Deceived 1 --> Click here...
Deceived 2 --> Click here...
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Deceived 1 & 2 Now in Paperback
Deceived 1 --> Click here...
Deceived 2 --> Click here...
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
My book Deceived is now available in Paperbacks. Part 1: amazon.com/gp/product/148…Part 2: amazon.com/gp/product/148… twitter.com/evecarterbooks…
— Eve Carter (@evecarterbooks) January 23, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Eve Carter Top 100 on Amazon
Deceived Part 2 is now out and getting great reviews. KB gives 5 stars out of 5 and writes on Amazon:
"Loved that Ryan became a true friend for Chloe right away. Paris with Ryan!?--Sure why not! Flight to Paris--HELLO!!!? :) I was waiting to hear more about Jesse! But then Francisco...Hot and an artist!? Okay! I did feel a little betrayal enjoying Chloe's time with Francisco because I was wishing for Patrick to reappear and be with Chloe! Eve Carter did a great job with the events that brought me to the end of Deceived Part 2 and wanting MORE!!!!!! Looking forward to Part 3!!!"
Get Deceived Part 1 here: http://amzn.to/WYZ0wx
Get Deceived Part 2 here: http://amzn.to/13v8ZuR
Eve xoxo
Monday, January 14, 2013
Deceived Part 2 - Paris is out today!
I can't wait to hear what you all think of it. <3
Eve xoxo
From the back cover:
Heartbroken and deceived, Chloe Swanson, looking for a distraction to mend her broken heart, accepts a job offer, helping a friend to open an art gallery in Paris, France.
Her trip to Paris launches an avalanche of adventures, that leaves little to the imagination. Will Chloe ever forgive Patrick Collins for breaking her heart, or will Paris, the City of Love, provide her with new opportunities?
Excerpt from Deceived Part 2 Paris:
Chapter 3
“Welcome to Air France,”
the smiling blond flight attendant said with a cute French accent, extending
her arm guiding me to the left. As I inched my way down the cabin aisle past
her, I tried not to bump my carry-on bag into her sharply dressed figure.
Friday had
finally arrived. The last couple of days had been a whirlwind trying to pack
for my trip with Ryan to Paris. I always had a hard time consolidating all my
clothes into the limited amount of luggage allowed. It baffled me how some
people could do the, “I’m only bringing a carry-on bag”, thing to avoid going through baggage claim. I
had laden myself with bags, jacket, scarf, purse and anything else I could
manage to hang on my body, in an attempt to use it like a pack mule, and extend
my “allowable luggage” to include my body itself.
“Excuse me, excuse me,
excuse me...” I apologized my way down the first class cabin craning my neck to
find my seat number.
“Chloe, we sit over here
to the left,“ Ryan said. “I’ll be up front and your seat is a little farther
back,” he said pointing with his chin.
Ryan had booked
his ticket weeks ago and fortunately, he managed to get me a seat on the same
flight, however we were not seated next to each other. That didn’t matter though, I was
ecstatic. Ryan had generously booked us in First Class. Not only had I never
been to Europe, I had never flown First Class before. Who knew what other “firsts”
I would encounter on this trip? I felt like my cocoon days were over and I finally morphed into a
butterfly...well maybe not a butterfly, but I was ready to be adventurous and
try new experiences. I guess I had found the remedy to help me get over
Patrick. This trip to Paris was the magic potion I needed.
“Sure Ryan,” I said as I
clunked past the restroom, my gaudy oversized tote bag obnoxiously scratching
the wall.
“They’ll take
good care of you here. Be sure to reserve the complementary neck massage and by
the way, all the drinks and meals are free but go easy on the champagne, he
jokingly warned. “I don’t want to have to carry you and all your crazy bags off
the plane.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll
behave on the flight but I can’t promise anything after that,” I replied with
one eyebrow raised.
I had to pinch
myself and give a mental "woo-hoo" as I turned to search for my seat
number. Finally, I spotted my seat completely in the back, the last row of
First Class and
someone was already sitting in the seat next to mine, hunched over, arranging a
bag or something. I groaned to myself, hoping it would not be an oversized old
guy with bad teeth and greasy hair, who would want to talk my ear off the
entire flight. As I approached my row, the huddled figure in the seat looked up
and my eyes were met by a pair of dark deep set eyes, framed in a very handsome
square face. He pushed back a few strands of long dark hair that fell out of
place as he got up and my eyes froze on his powerful chest and shoulders.
Failing miserably in an
attempt to be
nonchalant, I literally choked out my words. “I, I, think this is my seat,”
I rasped out in a freakishly high hoarse voice due to the moisture stuck in my
throat, pointing at the seat next to him.
“No problem.” He graciously
moved aside allowing passage.
Making a fool of
myself like a clumsy circus clown, I nearly collided with his taut body and I
blundered my way to my seat.
