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About the author:
Brighton Walsh spent nearly a decade as a professional photographer before deciding to take her storytelling in a different direction and reconnect with her first love: writing. When she’s not pounding away at the keyboard, she’s probably either reading or shopping—maybe even both at once. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and two children, and, yes, she considers forty degrees to be hoodie weather. Her home is the setting for frequent dance parties, Lego battles, and more laughter than she thought possible. Visit her online at brightonwalsh.com.
What inspired you to write your book?
I got the idea for this book from a song—the acoustic version of The One That Got Away. The lyrics, "And on my eighteenth birthday, we got matching tattoos" planted a seed that only grew and grew. It's been slowly growing over the course of years, but when I finally sat down to plot, it all came out. And the details of the hero and heroine spawned a whole fictional town I love to pieces.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Without any conscious thought, Willow’s fingers started tracing the lines of ink on Finn’s skin, and all she could do was watch. He was so solid and warm under her fingertips, his puffs of air growing faster and faster against her neck, then her cheek, then her lips.
And even though it’d been a long time, she knew what was coming a split second before he pressed his mouth against hers. Her sound of protest was lost in the space between their mouths as he swiped his tongue against her lips. And then there was nothing but Finn and his sinful mouth and his body flush against hers. He swept his tongue inside her mouth, and Lord, had he always tasted this good? Had he always kissed this good?
Never breaking away from her mouth, he walked them until Willow’s back was pressed against the wall, and then he just sort of…settled in. His hips held hers against the wall, the length of his erection pressing into her, proving this wasn’t at all one-sided as his hand continued its maddening path along her hip. But then—Lord, then he slipped his thumb under the waistband of her shorts until there was nothing between his rough fingertip and the part of her body forever marked as his. If it were possible, the soft caresses had her melting even further into him.
He kissed her like he was a starving man feasting on his first meal in a month. She’d forgotten how he’d always put his whole body into it, the heat and solidness of him pressing against her, making her feel safe and secure. Finn groaned into her mouth as he deepened the kiss even more, and all she could do was clutch him, one hand fisting the front of his shirt and the other pressed against his side where her tree was eternally imprinted.
“You feel so damn good,” Finn said against her lips.
Willow murmured her agreement into his mouth because there was no denying it. Her body was on fire, her nipples hard points pressing against his chest, her skin lit up from the inside out. And then Finn’s thumb, rubbing maddeningly against her tattoo, slipped to the right until he was as close to the Promised Land as he’d been in a long time. He didn’t try to push it any further, just ran his thumb back and forth right above where she was wet and ready for him until she thought she’d die.