Featured Post

#AudiobookReview ~ Released: Vagabond Circus (#3) by Sarah Noffke

Released: Vagabond Circus, Book 3 Written by: Sarah Noffke Narrated by: Steve Barnes Length: 8 hrs and 33 mins  Series: Vagabond Cir...

Monday, January 30, 2017

AUDIOBOOK REVIEW ~ Suspended: The Vagabond Circus by Sarah Noffke

Suspended Audiobook
Suspended: The Vagabond Circus, Book 1

Written by: Sarah Noffke
Narrated by: Steve Barnes
Length: 8 hrs and 2 mins 
Series: Vagabond Circus, Book 1
Unabridged Audiobook
Release Date:10-18-16

When a stranger joins the cast of Vagabond Circus - a circus that is run by Dream Travelers and features real magic - mysterious events start happening. The once orderly grounds of the circus become riddled with hidden threats. And the ringmaster realizes not only is his circus and its magic at risk, but also his very life.Vagabond Circus caters to the skeptics. Without skeptics, it would close its doors. This is because Vagabond Circus runs for two reasons and only two reasons: first and foremost to provide the lost and lonely Dream Travelers a place to be illustrious. And secondly, to show the nonbelievers that there's still magic in the world. If they believe, then they care, and if they care, then they don't destroy. They stop the small abuse that day by day breaks down humanity's spirit. If Vagabond Circus makes one skeptic believe in magic, then they halt the cycle, just a little bit. They allow a little more love into this world. That's Dr. Dave Raydon's mission. And that's why this ringmaster recruits. That's why he directs. That's why he puts on a show that makes people question their beliefs. He wants the world to believe in magic once again.
audio buy link for Suspended


MY REVIEW 


I love Sarah Noffke's stories and this one is just as wonderful and captivating as all her others ... still in the world of dream travelers but in a different community, different circumstances
Sarah is a gifted story teller and I love her stories and look forward to escaping into her worlds (ALL of which really need to be on a big or small screen) She writes magically and poetically, her characters are complex and brilliantly described, I can visualize them even down to small mannerisms
Mystery, suspense , intrigue, emotional ups, downs and challenges ... this story has it all
...SADLY, I didn't feel those things while listening!
 Steve Barnes is a new narrator for me and perhaps I expected too much after listening to Sarah's other audiobooks ... I was left irritated, unfulfilled and emotionally lacking!
I am aware that I am going against the grain and opinion of so many others but I felt that Steve's reading of Suspended was like listening to an over dramatic late night corny radio station that reads love stories, or talks about love ... blah blah ...  with the low slow sultry-like sounds.
I think he was going for a mysterious and intriguing sound but this story is told mostly from young adults/teenagers who know nothing of that tone or depth of mystery
They don't speak like that even when they are dramatic!
To me, it was creepy and just  didn't fit the story
while he tried to give everyone a different voice, he narrated each characters part with this same tone and it was confusing and also didn't fit all the characters personalities or the feelings of those parts ... Most of these characters weren't suspicious, mysterious, or dark in any way but rather they were happy,thoughtful, funny, and yes, confused at times, sad, lonely, etc but they would not have thought in this style ... there were so many fun and exciting moments that were not read to the full potential due to this tone
I felt his narration of emotions didn't fit most moments/scenes and I was saddened by this
Steve reads well, his words clear and I am sure he's a wonderful narrator for some books but i really wish he had done this book differently
That being said, I love the story and look forward to continuing with the next audiobook!   

TRULY, MADLY, WHISKEY by Melissa Foster #CoverReveal

TRULY, MADLY, WHISKEY
a stand-alone romance 
by Melissa Foster

#ReleaseTour JAX: Resurrection by Victoria Danann

JAX: Resurrection 
Knights of Black Swan Next Generation, Book 2
by Victoria Danann

