I’m late with this post, and I hate being late. I should have written the post and scheduled it ahead of time. My total bad. Life has a way of kicking you in the butt when you least expect it.
In an effort to make up for my tardiness, I’m going to do a giveaway. I’ll giveaway three copies of my latest releases, Manhandled, Notorious, and Carnal to three lucky commenters on this post.
Here’s a quick excerpt from Notorious:
“While I appreciate the view of your sweet little body, darlin’, you do realize that this is the men’s steam room, not the women’s?”
Naked, lying on a neon orange beach towel, eyes covered by one forearm, Jenny Su-Lin Taylor didn’t react.
As the whiskied baritone rumbled into her foggy tranquility, she jerked to a sitting position. Frantic eyes darted left, then right, and took a frenzied sweep of the mists swirling around the small chamber. A thousand Japanese Taiko drums pounded a war beat in her ears. Blood surged to the rhythm, pulsing hysterical tattoos at her wrists, throat, and temples.
She stopped breathing, moving, thinking, when eyes the color of storm clouds racing across a typhoon sky manacled her gaze.
Fantasy and reality merged.
Thor, God of Battle and Thunder, materialized through dissipating, opaque steam curls.
High, sculpted cheekbones, a square, stubborn jawline chiseled by anvils, her most erotic fantasy come to life sprawled on the marble ledge opposite. Wheat-streaked hair fired with auburn glints brushed the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen. One knee bent, the man leaned on a thick, muscled forearm, Popeye biceps bulging.
He drained the oxygen out of Su-Lin’s lungs.
Out of the room.
All about her, magic pooled.
Balmy condensation caressed her shoulders, the barest sigh of enchantment escaped her lips, and the world, no, the universe, pivoted on the mythical deity reclining before her eyes, glorious in his nudity. She’s heartbeat cavorted into loud, insistent hammering, which swelled to fever pitch. She noticed small details—the way the faint dusting of golden hairs on his torso swirled to the right, a thick forefinger stroking peach-pink marble, his taut stomach lifting and falling.
Around his neck hung a gold chain, and a dazzling pendant with intricate engravings punctuated a chest so defined, so Norse god-like, her fingers tingled with the urge to trace each ridge…
Fire licked every inch of skin, flared up her spine, and connected with her brain, igniting a frenzied desire. She scrambled for the towel. Nails scraped the moist marble—she clutched shaky fingers around soft cotton and bounded off the bench. His size dwarfed all five–feet-five inches of her too-big-for-gymnastic-competition body.
A warrior-resolute gaze examined every inch of her roasting flesh, lingered on her B-cup breasts, and his mouth pursed as he studied her. The intensity of those slate eyes had her hands trembling, her fingers fumbling to drape the towel around her chest. She muttered a Mandarin curse when her waist-length, straight-as-a-pin black hair tangled with the wet material.
“You don’t have to leave, darlin’. We can always lock the door.”
Propped on an elbow, the man angled forward, full lips curling at the corners.
“I’m at your service, darlin’, whatever milady wishes.”
Her subconscious noted the slight hint of Irish brogue. Seconds later, his words registered, but their meaning took longer to comprehend.
She couldn’t manage anything more than a panted “Oh.”
The Pause button that had suspended her brain functions thus far clicked off. Fast-forward took over, and she twirled around, intent on escape.
“I like the view from behind too, darlin’. That’s one fine backside.” He ended his pronouncement with a chuckle, which made her skin smolder even more.
Have a Marvelous Monday!
P.S. Remember to list your email address in the comment, please.
P.P.S. I’ll announce the winners on Valentine’s Day, here, on my blog http://www.jiannecarlo.com, Facebook, and Twitter.