January 25, 2019

Wild Flame Excerpt


He was raging chaos.

Kira Marsh wants to escape her past—so far, she’s done just that. But it doesn’t stop the memories from catching up to her.

She was the sweetest sin.

Rush Daniels has been spiraling out of control for a long time.
Haunted by the loss of his parents, he’s losing his grip on reality day by day.

Together they were a fire that couldn’t be doused.

When Rush and Kira start their no-strings attached relationship they expect it to be easy. But when one starts to fall for the other, things spiral out of control in a way neither ever expected.

Suddenly, they’re both facing their demons head-on, while their future together hangs in uncertainty.



My stomach rolls and I topple out of bed a little after seven in the morning.
I run the short distance from the bedroom to the bathroom with my hand over my mouth.
Dropping to my knees I manage to get the lid up on the toilet in time to empty the contents of my stomach. I don’t ever remember having a cold where I actually threw up. When I’m done emptying my stomach, I sit back on the cold tile, my body damp with perspiration.
My stomach rolls again and I lurch toward the toilet.
I jerk when I feel warm fingers pulling my hair back.
“I’m here. It’s okay,” Rush’s warm voice speaks softly as he crouches down beside me.
After I’m done, I wrench away from him, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.
“What are you doing here? Y-You … I heard you leave. I don’t want you seeing me like this.”
“I pretended to leave,” he admits, resting on his knees in front of me, still in his jeans. “I didn’t feel right leaving you here alone and sick.”
“Rush,” I say softly, almost irritated, but also in a sort of awe. “You are the most confusing man I’ve ever met.”
He cracks a grin. “What does that mean?”
“You don’t want a relationship—to be anyone’s boyfriend, but here you are doing boyfriend things. Can’t you see how this is weird?” I flick a finger from me to him.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, which only grates on my nerves more. “I wouldn’t do this for anyone.”
“Why me?” I ask, hating the way my voice cracks and spikes to a higher pitch.
His long fingers splay over his thighs. “I … don’t … know.” His answer is honest and I can tell even he’s baffled by his behavior. “I guess when you care about someone you don’t like to see them hurting, especially when you can help.”
“Seriously, Rush. Go back to your hotel. You’ll be more comfortable. I’m fine here. I’ve been taking care of myself practically since I was born. Why stop now?”
“Because you have me,” he replies softly, sounding hurt.
I shake my head. I have a pounding headache and no brain power to deal with this confusing ass man.
I stand up, and Rush holds out his hand to help me but I refuse—not because I don’t need his help but I wiped my throw up across my hand and that’s just nasty.
I wash my hands thoroughly before brushing my teeth and swishing some mouthwash back and forth.
I spit it out, watching the blue liquid and white suds disappear down the drain. Rush hovers behind me, his presence large and looming like a fucking wall.
There’s no point in telling him to leave again, because I know he won’t. He’s as stubborn as I am when he’s convinced of something, and obviously he thinks here is where he belongs.
“Are you going back to bed?” he asks quietly, crossing his arms over his chest.
I ignore his probing gaze in the mirror. “No.” I dampen a cloth with cool water and pat my face with it.
“Hungry?” he inquires with a tilt of his head. “I could make you some toast.”
“You’re going to make me toast?” I glance over my shoulder at him in disbelief and he chuckles, rolling his eyes.
“I might not be able to cook, but I think I can at least manage to make toast, not burn it, and smear some butter on it.”
“Some toast might actually be okay,” I admit. The sickness seems to be completely gone, and now that I’ve thrown up I feel pretty great—not well, but not as bad as I did. I’ll take it as a small win.
I dry my face off as he leaves the small bathroom to undoubtedly make my toast.
“Should I make tea too?” He calls out from my kitchen.
“Sure, why not.”
At least it’ll give him something to do and stop fussing over me.
He and his friends might call Cannon the mother hen of their group, but right now Rush is giving him a surprising run for his money. To say I’m shocked is an understatement. It’s weird and unnatural.
