At least I hope it’s a treat for you.

Because of my absence this past week and the cramming I have planned for this upcoming week–I’m rewriting the beginning of this book due to rewrites I did on the first one–I’m sharing and leaving up the very first sneak peek into Forecast, book two in my Norse YA trilogy.  It’s ROUGH DRAFT–without edits–hasn’t even felt the scrutiny of my critique partner’s eagle eyes. So, you get to see a little of my beginning process. 🙂 

And hey, let me know if it makes you want to read more. <g>

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           Taran tugged on my hand and we skipped two more floors. There weren’t as many people on this one. He let go of me and ran for one of the doors, slamming his shoulder into it twice before it crashed open. He turned to find me and the swarm of emotions in his eyes stabbed into my gut.
            He’d taken control of the situation, but he was just as terrified as the rest of us.
            My knees buckled. He walked toward me and took my hand again before sliding his arm around my waist. “Lean on me. We need to get you dry.”
            His skin was icy. “You, too.”
            I jumped when a door to my right opened. The man who came through it was massive, at least half a foot over six feet. “I heard through the door.” He handed Taran a black sweat suit. “These might fit you. Don’t have anything for the little one.”
            “Thank you.” I smiled at him. “I can use the top and he can use the bottoms.” My teeth clacked together too hard for more.
            “Appreciate it,” Taran  nodded at the man and pulled me toward the open hotel room.
             I immediately crossed the area to the window. The water hadn’t receded, but it didn’t look any higher. Holding my breath, I took in the surreal destruction. Cars on their sides, smashed up against buildings, twisted street signs in trees. A red lounge chair bobbed through a broken window into one of the hotel rooms below me.
             Shivers hit me like they rode the ends of two-by-fours.
            “You have to get warm.” Taran handed me the huge sweatshirt. “Wear this and wrap up in the blanket.”
            Shaking, I took the shirt into the bathroom. I wanted to be dry more than I wanted air. Water and snow from my fall had seeped under the waterproof coat. My cold fingers hurt and getting a grip on the wet clothes was so hard, it took me five minutes to remove my coat, sweater and the turtleneck. Bra? I thought about going braless with Taran and actually felt real warmth spread in my stomach. Knowing full well the risk, I unhooked the soggy, yellow thing and dropped it on the floor.
            Trying to peeling the wet, frozen jeans had me forgetting the warmth, the bra, everything. I could run hot water over them to loosen them up, but was scared about the water on my icy feet.
            “You okay in there, Rowan? Still awake?”
            “Yeah,” I breathed. My shivers were starting to hurt, my muscle aching. I gritted my teeth and sat on the edge of the tub to tug the bottom of the jeans. “Having trouble with my jeans.’
            “Let me help.” The door rattled.
            “Wait!” I tugged the sweatshirt over my head, groaning with the small bit of warmth it provided. Soft, black material fell to my knees. “Okay, come in.”
            Taran had already shed his wet clothes and he wore only the pants. He’d had to cinch the string tight around his waist. He laughed when he saw the shirt. “It could be a dress on you.” He knelt in front of me. The smooth, brown skin of his shoulders made my fingers itch to touch. He was built long and lean and had looked skinny in his clothes, but he was anything but. Muscle definition rippled over his chest and stomach, his arms well defined, strong looking. My mouth watered.
            My sisters thought I’d made out with the one boyfriend I’d had but they were wrong. I’d never even seen him without his shirt. He’d kissed me and I’d felt nothing—in fact, it was kind of gross, like kissing a fish.
            Somehow, I knew kissing Taran would be nothing like that.