CODY KENNEDY DAY PART 2- TEASERS!!

HELLO FRIENDS! ARE YOU READY FOR POST TWO OF CODY KENNEDY DAY? THIS POST IS ALL ABOUT TEASERS!! INCLUDED IN THIS POST ARE TWO TEASERS FOR SLAYING ISIDORE'S DRAGONS AND AN EXCERPT OF THARROS AS WELL! AS IF THAT ISN'T ENOUGH, WE HAVE A REVIEW OF ISIDORE'S DRAGONS FROM ONE OF THE BETA READERS, TIMMY! WE LOVE TIMMY, AND JUST SO YOU KNOW HE IS A BRILLIANT REVIEWER, SO THANKS TIMMY FOR LETTING ME POST YOUR REVIEW! OK GUYS HERE WE GO WITH EXCERPT ONE:




A never-before-seen excerpt from Slaying Isidore’s Dragons!
In this scene, Declan is giving Isidore a ride home in his chauffeur-driven car. It’s the first time they’re together outside of school and Declan is trying to figure out why Isidore is so withdrawn.

“You do not have to do this,” Jean-Isidore said softly as they rode in the car. Being in proximity to Jean-Isidore had left Declan’s head reeling. Jean-Isidore’s scent, the memory of the feel of him beneath his arm, his head against his chest, the sensory input had left his brain steeped in R-rated thoughts. Only by the grace of the Almighty could he form a coherent sentence – albeit only three words. “I want to.”

Jean-Isidore turned away and looked out the window as they rode through the old streets of Alexandria. The trees were bright autumn sentries with their red, gold and yellow leaves. Fallen leaves eddied like confetti on the air each time they turned a corner and Jean-Isidore wondered what it would be like to be a leaf. Free for an entire season to waft on the breeze and flit around in chance flurries once you fell. Free. How he wished he were free of his filthy, ugly existence.

The gorgeous young man seemed extremely withdrawn. Not shy, not introverted, simply detached. Declan wanted to draw him out of his shell but had no idea what to say. He was great with humor and wisecracks, even diplomacy, but not with compassionate conversation. Except when it came to his mum. His mum always brought his heart out. “Jean-Isidore is a long name. Do you prefer Jean or Isidore?”

Jean-Isidore turned to him, his eyes narrowing, and Declan wanted to squirm under the scrutiny.
“I prefer Isidore, after my mother, but my father will not permit anything other than Jean-Isidore.”
The thick French accent was the sexiest thing Declan had ever heard. To watch the supple lips speak made his already heated thoughts turn torrid. “May I call you Isidore as long as I don’t do it in front of your father?”
Almost a smile. Jean-Isidore’s white teeth were perfect just like the rest of him. “Or my half brothers, yes.”
Declan nodded. “How many brothers do you have?”
“Half brothers and four. All from my father’s mistress.”
Declan couldn’t prevent the frown that knitted his brow.
“The French do not hold to the more pious ways of others,” Isidore offered in explanation before looking out the window again.
Declan nodded and wondered if his father had ever strayed. “Say your name for me again.”
Jean-Isidore turned large, chartreuse eyes to him. “Isidore.”
“Eeseedor,” Declan repeated phonetically.
A small smile graced Isidore’s lips. “You say it as the old Catalan. This would please my mother. She was called Isadora.”
“Was?”
A pain-filled cloud shadowed Isidore’s bright green eyes. “She has.... What is it the Americans say? Passed away?”
Empathy banded Declan’s heart and caused an almost physical pain. “I’m sorry.”
Isidore turned away in silence.
“Eeseedor,” Declan mouthed quietly. A beautiful name for a gorgeous young man.

AWESOME RIGHT? I KNOW YOU CAN'T WAIT FOR APRIL, JUST LIKE ME! ARE YOU READY FOR THE SECOND TEASER? WELL LET'S GET RIGHT TO IT!! 

                                                            EXCERPT 2


A never-before-seen excerpt from Slaying Isidore’s Dragons!
In this scene, Declan’s mother asks him about his first day of school. Following, Declan dares to try to call Isidore without any luck.

