Thursday, November 27th, 2014
A quick note…
For you Americans out there, Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you’re spending the day with family and aren’t stuck in some airport. I’ll be sitting down to the table with mine and giving thanks for all my blessings. Now, on to our regularly scheduled program…
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3 Reasons to Let an Aircraft Mechanic Turn Your Wrench
Nothing is sexier than a book boyfriend who lives to keep others safe. Firefighters, military men, and police officers fill the romance genre—and for good reason. Aircraft mechanics don’t garner a lot of page time. Maybe it’s because the job isn’t glamorous or even one people care to think about. Mechanics are the grease-smudged faces behind the curtain, the unseen force keeping you in the air. Being married to one myself, I’ve seen every side of these mysterious men. Here are a few of the perks of the breed.
#3 Cocky calm.
Aircraft mechanics are a little like cardiologists. I’ve yet to meet one who wasn’t cocky as all get out, at least when it came to his job. On any given day these mechanics are responsible for the safety of hundreds or even thousands of people. No room for the wishy-washy in a field like that. And no matter how comfortable you are with the miracle of flight, when you’re cruising along at four hundred miles per hour and the airplane makes one of those godawful metal-grinding noises, it’s nice to have your man squeeze your hand and assure you that there will be no fiery death today. The phalange needs oiled, that’s all. On more than one occasion my husband even fixed the plane we were flying on before departure, saving us from a lengthy delay. If that’s not sexy, I don’t know what is.
#2 Joining the Mile High Club doesn’t necessarily involve a cramped lavatory.
Making love at 32,000 feet can be a beautiful thing. Yet every time I’m forced to step foot in one of those germ-ridden closets being passed off as a bathroom, I’m amazed anew that there even is a Mile High Club.
But fear not, amorous adventurers, I have two words for you: ferry flight. This is usually a short flight used to relocate an airplane. Say a plane lands in Cincinnati, Ohio, but needs to go to the airline’s base in Columbus for more extensive maintenance. A barebones crew then flies the jet to Columbus without paying passengers. The captain may permit certain people, such as a mechanic and his guest who are trying to get to Columbus to remain onboard.
The atmosphere on a ferry flight is completely different. No passengers to appease, fewer regulations to follow. The crew is at the end of a long day, most likely in the mood to either joke around or simply fly in peaceful silence. With the latter you and your mechanic are left to entertain yourselves. Hmm . . . All those empty seats and a flight attendant who’s only too happy to leave you alone. What’s a girl to do?
Which leads us to . . .
#1 He knows how to use his equipment.
There is no engine too complex, no G-spot too elusive for a man who knows how to use his quick mind and strong, calloused hands—and all other tools at his disposal. Le sigh.
Eva Siedler was born in Columbus, Ohio to parents who enjoy the kind of epic love most people only read about. She didn’t inhale books or scribble stories in a notebook during study hall. Because writing necessitated reading. And she HATED reading. Every paragraph was a battle, and she couldn’t seem to stay awake through the first ten pages. It wasn’t until her own love story unfolded and a colicky baby started keeping her up at night that Eva discovered what good fiction can do for the soul. Writing wasn’t the path she imagined. It’s the path she was born for, and so much better than she could have dreamed.
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Las Vegas Layover
Coastal Airlines mechanic Sebastian Brisbane is on his way to Las Vegas to fix a broken jet. But after one look at his sexy, travel-sized seatmate, he’s more concerned with revving her engine than fixing the plane’s.
Clara Howe will do anything to fulfill her aunt’s last wishes to have her ashes spread in Vegas. A one-night stand isn’t on the itinerary, but when Clara accidentally pricks Sebastian’s temper, along with his passion, only one thing is certain: It’s bound to be a bumpy ride.
Samhain | Amazon | Barnes and noble
Tuesday, November 25th, 2014
Something I made forever ago, including the refurbished pin.
My daughter decided she wanted to make scarves for her girls. Something handmade. Problem was, she didn’t know how to crochet or knit. I used to crochet way back in the dark ages, but I’ll be the first to admit I was never really any good at it. Didn’t matter. She wanted to learn, we had a space of time where we were alone (pre-holiday sale at her frame shop=tons of dead time), so we bought needles, yarn and settled in.
So after about 4 false starts (she made a crescent rather than a neat straight-across row; I had a section that was knotty or skinny at the end of each row), two customers took pity on us and gave us impromptu lessons. Yeah, we depend on the kindness of strangers—love ‘em!
