Fire & Ice Blog Hop Featuring Heather Hildenbrand!

Other Fire & Ice stops around the web today:

Maghon@Happy Tales and Tails: Susannah Sandlin: Penton Legacy

Tricia@Musings of a Writer Reader: Valentine Day Post w. Cambria Hebert

Nikki@Nikki’s Book Blog: Cambria Hebert

Kimba@ The Caffeinated Reviewer:Lori Foster: Run the Risk

Today’s Stop

Today’s stop for the Fire & Ice hop is brought to you by Heather Hildenbrand the author of Whisper and the Dirty Blood series!

Heather has brought with her an excerpt from her book Whisper and a giveaway!! So let’s get to the heat!

Synopsis

Excerpt from Whisper

His lids fluttered and then opened.

I froze. Vaguely, I thought there was something I should be doing, but instead I stared. I could see his eyes. For some reason, that seemed insanely important. They were brown, darker than his skin but not quite as dark as his hair. And there were flecks of something lighter at the edges—gold or bronze.

I shivered.

He blinked and focused on me.

“Where … am I?” His voice sounded gravelly. He coughed again.

I jumped up and poured water from a pitcher into a paper cup and then helped pull him forward enough to drink. After a short sip, he gave up and fell back against the pillows with a sigh. I sank onto the chair without even checking to make sure it would catch me. I couldn’t take my eyes off his.

“Where am I?” he repeated. His deep voice was a little smoother than before but still heavy with exhaustion.

“You’re in a hospital.”

“A hospital?” He frowned. “What city?”

“Hayden … Colorado,” I added when his frown deepened. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

Lines appeared across his forehead and his brows scrunched together. “No.”

I felt a pang in my gut at the sadness in his voice. Not confusion or fear. Just sadness. I wondered if I’d have recognized it if I didn’t have this deep, sub-conscious understanding of the emotion. Like a sixth sense. I could almost smell it exuding from him. “The doctors didn’t tell me for sure, but I think someone may have tried to hurt you.”

“How do you know?”

“I was the one who found you. Last night, in the woods near Eagle Point. You were bleeding. I think the doctor gave you stitches.”

His gaze followed my hand as I gestured to his forehead. My fingers stopped short of touching him. It felt too forward. The fact that I’d held his hand when he’d been unconscious didn’t count. This felt more personal.

He brought up his hand and touched the gauze, running his fingertips gingerly over the bandaged area. It was odd watching someone discover their wounds this way; almost as if it happened to someone else.

“Do you know anyone who might want to hurt you?”

“No …” The lines in his forehead reappeared. “I don’t know.”

The blood pressure cuff beeped and began to inflate. He looked down at it, startled.

“It’s okay. It’s taking your blood pressure.”

He relaxed some. We both watched the monitor as it read the new pressure result. The number was a little higher than it had been before; a good sign. I noticed his heart rate had increased, too, now that he’d woken.

“I should get a nurse,” I said, rising.

“Wait,” he called. “What’s your name?”

“Whisper Grant. What’s yours?”

“Whisper … that’s pretty. Mine—” He broke off. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

“I—I don’t know mine. I can’t remember.” Alarm sprang into his face.

“Well …” He couldn’t remember his own name? “You got hit in the head and you’ve been out for a while. I’m sure it’ll come to you. I’m going to get a doctor, okay?”

He nodded. His eyes were still locked on mine, but I knew he wasn’t seeing me anymore. His mind was somewhere else, trying to figure things out. I slipped out and made it halfway down the hall before I had to stop and catch my breath. Partly out of relief.

He was awake. He was going to be okay. The knowledge made me lightheaded.

Another part of me was out of breath for an entirely different reason, and I wasn’t even sure how to put it into words. It wasn’t simply that he was attractive—okay more than attractive, he was gorgeous. There was something else, too. A connection? An energy, maybe. I couldn’t define it exactly. All I knew was I’d never felt anything quite like it—and I really wouldn’t mind feeling it again.

***

About the Author

When I’m not writing or reading, I’m chasing my kids around the house or I’m lying on the beach, soaking in those delicious, pre-cancerous rays.

I love Mexican food, hate socks with sandals, and if my house was on fire, the one thing I’d grab is my DVR player. 

Favorite movies: Newsies, Little Rascals, Sandlot <—I can quote almost every line from these.
Favorite authors: Richelle Mead, Warren Murphy, Cassandra Clare
Favorite bands: Kings of Leon, Sea Wolf, Paramore, Plain White T’s, to name a few, but really, I’m a solid 90’s girl, so I’m sucker for Mariah Carey, Selena, No Doubt (the early years), 2pac, Puffy (back when he was called that), Paula Abdul, Brian effing McKnight!! … yeah, you get the point. Oh and Kris Kross. They still make me wanna “jump.”

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