I’m off the internet for a few days, but I wanted to repost a few blogs I thought were fun. Here’s one from 2017 on my…voice. My real one, not my writing one! hee hee!
I’m off the internet for a few days, but I wanted to repost a few blogs I thought were fun. Here’s one from 2017 on my…voice. My real one, not my writing one! hee hee!
So, just when my newest book released yesterday, DIRTY DAMSELS,
I’m starting to think maybe this writing career will pan out in the end! hee hee
With Christmas season in full swing, baker Regina San Valentino is up to her elbows in cake batter and cookie dough. Between running her own business, filling her bursting holiday order book, and managing her crazy Italian family, she’s got no time to relax, no room for more custom cake orders, and no desire to find love. A failed marriage and a personal tragedy have convinced her she’s better off alone. Then a handsome stranger enters her bakery begging for help. Regina can’t find it in her heart to refuse him.
Connor Gilhooly is in a bind. He needs a specialty cake for an upcoming fundraiser and puts himself—and his company’s reputation—in Regina’s capable hands. What he doesn’t plan on is falling for a woman with heartbreak in her eyes or dealing with a wise-guy father and a disapproving family.
Can Regina lay her past to rest and trust the man who’s awoken her heart?
It had been a long, long time since a guy’s hands had been on me in anything resembling a carnal way. My ex had decamped to parts unknown five years ago after signing the divorce papers and I’d been so busy rebuilding my life that adding any kind of relationship to it wasn’t even a notion. Besides, with my hovering parents, one of whom worked for me while the other popped in daily to check up on their only daughter, I had enough on my plate fending off the men they wanted to introduce me to. Guys who, for the most part, had shady lifestyles, carried concealed, and owed my father innumerable favors. And by favors I mean the kind that usually get signed for in blood and paid back the same way.
Welcome to mia familia.
Until next time ~ Peg
It just stands to reason that since I’m promoting my upcoming DIRTY DAMSELS release, I might as well show you the first kiss between Ella and Buddy, no?
Problem is…I really can’t. This blog is billed at PG13 and the first kiss between these two occurs during a time that’s…not. ( PG 13, that is!!!)The second kiss is equally as sexy, so I can’t show that one, either.
Sorry! ( Not, sorry!)
To make up for it, here’s a little snippet between them that’s fairly tame…maybe!
In a smooth move he pulled me into his arms, the length of our bodies touching.
“You don’t have to thank me, Ella. I’m just happy I could put that beautiful smile back on your face.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “And it sounds like it’s about time someone took care of you for a change.”
Can I just tell you how I almost melted into a puddle at those words?
Without thinking I shouldn’t – for so many reasons – I lifted up on my toes and pressed my lips against his, just as I had in the hotel room. Kissing him for the first time at midnight when I knew what was about to happen between us had been a new and titillating experience. But now I knew how he tasted, how amazing his lips and tongue felt mating with mine, and anticipation pushed aside all the thoughts of why I shouldn’t be doing this with this man again.
I hadn’t known who he was before or what the consequences of being with him could be. Now I did.
And you know what? I didn’t care.
His hands tightened around my waist pulling me even closer. The beat of his heart quickening drummed through his chest and pounded against mine. He kept the kiss sweet, apparently giving me the choice to deepen it.
Some inner wicked spark made me swipe at his lower lip with the tip of my tongue, then drag along the seam separating his two lips. When they parted for me on a breath, I dove in.
The kiss went from sweet and thoughtful to frenzied and mind-blowing in a nanosecond. One of his hands ran up my spine to cup the back of my neck, the other dipped lower to mold over my ass. I let my head fall backward into his able grip while Buddy changed the angle of the kiss, allowing him even greater access to my mouth. All of my mouth.