Thursday, January 26, 2017

#BookBlitz ~ Love Connection by Meghana Sarathy



Title: Love Connection Series: Love Connection Series #1
By: Meghana Sarathy
Publication Date: July 20, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance
#loveconnectionblitz
I have a boyfriend, but he was never just my friend I have a best friend, he never became my boyfriend and he also has a girlfriend. My heart is split into two parts where each part beats for a different person I want to spend most of my time with my boyfriend-Linden But, every second spent with my best friend- Brandon, feels like a lifetime. I want to see my Linden always smiling But, Brandon always brings a smile on my face. Linden breathes life into me But, Brandon makes my heart to beat I am Jennifer Collins. This is the story of my life. It's ugly, it's beautiful, it's filled with angst but the end is worth the turmoil. You might like me, hate me, despise me or understand me But you will get to live my story. At last, I will ask you...........Will you be able to choose between the two?
Meghana V writes with the pen name Sagarika. She is from Bangalore, India. She is an avid reader. She mainly reads Adult and New Adult romance as well as dark and psychological thrillers. She plans on writing mainly for these Genres. She spends most of her free time reading, writing or watching anime. Depending on her mood, she tends to write two to three books at a time. She is a crazy fan of Dragonball Z and can be seen watching the episodes in repeat. Vegeta is her all time favourite character.

One Bad Day by Edie Hart #bookblitz

 

 When Tessa agreed to do a favor for her boss, she never thought she’d end up being a mistaken target for a hired killer or falling for the sexy cop who is determined to keep her safe.
 *Buy Links - Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MG8GOAW/ B&N - One Bad Day Apple iBooks - One Bad Day by Edie Hart on iBooks

     

 EXCERPT: She turned and looked at him with shimmering blue eyes. “Um… thanks for the ride and everything. I, uh, guess I’ll see you later.” Her lower lip quivered. Aw, hell. Legs—Tessa, as he now knew—had been attacked in a parking garage, came home to a trashed apartment, and she thought he was just going to leave? He knew he could be a jerk at times, but he wasn’t heartless. He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. Next to him, Burg snickered. The asshole. “You can go now, Burg.” He walked over and opened the door. Burg elbowed him on his way out. “See you later, Stanley.” Gray gave him the finger and closed the door in his face. “Stanley?” Tessa cocked her head to the side and her mouth quirked up. “My first name is Stanley,” he mumbled. “Stanley?” she repeated, a small smile now appearing on her face. “Stanley Grayson Kingsley.” He stared her down. “You’re one to talk, Misty.” She had an “oh shit” look on her face. “Are you going to arrest me?” she asked, her eyes wide. She had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. They shimmered. Her lower lip quivered again. Shit. “Why would I arrest you?” He’d had Burg check her out and knew that she wasn’t guilty of anything illegal. He still couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t tell him her real name. “Parking tickets,” she whispered. “Tickets?” He put his hands on his hips and looked at the ceiling. “You mean this whole time you wouldn’t tell me your name because you’ve got unpaid tickets?” She nodded, looking miserable. “Jesus, Tessa.” He took a step toward her. “Your place is trashed and you’re worried about parking tickets?” He crouched down to look in her face. A lone tear slid down her cheek. He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, then moved closer, gearing himself to comfort her with a pat on the back. Instead, before he knew it, she’d thrown herself into him and he found his arms full of soft, quivering woman. She made a noise that sounded like a muffled sob. “Aw, hell. Please don’t cry.” His gut twisted. “I swear I’m not going to arrest you. They’re just fucking parking tickets, hon.” “I’ve had a very, very bad day!” She sobbed into his shirt. He pulled her to a nearby armchair and sat down, adjusting her in his lap. Now what? He did not do crying women. At a loss for how to stop her tears, he clumsily rubbed her back. “Tell me about your day. Get it all out.” “First I had to dress like a giant hooker light bulb, then I lost my clothes!” She lifted her head and sniffled. “And I had to wear this!” She gestured to her skirt. “And then… And then…” She gulped air. “I couldn’t find my car and got chased through a dark parking lot!” Tears streamed down her face. “I lost my shoooe!” She pressed her face into his chest. “When did you lose your shoe, honey?” Gray continued rubbing her back. “When I hit the scary guy with it in the stairwell.” She clutched at Gray’s shirt. “I… I… hid… and…” She gasped. “I hit him when he grabbed me.” She burrowed deeper into his shoulder. “And I…was…really scared!” “I know,” he murmured. “All I wanted to do was come home and go to bed.” With her face pressed against him, her voice was muffled. “I can’t even do that!” She took a deep breath. “And I look like a freakin’ prostitute!”

