Title:
FURIOUS RUSH
Author:
S.C. Stephens
On Sale:
August 23, 2016
Publisher:
Forever
Format:
Trade Paperback & eBook
Price:
$12.99 USD (TP) / $4.99 USD (eBook)
About the Book
The first
in an emotion-fueled, New Adult series from the #1 bestselling author
of the Thoughtless novels!
Too fast,
too furious—and way too hot to handle…
Mackenzie
Cox has a lot to prove. Daughter of a racing legend, she is eager to
show the world that she has inherited her father's talent in the
male-dominated sport of professional motorcycle racing. The last
thing Kenzie needs is to be antagonized by her rival team's newest
rider, Hayden Hayes. Plucked from the world of illegal street racing,
Hayden immediately gets under Kenzie's skin. His insinuations that
Kenzie is a spoiled princess who was handed her career fuels her
desire to win, and much to her surprise, Kenzie soon learns she
performs better when she's racing against Hayden.
As Kenzie
and Hayden push each other on the track, the electric energy between
them off the track shifts into an intense—and strictly
forbidden—attraction. The only rule between their two
ultra-competitive teams is zero contact. Kenzie always does her best
to play by the rules, but when her team slips into a financial
crisis, she has no choice but to turn to Hayden for help. The tension
simmers during their secret, late-night rendezvous, but Kenzie has
too much to lose to give in to her desires. Especially when she
begins to doubt that Hayden has completely left his street life
behind...
Excerpt
Honda Boy was
holding his helmet under an arm while he flirted with the girls
surrounding him. He was blond, with a short, shaggy hairstyle that
probably took a lot more effort to create than it looked like. I
could tell from the way the girls around him were tittering like
teenagers that he was charming; with seemingly little effort on his
part, he had all of them eating out of his hand. When a break in the
crowd gave me a clear view of his face, I realized another thing: He
was smokin’, someone-hold-on-to-my-ovaries- before-they-explode
hot.
There was a
perfect symmetry to his rugged features that made it seem unreal that
he was standing just a few feet away from me. He should be plastered
on a billboard somewhere, half-naked, selling overpriced cologne to
men who wanted just a fraction of his sex appeal. As if he could feel
my eyes on him, he turned his gaze my way. Our eyes met and locked,
and I was helpless to turn away. There was something carnal about
him, primal and dangerous. Exotic. I was instantly captivated, and I
hated that I was. This guy was neck-deep in a world that twisted my
stomach, a world that spat in the face of my sport. My career.
As his
light-colored eyes bored holes into mine, one edge of his lip curved
up in a devilish crooked grin that was both playful and promising. He
was practically shouting, with just that one deadly smile, that he
would satisfy my every desire, satiate every craving I could possibly
have. My heart started thudding in my chest as sensations that had
been dormant for far too long swirled to life in- side me. Luckily
for me, the big man taking the guy’s bets clapped him on the
shoulder, breaking our stare down. Once I was free of his steamy
gaze, I instantly turned around so my back was to him. Jesus, was I
breathing harder? Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. I was
twenty-two, not twelve.
“Damn,” I
heard Nikki say. “You were right. I should have bet on him from the
get-go. I didn’t really get a good look at him before, but he is
freaking hot!”
Inhaling a deep
breath, I attempted to force my body back in line with my brain.
“This guy is undefeated?” I asked Nikki. “Really?” She
nodded in answer and I had to close my eyes for a second. A face like
that with racing skills to boot? Jesus.
Clearing my
throat, I nonchalantly asked, “What did you say his name was
again?” I could at least label the guy in the fantasy I was surely
going to have later.
“Hayden... something. He’s been
around for a while, from what I gathered.”
I risked a glance
over my shoulder at... Hayden. He’d slipped his helmet on,
thankfully, although his visor was popped up. The big guy taking bets
had been joined by a skinny Hispanic guy who seemed to be giving
Hayden instructions. Or maybe a pep talk. The little guy was acting
out the race that was about to happen with his hands, complete with
swerving and explosions. God, I hoped there weren’t going to be
explosions. While he was going through his dramatic highlights, the
big guy looped a camera over Hayden’s helmet.
When the two
competitors were ready, they backed their motor- cycles onto the
street. A cheer ripped up and down the sidewalk as the hopeful
gamblers prepared for another round of racing. I didn’t want to
feel anything but contempt for what I was witnessing, yet the energy
of the spectators, the roar of the bikes—I couldn’t help the zing
of excitement that raced up my spine. Against my will, my mouth
twisted into a wide grin, and a yell of encouragement left my lips.
Hayden’s helmet swiveled my way as he revved his engine. My pulse
quickened as our eyes met. Then he winked at me and slammed his visor
shut.
As the riders
moved into position, Nikki grabbed my arm. “Come on. We can watch
the action from the van.”
I had no idea what
she was talking about. Before I could ask her, though, she yanked me
toward a black van parked on the sidewalk. The back doors were open,
and a giant monitor attached to a swinging metal arm was sticking out
above the hovering crowd. The screen was split in two, each half
showing the footage from one racer’s helmet cam. Hayden and his
opponent were both looking straight ahead, and the dual feeds showed
similar stretches of barren road. Looking down the street, I saw that
the pair were stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to
change.
Returning my eyes
to the monitor, I found myself holding my breath as I waited for the
signal to change colors. When it turned green and the bikes surged
forward, I stepped closer to the van, like that would somehow release
my pent-up energy. In unison, the crowd around me started hooting and
hollering. Swept up in the moment, I bounced on my toes and prayed
for speed. But after watching the screen for just a few seconds, I
was struck with the harsh reality of the situation I was watching.
This was no closed-off track with well-defined paths. This was down
and dirty, anything goes, just get to the finish line first racing.