With his tongue twined around mine he tugged at it with tiny pulses, the motion striking a flame deep in my core. My legs grew restless and the bubble of need churning in me sought relief as my hips pushed in even closer to his body. The hand at my butt squeezed. Hard. At the same time Buddy pressed me against the counter and slid his knee between my quaking knees. The weight of him against me, coupled with the erotic motions of his tongue dancing with mine pushed all coherent thought from my mind. All I could do was feel and respond to his touch.
Intrigued? you’ll be able to read more when DIRTY DAMSELS releases on 7.2.19. Preorder links should be available soon and you know I’ll post them when they are.
For now, come back on Monday, June 24 for the big cover reveal! I can’t wait to share it with you.
Until next time ~ Peg
So, last Monday I gave you a few book graphic teasers for my July 2 book release from Limitless, DIRTY DAMSELS. I’m doing a complete cover reveal next Monday, June 24, so make sure you set your calendar reminders!
Today, I want to give you a little sumthin’ sumthin’ between my hero and heroine. The blurb is now official, so I’m gonna include that here, as well. Just fyi – this little snippet is unedited, so you may see some repeating words. Don’t worry; the final version rocks!
Blurb: All is fair in business…and love.
When I first saw Cynderella all covered in soot in that sexy maid uniform, I knew I wanted to be her Prince.
She’s a smart and savvy businesswoman who’s built her cleaning company from the ground up. But now that Dirty Damsels was booming, I’ve been hired to arrange a hostile takeover.
But the temptation of having her was too much to ignore…
We ended up spending one night together—a night neither of us will forget. Now, I want more. I need more. I want to spend every night, skin-on-skin, with my beautiful Ella.
Problem is, when she finds out who I really am, she’ll never forgive me.
He was massive. At least six-three with shoulders so wide they actually blocked my view of the room behind him. Jet-black, military close cropped hair surrounded a face constructed of sharp angles and etched planes. His jaw was formed from concrete, hard and square and hinting at a little cleft deep in the middle. Thick eyebrows the same color as the hair framed two of the greenest eyes I’d ever seen. They mimicked jade crystals, freshly mined and polished. I would’ve bet actual cash his light gray suit was tailor-made because it hugged the width of his shoulders with sartorial precision and tapered down to a trim waist.
All this ran through my mind as I devised a plan to escape from him to avoid being attacked. I held the plastic dustpan and brush against my body, two pitifully ineffective weapons should I need them against this potential ax murderer.
Okay, I’m pretty sure ax murderers don’t wear Armani to their kills, but still.
His brows pulled together and he was motioning with his hands. When he pointed to his ears I got it. I yanked out the earbuds and let them fall down to my waist.
“Can you hear me now?”
Before nodding, I let the sound of his voice wash over me. It was deep, rich and warm, like a glass of perfectly aged, room temperature, Irish whiskey on a chilly night. In a heartbeat I realized a girl would be happy to do whatever that voice asked her to.
“I tried to get your attention.” He dropped his hands into his pants pockets-exceptionally well fitted pants, by the way. “Then I realized you couldn’t hear me when I saw you swaying back and forth. I’m sorry I scared you.”
I found my voice. “How did you get in? I know I locked the door behind me.”
“You did. But Cal left a key for me with the doorman. I didn’t expect anybody to be here.”
“Your Cal’s guest?”
The smile working its way across his angular face had the same effect on me as his voice. To call it charming would have been an understatement. His lips moved with a slow, purposeful amble from the middle of his bowed upper lip, down across his thick bottom one to finish in a deep dimple on each of his cheeks. Perfect teeth lived under those sexy, full lips. On a girl they’d be described as pouty. On him they were completely and utterly masculine. And devastating. Just as a girl would do anything the voice asked, she’d also give anything for a taste of those lips.
“Buddy,” he told me. “And you are?”
“The cleaning service,” I said hastily. “I thought I had enough time to get the whole place done before you arrived. You’re way early.”
“I hopped on an earlier flight. And don’t be sorry.” His smile changed into a boyish grin. “I enjoyed the show.”
