Tag Archives: friends2lovers

#SundaySnippet 10.13.19

Since my fall themed romance FIRST IMPRESSIONS is still on sale, I thought it would be a good idea to give you another little snippet to entice your romance book loving tastes!

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Par Cleary is a master at seduction as he easily proves in this little sumthin’ sumthin;.

Friday evening rolled around and she stopped at the local market to pick something up for dinner. Thankfully, during this outing, no patients stopped her and she’d been able to make a quick selection and be on her way.

At home, she’d no sooner toed off her shoes than the doorbell chimed.

She opened the door, surprised to see Pat standing there, a sheepish look on his face.

“I know I didn’t call or text, but I saw you drive by the clinic on your way home and I thought you might like a visit.”

Pleasure warmed her. An unfamiliar sound billowed from inside his jacket, though, a jacket zipped almost to his collar, despite the warm weather.

“What have you got in there?” she asked, her gaze dropping to his chest.

His grin grew into a wide smile. “Like I said, a visitor.”

With a gentle tug, he dragged the toggle down a little and a chubby, whiskered face popped through the opening.

Oh.” Clarissa reached for the kitten as Pat opened the rest of his jacket. “Come here, you sweet thing.”

When she lifted the little bundle and folded it lose in her arms, it meowed loudly and immediately began its pulsating purr. Clarissa brought the kitten to her face and dropped soft and tender kisses on its snout. Its fur smelled clean, fresh, and so like a kitten, for a second Teeny’s face popped into her mind.

She glanced over her shoulder at Pat as she carried the kitten to the kitchen. “Since you brought me such a wonderful present, I can’t very well kick you out.”

His devilish grin told her it was what he’d been hoping.

He tossed his jacket onto the back of her couch and followed her into the kitchen.

“When was the last time she ate?” Reaching up into the cabinet where she’d kept Teeny’s food, Clarissa took a small bowl down and filled it with water, never letting go of the kitten.

“Right before I left the clinic, so she’s set until I bring her back. My night crew will make sure she gets something later.”

Clarissa set the water bowl down at her feet. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she released the kitten, who immediately began lapping at it. Her little blue-eyed gaze stayed locked on Clarissa’s legs as her tiny pink tongue flew back and forth from the water bowl to her mouth.

“Don’t let her drink too much,” Pat said, resting a hip against her kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. “You’ll have a mess on your hands.”

Clarissa looked up at him from her position on the floor to tell him she didn’t mind a mess and stopped breathing. He looked so handsome, so rakishly gorgeous settled against the counter. The ink black, errant cowlick was beginning to fall forward over his eyebrow again, and her hands actually throbbed to smooth it back. He had the making of a five o’clock shadow across his granite hard jaw, and the dimple clefting his chin appeared even deeper than usual. The cotton fabric of his shirt pulled against his shoulders, the muscles in his biceps pushing against the material. He was so completely and totally male in every facet of his being, Clarissa was, quite simply, in awe.

She had to mentally fight to draw her attention back to the now meowing kitten as it demanded her attention. When she picked it up and nuzzled it with her nose, she rose and asked, “What prompted this visit? Is she ready to be fostered out?”

“Soon. I wanted you to see her again, make sure you still want to.”

“I do.”

Pat nodded. “When we get back from Boston, we can make arrangements for when to transfer her over to you.”

At the mention of their planned trip, Clarissa’s nerves pushed forward. Since she was holding the kitten she couldn’t twine her hands together to quell them and in the next instant realized rubbing the soft downy fur was a much better form of self-soothing.

“What time are we leaving in the morning?”

Pat pushed off the counter and crossed to her. With a finger, he stroked the kitten’s neck, her eyes squinting in kitty ecstasy. Clarissa watched his finger move up and down across the fur, the strokes smooth and rhythmic, almost hypnotic, and licked her lips. What would it feel like for him to stroke her the same way? It was a safe bet she’d purr and moan like the kitten. Only louder.

“Moira said we’d pick you up around eight thirty. It’ll give us a relaxed driving time so we won’t be rushed.”

