We're in the final countdown to Blissful Tragedy! I can't believe my dream of becoming a published author comes true in 336 hours. It's amazing how something can take forever yet arrive so fast. It's been a fun, wild ride and I'm so glad all of you were by my side throughout this journey. So, to celebrate this milestone, here's a little excerpt from Blissful Tragedy. Let me know what you think :)
Excerpt of Blissful
Tragedy:
CHAPTER 1—THE CONCERT
An eerie silence takes over the dark night sky. I stare straight ahead and breathe slowly, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. The crisp, cool, spring air caresses my body and heightens my senses. I shiver slightly.
The bone-rattling drum beat pulsates through my chest. I jump up from my seat as the guitar screams its heavy ear-splitting shriek, like a choir of electric angels. A frenzy of loud cheers emerges, piercing through the calmness as hundreds of fans leap to their feet. The bright lights focus on center stage. I take a deep breath and stare at the silhouette slowly being illuminated.
Van Sinclair stands so close that if I lunged forward, I’d crash into six feet of pure muscle. My eyes fixate on his light-brown, shoulder length, perfectly messy hair that frames his chiseled face. Then, they travel down to the tight black T-shirt that clings to every sculpted muscle of his torso, flaunting them in just the right way. My lips part and chills flood my body causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I hold in a deep breath and slowly exhale as he grips the microphone stand, pulling it close to his body. He closes his eyes and begins to belt out the lyrics. His raw powerful tones, both decades old and brand new at the same time, resonate through the night sky. Hot lights shining down on the stage highlight a bead of sweat that runs down his arm, over the impeccably detailed dragon tattooed on his left bicep. He lifts his head and looks into the crowd. My heart races as I stare into his exquisite emerald green eyes, mesmerized.
“Oh my God, he’s so hot!” Brooke yells into my ear, breaking my trance. “His picture doesn’t do him justice.”
“You can say that again,” Sydney agrees.
Breathless, all I can do is nod.
Devil’s Garden is promoting their best album yet. Even though the two-thousand-seat amphitheater is not the largest of venues, it’s sold out tonight. A wall of bodies closes in, pushing us toward the stage. The hard wood against my palms keeps the crowd at bay. Can it keep me from being crushed for the whole two hour set? My skin glistens as the three of us sway, moving to the music. Wait, is Van Sinclair watching me? Yeah right, like that would happen.
Excerpt of Blissful
Tragedy:
CHAPTER 1—THE CONCERT
An eerie silence takes over the dark night sky. I stare straight ahead and breathe slowly, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. The crisp, cool, spring air caresses my body and heightens my senses. I shiver slightly.
The bone-rattling drum beat pulsates through my chest. I jump up from my seat as the guitar screams its heavy ear-splitting shriek, like a choir of electric angels. A frenzy of loud cheers emerges, piercing through the calmness as hundreds of fans leap to their feet. The bright lights focus on center stage. I take a deep breath and stare at the silhouette slowly being illuminated.
Van Sinclair stands so close that if I lunged forward, I’d crash into six feet of pure muscle. My eyes fixate on his light-brown, shoulder length, perfectly messy hair that frames his chiseled face. Then, they travel down to the tight black T-shirt that clings to every sculpted muscle of his torso, flaunting them in just the right way. My lips part and chills flood my body causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I hold in a deep breath and slowly exhale as he grips the microphone stand, pulling it close to his body. He closes his eyes and begins to belt out the lyrics. His raw powerful tones, both decades old and brand new at the same time, resonate through the night sky. Hot lights shining down on the stage highlight a bead of sweat that runs down his arm, over the impeccably detailed dragon tattooed on his left bicep. He lifts his head and looks into the crowd. My heart races as I stare into his exquisite emerald green eyes, mesmerized.
“Oh my God, he’s so hot!” Brooke yells into my ear, breaking my trance. “His picture doesn’t do him justice.”
“You can say that again,” Sydney agrees.
Breathless, all I can do is nod.
Devil’s Garden is promoting their best album yet. Even though the two-thousand-seat amphitheater is not the largest of venues, it’s sold out tonight. A wall of bodies closes in, pushing us toward the stage. The hard wood against my palms keeps the crowd at bay. Can it keep me from being crushed for the whole two hour set? My skin glistens as the three of us sway, moving to the music. Wait, is Van Sinclair watching me? Yeah right, like that would happen.
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