Daily Archives: 01/07/2016
What happens when an unrepentant Cleat Chaser meets the player of her dreams?
Nikki Graves has a history of going through the baseball roster with an eye for talent — the kind of talent that keeps things spicy between the sheets. But, once she meets Braden Bradford, catcher for the Ravens, her talent scout days are done. He’s the one.
Braden has never met a woman like Nikki, and he can’t get enough of her smart mouth and big heart. But life isn’t always as direct and certain as the connection between Braden and Nikki. When family objections and career trajectories begin to crowd the plate, will Braden be able to keep his catch of a lifetime?
I shot back against the cushion, doing my best to act normal. Nik pushed the door open. “Hey, babe. I was waiting for my dessert course.” I made a show of scrubbing my hand across my mouth and face like I was clearing her a space.
“I’m good.” Her tone was flat, and she didn’t even look at me.
What the hell?
Her usual spark was gone. She sauntered over to the side table, and dropped her keys and bag on it.
I glanced down at the laptop screen full of porn. Fuck! I’d been researching some new shit to try out with her, but there was no way she’d believe me. My gaze drifted to the mouse way up under the table. There was no chance I could get to it without giving away my knee situation.
Using my good leg, I tried to gently kick the computer screen closed, and, of course, it only opened wider.
“Have you moved from the couch all night? Did you even shower?” She sighed, still facing the wall like she had no interest in looking at me.
“What’s wrong, babe? What happened?” My mind raced. A lot could have occurred at Estate de CuntMuffin that would set her off. I’d been worried the whole time she was gone.
“I’m fine.” She turned around, and I watched her eyes dart straight to the computer screen. Her brows pinched together and her hands went to her hips.
Fuck me. This won’t be good.
“Nice, Braden. Real fucking nice.”
“It’s not what you think. I don’t look at porn.” I stared in the other direction and mumbled. “Often.”
“Your fingers slip and accidentally type in ‘fuckmedaddy.com?’” She scowled and began to pace back and forth.
I’d expected her to be upset about the porn, but not this much. I was halfway hoping she’d want to look at it with me. “No. I was trying to find new stuff to try out on you. If you must know.”
Her lips curled like she might smile, and then they mashed back into a thin line.
“Have they said if you’re going to be traded or not?” She took another step toward me, ignoring all of the pussy acrobatics flashing on the laptop.
“No.” I tilted my head to my lap and ground my teeth while I tried to compose myself. I’d been trying to forget about that shit all day, but the pain in my knee kept it front and center in my mind.
She made a pfft sound and threw her arms in the air.
“Babe, I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to have a clue what you’re upset about. I just don’t.”
A million things rocketed through my mind at once and brought my entire thought process to a crashing halt. My brain buffered slower than the inverted cowgirl pussy nomming scene I’d attempted to watch earlier.
Nik scowled, and then folded her arms across her chest. She stared me down like a closer in the ninth inning. “Think really really hard about the problem we have.”
My eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. “Uhh, your parents?” I glanced back and tried to judge her reaction.
She made a loud sound like a buzzer that startled me.
“Fucking hell. I mean, umm, me being traded?” I held my hands up and shrugged.
“Warmer.” She took another step toward me.
I hated this fucking guessing game. Why couldn’t she just say it? Heat rushed into my face, and my body tensed.
“Can you just tell me? Please. Stop fucking around with me.” I smacked my hand against the back of the sofa, and Nik jumped.
“Maybe my parents were right. Maybe you do have anger issues.” She stomped off a few steps and whipped back around. “Easton!”
“Take that shit back. You know I don’t. Maybe your goddamn family just brings it out of everyone. Maybe you’re more like your mo—” I froze stiff on the couch, and my eyes bugged out. I held up my hands. “I stopped myself. You heard me. I did not say it.”
It was too late. I thought my head was going to explode the way Nik glowered in my direction. Her hands were squeezed into fists at her sides, and I could see all the whites of her knuckles. She started toward me like a possessed demon. “Did you say what I think you said?”
Do not answer, Braden. That shit is rhetorical. Adapt and survive.
I shook my head quickly and braced myself in case she resorted to physical violence.
Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.
Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.
Visit his web page to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.
Coming July 18th
Add to your Goodreads shelf now.
His name is Beat, and I should hate him.
Bound, blindfolded and bruised, I’m tied in his basement, waiting for the men who stripped me from clothes and humanity to collect his debt to them. Me.
