Ellie Reynolds runs a nail salon
that caters to shifters of all varieties. The proverbial shift hits the fan
when billionaire mogul Jackson Lawrence walks in the door and offers Ellie two
million dollars to sell her shop. Ellie has no intention of selling out,
especially to someone who plans to bulldoze her shop to the ground and replace
it with a fast food joint. Their battle of wit and will is brought to a sudden
halt when Jackson’s enemies appear, throwing them into a fight for their lives.
Jackson believed he'd left violence
behind when he resigned his position with the Blood Wolves, a secret shifter
military group, but someone wants his company's cyber invention and will stop
at nothing to get it. He didn't mean to drag Ellie into his mess, but he’s
willing to do anything to protect her and the firewall his friend created...anything
except fight his attraction to the outspoken redhead he's suddenly responsible
for. Jackson soon learns Ellie is hotter than he first gave her credit
for...like dragon hot...and life is about to get a whole lot more interesting.
Sometimes shift happens when
you least expect it.
Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Etopia Press
Number of pages: 69
Word Count: 24,906
Buy Links:
http://www.amazon.com/Christy-Gissendaner/e/B002BLS3IC/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_17?qid=1429574475&sr=8-17
Short
Excerpt
At exactly eight forty,
Jackson returned to the counter. “According to previously stated policy, your
eight thirty appointment is canceled. May I speak with you now?”
She glared at him but
finally relented. “Fine. But if Mrs. Sussman shows up, you’re out of here.”
He lifted an eyebrow and
nodded. “Fair enough. Your animosity is a bit of a mystery, but I think you’ll
be happy once you hear what I have to say.”
His assessment was
spot-on. What was it about him that pricked her ire, besides the overwhelming
libidinal response? Typically she wasn’t a hateful sort of person, but
instinctively she knew she had to be careful around him. He threw her
off-balance, and she didn’t like the feeling. “I’m sure you’re used to women
falling over themselves to talk to you, but I’m not your typical female.”
He smirked. “I can tell.”
A flush burned her from
head to toe at the implication. She wasn’t skinny or particularly beautiful,
but damn, couldn’t he show a bit of interest? She had big boobs, after all.
What man didn’t like big boobs? Unless he was—
She glanced at him. Nope.
Definitely not gay.
Wait. What was she doing?
Did she want him to show interest?
Oh God, she did.
“Is there a place we can
go to talk?”
She plucked a piece of
lint from her smock and flicked it away. “Here’s fine. Say your piece. I’m a
busy woman.”
Another smile crossed his
face, soul-shattering because this time it was directed at her. “I like you,
Ellie Reynolds.”
Something was wrong with
her knees. Had to be. They kept giving out on her. Was twenty-five too young to
have arthritis? Was it even possible for her to have it? Suddenly she wished
she’d paid more attention when her mother taught her about her shifter
heritage, if only for medical purposes.
In an effort to maintain
control of the conversation, she borrowed one of her Nana’s favorite
expressions. “Stop blowing smoke up my ass and get on with it.”
The tolerant light in his
eyes extinguished. She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it herself,
but his entire demeanor transformed, becoming the man she recognized on the
cover of business and financial magazines, the man who bought and sold property
for a living. “I want to buy Polished.”
Shock held her immobile.
“What would a savvy businessman like you need with a small-time salon?”
“I have an investment
opportunity, but I need your building to complete the transaction. I can’t go
into further details. Contract negotiations, you understand.”
Actually she didn’t.
She’d bought Polished, scoring a hell of a deal when the previous owner died
and the son agreed to take a low-ball offer. “I see. How much are you
offering?”
Not that she would
consider it, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.
“Two million dollars.”
She choked on her spit.
“Come again?”
Longer
(Sexier) Excerpt
Rain kept up a staccato
rhythm on the tin roof, and her supersensitive hearing picked out every drop.
She’d never be able to sleep like this, not while her mind was racked by
thoughts of Jackson. The situation was laughable. She should be more worried
about her safety and instead all she could think about was the fine-looking man
in the room across the hall, like the perfect dimples in his cheeks when he
smiled really big, or the perfect symmetry of his gorgeous face. And that ass.
She could bounce a quarter off that ass.
She groaned as the
familiar heat filled the place between her thighs. She needed something to take
her mind off Jackson.
Milk. That’s what she
needed. A nice, cool glass of milk.
Well, what she really
needed was her vibrator, but it was at home, tucked safely away in her drawer
under a bundle of handmade scarves that she’d bought and never worn.
Ellie slid out of bed and
tugged the hem of the too-short nightgown. She’d picked out a size eight when
she was more like a twelve, so Jackson wouldn’t know her true clothing
dimensions. When he’d gone to pay for the items she’d chosen, he’d merely
lifted an eyebrow but wisely chosen not to say anything. Could she help it if
she’d been born with a fondness for sweets? Blame Nana’s genes, not her own
lack of will.
Speaking of sweets,
cookies would be nice too. She wondered if Jackson had any in the cabinets. He
seemed to keep the Montevallo home stocked with foodstuffs since they hadn’t
had to stop for groceries.
A few minutes later, with
chocolate chip cookies clutched in both hands and a mug of milk hooked around
her thumbs, she crept back down the hall toward her room. She bent her head to
take a bite of a cookie and lost her grip on the drink. She cursed when the mug
fell out of her hands. The milk spilled across her toes and the ceramic
shattered when it hit the wooden planks.