Hosted By
lkbp
 

Blog Tour ~ Flightless by L. Duarte #GIVEAWAY


Title: Flightless
By: L. Duarte
Publication Date: January 23, 2017
Publisher: LD Publishing LLC
Genre: Romance
Cover Designer: Okay Creations
#flightlesstour
Everyone has a story. Mine went like this: Once upon a time, I met a boy. He was the most handsome fella in the land. I fell in love. Together, we had cosmic chemistry. I believed I would live a life of unending bliss. Until he broke my heart. Shattered it to pieces. And I lived unhappily ever after instead. The end. Or so I thought. Life found a way to reunite us. But to change that unhappy ending, I had to learn how to forgive. And my heart seemed unable to do so. This is a love story. But it is also, much more. It’s the story of how I coped with my shortcomings, my fears and rewrote my destiny. Everyone has a story. This is mine.
Check out these other amazing books from L. Duarte
 AMAZON -  http://amzn.to/2jKjjiu
 AMAZON  - http://amzn.to/2jLA6ly
Chapter One
I stepped back. Not literally, just figuratively. I did that with every concert. I allowed my mind’s eyes to hover over me and my fans while I analyzed and dissected the unique relationship between us.
As I watched the multitude of people—a beautiful kaleidoscope of different races and social statuses—my heart, in utter bliss, roared.
The audience held their hands upwards as if in an offering or a request. I never knew which. In perfect synchrony, their arms rolled in waves like the swaying of a stormy sea. Their voices cried out my name, and the smell of their sweat and the heat of their mingled bodies emanated from them, unfurling to me like the sweet perfume of incense.
I held the mic near my motionless lips and stared at them. At that moment, I became one with thousands. At that moment, I took back from the crowd all the energy I had fed them. And their vibe made me high and drunk. It was my personal Nirvana. The kind of rapture that can only be attained through uttermost intimacy. A oneness I had only felt with one other person. A person who had severed that connection and shattered my heart into a million shards of pain.
I worshiped them as they adored me. The exchange of atomic energy contained nuclear power. I was drained from giving. They were wasted from receiving. But we were both impossibly happy and satisfied.
My motionless lips finally moved, uttering the final words for the night. The parting words. “Good night, Sydney!” I waved a hand back at them. “You looked beautiful tonight. All forty thousand of you.”
I bowed. They deserved my reverence. People had spent their time camped outside the venue waiting for a closer glance at me. They had spent their precious earned money to see my performance. They were worthy of my respect and gratitude.
Another wave of a hand. A kiss. Another bow. And I was out. Another show was done. Eight more to go.
I jogged backstage and gave the mic to Jeremy, my makeup artist, in exchange for a bottled water. He opened a portable case containing all the potions that would quickly improve my appearance for the meet and greet. 
Before I took a swig from the bottle, Clara, my assistant, brusquely interrupted my post-concert ritual. She snatched the bottle from my hand and returned it to a confused Jeremy. “Gray. With me,” she demanded, grabbing my elbow and urging me toward my changing room.
I glanced back at the stunned face of Jeremy. It was time for meet and greet with the VIP’s. I needed to freshen up. My makeup had all but melted under the stage lights.
Once inside the privacy of the room, I demanded, “What’s going on?”
She raised a finger and said, “Wait.”
I opened my mouth to protest. Instead, I swallowed the words. Clara was usually a chatterbox; her clipped words quickly clued me in that something was seriously wrong.
As I waited, Clara dialed a number on her phone. Her silence became as unnerving as the red glare of an alarm light.
“Betty, I have Gray,” Clara said. Wordlessly, she shoved the device in my hand. The door closed with a thud after she exited in a flurry of silent drama. 
“Mama?” I asked holding the phone to my ear.
“Hey, Puppy,” Mama said in a soft, almost regretful tone.
“What’s going on?” I asked. Silence filled the other end of the line, only increasing my concern. Mama knew I had just left the stage. She followed my tour from home. Minute by minute. It was unusual for her to call me so soon following a show.