His name is Nate and I should hate him, but I don’t.
I’m not supposed to know his real name, even worse, I’m not supposed to care. He is nothing to me but means to an end.
The plan is simple: break free, collect the pieces of my broken soul, kill the bastards and run away.
His name is Nathaniel Thomas Vela, and I’ve never seen his face, though I hear that it’s beautiful.
Behind the rugged and handsome exterior, there’s a quiet murderer, a killer who thinks guns are for pussies and ends people with his bare hands.
His name doesn’t matter, neither does his face, but what does matter is my heart. And right now, sadly, it’s his.
Blood to Dust is a standalone, full-length novel.
It contains graphic violence and adult situations some may find offensive.
I wolf down my dinner before he grabs my hand and leads me up the stairs. He stalks closely behind, and even though it’s taking me forever to climb up the narrow staircase, he keeps his grunt-count to a respectable minimum.
Leading me to the bathroom by the arm, he throws the door open and we both gait into the tiny room. Still blindfolded, I feel the cold sink stabbing at my lower back, but the warmth of his proximity keeps me from shivering.
“I need my privacy.” I lick my lips, feeling him everywhere. Not only is Beat physically big, he is also somewhat of a human furnace. I swear he radiates enough heat to photosynthesize a whole forest. I guess it’s good, because I always know when he’s around. But also bad, because why would it matter? It’s not like I can fight him in any way.
“Dream on, Country Club.” Another grunt.
“Please.” My voice breaks. Usually, I’m counting on my caramel blonde hair and big Disney-animal eyes—which he unfortunately can’t see right now—to get me out of trouble. I have a feeling this guy is harder to crack. “Just lock me in and stand on guard outside. What can I do? Arm myself with a bar of soap? Try and break free through the sink’s hole?”
Is he going to buy it?
Is he sensitive?
Is he hard-nosed?
Maybe he’s both. He’s got some serious codes going on—no beating women, no manhandling your victim, yet he essentially agreed to lock me in here. Then there’s his tone and body language. Peaceful. Like he hasn’t got a care in the world, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve known him for a few short hours and I’m already privy to the fact that he was an inmate in San Dimas, has killed, owes Godfrey a favor and has the Aryan Brotherhood on his tail.
“Be warned”—his peachy breath tickles my nose—“when people are bad to me, I’m worse. Don’t tempt my demons.”
Beat takes off my blindfold, but he’s not as thoughtless as to show me his face. His black tee is pulled over his head, revealing a tattooed six-pack. Even his fingertips are full of blues and blacks. Yet, one side of his body is completely ink-free. Massive, menacing…and as much as I hate to admit it, attractive.
Sweet Statute of Liberty, if I need to screw one of them in the name of freedom, please let it be him and not the chunky tattooist.
Beat can still see me through the fabric of his shirt, but before I get the chance to make out his face, he dashes out of the bathroom and locks the door from the outside with a key.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes to do everything. Pee, shit, shower, get dressed. Starting now.”
I don’t argue or waste a second. I jump into the shower and pee as the stream of gurgling water splashes over my body. My bladder is burning with release, and so are the blistering fresh wounds Seb decorated me with. Slowly, I’m starting to feel a little better, think a little clearer.
The water is hot and violent against my strained muscles. There’s only one bar of soap—I’m pretty sure Beat and Ink are sharing it (I’m guessing they’re roomies by the two worn-out towels on the rack). Not very sanitary, but hygiene is a luxury I cannot afford right now.
I scrub my body and keep the water running as I try to pry open the overhead rust-stained window next to the showerhead. I stand on my toes, peeking outside, blinking away disbelief as the sight in front of me registers. A teenager with a beanie zig-zags his way on a bike in the middle of the road, the electric wires above his head tangled with shoelaces and sneakers. Beyond the sight of shotgun houses, wilting porches and the echoes of desperate, barking dogs…a Taco Bell.
I recognize the branch. I’m in Stockton. Whose streets I know, whose crack heads I studied, whose language of hardship and adversity I speak fluently.
I study my surroundings. The house I’m trapped in is a simple one-story, and the house right in front of it is probably an identical bungalow. It looks deserted, so yelling will get me nowhere other than on Beat and Ink’s shit list.
But I’m guessing by the sound of traffic and the location of the fast food restaurant that we’re close to El Dorado, one of Stockton’s main streets.
