”

“I only did about ten miles,” I said with a shrug.

“Twice what I can do on these hills.” He grimaced.

I slid my sunglasses off my sweaty nose. I didn’t like not seeing his eyes and hoped he’d show me his if I showed him mine. I used the maneuver as an excuse to check out the rest of him. His biking shorts were loose, like gym shorts, accentuating awesome, tight calves. The top half of him didn’t disappoint, either, with the thin fabric of his shirt plastered over his pecs. He was respectably muscled, not over-juiced like Bodacious.

Hot. Ness.

“New to biking?” I asked.

“Rehabbing my knee.”

“That sucks.”

“Yep.” He finally removed his sunglasses to wipe his forearm over his ruddy face.

“What happened?” I indicated his leg with the tip of my chin.

His quick glance registered surprise before he gave the same odd little smile. “Oh. I was a quarterback for the football team. Took a low hit at the end of last season.”

I squinted at his leg. “Wow, those scars are tiny.”

He prodded at a shiny pink dot on his hairy skin. “The doctors in Pittsburgh are some of the best.” He sounded tired, or sort of downcast.

In an unusual moment of insight, I said, “Was today the first game since?”

“Yep.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t play?”

He looked down the street, away from me, then at the road cinders at our feet. “This is the first fall I haven’t played ball since I was six.”

“Wow. I can’t think of anything other than, you know, the basics like breathing I’ve been doing for that long.”

He smirked.

“Docs wouldn’t clear you?”

“They did. I didn’t.” He picked up the front of his bike by the handlebars then set it back down. “When the mom who drove you forty miles round trip for midget practices and the dad who wrecked his shoulder passing the ball back to you both say it’s time to quit….”

“Sounds like your parents are good at mind-jobs, like mine.”

He smiled a little more cheerfully and I smiled back, glad because he’d been cruising toward miserable. Just the image I wanted to create—here’s the sports ignoramus who can totally bum you out in thirty seconds flat.

“They let it up to me in the end. I made the right decision. It’s not like I have a chance to go pro. I’ll be able to walk when I’m forty, maybe throw the ball with my own kid.” A shrug bunched the muscles at his shoulders. Another shadow of doubt passed over his face.

“The bike’ll be good for you.” Again with the brilliance, as if some millionaire orthopedist hadn’t already told him about biking. Duh.

“I can go farther in Nebraska. Fewer hills,” he said. He reached for the water bottle attached to the down tube of his bike, and I could almost see him shaking off the blues. “Where are you from?” His green eyes bored into me with unanticipated curiosity.

“Indiana. We have hills but not like this.”

“Why do you ride?” he asked after he’d finished taking a deep drink from the Copperheads Football bottle.

“Um, mostly ’cuz it feels good. I mean, it helps me to clear my head.” It feels good? Really, did I say that out loud?

“Endorphins,” he said. “Though I could do without the bugs smacking me in the face.” He tucked the bottle in the cage and pushed his sunglasses back on. “Wanna head back?”

“Sure.” I slid my own glasses on and clipped one foot into a pedal.

We stood on the corner, ready to launch, each waiting for the other to lead.

“You go ahead,” he finally said with a chuckle.

“Is this a test to make sure I’m not lost?”

“No.” He grinned. “My mama taught me ladies go first.”

I rolled my eyes, checked traffic and pushed off, thanking God my other biking shoe clicked neatly into its bracket.

“Clips,” he said from over my left shoulder. “You’re brave.”

“Power on the upstroke and downstroke,” I said.

“Or instant death the first time I tried to stop.”

I laughed. “I practiced in my front yard for awhile. If I can do it, anyone can.” I shifted into a lower gear for the gentle climb. The real bitch of a hill would come at the end.

“Don’t baby me, now,” he said.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Have it your way.”

He panted in even, deliberate puffs by the time we reached the edge of campus, but he hadn’t given up. He’d stayed on my back wheel. I did a cool down loop on the local streets before guiding us to the dorm.

I stepped off my bike and reluctantly removed my helmet. My stubby ponytail was mostly intact, though much of the front section of my hair slipped from the skinny hairband. I did my best to tuck the errant strands behind my ears.

He arranged his own gear then looked at me with the green stare again, more intense than before. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“I’m sure we freshman all look alike.” I extended my hand. “Violet Perch.”

“Boone Ramer.” He took my hand and, though our palms were hot and sweaty, he continued to hold it, lighting a fuse of attraction that sparked up my wrist and past my elbow. “Violet. Unusual name. I’ll remember it now.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a curse,” I said as the heat passed my shoulder to go straight to my skort.

“I didn’t mean unusual bad. It’s nice. Feminine.” He released my hand while his eyes touched me, sliding down my pink jersey and along legs I knew weren’t particularly long but had hints of muscle definition.

I knew what I was. In our world of breast enhancements and thigh gaps, I didn’t have the right dimensions to attract a guy in Boone’s league, especially with my sports bra smashing my itty bitty titties down to nothing. Helmet hair, sweat stained armpits, padded bottoms, and black sturdy shoes completed the non-seductive, flat-chested ensemble. I was all in.

His face sharpened in a way that suggested he might like what he saw. My nostrils flared in immediate, misguided response. God, he was magnetic.

“You’re in good shape,” he said appreciatively. “I bonked on the last hill but you pulled me up.” He waggled his brows at me. “Couldn’t let you make me look bad.”

My face flushed beyond exercise-induced red. “You did good.” We wheeled our bikes toward the door and I’d almost worked up the courage to ask if he’d like to ride together again when a trilling voice called his name.

Twyla Blakelock, who’d ignored me at a rush party last week, bounced up to press her glossy lips against his mouth. Her nose wrinkled. “Ewww, you’re all sweaty,” she said.