As he was leaning his
torso back to avoid getting sucker punched by my tote bag, he mockingly said,
“Ha, I thought weapons weren’t allowed on planes.”
My blood flashed red in
my cheeks as I fumbled with my gear, stowing the largest part in the overhead
bin but keeping all the important sundries nearby.
“Sorry, I’m an
over packer, seriously luggage challenged. I never have enough,” I mumbled in a
feeble attempt at humor between my intermittent glances to check him out.
He stood at the seat
next to me and watched as I was settling in, his dark eyes were riveting,
boldly assessing my every move. Each time I looked up from my shuffling, I
noticed he was watching me intently. His perusal of me added to my feeling of
self-consciousness and something intense flared through our interaction. He
was hot... Extremely hot!
My stolen “peeks”
revealed a skin tight T-shirt that hugged his body. The muscles rippling under
his shirt quickened my pulse, tempting my hands to reach out and stroke his
well-built physique. His firm biceps bulged out from the short sleeve of his
shirt, pushing the sleeve up just a little to accommodate the girth of his
upper arm, the tip of a tribal tattoo escaping. My nerves were beginning to
show in my sweaty palms.
I also discerned that he
was tall, about six feet - two, just the right height for me. His hair was
trimmed in the back but long on top so that when it became unruly, wavy strands
fell forward. He ran his hand through his hair in a fruitless attempt to
restrain the unruly locks. The gesture was unnerving. Each time he made it, the
motion drew my attention to the muscle on his upper arm as it flexed, when
pushing his hair back into place. This guy was more than hot! He was sexy as
hell!
Scooching past him to
finally take my seat, I avoided eye contact, for fear of revealing the lust in
my eyes, or maybe the drool on my chin. He was young, early twenties, gorgeous
and sooo fresh. My will power waved goodbye and much like Elvis Presley, left
the building.
As the
stewardess’s went through all the standard procedures preparing to take off, I
powered off my cell phone, vigilantly aware of the hunky guy next to me, oozing
copious amounts of invisible pheromones for the reptilian part of my brain to
process. Humans have a lower part of the brain that reacts involuntarily, often
referred to as the reptilian brain, which handles functions we don’t have to
think about like breathing. Mine was gladly working overtime and got harder to keep under control. Damn
those chemical substances!
“So, first time going to Paris?” He
prodded for more info. “You are going there for a model shoot, or something,
right? I mean, you look like a model.”
“Me? Oh no...pffft...hardly,”
I replied. “Business trip.”
“Oh, okay. My
name’s Jesse...um....” He trailed off waiting for my name.
“I’m Chloe, nice to meet
you Jesse,”
He stuck out a hand
sideways to shake and I met the hand along with the smile that was offered. The
warmth of personal contact in his hand projected tingling electricity of which
I became acutely aware.
“You are
gorgeous, you could be a model. Your eyes are amazing,” he continued looking up
from under half hooded eyes.
I felt the heat rise to
my face again and little flutters in my stomach. This guy’s fiery gaze
cut right through me like a knife and boy, he made that knife feel good.
I was falling for
him quickly. After all, I had all the symptoms of a girl with a broken heart
and this guy had no trouble reeling me in. He leaned back comfortably in his
seat. I was careful not to let my arm touch his on the armrest. I had many more
hours to sit in his near proximity and that realization made my breathing
uneven. Thank
God for free drinks in First Class. I was in dire need of one.
The flight
finally got underway and I relaxed into my spacious seat. I was grateful when
the stewardess finally came to our row taking drink orders. When I discovered
that French champagne was offered, I gave the stewardess a nod to bring it in
my direction. Jesse ordered, in like manner and with glasses in hand, we tipped
the edges together in a toast “to Paris”.
“This is good,” I said
enjoying the mellow zing of the bubbly as it smoothed its way over my tongue
and down my throat.
“It should be. It’s Dom
Perignon.” he smiled.
“Nice.” I made a mental
note to profusely thank Ryan again for putting me in First Class.
“So, what’s the
mysterious business trip you’re on?”
“It’s not
mysterious, far from it. I’m going to Paris with my boss, he’s sitting up
there,” I pointed with my champagne glass to the front. “I am his assistant and
we are opening an art gallery in Paris. You know, I’m going there to help set
things up, work on promotions and the usual stuff,” I explained.
Ah, the velvet
smooth relaxation of the fermented grapes was having its anticipated effect on
me. Wine, and champagne, which is really a sparkling wine, always came through
for me. I could count on it giving me a buzz, time and time again. I couldn’t
tell you much about pairing wines with meals, but I could tell you this, it
delivered its effects every time and it never let me down unlike people, sad to
say. However, life was looking better now and I turned to chat up my newfound
friend, Jesse, drinking in the pleasurable visual stimulation I was enjoying
from his drop dead gorgeous good looks.
