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Welcome to my page of snippets. 
Here, I will post actual pieces of my works in progress; maybe a short back and forth of conversation or a description of a building. They won't have names or indications of which book they belong to. 
There will be places for comments if you really like or dislike a certain snippet! I love to hear from you, and value the opinions of my readers.

Snippets: Text

“Oh well don’t let me go and put any ideas in your head.”

“If you think the idea of you in my room— in my bed— is new, then you don’t know me very well.”

“I don’t know you at all.”

“We could change that.”

“Mmm and how do you propose we do that?”

“I have plenty of ideas,” he whispers huskily as his wandering fingers settle on my hips, his pinkies grazing my ass. 

“Care to share?” 

His lips lift into a grin so wicked it is practically feral. And sexy. Always sexy because, good lord, this man can’t be any way else. I suck in a breath just as his mouth smash against mine. His lips kiss me brutally, his tongue parting my lips and demand entrance. 

He doesn’t go soft. 

He doesn’t ask permission. 

And holy hell is it hot. 

This has to be what I have been missing. It has to be why my— limited— experience has been so unsatisfactorily forgetful. 

This brute strength. 

The dominance. 

The way his hands hold my hips in a bruising grip. 

The way his tongue plunders my mouth as though he already owns it. 

Snippets: Text

My knee bounces as we roll through a large wrought iron gate, nearly as tall as the trees themselves, intricately designed and curled to wicked edges.

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“Well sir, i would hardly find that agreeable.,” she says sounding totally astounded at my offer. I look at her, my own eyes wide. 
Agreeable? Who the hell talks like that? 
“Um, what would you prefer then?” I ask her. 
“Perhaps you could accompany me to tea?” Her voice is airy, proper. It’s very out of sync with her black ripped jeans and tiny matching top and fiery eyes. 
“I don’t really drink ... tea,” i say slowly. Her face flushes a pretty shade of pink. 
“Right. Of course. Coffee then?” She offers instead. 
“Sure,” i smile. 
“Let me give you the address.” She slips a little pencil from the tiny bag on her wrist. “Do you have paper?”

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Nothing. There was nothing he could do for me now. But when I turned my head to look in his eyes, the pain I saw, the pain for me, kept me from telling him that. No, instead I turned my head away, closed my eyes, and pretended to fall asleep until a nurse came in and put something in an IV that actually made me sleep.

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I glance at the time on my phone as she hands it back over. She just opened notes and typed in a one line address there. No name, no number. Just the address. 
“Do I get to at least know your name?” I ask her. Her eyes trail me, pupils dilated.
“Karissa. Karissa Kane.” 
A fitting name. Her eyes meet mine, and - goddess - those eyes. Slightly dilated, a thin ring of red and orange mixing together with streaks of silver flashing through. They resemble the carnelian gemstone. The silver melts front he darkness of the pupil to dart across the heated color mixture giving off the appearance of a fire crackling int he hearth.

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“What’s your favorite color?”
“What?” I frown at the sudden switch in topic. 
“You’re favorite color. What is it?”
“Yellow,” I tell him. His face scrunches up. 
“Like pee?” I roll my eyes at him. 
“Of course that would be what you ask instead of the countless other things in the world that are yellow,” I chastise.

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“The company is a popular club called Oceanna’s. Its new in the last month. Took over some rundown warehouse. The owner is already looking at expansion. You must go tonight, scout it, gather research, and report back,” he pauses again looking at me as if to make sure I’m getting all this down. “Your father has, err, requested that you do so without catching the public eye in any major way.” I stare at him, nodding silently hoping that he will leave if I just stop responding.
“That means,” he still continues, “no—”
“— getting drunk or having inappropriate sex with inappropriate people” I finish for him. “Got it.”

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And we do. He shows me how to execute moves then attacks. I am knocked on my arse more often than not, but after a lot of effort, I manage a few hits of my own. By the end of our sparring, we are both covered in grass and dirt, littered with bruises, and breathing heavy. Well, I am littered with bruises and breathing heavy. I am also dripping sweat down every part of my skin. Meanwhile, the supernatural alpha arse wolf man has one bruise on his cheek, a light sheen of sweat on his chest and brow, and is breathing completely normal. 
Bloody tosser.

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We drift into a small campus café. A small building made of red brick and weathered wood. The inside has a furnished, rustic feel to it with wooden walls covered intermittently with small colorful paintings and silly coffee sayings. The lighting is a natural yellow color that illuminates the silver machines and glass cases on the counter. The smell of coffee and pastries combines with the sound of light music and students quietly chatting or typing on laptops.

Snippets: Text
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