30 Nights with a Dirty Boy…coming soon

Look for the covers and more info coming this week…


For now, maybe a snippet?

Sean’s hand was on my waist, and I shivered as he started to stroke up, moving with almost exaggerated slowness. When the heel of his hand brushed against the curve of my breast, I felt my toes curl, and then slowly, my hands followed suit, curling into tight fists. “Are you still with me?” he asked, his breath ghosting over my skin.


His face turned to mine, and this time, when he kissed me, I recognized the soft whimper as mine. He made a hungry, rougher noise deep in his throat when I opened my mouth. His tongue rubbed over mine, and a moment later, his palm cupped my breast.

My nipples, both of them, tightened into stiff, aching peaks, and I wanted nothing more than to strip away my bra. It hadn’t been this abrasive before, but now it was miserable and rough, scraping against my sensitive skin.

The kiss ended, slowly, and his hand fell away. I wanted to grab his hand, wanted to tug his mouth back to mine. But I didn’t have the courage, and a moment later, he stepped away.

“It seems to me you like being touched just fine, Your Highness.”

Frustrated desire burned inside me.

He paced away, giving me his back. I glared at him, feeling an irrational anger welling within. He detoured by the coffee table where we had eaten, fetching his mostly empty wineglass. His movements were casual, his mannerisms laid-back and confident. What I wouldn’t give to have that much self-assurance, to move through life with the sort of ease he clearly had.

The anger continued to build as he refilled his wine and tossed it back like it was some two-dollar shot of tequila. When he glanced over at me, he crooked a brow. “You haven’t given me a real answer, Ella,” he said, gesturing with his glass. “You say you don’t like being touched, and I’ve kind of gathered that idea meself, true. But just a few seconds ago, I had my hands all over you and you were wrapped around me.” He shook his head. “I don’t think you’ve as much trouble with being touched as you might think. You ought to go out and find yourself somebody who would take you out to dinner, take you dancing, take you to bed…and eventually take you to the bloody church and marry you. That’s what a woman like you looks for, Ella. A woman like you isn’t looking for a few nights with a whore.”

It wasn’t until he was dodging that I even realized what I’d done.

We stood there, the two of us, staring at the heavy glass globe from the accent table between the chair and window. I’d grabbed it and thrown it at him.

It hadn’t hit him, but it could have.

I swallowed and slowly forced myself to meet his eyes. He looked up at the same time.

I told myself to apologize. But the words that came out weren’t words of apology. “A woman like me,” I said. “You’ve no idea what kind of woman I am.”

Info to be posted here and on Heroes and Heartbreakers this Wednesday!  Read the original announcement