“How was your first day, darling?” Sorcha asked as she hung one jacket and picked up another to slip it on.
Great. I met the most gorgeous guy in the world. “Okay.” Declan leaned back on his elbows on the bed.
“Do you not want to tell me?”
I want to tell you everything and I need some boyfriend advice. “Do you know the French ambassador?”
“Yes, Jean-Baptiste de Sauveterre. Why?”
I think I’m in love with his son. “I met his son today.”
“Oh.” His mum was suddenly distant as she reached for a scarf.
Uh-oh. “You don’t like the French ambassador, or what?”
“He is a…fine man. Stubborn, but fine.”
“Ah-huh. Try again, Mum.”
She sighed as she knotted the scarf and then untied it. “You’re much too perceptive.”
“Blame the gene pool.”
She laughed. “Being a diplomat, I don’t truly know anything of course, but, well, he was rough with his wife, Isadora, and she was a good friend of mine.”
So, Isidore’s dad was a jerk. No wonder Isidore hadn’t wanted Coach to call him. Horror suddenly filled Declan’s veins. The guy hadn’t killed his wife, had he? No way. He wouldn’t still be an ambassador. “Do you know anything about Jean-Isidore?”
She stilled. “Is he who you’re going to school with?”
“Yeah, and his four half brothers. Why?”
“Look, I don’t know all the sordid details but Jean-Isidore spent some time in a sanatorium. A bit of a distasteful affair, I’m told. He may not be mentally stable.”
Reeeeally. “Sanatorium? That word’s awkward.”
“Sorry, Declan, I should have said mental institution. I just don’t like the term. Apparently the boy tried to commit suicide after Isadora died.”
This information pierced Declan’s heart. No wonder the guy was withdrawn. “I like him.”
She stilled again and their eyes met in the mirror. “As in like like?”
Declan eyed his mum evenly. Can you handle it, Mum? “Yeah.”
She turned to face him. “Then bring him home to meet me.” She strode to the bed and kissed his forehead.
He smiled up at her. “You’re so fly, Mum.”
She kissed his forehead again. “You’re wrong. There are many things you don’t know about me.”
He looked up at her again and found her bright blue eyes serious. “You going to tell me?”
“Probably not. Too selfish. I’m off until ten or eleven. Eat, do your studies, write in your journal, the usual.”
He smiled. He would fill his journal with thoughts of Isidore tonight.
~*~
Closing his journal, Declan wondered what it would take to make him want to commit suicide. His brain refused to process the idea. Things would be brutal if he lost his mum, but would he want to kill himself? Extreme. Then again, you could never presume to know what went on in someone else’s mind. Maybe Isidore just needed a friend. He pulled the crumpled paper bearing Isidore’s perfect script from his pocket. Should he call? Would Isidore think him a tool for calling? He could just say that he was checking on his assigned buddy. He looked at the time on his cell phone. It was almost ten. Screw it. He dialed the number and was shocked when he reached the French embassy. Why didn’t Isidore give me his cell number? Declan quickly found his voice. “This is Declan de Quirke. May I please speak with Jean-Isidore de Sauveterre?”
“Un moment,” a woman said, far too chipper for the hour.
Declan waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, a French accented man came on the line. “Master de Sauveterre is indisposed. I’ll be happy to leave a message.” The line went dead.
What the hell?



                      SURPRISE!! WE HAVE A THIRD EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK!! 

                          
                                      I KNOW KITTY!! I FEEL THE SAME! HERE IT IS- 


A never-before-seen excerpt from Slaying Isidore’s Dragons!
In this scene, Declan’s chauffeur has collected Declan and Isidore from school after the headmaster’s son attempts suicide. The action becomes intense from this point forward.