“How was, um, the, um, concert?” she asked.
“Mama, did you call me to ask how the show went?” I furrowed my brows and every hair on my body stood at attention. Mama knew my routine during a tour. After a performance, I had a brief meet with fans and then I would go on hours of silence to rest my vocal cords. Although she knew she could call me at any time, she never called until at least ten hours following a show.
“Mama?” I prodded after a long silence.
“I have cancer,” she said bluntly.
The phone connection was perfect. No static. But Mama’s words hummed in my ear with a tunnel-like quality. Distorted, altered, garbled. My mind, however, had remained sharp and alert. Without much thought and after a brief pause, I uttered the words, “I’m coming home.” I hadn't said those words in over a decade. Somehow, they didn't taste as foreign as I had imagined they would.
  ***
“Gray,” I said. The word hovered on my tongue, saturating my taste buds with an acrid taste. “Gray,” I repeated, letting it roll off my tongue. I did that a lot. It was my name.
Often, I mused about my name. It hadn’t been given to me because it was fashionable. Nevertheless, it had a history. My history.
When I was little, I liked to fancy its origin. The sky, I would think, was painted gray the day I was born. I loved the theory. The unattainability of the infinite mass of gray made it a great namesake. Whenever gray clouds hovered in the sky, I would lay on my back and stare at them, dreaming that when I grew up, I would build an enormous ladder, climb it, and touch the gray painted dome. It was all, of course, a foolish child’s dream, born out of vain imagination. I wasn’t born during the day, nor was the sky gray. And it was most definitely not the inspiration behind the choosing of my name.
I was born in a graveyard. Serene Hills Cemetery, it was called, though its surface was flat. It was a fall night, October 20th, approximately 11 pm.
They found me covered in vernix. I used the term ‘they’ loosely. A dog found me. A female German Shepherd mix that went by the name of Sunshine. Her fur was golden. Shiny like sun rays. I had a newspaper cut-out of her. It’s black and white, but it described her that way. In the shot, she looked straight at the camera, two vivid round eyes dotting a long and alert face. She had the knowing stare of someone who was aware she had done a good deed.
Obviously, I don’t recall the details surrounding my birth. I was an infant. But I had Mama tell me the story so many times, which after a while, the images ingrained in my brain like the roots of a tree embedded in the fertile soil. They became so real in my imagination that it felt as if they were my recollections.
I was a born a preemie. Weak, small, and blotchy-faced. I was skin and bones with a mop of black spiky hair, and a bad case of a cold.   
A miracle, they called me. But I knew I was no wonder. I happened to have the perfect concoction of healthy lungs and a loud cry. These, and the sharp canine sense of hearing and smelling had saved me. I didn’t believe in miracles. Not anymore.
When they found me, decay from the trees covered the ground on a fascinating palette of colors—an array of red, yellow, purple, brown, orange, golden, bronze.
I used to question why the leaves change colors and fall off the branches. According to a scientific explanation, leaves are a weak and feeble part of a plant. So, before the weather gets severely cold, the trees should toughen up to protect themselves. Or simply dispose of the leaves, the weak part.
Personally, I believe they turn colors before falling as revenge. A personal vendetta. And for that I applaud them. They turn their death into a poetic and alluring sight. That line of thought made me believe death was beautiful. It fascinated me. It’s more interesting than birth, although similar.
I had been abandoned under a pile of dead foliage. According to the police investigation, it appeared my birth mother had buried me under the leaves. Hid me. Like a criminal attempting to cover its tracks. Supposedly, I spent the night under a cocoon of leaves. The tree’s decay was soaked with blood and amniotic fluid.
According to Sunshine’s owner, they were walking on the sidewalk by the cemetery when she heard a whizzing sound. Sunshine’s owner discarded the noise as being the cry of squirrels.