“Ellie!” Jackson jerked
his bedroom door open and appeared in the doorway, disheveled and entirely too
yummy. He wore nothing but boxers and oh geez, he had a six-pack. A perfectly
lickable six-pack that made her mouth and sex water. She hoped she wouldn’t
drool, although it was a distinct possibility.
“I’m sorry for waking
you.”
Jackson ran a hand over
his shorn hair. “Fuck. I thought they’d found us.”
“Nope, just the cookie
monster.” She held up the cookies in her hands and grimaced. How embarrassing.
“Want one?”
He came forward until
their toes touched. Hers, milky and chilled. His, warm and dry. She wanted to
feel her feet wrapped around his beneath the covers. She wanted to feel
everything of his beneath the covers, actually.
His thumb brushed the
corner of her lips. “Chocolate,” he explained right before he licked his
finger.
Damn her knees. Useless
joints that they were. “Umm.”
And damn her larynx for
not working properly.
His gaze dropped and she
suddenly realized she was in the too-short, too-tight nightgown. Her boobs
stretched the cotton material and she didn’t need to look down to know she was
nipping. If she turned around, he could probably tell she wasn’t wearing
panties. She’d never been so self-conscious before, but never had she been in
the presence of a hot-ass canine shifter who was practically naked.
Jackson’s expression
turned predatory. His cheeks seemed to hollow out, becoming more pronounced,
and his nostrils flared as if he’d caught a whiff of something. Perhaps it was
her. The quick shower she’d taken had been hours before. Then again, no
panties. Perhaps he smelled her scent. She clamped her thighs tight together
and prayed he didn’t laugh. The situation was embarrassing enough without
suffering unrequited lust.
“Ellie.” He spoke her
name again, but it was low-pitched and soft.
Oh God. She wanted to eat
the cookies in his bed. But later. Much, much later. “Yeah?”
“I owe you something.” He
slid a hand around her waist and cupped the upper swell of her butt. His
fingers spread out in a proprietary manner, as if he was sure of his welcome.
“I wanted to wait until all this shit was over, but you’re killing me. I can’t
hold out any longer.”
Neither could she. She
went up on tiptoe and puckered her lips. He stared at her as he traced the seam
of her lips with his index fingers. “I think you misunderstand the type of kiss
I want from you.”
About
the Author:
Christy Gissendaner is a paranormal and
contemporary romance author who believes laughter and love should go hand in
hand.
Christy lives in
Alabama with her husband and three sons. She’s always hard at work on her next
novel, but in her spare time she loves blackjack, karaoke, and anything
resembling a vacation!
To find out more,
please visit
Nails
– Guest Post by Christy Gissendaner
A big thank you to P.T. for having
me today! I love visiting new sites, and I’m always happy to chat with new
people.
Today is doubly happy. Not only do I
get to chat with you beautiful people, but it’s also release day. Shift Happens is book one in a brand new
series, I Heart Shifters. Each installment will be short, hot, and funny as
heck. I’m excited about this project, and I hope everyone gets a kick out of
Ellie’s antics.
Ellie, the heroine in Shift Happens, owns a nail salon. It was
an interesting occupation for me to give to a character considering I can’t
paint my way out of a paper bag. I blame it on being left-handed. I’m awesome
like all lefties, of course, but painting nails isn’t my forte. Unless it’s
paint by numbers, I’m screwed.
You get the picture.
So here’s Ellie, manicurist
extraordinaire, who caters to the shifter housewives of Atlanta’s elite. Unlike
me, she’s a whiz with a nail file and a bottle of polish. She creates colorful
creations for her clients, all of whom don’t realize Ellie’s a shifter herself.
She’s a half dragon shifter, who’s never quite mastered the art of keeping
smoky belches hidden.
Since it’s finally spring and sandal
season is in full effect, I couldn’t wait to treat myself to a pedicure at the
conclusion of writing Ellie’s story. I got pink polish with white polka dots,
in case you’re interested. ; )
My first ever pedicure took place
last May, right before I attended the RT Conference in New Orleans. I’m a bit
ticklish and the “cheese grater” thingamabob freaked me out…and made me giggle!
(When I wasn’t busy being disgusted by the entire process.) But boy, were my
foot smooth as silk. I went to the Dark Side and became a pedicure regular
since then.
For someone who cringes at the sound
of a file, you’d think I’d avoid a nail salon like the plague. Not so, fearless
readers. I may cringe, of course, but the discomfort is worth it for a
fantastic French manicure and cute, colorful little toesie woesies. I still
think I have ugly feet – flat and wide – but no one can deny my love of pink
when I’m all glammed-up with a fresh set of paint.
I’m currently growing out my
fingernails. For a lifelong nail biter, this is a hard road to travel. My nails
have finally grown past the pads of my fingers and I’m already envisioning the
perfect shade of pink to christen them with. Fingers crossed I don’t lose an
eye taking out my contacts. That is a tricky maneuver, let me tell ya.
So we’ve established I love pink,
pedicures, and peanut butter cups…okay, so I didn’t tell you that, but it’s
true and it does start with P…I want to know what style everyone is rocking
these days.
Come on, share the deets. I’ll be
right here taking notes.
2 comments:
Thank you for having me today, P.T.!
It's my pleasure! ♥
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