For a second I didn’t know he meant. Then it hit me.
He must’ve seen the realization in my eyes and the embarrassment I know heated my face and neck, because his smile widened and grew a tad wicked, crinkling the corners of his gorgeous eyes. “That was a pretty impressive rendition of the Thick song.”
I’ve never been the kind of girl who can be teased and be comfortable with it. Probably because the evil bitch and her twin spawns of terror teased and chided me mercilessly during my adolescence. My face grew even hotter as my discomfort danced within me. I usually have a pithy comment handy to pull out of my back pocket to shoot down anyone I perceive is making fun of me. It’s an old and trusted defense mechanism I’ve tried to curb for years, but haven’t succeeded at. For some reason, though, I couldn’t think of a response. A little niggle in the back of my mind reminded me he was the guest of a client. A high paying client. A client I didn’t want to lose or annoy. Maybe my subconscious was working for me for once instead of against as it forced me to keep quiet.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He moved closer, while he pulled something from his pocket. Before I realized what he meant to do, he cupped my chin in his hand and placed a handkerchief against my cheek, giving it a little rub. This close I could see the dark rim of deep moss surrounding the brighter color of the jade in his eyes. Eyes that never left mine. I couldn’t blink or look away. Don’t ask me why, but for the first time I understood what the saying “like a deer caught in the headlights” meant.
The skin across his fingers was rough where he held my chin prisoner, but his actual touch was disarmingly gentle. His warm breath blew across my face as he wiped something away, inspected the area and, then, pulled his gaze back to mine. His eyes were heavily hooded and so damn hot a tiny tug yanked low in my belly and then pushed its way down lower. Much lower. His eyelashes were long and thick and jealousy stabbed through me. No amount of mascara or lash plumping product would ever make my skimpy, spikey little lash hairs look like his natural ones.
“Ashes,” he said, folding the handkerchief and then sliding it back in his pants pocket.
I bit back a whimper when he let go of my face.
Intrigued? I’ll be posting the pre-order links soon. Remember to check back next Monday to see what the official cover looks like. And just as a reminder, here are a few of the teasers I made:
I can’t wait to share Ella’s story with you all!
Until next time ~ Peg
I’ve said this before, but I love when one of my Wild Rose Press sistahs comes to visit, and I doubly love it when they’ve got a new book to promote! Today, romantic suspense sistah, C.B. Clark is here, talking about her newest release, SECRET BETRAYAL. The subject matter in the book sent her on a research expedition before she sat down and wrote this fast-paced, timely tale and she agreed to tell me a little about her process.
Authors research the most bizarre topics in preparation for writing their books. In the past, I’ve investigated unique ways to poison someone, how to distinguish human bones from animal bones, how to fly an airplane under the radar, and a dozen other topics guaranteed to raise eyebrows. For my newest novel, Secret Betrayal, where the heroine is a victim of stalking, I researched incidents of this crime, talked to victims, and met with community support groups.
I was shocked to discover that 1 in 6 American women will be stalked in their lifetime. Victims often receive unwanted phone calls, emails, texts and lavish gifts. The terror of knowing someone is watching you and monitoring everything you do is overwhelming. No wonder these women suffer serious physical, social, and psychological effects. Most stalking occurs between people who know each other, but one-quarter of victims are harassed by strangers. Fortunately anti-stalking legislation is in place in most states, and the authorities are taking this crime seriously. If caught, stalkers face serious jail time.
Head college librarian, Marissa Reynolds has spent years distancing herself from her crime king pin uncle and his criminal empire. When she awakens in an unfamiliar hotel room with blood on her hands and no memory of how she got there, the past returns with a vengeance, and her life spirals into a nightmare.
Straight-laced, Assistant district Attorney, Scott Bannister has spent a lifetime seeking justice for the senseless gangland shooting deaths of his parents. When he realizes Marissa is the niece of his prime suspect, he crosses a line guaranteed to put in jeopardy both his life and his beloved career.
