Finished up my first round of edits on WRECKED… here’s a snippet.

His hands were shaking.

Once more, she’d done this to him.

Damn it, this was out of hand.

He’d dropped one of the eggs on the counter. He’d almost cut his finger off with the damned butcher knife and his hands were shaking as he went to flip the bacon.

Upstairs he could hear the pulse of the water and if he closed his eyes, he could just picture her standing under the spray. Water gliding over all those lush pale curves, her deep red hair hanging in wet ropes along her spine.

It wasn’t a new fantasy. He didn’t have new fantasies about Abby. He’d dreamed everything imaginable about her, but somehow, seeing her in that ridiculously thin, skimpy little top that she’d slept in and a pair of pale pink panties, it hit him square in the gut.

No. Actually it was lower and all he wanted to do was close the distance between them and go to his knees. Beg her to see what was right in front of her . . . who was right in front of her…

Want to know more?  Here ya go.

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