What kind of moron touches him and says Ewww, I thought. You’re ewww, Twyla.

“Hey, I’ll see you later,” I said out loud, eternally grateful for the guy who came out the door at the right time to hold it for me.

END OF EXCERPT

Only 99 cents at Amazon until September 27.  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MRHAIRO

The lead character in my new release, Eruption, has one best friend/college roommate. The two of them seem like opposites on the surface, but Violet likes Mia’s eccentricity, and Mia likes Violet’s normalcy and steadiness. They’ve both been burned by people they’ve trusted before, so they take nothing for granted with each other.

In this excerpt, we see Mia helping Violet get ready for her first date with a guy she’s been crushing on for a year.

EXCERPT

Mia and I dug through my wardrobe on Saturday, a day of perfect football weather. Chilly temps on the walk to cafeteria “brunch” morphed to blindingly sunny and warm by noon. Mia and I had totally different taste in everything, which meant I couldn’t pull off her ruffled mini skirt and black leather jacket look. She understood me, though, and we settled on a pair of skinny jeans, a yellow sleeveless top with black trim (school colors!), and my sporty flip-flops with floral straps. I slathered sunscreen on my shoulders and arms while Mia searched her collection of hair clips.

My brown hair rested a tad below my shoulders. I finger combed a sloppy part down the middle most days and usually had at least one side tucked behind my ear. I tried not to pull it up all the time ’cuz the bulk made the top of my head look too wide. Mom said my face was heart-shaped which I interpreted to mean my chin was too narrow for my forehead.

Mia twisted the front pieces of my hair back and secured it with a bobby pin so it didn’t blow into my lip-gloss if a breeze kicked up at the stadium. (I’d rejected a rhinestone clip and a daisy barrette.) “You sure you won’t wear some eyeliner?” she asked for the third time. “I could make your eyes look big as pool balls if you’d let me.”

“Just the look I’m going for,” I said, picturing one of those big-eyed puppies that adorned every greeting card a few years ago. “This is a football game, not the prom.” I already felt overdone with one coat of black/brown mascara.

“If one wants to be treated like an aristocrat, one must dress like an aristocrat,” she said in a voice like the Queen of England’s.

“I’m a Copperhead, not Princess Kate.”

“Whatever.” She sulked. “Ooh, ten ’til one. I’m outta here.”

“You don’t have to leave.” The panic I’d been fighting since daybreak changed my breathing to hitching gasps. Boone Ramer. Here. To get me. Soon. I thought I might puke up my ham and cheese omelet.

The best roomie ever grabbed my shoulders to show me my reflection in the mirror screwed into our dorm room wall. “You got this thing, sister. His Hotness obviously likes you, and you’ve been ready to have his babies for a year. Be you. Except lose the expression of terror.”

I nodded and smiled and practiced not looking like a deer in the headlights.

Mia grabbed her jingly neck lanyard and skipped through the open door.

END OF EXCERPT

These two will go through plenty together in this book—including Mia’s only half joking encouragement for Violet to jump Boon’s bones—and they’ll experience plenty more growing pains in the series.

Eruption Blurb

I’m in the middle of the perfect college semester, hundreds of miles from Mom, with an awesome roomie and my freshman crush finally becoming a sophomore reality—Hotness! I’m figuring out calculus, I’ve got both hands on the handlebars and the wind of freedom in my hair. What on earth could slow my roll?

How about if the Yellowstone volcano erupts for the first time in 630,000 years, spewing a continuous load of ash (crap) all over North America? Think that’ll put a kink in my bicycle chain?

Make that kinks, plural, because here’s a scientific fact I’ll bet you didn’t know. Nothing ruins the perfect semester like a super caldera. Now that I’ve made you smarter today, maybe you can tell me how to keep my life cruising in the right direction—no to Mom, yes to roomie, double yes to Hotness!—during a global disaster?

My lame name is Violet and, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m not hanging from the side of a cinder cone on the last page of this trauma, but there’s definitely more to come. Unless, of course, humans become extinct and then there’s not. Duh.

Eruption is available for preorder, released on September 13, and will be on sale for 99 cents until September 27.

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MRHAIRO

I’m giving away some cute swag with the book cover and Yellowblown™ series logo charms made into necklaces, bracelets, and bookmarks. Sign up for my newsletter at www.jillhughey.com/contact for a chance to win one of your choice!

Another case of good timing: on Thursday Amazon announced the ability for indie authors like me to set new books up for preorder. This is awesome on several levels, not the least of which is the creation of a link for the book. With a link one can reward early purchasers with a fantastic early bird price (99 cents), start to set up advertising and have a real place for interested readers to land. Did I say this is awesome?

So, here is a link for the Amazon preorder page for Eruption and my funky new blurb.

BLURB – by Violet Perch

I’m in the middle of the perfect college semester, hundreds of miles from Mom, with an awesome roomie and my freshman crush finally becoming a sophomore reality—Hotness! I’m figuring out calculus, I’ve got both hands on the handlebars and the wind of freedom in my hair. What on earth could slow my roll?

How about if the Yellowstone volcano erupts for the first time in 630,000 years, spewing a continuous load of ash (crap) all over North America? Think that’ll put a kink in my bicycle chain?

Make that kinks, plural, because here’s a scientific fact I’ll bet you didn’t know. Nothing ruins the perfect semester like a super caldera. Now that I’ve made you smarter today, maybe you can tell me how to keep my life cruising in the right direction—no to Mom, yes to roomie, double yes to Hotness!—during a global disaster?

In the interest of full disclosure, I’m not hanging from the side of a cinder cone on the last page of this trauma, but there’s definitely more to come. Unless, of course, humans become extinct and then there’s not. Duh.

END OF BLURB – Thank you, Violet.

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