Showing posts with label #Excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #Excerpt. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

#Excerpt Naughty and Nice by Crystal Green #XmasHot

HO! HO! HO! Santa’s bringing love this Christmas…and a little spice. From hauntings to bad boys to matchmaking dogs, SPICY CHRISTMAS KISSES delivers the joy and warmth of the season. But be careful–some of these ELEVEN romances are HOT HOT HOT!

This collection of spicy holiday stories is on sale for a limited time only. A STEAL at 99 cents! Grab your copy today!
~ Purchase Links ~

  Check out book 4 in Spicy Christmas Kisses 
Naughty and Nice (A Rough and Tumble Novella) - by Crystal Green  ~



Reclusive, gruff army veteran Jesse Navarro could deal with a Secret Santa who only wrote to him online. But when she shows up at the Rough & Tumble Saloon in the flesh, she has something even naughtier than a regular gift exchange in mind—and it’s perfectly suited for some wicked nights in Sin City…


~~EXCERPT~~

Even though Ivy Carroll suspected that her Secret Santa partner was the loneliest man on earth, she couldn’t help thinking that she’d gotten the luck of the draw.

As she stood at the doorway of the Rough & Tumble Saloon, where white Christmas bulbs decorated the bar and scraggly wreaths hung on the planked walls, she leaned against the frame, running a gaze over Lieutenant Jesse Navarro, in the flesh.

And, damn, it was some flesh.

He made her think of a strong, towering war god as he propped a black combat boot on a rickety chair, leaning his arms on his thigh. Stone-faced, he watched a few laughing men toss coins into a tarnished spittoon that matched the Old West surroundings. His legs were long and muscled in jeans, his biceps thick and defined, rock-solid. And under his dark, tight T-shirt?

Something in Ivy’s belly took a tight, rolling dip as she dwelled on those steel-beam shoulders, the obvious bumps and ridges on his torso that told her there were more and more muscles. Mmm, he was a hunk of a man, intimidating with an image of a primitive sun shaved into his dark, stubbled hair.

The thing was, he seemed different from the man she’d warmed up to online.

She’d seen a shadowy picture of the lieutenant when they’d been matched in a Secret Santa military vet program sponsored by a local community center, so she knew some of his face, knew that he was in his early thirties and had done a tour in Afghanistan and come home three years ago. But she hadn’t seen many other details in his gray-toned picture. At first, she’d wondered if he was a gruff, beer-bellied man who didn’t say much in real life and made her read between the lines of every cyber sentence. Or was he a big kid who was as wiry as that bartender who was fetching drinks for the bikers and rough men throwing down shots of whisky at the bar? She’d barely had a clue about Jesse, because he didn’t leave many digital footprints, except for the Desert Star Center’s boards.

But Ivy did know one thing: Lieutenant Navarro’s most recent message, a few days before Christmas, had struck her heart, making her think that no one should be spending the holidays at a bar. How much would she suck if she didn’t reach out to him from just a few miles away where she lived, spreading a little cheer to someone like that?

It was a just a bonus that he looked like this. Hotter than hell, a real man who was already turning her on.

From Naughty and Nice (A Rough and Tumble Novella) (A Sexy Bad Boy Romance)
Copyright: Chris Marie Green 2015

~~About the Author~~

Crystal Green is a RITA-nominated romantic fiction author who tries her best to avoid international incidents whenever she takes a break from her first love, writing, and travels to places near and far. She's the author of the Rough and Tumble hot romances as well as the new adult Aidan Falls series, and she has an alter ego named Chris Marie Green who writes thrillers like TERROR ISLAND, the Ghost for Hire series, and the Vampire Babylon series.

Twitter @CrystalGreenMe

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

#Excerpt Not-So-Blue Christmas by Bonnie Edwards #XmasHot


HO! HO! HO! Santa’s bringing love this Christmas…and a little spice. From hauntings to bad boys to matchmaking dogs, SPICY CHRISTMAS KISSES delivers the joy and warmth of the season. But be careful–some of these ELEVEN romances are HOT HOT HOT!
This collection of spicy holiday stories is on sale for a limited time only. A STEAL at 99 cents! Grab your copy today!
~ Purchase Links ~

  Check out book 3 in Spicy Christmas Kisses 
~ Not-So-Blue Christmas - Bonnie Edwards ~





In this second chance romance, Kirk Fontaine can’t bear to talk to anyone, let alone enjoy Christmas. Away from home, broken-hearted, Kirk’s lost until one small mutt refuses to give up on him. 

Miranda Bailey’s ready to move into the next phase of her life, except this Christmas is shaping up to be the worst since her husband’s death. But instead of hiding, she takes charge, and drags Kirk into her Christmas miracle.

~~EXCERPT~~

(copyright) 2015 Bonnie Edwards

December – Nanaimo, Vancouver Island, Canada

7:40 a.m. and dawn was still too far away to imagine. Not that Kirk Fontaine believed in mornings anymore. The idea of a light sky and sunshine felt foreign and old and impossible, especially above the forty-ninth parallel in mid-December.

Out of the gloom came the tip-tip-tap of running paws along the wooden pier. The woman’s dog must have slipped away from its owner again. The dog with a stalker mentality. No matter where he was on the Nanaimo waterfront, the scruffy little mutt made straight for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like dogs, it was just that this one came with a woman Kirk could barely take his eyes off of.

A woman like the statuesque blonde had to have a man at home. But in the three months Kirk had been holed up here, the husband hadn’t made an appearance. Not once. Still, being an absentee husband didn’t mean the man didn’t exist. He likely worked long hours the way Kirk used to.

She must be married to a man like Kirk who could ignore his woman because she was where she always was: at home, waiting. She was being a good wife, not making demands on his time, not forcing him to choose between her and the work. A good wife who watched the long days tick away, life slipping by until there was no life left.

Damn.

The dog was too short to jump onto his boat deck. Instead of trying she danced on her hind legs, pawing the air with her forelegs, begging for a kind word and waiting for acknowledgement.

Today, instead of heading below like he usually did, Kirk clicked his tongue at the dog and swung onto the dock to pat her head. Soft hair, warm, brown eyes, and a licking tongue summed her up. Such a simple thing, to give a dog a pat. Such a crazy doggy reaction.

Some days he’d seen the dog’s owner with a girlfriend, but never a man. Most men were given a brief nod as she strode past. He’d rarely seen her stop to pass a few words with anyone. For the most part, the blonde kept to herself. If only she could keep the dog to herself too, Kirk wouldn’t have to ignore it.

But today, he engaged. Couldn’t say why. He was just worn down by the mutt’s constant need for attention.

“I think she might swoon dead away,” he said half under his breath as the dog nearly wriggled off the dock in ecstasy. Two boots appeared in his line of vision beside the dog. The owner, come to claim her pet. He rose to his feet.