Now we are busily making our first scarves, and she’s much more inspired than I am, but it’s a chance for us to do something together, and now her two girls want to learn. Oy!
I feel very domesticated today. Like I’ve passed on homespun knowledge, inspiring another generation to make handmade things. The girls thought they only wanted to be beaders when they grew up, now they want to “make stuff.” I’ll be sure to post pics of our first efforts on Facebook and Pinterest.
So what about you?
What homespun craft/knowledge do you plan to pass on to the next generation?
Or is there a craft you’re dying to learn but haven’t had the time to begin?
Monday, November 24th, 2014
Long before romance novelists wrote explicit sex in their novels, women were reading romance. After all, it was the romance stupid. Women wanted to read about the developing relationship and falling in love.
Tiffany Tyer describes four powerful romance novel love scenes in Beyond the Bedroom Door: Most Romantic Love Scenes. She puts it very well when she says, “Romantic love scenes aren’t really about flowery words, soft lighting, or a specific setting. They don’t have to be slow or lengthy. It’s about the connection between the hero and heroine, a relationship that has been carefully crafted to bring the romance to a certain point, where the love scenes become truly memorable.”
In thinking about this blog post, I searched the Internet and found a lengthy, but interesting article in Psychology Today (online). The article, Intimacy: The Art of Relationships by Lori H. Gordon, was published December 31, 1969 – last reviewed on August 30, 2004. The author talks about how our modern culture does not provide our biological need for intimacy.
Ms. Gordon explains, “… our cultural talent for commercialization has separated out sex from intimacy. In fact, intimacy involves both emotional and physical closeness and openness. But we wind up confusing the two and end up feeling betrayed or used when, as often happens, we fail to satisfy our need for closeness in sex.”
That’s why a love scene in a “sweet” romance where the bedroom door closes on the couple can be as emotionally satisfying as the most popular erotic novel. It’s the presence of emotional intimacy that we enjoy reading.
To me, the new standard for a love scene comes from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander, a Starz original series. The wedding night between Jamie and Claire was a mixture of sensuality and humor, a sweet and sexy unfolding of their relationship together. If you haven’t seen the Starz version of the book, it’s worth finding a way to view it.
Love scenes work in romance novels when they combine the two types of intimacy—the emotional and the physical. The physical can be explicit or implied, but without emotional intimacy, the love scene will fall flat and fail to satisfy.
Jan Scarbrough is the author of the popular Bluegrass Reunion series, writing heartwarming contemporary romances about family and second chances, and if the plot allows—horses. Living in the horse country of Kentucky makes it easy for Jan to add small town, Southern charm to her books, and the excitement of a horse race or a competitive horse show. A member of Novelist, Inc., Jan has published with Kensington, Five Star, ImaJinn Books, Resplendence Publishing and Turquoise Morning Press.
WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | AMAZON
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No one crosses Parker Stuart, caretaker to his family’s thoroughbred racing empire. Parker retaliates against anyone who dares slight him or his blue-blooded British family, especially Regina Ward and her poker-playing father. The previous spring, Reggie had had the nerve to walk out on him after a torrid, three-week affair. Now, when Parker arrives in Kentucky to collect his family’s winnings, he’s determined to settle the score with the lovely Ms. Ward.
Regina Ward doesn’t consider herself a damsel in distress. After all, this is America, and she’s accustomed to depending upon herself. However, when her father loses four of the yearlings from their central Kentucky horse farm in a poker game, Reggie knows it’s up to her to save what’s left of her family’s homestead and her proud Kentucky heritage. Can she do it when Parker Stuart, the most arrogant and infuriating Brit she’s ever met, shows up in the Bluegrass?
AMAZON | ALL ROMANCE EBOOKS
Visit Jan at http://www.janscarbrough.com
You can also follow Jan on Twitter @romancerider
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/author/janscarbrough
Links for Kentucky Blue Bloods:
Sunday, November 23rd, 2014
Have you ever walked into a room and known you were not alone? Have you ever thought you were by yourself only to catch a movement in the corner of your eye?
Throughout history there have been sightings of the spirits people and animals that have long ago passed away. Every language spoken on earth has a word for ghost and every culture has ghost stories. It is part of the human psyche to both fear and be fascinated by thoughts of the afterlife and those who have gone there before us. There have been opinion polls taken that show approximately one third of the population believe in the existence of ghosts.
