AHH! I almost forgot to tell you about my latest new release today!
I also almost forgot to tell you who won last month’s complete set of the Bolton Brothers series–it’s Shyanna! Shyanna, send your address to firstname.lastname@example.org!
Also, if you haven’t had the chance to check out NotMy1stRodeo.com yet, the ebook for the entire anthology is going to be on sale for 99 cents from Oct. 19 through the 31! So plan accordingly!
This month’s release is Falling For Her Fake Fiance and features Byron’s twin, Frances.
Here’s the blurb:
All it takes to seal the deal is one little temporary engagement…
Ethan Logan never fails. But taking over the multimillion-dollar Beaumont Brewery is proving impossible. To succeed will mean taking drastic measures. It means proposing to a red-haired Beaumont bombshell. It’s the perfect plan—until Ethan realizes he wants her for more than just business…
Frances Beaumont won’t marry a total stranger and get nothing in return. But once Ethan agrees to the socialite’s terms, she expects their charade to go off without a hitch. Frances doesn’t believe in love and has never met a man she couldn’t handle. And then one kiss from her fake fiancé changes everything…
And you guys know I always save the very best excerpts for you, right? 🙂 In this excerpt, Frances has just agreed to a fake engagement with Ethan Logan, who’s the current head of her family’s brewery. Ethan thinks this will solve his problems. Frances, however…
But they didn’t even make it to the elevator. The moment they got to the middle of the lobby, Frances reached across his chest and slid her hand under his coat. Just like it had in the office yesterday, her touch burned him.
“Oh, that sounds awful,” she breathed, curling her fingers around his shirt and pulling him toward her.
The noise of the lobby faded away until there was only the touch of her hand and the beating of his heart.
He turned into her, lowering his head. “Terrible,” he agreed, but he no longer knew what they were talking about. All he knew was that he was going to kiss her.
Their lips met. The kiss was tentative at first as he tested her and she tested him. But then her mouth opened for him, and his control—the control he’d maintained for years and years, the control that made him a savvy businessman with millions in the bank—shattered on him.
He tangled his hands into her hair and roughly pulled her up to his mouth so he could taste her better—taste all of her. Dimly, somewhere in the back of his mind where at least three brain cells were doing their best to think about something beyond Frances’s touch, Frances’s taste—dimly, he realized they were standing in the middle of a crowd, although he’d forgotten exactly where they were.
There was a wolf whistle. And a second one—this one accompanied by laughter.
Frances pulled away, her impressive chest heaving and her eyes glazed with lust. “Your suite,” she whispered, and then her tongue darted out, tracing a path on her lips that he needed to follow.
“Yeah. Sure.” She could have suggested jumping out of an airplane at thirty thousand feet and he would have done it. Just so long as she went down with him.
Somehow, despite the tangle of arms and jackets, they made it to the elevators and then onto one. Other people were waiting, but no one joined them on the otherwise-empty lift. “Sorry,” Frances said to the waiting guests as she curled up against his chest. “We’ll send it back down,” she added as the doors closed and shut them away from the rest of the world.
Then they were alone. Ethan slid his hands down her bare back before he cupped her bottom. “Where were we?”
“Here,” she murmured, pressing her lips against his neck, right above his collar. “And here.” Her teeth scraped over his skin as she pressed the full length of her body against his. “And…here.”
She didn’t touch him through his pants, not with her hands—but with her body? She shifted against him, and the pressure drove those last three rational brain cells out of his mind. “God, yes,” he groaned, fisting his hands into her curls and tilting her head back. “How could I forget?”
He didn’t give her time to reply. He crushed his mouth against hers. There wasn’t any more time for testing kisses—all that existed in the safe space of this little moving room was his need for her and, given the way she was kissing him back, her need for him.
He liked sex—he always had. He prided himself on being good at it. But had he ever been this excited? This consumed with need? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t think, not with Frances moaning into his mouth and arching her back, pushing her breasts into his body.
He reached up and started to undo the tie at the back of her neck, but she grabbed his hand and held it at waist height. “We’re almost there,” she murmured in a coy tone. “Can you wait just a little longer?”
Love and sex and, yes, marriage—that was all about waiting. There’d never been any instant gratification in it for him. He’d waited until he’d been eighteen before losing his virginity because it was a test of sorts. Everyone else was going as fast as they could, but Ethan was different. Better. He could resist the fire. He would not get burned.
Frances shifted against him again, and he groaned in the most delicious agony that had ever consumed him. Her touch—even through his clothing—seared him. For the first time in his life, he wanted to dance with the flames.
One flame—one flame-haired woman—in particular. Oh, how they would dance.
The elevator dinged. “Is this us?” Frances asked in a shaky whisper.
“This way.” He grabbed her hand and strode out of the elevator. It was perhaps not the most gentlemanly way of going about it—essentially dragging her along behind him in her impossible shoes—but he couldn’t help himself. If she couldn’t walk, he’d carry her.
His suite was at the end of a long, quiet hall. The only noise that punctuated the silence was the sound of his blood pounding in his temples, pushing him faster until he was all but running, pulling Frances in his wake. Each step was pain and pleasure wrapped in one, his erection straining to do anything but walk. Or run.
After what felt like an hour of never-ending journeying, he reached his door. Torturous seconds passed as he tried to get the key card to work. Then the door swung open and he was pulling her inside, slamming the door shut behind them and pinning her against it. Her hands curled into his shirt, holding him close.
He must have had one lone remaining brain cell functioning, because instead of ripping that dress off her body so he could feast himself upon it, he paused to say, “Tell me what you want.”
Because whatever she wanted was what he wanted.
Or maybe she wasn’t holding him close. The thought occurred to him belatedly, just about the time her mouth curved up into what was a decidedly nonseductive smile. She pushed on his chest, and he had no choice but to let her. “Anything I want?”
She’d pushed him away, but her voice was still colored with craving, with a need he could feel more than hear. Maybe she wanted him to tie her up. Maybe she wanted to tie him up instead. Whatever it was, he was game.
“Yeah.” He tried to lean back down to kiss her again, but she was strong for a woman her size. She held him back.
“I wonder what’s on TV?”
Whee! Frances is such a fun heroine!
This month’s giveaway is for a print copy of The Nanny Plan–to be entered, just leave a comment telling me if you’d ever agree to a fake engagement!