Knowing where I am will work in my favor when I run away.
And I will run away. One way or the other. With or without Beat’s help.
I always land on my feet.
I broke free from Callum, Godfrey and Sebastian. Getting rid of these two should be a walk in the park.
Beat’s fist slams against the door three times, then unlocks the door from the outside.
“Yo, Silver Spoon. Your time’s up.”
“Just one second,” I call, turning off the faucet and stepping outside. I reach for one of the manly dark towels and cover myself up as I squat down to pick up my gray dress.
Hold on a minute.
They might have a shaving razor. Holy hell, they might have a weapon in here.
I start flinging drawers open, still wrapped in a towel, desperately trying to find something to injure Beat with. I don’t even care if he hears. Give me a razor and I will dice this 6’5 Goliath to pieces the size of Barbacoa. Talent can be outworked and rage can outweigh size. That’s the motto I live by.
Beat bangs on the door again, and it wails on its hinges.
“Hey…you,” he grunts. He doesn’t even know my name. “If you make me open this door myself, you’ll be fucking sorry.”
I ignore him. He can’t rape or harm me. Godfrey made that clear. Honestly? I’m not scared of him that much. He’s been nothing but compassionate to me so far, in his own, angry, Stockton way. Damn it, though. They have absolutely nothing in these drawers. Empty, empty, empty. What’s wrong with these men? Do they not live here, or did they think about this scenario beforehand? Probably the latter. I’m just about to turn around and pick up my dress when the door swings open and Guy Fawkes’s face greets me again, bat-shit crazy galore. The drawers are all open. I threw most of their contents on the floor in my desperate search for a weapon.
This is not looking good for me.
This man is going to kill me…and for once in my life, I don’t feel like putting up a fight anymore.
L.J. Shen is a best-selling author of Contemporary Romance novels. She lives in Northern California with her husband, young son and chubby cat.
She enjoys the simple things in life, like chocolate, wine, reading, HBO, spending time with her girlfriends and internet-stalking Chris Hemsworth. She reads between three to five books a week and firmly believes Crocs shoes and mullets should be outlawed.
My Zombie Fiancé
Edward Grey is no stranger to the undead; since raising his cat as a zombie when he was a child, he and his mentor Mariel have explored and developed his power as a necromancer. Despite everything he’s learned, as a necromancer and a medical student, he’s never encountered a ghost.
While Mariel is unreachable in Haiti on mysterious business, a ghost wakes Edward in the middle of the night, claiming to be his grandfather. When the ghost offers to teach him about this different form of undeath, Edward has little choice but to trust the spirit.
After receiving a phone call from a young girl claiming her father is possessed, Edward and his Undead Canadian fiancé, Kit, must travel to an acreage in Kingston…Ontario.
The haunting proves far more complicated than Edward could ever have guessed, and he finds himself pitted against an ancient evil determined to engulf everyone on the farm.
Edward’s love and connection to Kit will be tested, and his necromancy stretched to his limits as he has to find—and destroy—a twisted spirit more powerful than anything he’s ever encountered.
About the Author
T. Strangedidn’t want to learn how to read, but literacy prevailed and she hasn’t stopped reading—or writing—since. She’s been published with Torquere Press since 2013, and she writes M/M romance in multiple genres, including paranormal and BDSM. T.’s other interests include cross stitching, gardening, watching terrible horror movies, playing video games, and finding injured pigeons to rescue. Originally from White Rock, BC, she lives on the Canadian prairies, where she shares her home with her wife, cats, guinea pigs and other creatures of all shapes and sizes. She’s very easy to bribe with free food and drinks—especially wine.
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This cowboy and cowgirl sell the steak and the sizzle….
Visit the ranch in COWBOY PLAYER,
the third book in the Cowboy Cocktail series by Mia Hopkins…
For eight years, Melody Santos played the game of love and lost—big time. Now she’s back in her tiny hometown looking after her younger sister, making ends meet with an assortment of odd jobs. When her childhood best friend hires her to help him sell his family’s grass-fed beef, the last thing she anticipates is falling in lust with the legendary, brown-eyed player.
To put his family’s cattle ranch back in the black, Clark MacKinnon has his sights set on big contracts—gourmet chefs and restaurateurs. If that means long hours traveling from farmer’s market to farmer’s market, Clark doesn’t mind. Particularly since his new assistant is his childhood crush, all grown up and sexy as hell.