People have reported seeing spirits in graveyards, old buildings or any number of outdoor locations. Sightings have been reported ranging from the mere sense of a presence to seeing apparitions of people or animals, sitting, standing or walking about. There are often reports of a mist surrounding these figures and a notable drop in temperature when they are present.
There are many people who actually hunt for ghosts. They call themselves paranormal investigators. These ghost hunters often use electronic equipment to help them find and record spirits. The equipment can range from audio or video recorders to digital thermometers, night vision scopes and EMF meters. The SyFy channel has had a television show for many years called ‘Ghost Hunters’ that follows a team of paranormal investigators to various sights in hopes of finding ghosts.
My debut novel, THE KISS OF A ROSE, is at its heart a ghost story. The chorus of the song, “Kissed by a Rose” sung by Seal was my inspiration to write it. I heard the lyrics of the chorus one day and had a flash of a grave stone partially buried in snow and a blood red rose lying at its base. The rest of the story developed from that point.
Belief in ghosts is a very personal and emotional matter. How among us hasn’t lost a loved one for whom we would give almost anything to see and speak to just one more time.
I believe there are spirits who walk the earth among the living. I have had the experience of being alone in a room and feeling a hand brush my arm. So I ask you, have you ever seen a ghost?
Augustina Van Hoven
Proving Love is Strange
THE KISS OF A ROSE – Now available
A DISTANT PAST
In 1882, Rose Van Buren loved the wrong man and paid for it with her life. Now, more than a century later, the angel Gabriel has granted her another shot at living. In exchange, she must convince a smart, handsome, up-and-coming lawyer to set aside his lofty ambitions.
A FUTURE PRESENT
Stephen Winship is headed straight for the governor’s chair. He has a brilliant career, solid allies, and a seemingly perfect girlfriend. But night after night he finds himself dreaming of a heavenly beauty, a luminous but long-dead girl. Like some altered Ghost of Christmas Past, she shows him her own tragic tale in order to “save him.” And he’s beginning to see Rose is risking her heart as much as baring her soul. Yet falling for her will cost him everything—and open him up to a happiness he never imagined.
Saturday, November 22nd, 2014
Hey there! I just looked at the calendar. Where has this year gone? I don’t know how 2014’s been for you, but it’s blown by me. And next week’s Thanksgiving, which means if I blink it will be Christmas. Another blink and it will be 2015! It’s time to start thinking about my New Year’s rez list. Do you do one? Do you always have “Lose weight” at the top like I do? Maybe I won’t even bother putting it on the list this year because I don’t want to bomb the first item on the first day.
So, it’s Saturday, which for some means a day off and time to kick up the feet and spend some quality “me” time. Maybe read a book…? Is that what you do? Tell me about your Saturday!
If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered
to win a free copy of the story below!
Oh, and one last thing before I share a fun excerpt from one of my favorite Lone Star Lovers novellas—I’ll be sending out a newsletter soon, filled with goodies you won’t want to miss. So, if you’re not already signed up, here’s the link: Newsletter Signup.
One for remembrance…one for healing…and one to seal her heart forever.
Lone Star Lovers, Book 4
Chrissi Page has tried to find one man who heats her bed the way the Kinzie brothers did one shameful night years ago. She’s failed miserably, leaving her with no choice but to bank that inner fire—and keep a lid on her inner bad girl.
She’d been weak, unable to choose between three men who appealed to her in different ways. And when they’d confronted her as a tease, anger had boiled over into a passion so wild, she’s still trying to live it down.
Since that night, Ezra, Cade and Joshua have individually sown their wild oats with pretty much the entire available female population of Two Mule, Texas. Yet nothing erases the attraction they still feel for Chrissi. And when she ends up stranded on the road near their ranch, it’s their last chance to turn their mutual obsession into an unusual proposition.
One weekend, three on one. If she can’t stand the heat, they’ll let her go on with her life. And try to find a way to live with the hole she’ll leave behind in theirs.
Warning: A girl who thinks she can’t have it all, and three brothers who set out to prove otherwise. One on one, two on one, and three on one; bondage in the wild; a bit of riding crop action. And a pickup truck load of emotion.
Chrissi Page raised her cell phone in the air, staring at the screen. No bars. Not even a hint of one skinny, green nub. “Oh, come on,” she moaned as her radiator hissed behind her. “Damn, damn, damn.”
She’d been tempted to ignore the CHECK ENGINE light when it first appeared, wanting to take the chance she could limp back into Two Mule. However, the steam seeping from under the hood had pretty much killed that hope.