Don’t chat me up was written all over her face. Thus far, Kirk had managed not to say more than a couple of words to her, but a man could only take so much stalking from a pooch.

The mutt–and it was a mutt, not some four-way combination of purebred that people loved to brag about–flopped over to offer her belly for a rub. He complied.

Today the blonde’s hair was in a thick, lustrous braid, her ears covered by fuzzy earmuffs in green, white, and Christmas-red stripes.

The woman had candy canes on her ears. How could he not smile at that?

Funny that something like candy canes could bring up the first smile he’d felt in a year.

“I’m sorry. Again,” she said. “I don’t know what gets into her.” The dog skipped away from her mistress so that she had to turn away from him to try to catch the thing. “Come here and behave like a lady.”

The shapely blonde had no idea how good she looked from this angle. Long legs encased in over-the-knee leather boots. Her denim-covered butt peeked out from under a leather jacket. He felt his second smile in a year split his face.

A smile he quickly hid when she grasped the little beggar by the collar and turned back to face him. She pulled the dog up into her arms and raised her wide blue eyes to his. “I think she likes you and wants to be near you for some bizarre reason of her own.”

“Bizarre? Am I such an ogre?”

She flushed like a teenager. Beautifully. “Of course not. She doesn’t even know you. But she’s usually more nervous around men than women.”

“Maybe she just likes what she sees? I’ve tried ignoring her, but she doesn’t take a hint very well.”

The woman’s grin gave him a kick to his gut and Kirk stepped back. He shouldn’t feel a kick. He shouldn’t feel anything. He had no right.

She shivered and clutched the dog closer. “I’d best get back. This is the coldest morning this week and I’m not wearing my down coat.”

He nodded and watched her and her very fine butt stalk up the ramp that led to the seawall walkway that snaked along the waterfront. The woman never strolled, or sauntered, or moseyed. She walked fast and with purpose.

Before she got sick his wife had wanted to visit Nanaimo and when he’d found himself in Canadian waters he’d allowed his cabin cruiser, the Comfort & Joy, to end his weeks-long drift here. He could see why boaters from as far away as San Diego would drop anchor in the snug harbor for some R & R. Joanie would have loved this place.

He told himself she’d be glad he finally got here, but the truth was Kirk couldn’t gather the energy to leave again, so he stayed, clinging to the place like a barnacle.

~ ~ ~ ~

Miranda Bailey walked up the ramp away from the pier and toward the café with the notion that the man that Bella liked so much was watching her. She refused to turn to see if her feeling was right. Let him look. She tended to walk quickly, wanting to keep her blood pumping, her arms and legs moving. Miranda liked how walking briskly made her feel: alive and vital.

When she walked fast she could pretend she had somewhere to be, things to do, people to care for.

The walking had started eighteen months ago. That was six months after Miranda’s husband died. Her daughter, Jordyn, told her to “get moving, Mom” and one day she stepped out her front door and took the first step. Along the seawall, past the fish boats, the sea plane terminal, the quaint coffee house and gift stores, the ice cream parlor, and even past the wall of bricks with contributors’ names stamped into them. She walked in the afternoon at first, but once she went to the shelter and found Bella, she stepped things up to twice a day.

Miranda barely noticed anything at first, but now she craved the movement and the sights every morning. Her routine rarely changed.

At precisely 7:30, she headed downstairs to the front door of her waterfront condo. By 7:35 she was picking her way down the ramp to the dock that wound through the fish boats. She trooped along the dock, and then turned back at the far end. Once she came up the ramp again, she’d stop for coffee and breakfast at Bert’s Café.

She always hooked Bella’s leash over the back of her chair at an outside table and then went inside to order and wait for her food.

She sat. She sipped. She watched the water and the boats and the people. Some days she ate a breakfast muffin, other days a yogurt parfait.

Bella was the one who had taken a liking to the man on the cabin cruiser. Miranda couldn’t see why, because he was taciturn and dark. This morning’s encounter was the first time he’d actually spoken in sentences.

He’d even cracked the first smile Miranda had seen from him. His smile had warmed his eyes and taken years off his face. He was younger than she’d first thought. His pepper-dark hair was showing more salt now that it had grown out to curl around his collar.

Stupid to notice his hair and his smile or the crinkles at his eyes. He was a forbidding man and she preferred men with a sense of humor.

She claimed her seat at the café and waved to Bert, a friend she’d had for nearly all her married life, to turn on the outside lights. He’d already turned on the propane heater over her table for her.

She stepped inside and flashed her need coffee smile at him. Friends who stuck as long as Bert had were gold. “Thanks for the heat. You saw me coming?”

He nodded. “I’ve already started your cappuccino, Miranda. Want a breakfast bagel today?”

“No thanks. I’ll take a cran-bran muffin. Warm with butter.” She should forego the butter but it was her only treat of the day and she was past her stress-eating stage. She’d realized she’d regained control when the twenty pounds she’d put on after Greg died had melted away.

One day last December, her loose, comfy jogging pants fell down when she put them on right out of the dryer. She’d pulled her too-tight jeans out of the back of her closet and they fit.

Those jeans fitting again had been her very own Christmas miracle last year.

Hm. Maybe it was the walking. And now she’d doubled her trips along the seawall because of Bella. She’d thank Jordyn for telling her to get moving again. She’d also have to thank her best friend, Karyn, for suggesting she look at the local pet shelter to find a companion for her walks.

The milk steamer squealed in its high-pitched way as Bert worked his magic with her cappuccino. He slid her cup and saucer to the top of the counter, followed by her warmed muffin. “Somebody’s messing with Bella out there. You need to be careful. I’ve heard about dogs being stolen for ransom over in Vancouver.”

“Not mutts, Bert. Purebreds. Bella’s no one’s idea of purebred.” She turned to see who was outside with Bella and pursed her lips.

The man. It was the first time he’d approached the dog. Up until this, their interaction was always because of Bella’s infatuation. The dog’s eyes drooped in sensory overload as he stroked her knobby little head and caressed her ears. She tilted her head into his fingers and Miranda could read the dog’s mind clear as a blue sky. Bella was thinking, Deeper, harder, more, more…

“Looks like she’s in no danger,” Bert said and took her payment.

“More like she’s in heaven,” Miranda muttered on the way outside. She balanced her cup, saucer, and plate as she backed out the door, pushing it open with her hip. The man grabbed the handle and held the door open.

“Thanks,” she said and took her seat without looking at him. If she looked she might smile and she didn’t want to invite conversation. He was too intimidating and gruff for small talk. And what else could strangers say to each other on a cold morning with a chill ocean breeze ruffling their hair?