Sunshine didn’t. At odds with her sweet nature, she became agitated and broke loose. She squeezed through a small gap in the fence and disappeared between the gravestones, leaving her owner in a frenzy.
Less than a minute later, Sunshine returned. Her mouth muzzled around my small waist, my umbilical cord dragging, rattling the decayed leaves.
I found my story fascinating, unique. Or so I told myself whenever I got teased at school.
The hospital staff called me the Graveyard Miracle. Soon after, Gray for short. It stuck.
I spent three months in the hospital. That’s where Mama worked. The graveyard shift. She fed me. She bathed me. She caressed my skin. “My heart had not a chance. It fell madly in love with you,” she said, whenever she told me my story. Her pale hand, dotted with freckles, caressing my black, straight hair.
 When I became her child officially, she quit the night job. “I had brought home my very own Graveyard Miracle.”
She found a day job at a pediatric clinic, occasionally helping at the hospital for extra income. She continued working at the clinic throughout my childhood, adolescence, and after I left home. She remained there until cancer said, “No more.” Until cancer said, “I want your time. From now on, you are going to dedicate every waking hour to me. I’m egocentric. I want it all. I want your flesh and the total sum of your soul.”
That’s why I was there, sitting in the back of a limousine Clara had rented to pick me up from JFK airport and take me home.
“When should I schedule your flight to LA?” she had asked. “Only a one-way ticket for now,” I responded.
32 Lorelai Lane, my childhood home. It was a small Victorian-style house, built in 1929. The colorful foliage of a maple tree and an oak tree framed the dwelling as if it was extracted from the pages of a fairy tale book. When I was little, I used to fancy my house was lovely. The most enchanting place in all realms. Staring at the house, I discovered that I still thought that. It was the most magical place in the world because it was the place that humans refer to it as ‘home’. And home is a thing of fairy tales. Rare and pure.
The car door was wide open, awaiting me. I climbed out. The driver stood straight as a pole. His hands perfectly folded in front of him, his face impassive. I wondered how long he had stood there, waiting for me, questioning my sanity. The luggage was lined up at the front porch. His face remained expressionless when I pulled a generous tip from my purse and handed it to him. “Thank you,” I murmured.
He drove off, the sound of the engine trailing off into the quiet street. It was late at night. The crisp air smelled of burnt wood and autumn, reminiscent of bonfires and fireplaces.
I crossed the stone path leading to the front steps.
The hinges of the front door squeaked, and Mama slowly appeared as light spilled out from inside the house. She leaned against the doorframe, cocked her head, her eyes fixed on me. She knew me so well. She knew I needed the time.
I peered up, carefully examining Mama’s face. It had been only two months since I had last seen her, but she appeared decades older. Even under the porch’s pale yellowed light, I could detect the lines circling her mouth. Small bags sagged under her eyes, and her plump skin appeared loose, dripping like melting wax. Her hair showed inches of gray and her usual square and proud shoulders were smaller, fragile. But what got my attention the most were her eyes. Their vivid green had turned opaque.
The grief and sorrow in her stare set my feet in motion, and I climbed the steps.
When mama stepped forward, the old wooden floor groaned and creaked under her feet. She came to a halt at the top of the stairs. Her lips curved into a small smile, and her arms spread open in an inviting hug.
As I stepped forward, my legs felt wobbly with the weight of so many years of absence.
I have found that there is only one thing better than reading, and that is writing. I am always torn between the two. I am also frequently torn between chocolate and coffee. However, I emphatically do not like the month of February, lies, and flies. For me, bravery is defined by the courage to do what we fear the most. I live in Connecticut with my husband and two children. Drop a few lines. I would love to hear from you.
Social Media Links
L. Duarte is offering a $50.00 Amazon Gift Card to one lucky winner!