One night in bed leaves them breathless and hungry for more. But when his love-’em-and-leave-’em reputation collides with her trust issues, Clark and Melody must face the truth about what they’ve become: not friends, not lovers, but players in a game that’s impossible to win.
Warning: Contains filthy banter, raunchy sex, excessive Johnny Cash references, and hundreds of pounds of raw beef.
On Sale in Digital: June 28, 2016
Add COWBOY PLAYER to your TBR pile on Goodreads!
CELEBRATE THE RELEASE WITH A GIVEAWAY!
Grand Prize: $10 Amazon Gift Card + Digital Editions of the Entire Cowboy Cocktail Series
2 Runner-Ups: $5 Amazon Gift Card + Any Backlist Mia Hopkins Title
BLP REVIEW ~ Tracy
| I haven’t read the previous books in the Cowboy Cocktail series but that’s something I’ll be doing ASAP!!! Cowboy Player was a fun, sexy, flirty friends-to-lovers read which I thoroughly enjoyed.
Melody Santos is a hardworking sassy but sweet twenty-something who has moved home to take care of her younger sister, Harmony. To do this she is working a few jobs, one of which is with her best friend from childhood, Clark (aka Superman!). Clark MacKinnon is hardworking, fun and smokin’ HOT!! He’s dedicated to keeping his family’s farm business stay afloat and he seems like a really good guy but he definitely comes across as a player – he flirts with most females and is never short of admirers who are all too willing to fall for his charms – only Melody seems to be the exception and immune to his flirting…. or is she?
The relationship between this pair was comfortable and easy, even after Melody being away from home for 8 years. When things change, we find that together they are scorching hot. They work really well and would make a great couple (in and out of the bedroom) but due to trust issues and past problems with her ex, we aren’t sure that Melody can overcome her fears and doubts and take a chance on something more with Clark.
I really wanted things to work for these two – they were fun and I liked both characters a lot. Harmony, Mel’s little sister was a bit of a pain but not too much that it took away from my enjoyment of the book. Clark’s brothers also feature in the story and they seem to be as charming and attractive as him… (just another reason to go back and check out the earlier books 😉 )
This was a quick afternoon read. Mia Hopkins gave us likeable, relatable characters, an interesting story with a touch of ‘will they, won’t they’, a bit of sweet and a whole lot of hot & sexy!!!
On the record player, the next track started. Guitar licks, drums, a little fiddle—Melody knew the song at once.
“Oh man,” said Clark. “‘Troubadour’. This a good one. Dance with me, Mel.”
He pulled her off the sofa before she could say anything. Wrapped up in the arms of a big cowboy was not a terrible place to be, so Melody danced with him, barefoot in her parents’ living room, the slow two-step a song both their bodies knew the words to. Her laughter died away, giving way to a quiet sense of vulnerability. The verses slid by like a dream, erasing the burden of loneliness she’d been carrying for so long. It had been months since she’d been this close to a man. It had been years since she’d felt this close to one.
Clark could read her mind. “So what was his name again?” he asked softly. “Scott?”
“A slow-motion disaster, that’s what happened.” She rested her cheek against the hard, hot wall of Clark’s chest. “He was a musician. Fun. Exciting. He said I meant the world to him. But I suppose the world wasn’t enough.”
“What do you mean?”
It was still hard to say aloud. “He cheated on me. It had been going on for months. When I found out and confronted him about it, he broke down said he was sorry. We tried to put it past us. We even went to therapy. But it was all a lie. He left me when my mom passed away.” At first, the pain had been excruciating, dulled only by grief and the weight of her new responsibilities. “Eight years, down the drain.”
“That’s a long time. Did you ever talk about getting married?”
“He said he didn’t like labels.” She sighed. “Which was also a lie, because he married the other woman in Vegas in February.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry.” Clark gave her a squeeze. “You know, if you were mine, I’d hold on to you for good.”
“Sure. Until the next piece of ass came along.”
“Never seen a piece of ass like yours.”
“That’s the friend talking. Your dick might say otherwise.”
“My dick, huh?” Clark laughed quietly. “You’re welcome to check with my dick yourself. He doesn’t talk loud, so you’ll have to get down on your knees to hear him.”
“Seriously, Mel. You don’t know what you’ve got going on. Smart as all get-out. Hell, you run circles around me, and I’m a genius. And you’re funny too. Ain’t many women who can make me laugh. You’re one of them.”