The man entered Bert’s place and came out a couple of minutes later with a bag and a take-out large coffee. Bella went bonkers with glee. She whined, cajoled, flipped onto her back, and generally made a fool of herself.

Miranda slipped her hand to Bella’s belly and rubbed it. She wriggled right side up again and danced on her hind legs, pawing at the man’s knee. “What’s her name?” he asked with a voice smooth as velvet on river rock.

Finally, Miranda turned her face up to his. He wasn’t smiling exactly, but his lips were set in less of a grimace than usual. Still forbidding, and his size was somewhere north of six feet. She had to look way up to gauge the expression in his eyes. Guarded, that’s what they were. He had guarded eyes, as if he couldn’t share his real thoughts.

But she understood guarded. She was careful with people now, too. “Her name’s Bella.”

He repeated it with a slight nod. His paper bag rustled as he clenched the top tighter. “He talked me into a bagel,” he said with a curt nod toward Bert who stood watching from behind his counter.

“They’re delicious.”

“They smell great.”

She sipped her cappuccino and picked at the top of her muffin. He’d move along any minute now.

But he didn’t. He seemed to shuffle without moving his feet and then his chest sort of sagged as if he was taking an action he didn’t want to take. “Mind if I sit?”

His question wasn’t exactly friendly. Since she couldn’t tell what he really wanted, she decided to make sitting with her less appealing. “If you sit, be warned. Everyone along the seawall will know. Whatever news there is gets around. And you sitting with me would be news.” She shook her head. “Even Bella’s ridiculous behavior with you has been commented on. Sitting with me would only invite questions and I have a feeling you’re not much into giving answers.”

He frowned and nodded. “I wouldn’t want to invite unfair gossip or rumor. Your husband wouldn’t like it.”

“No, he wouldn’t like it. He was always concerned about his image in the community.” Greg wouldn’t even have taken Bella in. He’d have wanted a purebred.

The man nodded. “I’ll take another table.”

She let him, all the while wondering why he’d ordered his breakfast to go if he wasn’t taking it anywhere. He took the seat at the next table that backed hers. He then gave surreptitious bits of bagel to Bella. Five minutes in and Miranda spoke without turning. “Don’t think I don’t know that you’re bribing my dog.”

A long moment later he replied. “I don’t have to bribe your dog, she already loves me.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Her laugh lit up the air around the café tables like sparklers. Kirk only wished he’d been facing her so he could see her eyes when she laughed. He’d bet anything they glowed like sapphires in the sun.

A cell phone chimed and he heard her answer. “Hi! Oh, no, it’s not too early. Never too early for you.”

Silence while she listened. “Okay, this is wonderful news. It’s everything we’ve worked for. Don’t panic now.”

With her laughter still in her voice, she sounded young and happy, the way a woman should. He didn’t want to listen but with his back next to hers it was impossible not to overhear and what the hell, she was hot. What man could resist a laughing, happy, sexy woman? Besides, she wasn’t whispering or making any attempt to keep the conversation private.

She chuckled in delight and Kirk had to wonder what had made her so happy. Likely her husband calling with good news about something she’d wanted to happen for a long time.

His bagel turned to lead as it traveled south to his stomach. He and Joanie had been this happy, too.

“You’ll be great,” she assured her caller. “We’ll talk before your appointment and I’ll coach you.” More listening and then, “Don’t worry about calling me. That’s what a mentor is for. I’m here for you. And Shayla, working with you has been very good for me. Don’t ever think you haven’t helped me, too.”

Not her husband; a protégé of some kind, or maybe a student. The call ended with another bit of small talk.

He sipped his coffee to wash down the last of his bagel. Before he finished swallowing, her phone chimed again. Busy woman for this time of the morning.

“Hi, sweetie. You’re calling early. What’s up?” Her voice was still full of happy and he imagined her smile lit her face. He petted the dog, who kept up a steady dance at his knee.

“Really?” Disappointment crept into her voice and the obvious joy she’d felt slipped away like a seal diving off a rock into the ocean. Her joy left without a ripple and the catch he heard in her voice felt like a barb. He’d just heard her laugh and now…

“I’ll miss you. Maybe I can come—no?—I see. Of course I don’t mind. I understand.”

But she didn’t understand, he realized. Anyone could hear the heartbreak in her voice. Anyone but the person causing the pain. Must be family, he decided. Nobody but family could railroad over someone else’s heart this way and be oblivious.

Which reminded him that he was due to call home. Tomorrow. He’d call tomorrow.

She murmured some words he couldn’t quite catch, but he stopped trying. He knew all he needed to know. She’d been hurt. The urge to turn around to face her swept over him, but he focused on draining his coffee cup instead. He crushed the paper cup and folded the empty take-out bag. He stood and tossed the paper into the recycle bin outside the café door. As he turned back he made the mistake of looking at her face.

She was dabbing at her eyes, and trying to pin a smile on her lips. Damn it. He shouldn’t ask but he lost to the same urge that had caused him to ask to join her a few minutes ago. “Trouble?”

The woman was hiding tears. Of course there was trouble. He put up his hands in surrender. “I should move on,” he said and stood there like a dope. “Unless there’s anything I can say?”

Her lips firmed but her eyes softened. “Not really. I’m disappointed. My daughter can’t come home for Christmas.”

“Christmas?” Oh God, he’d lost most of a year. No wonder her earmuffs looked like candy canes.

She clapped her hand over her mouth and her eyes danced as she fought a smile.

“Glad I could make you smile again.”

“It comes every December. Have you forgotten? Wow, I thought I was lacking in Christmas spirit.”

He shook his head. “I’ve, uh, kind of lost track of things.”

She sobered. “You haven’t noticed the decorations? Or the lights?”

He took a moment to look around. “I see them now.” He felt sheepish and let another smile squeak past his lips. “I should have twigged when I noticed your candy cane earmuffs.”

She covered them with her hands and adjusted the one she’d moved to hear her phone call. “I forgot I had them on.” She blushed again the way she had earlier and he felt the same kick as before.

“I don’t want to keep you,” he said, needing to escape her flushed prettiness. His collar grew tight and he needed to move, to get away, to run back to his boat and hole up. “Sorry your daughter can’t come home.”

“Me, too. But it’s her only chance to meet her boyfriend’s parents and she can’t get out of it.” She turned her lips down and mugged a put-upon face, trying to make light of her earlier tears.

“Too bad,” he said. He didn’t want to know any more about this woman or her family. “I guess this guy’s important. Meeting the family, especially at Christmas, is a big deal.”

“They’ve only been dating a couple of months, but with the way relationships go these days, two months is forever.”

He nodded. “It’s different now with all the social media and hooking up as they call it.”

She made a face. “An ugly term. But I don’t want to start a back-in-our-day rant.” Her slight grimace turned into a shy smile. “We’re both too young for that.”