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

COVER REVEAL: PIERCED BY VENOM

Buy Links
Muse It Up - https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore/index.php/coming-soon/february-2017/pierced-by-venom-detail

She’ll willingly travel the highway to hell to bring back the man she loves.
Gia Adler had it all—a charmed life and her true love to share it with. But moments after she murmurs, “I do,” her ex-boyfriend delivers a lead wedding present into her new husband’s chest, leaving him in a coma and shattering her dreams.
Hell-bent on ruining her future, Gia’s psychotic ex-boyfriend then abducts her, transporting her to an underground world of destruction, drugs, and death. He’s no wicked witch and they’re in no enchanted forest. He’s evil incarnate and she’s submerged in hell-on-earth, a twisted thing of nasty nightmares.
Guided by the spirit of her comatose husband, Gia must fight for her happily-ever-after – and her true love – by facing down her ex and the demons of her past.
 
Hosted By
lkbp
 

DEATH OF A SCULPTOR in Hue, Shape, and Color by M.C.V. Egan

DEATH OF A SCULPTOR in Hue, Shape, and Color
by M.C.V. Egan

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

RELEASE DAY: A DARK FOREST: A COLLECTION OF EROTIC FAIRYTALES

AMAZON BUY LINK:
 
The most controversial book of 2017 ~ Carolyn Faulkner
Enjoy seven wicked tales from seven bestselling authors, each more deliciously deviant than the last! This anthology breaks every rule and is extremely taboo. It is so dark that it’s actually black, and definitely not for the faint of heart. This anthology is not your typical romance. You have been warned.
Nothing is as it seems in our dark and twisted fairyland. Princes are not charming and the path to happily ever after is paved with creative punishments and supplication. Do not fret for our fair maidens. These are still fairytales. Love will conquer all in the end.
Included in this anthology are: BEAUTIFULLY PRIMAL A Beauty and the Beast tale by Zoe Blake SLEEP, MY BEAUTY A Sleeping Beauty story by Alta Hensley SAVING ELLA A Cinderella tale by Tabitha Black MR. WOLFFE’S LITTLE RED A Little Red Riding Hood story by Maggie Ryan GOLDI IN CHAINS A Goldilocks story by Maren Smith NIGHTMARES IN WONDERLAND An Alice in Wonderland tale by Addison Cain THE TOWER A Rapunzel story by Jennifer Bene
*Publisher’s Warning – This anthology is extremely dark, twisted, and will push your comfort level. There are taboo, and high kink level acts, graphic sex, anal play, ménage, age play, and whatever else your darkest mind can think of. Do not buy this book if you are expecting your typical hearts and flowers romance.
 
Hosted By
lkbp
 

#BookBlitz ~ Her Southern Temptation by Trish Leger



Title: Her Southern Temptation Series: Legacy Falls #1
By: Trish F. Leger
Publication Date: October 5, 2016
Genre: Contemporary Romance
#hersoutherntemptationblitz
A transplanted northerner, new to the south... Allie Magill is familiar with the hard knocks of life. The widowed mother of a four year old, Allie has landed in the South where the air is thick with humidity, the nights are hot, the men are honorable, but even hotter. But business as usual is stilted when she meets the new construction company owner, Jake Warren. Now it's all Allie can do to keep her hands to herself and not put her job, or heart, on the line. A southern man whose world is rocked by a northern beauty... Jake Warren knows little about things up north, but he does know Allie Magill is unexpected. The liaison for a hotel chain, Allie enters Jake's work life to make sure business goes as planned. But once he gets a taste of Allie, and takes a peek behind that closed-off northern exterior, all bets are off. He knows he has to make her see that life and love in the south flows differently and he hopes once Allie sees how sweet surrender can be, she won't be able to turn him down. Battling ghosts from her past, Allie will have to learn to accept Jake's way of life and win the heart of her southern temptation. 