Clarissa nodded, knowing if she spoke, her voice would betray the raging desire shooting through her.

In the next instant, Pat’s stomach rumbled loud enough to be heard above the kitten’s deafening purrs.

Clarissa tried to contain her giggle so she wouldn’t startle the animal, but when Pat’s neck heated with a ruddy flare and he thrust his hands into his pockets, she couldn’t hold it in.

He squinted at her, and, with a menacing glare, pushed nearer to her. “You’re always quietly laughing at me,” he said, stopping so close she could feel his hot, moist breath on her face. “I can’t figure out why I want to be around someone who always laughs at me.”

“I know why,” she said, kissing the kitten again.

When his left eyebrow shot up his forehead, she answered. “It’s easy. Whenever we’re together, we’re usually eating. You’re hungry, so you want me to cook for you.”

His face went blank, and she couldn’t for the life of her discern what he was thinking. She could hear him breathing now, not only feel it, the air pushing out of him a tad faster than it had moments before. The flushed heat on his neck spread up his jaw. She could have melted to the floor when his eyes turned hot too, the lids hooded, so much so, Clarissa finally understood the meaning of a smoldering look.

His hands snaked out and grabbed her upper arms, pulling her and the kitten toward his chest. With the animal as a buffer between them, Clarissa could feel every inch of him as he pressed her body against his, one hand circling around her back and resting on her waist, the other trailing across her jaw. His eyes dilated as he crossed his tongue over his bottom lip, all the while pulling her in closer, molding her body to his.

Her panties grew damp in a heartbeat, and when he licked his lips, she felt her nipples pull and tighten inside her bra. Desire swam around the two of them. She could smell it, musky and potent, taste it against her lips, hot and spicy, and feel the heat of it warming her from head to curling toes.

“Pat?”

He didn’t answer, but continued to hold her prisoner, gaze, body and soul. She couldn’t take a full breath, didn’t dare to, afraid she’d break the spell he’d woven around them, afraid she’d lose the thin thread of control she clutched to prevent herself from jumping on him and eating him alive.

“Clarissa,” he whispered, his nose nuzzling along the outer edge of her jaw.

“Y-yes?”

His lips skimmed her throat, trailing lazily along the column of her blouse. He placed an open-mouthed, wet kiss along the skin beneath her ear, and she finally let out the breath she’d been holding, fearful she would faint dead away if she didn’t.

“I smell turkey,” he said softly, and took her ear lobe into his mouth.

As he gently sucked on it, Clarissa felt a punch of lust straight through her midsection. “Wh-what?”

She gasped when his tongue slid against her throat. “And biscuits.”

“Biscuits?” Confusion vied with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.

“Mmmm. Turkey and biscuits.” He licked her collarbone and then sucked at the skin covering it.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.”
With a smile dancing on his lips, he pulled back

and looked at her face.

“Clarissa, I’m starving.”
She blinked a few times.
“You wouldn’t, by any chance, want to share your dinner with me, would you? Friend.”

The cloud of erotic sensations he’d spun around her finally started to disperse. His stomach growled again, and even the kitten heard it this time because she startled and dug her nails into Clarissa’s arm.

“Ouch,” she said with a good-natured chuckle. “You scared her.”

“Hand her over.” He took the kitten and began stroking her chin again.

The sight of this big, strong and utter male holding the tiny kitten so tenderly and lovingly tugged at Moira’s heart. Right then she realized everything she’d heard about him was wrong.

Wrong and totally inaccurate.

“Since you brought me such a nice present,” she repeated, gazing up at him from under her eyelashes, “I think I have enough for the two of us.”

His charming grin broadened. When she turned around to finally unload the grocery bags, she heard him whisper, “Good job, kitty. It worked.”

She couldn’t help laughing.

Intrigued? Get your ecopy while it’s still just 99 cents here: Amazon /// Nook /// Ibooks

 

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Filed under Contemporary Romance, Family Saga, First Impressions, MacQuire Women, Romance, WIld Rose Press AUthor

#1stKissFriday 3.22.19

Today’s first kiss is between Moira Cleary and her lifetime best friend Quentin Stapleton from THERE’S NO PLACE LIFE HOME, the second book in my MacQuire Women series. Q has been in love with Moira since they were kids, but she’s been clueless. When he finally tells her how he feels, and kisses her UNLIKE a best friend, well, their love story really takes off.