~*~
George pulled into the underground parkade of the hotel and reporters clamored and tried to reach the car as police held them back.
Declan looked out the windows on both sides of the car. “What the—I can see why they’re all over the school, but why here?”
George’s cell phone rang and he answered it, listened, issued an Irish curse, and hung up. “Declan, do ye remember ye security measures?”
Declan shook his head in disbelief, remembering the numerous times they’d had to dodge the press after his dad died. “Yeah.”
“Bonnie well good. Hotel security be expecting ye.”
Declan hugged Isidore to him. “George is going to swing the limo around fast and we’re going to jump out and run for a service door. Leave your stuff here. George will bring it in.”
Isidore looked taken aback. “You have done this before?”
“We had a hard time dodging the press after Dad died and then someone took a shot at Mum’s car in London.”
Mon Dieu, someone tried to assassinate your mother?”
“Yeah, about a month after Dad died.”
Merde,” Isidore fell back against the seat and rubbed his eyes.
“Did anyone try for your dad around that time?”
Non. There has never been an attempt on my father’s life. He is nothing more than an ambassador.”
“Yeah, well, same goes for Mum.” Declan gripped Isidore’s hand as George swung the car around fast. “Ready?”
Oui, aller, aller,” Isidore motioned with his hand to go.
Declan swung the door open wide and pulled Isidore out behind him. He put an arm around Isidore’s waist and sprinted for the door, Isidore’s shoes tapping an inconsonant beat as they skimmed the concrete. Security opened the door as they reached it and pulled them inside.
“Up!” a Security guard yelled.
Declan pushed Isidore up the stairs, and then moved ahead of him and took him by the hand, and pulled him along behind him.
“Elevator!” the Security guard yelled.
Declan catapulted around the last bend of stairwell and pulled Isidore into a stainless steel service elevator. Breathless, Declan pulled a heaving Isidore into his embrace. “Why so damn frantic? It’s just the press!” Declan demanded.
The security guard was gruff. “About ten minutes ago someone unloaded about five rounds of buckshot through your front door. You’re going to another suite.”
“What?” Declan and Isidore shouted in unison, both of them incredulous.
“SIS will meet you in your new suite. Here are your coronets.” The security guard handed each of them a folded wallet.
Isidore opened his and was dumbfounded to find that it showed him to be an Irish landed immigrant. “Declan?” Isidore handed it to him.
“Mum works in mysterious ways. She’s probably doing something about the hospital.”
“Do all ambassadors have this much power?”
“Don’t know. That’s a Mum question. But from what I know, they’re pretty powerful.”
“Ready, gentleman?” the security guard asked.
Declan glared at the guard. “There’s a threat up here, too?”
“We haven’t found the person or persons who shot out your door,” the guard admitted.
“What are we even doing in this hotel?” Declan demanded.
“We’re following Ambassador de Quirke’s orders.”
Mum, what are you thinking?
They lined up. Two guards in front of the elevator doors, Declan guided Isidore to stand behind them with him, and two guards brought up the rear. “We’re going to have to run again.”
Isidore nodded without comment
“Head straight down the hall. It’s the suite at the end,” the security guard ordered.
“Got it.” Declan squeezed Isidore’s hand and tried to give him a reassuring smile.
The elevator doors opened and they ran, and someone opened fire. Declan didn’t dare look back. He lifted Isidore into his arms and bolted for the suite. The door opened and guards poured out as two guards pulled them inside. Someone pushed them away from the door and they went sprawling onto the carpeting. Two more guards lifted them to their feet and forcefully led them into a back salon.
“What the hell is going on?” Declan demanded, breathless from exertion.
“Master de Quirke, I’m Jack Sutton of SIS. I apologize for the rough treatment.” The tall, distinguished, silver-haired man extended a hand to Declan. He shook it briefly. The man turned to Isidore. “Master de Sauveterre?” Jack extended his hand again.
Oui, monsieur.” Isidore shook the offered hand.
“It’s nice to know my men can still do things right. Master de Quirke, I regret to inform you that there has been another attempt on your mother’s life.”



YAY! YOU GOTTA LOVE A SURPRISE EXCERPT! NOW FOR TIMMY'S REVIEW: HERE IS THE LINK: 



HOW IN THE WORLD CAN I FOLLOW THAT FAB REVIEW? I CAN'T SO I AM GONNA POST AN EXCERPT OF ANOTHER UPCOMING CODY KENNEDY BOOK: THARROS: THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO OMORPHI!! (SQUEEEEELLLL) CODY ALSO GAVE US LINKS TO THE FIRST THREE CHAPTERS! YAY!!




 Tharros (Courage) is the sequel to Omorphi (Pretty). The story takes them through prom and a judicial trial over the summer to prosecute Yosef for the kidnapping of Christy.





A never-before-seen excerpt of Tharros!