Today was not the day for her car to break down. Not so far from town. Not so close to their ranch. Any minute now one of the Kinzie brothers might happen by.
They’d stop because they’d never leave a woman stranded.
They might not let her go because of their shared past.
And she didn’t know if she had the strength anymore to fight fate or her own inexplicable needs.
Macy Pettigrew, her best friend and boss, had sent her to the Dunstan house to make sure the owners had followed her suggestions to increase the house’s curb appeal. Never mind that there wasn’t a curb. Not really even a road—more of a caliche-covered goat trail that meandered up a steep hillside, rutted from runoff during recent summer storms.
Something must have happened to her car on the run up that hill. She’d heard the rocks pinging against her undercarriage but had been too busy thinking about Ms. Dunstan’s handsome neighbors. She’d been afraid she’d pass them or that they might stop in to see old Lettie Dunstan, the widow selling off her roughhewn, century-old home.
Chrissi had forced a smile on her face, looked at the potted plants the old woman had placed in pretty window boxes and admired the paint she’d used to spruce up the weathered door and window frames. The junk the old woman’s husband had accumulated, and that she hadn’t had the heart to part with after his passing, was gone from the front lawn. And lo and behold, grass was beginning to grow to fill in the brown patches where engines and tires had lain.
Macy would be pleased. They had a potential buyer. One who’d relayed an offer via email, which had checked out with the mortgage lender. Details Macy had been eager to handle herself, leaving the showings to Chrissi.
Chrissi heard a powerful engine rev. She slowly lowered her arm and glanced nervously over her shoulder. A metallic sage pickup truck pulled off the road behind her, and her stomach dropped to her toes. She’d known the moment her CHECK ENGINE light had shone that this was going to happen.
And good Lord, it had to be Ezra Kinzie. His dark gaze narrowed on her through the windshield, the intensity of it feeling like the hissing heat of a brand against her skin.
He opened his door and stepped down, slamming it with a decisive shove. Everything Ezra did was deliberate. He never wavered once a decision was made.
Long ago, he’d decided he wasn’t going to fight his brothers for her. If she wasn’t going to decide among them, then she’d have to take them all.
And, Lord help her, she had.
She’d never gotten over that night, had never been able to push it to the farthest corner of her mind when she lay down to sleep. Just the memory of it made her hot, cold, wet…
And horribly ashamed. Anyone could have seen them beneath the bleachers at the homecoming game. Gossip hadn’t followed, but that didn’t make her any less self-conscious when she strode down the sidewalk on Main Street.
Someone might know. Someone might tell. The thought of that sordid night being revealed left her feeling nauseated. Her life had been circumspect ever since, her love life nonexistent.
They’d left her scarred. Unable to move on.
Not because they’d harmed her physically, but because she hadn’t been able to shake off the terrible attraction that tempted her every single day since that fateful night.
Boots crunched on the gravel at the side of the road. The brim of Ezra’s straw cowboy hat left his ice-blue eyes in shadow.
She straightened away from her car and squared her shoulders.
“Havin’ trouble, Chrissi?”
“It just showed up,” she said under her breath, determined not to let him see how flustered she felt.
One side of his mouth quirked up. He glanced up at the sky, squinting against the bright Texas sun before leveling that devastating stare on her again.
Her belly clenched, and she fought hard not to give him any clues about how he still affected her. Just the rumble of his deep voice always made her think of crisp, cool sheets and hot, slick skin.
Her glance flicked over his body-hugging dark tee, noted his well-developed chest, the bulge of his biceps, his taut abdomen. She started to sweat. “Will you call a tow truck for me when you get home?”
A frown dug a deep crease between his dark brows. “Get in my truck, Chrissi. I’m not leavin’ you on the side of the road.”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere with you, Ezra Kinzie,” she said tightly.
A muscle rippled alongside his jaw. “I’m just offerin’ you a place to wait out of the sun. And a cool drink. Nothin’ more.”
His features were stern, his jaw rigid, but the heat blazing from his eyes mesmerized her, made her want to sway toward him. The intensity of that unblinking stare made her wish he’d take the decision right out of her hands. She’d never willingly take that first step. Her days of following his commands were over.
Chrissi swallowed hard and broke from his glance, looking down the road and praying someone else would appear over the crest of the hill. She needed rescuing from the deep emotions roiling inside her—from the temptation his large, hard frame embodied. However, only the shimmer of heat waves rose off the black tar.
