An all-new grumpy hero, single parent romance is out now from author Samantha Christy, and you can read an excerpt right here.
Excerpt
I try to push him away. Or I tell myself I am. I’m not. I’m doing the opposite of pushing him away. Apparently, because I have some magical uncanny ability to attract a man who is completely and horribly wrong for me and who will undoubtedly trample all over my internal organs on his way to his next sacrificial meal.
His heated stare is unwavering, and his eyes snare mine, holding them against their will. My heart is at war, excitement and fear battling to the death while my brain tries to decide which side it’s on. Blood pumps through me, echoing in my ears as his mouth inches closer to mine. I curse myself when my tongue swipes my lower lip, an invitation I didn’t mean to extend. Yet I can’t pull away.
His hand cups the back of my neck, a familiar touch that parts of my body remember from last night. The feeling of his warm breath, although terrifying, is somehow inviting.
I watch his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows, his eyes glued to my lips, and his breath becoming as unsteady as my beating heart. His other hand clasps the side of my face, his pinky caressing the hollow of my neck. Time stops. The flutters inside me intensify. I’m willing myself to pull away. I’m daring myself not to.
Finally, a rush of helplessness washes over me, and my lips part for him. His hungry mouth comes in for the kill, claiming mine in a forbidden kiss so intense my knees give way. He holds me up, pulls me against him, and deepens the kiss. All my senses unfurl at the taste of him. Any thoughts in my head are silenced, because all I want is more. Of this. Of him.
Simultaneous shivers of pleasure and panic shoot through me as blood rushes to every part of my body. I fist the front of his shirt as our mouths mold together and our tongues play symphonies. My body can’t get enough. It aches for more. I want to breathe him. Eat him. Drink him. I’m drowning in him, and I don’t even want to come up for air.
He pushes me against the wall, steadies me, then pulls away. He takes a step back. “Thanks. I’m sober now.”
Wait. What?
I straighten my shirt in a failed attempt not to seem as completely wrecked as I truly am. “You shouldn’t have kissed me without permission.”
“You think you didn’t give me permission? Go look at yourself in the mirror, Flower Girl. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are lidded. And I’m willing to bet your heart is racing. I’ll tell you a secret.” He touches his chest. “So’s mine.”
He starts down the stairs. I walk to the top step. “You didn’t taste like cigarettes.”
Shoving a hand into his pocket, he comes out with a pack of gum, tossing it up in the air before catching it.
Gum. He bought gum.
For me?
“See you tomorrow, Flower Girl.” He’s down the steps before I can say another word.
I shuffle over to the couch and plop down, pulling a pillow onto my lap and wondering what just happened. He kissed me. Again. I didn’t lose a bet. He didn’t try for more. He just kissed me.
I touch my lips, still plump and tingling, and gaze at the door, only being sure of one thing in my life, that my heart is a ticking time bomb.
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(standalone stories with interconnected characters)
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