“Michael, honey, wake up. Come on, wake up! Wake up!”
Michael woke with a start and struck out at the horror in his mind’s eye.
Bobbie cried out and put the back of her hand to her lips, and came away with blood.
Terror still held Michael in its vicious grip, assaulting his senses like a ferocious miasma. Vivid images tore jagged wounds in his mind as his heart pounded, his breathing labored, and sweat covered him like an ugly, wet blanket. His hands shook, and the nightmare clawed at his nerves as he looked at his mom and tried to gather his fractured, panic-stricken thoughts and pull himself together.
“You pack a wallop.” She stood and went to his bathroom and returned with tissues held to her mouth.
Realization set in and surprise and guilt flooded him simultaneously. He sat up quickly. “Did I.... Shit,” he swore softly as she nodded. “I’m sorry, Mom. Let me see it.”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing an ice cube won’t cure. The bigger question is, are you all right?”
He ran a tired hand through his hair. “Yeah. Just a bad dream.” Still shaking, he rose from the bed slowly and found his leg stiff. One day without a workout made a serious difference in his mobility. He’d need to make sure he didn’t flake on the exercise and PT.
“Are you in pain?”
“Just stiff.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I don’t know.” He hobbled to the bathroom and closed the door softly. He rinsed his face with cool water and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked as bad as he felt. He hated Yosef and was worried to death over Christy. Now he was having nightmares and slugging his mom. “You better hope I never get my hands on you again, you bastard,” he whispered to the mirror. He returned to the bedroom and turned the bedside lamp on. “Let me see it, Mom.” He gently pulled her hand away from her mouth. “Shit. It needs a stitch or two. I’m really sorry.”
She tried to smile. “Did you earn a medical degree while you slept?”
He half smiled. “It’s your fault that I know these things. Where’s Dad?”
“He’s on his way home.”
He looked at the clock. It was after ten and if his dad was only coming home now it meant an emergency came up. Fear/Anxiety zinged his spine. “Jake and Sophia okay?”
“They’re fine. A four-year-old took an unscheduled flight off a bunk bed.”
Michael dug his new cell phone from his pocket and proudly displayed it to her with a smirk before speed dialing his dad.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, son. Everything okay?”
“Sort of. Mom needs stitches in her lip.”
“Why?”
“I punched her. Accidentally, when she tried to wake me up from a bad dream.” He cringed, not wanting to believe he’d actually hit his mom.
“Is she all right?”
“Yeah, she’s tough.” He winked at his mom.
Mac chuckled. “Let me speak to her.”
Michael put the phone on speaker.
“I’m fine,” she said in greeting.
“Did you hit him back?” Mac asked through a laugh.
“No, but the night is still young.”
Michael rolled his eyes.
“Do you need sutures?”
“So says our young intern.”
“Put some on ice on it. I’ll be home in five minutes.” He hung up still chuckling.
Michael pocketed the phone, and held a hand out to her. “Let’s get some ice.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael repeated for the tenth time.
“Oh, stop,” Bobbie responded for the tenth time as she held ice to her now sutured lip.
“I can’t believe I hit you,” he groaned.
“I don’t suppose I need to ask what the dream was about.”
Michael met his dad’s even gaze. “I can’t decide if I hope the guy never comes within arm’s reach of me again or that he does and gives me a reason to punch him again.”
“Let’s pray for a speedy trial and a long sentence.”
“Christy thinks Yosef’s dad will somehow get him out of jail and back to Greece.”
“Don’t know how he’d do that from a Greek jail cell.”
Oh, yeah. How could he forget that they raided the yacht? “I thought Mr. Santini still represented Sanna Shipping.”
Mac shook his head. “After Christy’s kidnapping he resigned as counsel to the Sanna companies.”
That was excellent news, but it only led to more questions. “Who’s going to be Yosef’s attorney?”
Mac shrugged. “I have no idea nor do I think it matters. The evidence is clear and Nero thinks it’ll be a relatively short proceeding.”
“Like, how short? An hour?”
“More like a few days.”
“That’s not short.”
“It’s certainly better than a three week trial.”
Michael gaped at his dad. “Christy couldn’t handle that.”
“It would be difficult for him,” Mac agreed.
Michael’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he withdrew it. Only Christy or Jake would call or text him this late, but the text message was from Rob.
If you’re awake, please call Christy. He had another nightmare.
What the hell? Why hadn’t Christy called him?
“Everything okay?” Mac asked.
Michael shook his head as he rose from the table. “Christy had another nightmare.”
He speed dialed Christy as he walked down the hall toward his bedroom.
Agapemene mou, why are you calling late? Are you okay?”
Michael’s heart broke a little at the sound of Christy’s hoarse voice. He’d probably been screaming during the dream again. “I’m okay. I, ah, I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Are you certain?”
“Am I certain I wanted to hear your voice? Yeah, definitely.”
“You know what I mean to ask.”
“Yeah, I’m okay, babe. Mom’s a little worse for wear though.”
“She is not okay?”
“I dreamed I was beating the crap out of Yosef and accidentally punched her when she tried to wake me up. Dad put two stitches in her lip.”
Christy gasped softly. “You hit your mother?”
“Yeah,” he said through a sigh as he lay back on his bed.
“I’m sorry. You should not have these dreams.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. Did you sleep okay?” Christy was silent. “You still there?”
“Yes. I am trying to decide how to phrase it. I think I will use your words. It is like this. It’s all fucked up.”



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