Moira felt an intense overwhelming emptiness engulf her when he left. She started to open the front door but stopped when Quentin abruptly turned back and started up the porch steps again.

“I forgot something,” he told her.

“What?”

When he came up the last step and crossed to her, he said, “this,” and without another word pulled her into his arms.

Her first and last coherent thought was her best friend was going to kiss her goodnight. After a heartbeat, she forgot the best friend part and knew down to her toes friendship had nothing to do with this.

His lips slid across her mouth, soft and gentle, testing, tasting. Moira’s mind went blank as she succumbed to the sensation of them, hot and hard, pressing against hers in a kiss like none he’d ever given her before. Slowly, he traced her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, silently asking her to open for him. When she did, he entered her mouth and began to explore, each movement becoming more demanding, more insistent. Moira fell against him, fisting his jacket lapels to steady herself. When she felt his heartbeat pounding under her hands, she grew lightheaded with need. Quentin framed her face with his fingertips, softly tugging down on her chin, changing the angle of the kiss.

She’d been kissed before, but never, never with such all consuming need and longing. She heard a deep moan and was shocked to realize the sound had escaped from her. One of Quentin’s hands left her face to slide down her back. When he pushed against her backside and molded her body to his, Moira’s stomach jumped. This time, though, it wasn’t with the painful contractions she’d come to expect, but with a heart- stopping craving.

A craving for him.

She unfurled her hands from his jacket and, without thought, wound them upwards, weaving them over his shirt collar and up through his hair. She grabbed onto the ends, pulled his head down closer, and held on fast.

All aspect of time was lost. Nothing mattered but the delicious feel of his strong hands caressing her back and the taste of him as his tongue mated with hers.

This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream.

But no dream had ever made her want like this, feel like this. When he skimmed his lips across her jaw and down her throat, stopping to take her lobe into his mouth, Moira knew this wasn’t a dream. That same feeling she’d had when she looked at him in the movie steeped through her again, tickling her stomach muscles. With a jolt, she realized the sensation was desire. Pure and simple.

Quentin pulled back and stared down into her face. With a heavy sigh, he laid his forehead against hers, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long. So damn long.”

“Q—?”

He traced one finger lazily down her jaw and across the lips he’d just caressed, silencing her. “Remember when your cousin Tiffany got married in the backyard here?”

Confused, Moira nodded. She licked her lips, running her tongue across his caressing finger. The hiss that blew from him made her thighs shake.

Quentin rubbed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “When the Reverend told Cole ‘you may now kiss your bride,’ and he swooped her off the ground, spun her around, and kissed her silly? Remember what you said?”

Moira tried to conjure the scene. “I think I said it was the most romantic thing I’d ever seen.”

He nodded. “The exact quote was ‘I hope someone kisses me like that some day.’”

Her grin was quick at the memory. “Pat snorted and said I’d better be satisfied with licks from the horses and Rob Roy because no guy was ever going to kiss me like that.”

“He wasn’t known for tact back then,” he said, rubbing a hand down her back as he held her next to him in the soft lamplight from the porch. The soothing, rhythmic smoothing of his hand made every nerve on Moira’s body stand at attention.

“Later on that day, behind the barn, remember what happened then?”

Because she did, she couldn’t stop the heat from spreading up her face like wildfire.

When she merely nodded, he traced a kiss across the area he’d just caressed, and said, “You wanted to know what it felt like to be kissed like that and since I was your best friend, you thought I should be the one to do it, because you—quote—felt safe with me—unquote.”

“What was I? Eleven?” she said, finally finding her voice, and unnerved to hear it whining.

“Thirteen. We both were, and I was more than willing to do it. Almost broke my heart in two when you said afterward, ‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about.’”

His lips twitched at the corners when he said it, and Moira felt the warmth of her blush intensify.

