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About the author:
A writer of hot shifter romances, T.S. Joyce is devoted to telling stories readers can connect with on a heart level. A native of Texas, she’s spent a good deal of time in the wilderness of her family’s land, which has given her a wealth of experience to draw from when writing stories.
What inspired you to write your book?
My deep love for reading and writing shifter romance!
Here is a short sample from the book:
Riker’s fingers brushed Hannah’s cheek and he rested his forehead against hers. The sigh he gave sounded of relief, not frustration. “Can I tell you a secret?” His hands cupped her neck, gently massaged the tense knots there.
She reached up and encircled his wrists in her hands, wanting to hold his touch longer. Her stomach clenched and sang with neediness she hadn’t ever known, but she’d made the right choice. “Tell me anything. I’m good with secrets.”
Leaning forward until his lips brushed her ear, he whispered, “I wish it was like that for me too.”
She eased back, searched the sadness that swam in his gray gaze. “It can be.”
A slight shake of his head denied that sex could have anything to do with feelings. “Not for me.”
She sucked air into her lungs until they hurt, then blew it out. “Shit.” He had to stop saying things like that if she was going to toe the edge of the chaos that enveloped this place.
“I wish we’d met somewhere else,” he rumbled. Hooking a finger under her chin, he lifted until she was caught in his gaze. Slowly, he leaned forward until his lips touched hers.
She melted. Sagging under the gentle caress of his mouth, he caught her waist and followed her down to sit beside her on the plush mattress. His tongue brushed the seam of her lips and she opened for him, invited him to taste her.
No kiss she’d ever had could touch this one, and she sighed as her fingertips roamed the smooth skin of his chest and stomach. A low rumble sounded in his throat, making her drunk with lust. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she hooked a leg over and straddled him so she could feel his skin against hers. His hand, warm and strong, slid up her ribcage until he cupped the fullness of her breast. Groaning, she dipped her head backward as his lips made a warm trail down her throat. He rocked his hips once and she arched into him.
“Hannah,” he murmured.
“Riker,” she breathed.
“Hannah,” he said against her neck. “Woman, you told me no.” He eased back, hunger burning in his gaze. “I only meant to kiss you goodnight.”