Happy Wednesday Everyone! Today I’m so excited that IndieWritersReview is host for Hell Bent by Author Karen Crompton! Please check out the awesome excerpt feature below for a peek!
He’s charming. He’s rebellious. And he’s as beautiful as he is damaged.
South Shore’s bad-boy surfer Beau Huntington has a solid plan to get through life: one night stands, getting wasted, and walls so high no one can ever get in – it’s all about numbing the pain.
And his plan’s working fine – until he meets Corrie Johnson.
Corrie is smart, determined, and focused on an elite swimming scholarship. But she has a dark past of her own, and keeps her secrets closely guarded. She’s made promises to herself not to let history repeat – ever. But is there more to Beau than he’s letting on? And is it time to let herself feel again?
It’s summer holidays and that’s when things start to unravel.
Because falling in love was never part of the plan.
It’s time for Beau to learn that the fight of his life doesn’t involve his fists.
Hell Bent is a story that matters – about life, love, and death.
It’s a story of how life can spiral out of control for those left behind.
And it’s a story of hope…
She makes a sort of gagging noise. “You’re a walking cliché.”
“I don’t do anything by the book,” I protest.
“Is your motorbike parked out the front, bad boy? The one you ride shirtless, showing off your impressive abs, your nipple rings and your surfing tattoos. Let me guess … a Ying and Yang no doubt. Or did you scab a ride with one of your stoner friends?”
I instantly see red. She thinks she has me worked out. Stuff that. I’ve done a lot of shit lately, but I don’t do drugs. Never have. And my tattoo is something else all together.
There are only two high schools in South Shore. The public school I go to with the rest of the riff raff and then St Magdalena’s on the other side of town. This chick definitely doesn’t go to my school, so I take a lucky guess.
“How would you like it if I just assumed you were an uptight, conceited snob? Daddy’s little rich girl, who wears cardigans to Sunday school and reads Shakespeare just for the kick of it?”
She gasps. “I’m nothing like that.”
I let my annoyed tone ring through loud and clear. “And how the hell would I carry my board on a motor bike? Tell me that Princess, bet your olds are glad they wasted a small fortune on your education.”
Her eyes shift to my lips as I speak, glaring at them. She’s just as pissed off as I am, but knowing she’s looking at me like that plays havoc with my head. I press my lips together and catch myself trying to imagine how her perfect mouth might taste.
I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly in all my life.