I turn the light off in the bathroom—Rush must’ve turned it on when he came in, because I know I didn’t—and pad into the living space.
I can’t help but smile at the pile of blankets and pillows on the couch.
Rush is a giant, I swear he’s nearly seven feet tall, and the thought of him sleeping all night on my teeny-tiny couch is amusing. He must have had to perform some contortions to fit on it at all.
I sit down and wrap one of the blankets around me.
“Did you bring this?” I ask, looking at the fluffy green blanket.
“I got it for you when I was in Wal-Mart yesterday, but I got cold in the night and needed it. I should’ve gotten myself a Huggle.”
“A Huggle?” I ask, not sure I’ve heard him right.
“Yeah, like a Snuggie, but better.”
“Okay,” I say, suppressing a laugh.
“I got a movie too—since you’re sick and can’t leave I’m forcing you to watch it with me.”
“What is it?” I ask skeptically, watching him over the back of the couch as he moves around my tiny kitchen.
Everything about my place is small, but it’s mine and that’s all that matters to me.
“I’m not telling yet. You’ll have to wait and see.”
The toast pops out of the toaster and he puts it on a plate, slapping some butter across it.
He brings me the plate and says, “Tea will be ready soon.”
“You need an apron.”
“Huh?” he asks, raising a brow.
“A kitchen apron,” I explain. “You’re like my cute little personal chef.”
“Baby,” his voice lowers, “there’s nothing cute or little about me.”
There’s a promise in his eyes saying if I wasn’t sick he’d peel me out of my clothes and fuck me right here. I would let him too, but sadly I feel like a big ole pile of poo and that’s not attractive at all.
A few minutes later he hands me the mug of tea and then crouches in front of my TV popping a movie in the DVD player. He fiddles with the controls, getting everything going, and the previews do nothing to giveaway what movie it is.
He places the remotes to the TV and DVD player on the coffee table before joining me on the couch and piling the rest of the blankets on him.
I stare at the side of his face. His straight nose, nice lips, and flawless cheekbones. Handsome seems too plain of a word to describe Rush. He’s … godly.
I would never dare to utter those words to him. His ego doesn’t need any more inflation.
“Why are you staring at me?” he asks, still looking straight ahead.
“Because I can.”
He finally looks at me with a crooked grin. He rubs the stubble on his jaw. “Like what you see?”
I roll my eyes. “If I didn’t, I would’ve never slept with you.”
He pretends to gasp. “Kira, are you saying you’re so shallow you judge people based on looks?”
“The guys I sleep with? Yes,” I answer honestly. “My vagina is a fickle bitch. Only the best for her.”
He throws his head back and laughs. Dammit, if watching the way his throat moves with laughter isn’t one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.
Just then I get distracted as the TV finally comes to the play screen for the movie.
I squint, not sure I’m seeing it right.
“The Princess Bride? Really?” I look at him like I don’t know him, which I’m beginning to realize I don’t. Not at all.
“It’s a good fucking movie.” He squirms beneath my scrutiny. “There are swords … and killing … and stuff.”
“Mhmm, and it’s also a romance.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Yeah, but it’s not a rom-com, or Titanic,” he mutters the last under his breath.
“What’s wrong with Titanic?” I question curiously.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, his shaggy blond hair moving with the gesture.
“Sounds like there’s a story there,” I sing-song.
He pulls a face of disgust as he presses play. “A story you’ll never ever hear.”
“Oh, now you have to tell me,” I say, perking up. The tea jostles in the mug as I wiggle on my beige couch.
“Nope.” He mimes zipping his lips. “Be a good girl and watch the movie. I’ll go get you some soup when it’s over.”
I shake my head. “One day you’ll tell me.”
He snorts. “Not likely.”
I’ll find out one way or the other, I know it.


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This will be a surprise release and it’s coming soooooon guys.

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Micalea SmeltzerHi. I’m Micalea. Ma-call-e-uh. Weird name, I know. My mom must’ve known I was going to be odd even in the womb. I’ve written a lot of books. Like a lot. Don’t ask me how many, I don’t remember at this point.

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