“We are.” So, okay, he didn’t want company, but a few minutes of conversation would do him good. He cast about for something more to say. “So…it’s not that she can’t come home,” he said and knew the moment the words hit the air he should have bitten his tongue. He wanted to fall off the seawall and hit bottom.

She did a long, slow blink. “It could be considered rude to point out the obvious in a situation like mine.” She stood and grabbed the dog’s leash in a tight fist. “Yes, my daughter prefers to spend Christmas with virtual strangers than come home to me. Have a nice day,” she snapped and strode off.



~~About the Author~~

Multi-published author Bonnie Edwards lives with her husband and pets on the rainy coast of British Columbia. She believes life should be lived with joy. That joy shows up in her earthy, irreverent love stories. Bonnie uses long hikes to bounce ideas off her husband and her standard poodle, who almost always agrees with her.

She has written novels, novellas and short stories for Carina Press, Harlequin, Kensington Books and Robinson (UK) although now she publishes her work herself. 


Sometimes her stories have a paranormal twist, likes curses and ghosts, other times not. But they’re always entertaining and guarantee a happy ending.

For more info and sample chapters: http://www.bonnieedwards.com/

Find her here:
Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Bonnie-Edwards/e/B001IO9UTO

Sign up for her newsletter: http://oi.vresp.com?fid=4ecdcb6889



Monday, October 12, 2015

Heat Up Your Holidays - Excerpt Cole For Christmas


HO! HO! HO! Santa’s bringing love this Christmas…and a little spice. From hauntings to bad boys to matchmaking dogs, SPICY CHRISTMAS KISSES delivers the joy and warmth of the season. But be careful–some of these ELEVEN romances are HOT HOT HOT!

This collection of spicy holiday stories is on sale for a limited time only. A STEAL at 99 cents! Grab your copy today!

Available November 3, 2015! Preorder now to download it first!

~ Purchase Links ~
AmazonApple iBooksKoboGoogle BooksGoodreads 

(Nook link pending)





  Check out book 2 in Spicy Christmas Kisses 
~ Cole For Christmas - Kelly Collins ~




Welcome back to Spicy Christmas Kisses for another Author Spotlight and Excerpt! Today you’re getting some Cole For Christmas by Kelly Collins…


When Interior Designer Chloe Craig thought of Christmas, her mind overflowed with trees trimmed in twinkling lights and doorways adorned with mistletoe. Using her infectious joy, she attempted to soften the heart of her new employer, but was it possible to turn a Scrooge into Kris Kringle? 


I trudged toward the bathroom with legs that felt weighed down with cinder blocks. Who would have thought tumbling down an intermediate slope could feel like getting hit by a truck? An eighteen-wheeler. Fully loaded.
“The bath should help with your sore muscles. The lavender will help you relax. The wine is just for fun.”
“I like fun,” I said as I glanced around and saw the effort he’d put into the bath.
The flicker of candlelight danced off shimmering bubbles. A glass of dark red wine sat on the ledge of the massive tub. A tub built for two. Elias was behind me, guiding me toward my therapy.
“There are lots of bottles of fun downstairs. I’ll let you get in the bath, and I’ll check on you in a few minutes.” The moment he left, I stripped off the coyote-ugly undergarments and slid into the hot water. It flowed over my body like a magic elixir. Everywhere it touched, my body sang with relief.
Bubbles settled over the top of the water covering everything but my head. I closed my eyes and sank deep into the water. The heat enveloped me, and I was lost in luxury.
The scent of cloves and citrus fought against the lavender. My heavy lids peeled back slowly. Elias sat on the edge of the tub and smiled a trillion-dollar smile. The neck of a cabernet bottle swung between two fingers.
“You’re behind on the fun. Drink up.” He topped off my glass. Smooth and fruity, it went down quick and easy. Beads of sweat dripped down my forehead. When I tried to swipe at them, I ended up with a face full of bubbles. Elias reached over and brushed off the froth.
My heart tumbled into the deep end of the tub and drowned in lust. Here was this man who had hired me to decorate his house for his family. Who had hired me to be his girlfriend for his family. Who was treating me like I was family. If only. I fell a little bit in love, but I was a lot in lust. Add the wine, and that was a recipe for a lot of fun. Oh, fuck it.
Catching him off guard, I yanked his arm and pulled him into the tub. I’d been told you only lived once, and I decided to live now.
He plunged into the bath fully clothed. With his hand raised high above his head, he saved the expensive cabernet from getting diluted by bath water. Water sloshed over the side and onto the floor.
He pulled the bottle to his lips and drank. “I prefer to be naked when I bathe. His feet were still in the air when he kicked his shoes to the ground and curled himself into the tub, socks and all.
I obviously didn’t think this through. I was naked, and he was clothed. I had a dry glass, and he had a full bottle. I wanted everything he had to offer. Out of the water I rose, my muscles, although sore, were relaxed and flexible. On my knees, I sat in front of him and tried to even the playing field.

From Cole for Christmas
Copyright 2015 Kelly Collins

~~About the Author~~
Kelly Collins is an International Best Selling Amazon author of contemporary romance. She writes with the intention of keeping the love alive. Always a romantic, she is inspired by real time events mixed with a dose of fiction. She encourages her readers to reach the happily ever after and bask in the afterglow of the perfectly imperfect love. She loves hockey, shiny objects and has a new-found appreciation for green smoothies.

Friday, October 9, 2015

Excerpt Spicy Christmas Kisses - Rachelle Ayala


HO! HO! HO! Santa’s bringing love this Christmas…and a little spice. From hauntings to bad boys to matchmaking dogs, SPICY CHRISTMAS KISSES delivers the joy and warmth of the season. But be careful–some of these ELEVEN romances are HOT HOT HOT!

This collection of spicy holiday stories is on sale for a limited time only. A STEAL at 99 cents! Grab your copy today!

Available November 3, 2015! Preorder now to download it first!

~ Purchase Links ~
AmazonApple iBooksKoboGoogle BooksGoodreads 

(Nook link pending)





  Check out book 1 in Spicy Christmas Kisses 
~ Christmas Flirt - Rachelle Ayala ~





Bad girl Lacy Reed doesn’t care what anyone thinks—until her naked selfies show up on her boss’s cell phone.

Brandon Cole never smiles, ever. Not even when Lacy’s indecent selfies appear on his phone. Already a VP before age thirty, he doesn’t need Lacy to discover his well hidden secret. 

When Brandon’s past catches up with him, will naughty Lacy find a lump of Cole in her Christmas stocking?


Our first Spicy Christmas Kisses Author Spotlight and Excerpt comes from Rachelle Ayala, who gives us a saucy tale of a Christmas Flirt!