The bikes blew
through red lights like they meant absolutely nothing. The streets
were fairly empty at this early hour, but they blurred past the few
vehicles on the road like they were standing still; they had to be
going 100 miles per hour, easy. They dodged obstacles by hopping onto
the sidewalk, they fishtailed around slick corners, and they came
close to colliding with oncoming traffic more than once.
I turned to Nikki
with shock clear on my face. “This is insane! Someone’s going to
get hurt. Maybe killed!”
Nikki’s face was
pure elation as she watched the screens. Her expression changed as my
words sunk in, then she looked at me like I had a foot sticking out
of my head. I supposed it was odd to hear that type of statement
coming from someone who routinely hovered around the 150 mark on the
speedometer while riding, but that was a completely different kind of
environment. Believe it or not, what I did was safe, relatively
speaking. Millions of dollars were spent to make it that way. This
was not safe. At all.
“They’re
breaking every traffic law there is,” I added, feeling like a giant
stick in the mud. Someone needed to be the voice of reason here,
though, because everyone was clearly out of their ever loving minds.
Nikki smirked at
my comment. “It’s a race, Kenzie. They can’t exactly drive
cautiously. Why do you think this happens so late at night?”
“Because it’s
illegal,” I deadpanned. I got a couple of odd looks from the crowd
after saying that, including a particularly nasty glare from Hayden’s
bet collector. Maybe this wasn’t the best place to be talking about
the law. Shutting my mouth, I quickly refocused on the screen.
Just as I noticed
a familiar section of street come into view on the monitor, one side
of the screen started wobbling, then the camera showed asphalt,
sparks, spinning scenery, and a rapidly approaching telephone pole.
The crowd around me hushed as it became clear that Hayden’s
competition wasn’t going to finish this race. I heard Hayden’s
bike rounding the corner seconds later, then Nikki was once again
pulling me along like a rag doll. She shoved us into a good position
to see the finish line right as Hayden’s Honda whizzed past. He was
alone. Cheers erupted mixed with a few groans from the people who’d
bet on the other guy.
Just as I was
wondering if anyone was going to go check on the Ninja rider, Nikki
grabbed my shoulders and started shaking me with uncontainable joy.
“We won, Kenzie! We frickin’ won!”
“Great,” I
said, clenching my teeth so I wouldn’t bite my tongue.
Releasing me,
Nikki let out a squeal of excitement. “I just made enough money to
pay you back and cover my loss. See, aren’t you glad you
came?”
I narrowed my eyes
into poisonous daggers that would hopefully drill some sense into
her. “I hate you,” I murmured. Nikki held a hand over her heart.
“I know by hate you mean love, and I love you too, Kenzie. Now
let’s collect my winnings and go home so you can rest up. Big year
this year!”
I opened my mouth
to scold her with some biting remark about how I’d wanted to leave
ages ago, but she turned on her heel and left me there, gaping. Just
as I was forcing the muscles in my jaw to relax enough to contract,
Hayden pulled up next to where I was standing on the sidewalk. It
felt like the world suddenly shifted into slow motion as I turned my
head to look at him.
He was still
hunched over his bike, hands on the grip and throttle; the only
indication that he was looking at me was the direction of his dark
helmet. Then, like some freaking Prince Charming in a fairy tale, he
slowly removed his helmet and tucked it under his arm. I swear the
air around me condensed as his tilted smile came into view. Jesus
Christ, this guy was sex on a stick.
Reaching up, he
roughly ran a hand through his sweaty dirty- blond hair. The short,
sexy shag he’d had going on earlier was destroyed from the helmet,
but somehow after just a few scruffs of his hand, the carefree style
was back to utter perfection. I kind of wanted to mess it up again,
run my hands through the strands, grab a handful and clench it tight
while I outlined those incredibly kissable lips with my tongue.
Whoa. No. I didn’t
want that.
His penetrating
gaze studied my face for a moment. There was something there in his
eyes that I couldn’t quite grasp. Interest, sure, but almost...
sadness too. Then he smiled, and the look vanished so fast, I was
sure I’d imagined it. “Haven’t seen you here before,” he
said, his voice low and easy, like he hadn’t just risked his life.
“I hope you bet on me. It would be a shame to see someone as
beautiful as you... lose.”
His grin turned
suggestive, and warning signs started flashing in front of my eyes.
Danger! Do not proceed! Rocky road ahead! Turn back now! The
warnings flared even brighter when he stood from his motorcycle and
began approaching me.
When he was
directly in front of me, so close that I could smell the subtle spicy
aroma of his cologne, my heart was hammering so hard, I was positive
he could hear it, positive he could see my T-shirt lifting and
releasing like a frantic hummingbird was hiding under the fabric.
What the hell was he doing to me? Was I nervous or excited? Because
the sensation was so similar to both, I honestly couldn’t tell.
Extending a hand,
he smoothly said, “Name’s Hayden. Hayden Hayes.” I was just
about to lift my hand and touch him—my fingers even twitched in
response—when he added, “And what should I call you, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart?
With those two simple syllables he had just dumped a bucket of ice
water over my head and killed any fantasy I might have had about him.
I lived, worked, and breathed in a world where men looked at me like
I was a second-class citizen. To prove my worth, I had to work
harder, longer, and with everything I had inside me, all the fucking
time. I felt like he’d just tried to take all of that hard work
away from me with that one demeaning word.
“Leaving,” I
said, walking away.
PREORDER
THE BOOK HERE
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
S. C.
Stephens is a #1 bestselling author who spends her every free moment
creating stories that are packed with emotion and heavy on romance.
In addition to writing, she enjoys spending lazy afternoons in the
sun reading, listening to music, watching movies, and spending time
with her friends and family. She and her two children reside in the
Pacific Northwest.
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