From the author of The Mason List and Waiting for Wyatt comes a brand new standalone second chance romance, and I have the stunning cover for you. Feast your eyes on My Lucky Days…
Excerpt
Lucky parked in the driveway, turning off the motor. He unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t get out of the truck. Reaching across the seat, he took my hand. “Come over here.”
Even though he only touched my fingers, my whole body felt the tingles of anticipation at the meaning behind his words.
“I think you already used your kiss credit tonight,” I teased.
He laughed. “Well, if you think that was a kiss earlier, then I must not have much past competition to erase.”
Lucky scooted out from behind the steering wheel into the middle of the bench seat. Tugging my hand, it didn’t take much convincing to close the gap between us. He slipped an arm around my back, holding me against him. Lucky touched my cheek with his other hand. “Close your eyes.”
I did what he asked, sending the cab into darkness. The rest of my senses heightened. His body felt warmer. His cologne smelled stronger. I felt his breath against my lips. “Katie, I want you to know that I have thought about this moment for forty-six hours and about thirteen minutes. And every second that passed, I just wanted to kiss you more.”
His mouth touched mine with a faint brush. He captured my upper lip, pulling it slightly before letting go. He did it again with just a little bit more pressure, letting his tongue graze my bottom lip.
I let out a gasp as the next kiss went deep and his tongue brushed over mine. Our mouths blended together effortlessly.
First kisses had always been awkward. Noses hitting. Tongues passing just a little too much spit. I had always assumed there wasn’t any way around it until you got used to the other person’s movements.
Tonight was different.
I wasn’t in control. It was all Lucky. He was almost possessive, tugging and pulling at my lips, making the adrenaline pump through my body as I struggled to catch my breath. And then he went back to slow, delicate passes with his tongue, fanning the ache in places I shouldn’t have while sitting in a truck with someone I had only met two days ago.
But I didn’t have a choice in the matter. He was a better kisser than a singer. And that was saying a lot because his voice could melt ice cream.
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