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About the author:
Daisy Sweeney is an East Coast girl who loves all four seasons, cozy sweaters, and the endless possibilities of love. She believes a nice cup of tea can brighten a gloomy day, that happily-ever-afters always prevail, and is thrilled to be making her New Adult debut with the novel, Alaska Night.
Follow her on Amazon for notifications on the continuing adventures of Jules Harper and Night Calloway.
Or stop by Instagram and say hello: @thedaisysweeney
Here is a short sample from the book:
“Who are you?” I ask hazily.
He furrows his brow and says, “Maybe you hit your head harder than I thought. We’ll have to watch for signs of a concussion.”
“No, sorry,” I pause, and try to concentrate on forming a coherent sentence, “I mean, what’s your name?”
His face, which was full of worry, relaxes a bit as he answers.
“Night. Night Calloway.”
Night? Like the sky? Or more like knight in shining armor?
“I guess you could say that,” he responds with a grin, and I realize I’ve said that last part out loud instead of in my head. Uggh, I’m such an idiot. Maybe I do have a mild concussion after all.
“Okay, enough talk, let’s get you out of here.”
Night has me turn slowly so that my back is facing him. “That’s it. Now lie down if you can.”
Gradually, he pulls me toward him with his strong hands gripping me under my arms, so that he won’t further hurt my ribs. When my head nears the open door, he drops low, collapsing my body onto his, before straightening up again with me in his arms.
“We’re going to have to leave your car here,” he says, stating the obvious, and I’m too stunned by his firm hold on me to speak or bemoan the fact that Tin Lizzie is most likely headed for the junkyard after this. It’s probably for the best that I stay silent, as I’m liable to say something stupid again, so instead I just concentrate on the woodsy scent coming from his neck. There’s a tiny stretch of stubble under his jaw that he must have missed when shaving, and I can see the faintest suggestion of another tattoo.
He carries me up the side of the embankment and when we reach the road, I turn my head away from the warmth of his body to look for his car before I spot the motorcycle that I saw at the diner.
“You’re going to kill us in this with that,” I mumble, indicating the storm, then his bike.
He smiles and says, “Don’t worry, I have a steady hand.”
Guiding me onto the back, he offers me his helmet before hopping on himself, and says, “Just lean into me and hold on tight.” I feel awkward as I place my arms around his midsection, but as the engine thunders and we cautiously head off, I slowly begin to bask in the feeling of having something so solid to rest on. Beneath my hands, I can feel his rock hard body, his every breath, and maybe even his heartbeat. . .although at this point, I might be hallucinating that too.
Visibility is low, and I don’t know how he’s seeing through this mess without a helmet, but something deep inside me keeps saying that we’re going to make it through okay. Darkness has all but overwhelmed us when I stop to think that I never told him how to get to Dawn’s house and that we’ve drifted at least a mile, maybe more, away from it.
“Where are we going?” I try to shout into his ear above the wind and the rumbling of his bike.
I can’t hear what he shouts back, but it ends up sounding like, “Home,” before everything in front of me fades to an intoxicating, lullaby shade of black.