A trickle of moisture dripped between her breasts, gliding along one curve—and just like that, her imagination replaced the slide of that hot little bead with the tip of his tongue. She turned away from him and dragged in a couple of deep breaths, trying to stiffen her resolve, but the only things hardening were the tips of her breasts. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin, then turned to aim a glare at the one man who had the power to make her knees quiver.
So many memories swamped her as she stared into his handsome, rugged face. So many regrets sat like soured milk in her gut. He’d been “the one” until she’d succumbed to a dark sensual greed.
Too bad she couldn’t turn back the clock about seven years. She’d make damn sure she’d never let him take her hand and pull her into the shadows.
Friday, November 21st, 2014
Hi Devlin Fans! I’m Lizzie Ashworth, and I’m here to heat you up, which is a good thing considering how d*** cold it’s been lately. Perfect weather to snuggle up indoors and dream of hunky men.
What’s your favorite cold weather fantasy? Mine? A fire crackling in the woodstove and a man naked and ready, like the scene I painted in one of my blog posts. Here’s an excerpt:
Chris drained the glass. The room reflected the golden glow of the fireplace, and light from the flames flickered against the side of his body and face accenting the pale streaks in his hair, the curve of his mouth. The image of him there, in her cabin, struck Emily like a blow, sucked away her breath. Suddenly she knew what would happen next.
He set the glass on the hearth, took her glass, and brought his body next to hers in one fluid movement, so fast she couldn’t register on the reality of it. And yet, it seemed like he moved in slow motion. His lips brushed over hers. His arms came around and pulled her tight against him.
She spread her hands over his shoulders as their mouths crushed together. He smelled like heaven, crisply scented with his tantalizing aftershave, a hint of wood smoke, and his own musky odor. Like carved iron, his bulging groin pressed against her. Announcing his intentions. Making himself known.
Well, she knew. And that was all she knew. Her mind had become a mush of little more than blind response to his embrace, his tongue, the exploration of his hands over her waist, hips, buttocks. Her breasts became swollen and inflamed.
He walked her backwards to the couch, landed her there, and knelt between her legs. Oh, dear God in heaven, it took only seconds for him to unzip her jeans and tug them down her thighs, and then his thumb had found a warm welcoming home within the wetness. She cried out, so intense was the sensation of this man’s hand on her there. She bit her palm, struggling for control.
In fleeting moments, Emily questioned whether she should put up some kind of resistance instead of yielding instantly to his every move. But the question was not only far away and indistinct, it was also absurd. This was exactly what she wanted, what she had longed for over the months, years, since she had first found herself caught in Chris’ muddy green stare. She could no sooner form a strategic seduction plan than she could whistle Deck the Halls. She was completely in his thrall.
He removed her boots, jeans, panties, and she lay like a rag doll on the soft upholstery as he sucked, licked, and probed with his tongue and fingers until her nipples jutted like stones. She clung to his shoulders where his muscle rippled like a river current. She stroked her fingers through his thick blond hair. She flailed from side to side as his hands pushed her knees into the air and tucked her feet at her sides until the whole center of herself had been exposed. Open to his nipping teeth and thrusting tongue, she whimpered as his fingers stroked in and out.
I have no shame. The thought formed and then vanished.
She wept as he brought her to climax, tidal waves of heat and spasm that raged from the top of her head to the soles of her sock-clad feet. Surges still rolled through her belly as he brought the head of his cock to the flooded center of her sex, nudging only briefly then plunging in.
Oh dear God, this was life and death captured in an instant. His cock spread her open and filled her up, drove to the heart of her soul, to the very core of her being. He thrust long and hard but slowly, so that after a few moments, she opened her eyes and saw him watching her.
“You like that,” he grunted, sliding in deep. Again.
“Oh, yes,” she gasped. “Yes.”
He held her thighs in a tight grip, remaining on his knees while he fucked her. Somehow his shirt had disappeared and sweat lay on his chest in a glistening sheen. His muscles flexed and strained as he took his time fucking her, his breath coming in slow heaves, paced, calculating…
Ladies, I want your hot winter fantasies. Let’s hear it. I’ll pick a random winner from the responses posted by Thanksgiving. The winner will receive a free ebook copy of Jarrod Bancroft Book II and Book III. Book I is already free at all ebook retailers.
Want to see Jarrod? Feast your eyes!