Christmas Flirt by Rachelle Ayala (Excerpt copyright © 2014, Rachelle Ayala)

“Miss Reed, please come to my office.” The sexy, smooth voice of my boss’s boss, Mr. Cole, vibrates through the handset.

He called me Miss Reed. Why so formal? I’m just the intern everyone knows as Lacy Reed, the wild and crazy one they get to do all the publicity stunts for Shopahol’s Immersion Gaming division. And yes, I’m lucky to get this job and no, I’ve never met Mr. Brandon Cole up close, although he’s as drool-worthy as they come. So, why would he call me out of the blue without his secretary’s intervention?

“Miss Reed? You there?” The sexy male voice rumbles smooth as cream.

Oh my. I swallow a load of drool. Is that really Mr. Cole on the phone or is someone playing a prank on me?

I wouldn’t put it past Sean and Dex, the two computer clowns who set up everyone’s new-fangled internet-enabled phones, to send me a spliced recording.

“Yes, sir. Right now?”

I can barely squeak out my excitement, or is it fear? I should be afraid, right? I could be in trouble. Not that I can think of anything I did wrong. Besides, wouldn’t my immediate supervisor, Marty, have said something?

“Yes, if you please,” Mr. Cole says in a cool manner that tells me I’m wasting his time, which I am since he’s the new Vice President of Marketing—single, panty-melting, and loaded with arm candy of the female variety.

“On my way.” I hang up and swipe my hand through my wavy, misbehaving hair, check my suitably business-like white silk blouse, brush off any crumbs from lunch, and lick my teeth, glancing into the mirror perched on my monitor. That mirror is a lifesaver since it’s the one which warns if anybody lurks behind me from the cubicle entrance.

What could Mr. Cole want from me? Everyone said I’d done an excellent job at the Vegas trade show. I presented our newest line of video game concepts, wore all the costumes, most of them modified bikinis to appear like warrior princesses, vampire brides, and sexy space aliens. So what if a couple of convention geeks got carried away and carted me off to the bar to lick shots off my belly? It was all good publicity and getting eyeballs on the Shopahol logo I sported on my ample bosom.

I stride past Gale, Mr. Cole’s secretary, a prudish older woman who glares from under her steel-rimmed glasses.

“Go right in,” she orders me as I hesitate outside his door.

“Do you know what this is about?” I lower my voice. “Is something wrong?”

Gale gives me the once over, her lips slightly sneering as if she were the headmistress at a convent. “It’s not my place to say.”

Sure, her attitude said as much. I wonder how many women traipse in and out of Mr. Cole’s office on a regular basis. Word has it he’s quite a player, although totally unruffled, always polished to a spit shine, never a hair out of place. Word also says he never plays at work.

Steeling myself, I twist the brushed chrome door handle, and the image of twisting something more velvety has my insides quivering.

Yeah right. With my luck, I’m about to get canned. It wasn’t just the Jell-O shots off my belly, but the Sharpie marker signatures and tattoo art I collected on my body from rival gaming companies that could have me fired.

I step in as quietly as I can, but Mr. Cole’s ready for me. His mysterious greenish-gray eyes rove my body as he sweeps out a single hand. “Have a seat, Miss Reed.”

Every movement of his is economical, no wasted energy, no nervous ticks, absolute control. He’s not flicking his smartphone or tapping on his keyboard, or scurrying his shapely long fingers through his cropped copper-tinted brown hair. He’s just focused, watching my every jittery movement as I carefully step my way from his door to the wingback chair placed beside his desk.

I can’t help the butterflies taking flight in my stomach or the fluttering of my heart. Mr. Brandon Cole is a heartthrob. Totally. His lean suit is well cut, almost form fitting, tailored to his perfect physique—fit, tanned, compact and oozing with understated power. Would it be clichéd to talk about his chiseled jaw and heartbreaker’s face? His woodsy cologne isn’t helping one bit, not to add his lady-killer lips—ones that never smile. But what really gets me are the eyes. Grayish-green, catlike and mysterious, like slate on jade, or marble on emerald.

Up close, he appears younger than I’d thought. Under thirty and a VP already? Smoothing my skirt, I slide into the chair facing him, realizing I’m completely exposed. Mr. Cole has one elbow propped on his solid oak desk. A desk so solid and hefty, and smooth on the surface, and just the right height for …

No, don’t go there. Gale the guard dog secretary is right outside. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a surveillance camera. One never knows with these high tech companies.

“Uhm, hi.” I greet him with a nervous smile. “You wanted to see me?”

“I’ve already seen a lot of you,” he answers without blinking an eye.

“Huh? Oh.” I clear my sodden throat. “Is this about the convention?”

“Maybe more.” His voice remains impassive without a hint of emotion.

I flick on a megawatt smile, ignoring the flight-or-fight signals invading my bloodstream. I’m not a marketing intern for nothing. I can appear more confident than I feel. Besides, I can always sit here and picture Mr. Brandon Cole in his boxers with a growing … my imagination is just too fertile for the moment.

In any case, I wait. This is a power play, pure and simple. He’s trying to unnerve me. Not that he hasn’t succeeded. I mean, if he asked, I’d roll over and let him rub my belly, not that I have a tail to wag or anything. But definitely panting, what with that rod of steel peaking from his boxers.

I’m so into my fantasies and visualizations I don’t notice Mr. Cole hovering over me until it’s too late. His hot breath warms the back of my neck as he bends toward me, and his hand touches my shoulder, sending jingles of electricity spiraling down my spine.

I can barely hold still, anticipating the soft kiss he’d feather over my cheek, just at the right angle for me to turn my lips into, when he drops a cell phone in my lap.

“Explain this,” he says, and props himself on the corner of his desk.

Holy moly! My eyes pop from their sockets and my jaw crashes to my knees. I’m on his screen, all boobs and tush. Completely naked.

“That’s me?” my stupid tongue blabbers to the rescue. “How’d you get that?”

“Perhaps you sent it to me.” Mr. Cole crosses his arms and quirks his eyebrow. “Why?”


~ About The Author ~
Bestselling author Rachelle Ayala writes dramatic romantic suspense and humorous, sexy contemporary romances. Her heroines are feisty and her heroes hot. She writes emotionally challenging stories but believes in the power of love and hope. She has won awards in multicultural and historical romance. 