She rolled her eyes. “Aw shucks, Ma. Next the cowboy told me I was real purty.”
“Fuck pretty. You’re beautiful.”
It was too much. Danger. “Clark—”
“So beautiful. I always thought so.” He gave her a sad smile. “Honest to God.”
The heat rising between them cooked her brain. She was at a loss for words. “Thanks.”
“No thanks needed. Just stating the obvious.” They danced until the song ended on a ribbon of steel guitar. Clark leaned down and pressed his lips to her temple.
Instead of pulling away, he traced a slow, agonizing trail of kisses along her hairline until he was kissing her neck just behind her ear.
Pleasure overloaded her nervous system, but her brain wouldn’t let her enjoy it. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“Something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time.”
See what people are saying about the Cowboy Cocktail series:
“Wow, wow, and wow…The love that blossoms between [the hero and heroine] is unrushed, genuine, true. *sigh* I loved this book from start to finish and highly recommend it, and not just for fans of western romance.”
—Goodreads review, 5/5 stars
“The writing is excellent, the emotions leap off the page, and the sex is downright earthy…This is a feel-good romance with a strong, career-minded heroine, a swoon-worthy working class hero, a great setting and lots of lovingly detailed sex.”
—Jill Sorenson, RITA-nominated author of romantic suspense
“Mia Hopkins one of the most exciting new voices in red-hot contemporary romance. Add her to your must-read list. Now!” – Samanthe Beck, USA Today Bestselling Author
“Mia Hopkins’ sexy cowboy hero and sassy bookish heroine burn up the pages from the moment they lock eyes.”
– Cat Johnson, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author
“Beautifully descriptive…hot, sexy and full of yearning!” – Delilah Devlin, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author
“I love this author’s writing style; her prose is beautiful, and I can definitely see myself checking out her future work. I’m wondering if Caleb’s brothers will feature in future books?” – My YA & NA Book Obsession
“I love a story that surprises me by putting a different spin on the standard trope of boy meets girl…Mia Hopkins is an imaginative author who doesn’t take the easy road to a formulaic book.” — Becky Condit, USA TODAY Happy Ever After blog
“This erotic romance is seriously dirty. Dean and Monica play hard….I have also read the first book in this series, Cowboy Valentine and recommend it as well.” — Jennifer Porter, Romance Novel News
Check out the other books in The Cowboy Cocktail series!
Forget chocolate and flowers. This homegrown honey is all the sweetness he craves.
Small-town life is nothing but a waiting room for eighteen-year-old honor student Corazón Gomez. Work and school leave little time for love, but with a full-ride Ivy League scholarship and a one-way ticket out of the boondocks, who needs it?
The answer appears on Valentine’s Day when her old cowboy crush ambles into the ice cream parlor where she works, inviting her to go on a late-night ride in his truck. For the first time she wavers between staying on the straight and narrow, and going off-road with the handsome heartbreaker.
After four years working on ranches all over the country, Caleb MacKinnon is back on the family farm helping out his mom and brothers while his father fights cancer. The one bright spot: smart, funny, and wickedly sexy Cora.
From the start, they both know this blazing-hot love affair can’t last. But when autumn comes and Cora has to leave for the East Coast, Caleb must find a solution to keep himself—and his heart—from falling apart.
Warning: Contains hard, cherry-poppin’ sex in a pickup truck and a cowboy charmer who talks dirty in two languages.
Ball-busting business woman meets no-holds-barred cowboy. He’s gonna need a longer rope…
Marketing hotshot Monica Kaur has put her big-city life on hold to help bail out her brother’s failing business. Now she’s got three months to plan and promote a rodeo, the first her tiny hometown has ever seen.
To ensure the rodeo’s success, Monica enlists a local hero, a rancher’s son who’s made a name for himself on the bull-riding circuit. Problem? She can’t stop daydreaming about the cocky bastard—and all the things she longs to do to him out behind the chutes.
Professional bullfighter Dean MacKinnon is home helping his family while his father fights cancer. Haunted by bad memories, jaded by love, Dean finds escape in a no-strings-attached go-round with brainy, sexy Monica, whose close-knit Sikh-American family would sooner run him out of town than see her with a notorious rodeo Romeo.
In private, Monica and Dean play as hard as they work. But as the rodeo draws near, that clean break they promised each other is getting more and more hung up in the rigging.
