FRIDAY! Oh, my goodness, what a week it's been. Today's blog post is for a barrage of Message From Viola Mari by Sabrina Devonshire. Enjoy!
Extasy Books: http://www.extasybooks.com/message-from-viola-mari/
World-renowned oceanographer and meteorite specialist Marissa Jones uncovers evidence that a comet cloud will soon destroy Earth. When aspiring writer and her best friend Jennifer begs her to take a Saturday morning sci-fi writing class, Marissa reluctantly agrees. Writing her real-life story as fiction gives her an astonishing new perspective on the anomalous set of craters she discovered off the La Jolla Coast.
But this favor for her friend stirs up more than scientific results…writing teacher Justin Lincoln goads her constantly and taunts her with his irresistible curly blond locks and steely physique he knows only too well make women drool. Marissa teeters on the edge of anger and raging attraction for this irritating man. But it’s a terrible time to let lust call the shots when the world’s about to end and Marissa’s the only one who can save everyone.
Warning: This title is intended for readers over the age of 18 as it contains explicit sex scenes and/or situations and adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers.
5 Stars from Ellen Cross—“Marissa Jones is a young Oceanographer and Metorite specialist, with a poor track record with men. Driven by her best friend, Jennifer, to join a sci-fi writing class, Mari is forced to suffer the frustratingly personal attention of her beyond mouth-watering, yet insanely irritating teacher, Justin Lincoln. One look at Justin, and Mari doesn't know whether to follow her body's desire to kiss him, or satisfy her mind's urge to punch his lights out. Mari's research into the mysterious craters on the ocean floor, leads her to the discovery that the earth's end is approaching in a cataclysmic event that will claim all life. With no-one willing to believe her research, Mari is left with not only the fate of all mankind in her hands, but a best friend to keep happy, a sexy man to figure out, and a book to finish writing. Simple huh? Sabrina Devonshire has exploded into the sci-fi genre with "A message from Viola Mari". Her beautifully descriptive style with the delicious splashes of witty humour throughout, are a delight for the senses. “Message from Viola Mari” will keep you guessing right up until the very last page.”
5 Star from Dean C. McMillin—“Marissa Jones is an oceanic geologist specializing in studying ancient meteorite impacts. She's tough and serious with little need for anything else in her life ... But, when her best friend talks her into enrolling in a creative writing course, she falls hard for the instructor, Justin Lincoln, much to her embarrassment. Marissa can't believe that she's so attracted to the hunky writing guru. She has to get over her own insecurities and accept the truth of his love ... At the same time, she is uncovering an ancient secret that might mean doom for humanity ... Unless she can find a solution and decipher what she believes is an alien message of hope. Investigating ancient underwater meteorite impact sites with Justin, Marissa becomes involved in life-threatening intrigues in a conflict that leads to an action-packed climax. This was an offbeat novel which I found to be a quick and easy read. The characters were sympathetic and relatable, and writing was clear, the story briskly paced. The story veers quite heavily into science fiction territory near the end, which is set up very well earlier in the book. Overall, a fun, light read.”
Wise Jane suggested we carpool to the first class. She knows me too well. If we weren’t travelling together, I would have called her an hour before class, saying I’m so sorry, but I’m not going to be able to make today’s class. Then I would moan that I’d been stricken by the most dreadful menstrual migraine, my tooth ached or my garage door wouldn’t open.
We strode into the building and sat at adjacent desks arranged in a semi-circle around what I presumed was Professor Justin’s desk. I feigned sending text messages, occasionally glancing up to check out my classmates. Two elderly women walked into the room together and sat side by side, their shoulders hunched over their desks, their legs crossed. Several college-aged students sauntered in, including a Hispanic girl with a flawless olive complexion and long iron-straightened hair. Another girl with a tiny heart-shaped face and a miniature body to match it wore makeup so thick, I wanted to ask if she’d spread it on with a knife. A handsome man with a football player’s physique dropped into a chair. He looked like Jennifer’s type. His curly dark hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush for days and a five o’ clock shadow darkened his face even though it was only nine in the morning.
Three of us comprised the professional crowd. We wore too many wrinkles to belong to the Hello-Fresh-Face collegiate crowd but looked far too stressed-out to be retired. I was the one with lines etched into my forehead, while Jennifer had bitten her nails down to the quick. The balding man sitting beside me nervously plucked hairs from his brows. It was Zoloft we needed, not a writing class. But Jennifer just didn’t get it.
Justin Lincoln’s entrance broke into my people-watching moment. His tall physique was lean and muscular, and damp unruly blond curls fell below his shoulders. Either he had washed his hair recently or he’d just worked out. Maybe an episode of intercourse dampened his hair, I thought, before I covered my flushed face with my hand and pretended to study papers on my desk.
Once my face cooled, I cautiously glanced up. He wore knee-length khaki shorts with threads hanging loose, a black crew neck T-shirt and a pair of Brooks running shoes. California was way more casual than the East Coast, but this guy gave a whole new meaning to the word. Maybe next week, he’ll show up in his underwear. The image made me laugh, which sent several pairs of eyes looking my way, so I coughed to make my burst of psychotic behavior appear less awkward. When Jennifer glanced at me curiously, I shrugged.
He pulled a stack of papers from his black backpack and introduced himself. “I’m Justin Lincoln.” He continued speaking and walked toward me. The gold flecks in his emerald green eyes captivated my attention. I blinked and tried unsuccessfully to look away from him.
Just when I expected him to drop the pile of papers on my desk and say take one and pass them around, he handed a sheet of paper directly to me. As he did, our fingers touched. A warm tingle flowed up my arm leaving me feeling light headed. When I glanced up, his gaze lingered on mine for longer than necessary. As my pulse raced, my once reasoning brain began thinking like a love-sick teenager. The calm and collected scientist that I am, I allowed the paper to slip from my quivering hands. Blushing, I snatched it from the floor.
I’m a research scientist at one of the most prestigious oceanographic institutions in the world. So why can’t I hold onto a simple piece of paper?
Once Justin finished passing out papers, he reviewed the syllabus line by line. The rubber soles of his shoes squeaked as he paced. Every other week, we would bring in copies of our work for the class to critique, he explained.
Justin’s eyes followed me over the top of his black rectangular reading glasses as I leaned over and whispered, “What the hell did you get me in to?” into Jennifer’s ear.
About the Author
Sabrina Devonshire, an avid swimmer most of her life, can usually be found near or immersed in a body of water. If she's not seeking an endorphin rush in a pool, lake or ocean, she's often encouraging people to work out or writing a book or magazine article. She also loves traveling to off-the-beaten-path places where phones and electronic devices tend not to work well. Peru and Belize are two of her favorites. Sabrina lives in southern Arizona with her husband, two children, and fluffy dog, Sugar.
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