Newsletter: http://bit.ly/RachAyala (free book) 
Facebook Chat Group/Street Team: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ClubRachelleAyala/

Saturday, October 3, 2015

First Chapter Excerpt - Countdown to Christmas Pets and Kisses

Two Loves for Christmas by Mona Risk
Tabloid pictures of charming laywer, Josh Dutton, threaten his father's senatorial campaign. The family decides he needs a sweet 'temporary fiancée' to repair the damage. With only her German shepherd for friend, Emma struggles with problems. Attraction sizzles between Josh and Emma but no one mentions the 'fake fiancée' detail. When the truth surfaces will Josh be able to prove that his kisses were not part of a charade?
Excerpt
“We found you a fiancée.” Sitting behind his imposing desk, Josh Dutton’s father didn’t even blink as he uttered his outrageous statement.
“Excuse me?” Genuinely puzzled, Josh stepped closer and studied his dad’s expression.
Was the new campaign putting too much stress on Senator Howard Dutton?
Deep lines crinkled the skin at the corner of his eyes, but the senator’s lips showed his usual arrogant smirk. Had Josh been summoned to his father’s office in the Wellesley mansion just to hear this nonsense?
To reassure himself that he’d misheard his father, Josh spun toward his mother. Relaxing on the brown leather sofa she casually leaned forward to rearrange the roses in a crystal vase adorning the glass and brass cocktail table. The aromatic fragrance didn’t do much to soothe Josh’s mood.
“Mom, is he okay?” Josh jutted his chin out toward his father.
“Of course I’m—”
“Your father and I found you the perfect fiancée,” Nancy Dutton announced patiently. Usually her sweet voice agreeably counterbalanced her husband’s autocratic decisions. Today, her soft words exacerbated Josh’s headache.
“So kind of you, Mom. Frankly I’m not looking for a wife. Even if I needed to consider a serious relationship I believe I have enough willing women around me not to require your generous help.” He hoped his sarcastic tone would end the annoying conversation and allow him to leave soon enough to meet his gorgeous date of tonight. With a snort, Josh shoved his hands in his pocket and fingered his car keys. Convinced he’d better not linger around his father’s treacherous office he sidled toward the door.
“Too many willing girlfriends. Too many scandals,” his father bellowed. “That’s exactly the reason why you need a steady woman at your side. I’m fed up of seeing the tabloid magazines feature your scandalous exploits on a weekly basis.” Senator Howard brandished a newspaper and opened it to the middle page. “Look, look at this picture,” his father tapped the paper with a furious finger. “Look at this person.”
A muscle jerked along Josh’s jaw. Determined to remain unruffled, he took the paper and smiled at the photo of the blonde woman dancing with him at the City Hall Gala. “Nice picture. That’s Tammy Burt, a paralegal working at the court. Very pretty.”
“Who cares?” his father spat. “And this one?” He handed him a magazine with another picture of Josh with a brunette in a bikini on a yacht.
“Another good shot with Annabelle on her father’s boat.” Josh summoned his reserve of calm. “What’s wrong with it? We went out for the day with a group of friends. Annabelle is a colleague, a lawyer and a successful one at that.”
“A lawyer? All I see is an almost naked woman at your side.”
“Give me some credit, Dad. I have good taste. She’s not only smart, she has a stunning figure.” Josh affected a nonchalant shrug. His charm served him well in business and a beautiful woman on his arm never hurt. What more could he ask for?
“I can see that. And she’s cuddling against you for the paparazzi’s delight. Did you read the caption? Read it. Out loud.”
“Senator Howard Dutton’s son, attorney-at-law, Joshua Dutton, enjoying an outing in style. Hmm...”
“And this one.” Dad shoved another paper in his hands. “Read it.”
“Lovely Brooke McColey and Joshua Dutton in an amorous pose. Senator Howard’s son entertaining himself with extra-curricular activities while his father preaches hard work and good behavior to straighten our economical crisis. Maybe we should follow Josh’s example to succeed in life,” Josh read and examined the picture. “What a jerk. Anyway, don’t worry about this one, Dad. It’s an old photo from last year. We broke up a few months ago.”
“That’s the problem.” Senator Howard banged his fist on his desk and heaved a heavy sigh.
“Howard, let me explain the situation to Josh.” Nancy Dutton raised an appeasing hand. “Josh dear, you keep dating different girls and leaving them. Unfortunately this reflects badly on your father who’s running a new campaign. You’re giving ammunitions to his rivals and they are having a field day using all these pictures to snatch his voters.” She left the sofa and came to stand near the desk, next to Josh.
Josh frowned. On one hand he understood his father’s frustration, on the other hand Senator Howard’s endless campaigns tended to restrict his children’s freedom to no end. “I promise I’ll be more discreet.” Josh added a reasonable nod to appease his father and get him off his back.
“You already told us as much a year ago,” his father fumed.
Annoyed by his dad’s accusations, Josh opened his palms. “I can’t always look over my shoulder for a hidden camera.”
Both parents rallied around him.
“That’s my point. If you’re in an official relationship you don’t have to worry.” Senator Howard seized Josh’s arm in an iron clutch, proving he was still the powerful man his rivals would like to defeat.
An exasperated huff escaped Josh. “But Dad do you realize you’re asking me to sacrifice my chosen way of life for your damn campaign? Aren’t you going too far?”
“It’s only for three months. You can break the engagement as soon as I’m elected.”
“What?”
His mother pushed her husband aside and grabbed Josh’s hands. “You know I volunteer at Newton-Wellesley hospital twice a week. Two months ago, I met this woman, Maria Cassiero, a patient, undergoing therapy after a difficult back surgery. Now she’s doing her best to walk again. Well last week, I found her crying and refusing more treatment. Apparently, the insurance hardly covered two-thirds of her expensive procedures. Her husband died almost a year ago in a boat accident. A mechanic by trade, he owned two thriving auto shops in the Newton area.”
“So why can’t she pay for her treatment?” So far his mother’s story didn’t hold much interest. “If you want to help her, I can contribute.” He reached in his pocket for his phone to write an online check.
“Thank you, Josh. No need for that now. I already offered to cover her extra costs when she mentioned that after her husband’s death the shops’ income greatly shrunk. Her stepdaughter left law school to take care of her.”
“Ah.” So there was a young woman in the picture. Obviously a good-hearted, loving daughter, generous enough to sacrifice her studies for her stepmother. A paragon of virtue, hardly his type. He bit back a derisive comment but gave his mother an impatient glance.
“Poor Maria, she sobbed while telling me she didn’t want her daughter to lose her future because of her. When she showed me the young woman’s photo I had an epiphany.”
Mom smiled and Josh’s heart sank. He’d already guessed the conclusion his mother had reached.
 “She’s so pretty. I could easily see her with you, Josh. But I don’t want to upset you by interfering in your life.”
“You could have fooled me.” He snickered. “So what have you and Dad been doing for the past hour?”
“Spare us your sarcasm,” Senator Howard barked. “All we want is your cooperation for three months. Only three little months with a beautiful fiancée.”
