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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?
Timing is everything. Several years ago, a famous actress passed away. As I pondered her career and beauty, I got inspired to write a story about a mermaid, a human heroine, and the quest for revenge against a man who’d hurt her. Unfortunately, I wrote only a few chapters before shelving it. It wasn’t the right time, I guess.
Fast forward a few years and Decadent Publishing’s Wiccan Haus series caught my interest. Having already written three shared-world stories for them, I couldn’t resist adding to the series. Someone I met and some rough life experiences gave me the fuel I needed to write a different version of the story. One I had no trouble finishing. It’s finally time to release it!
Here is a short sample from the book:
Daphne’s heart accelerated, throbbing against the darkness around her. Much like her life, she couldn’t control anything on this lousy island, including the elevators. Next time, she’d take the stairs—if there were any.
Her senses converged on warm fingers, feather soft, brushing her cheek. Gripping more firmly. Harder. Then the mouth. Oh God, the mouth.
Giovanni’s lips followed the pattern of his fingers. Brushing softly at first. Then pressing into her flesh until she opened to him. When she stepped backward, her spine contacted the elevator wall. The handrail dug into her waist while his torso covered the front of her. His hands felt so hot on her bare shoulders. So why did she shiver?
How could she have forgotten how good he smelled? Warm and slightly spicy. Not like a high-level executive but best friend-turned-lover. Craving more, she inhaled to the depths of her lungs.
She heard and felt his fast, deep breaths, too. Oxygen rushed through her lungs, matching his pace. The small space they stood in had no boundaries. Walls, arms, hearts. They were all one.
“We c-can’t—” she uttered when she managed to twist her head away.
“Yes, we can,” he whispered. “We are.”
She’d forgotten how persuasive he could be. Despite its softness, his voice commanded her the way it did executives in the boardroom.
After drawing her closer, he inserted his tongue between her lips. It felt as if every muscle in her face had let go. She couldn’t keep him out—not that she wanted to.
You can’t stop me. I dare you to try.