He’s made it clear he’ll do anything to destroy her uncle. She fears he’s using her to achieve his goal. As the body count mounts, and their lives are threatened, they must put aside their distrust and work together to find the devious killer. Will they be able to forgive and find true love?
She pushed to her hands and knees. The pounding in her brain mushroomed into a full-blown, jackhammer assault. With a moan, she sank onto her bottom and grabbed her head in a fruitless effort to keep her brain from exploding. Despite the pain, she needed to get up. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Faint wisps of light seeped through the edges of the window curtains. The distant sound of traffic echoed through the glass. A lamp imbued the room with a soft, rosy glow, revealing a king-size bed. The cover on the bed was a glossy, garish pink, the pillows covered in the same lurid color, the edges trimmed with frilly, black lace.
She rubbed the back of her neck and closed her eyes, but when she opened them again she was still in the unfamiliar room. A battered desk faced the bed, a large, flat screen television on top. The flickering images of a naked, full-breasted woman being entertained by two equally naked men played across the screen.
A wingback chair, covered in black leatherette sat in the far corner where a door was ajar revealing the cracked linoleum floor of a bathroom and the edge of a chipped porcelain sink. A framed diagram of a fire escape route was posted on the back of the other door. A hotel room? She dug her fingers into her temples. Why couldn’t she remember?
You can get your copy of Secret Betrayals here:
A little about C.B. Clark:
Award-winning author C.B. Clark has written five romantic suspense novels published by The Wild Rose Press. She has worked as an archaeologist and an educator. She enjoys hiking, canoeing, and snowshoeing with her husband and dog near her home in the wilderness of central British Columbia.
You can connect with C.B here:
I love when I find a great book. I love it even more when the author is one of my Wild Rose Press Sistahs! And the best? When that great book by that fab author is ON SALE!!!! Sadira Stone is having such a sale!
Fans of steamy contemporary romance, bookshops, and sexy historical artwork will love this tale of new beginnings after grief.
Letting him inside could be her salvation…or her undoing.
Clara Martelli clings to Book Nirvana, the Oregon bookshop she and her late husband Jared built together. When rising rents and corporate competition threaten its survival, her best hope is their extensive erotica collection, locked behind a red door. In dreams and signs, her dead husband tells her it’s time to open that door and move on. When a dark and handsome stranger’s powerful magnetism jolts her back to life and he wants a look at the treasures of that secret room, she can’t help but want to show him more.
Professor Nick Papadopoulos is looking for historical erotica. Book Nirvana’s collection surpasses his wildest dreams, and so does its lovely owner. A widower, he understands Clara’s battle with guilt, but their searing chemistry is too strong to resist. Besides, he will only be in town for two weeks, not long enough for her to see beyond the scandal that haunts his past.
Here’s a peek inside:
Clara and Jared were adventurous lovers, but this was beyond anything they’d tried, or even imagined. She turned the book sideways and peered closer at the drawing. Something touched her shoulder and, startled, she squeaked like a little girl and slammed the book shut.
Beside her stood Nick, the smutty professor, holding a plate with two scones. Was that a blush coloring his chiseled cheeks? With his deep olive complexion, it was hard to tell. She lowered her gaze and found herself looking right at his crotch.
With no safe place to direct her gaze, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Sorry, Clara. Beautiful women bring out my devilish side. Please forgive me.” He slid a new scone onto her empty plate, then sat beside her. “I guess Shunga isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.”
Nick nodded. “This type of painting or woodblock print. There’s usually a funny text to go with it.” He balanced the book between them, resting on the arms of their two chairs, then glanced at her, an eyebrow raised.
Okay, Clara, time to put on your big girl panties. You can handle this.
Nick flipped to a new page. “The beautiful costumes and hair arrangements date from the Edo era, roughly the 1600s through the mid-1800s. And here’s the text.” He pointed to columns of delicate Oriental writing.
