Title: Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set
Series: Trace + Olivia #1-4
Author: Micalea Smeltzer
Genre: New Adult
Release Date: July 30,
2015
Blurb
Finding
Olivia: How far would you go to find yourself? That’s the question
that’s been haunting Olivia Owens for years.
Chasing Olivia: How far would you go to reignite
the spark you once had? Two years later, Trace and Olivia are as much in love
as they’ve always been. But the spark they once had for life is waning and Trace
is determined that they find it again. His solution? A road trip. But he
doesn’t tell Olivia the real reason they’re heading north.
Tempting Rowan: I’m drowning in the numbness.
It’s pulling me under and I can’t see the surface. It’s easier to pretend I
can’t feel. And the longer you pretend, the easier it is to believe. But he
wants to save me. Only he can’t. I have to save myself…and I don’t know if I
want to.
Saving Tatum:
Even tough girls need saving. Jude Brooks is bad news. He’s the kind of guy
that leaves behind a string of broken hearts and Tatum O’Connor is not about to
be one of those girls, despite all of Jude’s advances. They have a past, and
Tatum’s determined to make sure they don’t have a
future.
Links to
Buy
Only 99c for a limited
time
Excerpt
“No, no, no, no!”
I beat my steering wheel with the
heel of my hand. “No! You’ve
got to be kidding me!” I pulled off the road, my
tire bumping
along.
I put my car in
park and climbed out to assess the
damage.
My feet crunched on
the gravel scattered alongside the road.
Immediately, the
oily burnt smell of my peeling tire met me.
Calling this a flat
tire didn’t do it justice. This was
complete and utter
carnage.
I looked behind me,
at the trail of tire pieces leading
straight to my car, like a
path of breadcrumbs.
It was starting to
get dark and this wasn’t exactly the
safest
road.
I was also a
twenty-year-old girl, ripe for the
picking.
I kicked the side
of my car. “I don’t have time for this!”
I stalked around
the back, to the trunk, lifting it and
looking for the necessary
tools to change a tire.
Which was pointless
because, unfortunately, I didn’t know
the first thing about changing
a tire. My father had made sure that I only knew
how to do a woman’s
work.
I slammed the trunk
closed and stalked back to the driver’s
side, pulling at the ends of
my hair. I glared at the offending nail, that had
to be four inches long,
sticking out of the tire. How many nails did people
drive over a day and I was the
one to get a flat freakin’ tire?
Not
cool.
Not at
all.
I opened the door
and reached for my phone to call my
roommate to come pick me
up.
The sky was
darkening and I didn’t want to be stranded
here.
I wrapped my
lightweight jacket tighter around my body, as
the wind gusted around me,
blowing leaves off of the nearby trees. I watched
the red, yellow, and orange
leaves fall down and scatter over my car. One,
unfortunately, got caught in
my hair. I reached up and pulled it out before
letting it drift to the
ground.
Gravel crunched
behind me. I turned quickly, to see a guy
getting out of a black car
that looked like something old, but classic.
I hadn’t even heard
him pullover.
I backed a step
away, thinking he might be a murderer, or a
rapist.
But when I got a
look at his face I was stunned.
He was tall, with a
lean body, but muscular. He had short,
dark brown, almost black, hair
and the greenest eyes I had ever seen. Five o’
clock shadow covered his
cheeks and chin. My eyes trailed down, over the white
t-shirt glued to his chest,
and stopped there. I could see black ink underneath
the white shirt and licked my
lips. The fact that he had tattoos only made him
hotter. To protect against the
cold, he was wearing a long-sleeved plaid
shirt.
“Uh—can I help
you?” He asked, smiling pleasantly at me, and
putting my earlier fears about
him being a murderer or rapist completely to
rest.
Help? With what? I
needed help?
“Huh?”
He grinned
crookedly, tilting his head. “With your tire. Do
you need some help?”
He had the deepest,
huskiest, voice I had ever heard. I
shivered at the sound. I was
pretty sure I’d be happy for him to help me with a
lot of things, and none of
them included my tire.
“Help would be
great,” I blushed, ducking my head.
He chuckled. “You
do have a spare, right?”
“Yeah, it’s in the trunk,” I pointed, like he
didn’t know
where the trunk
was.
He grabbed the
spare, and all the necessary tools and sat
down, next to the ruined
tire.
“I—uh—would’ve changed it myself, but—uh—my
dad never taught
me,” I ran my fingers
nervously through my wavy brown hair. “He said something
about it not being appropriate
for a girl to do and if I ever got a flat tire,
I better hope Prince Charming
came along. My dad’s very—uh—old fashioned,” I
stammered.
He looked up at me.
“Does that make me Prince Charming?” He
grinned.
“Oh—uhm—Prince
Charming is fictional, so I guess not, and
he-uh-usually rides a white
horse or something… I think.”
Somebody, stamp
AWKWARD across my forehead already.
The guy threw his
head back and laughed. “I guess a shiny
black '69 Camaro doesn’t count
as a white horse. You watch a lot of Disney
movies or
something?”
“No,” I blushed
tomato red. “At least not anymore.”
“You’re funny,” he
squinted up at me, shielding his eyes
from the orange glow of the
setting sun.
“I hope that’s a
good thing,” I muttered. Unfortunately, I
wasn’t trying to be
funny.
“It’s a very good
thing-” He paused, waiting for my name.
“Oh—uh—Olivia.
Olivia Owens.”
“I’m Trace,” he
reached a hand up to me and I took it. It
was warm and calloused,
swallowing mine whole. “Trace Wentworth,” he grinned
when my hand jerked at his
touch.
Author
Bio
Micalea
Smeltzer is a bestselling
Young and New Adult author from Winchester, Virginia.
She’s always working on her
next book, and when she has spare time she loves to
read and spend time with her
family.
Author
Links
Giveaway
No comments:
Post a Comment