When he stiffened against her, and let out a soft growl against her ear, Allie swore steam must be rising up between them. It was almost too much to bear.
“Damn, honey…”
His words were succinct, to the point, and had the same effect on Allie as a bucket of ice water. She tore herself from his arms, and like the coward she was, walked calmly past the crowd of people, out the building, to her SUV parked outside.
The night air was hot, of course, and did nothing to stop the burn that had come over her like a summer heat wave. She was breathing heavily, her heart tripping in her chest, and her only thought was to get home…NOW. She would be better able to analyze everything once she was safe in her own home with her daughter.
“Oh God, oh God…”
Don’t think about it.  It was one dance. Only one, and only . . . the hottest experience you’ve had in the past four years. Hell, maybe even your whole life.
Allie shook her head. No, she would be honest with herself. She and Ryan had never been like a match to a flame, but there had been some passion, mostly love, between them. But nothing at all like the living entity of combustible energy that had been growing between her and Jake on that floor.
With shaking hands, she got her keys out of her little clutch purse, and was about to open her door, when Jake’s voice interrupted her escape.
“Allie, honey, wait a sec…”
Oh God. Don’t turn around.
But she had to, didn’t she? If she pulled the cowardly lion act now she would never be able to face him again. They had to maintain some semblance of a business relationship. It had to be done. Gritting her teeth, she turned, and realized he was closer than she had originally thought.
The night clung to him lovingly, as Allie had been doing so moments before. She couldn’t see his face, or any hint of his expression. She just saw a large, looming Jake filling up her vision.
“Look, when you did what you did, it just caught me off guard, and I’m not about to apologize for my body’s reaction to something so simple.”
“Simple?” Her body began to quake and vibrate. He thought that lick had been something simple? That lick had rocked her little world, damn it!
“Well, maybe not so simple, you’re right. But it did surprise me, in a good way.” His voice was deeper now, slight amusing undertones hidden in there as well. And as Allie watched, he moved closer. She countered, moving back as well, her back hitting the door of her SUV. She was well and truly trapped.
There still was a slight shadow where his face was, so Allie had no idea what he was thinking, but she knew what she was feeling, and that burning, incendiary feeling was back. Her lower body erupted into little white hot flames, singeing her nerves as they awakened, tripping along her extremities.
“This isn’t a good idea Jake, you know it. I know you do.” Her voice sounded slightly raspy to her ears.
“Ah, darlin’, I know that, but when has anything that felt this good, been bad?”
And with no other warning, he invaded her personal space, and silenced all of her protests, swooping in like a large shadow. His mouth was on hers, his lips softly coaxing, softly nibbling at first her top, then lower lip. No other part of his body touched hers, except for his mouth. His hands were braced on both sides of her head on the vehicle. Allie was stunned, shocked into submission for the moment, and oh so glad that all she had to contend with was his mouth. She didn’t know if she could handle any other part of him touching her.
She inhaled Jake into her, realizing everything about him was delicious, including his lips. Her fingers tingled, wanting to reach out and grasp him, but she didn’t, she kept a death grip on her keys and clutch, not willing to make an ass of herself with this man.
He moved slightly back, canted his head and came back for more, this time licking the seam of her lips with his tongue. Oh yes… Allie’s breath left her mouth, only to be caught up by Jake. He let out another soft little growl then his body came down on hers, pressing her against the car, while his hands came into play, tearing through her hair on each side of her head, holding her in place while he seduced her mouth with his.
Oh God, he tasted so good, the alcohol on his breath only adding to his earthiness as Allie gave in and let her tongue swipe against his. His large body shuddered against hers, while his leg slipped in-between. The hardness of his thigh right in the place where she needed it most was a jolt to her system.
She pushed back, snapping out of their kiss, and catching his attention instantly.
Her hands came up to her lips, wanting to hold onto the taste and warmth of him that was still there, but the shaking took over her. She shook her head back and forth slowly.
“No, no, this shouldn’t have happened,” she whispered.
He tore his hands through his hair. “Allie girl, I’m sorry…”
“No…” That’s the only word that would come from her mouth. Allie kept shaking her head and turned her back, fumbling with her keys, finally unlocking the door, she climbed in and revved the engine.
Not once did he try and stop her as she threw her car in reverse and pulled away.
Trish Leger lives in South Louisiana and also has a full time job--other than the writing. She is married and from a loving, boisterous family. Since food is so important in the south, it is also important to her, ranking right up there with writing, reading and watching movies. Writing with a strong sensual bent, intent on capturing the growing relationship between a couple falling in love, Trish adds warmth and emotion to her stories. She is a fan of everything from Drama to Historical Romance. Please visit her on Facebook under Trish F Leger-author. Or email her at wackycajun@hotmail.com
Social Media Links
Twitter - @leger_f
Instagram - Cajunauthor
Trish is offering an E-book of Her Southern Temptation to one lucky winner!