“Can you read it?”
“Not very well. I have a friend here at the university who can help with the translations. This really is an extraordinary book.” He sipped his coffee and flipped the page.
“Are their, um, private parts always so large?”
He shot her another devilish grin. “Always. You know, it’s funny. In European artwork, male genitals are often unusually small, compared to…” He glanced down at his own lap.
She followed his gaze, then jerked her eyes away. Her voice creaked like a twelve-year-old boy’s. “Yes, I’ve—uh—I’ve noticed.”
“But in Shunga, all the genitals are outsized.”
“Doesn’t that scare women away?”
“On the contrary—these drawings were presented in ‘Pillow Books’ designed to instruct young couples in the art of love.”
Ever since her first kiss, Sadira’s been spinning steamy tales in her head. After leaving her teaching career in Germany, she finally tried her hand at writing one. Now she’s a happy citizen of Romancelandia, penning contemporary romance and cozy mysteries from her home in Washington State. When not writing, which is seldom, she explores the Pacific Northwest with her charming husband, enjoys the local music scene, belly dances, plays guitar badly, and gobbles all the books. Visit Sadira at www.sadirastone.com.
I want to hear from you!
…over on the Romance Gems Blog. I’ve got an extra blog piece this month about how the idea for DEARLY BELOVED and the entire Match Made in Heaven came about.
Read all about it here: When fiction mimics reality
And here’s an early present from Amazon – the ebook is on sale for a limited time for just 99 cents. The sale was supposed to start tomorrow, but AMAZON jumped the gun a day early, so if you’ve been waiting to buy it, get it today! Here’s the link:
Tomorrow the sale will include iTunes and Nook, if those are your ereaders of choice.
TTFY ~ Peg
I’ve said this a thousand times, but I lovelovelove when one of my Wild Rose Press sistahs comes to visit, especially when she brings news of a new book release. Today, I’ve got dear friend and amazeballs writer, Charlotte O’Shay visiting me. Her newest book has just released and she graciously offered to tell me a little about it, and about the series it’s attached to. So, sit back and meet my lovely friend….
Thanks Peggy for your generous invitation to chat with you today.
Woohoo! It’s release day for Their No-Strings Affair and I’m pumped to unleash this story on Romancelandia.
Their No-Strings Affair is the final book in my City of Dreams series. The story is a steamy, standalone contemporary.
My idea for this series came from the knowledge that NYC has always been a premiere destination for ambitious souls. It’s also a great place to get lost, or try to, if you’re running from a painful past or hiding a secret. All of the women and men in my series, Sabrina & Vlad, Lacey & Connor and Honey & Jake, are strivers and dreamers—all hellbent on achieving their goals. Dealing with painful pasts, the last thing they’re looking for is permanency in a relationship or romantic love. To a person they don’t believe in it. But sometimes fate has other plans.
Honey arrives in the city ready to jump start her art career. Her move to NYC was impulsively executed on the heels of a humiliating breakup with her long-term boyfriend. To make some fast cash she fills in as a server at a fancy, Pierre Hotel wedding (Sabrina and Vlad’s wedding ~The Marriage Ultimatum) and quickly runs afoul of security for the event run by Jake Ricco.
Honey packs everything she owns and heads to NYC to jumpstart her art career. Her cheating boyfriend is history, and she finally acknowledges the truth of her mother’s mantra: Careers are forever and happily ever after isn’t in their DNA.
All she needs is a job and a place to live. What she doesn’t need is a taciturn, sexy, ballbuster but she’s woman enough to know the difference between need and want. Isn’t she?
Jake’s childhood was marred by tragedy and his future hijacked to a promise born of guilt. His failure drove him to a career as a SEAL and a security expert.
But it’s not enough. Soon he’ll give up his freedom in reparation for the life he lost. Honey may be the last sweet stop on the road to a joyless future. If it’s what they both want, where’s the harm in a no-strings affair?
