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About the author:
In her fantasies, she and her billionaire Mr. Right travel the world, exploring different cultures (and each other!). These daydreams are the inspiration for her sizzling stories, so what are you waiting for? Give one of them a try, and let her know what you think.
What inspired you to write your book?
I was inspired to write my book in thinking about broken hearts, and how sometimes a woman and man find each other against all odds.
Here is a short sample from the book:
When we get back to the ranch, Rowan hoists me out of the car and carries me up the stairs. My body is already pulsing with want for him, even though the two of us barely know each other. Despite my past, my history, my losses… I want this man more than anything I’ve ever wanted. All night long, I’ve wanted to open my mouth to protest again, to tell him what an awful idea this all is.
He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know me. He shouldn’t want to.
The desire for him threatens to take me over, to drain all of the sense out of my body and drive me towards him indefinitely. But if I don’t say something ow, it feels like we’ll both fall into this abyss, blinded by lust and the stultifying need to banish our past.
“You don’t know me from Adam,” I breathe. He pushes me against the door to my room, the blue guest suite I’ve come to think of as my own. Maybe it was obvious when I opted to stay here after the guest house got electricity back, but hell, I like the painting. And I have all my stuff here. And Rowan Corbett lives in this house, and let’s be honest. I’ve longed for this since the moment I laid eyes on that man.
“Who’s Adam?” He grins when he says it and kisses my neck right below my ear. A shiver runs down my spine and sends heat straight to my belly. We’ve only shared one kiss and ten days of time between us, and here I am going as crazy as a schoolgirl over this man I barely know. This man who doesn’t know me at all.
“You know what I mean. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea—”
“What idea is that?” His voice is raw and husky, and it vibrates against my skin. Underneath the raw silk dress, my nipples stiffen, taut and hard as beads. Heat creeps over my skin, threatening to cloud my judgment, threatening to take me over. “The idea that I want to fuck you? Or more specifically, the idea that I want to make you come? Because if that’s the wrong idea, it’s one I’ve had since the first minute you arrived in this house. And nothing feels wrong about it.”