Find more from this author on:
About the author:
Afton Locke is a USA Today Bestselling Author who prefers romantic fantasies to everyday reality. Fantasies take her to different times, races, places, and beyond. She lives with her husband, several unnamed dust bunnies, and a black cat that can be scary or cuddly, depending on the current book. When she’s not writing, Afton enjoys hiking, cooking, reading, and watching retro T.V.
What inspired you to write your book?
It was inspired by the prequel, Follow Me, and southern rockers Lynyrd Skynyrd. Also,
living a fast-paced corporate life and driving in heavy congestion makes me long for a simpler life off the grid.
Here is a short sample from the book:
She leaned back in his arms, a serene smile on her lips. “It’s so peaceful here.”
"It’s also my favorite place.” He gazed up at the moss hanging from the trees. “When I die, my spirit will probably hang around in the swamp.”
She shivered, vibrating the boat. He felt it, too. A sudden chill, even though the air felt just as hot and heavy as it had a minute ago.
“Dee,” he whispered. Her lips were so close. Kiss her already. Hadn’t he done that and more to too many groupies to count?
“I’ve got one!”
He felt it, too. The rod quivered in their hands, making every muscle in his body vibrate, along with it.
“We’ll bring it in together,” he whispered.
He guided her hands through every movement until the fish flopped on the bottom of the boat. The peace had been broken. Poles clattered and fell with a crash, water droplets splashed in their faces, and the boat dipped dangerously low to one side.
“It’s a channel catfish,” he said.
“What are we going to do with it?” she squealed.
A serious feeling settled over him. “Send it back.”
“Oh, okay.” When she reached for it, he stopped her.
“We have to do it gently, to minimize its stress.”
He snatched an old rag from the side of the boat and used it to grasp the fish. Once he had it, he lowered it close to the surface of the water before releasing it. Then he held his breath as some bubbles rose to the surface.
“Did he make it?” she asked, anxiously peering over the side.
“I think so. Otherwise, he’d be floating.”
“That was fun,” she said.
“You made it fun.” He pulled her onto his lap again. Then he slid her sunglasses off to see her beautiful eyes.
“Rodney, I know you’re a southern gentleman and all, but if you don’t kiss me soon, I’m going to lose my mind.”
He yanked off their hats and threw them somewhere into the boat. “Part of being a gentleman is knowing the right time and place.”
And knowing when a private moment should be grabbed, because there may never be another.
“Is this it?” she asked.
He tilted her chin with his index finger and ran the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip. She squirmed in his lap, exhaling a moan before he locked his arms around her and claimed the rest of her mouth.
“You tell me.”