“How about you? What do
you do for a living?” I had contemplated what a young hard body like him would
do for a living, fantasizing possibilities such as UFC fighter, bodybuilder,
male model....
“I race
motocross,” he replied taking a sip of his champagne and resting his arm on the
center console between us, like I should have knowledge of this sport.
“Motocross? Hmm. I don’t know
much about that sport.” I felt stupid but then I hadn’t really had much guy
sport references growing up an only child.
“Motocross is like dirt
bike racing,” he explained. “My older brother, Jimmy got me started riding when
he gave me his 65 and moved up to 85’s...” He lost me there and I had to
interrupt.
“Wait, what? 65,
85. What’s that?”
“He smiled a beautiful
smile and chuckled, “Those are engine sizes. Anyway,” he continued, “I
started riding at a pretty young age, about seven but then my dad passed away and I had to grow up
fast. No time for kids’ stuff. Instead I had to put all my effort into my riding. I
wanted to go to
the Pro Am circuit, find sponsors and be able to help support my mom and
brothers.”
“And well, did you?”
“Here I am, on my way to
race in Supercross de Paris.”
“Wow, your family must
be proud of you.”
“Yep, my brother always
said that it’s not only about the race if you want to make it as a pro rider.
It's also about your relationship with other riders and your sponsors.”
“That’s so true. Same
thing in business, it is all about, relationships with sponsors, or clients.” For being so
young this guy was wise beyond his years. But oh my, he was a fine specimen of
a young man. Probably too young for me but sometimes girls just want to have
fun.
The more
champagne I drank, the more I leaned on the armrest in Jesse’s direction, that
marvelous tattooed bicep practically under my nose, calling my name, begging to
be touched. I wondered what his chest looked like, or his abdomen. I bet he had
a fantastically cut, and I wanted my eyes on his aesthetically pleasing “V”.
“You must work out a
lot,” I quipped as I became fixated on the idea of seeing him shirtless, using
those pumped up guns to push my arms over my head while he ravished me, his
unruly hair falling down on his forehead as he leaned over me.
“Well, yea. I train
on the track and off the track, but let’s talk more about you. Are you sure that you’re
not a model?”
Hope you enjoyed the excerpt. You can continue reading here: http://amzn.to/13v8ZuR
Eve
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Deceived Part 2 Paris
Much love,
Eve xoxo
Friday, January 4, 2013
Meet Francisco - Deceived Part 2
I had finished most of the delicious veal chop on my plate, when
mother nature called and I excused myself to go powder my nose. I headed to the
bar area in search of the ladies room.
Belly up to the bar, was a good looking hunk of a guy, loudly
conversing with a friend, while gesticulating with his hands about, who knows
what, probably the latest soccer goal of the day, when suddenly his enthusiasm
got the better of him and he motioned with his glass still in his hand. At that
very moment, I attempted to pass by his extended arm, wine and all, but with my hand
to eye coordination being as poor as it is, I couldn’t duck away from his
airborne glass in time and my white silk covered breasts crashed into his glass
of red wine. Actually, it was more like his wine hit my blouse, but who’s
keeping track anyway? All I could remember was watching a crimson stain grow to
the size of a watermelon all over the front of me.
“Oh Shit! What the hell?” I shrieked as I instinctively jumped
back, frantically pawing at the red stain, as if that would do any good. Godamnit.
It was red wine...no chance of getting that out.
My high pitched squeal broke the concentration of his tall tale
and he turned in my direction. “Pardon, I’m so sorry, Miss...did I get you
wet?” he apologized as he stood up from his bar stool to face me. I was
prepared to spew forth every expletive in the book but instead I gasped. I was
rendered speechless by the most intoxicating set of sea-green eyes that had
ever gazed at me. He had sandy blond shoulder length hair that fell down around
a slender face, and a sharp jaw line with a masculine dimple in his chin. From
the looks of him, and his accent, I could surmise that he was probably Spanish
or maybe Northern Italian.
Excerpt from Deceived Part 2 Release date January 15th
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Deceived Part 2 - Meet Jesse
I had to pinch myself as
I turned to search for my seat number. Finally, I spotted my seat completely in
the back, the last row of First Class and someone was already sitting in the
seat next to mine, hunched over, arranging a bag or something. I groaned to
myself, hoping it would not be an oversized old guy with bad teeth and greasy
hair, who would want to talk my ear off the entire flight. As I approached my
row, the huddled figure in the seat looked up and my eyes were met by a pair of
dark deep set eyes, framing a very handsome square face. He pushed back a few
strands of long dark hair, that fell out of place as he got up, and my eyes froze
on his powerful chest and shoulders.
Jackpot! Well, hello
there!
Excerpt from "Deceived Part 2 - Paris" - release date January 15th 2013
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