“She accepted?” Talk about an opportunist.
“We don’t know yet.” Mom sighed. “Stop bickering you two. I explained to Maria my idea of giving you a fiancée for a few months to erase the lousy image caused by your scandals—”
“Mom, I didn’t cause any scandals. I didn’t hurt any woman. I didn’t create any unwanted kid.”
“Thank God. As if we needed that.” Mom crossed herself and Dad’s cheeks turned a heavy shade of purple that worried Josh. He hated his father’s politics but he still deeply loved his parents. After counting to ten to recover his cool, he pledged to remain calm in front of any crazy eventuality they came up with.
“Okay Mom, keep going.”
“Well Maria was so grateful for my help that she promised to vote for Senator Howard and to bring Emma to meet you.”
“Emma?” Nice name. For the sake of his mother who’d never let him down, Josh smothered his annoyance. “You have a picture? I should at least see the face of the woman who’d be hanging on my arm for three months.”
“No picture, but you’ll meet her tomorrow.” A smile grew on his mother’s face. “I knew you love you father enough to —”
“Of course I love my father. And I love you.” He gently patted her shoulder.
“I invited them for dinner here and told Maria our chauffeur will pick them up around 5 pm.”
“Tomorrow?” Just like that. He rubbed his neck already feeling an unwanted noose strangling him.
“Will you do it, sweetheart?” Mom pleaded. “It’s for a good cause. Two good causes actually. Your father neutralizes the smear the tabloids have thrown on his campaign and Maria continues her therapy.”
“I see a third good cause.” Forgetting his usual diplomacy, Dad smirked. “Josh gets a taste of monogamy for a while.”
Josh’s mouth twitched at his father’s lousy joke but he swallowed his acerbic reply.
“Well what’s your answer, Josh?” Mom squeezed his hand although her tone had turned a tad impatient.
His gaze flipped from his mother to his father. In spite of her easygoing manner and charitable heart, Mom could be as manipulative as Dad. And often more efficient. No wonder Senator Howard had maintained his senatorial seat for ten years. He had her infallible support. How come Josh had never found a woman who loved him unconditionally as Nancy loved her dictatorial husband?
“Josh?” Mom repeated.
“Okay, Mom.”
“Oh darling, I knew you’d accept.” Mom threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “You’re free to go now, but be here tomorrow before 5 pm. I’m counting on you.”
These were the same words he heard so often as a little boy.
I count on you meant he should ace his classes, score goals in soccer, win his tennis match, make sure his younger brother and sister behave. Yes, the same I’m counting on you. At ten or at thirty, the middle child of Senator Howard’s five kids hated to disappoint his parents.
Tonight the cost of his good behavior soared.
“Goodnight, Mom, Dad. See you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Son.” His father gave him a hand and Josh shook it, and then Dad pulled him in for a hug. “I really appreciate your effort.”
His back straight, Josh feigned an indifferent expression and walked out of the office to the front door. These three coming months would test his will power, but he’d consider them a contribution to his father’s wellness, rather than his campaign. Maybe with a little blooming luck his engagement to Emma would prove to be a charming interlude.
~*~
In the comfortable but messy living room of their two-story house, Emma Cassiero helped her stepmother prepare for their special evening. Crouched next to her stepmother’s recliner, Rino, the golden-brown German shepherd, relaxed and watched her through half-open eyelids.
With precise downward strokes Emma swept and blended the makeup on Maria’s cheeks, chin, nose, and forehead. “Much better. This foundation gives you some color.”
Maria chuckled. “You can’t transform a sick woman who looks like a ghostly witch into Cinderella.”
“You’re beautiful, Mom. I just want you less pale if you’re so determined to visit these people. To be invited to dinner by a senator’s wife is not a daily event here,” Emma joked to lighten her own grim mood. “Right, Rino?”
At the sound of his name, the dog slowly moved his muzzle toward her, rubbed her leg and groaned his approval.
Maria slipped a pearl necklace around her head and clipped on her earrings. Exhausted by the effort, she slumped against the back of the recliner and closed her eyes.
“You look too tired. You sure you want to go?”
Mom seemed so preoccupied today. Several times she’d started to talk about her new friend Nancy, and then stopped in mid-sentence and mumbled under her breath. Emma had caught her crying a couple of times which was normal considering...
“The least I can do is accept their invitation. Nancy Dutton is a very nice lady. A generous soul the kind you don’t find anymore.”
“I’m grateful that she convinced you to sign up for the second phase of your treatment. That’s why I agreed to go to their house with you to thank her personally.”
Emma sighed at her reflection in the mirror above the living room credenza. The blue color of her outfit suited her well. She’d bought the silk dress when Dad took her out with Maria to celebrate her good grades at the end of her second year of law school. Little did they know that two weeks later his cherished boat would explode and kill him.
Mom had insisted she wear the fancy dress today. What a waste, just to entertain an unknown politician and his wife.
“I want you to meet Nancy and her husband. They’re good people we can count on if we need help.”
“I still wonder...” Emma sprayed a whiff of perfume on her neck and then on her stepmother’s. “Since when does a hospital volunteer, especially a senator’s wife, invite a patient to her house?”
“Nancy has become a good friend, always encouraging me. They want to meet you. Maybe he can give you a job or...” Mom blinked several times and bit her lip.
“Do you think so? A part-time job would be great. I’d still have enough time to take care of you.” Emma exhaled with relief. You’re starting to improve. You’ll walk again soon, Mom, with the right therapy.” Emma repressed the pang of anxiety gnawing at her stomach and blanked any sign of worry from her face. Bringing the walker closer to the recliner, she held Maria’s elbow with one hand and slipped an arm behind her back to help her stand.
“I’m doing my best, sweetheart. I don’t want you stuck to my side forever. I often pray you meet a nice man and find happiness.”
“Nice man?” With a snort, Emma crushed her mom’s daydreaming. Where would she meet a nice man who’d accept her and her mountain of problems? So far she’d met more jerks than nice men, Scott Garett and the likes.
“Yes, a presentable man, educated and with good-manners. You’re pretty enough to attract any guy you set your heart on. Nancy mentioned she has four sons and—”
“For heaven’s sake, Mom, stop dreaming. Politicians or their sons are not paragons of virtue. Far from it. They know how to take advantage of people.”
“But Nancy is not like that. She wants to...to...” Maria sighed. After she shifted to straighten her back, she rested a pensive gaze on Emma. “We won’t have problem with payments.”
“Of course we won’t. I told you I’ll sell the small shop soon. It’ll cover the first phase of your treatment, and then if necessary I’ll sell the second shop. It’ll be more than enough.” She offered her dear mom a reassuring smile.
Maria caught Emma’s hand. “Don’t sell anything. It’s your inheritance. It should help you go back to law school.”