A hand closed over her arm, and the tray of empties pitched sideways like the deckchairs on the Titanic. She heaved out a frustrated breath and stopped. The empties slid to a halt on the tray.
Honey was in no mood, especially not today, to be manhandled by a guy just because he was bigger and she stood only five-two in her sneakers.
“Get…your…hand…off…me. Right now. I don’t know who you think you are…” She pushed out the words low and slow. She could do this. She could get rid of him and squash her temper. This horrendous day was moments away from exploding into utter disaster.
But no, he wasn’t letting go of her arm, and it was either let the whole tray of wine glasses tumble to the floor, or let the bully have his say. Mother Nature had a nasty sense of humor, making Honey the size of a hummingbird and giving her the temper of a hippo.
“Who I am is your worst nightmare. Now plant your feet and give me your name.”
“Get lost.” Her words came out in a hiss. “Let go of my arm, and I’ll forget this happened.”
“Oh, really?” A sarcastic black brow lifted. “Give me your name now, and maybe”—his sneer said right, if you believe that, I have some bitcoin to sell you—“I won’t write you up.”
Honey stood her ground, lifted her chin, and stared him down in a way her brothers would’ve recognized as dangerous.
“First, let go of my arm.”
The volume of her voice inched up a couple of notches. Loud enough so any passing guests would wonder just what was going on in the midst of this glamorous wedding reception.
He released her arm but stayed so far inside her personal space she caught a hint of the lemon and leather of his aftershave. The heady scent fit the vibe of that TV commercial she loved, the one where the amber Italian sun cast shadows on a gorgeous guy on a motorcycle speeding down some scenic Roman side street at sunset.
Their No-Strings Affair
Look for books 1 and 2 in Charlotte’s City Of Dream trilogy:
A little about Charlotte:
Author Charlotte O’Shay was born in New York City into big family and then married into another big family.
Negotiating skills honed at the dinner table led her to a career in the law.
But after four beautiful children joined the crowded family tree, Charlotte traded her legal career to write about happily ever afters in the City of Dreams.
Charlotte loves to challenge her heroines and heroes with a crisis and watch them figure out who they are while they fall in love.
You can connect with Charlotte here:
I can’t believe I forgot to add this first kiss when I was highlighting all the MacQuire Women books!! THE VOICES OF ANGELS tells the story of MacQuire family eldest daughter, Carly MacQuire Lennox.
Love is the last thing Carly Lennox is looking for when she sets out on her new book tour. The independent, widowed author is content with a life spent writing and in raising her daughter. When newscaster Mike Woodard suggests they work on a television magazine profile based on her book, Carly’s thrilled, but guarded. His obvious desire to turn their relationship into something other than just a working one is more than she bargained for.
Mike Woodard is ambitious, and not only in his chosen profession. He wants Carly, maybe more than he’s ever wanted anything or anyone else. As he tells her, he’s a patient man. But the more they’re together, Mike realizes it isn’t simply desire beating within him. Carly Lennox is the missing piece in his life. Getting her to accept it-and him-may just be the toughest assignment he’s ever taken on.
A sudden gust of spring wind swept Carly’s hair into her face. Mike stopped and brushed it back with his hands. He wound a curly tendril around his finger, marveling at its silky softness, its sheen. “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you sitting in the window.”
Since she was tall, she almost mimicked his height. But not quite. Locking his gaze with hers, he took her face between his hands and very slowly brought his head down. Her body tightened, her shoulders lifted and froze. Ignoring the response, his lips grazed across hers, tasting, testing, moving hurriedly. When his tongue parted her mouth and leisurely explored the hidden treasures within, she tilted her head back. As he deepened the kiss, taking his time, not rushing, just discovering, she finally relaxed against him.
Sweet. So sweet.
His mouth continued to move on its lazy course while his hands framed her face, the velvety softness of her skin a delight to touch. Ignoring the hammering sounds of the traffic around them, oblivious to the irritated pedestrians forced to maneuver around them to pass, he concentrated only on her.