Connect with me online at my website and blog, http://lizzieashworth.com/
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Thursday, November 20th, 2014
People are drawn to the unknown. It’s a truth about human nature that has allowed us to evolve and grow. From a young age, we want to understand why the world is the way it is and how things work. I remember my children at that inquisitive age were every other word out of their mouths was ‘why.’ Adults harbor the same need to understand the unexplainable, but we’ve also learned to fear the unknown. It’s why horror movies and scary tales of aliens and other worlds are so popular.
As a writer, I love taking an aspect of the paranormal world and offering a plausible scientific explanation. It adds to the mystery of the genre, and in my opinion, makes it more exciting. You’re left wondering—could vampires, demons, and ancient gods be real? Our ancestors thought so. Every ancient culture has myths and folklore that detail a variety of paranormal creatures and how they fit into their world. It begs the question of why there are all these stories from different parts of the world about the same mystical beings.
I don’t have an answer to that, although the whimsical part of me wants to believe they knew something we don’t. What I do have is some insight on how I wove in a few possible explanations for the creatures in my newest release—Mist Unveiled, book 1 of the Elemental Desire series.
In the world of the Elemental Desire series, Ragnarok is coming. (In case you don’t know, Ragnarok is the final battle between the Norse gods. It marks the death and rebirth of the world. According to the Norse myth, Ragnarok is cyclic, much like the seasons.) In Mist Unveiled, global warming has triggered the early slide into the end of the world. Melting icebergs have released a dangerous enemy and the players of the final battle have awoken too late to prevent it. They’re left scrambling to understand a world that no longer believes in the old gods or their warnings.
Humans have ignored the cautionary tales of old world and turned to science to help them solve their problems. They no longer look to myths to explain the unknowns, and it’s their need to understand ‘why’ that just might ensure this Ragnarok is the final one.
Do you know of any other Norse myths? What are your favorites?
Elemental Desire, Book 1
Cat has one love in her life—science. Facts rule her, not passion. At least it doesn’t until an unknown deadly virus claims her sister’s life. Cat’s quest for answers takes her to Greenland and drops her into the arms of the one man who sways her devotion from logic to passion. Rune stirs her lusts, ignites her desires and fuels her carnal cravings, but he isn’t simply a lover, nor is he human. He’s a weapon, one that has the potential to save or destroy her.
Rune, a child of the mist, awakens into a world hovering on the verge of destruction. Rising temperatures have released his enemies from their frozen prison without his knowledge. He searches for them but finds Cat, a human with the power to save him and the world. He hungers for her—blood, body and soul. Every moment of shared passion convinces him of the truth—she’s his greatest treasure, one he’ll die to keep.
Unable to resist the scent of heaven that had lured him to her in the first place, he buried his face into the fall of her raven hair. She smelled of something fruity and exotic. He couldn’t place the scent, but it compounded his craving. He wanted to devour her.
Deep breaths filled his lungs with her signature fragrance. Dizziness gripped him. He tightened his hold on her to stop himself from swaying and unleashed his will to influence her. With the few drops of his blood in her body, he wasn’t sure it’d actually work, but he had to try something.
“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She hiccupped. The fingers scratching at his back stilled. He waited a moment for her to succumb completely to his order. Her tense body and rapid heartbeat didn’t lessen as they should have. More expletives whipped through him at the implications of her resistance. He took another breath to calm his racing pulse.
“You’re going to bring the authorities here. They’ll harass me, maybe toss me in jail, all for kissing you. You don’t want that.”
Shit. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder and reined in his power. It was pointless to expend the energy if she was resistant to it. “No, you don’t. You can’t blame me for losing control when faced with temptation. You’re beautiful, Cat.”
She turned her head. He eased back and met her probing eyes. “How do you know my name?”
Add Mist Unveiled to you TBR at Goodreads! https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23248146-mist-unveiled
A true romantic at heart, Nancy Corrigan is convinced there’s a knight in shining armor for every woman (or man), but you won’t find damsels in distress in her stories. She adores pairing alpha heroes with woman strong enough to match them and bring them to their knees. She also enjoys flipping the traditional roles in romances because her motto is—love and people should never be forced to conform to anyone’s norm.
She holds a degree in chemistry and has worked in research but now focuses on ensuring quality. She considers it the perfect outlet for her as she’s the first to admit she has some OCD tendencies. It carries over into her writing life too. While engrossed in a novel, she has a habit of forgetting to eat and sleep. Fortunately, she’s married to her own knight in shining armor who understands her oddities and loves her anyway. They reside in Pennsylvania with their three children, dog, snake and guinea pigs. Her other interests include tattoos, animals, classic cars and all things spooky and sexy.
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