Sunday, February 16, 2014

Hold On to Me - Elisabeth Naughton

Release date: February 18

Book Blurb: 

He thinks he's finally found the one.
Mitch Mathews never believed in love---at least not the happily-ever-after kind. Then he met Simone Conners. One night with the sexy lawyer made him reevaluate his priorities and look toward a future he never planned. The only hang-up is making her see it too.
She's almost ready for a second chance.
What started out as a casual hook-up with a rugged geologist has turned into something a whole lot more. Simone's on the verge of handing over her heart, but fear over what Mitch will say and do when he discovers who she used to be holds her back.
The past could destroy their future...
Just when Simone's ready to take a chance on forever with Mitch, her secrets catch up with her. Suddenly it's not just her life on the line, it's his too. Forced into hiding, Mitch demands answers, and Simone realizes the only way to protect everything she holds dear is to delve into a past she's spent years trying to forget. As they search for the truth, they discover secrets, lies, and a rekindled passion that burns hotter than before. But they also uncover a conspiracy that threatens the very fabric of society. One that could cost them more than just their future...it could cost them both their lives.
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EXCERPT

Get out of my way.”
“Why?” Mitch’s eyes narrowed to thin points, and a vehemence Simone had never seen before reflected in their depths. “You came all the way over here in the middle of the night to tell me something. Go ahead and say it.”
Emotions bubbled up inside her—anger, heartache, disbelief—but the one that won out was betrayal, even if a tiny voice in the back of her head said she had no right to feel that way.
She whirled on him. “You have no idea what I was willing to do for you. You have no idea what I’ve been through. I came here to explain, but there’s no point now.”
She ducked under his arm and rushed down the hall toward the door and freedom. Somewhere deep inside she knew she was being irrational. She’d broken things off with him. Whatever and whoever he’d done since had nothing to do with her, and yet even though her head understood that, her heart was having a really hard time accepting it. Because for her, things hadn’t been over. And she doubted they ever would be.
“Hold on. What you’ve done for me?” He grasped her by the arm and swung her around to face him in the entry hall. Moonlight spilled in through the sidelights by the front door, illuminating his enraged features and disbelieving eyes, the t-shirt molding to his muscular chest, the loose-fitting jeans and his gorgeous, bare feet against the hardwood floor. “You’re the one who ended things. You’re the one who said you didn’t care. As I recall, your exact words were, ‘I don’t love you.’ So why the fuck would I believe you’d do anything for me when I already know you just don’t give a shit?”
She wanted to lash out, to make him hurt the way she was hurting, to tell him he was right, that she really did no longer give a shit. But before she could get the words out, the glass in the far sidelight shattered, sending shards flying through the entryway.
Simone screamed. Mitch threw her to the ground face first and covered her with his body. Pain echoed through her hipbones and hands and anywhere she hit the hardwood. But the sound of something small and hard digging into the siding, the door, shattering windows and pinging off metal echoed all through the house, distracting her from the pain.
She pushed against him, but he held her firmly to the ground. “Stay down,” he growled. “Those are bullets.”



I was never one of those people who knew they wanted to be an author at the age of six. I didn’t have imaginary friends. I didn’t write stories in my journal or entertain my relatives by firelight after Thanksgiving dinner. For the most part, I was just a normal, everyday kid. I liked to read, but I wasn’t exceptional at it. And when my teachers complimented me on my writing abilities, I brushed them off. I did, however, always have a penchant for the unique and absurd. And as my mother told me all throughout my childhood, I should have been an actress—I was a drama queen before my time.

Years ago, my husband bought me Scarlett: The Sequel to Gone With The Wind. If you ever saw the book, you know it’s a long one. I sat and read that thing from cover to cover, and dreamed of one day being a writer. But I didn’t actually try my hand at writing until years later when I quit my teaching job to stay home with my kids. And my husband? After that week of reading where I neglected him and everything else until I finished Scarlett, he vowed never to buy me another book again. Little did he know I’d one day end up sitting at a keyboard all day drafting my own stories.
My writing journey has not been easy. I didn’t just sit down one day, decide I was going to write a book and voila! sell my very first attempt. As most authors will probably agree, the path to publication is filled with hours of work, pulling all-nighters I thought I’d given up in college, sacrifices, rejections, but a love I discovered along the way I just can’t live without. Instead of a big, thick book to read by lamplight (I do read much smaller ones when I get the chance), I’ve traded in my reading obsession for a laptop. And I’ve never been happier.

I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a wonderful family and fabulous husband who put up with my writing—and obsessive personality—even when life is chaotic. More than once my kids have been late to swimming or baseball because I needed just five more minutes to finish a scene. Their support and encouragement mean the world to me. I also have amazing friends and a support network I couldn’t survive without. So to all of you out there who have encouraged me along the way, sent me emails and fan letters, phone calls and congratulations, I just want to say, thank you. You make this whole writing gig that much more enjoyable. I truly wouldn’t be here without you.


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