Mia Hopkins writes lush romances starring fun, sexy characters who love to get down and dirty. She’s a sucker for working class heroes, brainy heroines and wisecracking best friends.
When she’s not lost in a story, Mia spends her time cooking, gardening, traveling, volunteering and looking for her keys. In a past life, she was a classroom teacher and still has a pretty good “teacher voice” and “teacher stare.”
She lives in the heart of Los Angeles with her roguish husband and two waggish dogs.
You can also visit her online at the following places:
From USA Today Bestselling author Adriane Leigh comes a passionate contemporary romance about giving in to desire so sharp and sweet it threatens to consume…
Georgia Montgomery is desperate for an escape from the life she’s been leading. The perfect job, the perfect apartment, the perfect boyfriend—all are on the cusp of driving her over the edge. On a whim, she buys a beach house on the North Carolina coast, eager to spend a summer with her college friends. She thinks she’s found the perfect balance, until one pleasure-seeking playboy turns her world on its axis. Georgia tries to ignore the tornado of emotion that sweeps through her system whenever Tristan Howell is near, but just like an addiction, one look, one taste, one touch is never enough.
The chemistry is scorching and it isn’t long before the slow burn ignites into a full-blown wildfire that threatens to consume anything in its path. But Georgia and Tristan can’t shelter their love from the outside world, and the moments of exquisite passion they share aren’t enough to sustain the relationship. When scars from the past resurface–will their hearts meld together as one? Or will outside forces tear them apart, leaving an empty shell where love and passion once thrived?
*Note: The characters in Sweet Alibi are real and flawed–they make bad decisions and learn hard lessons. It contains a love triangle, a sweet alpha-male with a broken heart, and a leading lady that doesn’t always know what she wants. If you love a character-driven romance with a hard-fought happily-ever-after, Sweet Alibi is for you. (Formerly published as The Morning After and Light in Morning duet, now with more than 10,000 words of never-before-published BONUS content!
“You’re getting wet.” Tristan lifted a finger and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I licked my lips nervously, my eyes locked with his. His touch set my skin on fire. I held my bottom lip between my teeth painfully, willing myself to feel anything other than my stomach rolling and the arousal throbbing between my thighs. His eyes darted down to watch my mouth as his lips parted lightly with his breath.
“Georgia,” he whispered as he leaned into me. His lips grazed mine and my eyelids fluttered closed.
Why wasn’t I pulling away?
God, I needed to be pulling away, like two minutes ago.
I should have moved my chair away from his when I sat down. Being in Tristan’s space did things to me, delicious things like the hair rising on the back of my neck and goosebumps dancing across my skin. My stomach flipped, my breathing hitched, and a slow ache settled between my legs.
“Tristan,” I breathed as he brought his hand to my jaw in a light caress, just like he’d been doing a minute ago to the weathered wood of the deck chair. I parted my lips and the air escaped my lungs in a rush.
“I don’t know what this is between us, Georgia, but I want to find out,” he said on a breathy exhale.
“Me too,” I whispered and pressed my lips to his. His soft, slightly salty lips tasted heavenly as I ran my tongue along them. He opened his mouth and our tongues brushed together as his hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers threaded in my hair, thumbs brushing my cheeks. He pulled me closer to him and before I knew it I was adrift in the heady sensation of Tristan.
I lost myself for those few blissful moments attached to his lips. I knew there was a reason I shouldn’t be doing this, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what it was. I ran my palm up his arm and over his shoulder to tangle in his hair.
But the hair was too long. It didn’t feel right. It was foreign, and yet the pull I felt to continue to kiss and caress was undeniable.
“Kyle.” I pulled away quickly, mumbling the name. I licked my lips where Tristan’s salty-sweet taste lingered. The feelings that were swirling inside my body and filtering through my head were terrifying and new and right all in the same breath. Tristan watched as my thoughts aligned.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what just happened or why I said what I did, but it can’t happen again.” I rushed back into the safety of the house, leaving Tristan alone in the rain.
Adriane Leigh was born and raised in a snowbank in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and now lives among the sand dunes of the Lake Michigan lakeshore.
She graduated with a Literature degree but never particularly enjoyed reading Shakespeare or Chaucer.
She is married to a tall, dark, and handsome guy, and plays mama to two sweet baby girls. She is a voracious reader and wishes she had more time to knit scarves to keep her warm during the arctic Michigan winters.