“I’ll resume my studies once you get better. I can get a scholarship or a loan that I’ll repay later.” With a gentle hand she caressed her mom’s hair.
Rino scrambled up to a sitting position and turned his head to the left, his ears twitching.
The door bell chimed and he barked. Their ride had arrived.
Emma collected their purses, the box of chocolate wrapped in silver paper for their hosts, and a silk shawl for her mother to add over her suit.
A hiss escaped Maria’s lips as she slowly shuffled to the door. “You’re not listening, Emma, I don’t want you —and I don’t need you— to sacrifice the shops. Mrs. Dutton said she’d pay the medical expenses that are not covered by insurance.”
“No way.” Emma’s hand stalled on the doorknob and she stared at her mother, her eyebrows gathered in shock. “You can’t let a stranger pay for your treatment. We don’t need her.”
“She’s a dear friend now.”
“A senator’s wife? What does she want in return? Our votes for her husband?” Bitterness underlined her questions.
Maria shook her head and grabbed Emma’s arm. “Wouldn’t you vote for a politician whose wife is so generous? I would do anything to thank them.” She raised imploring eyes to her daughter.
“Why, Mom? We’re not paupers. Dad left us two auto shops. Why would you accept charity from strangers when I can help?”
A couple of votes didn’t justify paying for the expensive treatment. What else did they want from Maria and Emma? After her father’s death, Emma had met her share of unscrupulous people. Many had tried to take advantage of the sick woman and her young daughter.
“Enough, Emma. I want you to meet them before casting unfavorable judgment.” Her labored breathing frightened Emma. She refrained from more comments and opened the door.
“I’m Carl, the Dutton’s chauffeur.” In black suit and cap, the man gripped the walker to lower it down the two steps. “Are you ready, Ma’am?”
“As ready as can be.” Maria twisted herself to tackle the first step.
Rino growled at the stranger and bared his impressive canines. A bit on the defensive, the man jumped down two steps and stared suspiciously at her protector. “Huh, your dog wouldn’t bite, I hope.”
Sure he would. “Hmm.” He’d already done it to defend her. “Just a moment please. I’ll be right back.”
Emma raked her fingers through Rino’s fur the way he loved it and urged him inside. “Come, buddy, we’re going to the backyard.”
“Take your time, Miss. Meanwhile, I’ll help the lady to the car.”
Emma led Rino to the fenced backyard and the doghouse where he could nap in the shade. “Be a good boy.” She set out a bowl of water and another with chow. “Have fun and guard the house.” After an extra dose of caresses, she entered the kitchen and closed the door, then went to the front hall entrance.
The driver had settled Maria in the backseat of a black Mercedes waiting at the curb. After an indifferent glance at the luxurious car, Emma locked the house and slid next to her mother. Lost in her thoughts, she repeatedly cursed her stepmother’s tendency to match-make and barely paid attention to the scenic drive or the time spent until the driver slowed down to pass through a gate. The car rolled on a gravel driveway between two rows of magnificent maple trees and stopped in front of an imposing mansion.
Good Lord, was that where they were having dinner?
Emma climbed out of the car while the chauffeur opened the other side door to help her mother. Their hosts must have been watching for their arrival. An elegant woman in a maroon dress, her strawberry blond hair impeccably coiffed, glided down the five marble steps and bent to hug Mom. “I’m so glad you were able to come, my dear Maria,” she greeted with a friendly voice.
“Thank you for inviting us and sending your driver.” Maria turned to Emma and proceeded with the introductions. “My stepdaughter, Emma Cassiero. Mrs. Nancy Dutton.”
“Emma, what a pleasure to meet you. You’re even prettier than your picture.” Nancy hugged her with as much affection as if she had been a long-lost niece.
Why had Mom shown her picture around? Was Emma making too much out of a friendly gesture?
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dutton. I’m very grateful for the support you’ve given my mother. This is for you.” Emma gave her the box of chocolate.
“Thank you. Very kind of you. And here is my son, Josh Dutton.” Nancy waved to the striking man who’d followed his mother outside. Gorgeous enough to be called Man of the Year on any magazine—and make Emma’s heart beat erratically. Maybe she’d been confined at home for too long caring for Mom and had forgotten some men could be attractive enough to stir her blood.
 Josh’s unfathomable gaze swept over her from head to toe and backtracked, roaming over her legs, skimming her waist and chest, and resting on her face for more appraisals.
Oh but he was so annoying... even conceited.
A flush warmed Emma’s cheeks but she raised her chin, returned the once-over, and stared him down. “Mr. Dutton,” she said with an icy tone.
Amusement glittered in his ocean-deep blue eyes shaded by a fringe of long dark lashes. “So glad you came, Emma.” He had the audacity to wink at her.
Yes, a perfect jerk.
In spite of his brazen arrogance, his smile confused her and her gaze riveted on his chiseled jaws and nose in the hope of finding his features lacking. Wistful hope. Physically he was close to perfection.
A queasy feeling filled her stomach and she slowly inhaled to regain control of her senses.
Nancy guided Maria up a side ramp and through the front door opening on a marble entry hall adorned with an antique credenza, gilded mirror and a velvet love seat. “Please come inside. We have a lot to talk about.”
Was Mrs. Dutton planning to explain her generous offer?
Emma didn’t have time to delve into the question. A warm hand settled on her back. Josh’s lemon scent surrounded her. He led her to a huge family room furnished with two brown leather sofas, matching armchairs, dark wood cocktail tables, and various knickknacks she couldn’t take in with her mental faculties focused on the large palm stiffening her shoulders and melting her insides.
Without waiting for an invitation she eased out of his hold and scooted to her mother’s side. Nancy had already helped Maria into a comfortable wingback chair and arranged a pillow behind her back, and then sat on a chair close to her guest.
Ignoring Josh who observed her curiously, and determined not to share a sofa’s closeness with her unsettling host, Emma sidled to the matching wingback chair across from her mother’s and dropped there.
A robust man in his late fifties entered the room, a jovial grin on his face. “Ladies, what a pleasure to meet you. Nancy talks so much about you.”
“Here you are, Howard,” Nancy introduced her husband.
“Maria, I feel I already know you.” Senator Howard was as friendly as they come.
His charisma filled the air and he outstretched both arms to enfold Maria’s frail hand between his. With silvery hair at the temples and thin lines underlying his eyelids, he presented a mature and pleasant personality quite in line with his position. Emma flipped a glance from the senator to his son and noticed the subtle smile hovering on Josh’s lips.
He’d settled on the empty sofa and seemed amused by his father’s affable greeting.
Had she missed something?
About the Author
NY Times and USA Today bestselling author Mona Risk
A tireless traveler, Mona lives in Florida and writes contemporary romance, medical romance, and romantic suspense, simmering with emotion and sprinkled with a good dose of humor. Her novels are set in the fascinating places she visited--or in Florida, her paradise on Earth.
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