About the Author:
Elke was born and raised on Grand Cayman and lives there with her husband and two kids who keep her on her toes.
She’s a coffeeholic, checklist fanatic, and future space explorer. She has a sarcastic/quirky sense of humor and loves meeting new people. When not writing, she's helping other writers in Cayman through her organization CayWriters.
The author of For the Love of Jazz and Deadly Bloodlines, book one in her Deadly Series. She stumbled into writing romantic suspense because of her fascination with serial killers, but writes other genres because characters keep telling her their stories and she's a sucker for a crazy story.
What people say about Elke
“Elke knows how to create a page turner and will leave you begging for more”
“Elke is an up and coming author to watch”
Connect with Elke:
Website |Twitter|Facebook|Amazon |Goodreads
Amazon: http://myBook.to/DeadlyRace (universal link to all Amazon sites)
Excerpt from Deadly Race
“I didn’t really have a relationship with her. She was someone I wanted, but she didn’t know how I felt until an hour ago.” Would she decide to kick him out of her apartment for either leading her on or being a complete ass?
She gripped the couch tightly and it collapsed beneath her hands. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth twisted in anger. Here comes her emotional eruption. He braced himself.
“You put me through all of that for nothing?” She said it with so much control he wondered where she got it.
“It wasn’t nothing to me,” he reasoned.
“Wasn’t nothing? Do you know how many times I felt guilty because you had a girlfriend, or know how many nights I lay awake imagining I’d go to hell for the dirty thoughts I had about you in this apartment, inside and outside your car, even the examination table in your office?” She paced before him.
Jackson was speechless, and turned on, as he thought about everything she’d just mentioned. He remembered the night she kissed him in the car and wondered what would’ve happened if they hadn’t been interrupted, or if they’d been in a secluded area instead of outside her apartment.
“Hey!” she shouted, pulling him from his erotic thoughts of her spread out over the roof of his car.
“Stop that! You don’t get to have a fantasy in the middle of my rant. Got it?” Her index finger pointed at him.
He wanted to smile, but knew she’d probably knock his lights out if he did. “Please continue,” he said as politely and seriously as he could.
“Why couldn’t you be honest with me?” She ran a hand through her hair.
Honest about that? She couldn’t be serious? “Honest about wanting someone I hadn’t even told how I felt? I hardly knew you, Remy, and you wanted me to share something I’d kept secret for nearly two years?”
“Two years?” Her voice echoed in disbelief.
It sounded ridiculous to hear it out loud.
She must’ve thought so, too, because she laughed. It started as a light chuckle, but then escalated to full, out loud, boisterous laughter until it was so extreme she fell to the floor behind the couch.
He walked over to where she lay. “It’s not that funny,” he insisted.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and laughed harder.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this at my expense.” He extended a hand to help her up, but she waved it away as another fit of laughter overtook her. “You might not believe this, but I’m incredibly shy.”
She roared louder and gestured with her hand for him to stop talking.
He couldn’t blame her for laughing. He’d been anything but shy around her. She had a knack for bringing out emotions in him that were less than passive, with her audaciousness and that unfiltered mouth of hers.
I am a writer of light-hearted contemporary women's fiction.
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