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About the author:
She sees the best in everyone which is why she loves writing protagonists and flawed antagonists. But when she’s not penning a hunky hero or damsel in not-so-much-distress, she’s reading, baking, researching recipes, walking her golden Labrador, Max, or watching the sunrise with her own special love.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Don’t even go there, Deborah, I warned myself. This is just some random guy in a club. Just some party boy out for a night of fun.
But I couldn’t help it. As he held me close, I felt a sense of safety wash over me as if I was finally home in someone else’s arms. I shut my eyes and enjoyed his scent, a mixture of woodsy cologne and a hint of sweat from all of the dancing we had been doing. It was intoxicating. It was taking all of my self-discipline to resist him. Then I felt the soft caress of his lips against the top of my head. A shiver coursed along my spine. It was not a sexual gesture, but it spoke to a part of me that I rarely admitted was there. It was the part of me that still dreamed of white knights and of that one special person put into the world just to find you. I looked up at him, and though I knew better, I kissed him. His lips tasted amazing, and the ripple of arousal that carried through me was sudden and intense. It was frightening. I broke the kiss and pulled away from him.
Now you did it, Deborah, I said to myself. Now you did it!
I headed back through the club toward the front door. My mind was swimming with panic and desire. I heard him call after me, but I ignored him. I was almost at the door of the club when I felt his hand clasp mine and tug me back toward him.
“Wait, you kissed me,” he said breathlessly as he looked into my eyes. “It wasn’t I who started it.”
“I know,” I mumbled. My cheeks were hot with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said in a softer tone as he studied me intently. “I enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
I stared at him wordlessly. I didn’t know what to say, how to explain what I felt, but I was sure that whatever I felt was far different from what he did. Just as he was about to speak again, loud music surged through the speakers. We were jostled by a few people trying to get out the door.
“Come with me,” he said, still holding my hand snugly in his own.
He led me out of the club and onto the sidewalk. I turned to give him my speech about not being interested, but the moment I looked at him, his lips crushed against mine. I gasped through the kiss, prepared to push him away, but the light stroke of his tongue and his firm hands pressing against my lower back melted my resistance. I wished the kiss would never end. I felt the outside wall of the club against my shoulders as he guided me against it. Neither of us seemed to want to end the kiss, as minutes slid by with barely a breath taken. When I finally tilted my head away, he rested his forehead against the wall, beside me.
“Tell me your name,” he requested as he attempted to catch his breath.
Those words brought reality crashing down around me. This wasn’t some dream. This was a stranger who was trying his hardest to get to know me in a way I wasn’t ready for.
“I have to go,” I whispered as I slipped out of his grasp.
“Wait,” he pleaded as he turned to look at me. “Please, is it really that hard to tell me who you are?”
I stared at him for a long moment.
“Yes,” I finally replied, “it is.”
With that I turned and walked away from him. I could feel him watching my every step. A part of me hoped he would follow after, but that part of me was already being pushed back down inside, ignored and hidden. The last thing I needed was romance. When I reached my car and started it, I closed my eyes for a moment. On the dance floor I had felt like me again. Not the me that had to look the part or play the game, but the me that knew both sides of life and didn’t belong in either. As I started my drive back to the apartment, I found myself wishing I had asked what his name was.