★ Author Q&A with Violetta Rand ★
Surrender is a candid look into the life of a young woman (Robyn) who learned early nothing lasts—especially relationships. Kicked out of her family home as a teenager, she struggles to survive. Once she starts dancing at the Devil’s Den, she gains some financial independence and is able to attend college.
Garrick (our hero) has a stable life. Although his parents died in a car accident, he’s educated and has a sister he loves. After working as an engineer for several years, he’s tired of being away from home and decides to take a job as head of security at the Devil’s Den while he decides what to do with his future.
Surrender is a gritty, fast paced story that tugs at my heartstrings. Sometimes life gets in the way, and Robyn needs a little help realizing there’s hope.
Never mind the hold-on-to-the-edge-of-your-seat sex scenes (wink-wink).
In his own words…
I tip her chin and look her directly in the eyes. “I don’t play games. I don’t share. I don’t cheat. And I don’t do anything half-ass.”
In her own words…
I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to get back there—to a place where I’m comfortable and safe. Until then, I maintain a low profile. I don’t keep in touch with former classmates and I certainly don’t use social media. I won’t until I make things right.
I believe readers will love this story mostly for the passionate pursuit, although there’s a few bumps in the road, there’s never a moment where you doubt Garrick and Robyn are destined to be together.
Here’s a taste…
There’s one last thing I want before I leave this bedroom, this house. I want to look him in the eyes. I want to remember his face. His smile. The shape of his perfect lips. I lift my gaze, ashamed to face him. He’s still sitting on the bed—seemingly immovable. Immune to me. Free of me. Finally. “Can you ever forgive me?” I ask a last time.
His molten gaze penetrates me. My whole body shudders. I hate this silence. It’s torturous. I want him to scream. Any response would feed my hunger right now. Hate is better than nothing. It means there’s still something alive in him for me. A spark is a spark no matter where it comes from. “Can you?”
“Can you ever love me, Robyn?”
He spoke. I didn’t hear the words, though—only the sound of his voice. The power it wields over me is mind-boggling. “Can you?” he asks.
“Can I what?”
He sighs. He’s not going to repeat it. Not now, not ever. I draw in a deep breath. Tears fill my eyes again. I turn away, too guilty and embarrassed to face him any longer. I’m through the door. The house is eerily quiet. The hallway light provides a pathway for my escape. Back to my little protected world. Away from anything Garrick. Away from happiness and hope. Away from passion and love. Love. I pause on the second stair. I’ve never told him…
Surrender is Book One in the Devil’s Den Series.
Surrender is the first book in the Devil’s Den Series, Seduction releases in March and Sin releases in May.
Next up is a two book series The Game, High Stake Persuasion and High Stake Possession. I’ll give you a sneak peek…
High Stake Persuasion: A hot Texas executive reconnects with his high school sweetheart as friends while secretly seducing her incognito at the most exclusive sex club in town and fulfilling her wildest fantasies.
Lies and Leather is a series about super sexy policemen and motorcycle racing
Then we have a Highlander and Viking series in the works—can’t wait for these.
In historical romance, I love, love, love Diana Gabaldon, Kathryn Le Veque, Margaret Mallory, and Susan Tisdale.
I’m also a general fiction fan; Ken Follett (The Pillars of the Earth) and James A. Connor (Kepler’s Witch) top my list.
I’m addicted to people, so I love to chat between chapters. My phone is always nearby. I keep something cold to drink on my desk.
★ Surrender ~ Excerpt ★
He yanks me close. “We’re not finished, Robyn, not by a long shot.”
“We never started.”
He lets go. His caramel-colored eyes are rimmed with long, dark eyelashes. Beautiful, really, just like every inch of him. He’s a fine specimen—but I’m not doing a science project. I shake my head and go back to my car. I climb inside. Craig has moved to the sidewalk in front of me. Good. I lock the door. Then I flip on the radio. The “Immigrant Song” by Led Zeppelin blares from my brand-new Alpine speakers. Classic rock goes with my car. I back out and speed away.
Half an hour later, I pull into the pier parking lot. The place is mostly dark and empty. City parks close at eleven. I don’t care, and grab the small backpack I carry everywhere from my backseat. The pier manager stays late, and if I slip him a twenty, he lets me through the gate. I walk a hundred yards, my sandals sounding like horse hooves clapping against cobblestones on the wood planks of the pier. The manager looks up from his desk and waves me in without payment. I smile and mouth thank you; he won’t hear me through the bulletproof glass. I head to the end of the dock. I stop at the last bench and spread a towel I retrieve from by backpack over the wood seat so I don’t get splinters in my backside. I stare across the black water—this is what I need. The sound of rolling waves and the smell of salt air relax me. I lean over the crudely made railing.
Today is my anniversary. Five years ago, my mother packed my clothes in two Hefty bags and kicked me out of her house without explanation. Although I’ve always suspected it was because I told her Uncle Gregory touched me inappropriately and tried to get me drunk at a family dinner last year. Who can compete with my uncle? He’s loved and adored, and I’m just me. I’m not alone. You hear similar stories all the time . . . families shunning children who speak up—who make allegations about abuse. And once I disappeared from Odem, no one looked for me, not even lifelong friends from our church. Who knows what Mom told them? I rub my arms, the sound of the waves crashing against the pier jolting me back to reality.
The fateful conversation with my mom haunts me mercilessly . . .
I’m sitting in my bedroom reading a book. Someone knocks on my door. I look up. My mother looms in the doorway, frowning. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
She steps inside and then sits on the edge of my bed. She hiccups. I smell alcohol. She’s shaky—drunk. “I don’t like you, Robyn.”
I close my book and set it on my desk. Nothing new. “Why are you telling me this now? Did I forget to do the dishes or something?” This isn’t the first time she’s told me she dislikes me. In fact, it happens so often, I’ve been desensitized to a certain degree. But deep down, it still hurts.
She cackles like a witch. Further proof she’s been hitting the bottle. She likes to do that when my father is gone on business trips. “Don’t sass me.”
“I’m not. What didn’t I do?”
“You act like a slut in front of everyone.”
I nearly fall out of my chair. “What?” I ask incredulously. That’s the most twisted thing she’s ever said to me.
“The way you dress—those short-shorts and tank tops. I can’t let you look that way anymore.”
I nearly puke. My mother is beyond intoxicated, definitely not thinking straight. I search for any viable excuse. For her, and for me. I prefer to forget this conversation ever started. “I wear shorts to go running,” I say in my defense.
“I see the way you shake your ass. Boys stare; you’re turning out to be an exhibitionist. Sleazy . . .” She coughs.
I stand up. I’m not going to sit here and listen to this crap. “Stop it!” I scream.
She laughs again. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
“How can you talk about your own daughter that way?”
She scoots to the edge of the bed. “If I didn’t know better,” she says, “I’d swear my biological child was accidently switched with you at birth.”
Tears fill my eyes. I need to walk away, but she hooks my arm. I try to break free—she pulls me on the bed. We wrestle briefly. It ends with her on top of me. Her breath reeks of gin and lemon. She always drinks a shot of lemon juice to mask the alcohol. It never works. “I want you to leave my house, now.”