“Q—”

“Hush.” He kissed her forehead. “Ever since that day, all I’ve wanted is a second chance. Now,” he pulled her body closer, wrapped both arms around her small waist, his hand resting just above the dent in her spine. “We’re both a little older, a little more mature. Some of us are much more experienced—”

“And conceited.”

“Experienced,” he said, the laugh in his voice quiet and seductive, “and things can be so much better.”

Moira stared up into his eyes, warm and moist, shimmering under the subtle porch light. “Where is this coming from? You’ve never said anything like this, never acted like this, before. Ever.”

He took a breath and tucked her head against his shoulder, rubbing her back with both of his hands. His chest was made of granite, hard and solid and Moira felt so secure in his embrace. So comforted and so safe. If he never let go of her, she knew she wouldn’t mind in the least.

He didn’t speak for a few moments. Then, he pulled back, gazed down into her face and Moira didn’t need verbal answers to her questions. The look of blatant need and craving was so strongly etched in his eyes as he peered right through her, and for a moment, all she could do was stare, motionless. It was the same expression she’d seen on his face the night of her welcome home dinner. Then, she hadn’t known what to make of it. She couldn’t put a name to what she was seeing etched in his chiseled features.

Now, she knew.

He brought his lips to hers again in the gentlest of touches.

“I want you, Moira. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything, in my entire life. I’ve always wanted you, from the time I knew what it meant.” He chuckled and added, “probably even before then. I haven’t gone a day in too long to count when I didn’t think of you and want you with me. There have been so many times the past few years when I’ve wanted to take an extended leave from the practice and go fly to wherever you were performing, just to see you. Obligations, though necessary, can be a bitch, and the time never allowed it. When Pat told me you were coming home, I thought, good. Finally. Home court advantage.” His lazy grin spread with the words.

“I never knew,” she said, tears springing up. “You never gave me any indication. All these years, you’ve never hinted at this. In any way. Why not?”

He shook his head. “I know. I didn’t know how you’d feel about it. We’ve been friends forever. I don’t have a childhood memory that doesn’t include you. We’re everything friends should be. But this is a different feeling, Moira, from friendship. So different.”

His voice broke on the last word as he claimed her mouth again, deepening the kiss instantly, and knocking her back emotionally.

“I won’t push you,” he said into her hair, kissing her temple. “You need to get used to the idea, I know. I don’t want anything to change between us.”

“How can it not?” she asked, the tears spilling over. “It changes everything, Quentin. You know it does.”

His thumb swiped softly at the drop of moisture cascading down her cheek.

“It doesn’t have to. We’re still us. We’re still the same. I won’t ever lose you as a friend, Moira. I can’t. You’re as much a part of my life as I am of yours. Our friendship will never change. It hasn’t in all these years you’ve been gone.”

Want to read more? Here’s where you can get your own copy of THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

 

Buy Links: Amazon // Apple // Google // Kobo // Nook// 

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Read a preview of THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

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Filed under MacQuire Women, Romance, Romance Books, Strong Women, The Wild Rose Press

A visit with Angela Hayes…

Hi all.  Greetings on this lovely June day.

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Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Angela Hayes and I’m an author with The Wild Rose Press. My debut novel, Love’s Battle, a fantasy romance is available on Amazon at http://bit.ly/LovesBattle, Barnes and Noble at http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/loves-battle-angela-hayes/1119985601?ean=2940149742493 , and on The Wild Rose Press website at http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=indexHYPERLINK “http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=1103″&HYPERLINK “http://www.wildrosepublishing.com/maincatalog_v151/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=1103″manufacturers_id=1103 .

I’d like to invite you all over to my blog www.authorangelahayes.blogspot.com where Peggy has graciously agreed to be a guest.

We’re talking all about her new book, There’s No Place Like Home. You don’t want to miss out.

If you like what you see, be sure to follow me either by email or by Google to get the latest blog postings.

You can also follow me on Twitter at https://twitter.com/imahayes and Pinterest at www.pinterest.com/imahayes.

It was wonderful meeting you,
Happy Reading,

Angela Hayes

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Filed under Characters, Dialogue, New Hampshire