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Monday, October 21, 2013



Title: Chasing Serenity
Series: Seeking Serenity series, Book #1
Author: Eden Butler
Genre: NA Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 11, 2013
Cover Designed by: Steven Novak: http://www.novakillustration.com/ 

Purchase Links:
Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00FUQ6580
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00FUQ6580
Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/366463
GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18513705-chasing-serenity

Book Blurb:

Graduate student Autumn McShane has had her share of heartbreak. She’s been abandoned and betrayed and she lost her beloved mother in a tragic car accident five months ago. That loss damaged her body and fractured her spirit but she’s just learning to recover both until her emotionally abusive ex-boyfriend returns to town, intent on making her life miserable.

Declan Fraser hates her ex as much as Autumn does, but the last thing she needs is to put her trust in the hands of another man, especially one like Declan: his hard body and lulling Irish accent makes more than few girls weak-kneed. The talented rugby player is rude and sarcastic, with tattooed, muscular arms and a cocky attitude, but he's the only one who can help Autumn win an ill-advised bet that, if lost, could cost her more than she's willing to pay. The reluctant alliance between Declan and Autumn stirs up cravings she doesn't want to admit, but Declan is a hard man to resist.

Just when Autumn starts letting down her carefully constructed walls to the sexy bad boy, he betrays her in her moment of greatest need. Autumn suspects Declan has dark secrets, and she is determined to uncover what drove him away from her, even if that means fraternizing with the enemy. But will the truth return Declan to her arms or add to the scars on her heart?

Excerpt: Fubar’s

She leaves me standing alone on the dance floor, but I don’t mind. The air from the vents is cool on my hot skin and all around me are willing, completely unfamiliar strangers who handle me this way and that, take turns grinding against me. I stumble once, then recover by skidding away from my random friends and am nearly to the bar when a large hand grabs me, pulls me close to his thick chest. 

Declan’s body is solid against mine and that masculine, outdoorsy smell of his wafts into my nose, makes my stomach twist pleasantly. I start to pull away, my anger at him a bit stronger than my buzz, but he stops me, wraps his large hands on my waist.

“Be nice,” he says and nuzzles my neck. 

That rational part of my brain that tells me to walk away, to get as far from this caveman as possible, seems to be sleeping. I’m too focused on the way he feels, how tight he holds me, how his breath warms my neck as he pulls me against him. I don’t care about the blonde he just left, don’t mind that his hands are on my waist, that I can feel the strong contours of his chest as we keep a slow, close rhythm.

But I can’t take the heat in his eyes, how dark they’ve become, how intensely his gaze eats away at my features. I turn, my back to his chest, my head rests on his shoulder and Declan settles his hands around my hips, guides me as we dance. The sputtering of my heart is fast. My head rolls to the side and his bourbon and beer mixed breath fans over my face. My body responds to the way he feels against me, how his hands slide up my arms, my hips, how warm his breath feels on my skin. When his arms tighten around my waist and he kisses my neck, I lift my head to the side and watch him. 

“What are you doing?”

“Can’t you tell?”

“This is more of that too much friendliness behavior we talked about.”

He moves me to face him, holds my cheeks in his hands. His pupils are wide, the green in his irises shining bright and I’m sure he’s likely as drunk as I am. But he smells sweet, he feels sweeter and I forget to care about our drunkenness or that he pissed me off earlier. 

“I’m not your fecking friend, McShane.” And then his mouth covers mine, searing, certain. This isn’t like the simple peck that he gave me last night. It’s firmer, more severe and heated than even our first kisses in the basement. His kiss is deep and long and when I try to pull back, afraid his tongue will make an appearance, the pressure on my face increases. He breaks away from me, but his arm curls tight around my body, at the curve of my lower back. Through the haze of drunkenness and that left-unfilled pulse against my clit, I forget my earlier declarations, ignore the fact that he isn’t right for me or that I’m being irresponsible. I kiss him back, let my tongue slide across his bottom lip. His low growl vibrates against his throat, makes my stomach flutter and I’m instantly caught up in the need and want of him. Declan moves back, kisses my neck again, lets his mouth leave cool tracks of moisture in its wake and then he whispers in my ear. “Come with me.” 

Drunk and swaying, I follow Declan to the back of the bar. There are couches and chaises in a semi-circle and a row of plush chairs pushed back against the wall. We never make it to any of them. It is late, the crowd has thinned and Declan finds a small, dark alcove illuminated only by the slight red light of the exit sign. He pulls on my hand, pushes me against the wall and spends five full seconds staring at me, no smile quirking his lips, as though he’s giving me an out. When I pull my bottom lip under my teeth, Declan’s nostrils flare and his hands cradle my face, his mouth returns to mine.

His tongue slips between my lips, so simple, so effortless, as though that is where it was always meant to be and I moan as he cups my ass. He pauses, a wicked smirk on his face. “Not going to knee me again, are you?”

A quick smile twists across my lips before I grab his hand and lead it back onto my body. “Do it again.” 

We become a flurry of motions. He lifts me up, grip tight on the backs of my thighs. I pull on his hair, yank his head back to expose his neck, nibble on the skin and by the shake of his body, by how tight his grip is on me, how thick he feels against me, I know that Declan is as desperate for more as I am. 

He stops as though he’s fighting for control and then his eyes are searching mine. He worries his bottom lip. “My God, I’m dying here.” He moves in close to breathe against my neck, his mouth just near the shell of my ear. “I want to be inside you,” he whispers, then rests his head on my shoulder, his breathing a hard pant. “But I’m drunk. You’re drunk.”

Whatever I thought I might say becomes a blur. I want to continue, I want him back at my apartment, in my bed, but my head spins and the lights and sounds around me twist my stomach into knots. I push him back, make him stop and he gives me little resistance.

“Shite, don’t get mad, McShane—”

I grab his collar and close my eyes. “Shut up, Declan. I’m not mad. I’m just…I’m going to be sick.”  


Eden Butler is an editor and writer of New Adult Romance and SciFi and Fantasy novels and the nine-times great-granddaughter of an honest-to-God English pirate. This could explain her affinity for rule breaking and rum. Her debut novel, a New Adult, Contemporary (no cliffie) Romance, “Chasing Serenity” will launch October 2013.

When she’s not writing or wondering about her possibly Jack Sparrowesque ancestor, thinking up impossible plots, Eden edits, reads and spends way too much time watching rugby, Doctor Who and New Orleans Saints football.

Author Contact Info:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/eden.butler.10?fref=ts

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EdenButler_

Blog: http://edenbutlerwrites.wordpress.com/

GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/21011324-eden-butler


Eden is offering up (4) eBook copies of Chasing Serenity (INTL) and (2) $25.00 Amazon or B&N gift cards, winner's choice (INTL) up for grabs.  Giveaway ends at 11:59 PM CST 10/28/2013



  1. Someone who is kind, considerate, and has a sense of humor.

  2. Thank so much for promoing "Chasing Serenity."
    Eden Butler

  3. I when I lived in England loved watching the rugby players they all looked good

  4. The perfect book boyfriend is intelligent, witty& respectful.


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