With a steadied slowness warring with the quaking fighting within his system, he raised his head. Carly’s eyes were closed, her lips still parted. She took her time opening them, and then stared up at him through drowsy, languid confusion.
“Am I the only one who’s feeling something here?” His voice was a soft murmur over the loud hum of the city surrounding them.
“No,” she whispered. He saw the regret of her hasty reply a second later when she lowered her eyes.
“Good.” He smiled. “You just made my day.”
“Mike, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
Carly eased out of his embrace, shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and began walking again. Possessively, Mike snatched her arm back and circled it within his.
“I…” Carly began, then stopped. “Oh, hell. I’m not good with words in situations like this.”
His laugh came quick, charmed by her nerves. “Pretty pathetic declaration for a writer.”
Carly stuck out her bottom lip in a very alluring pout. He was tempted to stop and take her mouth with his again. “Don’t mock me. When it’s on paper I can get it right. Real life has no re-writes, no editing.”
“Granted.” The sunlight played with the alternating auburn and fire-red highlights in her hair as they began to walk again. He was convinced no color had ever been so alive.
Carly squared her shoulders. “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression about me. Concerning men.” When he didn’t comment, she continued. “It’s only, well…I haven’t been involved with anyone since my husband died. I’ve been busy with my daughter and my writing. I haven’t met anyone I’ve been interested in, I guess.”
Carly turned to look at him. Irritation crossed in her narrowed eyes. “You’re pretty sure of yourself.”
“No,” he replied. “I’m more sure of you, though.”
Mike laughed again. He stopped and cupped her cheeks. “You’re even more beautiful when you’re angry. Your left eyebrow arches ever so slightly and your eyes turn the most incredible forest green.” He kissed her and felt her pulse trip again under his fingers. “I would bet,” he said into her hair, breathing in the fresh fragrance of the shampoo she’d used, “no man since your husband has made your heart beat this fast, or your breath come in such spurts, as when I do this.” He lowered his head to kiss her again.
When she arched her back, Mike’s hands did a slow slide downward, coming to rest on the dip under her waist.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he commanded, his voice charged with challenge.
“You’re a liar, Carly Lennox.” Before she could refute him, he continued, “You’re breathing is way too fast, and your eyes are unfocused. But for now I’m willing to back off. I know we’ll be together. I’m certain of it.”
“Why you arrogant, egotistical—I said you were nice. Ha!” She turned on her heel and started to walk away. His vise-like grip on her arm stopped her short. Mike spun her around, drew her to his chest, and his mouth crushed down to hers in a kiss neither patient, nor tender. It bespoke all the raw desire and hunger churning inside him.
Her resolve began to slip under his hands as she relaxed against him again. He knew she didn’t want to respond, but seemed to have no power to pull away, as he had no power to stop the craving for her firing within him. Instead, she moved closer, molding her body to his and winding her arms up and around his neck. Through her light spring jacket he could feel the softness of her body, the desire vibrating through it as her kiss answered his, meeting it measure for measure. Mike pulled her deeper, immersing them in a contest of shared longing.
A blast of sanity blew through his mind when a car horn blared close to them. He clamped down on his rising desire, and eased his hold, releasing her. Carly lowered her head and, once again, avoided his eyes.
Mike’s hand gently cupped her chin and lifted her face back to his. Through eyes narrowed to slits, he said, “Okay, that kiss was a little crude, I’ll admit. As a rule I’m not so-”
“Good word.” He smoothed her windblown hair down with his hand and tucked an errant tendril behind her ear. “For a writer.”
Intrigued? You can get your own ecopy, print copy or Audible version here: The Voices of Angels
And don’t forget, HOPE’S DREAM is one of 20+ Sweet Romances in a new BOOKSWEEP GIVEAWAY.You can enter here: BOOKSWEEPS