Description
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About the author:
I am obsessed with the written word. When I'm not writing, I'm reading. I can get so lost in a story, be it one of my own or someone else's, that I won't even break away to eat, drink, or sleep!
Whenever I'm not writing or reading, you will find me working in my art shop (I'm also an abstract artist at Tipari Art), or spending time with my husband, Scott, and our four legged child, Lada.
What inspired you to write your book?
I've been wanting to write a forbidden May-December romance ever since I started writing. And with this book, I wanted to test the limits of how steamy I could get. I hope readers enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Here is a short sample from the book:
Lost in the music, I’m swinging my hips to the beat when a pair of hands grab my waist from behind.
Everett.
Leaning backward, I push my backside against him.
I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist me for long.
I raise my hands and clutch his hair. My partner’s fingers wander, tracing the outline of my breasts as we continue to move. Hannah and Jess hoot and holler as we dirty dance.
So much for avoiding temptation.
When the song ends, I turn to thank Everett for the dance.
But the person standing before me is not Everett.
Oh my god.
My jaw hits the floor. I was bumping and grinding with a total stranger. A hot stranger, but not the man I assumed he was. I sway to the side. This did not just happen.
My eyes flit to Everett who still stands at the dart board, glaring at me slack jawed with a visible flush on his cheeks.
“You’ve got killer moves,” my dance partner says, eyeing me up and down with appreciation.
“Thanks,” I gulp. “And thanks for the dance.” I turn back around to the table and my friends with my mouth hanging open.
“How about another one?” He leans into my neck.
“I’m good.” I shift forward, putting space between us. “Thanks, though.”
“Okay. If you change your mind,” he motions to the area where the pool tables are, “I’ll be right over there.”
I smile, but only so I don’t come across as a bitch. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Once he’s gone, I smack my forehead and say, “That didn’t just happen.”
“Yes, it so did,” Jess says. “And McHotness watched the whole thing go down.”
Hannah giggles. “I’m not sure whether he was more turned on or jealous.”
“I thought it was him!” I shriek.
“By the look on his face, he wishes it had been,” Jess states.
“Oh, yeah,” Hannah agrees.
No, no, no. “What if he thinks I did it to make him jealous?”
“So what if he does?” Jess asks.
“I don’t want him to think I’m playing games.”
“I don’t know what he thinks,” Hannah says, “but you’ve definitely got his attention.”
“Is he still looking this way?” I ask.
Both girl's answer, “Yep.”
What must Everett think of me?
At least fifteen minutes pass and I am no longer having fun. I want to go home.
Ryan appears with another round of drinks we didn’t order. Why on earth is Everett sending drinks after what I just did? Perhaps it didn’t affect him the way my friends assumed it did. Maybe he doesn’t care that I rubbed my ass all over another guy.
“You are popular tonight,” Ryan says to me and points to my dance partner. “These are from Josiah.”
Turning to Josiah, we three acknowledge his gesture. I hope he doesn’t expect this to earn him a second dance because it isn’t happening. No way, no how. The next time I feel a pair of hands on me, I’ll turn around to see who they belong to.
I groan. “Everett probably assumes I shake my ass for every strange guy who approaches me.” Why wouldn’t he after what he just witnessed?
In her most reassuring, yet drunken voice, Hannah says, “It was one dance with one guy. It’s not a big deal.”
“You’re a hot, single woman in a bar,” Jess chimes in. “It’s what we do.”
“I don’t want him to assume that’s the kind of gir—woman—I am.”
“Then tell him,” Hannah suggests.
“Sure,” I scoff. “I’ll just walk on over there and tell him I thought I was dancing with him.”
Jess chokes on her drink and her eyes widen as she glances at something behind me. I hear Everett clear his throat.
Suddenly dizzy, a heavy sensation spreads throughout my core. I squeeze my eyes closed. Please tell me he didn’t hear that.
“You thought it was me, huh?”
My cheeks and neck are on fire. My heart races with embarrassment. Not only did Everett watch me dance with a guy, he now knows I figured it was him. Which is worse?
I turn to face him. He waits a moment for my answer, but I’m too stunned to speak.
“I can resist anything except temptation,” he says. His crystal blue eyes smolder with intensity. “Let’s get out of here.”
Without giving me time to say goodbye to my friends, Everett takes me by the hand and ushers me through the crowded bar and out the side exit. The instant we’re outside, he grips my shoulders and pushes me against the brick wall. His lips crash onto mine and he thrusts his tongue inside, tasting of whiskey and mint. He groans as our tongues roll together and my fingers slide into his hair before pulling it roughly.
When rain begins to fall, Everett pulls away, breathless. He grabs my hand and escorts me to his Jeep. He opens the door and helps me inside before climbing into the driver’s side. We stare at one another, each of us breathing heavily, as he starts the engine.
Lightning strikes, followed by a loud crack of thunder as the rain picks up intensity. We’re still staring.
Everett must read my mind because he reaches for me and claims my mouth once again, as forcibly and passionate as the last time. With his fingers curled around my neck, he tugs me to him. I’m still in my seat, but on my knees as we kiss. We fill the Jeep with sounds of our desperate moans and wet kissing. My hands are in his hair, on his chest, his abs. His hands slide under the hem of my shirt, grazing my abdomen, reaching higher and higher. He cups my breasts as my fingers reach his belt line.
I’ve never had sex in a car. I always said I never would. That I had more decency and respect for myself than to do such a thing. But Jess once said, “You haven’t lived until you’ve had a toe-curling orgasm in the driver’s seat of a car.”
With Everett, I’m too wanton and desperate to care about being decent. I want, no I need, that toe-curling orgasm right now. Based on the unadulterated lust shining in his eyes, he needs it too.
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